Disclaimers: I don't own them. I wish I did, but sadly I accept this is
just fan fiction.
Warnings: Please read this. This story is going to be dark right from the beginning. I rated it R for violence, trauma, and memories of childhood abuse. This really isn't set at any particular time in the show. I would love to have your thoughts on it, but please take the warnings seriously.
Collision Course
Chapter 2
The rest of the wait is done in virtual silence as the three field phone calls and flip through magazines waiting for a Doctor to inform them of John's condition. When the Doctor finally approaches, nearly two hours later, Bailey is pacing and the other three are tapping their feet. "Bailey Malone?" She asks.
"Yeah? Is he okay?" Bailey demands a little to hurriedly. His worry is evident as the Doctor lets out a sigh.
"Okay, he nearly had all his ribs broken, has numerous contusions and abrasions and he needed some stitches." She begins as the team members all grimaces. "He is going to be okay, we don't see any signs of any life threatening injuries, but we are worried about his mental state."
"How so?" Sam asks. "I'm a Psychiatrist, so I'd like to know exactly how he is handling this."
"Mr. Grant has basically shut down. He won't answer us when we ask him any questions about the attack. He stares at the ceiling or the wall, anywhere to keep from making eye contact. The only thing he has done was demand to be released and when we informed him he would have to stay for a few days; he hasn't said anything else. Perhaps you could try and talk to him. Our Staff psychiatrist has had no luck. Unless you feel too personally involved."
"No, may I see him now?" Sam asks.
"Sure, he's just been moved to a room so I'll take you there. I would suggest only you coming in at this time. He made it clear when he first got in there he wanted no visitors." The Doctor leads her to his room and Sam stands in the doorway, taking in the image of John lying on the bed and staring at a blank space on the ceiling. He looks younger to her somehow and she knocks gently before entering.
Approaching his side, she takes a seat and as the Doctor said, he continues to ignore her presence. "Hey, John. How are you feeling?" No answer. "Listen, I'm sure you want to get out of here right? Well, it seems the Doctor's are a little worried about the silent treatment. I thought maybe you and I could talk and then I can inform them you will be all right."
"Get out." John whispers, still staring at the ceiling.
"John, you've been through a horrible ordeal and I understand.."
"You UNDERSTAND?" John yells as he turns to look at her, fury depicting his green eyes. "You have NO idea what happened and I want you to leave."
"Look, maybe if you explain to me how you are feeling.." Sam begins as he looks back up at the ceiling. "John, the only way to get through this is to talk about it."
"I already talked about it. Bailey knows what happened. The Doctors have the medical reports, now get out." John demands. "I just want to be left alone."
"You aren't alone, John." Sam assures him as she takes his hand in her own. "We're all here for you, just like you've always been for us. How many times have you tried to make me smile when Jack attacked? How many times have you tried to help Bailey with Frances? You have always been our support, so you have to let us in now so we can support you." She feels him squeeze her hand before releasing it and then he looks at her.
"Sam, do you care about me?" He asks softly, brushing a stray blonde hair from her face.
"Yes, of course I do."
"Then get the hell out of my room with your psychobabble and take the team with you." He turns back away and looks across the room, closing his eyes to tune her out even though he can still hear her breathing. She's not going to leave his side, he can feel it. Any other time he would be glad to have her so close to his bedside, but right now, he would jump through that window if he honestly thought he could make it before she tackled him to the ground. Damn her stubborn streak. He can't believe he actually found that attractive at one time. He knows that she is going to sit and nag at him until he ends up breaking down and telling her every hidden secret or until he loses his control of his rage and does something he will regret.
"I won't leave you, John." Sam says firmly. "You wouldn't leave me."
"Okay, Dr. Waters." He says calmly. Her proper name coming from his lips sends a chill up her spine, as she see's the coldness in his eyes. "What do you want to know?"
"John, it doesn't have to be like this." Sam whispers softly.
"Ask your questions or leave. Those are your options." John snaps.
"How did he get into your house?" Sam finally asks as she watches him keep his calm exterior. To calm. John is playing with her or he's honestly at a loss at what he should do.
"I let him in."
"Why?"
"He knocked." John watches as she takes a deep breath.
"Did you know him?" Sam asks, attempting to keep her patience. He is playing with her. He's almost acting like the John Grant she met the first time when she came in on their first case.
"No, I was expecting my dinner actually. No such luck." John's voice is even and he continues to stare at her with his piercing green eyes. "He told me he had information on my Father and then he shoved a gun in my face."
"He pushed his way into the door?" Sam asks gently.
"I can't remember." John answers honestly. "I sort of got this blur from the time the gun got shoved into my face until the time he forced me into his car."
"Okay, you were able to call Bailey. He caught you on the phone." When John looks at her painfully, she replies gently. "We heard the message. What happened then?"
"He slammed the butt of the gun against my right cheek and told me next time; he'd just shoot me in my kneecap." John grinds out through gritted teeth. "Let's hurry this up. So, then I convinced him to help clean the place up, offered him a beer, figured you guys would find some fingerprints or something. I also got him to let me write a note and he dropped it off I guess. Now, he shoves the gun against my back and informs me to get into his car and if I scream not only is he going to kill me, he's coming after you and Chloe." When she pales he continues.
"So, I got into the car, and figured, what the Hell. I can handle this guy. I didn't realize he'd grabbed my handcuffs when he was helping to clean the place up. I just figured I could talk him down, because it worked some in the apartment. Once we got to his place, it was a different story. He beat the shit out of me and then you guys came to the rescue. End of story, turn the lights off on your way out."
"John, we can stop for awhile if you're tired, but we do need to continue." Sam says gently as she reaches over to brush a lock of his curly brown hair from his forehead. When he cringes at the touch, she moves her hand away. "I would never hurt you."
"I know." He whispers. "Look, can you at least send Bailey in while you convince the rest of them to leave. I don't want visitors tonight and Chloe is probably missing you."
"I'll send Bailey in while I ask the others to leave. I'll call Angel and she'll stay with Chloe tonight, but I'm not leaving you, got it?" Sam says gently but firmly. "I'll see you in a bit." When she exits, she brushes back a tear and then makes her way into waiting room. "Bailey, he wants to see you. George, Grace, he's exhausted and not willing to talk to anyone else tonight. How about you guys get some rest and come back tomorrow?"
"Is he okay?" George asks. "I mean, seriously, level with us. Is he okay?"
"He's sort of still in shock." Sam admits. "I can't really say anything else. Confidentiality you know."
"Yeah, we know." Grace says with a smile. "Okay we're going to leave, send him our love."
"I will. I need to step out of here and call Angel." Sam says as she watches Bailey walk down the corridor. He's going to need to talk tonight, too. She tells herself before leaving the waiting room to make her call.
hr
"Hey John." Bailey says gently as he takes a seat in the vacated chair. "Doctor's seem to think you're going to heal quickly."
"Physically you mean." John growls. "You told them didn't you? That's why Sam is determined to make me talk and the Doctor's think I'm losing my mind."
"John, they know you were held against your will and beaten up. I haven't said anything else; however, you need to tell Sam. She can help you."
"I want off the team, effective immediately." John announces. "I won't be able to be of any help to you guys. I can't keep myself from getting kidnapped, how can I help you solve cases? I just want to get away from Georgia."
"So, you're going to run?" Bailey asks. John gives him a withering glare. "You can't run from this, John. We care about you and want to help."
"I don't need anyone to care about me." The younger man hisses. "Don't you get it? I am not going to be able to get through this, Bailey. Not staying here and looking at you. Knowing you saw me that way. I will never be able to get past it knowing Sam and the rest of the team is looking at me with pity. Like I'm some poor abused puppy from the shelter. I need to get my life back."
"Your life is in Atlanta. How many times have you seen people run away from their lives because of a crime only to end up worse off? We advise against it all the time in our line of work to victims."
"Exactly, to victims. That's what I am to you now. A victim. Not your employee, not your friend, but a victim that you had to come and save." John bites out.
"You saved me when Frances shot me." Bailey reminds him. "You stood by me no matter how much of a jackass I became. You see me as a victim, John? You helped Sam numerous times, when you look at her, do you see a victim?"
"No..But it's different." John chokes out.
"Why? Because this time it's you in the hospital bed? Dammit, John, it could have happened to anyone." Bailey urges as the younger man wipes away at the tears angrily. "You were smart enough to get us the information we needed to get to you. I'd say you did pretty damn good."
"You don't understand." John murmurs softly as he looks up at the ceiling, begging to just disappear.
"Make me understand." Bailey replies. "Come on, John; don't shut down on me."
"He made me beg." John finally admits as he gives in to the tears. " I haven't pleaded for anything since I was a kid. He....did just what he said he was going to do. He broke me and I can't be fixed; so get away. All of you just get away from me. I can't do this."
"John, you made it through it." Bailey demands taking his friend's hand in his own, only to have it yanked away.
"I wanted him to kill me, Bailey." John whispers. "I wish he had."
hr
"Is he going to be okay?" Angel asks as she cradles the phone to her ear. She fights the urge to hurry to the hospital; the concern for John is overwhelming her. However, she knows he won't see her and things have just started to be friendly between the two of them. Chloe needs her anyway.
"I hope so." Sam answers honestly. His eyes looked so haunted and his tough exterior is only a facade. Eventually everything will hit him and once he is that open and raw, it will be hard for someone like him to deal with it. Hell, it would be hard for anyone, but John has always treated all the rough stuff as a joke. There is no way to joke his way out of this. Bailey is holding information back as well. She will need all the facts if she has any chance at helping John. "I'll be here all night, so I'll call and check in tomorrow morning."
"Okay." Angel agrees. "I'll pray for him. Do you want me to say anything to Chloe about him being in the hospital?"
"No, not right now. She'll want to see him and there is no way he will allow it or that she needs to see him this way. I'll call you tomorrow." Hanging up the phone, she leans against the cold, hard wall of the hospital and takes a deep breath. I can do this. I just need to get it together and go back inside. He's full of pain and he is using the anger as a defense mechanism. Just Profile him, Sam, identify with his pain. You do this everyday. She closes her eyes and takes in the information she has already acquired. She can see him sitting in the apartment alone, waiting for the Chinese food to arrive. The knock at the door and opening it without checking to see whom it was.
She can see the bemusement in his eyes when he realizes it's not dinner. Then the hidden panic when the gun is shown. He is thinking on his feet, trying to buy time and leave clues. However, no amount of talking is getting him out of going with the guy and he is desperate to find a way to disarm him. How was it he couldn't disarm the guy?
She flashes back to the here and now and shudders. To be abducted from his own home and not be able to stop it once the gun was pulled. John is filled with guilt; he is consumed by the rage of not checking the door. Rethinking his actions again and again until he is lost in his torment. The man researched John's personnel file; he knew personal and private things about him. He used that knowledge to torture John. I need to talk to his kidnapper she decides to herself. John can provide one side of this, but only the madman knows what was going on in his own head. It should make helping John easier, even though, she doesn't see how she will be able to get there without Bailey wanting to come along. Bailey can not be in the same room with this guy again, she tells herself knowingly. Otherwise, I will be counseling Bailey from between a glass wall during visiting hours at the Federal Pen.
hr Bailey is stunned at the last words John uttered. I wish he had. "John, you may have wished for it then, but certainly you are glad to be okay?"
"Is that what I am?" John asks bitterly. "I'm okay now? Sure, you know those sensitivity classes you always wanted me to take? The ones where I could help identify with the victim, I no longer need them. Believe me, I get what it means to be THE victim. I never want to back to that apartment. I don't want to face the guy down in court and tell those people what he did to me. I won't do it."
"John, you will get past being scared." Bailey begins only to have the younger man laugh at him.
"Scared? You think that's what this is about? You better get a consult in with Samantha, because this isn't about fear." John's voice is rough as he takes in the pained _expression on Bailey's face. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" Bailey asks.
"Like how my Mother looked at me when I was laid up in the hospital then. I don't need your pity or concern. You really want to help me? Get everyone to leave me alone and let me make my own damn decisions. I feel like I'm being smothered. Just take me off the team and walk out that door without looking back. It will be the only way you can help me." John demands as Bailey shakes his head. "Fine, does whatever."
"You can't be left alone as long as you are contemplating suicide." The older man informs him gently.
"Suicide is just another form of death, Det. Malone." John announces professionally. "Isn't that our job, we contemplate death. On one hand you won't take my resignation, but on the other, I can't be left alone because I am doing my job."
"Bailey, may I speak with you a moment?" Sam asks as she opens the door, in time to catch the last part of their conversation. "John, if you will excuse us for just a second."
"Anything you want, Dr. Waters." John replies sarcastically. "Hit the lights this time, will ya?"
When they are outside the room she says softly. "You have to tread gently now, Bailey. He is in a really dark place."
"I made it worse." Bailey seethes as he punches a hospital wall with his hand. The impact makes Sam cringe but Bailey just shakes it off.
"Good thing we're in a hospital. I bet you broke that." She scolds. "You aren't making it worse, but John just needs to face the emotions that are starting to flood him. He's angry right now, but as the anger starts to drain, the fear will begin to surface and he will fight against the fear. He's been violated, Bailey and that's something really hard to accept."
"Maybe I should head down and see if the guys in booking need any help. You can stay with John for awhile right?" Bailey asks, his hand now starting to throb. Damn, I think she is right, I may have broken it.
"How about you stay away from there so you will still have a job? You are in no state of mind to see the man who did this right now. Your hand is starting to swell, why don't you have it checked out and then go home and get some sleep." Sam suggests gently.
"I'm not leaving the hospital. I'll have the hand checked out then I will check in with you." Bailey offers.
"You should try and get some rest." Sam urges him.
"Someone has to stay with him all night. We can take turns. Whoever isn't in the room promises to be good and sleep in the waiting room, deal?" He offers, not backing down.
"Okay, I can live with that. Your hand, Bailey. Have it looked at." She points to the waiting room. "I'll see what I can do in here, okay." Turning back to the door, she opens in and isn't surprised to find John sleeping in the bed. Taking a seat, she is quiet and just watches his breathing. I guess he wanted the lights out for real.
"You just going to watch me?" He finally asks, opening his eyes to reveal he was pretending to sleep.'
"Not now that you are talking." She counters.
"I'm tired of talking." He snaps back. "Tell you want, work your magic and you tell me what happened to me instead."
"John, I know the basic facts of what happened. I can even guess the facts that I don't know, but what I need to understand is how you are feeling about this." Sam presses, knowing he is close to erupting. The vein in his forehead bulges as he glares at her.
"You know HOW I'M FEELING." John seethes. "You're the Fucking Profiler and I'm the victim, so feel it for me, okay?"
"John, you feel used and defeated. You're angry with yourself for allowing him into your house, even though, somewhere in your gut, you know he'd probably have gotten in even if you hadn't opened your door. Maybe he would have pushed his way in when the food arrived, or came through a window while you slept. You are furious that you couldn't control the situation of the perpetrator and you feel violated by having your home invaded." Her voice is soft, but her words are calculated. She watches as he continues to stare at her, his green eyes filled with so much pain in nearly causes her to double over.
"When he threatened the people you cared about you felt defenseless, because you couldn't guarantee that if you got away or made him angrier he wouldn't follow through on the threat. The detective in you tried to maintain the situation while the regular person tried to deal with the shift in control. You tried to separate your mind from your body once he began to attack you. When he used the information he hacked into against you, your blood ran cold and you felt off balance. Those were your private memories and here some mad man now has the knowledge of your past to mix with the torture of the present. You tried to keep your emotions at bay and not let him get to you, but that was impossible. No matter how hard you tried, your brain just couldn't work that way. Nobody can completely shut them self away from an attack, especially when it's a prolonged one."
John never looks away, allowing her voice to wash over him as she clearly and accurately describes his experience. He can see she isn't going to back down and is waiting for him to interrupt her, to correct her. To blow up at her and tell her to go to Hell, but he just stares at her, his pain reflecting in his eyes as he studies her beautiful features. He allows himself to relax and the thoughts of ending it all momentarily pass as he concentrates on her assessment of him.
"Do you want to take it from here?" She asks when she notices he is watching her silently.
"Continue, I'll let you know when you've messed up." John manages to whisper. It doesn't feel quite so painful if she says it and he acknowledges it silently. He doesn't feel so much like the victim. Even though her words are about him and the psycho who took him.
"Every time he would leave you alone, you would try to find a way out, but at the same time, you had to try and deal with the pain."
"I would have cut my hands off to get out of there is Bailey hadn't arrived when he did." John chokes out as a sob catches in his throat. "I...I can't close my eyes without seeing him, hearing him, feeling his rage." The sobs begin to wrack his body as he gives in to the powerful emotions that suddenly unleash from some place hidden deep within him. "I begged him to kill me, Sam. He kept telling me all throughout the attack I would end up begging, but I didn't believe it till I heard the sound of my own voice echoing in that bedroom." She sits on the edge of the bed, her fingers gently roaming through his dark hair.
"It's okay, John. You were the reason we were able to GET to you." Sam assures him, pulling him close as he breaks down in her arms. She is careful not to squeeze him, unable to stand causing him any physical pain.
"I just want to go to sleep, Sam." He sobs into her chest. "I want to wake up and realize this was nothing but a bad dream. What if I can't get past the pain? What if I really am so messed up now that everything I care about will be taken from me? I couldn't go on the job right now. I couldn't even walk into my apartment alone if my life depended upon it." His voice chokes as he finally admits his fear. "Make the pain stop, Sam. I just want to make the pain stop."
"I want to stop it for you." Sam whispers as her blue eyes fill with unshed tears. She rests the top of her chin on the top of his head and just lets him cry silently. It takes a while before his sobs are quieted and soon she feels his breathing change and realizes he has cried himself to sleep in her arms. Settling down gently on the bed, she allows him to sleep against her as she continues to gently run her fingers through his soft hair. It's just instinct. Every time Chloe had a nightmare, she would soothe her by playing with her hair and it seems to have helped with John as well.
When Bailey taps on the door lightly, he opens it to find John asleep and Sam looking down at him protectively. Wordlessly, he closes the door and winces as the pain in his hand hits him again. It wasn't broken, but he did one hell of sprain to it. Good thing it's not the hand he uses to fire his weapon. Taking a seat on a free couch in the waiting room, he leans back and the exhaustion of the day catches up with him as he quickly drifts off to sleep.
Warnings: Please read this. This story is going to be dark right from the beginning. I rated it R for violence, trauma, and memories of childhood abuse. This really isn't set at any particular time in the show. I would love to have your thoughts on it, but please take the warnings seriously.
Collision Course
Chapter 2
The rest of the wait is done in virtual silence as the three field phone calls and flip through magazines waiting for a Doctor to inform them of John's condition. When the Doctor finally approaches, nearly two hours later, Bailey is pacing and the other three are tapping their feet. "Bailey Malone?" She asks.
"Yeah? Is he okay?" Bailey demands a little to hurriedly. His worry is evident as the Doctor lets out a sigh.
"Okay, he nearly had all his ribs broken, has numerous contusions and abrasions and he needed some stitches." She begins as the team members all grimaces. "He is going to be okay, we don't see any signs of any life threatening injuries, but we are worried about his mental state."
"How so?" Sam asks. "I'm a Psychiatrist, so I'd like to know exactly how he is handling this."
"Mr. Grant has basically shut down. He won't answer us when we ask him any questions about the attack. He stares at the ceiling or the wall, anywhere to keep from making eye contact. The only thing he has done was demand to be released and when we informed him he would have to stay for a few days; he hasn't said anything else. Perhaps you could try and talk to him. Our Staff psychiatrist has had no luck. Unless you feel too personally involved."
"No, may I see him now?" Sam asks.
"Sure, he's just been moved to a room so I'll take you there. I would suggest only you coming in at this time. He made it clear when he first got in there he wanted no visitors." The Doctor leads her to his room and Sam stands in the doorway, taking in the image of John lying on the bed and staring at a blank space on the ceiling. He looks younger to her somehow and she knocks gently before entering.
Approaching his side, she takes a seat and as the Doctor said, he continues to ignore her presence. "Hey, John. How are you feeling?" No answer. "Listen, I'm sure you want to get out of here right? Well, it seems the Doctor's are a little worried about the silent treatment. I thought maybe you and I could talk and then I can inform them you will be all right."
"Get out." John whispers, still staring at the ceiling.
"John, you've been through a horrible ordeal and I understand.."
"You UNDERSTAND?" John yells as he turns to look at her, fury depicting his green eyes. "You have NO idea what happened and I want you to leave."
"Look, maybe if you explain to me how you are feeling.." Sam begins as he looks back up at the ceiling. "John, the only way to get through this is to talk about it."
"I already talked about it. Bailey knows what happened. The Doctors have the medical reports, now get out." John demands. "I just want to be left alone."
"You aren't alone, John." Sam assures him as she takes his hand in her own. "We're all here for you, just like you've always been for us. How many times have you tried to make me smile when Jack attacked? How many times have you tried to help Bailey with Frances? You have always been our support, so you have to let us in now so we can support you." She feels him squeeze her hand before releasing it and then he looks at her.
"Sam, do you care about me?" He asks softly, brushing a stray blonde hair from her face.
"Yes, of course I do."
"Then get the hell out of my room with your psychobabble and take the team with you." He turns back away and looks across the room, closing his eyes to tune her out even though he can still hear her breathing. She's not going to leave his side, he can feel it. Any other time he would be glad to have her so close to his bedside, but right now, he would jump through that window if he honestly thought he could make it before she tackled him to the ground. Damn her stubborn streak. He can't believe he actually found that attractive at one time. He knows that she is going to sit and nag at him until he ends up breaking down and telling her every hidden secret or until he loses his control of his rage and does something he will regret.
"I won't leave you, John." Sam says firmly. "You wouldn't leave me."
"Okay, Dr. Waters." He says calmly. Her proper name coming from his lips sends a chill up her spine, as she see's the coldness in his eyes. "What do you want to know?"
"John, it doesn't have to be like this." Sam whispers softly.
"Ask your questions or leave. Those are your options." John snaps.
"How did he get into your house?" Sam finally asks as she watches him keep his calm exterior. To calm. John is playing with her or he's honestly at a loss at what he should do.
"I let him in."
"Why?"
"He knocked." John watches as she takes a deep breath.
"Did you know him?" Sam asks, attempting to keep her patience. He is playing with her. He's almost acting like the John Grant she met the first time when she came in on their first case.
"No, I was expecting my dinner actually. No such luck." John's voice is even and he continues to stare at her with his piercing green eyes. "He told me he had information on my Father and then he shoved a gun in my face."
"He pushed his way into the door?" Sam asks gently.
"I can't remember." John answers honestly. "I sort of got this blur from the time the gun got shoved into my face until the time he forced me into his car."
"Okay, you were able to call Bailey. He caught you on the phone." When John looks at her painfully, she replies gently. "We heard the message. What happened then?"
"He slammed the butt of the gun against my right cheek and told me next time; he'd just shoot me in my kneecap." John grinds out through gritted teeth. "Let's hurry this up. So, then I convinced him to help clean the place up, offered him a beer, figured you guys would find some fingerprints or something. I also got him to let me write a note and he dropped it off I guess. Now, he shoves the gun against my back and informs me to get into his car and if I scream not only is he going to kill me, he's coming after you and Chloe." When she pales he continues.
"So, I got into the car, and figured, what the Hell. I can handle this guy. I didn't realize he'd grabbed my handcuffs when he was helping to clean the place up. I just figured I could talk him down, because it worked some in the apartment. Once we got to his place, it was a different story. He beat the shit out of me and then you guys came to the rescue. End of story, turn the lights off on your way out."
"John, we can stop for awhile if you're tired, but we do need to continue." Sam says gently as she reaches over to brush a lock of his curly brown hair from his forehead. When he cringes at the touch, she moves her hand away. "I would never hurt you."
"I know." He whispers. "Look, can you at least send Bailey in while you convince the rest of them to leave. I don't want visitors tonight and Chloe is probably missing you."
"I'll send Bailey in while I ask the others to leave. I'll call Angel and she'll stay with Chloe tonight, but I'm not leaving you, got it?" Sam says gently but firmly. "I'll see you in a bit." When she exits, she brushes back a tear and then makes her way into waiting room. "Bailey, he wants to see you. George, Grace, he's exhausted and not willing to talk to anyone else tonight. How about you guys get some rest and come back tomorrow?"
"Is he okay?" George asks. "I mean, seriously, level with us. Is he okay?"
"He's sort of still in shock." Sam admits. "I can't really say anything else. Confidentiality you know."
"Yeah, we know." Grace says with a smile. "Okay we're going to leave, send him our love."
"I will. I need to step out of here and call Angel." Sam says as she watches Bailey walk down the corridor. He's going to need to talk tonight, too. She tells herself before leaving the waiting room to make her call.
hr
"Hey John." Bailey says gently as he takes a seat in the vacated chair. "Doctor's seem to think you're going to heal quickly."
"Physically you mean." John growls. "You told them didn't you? That's why Sam is determined to make me talk and the Doctor's think I'm losing my mind."
"John, they know you were held against your will and beaten up. I haven't said anything else; however, you need to tell Sam. She can help you."
"I want off the team, effective immediately." John announces. "I won't be able to be of any help to you guys. I can't keep myself from getting kidnapped, how can I help you solve cases? I just want to get away from Georgia."
"So, you're going to run?" Bailey asks. John gives him a withering glare. "You can't run from this, John. We care about you and want to help."
"I don't need anyone to care about me." The younger man hisses. "Don't you get it? I am not going to be able to get through this, Bailey. Not staying here and looking at you. Knowing you saw me that way. I will never be able to get past it knowing Sam and the rest of the team is looking at me with pity. Like I'm some poor abused puppy from the shelter. I need to get my life back."
"Your life is in Atlanta. How many times have you seen people run away from their lives because of a crime only to end up worse off? We advise against it all the time in our line of work to victims."
"Exactly, to victims. That's what I am to you now. A victim. Not your employee, not your friend, but a victim that you had to come and save." John bites out.
"You saved me when Frances shot me." Bailey reminds him. "You stood by me no matter how much of a jackass I became. You see me as a victim, John? You helped Sam numerous times, when you look at her, do you see a victim?"
"No..But it's different." John chokes out.
"Why? Because this time it's you in the hospital bed? Dammit, John, it could have happened to anyone." Bailey urges as the younger man wipes away at the tears angrily. "You were smart enough to get us the information we needed to get to you. I'd say you did pretty damn good."
"You don't understand." John murmurs softly as he looks up at the ceiling, begging to just disappear.
"Make me understand." Bailey replies. "Come on, John; don't shut down on me."
"He made me beg." John finally admits as he gives in to the tears. " I haven't pleaded for anything since I was a kid. He....did just what he said he was going to do. He broke me and I can't be fixed; so get away. All of you just get away from me. I can't do this."
"John, you made it through it." Bailey demands taking his friend's hand in his own, only to have it yanked away.
"I wanted him to kill me, Bailey." John whispers. "I wish he had."
hr
"Is he going to be okay?" Angel asks as she cradles the phone to her ear. She fights the urge to hurry to the hospital; the concern for John is overwhelming her. However, she knows he won't see her and things have just started to be friendly between the two of them. Chloe needs her anyway.
"I hope so." Sam answers honestly. His eyes looked so haunted and his tough exterior is only a facade. Eventually everything will hit him and once he is that open and raw, it will be hard for someone like him to deal with it. Hell, it would be hard for anyone, but John has always treated all the rough stuff as a joke. There is no way to joke his way out of this. Bailey is holding information back as well. She will need all the facts if she has any chance at helping John. "I'll be here all night, so I'll call and check in tomorrow morning."
"Okay." Angel agrees. "I'll pray for him. Do you want me to say anything to Chloe about him being in the hospital?"
"No, not right now. She'll want to see him and there is no way he will allow it or that she needs to see him this way. I'll call you tomorrow." Hanging up the phone, she leans against the cold, hard wall of the hospital and takes a deep breath. I can do this. I just need to get it together and go back inside. He's full of pain and he is using the anger as a defense mechanism. Just Profile him, Sam, identify with his pain. You do this everyday. She closes her eyes and takes in the information she has already acquired. She can see him sitting in the apartment alone, waiting for the Chinese food to arrive. The knock at the door and opening it without checking to see whom it was.
She can see the bemusement in his eyes when he realizes it's not dinner. Then the hidden panic when the gun is shown. He is thinking on his feet, trying to buy time and leave clues. However, no amount of talking is getting him out of going with the guy and he is desperate to find a way to disarm him. How was it he couldn't disarm the guy?
She flashes back to the here and now and shudders. To be abducted from his own home and not be able to stop it once the gun was pulled. John is filled with guilt; he is consumed by the rage of not checking the door. Rethinking his actions again and again until he is lost in his torment. The man researched John's personnel file; he knew personal and private things about him. He used that knowledge to torture John. I need to talk to his kidnapper she decides to herself. John can provide one side of this, but only the madman knows what was going on in his own head. It should make helping John easier, even though, she doesn't see how she will be able to get there without Bailey wanting to come along. Bailey can not be in the same room with this guy again, she tells herself knowingly. Otherwise, I will be counseling Bailey from between a glass wall during visiting hours at the Federal Pen.
hr Bailey is stunned at the last words John uttered. I wish he had. "John, you may have wished for it then, but certainly you are glad to be okay?"
"Is that what I am?" John asks bitterly. "I'm okay now? Sure, you know those sensitivity classes you always wanted me to take? The ones where I could help identify with the victim, I no longer need them. Believe me, I get what it means to be THE victim. I never want to back to that apartment. I don't want to face the guy down in court and tell those people what he did to me. I won't do it."
"John, you will get past being scared." Bailey begins only to have the younger man laugh at him.
"Scared? You think that's what this is about? You better get a consult in with Samantha, because this isn't about fear." John's voice is rough as he takes in the pained _expression on Bailey's face. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" Bailey asks.
"Like how my Mother looked at me when I was laid up in the hospital then. I don't need your pity or concern. You really want to help me? Get everyone to leave me alone and let me make my own damn decisions. I feel like I'm being smothered. Just take me off the team and walk out that door without looking back. It will be the only way you can help me." John demands as Bailey shakes his head. "Fine, does whatever."
"You can't be left alone as long as you are contemplating suicide." The older man informs him gently.
"Suicide is just another form of death, Det. Malone." John announces professionally. "Isn't that our job, we contemplate death. On one hand you won't take my resignation, but on the other, I can't be left alone because I am doing my job."
"Bailey, may I speak with you a moment?" Sam asks as she opens the door, in time to catch the last part of their conversation. "John, if you will excuse us for just a second."
"Anything you want, Dr. Waters." John replies sarcastically. "Hit the lights this time, will ya?"
When they are outside the room she says softly. "You have to tread gently now, Bailey. He is in a really dark place."
"I made it worse." Bailey seethes as he punches a hospital wall with his hand. The impact makes Sam cringe but Bailey just shakes it off.
"Good thing we're in a hospital. I bet you broke that." She scolds. "You aren't making it worse, but John just needs to face the emotions that are starting to flood him. He's angry right now, but as the anger starts to drain, the fear will begin to surface and he will fight against the fear. He's been violated, Bailey and that's something really hard to accept."
"Maybe I should head down and see if the guys in booking need any help. You can stay with John for awhile right?" Bailey asks, his hand now starting to throb. Damn, I think she is right, I may have broken it.
"How about you stay away from there so you will still have a job? You are in no state of mind to see the man who did this right now. Your hand is starting to swell, why don't you have it checked out and then go home and get some sleep." Sam suggests gently.
"I'm not leaving the hospital. I'll have the hand checked out then I will check in with you." Bailey offers.
"You should try and get some rest." Sam urges him.
"Someone has to stay with him all night. We can take turns. Whoever isn't in the room promises to be good and sleep in the waiting room, deal?" He offers, not backing down.
"Okay, I can live with that. Your hand, Bailey. Have it looked at." She points to the waiting room. "I'll see what I can do in here, okay." Turning back to the door, she opens in and isn't surprised to find John sleeping in the bed. Taking a seat, she is quiet and just watches his breathing. I guess he wanted the lights out for real.
"You just going to watch me?" He finally asks, opening his eyes to reveal he was pretending to sleep.'
"Not now that you are talking." She counters.
"I'm tired of talking." He snaps back. "Tell you want, work your magic and you tell me what happened to me instead."
"John, I know the basic facts of what happened. I can even guess the facts that I don't know, but what I need to understand is how you are feeling about this." Sam presses, knowing he is close to erupting. The vein in his forehead bulges as he glares at her.
"You know HOW I'M FEELING." John seethes. "You're the Fucking Profiler and I'm the victim, so feel it for me, okay?"
"John, you feel used and defeated. You're angry with yourself for allowing him into your house, even though, somewhere in your gut, you know he'd probably have gotten in even if you hadn't opened your door. Maybe he would have pushed his way in when the food arrived, or came through a window while you slept. You are furious that you couldn't control the situation of the perpetrator and you feel violated by having your home invaded." Her voice is soft, but her words are calculated. She watches as he continues to stare at her, his green eyes filled with so much pain in nearly causes her to double over.
"When he threatened the people you cared about you felt defenseless, because you couldn't guarantee that if you got away or made him angrier he wouldn't follow through on the threat. The detective in you tried to maintain the situation while the regular person tried to deal with the shift in control. You tried to separate your mind from your body once he began to attack you. When he used the information he hacked into against you, your blood ran cold and you felt off balance. Those were your private memories and here some mad man now has the knowledge of your past to mix with the torture of the present. You tried to keep your emotions at bay and not let him get to you, but that was impossible. No matter how hard you tried, your brain just couldn't work that way. Nobody can completely shut them self away from an attack, especially when it's a prolonged one."
John never looks away, allowing her voice to wash over him as she clearly and accurately describes his experience. He can see she isn't going to back down and is waiting for him to interrupt her, to correct her. To blow up at her and tell her to go to Hell, but he just stares at her, his pain reflecting in his eyes as he studies her beautiful features. He allows himself to relax and the thoughts of ending it all momentarily pass as he concentrates on her assessment of him.
"Do you want to take it from here?" She asks when she notices he is watching her silently.
"Continue, I'll let you know when you've messed up." John manages to whisper. It doesn't feel quite so painful if she says it and he acknowledges it silently. He doesn't feel so much like the victim. Even though her words are about him and the psycho who took him.
"Every time he would leave you alone, you would try to find a way out, but at the same time, you had to try and deal with the pain."
"I would have cut my hands off to get out of there is Bailey hadn't arrived when he did." John chokes out as a sob catches in his throat. "I...I can't close my eyes without seeing him, hearing him, feeling his rage." The sobs begin to wrack his body as he gives in to the powerful emotions that suddenly unleash from some place hidden deep within him. "I begged him to kill me, Sam. He kept telling me all throughout the attack I would end up begging, but I didn't believe it till I heard the sound of my own voice echoing in that bedroom." She sits on the edge of the bed, her fingers gently roaming through his dark hair.
"It's okay, John. You were the reason we were able to GET to you." Sam assures him, pulling him close as he breaks down in her arms. She is careful not to squeeze him, unable to stand causing him any physical pain.
"I just want to go to sleep, Sam." He sobs into her chest. "I want to wake up and realize this was nothing but a bad dream. What if I can't get past the pain? What if I really am so messed up now that everything I care about will be taken from me? I couldn't go on the job right now. I couldn't even walk into my apartment alone if my life depended upon it." His voice chokes as he finally admits his fear. "Make the pain stop, Sam. I just want to make the pain stop."
"I want to stop it for you." Sam whispers as her blue eyes fill with unshed tears. She rests the top of her chin on the top of his head and just lets him cry silently. It takes a while before his sobs are quieted and soon she feels his breathing change and realizes he has cried himself to sleep in her arms. Settling down gently on the bed, she allows him to sleep against her as she continues to gently run her fingers through his soft hair. It's just instinct. Every time Chloe had a nightmare, she would soothe her by playing with her hair and it seems to have helped with John as well.
When Bailey taps on the door lightly, he opens it to find John asleep and Sam looking down at him protectively. Wordlessly, he closes the door and winces as the pain in his hand hits him again. It wasn't broken, but he did one hell of sprain to it. Good thing it's not the hand he uses to fire his weapon. Taking a seat on a free couch in the waiting room, he leans back and the exhaustion of the day catches up with him as he quickly drifts off to sleep.