The landscape was in shades of grey and white. He knew instantly this was another dream... his were always in shades of grey. Especially when they were about her. It was his fault, wasn't it? Was Callahan right in that fact? Did he cause Litha's death? He turned over in the sheets, the air cold enough to make his skin goosebump... or was that the cold sweat that trickled down his forehead?
She loved roses... red roses. Her birthday was the end of December. They had been flirting around the issue for months by then. He was planning on taking her out to dinner and treat her to all of the things she loved the most for her birthday. Why is it that when it is something of the utmost importance, that plans never go the right way?
He saw the park again. It was sugar crusted in sparkling white snow that night. The full moon overhead reflecting off the snow made the world look like it was coated with diamonds. The air was crisp and cold, their breath hung like miniature clouds as they walked. They had known each other for months, worked together. He was The Negotiator, she was The Recovery Specialist. They had tried to keep it just business, but something more bloomed and they found themselves falling for each other. So for her birthday, he'd shown up at her door with two dozen long-stemmed red roses, reservations at her favorite Italian restaurant, a horse-drawn carriage ride through the park and later, if things worked out, he'd take her out to breakfast and ask her just how serious she wanted to get in their relationship. He never counted on work stepping in.
They had just come from the restaurant and headed into the park. Even after Christmas, the carolers were still out and singing. She loved the music and wanted to dance. She looked like an angel when she danced. She had worn a pair of white slacks, a white sweater and had her usual pristine white cashmere ankle length coat on. They had been waltzing to "I'll be home for Christmas" when both of their pagers went off on a '911' alert. With a resigned sigh, they both headed back to the office.
Callahan had been summoned too, and was there already when they both walked in. He'd been hitting on her hard for months now, on border of harrassment. But she was too sweet natured to put up a fuss about that, so she let it slide. Callahan of course, took that as encouragement. So when they walked in, Litha with a beaming smile on her face and Donovan with a satisfied smile, Callahan put two and two together. The Boss briefed them on what was going on and then let them go to work. Callahan had been on Litha's team, her second in command and in training to learn to be the best - eventually take command of a Recovery team of his own if he took Litha's lead. But he wanted Litha as part of the prize. Hell, most of the men in the office wanted Litha as a prize. Who could blame them? At 5'8" with emerald green eyes that sparkled like the precious jewels themselves and long black hair, she was a raging beauty. Not to mention she did in fact have a great personality. She never met a person she didn't try to be friendly and warm to, hated the fact that she was the one to have to go in with guns blazing and kick ass. That was the paradox about her - She hated her job, but was the best in the agency at it. That was something that Donovan never figured out.
A man had taken hostages, 15 or so, and had wired himself with explosives. Even as Donovan tried to talk him down, Litha and Callahan were collaborating on how to extricate the hostages in the event Donovan couldn't do his job. When it came down to the wire, the man let 5 of them go, mostly children. One of the older children told them that he had the building rigged for explosives, and it looked like a lot of them too. It was then that Donovan realized, as did they all, that there was no negotiating to be done anymore. Litha and Callahan put their plan into action. She went in alone, through the roof. If she could, she would be able to sneak up behind him and either call his bluff and force him to surrender... or as a last resort, shoot to kill and prevent the detonation of those explosives. It was a perfect plan.
He turned over in bed, the sheets twisted and soaked with his sweat... or was it his tears? He didn't know when he had begun to cry, but when he had the dream, he always woke up with gritty and burning eyes, like he'd been crying for hours... He sucked in a harsh breath as the dream continued.
Litha made it in easy enough. She had a subvocal transmitter around her throat and an earpiece so she could remain in constant contact with the base command. Frank monitored her progress, Callahan paced like a caged cat behind him. Finally when he could take it no longer, Donovan ordered him out of the ops room. Callahan was livid and stomped out. Litha, however, was oblivious to the wrangling going on. She had her pistol in hand and was creeping along the corridor heading down to where the hostages were. Every now and then, Donovan would whisper into her ear how much further she had to go. When she finally found them, the man was no where to be seen. So, one by one she told them how to get out and sent them down the hallway to the backdoor. After about 30 minutes, it was just her and another woman left when the man returned. He saw Litha, gun raised and flak vest in place... he saw his hostages gone save for one... he panicked...
You know how when you're falling, you never hit the bottom? It's not like that in his dream... he always hits the bottom in this dream...
Litha wasn't too bad of a negotiator herself. She'd had to have some training in that field in order to be a Recovery Specialist... but her natural skills leaned more towards action than talking. That is why she and Donovan worked so well together - he had the gift of speech where she had the gift of action. When the man returned to find only Litha and one remaining hostage, he started ranting and raving about. As he did, Litha could have sworn she saw him activate a few of the detonation sequences. So she spoke up, tried to talk him down. 'You still have me and one hostage... I'm a federal agent, that's worth at least three of your other hostages... don't be hasty, we can work this out.' Donovan was listening, beaming in pride on the inside that a bit of his skills had rubbed off on her. Callahan, however, had seen all but one hostage come out and still no Litha. Minutes ticked off on their watches and still no Litha or remaining hostage. Callahan was getting nervous. All sorts of scenarios ran through his mind. Litha'd been shot, being held as a hostage, hampered by a hostage, etc. etc... On the surveillance camera, Donovan saw Callahan's pacing and knew immediately why, but he had an advantage - he could hear Litha talking.
But Callahan had no idea. And after 30 minutes without Litha's appearance, he grabbed up his own vest and weapon and headed in. Followed closely by a swearing Donovan. Someday that man was going to get someone killed - and if they were all lucky, he'd only get himself killed. Donovan and Callahan both crept slowly down the corridor into the main room where Litha and the one hostage was. She'd gotten the man calmed down so he wasn't pacing madly about. But the hostage was terrified and shaking between sobs. Litha was stone cold calm and focused on him. But he caught the movement of Donovan and Callahan behind Litha. In an instant, he had his arm around Litha's neck and a gun pointed at her head. That's when things turned inside out.
Donovan turned over in his bed again, tossing feverishly. He hated this part more than anything...
Callahan came out first, shouting at him to let her go. Donovan, however, grabbed the sobbing woman and shoved her down the hallway, telling her to run. Then he turned his attention to Litha and her issue. Litha's eyes were wide, and surprisingly almost tired it seemed. After all, it was nearly 4 in the morning and she'd had no rest at all. But there was something else. She was calm and collected, but he knew that there was something else there. If only he could get Callahan to stop screaming at the man to let Litha go. There would be no terms of surrender, he said, they'd all go down with him. Donovan circled around, putting Litha between him and Callahan. He had to wait. Eventually Callahan would make a distraction and allow him to squeeze off one shot to kill. He had to hope that Litha didn't twist to get away at the same time. When Callahan said that he'd shoot to kill to prevent him ever detonating the explosives, the man turned. 'gotcha!' Donovan thought and gently squeezed his trigger, Callahan squeezing his at the same time. But something made the man turn again and Litha's eyes went wide in shock. It was then Donovan realized what was wrong with her. She didn't have her vest on. She'd taken it off as part of the bargain. The man had been shot by Callahan. As he fell, Litha fell with him, the blooms of red indistinguishable from each other. Donovan and Callahan both rushed to Litha's side. Donovan being the senior, pushed Callahan down the hallway to get backup and an ambulance. Callahan had never forgiven him for that. She'd been shot in 'friendly fire' just under one arm towards the back of her ribcage. If she'd had her vest on, it would have bruised and she'd just be sore for a few days. But in order to get the man to calm down and stop threatening to blow them up, she gave up her vest as a bargaining chip. Crazy woman. Look what it got the man, a bullet between the eyes and the label of a cop killer if she died.
She laid on the ground, Donovan pressing the now dead man's shirt to the wound in an effort to stop it. But the red just spread over that snow white sweater of hers and the floor. He couldn't stop the bleeding. Thank you, she'd said. For the dinner, the flowers, the dance. Be quiet he'd told her. Save your strength. No, I need to say it, she said. The necklace... take it for now... but I want it back when I come to work.
By then the ambulance and paramedics had arrived and pushed Donovan aside. He stood there as they wheeled her out on the stretcher, her necklace in hand, the silver chain dangling between his bloody fingers.
His eyes popped open. It was 4:50 a.m. The time that the paramedics finally told them it was over. Or was it the paramedics who told them that? He remembered Callahan sucker punching him, screaming that it was his fault. Donovan didn't fight back at all. He did feel responsible. He sat up in bed, the sheets shredded and soaked. He reached over onto the beside table and picked up the silver chain. It laid there every day since, right in front of a picture of her. Her mother had given her that necklace when she graduated from the academy. It was a simple silver chain with a three-sided knotworked charm on it. She told him once what it was - The Trinity. Past, present, and future... birth, life, and death. Her mother was from Scotland and believed in different ways. She had even named her daughter after a Goddess, the nickname of a celebration in the cycle of the witches' year. And she had in turn, given it to him for safe keeping. Over the years he'd made up stories about that necklace and why she gave it to him. That she'd had her past, she was living the present, and wanted a future with him. The realist in him said that she was only giving it to him as a symbol of death. She'd been born, had lived her life, and now was dying. Either way, she was gone. They were told at the hospital by the Chief Director of the FBI that she didn't make it.
He sighed and got out of bed, heading in to take a cold shower, the necklace around his neck for the first time in three years. If only he'd paid attention to his memories a bit more...
She loved roses... red roses. Her birthday was the end of December. They had been flirting around the issue for months by then. He was planning on taking her out to dinner and treat her to all of the things she loved the most for her birthday. Why is it that when it is something of the utmost importance, that plans never go the right way?
He saw the park again. It was sugar crusted in sparkling white snow that night. The full moon overhead reflecting off the snow made the world look like it was coated with diamonds. The air was crisp and cold, their breath hung like miniature clouds as they walked. They had known each other for months, worked together. He was The Negotiator, she was The Recovery Specialist. They had tried to keep it just business, but something more bloomed and they found themselves falling for each other. So for her birthday, he'd shown up at her door with two dozen long-stemmed red roses, reservations at her favorite Italian restaurant, a horse-drawn carriage ride through the park and later, if things worked out, he'd take her out to breakfast and ask her just how serious she wanted to get in their relationship. He never counted on work stepping in.
They had just come from the restaurant and headed into the park. Even after Christmas, the carolers were still out and singing. She loved the music and wanted to dance. She looked like an angel when she danced. She had worn a pair of white slacks, a white sweater and had her usual pristine white cashmere ankle length coat on. They had been waltzing to "I'll be home for Christmas" when both of their pagers went off on a '911' alert. With a resigned sigh, they both headed back to the office.
Callahan had been summoned too, and was there already when they both walked in. He'd been hitting on her hard for months now, on border of harrassment. But she was too sweet natured to put up a fuss about that, so she let it slide. Callahan of course, took that as encouragement. So when they walked in, Litha with a beaming smile on her face and Donovan with a satisfied smile, Callahan put two and two together. The Boss briefed them on what was going on and then let them go to work. Callahan had been on Litha's team, her second in command and in training to learn to be the best - eventually take command of a Recovery team of his own if he took Litha's lead. But he wanted Litha as part of the prize. Hell, most of the men in the office wanted Litha as a prize. Who could blame them? At 5'8" with emerald green eyes that sparkled like the precious jewels themselves and long black hair, she was a raging beauty. Not to mention she did in fact have a great personality. She never met a person she didn't try to be friendly and warm to, hated the fact that she was the one to have to go in with guns blazing and kick ass. That was the paradox about her - She hated her job, but was the best in the agency at it. That was something that Donovan never figured out.
A man had taken hostages, 15 or so, and had wired himself with explosives. Even as Donovan tried to talk him down, Litha and Callahan were collaborating on how to extricate the hostages in the event Donovan couldn't do his job. When it came down to the wire, the man let 5 of them go, mostly children. One of the older children told them that he had the building rigged for explosives, and it looked like a lot of them too. It was then that Donovan realized, as did they all, that there was no negotiating to be done anymore. Litha and Callahan put their plan into action. She went in alone, through the roof. If she could, she would be able to sneak up behind him and either call his bluff and force him to surrender... or as a last resort, shoot to kill and prevent the detonation of those explosives. It was a perfect plan.
He turned over in bed, the sheets twisted and soaked with his sweat... or was it his tears? He didn't know when he had begun to cry, but when he had the dream, he always woke up with gritty and burning eyes, like he'd been crying for hours... He sucked in a harsh breath as the dream continued.
Litha made it in easy enough. She had a subvocal transmitter around her throat and an earpiece so she could remain in constant contact with the base command. Frank monitored her progress, Callahan paced like a caged cat behind him. Finally when he could take it no longer, Donovan ordered him out of the ops room. Callahan was livid and stomped out. Litha, however, was oblivious to the wrangling going on. She had her pistol in hand and was creeping along the corridor heading down to where the hostages were. Every now and then, Donovan would whisper into her ear how much further she had to go. When she finally found them, the man was no where to be seen. So, one by one she told them how to get out and sent them down the hallway to the backdoor. After about 30 minutes, it was just her and another woman left when the man returned. He saw Litha, gun raised and flak vest in place... he saw his hostages gone save for one... he panicked...
You know how when you're falling, you never hit the bottom? It's not like that in his dream... he always hits the bottom in this dream...
Litha wasn't too bad of a negotiator herself. She'd had to have some training in that field in order to be a Recovery Specialist... but her natural skills leaned more towards action than talking. That is why she and Donovan worked so well together - he had the gift of speech where she had the gift of action. When the man returned to find only Litha and one remaining hostage, he started ranting and raving about. As he did, Litha could have sworn she saw him activate a few of the detonation sequences. So she spoke up, tried to talk him down. 'You still have me and one hostage... I'm a federal agent, that's worth at least three of your other hostages... don't be hasty, we can work this out.' Donovan was listening, beaming in pride on the inside that a bit of his skills had rubbed off on her. Callahan, however, had seen all but one hostage come out and still no Litha. Minutes ticked off on their watches and still no Litha or remaining hostage. Callahan was getting nervous. All sorts of scenarios ran through his mind. Litha'd been shot, being held as a hostage, hampered by a hostage, etc. etc... On the surveillance camera, Donovan saw Callahan's pacing and knew immediately why, but he had an advantage - he could hear Litha talking.
But Callahan had no idea. And after 30 minutes without Litha's appearance, he grabbed up his own vest and weapon and headed in. Followed closely by a swearing Donovan. Someday that man was going to get someone killed - and if they were all lucky, he'd only get himself killed. Donovan and Callahan both crept slowly down the corridor into the main room where Litha and the one hostage was. She'd gotten the man calmed down so he wasn't pacing madly about. But the hostage was terrified and shaking between sobs. Litha was stone cold calm and focused on him. But he caught the movement of Donovan and Callahan behind Litha. In an instant, he had his arm around Litha's neck and a gun pointed at her head. That's when things turned inside out.
Donovan turned over in his bed again, tossing feverishly. He hated this part more than anything...
Callahan came out first, shouting at him to let her go. Donovan, however, grabbed the sobbing woman and shoved her down the hallway, telling her to run. Then he turned his attention to Litha and her issue. Litha's eyes were wide, and surprisingly almost tired it seemed. After all, it was nearly 4 in the morning and she'd had no rest at all. But there was something else. She was calm and collected, but he knew that there was something else there. If only he could get Callahan to stop screaming at the man to let Litha go. There would be no terms of surrender, he said, they'd all go down with him. Donovan circled around, putting Litha between him and Callahan. He had to wait. Eventually Callahan would make a distraction and allow him to squeeze off one shot to kill. He had to hope that Litha didn't twist to get away at the same time. When Callahan said that he'd shoot to kill to prevent him ever detonating the explosives, the man turned. 'gotcha!' Donovan thought and gently squeezed his trigger, Callahan squeezing his at the same time. But something made the man turn again and Litha's eyes went wide in shock. It was then Donovan realized what was wrong with her. She didn't have her vest on. She'd taken it off as part of the bargain. The man had been shot by Callahan. As he fell, Litha fell with him, the blooms of red indistinguishable from each other. Donovan and Callahan both rushed to Litha's side. Donovan being the senior, pushed Callahan down the hallway to get backup and an ambulance. Callahan had never forgiven him for that. She'd been shot in 'friendly fire' just under one arm towards the back of her ribcage. If she'd had her vest on, it would have bruised and she'd just be sore for a few days. But in order to get the man to calm down and stop threatening to blow them up, she gave up her vest as a bargaining chip. Crazy woman. Look what it got the man, a bullet between the eyes and the label of a cop killer if she died.
She laid on the ground, Donovan pressing the now dead man's shirt to the wound in an effort to stop it. But the red just spread over that snow white sweater of hers and the floor. He couldn't stop the bleeding. Thank you, she'd said. For the dinner, the flowers, the dance. Be quiet he'd told her. Save your strength. No, I need to say it, she said. The necklace... take it for now... but I want it back when I come to work.
By then the ambulance and paramedics had arrived and pushed Donovan aside. He stood there as they wheeled her out on the stretcher, her necklace in hand, the silver chain dangling between his bloody fingers.
His eyes popped open. It was 4:50 a.m. The time that the paramedics finally told them it was over. Or was it the paramedics who told them that? He remembered Callahan sucker punching him, screaming that it was his fault. Donovan didn't fight back at all. He did feel responsible. He sat up in bed, the sheets shredded and soaked. He reached over onto the beside table and picked up the silver chain. It laid there every day since, right in front of a picture of her. Her mother had given her that necklace when she graduated from the academy. It was a simple silver chain with a three-sided knotworked charm on it. She told him once what it was - The Trinity. Past, present, and future... birth, life, and death. Her mother was from Scotland and believed in different ways. She had even named her daughter after a Goddess, the nickname of a celebration in the cycle of the witches' year. And she had in turn, given it to him for safe keeping. Over the years he'd made up stories about that necklace and why she gave it to him. That she'd had her past, she was living the present, and wanted a future with him. The realist in him said that she was only giving it to him as a symbol of death. She'd been born, had lived her life, and now was dying. Either way, she was gone. They were told at the hospital by the Chief Director of the FBI that she didn't make it.
He sighed and got out of bed, heading in to take a cold shower, the necklace around his neck for the first time in three years. If only he'd paid attention to his memories a bit more...