A/N: Nothing, nada, nil.
A/N: It has been awhile, guys. I am sorry for the delay, especially as I left a cliffhanger at the end of last chapter. I had lost my inspiration and desire to write at all, so this story sort of went on the backburner for awhile (I actually considered discontinuing). But, do not fear, for I have resolved to finish this story.
Next, thanks to the wonderful reviewers from last time: obsessedwithstabler, gigletrig, onetreefan, WuHaoNi, Sweet-4-Stabler, KaydenceRei, Psycho Strider, Drop Dead Saxy, x-xTwisted Nightmarex-x, Kate Taylor, Soaringmunkymuffins, AliasCSINYFriendsER, Hkitty9013, Kelly of the midnight dawn, CarbyLivesOn, Abbey06, Grey'sERChick6, estrelita lovesSVU, and Emmy. You guys rock!
This chapter is dedicated to my reviewers for I'll Be There (angsty Carby oneshot), because you gave me inspiration to write and a will to continue.
Olivia and Abby's laughter sounded in the small room. Abby had just finished explaining how she and Carter convinced Elliot to kiss his partner months ago in Chicago. Even as she explained it, Abby couldn't believe how long ago that seemed to be: it seemed like years instead of months. So much had changed since then; although Elliot and Olivia were still alive, someone was still out there…someone who wanted them all dead. Abby shuddered, remembering how close she had been to losing them…how she had believed they were dead.
"What are you thinking about?"
Olivia's voice suddenly broke through Abby's reflections. "Oh…" she said softly. "Just…" Olivia looked at her expectantly. "I can't believe you're alive," she said finally.
Olivia smiled sadly. "I wish I could remember more about you, Abby."
"You don't know what it was like to think that you were dead," she whispered. Olivia took her hand.
"But I'm alive now," she pointed out reasonably. She tried to get Abby to smile again, make her laugh. "Don't worry, Abby," Olivia said. "I will remember you. Why don't you tell me something else?"
Abby remained silent for a long time, but Olivia didn't try to urge her further. Finally Abby asked, "Do you trust Dr. Wright?"
Olivia frowned. "Yes," she answered right away. "He's been the only one to help me and he's helped me get some of my memory back."
"But he told you your name was Rose," Abby pointed out. "Why did he do that?"
Olivia shrugged. "The same reason Elliot is in Chicago?"
Abby nodded slowly. "I guess…"
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you ask me if I trusted Dr. Wright?"
Abby hesitated, and then said quietly, "I don't."
Olivia looked taken aback. "You don't trust Dr. Wright?"
Abby shook her head. "Not at all."
Olivia frowned. "Why not?"
Abby sighed. "There's just…something about him that I don't like. He gave me a weird look…It just seems like there's something familiar about him…but I can't place it…"
Olivia only nodded. "Well, he seems nice enough to me," she said. But her tone sounded uncertain.
Abby suddenly frowned. A look of worry passed over her face and she bit her lip. "Something's not right…" she whispered.
"What do you mean?" Olivia's tone was slightly alarmed.
"I-" Abby couldn't explain it. She had this sudden feeling that something was very, very wrong. She tried to clear it from her mind, but it wasn't working. The feeling remained and it began to sicken her.
Something was very wrong.
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Agent Miller walked back to the car where Agent Smith was already waiting. Smith drummed his fingers impatiently on the hood of the car; he had finished his lunch long before Miller. Miller smiled weakly as she approached.
"Have a nice break?" he asked sarcastically. Miller knew he wasn't really angry.
"That I did," she replied.
He unlocked the car and opened the door. He and Miller had been assigned to the Chicago scene; they were the first ones driving down. They were just outside the borderlines of New York state; it looked like they were in the middle of nowhere. No one else was around. He knew they still had a long way to go.
He and Miller slammed the doors behind them. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded. He turned the key and turned on the engine.
It happened in one explosive moment. Neither of the agents were alive long enough to feel the heat of the bomb as it ripped the car to shreds.
Somewhere nearby, someone in the shadows snickered quietly.
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It was rather difficult work, moving both the doctor and the detective to the car. Michael Bloomberg had not expected Elliot to be alive, but he thought he had hidden the shock of seeing the detective again rather well. Bloomberg had enjoyed beating the detective up, at any rate. He was actually starting to think this would be rather fun, being able to kill both men at once.
Bloomberg frowned. His scheme was not going at all according to plan; it seemed all attempts to wipe out the doctors and detectives had failed, miserably at that. However, he couldn't help feeling this might actually be a stroke of luck: he had a chance to make an even greater plan.
He knew he had to work quickly. He had already dragged Elliot to the car and was now coming back for Carter. Bloomberg reached down into the unconscious doctor's pocket and pulled out his house keys. Bloomberg laughed.
It was all too easy.
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"Abby?" Olivia asked hesitantly. Her tone was uncertain, worried as she watched Abby's face pale. "Abby, what's wrong?" she asked more urgently.
Abby shook her head. "Something is wrong," she murmured. "Something is very, very wrong."
"What's wrong?" asked Olivia. "What's wrong, Abby? Tell me!" Abby's tone was beginning to scare her. The doctor was still shaking her head and looked as pale as a ghost.
"I…I have to call John," Abby mumbled. "I have to call him…Something is wrong, Olivia." Abby sounded close to tears now. Her voice trembled. "Something is wrong."
Olivia looked at her companion, concern filling her deep brown eyes. Abby kept repeating that something was wrong, but seemed unable to tell Olivia what exactly was wrong. "There's a phone nearby," Olivia told her. "Go call your husband," she continued softly.
Abby nodded vaguely and began to edge towards the door. "Yes…Yes, I will call him. I'll be right back, Olivia…" Her voice trailed off and she quickly left the room.
Once in the hall, Abby dashed towards the pay phones that she remembered from a few days earlier to be somewhere in the middle of the hallway. She fumbled around in her pocket for change and then dialed her home number with shaking hands.
Why hadn't she called before now? Why had she waited so long before talking to Carter after the accident? She hadn't told him anything about Olivia…She had been too caught up with Dr. Wright and the baby…The sickening feeling in Abby's stomach made her about ready to explode.
"Come on, damn it!" she yelled into the receiver as the phone slowly received the number.
The phone rang, slowly, too slowly for Abby's comfort. She hardly dared to breathe, as if her very breath would keep Carter from answering the phone. She was close to tears and with each ring, she became more and more agitated.
"Pick up the phone," she moaned. "Please, please, pick up the phone. Come on, John. GET OFF YOUR LAZY ASS AND PICK UP THE PHONE!" she shrieked.
"Hello, you've reached Drs. John Carter and Abby Lockhart," recited Carter's calm voice on the answering machine recording. "We're unavailable right now, so please leave your name, number, and message at the tone, and we will return your call. Thank you."
The sound of Carter's recorded voice on the answering machine was almost more than the worried feeling in Abby's gut could take. When the answering machine sounded its beep, she broke down completely.
"No!" she half sobbed, half screamed into the receiver. "Please, please pick up the phone, John! Please, don't do this to me!" Her voice rose in pitch and she shrieked into the receiver. "John, please talk to me! Answer me, damn it! Please," she moaned. "Please, John…pick up the phone…"
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Carter groaned; his head ached with a pounding headache and his back felt as though he had been dragged a great distance, irritating the old wounds. He rolled slowly to his side and felt his body jolt with shock at the sight that met his eyes.
He was back at the mansion; Carter recognized the wallpaper immediately. How he had gotten there, he didn't know…the last thing he remembered was…Elliot's apartment. They were talking about Abby…but what had happen-
The memory came back sharply, abruptly. The man. The man that had beaten Elliot…White…Richard White. He must have knocked me out and then taken me here, Carter realized.
Elliot was there too. Elliot was next to Carter on the ground. He lay perfectly still, his breathing slow, but noticeable. It comforted Carter to know that Elliot was still alive. The detective was still unconscious, by the looks of it, but at least he was alive. That's what really mattered.
The sound of the phone ringing shattered the deathly silence. Carter gasped with a sharp intake of breath; the sudden noise had startled him. He looked instinctively towards the door of the guest room that he and Elliot were being held in. Carter knew it was locked intuitively. There was no way it would be unlocked.
He and Elliot were prisoners. Prisoners of Richard White…prisoners in the mansion…Carter's mansion…I'm a prisoner in my own house.
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Michael Bloomberg's head jerked upwards at the sound of the phone ringing. He was sitting on one of the plush armchairs a little ways down the hall from the guest room in which he was holding his two prisoners. The phone's ringing didn't really bother him; he would let the machine get it. The machine was right next to him. Bloomberg gloated; his plan was absolutely perfect.
The machine began to roll as the caller recorded the message. Bloomberg gasped when he heard the voice, but he could not keep the smile for gliding smugly across his thin lips. He paused, figuring out in a second how best to handle this phone call.
It was all too easy.
He pulled on the ski mask that was sitting on the table next to him and walked slowly to the guest room. He unlocked it and opened it slowly, hesitantly.
John Carter's head jerked up when he heard the door open. Bloomberg pulled the gun from his pocket and pointed it at the doctor. "You, with me," he said roughly. "Now!"
Carter climbed slowly to his feet and followed Bloomberg from the room. Bloomberg kept the gun trained on Carter the entire time. Bloomberg led him to the room with the answering machine where Abby's shrill voice was still sobbing on the machine.
"John, please talk to me! Answer me, damn it! Please, please, John…pick up the phone…"
Carter's eyes widened and he looked at his captor, contempt etched in every line of his face. His heart was breaking at the sound of his wife's agony.
"Let me talk to her," he whispered fiercely. He felt the gun jab into his neck, but he refused to relent. "Let me talk to her, please!"
To his surprise, his captor grabbed the phone and shoved it into Carter's shaking hand. "One wrong move and-" He nodded significantly at the gun; Carter understood in an instant. He eagerly pressed the talk button, ignoring the cold metal against his temple.
"Abby, sweetheart, it's me," he said into the phone, as calmly as he could. Carter felt her sobs continue to pull at his heartstrings and his hatred for the man standing with the gun next to him increased even more. "I'm right here, Abby," he told her as Abby's sobs continued in his ear. "I'm sorry it took me to get so long to you, please forgive me, honey."
Abby's sobs paused. Then, uncertainly, "John?" Her voice was brittle, fragile, broken.
"I'm here, Abby," he reassured her. "I'm so sorry."
"Oh, John," she said frantically. "I've been so worried. When you didn't pick up, I thought, I feared…"
"Abby, I love you. I love you so much." Carter's voice caught in his throat as he realized the direness of his situation. Would this be the last time he would ever hear Abby's voice?
"I love you too, John," she whispered. "I am sorry I couldn't call earlier. I have so much to tell you…I-"
"Abby, listen to me," Carter said. His tone was urgent. His mind was set. He knew he might die for his next move, but he had to tell her. She was his chance. She deserved to know what was happening, even if it cost him his life. He would die for her. He would die so she could save herself.
"Abby, I - I - Abby, something terrible has happened!" In an instant, Carter felt Bloomberg advance on him. Carter's tone became fast as he frantically tried to convey the information. His tone rose in pitch and he began yelling into the phone. "Richard White is alive and he's holding me and Elliot captive in the mansion!"
Bloomberg advanced instantly on Carter. He made a grab for the doctor, but Carter dodged him and began sprinting, talking as he ran. "Abby, I need you to save yourself! Please, do not come here! White will kill you; he killed Olivia!" Carter dodged a blow aimed at his head, but missed the next one that was sent at his stomach. He dropped to his knees. "I love you, Abby!" he gasped into the phone. "I love - ARGH!" Carter screamed in agony as Bloomberg kicked him repeatedly in the stomach. The phone fell from Carter's hand.
"You bastard!" Bloomberg shrieked at Carter as he beat him. "You idiot! I told you to watch your mouth!" Bloomberg stamped on Carter's nose; Carter felt it break and the blood ran everywhere. "You'll pay for this!"
"I - don't - care!" Carter yelled. "You killed Olivia; the least you could do is spare my wife! I told her to save her!"
Bloomberg bent down and slugged Carter across his bloody face. "You know what, John? It's all right with me that you told her. You know she'll come running here to save you, and then I'll be able to kill her too!" Bloomberg laughed manically. Carter was too breathless, too pained to respond. Stars danced in front of his eyes.
"Oh, and one more thing," he added silkily. "Get my name right, would you? I'm not Richard White as that idiot detective thought. I'm Michael Bloomberg!"
Wha- Carter began, but he could think no more as Bloomberg delivered a final blow to his head, rendering him unconscious.
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Abby held the phone in her hand, her breathing ragged and shallow. Her heart was racing, she could hardly believe what had happened. Carter had screamed, something was wrong. Someone - White - had attacked him. White was holding her husband and Elliot as prisoners. The sickening feeling in her stomach refused to lessen.
Abby tried to steady her breathing and think straight. The sound of her husband screaming terrified her past tears. She wiped her eyes and bit her lip. She could just leave now, it's not like she had any clothes with her anymore, as her suitcase had gone up in the flames of the car accident. Abby figured it would probably be expensive to get a plane ticket this late, but she was willing to pay that price. She had to get to Chicago.
Mind set, she raced back down the hall to the exit. She had just passed Olivia's room when the door opened.
"Abby?"
Abby whirled around. "Olivia…" Abby had forgotten about her in her hurried plan making. "Olivia, I - I have to go to Chicago."
Olivia studied her concernedly. "What happened?" she asked urgently.
Abby shook her head. "White - Richard White is holding my husband and Elliot prisoner," she whispered.
Olivia's eyes widened. "White's a rapist."
"I - What?" Abby frowned. "When - How did you know that?"
"I'm not sure," Olivia replied uncertainly. Abby looked at her carefully. Could her memory be coming back?
She had no time to press the matter. She had to leave, had to get on the next plane to Chicago. "I have to go."
"I'm coming with you."
Abby faltered. "Olivia - you can't. It's too dangerous, and besides, how would you get out of the hospital?"
Olivia gave her a twisted smile. "Dangerous, huh? It's more dangerous for you to go alone." Abby had to admit she was right. "As for getting out of the hospital…I'll just leave."
"What?" Abby frowned. "You'll just…leave?"
Olivia nodded. "Nobody is watching me. Dr. Wright's in Chicago, remember? The nurses are off for the rest of the weekend. We can just walk out the door, get on a plane and go."
Abby hesitated for another moment, chewing on her bottom lip. It would be extremely risky to take Olivia away from the hospital when her memory was still so vulnerable and incomplete. To buy herself time, she voiced this fear aloud.
Olivia looked at the doctor intently. "Chicago holds the key to my memory. Dr. Wright has made that clear enough to me. I dream about Chicago, it was the first place to come to my mind when I was prompted by the word 'place'…Chicago means something to me, Abby. I just have to know what."
Abby nodded slowly, taking this in. She knew that time was running out and that she could do this for Olivia. The solution came to her in one, simple stroke.
"Let's go."
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Elliot's head was spinning. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the darkness of the room. He frowned, trying to remember what had happened. Where was he?
Elliot moaned; his stomach felt like it had been used as someone's punching bag - a very strong and aggressive someone. Elliot could feel the bruises beneath his fingertips. He felt as though he had been hit by a monster truck; his entire body ached.
Cautiously, he rolled over to his side. As soon as he saw the figure next to him, everything came back in a flash.
Carter…the door…the gun…White…
Carter was looking back at Elliot through bruised eyes. His face was bloody and his nose was squashed - broken? Elliot's eyes widened as he looked at his friend's broken body. Elliot winced. He wished Carter had just left the apartment when he had the chance.
"He's asleep now," Carter whispered when he saw Elliot looking at him.
"White?" Elliot croaked. His throat burned when he tried to speak.
Carter shook his head, his eyes wide and terrified. "Bloomberg."
"What?"
Carter nodded gravely. "It's him, Elliot. He has us here, at my mansion. This is one of the guest rooms."
Elliot let out a deep sigh. "Why didn't you just leave?" he asked mournfully. "What did he do to you?"
Carter shook his head. "I couldn't leave you there…And I brought this upon myself." Elliot looked at him confusedly so Carter continued in a hollow voice. "Abby called. She got the answering machine, and she was so scared. She sensed something was wrong. She was sobbing, Elliot.
"Bloomberg let me talk to her, but he warned me not to tell her where we were. I - I couldn't help it. I told her and Bloomberg…" Carter's voice trailed off as he indicated his nose. He didn't need to say anymore.
Elliot nodded slowly, taking the information in. "But…Bloomberg? He's supposed to be dead, isn't he?"
Carter gave a half-shrug. "I guess not. But now's not the time to think about it."
Elliot nodded again. "You're right. Listen…John," Elliot began seriously. Carter leaned his head in closer, concerned. "Look, this is a pretty bad situation. Who knows what will happen to us? I want you…need you to promise me something."
Carter's eyes widened and he nodded quickly. "Anything."
"I need you to promise me that if things get really bad, if Bloomberg tries to kill one of us, that you let me die for you." Elliot's voice was barely a whisper.
Carter gasped. "No!" Elliot shook his head, but Carter didn't stop. "No, Elliot, I can't. I won't let you die, not for this-"
Elliot's eyes suddenly snapped to the door. Carter fell silent as he listened intently too. Both men could hear the faint noises of stirring on the other side. They knew that Bloomberg must now be awake.
"Promise me, John. No matter what happens, please promise me that you will leave me and save yourself. Olivia is dead, John. She's dead and she's not coming back. But Abby…Abby is still alive. Abby needs you to stay alive for her. You know it. She will not be able to handle your death. You have to stay alive for her, if nothing else. Please, promise me."
Carter closed his eyes and then nodded slowly. "I promise," he whispered.
The door suddenly opened and Bloomberg entered. He looked at Carter and then Elliot, his smile widening.
"Ah, Detective, glad you could join us. Get up now, both of you! Got a special surprise for you. One you would die for…"
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Abby and Olivia watched the rain beat down hard on the taxi window as it pulled closer to the mansion. Neither woman spoke; each was too absorbed in her own thoughts. Abby had been quiet almost the entire trip and Olivia's attempts to engage her in conversation had only resulted in minimal words. After that, Olivia had fallen silent, allowing Abby to pull herself away into her own circle of grief.
When the taxi pulled to a stop, Abby threw some bills at the driver and leapt out of the car, racing through the rain to the doorstep. She fumbled in her pocket for her key. When she finally pulled it out, her hands were shaking so much, she could barely fit it in the hole. She finally entered it, and turned the knob. She and Olivia raced inside.
"John?" Abby called. Her voice echoed in the seemingly empty mansion. Her breath caught in her throat. She turned to Olivia. "We better split off; we'll cover the ground faster. You take this floor and I'll go upstairs."
Olivia nodded and walked off in search of the bottom floor. Abby tore up the spiral staircase. She could hardly breathe from anticipation. The sickening feeling in her stomach that something was terribly wrong had come back to her and she fought to keep herself from throwing up.
There was nothing there…no one…not in the master bedroom, or any of the guest bedrooms…not in the living room…no one, nothing.
She raced back down the stairs only to find Olivia shaking her head dejectedly. The former detective's eyes were wide and fearful.
"What?" asked Abby, her heart racing. "What did you find?"
When she came closer, Abby noticed tears in Olivia's brown eyes. They did nothing to calm her nerves. Slowly, she took the piece of paper in Olivia's hand and read it quickly. Hopelessness and despair welled up inside of her. They were too late. Abby screamed and collapsed to the ground, dissolving in tears.
A/N: Yes, a cliffhanger. Haha, I'm evil. Please review and I will try to get the next chapter up...sometime soon. No guarantees though.