Jadie
Disclaimer: I've told you once, I've told you a million times…I don't own 'em…poor me :-(
NOTE: Ok this is a kinda fluffy chapter…bear with me folks; it gets a little angsty in a chapt or two.
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CHAPTER 7: Shopping—"…he was in for a long, long afternoon…"
Don held Jadie's hand firmly as they entered through the automatic doors to the shopping center. Don automatically began to scan the crowded mall inconspicuously, using his sunglasses as a shield for his assessing eyes. His training as an FBI agent was second nature now, and he had to keep an eye open—he was with a very important witness, after all. Besides, he'd had the funny feeling that they were being followed although Don hadn't actually seen anything that suggested that. It was more intuition, an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. Probably just indigestion, Don thought half-heartedly.
Although it had been a spontaneous decision, Don now moved through the mall with purpose, the girl in tow. Jadie periodically glanced at him, puzzled, until finally she decided that he was going to do whatever it was he was going to do, and she was just along for the ride.
Don continually glanced into the various stores as they passed them; the mall was not familiar territory.
Shortly, Don muttered a mild sound of triumph as they walked into a clothing store.
Jadie's eyebrow's scrunched together as she attempted to figure out what exactly was going on. When Don stopped in front of the girls clothing, Jadie met his expectant gaze with her own glare of stubborn refusal.
"New clothes aren't going to kill you," Don began; Jadie still gave him a steely glare. Don sighed and rethought his approach.
"I'm not saying you have to get rid of the clothes you have now," Don consciously tried not to cringe at the rust-colored stains that spattered areas of her tan shirt. "But maybe it wouldn't be bad to have something new…" Jadie's eyes narrowed. Don stared back. It was almost a contest of wills now—and Don would be damned if he was going to let her continue to wear her ragged garments. Jadie had yet to speak; but then again her expression sent her message, loud and clear.
"Look," Don started again gesturing with his hands haphazardly in frustration—he wracked his brain—"You don't have to change everything all at once," ha paused searchingly, "…just maybe add something new to what you already have…" Don waited with somewhat bated breath as Jadie's face acquired a contemplative look. Don had figured out, last minute, that Jadie didn't know how to handle change—in her current situation, with her trauma, Don had to admit that she was doing admirably—another sign that she wasn't average. So Don had tried to give her a reason why at least a little change was acceptable.
Don's efforts were rewarded by one of Jadie's small, conceding nods. Don let out a sigh that he hadn't really realized he'd been holding. He didn't know why, but getting the girl new clothes had seemed important—she had nothing and Don thought that if she was going to reach out to him in the slightest, the least he could do was to get her some clothes that didn't have blood on them.
"Alright then," Don gestured to the clothing, "Pick out something you like." As Jadie fixed him with another steely glare, Don realized he was in for a long, long afternoon.
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Three hours, numerous glares, and five mismatched outfits later, Don was ready for a good night's sleep. That was far more exhausting than I could have ever guessed. The whole situation could have gone smoother, he reflected, but it could have been a whole lot worse as well. It was like pulling teeth, Don mused, almost affectionately. What is going on with me anyway? Don wondered. I'm going all…mushy-sensitive.
Don shook his head with minimal disgust at himself, then with the clothes all draped over one arm, and a firm grip on Jadie's hand with the other, they made their way to the checkout counter.
"Hi! Did you find everything ok?" the over-cheery sales-girl burbled.
"Uh, yeah, thanks." Don muttered and smiled, hoping to distract the teenager from the fact that he was leading a strange young girl around with blood stains on her shirt. Don hadn't really thought about had bad that would look until just now.
Fortunately, the sales-girl was either oblivious or very…courteous.
"Cute kid!" the teenage clerk exclaimed, making a 'cutesy' face at Jadie, who seemed to be fascinated by the display of appalling cheeriness. The teenager started to scan the tags on the clothes as Don, realizing that the clerk thought Jadie was his daughter, started to open his mouth to correct her when it occurred to Don that it really wasn't worth the effort. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to just go with it.
"Thanks." Don smiled casually and the sales-girl smiled back, utterly oblivious, and told him his total. Don paid for the clothes, gathered the bags, took Jadie's hand and began to head for the exit. He happened to notice, glancing momentarily at Jadie, that she was regarding him with a curious gaze.
"What?" Don shrugged at the child. HE was pleasantly surprised when Jadie gave him a tiny, brief, smile. Don felt himself start to grin back like an idiot, but he managed to refrain.
He smiled inwardly as they got into his SUV. Things were looking bleak on the case. On agent was dead, another was in critical care and yet, and yet, Don felt inordinately optimistic—he didn't know how yet, but everything would be ok—he didn't know how he knew, but inside, when the traumatized little witness smiled at him, he just knew.
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Note: Ok I think I might have stretched Don's character a bit on that one but it seemed to work in the grand scheme of things. Anyway R&R—lemme know what you think and all that jazz!