Title: Rest in Peace (Book 4 from 'Cat and Mouse')
Author: Jayde
Rating: PG-13 for stuff
Summary: The final book in this series.
Disclaimer: I do not own the turtles, Casey, April, or Splinter. I do own several pairs of knitting needles.
Author's Notes: Well, it's the end. I have to say that this has been fun, and I will probably write something a little longer again as I have managed to get through this without pulling out all of my hair. As it is the end, you will note that the sections are a little shorter, and the whole thing is fewer chapters. I only have a little more to say, you see.
To Fallen Hikari: No evil laugh is needed here. There are no more cliffhangers. (In this story!)
To Reluctant Dragon: Your well reasoned and probing reviews have been fantastic to read. Thank you for every last one of them.
To Bubbly Shell: Enjoy your spring break, and I expect a comment when you return!
To pacphys: I believe Don could do well with torture … but that's another story.
To Reinbeauchaser: Yes, I think I'm improving at building tension, but that isn't really going to be the case here. The storm is dying down. This is about tying up loose ends, and finding some sense of closure for the story lines. And for the record, I always use a beta reader and/or editor. I am a bit of a perfectionist (Sassy can now attest to this).
To Sassy, who has generously beta read each book – thank you. I couldn't have done it without your encouragement and helpful suggestions.
Chapter 1:
"The wireless customer you are trying to reach is not available …"
"Damn," the clerk said, slamming down the phone into the cradle with a bang. A nurse, passing by, stopped to stare at her. The clerk offered a sheepish smile. "Sorry."
"Problems, Gina?" the nurse asked sympathetically, setting her pile of charts down on the reception counter.
Gina rubbed at the back of her neck as she tried to explain her predicament. "I've called this number at least nine times. And it's the only one listed on the patient contact list." The clerk sighed, and showed the open file folder to the nurse. The nurse studied the name for a moment.
"Samantha Gallagher. It says that she's with the FBI. Don't they know how to contact her?" the nurse inquired.
Gina shook her head. "They said she quit a while back."
"Well, keep trying. Someone has to be notified, and she is next of kin," the nurse offered. She turned away to head down a hallway decorated in mute and soothing colors. Her shoes squeaked on the polished floors as she passed by the rooms. It was really too bad about Mr. Gallagher, she thought as she continued on her rounds. Even worse was that his daughter couldn't be located to receive the news.
Juliet leaned forward in the hard plastic chair, and rested her head in her hands. The quiet hubbub of the hallway was grating on her nerves. Nurses and doctors hurried back and forth, patients were wheeled by occasionally, and family members gathered in anxious knots, speaking softly together.
She, of course, had no one to talk to while she waited. After Sam had been shot, the guys had realized they had to leave – they couldn't wait with Juliet for the ambulance to come. It had wrenched Mike to leave Juliet there alone with a rapidly cooling body, and an injured Samantha.
And Don … Juliet shivered as she recalled the desperation in his eyes as Leo and Raph pulled him away. Leo had made the call to the authorities, and the four of them had driven away to wait at the lair.
Sitting alone in the parking lot in the dead hours of the morning, her hands pressed to the wound in Sam's mid-section, Juliet had pleaded with a higher power for some aid. Within fifteen minutes, she had heard the scream of approaching sirens. It hadn't really been that long. When the ambulance arrived to take charge of Sam, the woman had still been breathing.
But it had been hours in this hallway, and no word had come on Sam. If she died … Juliet didn't know how she would live with that.
"Excuse me," a soft, masculine voice interrupted her thoughts. Juliet glanced up to find a black haired man of medium height peering down at her. "Are you Juliet Sanders?"
"Yes," Juliet whispered in reply. She took in the badge in the man's front coat pocket, and the gun under his jacket. Would she be arrested now?
"I'm Detective Dan Wa," he introduced. "Has the doctor come out yet? Is Sam alright?" Dan questioned anxiously. Juliet felt her fears for her self swirl away.
"No. Nothing," she reported briefly. Dan nodded unhappily, and sat down in the chair next to hers.
"It's over," he said after a moment, startling her a little. "You know that, right?" Juliet looked sideways at him with a puzzled frown. "The FBI contacted me already. You are no longer wanted for questioning, but if there's anything you wanted to tell me …" Dan left it hanging there, but Juliet failed to respond. She only blinked, and Dan sighed. "There will be no charges from the shooting – for you or Sam. So, don't worry," Dan reassured, summing up his little speech. Juliet smiled a little, and slumped down in her chair with relief.
So she really was free, but the weight of guilt and worry remained. The doors at the far end of the hallway banged open, and a doctor dressed in messy scrubs approached them. Juliet stood up, as did Dan.
"Ms. Sanders?" the doctor questioned as he reached them. Juliet nodded, her throat too tight to allow her to speak. "I have some news."
"How many pancakes, Rachel?"
"None," the girl replied morosely, staring down at her plate. Noelle, sitting next to her, swung her feet back and forth, kicking her sister's chair. "Stop it!" Rachel snarled, and Noelle stopped … for about a second before smacking her tennis shoes into the rungs of the chair again.
"You gotta have at least a couple," Mike insisted, pouring the batter onto the hot griddle. "Noelle, stop kicking your sister's chair and eat," Mike instructed. He heard the relentless banging stop, and the little girl start to chew.
"Where's Mom?" Rachel asked. Mike glanced over at Leo, who was leaning against the kitchen counter and doing a pretty good impression of nonchalance.
"She's with Sam. She'll be back soon," Mike said, expertly turning a pancake. He pleaded silently that there would be no other questions in that vein until Juliet was back, safe and sound.
"I wanna watch cartoons!" Noelle complained suddenly. The tension in the room raised a notch, and Rachel frowned down at the table.
"Not today," Mike answered, moving two pancakes to a plate. They were keeping the television off – just in case any news reports were out on a certain FBI agent's death. Not the way Rachel should learn about her father's death. "Leo, you want pancakes?" Mike asked a little desperately.
"Sure," Leo said. He remained at the counter, however, watching Don pacing in their living area.
Nothing was right about this. Not the stark white sheets on the bed, the pale green walls, or the monitors beeping at her bedside. Dan sat down in the hideous guest chair and leaned forward to touch the back of her hand.
"Hey," he said, and watched her eyes flutter open to regard him. "You must have nine lives."
"How many you think I have left?" Sam whispered faintly, her voice hoarse and strange. It matched her pale face and dull eyes.
"Not enough," Dan replied dryly to cover his relief. She had scared him this time. "Can't be more than three or four."
Sam nodded a little. "I think I'll try and save one for the holidays," she husked, glancing around the room. A little life was starting to flicker in her expression. "Juliet?"
Dan shook his head same old Sam trying to save the world. "She's fine," he responded, leaning back in his chair to observe her from under lowered lashes. "She got a ride 'home' from Casey Jones." Sam said nothing, refusing to rise to this bait from her friend. Instead, she looked over at the window.
"What time is it?"
"Almost six. You've missed the whole day." Dan stood up, and straightened his jacket. "You should get some rest." She looked so weak lying there – so completely unlike her normal self.
"Hey, Guys," Casey called out companionably as he arrived in the lair. Beside him walked a weary brunette who was greeted with shouts of childish glee, and one very relieved turtle.
Mike walked Juliet over to the sofa with an arm around her. She leaned on him shamelessly – she was so tired she just felt like dropping, but there was more yet to do. Across the coffee table, she met Don's worried gaze and gifted him with a reassuring smile and thumbs up. It was like sunlight broke out behind his eyes as the relief appeared there.
"Are you okay, Mom?" Rachel questioned, keeping close as Juliet sat down on the couch.
"Yeah, sweetie," Juliet replied, running her fingers through her daughter's fine hair. "Just been a long night. But everything is okay now," she added firmly. Mike raised his eye ridges, and everyone looked a little curious as to what, exactly, that meant. "Sam is going to be fine. She's out of surgery, and the prognosis is very positive," Juliet explained, getting to what she considered to be the most important news. "She should be out of the hospital in a week, or maybe less."
Don received a hearty slap on the shell from Raph. Feeling considerably better, Don sat down on a chair to hear the rest of the story.
"Any trouble from the authorities?" Leo asked, standing in front of the television screens. Juliet shook her head.
"None, apparently," Juliet said. Rachel frowned at the grownups in confusion.
"What happened to Sam?" the girl questioned. Everyone exchanged glances, but only one person could really answer Rachel's question.
"Sam was hurt. She was shot, but she's going to be okay," Juliet clarified quickly. She watched her daughter carefully, seeing the information soak in.
"Who did it?" Rachel asked, and Juliet's heart thudded hard in her chest. It was one of those terrible moments in parenting when it was tempting to lie – to bury the truth, because it was going to hurt. "Was it my dad?"
Mike's mouth dropped open in surprise, but Juliet realized that Rachel must have been putting things together for the past few hours. She was eight, but she was also very clever.
"Yes. Yes, it was," Juliet said openly. Lying would have been easier, but in the long haul it would have eventually come back to damage their relationship. "Rachel, I know this is hard to understand …"
"Is he in the hospital, too? I want to go see him," Rachel demanded, but her mother's sad expression gave her an answer. "Mom?" Juliet held out her arms. For a moment, it seemed as though Rachel wouldn't accept comfort, but then she broke, diving into her mother's lap to start sobbing brokenheartedly.
Little Noelle, forgotten in the excitement, climbed up to sit beside Mike. The turtle lifted the little girl onto his lap and cuddled her. There were no tears in her eyes, but she could not be expected to understand what had changed. Mike laid a hand on Juliet's shoulder, wordlessly offering his support.
Rachel looked up at the green, three fingered hand that had intruded, and then she hid her face against her mother's neck. Juliet wrapped her arms around her eldest child, and let her cry.