Terry hung  her leather jacket on a coat rack in the waiting room and followed the tattoo artist.<br/><br/>"Hello, Noel.   My name's Terry.  I had this exact rose on the small of my back, just left of the spine.  But I was in a fire, got burned badly, and the rose has all but disappeared.  I don't know if you can see a trace of it any longer, but I want it back."<br/><br/>She raised up the back of her shirt, exposing a band of scar tissue that ran across her lower back, and pointed to the spot where the rose had been.  There had been a time when she had been self-conscious about the scar.  But scars were a part of being a cop.  And the more scars she'd gotten on the job, the more at ease she became with them.  Some people got tattoos to commemorate  major events in their life.  But to Terry, that was the purpose of her scars.  Each commemorated a near-death experience.  The rose was not to remember anything she had done, but to remember Rose, her mother.<br/><br/>Terry gazed at the chair.  How was this going to work, given that the tattoo she wanted was going on her back.  She'd lain on a table the first time she'd gotten the tattoo.  She looked at Noel, uncertain how this was going to work.