Chapter Three
Jaime stormed into Rudy's lab with Steve right behind her, slamming the door as he entered. "Do you have to follow me everywhere I go?" she snapped angrily, with a smile on her face.
"Jaime, what the hell are you doing? Do you even know? Oscar's looking for you, and he's out for blood. He told me if you don't turn up in the next 15 minutes, he's calling in the Secret Service. The Secret Service!"
"I've dodged those idiots before, and I can certainly do it again."
"He also told me there's a gun missing from the Properties room, and that you took it. You've just declared yourself Armed and Extremely Dangerous; the Secret Service can shoot you if it's the only way to stop you."
"Steve, I've been 'extremely dangerous' ever since they put all their damned circuits and wires in me - that I never asked for or wanted in the first place! For that matter, you're 'extremely dangerous', too."
"I didn't steal a gun and tell my boss to do something to himself that would be anatomically impossible! Sweetheart, why don't you just quietly put the gun back, tell Oscar you're sorry, and -"
Jaime slammed her fist against the heavy metal table - carefully, so as not to break it, but hard enough to make an audible sound. "Why don't you do exactly what I just finished telling Oscar to do? You might as well; you sure won't be getting it from me!"
"You're really gonna leave?" Steve asked, trying for a slight tremor in his voice.
"Gonna? I'm already gone!"
"What about the kids?" he said, very quietly.
"They'll have you."
"Jaime, think about what you're doing. This isn't you -"
"It is now."
"I love you," he said, keeping the tremor.
"No, you love the idealized version of me that you carry around in your head: Miss Goody-Two-Shoes to the 'n'th degree. Well, I'm sorry, but that isn't me. Not anymore."
"Please..."
"Goodbye, Steve."
"I'm not gonna let you do this."
"You'll be stopping me...how?" Jaime asked. Although he was a good ten feet away from her, she went on. "Damn you! Let go of my arm. Steve, I'll hurt you if I have to."
"Give me the gun, Jaime."
"Let go!"
They winked at each other and began overturning tables, chairs, anything that wouldn't be too badly damaged but would make some noise. Then, they stopped. "Jaime, no. Put it down...please."
Jaime braced herself and fired a shot out the open window. "Buh-bye, Honey," she said in a voice dripping with acid. She made sure to slam the door on her way out.
Steve waited a few minutes, then picked up the phone. "Oscar? She was here, but I lost her. I need Rudy, or an ambulance. Jaime shot me."
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Oscar used Rudy's lab phone to issue an APB on Jaime. He'd already let all responding units know about the ruse, so no one would take a shot at her, trying to be a hero. Steve was rushed to the hospital, with appropriate sound effects, to have his non-existent wound bandaged. As he was being carried out of the lab, he told Rudy "Just patch it up and I'll be outta your hair, Doc. I've gotta find Jaime before the Secret Service does."
"Steve, she shot you," Rudy reminded him.
"She's my wife, Rudy. I love her. They're gonna...shoot...her..." Steve let his voice trail away weakly.
Rudy didn't want to overplay it, but he mumbled under his breath on his way out the door. "Maybe shooting her would be the best thing for everyone."
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Jaime sat anxiously in a big overstuffed chair at what had once been her parents' mountain cabin. She and Steve still took the kids there regularly for vacations, and since it was deeded in her name, she figured it might be a good place to hide, where they wouldn't have to look too hard to find her, whoever 'they' were.
Steve hadn't liked the idea of Jaime being the one to go inside whatever sort of group they were facing, but she'd pointed out that she'd be safer in that capacity, since the 'good' one would probably have to fight their way in. He'd have much rather had Jaime stay home with the children, but he had to agree with her that these roles were the better of their two choices.
There was a phone at the cabin, but Jaime didn't know if she'd be contacted that way, or in person. She just wished they'd hurry up, one way or the other, unless they hadn't bought the act. They just had to have bought it, though - there was no Plan B.
Jaime dusted everything in sight, re-arranged the furniture and paged through both magazines she'd brought with her. She paced restlessly back and forth for a little while, but felt too much like a caged animal. She decided to sit on the front porch and get a little sun, leaving the door open so she could hear the phone. She opened the door and found a man there, with his hand raised as though he was about to knock. She also heard the tell-tale cl-i-ic-kk that meant he was wearing a wire.
"Hello, Mrs. Austin," he said in a soft, almost buttery voice. "It would be to our mutual advantage if we could talk."
"Who the hell are you?" Jaime asked, playing 'bad' to the hilt, with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
"Someone who just might make you very, very rich. Can I come in? You should probably close the door before they spot you anyway."
"They who?"
"Forgive me, Mrs. Austin, but I have certain information about you -"
"Such as?"
"You shot your husband today. With a stolen gun."
Jaime took his arm and pulled him into the cabin, closing the door. She sat herself down in the overstuffed chair, crossed her arms and stared at him skeptically. "I'm listening."
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