Chapter: 10 The Morning After
Please in the name of all that is holy & unholy.. review, if nothing else just say "here" kinda like a roll call... you will have my undying gratitude. Well, until ..I die..hhhm
"Pay attention boy, I'm cuttin' but you ain't bleedin" Foghorn Leghorn
Disclaimer " I say ,pay attention to me boy! I do not own Foghorn Leghorn, Barnyard Dawg,or Loony Toons... Warner Brothers does!"
Disclaimer "I don't own Bones!" She screamed, her eyes filling with tears.
It was the smell of hickory smoked goodness and the aroma of brewing coffee that first roused him from blissful sleep. He crawled out from under the still inviting warmth of the fuzzy blue blanket and slid on his stomach down the side of the bed until small toes touched the chill of the wood floor. Normally, he would have just jumped down but he had a mission in mind. Quietly, he tiptoed down the hall, he peeped around the kitchen doorway at the figure busily preparing breakfast. Up on the round kitchen table set his objective. He waited until he was sure she was completely engrossed in cracking the eggs before sneaking in and stealthily snatching the box off the table. Away he ran like a thief in the night hugging his looted cereal box tightly against the dinosaur on his pajama top. Plopping down on the braided area rug, he flipped on the tv, making sure the volume wasn't too loud. Soon he was enjoying handfuls of fruity circles. With the box in his lap he separated each enticing o by color, in his small hand, he always saved the red ones for last. Meanwhile the screen was aglow with shifting images of Saturday mornings' cartoon lineup. Crunching a mouthful of cereal and lost in the world of Loony Toons ,he didn't even notice the person creeping up behind him.
"Gotcha!" A pair of strong arms wrapped around him scooping him up into the air, hands tickling his sides. Fruit loops showered the floor as the giggling child begged, weakly ,to be put down. Instead, the the pair collasped onto the couch, laughing. Worn out, cheeks flushed pink he leaned back against his "attackers" chest, resting a halo of chestnut curls just under the mans chin and resumed watching Foghorn Leghorn play a trick on Backyard Dawg. Just as he got the next handful of loops sorted and ready to enjoy, Daddys' hand snatched them away, and was soon munching loudly. "Hey! Those were mine!" The youngster protested, feigning anger.
" What are you talking about? I say..What's it all about boy, elucidate!" Daddy said in his best Foghorn imitation. "Yo..you know wha..t hehehe" he was giggling again as dexterous digits dug into his ticklish sides.
"Think you've had enough of those.", man said chuckling taking the box away, " Mamas probably got breakfast ready... let's go eat." Once again Lance felt himself carried away in his Daddys arms. He looked up at the big smile and warm eyes, not brown like his or blue like Mama ..different, he hugged his Daddys neck whispering quietly " I love yo...
Sweets awoke with a start, the dream still so real he could still smell bacon..and coffee. I do smell coffee and bacon. With each mind clearing breath he was assaulted by the odor of food. He could hear the gurggling of a percolator and the scrapeing in a pan of someone cooking. There was only one someone. And he was just out of sight in the other side of the basement apartment. Lance pushed aside the stupid dream and the way it made his stomach twist into knots. The dull ache in his shoulder reminded him to move slowly as he pushed himself up with his right arm. That's when he noticed the way his left arm was now snuggly bound in a sling and his shoulder was wrapped in bandaging. Immobilized the shoulder pain was greatly decreased. He became aware too of bandages covering his pain was still there, but he would manage. He had virtually no recollection of being bandaged up. The last thing I remember was talking to Angela. Angela's safe...right?..yes.. He turned his body into an upright sitting position ,now, it was his knee, still swollen and sore, that demanded his consideration. He slid his left leg off the bed, flinching at the cold, rough feel of the concrete on his barefoot. Streaching out his right hand to support his bum knee, he gingerly moved the stiff limb off the mattress to join the other. He pushed through the discomfort and was now sitting up on the edge of the bed. Both feet flat on the the frigid floor. It was a bittersweet accomplishment, he hadn't eaten or had anything to drink for...two days? What was the last thing I ate...half a bagel? Coffee.. so long his stomach was beginning to rebel against even the thought of food, just out of spite. He had a headache and the inside of his mouth felt like he had been chewing cotton. He buried his forehead in his hand squeezing his eyes shut as he felt a wave of nausea and lightheadedness crash over him. He had to swallow hard, to fight the sick feeling about to over take him. Don't throw up, I do not want to throw up. After several deep breaths and a few touch and go moments the feeling finally abated, for now. He scanned his surroundings, not much had changed, except thankfully there was an unoccupied wingback chair in the corner. The blood...well most of it had been cleaned up. He tried to determine his next move. He wasn't physically bound in any way, maybe I could use something as a weapon...make it up the stairs. Right, with this knee and shoulder you're not getting anywhere fast. Besides he still has help..someone who has access to Michael and probably the others too. Remember the deal... Stay put, you don't know what might happen ...how it all works...yet. He stared at the narrow staircase that led up and out of this place. His prison. He heard the preoccupied movements of his captor. But, I really need to get out of here...if they don't find me...he's so unstable ... arrgh! I just gotta get out of here! Angela will tell Booth where...right? Use that big assed computer..pin point the house..it's what she does. But if she won't then...I should get up.. His scattered thoughts drove him to stand up, putting as much weight on his left leg as possible. He made it up, only to bring back the unrelenting queasiness. Suddenly he felt like he was spinning on a top, afraid he might crash he quickly sat back down. ..I've got to drink and eat... I'm not going anywhere like this. While he tried to recoup from his standing folly, eyes closed head down, he heard the scrape of the heavy oak chair dragging across the floor. Lance opened his eyes to find both the chair and the man were in front of him. The seat of the chair was facing him. He looked on as a paper plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, and small bowl of mixed fruit was set on the seat before him, along with a solo cup with...milk. No coffee?
"Com'on eat up. You've got to be starving. Here." He tossed a white plastic spork down on the plate.
Paper or plastic..nothing to useful there... Lance continued to glare at the plate of delicious looking food as if by eating, it meant he was giving another concession to his tormentor. But wanted to eat, he needed to. So he picked up the fork/spoon combination and dug into the eggs. Warm, light and just enough seasoning, they were great... though he loathed to admit it. He knew he should eat slower, his empty stomach should be eased back into service , but it was good and he had been ravenous. Only after all the eggs and half of the bacon were gone did he truly slow down. He kept his head down focused on the consumption of breakfast and avoiding eye contact with him. After a gulp of milk he set to work on the fruit. Halfway through he heard him chuckling. What's so funny? And that stupid laugh. Lance stopped eating. "What?"
" You still do that thing...that sorting thing with your food." He was leaning against the dividing wall, sipping coffee from a small mug.
The young man looked down at the plastic container ... sure enough each fruit type was shoved into its own section of the small bowl. He had done it without any conscious thought. Do I always do that?
"Eat everything, and here take these." he placed two large white capsules on the plate. "We need to get going as soon as the "bus" gets here."
"What do you mean... going?" We can't be going anywhere..I need to be here when they come. Sweets tried not to let the bitter disappointment show. He snatched the pills and swallowed them then finished off the milk. "Where are.. you taking me.. we going? "
"That...", Hawkins said grinning, as he leaned down to pick up the empty containers. "..is for me to know and you to find out." He tossed the trash in a clear plastic bag, which contained Sweets torn and bloody suit. He slipped out of the room. When he returned he had his phone.
" Now let's see..." Hawkins sat down beside Sweets. " oh here we go. Now watch this."
The pyschologist watched the small screen fill with action. Only this time it wasn't Michael Vincent who was playing happily on a slide. It was the little girl with golden curls and ocean blue eyes like her mother. Christine was playing at a distance not so far that she couldn't see the person with the camera waving, they must have waved...else why would the friendly innocent child be waving back.
Sweets heart sank, of course Angela would be keeping Michael close, so they logically moved in a new direction. Without Booth knowing what was going on or the danger their child was in, Christine would go unprotected from whomever this other guy is.
"I think you understand what this means...our deal still stands. My friend here, wave to Lance, [ a hand moves back and forth across the screen] will not harm a hair on that pretty lil' head as long as you don't give him a reason to. And believe me, it can get ugly when he gets carried away. So no trying to run off. Cooperate. I've been planning this trip for a long time..and nothing is going to stop it from happening.", Hawkins voice was full of certainty. "Hell, we'll even get to re-live some of the good ol' times. We had some fun didn't we? ",he said giving Sweets good knee a hard slap as he got up and walked into the other room.
What the hell does he mean .."good ol' times"? ...whose fun his? Cause that definitely wasn't fun for me... why couldn't he just forget I ever existed!...why did he ever find me at all!...wait, wait, wait they will be expecting me back to work right?...and when I don't show up Booth will know something is up...then..then he will have to look for me, right? ...and I wouldn't have broken the deal ...yeah, yeah thats it and Angela.. she will tell them everything then, about him soo they can find me. I just need to be good for a couple more days, then they'll know ..they will take precautions..then screw "the deal"!...screw him!... I hate him! ... as ever darkening thoughts raged in his pounding head...he was oblivious to his surroundings...his heart rate increased right along with his respiration. He was shakily rocking, in rythym with his rapid fire gasps of air. They have to look for me..they have to...He will have her killed. He's a monster!...crazy, hateful monster...Fun? What fun?.. broken bones aren't fun!...an..and..being beat by that godforsaken whip... tha..thats not fun!... being...being... the thoughts gave way to silence as he finally blackedout, falling back on the bed. The silent spectator in the shadows, just smirked and shook his head before continuing his preparations for the roadtrip.