A/N: This is my first IaHB fic, but it's not my first fic. I hope you people will be nice to me (no hazing, please…heehee). The characters and situations in this fic were imitated clearly for use of entertainment. I do not own any of these characters (except Nigel Hawke, and I don't even own HIM yet). If I owned these characters, this would have come out a long time ago in the form of a movie. No money is being made off of this fiction.
Summary: When Val stumbles into a conspiracy, she has nothing but an old flame and a sense of self to save her. As she changes, Val must come to terms with the man she once loved, and the man he is now.
Segment One: The Conversation
"Ack!" Val Lanier made a noise she was sure she could never replicate again and flopped down into the first chair she came to, a pouf. She then proved her theory wrong by duplicating the noise, and following it with a groan. "This can't be happening to me."
Caitie Roth-Waite gave her best friend a strange look through the walls separating them. "You say this every time you come to Calimbre," she observed suspiciously, following Val's rather crazed path through her house. "Calimbre" was actually the name of the house Caitie now lived in; giving it a name had only seemed to cinch the fact that the dream home was theirs. When she came into the living room, where Val had collapsed, she handed her friend a cup. "Drink that, it'll help." She picked up a feather duster and returned the menial task she had been performing before Val's rant.
Val took a sip and tried not to wrinkle her nose. "Did Jamie bring you more tea from one of his trips, or something?" She took another sip, but her hopes were dashed away; the tea did not improve with the second taste.
"Yes, well, you know." Caitie shrugged and waved the duster at Val. "The only way to get rid of it, besides slip it into the dog's bowl, is to pawn it off on you. You always drink it, too. You're too nice." The ten years they had been out of high school had done wonders to Caitie; her hair was pulled into an elegantly simple twist, giving her the air of a millionaire's wife. Of course, Jamie, at twenty-six, was no millionaire, but his articles in the medical journals had been enough to pull the Waites into a rather nice neighborhood. Caitie's exquisite taste only seemed to give the house a boost of wealth; she had decorated in shades of mahogany and hunter green, making the room seem rather tasteful. Of course, the kitchen was done in the style of a fifties kitchen, including checkered wallpaper.
"Hardy har-har," Val said, but she took another drink. "What do they put into these things?"
Caitie's only answer was a shrug. "For all I know, elephant dung and wheat." She chuckled as Val spat the liquid she'd been in the process of swallowing back into the cup. "Oh, relax. It's oat-flavored tea, of all things. Jamie was rather enthused to find it. He absolutely adores the stuff."
"He would," Val choked.
"Anyway, it's supposed to calm you down so that you stop making those noises." Caitie pulled off one of Jamie's old plaques and gave that a good dusting. "Which are noises you make when you're distressed by the newest gentleman in the charming life of dazzling Valerie Lanier. So, what's the problem today? Whose heart did you break?" Twenty-seven thin, blonde, and with a successful career kicked off, Val Lanier had it all, including trouble with men.
"Sugarcoat it, why don't you?" Val demanded sarcastically. "And no, I didn't break any hearts today, Mrs. Roth-Waite."
"Oh, then, Miss Lanier, do tell." Caitie turned slightly to let Val see the teasing smile.
"It's Jeremy again," Val admitted. She stood and headed back towards the kitchen, where her first rant of strange noises had commenced, and returned shortly, free of the offending oat-tea.
"Wait, wait," Caitie interrupted before Val could say anything, "let me figure this one out. You guys had a fight, right? Don't say anything, just nod." Silent, Val nodded. "Can I guess what it was about?" No nod came this time, just a simple stare. "I'm assuming that this is about the fact that you won't let Jeremy sleep with you, then."
"No, last night's argument covered that. Today's the day he showed up at my front door, completely drunk. Oh, yes, and today," Val's voice, unnoticed to her, had risen several decibels, "was the day that I dumped the fourth guy that has done this to me."
"I thought you said you didn't break any hearts." Caitie's eyes narrowed and she walked forward so that she was nearly nose to nose with her best friend. "Are you drunk? Here, follow the finger." Val sighed, but obediently let her eyes trail the finger Caitie held up in front of her face.
"Caitie, I'm fine." To prove her point, Val kicked off her shoes and jumped up onto the recliner beside the pouf. She balanced easily on one foot, tilted her head back, and touched her nose. "See? Completely sober. I haven't touched a drink in six years. You know that."
"Except for oat-tea. Get down from the furniture before Jamie and the kids come back and see you." Caitie grinned. "Word, I'm too much like a mother."
"Um, dear, you are a mother." Five-year-old Jason Waite and seven-year-old Tanya Waite were currently at the park with their father, catching up on time that they had lost while Jamie was in Zimbabwe. Val nearly grinned now, despite her slight guy-trouble. Jamie had worried so much about becoming a dead-beat dad when Tanya was born. Val had actually been in the room, doing her internship at the hospital, the first time Jamie had held Tanya. This was because the first time Jamie had held Tanya, he had been in his own hospital bed. Caitie wouldn't have to worry about a dead-beat husband; Jamie had passed out the first time he had gotten a look at Tanya.
Caitie rolled her eyes now and gestured for Val to tell her story. "Sorry," Val apologized, slowly climbing off of the chair and sitting cross-legged on the pouf. "You're right, by the way. We had a falling-out last night, and this morning, he showed up completely drunk. At ten o'clock in the morning. Then he tried to make a move on me, but I used those Tai-Bao lessons I've been taking daily for once. I drove him out onto the porch."
"Where you promptly broke the poor guy's heart?" Caitie finished for her.
"Okay, can I tell this story without you making me sound heartless?" Val shook her head and flopped back against the pouf, making another one of her vintage noises. "Why is that I have been through twelve men in the past eight years, and not one of these relationships has ended well?"
"You're too pretty, that's what it has to be," Caitie evaluated. "Guys fall for you when they first see you, get to know you, want to get physical, you don't want that intimacy until you have some proof of long-term commitment. Voila, we have a problem."
Val opened one eye to give her best friend a lazy glare. "So you're saying I have commitment problems, is that it?"
"You read that from my speech? Are you sure that I'm supposed to be the psychologist here?" Caitie moved the duster over a picture of a four-year-old Tanya playing soccer. "Look, Val, to be frank, you're holding out for something that's not going to happen in your life." She stopped dusting the picture to glance at another, four pictures down. She had taken the picture years before—it was Jamie, Hank Beecham, and Tyler Connell. Hank was holding Tanya up and Tyler was moving one of her little hands to make it look like the infant was waving at the camera. Jamie was reaching towards Tyler, trying to get him to stop. Caitie hadn't even meant to take the picture, but it had turned out to be a masterpiece.
"Remember that dance?" Val asked suddenly, opening both eyes and leaning forward. "When I really wanted to go with Tyler, but he ended up going with…I don't remember her name."
"Useless, blonde bimbo will do fine." Caitie shrugged, waiting to see where Val was going with this little stroll into memory lane. Being a psychologist, even interactions with Val intrigued her.
"Okay, well, anyway, he ended up going with her and I ended up going to work." Val finished. "I was holding out, and eventually Tyler stayed after and watched 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' with me. Holding out's not necessarily a bad thing." It was amazing how nonchalant she could be about Tyler, Caitie mused, after all the heartache they had gone through.
"Yes," Caitie said, replacing the picture she had been holding. "That's true. However, you have to remember that the dance was still high school. We still lived conformist lives, we still were taught conformity, and personality didn't matter. This is the real world, where personality holds more than you could think. Holding out just doesn't do you any good in the real world. People have changed too much."
Val stared at her best friend of so many years for a long moment, a level below scratching her head. "Okay," she finally said in a puzzled tone. "That was the psychoanalytical writer in you speaking. Now, how about I get the friend's opinion on this whole matter? Do you even think it's possible that the thing I'm holding out for is…"
"Anything's possible," Caitie said when she was sure Val wasn't going to go on. "The mind is capable of far more abilities than we know. Just wait. It happens to everybody. It'll be your turn someday."
Segment Two: The Airport
"Will you require anything else, sir?"
"No, Nigel, I'm sure that's fine." Tyler Connell pried his baggage away from the driver that the agency had sent out to collect him and smiled reassuringly at the man. Nigel Hawke was a timid man not much older than Tyler was, which was why Tyler respected him so much. The only problem with Nigel was that he was too shy at times, and that it was hard to make friends with him. "Just lead me to the car, so we can get this case started."
Being the weekend after July 4th, the airport was quite busy. Perhaps it was the black shades Tyler wore, or the profession leather jacket (despite the heat in July), but people seemed to part out of the way for him. In his years at college, Tyler had managed only to become taller, which was startling in itself. The fact that he still had the broad-shouldered body of a football player only served to his advantage. Crowds moved naturally for Tyler Connell. "So, what's on the schedule, Nigel?"
The agency driver nearly stuttered. "Just another mystery for you, sir. This one involves murder. Agent Neuro will give you the briefing, as usual. Of course, you do know that this strictly does not involve the FBI or the CIA or any other form of governmental agency?"
"I'm a freeloading bounty hunter, Nigel. I'm well aware of my limits." Tyler flicked his black shades once, a habit he had picked up at the Police Academy, and gave the airport a once over before Nigel lead him to an old Toyota Camry. "I see the ride's improved from Ford," he remarked as he climbed into the driver's seat. Nigel handed him a set of keys as he climbed into the passenger seat. "Ooh, weaseled us a stick-shift, too. Good job, Nigel, old sport." Glancing over his shoulder, Tyler slammed the car into reverse. The wheels squealed as he backed it up.
"Mr. Perkins is well aware of your driving habits. Otherwise, we would lend you the Jaguar," Nigel said dully, holding onto the handle above the door.
"I can get a Jaguar any day I want to." Tyler was not bragging; he had come into a large sum of money for the catch of a public enemy. If this case paid as much as it was rumored to, Tyler would have enough money to rent a small place in his old hometown and work his dream job in the hospital. "A good, dependable car that I can screech the tires on is a luxury in my line of work. Has the Agency moved or is it still as bloody hard to find as ever?" Tyler's days in Europe had given him a bit of an accent, which made him sound "alluringly sexy," according to many of the girls he met in his line of work.
"No, Mr. Connell, I'm afraid that it is still in the same place as it has been every time," Nigel said calmly.
"Oh, good. Five hours of driving, then. I'm gonna grab a soda. You want anything? Soda-water or whatever you drivers drink?" Tyler's eyes searched the crowded airport road for the sight of a drink stand. "Ah, there's a gas station up there." He quickly turned onto the exit. "No, wait, you're Nigel. That means you like Mountain Dew."
Nigel's expression seemed to brighten that Tyler had remembered this bit of information. "Of course, sir," he said, wincing as Tyler pulled the screaming Camry into the parking lot. The bounty hunter disappeared into the gas station and reappeared minutes later with four bottles of soda in his hand.
"It's going to be a long trip. Look, I got peanuts, too."
Segment Three: The Car Ride
"Val, the meeting starts in ten minutes!"
Val swung her old '98 Saturn onto the road leading up to the Interstate and groaned as she saw a plethora of red. "Bad news, Marco. The traffic's backed up way past Kingsport. And I'm only in Wellenboro." She nudged the green Saturn in behind a BMW and tried to block out the incessant honking. There must have been an accident up the road a way and she could see no sign of the traffic letting up at any distance.
"Wellenboro?" Marco demanded over the cell phone. Val winced, but smiled. Marco Lawrence sounded like he was going to burst a vein. "How can you only be in Wellenboro?"
"My clock was wrong. Give me a break. I'll be there as soon as I can." With that, Val snapped her cell phone off and tossed it into her purse, ignoring the ringing that it produced seconds later. "Geez, Marco," she breathed to herself. "Relax. You're going to become one of your own patients that way."
Really, she was well past Wellenboro, only twenty minutes away from where the seminar was being held. Still, let Marco sweat a bit while the Saturn dodged traffic. For five minutes, she inched forward slowly, continually stopping as the BMW ahead slammed on its brakes time after time. After a moment, she pulled out her Classic Hits CD and popped that into the player. The glorious vocal pipes of Aretha Franklin sang out into the Saturn. After a few moments of sitting there, Val started to sing along.
"Aretha Franklin?" a voice asked close to her ear. "You looked like more of an Elton John fan."
Val screamed and slammed on the brake, causing her precious car to screech to a halt. She could hear honking behind her, but she didn't care. Her eyes were fastened on the man in a suit sitting in the back seat. "What—who—"
"Jack Smith, Dr. Lanier." Jack climbed into the front seat and smiled, showing Val a full set of gleaming teeth. Despite the fact that he was wearing a suit more expensive than Val's tiny apartment cost, he looked entirely comfortable in her old Saturn. He ran a hand through dark blond hair and laughed. "I apologize for startling you. You might want to start going again."
This can't be happening to me, Val's mind thought frantically as she turned and moved her car forward with the rest of the traffic. "What are you doing in my car?" she asked in a shaky voice. Immediately, her mind raced to a million different possibilities, none of them good. Oh, word, was she going to end up like one of those cases on TV?
Jack Smith was a handsome man, and he knew it. He flashed those pearly whites at Valerie Lanier again, and leaned back in his seat, pulling out a palm pilot. "You know Tyler Connell?" he asked instead of answering. "Keep driving, don't give me that look. I've got a gun in my pocket."
Val bit her lip hard and kept her eyes focused forward on the road. "What do you want from me?"
"Information on Tyler Connell, baby, that's it." Jack flashed her that grin again, although now it held a note of menace. "When is the last time you talked to Mr. Connell?"
Val frowned at the road. "Why are you bothering me about it? I haven't seen him in seven years, and I barely got to see him then. So actually, I haven't seen him in nine years." Well aware of the gun in Jack Smith's pocket, she leaned down and turned the radio's volume lower. The powerfulness of Aretha Franklin was reduced to a low hum.
"I see. What is your relation to Connell?"
"We were friends in high school. You know, football player, cheerleader sort of thing. Members of the Super-Squad. He left town, I left town. I came back, he didn't. Over and done with it now. Why are you interested in Tyler?" She could feel the beast of panic deep inside, barely held back by the strong personality traits of Valerie Lanier. She would not panic now; being an EMT had trained her better than that. She was going to find a way out of this. Her breath, though, as she sucked for oxygen, was shaky.
"I see. So you have had no contact with Connell?"
"We're finally seeing eye-to-eye here," Val snapped crankily. "No, I haven't heard from him. I think I got a birthday card one year, but it was a month late. Why are you interested in Tyler?" The last question was enunciated so that there was no way Jack Smith could misunderstand her. Val was used to this; some of her patients sometimes had trouble hearing, so Val had become quite adept at communicating. It was one of the most vital things about being a doctor.
"That, my dear doctor, is for me to know. Whether you actually get to know or not, that's up to me, too. Pull off here." Jack nodded at the exit to Rae Hollow, three towns away from the seminar Val was supposed to be at in two minutes. Val swung the old Saturn onto the exit ramp and sped through it at 63 miles an hour, even though the sign warned of going faster than 40. She had always been a speed demon, which was probably why Hank would never let her drive anywhere. That, and the fact that she despised seat belts. Up ahead of them, the light turned red. "We're going to take a left at the light and then pull off into a bus-station parking lot about a mile up."
They were approaching the light. "What are you going to do with me?" Val asked, finally letting the panic crawl into her voice.
Jack gave her a lazy look. "I'm not sure," he answered, and scratched his head.
"What do you mean, you're not sure?" Now the panic was evident, a chunk of rock among the melody of her voice. Val's eyes were wide as she started to slow the Saturn.
"Well," and Jack scratched his head lethargically, moving so that he was relaxed against the seat, "you're not hard on the eyes at all. They give an agent freedom to do what they will with the captives nowadays, too. Didn't use to be like that, sure. We used to drag captives into labs and do 'tests' on them. Now I get you all to myself." He reached out to touch her shoulder, laughing harshly as she squirmed away from him. "What's the matter, dear?"
"Keep away from me." Val's voice was steel as she glared at her captor. "I mean it. Don't touch me." Years of cheerleading moves flew back into her head as she thought of ways to break this man's nose without getting blood on her new tank top.
"Whatever you say, baby," and Jack leaned back again, smiling smugly as Val slowed the vehicle to a halt. "Don't forget about the bus station, now," he warned.
"Oh, I won't." And Val was out the door, as quick as any cheerleader to greet the winning hometown football team. Jack Smith cursed as he realized that he had forgotten to lock the doors. Quickly, he climbed out of the Saturn, springing forward as it started to roll backwards. Cursing blondes and stick-shifts alike, Jack sprinted after his hostage, trying to pull his gun out as well.
Val's short, slim frame gave her an agility that Jack, being on the taller, heavier side, did not have. The fact that she arrived at the hometown gym every morning at precisely seven o'clock lent her an endurance that nearly matched Jack's. Despite her agility and endurance, however, Val had never been much of a sprinter. Jack Smith was starting to advance on her. He would reach her soon unless she could shake him. Quickly, Val darted across traffic and sprinted into the forest, cursing as she realized that she would soon be lost in this thick stand of trees. Still, she was determined to escape. Ahead, on a narrow path, she saw a busy lane of traffic.
Her only escape was blocked.
And Jack Smith was gaining on her, a gun in his hand.
Segment Four: The Reunion
"Oh, great, traffic's backed up for miles," Tyler swore to Nigel, who was clinging to the handle on his door. "Stop looking like that. My driving's safe." He quickly defaced that point, however, by making an abrupt and dangerous lane-change.
"Safe for who?" Nigel retorted, face ashen.
Tyler, instead of growing angry at the agency's employee, laughed. "See, that's what I'm talking about," he said. Nigel gave him a confused expression; what was Tyler talking about? "That's what I mean, Nigel, you're lightening up. We might even have a friendship going by the end of this bloody trip."
"If we're still alive, that is." Nigel forced himself to release his grip on the door and silently thanked whoever had come up with the idea of seat-belts. Surely, they knew that Tyler Connell was coming into the world soon. "Your exit is about five miles up, by the way."
This spurred a groan from the leather-jacket clad Connell. "Five miles of this?" he complained, jabbing an arm at the bumper-to-bumper traffic all around them. "I'm going to go mad, I'm sure." He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it with a snap. "Nigel?"
The agency employee looked up from his palm pilot. "Hmm?" he asked.
"Would you recognize an agent who goes by Jack Smith if you saw him sitting in the car next to us?" Tyler's voice was calm, but Nigel could detect a slight shake in the undertone. "Especially if he's sitting in there with an utterly terrified woman?"
Nigel glanced over and swore, his hand automatically reaching for the sniper pistol her carried beneath his suit jacket. "That's Smith, all right," he snapped. "Most wanted agent by our agency. What's he doing out in the open?"
"Doesn't know I'm in town, obviously." Tyler's eyes were hard as he slowed the Camry and changed lanes so that he was behind the Saturn. "Don't shoot him." When Nigel opened his mouth to demand why he shouldn't shoot the man who should become a public enemy, Tyler snapped, "If you shoot the woman in that car with him, I'm afraid I won't be able to forgive you. We're going to follow him. Put on your shades, and take off the suit jacket. Lose the tie, too." Grumbling, Nigel holstered his gun and did as Tyler directed. He watched in confusion as Tyler turned on the radio to the Camry, automatically turning it to the local Heavy Metal station, and started blasting the radio. "Alert the headquarters that Agent Smith has been spotted and that we are on his trail. He has Dr. Valerie Lanier, age twenty eight, hostage in a '98 Saturn. The car is hunter green in color and has the license plate D-R-V-A-L-9-8. That is DR VAL98."
"Roger that." Even though Nigel was sure that headquarters would not be able to hear the message with Metallica in the background, he relayed the message. "The headquarters has been informed."
"Good. Now, how are you at calming hysterical women?"
"I don't know. Never had the chance." Nigel had to reassure himself that Tyler indeed knew what he was doing. Nothing made much sense to him right now, but Tyler always seemed to pull out of everything with only a few cuts and a clean record. He was the best agent up for hire, which was why Nigel's agency had fought so hard to hire him.
"Okay. You go after Smith, then, and I'll track Dr. Lanier down." Ahead of them, the Saturn stopped completely and Nigel could see Jack moving in the car. "Oh—!" Dr. Lanier exploded from the car and sped across the field separating the exit ramp and the main highway through Rae's Hollow. Nigel had to hand it to her, she was fast and a good runner. But Jack Smith would run her down. Nigel did not stop to think; he flew out of the passenger side of the Camry, sprinting after Agent Smith. Behind him, he could hear a curse from Tyler and the telltale screech of the Camry's tires as Tyler sped away to meet up with Dr. Lanier.
Tyler nearly made the car dance as he exploded onto the main highway. Val, he could see, had run straight into a stand of trees along the highway. If he judged her path correctly, she would emerge from the trees along a road running perpendicular to the one he was speeding along now. Without touching the brakes, Tyler screeched onto the predicted road and ground to a halt in the middle of the lane. A Volkswagon Jetta behind him honked as it nearly bashed into him. It sped around him, the driver leaving a very rude sign in his wake. Still, Tyler did not move. He was too busy scanning the edge of the woods for Val.
Finally, he spotted the distinct blonde hair (still natural, amazingly). He could also see Jack Smith advancing on her and realized that unless he personally stopped Agent Smith, Val was as good as gone. Nigel may have been fast, but he was not speedy enough to save her in time. Tyler burst from the car and sprinted across the meadow adjacent to the stand. He did not pause to think, he only flew into a tackle reminiscent of his football days. Jack Smith raced through the hedges just in time to be caught full in the chest by Tyler's tackle.
Immediately, Tyler flipped the agent onto his back, his gun pressed to Smith's cheek. "Give me one reason," he snapped, securing Jack Smith's wrists with handcuffs he always kept clipped to his belt. "Give me one good reason, and I'll pull this trigger right now and make you ancient history."
Smith laughed, but Tyler could see the fear in his eyes. Smith was still human, despite the fact that there was blood of nearly a hundred on his hands. He feared death, still. "Good show, Connell. Good show. You caught me. Put the gun away before you hurt yourself." Tyler jerked harshly on the handcuffs, but this only spurred Smith to laugh again. "Do you want me to say Uncle now?" he mocked.
"I want you to say 'Guilty,' that's what I want," Tyler said, and hauled Smith to his feet as Nigel arrived. "I want you in a prison, with bars on your wrists and ankles, and I want you to live with what you've done." With military efficiency, he searched and disarmed the opposing agent. He then tossed one of Smith's guns to Nigel, who caught it and aimed it at the agent's chest. "The headquarters should be here any minute. Don't take your eyes off of him, do you hear me? I want you to keep that gun level at his chest the whole time. Don't waver, don't listen to him. I'm going after Dr. Lanier."
"Finally doing your own dirty work, Connell?" Smith taunted as Tyler headed off to track Val.
"Stuff it, Smith!" And with that, Tyler was gone, off to find his ex-girlfriend.