A/N:
A big huge THANK YOU to all of you wonderful people who've favorited/followed/reviewed this story. I've been really busy with college, which is why it'll probably take a while for me post updates... but don't worry, I'm not planning on abandoning this! As my apology for taking so long to post this chapter, I've made it much longer than the first two. (/O_o)/ Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own DP or POI.
The doctor had left about an hour ago, looking exhausted. Whether it was from the lack of sleep or the stress of the situation, Reese wasn't sure.
He could imagine that stitching the boy up hadn't been an easy task, what with the extent of his injuries. Regardless, the young doctor had done the best he could've outside of a hospital, with Finch providing the necessary medical supplies and equipment.
Before leaving, the doctor had given them pain medicine for the boy, and antibiotics to ward off infection. He had also given them specific instructions.
For one, they were to make sure that the boy rested and didn't over exert himself. They would also have to make sure that the kid took his medication. Most importantly, they would need to watch him carefully so as to make sure he wasn't getting any worse.
With these things in mind, the two vigilantes had decided to stay at the library for the night.
Although clearly tired, Finch continued with trying to find out more about their number. He sat at his computer, scouring every internet source he could find for information on the dark-haired teen.
Bear, of course, sat obediently at his feet, staring curiously at their mysterious new guest.
As for Reese, the ex-CIA operative was on doctor duty. He periodically checked on the injured boy, who was now lying on an old sofa and was nearly buried beneath a small pile of soft, warm blankets.
The three kept a silent vigil, save for the sound of Finch's typing on the keyboard. However, without any warning, the steady click-clacking came to a halt. Finch's eyes narrowed, and he gazed at the computer.
"Well..." he murmured. "This doesn't make any sense."
Reese's head swiveled over to the spectacled man.
"Find anything interesting, Harold?" Reese asked lightly.
Finch gave him a flat look.
"His name is Daniel Fenton," Finch replied, glancing towards the unconscious boy. "He's fourteen years old, goes by 'Danny'. Apparently, he comes from a town known as Amnity Park."
"So what's the problem?" Reese asked.
"I've searched through every major database, but so far I've found absolutely nothing." Finch answered. "It's as if this 'Amnity Park' doesn't exist..."
The ex-operative frowned, coming over for a closer look.
"The man you saw," Finch spoke, "you said he was working with the government."
"That's what I thought," Reese replied cooly.
Finch looked deeply perturbed.
"If the government is involved, we could be dealing with a major cover up." Finch said, his voice tight. "Whatever they're hiding, they appear to be dead-set on it that way..." he added, turning stiffly, "hidden."
Reese's expression grew dark.
"What does it have to do with Danny?" He spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "Why would they go after a kid?"
Finch glanced over towards where the boy now lay.
"I'll bet he knows something."
It was nearly half an hour later (around two in the morning) when Reese checked up again on their number. Of course, the boy hadn't stirred, and showed no sign of waking anytime soon.
As Reese made his way closer, he noticed the boy- Danny, he reminded himself- shiver slightly. He frowned.
Watching as another shudder wracked through Danny's body, Reese moved to adjust the blankets around the boy's small form. As his hand brushed Danny's shoulder, however, the ex-operative stiffened.
Startled by the amount of heat radiating from the injured teen, Reese drew his hand away. Moving quickly, he pulled the blankets off and pressed the back of his hand to Danny's forehead.
Reese swore beneath his breath when his suspicion was confirmed.
The kid was burning up.
The boy looked as bad as he had first time Reese had found him. No... Reese thought, the kid looked worse.The ex-operative stood near the boy, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
Reese looked up as Finch limped over. The man was slightly breathless.
"I can't get a hold of Dr. Brandt," he said.
"Finch..."
"He's not answering his phone, John, and I can't seem to trace it..." Finch spoke, nearly hysterical.
Reese turned away, rubbing a hand over his face.
Danny didn't have time for this, or for them to find another doctor. It wouldn't be safe for them to leave him at a hospital, either. If the government was after the kid, then there wasn't anywhere- save for here- that he would be safe.
Both men were silent. After all they had done for the boy, there was a good chance that he wouldn't make it. That he would die, right here, in their own library.
Reese couldn't let that happen.
He might not be a doctor, but he knew enough to get them by; at least for now. Determined, the ex-operative immediately set into action. He reached into one of the shelves, grabbing one of the boxes they'd filled with medical supplies.
"We need to get his temperature down," Reese explained, handing it to Finch. He grabbed a few extra cold packs and whatever medicine he could find, and turning towards the feverish boy, Reese let out a heavy breath.
This was going to be a long night...
Danny's fever spiked at around three in the morning. They had been unable to get it down at first, and for a while they'd feared they would lose the young teen.
Both Reese and Finch had spent the night caring for Danny. It had been a long, difficult night, and they both were exhausted.
Seeing as they were of no use to anyone if they starved, Reese had gone out to get some food. The ex-operative was now heading back into the library, carrying tea, a box of doughnuts, and one particularly large cup of coffee.
He headed into the stairway, but stopped short when he heard a muffled cry. Frowning, Reese set the food down and listened closely.
"Please, I-..."
That was Finch's voice. It was followed by a crash, and the sound of something- many somethings- falling. Without a second thought, Reese darted up the stairs. Pulling his gun, he opened the door...
...and was met with the sight of a very disheveled-looking Finch.
The smaller man gaped up at him, eyeing the gun. Reese stared back, equally surprised by state that his friend was in.
Finch's glasses were askew, and his hair was sticking up at seemingly impossible angles. His tie was somehow missing, and there was a strange green stain on his shirt.
Reese cautiously peered over the smaller man's shoulder, his eyes widening in surprise as he stared into the room.
The place was a mess. Well... more so than usual. There were papers tossed about, and books scattered on the floor. Bear, of course, didn't seem to mind this. Reese winced; the dog sat gnawing happily on one of Finch's rare first-edition books. In the center of all this was, surprisingly enough, a certain dark-haired teen.
Well then...
Reese raised an eyebrow, admittedly impressed.
Tucking his gun away he stepped inside, and headed towards their troublesome new guest. However, as he got closer look, Reese paused. The kid had backed up into the furthest corner of the room, and was breathing raggedly as he watched Reese with wide, fearful eyes. He curled in on himself, wrapping one arm protectively around his injured stomach.
Reese frowned slightly. Trying to look less intimidating (which probably only made him look even more intimidating, seeing as he was an ex-CIA agent), he took a step forward. However, Danny gasped sharply, and scooted back further.
Immediately, Reese moved a few steps back, allowing the boy some space. This elicited a noise of protest from Finch, and the smaller man quickly scurried out from behind Reese.
Finch made a move towards the boy, but was stopped by steady hand on his shoulder.
"Easy, Harold..." Reese said, speaking in a low, soft voice.
"He needs to calm down or he'll make himself worse!" Finch exclaimed.
"Just give him some room." Reese insisted.
Finch huffed, but made no move to go further.
"You seem tired, Finch." Reese said. "It was a long night. You should get some rest."
"I can't just leave," Finch replied flatly. "Someone has to stay here with him."
"I'll stay," Reese said.
Finch glanced up at him uncertainly.
"I'm not so sure that would be a good idea, John..."
Reese's mouth quirked up slightly.
"Go, Harold. We'll be fine."
Finch looked over at the boy and let out a weary sigh. Too tired to argue, he gathered a few of his things and limped out of the library.
Once Finch had gone, Reese carefully approached the frightened boy. He moved towards him slowly, and squatted down so that the two were at eye level.
Danny flinched, but his eyes never once left the door. He was trembling slightly, and Reese couldn't help but be reminded of a trapped animal.
Reese spoke gently, but firmly.
"I need you to calm down, Danny."
At the sound of his name, the teen's head snapped up, glassy blue eyes meeting Reese's own.
"It's ok," Reese said. "You're safe here."
The two stayed like that for a while, with Reese continuing to speak softly to the boy.
The teen watched him carefully, though it was obviously getting harder and harder for Danny to keep his eyes open. It was almost imperceptible at first, but slowly he began to deflate, whatever little energy he had now seeping out.
Danny listed to the side, but a pair of strong arms caught him, carefully easing him back down. He turned his head weakly when he felt those same arms lift him up gently, and set him back down on the couch. The teen sighed softly as the blankets were once more tucked around him, his breath evening out and his eyelids drooping.
Perhaps it was that, for some strange reason, this man felt vaguely familiar. Or perhaps it was that maybe, in Danny's fever-induced haze, this man with his dark hair and blue eyes somehow reminded the boy of his father.
Whatever the reason, Danny felt that he could trust this man. As his mind drifted off into peaceful oblivion, Danny realized that for the first time in months, he felt safe.
Reviews make me happy... (/o_O)/