Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.
Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings: mention of rape, some violence/abuse toward a female

Chapter 35

"Daddy? Please, wake up."

Faintly aware of a girl's voice speaking to him, Joe blinked his eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights of the ICU hospital room and struggled to speak. He took a breath and the pain that greeted him seared through his chest. Groaning, he placed his hand on the source of the pain and gasped as another round of agony flooded through his body. He could feel the familiar lumps of sutures going down his chest in a long straight line.

"I'll get a nurse," he heard Jeff say.

Joe forced his eyes completely open then and managed to croak, "Wait."

Jeff halted and turned back to him. "But you're in pain. You need-"

"No…pain…m-meds yet," Joe whispered, trying to figure out how to speak without hurting himself. "Ella? Was sh-she found?"

"I'm sorry, Joe. She hasn't been found yet," Jeff replied. "The police are baffled as to where Fournier took her."

"He's…different n-now," Joe uttered, trying to get all his thoughts out with minimal words before he fell back asleep.

"They know already, Daddy," the girl's voice spoke again. "I told them."

Joe's dark eyes shifted to who could only be his daughter then, and through all his pain and turmoil, he managed a slight smile.

"My little girl," he whispered, reaching up slowly and cupping the side of her face in his hand.

"You'd be so proud of her," Jeff told him. "She got help for you, aided in the capture of a crooked cop who kidnapped her for Fournier, and she gave a description of Fournier's new appearance to a sketch artist."

Joe shook his head in amazement. "I am proud of you. You have so much of your mother in you."

Miracle smiled through tears and squeezed her father's hand. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, baby," Joe returned. "And I promise you, your mother will be found—whether I find her or the cops find her. But she will come home to us."

Miracle's eyes lit up with horror.
"Daddy, no! Please, let the police do their jobs. Let them find her," she pleaded, already in a panic. "I don't want you to get hurt again! What if-"

Shhh, baby," Joe shushed her gently. "I'll be fine once I heal up and get out of here," he told her. "And if Ella told you much about me, you have to know that I'm not the type to sit around waiting. I take matters into my own hands—especially where my loved ones are concerned."

Miracle managed a sad smile. "Yes, that's the impression I had of you when Mama talked about you." She pleaded with her eyes, "Just please be careful. I can't lose you both. I can't-" She halted her words before she could finish them. Covering her mouth in shock, she realized for the first time that she thought her mother was long gone—dead. A sob tore from her throat and Jeff placed a hand on her back.

"It'll be okay, darlin'," he drawled. "Don't lose hope or faith."

Joe reached out and pulled Miracle closer to the bed. Sliding down the bed's railing he tugged on her hand and urged her to sit on the side of the bed.

"Don't give up, baby," Joe whispered, staring into her eyes. "I'm not sure how just yet, but your mother will come back to us. I know it, okay?"

At her nod, he added, "You're not going to lose either one of us, I promise. Understand?"

Again, she nodded.

"Okay, now give me a hug," he said softly with a slight smile. "I've never even gotten to hold my little girl."

"But I don't want to hurt you," she protested.

He tapped her chin playfully with his knuckle. "I'll hurt worse if you don't hug me," he insisted.

A tear fell down her cheek as she slowly leaned forward and hugged him as much as the bed would allow. She felt his arms close around her and she turned her face to kiss her father's cheek.

"I love you, little one," he said softly.

"I love you, too," she whispered in return.

Having stayed back a ways to give them some time together, Jeff stepped forward and spoke softly.

"I think it's time for that nurse, Joe," he said. "You need some rest if you want to heal quicker."

Miracle pulled out of Joe's embrace then. "Yeah, Daddy. You need to sleep and heal." She paused and swallowed hard. "Mom needs you," she added, afraid of what could happen. But, she knew he needed the incentive of saving Ella to motivate him to get well.

Joe nodded his agreement as Jeff pushed a red nurse's "Call" button on a remote next to Joe's bed. Only seconds later, a nurse spoke over the intercom speaker. "How can I help you?"

"Joe is awake now," Jeff answered.

"All right, Mr. Jarrett. I'll send Dr. Coden to his room."

Minutes later, the nurse came in to check Joe's vitals and shortly after, Dr. Coden entered the room.

Joe was checked over to make sure he wasn't developing signs of infection and then at the doctor's orders, the nurse injected Joe's IV with a heavy painkiller.

Only a few moments later, Joe slowly sank into oblivion.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Officer Steven McCarthy had sat in the interrogation room for over an hour, being grilled by a couple of his co-workers. Nervously, he ran his fingers over his short curly hair.

"I didn't do it," he cried. "I'd never hurt anyone maliciously—especially not a child!"

"You did it," Detective Nate White insisted. "We have enough evidence to charge you with the kidnapping and assault of twelve-year-old Miracle Kalani Jones."

"NO," McCarthy slammed his fist down on the table's surface. "My job is to protect people—not hurt them! Why would I do this? You guys know me! You know I'd never do something like this!"

"Steve, it's over," Detective Frank Kinkaid said softly. "The girl recognized you in a lineup. She even recalled the name on your name tag for crying out loud. We collected a blood sample from the dashboard of your patrol car—and surprise, surprise—it matches Miracle's DNA."

"You don't understand," McCarthy began.

"Then make us understand," shouted Detective White. "We'd sure like to understand!"

Detective Kinkaid looked at his partner, silently telling him to lighten up. He had a feeling there was more to the story.

"Tell us what happened," Kinkaid said to McCarthy, his green eyes softening. "Tell us why you did this."

McCarthy swallowed hard and fought the urge to throw up.

"I was kidnapped earlier yesterday—by a group of men…" He hedged, hesitant to give the name of a man who sent chills of fear down his spine. "I was taken to an abandoned warehouse and shown photos of a woman and a little girl."

"Where was the warehouse," Detective White asked.

"I don't know," McCarthy answered. "I was knocked out and some kind of cloth bag was over my head when I came to."

"You said you were shown photos of a woman and child. Go from there."

"The man told me the woman's photos were of an Ella Roberts, but that she went by the name of 'Claire Jones'. He said the photos of the girl was Ella's daughter—Miracle Jones. He said he needed Ella Roberts—and he knew how to get her." McCarthy swallowed hard again. "He told me that's where I factored in. He informed me that he'd not selected me at random. He knew all about me. He knew about my wife dying of a brain tumor. He knew my daughter, Whitney, had inherited the cancer gene from my wife—she's now been diagnosed with a tumor as well. So, he told me he'd give Whitney a violent end if I didn't cooperate." McCarthy's eyes filled with tears then, "He told me she'd die slowly if I didn't kidnap Miracle Jones. My daughter is scared enough of this disease she has—She's my little girl…the last link I have to my wife. I had to do what I could to protect her."

"So if all you had to do was kidnap Miracle, why the assault," demanded Detective White. "She is just a girl too! You scared her out of her mind. She may never trust authorities now because of what you've done."

"Easy, White," Kinkaid said, "Give him a chance to answer." His gaze shifted over to McCarthy then. "Why did you hurt her? You were stronger than she is by far. She was no threat to you."

"She sort of was," McCarthy answered. She began to struggle in the car when she figured out what was happening. She started banging on the window in an attempt to escape. I thought she'd either break the window out and jump for it, or she'd start hitting me and cause me to crash. Either way, I would've failed the mission—and Whitney would die."

"How do you know this man would follow up on his threat?"

"Anyone crazy enough to kidnap a cop and blackmail him is crazy enough to hold true to his threat. Plus, there was just something about him. He had an insane look through the eyes—very cold and unfeeling and empty. I don't think he has a soul."

"Okay. McCarthy," Detective White said, "It's the moment of truth. What's his name?"

The truth was, they already got the name from Miracle. But they wanted some added proof from McCarthy.

He paled, and hesitated before responding. "I want protection for me and Whitney. I won't name any names otherwise."

"You'll have it," Detective Kinkaid said. "Just so you know—we already have the guy's real name as well as his alias. Miracle gave them to us. But it will be added evidence against this psycho."

"I want immunity," McCarthy added, knowing his rights. "And I want to go into protective custody along with Whitney. Please."

They could see the desperation in McCarthy's eyes.

"Done," Kinkaid said.

"The name he gave me was Viktor Dankevych."

The detectives checked their notes to make sure of what Miracle told them.

"Okay, this will take a little time. We need Whitney's doctor's name so we can fax them and obtain either medical records or a note stating Whitney was indeed diagnosed with cancer."

"Why," McCarthy asked.

"Because if you're lying about this, you could very well be lying about what happened with Miracle. If that's the case, we'll have to investigate you further."

"I'm not worried about that," McCarthy responded. "It's true. You'll find out. And Whitney's primary doctor's name is Dr. Hugh Hodges at Seattle Medical Clinic."

Kinkaid nodded as he wrote down the name of the doctor and healthcare facility, "Okay, we'll have to get the note or records from the doctor first, of course. When we receive that and can verify what you've said, we'll fax the D.A. about your immunity. Then we'll go from there."

McCarthy slumped in his chair then as if the only thing keeping him upright left him. The detectives were unable to determine if it was from relief or added stress.

We'll soon find out, Detective Kinkaid thought.

"Is the girl—Miracle—is she okay," McCarthy asked, looking disgusted with himself.

"Physically, she'll be fine. Mentally…well, that's another story. This Viktor Dankevych guy…his name is actually Jacques Fournier. He's a very bad guy. He succeeded in kidnapping Miracle's mother. He also shot her father in the chest. He very nearly died," Detective White informed him. "And you do know Fournier planned to kill Miracle, don't you?"

McCarthy paled again. "My God. No, I didn't know. He just told me he needed her as bait."

"He lied," White told him matter-of-factly. "Or rather, he left out some of the truth."

"Oh, my God," McCarthy said again. He held his head in his hands and rocked backward and forward in his chair. "How could I do that? How could I have helped him like that?"

"Easy there, Steven," Detective Kinkaid said softly. "If you're telling the truth, you didn't know his real plan. Now, I can't say what you did was okay, but I can understand the panic you felt."

"She's just a little girl…"

"She'll be okay," Kinkaid told him. "We need to talk further and see if Fournier messed up and exposed something he hadn't meant to—something that could help locate Miracle's mother."

McCarthy nodded shakily. "Can you bring my daughter here?"

"Yes, of course," Kinkaid answered. "I'll get an officer to-"

"No," McCarthy interrupted. "You. Please. I trust you. A regular officer can be bought or threatened into submission. I was. Please, promise me you'll be the one to bring her here, Frank."

The detective nodded, "I promise. I'll go for her right now." He turned to Detective White, "Could you handle getting the doctor's records or note? I can probably be back before you receive them, and then I could handle the immunity request fax."

"Sure," White answered. "His demeanor had softened drastically over the past few minutes. "Come on, Steven. Let's get you into a cell. I'll let you know when Whitney arrives."

McCarthy nodded absentmindedly as he was led to an empty cell.

Please, God, watch over my baby and get her here safely, he prayed silently. Please, don't let her have to pay for what I've done.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Ella lay on her bed and watched numbly as Fournier finished buttoning his shirt. A tear fell from her unblinking eye as she re-lived the horror of the past forty-eight hours. She'd already lost count of how many times he'd used her body.

I wish I could die.

Fournier turned to face her and ignored the sheer anguish on her face. "I'll be back in an hour or two."

Ella's eyes burned with more tears. "I'm going to kill you, somehow."

Her threat struck a nerve and he shot over to her, grabbing her hair and slapping her across her sore face. "You WILL respect me! Or I'll-"

"What," Ella demanded. "Kill me? Go ahead! My life's over anyway! And I'd rather die than get pregnant by you!"

This earned her another slap.

Now enraged, Ella took advantage of the fact he'd uncuffed her wrists from the bed railing. She lunged forward and raked her nails down his face.

"KILL ME," she screamed, digging her nails into the fleshy parts of his cheeks.

Fury brewed in the icy depths of Fournier's blue eyes. He grabbed her wrists and, shoving her back down on the bed, pinned them above her head. "NO," he growled in her face. "I told you—you need to be broken and I know just how to do it! The next time, you're going to be a little more…demonstrative."

Ella froze and horror registered in her eyes.

"That's right," Fournier continued, enjoying her reaction. "You're going to seduce me."

"You're crazy," Ella said, a hint of a tremor in her voice. "I'll never…EVER do that!"

Fournier chuckled and the sound sent a shiver of fear down her spine. "Yes, you will. And do you know how I know," he asked rhetorically. "Because of your daughter," he answered.

Ella's eyes widened. "What do you mean? You already have me. She has nothing to do with this!"

"Oh, but she does," Fournier went on. "She wasn't supposed to happen in the first place. You were to give me a child, not Seanoa! So, if you don't do exactly as I ask, I'll bring young Miracle here and kill her slowly and painfully—right before your eyes. Does my request sound doable now?"

Ella couldn't speak for the urge to vomit.

"Answer me. Now."

She gave a slight nod and then succumbed to the need of emptying her stomach. She ran for her bathroom and melted into the floor as dry heave after dry heave racked her body. Moments later, she weakly stood to her feet and rinsed her mouth out at the lavatory. Her gaze rose to the mirror above the sink and she made eye-contact with her reflection as she heard the clank of her cell door shutting and locking.

"Glass," she whispered, touching the mirror. "The idiot left me with glass." She smiled despite her turmoil. "Joe, I'll see you soon, lo'u alofa," she murmured. Miracle is with Uncle Jeff, I'm sure of it. He and Aunt Nina will take good care of her, and that's all I can ask for. God be with my baby, she prayed silently. Then, drawing her fist back, she punched the mirror with all her might. It shattered into the sink below and Ella quickly snatched up a shard of the glass.

"ELLA?"

She took a glance out of her bathroom and saw Fournier looking through the bars at her, so she grinned at him with defiance on her face.

"You can't hurt me anymore."

Fournier was struggling to pull his keys out of his pocket as Ella stabbed her wrist and pulled the sharp piece of mirror up the length of her forearm. Gasping and crying out at the pain, she forced herself to ignore the frightening sight of so much blood pouring down her arm. She refocused and did the same to her other wrist.

Within seconds she was sinking to the floor as blood pooled around her. She made an attempt to slash her throat then. However, Fournier was kneeling beside her a second later, and pulled the shard out of her hand before she could make more than a small, harmless cut. He frantically pulled off his shirt and began ripping it into large strips, then pulled out his cell phone to make a call.

Ella was vaguely aware of him talking to someone as her vision blurred and her breathing slowed.

"I need your surgical team here in five minutes," Fournier said as he ripped his shirt into a couple more thick strips. He paused as the doctor he was speaking with protested. "No arguments! Get here with your team in five minutes or your whole family is DEAD—wiped out completely! Come here with the equipment you need for repairing slit wrists. They're slit the length of her forearm. Save her, or I'll kill you all." He disconnected the call and began tying the shirt pieces around her forearms as a makeshift tourniquet.

He was shocked to hear her chuckle.

"You're not going to be able to save me," she smiled up at him. "You can't have me anymore. I'm going to be with Joe. Forever. And there's nothing you can do about it." She spat in his face then, enunciating her sheer disdain for him.

Her vision blurred some more and grew progressively worse as her chest grew heavy. Taking a breath became impossible.

Everything faded to black then and her body went limp.