CHAPTER 7

Though he had never experienced an angelic temper tantrum before, Andrew felt as if he were dangerously close. He had been searching everywhere he knew to search for Monica to no avail. He had searched out all of her favorite places in the world with no sign of her; he had been to the places she frequented when she was happy, where she said it felt as if all of creation was singing along with her soul. He had been to the places she retreated to when she was sad and her angelic heart was broken and seeking quiet and solitude. He had been to the ocean, where she always went when she was confused because she said the vastness of the sea put her perceived problems into perspective. It seemed the sweet little angel had a geographical location for every emotion she thought to feel, yet she was visiting none of them currently.

And he was beyond frustrated. He felt a sense of urgency to find her that he felt unable to explain, even to Rafael and Adam who were helping him to look in between their assignments and the deep concern in Rafael's eyes did little to comfort the Angel of Death.

He knew he only had one option left and it was a slim one at best. No hospital was going to be willing or even able to release information on a patient, but it was the only shot he had to find out anything. Maybe Monica had given some clue as to where she might have been headed as Andrew could simply not imagine her walking off an assignment, no matter what might be happening around her. Her heart always went out to the humans she was assigned to help and to just walk away and leave one who was in trouble was completely out of character for her.

"It doesn't make sense, Rafael," He lamented as the twosome walked into Mercy General Hospital, "Nothing about this is anything like Monica."

"Monica was nothing like Monica the last I saw her, amigo," His companion replied, "Remember, I saw her before you two were reunited and yes, she was sad, but a few days ago, it was much worse. Her human form looked…unhealthy. She had lost weight, she looked exhausted. She wasn't herself, Andrew."

Andrew's jaw tensed as it tended to do when he was stressed out about something. Had their night together been a wrong decision? Had the amazing things they had shared only left the little angel feeling even more alone and hopeless given their situation? He had never wanted the most beautiful time of his existence to make things worse for her. He had to find her.

But as he had almost predicted, the hospital wouldn't tell them anymore than Tess already knew; mild concussion and that she had refused to stay despite their recommendation. But when questioned about her state of mind or any immediate danger she may have been in, the medical staff refused to answer; 'against privacy policy and they had probably already told them too much.'

"I can't believe this," Andrew murmured, running his hands through his short, blonde hair in frustration, "Why would she just leave like that? There has to be something we're missing."

Rafael sighed as he sat down across from his friend in the hospital cafeteria and pushed a Styrofoam cup of ginger ale his way, "Si. It certainly seems that way, Andrew."

The deep green eyes were tormented as he swirled the ice around in his cup, really not in the mood to drink anything or even to be sitting here. He wanted to be finding Monica, but he was out of places to look. It was almost as if…as if she didn't want to be found.

"Excuse me."

The two angels looked up into the face of a relatively young hospital volunteer; she couldn't be any more than sixteen or seventeen, and the expression on her face was relatively nervous.

"I didn't mean to snoop but I heard you asking about your friend, Monica?"

"Yes!" Andrew immediately lowered his voice, but he was suddenly so hopeful that he was about to hear something useful, "Yes, did you meet her? Do you know anything about where she might be?"

"I think I might," She smiled gratefully as Rafael pulled out a chair for her and motioned for her to sit, "I'm Rachel. I volunteer in the Emergency Room on the weekends as I'm in nursing school during the week. I know we aren't supposed to discuss patients, but I remember your friend; it's hard to forget that lovely accent of hers."

Andrew felt a pang of longing in his heart, thinking about how beautifully the little angel said his name, in a way that no one else could imitate. The sound of her saying it always caused his heart to beat a tiny bit faster. Though the word rolled off her tongue effortlessly, to Andrew it had completely endeared her to him the first time he had heard her say it.

"Si," Rafael spoke, clearly seeing that Andrew was lost in thought at the moment, "Monica is very special to us; to Andrew especially and he is very worried about her."

"Well, she hit her head pretty hard and wasn't conscious when she got here. Her attending physician had to run a few tests on her, but after she woke up and he spoke to her, she didn't have the routine MRI. She just wanted to leave and they couldn't stop her. She let them stitch up her head, but refused to stay the night for observation. Her doctor advised her against sleeping for a day if she was insistent upon leaving."

"How bad was it?" Andrew asked worriedly, barely able to stand the thought of her being out there some place hurt and tired.

"It took a few stitches and I'd imagine a few hours later, she had a pretty good bruise. I also heard the doctor say something about her being underweight and she looked pretty peaked, but she was coherent when she left and I actually walked her out because I was trying to talk her out of leaving."

"Did she say anything else? About where she might be going?" The Angel of Death was desperate now. She was hurt and maybe even sick; he had to find her.

"That's the thing. I asked her if she wanted me to call her a cab or walk her home and she said she didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to go pretty far away. Said she couldn't stay here because people would find out the truth. When I asked her what she meant, she just asked me where I was from and was it near here. I told her no, that I was from a little town in West Virginia called Hambleton. Very small town, not much there." Rachel smiled, though her eyes flashed briefly with nostalgia before she continued, "She hugged me then and thanked me for being nice to her. She told me she knew it was my job, but it was nice just the same."

The two angels exchanged a worried glance and Andrew was fairly sure he could add "depression" to his growing list of concerns about his soul mate, "Rachel, thank you. You've been more help than you probably know."

"I hope so. They could fire me for telling you so if you would do me a favor and…"

"No diga no más. Your secret is safe with us, mi amiga,"

"Thanks," Rachel rose to her feet but before she left, she met her eyes squarely with Andrew's, "I hope you find Monica. I can tell you must love her very much and I don't know why you weren't with her when she was brought in, but I have a feeling you had a good reason, or you wouldn't be so desperate to find her."

Once Rachel had departed, Rafael sighed, "I have an assignment, Andrew. I have to go…and so do you."

Their eyes met as the word escaped their lips in unison.

"Hambleton."

"Allie, are you sure about this?" Monica looked around her new surroundings, somehow feeling guilty about taking advantage of this human's generosity. The little apartment was simple but nicely furnished with a small kitchen, living room, bedroom and bath. Allie had just dug clean sheets out of the linen closet and the angel was praying her head would stop spinning long enough for her to help Allie make the bed.

"Why on earth would I not be sure? No one else is using it, I live here all alone and a little company from time to time would be nice," Unfolding the fitted sheet, she paused and looked at her new guest, "I guess I should ask you one question, Monica. You're not in trouble with the law, are you? I can't be harboring anyone from "America's Most Wanted", you know." She winked, sure that was not the case.

"Oh no," Monica blushed profusely, "I… I haven't done anything wrong. I haven't hurt anyone or taken anything or…" Her own words caused a lump of emotion to form in her throat; she had done nothing wrong but yet she and Andrew had been tried and convicted without even being given a chance to present their case.

Allie was quick to see the tears welling up in Monica's eyes and she patted her on the shoulder, "There, there, honey. Why is it those we love the most can hurt us the greatest, huh?"

"How…how did you know?" Forcing her exhausted legs to move, Monica gathered the other half of the sheet and began to tuck it neatly around the mattress.

"Just a hunch. When we girls are hurt by someone we love, we tend to wear it on our sleeves," She surveyed Monica silently for a moment, "Did he physically abuse you, Monica?"

Startled, her hand moved to the bandage on her head, "No! This was an accident. I…I fell and hit my head is all. He would never…he isn't the one who hurt me." This was so complicated and she was so tired. Her stomach and her head were both churning and the tears were so dangerously close to the surface, Monica wasn't sure she would be able to contain them much longer.

"Yet he's not here." Allie remarked softly as she helped Monica tuck in the top sheet before they laid the blanket and down comforter on the bed overtop.

"No," The weary little angel whispered, "But that isn't his fault."

" Oh darlin', I'm sorry. Don't let me ramble on like that and know I don't mean anything by it. I'm a mother and have seen my share of young love gone wrong," She sighed, shaking her head as she wondered what it was about this young woman that made her feel a need to take care of her, "Now, your bed is all ready for you and you look more than ready for it. I put your sandwich in the fridge and in the morning, I'll bring you up a few more things for you to eat until you get paid and can pick up some groceries. My daughter left some clothes in the closet that you can help yourself to, though you may be a little smaller than she is, but better than nothing. Now, is there anything else you need right now?"

"No, thank you," Monica managed a small smile, "and thank you again, for everything."

"No need to thank me, honey. You get some rest now."

Finally alone, the little angel didn't even bother to change clothes before snuggling down beneath the blankets and comforter. She felt positively wretched and shivered despite the warm blankets and even though she simply wanted to close her eyes and drift off into oblivion, her pillow was still damp with her tears before sleep finally came.

She only awoke once during the night and that was to eat the sandwich she had brought home from the café and it was that same sandwich in reverse that woke her up far too early in the morning. Her stomach seemed to want to revolt anytime she tried to eat and though she knew it had to do with the baby, she had no idea what to do about it.

She still wasn't feeling any better two days later when she started working in the hot kitchen, using the industrial dishwasher and trying not to burn her hands when the hot dishes came out the other side. But despite how horrid she felt, Monica worked as hard as she could, knowing she needed the job and the place to stay and not wanting to let Allie down in any way. Besides, she truly liked the woman and Leroy, the cook, as well as the edgy Misha, the teenager with a few face piercings who helped waitress. The girl came across as tough as nails, but once Monica had been able to scratch the surface of Misha's hard exterior, she had discovered a beautiful smile and a lovely soul, who had simply been hurt by those who were supposed to love her. The angel felt as if the little diner was filled with kindred spirits, and despite the sadness buried within her own heart, Monica was glad to be among them, given her circumstances.

But she still told no one about the baby she carried inside of her. If she couldn't tell Andrew, she didn't feel right telling anyone else and she was so hopelessly confused about the pregnancy that she didn't see how she could possibly answer any questions about it. She didn't have the money or the insurance to see a doctor, so she simply had to trust she would be okay. She tried not to think about Andrew, but it was nearly impossible. Every time his face crossed her mind's eye, she wanted to burst into tears. She was desperate to feel his arms around her, reassuring her it would all be okay and that he would take care of her. Andrew had always been a beacon of hope for her, a calming presence in the face of any storm she was weathering and right now the storm was beating down on her so violently she at times felt as if she could barely breathe.

"Honey, have you had a break yet?" Allie's voice invaded her thoughts and startled her enough that she forgot to be quick at removing the latest stack of hot plates and she gasped as her already blistered fingers caught a burn once more.

"N-No," Monica shook the sting out of her fingers as she turned her to her employer, "But it's all right. I'm not really hungry." It wasn't entirely the truth. The truth was more that her stomach was very much rejecting food and barely tolerating water on a good day.

"Girl, you get any skinnier and you gonna disappear," Leroy, the older African American cook remarked as he looked over at her in between flipping eggs on the grill. The diner offered breakfast at all hours and even though it was nearly eleven 'o clock and closing time, the bar crowd had just wandered in a little while ago, hungry and looking to sober up before going home.

"I'm fine, Leroy, really," she assured him, grabbing a clean towel to protect her hands against the remaining hot dishes. She had been here since noon and was longing to go home and sleep, so taking a break and getting behind on dishes was not an option for her right now anyway.

Allie sighed as she collected the meals from under the warming lamp for her tables. Monica had made little improvement since Allie had first met her. She still looked weary and still ate like a little bird and there were times the girl went so pale, Allie was afraid she was going to pass out, yet Monica offered her no further information about where she had come from and why.

"Well, then I want you out of here at eleven, you hear me? You've been here almost eleven hours with no break, so you've more than done your time for the day."

Monica blinked as if what Allie was saying made no sense, "But there will be more dishes after this last crowd leaves…"

"Yes and Misha didn't come in till five and she can finish up. Five minutes and you are on your way home."

And five minutes later, she was.