Killian felt a trickle of sweat creep down the middle of his back. His heart was beating like a nail driver against the walls of his chest. Half of him wanted to think clearly; the other half wanted to rush forward and wrest the gun away from Lynn, taking on any new wounds as they came along.

The air was still and suffocating. Particles of dust swirled and floated about in the flickering florescent light of the abandoned closet. Killian thought suddenly that he might die in such a lousy place, when there were at least a dozen other lousy places he would have preferred, dives where the people would have raised a pint in his name at his passing.

Lynn gave Killian an empty smile. She'd keep talking to him until the fear came into his eyes – the fear of death. It gripped all her victims eventually, and that was always the perfect moment to send them screaming into the other world. She craved that look, and she hadn't seen it in such a long time.

"So those weren't her last words. So what. Tell me what they mean anyway," Lynn said, thrusting her gun at him.

Killian thought back to the sentence: "I am dying for you; you are dying for another." It was a Punjabi proverb. Killian and Rajani had always traded proverbs with each other – her Punjabi ones for his Irish. They just repeated them to each other, never explaining them or reflecting on them in depth. Now his life belonged to one, and Killian knew that if he even guessed at an explanation, Lynn would have no reason to keep him alive.

"Why didn't you just become a doctor, if you're so much smarter than all of us?"

"Love. Aren't you going to call me love? You call everybody else love," Lynn said. "Go ahead, call me love."

Killian looked at that shelf holding the cleaning supplies. It was his only chance to defeat her, but he couldn't get it to fall over by simply willing it. He was running out of time. He saw the doorknob slowly twist. He couldn't let Lynn notice.

"You're bloody off your rocker, love," Killian said, with a menacing crack of lips baring teeth.

__________________________________________________________________________

Breathe in. Breathe out. John had sent Evangeline outside to wait for Bo and the SWAT team, so that she could direct them to the supply closet. He didn't want Evangeline to see him get killed, should it happen. She'd already seen him shot, and it had taken its toll on her with nightmares and small panics that she could hide from everyone but him.

John could hear Killian speaking with a woman. She wanted to know something, but he couldn't hear exactly what it was. The voice sounded familiar, but John couldn't place her. It was a woman. A woman. John tucked that into one of the files in his mind.

He turned the doorknob to the supply closet slowly and looked over his shoulder at Michael. His brother was right behind him, like when they would play games as children. Mikey had been big for his age, but he had still trailed at John's heels like the little brother he was.

If he'd had a choice, John would have sent his brother along with Evangeline, away from whatever was about to happen. But Mikey was a grown man now, a doctor who could be useful in a medical emergency. John pushed Michael back a little and gripped the doorknob again.

__________________________________________________________________________

Killian slammed his open palm against the wall and stomped his foot at the same time. The wobbly shelf shook again. An old bottle of industrial bleach slid off, and Lynn was forced to steady the dark brown wire frame with her free hand.

"Now!" Killian screamed.

John burst through the door, instantly deciding to ask questions later and shoot first. Bullets whizzed by his head – one nicking the top of his shoulder – as Lynn fired off a few rounds.

Killian lunged forward at the same time, pulling down the shelf on top of an already mortally wounded Lynn.

"Michael," John yelled, as he kicked Lynn's gun away from her body.

His brother was already behind him, briefly checking John's flesh wound. Michael moved succinctly on to Lynn's body, where Killian was already taking her fading pulse.

"I think I understand now. I am dying for you. You are dying for another," she said, coughing violently.

John turned around, with his gun raised, as two members of the SWAT team entered the closet. They parted to reveal Bo, and John went over to him, quietly explaining what happened, never taking his eyes off of Lynn. He heard Evangeline gasp, and he walked over to her quickly.

"Don't look. Don't look," he said, gently, coiling his good arm around her waist.

Bo asked Michael if he needed any nurses or help. Michael looked at Killian, and they conferred with their eyes. Michael shook his head.

John stepped away from Evangeline for a moment and knelt beside Lynn's body. He finally recognized her from the hospital on the mountain. She was pleased by his look of surprise.

"Miss, I need you to tell me about the death of Rajani Fahey," John said.

Lynn laughed, blood staining the corners of her mouth. "Doctor on doctor crime," she said, turning weepy. "My son, Steven. He'll be all alone now. Steven did it. He killed both your girls."

She looked back and forth between them, dying as she turned toward John for the last time. "I'm dying for you," she said.

John felt Evangeline's fingers pull back the ragged fabric around his flesh wound. She called for Michael. John assured her it was nothing before he turned to Killian with a flock of questions fluttering against the inside of his lips looking for escape.

"It was Steven Haver. She thought of him as her protégé. She's the one who taught him how to kill properly. I lead Rajani to him that day. It's all my fault," Killian said, plainly, withdrawing into shock.

Evangeline tried to bring him back. "She was the one trying to kill you?" she asked, surprised it hadn't been a relative of Rajani's dead on the floor before them.

Killian nodded, suddenly unsure whether he had really wanted to go on living. He had come so close to Rajani, and now, he'd learned who had killed her. And, he didn't know if he could go back to medicine. He didn't think he'd ever trust another nurse in his life.

"One down. One to go," John said.

He decided he would take advantage of Alcazar's offer of a security detail for Killian, though John was sure Killian didn't need protection from anyone besides himself. John could remember how he had felt when he'd discovered who'd killed Caitlin. He knew Killian's feelings would be dangerous, once the numbness went away.

"Mike, can you tell me for sure if this woman was a mother or not," John said.

Michael pulled up the nurse's top to display more of her already exposed stomach. There was a wide scar.

"We don't even have to do an autopsy for that, bro. Caesarean section," he said.

Killian and John locked eyes. There was another enemy out there, and he was faceless. They only had a name. Steven Haver Jr.