Part 8: It Matters To Me How This Ends - rated K+ for mild language and descriptions of injuries
Chapter 40.1: Go/No Go
Bethesda, Maryland, September, 2014
They heard a car driving around the back of the building and car doors opening and closing. Three doors, they counted. Reese rolled over on the floor to get the gun. One bullet left in the clip. If it was Leon coming back with his men for them, things could get a little dicey. Reese lifted the gun up toward the door.
Fusco walked in and drew back at the sight of the gun pointed their way, and the three on the floor.
"What the hell?" he said, with his hands spread out at his sides. Reese lowered the gun, and put his hand over the spot where Leon's bullet had hit his vest. He could feel the metal casing embedded below the surface, but it hurt too much to press any harder. He could tell his rib was broken under the bullet. He just needed to stabilize his ribs a little while he started to turn over and get himself up. Fusco walked forward to help him stand, while Harper and Logan saw to Root and Shaw.
"So, is someone going to tell us what happened?" Fusco said to the three of them.
"What kind of food did you bring?" Shaw asked, seeing white bags in their hands. Fusco just shook his head. Okay, food before answers.
A little while later there was a table pulled into the hallway, covered with open containers of steaming Italian food: pasta, meatballs, fish, broccoli sauteed in garlic, loaves of crispy bread, salad, desserts. And there was a large cardboard carton of piping hot coffee, and another one of hot water for tea. Heaven. Plenty of food for everyone. Courtesy of Logan.
Shaw was first in line, loading her plate, and then sitting on a chair pulled from the room where the prisoners had been. Root sat down next to her. She had a napkin over the cut above her eye, and Shaw could see that she was already getting a shiner on that side. Shaw had one too, from the punch in the head the prisoner had gotten off before the three men had left.
She was still confused about Leon. She thought he was going to shoot Reese again when Reese was down on the floor. But just as she had leaped at him, to save Reese, she saw Leon wink like he was telling her it was all part of the act.
Well, it had fooled her. She thought he was really going to do it, made sure he killed Reese with a head shot. So maybe the prisoners would think the same thing. Maybe this plan could actually work. Time would tell. Damn, her head hurt.
Reese had gone to check on Joey, Harold and Grace in the back of the building. He nodded and bumped fists with Joey for keeping the two of them safe back there, and told him to go get some food while it was still hot.
Harold was still at Grace's side. She was sitting up in a chair, but her eyes were closed. The lights were off in the room, and she was still groggy from the drugs Greer's people had given her. Reese sat down next to Harold.
"Fusco brought some food in for everyone. You should eat something." Harold looked pale and worried.
"I trust that your plan went well with Leon?"
"Well enough," Reese said, holding his ribs. Harold nodded, absently.
"Greer tortured her, John." Reese looked over to her, sitting on the chair, then back to Harold, leaning forward, staring.
"Sorry, Harold," Reese said in a soft voice, reaching over to put his arm around Finch's shoulders. Finch's face was hidden in shadow, but from the light of a bulb in the hallway, Reese could see the glint of tears on his face.
"When she woke up and saw my face, she thought I was the enemy. They've turned her. She thinks I'm one of them," he said. "I don't know which is worse – Grace believing I was dead, or believing I am the enemy."
"We can get her back, Finch," Reese said. Harold was silent.
There were footsteps in the hallway. Fusco and Harper were there at the door with a plate of food, some hot tea and some bags of new clothing. Harper stepped into the room and over to the two of them, whispering so Grace couldn't overhear her.
"We'll take care of Grace. Joey told us some of the details. You guys go have some food, and leave this to us." Harper shooed them out of the room. She sat down next to Grace, and put her arm around her shoulders, talking softly to her.
"Ms. Hendricks, I'm Harper Rose, and this is Detective Lionel Fusco from the NYPD. We're here to help you. You've been through a terrible ordeal, but we're here to help you, now. Okay?"
As Reese walked Harold back to the exit hallway where the food was set up, Harold could see that Reese was in pain, but trying not to show it. When they got to the exit hallway, Harold looked around at the rest of his team. Shaw was leaning over Root, tending to a bloody wound near her eye. Shaw's face was bruised, too. Harold turned to Reese.
"I think we should leave here as quickly as possible and go back to New York, to one of the safe houses. I think we need to lie low for a little while. We need to make a new plan before we strike Greer's operation. I don't think we're in any shape to do it right now. Look at us," he said. Reese looked at his team and nodded. He had to agree. They weren't at their best.
They could leave tonight, Reese thought, drive back to Manhattan and get themselves reset in the coming days. He needed to contact Leon again soon, anyway, keep the pressure on, get a status on Greer's whereabouts and plans.
There was plenty to do before they took on Greer, and the more they learned, the better prepared they would be. Having Leon planted inside Greer's organization could be the key to getting all the intel they needed before they pulled the trigger. Taking down Samaritan and Greer, with Samaritan watching every second for hostile action, would take every bit of the team's attention and talent. Best not to rush.
"Harold, what about Grace?"
"Detective Fusco and Harper gave me an idea. What if they convince her that she was a victim of some international crime. They could bring her back to New York, where she can get proper care. I'll have them take her to a hotel here in Bethesda for the night. She can get comfortable, get a good night's sleep, and I'll send a car to pick them up in the morning. Grace won't have to see me again tonight and get upset," Harold said. Reese could see the pain in Harold's eyes.
"It's a good plan, Harold. You're right. We're banged up a little bit and we need to regroup." Then he added one more thought.
"Don't worry. Grace is strong. She's going to come through this, Harold." Reese put his arm around Harold's shoulders again, and they walked together to the table for some food.
Chapter 40.2: Leaving D.C.
Bethesda, Maryland, September, 2014
Fusco was on his way back to the hide-out with the SUV. A lot of driving today. He had driven Harper and Grace to a hotel and got the two of them into a room where Harper could take care of Grace. Now he was on the way back.
The team was packing out their gear, so as soon as he got to the building, they would finish loading everything. Reese and the rest of the team would get him back to the hotel to keep watch over Grace and Harper through the night. Logan and Joey would jump out, too, and leave from the hotel. They were going to stay here in D.C. and would keep the home fires burning in the new office downtown.
Reese, Shaw, Harold and Root would take the SUV, with the boxes of weapons, back to New York tonight. And in the morning, he and the two women would get a ride back to New York by limo. It seems that Glasses had a limo driver he trusted who could pick them up and get them back to New York safely – and in style, too, Fusco thought. Long time since he had been in a limo – since his wedding day years ago.
Harper was turning down the covers on the two beds in their hotel room. She could hear Grace in the shower. Grace deserved a nice long hot shower after everything she had been through. She was still fuzzy-headed from the drugs Greer's people had given her before they tried to move her to the ranch in Virginia. Maybe the shower would help her get her thoughts together a little better.
There was a refrigerator in the room, and Harper took a peek inside. Great. Some little bottles of wine. She looked through them to see what was there, and picked a red for herself. There were some real glass tumblers on the counter outside the bathroom. She hated drinking wine from a plastic cup. Glass was so much better. She left the wine out to warm up a bit before she opened it. Lucky that she had thought to bring the loaves of bread left over from their feast earlier. She had re-wrapped a few into a bag to bring along. So now they could have some bread with their wine. And there was some dessert, too, for later, if Grace was up to it. It was almost like a girls' night-in. Maybe she could get Grace to dish about what had happened with Greer the last two months. Harper looked around the room. Only one little box of tissues. Probably not enough for this story.
Chapter 40.3: Back in New York
Manhattan, September, 2014
It was 5 a.m. when they had finally made it to the safe house. They had gone to the warehouse first and unloaded the boxes of weapons. They didn't want to be driving around with them in the back of their car out on the streets of New York. The safe house had its own supply anyway, so they didn't need to break open the boxes of freshly-cleaned guns, and re-stocked ammo. Those were now all reset, ready to be used for their next assault, should that happen any time soon.
Root had headed for the shower first, while Shaw went to a bedroom where they each kept a suitcase with clothing and supplies. She unpacked some fresh clothes to change into after her shower. It had been a long few days in the hide-out without the amenities.
Her head was pounding and she was curious how bad the black eye had gotten. It was lucky that the blow had been a glancing punch. If he had hit her square in the head, she might not be standing up right now. It was plenty hard enough, though.
She looked through her bag to see if there was anything for pain in there. Not much. She needed to pack a little better. Working for this team, she needed to be ready for just about anything. She smiled. That's the way she liked it. Be ready for anything, and it would likely come your way. Good times.
Reese was sitting with a drink, whiskey, on the couch in the dawn light. Harold had stayed awake with him while they were driving back from Bethesda. So he was tired and had gone off to bed when they got to the safe house. The women were taking care of themselves, so he was alone in the quiet morning, nursing his drink and some bad ribs.
It had been a crazy few days, nothing like what they had planned. Reese sat back and started to go through the timeline in his mind. Harold had been away for the weekend, and that's when the news broke that Grace was a prisoner, held by Greer for two months. When the team had breached the building back then, where Harold had been held captive, they hadn't known that Grace was a prisoner then, too. They had sprung Harold, but Grace had been left behind in Greer's hands. Plenty of time to play mind-games with her and turn her against the man she had once almost married. Harold was so traumatized from his torture that he didn't even remember Grace had been captured in Italy. Greer had made him watch it on a monitor as it unfolded, when Harold was his prisoner. It had all started to come back to him when Shaw called to tell him about Grace.
Harold was a mess. Tortured with rounds of sensory deprivation, drugs, and emotional manipulation. His memory gone until now. Grace kidnapped and tortured by the same man, and turned against him. He had already been living with her loss, letting her believe he had died in the ferry boat bombing, so he could try to protect her. Harold believed that Grace would be safe if he was out of her life. But it had not worked out that way. Reese didn't think Harold could take much more. He was cracking. Reese had to do something to help his friend stay intact. He was thinking of the possibilities. But he was running on fumes now himself. He needed some sleep.
He leaned back and took another sip, holding himself so the broken rib moved as little as possible with each breath.
Chapter 40.4: New-York-Concerned
En-route to Manhattan, September, 2014
"I'm sorry, I'm not following this. Could you tell me again?" Grace said. Harper looked back and nodded, patting Grace on her arm, with a look of concern. Not too much. She couldn't overplay it. She had to show she was concerned, but New-York-concerned. If you hit the dirt, you were expected to pick yourself up. A little help was fine, but no whining. It's New York.
"Yes, Ms. Hendricks. We have reason to believe that you were a victim of a crime that crossed international borders. The crime started here in New York, but involved perpetrators in several other countries in Europe, including Italy, where you were abducted. Can you recall any of the details of how you were kidnapped?" Grace's eyes widened. She had been kidnapped? This wasn't making any sense. She was an art teacher. Why would anyone want to kidnap her?
"I don't understand. I don't have anything anyone would want. I just teach art – to refugees from the war in the Middle East. I don't have anything anyone would want..." Grace was shaking her head, confused, shocked that something like this could happen to someone like her.
"I just want to get back to my students. I'm sure they must be heart-broken and scared that I just disappeared. They depend on me to be there. I can't just abandon them like this. I have to go back." Harper's voice choked for a second, and she felt hot in her face. Grace was something. She looked so meek and mild, but under that soft exterior, Harper thought, there must be one tough woman. She had been through so much. But she hadn't given up. She had kept her humanity. She had carried herself with – ah, yes, Grace.
The black town car drove swiftly along the highway, the trees on both hills just now turning gold, red and rust. Mid-town traffic would soon slow them down, but with Winston driving, it wasn't so bad. He had kept the mood light, sensing how fragile Grace was. He had talked sports with Fusco in the front seat, but Fusco's idea of football was not the same as Winston's.
There was an extra sparkle in Winston's eye. Something extraordinary had happened today. This morning he was an employee of his livery service in Manhattan, a job he loved. But a phone call had come to him from a man he remembered well. An odd fellow to be sure. This man remembered him, too, and said he was so impressed with his care and attention to his fares, that he had bought the livery company, just that morning, and he wanted Winston to run it and work on retainer for him, too. Winston was the boss, starting now. He thought he had been struck by lightning, but it had turned out to be true.
So here he was, on his maiden voyage as the new boss of his own company, with a very special group of fares in his car. He had driven all the way to Bethesda this morning to get them, and bring them back home, to New York.
Chapter 40.5: Italy
Upstate New York, December, 2016
Mid-December, and Jules had just gotten a message from her office in Paris. This was a little different. They were asking if she would be interested in helping to set up a refugee crisis center. It was a 6-month assignment, but if she wanted to stay longer to train new staff, that would be welcome. The refugees she would be helping were ones coming in from Sudan, mostly South Sudan. She had specific language skills, and familiarity with their customs, their history. She could help the humanitarian group hit the road running, instead of slogging through the inevitable painful learning curve with people who cared but knew nothing about their patients. If she could be ready to come January 1st, the staff would be ecstatic. It sounded intriguing, and she had accepted right away.
The timing was perfect. Reese was on his way today, and she could let him know she was shipping out in a few weeks. She was looking forward to hearing all about his trip to Bellingham to meet his brother and his family out there. It was amazing to see the change in Reese in the short time she had known him. The man who was so closed down, hyper-vigilant, even scary to some people, had found it within himself to live. He was opening up, bit by bit, and letting in the people who would be there for him, who would keep him grounded, keep him aimed in the right direction. He had found them at just the right time. They had been there all the time of course, but he didn't see them, really see them, until he was ready to be open again, to be vulnerable. It was a beautiful thing.
When he got there, they sat for hours over coffee, and dinner, and cognac. She watched his face as he told her about getting there at Matt's house, the little girl Annie at the front door, catching Jake, the full moon, meeting Samuel, reading bedtime stories to the little ones, and listening to the Lummi tale that Katie had read. He told her about Matt and Paula, about the welcoming ceremony for Jake at the church in Bellingham, about the rose, and about the stone outside the church, dedicated to the First Americans.
Then he told her about returning to Colorado. He had gone back to the stream where he had first seen the doe with her twin fawns. After the Lummi story, the fact that a doe had spoken to him seemed just normal. How could it be any other way? We find what we need along the way, if we just open ourselves to the possibilities.
They slept in front of the fire all night long on the L-shaped couch, for old time's sake, and in the morning, the sun was bright and warm on the deck. Jules got up and found Reese sitting on the lounge chair, with Buddha in his lap, the two of them sunning themselves in the morning light.
On his way back to Manhattan, Reese was thinking about how everything was falling into place. It was just past two years now that they had all come back from Bethesda, banged up, bruised, but not beaten. They had re-grouped, recovered. It was true that they had had a few bad days and nights along the way since then. But they had survived, and maybe even did a little better than that.
Team Machine had grown, and now had lights blinking in six major cities. Samaritan was less of a threat every day, thanks to the genius of Arthur Claypool, and Harold's geek squad of Root, Logan and their minions. Greer was still out there, too. But that is a story for another day.
Harold was too busy to notice the hole in his heart. Grace had returned to Italy, and she still had no idea that Harold was alive. Fusco and Shaw seemed content. Bear was eating them out of house and home.
So, why was he feeling like the tower, so carefully rebuilt with strong wooden pieces, was about to shake a little bit, as one of the pieces was removed from the structure. Just one small piece. How could it matter?
When he was leaving her house to go back to Manhattan, Jules had told him about her new assignment. She had told him that it would be something different for her, and she was looking forward to going. Her usual team would not be there. It would just be her and a new group of staff who would take over the site after she trained them. She would have time to sight see, to get to know the beautiful city where she would be stationed for six months, maybe more. And she could practice another language she loved: Italian.
She was headed to Rome. Where Grace was. It was a big place. Lots of people. What could go wrong?
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The End. Thank you for reading Saving the Saviors.
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