A/N: As we have reached Chapter 7 here on our little journey, and it looks like this might very well be, (could possibly be, but no guarantee thereof), be the midpoint of my adventure, I think it's time we refreshed a few ground rules.

The story's make-up is as follows.

Title: If By Chance

Summary:"Chance is meeting your perfect other, but what if by chance, someone
has a different plan for you in mind."

(Okay… so I supposed that's a little vague…but I feel it conveys my needs for the story and I hate to give anything away, so, vague synopsis it is.)

Rating: Began as T, switched to M and I warned you at the end of the teaser that this was going to hit an M rating eventually.

I mean… stuff happens. It's a crime/hurt/comfort story.

Crimes are gonna happen. Bad schtuff is gonna happen to some peeps. Some peeps are gonna get hurt. And yes… eventually… some delicious comfort is gonna happen too.

And please remember, that whatever happens in FanFiction, in this story, is in no way, shape or form, the outright belief of the author. I don't condone any of this.

Well… except for the part about Ben Reynolds returning…and Gillian mouthing the words, "I love you". Yeah… I liked that too.

The "crime/hurt/comfort" genre is there for a reason.

It is what it is. Stuff… might… happen…

I feel it is necessary to remind my audience at this point in the story just incase you missed the synopsis of this puppy.

A few have also been requesting to be warned when bad schtuff is gonna happen. While I love you, I also cannot do this as (a whole), it will ruin the suspense, the drama, the emotion I hope I'm building in your gut.

All I ask, is that you trust me; trust in thine ninja.

Thank you for following me this far. When I say I'm loving your feedback, know this as the truth. I truly, honestly love waking up to your reviews, and your questions, and your excitement, and your enthusiasm, and your criticism. I've been living in this story for quite some time now and with each new chapter, I anticipate the next, and your reaction to it.

Now without further ado, I give you…


Creature Comforts


As the door closed, Gillian Foster looked across the room to her company in his Kennedy mask. Immediate recognition hit her as the events started to take form.

"What does he mean by showtime?" she asked. She removed her thin blanket and placed her bare feet on the floor. The cold cement sent a shiver up from the soles of her feet, and made her quickly pull back.

Kennedy crossed the room to kneel in front of her.

"I think its finally time," he said, voice muffled through his mask. Gillian narrowed her eyes slightly as she made out the smile in his voice.

"Time for what?" she asked panic rising in her voice. She watched as he reached beside her, grabbing her socks which hung from the end of the cot.

He laughed slightly and looked up at her, and she caught the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes. It warmed her insides; made her heart jump happily. He pulled on her socks quickly, yet gently, and reached forward to take her elbows in his hands.

"He's following the plan, Gillian." He exhaled quickly. "We're going to get you home."


The door opened and she stood, held lightly against Kennedy. He placed a hand to her back and soothed her, trailed a palm over his shoulder. She looked up at him slightly and he nodded. Together they walked toward Bush who opened his arm and directed them down the short hallway.

He took Gillian aggressively by the arm and her back straightened instantly.

"Easy," Kennedy warned, and the hand around her arm loosened considerably.

He pushed her into the first room they had brought her to, and she looked up to see the man in the Nixon mask standing in the center of the room, signaling her forward.

Hate flowed through her veins instantly as she saw the leader in this game she found herself in. Her opponent; the enemy.

She felt the heat flood her cheeks as she stepped toward him. The anger which sat heavily in her shoulders caused the muscles in her back to tighten. He gripped her arm and pushed her toward a chair.

Electrical equipment flourished in the room, sat on tables, on chairs, lined a bookcase in the corner that she had not seen before.

She sat heavily, pushed down by strong hands, and she looked toward Kennedy for a sign, any type of reassurance he could offer.

She looked to the gloved hand at her shoulder which raised from her and pointed forward. She followed his outstretched finger and looked directly into the lens of a video camera.

"Say hi to your audience," he told her breathing heavily by her ear. "Say hi to Dr. Lightman."

In front of her, above the camera, sat a small black and white monitor where Cal Lightman appeared on screen. He stood in the middle of their video room back at their office and the familiarity of the scene brought new emotions up from her gut.

Her Cal; there he was.

She gasped suddenly as the worried lines spread to her brow. Tears formed in her eyes and she let them fall unrelenting.

"Cal?" she cried out. "Can you hear me?"

She watched as he smiled uncontrollably and she waited to hear his voice. The lines fell from his face and he shook his head lightly. She stared vacantly at the screen.

She heard Nixon inhale deeply behind her and he placed an earpiece to her ear. The soft, familiar voice of Cal Lightman flooded her senses. She felt her shoulders relax slightly, nearly closed her eyes as his calm voice hit her ear. "Darling, can you hear me?"

She smiled sadly as more tears fell. "I can," she choked, voice breaking. "I want to come home, Cal."

Sadness stirred heavily in her heart, gripped her chest, and made it difficult to draw air into her lungs.

"I'm working on it," he soothed. "I'm bringing you home. I need you to be tough okay, love."

Again, a wave of sadness flowed through her, but her heart lightened with the faint glimmer of hope.

He'd get her home. He'd come for her.

"Okay," she offered, a fresh sob stealing her voice.

"That's enough," boomed Nixon behind her. "Say goodbye Gillian." He pulled the earpiece from her ear.

It bubbled quickly, instantly, sprang from her naturally. She had one more thing she needed to say.

"I love you," she whispered quietly.

She was pulled quickly from her chair and was dragged across the room. She turned in Bush's arms, looked behind her as they exited, to the last she could see of Cal on the black and white monitor.

Please Cal, she thought, as more tears fell. Find me.


She was pushed into her room suddenly, grappled toward her cot and stumbled. Kennedy followed and turned as Bush slammed the door sealing them inside.

"So that's it then," Kennedy said taking a few steps toward her, the smile still in his voice. "You're going home."

Home. Gillian thought. A shower. Her bed.

Cal...

She looked at him. "What's the deal?" she asked curiously.

He rubbed his gloved hands together in front of him. "An exchange."

"For?"

"You, for five million dollars."

"Five million," she choked as dread sank within the pit of her stomach. She shook the happiness and hope from her face.

"What?" He chuckled. "You don't think you're worth that?"

"Cal doesn't have that kind of money," she revealed honestly.

"For you he will."

"And he'll honour his word?" she asked, voice choking.

"That's the plan," he said reassuringly. "I've never known him to be dishonest."

She sat on the cot, pulled the thin blanket over her legs by her bound hands. "You've known him for long then?"

"All my life." He walked forward and sat beside her. Slowly, he shimmied to rest against her and Gillian welcomed the warmth he gave to her body.

"That's long then?"

He sighed slightly and shook his head playfully. "You really are trying aren't you?"

She smiled warmly. "It's what I do."

"And you do it well." He lowered his head to look to his lap. "I've known him for long enough."

She looked up at him, searched through the holes in his mask. "I just wish I had a name; something to call you."

"You know I can't do that."

"Still…" she allowed her voice to trail on.

He sighed heavily and turned his body toward her. "I never wanted to be a part of this, Gillian. I never wanted any of this, but as he puts it so clearly; we never had much of a choice in the matter."

"Why don't you stand up to him?"

"You've seen the position I'm in, haven't you?" He looked toward the door. "I'm doing what I can to make this right."

She reached forward, brushed against his leg with her hands. He pulled his attention away from the door.

"I do understand," she said looking up to him. "I'm sorry. It's just you've been such a comfort to me in all of this." She inhaled as the honesty spilled from her. "I'm worried about you. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

He removed his gloves carefully and placed them on the cot. Slowly, he reached forward and brushed the backside of his hand over her cheek, wiped a fresh tear from her face. She calmed under his touch and a tightening pulled at her stomach as he cupped his hand to her cheek.

"You don't have to worry about me," he said reassuringly. "It's you that I want to see safe." He pulled his hand from her suddenly, seeing something change in her face. "It'll all be over soon, and you won't have to worry anymore."

She looked to her hands; heat rose to her cheeks. "What is this all about?" she asked, voice pitch rising. "What is it you want from me?"

He shook his head slowly, breathed heavily again. "It has nothing do with you." He reached forward and lightly touched her arm. She welcomed the sensation; his kindness in it.

"Cal?"

"It has everything to do with him. What he's caused. What's he's done to-" He stopped himself short and laughed suddenly. "Look at you," he said shockingly. "Damn, you're good!"

She smiled. Lines formed at the sides of her mouth. "Not good enough I'm afraid."

"No," he reassured, shaking his head. "I don't know what it is with you; why I'm so taken with you." He stopped as she inhaled quickly, waited for her to release a heavy breath. "Maybe I'm just a sucker for those eyes of yours."

She blushed; looked down ashamed.

"I promise to get you home, Gillian," he said putting his hand to her shoulder. He trailed along the column of her back and repeated his motions as she released a few quick breaths.

She looked up, new tears falling down her face. "That sounds really nice," she released, closing her eyes slowly, mesmerized by the feeling of his hand on her back; the comfort he continued to show her. "I could use a hot bath."

He leaned forward. "You know, now that you mention it." She heard him inhale slightly. "You do kind of smell bad."

They laughed together and the sensation of it warmed her; made her heart jump, light and airy.

She was going home, she thought.


He sat with her quietly, mustered the courage to wrap his arm around her as they shared a final moment together; the grey suited Dr. Gillian Foster and the masked John F. Kennedy, Jr.

"I could say something," she said suddenly, interrupting their quiet solitude. "If any of this goes wrong, I'll tell them that you had nothing to do with it. That you were being used." Her voice cracked.

He rocked her gently beside him. "Nothing's going to happen," he soothed. "Except for you being safe and never hearing from me again."

She looked up sullenly with watered dark eyes. "That's what I'm afraid of. You deserve so much more than this."

She was shocked by her attachment to the man beside her; by the way her heart felt as he pulled her closer, forced her to rest her head against him. She smelled the strong smell of the rubber of his mask, the pleasant smell of his cologne, and his own scent. The scent returned to her from earlier when she was first taken; when her world was dark and she had nothing to rely on; trapped and bound in the back of the rattling van which shot quickly through the dark night.

"It'll all be over soon," he said quietly, and pressed his rubbered face to rest against the top of her head.

"You promise?" she asked him, shocked at how her voice bounced back weakly against him.

He raised a single finger to his chest, made an X over his heart. "Cross my heart."

The door opened suddenly and Gillian snapped her head from her resting place. Bush stared down at them in their embrace. His hand gripped the handle of the door tightly.

Bush shook his head at the pair. "You should see what our little eye in the sky pulled up." He directed the news at Gillian. "Your little partner has been a very naughty, naughty boy."

"What do you mean?" Kennedy asked standing, leaving Gillian's side.

Bush looked back to her, ignored Kennedy's interest. "Doesn't he ever play by the rules?"

Gillian raised her chin; narrowed her eyes on him. "Cal plays by his own rules."

Bush laughed under his mask. Muffled at first, it grew quickly to echo around the room. "Let's go short stuff," he bellowed. "Time to suit up."

Kennedy nodded, shook his arms by his side. "You want me to hood her?"

Bush chuckled shrilly. "There's really no need anymore."

"Okay," he said reaching forward to take Gillian by her hands, lifting her from the cot.

Bush laughed again. "Maybe you didn't hear me. She won't be needing a hood at all."

Bush turned to Nixon who appeared suddenly behind him, and the two shared a laugh. Kennedy clenched his fists; realization stirred within the room.

The tightness returned to Gillian's gut and she began to shake.

"What about returning her safe?" he asked stepping toward Nixon, concern growing in his voice. "That was our deal." he added strongly, pointing a shaking finger.

Nixon shook his head and chuckled. "Returning her was never part of the deal, so it seems."


A/N: Ruh roh… See what I did there? Gave you some hope… and then took it away… evil, evil ninja…