
He marvelled as he watched his 6 year old son, Michael Martin Quint (named after his father and his "Uncle Brody"), that this was a beautiful boy. A bright, intelligent, loving little guy - and Mike Quint hadn't the faintest idea why or how he'd gotten so lucky to have this child as his own. "Daddy!!!", Mikey squealed, proudly pointing to the little fish caught in his net, "...I caught one, daddy!!...I caught one!!". Quint, grinning from ear to ear, walked across the deck of the Orca and gave his little son a hug and rubbed his head in a gentle way, tossling the little guy's beautiful reddish-blond curls, then bending over the side of the boat to help his sone with his first catch. Quint laughed gleefully, "...You'll make a first-rate fisherman yet, boy!", he smiled to his son, with a fathers love and pride shining in his turquois-blue eyes. Mikey insisted on showing his mommy his very first fish ever the minute they got back, so Quint took this tiny little bluegill and placed it gently atop the ice in the cooler, right on top of his icey beer cans and Mikey's juice cans. (Mikey didnt want daddy to 'hurt' his fishy). Quint grinned so widely that he got a cramp in his jaw muscles. Elena met them at the dock, smiling, watching as her husband anchored the Orca, as her son squealed to her something about a fish. She certainly was happy they were back. That Mr. Reed, from the finance company had called again...and he wasn't very nice. See, Quint was a very proud and very stubborn man. Elena was rich...she had more money than she could ever use, even if she lived three lifetimes, but Quint would rather sell his own body organs than spend a dollar of it. His family was going to be supported by him and him ALONE. He was the man of the family and it was the man's duty, in Quints eyes, to support his family. He was raised with the idea that, if the woman had to help support the family, then the man wasnt doing his job correctly as head of the family...he was a 'bum', a 'no-account'. No matter how much money the wife had. And he wasn't doing so good these days. He had no idea that having two extra mouths to feed would be so expensive. And he had never thought of birthdays and holidays before hand, either. Quint was extravagant when it came to giving gifts, always going overboard with expenses at Christmas, especially. He absolutely cherished his wife and child and loved giving them gifts more than anything and he spared no expense when he did so. So, after the holidays, Quint found himself in deep debt. He owed Brainards department store on the mainland a good deal of money by January. He worked hard to make payments to them, as he had done all the years before, since he had married Elena and his credit was good with them. But, this year, it was a little rougher than it had been. He'd had unexpected expenses on the Orca, to keep her going...he had got a little drunk one night while fishing (as he'd done before) and got careless...he passed out and knocked the lantern over and set the boat afire. He had to replace alot of the wood structure and replace windows and repaint...that set him back a good deal, financially. Then the fishing wasnt good this year...he could have sailed south and done some sharking, but that would have meant he would have had to leave his family for a couple of months and he didnt want to do that. So, he stayed and fished locally. It was a cold winter and there were two very bad storms that kept him off of the boat for more than a week each time...so this had been a very bad year. By March of this year, the house taxes came due and, to make things worse, he was still paying the hospital for when Mikey was born. Quitn and Elena were arguing often these days over finances. Quint also had this bad habit of getting drunk whenever things got to much for him, so he would come home blasted and it would set Elena off. She hated it when he drank and he was drinking more the deeper he got into debt. He flat out refused to take any of her money and was even insulted when she demanded he take it to pay the bills. To him, it was if she were telling him that he wasnt a good enough provider for his family. To her, this money was not just her's, but BOTH of thiers...they way she saw it, it was "whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine" and she couldnt understand why this was such a problem for him to accept. She knew, in her heart, one reason why Quint wouldnt take any of this money...because it came from her father and she knew well how he felt about her father. But her father was dead now...and this money was her's now...so, what was the problem?? She guessed she would never understand her complex, stubborn husband. In April, he went to the Amity loan and finance company and applied for a loan....useing the Orca as collateral. Elena was absolutely livid when she found out about this. She knew how much that boat meant to him, yet he would rather put it into jeopardy rather than accept money from her. She was beside herself with frustration with him. Well, summer finally arrived and Quint felt things would come together now, the weather and the waters were warming up, meaning more fish, more sharks...and more money coming in. If he could only keep the bill collectors at bay long enough to get some money coming in, things would get better. But summer also meant tourists. This would be a real "catch-22" situation...the weather was better for fishing, but tourists meant noise and more boats on the water, scaring away the fish and the sharks he needed to catch to sell to make money...but, usually, the tourists didnt go out any farther than the 12 mile limit...which meant he would have a chance... The loan payments on the Orca had gotten so dangerously behind, however, that, by early August, the finance company had assigned a collections agent to Quints case...a one Mr. Thomas Reed...a very rude, very impatient little man with atrocious manners. This day, when Thomas Reed called Elena while her husband and son were on thier very first outing together...and which should have been a happy occasion...he told her this was her husbands last chance to make a payment on his loan. If Quint wasnt in his office to make a payment of, at least, six hundred dollars by 6pm that evening, he would send a couple of reposession men to collect the Orca. Elena was beside herself. She could easily pay that loan and get Reed off of her husbands back, but she knew Quint would be furious if she did. What could she do?? As she watched her son runninf gleefully toward her, she fretted over how to tell Quint about Reed's phone call. She knew how passionate Quint was about the Orca...she knew he wouldnt take the news well. "Mommy!!!...I caught a real fishy!!...", Mikey squealed with sheer delight, "...And daddy's got it in the cooler!....C'mere!...I wanna show ya!!!". He ran up and took Elena by the hand and led her down the dock to the boat, where his daddy was collecting thier fishing gear, a smile on his face so wide it was causing deep creases in his facial features. Mikey jumped down onto the boat from the pier and ran directly to the cooler, prompting a stern reprimand from his father. "Boy...you know I told you to be careful when you board a vessel...never, ever jump into a boat...you step into it...you understand me, boy?", the expression on Quints face showed the boy that daddy meant business. Mikey stopped cold, never taking his eyes off of his father as he spoke, his young, blue eyes wide with attention. Quint never hit his son. He would rather cut off his own arm than to hurt his child. He never raised his voice to the boy, either, but Quints voice was loud and "powerful" and it put the boy at attention whenever he heard it. Mikey *was* afraid of his father, but it was basically a fear of great respect. Mikey was a bit more careful as he showed his mother the little fish he caught...cautiously watching his father from the corner of his eye...*just in case*... This little Bluegill he caught, only about 5 inches in length, wouldnt even have made a tasty snack for even the smallest of sharks that his daddy had caught, yet you would think, watching the pride in the eyes of Mikeys parents, that this was a record-sized whale shark! They fussed over thier sons first catch to the extreme as Mikey gleamed with pride. Elena's heart swelled with great love as she watched Quint...his eyes shined as they never had before...it made her forget, momentarily, about her dreadful situation. "Here, boy... take this to the truck for me...", Quint told Mikey as he handed him the fishing net. Quint knew his son enjoyed doing these "guy things", helping his dad. It made him feel important. Mikey's face lit up with excitement and pride as he took the net, trying to hide his wide smile with a more serious, business-like expression - and not doing too well - as he carefully took the net from his fathers hand and, being careful not to run or jump, started toward the truck, his short, little legs struggling to take large strides so he can hurry back and help with somemore loading, also struggling with carrying the large net, dragging most of it behind him. Quint stood there, watching him, with a huge grin on his face and love in his eyes. Elena caught his eye, quickly, however. He stepped toward her, reaching out to quickly and smoothly slip his arm around her waist and gently pulled her to him. He placed his warm lips gently against her ear and spoke softly... "I've missed you today, woman...", he growled playfully, as he playfully nipped her earlobe and pressed his hard body against her, his hands caressing the smoothe curves of her body. She could feel his growing excitement as he pressed into her and this made her feel worse about telling him what she needed to tell him, about Reed's call...he was ready to make love to her and she loved making love with him...but this news was going to spoil everything. God...she hated Reed. She wanted to just go to Reed and pay him off, then go home and make love to her husband...but Quint's wrath was something she did not want to face at anytime, now or later... So, she pulled slowly back, away from him and looked up into his face, not really wanting to look into his eyes...she knew the look he was sporting at this moment...that particular, devilishly sparkle in his eyes, the way he grinned - one corner of his mouth slightly higher than the other - this was the way he looked when he wanted her-and she wanted him...but she knew that once she told him about Reed's phonecall, the mood would die...quickly. "Quint...Honey...I met you here to tell you something...", she tried to say, but his kisses and his caresses were weakening her. He was a powerfully passionate man and it took every ounce of her reserved strength to get away from him when he got like this...but it would only last a few minutes, for he was also quite impatient when it came to his lust... "Tell me later...", he growled, as his hot, wet lips came down onto her mouth to quiet her. "Quint...", she groaned, as she pushed him back with all of her might, but he didnt budge an inch, "...Its important!". Just as he was ready to drag her back into the Orca's cabin and have his way with her, Mikey ran back to the boat for his daddy to give him something else to carry to the truck. Quint smiled as he leaned over to carefully hand his little son the smallest of thier three tackle boxes, then walked a little way behind his son to make sure he could carry it alright. When he saw his son safely onto the dock, he turned quickly to get back to the business at hand. But, before he could get to close to her, she held up her hands, palms outward, in a defensive position. "Quint, I have to tell you now...", she excliamed. "Tell me what, woman?...Get on with it!", he grinned, as he pushed toward her, anyway. Just as he got to her and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her roughly to him, she knew she had better speak quickly - or what she had to say would not get said! "Mr. Reed called, Michael...and the news is not good...". Quint stopped dead in his tracks. The expressiion that came over his face was that of great frustration. Elena would later swear she could actually see the beads of sweat pop out on his forehead right in front of her eyes as his anger grew. "Jesus H. Christ...!!", he hissed through his teeth, one hand clenched into a fist, the other he used to run through his curly, greying hair, "...What the hell does he want now...??". Elena didnt want to hear him yell. Not in the confined space of this cabin. His voice was loud and penetrating enough as it was...he would burst her eardrums in here! But, a quick glance at her wristwatch, telling her it was already after 4pm, she knew she didnt have much time...so she would have to do it now or never. After she told him, Quint just stood there, staring down at the deck of the Orca. Quiet. This wasnt a good sign. She felt a brief wave of aching in her heart as she stared at him...for a moment, he appeared as if he were beaten and ready to give up. But she knew better. He always had an ace up his sleeve. At least, she hoped, he did this time... She knew he wouldnt blow up in front of the boy, who was coming back a third time, by now. Quint reached down and swept his son up into his big arms and hugged him before turning to his wife. "I'll ask Martin...", (for the money). "Michael...", Elena spoke softly, her eyes pleading with him, "...I...". But Quint knew what she was going to say by the look on her face and he cut her off quickly. "I dont want to hear it, Elena...", his expression stern, his jaws clenched tightly and his eyes fierce, gaze steady...but his voice still soft and his New Englander accent thick. She knew by that tone and that look not to start in on what he called "her" money. He wasnt ever going to use it or let her use it, so why push this into a nasty argument? So, Quint and his son got the rest of thier gear into thier truck, quietly. When they were ready to leave, Elena got into the truck with them and they drove quietly home. Quint dropped his family off at the house and started out for the drive to Martin's office, hesitantly. Asking his friend for money was not something he enjoyed, in the slightest. Asking a friend for money was the one thing in the world Quint hated to do. He would rather have an unscratchable itch in the worst of places than to do this. But the Orca was thier "lifeline". No matter how bad things got, he could always take her out and haul in a load of something to sell at some seafood market somewhere. They would never go hungry if they had the Orca. But, without her, Quint had nothing. Oh, he knew Martin would understand and, if he had the money, he would gladly lend it to him. Martin was a great guy, a good friend. But to have to ask another man for money to help support his family, was quite damaging to Quints tender male ego. It was, to Quint, as if he were admitting to another man that he could not support his own family...that he was lazy and worthless. Quint was almost tempted to give Elena the go-ahead to pay Reed. But, having his wife support the family was just as bad, if not worse, than having another man do it for him. "No woman will ever pay for my responsibilities!", he grumbled to himself as he sat outside of the Police station, staring at the front door, not really wanting to go inside to the task he didnt want to do. He thought of just starting the truck and driving away. Just to drive until he was out of road and start all over again somewhere else. He couldnt understand how he got himself into such a predicament. But he would never leave his Elena or his precious little son, so he took a deep breath and opened the door of the truck to step out. Just as he did, Martin came trotting out of the Police station. Martin spotted Quint immediately. Smiling, Martin yelled to Quint, "Hey!...Quint!...I've been wanting to talk to you!". Quint was totally confused. Martin came around to the drivers side of the truck and put his hands on the open window ledge of the door. "Whats going on?", Quint asked Martin, smiling curiously. Martin, grinning like he had just won the lottery, clapped Quint on the back of the shoulder and gestured for Quint to get out of the truck and come into the station. Quint got out and Martin tugged at his coat sleeve, "Lets talk about it inside...", Martin grinned. Once behind the closed doors of the Chiefs office and orders to Polly for them to be left undisturbed, Quint and Martin seated themselves comfortably. Martin began, "Quint...you know how popular you've become since the trial, right...?". Quint, uncomfortable enough already, didnt like being reminded about this. He didnt like all the attention he got from the trial. To himself, he was no "hero"...just an ordinary 'Joe' who did what he had to do. But the Islanders were all still quite greatful to Quint for ridding them of the troubles of Mike Hannigan, Josh Brewer and Paul Schroeder. Even after all this time. Quint shifted in his seat and lowered his gaze. Letting out a deep sigh of regret and, possibly, a bit of embarrassment, he lifted the bill of his cap way back onto his head and answered Martin. "Yes, Martin...", he sighed, smiling, trying to mask his embarrassment, "...But I'd just as soon forget about it, if you please...". Martin, smiling understandably, "Look, Quint...I know you dont like all this 'hoopla' with the Islanders, but...well...they're greatful to you. You were not only taking care of your own, but you were taking care of the whole Island, as well. Those punks were a danger to everyone else, too. Okay...so you did it inadvertantly...you still did it, nevertheless...and folks are just very appreciative, here. I know you can understand that...". Quint only made a slight nod. He could feel the warmth of a growing blush creep up into his cheeks and he wasnt liking this in the slightest bit! Shifting his weight in his chair, feeling extremely uncomfortable now - and wishing he'd never come in here in the first place - Quint replied, his blue eyes flashing, head lowered with his eyes still on Martin, a piercing gaze directly into Maetins eyes (now making Martin feel almost as uncomfortable as he was feeling - something Quint considered a 'gift'...the ability to take what emotions people could heap onto him and turn them back to the sender if they were unpleasant) and said, sternly, "...I was only protecting my woman, Brody...I wasnt looking to be a hero. I already played that role back in the war. I didnt like it then and I sure as hell dont like it any better, now...". Martin suddenly noticed that, when Quint spoke low and sternly like he just did, he sounded a bit like a lion, growling. It sort of made Martin uneasy...especially staring into those glaring, flashing blue eyes... Trying to keep him calm, in case he was getting upset (and these days, with Quint, one couldnt tell when he was going to get upset...he was under such stress that he would just 'explode' and became, actually, frightening), Martin continued, calmly and in a low, soothing tone, "I know that, Quint...you know that...but to the rest of the Island, you did a humungous favor. You have to accept that. These people are just extremely greatful and there's nothing you or I can do about that...Look...its a good thing. You dont have to enjoy it, just roll with it...you can even make this all work out for you...". Quint, a look of suprize on his face, exclaimed, "How the hell do you figure I can manage that?!". Martin smiled, "...Larry Vaughn...our 'glorious' mayor...", (a hint of sarcasm in his voice), "...is retiring in 6 months and the town council is holding an election for a new mayor and there's only one guy running...this is what I wanted to talk to you about...". Quint, sliding himself back into his chair, slowly crossing his right leg over his left and turning to the side to rest his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his chin on his palm. With a smirky little grin and raised eyebrows, he knew Brody was up to something. With a melodic tone in his voice, Quint asked sweetly, "Yes, Chief...?", grinning from ear-to-ear, "...What is it you would like to talk with me about...?". Quint already had an idea of the ridiculous proposal Martin was about to make to him...and what his answer was already going to be. After a moments silence, Martin glared into Quint's eye's and said, "Quint...would you run for mayor of Amity Island?". Quiunt just sat there and stared at Martin with a sort of smirky kind of smile for a few seconds, before bursting into roaring laughter. Patiently, Martin reasoned, "Look...I know how you feel about politics...how 'every politician is on the take', theyre all 'as crooked as Lombard street in San Francisco', etcetera, etcetera...but think about it, Quint...there's alot you can do being Mayor. You can change things. Arent you the one always complaining about the laws governing the fishing trade?...Arent you the one always moaning about how high the taxes are getting on the Island?...And, arent you the one who's always bitching about how high the dock fee's are getting every year??...And, I tell you what...", Martin said, as he leaned back in his chair and rested his cheek on his palm, "...I could use a friend in the Mayors office to get me that raise I've been asking for so I can get, at least, one of my sons into college...". Irritated, Quint waved, "Alright...alright, Chief...". He had a snarl on his face, but Martin had hit on some tender subjects. Martin was getting to him and he didnt much like it, but he sure had some valid points...he knew that he could change things around the Island with that kind of power. Larry Vaughn was a jerk, in Quints opinion, changing the zoning laws to accomodate those big yachts that could dock and pay higher fee's (more money for Vaughns pocket) ; raising the dock fee's to get more money out of those same rich tourists, but, at the same time, breaking the poor mans wallet...so many things Quint could change to make things better for the lives of the Amity fishermen...for years he'd been bitching and moaning about all of these things and here was his chance to actually do something about it all. Quitn sat silently, staring out the window, honestly considering this proposition. He had enough of his own troubles right now. He didnt think he could handle all of this without first taking care of his own problems. Breaking Quints train of thought, Martin added, "...Anyway, what was it you were coming here to see me about?". Oh, boy...here it comes, Quint thought to himself. He REALLY didnt want to ask Martin for money, but he knew he had to. He looked up at the clock on the wall. It was ten minutes past five. He had fifty more minutes before Reed was going to close in on his boat...and that was IF Reed would wait till the last minute! He had no place else to turn. So, Quint swallowed hard, took a deep breath. He thought to himself, "Well, I'd better do something quick...just to get it over with...". And he did. Asking Martin, his friend, another *man*, for money was the hardest thing he had ever had to do...even tougher than, he felt, surviving five days and nights in freezing salt water without food or fresh, drinkable water or even sleep, surrounded by about 500 hungry oceanic white-tip sharks when his warship by sunk by Japanese torpedos back in world war two. The worst part, he thought, was not being able to look Martin, his best friend, in the eyes as he asked. Martin, being a policeman and having those keen instincts, felt Quints embarrassment. He tried to think of a way to make this situation as comfortable as possible for his friend...after all...Martin was a man, too...he knew how it must feel to throw ones male pride (a very tender thing) on the line to ask another guy for help. Martin already knew how Quint felt about Elena's money, so he understood why Quint wouldnt go to her for any of it. But Martin had seen men go out and commit crimes than to ask another man for money, even when he needed it this badly. After all...Martin had been a New York City cop for 10 years before coming to Amity Island these 7 years before. Calmly, with a smile and a soft, friendly tone to his voice, Martin said, "Sure, buddy...let's take a walk to the bank...no problem...only, one condition...". Quint brought his eye's up from the floor to meet Martin's, "...Yes?...". "I want you to consider running for mayor...", Martin smiled, eyebrows raised, a questioning look on his friendly face. It worked. Martins persistance and friendly smile made Quint feel more at ease. Grinning, almost chuckling, Quint said, "You got it, Chief", as he stood up to follow Martin out the door. Well, Thomas Reed - a trouble making, miserable little creep who would have loved to had rather caused misery ("That will teach them to pay thier bills on time", he would always say whenever he would repossess someones car while they were at work or wait until dinner time of an evening to kick someone out of thier home with thier children for being a week late with thier rent, sure that being mean like that would teach people to be more careful with thier expenses) than bringing happiness, reluctantly accepted Quint's payment, while flippantly reminding Quint that he had only thirty more days before he was to make his next payment. To Quint, it seemed like Reed wanted to take the Orca from him, just for the sheer miserly pleasure of it. And to Martin, who had went on to Reed's office inside the bank with Quint, it seemed the same way. Martin bent over the desk and got down nose-to-nose with Reed, said, low enough so that no one else could hear, "Listen, you little shit...one more time you make my buddy here sweat over a payment, I'm going to sweat you like a pig on a hot day!...You'll give him a little more time next month, right?...". Scared, Reed nodded his head, eyes wide. Quint, standing behind Martin and taking all of this in, was grinning so hard his facial muscles were cramping. As the two walked out of the bank, Quint clapped Martin on the back and said, "I got a few bits, Chief...how about a beer?". Martin chuckled, "I'm not supposed to drink on duty...". Quint roared gleefully, "So bloody what?!...I'll be mayor!!...I'll give ya yer job back!". The two roared with laughter as they walked toward the Grotto. Two hours later, everything taken care of, Quint realized he hadnt called Elena and let her know that the boat loan had been paid for the month. He knew she would be setting there, wringing her hands, worrying, so he got up from the bar and went to the payphone and called her. She said she had dinner going and wanted to know when he would be home. He told her he was leaving, now. She told him to ask Martin for supper, but when Quint did, Martin said he was already in the doghouse with Ellen over not going with her the previous week to her mothers house for supper ("I hate that old bat!", Martin snorted into his beer, causing Quint to have to strongly subdue a bad case of the riotous giggles). So, Quint paid for the two beers and left, after once again thanking Martin for the financial help. Quint tiredly drove himself home. He was absolutely beat. This day ahd really taken alot out of him, emotionally, so much so that he was a actually physically tired. He even felt his legs go weak beneath him as he walked up the three small steps up to his front porch and he almost couldnt make the two steps it took to get to the front door. Elena greeted him at the door with a warm smile, open arms and a gentle kiss. But it wasnt the kiss that lifted his spirits and gave him a little of his energy back, it was that luscious, Heavenly aroma of her pot roast with those little potatoes he loved so much, cooking in her special gravy, wafting out from the kitchen. His stomach gurgled and roared with hunger. After that fulfilling supper, Quint went into the livingroom to watch a little bit of television while Elena got Mikey ready for bed. He hated the Island tv stations...there were only two stations and neither of them ever showed anything worth watching. The Quint's had been able to have satellite tv at one point in thier marriage, but that was just one more bill they couldnt pay so it got disconnected. As he opened his cold can of Coors beer, he wondered to himself why he was so stubborn where money was concerned. He knew there were things Elena was living without that he knew she wanted, but he couldnt afford to give her so he didnt let her have them. And she loved him so much she obediently obeyed his wishes, without the slightest complaint. This made him feel like a real shit-heel when he thought of it. "Well", he thought to himself, "When I am mayor, I can give her all of those things". Then he realised he was going to have to tell her about the decision he made today, about running for mayor of Amity Island. He wasnt sure how she was going to take it...her mother was into political affairs - campaining and partying with political figures - and, in turn, was rarely ever around for Elena. This may bring back unpleasant memories for Elena and she may object to it, thinking he may not have time for her... Well, he was so tired from today that he didnt think about it for too long. He would just wait until she was finished taking care of the boy and they could set and discuss it before going off to bed. When Elena was through getting Mikey to bed and had done the dinner dishes, she went into the livingroom to join her husband for the rest of the evening. She woke him when she kissed his forehead to wake him up to get him to bed...it suprized him to realize that he had actually fallen asleep...and with the beer can, full of beer, still in his hand. He hadnt spilled a single drop! "Is Mikey in bed already?", he asked her, groggily. "Yes", she sighed as she sat down on the sofa next to him, "He came in a gave you a gentle peck on the cheek before he went...I told him not to wake you, that you had had a rough day...". Nevertheless, Quint was still a little disappointed that he didnt get to wish his little son a good night. Elena reached over and lovingly placed her delicate hand on Quints strong, muscular thigh. With a concerned expression on her face, she asked, "Michael, sweety, if you're so tired, why dont you go to bed...?". He looked over at her with his tired, baby-blue eyes. He managed a very weak, tired smile as he placed his large, rough, warm hand on her soft knee...slowly, intimately sliding it along the silky smooth material of her dress, over her long, firm thigh, stopping half way to give it a gentle squeeze and a pat. Smiling still, he softly said to her, "I want to talk with you about something Martin suggested to me, today, lady...". His voice was in that low, soft, ultra-sexy tone she secretly loved so much. His powerful presence was so overwhelming to her sometimes that it actually made her swoon, even after all these years. He could tell her anything right now, the way she felt, and she would happily agree to it! And he knew this power he had over her, too. He knew how to use it to his advantage. But, he used this power wisely, for he also knew that she had this same power over him, as well... She snuggled up to him and laid her cheek gently on his big, warm shoulder and looked up at him with a dreamy look in her eyes and sighed, "What is it, my love...?", smiling contentedly. As he smiled down at her, he slowly went on to explain to her all that went on in Martins office this afternoon. When he was finished, she blinked twice, sat up quickly and rigidly and exclaimed, "What???...Mayor...?!". He nodded silently. After staring at him in disbelief a few moments, she said, in a softer tone, "Well...?...What did you say...?". "I told Martin I would think about it, lady...", knowing full well he had already accepted, but too tired for an argument, in case that was what was about to go down. But she noticed his New Englander accent getting thicker...when that happened, she knew he was putting up a front...hiding something from her. Had anyone else seen the expression on his face at this moment, they would have thought he had been insulted by her suprize. But only the one who knew him better than his own self knew that look...it was his look of total confusion. He was 'blown away' by the whole idea of his being mayor of any place, much less the Island he had loved so much through most of his 55 years. And though his appearance was still youthful and his health was in tip-top condition, his faith in his fellow Islanders was still shaky, despite the incident with Mike Hannigan 6 years before and that business back in '75 with that megladon shark, he still felt that they couldnt give a drop of hot piss about Michael Quint. With that same expression still on his face, he asked her, "So...?...What do you think about the whole idea?...", searching her face, her eyes, for some type of reaction, but her expression was blank. Then, suddenly, a huge smile crept slowly across her face. Excitedly, she exclaimed, "...I think its a fan-TASTIC idea!!", she squealed, throwing her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. "You DO?...", he suprisedly mused, "...Why??...". She reached over and rubbed his arm seductively as she spoke sweetly, "...Think about it, babe...the people of Amity have come to think of you as thier hero...I know that bothers you, but it shouldnt...take advantage of it!". Then she nuzzled his earlobe with her warm lips and cooed playfully, "...And this job pays forty thousand dollars a year, sweety...think of how that little prick Thomas Reed will kiss your ass after you become mayor!". She giggled with delight. Quint drew back from her as if she had bit him or something, a look of total shock on his face. "Elena!!...", he shrieked, "...I'm suprized at you!!...I've never heard you use those words before!!...", then he snorted in disgust, "...I dont want my woman tlaking like she's been swabbing decks all her life!!". She drew away from him and sat up straight, a look of slight surprize on her face, "Oh, lighten up, Michael...you talk like that all the time!". Then a prudish expression washed over her face as she said, "...Dont be a hypocryte, dear...", her voice sarcastically sweet. He sat forward, to where he was shoulder to shoulder with her and turned his head to look her straight in the eyes. He drew a breath and cocked an eyebrow, preparing to reply heartily to that last comment, but she cut him off before he could. "Michael...", she said, much sweeter and more serious...she knew this was the one thing that was going to bring them up out of the doldrums...no more money problems...no more arguing about useing her money while he hadnt much...he would now have his own money and his own prestige...thier worries would be finally over. "...Wont you please consider this...?...I know youre not a very public person, but I think you be be absolutely smashing as mayor!", she smiled and cooed softly, stroking both his arm and his ego. Besides, she thought...this was also a way for them to get rid of that creepy little Thomas Reed...but the biggest problems Quint was having was with the Island politicians, who were, of late, cracking under the pressures and strains of those environmentalists who were trying to get several species of both fish and sharks put on the endangered species list...and it included almost every species of fish and shark that swam off of the Amity coast line. Quint was a fisherman, by trade. He knew far better than any politician or environmentalist what impact there would be cutting off the supply would have...on the fishermen, thier families, the business community...it would affect the seafood business on the entire east coast! But, most importantly, the Islanders loved Quint. She didnt want him to be mayor just for the people, but because of the things he could do as mayor...and, as well, being around all of the Islanders, this would bring him out of his 'shell'...Quint genuinely liked his fellow Islanders, but he was so 'shy' and mistrustful of them...well...unless he had been drinking. Then, he would be the 'toast of the town'! But this would be a way for him to learn to be social while being sober...a tough task within itself. And this was very important to her. She didnt want everyone thinking Quint was just some 'happy drunk'. Besides...the more stress he had, the more he drank. The more he drank - alone- the more he thought of the bad things in his life that had happened...and, the more he thought about them, the meaner he got...the only real male friend that he had was Martin and Quint always felt guilty taking his troubles to him all the time. Things were so different between men and women, she mused. Anyway, she felt him having other men in his life to talk with and drown his sorrows in that damned apricot brandy of his would do him a world of good. He needed this more for an "outlet" of pressures, if for nothing else. After a few moments of thought, Quint asked softly, "...You really think I should...?". She smiled, slipped her arm around his broad shoulders and kissed him softly on the cheek, "Yes, dear...I truly do...", smiling. After a second or two, he smiled back at her. That flash of life, that sparkle of hope gleaming in his eyes, came back to him, spreading throughout his face - releiving her greatly. Then he let out one of his cute chuckles. "Alright, woman...I'll go in the morning and let Martin know you'll support me". Elena squealed with delight as she threw her other arm around his neck and kissed him happily on the lips.... But he threw his big arms around her, as well, and kissed her back, quite passionately, forcing her body back onto the sofa with his largeer, stronger body. He suddenly wasnt that 'tired' anymore... ************************************************************************** Mike Hannigan sat in his cell, reading the local newspaper that the prison warden "so generously" allowed him to have a subscription to. Mikes days didnt have much excitement to them these days, what with spending 23 out of every 24 hours locked inside a five-foot-by-eight-foot cell, just like he had done every day for the last seven years, nine months and 21 days for, in Mikes opinion, "picking on some rich broad to try and rob-and getting the hell beat out of him for his trouble". He took a pretty bad beating, too. His whole face changed because of the plastic surgery needed just so he could be able to eat or drink, talk or even breathe anymore. He was recogniseable, but only if you knew him well. That was one tough old man he had tangled with. Mike never expected so much energy - or fury - and sheer strength to come out of a man that age. But Quint suprised him damned good and kicked the living shit out of him. And Mike figured that, since he had been beaten so badly, (not to mention those three cracked, extremely painful ribs that took so long to heal), that he shouldnt have gotten twenty years. Ten, maybe...but not twenty. That beating was punishment enough. Mike thought about paybacks everyday, but always tried to push it all out of his mind. Lindy Ellerbee, the girl who lived next door to his parents on the Island since they were kids, had heard about what had happened in the Island newspaper (her mother had clipped out the article and had sent it to her) and began writing to him. Mike and Lindy played together as children, grew up together and began dating during the summer before they started high school and all through the first year. But, Mike met some tough guys at Amity High and got into drugs and was getting into alot of trouble and he changed from a sweet, shy boy into a mean-spirited jerk, so she broke it off with him. Mike was determined to straighten up and fly right, this time. He'd had enough of prison and the drugs and general criminal behavior wasnt getting him anywhere. Quints beating was a wake-up call for Mike. He realized that he could have easily been killed or have killed someone and could be facing death in the electric chair instead of just twenty years (which he could possibly get time off for good behavior). Now that he had plenty of time to think about everything, how he'd messed up his life and lost the only girl he'd ever really given a shit about, (and his mind was finally drug-clean enough to be able to think clearly), he had the chance to realize this kind of life just wasnt worth the hassle anymore. Besides...while he had been in prison, he had learned a trade...bookkeeping. And his parole officer had promised to find him a job when he got out...which, according to what went on with the meeting with his lawyer this morning, wouldnt be much longer...he thought he would have to do the whole time that he recieved - twenty years - but the lawyer got a meeting with the sentencing judge and got MIkes time shaved in half for "good behavior", learning a trade and following through and, they also took into consideration, the severe injuries he had suffered just before his arrest and all the time and suffering he had done while healing. They were supposed to go in front of the parole board in the morning and things looked good. He had fallen in love with Lindy all over again...they had been writing and she had even visited several times...and he planned on marrying her once he secured a job on the outside after his release. As a matter of fact, Lindy was coming in with his parents, in the morning, to stand with him and vouch for him, in front of the board. But, this day, as Mike read the local paper, a small article on the National News page caught his eye. A familiar name popped off the page at Mike. The article read: "Michael Quint, fisherman, sharker and local hero of Amity Island, Massachussetts, leading in popularity polls for new Island mayor".... "So...", Mike said to himself, "That sonofabitch is running for mayor!...Making good off of my pain and suffering?!...I'll be damned!!". Mike put the paper away, stuffing it between his mattress and the frame of his cot. It was his turn to spend an hour out on the excersize yard. He figured he could do the crossword puzzle after dinner - a little treat to look forward to. And he wasnt going to let that article get to him. No!!. He was going to get himself straight and clean and leave the past behind him. All of it. But, out on the excersize yard, Mike started to think...bad thoughts. He knew he would have to fight these feelings of revenge, but it was getting too much to bear. Thoughts of Quints getting fame and fortune off of his pain and suffering, all of the time he had to spend in jail, while Quint was out being the hero. It was getting too much to bear and he couldnt stop those thoughts from coming...and they were coming on pretty strong, too. He kept telling himself to just "let it GO!", but he couldnt. The idea of that nosey old bastard reaping the rewards for all the pain and suffering he had to go through irked the hell out of him and ate at him like a cancer. After all...if Quint hadnt have butted in, he would have just robbed that old broad and that would have been the end of it. No beating, no twenty-two lengthy, painful plastic surgeries to endure and, if he would have been caught at all, he probably would have only gotten five years, tops, for the robbery - only having to serve, most likely, two and a half years with time off for good behavior. He could do two and a half years standing on his head. But this Quint just had to stick his nose into someplace it didnt belong...at least, not in Mikes opinion. Mike had no idea that Josh had that gun, but Mike felt he could have handled that on his own. He could always handle Josh, even though Josh was a pure psycho. He knew how to talk to Josh, to calm him down. But, still...he wasnt so sure it would always work...last he heard of Josh Brewer was that he'd gotten into a fight with some black guy and several of that black guys friends jumped Josh and shanked him. They said Josh died with that knife in his throat, choking on his own blood - as what almost happened to Mike, dying choking on his own blood. "This is crazy thinking!", Mike puffed out loud as he jogged around the yard. He forced himself to think about how good things have started to look for him since he started this prison term...how he had gotten back in touch with the only girl he'd ever given a damned about, how they had finally gotten to know each other far better than they ever had, how she'd proved her love and devotion to him by sticking by him through all of his trials and appeals...how he felt ashamed for the way he'd treated her in the past and how he was going to make it all up to her when (and if) he got out...how greatful he was that she had forgiven him and he was bound and determined that he would prove to her that he could make things right for her. Also, how lucky he was that he was able to get into the trade program and learn something that was going to help him support her so they could have the life she deserved...she changed him for the better and he was greatful to her for that, as well...he felt good because of her love, patience and understanding of him...it made him feel he could do almost anything and he wanted his plans for her and thier future to work out. But, despite all of this that he knew, his "positive thinking" wasnt strong enough to overcome those old feelings of hatred and anger. Those thoughts of revenge kept slamming into his head like a sledgehammer. "SHIT!!", he puffed out loud, as he ran as fast as he could, hoping to tire his body out to the point that all his mind could think of was nothing but rest. "I think I'm as fucking psycho as Josh was!!". **************************************************************************** Mike Hannigan sat in his cell, reading the local newspaper that the prison warden "so generously" allowed him to have a subscription to. Mikes days didnt have much excitement to them these days, what with spending 23 out of every 24 hours locked inside a five-foot-by-eight-foot cell, just like he had done every day for the last seven years, nine months and 21 days for, in Mikes opinion, "picking on some rich broad to try and rob-and getting the hell beat out of him for his trouble". He took a pretty bad beating, too. His whole face changed because of the plastic surgery needed just so he could be able to eat or drink, talk or even breathe anymore. He was recogniseable, but only if you knew him well. That was one tough old man he had tangled with. Mike never expected so much energy - or fury - and sheer strength to come out of a man that age. But Quint suprised him damned good and kicked the living shit out of him. And Mike figured that, since he had been beaten so badly, (not to mention those three cracked, extremely painful ribs that took so long to heal), that he shouldnt have gotten twenty years. Ten, maybe...but not twenty. That beating was punishment enough. Mike thought about paybacks everyday, but always tried to push it all out of his mind. Lindy Ellerbee, the girl who lived next door to his parents on the Island since they were kids, had heard about what had happened in the Island newspaper (her mother had clipped out the article and had sent it to her) and began writing to him. Mike and Lindy played together as children, grew up together and began dating during the summer before they started high school and all through the first year. But, Mike met some tough guys at Amity High and got into drugs and was getting into alot of trouble and he changed from a sweet, shy boy into a mean-spirited jerk, so she broke it off with him. Mike was determined to straighten up and fly right, this time. He'd had enough of prison and the drugs and general criminal behavior wasnt getting him anywhere. Quints beating was a wake-up call for Mike. He realized that he could have easily been killed or have killed someone and could be facing death in the electric chair instead of just twenty years (which he could possibly get time off for good behavior). Now that he had plenty of time to think about everything, how he'd messed up his life and lost the only girl he'd ever really given a shit about, (and his mind was finally drug-clean enough to be able to think clearly), he had the chance to realize this kind of life just wasnt worth the hassle anymore. Besides...while he had been in prison, he had learned a trade...bookkeeping. And his parole officer had promised to find him a job when he got out...which, according to what went on with the meeting with his lawyer this morning, wouldnt be much longer...he thought he would have to do the whole time that he recieved - twenty years - but the lawyer got a meeting with the sentencing judge and got MIkes time shaved in half for "good behavior", learning a trade and following through and, they also took into consideration, the severe injuries he had suffered just before his arrest and all the time and suffering he had done while healing. They were supposed to go in front of the parole board in the morning and things looked good. He had fallen in love with Lindy all over again...they had been writing and she had even visited several times...and he planned on marrying her once he secured a job on the outside after his release. As a matter of fact, Lindy was coming in with his parents, in the morning, to stand with him and vouch for him, in front of the board. But, this day, as Mike read the local paper, a small article on the National News page caught his eye. A familiar name popped off the page at Mike. The article read: "Michael Quint, fisherman, sharker and local hero of Amity Island, Massachussetts, leading in popularity polls for new Island mayor".... "So...", Mike said to himself, "That sonofabitch is running for mayor!...Making good off of my pain and suffering?!...I'll be damned!!". Mike put the paper away, stuffing it between his mattress and the frame of his cot. It was his turn to spend an hour out on the excersize yard. He figured he could do the crossword puzzle after dinner - a little treat to look forward to. And he wasnt going to let that article get to him. No!!. He was going to get himself straight and clean and leave the past behind him. All of it. But, out on the excersize yard, Mike started to think...bad thoughts. He knew he would have to fight these feelings of revenge, but it was getting too much to bear. Thoughts of Quints getting fame and fortune off of his pain and suffering, all of the time he had to spend in jail, while Quint was out being the hero. It was getting too much to bear and he couldnt stop those thoughts from coming...and they were coming on pretty strong, too. He kept telling himself to just "let it GO!", but he couldnt. The idea of that nosey old bastard reaping the rewards for all the pain and suffering he had to go through irked the hell out of him and ate at him like a cancer. After all...if Quint hadnt have butted in, he would have just robbed that old broad and that would have been the end of it. No beating, no twenty-two lengthy, painful plastic surgeries to endure and, if he would have been caught at all, he probably would have only gotten five years, tops, for the robbery - only having to serve, most likely, two and a half years with time off for good behavior. He could do two and a half years standing on his head. But this Quint just had to stick his nose into someplace it didnt belong...at least, not in Mikes opinion. Mike had no idea that Josh had that gun, but Mike felt he could have handled that on his own. He could always handle Josh, even though Josh was a pure psycho. He knew how to talk to Josh, to calm him down. But, still...he wasnt so sure it would always work...last he heard of Josh Brewer was that he'd gotten into a fight with some black guy and several of that black guys friends jumped Josh and shanked him. They said Josh died with that knife in his throat, choking on his own blood - as what almost happened to Mike, dying choking on his own blood. "This is crazy thinking!", Mike puffed out loud as he jogged around the yard. He forced himself to think about how good things have started to look for him since he started this prison term...how he had gotten back in touch with the only girl he'd ever given a damned about, how they had finally gotten to know each other far better than they ever had, how she'd proved her love and devotion to him by sticking by him through all of his trials and appeals...how he felt ashamed for the way he'd treated her in the past and how he was going to make it all up to her when (and if) he got out...how greatful he was that she had forgiven him and he was bound and determined that he would prove to her that he could make things right for her. Also, how lucky he was that he was able to get into the trade program and learn something that was going to help him support her so they could have the life she deserved...she changed him for the better and he was greatful to her for that, as well...he felt good because of her love, patience and understanding of him...it made him feel he could do almost anything and he wanted his plans for her and thier future to work out. But, despite all of this that he knew, his "positive thinking" wasnt strong enough to overcome those old feelings of hatred and anger. Those thoughts of revenge kept slamming into his head like a sledgehammer. "SHIT!!", he puffed out loud, as he ran as fast as he could, hoping to tire his body out to the point that all his mind could think of was nothing but rest. "I think I'm as fucking psycho as Josh was!!". ************************************************************************* One month after Quint had told Martin he'd run for mayor, he was already leading in the voter polls by 89%...far more and far quicker than any other incumbent in Amity Islands history. And he hadnt even done that much campaigning! The Islanders had simply seen his name on the ballot or read about his running in the local news and just went and voted for him. There were also all those posters Martin had put up around the Island that got the buzz about Quints running going. People were already stopping Quint on the street to express thier concerns and a desire for change...for Quint to make those changes happen. And Quint was getting better and better at public relations. It didnt seem to matter that he wasnt all that great with it in the first place, because he had this strong "magnatism" about him that naturally drew people to him, anyway. Quint's running mate in the election was Larry Vaughns favorite, Chas Reese. (His name was "Charles", but he liked "Chas", better...it was the "in" thing to shorten ones name to something "hip" and "in" on the east coast, in his age set...he was 28 and starting into a career of politics and his target voters were the younger generation...which was a strike against him amongst the older set of Amity, who wanted someone thier own age, familiar with thier problems. "Chas" didnt even live in Amity...he was a rich boy from the suburbs of Massachusettes. The older set knew he was just going to use them as "practice"...a "stepping stone" in his political career. He hadnt a clue as to what they really needed or wanted. And he wasnt going to do well, right from the start...the vast majority of the Islanders were all over the age of 40). And Elena was the busy little bee, herself...organizing voter picnics and luncheons, setting up "suggestion boxes" for the voters all over to show that Quint really cared about what they thought, writing Quints speeches and serving as his "public relations specialist"....they had less than a month before elections, so she was so busy that little Mikey spent alot of time at "Aunt Ellen's" (Brody) house. One sunday night, when they finally got to spend some time alone together, Quint wanted to make love to her. As she stood there, in her long, white, silky gown, brushing her long, thick, wavy auburn hair in the dresser mirror, he sat on the edge of the bed, watching her...his desire for her growing like a wildfire deep inside of him. He stood up and stepped quickly to her, putting his hands on her waist, pressing his hard body against her from behind and pressed his hot, moist lips against the skin of the nape of her neck. He grunted, "...I need you now, woman...", his breathing heavy and raspy, his heart pounding. He kissed her neck and shoulder, caressing her with his strong, rough hands, grinding his hips into her backside. She turned on her heel, abruptly, to face him. "Quint!!...You know what I heard this afternoon??". He stood there with a pained expression on his face, then winced, "...Do we have to discuss it right now??", his desire for her cut painfully to a halt. She smiled, understandingly, but she had to tell him what she had heard...they could always "do it", later. Unable to contain her excitement, she hopped on one foot and squealed, "...I heard Reese is conceding!". His expression was that of total confusion, "...What do you mean, 'conceding'?...". She rushed, "He's throwing in the towel, dearest!!...Thats means, if he does, you are the MAYOR!!". "And where did you hear this?", he asked. "I heard it strait out of the mouth of Polly Webber...Martins secretary, thats who!!". Grinning, Quint mimbled, "...I always wondered what her last name was...". "Anyway...", she continued, excitedly, "...Polly said that she overheard Mayor Vaughn talking to Martin about it!". Quint stood there, rubbing his chin, staring downward, distantly. Finally, he broke his silence, "...So...this could really happen...?". A suprised, almost shocked look washed over her face, but then a smile grew out of it, quickly, "Why, Micheal Jacob Quint!...What do you think we've been doing all this time??...Did you think this was a joke, or something??...". He smiled a bit of an evil grin and let out a little chuckle, before stepping back to her to pull her back into his arms. "I guess it just didnt all hit me till now, I guess...". He kissed her and then gathered her up into his arms, then laid her down onto the bed and proceeded to make passionate love to her...to finish what he had started. The following day, at the latest fund raising luncheon, the article on the front page of the Amity Lighthouse newspaper was read aloud to all of the attendee's...the official notice that Charles "Chas" Reese had officially announced his concesion in the Amity mayoral race. Michael Quint was now the only candidate for mayor on Amity and would take over for mayor Vaughn on January 1st! Elena hugged and kissed Quint happily, after she had patiently stood by his side on the podium as the news was read aloud to the crowd. As he returned her hug and kissed her sweetly, smiling, Martin came up behind him to shake his hand and congratualte him. "Way to go, Quint!!...I knew we could pull this off!", Martin was grinning from ear to ear. Martin tapped Quints arm to get his attention, then pointed past him out into the crowd, "There's someone else, here, who wants to congratualte you, too...", Martin grinned. With a confused grin, Quint looked out, focusing his eyes from the bright lights of the podium to the dark crowd, searching with his eyes in the direction Martin was pointing. "Congratulations, Quint!", he heard a familiar voice call out, "...I never thought I would ever see this day!", the familiar voice chuckled. Quints eyes finally focused, but he couldnt believe who he was seeing, standing there, now directly in front of him, smiling, extending his hand. It was Matt Hooper. "HOOPER!!!", Quint shouted, wide-eyed and extremely happy to see his old pal, "...You little squirt!...I thought you'd been swallowed up long ago!!", he laughed, hugging Matt. This was it, for Quint. It just couldnt get any better than this...the woman he loved by his side, along with his two best friends in the whole world and a fantastic little son he could brag about...and the entire Island adored him. Quint thought to himself, "This is better than Heaven ever could be...". That night, Quint, Martin and Hooper took the Orca out onto the water, "for old times sake". They drank and they laughed and they caught up on what was happening in each of thier lives as well as reminisced about the old days and the shark they so valiantly fought together...Quint showed Matt the jaws of that megladon shark...he had nailed them to the bow of the Orca, the potruding cat walk sticking out of them. "I hate to cut this short, Quint, but I dont want to leave Jeannie too long...", Matt said, speaking of his girlfriend, whom he'd brought along. It was getting a little cool, anyway and Martin also wanted to get back...he was always on call and hadnt brought his radio with him. And though Quint wouldnt admit it in front of the guys, but he wanted to share this night with his Elena, as well. So, they made thier way back to the Quint's cottage on OceanView road, where they proceeded to drink more and laugh and talk and enjoy each others company...they didnt know when they all might have the chance to be together, again, so they wanted to make the best of it. Elena and Ellen Brody and Jeannie (Judson) sat in the kitchen, telling stories and secrets about each others' husbands and giggling, while the children amused themselves, in Mikeys bedroom with Mikey, playing Atari games, G.I. Joe or the card game "war". Later, Ellen and Elena made beds for the boys...this looked like it was going to be a long night. The guys were already making orders for breakfast! **************************************************************************** The days and weeks went by...halloween and Thanksgiving day came and went. The formal mayoral election was held and Quint was voted in, formally, as mayor of Amity Island. Quint was in his glory. But, having no previous experience in politics, the local political society had Quint working hard learning the job of politician, teaching him, coaching him, on everything from learning the local problems to how to deal with the public. There were so many decisions to be made, so many things to do and so little time to learn them all. Thank goodness Larry vaughn was good enough to help out. They guessed it was because Vaughn wanted to remain an island pillar. Christmas came and went and it was now New Years eve. Quint was finally going to get a much needed break. "Hello, lovely lady...", Quint smiled, as he came up behind Elena and hugged her, "...What do you think about a nice, cozy, midnight sail?...We can bring in the new year, out on the ocean, just you and me...under the full moon, with a cold bottle of good champagne?...My treat...". She giggled as she turned to face him, sliding her arms up around his neck and kissing his cheek. "Oh, honey...", she pouted, "...I wished you would have made that suggestion a week ago...because I have already made plans for us...you, me, Martin and Ellen, Matt and Jeannie...we're going to Times Square for the big new years eve celebration tonight!...We're leaving at 4, heading for a private plane, having dinner in the city, then going on to the square...". Quint stepped back, smiled and scratched his head. He squinted his eyes and looked off into the distance, "...Lets see...last time I was in Times Square, was when the war ended...and I was kissing some gorgeous brunette...". He grinned down at her, one of those sly smiles with eyes that were sparkling and flashing blue fire. She knew he was teasing. "Oh...you...!", she giggled, playfully hitting his arm. She was grinning, too. She knew it wasnt true, anyway. When the war ended, Quint was still in the hospital. After spending five and a half days in salt water, his skin was like hot rubber, melting with the slightest touch. And he was still undergoing extensive psychological care for having gone through watching his mates being eaten alive and hearing thier screams...he still heard those screams in his nightmares... But this was something they almost never talked about. It was far too painful a memory for him and it hurt her to see him feel that pain. So, she said nothing about the teasing. she took it all in a playful way and left it at that. Quint was a very emotional man...and the USS Indianapolis was like a knife in his heart. Everytime the subject of it cam about, it was like twisting that knife deep into his soul. Bringing it up during a playful moment was like commiting murder...it could kill a good mood in the beat of a heart. Well, they all went to Times Square and had the times of thier lives. After midnight, they all took a horse and carriage ride around Central Park, stopped for coffee in a cozy little cafe near 34th and broadway, then drove all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge, over the Prospect Expressway, down Ocean Parkway to Coney Island. But Coney was deserted (except for the transients and the miscreants who made thier homes under the Boardwalk), so they drove back up north on the Belt Parkway to 14th avenue, where they decided to take a late ferry ride over to Staten Island. From there, they walked through Martin and Ellens old neighborhood (where they lived and Martin was a beat cop before they moved to Amity). They hit a few night spots and walked the neighborhood before going back to the Ferry Building to welcome the first sunrise of 1983. On thier way back across the Lower Bay to New York City, Ellen decided that she was the only one sober enough, yet, to drive. The guys were so blasted there was no way they could get behind the wheel of a car. They were all, really, so 'ripped' that they could basically do nothing more than laugh hysterically at the smallest thing...Hooper dropped his keys and was so drunk he couldnt find them...and they were laying right at his feet...they roared with laughter. Martin got seasick and almost fell over the boats railing as he leaned over to puke...they roared with laughter. Ellen commented to the girls, "...This is so pathetic...Martins laughing while he's puking...". But, when Quint burst out singing his rendition of "New York, New York" and threw his arm back in a dramatic gesture while singing the chorus and lost his balance, falling flat onto his backside, they all (women, too), lost it. Jeannie was hopping around on one foot, laughing so hard that tears were running down her cheeks. "...I...have to...pee...", she choked with laughter. Ellen and Elena joined in, laughing until thier stomachs ached and thier faces wet with tears of laughter. There was no doubt they were having a great time...even the few other ferry passengers were rolling with laughter. It was a good thing they had the rest of this day and tonight for them to rest and sober up...because the next day, Quint was going to take office. And it looked like they were going to need that long to get rid of thier hangovers. ***************************************************************************** Lindy Ellerbee woke to an unusually warm, sunny day, the first day of 1983. She awoke with a smile on her face. "Three more days...", she whispered aloud, as she stared across the room at the lovely white chiffon dress hanging on her closet door, "...Three more days until I am mrs. Michael Hannigan...". She truly believed, with all of her heart, that Mikes troubles were all behind him, now. They already had a place to live...her christams gift was also thier wedding gift from her parents...a small cottage near town on Clackamus avenue, one block off of Main street, three blocks from the General Supply store, where Mike will be working. After dinner, today, she would go there and start painting and wallpapering. Her father promised to help her carry some furniture that they had given her over to the cotttage, tomorrow...after Michael Quint took the oath of office and the whole ceremonial proceedure was over. After all, a new mayor in Amity doesnt come along too often. In Amity, a mayor can stay in office as long as twenty years, if he's elected every time a vote comes up, which is every five years. Larry Vaughn just wasnt cutting it, anymore. He got too old or too big headed or something, but the taxes were going sky-high, he was selling Island contracts to off-Islanders...but his real problems started after that shark problem back in '75. He ignored Chief Brodys warnings about beach safety and allowed swimming, anyway and some people were killed by shark attacks. He knew this next election wouldnt bode well for him, so he decided to step down graciously. And, without telling Lindy (because they didnt want it to upset Mike), the Ellerbee's were staunch supporters of Quints...Rich Ellerbee was a fisherman by trade, too...he knew that if there was anyone who knew what the Islanders and the fishermen would want and need, it would be Quint. She came down the stairs wearing a white skirt, with a pink/white polka dot blouse and white pumps. She had pulled her long, honey-blonde hair up onto her head in a nice little "up-do"...not a sloppy do and not elegant...a simple little bun with some hair falling around her face in loose tendrils. She was going to go and see Mike today, then come home, have a nice little new years dinner with her parents and her younger siblings, Rose and Todd. "Mornin', dad...", she smiled at her father as she walked into the kitchen. "Mornin', princess...", he greeted back, smiling from behind his newspaper without even really looking up. She walked up to her mother, who was standing at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs and potato pancakes. She gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Smells heavenly...", she grinned, as she leaned over the skillet to take a sniff. "Set down at the table, dear", her mother said, "...Get ready to enjoy one of your last 'home-cooked' breakfasts...its only a matter of days before youre the one doing the cooking". She turned from the stove long enough to give her daughter a sly smile. Lindy blushed...but smiled. She was so very much looking forward to marrying Mike. She was so sure, back in high school and college, that Mike would, someday, 'out-grow' his wild ways and get responsible as he matured. It was only a matter of time. So? It took seven years of prison to calm him down? She didnt mind...as long as it was done. And she was positive that the time had come.... ...Until after her visit with Michael was over... All he could seem to do, during the visit, was to talk about Quint...about what Quint did to him, said to him...and about how much it pissed him off that Quints going to be mayor. How he thought Quint would now have 'power' over him and he was positive that Quint was only doing this to make Mikes life miserable once he was out. He was convinced Quint would get him fired and get him thrown back in jail and simply make his life a living hell for what he had done to him and his wife. All of this made Lindy extremely unnerved. Oh, she would tell Mike that he was being over-sensitive and he'd laugh and then agree with her (he was raving like a mad-man, before) and this would make her feel alittle better, but the idea that he even thought about Quint anymore...and, especially in such a way...bothered her. As she lay in her bed this night, she drifted into a fitful sleep, wondering what her future held. At one time, she was sure...but...not anymore. ******************************************************************************* "Michael...Michael...", Elena called to Quint, trying to wake him up. He rolled over, grumbling, "...Leave me alone, woman!...", before rolling over to his other side to go back to sleep. "Michael Quint!", she snapped authoritively, as she nudged him harder, "Honey...you've got to get up...you've got to take the oath of office this morning, Mister Mayor!". Quint grumbled again, rolling over to look up into her smiling face, trying to focus his squinty, sleepy eyes. He sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbed his his eyes and growled, "Whats for breakfast, woman?" "Come into the kitchen and see for yourself, you big old grouchy lion...", she smiled as she leaned over to kiss his forehead. "By the way...", she added as she walked towrds the bedroom door, "...I laid out your suit and your clean shirt and underthings...they're hanging on the back of the bathroom door for you when you get out of the shower...". He growled, running his hand through his curly, greyish hair, all fuzzy and frizzy now from sleeping on it, "...But I wont even be in office until day after tomorrow!...Why all the fuss now?". In a patronizing tone, she rolled her eyes impatiently, "...Because the ceremony is today, honey...now, come on...get your shower before your breakfast gets cold from waiting on you". She pulled on his arm to coax him out of bed. He got up, slowly and hesitantly. He stood up, grumbling and mumbling, rubbing his eyes. She stood there, watching him...she thought this was the time of day when he looked the most adorable to her...his curly hair askew, his military I.D. tags (which he still wore) hanging down his back instead of his chest, his boxer shorts slipped down, showing the top of his cute butt. She stood there, him totally unaware that she was watching (or, was he unaware? With Quint, you never knew), smiling, sighing at this beautiful sight. To anyone else, it would have been one sorry sight...this 55 year old man with crazy hair, his ID tags on backwards and his underwear stuck in the crack of his butt...but, to her, it was a sight that rivaled her first glance at thier newborn son. It made her feel about the same. Her heart raced and she would deep-sigh...she was so in love... She smiled all the way back to the kitchen, with the thought of his cute butt cheeks on her mind. But Quint sat back down on the bed to think. Actually, he was worried. He was wondering if he could actually 'cut it' as Amity's mayor? Could he do a good job or would he screw it all up like Vaughn did? He wondered if he could even be half-assed decent as mayor. There was alot to do...but there was alot riding on him when he takes office. His decisions wont just be affecting his family or himself, but the whole damned Island. He wondered if he'd cut it or fall flat on his face. Well, he thought, at least one good thing has come out of all of this so far...he didnt have to deal with Thomas Reed anymore. Reed had actually had the nerve to come to the Quint house the day Chas Reese backed out of the election to tell Quint he'd 'back off' and give Quint as much time as he wanted to repay that loan. "Heh", Quint chuckled, "The little sonofabitch probably has something to hide...", to himself, just before he started wondering if one of his first mayoral duties should be to check into Reed's business practices. But, as he slowly rose from the edge of the bed to get to that shower, he decided not to put too much energy into Reed. Quint always thought ahead...if he fell flat on his ass as mayor, he would still owe money to that little prick...and if Quint made life hell for Reed, Reed would surely pay him back, double. Then again, Quint mused...if he did make it as mayor, he'd put the screws to that little toad BIG time! Quint chuckled heartily, then stepped into his shower. Quint looked extraordinarily handsome in his light, silver-blue suit, white shirt and dark blue paisley tie with the little gold tie clasp in the shape of a mako shark that little Mikey had given him last fathers day. He took the time to sjake hands with everyone who approached him, smiling, taking his congratualtions warmly, along with being bombarded with questions he couldnt really answer yet, but he was doing good putting them off, for now...just like Vaughn had taught him to. That was kind of tough for Quint, since he thought Vaughn was a bigger prick than Reed, but Quint did appreciate all the help that Vaughn gave him. There were popping flashbulbs and crowds of reporters...not just every Amity "LightHouse" reporter, but several from the mainland, as well. Hey...this was a big deal...this was the first time in two hundred years that a "commoner" had made mayor of anywhere. Quint's favorite part of all was the ride down Main street setting comfortably (and quietly) in the back of that Cadillac convertible, smiling and waving to all the Islanders who had come to wish him well and to cheer him on, with his wife and little son setting next to him...and that huge smile on his little sons face and the excitement in his little blue eyes. But by the end of this day, Quint was absolutely exhausted. "Elena...", he said, as she came into the room from putting Mikey to bed, finding Quint undressing - getting ready for bed, himself, "...I dont want to move from here...do you?". He watched her reflection in thier mirror for her reaction to that question. "Not really, Michael...", she sighed, unzipping her dress, "...But we're going to be hosting parties, housing guests and you'll be holding informal meetings...our little cottage just isnt big enough for those things...". She slipped her nightgown on, over her head, unaware that Quint was watching her, in the mirror...he loved how her silky gown flowed smoothly down over her smooth body. "Besides...", she smiled, as she walked over to him to slip her arms around his waist. She smiled sweetly as she looked up into his eyes and spoke, "...Our little cottage will still be right here, waiting for us to return to it when you decide to retire...". Quint looked down into her eyes, smiling, himself, "...And we can spend weekends here, too, sometimes...", as he kissed her cheek sweetly. "Yes...", she sighed, pressing herself into him, feeling his body readily accept her, softly agreeing to his remark, "...This will be our house...our own private place to be when the world of politics gets to be too much and we need to relax...with each other...". ******************************************************************************** As Lindy Ellerbee and her family stood on the sidewalk of Main street watching Mayor Quint riding by, waving and smiling, she could see how he could have easily whipped Mike. Quint was a big, strong-looking man who looked younger than she had heard he was. Her Mike was several inches shorter than Quint and his hands were significantly lareger than Mike's. She stared at those waving hands of Quints...she could swear she couls still see the bruises and scrapes that must have been there from that beating seven years ago... Mike should have never had tried to rob Mrs. Quint, she thought. She looks so 'delicate', so physically unable to protect herself. Lindy's train of thought was interrupted by her fathers comment. "I know this guy will make a decent mayor...", Rich Ellerbee smiled, "...He's a working man!". Rich helped his daughter move the furniture that he and his wife had kept stored in thier attic since Mrs. Ellerbee had gotten new furniture this past spring (and hadnt had the heart to ge rid of...Lucy Ellerbee's mother had given it to her before she had died, so they decided to hang onto it for Lindy), into Lindy and Mike's cottage, in preparation of thier wedding. The furnishings were old, but in good condition and would add, Lindy thought, a cozy air of vintage charm to thier first home. The cottage, itself, was old...the date on the title said the house was built in the summer of 1846. "I know Mikes going to love it as much as I do, already", she thought to herself, smiling. She had almost everything, already...sofa, chairs, tables, a dinette set and a bedroom set...and the cottage came with all the appliances that were needed. But, there were still the 'little things' that she needed...shhets, blankets, towels, dishes, etcetera. She was hoping that she would get most of that stuff as wedding gifts, but she knew that the Hannigans would supply what things they still needed. They had already expressed how upset they were that Lindys parents seemed to had already given them everything they needed and there was nothing left but a honeymoon to give them. So, Lindy, trying to be as sweet to her future in-laws as she knew how to be, promised them that they could furnish thier first nursery when the time came about. That seemed to make them happy. She had plenty of time for getting settled...she didnt have to go back to work until the end of the month. Her boss had graciously given her time off for the wedding and the honeymoon. She had worked for the Islands registrars office almost since coming home from college well over six years and her boss, Mrs. Chastings, was quite fond of her. Lindy was a good employee...not once had she ever been late nor had she ever taken a day off for any reason. But she wanted to spend this first night in her new home. She could bring sheets and towels from home, but, she fought the urge. She didnt want to sleep here until Mike could be with her. She thought it unfair that she would already be comfortable in her new surroundings while he wouldnt be. But she did, however, plan on staying as late as she possibly could. The electricity was on, the water was running...the only thing she didnt have was a telephone, for now. That night, as she sat on the sofa, staring out the livingroom window out into her lovely front yard with its pretty annuals blooming in the cold night and the two spruce tree's adorning either side of the walkway just inside of the gate, the small patches of green grass on either side of the walk in the small yard and the little white, picket fence that surrounded it all that, even in the soft glow of the streetlight, made it all look so inviting, her thoughts turned to Mike and the odd way he had made her feel yesterday, during thier visit. She had decided to keep it all to hersellf and not talk to anyone about it, even though she felt quite comfortable talking with her mother about anything. She tried hard to blow it all of as just pre-wedding jitters, so she didnt want anyone to get thier suspicions going about Mike. A dark cloud over him would make her feel uneasy about thier whole relationship and she didnt want that. She was too busy being happier than she had ever been in her entire life, getting ready to marry the boy she loved most of her life. "Oh, he just couldnt be thinking about revenge...", she thought aloud, "...he's got too much to lose this time...". Yet, still, she knew his past. She knew him, or, how he used to be...the letters he had written her over these past seven years, the phone conversations and the time they had spent together during thier visits...he was completely different, now. He was calmer and happier and far more self assured than ever before. It was as if he had finally worked out of him whatever had made him so restless and unhappy in his youth. Mike didnt really have a 'bad' childhood, she thought, it wasnt as if he had been starved or beaten or even poor, for that matter. But, his parents were a bit 'emotionally cold', particualrly after Mikes little brother, Robbie, was drowned in a boating accident when he was 13. Instead of heaping thier love onto thier only remaining son, they shut themselves inside a sort of hard, cold, emotional shell and never opened up again, almost totally ignoring Mike except for his basic needs of food, clothing and shelter. Mike was 16 when Robbie died, so he needed the guidence that only his parents could give, only couldnt because of thier own personal pain. As a matter of fact, this sympathy that Lindy had had for Mike when they were children was the seed within her that had blossomed into love for him. She was certain she could fill that void within him that only a good, strong love could fill. This, she was sure, was the only thing that he needed. She sighed, then got up off of the sofa and gathered her things. Her father had drove up outside and was honking the horn for her to come out and get into the car so he could take her back to thier house. They were very tired...they had gotten alot accomplished this day and, to tell the truth, Lindy could barely wait to get back to her parents house...to a hot bath and her warm, familiar, comfortable bed. She made one last visual scan of her future home, turned out the light, then locked the door and pulled it closed behind her. She stopped only briefly, halfway down the walk, to smell those lilacs, which were still in full bloom because of the unusually warm weather. ****************************************************************************** Mike Hannigan had his plan all worked out. He knew just what to do to exact the perfect revenge on Quint. He would wait for awhile so that the suspicion wouldnt be on him...he knew he would be the first one that would be investigated if something happened to Quint, especially if it happened right after he got out of prison. And with the Chief of police being Quints best buddy, he had to be particularly careful. So, he decided to wait a few months...establish himself, first, as a 'good citizen' who's paid his debts to society and who now has 'reformed'. He'd marry Lindy, work hard, never miss a day of work...he'd even get involved with the community, somehow...maybe become a volunteer, cleaning the streets or helping at the senior center or something. He was gong to lead a nice, straight, respectible, peaceful life. One thing he particularly proud of was the fact that he had also went through drug rehabilitation in prison. He successfully beat his habit, which was the main reason why he was always in so much trouble. He'd get high and his first reaction was to get into trouble. But he did wonder how his life was going to be without the drugs. He'd been high for so long he didnt know if he would be able to hack it or not without them. But, at least, he was excited about trying. He knew, this time, he would have someone on his side throughout his trying. But there was one thing that kept running through his mind. Something he had heard once in sunday school... "All good things come to those who wait"... Day after tomorrow, he would be released and, the day after that, married. The day after that, they would be on thier way to Tahiti for a two week honeymoon. And his job at the general supply store would be there waiting for him when he got back. And, so...he would wait. The sharks belly. Those words played through his mind like a symphony, over and over and over, again. Never letting up. He wished it would go away! He would prove to the world that he would be a law-abiding, upstanding citizen of the community who had made mistakes, but had paid his debts and was now making the best of his second chance. So when - and if - they ever found Quints body, (or a part thereof), he would be the last one they would look at. ******************************************************************************** The phone rang at the police station. "Amity Island police...how may I direct your call, please?", Polly's voice still clear, despite her age, and quite pleasant. "One moment, please...", she told the caller as she buzzed Martins office, "Chief Brody, pick up line two...a Mr. Donovan to speak with you...its important...". Martin reached over the pile of papers on his desk to click the button on the intercom, "Okay, Polly...thank you...". This phone call was from a Jack Donovan...Mike hannigans assigned parole officer. He was making his required (by law) phone call to the chief of police in the jurisdiction where his 'client' will be residing after release from prison...the call is required so that the police know they have a parolee in thier midst, a sort of 'preventitive measure', so, at least, the police will be informed. All Hannigans information will be on file. He also had to inform Martin of the conditions of Mikes parole, so the police can help Donovan make sure Mike stays in line. Mike isnt allowed to leave the island without written permission from him (Donovan) and, even if he does have written permission, he still has to report to the cheif when he leaves and when he returns. He cannot be caught carrying any weapons and he must never be caught in or near a place serving liquor of any sort. He also cannot be caught associating with any known felon...thats an immediate passport directly back tp prison. But if he breaks any of these rules, he's automatically sent back to prison to finish out the remainder of his original sentence of twenty years, plus five more years for basically screwing up the second chance he had been handed. "Shit!...", Martin hissed into the phone, "...Does Hannigan have to come back to Amity??...Cant you parole that little trouble maker anywhere else??". Calm and collected, Donovan replied, "I'm sorry, chief...but he has the right to be there...thats where his family is, thats where his job will be...all I can do is to give you my hotline number so you can call me anytime of the day or night if you need to. I promise you I'll keep as close an eye on him as I possibly can with the workload I already have and I'll drug test him once a week...thats all I can do...". Martin hated knowing that one of those dock-rats were coming back. The ony time Martin ever had to deal with any sort of crime around this island was when those punks were around and the island had been so peaceful since they had been gone. He left New York for the serenity of this crime-free town. Now, his problems were coming back to him. He got a headache thinking about how he was going to tell Quint. Quint swore he'd kill the sonofabitch if he ever saw him again...and the last words out of Mike Hannigans mouth after he was drug out of the court after his sentencing were to Quint, "I'll get you for this, old man...if it takes my last, dying breath to do it!!", Mike screamed as the bailiffs drug him out the door of the court. The last thing Martin wanted was a confrontation and he could feel an ache in his bones that told him there would definately be one. Martin waited all day to call Quint. He wanted to wait until after the dinner hour, when he thought Quint would be too tired from the day to blow sky-high. Quint was setting on thier sofa with Mikey on his lap, watching a Disney movie on tv. Elena was packing clothes in the bedroom when the phone rang. "Youre dime, my time...youre getting off cheap", Quint laughed as he answered the phone. He was in a silly mood. He liked answering the phone with silly sayings like that...Quint and his shipmates used to set around and make up silly things to say when they answered the phone. He supposed that, some time, he would embarrass himself answering the phone like that and there would, one day, be someone very important on the other end and he would embarrass himself, but he didnt really give a shit. He got a kick out of it. He had a smart-assed grin on his face, right now. "Ha, ha...", Martin said, dryly, "I'm glad youre in a good mood because what I have to tell you is going to piss you off...". The grin slowly faded from Quints mouth, "...What is it, Brody...speak up...". "Quint...(sigh)...I have to tell you this because youre mayor, now...but...I probabaly qouldnt if you were werent mayor...". Martin was beating around the proverbial bush. Irritated and impatient, Quint growled in a low tone, he ordered, "Get on with it, cheif...". There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone line. It seemed like hours when it was only seconds before Quint heard Martins voice again. Martins voice was soft, low and calm...almost like what Martin was telling him was some dirty little secret instead of giving him bad news. "Mike Hannigans being released on parole on friday...he's coming back to Amity, Quint...", Martin said, hesitantly. Quints heart rate accelerated...beads of persperation popped out on his forehead like morning dew. He couldnt talk...he just sat there, staring straight ahead, breathing hard...the phone reciever clenched tightly in his fist so hard his knuckles had turned white. His jaws were clenched so tightly that his facial muscles throbbed in pain. Elena walked into the room and was greeted by this sight. It was scary...her husband looked like he was ready to go on a psychotic, murderous rampage. "michael...?Honey?...Whats wrong??". She was alarmed at his expression...a nasty reddish color sat high on his cheeks, making his eyes look like two pools of blue flames. He looked up at her and simply shook his head as if to tell her, "dont bother me now". She knew that look. What ever had upset him was pretty serious, so she gently took little Mikey from his daddy's lap (who had dozed off while daddy was on the phone) and led him sleepily by the arm to his bedroom. "Quint...you still there...?", Martin asked. Quint took a deep breath and answered, "Yeah, chief...I'm still here...I appreciate the call, okay?". He was trying to cut Martin off quickly but politely. "Quint...wait...!", Martin called, urgently. Luckily, Quint heard him just before he laid the reciever into the cradle, "...What is it, Brody...?". "Listen...I talked to Hannigans parole officer a few minutes ago...", Martin said, "...He's going to be keeping a close watch over him. Now that youre mayor, I want to remind you that you just cant go around beating the hell out of your constituants even though some of them are pricks, alright...??". There was silence on Quints end. But Martin waited patiently. Finally, Quint spoke...to Martins relief, "Listen, chief...I can promise you only one thing...that I wont go looking for any fights, alright?...But if I catch that bloody little bastard near my family, I'm going to kill him...you understand?...". Quint was very adamant about this. It was quite clear to Martin that Quint was dangerously serious. "Er...you dont have a gun in the house with you, do you Quint...?", Martin asked cautiously. Quint chuckled sarcastically, "I dont need any gun, chief...you know that...". "Yeah...believe me...I know...", Martin sighed, remembering what happened to Hannigans buddy pulled a gun on Quint, "...Anyway, lets keep this as peaceful as possible, okay, mayor?". Quint was more relaxed, now...thats one of the things Quint liked so much about Martin. He had the ability to calm him when he felt himself getting out of control. Smiling, sort of smart-assed, Quint said, "Youre always worrying about how I act, chief...why is that??". "Because I know youre temper, Quint...", Martin mused. Quint chuckled. They talked a little while longer before hanging up. Quint was walking into the hallway as Elena was walking out of Mikeys room, closing the door behind her. She smiled up at him, unsuredly, her eyes questioning. He smiled down at her as he slipped an arm around her narrow waist. He kissed her sweetly as he moved his arm from her waist to up around her shoulders, guiding her toward thier bedroom. "I have something to tell you, girl...", he sighed softly. Once inside thier room, he sat her gently down onto the bed. Without hesistation or any type of fore-warning, he just came right out and told her everything. He wasnt good at breaking bad news, so he just said it. Thats all he knew how to do. "WHAT...?!?", Elena yelped. Quint shushed her...he didnt want her to wake up Mikey. He placed his finertips gently to her lips. "Listen...", he said softly to her, "...I promised Martin that I wouldnt get upset, because if I do, I'm gonna go and find that kid and hurt him...I promised Martin I wouldnt do that...". He stared into her eyes, searching them for reaction before continuing, "...Now, being Mayor carries some weight with it, you know why?". She nodded, "...More protection...". "Not only that, sweety, but the guy has his own personal 'watchdog'...his parole officer. He'll be reporting everything to Martin and Martin promises, the first chance he gets, it's back to jail with Mike Hannigan!". "But why is he coming back here??", she whined. His blue eyes glaring directly into hers and his mouth pulled up in one corner and his eyebrows raised, he sighed, "...Elena, dear...he has family here. He's getting married here...". The look of disgust on her face was overwhelming as she gasped, "Eeeewwwwww!!!!...who in thier RIGHT MIND would marry that putrid little wretch?!?...(ugh!!)...". Her nose crinkled up as if she smelled something horrid. Quint chuckled, "...I guess there's someone for everyone...", and shrugged his shoulders. This night, they both had a fitful nights sleep. ***************************************************************************** Lindy awoke early the morning of the 4th. She wanted to look her best when she went to pick Mike up from prison on this first day of his freedom in so long. And you can best believe that he was ready and waiting for her, too. The prison guard could barely get the gate open fast enough for Mike to get through it, out to Lindy's waiting arms. She got out of her car and ran to him. He ran to her. They hugged and kissed as he lifted her high off the ground in a welcoming embrace. "I've been waiting for this day for such a very long time", she smiled down at him, happily. "I've been waiting too, honey...", he grinned up at her. But had he been waiting for her, or...something else...? They stopped at a little cafe near Waquoit Bay (pronounced wahk-oyt) to have lunch before going onto the ferry in Falmouth, then onto 'home', Amity Island. Mike would spend this night in his parents home and tomorrow, they would be married then off to Tahiti. But, after spending and exhausting day visiting, unpacking, making a long visit to his parole officer (Mike hated the long lectures he would get from his P.O. everytime he would be released) and meeting with his new boss, he wanted to turn in early. He took Lindy home, despite the urges he was fighting to make love to her. After all...he had been locked up a long time...but he knew Lindy wanted to remain 'pure' for thier wedding. He didnt mind the wait...it would make it all the more better when he did finally get it. They said thier good-bye's, but he was a little 'stand-offish' because he knew if he got too close to her, it might be too tempting for him and he wouldnt be able to back off and things would go way too far, so he hurried to his car and drove off. He went straight 'home', to his parents house. His parents didnt talk much with him, then again, they never did, anyway. Mike wondered if his mother was afraid of him? She certainly acted as if she was... They ate a quiet dinner, then Mike went to his old room. Nothing had been changed in there...everything was still the same as it was when he had last seen it. He mused how strange it was that his extremely religious mother had left the posters on his wall of those heavy-metal rock groups he loved so much...hell, even his girlie magazines were still in the boxes under his bed, right where he left them. "Ahh...maybe the old bat gives a shit after all...", he mused as he closed his night table drawer that he noticed still contained the cigarette rolling papers for the joints he used to roll. Mike laid back on his bed in the dark and waitied to hear the old, familiar sound of his parents' bedroom door closeing for the night. When he would hear it, he would have to get back up again...he would have work to do. The Hannigans finally turned in around 10:30pm. The minute Mike heard thier door close, he jumped up and ran to his own bedroom door and cracked it open a small bit to peek out to see if thier bedroom lamp was still lit. It was, but he stood there and watched until it went out. It didnt take long. As soon as that light went out, he grabbed his jacket and snuck quietly down the hallway and out the front door. He just wanted to see if the Quint's had moved into the mayoral mansion, yet. Thats all. It wasnt a long walk...only a few minutes there and a few minutes back...he still felt a little edgey and he figured the cool night air would help tire him out. What could it hurt? But the mayoral mansion was dark and empty...which meant that the Quint's hadnt moved in yet. Suddenly, an uncontrollable urge hit him... "Just one more prank...", he thought, "...Even if I never do another thing for the rest of my life...I've just got to do this!!", he grinned to himself, as if he had just discovered something of great importance. He looked around on the ground for something sharp. He found a nice, sharp, pointed rock. Smiling, he walked up the pathway to the front door, which had been freshly painted...a nice, fresh coat of bright, white paint and began scratching words into it. The words read: "DIE BITCH". He snuck away quietly, into the night...a satisfied smile on his face. He went back home, slipped quietly back into his room and went straight back to bed. ****************************************************************************** Quints first day as mayor was a busy one. So many books to read, papers to sign...people to meet with. Meanwhile, Elena was at the cottage on OceanView road, finishing up thier packing, waiting for the movers. They finally showed up at about 10:00am. They didnt have much to move...just some boxes of personal things and a few heavier items like Mikey's pedal car and swingset and thier television and stereo system. The mayoral mansion was already pretty much furnished, in fine antiques and lovely velvet-covered things, so she could leave the bulk of thier furniture in thier cottage and keep it functionable for those cozy weekends she and Quint talked about. When the movers were all packed and ready to go, she asked them to wait for her...she had suddenly developed a severe case of the "creeps"...being in this house alone, with all of Quints things gone, it took her back to when she lived there alone after the attack. She got an eery, creepy feeling that raised the hairs on the back of her neck and gave her goose-pimples. Maybe it was just a flashback of the attack and the uneasiness she felt being there alone afterward, but she also knew that Mike Hannigan was out there, roaming around somewhere on the Island now...so she wasnt going to take any chances of being there alone. She took Mikey by the hand and took one last look around the inside of the cottage....a strong wave of sadness washed through her...she loved this cottage. She had had so many good memories here...but it was odd to her that one big, bad memory could diminish so many little good ones. She went out the door and locked it behind her. Elena had to stop by the market for one of those ready-made snadwiches, a little bag of chips and a small carton of milk so that Mikey could have some lunch before she had to drop him off at the school. (She had chosen afternoon kindergarten classes because she thought he would be more alert for learning later in the day at this age. Mikey was active in the mornings and bored by the afternoons...she was sure school in the afternoon would cure this). They sat in the car and snacked...she would trade a bite of her cupcake with her son for a few of his chips. She smiled at him...he looked so much like his daddy... Afterward, she took out the damp washcloth that she always carried "just incase of emergencies" (Mikey sometimes got car-sick on long drives or on hot days) in a plastic baggie in her purse and began washing his face and hands. Then she drove him to the litte wooden school house and walked him to his class. When Elena arrived at the mayoral mansion (as Larry Vaughn liked to call it...technically, thats what it was called, but she thought it was too 'uppity'), she saw the police land rover parked behind the moving van. She saw Martin trotting up to her truck, waving to her. She got out and walked up to the gate, where she met Martin coming out to meet up with her. "Elena...please dont go up to the house, just yet...", Martin said, shyly, "...At least, not until Quint gets here, anyway...okay?". He stood in front of her, blocking her way through the gate. "Whats wrong, Martin?", Elena questioned, worry growing in her voice. Nervously, Martin "er'med" and "uh'ed" until he finally stumbled over the words he needed. It was sometimes difficult being a policeman, looking for the right words to tell someone something bad has happened when they dont the victom to worry...especially when they were friends. "There was a little vandalism here sometime last night...its nothing serious...", he consoled. But just before Elena could persist with Martin for more information, officer Donny Baker came up to him and took him aside. "Just a second, Elena...", Martin said, "...I've got to talk to officer Baker for a minute...dont go up to the house, alright?". She nodded 'yes'. She stood there and waitied for Martin to return to her. She looked up toward the house, but she couldnt see anything...Martin had a large cloth draped over the front door. Other than that, she could see nothing else wrong. She listened closely, trying to hear what Martin and baker were talking about, but the only thing she could hear was that officer Baker had 'looked around' and 'could find no witnesses'. She was dying to know what was going on! Just as she was making small, sneaky steps around Martin, behind his back while he was occupied with officer baker, trying to make her way through the gate to get up to the house to see if she could see for herself what was wrong, the big, black Cadillac limousine rolled quickly up along side of the police land rover and screeched to a halt. The mayors limo. Quints limo. Quint swung open the car door and hopped out before the limo was even stopped completely. "Elena!!!...", Quint panted as he ran to her. He took her by the arm and pulled her close to him, in a protective hug, "...Are you alright??...". "Yes, Michael...I'm fine...", she said, "...Except that I dont have the faintest idea of whats going on around here...". His expression was serious...almost scary and his voice sounded like a low growl, "...Wait right here...", as his eyes searched the immediate grounds and front of the house, "...I'll be right back...". When he came back, she didnt like the look on his face...that red color high on his cheeks, that familiar throbbing jaw muscle... "Whats wrong, honey?", she asked softly, not wanting to set him off...he already looked like he was ready to maim and kill. Her eyes searched his face, but he wouldnt look at her. That was a bad sign...it meant he was loseing control of his anger. He was far too angry to be concerned with her questions at this moment...(or, perhaps, too worried)... Quint took Elena abruptly by the arm and led her through the gate and up the long walkway to the foot of the steps leading up to the front door. He made her stay there while he stepped up to the front door and threw the cloth back that Martin had placed there. She didnt notice what was there right away...she was too concerned with Quint. He came back down the steps and stood next to her, pointing back at the door. "Look, Elena...", he demanded, watching her, "...Our little 'friend', Mike Hannigan, is back at it, again!!". He was seething with rage. She gasped with suprize at the sight of Hannigans little message scratched into the door. But Quint took her mind off of it quickly. He was glaring angrily at her, so angry, infact, that she knew he wasnt even actually seeing her...he was blinded with rage. She turned her head to take another quick glance at that door, then she was going to try and get him home and try to calm him down before he had a stroke or something (those red cheeks were not a sign of good health!), but when she turned her attention back toward him, he had turned abruptly and was taking long, quick strides down the brick walk toward the gate. "Michael!!", she yelled to him, "...Where are you going??". But he didnt answer her. Even when Martin noticed what was going on and called after him, Quint didnt acknowledge. He just kept right on going, taking those long, quick strides, heading straight for his truck, ignoring the chauffer-driven limousine completely. Quint always carried his own truck key, so it only took seconds for the trucks engine to roar to life once he was behind the wheel. Quint squealed the tires and sped off in a cloud of smoke. Elena ran to Martin. "Martin!!...You never told Quint where Mike Hannigan lives, did you??", she was frantic. "No...thank Christ!", Martin snipped, "...I didnt even know myself until today, when I talked to the parole officer...why?...You think Hannigan had something to do with this...?". Martin gave her an odd look, "...You do...dont you!". Not really sure if she should say...after all, that would be starting a rumor and she detested rumors. There was absolutely no proof that Hannigan did this, only, if thoughts could be heard aloud, everyone would be screaming his name! She did, however, decide to give Martin her personal thoughts on the matter, just betweeen he and she. "Well...not at first", she shrugged, staring at the ground a long time before bringing her eyes up to meet his, squinting in the bright sunlight, "...I mean there were a few of Chas Reese's supporters who were pretty upset with Quint after Reese backed out...". Martin asked, inquizitively, "...Do you have anyone else in mind who may have done this?...I mean, I've known Mike Quint a long time and I know he can really piss some people off...". Quietly, she shook her head and answered, "...I cant think of anyone else, Martin...". She stared into his eyes steadily, crossed her arms and shifted her weight onto her other foot and said, a bit authoritively, "...But you and I both really know who it was....dont we?". Martin, shifting his gaze away from her, looking as if he knew, too, but wasnt going to say outright...he couldnt...that could be considered 'defamation of character'. Then he turned his eyes back to hers and said, with a disgusted sigh, "...Yeah...we do, at that". They stood silent for a moment as they watched the police photographers taking pictures of the damage for evidence, in the chance that someone would be arrested for it - this would be tangible evidence to show to a judge - before Martin spoke. "You have any idea where Quint went?". With a sarcastically sweet little smile forming on her lips, she smirked, "My money is on the bet that he's out looking up MIke Hannigan!". Martin nodded, with a worried smile, "I think you're right...". He sighed and started toward the land rover as if he had the heaviest of tasks to accomplish, "...I guess I'd better go and try to find him, then...you get inside and lock the doors and stay there...if it is Hannigan, you'd better be someplace you can be safe...I'll leave one of my deputies outside". As a last minute thought, she shouted to him, "...If you cant find him in town, check the docks...the Orca...thats where he goes to think or cool down...". Martin waved back and nodded before getting into the land rover. Elena went in, stopping only to ask the officer when she could call a painter to repair the damage. He told her anytime...they were finished with the photography. So she went inside, straight to the phone. After her call, she worried about picking Mikey up from school...no problem, she thought...she'd phone the Mayors office and have Beth, secretary to the mayor, pick him up and deliver him home. Beth was a sweet lady...an Islander. Elena knew Mikey would be safe with her. Or, if Beth couldnt do it, she could call the chauffer and he would get Mikey. With her husband as mayor, there were some valuable resources at her fingertips. Martin's first stop was at the Hannigan's. "Where's your son, Mr. Hannigan...", Martin demanded when the elder Mr. Hannigan answered his knock. "Something wrong, Chief Brody?", the older man asked, suspiciously. "I'm just checking up...at the request of his parole officer...", Martin fibbed as so not to upset the obviously frail old guy. But the old guy had a little fire in him, still. He was obviusly preterbed at a cop being at his door so soon after his sons release...he saw it as potential harrassment. The elder Mr. Hannigan had been a fisherman for a over half a century and he sort of reminded Martin of Quint when he had first met him...especially with the gruff way he answered Martins question. "He's on his way to Tahiti with his wife, Chief...and he already obtained permission from his parole officer to do so!...(Heh!)...Maybe you two should keep better track of yourselves!...If ya did, then ya woulda known that!". Mr. Hannigan was obviously getting angrier by the second. He stepped behind the door to close it in Martins face, but Martin reached out and put his hand on the frame to stop it. "Wait a minute, Mr. Hannigan...", Martin grinned, shaking his head in disbelief, "His new wife..??", questioning. Impatient, Mr. Hannigan answered "Yes!...He just married his high school sweetheart, Lindy Ellerbee, this morning...they left immediately after the wedding for thier hineymoon that we gave them for a wedding gift!...". Then almost as an after thought, he added snippishly, "...Is there something wrong with that, Chief??". "There just may be, Mr. Hannigan...", Martin said authoritively, "...If he didnt have prior written permission to do so...". Mr. Hannigan stepped inside, behind the door. Martin, thinking he was walking away from him, called to him, "Mr. Hannigan...??....". He heard the older man inside, ruffling through some papers, shout impatiently, "Just a minute!". Back again, Mr. Hannigan shoved a piece of paper at Martin...the official signed document from the state parole board, showing that his son had 'official, written permission'. Martin read it over, then deep-sighed as he handed the paper back to the now-smug elder Hannigan. "So...then I'll ask you a question...", Martin said, "Was your son here all night last night?". "He was", Mr. Hannigan answered sternly, "...he was in his room all night!...he went to bed not long after supper and me and the missus went to bed around ten. I got up for a bit around two and checked on him and he was sound asleep...now...anything else I can help you with Chief?". Boy...this old fart was pretty damned smug for the father of a dockrat! But that was that, Martin thought. cut and dried. The only thing Martin could think of to do next was to go check with Donovan to confirm that the paper old man Hannigan had just shown him was legitimate...but, the way his luck was starting to look, he was sure it was. After Martin went to his office to make that call to Donovan and got the fact that that paper actually was legit, he got into the land rover and started looking for Quint. He drove over to the cottage on OceanView road, the Tacklebox, the Fishermans Grotto and even checked back at the mayoral mansion, but he didnt stop...Quints black truck wasnt there. Then he found Quint right where Elena had told him to look...on the Orca. Martin was sure Quint wouldnt go there...well...unless he'd had a bottle stashed somewhere on the boat, but Quint had'nt been drinking lately. But, he thought he would drive past the docks anyway...and, sure enough, there was Quints truck. Quint didnt even hear Martin come aboard, so he was taken aback when he looked up and saw Martin standing there, looking down at Quint setting in the booth inside the cabin, his eyebrows raised and his hands on his hips. "You old salt!", Martin grinned, "...I should have known I'd find you on this old tub!". Martin was grinning and chuckling, glad he found his friend and relieved he wasnt getting himself into trouble...but, the smile faded from his face...he quickly surmised that Quint was in no joking mood. Right away, Quint looked up at Martin...he blue eyes piercing with fire. "You find Hannigan, Brody?", he was curt and stern...and ready for business. Martin took a seat in the booth, across the table from Quint. Sighing and scratching his head and rubbing his hand over his hair...knowing Quints either going to explode when he gives him the news about Hannigan or wont believe it, he looked up, directly into Quints angry, questioning eyes and told him what he had found out, as calmly as he could. "I went and spoke with his father...he said that Hannigan was in all night...and...get this...he got married this morning and is now, supposedly, on his way to Tahiti for his honeymoon...", Martin sighed as he declined Quints offer of a drink of apricot brandy. "(Heh)...right...", Quint scoffed. "Listen, Quint...Elena made a comment about some disgruntled supporters of Chas Reese...she thinks, maybe...", Martin tried to suggest, but Quint cut him off, sharply. "We both know better than that, chief", Quints voice was low and serious and his eyes were glaring directly into Martins, almost searing his soul. Martin felt uneasy, all of a sudden, from that hard, cold, blue stare. Finally, Martin cleared his throat, "...Sure, Quint...you know that and I know that...but we just cant prove it...". He paused before going on, "...I thought I might be able to get him for leaving the Island, being on parole, but it looks like he's covered all of his bases...I'm sorry...there's nothing I can do to him at this point". Quint just sat there, with tightly clenched jaws - those facial muscles throbbing - drinking quietly. Martin was right. The little prick has covered his ass real good, this time. Prison seemed to have made him smarter. After a long silence, Martin spoke, "So...when are you coming back to the office...?". Martin wondered if he should say this or not, but he had to know. "...And...are you going to be sober when you get there...?". Quint looked up at him tiredly, "...Dont worry, Chief...I'll do my job...". A little more silence, then Quint spoke, "...How long is this little prick going to be on his honeymoon?". "His dad said about two weeks". "I want someone watching my wife and son 'round the clock when he gets back...". "I think I can manage that, Quint...but you have to cooperate, too...no going after the guy on your own. You leave that to me, alright?", Martin sternly warned him, but he knew Quint well...he knew his words didnt mean anything to Quint when it came to Mike Hannigan. "Martin...", Quint sighed, "...All I can promise you is that I will try". Martin finally decided to have 'just a nip' and gestured for a shot...which made Quint smile. He never liked to drink alone. As Quint poured, Martin smiled, "...Well...I guess I'll have to be satisfied with that...". They clicked thier cups in a silent toast, then drank. Two men who were friends with troubles, knowing, in thier hearts, that they would each do what was necessary to protect the other. Quint was glad to have someone to vent his troubles to and Martin hoping that Quint had been allowed to let off a little stress. Besides...they both genuinely enjoyed each others company. But this was going to be the last time they could set down and relax from thier worries for some time. **************************************************************************** Two weeks later, Mike Hannigan was carrying his new bride over the threshold of thier quaint little Island cottage. They had just one weekend to acquiant themselves with the familiarities of settled, married life before they were to start thier jobs on monday. "You know, I think I'm gonna like this marriage stuff", Mike grinned as he hugged Lindy. "I sure hope you do...", she smiled down at him, "...'Cuz youre stuck with it, now!". She giggled when he put her down and she walked toward the bedroom to change her clothes. Mike stood at the door, smoking a cigarette, staring out toward the street while Lindy was in the other room. He was going over his plan in his mind. He would start tonight, after Lindy went to bed. He had watched her closely these last two weeks...her sleeping habits, in particular. He watched how long it took for her to get into a deep sleep. He watched to see if she was a heavy or a light sleeper. He watched to see if she woke easily. These things were very important to him, now...to his plan, for it to work. On thier wedding night, he had made love to her with a fierceness. He had all of that pent up, unused energy that he had been storing up for seven years. Afterward, she feel right asleep and slept so heavily that she didnt even stir when he accidentally knocked over the bedside lamp, making a horrible noise. And she had slept quite soundly until late the next morning. It was as if she had been giving a sleeping pill. And this is what he needed for tonight...he had been telling her that he "had a headache" for these last two days, so that he could store up enough energy to make love to her like that again. He wanted her to sleep tonight like she had on thier wedding night, this night. It was important that she sleep so soundly that she not know if he was there, really, or not. A good alibi. He hadnt reported to Chief Brody that he's returned, either. He deliberately delayed thier return flight, so that, when he went in to the station the next morning to report, he could use the excuse that they got in too late. The wheels of the plan were already in motion. "Michaaael...", Lindy called, seductively, from thier bedroom, "...Are you coming to bed, darling??...". He grinned widely, as if he knew a great secret, then tossed his cigarette butt out onto the walkway and cam ein and closed the door. He locked it, turned out the lights and headed toward the bedroom to complete the next phase of his plan. ******************************************************************************** Quint couldnt sleep...he was restless. "Honey..", Elena whispered, "...Please try and get some rest?...I'm so very tired and I cant sleep when youre tossing and turning...are you sure you're alright?". Quint grumbled, "I'm fine, woman!...I just feel 'edgy'...I know whats wrong...I feel like that Hannigan kid is out there, somewhere, watching me...". "Well, he's not even back, dear...", she said, assuringly. "Besides...Martin vowed he'd call you the very second Hannigan returns". She situated the blankets around her where she was almost wrapped up like a cocoon...it was a clear, very cold, winter night. "...So you better get some sleep while you can. It does you no good to stay awake so much...you cant be alert when youre tired". He loved her, this was true...but when he felt this edgy, he couldnt take her nagging. "Damnit, Elena...dont nag me!...I cant sleep and thats that!!". Grumbling and throwing the blankets back so hard he almost knocked the table lamp over, he snapped, "...I'm going into the livingroom. I'll watch a little T.V., drink alittle brandy and try to get sleepy, alright?". He was trying to calm himself down...he didnt like yelling at her...he hopes she knew him well enough to understand that his anger wasnt directed at her. He wasnt too good with words...only actions. But she understood. She knew when he was this grumpy, to just let him go until he got it out of his system. "Alright, honey...", she sighed, "...I hope you get tired, soon...I need you for warmth...". She smiled, hoping it would help lighten his mood a bit, but he just grabbed his jeans and shirt and walked out. Out in the hallway, he stopped...he felt too badly to just walk away from her like that, so he went back in and leaned over her and kissed her lightly on her cheek. "I'm sorry, lady...I dont mean to take it out on you...". It was difficult for him to admit this, but he couldnt walk away from her in that state. It was wrong for him to take his anger, fear...whatever...out on the woman who admittedly would die for him. "Its ok, love", she said, gazing up seriously into his eyes, "I do understand". She kissed his cheek and let him go. At about 3:00am, Quint dozed off in the darkened livingroom...only the soft glow of the television set lighting the room, giving it an eery feeling... Quint didnt hear the tinkle of glass falling from the window of the outside kitchen door... ****************************************************************************** Lindy awoke the next morning to a cold bed...but she thought nothing of it. Mike was an early riser, she had found. All those years in prison conditioned him to be that way. After a nice, long, hot shower, she made her way around the cottage, looking for him, but he was not to be found there, this morning. While towel-drying her hair, she found a note from him, stuck to thier refrigerator with one of those silly little 'food' magnets Tod had given her as a gag wedding gift. This one was a little plastic meatloaf...Todd joked that this was as close to a meatloaf as she was going to get, refferring to her lack of cooking skills. The note read: "Lin - going for a walk on the beach - cant sleep. Guess I'm just not used to my freedom, yet. Have breakfast ready for me when I get back. ---- Love ya, Mike She smiled as she slipped the note back beneath the magnet, then opened the 'fridge and took out the eggs and ham that her mother had lovingly put in there for her a couple of days before they had returned. Mom was always so thoughful. She reminded herself to phone her mother later and thank her. As the food cooked, she gazed out the kitchen window. It was an awfuly bright, sunny day for being the middle of a New England winter...the ocean looked so still...and so cold, despite the bright sunlight. ***************************************************************************** Martin had to go over to the office supply wharehouse and pick up a good number of things for the station, then he had to go over and pick up a new uniform. Old Clyde Hanley hadnt repaired his picket fence like he was warned and , chasing the Brenner kids' cat into Hanleys yard, he ripped his pants on the nails sticking out of it. He also had to pick up a birthday gift for Shawn...his twelfth birthday was next week. "What the hell do I get a 12-year-old boy??", Martin wondered, aloud, as he looked over the toy isle in the local department store. This was his son, for craps sake, and he hadnt a clue what to get him or even what he wanted. "Guess I should start spending more time at home", he mumbled sarcastically to himself. Then he thought, "Oh, fine...the Chief of police standing here mumbling to myself...this dont look good". But he still hadnt a clue as to what to get Shawn. "Too bad they dont sell 12-year-old girls", Martin chuckled, recalling Shawn's first crush, which only started a week ago, on that freckle-faced cutie, Annie Williams, who lived up the road from them and rode to school every morning with them. Well, Martin knew he's be gone all morning. He had far too much to do on the Mainland today. He'd be gone, at least, past lunch. He was expecting a visit anyday, now, from Mike Hannigan. Martin made a mental note to check in with Polly every half an hour or so. Aftr all...he had promised Quint faithfully that he would notify him the minute Hannigan reported in...and he never went back on a promise. But Martin had no idea that he was already far too late.... ********************************************************************************** Elena, too, woke to a cold bed and thought nothing of it. And when she couldnt find her husband (who was not one for leaving notes), she would automatically assume he would be with his "other woman" - a boat called the Orca. As Elena poured cereal into a bowl and juice in a cup for her son's breakfast, she noticed something very odd...the little window in the door to the outside was broken. Little shards of glass was all over the floor. This didnt necessarily alarm her...Quint often locked himself out of the house when he'd been drinking and he had this 'thing' about fresh air...no matter how cold it was outside, the man had to have fresh air. She mused over the fact that, as long as she had known him, he had never so much as had a cold or the flu or anything. He could set in 20-30 degree cold, rain and probabaly even snow, but he never got sick from it. So, smiling to herself, she sat Mikey's breakfast on the table, then got the broom and dustpan from the kitchen closet to clean up the mess. Still, it bothered her. There was something about this that just didnt seem right. If only Quint were here so shee could watch his sheepish expression as he blushed and embarrassedly explain how he locked himself out after he had went out for some fresh air... A few other things didnt fit right, either...the tv had still been on and his brandy bottle was almost full, setting on the sofa table with the cap off...Quint always, always capped his bottles. It was something he was a stickler about. It went back to his days as a sailor, when he could barely afford alcohol...when he did get it, he wanted to make sure none of it got spilled out incase the bottle was tipped over. This was a habit with him...a sort of 'programmed' habit...like breathing. She hoped he hadnt got so drunk that he went outside and fell and hit his head or something...but, by the looks of this bottle, he hadnt even drank enough to give him a buzz...this was just strange... As Mikey ate his breakfast, she called Ellen Brody. "Ellen?...Hi...this is Elena...listen...have you seen Quint this morning?", she was hoping against hope that Quint had went over to talk to Martin about something. "No...", Ellen answered, "...We havent seen him today, Elena...why?...is something wrong?". "I dont think so", Elena tried not to sound as worried as she was starting to become,"Its just that Michael wasnt here when I woke up...he's terrible about leaving me notes, tellingme where he's going". Ellen chuckled, "Martins the same way...in and out, all the time and if I'm out or asleep, he figures he can just 'call me later', like it would kill him to take the time to write me a note!...I dont even know where that man is half the time!". Elena wasnt really listening. Her mind was wandering off to where Quint might be. "Where's Martin, now?", Elena sounded a bit more worried than she wanted to, "Has he recieved a call from Mike Hannigan or his parole officer yet?". Picking up on Elena's worries, Ellen told her, "Dont worry about that, Elena...Martins been very worried about keeping that promise to Quint. He's been watch-dogging that telephone all week!...He's out today, over on the mainland, but he's checking in with Polly for that call every half an hour!...(giggle)...Polly called here because Martin told her to call me to tell me to listen for the phone incase they called here looking for him...and told me to promptly notify her if they had...she said he's being a pain with the phone...". Ellen laughed. Elena tried to laugh with her, but it just didnt come. She was becoming increasingly alarmed, despite her fighting it. "Ellen...what're you doing this morning?", Elena asked, maybe a bit too abruptly. "Nothing important...just laundry and housework...why?". "Would you do me a huge favor?", Elena asked, "Would you watch Mikey for about an hour while I do some grocery shopping?...With all thats been going on lately, I dont have the patience for him today...he's always so cranky when we shop and only his daddy can handle him...". "Sure", Ellen said, brightly, "Bring him on over!...My Michael would love to have someone near his age to play with...since Shawns discovered girls, he doesnt seem to have much time for his little brother anymore". Elena thanked Ellen and hung up the phone. She smiled at her son - playing with toy boats in his cereal milk. "Like father, like son", she smiled to herself...but a nagging worry was growing quickly, from deep within her belly and she couldnt stop it. Elena got Mikey dressed after breakfast and then drove him over to Ellens. Then she set off on her own to find Quint. Something just wasnt right. Of course, the first place she went was to the docks...the Orca was gone. She didnt know wether to be relieved or worried at this point, but, at least, she had a place to start looking for him. That was something. Bill Toddman was there, wrapping his ropes and tightening his tarps. "Bill...have you seen Quint this morning?", she asked. "Howdy, Missus Quint!", Bill smiled at her, "Ayup...I seen 'ole Quint this morning...he was on the Orca when I left...I'm just gettin' back now...caught my limit for the day!", Bill was smiling a wide, toothless, happy grin, gesturing toward his boat and the buckets of iced down fish on its deck. He chuckled, "You forgit ta remind him of sumthin?". His New Englander accent was thick. Her mind was on other things...like, why did Quint leave on the boat so early on a saturday morning? If he was going out on the boat, he would usually wake her to tell her. It was a safety thing with him..."always let someone on land know when youre going to sea and when you'll be back", he would say. After all...thats how he came to spend all that time in the ocean, waiting to be rescued when his ship sank...the Navy lost track of where he was and when he was supposed to come back. "Hmmm?", she startled herself out of her thoughts, "Oh, no...", she smiled a false smile, "Its just that he never leaves me a note telling me where he's going, so I have no way to tell him I have alot of errands to run today...I wanted to let him know I might not be home when he gets back". "Well...", Bill said, as he started packing his ice buckets onto the pier, "I'll tell him if I see him, Missus...but they should be around, soon...they were'nt packing any supplies when they left. I'm suprized they havent come back long ago...". Elena's eyes got as big as saucers, "They???", she asked sharply, "What do you mean 'they'?...Who went with Quint??". Bill's expression was that of a deer caught in the headlights...he was sure he'd just let the cat out of the proverbial bag, ratting out one of his best buddies to his wife, by accident. "Er...uh...well...", Bill stumbled over his words, "...The guy introduced himself as your brother...". "I'm an only child, Bill...", Elena said, more to herself than to Bill...and in a state of panic. Bill was hesitant. He didnt know what to say. "Look, Missus Q...I dont wanna get one of my best fishin' buddies in dutch with his bride, okay?", he was starting to sound defensive. "You dont understand, Bill...Quint could be in trouble...please...this may be very important...remember several years back, when those three hoodlums attacked me and Quint?...". Bill nodded. "Well...", she continued, "One of them is out of prison and vowing revenge!...I'm afraid the guy you saw Quint with this morning might be the one!...Quint never said anything about taking anyone out on the Orca and you and I both know how particular he is about who boards that boat!". Bill's eyes widened. "...I remember that...", he said, just above a whisper. Then he described the guy to Elena. It was Mike Hannigan!! Elena suddenly became terrified. She panicked. She didnt know quite exactly what to do...she just knew she had to do something. She thanked Bill and thanked him for his offer to help if she needed him. She assured him she would come to him if she needed it. Out of breath...her heart racing a mile a minute...she waved to him as she ran towards Main street. Panting, she ran and stumbled into the Police station. "Polly!", she gasped, "Where's the Chief??...Can you get him??". Polly looked shocked to see the Mayors wife in such a state. "He's not here, Missus Quint...he just made his check-in call two minutes ago...he's still on the Mailnland and...". Thats all Elena heard as she ran out the door. She turned and ran back to tell Polly, "When you can talk to Martin again, tell him Quints gone and I think Mike Hannigan has him out on the Orca!!". Then she ran out the door like a lightening bolt. Polly tried calling to her to ask why she thought Hannigan had her husband, but Elena was too far away to hear...or too scared to stop long enough to talk about it. ********************************************************************************** Quint had been dozing in his favorite easy chair in front of the tv set. The early news was already on and he'd just broke the seal on a fresh bottle of his favorite, apricot brandy, but he was so drowsy, that he dozed off before putting the cap back on the bottle. A few moments into his doze, he thought he heard something...his tired eyes fluttered open and he sluggishly looked around, but there was nothing...(that he could see). "Ahhhhh....its that bleeding idiot, Sam Samuels!...(bleck!!)...!!", he said grumpily to himself, referring to the news anchor - a pompous ass, in Quints expressive opinion. Quint thought Samuels looked alot like a ventriliquists dummy that he'd seen once when he was on leave in San Francisco...a glossy, wooden, painted -on face, plastered down hair...and someone down below him with his hand up his ass making his mouth work! Quint got up and turned off the set then sat back down in the chair. He honestly meant to just take a few sips of the brandy, then get back to bed (Samuels had done the trick, boring him to sleep), but he made the mistake of laying his head back for a moment...and he was out like a light. Quint was awaken with shock and fear...he felt something like wire being tightened around his throat! He reached up and grabbed the wire, trying to pull it away from his skin. As he did, he strained his neck to look up behind him to see who was pulling on the wire... It was Mike Hannigan. Quint struggled desperately, but the wire was cutting into his hands. He kicked, trying to get a foothold on something for leverage and make the chair fall backward so he could get out of Hannigans death-like grip with that wire and gain the ability to defend himself, but Hannigan just tightened his grip - as if reading Quints mind - and leaned over the chair to whisper into Quints ear. "Be very still and quiet, 'mister mayor'...or I'll have one of my buddies ice your bitch and your brat!!". Quint didnt know there really was'nt anyone else there...Mike never traveled alone, before...but Mike was just telling him that to control him. Part of the plan. So Quint did what he was told...just in case. "Now, Quinty...we're going to take a nice little walk to the pier, you and me...and I give you my solemn word that, if you do as youre told, nothing will happen to your cute little wifey or your cute little kiddie...nice kid, by the way...didnt know an old fart like you had it in you to make something that cute...", Hannigan grinned, "...And your missus...mmm, mmm, mmmmmm...she looks better every time I see her...I wouldnt mind getting me some of that!". Quint wanted to hit the sonofabitch so badly for that comment that he could taste it. His heart was beating so fast and so hard that he thought it would burst. He jerked and twisted around, trying to get out of that wire wrapped around his throat. He squeaked, "I swear to God, if its the last thing I do, I am going to KILL you, Hannigan!!". But Hannigan just laughed. "Relax, old dude...I dont want them...just you...". His mind was working. He knew Elena and Mikey meant alot to old Quint, so they were useful tools to get Quint to do whatever he wanted him to do. Lying to him about having someone else in the house watching his kid and wife was working. "So, long as you cooperate with me, there'll be no problems for your family...my boys will stick around here for about an hour...long enough for me to get you on that old barge of yours. One of them will follow us to the pier and see us off. When you and I are well out to sea, he'll come back here, tell the other and they'll split. Dont worry about it...I made sure to pick a couple of real chicken shits...theyre only here because I know something on them...they dont want trouble, so they'll be outta here the minute I am". Quint demanded, "How do you know they wont run and call the Chief on you?". "I dont really give a shit, Mayor...by the time they roust old Brody outta bed, I'll have already done what I wanted to do to you...my job will be done". "I still dont know how you can be so sure they wont harm my family!", Quint snarled. "Mister Quint...", Hannigan grinned, still holding that wire tightly around his neck, "...Havent you ever heard of 'honor among thieves'??". Quint wanted to see his family before they left...he wasnt quite sure he would be coming back. But Hannigan quickly let him know that he had a loaded gun by swiftly placing it against Quints ear. "Just go, Quinty...we have business to tend to...". They walked out the front door...that gun shoved firmly into the base of Quints skull. The sun hadnt come all the way up, yet...it was only a few minutes past 5:00am...and it was cold. Quint shivered as they walked down the empty, deserted BeachFront road toward the cove, but he wasnt sure if he was shivering because it was cold or of the sheer fear that something was happening to his precious family. All he knew, for sure, was that he felt this cold all the way down to his bones... When they reached the pier, they ran into Bill Toddman. Hannigan stood close to Quint - with the nuzzle of that gun shoved firmly into Quints spine. "hey, Quint!", Bill grinned, "...Or, should I call ya Mayor Quint, now?...(heh heh)...Youre old fishin' buddies still good enough to hang around with now that youre a big shot?". Calmly and smoothely, Quint grinned, but his eyes were pleading with worry, "(Heh)...Heya, Bill...glad to see ya...", as he moved his arm out for a handshake...but Hannigan pressed the gun more firmly into his back, so Quint drew his hand back. Bill didnt even seem to notice. "I'm just gonna take Mike, here, on a fishin' excursion, is all...". Bill eye'd Hannigan curiously. He'd never seen this guy around before. And who might you be, fella?", Bill asked. Hannigan was smoothe...with a twinkle in his eye and a boyish grin, he replied, "Why, I'm Mike Williams, mister...". He extended his hand for a shake. "Bill Toddman's the name, Mike...but folks 'round here just call me Bill...", he smiled as they shook hands. "Nice ta meet ya, Bill", Hannigan smiled...almost like a hissing snake, "I'm the mayors brother-in-law". Quint shifted his eyes towrd Mike and gave him one of the dirtiest, 'go-to-hell' looks he could muster up. The nerve of this piece of shit, insinuating that he was a member of his wifes family!..The again, her father probably would have liked him, Quint thought, sarcastically. But Bill didnt catch the dirty look Quint shot Hannigan and Hannigan only seemed to feed off of it. "Ohhhh...youre the brother of his lovely little wife, eh?...Shes a wonderful lady...", Bill smiled. Mike also smiled...as if Elena really were his sister, "Why, thank you, Bill!...Yeah...we love her, too...", he grinned at Quint, knowing full well that Quint was steaming behind those cutting blue, glaring eyes. And Quint was fuming, too. He wanted nothing more in life than to crush Hannigans skull! But there wasnt much he could do with what looked like a military issue colt .45 jammed into his spine. "Well, it was awfully nice meeting you, Bill...", Mike said abruptly, "...But I'm kinda anxious to get to sea...I'm a mid-western farm boy...dont get too many chances like this, ya know!...So I'm sure you understand...". There was that snakish grin again. "Sure, son...you watch him, Quint!...Dont let him fall overboard! There's been another shark sighting!", Bill chuckled. Naturally, Quints ears perked up on the word 'shark'. Only, this time, he was thinking about how he might work in some way to push Hannigan over into its hungry mouth. Thank God, sharks were always hungry...at least, curious enough to take a big bite out of you. Just as Quint was about to say "You bet", he felt a sharp, painful jab in his back with the nuzzle of that gun. He was being nudged forward, so, onto the boat they went. "Nice meetin' ya, Bill!", Hannigan waved as they stepped down into the Orca. Bill waved and smiled before turning his attentions back to his tangled fishing line. Once on board the Orca, Quint uttered, "...Youre not going to get away with this, you know...". "Looks like I already am", Hannigan snapped back. He held the gun on Quint as he pulled anchor and started the engine. Mike climbed to the bridge with Quint. He made Quint climb the pole while he climbed the ladder, so that he could keep the gun on Quint at all times. He made it up before Quint and held the gun on him as he climbed up, then stood behind Quint with the gun in his back at all times. Quint was desperate...he wondered if he was ever going to get the chance to get this guy off of his back, once and for all. "Where are we going...", Quint asked. "Out to sea, old sailor", Mike replied, almost frothing at the mouth with glee. They sailed quite far out, much further than Quint had ever gone, just for a days fishing. Once Mike Hannigan felt satisfied that he could as he pleased without fear of day sailors or Coast Guard interrupting his plans, he made Quint stop the engines and descend from the bridge. Once on deck, Hannigan demanded, "Okay...now tell me what you do to attract the sharks!". The look on Quints face was of confusion, anger...and a little fear. In a low, defiant tone, Quint answered his question, "...I 'chum'...". "What the hell is 'chum'??", Hannigan sneered. Quint explained chumming to Hannigan. When he was through, Hannigan demanded he start 'chumming'. ************************************************************************** Elena had no idea what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something...and quickly. She ran back to the docks . She thought about getting Bill to take her out onto the water to look for Quint, but Bill had already left. She looked around. Setting about five feet from her was an eight-foot fishing boat with an outboard motor. She didnt want to just "take" it, but she was really desperate...she was terrified for her husbands safety...she needed a boat to get to Quint, but she wondered about wether or not her going out there, on the ocean, was even a good idea. She had no weapon in which to protect herself...she didnt know if she would make the situation worse...So many thoughts ran through her mind, frustrating and scaring her even more than she already was. If only this hadnt been a day when Martin was off the Island! But Hannigan knew what he was doing. He had everything worked out just right. She was panicked that he would succeed in killing Quint this time. And all this over something so stupid...just because Mike Hannigan thought he could push around an older man - and found out he couldnt! Finally, she said to herself, "To hell with this!!"...and ran to that eight-foot boat, jumped in and began frantically pulling on the rip cord on the motor. Just as the motor caught and chugged to life, someone came running down the pier, waving thier arms and yelling, "Hey!!...Thats MY boat!!...STOP!!". But she didnt care. She needed this boat. She clicked the ignition button and almost slammed into the pilings trying to get out of there in a hurry. She left the boats owner yelling at her and frantically waving his arms as she sped out of the cove. She had no idea of which direction she should go. She started into the same direction as she always saw the Orca leaving, until she had remember a remark that Quint had once made during one of her first few sailing trips with him...he had left a bucket of chum and the horrid smell was making her quite ill. He had chuckled, trying to make her feel better, she guessed, then said, "Well, at least you'll always be able to locate the Orca from shore!", as he pointed upward, drawing her attention to literally hundreds of hungry gulls who had gotten a good whiff of that chum, circling the boat. So, she would keep sailing in this direction until she could see a mass of circling gulls somewhere in the distance, then sail for that. She knew this would work...Quint had, just yesterday, went to the butcher shop and got a huge bucket of chum. He actually had talked about going out, just to see if he could spot that shark some of the townsfolk had mentioned...but he wouldnt leave without telling her....not this way... About 10 miles out, she saw the Orca. There was no mistaking a 30-year-old fishing boat...it was the oldest boat in these waters. She stopped her boat. She didnt want to get too close. But what was she to do now? She sat and watched...and thought. Oh, God...she felt as if she were going crazy with worry! She didnt have the slightest idea as to what to do to save her husband!...Until... She heard another boat approaching rapidly in the distance. She turned toward the direction of the oncoming boat and shielded her eyes from the sun so she could see... At first, she couldnt make out more than just the shape of the boat. It was about the size of the Orca...but seemed like it could go quite faster than the old Orca could...but she kept watching until she could see if they were coming this way or were going to turn off... Finally, her eyes were focused enough and the boat was close enough so that she could make out the big white letters painted across the cabin...P-O-L-I-C-E. "Martin!!", she squealed quietly, excitedly. But her hopes were dashed quickly and replaced by an intense sense of fear when she realized that Mike Hannigan was a complete psycho...if he saw Martin, there's no telling what he'd do to Quint... She started up the boats motor and headed quickly toward the police boat. ****************************************************************************** "Martin!!", Elena gasped as she struggled to grasp the side of the police boat to stop her own boat as she pulled up along side of it. Martin reached down to grab her by her arms to pull her up into his boat. "What the hell is going on?!", Martin demanded, "...I got back to the office and Polly was in a snit, babbling something about you coming into the office in a panic, telling her something about Mike Hannigan, Quint and the Orca...". He paused as he got her all the way up into the boat and helped her to steady herself. He continued, "I decided to call you to find out what she was talking about but no one answered...I went by the house and it was empty, so I figured I would check the docks for the boat...all I found there was Jack Carter, claiming some red-haired lady stole his boat!". Elena looked up into Martins eyes. He could read the fear right away...it was quite prominent, especially in her eyes...his voice grew softer as he spoke, but it still had a tone of urgency to it... "Tell me whats going on, Elena...talk to me...". Elena told Martin the whole story. When she finished, she pointed in the direction of the Orca. Martin directed officer Baker to get Elena back into her boat and get it back to the docks and get her home, then go down and tell Jack Carter that Martin, himself, would contact him this evening about what happened with his boat...that it was "acquired during an official emergency" (after all, it was police and mayoral business, anyway...so he wouldnt be lying) and that, if there were any damages, to file a claim with the police department monday morning. Then he told Baker to go to the office and call for back up from the Coast Guard -- and to hurry!! As officer Baker ( who was now in the small boat Elena had "acquired") was helping her down into the boat to return her to shore, against her strong objections, they heard the gunshot coming from across the water...coming from the Orca. "QUINT!!!", Elena cried in reaction. Everyones heads jerked around to face into the direction of the shot. Martin snapped, "Get her out of here...now!!...Paulsen...get on that radio and call for the Coast guard!...C'mon!...MOVE it!!". She bent down and swiftly picked up the gun. As Baker fumbled to stand and lunge for the gun, she lunged forward at him with all of her might - and overboard he went. SPLASH!!!. She acted quickly, almost mechanically. She got right to the motor and ripped that ignition cord with all her strength. Luck was with her...it started immediately. Then off she went, heading straight for the Orca, with Martin in hot pursuit. ***************************************************************************** When the gun went off, the bullet went through the floor of the deck. "Shit!!", Quint hissed when he realized where the bullet ended up, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, "I have to go below to check if that bullet went through the hull!...If it did, it wont be long before we're both 'shark twinkies'!!!", as he stood up unsteadily to walk towrd the hatch. Mike grabbed Quints shirt, placing the barrel against Quints neck, "You aint getting out of my sight, old man!...not till youre in the belly of the shark!!!". Quint looked down at Mike (he was taller than Hannigan by several inches), with a mean, fed-up expression, "I'll tell you again, boy...if this boat sinks, with all that chum in the water, we're both going to end up in the sharks belly!...Now, unless you want to go with me, you'd best let go of my shirt and let my tend to my vessel...". Hannigan stood there, speechless. For the first time since this all started, he had no control. He wasnt smirking now. In fact, he was sort of childish. In reality, Hannigan actually had a fear of the water...he just let his anger take him anywhere, regardless of how he felt. He didnt realize this was his problem, until now. Unsuredly and with no other choice, he stuttered, "Alright, then...get down there and check it out...but I'm going to be right behind you!...Dont you forget that!". His hands were shaking, as well as his voice and his courage. "Yeah, yeah...yeah!", Quint grumbled. Quint walked over and bent down to lift the hatch. Mike stood out of reach until Quint had descended down into the darkness of the lower deck. Once he was below and Hannigan was sure Quint was out of the way, he descended as well. The little boat Elena was in was much quicker than the police boat. She made it to the Orca miles ahead of Martin. She pulled up along side of the Orca, stopped the motor and swiftly scaled the side of the Orca like a professional athlete. But she began to panic when she couldnt find Quint. She didnt think about it at the time, but she actually felt no real personal fear at this moment. Only panic for Quint, terrified she was never going to see her beloved Michael again, that she would have to raise thier son alone. How would she ever teach little Mikey how great his father was?? How could she teach Mikey how to fish or to shark? There were so many things Mikey would need to knoow in his life that only his father could teach him...she almost swooned thinking of it. All these things ran through her mind as she searched the Orca from bow to stern, starboard to port, bridge to deck, looking for Quint, searching frantically. Mike looked up at the sound of footsteps above deck. They both had heard the boat motor as it had approached. "Was you expectin' somebody, mayor?", Hannigan sneered. "No...", Quint said, looking up, too. He was hoping it would be Martin, but he felt his luck wasnt so good lately and that would mean it was just another boater checking out a boat that seemed unoccupied. Trying to distract Hannigan from whomever was above, Quint stated, "...Luckily, that bullet hit that pile of rope setting ontop of the metal engine casing, or we would be waist-deep in water by now...". Quint was hoping that, whomever that was up there, it would be someone who could help him get this nut-case back to prison where he belonged. But Quint was also hoping to have the chance to beat the bloody snot out of Hannigan, first. The distraction almost worked...until they heard Elena's voice, crying out Quints name in desperation. Hannigan looked at Quint, his grin growing wide, "Well, well, well!!...if it aint my lovely 'sister'!!...Come with me, old man...you can watch me while I show her some real 'brotherly love'!!". Quint felt a sudden burst of fear and anger explode inside of him, but there wasnt much he could do, now...Hannigan had that .45 shoved deeply into his rib cage and made it clear that, once he shot Quint, Elena would be next. Quint pleaded softly and from his heart, pushing his anger down deep for the moment. "Please dont hurt her, Hannigan...if you want me, then do what you will with me...but for Gods sakes, dont hurt her...my son needs his mother. Think of your own mother...you wouldnt want anything to happen to her, would you?...My wife or son shouldnt have to pay for my mistakes, should they?...What if you had a son? Would you want him to grow up without the benefit of his mothers love?? Should he pay for his fathers mistakes??". Quint was pleading as hard as he ever had...even when he was praying to God to either take him or save him when he had spent those 5 days in the ocean back in '45. Hannigan went quiet. His expression was cloudy and serious. After a few minutes of what seemed like deep thought, Hannigan hissed, "Alright...for now, 'mayor', I wont touch her. As long as she stays out of the way and you do everything I tell you to do...". The beads of salty sweat were rolling down into Quints eyes, burning them. He got a reprieve for now. He almost felt like apologizing to Hannigan for whatever it was that started all of this in the first place, but he held it back. He felt too much bitterness towards this kid. But then Hannigan noticed Quints eyes...wide and staring at something in the distance, over Hannigans shoulder... Hannigan turned around to see Elena, standing there holding the standard-issue, blue-steel police revolver that belonged to officer Baker, pointed directly at Hannigans head. "Well!...", Hannigan grinned when he saw her, "Looks like the old 'mexican stand-off'!!", as he shoved his .45 deeper into Quints side, causing Quint to wince with pain. "You shoot me, I shoot him...you got a choice, lady...throw your rod down and maybe I let your old man walk outta here...you pull that trigger, I pull mine...which is it??...". Elena wavered. Her aim began to drop. Suddenly, Quint snarled, "Shoot the sonofabitch, Elena!!". Hannigan made a mistake...he let his anger cause a fatal mistake for him, this time. Hannigan raised the hand that held his gun to only strike Quint as he had done, earlier, only Elena mistook his actions. She thought he was going to shoot Quint. Reacting, she swiftly lifted her arm and shot Hannigan. The look of shock, suprize, fear and pain almost made her vomit. But Hannigan wasnt dead, just yet. He still had enough strength to lift and aim his gun once more. Elena was faster and shot him again, hitting him directly in the chest. She was crying and irrational, shouting "No more!...No MORE!!!", louder each time she said it, walking toward him, firing a bullet into him with each step until there were no more bullets. She just stood there, pulling the trigger, over and over, the only sound that could be heard was the sound of the empty chambers clicking. Quint stared at her in shock. Hannigan was clearly dead after that second shot, but she just emptied that pistol into him, all six shots, and kept pulling the trigger. She had snapped. Quint got his bearings and walked over to her. He stepped between her and Hannigans body. Se fell into him, sobbing, as he gently removed the gun from her delicate, trembling hand. He quieted her and comforted her as he listened to MArtin and his officers rush the deck above, calling for them. There was an autopsy hearing and Elena had to go to court, but the only thing she was ever charged with was "obstructing justice". The charges were eventually dropped due to the special circumstances. Martin, Quint and especially Elena, expected backlash from the Hannigans...particularly Lindy, but they never heard a word. Quint took Elena and Mikey on a much needed vacation to the Bahamas for two weeks, after he repaired the bullet holes (from the bullets that had passed through Hannigans lifeless body). Months later, Elena had heard that Lindy was pregnant with Hannigans child. She felt terribly sorry for her. Her fuilt of killing another human being, the father of her child - even though saving the father of her own son, but it soon passed when she discovered that she had something far more important to concern herself with...when she discovered she was expecting Quints second child. Things were starting to finally look up for the Quint family, now that thier fears were resting in the grave along with Mike Hannigan. Life quickly got back to normal. Before they knew it, the New Year had arrived and the past was starting to be nothing more to them than a bad dream. Spring came quickly, too, bringing with it Quints lovely little daughter, Elizabeth Noreen Quint. Quint was immediately infatuated with his precious little Elizabeth, who, just by being born, gave her daddy a renewed sense of hope and a zest for life. Elenas nightmares eventually diminished until they were gone, altogether...with the help of a very patient, loving husband. She had been waking up every night, screaming for Quint, shivering and perspiring heavily, sobbing. But he would sweep her up tightly into his strong, warm arms and hold her tightly until she was once more calm and sleepy. The sound of his strong, beating heart could soothe her like nothing else... But what Quint and Elena didnt know was that thier nightmares were only starting. ******The End?******