Summer 2007 Alphabet challenge at the Numb3rs Forum. Sequel to M is for Mastermind. AU, after Janus List. This is the 12th in what will be a series of 26. Q is for Quagmire is the 1st. There will be no further updates to this piece.
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Una salus victus nullam sperare salutem - The one hope for the vanquished is to abandon hope of safety; knowing there is no hope can give one the courage to fight and win Virgil
Latin translation from yuni dot com, Latin Quotes and Phrases
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Steele's face was grim when he arrived at the hospital. He had called Conrad Sherrod when his plane touched down, and Sherrod had been on his way to the hospital with Fiona. Since other agents were also at the hospital, he'd decided that was the best place for him to be. His heart was heavy from the losses they had sustained that day, but none had hurt more than the two of the four names that had become dear to him. Resolutely, he pushed that thought away. Time enough to grieve when this was all over with.
Sherrod met him at the entrance to the hospital. "Fiona refuses to leave Sean's room," Sherrod said anxiously. "The hospital wants to keep her for observation for the head wound, so I thought it would be alright to leave her with Sean." He looked relieved when Steele nodded. "Ms. Evans is there as well."
"Good. She's safe then," Steele sighed. "Any other news?"
"Everyone's in now. The deep covers have gone into hiding in our safe houses," Sherrod swallowed convulsively, "30 of our agents are unhurt, 60 have sustained some injury, most are light. The rest..." He trailed off with a hitch in his breath.
For a second, Steele's lips trembled when he thought about the names on the list of their losses. Ruthlessly, he firmed them. "I need everyone thinking about who they were attacked by, and how this might have happened. I want those unhurt back in the office tomorrow. We need to get this investigation going. I have an idea I want them to check out. Is the FBI still helping us?"
Sherrod nodded, "Yes, that was the only way we got everyone out. I think our losses would have been much worse otherwise." He hesitated for a moment, "Mr. Breston is waiting for your call. I don't think anyone has told him about our losses. And I... well, I couldn't bring myself to tell Ms. Evans about Colby."
"Alright," Steele had to take a moment to breath deeply. The grief threatened to overwhelm him every time he thought of their losses. "I'll break the news to her. And I'll contact Breston as soon as I'm done talking to Sean and Fiona. Is Agent Eppes with his father?" When Sherrod nodded, Steele said softly, "Thank you, Conrad. Why don't you go home and get some rest? I appreciate all you've done. I know you prefer the administrative side of things."
"I never would have dreamed of something like this happening to our people," Sherrod said bitterly. "I would do anything for them. Please don't hesitate to call me if you need anything else. Anytime, night or day." Sherrod left with Steele's sad smile seared in his mind.
Unable to stomach the thought of facing Hannah just yet, he went in search of Don. He passed a room and paused when he saw Megan holding the hand of the gentleman in the hospital bed.
"Agent Reeves," he said quietly. He turned to Larry, "You must be Professor Fleinhardt. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."
Larry smiled in greeting but looked at Megan with a question in his eyes.
"I haven't told him anything," Megan leaned over to rest her cheek against Larry's.
"Thank you," Steele appreciated that. "Nonetheless, I wish to apologize, Professor. You were needlessly caught in the crossfire."
"There is no accounting for the actions of man," Larry replied slowly. "I knew when Megan and I started seeing each other that situations like these could potentially arise." Larry smiled wryly, "I must admit that I was not quite prepared for the reality of it." He patted Megan's hand. "Charles and I have helped the FBI on occasion. I'm sure I won't be overstepping my bounds if I offered our help."
Steele nodded with appreciation, and took a closer look at Larry. He seemed a mild, absent-minded sort of professor, but there had been a hint of iron in that quiet demeanor. "Can you tell me anything at all about the shooting?"
"I've spent a great deal of time thinking about the trajectories of the bullets," Larry said thoughtfully. "I believe that the bullets were actually targeted at our heads." He turned when Megan stiffened, and patted her hand again. "Charles had made a suggestion about his father's chess move that caused both his father and myself to react. Charles laughed at our reactions, and Alan and myself moved from our original positions while we chastised him, for different reasons. They were sudden moves, and I believe that is the reason we were hit elsewhere. Charles and I were lucky; we were only hit on our arms. I can't be a hundred percent sure but I think that's where our heads were just a second before. Alan wasn't quite as lucky." Larry trailed off into silence and Megan moved closer to him again.
"If you're looking for him, Steele, Don is in the intensive care unit. He's sitting with his father." Megan told him. "We'll all be spending the night at the hospital." She said softly in sympathy, "I understand that most of your agents are also here in this hospital."
His grief threatened to spill over again, at her sympathy, but somehow he managed to keep his voice steady. "Thank you for that. I'll know where to look for you later."
"I also understand that Breston and Director Frankovich will be stopping by later," Megan told him. "I'll let you know when they get here. I'm sure you'll want to talk to them."
Even more impressed with Megan's quiet strength now, Steele nodded and left. He found Don and Charlie keeping vigil by their father's bedside. David was still there, talking to them. He fell silent when Steele stopped at the doorway.
Quietly, Steele took in the scene in front of him. Charlie was on one side of the bed. One of his arms was securely bandaged and in a sling. He had his free hand cradling one of his father's hands. Don was on the other side. Both his hands cupped the other of his father's hands tenderly, almost as though he were willing his own life force into his father through their joined hands. "How is he?"
"Holding his own, but just barely," Don said wearily. He glanced at Steele. "You look like hell."
"Thanks," Steele replied wryly. But he knew Don spoke the truth. His suit was wrinkled from the flight to Washington and back, and he knew the tears he'd shed over the news of Luke's death had ravaged his generally impassive face.
"Megan mentioned the losses DDFS sustained," Don said quietly. He hesitated then almost reluctantly asked, "Have you heard anything about Colby?"
Steele saw David tense, and Charlie look up from his father. He struggled a little, and then answered hoarsely, "We believe him to be dead. There was an explosion at the antiques store and we found two bodies in the burning building."
"Both of them?" David whispered, as horror widened his eyes.
Steele nodded, unable to speak as once again he struggled to stem the tide of grief that threatened to overwhelm him.
"I didn't... I didn't have a chance to tell him I understood," Don whispered almost to himself. He closed his eyes and mourned the senseless loss of two good men. "And the rest of your agency?"
"They've all been pulled out of whatever case they were working on. The uninjured are in safe houses, but," Steele swallowed a lump in his throat, "most of them are in hospitals with varying injuries. Some are even here. Others..." he trailed off, unable to continue.
"And the Mastermind?" David's eyes had narrowed; he was starting to get angry. Angry at the senselessness of the injuries sustained, but mostly, angry at the loss of his friend, one he'd lost once before but had regained and found a new respect for.
"I have an idea, based on something that happened while I was in Washington," Steele said slowly. He looked at them steadily now, "I'll be launching an investigation and I wanted to know if you're still with me."
"Damn straight I am," Don told him, fury blazing from his eyes. "I owe him one for this." He indicated his father, lying still and frail on the hospital bed. Charlie nodded his assent.
"You know I'm in," David said fiercely. "For Colby." For a silent moment, they looked at each other, then David said, "Does Hannah know?"
Steele swallowed hard, "Not yet." He almost crumbled at the sympathy in the other men's eyes. They understand why I'm dragging my feet. He was sure they had become as fond of her as he had. They understood that always made an unpleasant task worse, and there was no task more unpleasant than having to tell someone their loved one was dead. He squared his shoulders, "No time like the present, I guess."
--
Steele's lips trembled again and this time tears threatened to spill when he finally got to Sean's room. Fiona was sobbing in Hannah's arms while Sean looked on helplessly from his hospital bed. They turned when they heard him at the doorway.
"Fiona," Steele's voice broke. He knelt by her side.
Fresh tears flowed down Fiona's tearstained cheeks as she turned into his arms. "Luke," she choked. "Luke's gone. I don't know what I'm going to do without him. I can't bear this."
His own tears flowed. I'm not sure how I'm going to bear this either. Luke had stood by him for twenty-five years. They had faced any number of dangerous situations together and had managed to escape mostly unscathed, if not unhurt.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked over the top of Fiona's head at Hannah. Her face was also white with grief. He knew she had been fond of Luke and he of her.
Her eyes widened at the look on his face, when he struggled to speak and no words came. "Where's Colby?" she whispered as fear rose in her throat and threatened to choke her.
He glanced at Sean, and saw the knowledge in those blue eyes as the grief that he must have been hiding filled them. "He was with Luke, Hannah," Steele's voice was hoarse with that same grief.
If it was possible, Hannah went even whiter. But... "No," Hannah shook her head emphatically. "He's not dead. I would know," she whispered. "Colby's not dead. You have to find him."
"Hannah," Sean reached a hand to her, but she shook him away.
"No!" Hannah cried out, her eyes were blazing now. "It's some kind of trick you're playing! Why do you keep trying to split us up?" A soft whimper escaped her, "Please tell me you just have him working undercover. Please tell me you're just putting me off." Her voice trailed to a whisper, "He promised he would always come back for me."
Steele gave a slight shake of his head when Sean tried again to reach out to her. "Two bodies were found in the burning building, Hannah."
"You haven't had time to identify those bodies," Hannah replied fiercely. "You don't know they're Luke and Colby!"
That was true enough, Steele thought sadly. "Alright," he said softly. "I'm willing to hope, myself." But will this hope only lead to disappointment? Only time will tell. Even Fiona was sitting up now, with hope in her eyes.
"Did the Mastermind cause all of this?" Sean asked flatly.
"I believe so. For some unknown reason, the Mastermind has a vendetta against the entire DDFS," Steele told them quietly. "But I have an idea who it might be." He looked at Sean. "I know you can't get up and about, but I'll get Conrad to bring you a laptop. Will you work from here?"
"Of course," Sean smiled slightly, "I trust you won't have any problems convincing the hospital authorities."
Returning the smile, Steele murmured, "I doubt it will be a problem. Fiona?"
"I'll be discharged tomorrow," she decided.
Steele almost laughed. They didn't usually release head wound patients so quickly. But Fiona was riled up now and it didn't look like anything was going to stop her. "Good, I'll need someone to lead the investigation." His expression saddened. "I have to make my rounds of the injured, then make calls to the families of the other losses."
"Were there... Were there many injuries and losses?" Hannah asked hesitantly.
So they hadn't told her, and she hadn't asked before this, Steele appreciated the effort she made to accommodate Colby's life as a DDFS agent. He looked up to see his brother and Frankovich at the doorway, waiting to see him. He turned and nodded at Sean, "Sean can tell you, Hannah. The status board is current. I'll see all of you later." He got up and left with Breston and Frankovich.
--
Breston looked at his brother with trepidation in his eyes, "Danny..." he faltered. "Luke..." he tried again, and again he faltered. The grief he saw in Steele's face killed any hope he had that Luke might have escaped unhurt. "I never had the chance to make amends," he rasped out with an effort as his own grief threatened to overwhelm him.
"Hannah believes that they're still alive," Steele said slowly, through his grief. "For her sake and for ours, I'm going to have them check the remains as thoroughly as possible to ensure there's no mistake."
Both men nodded in agreement.
After a moment, Frankovich spoke, "I saw Eppes, and he mentioned that you had an idea about the Mastermind." At Steele's nod, he continued, "I've been authorized to assist you in any way we can. Our resources are yours." He eyed Steele for a moment before saying softly, "I had no idea the chain of command for your agency went so high."
Steele shrugged, "Times were different when the agency was formed. Someone obviously thinks we shouldn't exist."
"That may be true, and I may even agree with that," Frankovich replied honestly, "But this is not the way to go about it." He glanced at Steele's rumpled appearance. "You should get some rest; you look like you need it. There'll be time enough for all this tomorrow."
And if it takes the rest of my life, I will make the Mastermind pay for Luke's death, Steele thought. The cold fury took hold and pushed the grief aside. There would be no quarter.
--
"Bomb!"
Both Luke and Colby came to the realization at the same time. Then Luke muttered fiercely, "Una salus victus!"
As the question "What?" formed in Colby's mind, he found himself pushed out the door.
"Run!" Luke yelled. Both of them ran out the door as fast as they could despite the shots that began to be fired in their direction.
Colby found himself sprawled on the ground when Luke tackled him down and physically provided him with cover as the building exploded behind them.
"Ungh!"
Fear ran cold in Colby's heart when he heard the grunt of pain from Luke. Then additional shots were fired and, but for the sound of the raging fire, there was silence.
With another grunt of pain, Luke rolled off Colby, and reached for his gun as several men came running towards them.
"Easy, we're friends."
Colby rolled over to see Che Lobo leaning over them. "Che Lobo. Gotta say I'm glad to see you."
Che Lobo nodded, "We're going to toss the two guys who were shooting at you in the building. Make people think you were caught in the explosion."
Luke muttered weakly, "Great idea."
The weakness in his voice alarmed Colby. He scrambled over to find out the extent of his injuries.
"It's just a gunshot wound, Colby," Luke tried to reassure him. But that only worried Colby more.
"Won't take us long to get to my place," Che Lobo said briskly. "The doctor's waiting."
Colby didn't ask any questions. He was willing to go along with that for now. His only concern was Luke. Carefully, he helped Luke up and half-carried him to Che Lobo's limo.
"Don't worry about the seats." Colby vaguely heard Che Lobo say. Not that he was going to. All he cared about was getting Luke to a doctor.
"Why are you helping us?" Luke asked through the haze of pain.
Che Lobo handed hydrogen peroxide, swabs and bandages to Colby before he answered. "Granger here saved my son's life. My son means more to me than life itself." He met Luke's eyes and said slowly, "I think you understand that."
Luke smiled faintly, before grimacing again as Colby cleaned his wound.
Sick with worry, Colby was barely following the conversation, "Single shot to the side. Doesn't look like it hit anything serious."
"I beg to differ," Luke muttered.
"What does he mean you understand?" Colby's mind finally caught up with the conversation. He scowled when Luke didn't answer.
"I mean he treats you like a son," Che Lobo was amused.
Colby looked startled. He knew Luke wasn't more than ten years older than he was.
"It isn't an age thing, Granger." This time, Che Lobo laughed at the discomfiture in Luke's face. But he became serious again. "I also owe you one," he told Luke. At Luke's raised eyebrow and curious expression, he continued, "You saved my brother's life. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, as usual." There was a wry twist to Che Lobo's lips. "In the same room as the man you were sent to kill. Most assassins would have killed bystanders and chalked it up to collateral damage. You let him live." This time he was the one with the curious expression. "Not only that, you helped him straighten out. Why would you do that?"
Luke's face had cleared. "I remember who you're talking about now. I didn't know he was your brother. Different last name, as I recall."
"He uses our mother's name. It was to keep him safe, but he got into the wrong crowd anyway." Exasperation was evident in Che Lobo's expression.
Luke nodded, "It was obvious he didn't belong there. I gave him a choice, and he took it. He's done very well at DDFS."
"Yes, which is another reason I'm helping you," Che Lobo's eyes narrowed. "I heard there was someone gunning for the entire agency. I warned my brother to get out, and he got out from undercover without any problems. But the idiot went in to rescue other agents and ended up hurt anyway." He looked frustrated.
"Has a mind of his own, does he?" It was Colby's turn to be amused.
Che Lobo grinned, "I don't guess I would have it any other way." He reached over and grabbed a couple of wallets from the seat and handed them to Colby. "Here, you might need these. Wallets from the two guys that were shooting at you."
In the silence that followed, Colby turned to Luke, "Una what?" At Luke's puzzled look, he elaborated, "You yelled that when you pushed me out the door of the antique store."
"Ah. Una salus victus, a shortened version of Una salus victus nullam sperare salutem. Loosely translated, it means when there's no other hope, knowing there's no hope can sometimes give you courage to fight and win."
"I see." Then Colby said softly, "That just might be our battle cry while we're under attack."
Luke's eyes fluttered shut in weariness and pain, but Colby could tell from the tight lips that he agreed. It was a dark hour for the DDFS.
--
When Luke came to several hours later, he found himself in a darkened room. His side was bandaged and he suspected he'd been given some painkillers because there was no pain from the wound. He shifted slightly and winced. Well, at least it only when he moved. Gingerly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to get up.
"What do you think you're doing?" Colby demanded from the doorway. He had a tray of food and drink in his hands.
"Sometimes, a man's got to do what a man's got to do," Luke told him dryly.
Colby grinned suddenly and put the tray down. "I'll help you to the bathroom."
"So where are we?" Luke asked when everything was taken care of and he was back in the bed.
"At Che Lobo's place right now," Colby told him. "I'm guessing that you think it's a good idea to let everyone think we're dead and pursue the investigation ourselves."
"Yes. But we don't have to do it from here if that's what you're worried about," Luke correctly interpreted the uncomfortable look in Colby's eyes.
"Good. Yes, I was worried. I'm grateful for his help but I don't want to owe him any more than I already do." Colby looked relieved.
"I think he considers the slate clean between you," Luke told him. And between us, which would be just fine with me. "I have several identities stashed away in case of emergencies like this. And a place we can go to and lay low. It's even set up so we can begin our investigation from there." He smiled wryly, "One of those identities might even fit you. Son." He chuckled when Colby looked at him with amusement.
"You don't look nearly old enough to be my father," Colby pointed out. But he was grateful that Luke cared enough about him to include him.
"I will when I'm done with the disguise, don't worry. It'll help cover up the reason why I'll be moving slowly and painfully." There was a silence as they both ate. Neither had much appetite but they needed to maintain their strength and their health.
"Do you think I could find out if Hannah's okay?" Colby asked softly. "And let her know I'm safe?"
Luke looked at him with sympathy. "I worry about Fiona too." Possibly more. We still don't know where she disappeared to, Luke thought with worry and regret. "But I think it would be best if we don't. It might be better if we just let them think we're dead and go from there." He empathized with the agony in Colby's eyes. "I know," he whispered.
Colby swallowed hard, "I'm glad I took the time to make sure she's taken care of this time. She'll get everything I own."
"And Steele will make sure of it," Luke assured him. He tried not to think of what Steele was going through, and regretted not being there to help shoulder his burden. But he would do what he could from where he would be. Gently, he said, "I made similar provisions for Fiona, if they ever find her. And I also made provisions for Hannah." He smiled faintly at the surprise on Colby's face. "It had been a long time since anyone accepted me for who I am. Hannah matters a great deal to me."
Both men tried not to think of what Hannah was going through. "Sean will take care of her," Luke tried to reassure both of them.
"Yeah," Colby muttered. "I'm sure he will. He's the ultimate ladies' man."
Luke laughed gently, "I didn't mean it in that way. And I don't think he'll do that, not while she hopes you're alive anyway. I don't think she'll give up that easily."
Maybe she should give up on me and go on with her life, Colby thought tiredly. Find someone who can give her a better life than I can.
"Get some rest," Luke told him. He didn't like the sadness in Colby's eyes but he didn't know what he could do about it. "Things will look better in the morning."
--
Sean watched as Hannah fussed gently over him. She plumped up his pillows and made him comfortable. "Hannah," he said gently. "You need to get some rest." She had spent the rest of the time after Steele left encouraging Fiona, till the nurses had finally made Fiona go back to her own room.
Hannah stopped and looked at him. "I can't," she whispered. "I keep thinking about Colby when I stop."
"You know it's okay to grieve," Sean touched her cheek gently.
"Who's Sara?"
Sean's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the non sequitur. "How do you know about Sara?"
"You called me Sara the first time I came to visit you," she patted his arm, smiling a little at the confusion in his face. "I think you were still a little delirious."
He smiled wryly, "I must have been. Sara was my fiancée. She died."
"I'm sorry," Hannah was contrite. "I should have known better than to bring up a painful subject."
"There's no need to be sorry. It's been a long time." Another wry smile, "I'm probably the last person to tell anyone about letting go since I haven't quite succeeded in letting Sara go." He watched her fiddle with a few things around his hospital room. "Do you have your car here or is Sinclair going to bring you home?"
Hannah smiled at him, "Trying to get rid of me?"
"No, silly. I just think you should get some rest," Sean chided her gently.
"David was going to take me home when I was ready to go," Hannah paced restlessly around the hospital room. "He's planning on coming back and staying with Don and Charlie, keeping vigil over Mr. Eppes."
Mr. Eppes, Sean thought with regret. He liked the older gentleman a great deal. It was a shame he got hurt in the crossfire. "I need to find out how he is, and see if the nurses will let me go see him."
"Only if you're well enough to sit in a wheelchair, I imagine. I don't think you're quite ready for that yet, and I don't think they're going to push you, bed and all, to the ICU." Hannah smiled at his impatience.
"You remind me a little of Sara," Sean said suddenly. He smiled at her surprise. "She was gentle and loving, like you are. I miss that most about her."
Hannah looked uncertainly at him.
He grinned. "Don't worry. I do have some self-control, and I'm conscious now. I know you're not Sara. Besides, I'm stuck to this bed."
She laughed softly.
"And I know you're not giving up on Colby by a long shot," he said gently. "I never move in on a friend's lady." He was pleased that the haunted look in her eyes was gone. "Nevertheless, I'm here for you, if you need a shoulder.
"Do you think I'm just in denial?" she asked quietly. "I can't bear the thought of life without him. It was difficult enough when I knew he was alive and I couldn't see him. Not knowing is worse."
"You had a great point, Hannah, and I'm sure Steele will follow up on it," Sean told her. "Until the results come in, I won't be giving up either. They mean too much to me."
They were quiet for a while. Finally, Hannah roused herself, "I should go home and see if I can get some sleep."
"Alright," Sean touched her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."
But her apartment seemed empty and lifeless without Colby. Even when he was working nights and she was home alone it had never felt this empty. She had spent a lot of time talking Fiona out of her pain and encouraging her to believe that Luke was alive, but now, alone in the apartment, she found herself wondering if Colby was really still alive. Would I really know if he were dead? I was so sure when I was talking to Steele.
Hannah roamed restlessly around the apartment, half-heartedly straightening things up. A single heartbroken sob escaped her when she got to the Candella roses he had bought for her birthday just a few days ago. The leaves and stems were beginning to brown and wither, the rose petals drooping sadly. Patiently, she separated the petals from the stems and spread them out to dry on paper towels. I'll put them in a sachet and keep them on the nightstand, she decided.
She saw a paper bag from the gourmet restaurant as she tossed the leaves and stems into the garbage, and sighed. They'd had such a great time at Luke's home that evening. It just didn't seem possible that both men were gone. Tears filled her eyes when she thought of the love and laughter when they had gathered in Luke's living room. The happiness in Luke's eyes had touched her, as had the happiness in Fiona's face as she snuggled against him. Fresh tears flowed as she remembered the feel of Colby's arms around her as he cradled her close to him.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she went into the bedroom and began to pick up Colby's clothes from the floor. He had been in a hurry to leave that morning. Had it only been that morning? So much had happened that day. It was rare that he left any of his things lying around on the floor, but the anxiety over Sean's condition had kept them at the hospital till late. And he'd made passionate love to her most of the night when they'd finally got home, as though he'd been afraid he would never get to touch her again. He had overslept the next morning, which precipitated a rush when he had to get to the FBI.
She sniffled as each of the things she picked up made her yearn for the feel of his arms around her, made her long for the feel of his skin against hers. The fear that she had truly lost him this time was a searing pain in her heart.
Wrapping herself in Colby's shirt, she curled up in the bed. And cried herself to sleep.
--
A/N: I'm sure all of you knew I don't have it in me to kill Colby. :-P Nevertheless, it was fun to see if I could make you wonder.
I actually have the rest of the alphabet, and therefore the rest of the story, mapped out now, so hang on for the rest of the ride. Thank you for reading and for your encouraging comments!