So I got quite the response as to another Chase and Kyle story, and here is the beginning of the result. Hope this finds readers in a mysterious kind of mood!
A/N: In this story some characters speak using American Sign Language. If you see dashes surrounding dialogue, it means it's being signed. If there's quotes and dashes, it means it's being signed and spoken.
General Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine. But Kyle Parker, Chase Davis, and the Stackhouses are.
It had been a good night at the tables. Kyle Parker managed to leave the back room of the Stackhouse with an extra 75 dollars in his wallet, which was no small feat—he'd had to play against Cameron Stackhouse himself at euchre, and he'd come up ahead.
--How did I just beat you?—the young man asked, looking on at his usual euchre partner in disbelief. –Cam, you and Joe usually stomp everyone during euchre tournament week…--
--Luck of the cards, I guess,-- said the older man, who for losing at his favorite card game didn't seem all that upset. With a twinkle in his eye, he signed, --Maybe now you can take out that girl you've been seeing…Beth, isn't it?—
--Chasie…-- Kyle said, throwing pointed signs at the young woman sitting across from him.
--What?—
--You told.—
--You haven't exactly kept it a secret,-- Chase retorted. –Within like three weeks everyone knew you were seeing her, pal.—A mischievous smile played on her lips. –Too many late night dinners…--
--Shut up.-- Now even Kyle was smiling.
--All right, you three, closing time,-- signed Joseph Stackhouse, who gently ushered the last of the eager onlookers towards the door. –Early day you two have, don't you?—
--Yeah. Have to go into D.C. tomorrow, for work.—Chase's face was a mirror to her thoughts about going in to see about another 'job' she might have to work on. –Looks bad, Kyle.—
--Just glad I never have to go,-- he signed. –One of the great things about being severely hard-of-hearing…no one bothers to have you go to meetings.-- The smile on his face grew wider.
--Shut up.—
--Hey, I'm just saying.—
The two walked up Postman Ave. and headed towards the Institute Campus. Chase stopped in front of the campus grounds, waving her good-byes as she headed left towards her private suite in the student housing sector. Kyle continued straight on towards his loft, thinking about the possibilities tomorrow would bring.
Maybe the job Chase has for me will be cake, he thought. Promised Beth I'd take her out somewhere, and with this extra windfall I can make it something nice. He'd started seeing Beth only about three months since the Brennan affair, and though there was a five-year age difference between the two (Kyle was twenty-seven, after all) the two seemed to have a lot in common.
Kyle took the six steps up the front porch towards the narrow door that led to his staircase. He didn't bother to check the mail, as nothing ever came for him on a Tuesday, and began heading up the small steps. Once inside his loft, the exhausted man made a beeline for his bed, pulling off his shirt and socks and falling asleep the second his head hit the pillow. He never noticed the small pinprick that stabbed his arm an hour later, nor the hands that lifted him out of his bed and out the doorway…
Penelope Garcia had a lot to be happy about.
She had managed to get one whole day of work that didn't involve seeing images of some poor soul being mutilated, tortured, or otherwise harmed in any way, shape, or form. She'd gotten a surprise phone call from two floors up asking her if she liked Italian food, and at the end of her shift she'd been whisked off by her FBI technical-analyst-in-shining-armor to a secluded booth that gave them a great view and allowed for a little 'private time' between coffee refills and linguini.
"Pinch me," she said happily as she and Kevin walked down the block to her apartment.
"Why?"
"Because today has been too perfect. It's like a really, really good dream that's gotta end at some point, you know?"
"Why does it have to end?" Kevin asked, a slow grin curling underneath his cute little nose.
"Right now, who says it does?" countered Garcia, unfurling a seductive look of her own.
After several hours of wanton bliss (and a shower or two), both analysts were fast asleep, curled up underneath thick purple blankets and hot pink throw pillows. Kevin had forgotten his 'surprise' for Garcia—an emerald and garnet ring set off by diamond chips—in the glove box of his car, and privately thought before he drifted off to sleep that he would surprise his dream girl with it in the morning, after a nice long breakfast.
The two were so warm and comfortable they didn't notice the door to the apartment being pried open, nor the heavy footsteps that gathered around the bed. Neither one noticed the tiny pinprick that was shot into their forearms, and Kevin was so out of it he never felt Garcia's warm, snuggly form being lifted out of bed and carried away into the night.
The first thing Garcia noticed when she woke up was that it was awfully bright. Bright and chilly. Still half-asleep, the technical analyst reached for the thick fuzzy comforter she knew was on top of her and rolled over. However, her hands didn't register a thick, fuzzy blanket—rather, it was a light silk one, just thick enough to garner the name of 'blanket' if nothing else.
"Stop hogging the covers," she mumbled as she rolled over in an attempt to unwind the comforter from around Kevin's neck. "It's freezing in here…"
A light hand shook her gently, in an attempt to wake her up.
"Leemee 'lone," Garcia half-mumbled, half-snapped as she wrapped the silk blanket tighter around her. Her teeth began to chatter slightly as the chill persisted.
The hand shook her again, more forcefully this time. He didn't want to have to hit her…
"For the love of God, knock it off!" Garcia finally yelled, reaching out to slap the annoying hand off of her shoulder.
The voice she heard was not one she expected. Instead of being all apologetic and full of stammers, it was garbled and squawk-like.
"Wake up, Garcia!" the voice said, jumbling the words so much that Garcia barely made them out.
"Boy, I must really be out of it," she mumbled to herself as she tried to force her heavy eyelids open. The sight that greeted her eyes was one that made her really sit up and take notice immediately.
Instead of the warm brick and flashy purples and pinks that dominated her living space, the walls of this particular room were white. Stark, bright white, with lights that glared off of them to make them seem even brighter. Looking down at her lap, she noticed that instead of warm, fuzzy fleece blankets and soft sheets, she was lying on white damask sheets and covered in a silk coverlet. Nearby a white housecoat hung on a wall hanger, looking as if it had been made of silk instead of terrycloth.
What really made Garcia realize that something wasn't quite right, however, was the face that stared back at her. Instead of the slightly geeky love-of-her-life, the blue eyes and black hair of a friend looked back at her.
"K-Kyle?" she said, shaking her head to clear some of the fog out of it. "Is that…is that you?"
Kyle settled down on top of the small bed, looking at the face of his friend. He'd only woken up about an hour ago, and had been put on edge when he realized he wasn't waking up to flashing lights and the smell of golden retriever.
--Are you okay?—he signed, hoping she remembered the signs.
Garcia stared out at him like he was a piece of glass.
"Are you okay?" he said, using his voice this time. Slowly, the woman nodded.
"I…I think so," she said. "What…what happened?"
It took Kyle a minute to read her lips. –"I don't know,"—he said, moving his hands as he spoke. –"But I don't like it."—
It took Garcia several minutes to realize that Kyle was dressed only from his waist to his ankles. Grabbing the housecoat, she said, "Take this."
--"I'm okay."—
The look Garcia gave the young man needed no translation. He took the housecoat out of the analyst's hands and pulled it over his frame.
Remembering a few of the signs she'd learned since hitting up the Stackhouse's euchre tables, she picked up her hands. –"Where are we?—she asked, mixing up the sign for "when" and "where."
Kyle understood. –"I have no idea, but I think we're about to find out,"-- he said, as three shapes moved closer to them.
Kevin woke up to the sound of silence. The alarm clock hadn't gone off, the phone hadn't rung, the coffee hadn't been started and there hadn't even been the sound of water spraying down onto the stiff concrete floor of the shower. Shaking his head to whisk away some of the sleep from it, he looked over at the side of the bed where Garcia had slept. It was empty.
"She's not here," a voice said, startling him into full consciousness.
Pulling the thick purple blanket around his barely-clothed form, he bolted upright and saw a shape sitting in the darkness. "Who-who are you?" he asked, his voice rising a little. "And where's Penelope?"
"I don't know. And you'll have to come with me if we're going to find out." The shape picked itself up from the chair it had been sitting on, revealing the face of a young woman with dark hair and green eyes. "Come on," she said flatly, leaving no room for discussion. "Get dressed. Right now you're the only one who can help me find Penelope—and my partner."
"W-what?" Too many things were going on at once, and none of them on a computer screen. Kevin slowly reached for the clothes he'd worn last night, not really caring that they looked like they'd seen action in a dustmop competition.
The woman glanced around the room, as if she were looking for something out of place. "Come on. Only place we'll be safe is in her office, and that's a long way from here. Time's a-wasting."
Kevin finished dressing and followed the mysterious woman out the door, hoping that their destination would give him some more answers.
At nine o'clock sharp a bright-eyed Emily came in with a box loaded down with pastries from the local shop. Several pairs of eyes managed to stop the agent as she opened the box and said, "Help yourselves. I'm just going to give these ones to Garcia…"
As soon as she opened the door, however, she nearly dropped the intended breakfast surprise. Sitting in Garcia's favorite chair was her boyfriend, Kevin Lynch, who was hard at work on something on Garcia's system.
"Kevin?" Emily asked. "What the hell are you doing in here? Where's Garcia?"
"I wish I knew," said another voice from behind her. Emily spun around to see the face of Chase Davis staring straight at her.
"I-huh-what?"
"She's gone missing, Emily," Chase said simply, belying no emotion. "Her and Kyle both, on the same night, in what looks like the same manner. And we need to find out why, fast. How soon are the rest of your people in?"
"About half an hour, though I can call…"
"Half an hour will do. Calls could be traced."
"There something I need to know about, Chase?"
"Yes." The young woman didn't elaborate further.
Emily was now shifting into full defense mode. What wasn't Chase telling her?
