Disclaimer: I do not own the movie 'Patriot Games'. If I did – Sean Miller would be MINE!!!! All I own is Katie.

CHAPTER 2 – Thinking of You

Katie tuned out the busy noises of the hospital as she sat in the waiting room. The image of the boy dying in her arms played over and over in her head, and it tormented her to no end. The thought of her father being shot tore at her like a coyote tearing at a carcass, and the memory of the look on that man's face when she asked him who the boy was.

"He was my little brother."

The back of her throat stung, and her eyes began to water up with tears when she recalled his answer. He was so traumatized. He had lost a loved one by the hand of her own loved one she had nearly lost herself. She couldn't forget his face. No matter how hard she tried, the man's horrified and heartbroken face will never leave her memories.

With a sigh, Katie leaned forward until her forehead touched the top of her knees. She tried for the longest time to fight off the urge to go to that man and beg him for forgiveness of what her father had done to protect the lives of the Royals. He was a man simply doing his job, there was no hatred or personal vendetta against him or his brother – he just wanted to keep the act from being fulfilled.

At the thought of explaining her father's intentions to that man, Kate straightened up and dug out her notebook out of her tote she was holding. She felt around the bottom of the bag until she located her pen. Opening her notebook to a fresh page, she began to write...

Dear

She froze. What was his name? Katie pondered for a short moment before realizing that she had no idea what his name was, but decided to keep on writing. I will fill in his name later when I find out what it is. I hope.

Please understand that what my father did was his job (or former job, that is) and he just couldn't stand there and allow any harm to come to anyone. I'm sure that if you were in his shoes, you would've done the same thing. You must believe me that my father did not mean to kill your brother simply because he was your brother. He was defending himself, and began shooting at anyone who was shooting at him.

My father is a brave and good man, and I believe you are, too. You believed in something, and you thought by what you and those men did was a was a proper demonstration of your beliefs. I really don't understand what is going on in your country, so please bear with me if I am incorrect. I know you want your country to be free, but terrorism is not the answer, and never has been and never will be. I am sure you are an intelligent person, and you have studied history to understand that there are other alternatives to work out political problems.

You have my most deepest sympathies about your brother's death. You ought to know, since I watched him die in my arms. It's really hard for me to think about, and it's very hard for you to think about, too. He was too young to die, and we both know that for sure. It wasn't fair, and that angers me. War is terrible, but it happens no matter what. I hate it.

Please keep this letter as a reminder of how much I really care about

Katie's cheeks warmed at that very...intimate...sentence. She wondered how he would interpret this letter if he ever were to receive it. Would he get the wrong idea? Would he think she was crazy? Would this make him crazy? Would he even get this letter at all? With all those thoughts swirling around in her head, Katie realized that her mother could walk into the waiting room and...

Oh forget it! I'll just write it out, and if he get this letter, and thinks I have a crush on him or something, that's his problem!

With that, Katie finished the sentence with a 'you.'. With that bump plowed though, she kept writing.

Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not taking sides, I'm just apologizing on my father's behalf. Also, I beg you not to hate him or us. And if you get let out of jail, please don't come after us for revenge or anything like that. It won't get you anywhere, nor will it bring your brother back or replace him. It will just make things worse. I don't dislike you at all, and I really do care.

Sincerely Yours;

Katrina (Katie) Jane Ryan.

Katie let out a sigh and leaned back into her chair and closed her eyes. That letter was extremely difficult for her to write, and, thanks to her tiny-but-readable handwriting, it was a page long on both sides. Opening her eyes, she quickly folded the paper into a tiny square and tucked it into her wallet that was inside her tote.

Just then, someone entered the waiting room. Feeling paranoid, Katie hugged her tote to her chest as she watched him pick up the TV remote, sit down, and turn off the 'mute' control that Katie had turned on earlier when she wanted to rest. The first thing she saw was the scene where she was at just hours ago. Her stomach flipped-flopped at the familiar sight on the screen. She felt exposed and vulnerable, even though no one knows who she is...yet.

"There's a feeling of outrage over this attack on the Royal Family," the CNN reporter narrated. "No group has yet claimed credit, but one is under strong scrutiny. The IRA."

Katie's ears burned along with the tears welling up in her eyes again. She felt...panicked. The reporter continued to talk as Katie mentally struggled to calm herself.

"According to eyewitness accounts, Lord William Holmes, the Minister for Northern Ireland,along with his wife and son, were saved by an American tourist, John Patrick Ryan."

Then the image of her father's face, when he was in his Marine uniform, appeared on the screen. Katie then felt protected and proud. She smiled slightly at the picture. He is a good man, and the IRA should know that.

"An author and professor at the Naval Academy in Maryland, Ryan is a former Marine Lieutenant," the reporter continued. "He was wounded and is under guard at an undisclosed London hospital. This is Deborah Weston, CNN News, London."

Leaning her head back onto the back of the chair, Katie heaved another sigh, puffing her cheeks out a little. This is going to be interesting, she thought.

Meanwhile, Catherine was with Jack in his room. She affectionately rubbed his uninjured arm as they sat in silence for a while.

"I'm sorry," Jack sighed, feeling drained and a little worried.

"It's all right," Catherine smiled. "You're alive. l forgive you. Otherwise ..."

Jack sighed again as his eyes wandered to the tiles on the ceiling. Then he looked at his wife.

"How are the girls?" he asked in almost a whisper. "Are they all right?"

"Sally can't wait until you get better, and Katie..." Catherine sighed and quickly looked away as she felt the sting of her tears coming to surface.

"What's wrong, honey?" Jack inquired, a little concerned about his daughter, simply by the way his wife was acting at the mention of her name. She looked at him.

"She is so traumatized, Jack," she whispered, shaking her head. "She shouldn'tve gone through all that."

"She is a stubborn girl, like you," Jack chuckled, only to wince and grunt when a surge of pain shot through his shoulder wound.

"Easy, Jack," Catherine chided.

Jack gazed lovingly at his wife as she checked his bandages.

"l love you," he said after a moment of his gazing. She smiled, and leaned in to kiss him.

"I love you, too," she whispered back.

Sean sat stubbornly in his chair in the interrogation room, not willing to peep a word. He turned the unlit cigarette that was offered to him over and over in his hands that were tucked between his knees under the desk.

Inspector Robert Highland sat across from him, his beady, menacing dark eyes boring into Sean, who avoided his unnerving gaze.

"Can you dignify their cowardice with your silence?" he spoke slowly and angrily. "They left you. They drove off without you. What is it you think you owe them?"

Sean gritted his teeth. The girl. The young, beautiful girl was the last thing his little brother saw before he died. The image of him reaching up to touch her face with all the strength he could muster played over and over in Sean's head. The sound of the Inspector's gnawing voice seemed to fade into the background.

"If any of my mates left me in your hands, I'd feel no great sense of loyalty," the Inspector went on as he leaned towards Sean. "I'd kill them."

Sean avoided the Inspector's piercing glare, diverting his thoughts elsewhere – the daughter of the man who killed his brother. How could he easily plot his revenge if he had developed the so-called 'soft spot' to the young and caring girl?

"No! Wake up! Please, wake up!" The girl grabbed hold of Paddy's shoulder and gently shook it.

"Who are they, Sean?" the Inspector pressed, his voice growing impatient. "Where are they? The trip was unscheduled, but you knew Lord Holmes would be there."

Forcing himself to breathe evenly, Sean kept his eyes trained on the table. He was not going to answer him. He was not going to utter a sound, no less a word. The Inspector sighed, and got up to his feet. As he walked past Sean, he placed his hand on his shoulder. Sean felt his skin crawl from the touch.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Sean," the Inspector stated. Then he made for the door as one of the men in the room shut off the recording machine.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me..."

"Do I have to talk to you?" Sean piped up, not turning around to the Inspector, who stopped in his tracks at the sound of his voice.

He turned back around and quickly approached Sean until he was in front of him. "I beg your pardon?"

Sean's glowering green eyes met his. "I will talk, but not to you." He looked at the other men in the room. "Not to any of you!"

"What are you talking about?" the Inspector pressed. "Do you wish to be interrogated by someone else?"

Sean looked back at him, with an excited glow in his eyes, yet his face remained stoic. "Yes, I do. But I want no one in the room, and that not running." He nodded towards the recorder machine.

"Just give me a name, Sean," the Inspector scowled. "That's all I want."

"The daughter of the man who shot my little brother," Sean forced himself to say, his stomach clenching with agitation "I will tell her everything."

At first, the Inspector just looked at him as if he had gone insane. Then he exchanged looks with the other men who thought the same thing. Then he looked back at Sean.

"Out of the question!" he snarled, leaning onto the table so he could be right in Sean's face "Are you daft enough to even think of Jack Ryan allowing his daughter to get within a hundred kilometers of you?"

"I would never think of harming her," Sean quietly but firmly answered, his eyes meeting the Inspector's with full honesty. The Inspector eyed him for a good twelve seconds before suddenly breaking eyes contact and drew up to his full height.

"You know it's going to be one hell of a challenge to persuade Ryan to go through with this," he spoke calmly. "But I trust you, Sean. He doesn't."

Sean looked back down onto the tabletop, and crushed the unlit cigarette in his fist. She will trust me. He thought. I'll make sure I earn her trust, and that she has mine.

Let me know if I should have Katie and Sean meet up in the next chapter! Thanks to my first reviewers!!! jb