Part 10a
December 26th
Press Room
7:18 PM
"He's bleeding out, CJ, there's nothing you can do," a whispered voice reached her ears. She heard the cracking of his knees as he crouched behind her. "He's as good as dead."
She whipped her head around to face with Will. "No. No, I won't let him die." She removed her hands long enough to shuck loose her blazer, balling it in her fists, and press uselessly against the flow of blood.
"CJ…" he began, a hand coming to rest just above her wrist.
"No! No one else is going to die for me!" she shrugged off his hands and leaned forward.
Will sighed, knowing that without medical training, that there was little they could do. But he'd seen single-minded CJ before, and knew it would be useless to argue. He stepped over to the other side of the fallen Marine, easing his folded jacket and notebook beneath the man's head. He pushed CJ slightly backward so that the boy wasn't leaning on her, then laid his hands over hers, adding to the life-sustaining pressure.
"Don't touch her!" a hoarse voice called over the heads of the other reporters and the two crouched on the floor looked upward, seeing the gun aimed at them. Will leaned backward, took a deep breath, and waited.
"Stop," CJ whispered, then shouted, "Stop it! This man is dying. He's bleeding… needs a doctor!"
Bowman shrugged, refusing to lower the gun, but not sure how to respond.
"Let him leave, okay? Just let him go, them too, they've nothing to do with this!" she was growing frustrated, color flushing her cheeks.
Her words seemed to draw him back to himself, and he growled, "It's not that simple, Claudia."
"Yes, it is," she argued. "You wanted me, you've got me. A regular captive audience, for Christ's sake. He's going to die, don't you see that? He's going to die with his blood on my hands," her voice had lowered and taken an almost pleading tone, "I don't want him to die," she cried, "Please let him go."
"You're testing my patience, Claudia!" The gun had long since been lowered to his side, but his jaw had clenched in anger.
"And you're testing mine!" Her voice was a near shriek and her nails bit into her palms.
Katie and Danny both winced at her tone and her words, unsure where it all was heading. Will reached upward and wound his fingers around her wrists, leaving smudged marks where his fingertips wiped away the blood that had stained her hands. Reflexively, she moved downward, sitting on her knees at the Marine's feet.
And Bowman begin to laugh.
It was an eerie sound, sort of hollow and almost cackled, and CJ fleetingly wondered if he was having what Leo had called a psychotic episode – she'd never forget that conversation – but then she remembered the river and drowning, and knew that his actions were for the benefit of his audience.
Will glanced worriedly toward the front of the room, where the fervent man paced just inside the line of the camera, then glanced back at CJ, who looked markedly pale and just as resolute. His words were hushed, "CJ Cregg, you need to quit playing hero and let us handle this guy. He'll kill you, you know that – you've got that baby to worry about." His fingers had risen to hover above her swollen stomach, her form blocking Bowman's view of his moving lips and fingertips.
"Well, I don't see any of them helping, they're all fighting to stay calm!" she hissed back, determinedly ignoring the placement of his hand. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that if she allowed her mind to stray, if she let herself think of child and life, she would die there – she'd be unable to fight. Paralyzed not by bullets, but by fear.
"Maybe that's the best thing for now," Will suggested, turning to look at their captor, who had unsteadily begun to calm, intermittent chuckles erupting through his carefully lain façade.
"She's got spunk!" he announced to the crowd, "I've always liked spunk…" Then he grinned with what could have been a charming expression, positioned himself behind the lectern, and leaned against it. "What to do, what to do…" he pondered aloud, knowing that if he let them out, no one would dare enter for the ones that that would remain – then he'd have her to himself and she'd leave with him and everything would be resolved. It was that simple, she just didn't know it yet.
CJ shook her head when she turned back to Will. "I won't let him win. I won't." And she moved away from his hands and stood on shaky legs. Her back to the camera, she directed her words to the front of the room, "Let them go, and we'll talk. Let them go, and it'll be just you and me, and we can figure this out," CJ cringed, "together." After a pause, she added, "Please?"
Neil Bowman leaned backward, rocking on the balls of his feet and standing to his full height, seemingly pondering her bargain.
Finally, he nodded and CJ didn't know whether to sigh with relief or dread. He nodded, and they had been released.
7:32 PM.
December 26th
Press Room
7:18 PM
"He's bleeding out, CJ, there's nothing you can do," a whispered voice reached her ears. She heard the cracking of his knees as he crouched behind her. "He's as good as dead."
She whipped her head around to face with Will. "No. No, I won't let him die." She removed her hands long enough to shuck loose her blazer, balling it in her fists, and press uselessly against the flow of blood.
"CJ…" he began, a hand coming to rest just above her wrist.
"No! No one else is going to die for me!" she shrugged off his hands and leaned forward.
Will sighed, knowing that without medical training, that there was little they could do. But he'd seen single-minded CJ before, and knew it would be useless to argue. He stepped over to the other side of the fallen Marine, easing his folded jacket and notebook beneath the man's head. He pushed CJ slightly backward so that the boy wasn't leaning on her, then laid his hands over hers, adding to the life-sustaining pressure.
"Don't touch her!" a hoarse voice called over the heads of the other reporters and the two crouched on the floor looked upward, seeing the gun aimed at them. Will leaned backward, took a deep breath, and waited.
"Stop," CJ whispered, then shouted, "Stop it! This man is dying. He's bleeding… needs a doctor!"
Bowman shrugged, refusing to lower the gun, but not sure how to respond.
"Let him leave, okay? Just let him go, them too, they've nothing to do with this!" she was growing frustrated, color flushing her cheeks.
Her words seemed to draw him back to himself, and he growled, "It's not that simple, Claudia."
"Yes, it is," she argued. "You wanted me, you've got me. A regular captive audience, for Christ's sake. He's going to die, don't you see that? He's going to die with his blood on my hands," her voice had lowered and taken an almost pleading tone, "I don't want him to die," she cried, "Please let him go."
"You're testing my patience, Claudia!" The gun had long since been lowered to his side, but his jaw had clenched in anger.
"And you're testing mine!" Her voice was a near shriek and her nails bit into her palms.
Katie and Danny both winced at her tone and her words, unsure where it all was heading. Will reached upward and wound his fingers around her wrists, leaving smudged marks where his fingertips wiped away the blood that had stained her hands. Reflexively, she moved downward, sitting on her knees at the Marine's feet.
And Bowman begin to laugh.
It was an eerie sound, sort of hollow and almost cackled, and CJ fleetingly wondered if he was having what Leo had called a psychotic episode – she'd never forget that conversation – but then she remembered the river and drowning, and knew that his actions were for the benefit of his audience.
Will glanced worriedly toward the front of the room, where the fervent man paced just inside the line of the camera, then glanced back at CJ, who looked markedly pale and just as resolute. His words were hushed, "CJ Cregg, you need to quit playing hero and let us handle this guy. He'll kill you, you know that – you've got that baby to worry about." His fingers had risen to hover above her swollen stomach, her form blocking Bowman's view of his moving lips and fingertips.
"Well, I don't see any of them helping, they're all fighting to stay calm!" she hissed back, determinedly ignoring the placement of his hand. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that if she allowed her mind to stray, if she let herself think of child and life, she would die there – she'd be unable to fight. Paralyzed not by bullets, but by fear.
"Maybe that's the best thing for now," Will suggested, turning to look at their captor, who had unsteadily begun to calm, intermittent chuckles erupting through his carefully lain façade.
"She's got spunk!" he announced to the crowd, "I've always liked spunk…" Then he grinned with what could have been a charming expression, positioned himself behind the lectern, and leaned against it. "What to do, what to do…" he pondered aloud, knowing that if he let them out, no one would dare enter for the ones that that would remain – then he'd have her to himself and she'd leave with him and everything would be resolved. It was that simple, she just didn't know it yet.
CJ shook her head when she turned back to Will. "I won't let him win. I won't." And she moved away from his hands and stood on shaky legs. Her back to the camera, she directed her words to the front of the room, "Let them go, and we'll talk. Let them go, and it'll be just you and me, and we can figure this out," CJ cringed, "together." After a pause, she added, "Please?"
Neil Bowman leaned backward, rocking on the balls of his feet and standing to his full height, seemingly pondering her bargain.
Finally, he nodded and CJ didn't know whether to sigh with relief or dread. He nodded, and they had been released.
7:32 PM.