Book 2 of Cat and Mouse

Title: Better Off Dead

Author: Jayde

Rating: PG-13 for Language, Violence, and Adult Content

Credits: Thanks to Sassy for the beta read. (Hope I didn't mess up your studying!)

Summary: FBI agent Samantha Gallagher, now a friend of the turtles, starts working on a new case that may spell the end of her career.

Author's Notes: I was feeling generous, and posted two chapters at once. Warning: There are only 5 chapters in this installment, so the end is nigh folks.

Chapter 4:

Three years earlier …

"Where is he?"

"Ms. Gallagher, there are some things you need to know before you see him," the nurse explained to the red haired woman charging down the hall of the hospital.

"Just tell me what room he's in," she demanded. The nurse caught her arm, and halted her progress. He pulled her to one side of the busy hallway, and spoke quickly and quietly.

"Your father has had a stroke. There has been brain damage. He can communicate, but he's not clear on some things."

Sam's eyes went round with surprise. "What things?" she questioned.

"He's confused over what year it is," the nurse explained. He seemed very uncomfortable.

"Take me to see him," Sam said. Whatever had happened, it would be better once she could see her father. The nurse nodded, and led her down the hall to a stark white room. Once around the curtain, Sam had to hold on to herself to keep from running out. His face was ashen and slack. She moved around to the side of the bed, and bent over his still form.

"Daddy," she called softly. His eyes opened, and it took a moment for them to fix on her.

"Samantha," he replied, sounding genuinely pleased. "Is Mark here, too?" His daughter looked dismayed at the question, and she glanced at the nurse with new understanding. Recovering quickly, Sam managed to answer.

"No, Dad. Mark's not here."

"Call him and ask him to come see his old man," John directed, as his eyes lost focus again. Sam swallowed around the hard lump in her throat, and tried to make her voice work.

"Okay, Daddy."

-

"So for now, you'll be reporting directly to Agent in Charge Sanders from the D.C. office. Any questions?"

Samantha sat quietly in the chair across the enormous gleaming black desk from her supervisor, and tried not to panic.

"So, I'm on loan, or something?" Sam asked.

"Or something," her supervisor retorted. He signed a piece of paper, not even deigning to look up at her. "Dismissed."

"I don't think you realize what you're doing," Sam started. Her supervisor glanced up at her with barely disguised impatience. "Sanders is just trying to destroy his ex-wife. This is some insane revenge kick he's on."

"I don't care if he's gathering evidence to convict the Easter Bunny. D.C. has asked for our help, and we're giving it. Dismissed."

Sam stood up, and walked out of the office. Once in the industrial gray hallway, she leaned against the wall for a moment. Reporting directly to Sanders meant that he would be able to monitor her every move. It would be that much harder to sneak away to see the turtles, or even call to check on Juliet.

Sam stood up straight, and walked down the hall to an open conference room. Inside, Sanders was sitting on the table, one leg swinging jauntily back and forth, as he grinned at her arrival.

"Agent Gallagher, a pleasure to see you again," he greeted with a shark's smile. "Won't you come in and sit down? I have some new assignments for you …"

"Stakeouts?" Sam inquired, not bothering to return the false geniality.

"How did you guess?" He replied cheerily. "By the way, you haven't heard anything from Juliet, our missing witness, have you?"

Samantha frowned at the senior agent, and took a seat at the table.

"How old are you now Agent Gallagher?" Sanders asked. "26?"

"28," Sam replied shortly.

"Are you happy with the FBI, Agent?" Sanders inquired. Sam squirmed a little in her chair, wondering where this whole thing was leading.

"Yes," she finally answered.

"If you want to stay happy, and stay in this job, then you need to figure out who your real friends are," Sanders warned, still smiling like an evil Christmas elf from his perch on top of the table. "Now me, I could be your friend … if you help me out."

"I have absolutely no interest in helping you," Sam gritted coldly. Sanders leaned forward, and the smile slid off his face to be replaced by an icy glare.

"What is it you think you know, Gallagher?" He slipped off the table and stood up. Sam rose to her feet as well, and glanced at the door. It was only a few steps away. "Has my wife been filling your head with her lies?"

Sam took a step back, and Sanders' gloating smile returned.

"Has she told you to be afraid of me?" he questioned softly. Sam turned, and rushed for the door. A hand caught her arm, and her back met the doorframe hard enough to send the vibration through her whole body. Sanders leaned in, and breathed out his final warning. "That's good, because you should be afraid of me. You both should be."

Sam shoved him back, surprising the man with her retaliation.

"You're not a federal agent," she spat, sneering up at him. "You're a fraud, and a pathetic excuse for a man. You think beating up and terrorizing a woman makes you big? You make me sick." Sam spun around and charged out the door, nearly toppling a hapless clerk in the hallway.

-

Slipping quietly into the lair over the lunch hour, Samantha yawned and adjusted the badge around her neck. She was exhausted. She had been on a stakeout all night again after her encounter with Sanders, and then had spent the morning trying to lose her tail. She wandered to the kitchen, and noted that Mike was at the stove cooking something in a large pot. The turtle offered her a friendly smile, and Sam opened the fridge to see if she could locate a soda.

Juliet walked in, and gave Sam a wave. Then, Juliet moved up behind Mike, and put her arms around his neck. Sam, frozen to the spot in surprise, watched helplessly as Juliet dropped an affectionate kiss on Mike's cheek.

Having completed her task, apparently, Juliet exited again. Mike grinned over his shoulder at the FBI agent, and offered a 'what can you do' shrug.

Her mind reeling, Sam staggered out of the kitchen, only to bump directly into Don's plastron. Catching her by the shoulders, Don kept Sam from falling backwards. Seeing her wide and puzzled eyes, Don took her arm, and led her directly to his lab. With a determination that surprised her, Don pushed her down on to a stool.

"I'm gone for a couple of days," Sam whispered, finally finding her ability to speak. Don smiled gently, and released her shoulders. He pulled a stool up, and sat close by.

"Things change rapidly around here," he noted blithely.

"Jeez, Donnie," Sam moaned, and lowered her head into her hands. Hesitantly, he slid a hand around the back of her neck and massaged lightly. "I'm gonna get fired." Or killed, she added silently in her own head.

"Because Mike and Juliet are involved?" He questioned in a soft voice.

Sam groaned and leaned her forehead against the upper plates of his plastron. "He's going to hunt for Juliet forever. He's obsessed, and completely nuts …" She raised her head, and met Don's eyes. "It took me hours to shake his partner this morning, and ..." She paused, realizing she had said too much.

"And what?" Don queried. When Sam remained silent, his eyes narrowed with concern. "Has he threatened you?"

Sam's eyes cut to the side. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," Don noted evenly. He dug in with his fingers, massaging harder. Sam closed her eyes in real pleasure.

"You have magic fingers," she said, her voice husky with exhaustion. Abruptly, she realized the intimacy of her position, and sat back. Don removed his hand. "I'll be fine. Just keep Juliet hidden, and I'll figure something out."

"And if you can't figure something out?" Don added solemnly.

"Then my career is over."

"Well, I have an idea," Don stated. He watched as a slow smile spread over Sam's tired face.

"Don't you always?"

-

"Dan, how's it going?"

"Sam," Dan replied, juggling his cell phone and the half-eaten cheeseburger he had been eating for dinner. "What's up?"

"I need a favor," Sam said, her voice sounding very far away.

"Where are you? In a tunnel?" Dan questioned, trying to hear her over the static.

"Something like that," Sam responded, faintly amused. "Could you meet me tomorrow morning? I have someone who wants to turn themselves in."

"Who?" Dan asked, suddenly very interested in the conversation. He dropped his burger on his desk, and pulled over a pen and pad of notepaper.

"That woman the FBI wants for questioning in D.C." Dan tapped his pen on his desk for a moment.

"Shouldn't you be bringing her to the FBI, Sam?"

"She wants to turn herself into the NYPD, Dan," Sam stated. "Listen, I'm just the messenger here. You don't want to bring her in, that's fine."

"No, no," Dan interjected swiftly. "I'm fine with it. Where do you want to meet? Or are you bringing her here to the station?"

"I have a location in mind. You got a pen handy?"

-