Chapter 3
''I know you're gonna talk about me!'' Jaime called out, as Steve and Doctor Conrad headed down the hallway/tunnel that led toward the holding cells.
Of course, she was right. With their concrete-and-lead-enforced walls, the cells made an ideal conversation spot for two men who didn't wish to be overheard by a bionic ear. ''How's she doing - really - Doc?'' Steve wondered.
''You know Jaime far better than I do; why don't you tell me?''
''She's...almost too stoic,'' Steve admitted. ''So far, the only thing that's visibly upset her today - that's brought her feelings to the surface - was when Security snapped at her back at the house. That had her in tears. But she took the news that there was a new threat and that we'd be coming here...on a totally even keel.''
''And you don't think that's because she's finding her emotional footing again...becoming more stable?''
''No. Yes. I...don't know. Something just feels 'off'. Maybe she's had more than enough time to adjust to the fact that we're the target of terrorists and she really is 'processing it normally', as you would put it. I just...don't know.''
''There's something else troubling you about this,'' Conrad stated. (It wasn't a question.)
''In the car, on the way over here, Jaime kept saying how we shouldn't be running from them...that we needed to stand our ground - and even help draw them out and catch them!''
''How do you feel about that?''
''I know this sort of group. They'll hone in on any weakness - and slaughter you with it. For me...they'd come at me from my left side and I'd be in trouble. With Jaime...they'd play on the fear and insecurity that they created in her...and they'd have her, just like that,'' Steve concluded.
''Sounds like she's got the drive of a damn good operative,'' Conrad noted, ''but without the knowledge and experience you have, to tell her when to back off.''
''Exactly.''
''Steve, be aware that any fears and insecurities she might be feeling will only be amplified in this environment. She has nowhere to go - nothing to counter the sensation of being trapped and helpless.''
''She has me.''
''What about you; how are you doing with all of this?''
''I'm fine, Doc.''
''Now, that's a pretty standard 'stoic' response,'' Conrad noted.
''Ya got me. I suppose I'm...angry. Yeah; 'angry' covers it.''
''Because...?'' the doctor prompted.
''Isn't that obvious? Jaime was nearly destroyed and now she has to struggle her way back, one nightmare and one day terror at a time!''
''Day terror?'' This was news to him. ''Is she having flashbacks? Do Rudy and Michael know this?''
''I've only started noticing it myself today, since she's been out of the hospital. Nothing concrete; just a look in her eyes that doesn't match what's happening around her...like she's not entirely here. I saw it back at the house, right when we got there, and again in the car. And since we've been here...a couple more times.''
''Keep a close eye on that for me, please. And if it persists, I want you to phone Michael or Rudy. Or radio them from these cells, if you'd rather. It could be a flashback...or she may be blanking out - a delayed effect from her head injury. And that could have serious implications, particularly in a patient with Jaime's history of blood clots and a full cerebral hemorrhage. Head injuries can be tricky, unpredictable things to deal with, even under the best of circumstances.''
Oscar had nearly paced a groove in his office carpet, deciding what to do. Finally, he pressed a button on his phone. ''Russ, I need you to arrange to have Fenylman from the FBI and General Hammond join us for our strategy meeting tonight.''
''I'm on it, Oscar.''
Oscar poured another cup of coffee and tried to concentrate on clearing at least some of the files and briefings from his desk before the meeting was due to start in an hour. When he finally made his way down to the conference room, only Hansen, Rudy and Russ were waiting for him there. ''Where are Fenylman and the General?'' he demanded, as gently as possible.
Russ was glancing around the room at the other men's faces. ''Did someone call them?'' he asked.
''I'll be alright, Steve - really,'' Jaime insisted, just before midnight. ''I'm not in the hospital anymore and you need some good, solid rest of your own, to help your body heal. You don't need to sit up with me while I sleep.''
''I just want to be there, in case you need me.''
''I need you...to sleep! Please? I'll take this pill Rudy sent over and be out like a light.''
''I'll leave my door open,'' Steve relented. ''If you need anything at all, even if it's just to talk...''
''I promise.'' She leaned up to kiss him and gave him a reassuring smile. After stopping in the kitchenette for a glass of water and then taking her pill (like an obedient 'patient'), Jaime headed off to bed...reading only a few pages of her book before she was, indeed, out like a light. Almost immediately, she began to dream...
Jaime cowered helplessly in a corner, her leg looking like swiss cheese from the holes he had drilled in it. She couldn't escape any longer...couldn't get up to fight him off or even run away. He tossed Steve's limp and broken body at her feet. ''He's dead!'' the man thundered. ''He has YOU to thank for it...and now it's your turn!'' Instead of a power drill, her captor now brandished a chain saw...
