A/N: More story.

Big Swamp

Chapter Sixteen: Warnings, Jokes, and Considerations

I've called Jill's boys 'twin terrors' but, as I've also noted, one is five — Dirk — and the other is seven — Brad. So, they aren't twins in the biological sense — but I think of them as twins in the meteorological sense.

The tornado warnings for this morning were probably intended to alert me to my danger tonight. Each time I see either boy, I'm reminded of the Tasmanian Devil, tornado-ing wildly. Each of the boys is like that, a Tasmanian tornado.

A devil.

I always get the short end of deals with Jill. But at least tonight I have a teammate, or I hope I do, in Sarah. I probably was not surprised enough at her volunteering to do this with me. The woman in the black pants suit who first visited my office looked like a woman who had never heard rumors of children. Now, she is wearing a navy t-shirt and cut-off jeans and flip-flops — and driving me to a Friday night of babysitting. She's not just dropping me off, she's staying.

She could be in her Porsche, in that black pants suit, hurtling cross-country to LA, Bryce Larkin in the car beside her doing seated ab crunches, but she's not. Acknowledging that improves my mood and makes me less fearful about hers.

She could have just canceled — but she's here, with me.

Jill and her husband, Will, live in Opelika, not that far from me. Jill and Ellie were best friends through high school, and I had a teen crush on her briefly. It's probably not quite right to say that Jill and Ellie are still friends. They are, but not like they were. Jill struggled to cope with our parents' death, with Ellie's grief and sudden duty of caring for me, the house, and so on. She pulled back from Ellie — and although Ellie understood it and forgave Jill, their friendship was never intimate after that. They have lunch on occasion, and Ellie is the doctor for the family, but that's the length and breadth of their relationship.

Will, Jill's husband, is a nice man, a smart man. A chemistry prof at AU, I mentioned. He's abstracted, congenial, a book-lover, and an audiophile, absolutely deferential to Jill.

Sarah pulls close to the curb in front of the house. It's a two-story with an attractive, flower-boxed porch. The flowers are currently in bloom. In the yard lay two bikes, both small, one with training wheels and one without. Sarah bends down to look at the house through my window, and I lean forward and kiss her cheek.

She faces me for the first time since she picked me up. "That was sweet, Chuck. Thanks."

"My pleasure — anytime."

Her eyes flash and she leans in and kisses me on the lips, opening hers slightly, her tongue touching my lips tantalizingly before she leans away. Her color's heightened and she's breathing deeply. "We have to babysit. Probably shouldn't let that get too carried away. So, we're about to see the old girlfriend?"

I shake my head. "No, an old crush, I guess. Long over." Sarah gazes into my eyes as if checking, then she moves back to her door.

"She's Ellie's friend?" Sarah asks, getting out.

I get out and wait for her to come around the front of the car to me. "Yes, but not like they were in high school. You know how that goes."

She looks at me. "No, not really, I never had friends in high school."

I'm pondering that as we walk to the porch steps. Sarah takes my hand as the front door opens. Jill steps outside. She'd dressed for dinner, in an olive green dress and pearls, green heels.

She's smiling until she gets a close look at Sarah and then her smile straightens. "Chuck, who do you have with you?" Jill doesn't wait for me to answer. "I'm Jill Roberts."

Sarah nods, smiles. "Hi, Jill. I'm Sarah Walker. I'm going to give Chuck a hand tonight if that's okay?"

Jill laughs. "Sure, he'll need you. — We haven't met, have we?"

"No, I don't think so. I came to town recently. Chuck's been showing me around." Sarah makes a point of swinging our joined hands as she says this. Jill notices and is annoyed. She likes to believe my crush has continued and will continue, and it's hard to believe that with Sarah standing on her porch, holding my hand.

Before anyone can continue, a sound like an air siren surrounds us, tearing the air, and two boys, one dark-haired, shorter, one light-haired, taller, sonic-scream as they pass us, managing to scream in discord, shutting down all rational thought within earshot.

As the boys leap from the porch and dig for their bikes, Will comes through the front door, chasing them hopelessly. "Boys!" he cries in an already-always defeated voice. "Boys!" The boys stand their bikes up, still screaming.

Jill joins in. "Boys!" The boys each throw a leg over a seat, still screaming.

Still screaming.

"Boys," Sarah says without shouting.

But somehow her voice cuts through the boys' screams. They immediately shut up and turn to look at her.

Brad, the taller, blond-haired boy, starts to glare at Sarah, but she glares faster, beating him to the draw, and his gaze falls to the ground. His brother, Dirk, sees Brad's defeat and he shows no fight either.

Dirk points at Sarah, his hand grimy, the nail on his pointing hand with dirt beneath it. "You're pretty!"

Jill looks from Dirk to Sarah and back to Dirk. She seems simultaneously impressed and envious. Will is all amazement, at both Sarah and the sudden silence. He runs his hand through his blond, curly hair: "Wow."

Jill quickly speaks. "Will, this is Sarah Walker. She's with Chuck — and she's going to help him with the boys."

Will nods to Sarah and smiles warmly. He glances congratulations at me.

"Nice to meet you, Will." Sarah looks from the father to the sons. "Boys, come here. We'll play in the backyard. Stand your bikes up near the porch, okay?"

Both boys do as they're told. Jill does not try to conceal her amazement. Neither do I. "Shit," I whisper.

The boys pass us, going into the house. Sarah follows them and I follow her. "We'll see you two when you get home," I say, the tall man bringing up the rear in a short parade.

I'm on my back in the grass of the backyard. My gun is near me but empty. Useless.

There's nothing I can do now. Nothing. I can barely breathe. Brad's beside me, his shirt matted and soaking, his eyes closed. I don't know where his gun is. I worry it's broken.

Lost. We lost.

I hear another gun, a shotgun, pump across the lawn. I look up, raising only my head, opening only one eye.

Sarah stands with Dirk beside her. He has his emerald squirt pistol trained on Brad. Sarah's squirt shotgun's aimed at me.

"Don't make me end you, Bartowski," she says flatly, "you know I'll do it. No remorse. We already finished your partner. — Watch 'em, Dirk."

I can't help it. I start laughing. Brad does too. Then Dirk and Sarah join in. Dirk stops laughing for long enough to raise his squirt gun into the air and begin to dance in place. "We win, Sarah, we win!" Sarah tousels his hair and dances with him.

I watch her in wonder. She's wet, grass clippings are stuck to her long legs, her bare feet; her hair's messy, wet across her bangs, and her careless giggle ripples through me head-to-toe. I look for little bells on trees.

Brad stands up and joins in the dance with Dirk and Sarah. I sit up and shake my head at them, then I join them too.

Sarah's a Tasmanian Exorcist.

Later, having cleaned up ourselves, the boys fed, bathed, and put to bed, Sarah snuggles next to me on the couch. I've found Will's vinyl copy of Sinatra/Jobim: The Complete Recordings and put it on, the volume low.

We haven't had that talk, we've been too busy with the boys. But I feel it coming.

Sarah's head's on my shoulder and she starts talking without moving it or facing me. "You ever imagine kids, Chuck, a house, a yard?"

I was trying not to ask her that question and so hearing her ask it of me leaves me speechless for a moment. My speechlessness causes her to raise her head, look at me.

"Yeah," I say softly, trying to answer on tiptoe, "sure I have. It's what I want, my own version of what Ellie and I lost. A home, a wife, kids."

She nods and looks away. "A pretty...ordinary...dream...for a detective."

I can't tell if that's commentary or condemnation. But I told the truth and I am sticking with it. "I suppose. But, remember, I'm a soft-boiled detective. I'm not the love 'em and leave 'em sort."

She takes my hand in hers. "No, you're not that sort."

"I'm the boring sort, I suppose."

"No," Sarah says quietly, "you're not boring."

"But I'm not Bryce." I hate myself for saying it as soon as I do, but there it is. Damn my defecting, Benedict Arnold tongue.

Sarah's eyes harden. "Bryce? No, you're not Bryce. Bryce is boring. I like him; I once believed I more than liked him, although lately, I've come to doubt that was true…"

Sinatra sings in the background, "Meditation." I wait for Sarah to continue because it's clear she's not done.

"I came here for...mixed...reasons, Chuck, and I came here for...mixed-up...reasons. I've been unsure about so many things for so long. I've not been the best person. — No, that's not right. I've been a bad person. But I want to be a good one. I've wanted to be for a long time. And now, here," she glances at me, "with you, I have a chance to do that. To live a different life. Become a different kind of person."

I exhale, relieved. "Sarah, look, I know this is all new — but I also know I've never felt like this before…"

She smiles a pleased smile and bumps me with her shoulder. "Not even for Jill?"

"Not even for Jill, not even in my teenage fantasies…Not even close."

Her smile complicates itself into a smirk. "When we find a place and the time, we'll see what we can do about those fantasies, Chuck." She grabs me and kisses me with a passion that steals my breath, almost steals my consciousness.

She takes her time at thievery.

She pulls back just before she's taken all of me and she licks her lips, panting. "We'd better stand up, dance. If we stay on this couch, we will end up doing things no babysitters should do while babysitting. I'll make you forget Jill Roberts in her own house."

We stand and begin to dance. Thank God, Ellie taught me years ago. We spin slowly.

"Chuck," Sarah says, "will you do me a favor?"

"Anything, Sarah."

She rests her head on my shoulder. "Stop working on my case. Stop pursuing Uncle Wylie."

I stop dancing. "Why?"

She steps back. "I'm the client, if I want you to stop, then you stop, right?" She speaks softly but there's an edge in her tone. "And I just want you to stop, that's all. I'm sure he's not up to anything. It was all my imagination."

Except I don't think it was all her imagination, he is up to something; I worry that Wylie is part of my case for Langston, my investigation of Jane Peterson's murder. The tie to Peppers is something I can't ignore. Damn it.

"I will quit working on your case, if that's what you want," I tell her after a moment, hating myself for my internal prevarication. Her case — but not Langston's.

"Good, it is," she gives me a quick kiss, "it is what I want."

"Of course, if we're dating, if you're my girlfriend, and if you live at Noble Hall, I'm going to run into him, right?"

"Right," she agrees, "but…"

"But what, Sarah?"

She shrugs. "Don't spend time with him alone. He's a talker when he gets to know you, Chuck, and there are stories — stories of mine, stories about me — that I need to tell you. But I don't want you to hear them from him — or anyone else at the Hall.

"I'm going to have to work up the...courage to tell them to you...I don't know if I can tell them to you until I'm sure you trust me, and I'm not sure you do. You want to, I can see that; you're trying, I can see that too. But I also know you have doubts."

"Sarah, I…"

"I'm not offended, Chuck. It makes sense for you to have doubts. You know almost nothing about me. I show up out of nowhere and walk into your office. I'm not the...sort of girl you know and have known...Ellie, or Hannah, or even Jill."

I start to speak again but she stops me with another kiss.

When it ends, she grins, playfulness replacing seriousness. "You're fired, Chuck — and think about it this way. No more worrying about whether we're pretending for the sake of the case because there is no case."

We start to dance again. I'm trying to sort cases and non-cases in my head when Will and Jill arrive.

Sarah's driving me home when my phone rings. It's Bolonia Grimes.

"Hey, Bolonia, what can I do for you?"

I realize she's crying, wailing. "Chuck, it's Morgan. Someone hit him. With a car. Someone drove onto the sidewalk — and hit my baby!"

I have to swallow my heart. I shake my head involuntarily, not sure I heard correctly. "Bolonia, Bolonia, God, I'm sorry. How is he?"

She erupts into uncontrolled sobs. I try to get her to talk to me but I hear other voices on her end of the line. In a moment, someone else speaks to me.

"Chuck, this is Carina."

"Carina! How is he?"

"We don't know for sure. The car that hit him knocked him a distance. He's badly scraped up, bruised. But they're worried about internal injuries. I've been with him the whole time. He was unconscious for a moment but then conscious again. He was conscious in the ambulance. Who'd do this, Chuck? It was no goddamn accident…"

"You say a car hit him. What did it look like?"

"I told the police I didn't get a good look at it. Black, dark blue maybe. Big. It came from behind us as we were walking back to Morgan's after dinner. It could have hit us both but it only hit him. I was rushing to him; I only glanced at the car as it sped away. I've told the police. They're hunting for the car."

I don't recognize the car. Shaw drives a newish silver Dodge Charger and of course, Bill Peppers drives that old pickup. But it could have been one of them in a borrowed car or a stolen car. Or someone else entirely.

Sarah's been listening but hasn't spoken. She does now. "Tell me how to get to the hospital, Chuck."

I give her directions. I tell Carina we'll be there in a few minutes, then I call Ellie.

We park in the bottom of the East Alabama Medical Center garage and hurry to the Emergency Room.

When we get inside, we see Carina and Bolonia talking to Father Casey. I had planned to call him but he's already here. Bolonia sees me and she runs to me, grabs me, and begins to weep and talk all at once. I hold her and say soothing things. Carina and Sarah seem to be acquainted — and then it hits me: the Club — they must know each other from there. They talk quietly and I succeed in getting Bolonia to slow but not stop her sobs.

Ellie and Devon come in a moment later. Ellie walks to me and Bolonia somehow moves from me to her. Devon nods to me. "I'll go back and see what I can find out, Chuck."

"Thanks, Devon."

Father Casey moves to me. Ellie's gotten Bolonia to sit down, calm down. Sarah's on one side of Bolonia, Ellie on the other. Carina's peeking down the hallway through the small window in one of the double doors Devon disappeared into.

"Who'd want to hurt Morgan Grimes?" Father Casey growls at me.

I'm tempted to remind him that he threatened Morgan earlier in the day, but I don't. I meant to ask Morgan how Father Casey ended up teaching him to drive and now I know, Bolonia. She must have arranged it. Father Casey's always had a soft spot for her.

"I'm afraid it's a case of ours, mine. Things have taken a turn. I'm not sure who did this but I'm pretty sure that in the last few days we — I — have kicked a couple of hornets' nests."

Father Casey gives me a measured glance. "You can take care of yourself, Chuck. But Morgan's got no chance. — If he works with you, he's got to run your risks. And he'll do it because he loves you so much. Have you thought about that as seriously as you should? Morgan's not built for risks. — You are, even if you don't act like it." He raises his brows. "Or look like it."

I glance at my shoes, self-conscious, ashamed. — I've avoided thinking about this the entire time Morgan's worked for me — and I've known I was avoiding it. The truth is, I'm guilty of not taking Morgan seriously, despite my long friendship with him.

Because I let myself see him as a joke, I assume everyone else does, will.

I was wrong about that. Someone tried to hurt him, maybe kill him. No joke.

Carina turns from the window, steps back from the door, and a moment later Devon walks through it. Bolonia stands up as he reaches her, and so do Ellie and Sarah. Father Casey and I join the group.

"He's going to be okay. He's badly bruised, badly scraped. Raw in places. He's got a concussion. They'll keep him overnight but there are no internal injuries. He told me to tell everyone: — " Devon gives us all a thumbs up " — and that's a quote."

Bolonia begins to sob again but in relief. Ellie hugs her. Sarah walks to me and gives me a hug.

Father Casey grunts but in a patterned hush. It takes me a minute to realize he's praying.

Carina seems unsure where to stand, but to be on the edge of tears.

I tug on Sarah's hand and we go stand with Carina.

As we do, I consider tornado warnings and the gun in my file cabinet.

A/N: More soon.