Note: Still going... the next chapter is almost done :)


Part 53

POV – Ria

I find Jack asleep at his office desk, a droplet of drool slowly sliding down his chin, his head rested on the back of his arm and his fingers sprayed in a protective gesture over the file safely locked under his weight. This is the first time the man has closed his eyes over last 48 hours.

Both, him and Cal had been on their feet since the start of this nightmare. Last night they both were close to the burnout, any attempts to send either one home met with stubbornness hard to match. Sheer determination to bring Gill back safe and sound kept them on their feet for so long, but finally human physiology won the battle.

Cal went home earlier, but more due to Zoe's persistent calls than actual attempt to catch some rest. What drives him is clear as a day. His overbearing love for Gill hangs heavily in the air even after the man left the building. It is a genuine pity that it had to come to this for him to realise it. Their romantic endeavour might be over, but his devotion to her will never cease to exist. Gill is as integral part of Cal's life as the air that he breathes. She is his other half, only better, steadier. I'm afraid to think of the consequences, if there is no happy ending to this story.

Jack, on the other hand, is a mystery. Try as might, I can't figure what drives him. He and Gill always had their differences. Their constant fights and arguments are undeniable proof of that. Observing his sleeping form I notice how much he has aged over the last two days. Deep lines of worry embedded in his forehead do not ease even in sleep. The grey hair at the base of his skull is a new addition to the otherwise perfect looks.

We all are shaken and worried, but the haunted look in Jack's eyes is more than empathy, care or affection. I have seen it before enough times to recognise someone, who is walking a thin line between the sanity and despair. The smug jackass we love to hate is gone, replaced by a shell of a man he once was.

Why is he taking it so personally? Yes, lately they spent more time together, but we all thought it was to avoid Cal. Jack's and Cal's relationship is strained at best and more often than not goes down the drain in a matter of minutes, and we all know Gill's reasons. Could there really be more to it than meets the eye? It seems plausible, although hardly realistic, explanation. However, with everything that is going on I don't dare to speculate on something that could have reasonably simple explanation.

Lately something tells me that the smartass self-centred jerk with the devil may care attitude and piquant stories on his sexual adventures is just a mirage, a perfectly sculpted image put out for the world to see. I can't help but wonder, who are you, Jack?

The man stirs in his sleep. It momentarily takes me out of my reverie. After all Bennett sent me here for a reason.

"Jack," I whisper gently, putting the cup of a hot coffee nearby.

The man jolts with a start. The papers spill from the table onto the floor.

"Foster," is the first word that rolls down his tongue, but he momentarily brushes it off seeing my dumbfounded face.

"What time is it?" he asks groggily.

"Nearly midnight," I reply taking the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Why did you let me fall asleep?" Jack's voice is irritated, but his anger is more with himself than me.

"You know you won't do her any good, if you collapse from exhaustion. Body needs its rest," I try to argue calmly, pushing the cup in his direction.

Jack takes a quick sip as he looks out of the window. His gaze focused on the nightly sky.

"She's somewhere out there one on one with a madman," he whispers, never realising that the words actually left his mouth.

"It will be ok, we will find her," I try to reassure him, but fail miserably. I read the file on this McLean character. It is not one for the faint hearted.

"We will, but the question stands, if she's still alive," Jack says gravely, not paying any attention to me, his eyes spark brightly in the streetlights as if filled with unshed tears. The street lights must be playing tricks on me.

"Gillian is one of the strongest persons I know," I say with conviction, "she is a fighter..."

"How do you fight death?" Jack looks at me, finally acknowledging my presence.

The rhetoric question sends cold shivers down my spine. I try to push the thought to the back of my mind.

POV- Gill

"Nooooo!"

My panic filled voice is ragged as it tears from a badly bruised throat. McLean's leery stare makes me sick. Despite the pain, I fight him with all the might, finding energy I didn't know I had. He just smirks as he moves closer, hands moving slowly, but roughly along my cleavage, "Where's the chivalry, now?"

It is a game for him. Predatory fascination shines in his otherwise dead eyes.

Only I refuse to be his pray. My good arm wildly runs across the wall in a vain attempt to reach anything I could use as a weapon as callous fingers rip my skirt. My efforts are rewarded with a slightly loosened piece of rock. Trying my best to ignore the fear spreading within me like wild animal as McLean's hands roughly pull on my blouse, I scratch and pull until solid piece of concrete lands in my palm.

This is my chance!

With anguish and despair filled force I hit the man straight in the face, no doubts breaking his nose. A curse leaving his lips borders on a veil. He moves away, grabbing his face with one arm and catching mine with the other. The rage on his distorted face is scaring with its intensity, only I'm past caring.

Before I know it, my limb is pounded hard against the wall until I hear the bones of my wrist break. My fingers go limp. The rock, my only defence, drops to the floor and scatters across the hard surface. The shock and adrenaline surging through my veins effectively block the wave of pain I know is about to come.

In the back of my mind I register the stillness in the air just before his fist reaches my face. A moment so unnatural and quiet it would unsettle even the dead.

He doesn't stop or even pause as his fist rams its target over and over and over again. I choke on the blood running from my nose as my head gets slammed against the mattress, but he just keeps going. The throbbing in my skull almost unbearable. My prayers for a miracle unanswered.

I look forward for the bliss of unconsciousness to take me away from this hellhole. For once I hope never to wake up again, because I'm not sure I'm brave enough to go through this again.

Through haze my groggily brain registers distant sound of a mobile phone ringtone, but I can't say for sure if it's reality or just my imagination. The last thing I register before succumbing to the unconsciousness is the heaviness of the body leaving the worn out mattress and distant voices talking.

I can't make out the words, but I recognise the caller.

The shock of betrayal paralyses me like venom of a deadly snake.

I feel as if my insides are being turned inside out.

It cannot be true, can it?

POV - Cal

Persistent ringing wakes me in the middle of the night. Three short words from the other side of the receiver are more efficient than an ice cold shower, "We have a lead!"

I'm up and dressing even before the call is disconnected. My ministrations wake up Zoe and I'm greeted with an accusatory stare, "you are going to her."

I don't have the patience or the energy to deal with her jealousy right now, but I know I can't run off in the middle of the night without at least some kind of explanation. It wouldn't be fair to anybody, least of all her.

With a heavy sigh I sit on the corner of the bed and trail my fingers down her arm.

"Look, luv," I try to sound as casual as possible, but fail miserably, "something bad has happened."

I see a question in her eyes, "Don't worry. It has nothing to do with me, Em or you. I can't explain everything now..."

She opens her mouth to speak, but I hush her with a quick brush of my lips, "…we will talk, in the morning. If everything goes right, all will be over soon."

I hear a distant sound of the car pulling down the driveway.

With one last reassuring glance at the scoffing woman I hurry out of the room.

POV – Jack

Lord, I wish I was drunk, blind drunk and this whole situation was just a glimpse of my sick imagination. Unfortunately it is not. It would be so easy to pass out hard with my good old pal Jamison, but I can't risk the slowed reflexes accompanying the hangover. My mind has to be sharp to the point, if I want to find Foster.

Since Torres woke me, we have been going through all the materials at our disposal together with the FBI for what could be already hundredth time and still to no avail. Despite being total psycho, the guy is smart and methodical. He always has plan B, C and D up his sleeve. No wonder they haven't managed to get even close to him.

I'm almost ready to give in to the frustration and hopelessness, when I hear an enthusiastic shout from the other room, "Eureka!"

In a minute we learn that one of the agents has found in Hildebrandt's files a couple of receipts from the same gas station and checked the place on the satellite. It resides in a rural area conveniently close to several mining sites. This would limit our search from hundreds to seven potential locations. I could kiss the poor bastard for making the connection, if I didn't run the risk of scaring him into stuttering.

It takes roughly twenty minutes for Wheels to assemble the teams and set the rescue operation in motion. Such an ungodly speed wouldn't be possible without Bennett's hand on the pulse. However, they still have to run over details and get the green light to move.

In the meanwhile I call Lightman. He might be a pain in the ass, but he has the right to know. I even offer to pick him up. Not because I look forward to share a car ride with him, but I need a diversion to get out of the building. Bennett eyes me like a hawk, afraid that I will pull another crazy stunt, which by all means I'm about to do.

With some luck, we should make it to the place at least twenty to thirty minutes before the chivalry.

The guard blocks my way as I approach the car, "No one is allowed to leave the building."

There is no time for this bullshit. I pull out a gun and point it straight to his chest, "get out of my way or they will find your body loaded with the whole magazine and I don't give a shit what happens next!"

The man backs away, reaching for the radio, but I'm already in the car.

A thought to ditch Lightman and go directly to the mountains crosses my mind, as I start the engine, but I dismiss it as counter productive. Going alone isn't smart. If I get killed, someone has to take care of Foster. Besides, she might find his presence soothing.

tbc