Chapter 7

While Martin and Samantha drove towards Binghamton, Jack Malone was waking to the sounds of a busy hospital as it slowly came to life. He had slept quite soundly for most of the night, with the exception of the occasional night terror. His pain meds were wearing off and he was becoming increasingly aware of the throbbing in the side of his head. He hoped that the nurse would be around soon to give him a top up of painkillers. His stomach still felt queasy, so he assumed that he was still suffering from the effects of the concussion or maybe it was the meds. He'd no idea and didn't really care.

He checked his watch. It was a little after 7 am. He realised that he hadn't heard from Samantha since she left the previous night. That worried him. It meant that they probably still hadn't found Finn. He desperately wanted to call her, but his cell phone was most likely still in her apartment. It wasn't among his personal belongings they had left in his room. All that he had was a bloodstained t-shirt, now only fit for the trash, his jeans, socks, shoes and his watch. He hoped that Hanna would come by early that morning because he had asked her to bring him some fresh clothes. He had no intention of staying cooped up in that hospital for any longer than necessary. He needed to be out there looking for Finn. He still couldn't shake that feeling of responsibility or the guilt that gnawed away at him. He convinced himself that he was feeling much better than he actually was and had no intention of lying in that bed while Samantha and the team tried to find the child without him.

He threw back the bed sheets, disconnected the saline drip from the cannula in the back of his hand and slowly put his feet to the floor. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he stood up. A wave of dizziness engulfed him almost immediately and he quickly turned back and grasped the bed for support. He clung on until the dizziness dissipated. His legs felt shaky, but he knew that there was no way they would let him leave the hospital unless he was able to walk out on his own two feet. Another deep breath and he shuffled carefully towards the adjoining bathroom. Grateful to have made it the short distance, he grabbed onto the sink and for the first time he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. He turned his head slightly to allow himself a better view of his head wound. He cringed, sorry he had seen it. It was unsightly, to say the least. His cheek was a combination of purple and yellow bruises. It was swollen and it looked like he'd been in a fight. As he stood examining his injuries in the mirror, his vision began to blur. He clung onto the sink, hung his head and closed his eyes. More deep breaths and then some cold water splashed on his face helped a little. The dizzy spell passed and he decided to use the other bathroom facilities before returning to his bed.

As he sat back on the edge of the bed, he acknowledged inwardly how much that small exertion had taken out of him. The last time he felt so weak was after he had been shot and he decided to go looking for Jen Long. He felt nauseous again as he tried to get comfortable back in bed. He lay back down, grateful to be able to rest once more. It wasn't long before he was asleep again.

When he woke he was surprised to see Hanna sitting in the chair beside him, reading a magazine.

"Good morning," she said, smiling as he turned towards her. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," he said, embellishing the truth considerably.

"Did you sleep okay?" she asked.

"Like a baby," he replied. "I had a little help, though," he told her, referring to the cocktail of medication he was taking.

"Good. I'm glad. You'll heal much quicker if you rest and take it easy," she told him, sounding a lot like her mother.

Jack smiled, recognising the similarity but knowing that Hanna might not appreciate him drawing attention to it. He decided to keep it to himself.

"Did you bring my things?" he asked.

"Sure did," Hanna replied. "In that bag over there," she said, pointing to a hold-all that she had left near the bathroom door.

"Thanks," he said gratefully.

With that he started to get out of the bed once more. This time he stood up quite convincingly, he thought.

"What are you doing?" Hanna asked, unable to mask her concern as she watched him climb out of bed.

"I'm getting dressed," Jack told her as he walked shakily towards the bathroom door.

"Eh…no, you're not," Hanna said, trying to sound definite.

"I have to get to the office," Jack told her by way of explanation. "I'm losing my mind lying here, wondering where Finn is. I lost her little boy, Han. I have to find him."

"Dad, you're in no fit state!" Hanna insisted. "You can hardly stand."

"I'm fine," he snapped crossly, bending to pick up the bag and almost toppling over.

Luckily Hanna was close by and caught him by the arm.

"You see?" she said, hoping he would relent.

He just gave her one of those 'don't you dare give me attitude' type looks before entering the bathroom and closing the door. Hanna cursed under her breath at his stubbornness. She wanted to call her Mom but knew there was no point. She was too far away to do anything and it wasn't like he was going to listen to her either. She decided to get a nurse or doctor or someone who could convince him not to leave the hospital.

Inside the bathroom, Jack sat on the toilet seat and removed the hospital gown. He carefully put on the t-shirt that Hanna had packed for him, over his injured scalp. Still seated, he put on fresh boxers and trousers before standing up to fasten them. His head was pounding now as his blood pressure rose. He managed his socks and then put on some sneakers. He stood in front of the mirror again and brushed his teeth. Slowly, he began to feel human again. By the time he was finished in the bathroom, Hanna had returned to the room with back-up.

"Mr. Malone! I don't know what you think you are doing, but you get back into that bed, right this minute!" Nurse Batista ordered.

Jack glared at his daughter and then at the imposing nurse.

"I have to go," Jack told her, trying not to be rude.

"You will do no such thing," the nurse told him. "You are still under observation. You suffered a serious head injury and could still suffer complications as a result."

"Well, if I start to feel unwell, I'll come right back," Jack said, trying to out-smart her.

"You might not get time. You could drop down dead," the nurse told him, trying scare tactics instead.

Jack raised his eyebrows but chose to ignore her exaggerations.

"I'll sign whatever you want, but I'm walking out of here and you can't stop me," Jack insisted doggedly.

Unfortunately, the nurse knew he was right. They couldn't hold him against his will. He could discharge himself AMA and they could do nothing about it. She shrugged her shoulders in defeat. Hanna was disgusted and disappointed with both her father and the nurse. Not only that, but she was scared. Could he really drop dead like she said? She most certainly did not want that to happen. What could she do?

It took a few more minutes for Jack to get packed up and ready to leave. All the while he was subjected to Hanna's scowling face. She was now apparently not talking to him. He hated when she got like that. Whenever she didn't get her own way, she sulked. That's what he was sure she was doing now. However, her reasons for sulking weren't quite as selfish as Jack had presumed. She was worried for her father. She couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to him.

"You coming?" Jack asked as he neared the door of the room, a sheen of perspiration already evident on his brow.

Hanna just shrugged her shoulders and followed him, a frown creasing her forehead. She stood silently as Jack stood at the nurse's station and signed the discharge papers. Nurse Batista had been considerate enough to provide a pack of medications and a prescription for more should he need it. Again she reminded him that if he felt unwell or experienced any of the symptoms listed on his discharge sheet, he was to get to a hospital immediately. Jack grumbled an agreement before walking to the elevator. Hanna followed quietly.

Meanwhile, Martin and Samantha were almost in Binghamton. They had been driving for hours and were tired and hungry. As they approached the outskirts of the town, they passed several motels and truck stops. Martin spied a gas station a little further on with a 7 Eleven attached. They needed gas and coffee, so agreed to stop there.

Unknown to them, their suspect, Brian Donovan, had walked the short distance from his roadside motel to the same store looking to buy some diapers and baby formula. He and Finn were strolling down an aisle of the store when Brian noticed the beautiful blonde getting out of a black sedan at the gas pumps. He was stunned when he realised that it was Samantha. A flutter of panic raced over him when he realised that the agent with her was coming into the store. How did they know he was there, he wondered. He held Finn a little tighter as he tried to think of what to do. A bell dinged as Martin entered the store. He greeted the clerk with a smile. Brian hid at the end of the store, observing Martin's movements. He watched as Martin ordered two coffees and some doughnuts. He saw Samantha walk around the back of the building to the toilets.

He had to do something. He looked around and saw a broom propped against the wall. It gave him an idea. He waited until Martin was paying the cashier and had his back to the aisles. He placed Finn sitting on the floor and then he rushed up behind Martin and stuck the end of the wooden handle uncomfortably into the small of the agent's back.

"Don't move or I'll kill you," Brian threatened persuasively.

Martin immediately raised his hands. He couldn't be sure but to him it felt like the muzzle of a gun in his back. His eyes met those of the cashier, who looked confused more than scared.

"Reach into your jacket and slowly take out your weapon," Brian demanded.

How the hell did he know I had a weapon, Martin wondered, not recognising the voice. Reluctantly he did as his assailant demanded. He extricated his weapon from its holster and held it out from his body. Brian grabbed it roughly from his hands and dropped the broom handle. Hearing the wooden handle hit the ground, Martin felt like an idiot, realising that he had been conned. He turned his head slowly to see who was taking his gun. He couldn't believe his eyes when he recognised the man. He was even more surprised to see little Finn crawling up the aisle behind Donovan.

"Look, Brian….we," Martin started to say until Brian quickly shut him up with a brutal blow with the pistol to the side of his skull.

Martin dropped like a stone. Brian waved the gun at the cashier and shouted at him to stay down and he wouldn't get hurt. He rooted around in Martin's pockets until he found the car keys. Then he returned to his son, picked him up and ran towards the car.

As he neared the car, Samantha was rounding the corner of the building on her way back to the car, having used the toilet facilities. She couldn't believe her eyes. She reached for her weapon.

"Brian!" she called. "Stop!" aiming the weapon in his direction.

Brian stopped. He turned and looked at her, placing his son between him and Samantha. The look in his eyes chilled her. This wasn't the man she once knew, of that she was now sure. It was then that he showed her that he too had a weapon.

"Put it down, Sam," he yelled. "I don't want to shoot you, but I will if I have to."

"Please, Brian," she pleaded. "Don't hurt him."

"Hurt him? I'm not going to hurt him. He's my son," Brian told her.

"Give him to me," Sam pleaded. "Please. Take the car, but leave Finn with me."

Brian shook his head, discounting the suggestion straight away.

"He's my son, Sam, and he's coming with me. If you want to be with him, put down your gun and get in the car, now," Brian told her.

Sam weighed up her options. It wasn't like she had many. Neither of them was exactly appealing but her eyes rested on her tiny little boy, who clung to his father, oblivious to the drama unfolding. His innocent smile melted her heart and she couldn't imagine life without him. Her decision was made. She put down her gun and walked towards Brian and her son. She put her arms out to take Finn, but Brian ordered her into the driver's seat, opening the door and shoving her in.

"You drive."

Samantha didn't argue. She sat into the driver's seat while Brian sat into the rear seat behind her. He buckled Finn into the back sea,t even though he was way too small to be secure without a baby seat. Sam looked back anxiously at the toddler as he cooed and squirmed in the seat.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked as she started the engine.

"Take a right," Brian ordered as she approached the main road.

Truth be known, he had no idea where they were headed, but they couldn't stick around there.

TBC