Thank you for your wonderful reviews and suggestions. I am still leaning towards a sequel, but cannot quite see the end point yet for this story - my muse is sparking hard!

Chapter 21

I watch the cloud of dust and who-knows-what swirl up and around the NFD crew. I am struggling to process what just happened, despite the evidence of my ears and eyes. Once again, I am trapped in my own mind as I see Carlos and I lying on that elevator floor as it drops. In my imagination, Ryan does not catch us with the brake, and we fall to our deaths. I begin to shake, and my mind begins to shut down.

Distantly, I hear voices. Calls, yells, shouted instructions. Faintly, nearer, I hear Carlos' voice and then I feel his hand grasp my chin to turn my face to his. I recognise that he is calling my name and I struggle to bring my focus back; to reengage my mind to the current situation. When I do, it hits me like a tidal wave.

We nearly DIED!

I only realise I must have said this aloud, when Carlos' emphatic voice tells me, "But we didn't die, Steph!" I know he is correct, but we came so close! Carlos tells me everyone is safe, but how can he be sure? What about Ryan and Officer Forbes? Are they really out and safe?

I just feel so overwhelmed. This day has felt months long, and it has just been too much; too much to take. I don't know how long I was lost in my misery, but apparently it was more than a couple of minutes. I bring my focus back to the present to see the captain squatting in front of us. At least I am relieved to see that Carlos has been equally distracted. The captain sees my attention come to him and gives me a small, grim smile, that I cannot find the will to return. He tries to reassure us, but my numb mind is still barely processing his words. At least I understand from what he says, and does not say, that Rodriguez is still the only injury today. The only physical injury at least.

Am I ever going to be able to step into an elevator again?

I feel a rush of relief when the captain, Tim Pearse, tells us that he will let us go home. I'm not sure if I can relive this day again right now. Too much. My exhausted brain realises I will have to drive up from Trenton tomorrow. Then I realise I am going to have to drive back to Trenton today. I'm really not sure I can. All I really want to do is lie down and sleep. I say something like this to Carlos and the captain.

Pearse looks like he is about to say something, but Carlos speaks up, "Don't worry about it Steph. I'll help you; we'll get it all sorted out." I try to think what he means; I'm not sure. But I'm too tired and drained to argue, so I nod in compliance. Carlos will help me sort it out, and that's all I need to know right now.

I am completely taken aback when Captain Pearse suggests we might need an attorney. Why? Does he think we would blame Rodriguez? I would never think that. I have to say, "No, I'd never place any blame on the fire officers! They just did their job. No." I shake my head vehemently. I am pleased when Carlos agrees with me. Carlos does say he will call his lawyer. I guess that's just common sense. We are likely to be signing a lot of papers tomorrow! I almost groan at the thought. At least we don't have to do it now. I'm glad that Carlos has a lawyer, or will get one, if we need it. I certainly don't 'have a lawyer'. I know it seems like everyone on TV 'has a lawyer', but the real world is that most people don't. Most of us rarely have a need for one.

Pearse tells us he will see us at ten-hundred tomorrow. When the hell is that? Then, I remember he said 10am before, so I guess that's what he means. Ok. 10am is doable. I guess. It's still an early start for me from Trenton, but I'm likely to crash as soon as I get home, so I would probably wake up earlier than normal anyway.

Carlos stands up, a little more stiffly than he was earlier, but still graceful as a big cat. He offers me his hand and I stand as well, sliding the business card into my bag. Carlos slides his into his pocket. We shake hands with the captain and say our farewells. Carlos puts his arm around my shoulders, and murmurs to me, "Come on Babe. Let's head out." I nod apathetically and allow him to lead me out of the main lobby doors. I cannot help the sigh that escapes me.

I feel Carlos' glance and he asks me how I'm doing. "I need coffee!" I blurt out. He does the tip-lip semi-smile and agrees that we both need coffee. Thank God for that! Coffee might just mean I can survive until I can make it home. Something sugary might help too. I hope wherever we go has donuts.

Most of the crowd appear to have dispersed after the ambulance departed, but as we step outside the doors, I see a TV news crew off to one side, looking at camera footage and talking quietly. I almost groan out loud at the thought of being on TV. My mother will be insufferable, crying "why me?" and bemoaning that her daughter got caught in this situation when every other daughter in the Burg doesn't. Not to mention incessant questions about the man with me, and why would I spend time with a man clearly not from the Burg?

I sigh unconsciously. This is all I need.

After the FBI moved into EE Martin, there were news crews on the street the day we were allowed back in to collect our personal belongings. They tried to interview us. We all just kept repeating, 'No comment'. In fact, I couldn't tell them anything anyway. And most of my former colleagues were in the same boat. None of us really knew what the hell was going on any more than the news crews. But apparently, I had humiliated my mother simply because I was on TV being interviewed about corruption and embezzling.

"Why me" was a frequent refrain; as was being told that Elinor Malinsky, Emilana Maestreno, and Shirley Barsi don't have daughters on TV being arrested by the FBI. My pleas that I wasn't being arrested and wasn't even really being interviewed were ignored.

My grandma decided to throw fuel on the fire by suggesting I should do a 'tell-all' to Dateline. Tell all what? I couldn't tell anything. But my grandma told me I should make it up, just so it's juicy and dramatic. At this, my mother threw up her hands and stormed off to answer the next phone call, bewailing her 'wayward daughter' and renewing her "why me"s. My grandma thought it was all hilarious, and I suspect she had said it just to cause trouble. I love her, but sometimes she drives me crazy.

Carlos seems to see the film crew as well, and immediately turns us in the opposite direction, leading me briskly away and turning the next corner. I am so relieved when it seems like we are not being followed, and I hope fervently that the crew did not notice us leave. We must have escaped their notice somehow. Maybe God hasn't completely forsaken me today! I am also relieved that Carlos seems as reluctant as I am to provide the crew with all the 'juicy details' of our recent ordeal.

He leads me to a coffee shop about halfway down the block, and we enter. It seems like a bit of a dingy place, but there is an empty table at the back that Carlos leads me to, seating himself with his back to the wall, and me with my back to the door. I breathe a sigh of relief when I am seated and feeling anonymous and hidden.

A waitress comes over, wearing a hideous yellow and grey uniform with a stained white cap and apron. Seriously, who designs these outfits? The skirt is short and does not flatter her figure or colouring. I feel for her that she has to wear this monstrosity every day.

Carlos quirks an eyebrow at me, and I pull myself together to ask for a large coffee, and to enquire what they had in the way of cakes and pastries. Carlos slight look of incredulity is amusing as I ask for their 'special' apple pie and ice cream. I would prefer a Boston cream donut, but I'm desperate for any kind of sugar right now. Carlos echoes my order for coffee, but orders nothing else.

The coffee is delivered quickly, and I doctor my cup with three teaspoons of sugar and liberal amounts of creamer. I look up to see the look of incredulity is back on Carlos' face, but he just shakes his head. I give him my mean look; I've earned this sugar today! His lips quirk up at that, but he doesn't challenge me. The coffee is not the best, but it's hot and reviving and I drink it down quickly, feeling it warm through me.

The waitress returns with my pie, and the coffee pot. She refills my cup, and Carlos shakes his head at her offer to top his off. She is standing entirely too close to him, clearly hoping for eye contact and an opportunity to flirt. Has she unzipped her dress a bit? My recent sympathy for her and her awful uniform vanishes quickly, supplanted by a jealous annoyance and desire to rip the frilly cap off her head and stuff it down her throat. I see the moue of disappointment on her face as she moves away to another table. I struggle to bring my expression back to neutral as he looks back to me. I don't want him to see my irrational jealousy. I hide my face by concentrating on doctoring up my refilled coffee.

I'm just glad he didn't smile at her. She would probably have ripped off her uniform completely and jumped him. I know that's what I want to do when he smiles at me…

Carlos continues to sip his black, sugarless coffee, watching me intently as I devour the pie. It's pretty good pie. Nothing really 'special', despite the name, but the crust is flaky and buttery, and the apple is sweet and lightly spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg. And the ice cream is real ice cream, rich vanilla and like a balm to my wounded soul from this day. I look up at Carlos as I finish off the last bite.

Carlos' eyes have gone obsidian black and seem to capture my own eyes in a sudden, sensual heat. I find myself trapped for a few moments, and feel my panties go damp. That predatorial look is a cross between "I'm going to eat you alive" and "I'm going to have you against the wall". I can't find it in myself to object to either scenario. Mesmerised, I stare at him like a mouse at a cat, before he pulls himself back slightly, and the intensity dims marginally.

I wonder what triggered that?

He smirks at me again, and I realise I spoke out loud. "Babe. You moan when you eat pie," he says. I blush fiercely at that. Leaning forward toward me, he adds in a low murmur, "Don't worry, Babe So do I."

My face could probably fry eggs at that.

One reviewer seems to be confused about the elevator and the levels - I am not sure how they count floors in your country (wherever you are :)) but in Aussie terms - they got stuck between the ground floor (entry level) and the floor one up from entry level. They were pulled out on the ground level. The building has a basement carpark level, which is where the elevator crashed. Hope that clarifies. R