A/N: Warning for strong language, although the worst parts are in French. And a little something for everyone who asked for Kate. Please review!
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"So, want to tell me what brings you back here, Agent Bauer?" Marc took a step back and crossed his arms, ready to hear Jack out. He wasn't a fan of the other man since a botched covert operation a few years ago had resulted in the death of one of the Mountie's colleagues. But now that he'd established that the American agent was on his turf, there wasn't any reason to continue a pissing match.
Jack jabbed his chin towards Eilish, who was being helped onto the stretcher by the paramedics. "That's Senator Eilish McNeil. I'm here on her security detail at the personal request of President Palmer." Never hurts to drop that name. "She was in the hot pool and fell unconscious. I pulled her out."
"And the gun?"
"There's a threat on her life. I had to be prepared for the possibility that she'd been shot."
"A threat? What kind of a threat?" Marc reached for Jack's weapon and handed it back to him.
"Someone doesn't like the Senator's approach to environmental legislation under Free Trade. We didn't think it was serious. Now I'm not so sure."
"You think this might have something to do with it?" Marc looked concerned.
"Possibly." Jack shook his head slightly. "I'd like to get a tox screen on her."
One of the paramedics called to Marc: "We're ready to go."
"Okay." Marc looked at Jack, soaking wet in his sweat pants and t-shirt. "You can't go outside like that. Go grab some clothes. I can escort her to the hospital and meet you there."
Jack hesitated. He didn't like the idea of letting the Senator out of his sight, but Marc had a point. The Senator should get to the hospital as soon as possible. He didn't want to delay them while he changed.
Marc rolled his eyes. "Jack, I'm the Security Liaison with the conference. You can trust me."
"Fine. Then you won't mind if the Secret Service tags along."
Marc shrugged. "Have him meet us at the entrance."
Jack pulled out his cell phone from the pocket of his hoodie and made the call.
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An hour and a half later Jack was plugging the vending machine with the dollar coins the locals called "loonies." Canada cracked him up. He remembered the last time he was here he'd wound up shooting out some tires with a bow and arrow. He smiled and picked up the two coffees, carrying one over to Marc.
"Thanks." The officer took a sip.
Jack looked at him over the rim of his cup, then lowered it and looked down. "Listen, Marc, about the last time we met…"
Marc waited. He wasn't going to make this easy for him.
Jack raised his head and looked the Mountie in the eye. "I'm sorry about what happened to Dave. I never meant for anyone to get hurt."
Marc nodded, taking another sip of coffee. "I appreciate that. He was a good man, and a fine member of the Force. His wife has been having a hard time of it, raising the two kids on her own." He stared unseeing at the windows to the parking lot. "Shit happens, I guess. Plenty of worse things have happened since."
Before he could elaborate, the doors to the waiting room opened and the doctor appeared. He was young, with a skier's tan on his face, and Jack could see a shell necklace and the collar of a tie-dyed shirt peaking out from under his scrubs. Not exactly confidence-inspiring.
"Hey," the doctor began casually. "You Bauer?"
"Yes."
"Okay, well, she tested positive for benzodiazepine. Not exactly the best thing to take before you hit the hot tub."
Jack chose not to acknowledge this handy piece of advice. "Is she alright?"
The doctor shrugged. "Yeah, she'll be fine. You can see her now."
"Thanks." Jack followed the doctor back through the doors and down the hall to the ward. He nodded to the Secret Service agent standing in the hallway and peeked around the curtain cordoning off the Senator's bed. She smiled up at him.
"Hey."
"Hey. How are you feeling?" He approached the bed and stood at a respectful distance.
"Much better now that you're here." She motioned to him to come closer. Jack took a step forward and she took his hand. "Thank you again, Jack."
"I'm just glad I could be of service." He gave her hand a gentle but reassuring squeeze, careful of the IV needle taped to the back of it. He placed it back on the bed. "Senator, the doctor said you tested positive for benzodiazepine. That's a sedative. Did you take any sleeping pills before you went down to the pool?"
Eilish shook her head. "No."
Jack persisted. "Did anyone give you anything to eat or drink?"
"No," she started to answer, then changed her mind. "Wait! My masseuse gave me a cup of tea. You don't think…?" She twisted her head quizzically.
"Thank you Senator. You've been very helpful. Agent Matthews will stay with you until you're released."
"Agent Matthews? What about you?"
"I have to find out who did this." Jack strode purposefully back to the waiting room.
"Inspector Tremblay, I'd like to bring the Senator's masseuse in for questioning."
Marc nodded and flipped open his cell phone, speaking rapidly in French. He clicked the phone shut and turned to Jack. "One of our members has gone to pick him up now. He'll bring him into the detachment. You can question him there."
"Let's go." As the men walked to the parking lot, Jack's cell phone rang. He climbed inside the white SUV with the RCMP decal on the side. "Bauer."
"Hi Jack."
Jack was surprised but pleased to hear Kate's voice on the other end of the line. "Hi, Sweetheart. How are you?" He checked his watch. Of course. She sometimes called him around suppertime if he was working late.
"I'm fine. Am I interrupting anything?" Kate opened the barbeque and checked on the chicken she was grilling.
Jack looked at the windshield with a bemused smile. Marc was outside, busy scraping away the frost that had formed on the glass while they were at the hospital. The heater was on full blast, but wasn't yet pumping out any warmth. Jack shivered slightly. "No, I'm just leaving the hospital."
"The hospital? Jack, is everything alright?" Even through the phone lines, Jack could tell her brow was knitting with concern. She had the most concerned forehead of anyone he'd ever met. If she were an actress, she would be spending a fortune on Botox in a few years. He found it kind of endearing.
"Everything's fine. I'll explain later. What's up?"
Marc finished clearing the windshield and climbed behind the steering wheel, slapping his gloved hands together a few times before he put on his seat belt.
"Are you still coming home the day after tomorrow?" Kate flipped the chicken and closed the lid.
"I'm not sure. Why?"
She let a hint of disappointment creep into her voice. "You're not sure?"
Jack sighed, a little impatient. "No. Something's come up and I have to check into it."
"Oh. Okay. Well, I was just thinking we should have Kim over for dinner." She pushed her hair back from her eyes. "But if you're not sure… When will you know?"
"I don't know, Kate." He shifted uncomfortably. He felt like he was in the hot seat. Then he looked at the dashboard: he really was in the hot seat. Heated seats. Nice. He settled back and enjoyed the warmth. "I'll let you know as soon as I can."
The vehicle was pulling into the RCMP detachment's parking lot. "Listen, I've got to go. I'll call you later, okay?"
"Okay. I love you."
Jack turned toward the window and bent his head into the phone. "I love you too, Kate." He clicked the phone shut and climbed out of the vehicle, following Marc into the detachment.
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"Tabernac! What the fuck is he doing?" Marc sprang to the door of the interrogation room and pulled it open. "Agent Bauer, will you step outside for a moment, please?"
Jack holstered his weapon and grumpily followed Marc to the observation room, giving the masseuse one final glare before he left.
Marc closed the door and turned on Jack. "Listen, you fuckhead. You can't pull a gun on a suspect. Do you want to call a Royal Commission down on my ass?"
"He knows something," Jack snarled.
"Yeah, what he knows now is that he's about to get a lot of money from the government after he sues us. Merde!" Marc spun around and slammed the wall. He faced Jack again. "Nice work." He ran his hand through his short brown hair.
"Listen, I know I can break him –" Jack started.
Marc held up his hand. "No. You're done." He walked to the glass and leaned his hands against the window sill as he contemplated the prisoner. "Caliss de chien sale," he muttered. Every time he saw this American bastard, he also saw his career heading for the toilet. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Here is what we are going to do. I'm going to go in and play the fucking Good Cop." He looked over his shoulder at Jack. "You'd better hope it works." He walked to the door and opened it slowly, willing himself to calm down.
Jack watched as Marc tossed a file on the table and half-sat beside it. "So. Our American friend is pretty pissed at you, Mr. Peterson." He reached for the file. "I see you're from the States originally yourself, is that right?"
Peterson nodded. "Yeah. I was born there. I've lived here since I was three."
"Hmmm." Marc grunted. "Ever apply for your citizenship?"
The man raised his head sharply. "What?"
"Ever become a Canadian citizen, Mr. Peterson?"
"What do you mean? I just told you, I've lived here since I was three years old."
"I'll take that as a 'No,' then." He made a show of studying the file. "I took the liberty of checking. You've got an outstanding warrant for failure to appear on a traffic violation in Montana." Marc looked up from the file without raising his head. "Should we send you home to the States?"
"What? You can't do that! I don't know anyone down there any more! My whole family is here!"
"I think Agent Bauer would be happy to help you get settled someplace comfortable."
Peterson squirmed.
Hidden behind the glass, Jack smiled. He had to admit, Marc was good at his job.
The Mountie sighed and closed the file. "Listen, Mr. Peterson. Bob. Can I call you Bob?" He didn't wait for a response. "I'm sure we both know we're not really interested in extraditing you for a traffic violation. So can we save ourselves a lot of time, here? How about you just tell me what you know."
The masseuse hung his head. "Some guy named Clements paid me a thousand dollars to slip a mickey into her tea."
Marc tried not to roll his eyes. "And do you have contact information for Mr. Clements?"
"Yeah. He's staying at the hotel. Room 438."
"Okay. Thank you." Marc stood and returned to the observation room. He closed the door and heaved a sigh of relief. "See? Sometimes all you have to do is ask nicely."
Jack snorted, already dialling his cell phone.