A/N: Sorry for the delay. Life got in the way of writing. This chapter is a little short, I had to split it up. I have a feeling that we will all be relying on this site to make it through the hiatus... Happy Reading!
Third Installment
2 months later
Weller was in his office, sitting at his desk, staring down at two manilla folders, signifying case files. One was indeed thicker than the other, which caused great heartache in his chest. A glass of scotch was sitting on his desk, untouched. It was late in the night and he just couldn't bare the thought of going home just yet. Today had been particularly stressful. More stressful than a normal day in the field, or even at the office.
"In pursuit." Weller huffed. He quickened his pace, now sprinting down a sidestreet to catch up with the suspect. He could not believe that out of the three agents currently in the field on this case, he was the one chasing after this suspect. Getting accustom to this new team was going to take a lot of energy. His heart pounding as he gained steps on the fleeing twenty-something man. Watching as the man took the corner down an alley, Weller was hot on his heels, but the moment he turned the corner he almost body slammed into the suspect. The suspect was standing with his arms up as a gun was pointed in his direction from the other side.
"Thought you may need some help." The voice grating on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
Breathing heavily to try to catch his breath. He moved forward, instructing the suspect to put his hands on his head. Weller handcuffed him as Zapata rounded the corner.
Weller handed the suspect over to Zapata and walked with her to the SUV, discussing what to do once they return to the office. Zapata nodded her chin, indicating someone behind him. "See you back at the office. Find Agent Curtis on your way back."
With a sarcastic smirk, Zapata hopped into the vehicle and left.
"Do I get a 'thank you' for helping?"
Weller's whole body tensed. He turned around very slowly, "why were you trying to help? This isn't even your case, or your jurisdiction."
"Naz called in reinforcements when he booked it from the pick up destination."
Weller's hands clenched. "We don't need your help." His voice growled.
"You may not want it, but you do need it. You're down an agent and an asset right now. You have agents fresh off of desk jobs working with you. You need all the help you can get." Her anger starting to seep into her voice. "No matter how pissed you are at me, I'm just trying to help." And with that, she turned to walk to the just parked SUV.
Weller was standing there, processing what was said, watching her retreating form. She was right. With Reade out of the picture for now, they had to pull in newer agents with less experience, just to keep up with their caseload and Sandstorm. In addition to that mess, Jane was still nowhere to be found, which caused problems in more areas than any of them thought. "Allie," he called out.
He watched as she halted and slowly turned to face him. "Thank you."
She nodded and continued on her way to the vehicle.
Weller turned in the opposite direction to start making his way back to his vehicle.
When he reached the NYO, he avoided people in the bullpen and went directly to his office. He was exhausted. He hadn't been sleeping well and managed to expend the majority of his lasting energy on that pursuit. He dropped onto his couch, sighing as it molded around him.
There was a brief knock at his door, rubbing his hands over his face to help himself wake up, he watched Zapata walk in.
"The suspect is in Interrogation one. He's demanding for Jane." She eyed him carefully. Watching him trying to rub the exhaustion from his face. The circles becoming more prominent by the hour. She was worried about him. It's not often that he lost perspective. He has been so wrapped up in trying to find Jane, that he has passed off tattoo cases for her to lead.
The team thought that catching this individual would help them locate Jane. He had been lingering around what was her safe house and outside the FBI office. They did not know how he knew her, but there was definitely something. Now it was just confirmation since he was demanding for her.
Patterson burst in before anything could be said. "So it is definitely Roman. The few sound clips that I have from the microphone that Naz planted on Jane that first time she was going to meet Shepherd. It matches to the sounds byte I took when he was just demanding for Jane. He is Roman. He's a part of Sandstorm."' She spoke a mile a minute, a hopeful expression graced her face at the realization that they could be a step closer.
"Do we really think that Sandstorm is the reason behind her disappearance?" Zapata inquired, a suspicious look etched onto her face. "She could have just left."
"I really don't know anymore." Weller dropped his head into his hands. That had been a thought that crossed his mind on a few occasions. That she just left, without a word. "I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, that she wouldn't just leave. But we haven't been the best to her since her return." His heart ached as he voiced that, the pain shooting out, radiating across his chest.
"We have to keep looking. I know that we do not have much to go on, but this is something." Patterson said. "Plus, since we have him, he could give us intel on Sandstorm. We can detain him now based on the sound bytes, that he's an integral player in whatever their mission is." She tried to reason.
"It's worth a shot!" Weller looked up with a newly found sense of vigor.
Patterson smiled across at Zapata, who just shrugged as Weller left his office.
Weller was watching the video feed of Roman as the sat in Interrogation room one, with his hands handcuffed to the table and his head down resting on it. The posture gave off this sense of defeat. It was not something Weller expected to see; not of someone who was involved in this Sandstorm mission.
Breathing in deeply, he walked out of the room and towards the entrance of the interrogation room. The sound of the door alerted Roman and his head snapped up; waiting expectantly for the tattooed female to step through. The snarl that appeared on his face when Weller walked through set the tone, causing frustration to build inside of Weller.
"I said I would only speak with Jane." He shouted, slamming his hands down on the metal desk.
Weller continued to stare at him as he took his seat across the table, leaning back in his chair, propping his leg across his other knee. "That's kind of hard when she isn't here. So I will wait."
The shock and pain that crossed Roman's features, showed genuine concern. "What… what do you mean she isn't here?" His breathing rapidly increasing.
Weller shrugged nonchalantly, "She left. You must have surmised that by the fact that you've been scouting out her former safe house and the FBI building."
He watched as Roman was becoming more agitated.
"So how about you tell me more about this Shepherd." The radiating pain in his heart for acting so cold to the fact that Jane is missing; acting as though it means nothing is slowly killing him from the inside out. He was doing his damndest not to let it show. He wanted to get as much information out of Roman as he could.
Roman was shaking his head vehemently. He was muttering as he shook his head. "No… I can't do that… I can't… No… No...No…"
Weller watched as he was having what appeared to be a psychotic break-at least that's what it seemed like. Weller repositioned himself on the chair, planting his feet on the ground and leaning forward. "Roman…" he said sternly, trying to break his trance, "Roman, listen to me. What if you could help us find Jane?"
Roman quieted and stared at Weller, directly in the eyes. It was so silent, you would be able to hear a pin drop. The eerie silence caused the hairs on Weller's arms to stand on edge.
Naz handed him a file, "I thought that you may be interested in reading this. It's the Internal Affairs report, Jane's statement is in there." Her eyes bore into his, giving him a slight smirk as she released the file into his hold.
Even though it was incredibly thin, it felt like he was holding an anvil. Glancing down at it, he felt his pulse quicken. All different scenarios that had been playing in his head over the last two months could potentially become reality, dependent upon what was in the offending document.
He sulked his way to his office, starting to hate that such of
Naz gently knocked on his door. When he didn't acknowledge it, she poke her head in. "Staring at those is not going to bring her back, you know."
Weller's elbows propped up on the desk, his eyes closing. Anguished etched in his face.
"It's my fault that she's gone." He stated, thick with emotion.
Naz came around to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk, "There's no way you could have anticipated her running after that ambush."
When Weller looked up at her, there was fire in his eyes, laced with guilt. "She believes that she's responsible for the loss of the…" he hesitated, still having difficulty coming to terms with the loss of the unborn baby. "I asked her to keep them safe. She feels as though she let me down."
Naz shifted her head, nodding slightly to acknowledge his reasoning. She stood and started towards the door. With a pause at the door, Kurt noticed that she started to fidget-not something that Naz did. "Do you think that is the only reason why she left?"
Weller's eyes squinted at her, "What are you saying?"
Her eyes bore into his, not backing down. "Think about it. Before that incident, things were not ideal with the team. There has been very little team cohesion since we brought her back to the FBI. She does not have anyone to rely on that she used to have. From what I've gathered, you were her rock before, when you were convinced she was Taylor." Naz finally broke eye contact with Weller, releasing a breath she was holding. "We will find her," Naz gave a sad smirk, "when she wants to be found."
And with that, she bowed her head and left his office. He sat there, exhaustion seeping into his bones.
