Keats began to feel faint. It didn't come as a surprise to her, because they'd neglected to let her go at meal times and she was overworking herself physically. But it was damn annoying, especially when it meant that a horrid demise was almost certain.
She tried to keep still, holding her balance in the perfect spot. And yet she needed to move around to shake off her dizziness and nausea.
She saw herself slipping in slow motion, and it seemed that her body's reflexes were working that much slower against her. She managed to grab hold of the pole in time to dangle up above Bitterman.
He grinned at her, briefly pausing from his tirade. When he decided that she was as good as gone anyway, he backed up a few paces and stood in the rainy night to watch her die.
Keats was losing leverage fast. The pole was far too slick to get any kind of grip, so she tried looping her legs around the pole. She realized she hadn't the strength.
Every part of her was aching. Her arms were screaming at her to let go, but like some sort of unconscious instinct of survival, she stayed attached to the pole.
How long can I stay like this? Maybe I can shimmy to the other side…
Keats had discovered that while she was indeed lucky that she clung to the pole with success, she also discovered that because of this, she couldn't go anywhere else.
She began to swing herself, hoping she'd get close enough to get herself back on the pole.
I can do this. I'm not some helpless princess locked in a tower. This is the millennium…a girl's gotta stick up for herself.
She conserved her strength for a final push, and she was overjoyed when she latched onto the pole. She then scooted across it as fast as she could, using the heels of her sneakers for a tighter grasp.
She made it to the ladder on the other side and climbed down gingerly, her muscles quite sore from the adventure.
When she reached the grassy ground, she went on bended knee and kissed it, spitting out wet pieces of clover. Her bliss was cut short when she heard Bitterman cock his gun.
"I have strict orders to waste you." He said.
"That won't be necessary, Captain Bitterman." Horatio Caine said as he gave the signal for a dozen officers to surround him.
Keats nearly passed out with relief. She felt someone pick her up and carry her, but she was too exhausted to wonder who it was or where they were taking her.
Keats Juniper Remington woke up in a warm, dry bed feeling very cozy and comfortable. She sat up and wondered how she got into Ryan's apartment when she thought she should have been back at camp.
"Glad you're awake, Keats…you should eat something." Ryan said, entering the bedroom. Ryan. She felt such a surge of happiness that she jumped into his arms, causing them both to fall backward.
"I'm glad you're excited about eating. Were they starving you?" He asked with a grin. Keats nestled under his chin and hugged him close, taking in his scent, his warmth, his presence.
"I love you." She whispered. Such words that were said too often by too many people who didn't mean them… But this time they were said with such vulnerable intensity that no one could have mistaken her true feelings.
"Keats…I have good news." Ryan said, holding her at arm's length so that he could see her face.
"I could sure use some right about now." Keats laughed.
"H is gonna give us another chance. To work together…And, Erickson is not going to press charges on you. He's pressing charges on Berkeley."
"Really?!" Keats squealed. She squeezed Ryan tightly. Maybe a little too tight.
"Oh, sorry." She said, laughing.
Horatio was helping Detective Tripp file the paperwork for the tainted cops that worked at Miami Dade.
They had known that something was amiss, but finally things were beginning to level off.
"They make a great team, don't they?" Horatio commented. He had intended for them to work together from the very beginning. Remington wasn't the only one who had hunches.
"Definitely. But there's still a great amount of risk involved if we let them-"
"Risk is the name of the game, Frank," Horatio interjected, "Everything we do has an element of risk. I say we let them make their own choices. Including whether or not they want to be in a relationship. As long as they keep things professional, I see no real problem with it, Frank." He had been defending both Ryan and Keats for a few months and now he was passing the torch to them.
If they truly wanted to make it work, they had to fight their own battles.
Keats was having a hard time keeping herself occupied all alone in Ryan's apartment. She wasn't allowed to return to the Lab until after Graduation, which was a whole week away.
Assuming she passed her 'training', she was all ready to walk down the line and receive her sheepskin, so-to-speak. But the waiting in the meantime was killing her.
She knew if she wasn't busy she'd think about Patty, or wedding worries, or the fact that Sloane and her new husband were MIA. They'd been due back from their honeymoon five days ago.
Ryan and I are really getting married…wow. I never really let in sink in. I'll be Mrs. Ryan Wolfe. Keats Wolfe…erm, that sounds okay. I'm getting married…for real, this time.
She heard her cell phone buzz angrily and she picked it up in a hurry.
"How come you're not at your apartment?" Glenn asked her. His voice was fierce and probing. Glenn, her eldest (not to mention most overprotective) brother, calling her in the middle of the day. Uh, oh.
"Hee…funny story. I live with this guy…we're like roommates…and stuff…" Keats knew she was misleading Glenn, making Ryan sound like he was gay.
"You're living with a guy? I'll rip you a new one later, Kit…This is about Sloane."
"What happened? Is she okay?"
"She's fine. She just got back this morning. The only thing is, her husband isn't with her…"
"What the hell happened?" Keats asked.
"No idea. All I know is that he went missing and Sloane spent the last week trying to find him."
"She went traipsing all over Agious Georgios this past week? What a Grecian catastrophe!" Keats exclaimed.
"If he isn't dead or dying, I may kill him myself." Glenn said. Keats rolled her eyes.
"Why do you always have to talk like Clint Eastwood?" She muttered.
Keats waited patiently for her brothers and sister to arrive, since she didn't have to clean up. They were all in Miami for different reasons, but the most pressing of which was Sloane's missing spouse.
They came into the apartment with guarded tongues, looking around with interest. Glenn, scouting out any items that could be considered 'homosexual', Miles, glancing at all the academic textbooks in the bookshelf, Harvey, digging around for potato chips, and Sloane, browsing the bed and bathrooms for signs of sexual activity.
The Remingtons were an interesting breed.
