Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay in this chapter, but I'm also working on two other WiPs now and that combined with schoolwork has not given me a ton of time to work on this. Its unbeta'd because my email is screwed up, so I couldn't send it to SpookyMulder1 (sorry!), so constructive criticism is especially welcome in this chapter. Enjoy.
Guardian angels who left me stranded
It was worth it, feeling abandoned
Makes one hardened . . .
- Rufus Wainwright, "Go or Go Ahead".
Elizabeth studied people; it was her nature to try and analyze them even after her first impressions of them. Because of that she considered herself quite a hypocrite, angered at the world for judging her, but at the same time judging them herself.
Generally people, upon discovering she was a psychiatrist, classified Liz as a super-intelligent neat freak who spent her free time reading medical journals and was patient and understanding with all of her patients.
As she walked into her apartment, the floor littered with the trashy romance novels she considered her guilty pleasure, she grinned, imagining their reactions upon seeing her living quarters. Her last boyfriend, Nick, had been astonished upon seeing her messiness and her impatience, startled by her inability to maintain interest in a scientific journal for more than a few minutes.
She threw down her bag and shook her hair out of her tightly made bun; kicking off the pointy, uncomfortable shoes she hated wearing. Walking to the kitchen, she couldn't help but notice that something was missing. Some part of the apartment was gone.
Then it hit her that more than one thing was gone. She checked the bathroom, the kitchen, the bedroom. Jason was gone.
Strangely enough, she didn't feel any grief. All she felt was a curious sensation of loss, like one feels when they have lost something of minor value, something enjoyed but expendable. At first there had been love, which eventually progressed to a mutual respect. And now he had left.
Sighing inwardly, she set the water to boil and brought out some teabags.
He had memorized every detail of the hallway by now. After all, he had paced it enough times to know every crack in the floor's tiles, every chip in the paint on the wall. He had been there for hours, listening to the shaky metal of cart's wheels on the tiles and the soft thumps the shoes of doctors and nurses made as they rushed from room to room.
Many times the door he was waiting outside of opened and out came frazzled looking doctors and nurses, always bearing the same message: They didn't know how long it was going to take, but she was going to be fine.
Finally the door opened and out came a doctor, peeling off his gloves. But this time he kept the door open, inviting Jesse in. He was anxious to enter and did so, shaking the hand of the doctor quickly before rushing in.
Amelia was sitting up quietly, her face and hair soaked in sweat. She was holding the baby in her arms, gazing at it silently.
"It's a boy." She said, looking up at Jesse. Brushing aside a wisp of her child's hair she met Jesse's eyes. "What are we going to name him?"
Jesse didn't answer, peering down at his son in Amelia's arms. "Anything but Gunther, I guess." He said, recalling their conversation from a couple of months ago.
She grinned and lifted the baby to her husband. Jesse gently accepted him, ignoring the cries he was emitting.
"I like Charlie." Amelia said softly. "I found it in the baby names book a couple of weeks back." She paused and admired the way Jesse was holding their son with such care, such love. This gentle man couldn't have been the same person who had tackled an innocent man on their first date, the person who had fought and killed so many in the Vietnam War only a few years ago.
He looked at her and smiled, handing the blanketed infant to Amelia. "Charlie's nice." Was all he said, and he smiled.
"Congratulations." Elizabeth said as she welcomed Jesse into her office later that week. To Jesse it was like going home again, entering a place where every detail was etched into his mind. It still smelled the same - cozy but sterile, like most doctors were. Warm and inviting enough to provoke response and friendliness in return, but cold and reserved enough to maintain a professional aura.
He brushed his fingers against the spines of some of her books before making his way back to the couch. It was still the same leather sofa he had sat on for months before his accident, when Amelia agreed it would be best if he took some time off from therapy along with his job. He had been getting better in her eyes, ridding himself of his eccentric behavior and becoming more open with her.
"Just like you remember it?" She asked.
"Yeah." He grinned. "Feels like it's only been a week since I was here last."
She sat behind her desk, in the same position she always arranged herself in. Sitting up straight, legs crossed underneath the desk, her hands folded under her chin. "Did you come to resume therapy with me, Jesse?"
"Ah, no." He sat down on the couch. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something."
One eyebrow raised itself over the rims of her glasses. "Ask me something as a patient would ask a doctor?" She inquired.
"Ask you something as one friend to another." He replied. "You were the only person that we - that I - really know well here, and you really helped me out when I first came to see you. Amelia and I wanted to know - " He paused to swallow - "We wanted to know if you wanted to be Charlie's godmother."
She smiled. "Of course." She paused before adding, "I'd love to."
The silence that followed suddenly brought to mind a session from when they had first began. She removed her glasses, folding them neatly and placing them on the desk in front of her. "Jesse, have you been having problems with - " Elizabeth trailed off. "I don't know how to put this. Have you been 'taken' again?"
The grin slowly faded from Jesse's face, and he shifted uncomfortably. "It's been happening less and less. I just don't want them to start taking Charlie now." His last sentence trailed off as he grew more somber, shifting his gaze to focus on anything but Liz.
"I just wanted to know if you were okay." She said concernedly.
He met her eyes again. "I am. I'm really happy now."
Liz nodded. "I'm glad for you, Jesse." She said softly.
The blonde man was of medium height and, on second glance, wasn't terribly bad looking. Heather, Dr. Goodman's receptionist, allowed her eyes to wander every so often to the patient waiting patiently in the waiting area. He didn't have an appointment, but Dr. Goodman was free for the rest of the afternoon.
The door to her office opened and the current patient walked out. The blonde man's eyes followed him out the door, as if he was going to suddenly throw aside his worn copy of Sports Illustrated and tackle the poor man.
"Can I help you?" Elizabeth asked the waiting man. He immediately jerked his eyes back to her.
"Ah, yes." He replied. "My name is Eric Crawford, from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. May we have a word?"
Heather's heart sunk. She had dated feds before and they were all the same - pompous, self-righteous pricks that thought flashing their badge could get them out of any mess. Nevertheless, she still permitted her eyes to follow Mr. Crawford as he entered the office.
"Make yourself at home." Elizabeth said, moving a thick packet of files from her desk to a file cabinet next to her bookcase. "Does this visit have anything to do with any complaints from my patient Mr. - "
Interrupting with a wave of his hand, Eric interrupted, "Actually, it is about one of your patients." He paced the floor of her office, admiring a painting on the wall. "But it's not a complaint."
Elizabeth was good at reading people; it was her job. And she knew that this man was trouble, someone she couldn't trust. Something about the suave way he walked, his rigid posture, his smooth tone alarmed her. And so her voice contained a hint of venom when she asked, "Then what do you want?"
He turned to face her, taken aback by her sudden comment. "One of your patients, Jesse Keys. I need to know some information about him."
"What kind of information?" Elizabeth asked suspiciously.
"Address, things like that. We've been tracking him down for a long time, Ms. Goodman." He answered.
Sharply, she corrected him. "It's Doctor Goodman." Ignoring his apologies, she continued: "If you've been able to track him to me and discover that he was one of my patients, then I'm sure you already know his address and 'things like that'."
"There's no need to be hostile. We need this for a project of ours and - "
"I'm not being hostile." Elizabeth said angrily. "There is a strict doctor-patient confidentiality policy that we enforce here very strongly."
The blonde man approached Elizabeth until they were only inches apart. "I don't think you understand the importance of this information, Dr. Goodman." He said. "The FBI is requesting that you cooperate with us in this situation."
Elizabeth quickly turned and headed towards the other side of the room to add another file to the cabinet. "I don't care who wants this information. I don't give out any kind of information about my patients to anyone. And I'd like you to leave now."
"You'll be hearing from us soon, Dr. Goodman." Eric said in a threatening tone before leaving.
As soon as she was sure he was gone she rushed to the phone and dialed Jesse's number.
"Will you get that, Jesse?" Called Amelia, who was resting on the couch with a glass of iced tea in one hand and a book in the other when she heard the phone ring.
"Sure." He said, picking up the phone, the ringing ending abruptly. "Hello?"
"Jesse? This is Liz." She sounded alarmed, and Jesse was immediately concerned. "Listen, I need you to do something for me."
He moved further into the kitchen, as far from Amelia as the phone cord would allow him to journey. "What is it?"
"I just had a visitor. Eric Crawford." Jesse felt something register in the back of his mind, telling him he knew that name from somewhere. Liz continued, interrupting his train of thought. "He wanted to know all this stuff about you. I kicked him out, but I'm worried you and Amelia and Charlie."
"OK." He paused, wiping his brow. "So what do you want me to do?"
"Disappear for a while." She answered. "Go to a motel, if only for a few nights. Just make it so that that man can't find you." Then, after a brief hesitation, she added: "Good luck."
"Thanks." He hung up quickly and went into Charlie's room, carefully picking up the sleeping baby.
"What are you doing?" Amelia asked, standing at the doorway of Charlie's room.
"We have to go away for a while." Jesse said, grabbing a bag from the closet and stuffing several outfits into it. "Just for a little while." He muttered under his breath.
Amelia reached out an arm to stop him. "What do you mean?"
"There are some people looking for me." Jesse said, pausing to look at Amelia. "And I don't want them to get to you or Charlie. I don't want them to hurt you."
"Are you all right?" She asked warily. Perhaps the fall in the building had had some effect on Jesse's brain, even if it was almost a year ago, and the idea of that alone scared her. "I think you just need to calm down and - "
"Please." He said. "Dr. Goodman called me to tell me this. It's her idea. I just need to get you to a motel or something for a few nights. Somewhere you can be safe. But not to any family members, they'll track you down." He was going through drawers in other rooms now, frantically filling bags with toiletries and clothes.
"Jesse - " She said weakly, and reached a hand out to stop him again. "Who are 'they'?"
Jesse stopped in his tracks. "Just . . . just do this. Please. I can explain this all later, someday. I promise."
"Okay." She whispered. "All right, Jesse."
He dropped them off at the motel, speeding off as Amelia stood outside of the dimly lighted motel holding Charlie. Guilt consumed him as he realized he should be there to protect them, but something told him that they would be safer if he were farther away from them.
His car was heading down a lonely, dark highway now. He had no idea where it would lead to. All he wanted was someplace to sit quietly in the dark and try to make sense of this. Then he would call Liz.
