Hello all

It's Kade here.

I'm fine.

Tan, isn't.

"Kade, we need you in here, this big guy needs three of us to take him down, we're struggling!" That's Troy; he needs help in the ambulance.

Rage fuels me and I dive back into the vehicle, launching myself on the big guy like a missile. Troy and I pin the son of a bitch down while Drew injects him with high strength sedatives.

"We got you Bertie, not so brutal now are you; look at you like a big old sleepy bear. Enjoy your snooze cos you and Horny Helga are gonna be waking up in captivity," I cajole him, as the sedative takes effect.

Drew pulls me up, "Go take care of Tanya, we've got these two covered," he sings.

"Don't panic, Tan. We'll get you to The Hospital real soon and get this sorted," I say, stroking her hair while she sits propped against the wall.

"Did she try and have sex with you?" She slurs, through her obvious pain.

"Yes, but I wouldn't let it happen," I reassure her.

"That's my boy," she smiles, wearily.

My worry increases as I literally watch the color drain from her face.

Drew can't shed any light on her condition, other than he knows for sure Tan WAS NOT impregnated with the embryo his sperm fertilized.

Whatever they've put in her, needs out, fast.

It's growing.

I can't lie, I'm real scared, something I have to hide from Tan.

But I'm not sure I can, she sees it on my face.

"What have they done to me?" She asks, sleepily.

"Nothing we can't fix; hold on to me, Tan."

"I can't, I'm losing my grip, have they drugged me?"

"No, stay with me, we'll be home real soon. I'm gonna make you the best hot chocolate, with mallows and whipped cream."

"My tummy hurts."

Rubbing her swollen stomach, I reassure her, "We'll get whatever it is, out of you when we get to the Hospital."

Kelly catches my eye; I see the worry etched on her face.

"There's no room in the ambulance. Has that cab guy, gone?" I ask, looking around.

"Yes - I'll hail one, we need to get her to Accident and emergency - fast!" Says Kelly, dashing urgently into the road.

I continue stroking Tan's stomach, while at the same time trying to feel for any clues as to what this is. I feel no movement to suggest it's alive, which is a small relief.

Tan's voice is becoming weaker, "It happened so fast, I didn't even feel anything, until the cabbie pointed it out," she says, all slow and sleepy. But I encourage her to keep talking, as I know it's important to remain conscious until we get her in medical care.

Her breathing's become shallow.

"Have you secured Helga and Bertie?" She asks.

I squeeze her hand and give her my best positive smile, "Yes, we've got em, Tan. We're doing real good so far, aren't we?"

Her smile is weak, "We are."

Her lips are turning alarmingly blue.

"How is your chest, is it still sore?" She asks.

I hold her face, "A little. But mom is making sure the Doll isn't touched; and she's arranged for me to have a full examination, as she believes they've implanted some kind of Wi-Fi device inside me," I explain.

She tries to lift her head from the wall, "We need to talk to mom," she says.

"What about?"

"We need to hear all her story, she's told us so little," she's over exerting herself to get the words out.

I gently hold her head in my hands and reflect on what Tan has just said.

She's absolutely right; we know only the rudimentary details of mom and dad's back-story. Intrigue momentarily distracts me; until I take Tan's hand -

her fingernails are turning blue.

Panic grabs me and I call out, "Drew, can you get here, quickly!"

Looking around, I see Kelly is manically waving cabs, but this is London on a Friday evening, busy beyond busy.

I squeeze Tan's hand, "Sure we'll talk to mom, as soon as we have you back to full health, which won't be long, I promise you."

Her smile is rapidly waning, but she continues to talk, "While I'm being seen to, will you check out the little silver cabinet in mom's Brain trolley, the one that's locked? I've always wondered what she keeps in there," she says, her words are now so low that I have to put my ear to her lips to hear her.

A heady mix of intrigue, concern and worry stir in the pit of my stomach, emotions which churn up when I hear Kelly's voice shout - "At last, over here, we have an emergency!"

Drew rushes to my side. When he looks at Tan, his voice suddenly soars with recognition, "She's going into Hypovolemic Shock, we have minutes to get her to Hospital." He grabs me and we instinctively sweep Tan up into a human cradle.

The cabbie sees the urgency in Tan and doesn't question us as we place her in the back. Kelly jumps in next to her, while I grab Drew as he's returning to the ambulance, "What does the Hypo...Shock thing mean?" I ask. Drew doesn't mince his words, "She's bleeding to death, get her to Hospital, now!" He sings.

At the Hospital the cab guy refuses to take payment and instead helps Kelly and I get a rapidly declining Tan into a wheel chair - it's good to know London has good guys.

Kelly thanks him profusely while I hurtle Tan into the A & E Department with Kelly hot on my heels.

Every time Tan's head drops forward I lift it up and slap her awake, "Stay with me, we're here now, we're getting you seen too," I say, but by now she isn't responding to me.

Looking around, I get a jolt of hope when I see it's not too busy, we're hours away from the Friday night mayhem of a London emergency room.

"Over there," says Kelly, pushing me in the direction of a free, female nurse.

The nurse is immediately responsive. Pulling up Tan's head and stretching open her eye, she peers in, then looks over her body, "Where's she hemorrhaging from?" She asks.

I nod my head, "What, what do you mean?" I ask, nervously

"She's bleeding, already lost a huge amount of blood," she says, calling over to a colleague, "Colin, I need you here, we've got a serious case of Hypovolemic Shock - alert the transfusion room."

The male medic talks into his device as he rushes over, "He glances at Kelly and I, then Tan, "She's pregnant, when did her waters break?" He asks.

"They didn't, she's not pregnant," replies Kelly. He glances at his colleague, confusion jumping between them.

The female nurse addresses me, "She's clearly heavily pregnant, we need to urgently transfuse her then perform an emergency C Section. Are you her next of Kin?"

"Yes, I'm her husband." I move in closer and lower my voice, "To reiterate what my sister said, she's not pregnant." When her confusion deepens, I explain softly, "She's transgender."

She's immediately professional and supportive, "Thanks, that information is very important. Can you follow me, we need to get her looked at, she has all the signs of severe blood loss, yet there is no exit wound," she says this, as if to explain it to herself rather than us.

We enter a small clinical room and Tan is placed on a bed. "What's your name?" Asks the nurse.

"I'm Kade."

She hands me a board with an official looking form, "As her next of kin, we need you to sign this consent form before we can proceed with the transfusion."

It's then I realize that we are breaking our rules here. We're only allowed to use sanctioned medics for all our care. But right now, I don't care about rules; I don't hesitate to scrawl my name in the designated space.

Three male medics are attending to Tan. They talk urgently in jaw-breaking medical lingo that sounds wholly like a foreign language.

Still, their rapid-fire medical talk and swift actions reassure me that Tan's in good hands.

The nurse pulls me aside, "Kade, have you any idea what's wrong with Tanya?"

My instinctive reaction is to nod my head and say, "No."

But she doesn't buy it. She looks at me with a professional care in her eyes, "Kade, I'm not here to judge you. I have a duty of care to Tanya. In all my experience in A&E, I've never seen a case like this. Anything you tell me will be in confidence," she says.

My eyes sting and water up, "Something's been implanted inside her, I don't know what." I confess. I almost want to tell her something's been put in me, but I refrain, that would be a confession too far.

She squeezes my arm, "Thank you Kade, that's all I need to know." She returns to relay the information while I slump on a chair and let the tears flow.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly changes from one of professional control, to barely concealed panic, "She's losing the blood as soon as it's pumped into her. This is some kind of parasitic tumor!" Says a male medic, alarmingly.

The nurse is assertive, "This is beyond us. She needs emergency surgery to remove the growth. Alert theatre immediately!"

The place is a blur of rushing medics, all attaching wires and machines to Tan. Another form is thrust in my hands: SURGICAL CONSENT is written large at the top. I don't even hear what the nurse is saying to me, I just scribble where I'm told.

Then, as if out of nowhere comes a moments calm. The room empties and it's just Tan and me. I look at her, in this cold white room, tied up to these machines and a shiver of loneliness engulfs me.

At her side I bend and kiss her forehead, she's icy cold.

There's no time for 'good luck' or 'goodbye' as Tan's whisked away from me with Medical emergency speed and efficiency.

Kelly and I sit dumbstruck in the reception area, drinking nasty black coffee from thin plastic cups.

The nurse returns and squats to my level. She's bright and optimistic, "Tan's in the best of hands now. Dr Olav is performing her surgery. I've given him your phone number and he'll call you as soon as she's out of theatre."

She looks at us both, "I suggest you get home and rest, as she may be under for quite sometime," she says, with a warm lilt in her voice.

All's quiet in our living quarters. Troy and Drew have not yet returned with our dual captives. Tony and little Kelvin are busy at the computer terminals, and mom's powered down for the evening.

"I'm gonna hit the shower, are you ok?" Asks Kelly.

"Yes, just a little beat."

"She's gonna be ok, you do know that, don't you?"

I manage a halfhearted smile, "Sure I do."

"Good," she says, leaving me alone, to contemplate.

I really appreciate the quiet. In fact, I need it after the chaotic drama of the last few hours.

But I'm not relaxed, because I can't relax.

It's what Tan said about mom. I keep thinking of how little of her story we do know.

Even though I know I need to give my head a break, I find myself walking to mom's brain trolley.

On my way, I pick up a pair of metal cutters, pliers and a hammer from our tool cupboard.

The cool of the room hits me and I shudder.

Mom's brain undulates gently in its glass home, emitting a gentle light which highlights the silver box entrenched tightly in a lower compartment of the trolley.

Surprisingly, I manage to extract the box with little effort and lift it away without needing my tools.

I dash out of the room with the clandestine stealth of a seasoned thief.

Thief. That's what I feel like. That's what I am. The worst kind of thief, I'm stealing from my own mother.

But I tell myself there's little time for guilt as I race back to our living quarters.

I break the lock with the metal cutter and pause before opening the lid.

What could possibly be in this box that mom felt the need to keep it locked? I consider putting it back, and just asking mom outright, that would be the noble thing to do.

But a compulsion propels me and I force open the long locked lid.

A musty smell tickles my nostrils. Peering in, I see a silky white overlay.

I remove it carefully; mindful to place its contents back exactly how I find them.

On top is a photograph. I remove it and stare.

Thankfully, my heart fills with joy at the image. It's Kelly and I as little kids. I'm no more than four or five, smiling mischievously up at the camera, my arm protectively around Kelly and another kid, a boy.

It's taken in innocent times and I fill with nostalgia for those carefree days.

"What you smiling at?" Asks Kelly, returning from her shower and toweling her wet hair.

"I found an old photo, when you and I were kids, back in Chicago."

"Orrrr, let me see," she says, jumping on the couch.

I hand her the photo and ask, "Who's the other kid, I don't remember him, at all?"

Kelly stares and smiles, but I watch as her smile begins to fade. She looks at me, not quite alarmed, but definitely surprised, "That's Tanya," she says.

My instinctive response is to laugh, "That kids a boy!" I say, snatching back the photo.

So many conflicting emotions flood me at once as I peer closely at the picture, my focus is on the little boy, whom my arm is wrapped tightly around.

He's tiny, bird like, frail, fragile, and above all - frightened.

Kelly says exactly what I'm thinking, "We met Thomas when we were kids? Mom's got some explaining to do!"