***Warning - violence
Chapter Twenty-Five
"There's just a little more," Steve prodded carefully, when Jaime had settled down. He had been around the corner, blessing their luck at the fact that Oscar was so thoughtfully – and completely unknowingly – keeping the guards out of their hair. Michael's cell was sound-proofed, so Steve had no clue about the life and death struggle going on inside. But the conclusion Jaime had just come to was not the way he'd found either of them when he finally opened the door. "Try and remember," he said gently.
"I can't...." Jaime pleaded. It was too much to bear.
"You have to, Sweetheart," he said, rubbing her forehead to keep her at least somewhat soothed. Reluctantly, Jaime closed her eyes and let the final ugliness seep like black ooze into her mind.
Jaime woke solely by instinct – Michael
was crawling across the floor, badly injured but coming for her just
the same. Jaime's head was spinning wildly and she could barely see
as she scrambled toward the door. She almost made it, her fists
pounding the door in frustration as Michael's arm snaked around her
waist and pulled her back against him. "I told you that you
weren't going to leave me," he growled. "I wasn't kidding." His
hands once again closed around her throat and Jaime took one more
desperate lungful of air, fearing it would be her last. She was just
about to surrender to what seemed to be her fate when the door flew
open. "Get your hands off of her!" Steve demanded.
Michael's grip only tightened. Steve didn't take the time to try and
pry his his hands away. Instead, he grabbed Michael by the collar and
slammed his head into the wall until his grip on Jaime loosened. "Steve..." Jaime whispered, her strength completely gone.
"He was gonna...." "I know," Steve said, scooping her
into his arms. "We need to get you out of here – and back to the
hospital so Rudy can take care of you." "But...Michael..." It
was obvious to Steve that Michael was now beyond medical help. The
guards had just left out the front, still conversing as they walked
Oscar to his car, so Steve silently closed the cell door and carried
Jaime out the rear exit, setting her gently in the back seat of his
car and covering her with a blanket. After forcing the latch, he
drove slowly out the back gate and pulled over once he was a few
miles away, on an isolated county back road. Steve got out of the car
and leaned into the back seat for a closer look at Jaime. She was
dazed, only semi-conscious, but wasn't bleeding and didn't appear to
have any broken bones. "I'm...okay...." she said very
quietly, sensing his eyes looking her over. "Just
really...really....tired." Steve tucked an extra sweater
under her head and got back into the driver's seat. "You'll be
okay," he assured her. "Everything will be
alright." "Steve...?" "We...can't
tell anyone....what happened.... Steve didn't answer – because a car had
pulled over on the opposite side, a little further up the road.
"Rudy? What's he doing out here?" In his mind, this was perfect;
he'd help Rudy with whatever the trouble was and Jaime would be back
under her doctor's care that much sooner. "You can't tell
him, Steve!" Jaime pleaded. "Please....don't tell him..." "You
need help, Jaime." He looked back as he pulled the car to the side
of the road. Jaime had covered herself completely with the
blanket. "Just....take me back to my bed...when you're done
here...and he'll never know..."
"Just rest now,
Sweetheart," he told her, pulling back onto the road.
- - -
Jaime's eyes filled with tears that Steve tried to brush away. "So you see," he summed up for her, as gently as possible, "you didn't kill Michael – I did."
- - -
"I'm telling you it just isn't possible!" Rudy fumed at the three 'suits'. "You people have put her through enough today as it is – she just lost her husband!"
"Which is precisely what we need to speak with her about," Trudeau insisted. "Now."
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