A/N: Thanks again for all your support and lovely reviews of this fic. Waterbaby and I continue to be amazed and flattered. This chapter takes a serious turn, and you should be advised that there are a couple of scenes with violent images. That being said, I hope you like it.
Chapter 3
Lisbon must have only been asleep a couple of hours when the call came in. They'd caught a case. After having to ask twice for the address, she disconnected from the SacPD's office and sat up in bed a moment, shaking. Nighttime calls were the worst, and never failed to rattle her when she was jarred out of a deep sleep. But this time the call had interrupted a nightmare, one where the car that seemed to be following her earlier had actually followed her to her apartment, and she'd confronted the masked figure in the parking lot, only to find that her gun was gone. The man had just pulled out a knife when she was awakened by her phone, so she supposed she should be grateful she didn't have to go through what Dream Lisbon was about to.
Still, she felt like a rookie as she arrived on the scene, shaking like it was her first case. She hadn't called Jane, figuring he needed his sleep, but Cho must have, for Jane's familiar Citroen was parked outside the home of the homicide victim. The Forensics van was there too, and Lisbon tensed. This was in Brett Partridge's jurisdiction. Yet another of Jane's Red John suspects had reared his creepy head.
She took a deep breath and entered the mansion, for once dreading seeing one of the CBI's own people more than the crime scene itself. She quickly reevaluated that position when she saw the body of the dead woman. There was blood everywhere on the bedroom floor; whoever had killed her had punctured her jugular with a screwdriver, and the walls were spattered with arterial spray.
Jane was already squatted down beside the body, mindful of the blood, doing his usual thing. He sensed her presence and looked up, giving her an encouraging nod. He followed her gaze to Brett Partridge, who was examining the blood on the wall, trying no doubt to deduce the position of the woman and her murderer at the time of her stabbing. Jane shook his head slightly and Lisbon avoided looking at Partridge completely after that, focusing on Cho and Rigsby instead.
"Any suspects?" she asked.
"They called us in because this is a City Councilman's wife. Looks like a crime of passion to me."
Jane rose to his feet. "I concur with Mr. Cho here. I'm sure the medical examiner will discover she's had intercourse recently, but it won't be with the husband. Fingerprints on the screwdriver, however, will likely be his."
Partridge turned away from the blood pattern with his usual skeptical expression, at least when in the presence of Jane.
"While I tend to agree with you, Mr. Jane, that this could well be the work of a jealous husband, you should really leave it to Forensics to state that categorically."
Jane directed his own expression of extreme annoyance back at Partridge.
"Of course I intend to let you do your job, Brett, but my job is to point the way toward the best suspects as quickly as possible, avoiding all that unnecessary red tape. This case would seem pretty cut and dried, even to an amateur."
Partridge's face grew slightly red with anger and embarrassment. "It seems to me there is only one professional Forensic scientist in this room," he shot back tightly.
"You study blood spatters for a living. Your mother must be very proud," said Jane. He was smiling, but his tone was icy.
"Now you wait just a minute—" began Partridge lamely.
"Jane—" cautioned Lisbon. Her hand went up to lightly touch his forearm.
He gave the Forensics scientist a look of disgust, then brushed a dismissing hand toward him.
"Let's go, Lisbon," he said. "My work here is done." He broke away from her touch and headed back out of the house.
Lisbon turned to Cho and Rigsby.
"Call Van Pelt to help you track down the woman's husband, and see if you can find any evidence here of a lover."
"Yes, Boss," her team said in unison.
Lisbon caught up with Jane outside. He was almost to his car.
"What the hell were you doing in there? I can't believe you were antagonizing that man!"
Jane shrugged. "That's the way I always behave around the creep. Why change now?"
"Still," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What if…?"
Jane stopped in the middle of the brick path that led to the sidewalk. He reached for her hand, but rather than clasp it as he'd been doing more frequently lately, he paused, checking her pulse.
"Your heart is racing. And you're trembling like a leaf. Did you get any sleep?"
"Some," she hedged. "Did you?"
"That's not the point, here, Lisbon." His blue-green eyes swept over her from head to toe, assessing her in the light from the nearby streetlamp. "You, my dear, look like hell."
"Gee, thanks. And you look like—"
"Never mind that. Come take a ride with me."
He stepped toward the curb and opened the passenger side door of his car.
"We're right in the middle of a murder case, in case you didn't notice," she said sarcastically, but beneath their usual banter, Jane and Lisbon both felt how she was straining to keep it together.
"I already solved it, don't you remember? All that's left is the legwork, and I'm sure the rest of your fine team can handle that without you."
She glanced back at the house, then at Jane. She really didn't want to go back in there with Partridge, and the office didn't sound too inviting either. God knew who else she might run into there.
"Where are we going?"
"Just trust me for once and get in the car."
"And why should I trust-?" she began, but he closed the door on her muttering and went round to the driver's side.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They'd been driving an hour, and still Lisbon had no idea where they were heading. She'd learned after the third query not to ask anymore, so she settled back into her seat, trying to relax.
"Deep breaths," he said softly. "Inhale through your nose, hold it a few seconds, then exhale through your mouth." He demonstrated for her, his eyes still on the road.
She did what he suggested, feeling awkward at first, her breathing sounding overly loud in the quiet car. Soon, though, she began to relax, and he flipped on a classical music station, lowering the volume to barely audible levels. She actually dozed off for a few minutes.
When she awoke, she saw that they were driving northeast, into the lightening sky, and the scenery around them began changing from the lights of suburbia and early morning traffic, to a more arid, desert-like topography. She had seen the signs advertising Reno ahead, but they turned off the freeway about ten miles outside of the gambling hub. If she never saw a casino town again, that would be too soon, she thought ironically.
They drove down a gravel road for a few miles, past pastel colored adobe houses, windows still dark in the early morning, until the road suddenly ended with a sign that read, Stop! Bridge Out.
He parked and stopped, turning to look at her with a small smile.
"Come with me, Lisbon," he said.
"Where-?"
"Just come on. It'll be good for you."
"I hate the desert," she said stubbornly. "There better not be any rattlesnakes out here."
"You've got your gun, Annie Oakley," he said, glancing at the glove box where she'd stored her holster. She took his advice and retrieved it while Jane stepped out into the fresh, sage-scented air, taking cleansing breaths of his own with an eye toward the east.
She joined him, and they watched the yellows, pale pinks and dark blues to their east, harkening the sun's imminent arrival. After a few quiet moments, Jane took her hand, leading her to the right of the sign, down what looked to be a horse trail. When she nearly stepped in manure, her guess was confirmed, and she was doubly glad she was wearing her boots. She wrinkled her nose and he grinned, and they walked on until they reached a flat rock that overlooked the dry gulch the road had once spanned, facing the rising sun. He climbed atop the rock, nimble even in his suit and old brown shoes, then reached down to pull her up. They sat on the cool stone, their feet dangling three feet off the ground.
"How did you find this place?" she asked, feeling like she should whisper as the world slowly awoke around them.
"Some nights when I can't sleep, I just drive. I turned down this road on an impulse one time and ended up here, right about this time in the morning. I was awed by the beauty around me."
She felt honored he was sharing this with her, but she was too shy to tell him so.
"I thought you needed to get away, if only for a little while," he continued. "Also, I want you to try something while we're here."
She turned her head to look at him, but he was completely serious now, despite how relaxed and at ease he seemed in their new surroundings.
"What?" she asked suspiciously. She prayed it didn't involve more hiking or befriending desert animals. Nature wasn't exactly Lisbon's friend, city girl that she was.
"The reason I brought you here is because it is so isolated. There aren't any other people for miles in any direction, from what I can tell."
She looked at him sidelong. "Should I be worried? I've got my gun, you know."
Jane grinned. "The fact that you can still make jokes is a good sign, but quite honestly, Lisbon, I think you are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I don't think the usual relaxation methods are going to work with you."
"You're serious," she said, feeling offended by the suggestion.
"You're away from things now, so you are probably starting to relax a bit, but you still have all your fears to built up inside of you. You keep trying to hold it all in, and you'll explode, maybe somewhere where you don't want witnesses."
Lisbon wasn't one to lose control. The only time in recent years she'd been even close to having a meltdown was when she was falsely accused of murder. Jane had been with her, had helped her tremendously, both emotionally and psychologically. It was then that she really began to depend on him more on a personal level. She'd let him in-hell, had even begged him to hypnotize her. Sure, he'd disappointed her since then, but that shared experience had really cemented their friendship, had made her feel that when the chips were down, he'd be there for her. Except for his six-month stint in Vegas, that had been true ever since.
"We could have stayed in Sacramento if you wanted to hypnotize me again," she said.
"I told you, traditional methods are not going to work this time. They would only be a temporary fix. I could give you a massage, teach you more deep breathing exercises, give you some guided visualization-they would help while you were in the moment, but the second you stopped, it would all come crashing back down on you, and the buildup of nerves and tension would begin all over again."
She stared straight ahead at the twinkling lights of Reno on the distant horizon, but found that she was hung up on his massage suggestion. Somehow, she didn't think that would relax her—just the opposite, in fact. Her face colored, and she tried to hide it with a witty rejoinder.
"Sorry, but I forgot to bring my yoga mat."
"Well, yoga works well too," he said, ignoring her sarcasm. "This would be the perfect place for a sun salutation." He indicated the beauty around him with a dramatic sweep of his hand.
She rolled her eyes. "So what do you propose, considering I could fall apart any moment?"
"You know, the first step in solving a problem is admitting you have one."
She certainly could have said a lot in reply to that trite expression, but she sighed, suddenly and intensely tired.
"Yes, I admit I've been having some...anxiety. But who could blame me, really? Suddenly it's like how Sean Barlow described you—seeing Red John around every corner. Only that isn't exactly an exaggeration, because he could very well be around any corner at headquarters, if he's one of your suspects. It's starting to wear on me a bit, I admit it."
"Good. You've successfully completed step one. Step two is a little more difficult."
"What is it?"
He paused a moment, trying to come up with the best way to broach his idea with her.
"Have you ever screamed into your pillow out of supreme frustration?"
"Yes," she replied simply, but a cloud passed over her elfin features. The last time she'd done it had been when Jane hadn't answered her hundredth text when he was in Las Vegas.
"It helped, didn't it?"
"Yeah, a little," she admitted.
"Well, what I suggest is just like that, only without the pillow."
She looked at him like he was crazy, and then she told him so. "You're out of your mind."
He grinned. "True. But trust me on this."
"So you want me to scream my lungs out and that's supposed to make me feel better?"
He nodded. "Yes. It's a release of that pressure, Lisbon. Some people feel better after a good cry, but with this kind of anxiety, sometimes a good scream is necessary to clear out the cobwebs."
"Since when are you a shrink?" she asked skeptically.
"I'm not, but believe me, it works."
"You've done it yourself?"
"Yes, and I've done it here. When you scream into your pillow, you're still holding back because you don't want anyone to hear you. Here, surrounded by nothing but the wonders of nature, it' the perfect place to let it all out…"
She looked at the man beside her, watching how the golden rays of the morning sun reached out to sparkle in his eyes, to burnish further his golden hair. Yes, she thought romantically, it was a beautiful setting. Her blush returned, and she looked hastily back at the sunrise. Jane's eyes crinkled in amusement at having caught her staring at him. He'd certainly had more than his share of women's admiring gazes, but Lisbon's appraisal of him had been so innocent and pure, free from lust—okay, maybe there'd been a little of that—that he felt more flattered than he probably should have. Also, his heart shouldn't have squeezed like it had when her sun-lightened eyes had rested lovingly on his face. He cleared his throat.
"So, are you game, Lisbon?"
She looked startled a moment, as if she'd forgotten what they were talking about. He grinned knowingly, but kept his tone neutral. "For the screaming, Lisbon. Are you willing to try it?"
"Okay, but I'm sure I'll feel like an idiot."
"No need to feel self-conscious with me. I've been an idiot around you plenty of times."
She chuckled. "Well, that's certainly true."
"Okay then…on the count of three…one…two-"
"Wait!"
"Why? It's not like you're about to jump off a cliff; it's just a scream. You Catholic girls are so—"
The scream that came out of her mouth so close to his ear made him cringe in spite of himself. It was long and wrenching, but still, he knew she was holding part of herself back. When she'd run out of breath, she looked at him for approval.
"Good, Lisbon. Now stand up on this rock and belt it out even louder." He helped her to her feet while he remained seated beside her.
"Now, imagine that all your fear and anxiety is in a ball in your stomach, and the only way to expel it is to yell it out. Dig deep. You have to yell from deep inside yourself..." His hand came up to gently tap her flat stomach, and she trembled at his touch. He hastily withdrew it.
"Try again, Teresa," he encouraged softly.
And then she did.
At first, Lisbon had felt unbelievably stupid, yelling like a child having a tantrum. But when she stood there, looking out over the Great Basin Desert, at how the sunrise turned everything pink and gold, she felt an unexplained need welling from within her. She began to yell again, the sound tearing from her heart, from her gut, from her very soul. To her immense surprise, the crippling emotions she'd been bottling up within her pushed out of her mouth and into the cool morning air, compelling her to let go even more.
She screamed out her frustration that Red John seemed to be one step ahead of them. She yelled out her anger that someone she had worked with was probably a serial killer. She bellowed out her fear that he would strike again, and that it would likely be someone else whose death would hurt Jane. But along with all the crippling anxiety she expelled from her body, there was another frustration that she just could not seem to release—that she was in love with Patrick Jane, and no amount of shouting would set her free from that.
Sitting at her feet, Jane listened to Lisbon shout away her personal demons with envy. He knew this would help her, that she would once again become the calm, focused Lisbon that he loved. He had done the same thing over the years, and while the practice calmed him when he felt on the verge of a breakdown, his own demons were wrapped too tightly around his heart and mind, and he knew they wouldn't let go until Red John was no longer in the world.
When Lisbon's voice began to falter and grow hoarse from use, he looked up at her face, his heart clenching at the sight of the tears of release slipping down her lovely face. He stood then and immediately pulled her into his embrace.
"Okay," he whispered into her hair, "you're done."
He could feel the dampness of her cheek against his, and he held her more tightly, while her arms wound round his neck and she pressed her body as close as she could to his. She gave a few deep, shuddering sighs and he pulled away slightly to look at her. When she opened her green eyes, he smiled into them, and she smiled shyly back.
Before he could think of the danger, he pressed a light kiss on one wet cheek, the action stirring their blood rather than soothing her raw emotions. He felt her stiffen in his arms, but Jane, never one to quit when he was ahead, moved to her other cheek, his heart thundering in his chest. He became acutely aware of her small breasts pressed against him, of how his hands had settled so naturally at her trim waist. Acting now on pure instinct, he closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on her moist lips. She had only time to draw in a quick breath of surprise before his warm mouth left her, and she could almost convince herself that she had imagined the whole thing-except that her pulse was racing and she felt slightly off balance.
Numbly, she dropped her hands from his shoulders, and they both turned out of the embrace to stare sightlessly at the horizon. They sat down again, and she leaned her head tentatively against his shoulder, breathing deeply until her heart settled into its normal rhythm. His arm slipped companionably about her waist.
"Better?" he asked.
"Hmm," she replied, and he took that to mean yes.
"You know what I can't help thinking of at a time like this, Lisbon?"
He felt her smile against his arm before she said automatically: "Eggs?"
His answering grin split across his face, as bright and warm as the distant sun.
"And here I was supposed to be the psychic one."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
After breakfast at one of those greasy spoons Jane loved so much, Lisbon slept all the way back home, only waking when a horn honked in the middle of downtown Sacramento. She looked around, disoriented, and Jane glanced her way with a smile.
"Good morning, sleepyhead. Should I drop you at your apartment or the office?"
"I don't know," she said inside a yawn.
She reached for the phone in her blazer jacket pocket, noting in annoyance that the battery must have run down. But when she pressed the power button, she realized it had merely been turned off. Instantly, a dozen texts and missed call alerts popped up. She glared at Jane.
"Did you turn off my phone?"
He shrugged, obviously not feeling guilty in the least. "You needed to get completely away from things for awhile."
"Dammit, Jane," she said, and pressed the speed-dial key reserved for Cho.
They'd picked up the dead woman's husband at the airport. He'd been trying to flee the country. Cho was just about to question him.
"We'll be right there," said Lisbon, shooting Jane a meaningful glance.
"The office it is," Jane said with a reluctant sigh. "Pity. You look like you could use a long, hot bath."
Her anger melted away as she remembered what he'd done for her. "As tempting as that sounds, there are still people out there who are depending on me. I can't hide forever."
He reached over and took her hand, eyes still on the road. "You weren't hiding, Lisbon, you were…regrouping."
She squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she said, her throat still raspy from all the yelling.
He squeezed back. "You're welcome."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Once the husband had confessed his crimes and was hauled off to await his first hearing, Jane found his way to the bullpen couch, settling in for a much-needed nap. Helping Lisbon had given him a warm, peaceful feeling, and for a few hours he slept like a baby.
"I wonder what he wants," said Rigsby at his desk, his tone slightly derisive.
Jane stirred to wakefulness.
"Kirkland gives me the creeps," whispered Van Pelt.
The willy factor strikes again, thought Jane.
He sat up then, his eyes going to one of his prime suspects as the man tapped on Lisbon's door. How would she react to this, now, after the morning's successful emotional discharge? It took everything in him not to run to her rescue. If Kirkland was Red John…but no, he reassured himself, trying to calm his pulse, she needed to be tested like this, to see if what they'd accomplished in the desert had really made a lasting difference.
When he heard her cry out, however, Jane was on his feet and running to her door faster than he could ever recall moving. Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt were right behind him. Never, as long as they had worked with Lisbon, had the trio ever heard her sound like that, not even when she was shot or accused of murder.
Her office door was open, and Teresa was sitting at her desk, her hands covering her face.
"What the hell did you do to her?" demanded Jane of Kirkland, who stood before Lisbon's desk, looking rather helpless. Jane went to Lisbon's side, dropping to his knees beside her and wrapping a shaking arm around her shoulders.
"Teresa?" he prompted softly, but she wasn't responding. This was plainly more than just an emotional setback.
"What's going on here?" said Cho, his voice taut with barely contained rage. The rest of the team muscled past Kirkland to stand around Lisbon's desk.
"Boss?" said Van Pelt, but Lisbon continued to hold her face in her hands.
Kirkland looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"I'm afraid I had to give Agent Lisbon some bad news," he said, and at the same time Jane noticed the picture lying face down at her feet. He reached down to pick it up. It was a picture of a dark-haired man, green eyes wide open in death, his throat cut so deeply he appeared almost decapitated. Jane was sure he didn't know the man, but he seemed somehow familiar. The edge of an even more familiar red symbol on the wall above the body confirmed what Jane had instantly surmised. Red John had done this. He handed the picture to Cho's waiting hand.
"Who is this?" Cho asked Kirkland, but Jane knew the answer before the man replied.
"It's James Lisbon, Agent Lisbon's younger brother," replied Kirkland.
"Get him out of here," Lisbon suddenly growled, her hands moving to reveal a pale, stricken face. "Get him the hell out of here."
"Again, I'm so sorry for your loss, Teresa," said Kirkland, but Cho and Rigsby were already propelling the Homeland Security agent out the door.
"Oh, my God," said Van Pelt, horror etched on her face. "Boss—"
Jane glanced at the redhead, nodding toward the door. "Give us a minute," he said, trying not to sound as shaken to the core as he felt.
"Let me know what I can do," said Van Pelt, before backing toward the door and closing it quietly behind her.
"Oh, Teresa," he said, and he gathered her into his arms for the second time that day. She clung to him, burying her face into his neck, but she made no sound. He closed his eyes tightly as he attempted to absorb her pain.
"James," she whispered, "Not James…"
Without thinking about it, he pulled her out of the chair and led her to the white couch he'd bought for her. She complied numbly, and he sat beside her where she fell once again against his chest. He held her close to his warmth, smoothing down her hair and kissing the top of her head. Still, she did not cry.
This is my fault, he thought in anguish.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair. "So very sorry."
Ten minutes passed before she sat up suddenly, pulling away from him.
"I—I need to go to him."
James had lived in southern Oregon, having moved there for his work some five years before. Lisbon had visited him on occasion. He'd been a bachelor, living alone, a fireman's hours making finding an understanding wife difficult. He was the middle brother of her three younger siblings, and Jane had never met him, though the way Lisbon spoke of him, he had given her the least trouble growing up. And now she was sentenced to a life of pain, anger, and self-loathing at the hand of Red John. Or maybe she'd loathe him instead. He swallowed over the lump in his throat.
"Okay," he said hoarsely, "We'll all go."
He knew there was no use talking her out of it, even though he wished he could save her from having the last memory of her brother be a carved up horror. He watched in concern as she stood, dry-eyed and calm. He rose to stand beside her.
"I have to call Tommy and Kevin," she said. "They're in Chicago. Oh, God, this will kill them."
The only reason she was sounding so stoic, he knew, was because she was in a state of shock. Given her recent bout of nerves, he worried that when this finally sank in, she'd be a basket case. He'd have to watch her every minute now. She seemed to be holding her breath, and he was suddenly, intensely angry that Red John had ruined the progress they'd made that morning.
"Breathe," he said quietly, his hand on her arm.
She took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Was it Kirkland?" she asked, her eyes wide. "You saw him, saw his face. Was it him?"
Jane had to admit that once he saw the state Lisbon was in, he hadn't paid much attention to Bob Kirkland.
"I don't know."
A tentative knock came at the door. It was Rigsby.
"Boss, I'm really sorry, but what do you want us to do? Technically, it's still the FBI and Homeland Security's case, and they're heading for Oregon right now. Kirkland said we could ride along."
"No," she barked, and Rigsby cringed. "We're going in our own vehicles, in our own time. Tell Kirkland that. No, as a matter of fact, don't bother telling him a goddamn thing."
Jane squeezed her arm, willing her to calm down. She was angry now—rightly so—but they couldn't risk Rigsby knowing their suspicions of Kirkland.
"Teresa," he said firmly. Her first name seemed to flow more readily to his lips than the usual Lisbon, which was a good thing; it seemed to get through to her.
She took a breath. "Tell Cho and Van Pelt to saddle up. We leave within thirty minutes."
"Yes, Boss." He hesitated at the door, helpless, as people usually are when tragedy strikes close to home.
"Thanks, Rigsby," Jane answered for her, and Rigsby gratefully left them, now that their mission was suddenly clear.
"I'm not going to tell you that you don't have to do this."
"Good," she said briskly. Then she moved to her desk to find her gun, her badge, and the company SUV keys.
"This is what he meant, isn't it, about the rules changing? He's not holding back anymore, wants to hit you and the people you care about where they live."
"Yes," he replied sadly. "He wants to inflict as much pain as he can to those I love, hoping I will blame myself, that I will become so fearful and paranoid that I can't think clearly anymore." His words were a warning to both of them.
"Well, I'm thinking clearly, and I'm going to kill that son-of-a-bitch, if it's the last thing I do."
Jane stared at her, knowing full well what she was feeling, and realizing that the feeling had never gone away for him, even after all these years.
"I'm right there with you," he said.
She tiptoed up to kiss his cheek, her lips moist and smooth.
"Thank you," she said.
She stood at the door, her head down, her hand on the doorknob, mentally preparing herself for what she must face. Then, after another deep breath, she opened the door and walked out into the hall.
He watched her go with great trepidation. She was keeping her emotions in check, seemed strong and steady as a rock in the face of such unspeakable horror. But he knew this was just a façade. When the shock wore off, she was in danger of having a breakdown that would rival the upheaval of the past week, tenfold. All he could do was make sure he was with there with her when it happened, and hope that he had the strength to get both of them to the other side in one piece.
A/N: Thanks for reading! If you'd like to leave a review, be sure to log in so we can respond to you personally. We can't answer any questions or respond to your great suggestions unless you do.
A couple of personal notes. I just want to encourage you to take a chance on reading my other collaborative fic with starry19, "Boy Wonder." I know some of you might be hesitant to read it, because it doesn't have Lisbon in it. But I think you will be pleasantly surprised. This isn't a silly high school fic, or a smaltzy romance. We have tried to make it realistic, to make Angela into a person you would like and understand why Jane would have loved and married such a woman. I think the idea of a young Jane is fascinating too, and we have attempted to fill in some blanks about Jane's early life that will compel him in the current day. It takes nothing away from Jisbon; I think it only adds to our understanding of them now. So please, give it a try. I promise you won't be sorry.
Also, I'm sure you've heard about the terrible tragedy that has befallen my home state of Oklahoma. While I'm happy to report that all my friends and family in the area are fine, I ask that you keep everyone affected in your thoughts and prayers as they try to recover. If you want to help out, please give to the Red Cross.
