Near Death Experience – Chapter 7
A/N: In this chapter, someone gets a taste of their own medicine, Reese has a brief conversation with an old adversary and Joss makes a decision. This chapter is from three POVs – Hess, Elias and Reese's.
Hess was supposed to be shipped to Guantanamo today, but the transfer was delayed, so he didn't know what to expect when the guard brought him to one of the interrogation rooms that evening.
Perhaps the government did want to make a deal with him – he had done work for several terrorist groups and offered to give up some key information in exchange for better accommodations.
In the aftermath of the death of the FBI agent who had brought them all in, nobody wanted to be associated with that fiasco, so he had languished in his cell, waiting.
Finally, they must have found some poor sap to sign off on the paperwork and Hess was informed a few days ago that he was being transferred.
During his time here, Hess couldn't get anybody even willing to talk to him, much less make a deal, but perhaps cooler heads, recognizing the value of what he had to offer, had prevailed, he thought.
So he was stunned when it wasn't a government type who walked into the room, but one of the men he had been captured with.
Somehow Warren, if that was his real name, had managed to get released; Hess knew that Kelly had supposedly hung himself in his cell and McAvoy had already been shipped out to his native Texas to await trial weeks ago after spilling his guts to whoever would listen about the stupid little jobs he had done - Hess was surprised that the Chris Martin look alike hadn't been caught a long time ago.
Warren wasn't a Fed, Hess was sure of that; as they were being processed, he recognized some of the mannerisms that indicated similar training and probably similar deeds, but there was something about this man that was different.
He had better clothes and definitely had better friends, Hess thought.
The tall dark haired man stared at him. Hess noted that he seemed extremely tired, almost drained, but then he moved with a quickness that caught Hess off guard, slamming him against the wall. Hess could smell the faint scent of liquor on his breath. He struggled to break free, but the man, while thin, was incredibly strong, immobilizing him in seconds.
Hess realized he was wrong - this man had training and skills vastly superior to his own. He could kill him as easily as breathing.
"Get the fuck off me," he snarled, but the man just stared at him with those cold, dead eyes.
Finally he spoke, his voice low and raspy as if he hadn't used it for a while. "You hurt a friend of mine."
"I don't know any of your 'friends'," Hess shot back, while his mind frantically searched back to anyone that might have a connection to his captor.
"You spent hours together, just the two of you. Here." He pressed the heel of his hand against Hess' neck.
Hess blinked. The little bitch interrogator? He was going to die because of her? He gasped out, "She pay you to do this? Or are you looking to get something else in return?"
The man didn't say anything, pressed harder.
Hess tried to smile lasciviously, but it was more like a grimace. "You know her skin was real soft. Can't tell you how many times I jacked off in here thinking about it, how those big tits bounced when I was choking her."
He groaned as the man pressed even harder. "I…think…no, I know she…liked…it," Hess whispered, hoping the man would kill him quickly. "Try it…tonight…when…you…fuck…her."
The man smiled back, then looked off in the distance. "I can't take away what you did to her. I can't take away the crash. I can't take away Donnelly's death. I can't even take away what I did to her. But I can do this."
He whispered in Hess' ear as he started choking him. "And by the way, she'll never know."
XXX
Hess slowly pulled himself into a sitting position against the wall.
He was alive.
The man had choked the living daylights out of him, but he was alive.
Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. Tell the Feds that there were terrorist operatives in Rikers, how they had tried to silence him.
He looked up at the small, balding mild mannered looking man who had just entered the room. "Ah, Mr. Hess, I'm glad you're awake. You have another visitor."
Two guards walked into the room, followed by a tiny man, carrying a small valise. Hess' blood ran cold.
Carl Elias smiled benignly. "I believe you know Mr. Santee. He's going to prepare you for transport from the facility tonight. Apparently you have some colleagues who are eager to talk to you."
Santee worked for one of the terrorist organizations that Hess provided services for. Hess knew that whatever Santee had in his valise would make it appear as though he had died suddenly. He would be transferred out of Rikers, but not to a morgue – he would go to the terrorist group, be brutally tortured to see if he had given up any information to the Feds and then killed, his body put on display as a warning to others, left to the vultures and the sun.
He hoped. He knew there were some who were put out while they were still alive.
Elias shook his head. "Not only did you do work not sanctioned by Mr. Santee's organization, but you managed to get yourself captured in my city. I am many things, Mr. Hess, but I am also a patriot as well. Terrorists and the men who work for terrorists, have no place here." He walked out.
Hess tried to struggle, but the guards held him down. The last thing he saw was Santee walking towards him with a syringe.
XXX
"Elias."
"I admit that I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon, John. I trust that the visit was satisfactory."
The two men stood in a courtyard that was supposed to be for the warden's private use.
Reese flexed his hands. "What do you want in return, Elias?"
Elias looked hurt. "As I said, just the pleasure of your company for a few moments, John."
He didn't add that neatly disposing of Hess had eliminated a problem that the FBI and the CIA wanted to go away as they both tried to deal with fallout from the events at Rikers, Donnelly's death and the explosion in the city.
The crime boss now had a few 'special considerations' as he preferred to call them – chits sounded so crude and these were much more than simple favors - neatly stored away for future use.
Reese raised a skeptical eyebrow, then lowered it. He knew that Elias had his own agenda – if he didn't want anything from him, it meant that he'd gotten something more valuable from someone else.
"It can become tedious, predictable in here. And you, John, are never predictable. Your last visit was vastly entertaining. A prisoner killed in his cell, a false fire drill, a near riot in the yard, a government operative roaming about and a former Army interrogator almost getting choked to death. Throw in the FBI agent orchestrating the whole show being murdered and two rogue CIA operatives being blown to bits less than twenty four hours after you left – quite an array of events.
"I'm glad I could liven things up for you."
Elias smiled. "It was like one of those old television variety shows my foster mother used to watch – a little something for everyone." He adjusted his glasses. "And now tonight, a prisoner gets a taste of his own medicine. I have to ask - why didn't you kill him, John?"
"I wanted to." He had wanted to, almost had – the thought of someone putting their hands on her, hurting her…but Reese knew that she already felt responsible for Donnelly's death. He couldn't add Hess on top of it.
Perhaps this was one promise he might be able to keep.
"Yet you've taken lives in the past. What was different about him? He did try to kill Detective Carter." Elias stepped closer, truly curious. "I teach here. I don't know if you were aware of that. So many of the young men here are illiterate – a pity. With education, their lives could have been so different, I'm sure you'll agree. In my more advanced classes, I present scenarios, questions for my students to ponder and respond to, verbally, and in written essays. I admit it's a fascinating question for me. Perhaps I'll frame it in a way so that it's fascinating for them as well. If you'd like, I could even share some of their responses with you."
Reese was silent.
Elias nodded. "As I said, you are never predictable. And don't worry, I won't mention this visit to Harold. Lovely to see you again, John."
XXX
Elias had made special arrangements for Reese's visit, so he was able to take one of Finch's cars and travel directly to the island and then leave from the warden's office for the drive back into Manhattan.
He found a secluded spot next to the church, watched the small crowd file in.
Joss walked slowly up the sidewalk, paused in front of the steps as if she was considering leaving, but Reese knew she would go inside.
"So good to see such a bright color! Nicholas would have appreciated it."
Joss turned questioningly to the older woman who briskly approached her, hands outstretched. "I'm Stella O'Connor, nee Donnelly - Nicholas' aunt."
She took Joss' hands in hers. Donnelly's aunt had the same eyes as her nephew, but she had a liveliness, a sunniness about her. She would have been the aunt who would have coaxed shy smiles from her nephew when he was a child and as an adult would have been one of the few people who could make Donnelly laugh, the low rumbling sound so rare, even within his own family, that they would turn around to see where the noise was coming from.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. O'Connor." Joss said softly. "You came quite a distance, ma'am."
"Yes, the funeral was held back in Virginia some weeks ago, but when Nicky's parents were contacted about the memorial service here – well – it was important that someone from the family attend. I hope – it was such a shock about Nicky's passing – I hope this will be more of a celebration of his life, that's why I am so glad to see you in such a beautiful coat!" She smiled softly. "Will you sit with me? I want to know how you knew my nephew."
Joss nodded and the two women entered the church.
He waited, followed Joss as she left. At first her pace was quick and determined, but eventually it slowed and she turned right.
The coffee shop.
Joss stood in the shadows across the street. The kid was behind the counter tonight, his hands moving fluidly as he worked.
Reese had checked him out – he was smart, a hard worker, respected by his co-workers, close to his family.
Someone you'd want as a friend.
Idly, Reese thought he could have been a sniper – great eye-hand coordination, excellent balance, attention to detail, and a certain flair that all good snipers need to have.
Joss watched the kid and Reese watched her, waiting.
As the traffic went by, her face was lit by the headlights – she was so beautiful that men did double takes as they walked by, wanting to ease the yearning, the wistfulness, the sadness from her countenance.
She took several steps forward.
Reese held his breath as she stepped off the curb, as if she was going to cross the street, but then abruptly Joss turned back and left.
The kid looked to the right sharply and Reese knew that he had caught that flash of red out of the corner of his eye, even in the darkness.
Yes, he would have been a good sniper.
Reese followed her home. He watched as she worked quietly in the kitchen, as she emptied the shelves, as she washed every pan, dish and piece of flatware, the edge of her sleeves dripping with dishwater and suds. Tears ran silently down her face as she worked.
He watched until she dried and put everything away and then, almost stumbling with exhaustion, she lay down fully clothed, on her bed, eyes open for a long time until she finally fell asleep.
A/N: So we see John and Joss trying to come to grips with what is going on inside them, in their own way; John takes Hess to task for his attack on Joss (and I admit that part of me wanted to see Hess pay for choking our girl) and Joss is tempted, but decides not to approach the barista. These attempts, of course, don't deal with the real issue. It will all come to a head soon.
Next, more info leading to how their relationship changed and in the following chapter, we'll spend some time with Joss as she tries to deal rationally deal with irrationality.