A/N: Not too much to say about this one, except that it takes a slight turn for the more depressing and that, unfortunately, there's not much of Alan in it. Sorry, everyone, but in the interest of space and my sanity, something must be cut. He will make a few appearances, but he won't have a big role this time around…And I must apologize for the lack of quality these last few chapters. RL has really been getting to me…between my senior projects for school and my SATs and college applications and scholarship applications….ACK! (Bangs head furiously against wall) BUT! It's all over now! (Victorious music plays in background) My SAT scores came, my graduation projects are FINISHED, I've been accepted to college…ah, yes, the world is good. Better chapters are on the way, my friends. Now, if I could only stop getting written up in school….(glances around for help, finds none, and goes back to her writing)
Disclaimer: I started this story almost three months ago, and I own it just as much now as I did then…none.
Dedication: I dedicate this chapter to both Jill and Teyla Sheppard, who both seemed to think I'd gone off my rocker last chapter with the date issue. Don't worry, 'tis resolved in this chapter. Love ya both! Heh heh!
Chapter 7: MiddleTerry strode purposefully down the hall, trying to ignore the sounds of Mrs. Baxter's sobs as the enormous woman followed her to Don's room. This part of her job—dealing with the grieving families and the heartbroken friends, consoling those that couldn't be comforted—she'd never get used to it.
Their arrival at Don's door, room 312, drew her instantly from her thoughts. They paused outside the door and Terry knocked, waiting until she heard Don's "it's open" to push on it. "Don, Mr. and Mrs. Baxter are here."
"Great, come on in."
She pulled the door all the way open, motioning he couple into the brightly lit room. Don had been propped up in bed with several pillows, and he looked better already. He extended a hand for Mark Baxter to shake. "I'm Special Agent Don Eppes. I'm the one in charge of your daughter's case."
"Of course, of course. I'm Mark Baxter." He shook Don's hand firmly. "And this is my wife, Donna."
"Pleasure to meet you." Don said formally, but the woman never stopped her ceaseless pacing…. door to bed, bed to door, and back again. The only acknowledgement she gave him was a slight nod of her head. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Terry broke it uncertainly.
"Please, Mrs. Baxter, have a seat." The young blond agent motioned to the overstuffed chair by Don's bed.
"No, thank you, I'll stand." The woman snapped, crossing her arms over her ample chest. Terry's eyes widened, but she gave no other sign of the surprise that hit her with Donna's words. Shrugging, she leaned back against the wall, crossing her legs at the ankle. It was a practiced casual stance, but Don could clearly see the terseness in her posture.
"What would you like to talk to me about?" Don asked a moment later.
"We'd like to know what happened to our daughter. Everything she told you, everything that happened while you were together. Anything you can give us would be most helpful." Mark was, without a doubt, much more calm and levelheaded than his wife, who was scowling at the agents as she continued her pacing.
Don closed his eyes, swallowing his frustration. He didn't feel ready to delve into those memories yet, but he should have known that this was coming. Dark eyes slowly slid back open, "You know that I can't reveal everything; some of it's classified."
"Tell us whatever you can, please, Agent Eppes."
How could he refuse? He shrugged, sighed deeply, and began his tale.
For over a quarter of an hour, the only sound in the small room was Don's deep voice, creating a word-woven spell that captured all who was listening. He told them everything, but was very careful about his choice of words. Donna, he reasoned, was quite upset enough.
He told them of waking up, bound and blindfolded, on the floor of an empty room. Chrissie's hands, carefully removing the blindfold and her gentle voice explaining that she had nothing with which to cut the zip cord. He told of the long wait, no explanation from his captor. The room they'd been held in, he mentioned, had no windows. Don's watch had been broken in the struggle and Chrissie hadn't been wearing one the day of her kidnapping, so there had been no way to tell the time. He declined to mention how close to insanity he had been becoming.
He paused for a moment then, trying to decide the best course of action. How was he going to tell the next part? How much was he allowed to reveal?
Carefully, he began to speak again. "The lights went out on us." He was talking fast, blurting out what he could while he could. "The door opened, and someone came into the room. He jumped me, I fought him off. Fighting in the dark with your hands tied behind your back is a good way to get broken bones…that's how one ankle got broken and the other sprained. Then he jumped on me—that's probably how my ribs got cracked. I think I probably did a number on him as well; got a few good slams against the wall. He jabbed me with a needle. That's it."
"Thank you very much, Agent. You've helped immensely." Mark cut him off before Don could expand any farther. A glance at Donna let Don know why. Her meaty hands were clutched at her side and her several chins were set. Fire burned brightly in her intelligent green eyes, a fire born of sadness, loss, and a need for vengeance.
Terry decided that it was time to intervene. Don was looking a little worse for wear anyway. She unfolded herself to her full height and carefully slipped between the Baxters and Don's bedside. "We…we still don't know why the kidnapper targeted Chrissie as he did. Anything you can tell us would be most helpful."
Mark simply looked confused, but Donna reached into the enormous purple quilted bag she always carried and pulled out a long, flat book. "Here's a photo album…you can look at it if you want. Ask away."
Terry took the book with a small smile and leaned back to study it.
"How was your relationship with your daughter?" Don asked as Terry flipped through the book.
"It was excellent. We have nurtured her, helped her, taught her, befriended her, and took good care of her. We loved her and she loved us." Mark said, a sharp slice of defense seeping into his words.
"I know, I know. I'm just covering all aspects. Ruling you out, trying to find some leads. What about her relationship with her brother?"
"Oh, Johnnie. He loves his little sister so much. He worries about her all the time. It's as if he knows she feels different, and he won't allow her to be treated so. Chrissie used to ice skate, you know. Pairs. She was never excellent, but she was good enough. Last fall, she fell out of a lift and broke her ankle badly. She spent three weeks flat on her back at home on the couch, and Johnnie brought home all of her homework. He went to the high school, got her schedule, and got all of her assignments for her. He's a wonderful brother, our Johnnie."
Terry and Don exchanged a small smile. Terry closed the album and handed it back to the woman, "They're beautiful pictures. They give me a much clearer idea of who Chrissie is." She chose her words carefully, "But I noticed that there was a picture missing. Can you tell me about that?"
Donna's face contorted in thought. "There is?" She flipped through the book and stopped at the empty sleeve. "I didn't know. Mark, do you know what picture this was?"
Her husband shrugged, uncaring. "I think it was just another one of Chrissie's skating pictures. I don't know why you carry all of them around with you."
"So I can show them all off to everyone. I'm proud…proud of my baby." She choked up again, and Terry wordlessly handed her the pack of tissues with a consoling smile. When Donna felt she could speak again, she turned to the patient agent. "I think Mark is right. It was a picture of Chrissie skating…I wonder where it could have gone…?" She glanced around the room as if expecting to find it framed on the wall.
After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence and awkward chatter, a doctor provided a welcome interruption, "Mr. and Mrs. Baxter? I think you had better come with me." A solemn yet pretty young nurse with a clipboard resting on her right hip poked her head into the room.
Mark slid a comforting hand under her elbow, and they left without looking back. Terry debated about following them, but decided that some time to sit and talk to Don while she had the chance was too valuable to lose. She sank into the still-empty chair by his bed, "What do you think?"
"About what?" He asked without opening his eyes.
"All of it. Do you have any ideas?"
"Staying objective and theory-less is our best idea right now, I think…." He trailed off and his groggy eyes opened. Terry watched him lick his lips and a thought dawned on her.
"Are you thirsty?" She asked softly.
He struggled with his pride for only the briefest of moments. "Yes." He confessed.
Without hesitation, Terry crossed the room and filled a teal-and-pink decorated paper cup and brought it to him. His bruised hand closed around the drink and it was gone as fast as he could swallow it. Wordlessly, she reclaimed it and refilled it for him. The second glass went down slower than the first, and when Terry held out her hand in a silent question, Don shook his head. "I'm good now. Thank you, Terry." He handed her the cup, catching her fingers as she took it and squeezing them lightly. The motion made her heart flutter.
Don settled back with an exhausted sigh, and Terry, after throwing the cup with perfect aim into the trashcan, gave his uninjured arm a quick and friendly squeeze. "Sleep now, Don. Charlie should be here when you wake up. Take care."
"You too, Terry. See you." He mumbled through sleep-laden lips.
"Bye." Resisting the urge to touch him one more time, she moved to leave.
"Terry?" His voice stopped her cold in her tracks.
"Hm?" She answered.
"I'd give anything for a stick of gum right now." He announced. Terry turned to him, unsure if it was the drugs talking in this state, but he was smiling at her, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes, which soon slid closed, letting him slip into a deep, restful sleep.
Terry decided that a cup of coffee would be just what she needed to relax her before tackling city traffic to drive home. As she and David had come in separate cars, she knew that this would not be a problem. In fact, she noticed as she fed quarters into the cappuccino machine, David's car was already gone.
She sank into one of the cheery plastic blue chairs along the wall and pressed the warm Styrofoam cup to her cheek, relishing the warmth it brought.
"Hey." The voice was timid, shy; she glanced up at it, meeting Charlie's nervous brown eyes.
"Hi." She motioned with her cup to the blue plastic chair beside her. "Have a seat."
He did, sinking into the chair with a nervous smile. He seemed to be trying to find something to say. She smiled encouragingly, "Are you headed up to see Don? He just fell asleep, I'm afraid. Sorry."
"Nah, Dad's already up there. That's uh…not what I'd wanted to ask you about."
Really?" She settled back. "What's up? Is it Chrissie? Have you heard about her lately?"
"She's still hanging on; still in surgery." Charlie said softly, shrugging. "I was just wondering…uh…how your date went."
She groaned and leaned her head back against the wall. "It didn't."
"Sorry?" Charlie blinked at her, confused.
"It was fine, for the most part."
Charlie remained confused. Her words seemed believable enough, but her tone and actions suggested otherwise. He chalked it up to another one of those many things he didn't understand about people. "Tell me about it." He suggested timidly.
"Ah, you don't want to listen to me rant." She smiled warmly at him.
"Yes, actually, I do. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I mean—"
"Charlie, it's okay. I really appreciate your wanting to listen." And with that, she began her story…
Her dinner with Andrew had been wonderful enough. The restaurant had been beautiful, the Italian cuisine and the atmosphere of F. Tambellini's restaurant were amazing. It wasn't until he pulled to a stop, got out of the car, and personally escorted her inside that she began to question. By the time they reached the hallway outside her room, she was really beginning to get nervous. Outside her door, she fished through her small purse for the magnetic card key that would let her into her room. By the time she'd finally found it, she had decided what to do. She turned to him with a smile, "Thank you, Andrew. It was a wonderful night."
"Hey, no problem. My pleasure." He gave her a dazzling grin.
"We'll have to do this again before I head back to LA." She said softly, struggling with the lock.
He gently took the key from her and opened the door for her. "Could I come in? Just for a second?"
"S—sure." She stuttered, holding the door open. He smiled and stepped through.
When she too had entered the room and closed the door behind her, she seated herself comfortably in one of the pink floral chairs. "Can I get you anything?"
"No, I'm fine, thanks. Terry, I had a great time tonight. Really, I did."
"I'm sensing a 'but' here."
"You're very perceptive." He said softly. "I enjoyed your company; I think you're a bright, beautiful woman. But, Terry, I don't think we should do this."
"See each other, you mean?" She asked.
"Yes. Don't get me wrong; I think you're great. But, see, I'm still…still trying to get over someone. And—I'm going out on a limb here—I think you are too."
Her first instinct had been to deny it—but then again, he was being honest with her. "You're right." She heard herself blurt out.
"I thought so." He rose to embrace her. "Then take care of yourself."
"You too."
And that was it. Ten minutes after Andrew left, David poked his head into her room and asked her if she was ready to go back to the hospital.
"It was a nice night, but…we just…" Terry ran out of words and shrugged.
Charlie nodded. "I understand." Even though he wasn't sure he did, could see that the strain was getting to her…and it was the only thing he could think to say. He patted her arm awkwardly.
She rose. "You go ahead and see Don…I'm going to head back now. Call me if you need me. And Charlie—thank you. For everything."
"No…no problem." He stuttered, a little embarrassed. He gave her a final shy smile and ambled off down the corridor.
Don's eyes opened reluctantly. He'd been having the nicest dream…something about himself and Terry, but he couldn't remember exactly what it was.
"Don?" The voice was familiar, soft, and plaintive; there was nothing in the world that could keep him from answering that call.
"Hey, Buddy." He forced his eyelids apart, struggling to make his eyes focus. "How are you?"
"I'm alright." Charlie said softly, avoiding his brother's gaze. "How are you?"
He did a mental assessment of himself, "Better. What's up?"
"I have some news for you, Don…and you're not going to like it."
His heart sank. "Chrissie?"
"Yes…she died twenty minutes ago on the operating table. I'm so sorry, Don."
"No, Charlie, don't you dare apologize!" He said with such force that he immediately had to clasp a hand to his ribs. When his breath returned, he fixed his gaze on his brother again. "Don't. You did everything you could and then some. So…things didn't turn out quite the way we'd hoped. That wasn't your fault. It was mine. You did your job."
"Don, I—"
"It's okay, Charlie." Don moved to catch his little brother's hand. For the first time since his kidnapping, he felt as though he wanted the contact. "I want you to know…how proud I am of you. And I know I don't say this enough but…I've had a lot of time over the last few days to think—think a lot—and there were times I thought I might never get the chance to say this again—" He realized he was rambling, took a deep breath, and started over. "I want you to know how much I love you, Charlie. You're one of the most important people in my world, and it matters to me that you know that."
Charlie was gazing down at their intertwined hands, lost in thought. "I love you too, Don."
When Charlie's silence became too overbearing for Don to handle, he gently teased him, "Don't think so hard, Charlie. You might blow a fuse."
"Huh? Sorry. I was just…thinking."
"You do too much of that. What were you thinking about?"
"Something Terry said." Charlie said distractedly.
"Something Terry said? What did she say?"
"Oh…" Charlie realized that he'd let something slip and scrambled for an answer. Fortunately, a doctor bounding into the room saved him the trouble. She was young and spunky with curly red hair and dancing blue eyes.
"Afternoon, Agent Eppes. Dr. Eppes. I'm Doctor Kyrene Burkes. I need to speak with the agent, but you may stay, Doctor, if it's okay with your brother."
"It's fine with me…anything you've got to say, you can say in front of him." Don answered without hesitation.
"Sure." Dr. Burkes checked the clipboard resting on her hip, then took a tentative seat on the edge of his bed. "Well, I've got some good news and I've got some bad news. The good news is that you'll be ready to go home in just a few days, as soon as your sprained ankle is strong enough to support you. The news is that you won't be ready for work for quite some time…at least a month. Maybe two."
He growled his displeasure, but managed a genuine smile when Charlie gave him a questioning look. "That's great, Doctor."
"I need to know, for our records, will you be heading back to Los Angeles immediately, or will you be staying here for the duration of your investigation?"
"I—I don't know. I haven't received any instruction yet. Until I do, I'll be staying here, that's for sure." Determination crept into his voice. Charlie smiled; if he knew his brother, Don would be fighting to run this investigation from his bed in the hotel room.
"Okay, then." Dr. Burkes was making notes as she spoke. When her pencil finished scrawling, she stood. "Well, thank you, gentlemen. I'll let you be now." With that, she disappeared.
"How 'bout that?" Don asked proudly, settling back against the pillows. "Two days in the hospital, and they're talking about letting me out again. Are you proud or what?"
Charlie snickered. "Yes, Don. I am sufficiently impressed." He teased back, relieved to be able to joke with his brother again.
"Yeah, right." Don rolled his eyes. "Get out of here, you look exhausted. What time is it?"
"11:30" Charlie replied. "P.M."
"See? What did I tell you? Go home. I'm fine. Besides, Dad's here to watch me."
"Okay…" Charlie said uncertainly. "Bye, Don."
"G'night, Buddy. Take care of yourself, and don't worry about…about anything. I'll take care of it, okay?"
Charlie opened his mouth and closed it a couple of times, then seemed to give up and turn to go. At the doorway, however, he thought better of it. "Don…maybe you shouldn't take care of it. There's a reason you have a team, you know. I'm going to call a cab; dad will be here." He left it that and, with a final smile, snapped off the light and shut the door.
He tried to fight the tears. He tried not to let it get to him. Christine Baxter was just another victim, after all. Another number; another statistic.
Except she wasn't. She was his friend. She had trusted him, relied on him, helped him, believed in him. He had done his best, and his best wasn't enough. Now there was nothing left for him to do. There was nothing he could do.
But he could cry. He couldn't save her, and he would regret it forever. Alone in the tiny hospital room, he let the tears fill his eyes and spill down his bruised cheeks. He cried for himself. He cried out his anger and his pain. But mostly, he cried for Chrissie. And somehow, though he didn't know how, it helped. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the one he couldn't save.
THANK HEAVEN that's finished. Wow, another really, really long one. That should help to make up for the unfairly long wait. (hugs all her patient waiters and wonderful reviewers) You're all awesome.
Hey, I know that my little mini-author's note said by the end of the week, but I got the Incredibles movie last night and for some reason, I got this burst of creative energy. I HIGHLY recommend this movie, too. It's excellent. I've watched it four times now.
REVIEW REPLIES:
Chibi Chingo: And see, I've updated again! Killing characters…would you believe that's the first one I've ever killed? I've been writing since I was nine (this is my first "published" work, but I've written tons of stuff), and this is the very first time I've killed anyone…and it's in the works to happen again, though who that will be…I cannot say. (angelic smile).
Poet 2002: Glad you enjoyed it. Now, see, if I told you what was coming next, I'd ruin it. You don't want that, do you? (angelic smile) Missouri, huh? That's one place I haven't spent much time in, so I have no trouble believing you. Now that several people have mentioned this, I'm thinking about going back and changing that, as it is obviously rather inaccurate. Thanks for the tip. Cute joke, by the way. ;)
Mliss: Ah, my #1 fan! (LOL) Great to hear from you again! I'm so glad I made you happy enough to dance. And no worries, there shouldn't be any more month-long absences, though RL and my LOTR series consume my time like no other. Sorry about the Chrissie twist, and I'm actually quite sorry she had to die. (Sigh) but I did have a reason…really. Oh, yes, much, much more to come on the Don and Terry end. 'Tis coming soon, I hope. I promise, it's going to be quite a ride. Thank you again for all your kind words and your encouragement. You're the best!
LotRseer3350: (Blushes) Awe, you're just too sweet. You read the whole mess in one day? I am truly impressed…and very flattered. Thank you for the tips on chapter 6…that was the one I wrote at 2:30 in the morning on my mom's old laptop, which has a habit for corrupting data…I truly appreciate the constructive criticism…it's always welcomed and always taken to heart. I read your fic tonight, and I really enjoyed it. It was a bit short, that was the only thing I could find to critique. Of course, not everybody chooses to yammer on and on and on as I do. Keep it up!
Jill: (Cowers) EEP! I took care of it! Problem rectified! Don't kill me or you won't ever get to see the kiss in chapter—oops! Almost gave that one away! ;) No problem with the trivia; always glad to help! Thanks for the review.
Teyla Sheppard: Hey! I LOVE LotR! I'm presently embarking on an Elladan and Elrohir series that I'm quite enjoying working on. Awe, thanks…I'm really glad you're enjoying it so much. What was I thinking? Uh, I don't do too much of that. Thinking isn't my forte… hee hee… I worked Templeton and Terry out. It's all good, and see, he wasn't such a bad guy after all. Oh, Don was definitely jealous. He wants her. You can see it in his eyes. Ah, yes, poor Chrissie. I liked her, don't get me wrong. She just had to go. Sorry this took so long, I didn't mean for it to happen that way. (Hangs head) Anyway, thanks for your review, hon!
strangexbutxtrue: It's true; I really do enjoy your reviews. You always make me smile. I loved your idea, I really did, and it's coming in later chapters, but it couldn't be inserted too much here…for reasons that cannot be revealed. I did try to stick a little bit in with Chrissie's ice-skating and her brother bringing her books home, but…thanks for the idea. As always, I love to hear what you think and ideas to improve are always welcome.
BrokenSpirit20: YAY! (Hugs) I'm so glad to see you back! I wondered where you'd disappeared to. No, I'm not going to slap you, silly! (Checks computer cords nervously) Uh…don't be crawling through the wires now…it's not nice to suddenly explode out of other peoples' computers, you know. Minnesota says pop? I was in St. Paul for a wedding last summer and my cousins there made fun of me all week for it, as did the waitress in the restaurant…although, down in Pittsburgh, they tend to also. Guess it depends on what part of the state you're from, doesn't it? Thanks for the help and the compliments. You rock!
Sokorra Lewis: Awe! (Blushes) Your favorite? Wow, that's a hard compliment to live up to…but I'll definitely take it! I hope you like this one as well as the rest. I live near Pittsburgh, too! (Squees) I don't think Baxter Circle is a real street in Pittsburgh…I made it up for my story, but if you find out there is one, let me know!
P.L. Wynter: You can definitely say that, because I never get tired of hearing it. (Grins crazily) Charlie's my favorite, and this story started out to be about him, but….somehow, the plot bunnies nabbed it and ran away. I really have to teach them not to chew holes in my ideas. Don angst is the best, though. Anyway, I'm thrilled to see a new reviewer. Hope to see you around. Glad you like it! Thanks for your review.
Arienis: Sorry, she's dead…I didn't really want to do it, but it's necessary. It is depressing…but it will get better. I promise.
Stephanie: Here it is, and I'm so sorry for making you wait. I hope it's worth it. I'm so glad you like it! I always love to hear that people enjoy what I write…it's why I write. I love to write; but I also love when people like it. Does that make any sense? Anyway…don't worry about Don and Terry. It will all work out in the end. ;) Thanks for the review.
Alexiamanda: Well, I'm very glad to see that no one hates me…LOL. Angst is good…so are plot twists. Cliffhangers are not, though, I'm afraid. But they tend to just pop up…(Sigh) Yeah, Chrissie was me—she looked nothing like me, but her personality…I was too lazy to make up an actual character. About the pop thing, as I told BrokenSpirit, I was made fun of all week in St. Paul for saying pop…guess I was in the wrong part of the state! Popopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopopop! You're right, it is fun! Uh…two more deaths in the future…and they are evil, but they're called for. You'll just have to trust me. Terry and Don rule, do they not? Especially together. Thanks for your review!
DraconisFlayre: Hey, thanks for the review! Here's the next part, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it.
Mliss/MissCongeniality: NUMB3RS got renewed! (Happy dance) When did this happen? I'm so happy I could just…yeah! Thanks for the warning about the name change, I would have been majorly confused.
THANKS AGAIN! SEE YOU MUCH SOONER THAN A MONTH! PROMISE!
TBC...