Title: Julia

Chapter 12: No Means No

Megan regarded her boss across the conference room table with sympathy and concern. Don looked terrible; the lack of sleep and food and the unimaginable stress of the past hours had taken their toll. The stubble on his face seemed to accentuate the shadows under his eyes and cheekbones; the eyes themselves were bloodshot, and filled with barely suppressed agony.

Don had just finished calling Alan, Megan knew; she hadn't heard the discussion, but considering the news that Don had to give him, she imagined that it had been a heart-rending conversation. The mood of the entire group had gone from hopeful to anxious to subdued; there was still tension there to be sure, but it was tempered by despair.

Their visit to Markie had generated very little information. He admitted that he had allowed Jessica to borrow the van, but claimed he had no idea what she was using it for. The agents had known that he was a suspected drug dealer, among other things, but they had never been able to pin anything on him, and the present time was no exception. They threatened him with increased surveillance, with putting his business under a microscope, but without some kind of evidence against him it was an idle threat, and Markie was smart enough to know it. They had put out an APB on the van, but there were no hits so far.

When the next call came, things went from bad to worse. They had been sitting in the conference room, along with Liz and the technician, trying to brainstorm their way through the current facts, and come up with another way to generate a lead. At the sound of Don's cell phone, and the resulting look on his face as he handed it to the technician; everyone in the group rose to their feet, and banded around him. They were dreading the next message, and hoping at the same time that somehow it would give them a clue. Don made sure that the technician had the phone connected to the monitoring system before he grabbed it again, flipping it open with shaking hands.

This time he looked at the display before he even bothered to speak. Sure enough, there was Charlie, again. This time, his brother was suspended in some kind of torture device. Don could see that he was still bleeding, and as he moved through nausea into an odd sort of detachment, he noticed that she had removed the splint from Charlie's arm. He clutched the phone tightly in both hands as the team silently watched the newest video play on the presentation screen in the conference room. Don concentrated on making his thoughts transmit through his hands and directly into Charlie, somehow. "I'm coming, Buddy," he thought over and over. "I'll find you, and then I'll kill the bitch."

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Julia congratulated herself as she dropped the transmitting cell phone into the U.S. Postal Service drop box. It thudded gently, dropping onto the day's mail, and she smiled as she walked back to the van and climbed inside. Good. She had chosen this busy street on purpose, knowing the box would probably be well-used. She didn't want the cell crashing to the metal bottom and breaking before Don had seen all the video. She was nothing if not intelligent.

She started the engine and checked the rear view mirror, pulling into traffic carefully. As she headed back toward the warehouse – via International House of Pancakes – she began to hum, slightly off-key. Perhaps she would get an order of her favorite to go, as well. She doubted that Charlie was hungry, but Julia was relatively certain she could find something interesting to do with the whipped cream on top of the waffles. She laughed at the idea, sputtering a little at the end as her mood suddenly changed. She had been telling Charlie the truth, to a certain extent, when she taunted him about his brother's slightly less inhibited action in the bedroom. During their one and only night together, Don had hardly blinked when she padded from the bedroom in search of a tub of Cool Whip. Now, the memory reminded her why she was doing this in the first place. One night – less than one night, really. After half the night, she had understood that she and Don were compatible on a deep and lasting level; she had been convinced that he would be both exciting in the bedroom and satisfy an even deeper yearning that she was just beginning to acknowledge herself. He would be her life's partner, in every way, and it would be delicious, and amazing.

She frowned, growing less hungry for food by the second – and more hungry for revenge. He had no right to leave her. He had no right to use her that way. He had no right to lead her on. He had no right to live without her; at least not happily. Never happily. Now that he knew Charlie suffered because of him, his happiness was, at best, on hold. Once she got him to the warehouse and took Charlie's pathetic little life in front of him, Don would never be happy again.

She gave up on IHOP and stayed on the freeway, heading back for the warehouse. Don had to suffer a little more, first. She cranked up Foreigner's "Cold as Ice", content in the timing of that particular song hitting on the Classic Rock CD at that particular moment. She screamed along with it, secure in the knowledge that the cash she had socked away in the health club locker was waiting. After Charlie was dead, and Don was still so out of it he couldn't move, Julia/Jessica would have plenty of time to retrieve the money, along with the fake ID and passport stored with it. She would be in Jamaica on a private jet before Charlie's body was cold.

It had never mattered that they not know who she was. She wanted them to know who she was. The prepaid cells and elaborate plans had been final gifts to Don, her little FBI agent. One last thing for him to care about investigating. Her mood was still dark, and her determination grew. She decided, as she approached her genius, that she could give Don a last video, as well. He could replay it in his mind for the rest of his miserable life. She almost chuckled, thinking about Don watching that. Oh, damn yeah, that was good. Definitely worth another little shot of the Rock, if the first one had worn off. She tilted her head slightly, reconsidering. Maybe not. It might be more effective if Charlie was aware of what was happening.

She waited for the warehouse bay door to slowly lift, still thinking, still planning. After this video, she further decided, she would move him to another piece of equipment – maybe to something conventional, like The Stretcher – and then implement her ballsiest plan for delivery. Julia was sure that by this time, Don was full-out G-man at the Bureau, using all his resources to find Charlie. While he worked himself senseless, she would drive to his apartment, and leave the phone on his welcome mat.

Stupid bastard.

It must be genetic.

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The second phone had been traced to a mail drop-box on a busy street uptown. The frustrated agents were forced to wait for a federal judge to execute a warrant before they could force the U.S. Postal Service to open the box and give them the phone. It was even more frustrating, knowing they probably wouldn't get anything from it anyway.

Sure enough, forensics confirmed that there were no prints, and a relatively quick search showed that it was not purchased from the same location as the first prepaid cell had been. Nevertheless, the team launched a more extensive search to determine its origin. While Colby and David concentrated on that, Megan finally persuaded Don to let her drive him to the safe house, so he could get a few hours of rest. Not that she expected him to get any; but maybe it would help him to at least spend some time with his father. Megan knew for a fact that it would help Alan.

Halfway to the safe house, Don talked Megan into stopping at his apartment. "I've got an agent with me to provide back-up," he argued. "Plus, LAPD has a car on the place. If Jessica dared to show up there, we'd have her already. I just need to get some clothes. Maybe my shaving kit, and a toothbrush." Megan finally acquiesced.

Things seemed calm enough when they arrived. They made the unmarked LAPD unit immediately, and stopped to talk to the plainclothes detective. "Nothing unusual," he assured them, staring up through his car window at Don sympathetically. He indicated a stack of photos on the seat beside him. "Couple of guys asked me if I was waiting for someone, and that overweight nurse who lives next door to you stopped and talked about the weather for a while…."

Don stiffened, and Megan looked at him worriedly. "What?"

He returned her gaze with both confusion and dread on his own face. "She's out of town until next week," he whispered. "I'm feeding her damn cat."

Megan immediately drew her weapon and planted herself between Don and the world at large. "Should we call in some back-up?"

The LAPD officer spoke up, defensively. "She was fat, and was in a uniform, and her hair was just like the picture! She left just a few minutes after she got here, and she was wearing different clothes…."

Don pushed at Megan, He spoke frantically. "Upstairs. Upstairs."

Propelled forward, she barely had time to bark "Cover us!" over her shoulder. The trio hurried up the outside staircase, turned into the interior corridor that led to Don's apartment, and cautiously approached.

Megan felt, saw and heard Don rush past her in a blur, and she instinctively reached out to stop him and missed. "Oh, my God," he whimpered, and she followed his eyes.

Her own narrowed when she saw the cell phone lying in the hall, outside Don's door.

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Julia smiled to herself as she remembered the fool of a cop; he had fallen completely for her fat nurse disguise. She had used it before, to get into the building unnoticed, and it had come in handy again. The fat suit had been a good investment. She glanced in the rear view mirror to check her hair, and was pleased with what she saw.

She was positively blooming.

She looked happy and confident and trustworthy and…sated. She would have no trouble convincing someone to help her with the next step.

Julia nearly skipped like the children in the playground as she searched the park for a likely suspect.

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Stella Inabe smiled at the pretty girl beside her on the bench, just outside the perimeter of the playground. She enjoyed her afternoons at the park, the laughter and screams of excited children filtering past the pages of whatever book she was reading. Her husband didn't approve. He was afraid that Stella was causing herself unnecessary pain by immersing herself for a few hours into the world they had so recently learned would never be theirs. Stella couldn't make him understand that the pain was bittersweet, and the decision was beyond her control anyway. Her barren and atrophied womb acted like a magnet to draw her here. For a few moments, on a good day, Stella could almost convince herself that one of the children was hers.

Today had been a good day, and Stella was peaceful, and happy. A tiny blonde, long hair flowing in the breeze, had smiled shyly at her when she had passed the bench clutching her mother's hand, and that was all it took. All was right with the world, again. Even though this woman's request was a little bizarre, it was romantic. Besides, Stella knew she could not share her playground joy with her husband, when she got home. Maybe he would believe she was so happy because she had helped this woman.

She carefully laid her book on the bench beside her and reached tentatively for the phone. "I'm honored to help you propose to your boyfriend," she assured the attractive redhead. "But, dear, what about your cell phone? Won't you be wanting that back?"

Julia flashed the smile that never failed to make its recipient feel special. It made another female feel like her best friend, and dropped men into her bed like flies; an image she found so humorous she actually snorted, a little. After all, men were just pesky little insects…. "Oh, sweetie, it's just a little prepaid thing I picked up for this," she assured Stella. "You can keep it, or throw it away, whatever." Julia purposely thought of the star of her last video clip –naked, helpless Charlie on The Stretcher -- which made the heat rise to her face; she knew that would pass for a pretty blush. "I just so appreciate this," she gushed, reaching into her pocketbook. "This will be a story Don and I tell our grandchildren, Stella, and you'll always be an important part of it!"

Stella was so pleased she didn't even notice the somewhat awkward way the woman finally shoved the open purse at her as Julia rattled on. "I'm just so flustered, and excited, my hands are shaking! Here, just grab the phone and the paper next to it. It's a Word document, I typed out everything I'd like you to text message." She giggled as Stella gingerly reached in the bag. "My handwriting is so atrocious. Don is always teasing me about it."

Stella smiled again, gripping the cell and the folded sheet of paper. "I know what you mean. My husband claims he can't read my grocery lists. Now, I should give you 15 minutes, right?"

Julia gifted Stella with another beatific smile and stood from the bench. "That would be perfect. By the time you're finished texting him, I should be ready and waiting for the next part of my pl…proposal!"

"I'm happy to meet you, Jessica, and glad to help. You and your man have a good marriage. Lots of babies."

Julia managed to keep the smile plastered on her face despite the sudden, sick, feeling in her stomach. The J-Rock had presented undeniable opportunities, and she had literally jumped on them with wild abandon. That little son of a bitch better not have gotten her pregnant in the last two days.

If he had, she'd just have to give him CPR so she could kill the bastard again.

End Chapter 12