Excuse my bias, but I love this chapter. :) Hope you do too.


Misconceptions pt. 4

There was no curtain on the small window of the kitchen. Eve McBain sat at a round, maple table alone with her memories. She flipped through the album slowly, taking in each photo with a careful eye. Her family filled the book, and she missed her family. All of her family. There had been no resentment or anger or space between any of them then, and she smiled, knowing full well that her nostalgia was foolish. There couldn't have been any of those things because her boys were children...and children grew up. They grew up until life and adulthood got in the way of things. She glanced over the sink of dishes, and blinked against the natural light that shone inside. The room was bathed in moonlight, allowing her to stay conceiled, and she shut the book.

John was home after such a long time, too long. She was feeling a great many things at the thought of seeing her eldest son, so she found herself wide awake and wistful. Thomas lay upstairs, asleep in their bed, and she turned back to the window. What would happen tomorrow? Would she even see John, or would he avoid her? Two years was a long time to not speak to family - not really. It was a long time to let distance grow in a person's heart. It was too long for a mother not to see her child.

She stood from the chair and padded silently across the cold marble tiling of the kitchen floor. It wasn't too long for the problems of this family to remain in tact though. The resentment and anger and space was still there. She had her own anger to deal with. John sent her the occasional email, letting her know that he was alright and busy at work. She got scraps of information, but he never bothered to find time to come home.

Her feet stopped at the entrance to her bedroom, where she stared at her still slumbering husband. She loved him. She has loved him from the time she first looked his way, but she wasn't blind. He could be an ass, and apparently that trait was passed to her boys. They were all Irish, Catholic, stubborn asses! They were McBains to the bone. She sighed and walked into the room, carefully slipping under the quilt. She was mad at John for disappearing, and she was mad at Tom for letting him go. She was even mad at Mike for whatever part he played when it came to his brother. They had their own sibling issues, she knew.

Tom rolled beside her, and she turned, staring at his wide back and listening to his even breaths. Her hand reached out and flattened over his shoulder blade. She sighed.

"He's already gone, baby," Tom said, trying to get his wife to understand. "He wanted to get there early, so he left."

Her eyes were moist, but she wasn't about to cry. "He wouldn't just leave without saying a word. What's really going on?"

He stepped closer, staring hard. "He's gone, Eve. He wanted to start his new life as a big time FBI agent, and that's it."

"You pushed him!" she accused. She was angry, and he was here so she focussed her attention on the man she loved. "Why do you always have to be so damn hard on him? He wants to be great for you, so why can't you just let him?"

"Stop it!" Tom snapped, placing his hands on his hips. "He's a man, and he makes his own choices in life. He wants the FBI, and he wants it because he knows that I hate it." He sat on the couch, tired. "Don't act like he's some kid who ran away from home, and don't sit there and tell me that his leaving is my fault! That's not fair, and you know it!" He rubbed his head, feeling a headache.

Eve took a breath and joined her husband on the couch. "I know, Tom. I know he's grown. He's living on his own and starting a career. Maybe soon a family, if Caitlyn lasts like I think she will?" She turned and touched the side of his face, before taking over his movements. Her slender fingers massaged his temples. "But you make it so damn hard."

He grabbed her hands and pulled them away as he met her gaze. "What does that mean?"

She licked her lips. "It means that if someone doesn't see things as you do then they're wrong." She paused. "It means that he's your son, and if you tell him he can't do something, then he does it." She continued, refusing to sugarcoat the truth any longer, not now with John gone without a goodbye or even a go-to-hell! "Do you really believe that if he becomes a Fed he'll change?"

Tom stared into the honest eyes of his wife, taking in her words. She always called things like they were, but she wasn't always right and she was wrong about this. "Yes I do," he answered, holding her heated gaze. "When it happens, you'll remember this conversation." Then he stood and grabbed his jacket, stepping out of the house and into the streaming rain. He walked to his car.

Eve faced her husband and touched his hair. Tomorrow would be an interesting day, and she wondered if anything would change, anything at all? She'd settle for seeing her son for more than the occasional Christmas. That was a simple place to start. Then she yawned and let her lids close, praying that she'd wake to a new era. It was time for some healing.


Natalie stepped through the heavy exit door that led out the back of Rodi's. She waited for the click of the lock and then typed in the security code that armed the alarm. It has been a long night of tending bar, and she was exhausted. Mac, you owe me big time for this! she thought, scanning the narrow alley. It was highlighted in bright yellow under the steadfast shine of the flood light. She grabbed her keys from her purse and began to walk toward the parking lot. The sharp sound of tin hitting metal stopped her in her tracks, and she froze. Something hit the side of the dumpster that sat just a few feet ahead of her. Her heart began to pound in a steady rhythm as she listened carefully for another sound. Nothing. Only her deep breathing. She closed her eyes for a second, shaking her head.

It's that damn man's fault! she thought, bitterly. Her nerves were shot, and she's been edgy and paranoid all stupid night and it had to stop! So they kissed? So what? She began to walk forward again. They didn't just kiss, and that was the root of the problem. Just thinking about those few minutes with him in this alley made her stomach clench and her body burn. She needed to pull it together. He was a Fed and was trying to arrest her, and so she needed to get her head in the game. His attractiveness was completely irrelevant, as of right now!

Natalie saw the ass of her car as she approached the end of the alley, but that was as far as she got. Fingers entwined themselves in her hair from behind, and she yelled as her body flew backwards, sliding across the stone at her feet. Her palms burned from scraping along the rough surface. She tried to see her mysterious attacker, but the force of a blow struck her cheek, sending a searing bolt of pain into her head as she pressed flat against the cold ground. Another jolt of pain stabbed through her center, and another under her left armpit. She felt the distinct contact of steel toes in her ribs and under her chin, and then she didn't feel anything at all.

The muffled sound of unsteady breathing pounded in her ears, as she tried to push away the cloud that seemed to fog her brain. She could feel the cold against her cheek. She was laying on the ground. Remembering suddenly, Natalie forced her eyes open, searching the dark for a silhouette, but she was alone. She pushed against the raw flesh on her hands and sat up slowly, trying to catch her breath. Her stomach twisted and she threw up, vomiting into the alley. She wanted to laugh away the pain, but the constant stabbing ache from her ribs wouldn't let her. Keep it together, Natalie! She reached out and grabbed the dumpster, using it to pull herself to her shaky feet.

Her watery eyes fell to the purse that lay against the wall. She took a deep breath. She spotted her car keys a few feet ahead, and her car was still waiting for her right where she had left it. This hadn't been a robbery, or an accident. Someone had been waiting for her. She picked up her purse and walked to her keys, gathering them up. Someone was targeting her specifically, and she was going to find out who and why? Her legs managed to move on their own, because she found herself at her vehicle. Then she was sitting inside and driving to the last place she ever expected to go to willingly. She turned onto the main road and drove toward the police station. Maybe the LPD could actually do their jobs for once and find out who attacked her? She would find out who it was, and then she would deal with it in her own way.


Detective Jason Cameron swallowed the last of his coffee, while he stared at the page in his hand. This Buchanan case was big, even for Llanview, and he knew that it was tough. Michael was his best friend, and Tom was family. Having John McBain back in town was hard on them. He was pretty sure that the Fed was one McBain that he was never going to like - the way he treated his family, and the way he walked in and took over the case as though it were any other - as though he wasn't talking down to his brother or father? Someone like that was trouble.

He sat back and stared at the photo of Asa's complex granddaughter. She was a looker, but he was on the same page as Mike when it came to her. There was a reason why she was the number one suspect, and her claims of innocence were beyond ridiculous! He doubted she's ever been innocent of anything, ever, and he was very certain that John was actually buying into her story. There was no way his motives were pure on this one, not with her flashing her legs every chance she got. No, McBain's interest in the redhead went a whole lot deeper than the actual case.

He stood and made his way to the break room, pouring himself some more coffee. He would do what he could to help out Mike and the old man, and that meant solving this case quickly. Then John would disappear back into the woodwork and things would get back to normal. He strolled into the hallway and back to his desk, glancing around the empty squad room. This place was a ghost town at night, and he kind of liked it that way. It gave him time to think and focus and put two and two together. He looked at the photo of the redhead again. Yup, she was definitely trouble, and every single part of him was positive that she would take John down with her. If she did that, it would be devastating for the rest of the family. That couldn't happen.

He thought about last Christmas at the house. It had been a lot of fun - drinking, music, laughter, and thanks to Mike, pranks. He chuckled, but what he really remembered was how he had found Eve. He was half drunk and stumbled into the old man's room, thinking it was the bathroom. She was holding an album in her lap and crying, and he knew it was because her son hadn't even bothered to call her. What kind of a man did that? Not one that he had any interest in knowing or helping, but he loved the rest of them. So he would work this out, and John would leave. No more heartache for his surrogate family.

The sound of someone clearing their throat, snapped him from his serious thoughts. When he looked up, he almost fell over. What the hell? "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked, hiding his surprise.

Natalie stood in front of the desk with her hands on her hips. She was pissed and sore and more than a little tired. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to this ass! "Is Agent McBain here?"

"You do have a thing for him, don't you?" Jason stood from his chair and faced her down. She was as rude as he remembered, and she looked like hell! He decided to drop the attitude a little so that he could see what she wanted from the good agent. "Maybe I can help?" She obviously didn't think so, but when he gestured toward a chair she took it. "Are you here to turn yourself in?"

Alright, that's it! She stood. "I'm here to report a crime. Are you capable of taking a report, or should I call someone else?"

He frowned. God, she really was a bitch! "I'm capable," he managed, watching her sit again. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

She didn't answer right away. In fact, she had the distinct feeling that coming here was a tremendous error in judgement. "I was attacked." She saw his eyes widen slightly, but he waited for her to finish so she continued. "I was working at Rodi's tonight, and..."

"Not your usual job for an heiress," he interupted, keeping his brown eyes on her blue one's.

Natalie bit her lower lip so that she wouldn't say all the things she really wanted to at the moment. "I was helping out a friend. You know what those are, right?" He frowned again. "I closed up and walked out back to go to my car. Someone grabbed me from behind." Her heart began to pump. "They threw me backward and hit me a couple times...hard."

"How many times?"

She blinked. "What?"

"How many times did they hit you?"

She didn't know, she couldn't be sure? "I'm not sure, why?"

Jason continued to stare, observing her closely. "How did they hit you? With fists, something else, what?"

"I don't know?" she snapped, feeling a very familiar feeling. It was as though she were still in that little room downstairs. She felt like she walked into an interogation. "I don't know alright, I think they were kicking me?"

"Did you see who it was? Man or woman?"

Natalie stood, more angry than she realized she could be. "Just what in the hell is your problem? I came here for help, so why don't you do what my tax dollars pay you for?"

He laughed and stood too. "You know, if I believed you I would."

"What?" This wasn't happening?

"I'm a little skeptical," he leaned forward, staring hard, "sorry."

She didn't know what to do? "Why?" she finally asked, confused as hell!

He shook his head in amazement. "Well, let's see? We arrest you for embezzlement and tell you that you are on the top of our suspect list, and your brother the Governor sets you free. Then, you stroll in here in the middle of the night and report that you were beaten after a hard night of tending bar at the local pub. That's not exactly easy to swallow, Natalie."

She was actually shocked. She knew she shouldn't be, but she was. "So you think I'm making this up? Why would I do that?"

He came around and leaned comfortably on the edge of his desk. "If someone beat you up, then maybe you really are innocent of embezzlement? I mean, maybe we've been looking in the wrong direction this whole time...right?" His sharp gaze bore into her. "A mysterious, unsubstantiated attack in the middle of the night would really cast a shadow of doubt over everything, wouldn't it?"

Natalie took in everything he was saying, and pushed down the rage that wanted out. First she was set up, then beaten, and now this son of a bitch was calling her a liar. He actually thought she was trying to play him, only he wouldn't know the truth if it sat in his lap. She was wasting her time. She turned to leave and walked right into someone. A pair of hands steadied her, and when she looked up, she held her breath. "Sorry," she mumbled nervously, staring into a familiar set of bright eyes.

John frowned. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, taking in her appearance. She looked rough, like someone knocked her around pretty good. His stomach tightened slightly at that thought.

"Apparently nothing," she snapped, pulling from his grasp. "Apparently I've made the whole thing up!"

He looked at her and saw the fear that was hiding behind the wall of anger. "What whole thing, Natalie?" He glanced at Detective Cameron, already beginning to get the picture. It wasn't hard to see what was going on here.

She didn't speak. She wasn't sure she wanted to be mocked again, but when she looked into John's eyes she felt a little safer. She blew out a breath and licked her lips, wincing from the cut that split her bottom lip.

John saw her flinch, and knew that she was hurt. He was angry and had to be very careful not to take it out on the wrong person. He lifted his hand and grabbed her chin, taking a closer look at the slice that was bleeding lightly. He handed her a white cloth from his pocket, and she took it. "Is there an office we can use?" he asked aloud, looking directly at Detective Cameron.

"Nope." He glared at the agent, knowing he was right about the man. "Everything is locked for the night. Why don't you use the break room?" Both men stared at one another. Jason turned to Miss. Buchanan, who was playing the victim to the hilt. He grinned. "Second door on the left," he provided helpfully, pointing down the hallway.

Natalie hesitated for a second, but walked to the room when John nodded. She left the two behind, and sat at the table in the center of the room. The hell with this! She got up and helped herself to some coffee. If she was going to be treated like a criminal, then she was damn well going to do it in style.

John knew with complete certainty now that he did not like Cameron one little bit. "Let me guess what happened? She came to report an attack and you didn't believe her."

Jason continued to sit comfortably on his desk. "And what, you do? It's pretty convenient McBain," Cameron grinned, holding the agent's angry stare, "but you seem to believe a lot of what comes out of her mouth? I wonder why?"

John turned and walked down the hall. He needed to deal with this situation before he lost his temper and hit the smug ass in his smug face. When he stepped through the door he found her seated comfortably at the table with coffee and donuts, and half a salmon sandwich. He walked closer, not bothering to hide his grin. "Hey?"

She watched him take a seat across from her. "Hey." She ignored the fluttering in her stomach. "Hungry?" she asked, holding out a donut. He took it.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He wondered if he shouldn't take her to the hospital?

She took a sip of the drink, hissing because of the cut on her lip. She had forgotten about it. "I'll live. I always do." She stared at him. "Shouldn't you be interogating me? I mean, I'm a liar right? This is just a ruse to throw you off my scent." She hesitated, wishing she felt as strong as she was pretending to be. It's been a bad night. "Didn't your buddy tell you?"

"He's not my buddy," John answered truthfully. "Actually, I kind of want to punch him a lot of the time."

She grinned. "I know the feeling."

John stared a moment longer. She looked worn and sore, and he felt his anger rising again. Someone was going to pay for hurting her. "Tell me what happened, Natalie."

She watched him closely, wishing that she could trust him, but she couldn't. She trusted herself, and that was it. That was all she needed. "I told you..."

"...you don't talk to cops," he finished, taking a small bite of the donut. "You came here tonight for help. I'd like to do that."

She chuckled. "I had a moment of weakness."

"Or clarity." He continued to study her, getting to understand her pretty well. "Or maybe you came here for answers?"

She sat straight. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you want to know who did this to you? Who knocked you down and hit you? Who violated you and took away your control?" She stood. "Maybe you want a name?" He stood too, and walked around the table until he was standing directly in front of her. "I think you have an idea about who may be setting you up, and I think that you want to follow the name of your attacker to whoever is behind this whole thing, and the cops could speed that along."

She stared silently, forcing herself to breathe. How did he do that? He could almost read her mind sometimes, it was scary. "This is where you come when you're attacked, right?"

He ignored her. "You want to handle things by yourself, because it's how you've always handled things." He reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to keep looking at him. His thumb traced the outline to her injury. "Well, I want those answers too Natalie, and I think you know that." He was too close to her.

She felt panicked, like she was no longer in control of her own actions. He was too intense, too real. "I've had a long night, so maybe we should just wrap this up?"

He released her, but he didn't move away. "You came here to report an attack, so report one."

She took a step backward, thankful for the space between them, and then reclaimed her seat. He stood where he was for a long while, just watching her, and she breathed a sigh of relief when he finally returned to his chair. Distance was good, but it couldn't save her from those eyes. "Someone jumped me in the alley behind Rodi's."

"When did this happen?"

"About forty minutes ago."

"What? Did you come directly here?" He couldn't believe she would have the presence of mind to do that. Most people have a period of shock that they have to work through after an assault. "Are you sure you don't want a doctor to check you out?"

She shook her head. "Just listen, alright?" He nodded, and let her say what she needed to say. "I closed up and went out the back, and I actually think that what happened was kind of my fault?"

He was angry at her for even thinking such a stupid thing. "How could it be your fault?"

She felt awkward, and that was kind of new for her. "I just mean that I should have been paying closer attention. I was feeling a little scatterbrained after..." she stopped talking instantly, realizing what she admitted to him. That she had been flustered and thinking about him, after they were together in that alley.

John held her gaze, but he had to will himself not to squirm in his seat. He knew exactly what she was saying, because he had the same problem. He was going crazy all night, drifting back to her and her taste - to how amazing she smelled. He couldn't focus on anything for very long, which is why he was here now.

"Anyway," she continued shyly, "I heard a noise by the dumpster and I listened for a few minutes, but there was nothing so I walked toward my car." She felt the thumping of her heart again as she remembered everything. "Just before I got out of the alley, a hand grabbed my hair from behind and then I was being tossed backward." Her breathing was becoming eratic. "I slid over the ground, and I tried to turn and see who it was, but..."

John stood and came around, sitting in the chair next to her. He reached out and grabbed her hands, turning them so he could get a look at the scrapes. "These look sore," he said softly, going to the sink and getting a bowl of hot water and a cloth. He returned and began to clean the dirt from the red scratches.

Natalie watched him numbly. Who was this guy, and where did he come from? She bit her lip while he cleaned her palms, and despite the pain, she felt better. He made her forget that she was alone.

"Keep going Natalie," he urged, looking up at her. "Tell me the rest."

"I was struck in the face so I didn't get a chance to see who hit me. I think they might have kicked me?"

"Why do you think that?" John finished with her hands and pulled his chair closer, taking a look at the bruise that was forming over her cheek. He grabbed her chin lightly and turned her head, studying the mark.

Natalie swallowed. "When I was on the ground I thought it felt like steel toes. I'm sure I was kicked." She didn't know whether she was happy or sad when he let her go, but she was still having a heck of a time breathing evenly. His face was an inch away.

"Where did they kick you?"

She thought back, trying to remember. "In my pelvis, and under my arm." She closed her eyes a second. "In the ribs."

"Anywhere else?"

When she opened her eyes they were watery, but there was no way she was going to cry. No way. "Under my chin. I blacked out after that."

John tried to focus on the work. He needed to focus if he was going to catch the bastard who did this to her. "My dad calls that the button."

Natalie turned, staring at him. "What?"

He grinned. "Under the chin? In boxing, if you hit someone under the chin, or in the button, you'll knock them down every time. Probably out, too?"

"Oh." She felt a familiar warmth spreading through her body. He just had that effect.

"Do you trust me, Natalie?" She didn't say anything. "Or, can you trust me just this once?"

She was tired. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was her needing to believe in someone else for a change, but she nodded her head slowly, giving into the fight. For right now, she was ending the battle. "What do you want from me, John?"

He grinned. "I want your shirt."

Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?" He chuckled, and the sound made her stomach flip.

John reached out and pulled the hem of her black Rodi's t-shirt away from her body. "Look." He watched her notice the partial shoe print that was staining the cloth. The treads were outlined in dirt, where a shoe had connected with her. She looked back up at him, and he moved away, heading for the door. "Wait here, and don't touch the shirt." Then he left the room, and her alone in it.

Natalie didn't know how long she was sitting here, but it felt like forever. Where the hell did he go? She sat back and grabbed the other half of the sandwich, needing a distraction from her dizzying thoughts and swirling emotions. She was almost finished when he stepped back in the room with a small case. "What's that?"

He sat beside her again and opened the case. "It's a very basic field kit. It'll help me preserve the print." He sprayed the shirt with some kind of aerosol spray, binding the dirt to the cloth. "I still need your shirt."

She looked up at him, unable to hide the blush that was staining her cheeks. "Oh, yeah." She stood from the chair, and he did too, and she froze. "You know, I have to admit this is a first."

"What is?" he asked, staring down at her.

"Using a crime kit to get me out of my shirt. It's more creative than most guys."

He grinned, and then his fingers found the hem and gently lifted the shirt up and over her head. He knew it was wrong, but he scanned her, taking in every delicious curve. She was so damn beautiful! Her bra was a deep, blood red and it was so thin he could see the outline of her nipples, teasing him.

Natalie didn't move. Her lust soared to the forefront when he took his time looking at her. "Anything else?" she asked, flirting despite her better judgement.

He licked his lips, and used every ounce of strength to stop himself from touching her right now, in the police station. He looked at the table, and grabbed a white square of paper. He looked into her eyes. "The other part of that shoe print is on your skin." He saw her studying her stomach with interest. "I want to take a print from your skin."

She glanced back up. "How?"

He grinned again and showed her the paper in his hand. "I peel away the plastic cover and press this to your stomach. Whatever is on your skin, will stick here, in the pattern of a shoe."

She was looking at him again, wide-eyed. "Will it hurt?"

His heart broke a little from that question. "No, Natalie." He tucked her hair behind her ear and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. Their eyes locked. "I wouldn't hurt you."

She nodded her head, and watched as he got on his knees and pressed the paper against her flesh gently. He moved slowly, using the edge of his warm hand to brush over the square. Then he peeled it back, and smiled at her, showing the faint design. She smiled too. "Thank you, John."

"It's my job, Natalie." He stood.

She stared at him. "It's not your job to believe me." She touched the side of his face, and melted a bit when he leaned toward her, hovering so close.

The door opened, and they both spun to the entrance. Jason stopped and grinned. "Am I interupting something?"

John frowned. He watched the detective look arrogant as he tossed out his innuendos, and then he watched him take in the sight of Natalie in her bra. John quickly undid his shirt and wrapped it around her. They were looking at each other again. "Thank you," he said, meaning it. He was grateful that she let her guard down for a few minutes. "I'll find out the truth." He grabbed the kit and the evidence, and walked to the door.

"But will I get my name?" she asked, certain she already knew the answer. He turned and looked at her, but he didn't respond, not with words. Instead, he left and he took her trust with him.

She stepped closer to the detective, who was waiting for her to leave. She didn't bother with him at all. Her legs moved and she went to her car. Tomorrow she had a press conference to give, and nothing was going to stop her from giving it.

Jason made his way back to his desk. He definitely interupted something, and now he knew more than ever that he was right about the two of them. They were going to be the end of each other, and that was unacceptable. He picked up his phone. "It's me. Yeah, I have a watch thanks. There's something you need to know, and right now." He finished spilling the beans, and then finally decided to call it a night. He's done all he could for now, and tomorrow was going to be a crazy one. He grabbed his coat and headed for home. Sleep was the only thing on his agenda.