Alcy emerged from the bedroom to the sound of Terrence rummaging through the pantry. When she flicked on the overhead, bright fluorescent light flooded the kitchen. His head jerked around and his hands froze. He held open a canvas bag and was sweeping an armload of food into it. Alcy's hand flew to her mouth. They stood in the harsh white light in the middle of the night, neither speaking.

"What are you doing?" she asked at last. "You drunk?"

"I'll replace it in the morning. I promise." he said.

"Are you leaving? Are you leaving me?" she asked, bewildered. Her eyes looked red, either from bleary from sleep or she had been crying.

He shielded his face from the harsh light with his hand. "What? No. Turn that off and light a lamp, would you?" She did so, and he set the bag down and went to her.

She peered into his face. "What are you doing, Terrence?"

"I... I didn't want to wake you. I'm going back out," he said, clutching onto her as she tried pushing away in disgust. "Wait, you don't understand."

"More top secret business?" she laughed ruefully. "Let me guess, you're forbidden to talk about it."

Terrence let her pull away, relieved that she didn't retreat to the bedroom but instead stood with him in the kitchen, shivering in her satin robe. He took a deep breath.

"It's not that I can't, Al. I don't want to. What I saw tonight was bad. Real bad. People are playing games with other people's lives. And people are suffering."

"People, Terrence? People? Care to be any more vague?"

Terrence's head bowed. "I think the families are at war, or will be. Or maybe this kind of thing happens all the time, I don't know. But I've been out in the city and seen those people, the scavengers, with my own eyes. Yes, there are rundowners on the streets, more than I can count. They're like roaches, only coming out when it's dark to feed on the scraps. But there are whole families out there, with kids. They're just trying to get by. They're not hurting anyone. When they're not starving to death or being hunted by addicts, they're having their lives threatened by us, the MPD. It's wrong, Al. It shouldn't be this way."

"So what are you planning to do? Save them?"

He glared at her. "Look at what we have," he said, motioning to indicate the condo, its furnishings, their full closets. He struggled to keep his voice down. "We have all of this and more whenever we need it. No one asks any questions because they know they'll get thrown out on the street to fend for themselves if they so much as bat an eye. While we wonder what to have for dinner, there are people out there, tonight, dying from starvation. So no, Alcy, I might not be able to save them all. But I might be able to help someone out, even if only for a night. It might not be much but it's better than being pushed around furthering some ridiculous political agenda."

Her faced seemed to lengthen as he spoke. She looked at the canvas bag, then turned and went back into the bedroom. Terrence sighed in resignation, contemplating whether or not to follow. She had left the door open. He was still standing there considering his options when she returned wearing a heavy black coat and a pair of snow pants. She slipped past him and began clearing off the shelf.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Going with you," she said, stuffing the bag with both hands.

"What are you talking about?"

She didn't look up. "You say there are good people out there in need. I believe you."

He knelt and gripped the bag. "You can't go with me. It's too dangerous for— "

"For a woman? To hell with that," she said tearing the bag back from his hands. Her eyes shone. "Do you have any idea what it's like, being told what to do, where you can and can't go? Do you realize how little of the city I've been allowed to see? You traipse back and forth like a good little errand boy, while I'm stuck up in this tower, with daddy's guards keeping close watch on his little girl to make sure she's safe. Well I'm sick of it, Terrence. You don't get to play the noble lone crusader, not tonight. Not without me."

Terrence thought about that but said nothing as she began piling in the rest of the food. She pushed four cans of soup to the back of the shelf, enough to keep them fed through the morning when she would go down to Inventory, play her Lukowski's daughter card, and return with a bag full of food. No ration cards to punch, no notes to pass. That's how it worked when you were connected.

She jerked the drawstring shut on the bag and heaved it over her shoulder, defiant, daring him to challenge her. He stared for a moment then shook his head. She inhaled sharply but he cut her off before she could speak. "You need a warmer layer underneath," he said quietly. "And that jacket won't work. It's too bulky and it will draw attention. You'd be a mark for sure."

Alcy stood speechless.

"I've got an extra poncho in the closet. You'll get used to the smell. We need you armed too. Do you remember how to fire a handgun?"

"You're letting me come with you?"

Terrence shook his head. "I'm not letting you do anything. You want to go. We might as well be smart about it and go together."

She let the bag sink to the floor. "Do you know where to find them? The poor people I mean."

Terrence shrugged. "They're everywhere. You just need to look. It's dangerous though. You'll have to stay sharp. Keep your eyes open. I watch your back, you watch mine. Can you do that?"

Alcy took his hand. He couldn't remember the last time they'd held hands. A small, intimate gesture.

"I can do that," she said.