The Space Between

By

Tru False

Language Note: The "s-word" appears twice here…nothing else seemed to fit quite right. I feel that it is in context, but if you are sensitive to such things and it is going to ruin your day, you have been duly warned!

Author's Note: I hope you guys are enjoying this so far!

Chapter 3

Terry had positioned herself carefully to block the robbers' view of Don. Crouched down in front of him as he lay on his side, she still held his head with one hand and had placed the other lightly on his chest, willing him to breathe more easily. He looked up into her eyes a few moments later and nodded slightly. "It's getting…better now" he managed to whisper.

"Good" she replied quietly, and smiled. "Stay down." She gently laid his head down on the ground and turned ever-so-slightly on her knees in the direction of the robbers, trying to make out what their heated discussion was about. She could feel the kid watching them and she knew he was much closer to them…she couldn't risk turning enough to see the two leaders lest the kid notice Don's lack of visible wounds.

"Look—everything's still gonna work out."

"My ass it's still gonna work out…the whole thing's blown. We were supposed to be in and out of here, quick – no mess."

"It's still gonna work. We still just need to finish getting—Don't move! Don't you move!" There was a bustling sound and Terry could envision the guys swinging around with their guns trained on the various customers. Apparently one or more of them was thinking of trying something. Or maybe someone had just changed position—stiff muscles or whatever—and these guys were wound too tightly. It was impossible for her to tell from her vantage.

"They're wound up tight," Don whispered, so quietly that Terry barely caught it. She nodded almost imperceptibly at him. Good to know. The panic seemed to die down and the guys started talking again.

"Look, we're just gonna finish what we started and get the heck out of here."

"Yeah, it would be great if it was that easy Sherlock, but your genius brother over there screwed everything up when he freaked out and shot that guy."

"Don't talk about him like that." That had to be Danny—the one who had been talking to the kid earlier. He must have looked in the kid's direction after that, because his next words were "Hey! I told you to watch those two." She heard him approach. "How many times do I have to tell you? Stop staring at me and do what I ask you to!"

"I'm sorry Da—," he had caught himself that time. "I'm sorry."

Danny's attention turned to the couple on the floor. "How is he?" he called out to Terry.

Her heart rate increased slightly…they didn't need a lot of attention. "How do you think?" she tried to make her voice thick with emotion.

"Lemme see him."

"No! Stay away from us."

But she could hear Danny approaching to their right. Shit.

Danny stared at the guy on the ground for a few seconds, his mouth half-open in incomprehension. Then he drew his shotgun up and pointed it at them. "He's not bleeding. Why isn't he bleeding?"

She closed her eyes briefly. Double shit.

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Charlie reached the end of his last page of paper, having written on both sides and the margins of all the previous sheets. He swore quietly, frustrated. There was nothing worse than having to stop a train of thought mid-stream, but he couldn't keep working without something to write on. He put his head back and closed his eyes, trying to burn the two steps he could already see would follow into his memory. He then kept them closed for a few more moments in an effort to stop the swirl of numbers that kept flying before his eyes. It was always so hard to turn it off.

Eventually he opened his eyes again and looked towards the bank, even more irritated with Don than before. This was ridiculous…a total waste of his time. He looked at his watch. 3:15 – if they left right now, he would barely make it to his discussion group—and it didn't look like they were about to leave right now. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the math department, explaining that he had been unavoidably delayed and asking them to send a TA to dismiss the few students who might be waiting for him. He got out of the Suburban and moved around to the front seat, sitting back down with a huff as he closed the door. If he was going to have to wait in the car, at least he could sit up front like an adult. Terry could drive and Don could sit in the back for a change. That image made him smile. He leaned back and waited.

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"Back away from him," Danny stated evenly. But Terry wasn't looking at Danny. She was looking at Don, and he could see that she was thinking of making a try for it now. No, he willed her to understand. He could breathe again, but his ribs were on fire…he wasn't sure how well he could back her up. Plus that kid had his gun trained on them again, and, as Don knew all too well, he was both easily startled and capable of using it. Terry held his gaze for a second longer. Don opened his eyes a fraction wider. Not yet. Terry backed slowly away from him.

"Put your hands up." She did as he asked. Danny addressed the kid behind him: "Watch her real close now, you hear?" The kid nodded, straightened his stance, and tightened his grip on the gun slightly.

Danny grabbed Don by the shirtfront and hauled him up into a sitting position against the wall. Don's ribs screamed in protest but he managed to do nothing more than grimace. Danny pushed on Don's chest with his hand, feeling the vest under his shirt.

"Who are you? Why are you wearing a vest?"

Don didn't answer.

"Take that coat off."

Don hesitated, but there was no way out of this now. He slowly removed his suit jacket, which was agony again to his ribs, and laid it down next to him. Danny's eyes narrowed briefly in anger as he reached down and took the gun from Don's shoulder holster. He picked the jacket up from the floor.

"What are you…a cop? Marshall? What?"

Don still didn't answer.

Danny pulled Don's ID from his inside jacket pocket. "Feds?" Don could read the guy's eyes …Danny was unprepared to have two FBI on his hands, and he was clearly scared. That was either really good news for them, or really bad.