Disclaimer: They're not mine
Rating: T or PG-13 for language and violence
Summary: It's 2am. The doorbell rings. A baby is crying. What are you going to do? W/S with GCR moments and a major case
Okay, first off is a warning. I've written pretty far ahead in this and I dislike this chapter. I also dislike Chapters Four and Five, genuinely feeling it's all a load of blehhh until Chapter Six. This, of course, is personal opinion and few would really believe me if I tell you that this isn't me fishing for compliments. It isn't; you're all lovely enough anyway. I'm just making a lame attempt to excuse my own failings – ha ha, just hang on until chapter six! It'll pick up, I promise. Argh – I hope.
Thanks for the fantastic reviews though. Eleven reviews for Chapter Two – huh? That must be a personal best. So thank you to Megara1, Kelly, cherishedcrush, icklebitodd, katie, Shelbers, Ladybug07, Review1234, bene, dawn2323 and Charmed-angel4. Sorry for the suspense, guys! But I do love my suspense. Almost as much as I love quotations. Feedback is wonderful, keep 'em coming despite the impending rubbishness! Enjoy (ugh)! Love LJ xXx
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Wake The Hope. Chapter Three. Little Wonder
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"Life is all about timing...
The unreachable becomes reachable, the unavailable become available, the unattainable...attainable.
Have the patience, wait it out. It's all about timing."
STACEY CHARTER
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Voiceless for a moment, Sara is crouched slightly, aiming her pistol until she finds some words.
"Oh my God." Her voice comes out strangled with a mix of shock and relief.
The crying stops and, nestled in a blanket, a small baby looks into the barrel of her gun with an air of confusion. Sara drops the gun and looks all around her, down the hall. It's empty. No rapist, no murderer – no mother. There's a letter under the baby so she picks it up, reads it briefly before looking at the baby's tear-streaked cheeks and round eyes watching her intently.
"Well," she speaks finally. "I guess you'd better come in then."
She raises an eyebrow when she hears her own words; it was like talking to a business partner rather than a baby.
"This is exactly why I'm no good with kids," she told the baby and picked him gingerly up. When she takes him inside and shuts the door, the baby starts to whimper again. She sits at the table and places him on it.
"What's wrong, Baby?" she asks, surveying the situation. "Are you too hot?" It's the peak of a Nevada summer and the baby is wrapped tightly in a thick blanket.
"That's it – isn't it?" she unravels the blanket and the baby stops crying, stretching his small arms and legs into the air and beaming. That wasn't so tough. Sara can't help but smile.
"This is so weird." she mutters to herself, reading through the letter again and finding, folded behind it, is a birth certificate. His mother, one Rosa Avery, was very thorough apparently. Nathaniel Avery was almost five months old now, having been born on the 8th of February this year weighing 6lbs 10oz.
"So you must be Nathaniel," Sara sits the baby on her lap. "That's a bit of a mouthful, don't you think? Can I call you Nate?"
Nate seems to have no objections and tugs at the hem of her white cotton tank top with tiny fingers, so Sara carries on reading. It all unfolds here. Nate's mother lived a couple of doors down the hall and, so it seems, suffered severe depression. But she'd picked out Sara, actually picked her out, and decided that she would leave Nate with her when she...when she... Suicide – Rosa Avery was committing suicide.
Picking up Nate, she sprints down the hall in the dark silence to apartment 518.
"Mrs Avery?" she calls uncertainly, tapping on the door with a knuckle. It swings open. "Mrs Avery – are you in?"
Nate grumbles faintly and Sara unconsciously comforts him as she creeps further into the apartment. It is dark and it is empty save for a couch, a bed and a run-down crib in the corner. The fridge is empty, electricity and gas both cancelled; Rosa Avery had tied up loose ends before finishing up what she'd planned on doing. She wasn't in and Sara very much doubted her return.
Sara looks down at Nate and then returns to her own apartment to sit back with a sigh, idly letting baby Nate play with her fingers. "What now?"
Nate looks up at her at the sound of her voice and spontaneously breaks into a grin. Sara laughs, actually laughs, and instinctively tickles little Nate until he's laughing too. Then her eye falls back on the open letter on the table and she stops.
"As much fun as that was, baby Nate, I don't know if I can keep this up. And I'll have to call someone and tell them about you," she says seriously. Nate stares blankly at her with his big brown eyes. Sara rolls her own eyes. "I know – it's stupidly complicated, but there's a whole bunch of stuff we need to sort out."
She picks up the phone and, with Nate clinging onto the index finger of her left hand, deftly keys in a familiar number with her right.
"Uh?" the just-woken grunt comes through the receiver. Sara snickers.
"Hey Warrick," she chirps brightly.
"Sara – what time is it?" he mumbles, clearing his throat. She can hear him roll through bedcovers to look at the clock. "It's quarter to 2 in the morning!"
And then it hits him.
"Oh Christ – did something happen? Are you alright? What happened? Sara?" he panics, immediately awake.
"Calm down, Warrick – nothing happened," she pacifies him and then looks at Nate on her lap. "Well, something happened but I'm fine. Could you come over?"
"Sure, sure, anything – right away." He hangs up the phone and stumbles quickly out of bed. Sara smiles, touched by his concern, and puts down the phone.
"There ya go, baby Nate – Warrick's coming over and he'll give us a hand sorting things out," she murmurs to him. "He's good with kids; you'll like him." Nate yawns a toothless yawn.
"Oh so I'm boring you now, am I?" she asks amused. Nate blinks sleepily.
"Okay," she says, cradling him impulsively in her arms. "You go to sleep then and I'll talk to Warrick."
By the time Warrick rings the doorbell, Nate's flat out and still in Sara's arms when she opens the door.
"Whoa." Warrick starts, seeing Sara open the door with a baby in her arms. Sara. And a baby – of all things. "You steal it?"
"Very funny," Sara mutters dryly, standing aside to let him in.
"No wait – don't tell me – it's mine, isn't it?" he grins. Biting back a smile, Sara shakes her head disdainfully.
"You wish. This isn't funny, Warrick – this is really serious." she tells him. He looks at her reproachful expression and nods finally.
"So what's this about? Where did you get the minor?"
Sara hands him the letter wordlessly and, as he reads it, she watches the expression of astonishment grow on his face.
"Man, that's – that's some heavy stuff." Warrick says eventually and peers at the sleeping baby in her arms. "So this is Nathaniel?" Sara nods with a smile.
"But I call him Nate," she replies softly, watching him sleep. "It's easier that way." Warrick looks at her intently.
"Sar – you know we're gonna have to call social services on this one, right?" he reminds her, gently. Sara looks up.
"Oh yeah – yeah, no, of course," she answers firmly, automatically adding: "I'm no good with kids." Though it'd become like a reflex thing to say when on the subject of children.
"Have you got a phone book around?" he asks and Sara gestures to the lowest shelf of her stacked bookcase. She hands him the cordless phone as he flips through pages.
"You want to make the call?" he offers quietly.
"Can you do it? I've kind of got my hands full here, 'Rick." she shifts Nate slightly in her arms as he stirs, latching one small hand around her thumb.
Warrick nods and, dialling in the number, wanders off to a different part of the apartment so not to wake the baby with his phone call. Sara hears his low voice courteously greet the person on the other end of the line and, almost without her realising it, she feels her heart sink just a little.
"They're on their way." he tells her, coming back in and sitting beside her on the couch.
"Thanks, Warrick." she smiles.
"It's no problem," he assures her. "When you called I thought that you'd been..." he trails off, looking at his hands.
"Yeah – when I heard the doorbell I thought so too." she nods understandingly.
"And you still went out there?" he asks, incredulous.
"Well what was I meant to do? Hide in here and hope he goes away? I had my gun – this could've been our chance to get him," she snaps defensively.
"But Sara – Jesus, if anything happened to you, I don't know if I could..."
"Nothing would've happened, Warrick. I had it covered." she tells him fiercely, impatient as ever to prove to him, to everyone, that she could take care of herself. Her voice had risen and, amidst the arguing, Nate begins to sniffle. He opens his wide eyes and fixes Warrick with a stare.
"Hey Nate," he greets with a smile. Nate grabs hold of Sara's top again and sleepily turns his face into her elbow.
"Sorry, baby – go back to sleep," she soothes him, stroking his cheek without thinking. She looks back at Warrick, softened. "Hey, sorry for getting mad at you. I know you're only looking out for me and all that. Although you should really know by now that I don't need it." Warrick laughs slightly.
"I just worry about you, that's all." he says with a shrug.
Sara turned to him, ready to snap back with: "Well don't." but found herself looking at a pair of sparkling green eyes that she'd never really noticed before. Feeling his warm breath on her lips, she forgets what snide remark she was going to say but leans towards him, forgetting everything.
As her eyes close, in that brief second, they are interrupted by the shrill ring of the doorbell for the third time that night.
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