Author's Note:
Five days back at work and I already feel the love. This is one crazy week and all I wish for right now is one day without accidents, emergencies and family dramas. Maybe tomorrow. Needless to say, I had zero time to work on the story and I am a bit saddened about that. Hopefully next Monday will give me more time.
Anyways, this chapter is kind of a milestone so I decided the content of the story should be a milestone as well. I've been second-guessing myself a lot with this one and had an inner debate whether or not this would fit in with the rest of the story at all. But I had so much fun writing it that the complete flashback amounts to approximately 6,000 words, which would have gone way beyond the constraints I gave myself. Therefore I had tp split it up into two parts. The second part is written and proof-read already, but I won't post it as chapter eleven.
I'm very happy with how this chapter turned out and I hope you feel the same way!
May 2008
Henrietta Lange walked around the park that belonged to St James Home for the Elderly and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face. Summer came early this year, temperatures reaching a high of 90 degrees, higher than average for this time of year. The older woman listened to the birds chirping while nodding at bypassing patients, relatives and orderlies. She blended in perfectly and no one would suspect that she didn't actually have reason to be here. People would just assume that she was here to visit an ill family member.
Truth was she wasn't here on private matters but on official business.
Strolling further around the park she came to a quieter section in the back. She knew this part by heart having sought out its solitude quite often over the past years. The section she was looking at was basically a tiny park in the park, hidden from the traffic of visitors and partially closed off by a bunch of tall rhododendron bushes which were in full bloom this time of year. At the center was a small fish pond with water lilies and a bench sat only a few feet away facing said water. If you needed peace and wanted to get away from prying eyes this was the place to go to.
The older woman came to a stop at a safe distance and sat down on one of the close-by benches. She crossed her legs, leaned back against the backrest and folded her hands in her lap. She watched the people by but always kept a watchful eye on the pair sitting in the small hidden area. A middle-aged woman in her late forties sat in a wheelchair and next to her on the bench was a considerably younger man with disheveled blonde hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in quite some time.
Her eyes rested on the odd pair and she noticed the clear signs of advanced Alzheimer's disease in the woman. She looked straight ahead of her, gazing into space and showing no sign of acknowledging the younger mans' presence. The blonde was talking to her but she didn't seem to hear it. He tried to get her attention anyway and talked away with the occasional pause here and there to take a breath. At one point he lowered his gaze and took the woman's hand into his, squeezing tightly. But she didn't reciprocate the gesture. Her hand remained lax. Still, he didn't let go.
While watching them Hetty let her mind wander. She knew the man to be twenty-two going on twenty-three and that he would be graduating college soon. She also knew that the woman he was with had been living at St James for three and a half years and that he was visiting her every single day without exception. She knew that he had finished high school at age sixteen, having accelerated two grades in his school years. She knew about his sister studying in San Diego. She knew a lot about him. She had after all followed him for years now and she was pleased to meet him in person for the first time.
After a while a nurse joined the couple and leaned down to the young man. A quick glance at her watch told Hetty she'd been sitting here for about twenty minutes now. She assumed the nurse had come to take the female patient back inside since it was close to tea time. The nurse conversed with the blonde man and after another couple of minutes he gave her a small nod. He took the older woman's hand in his once again and leaned down to blow a kiss on it. Then he squeezed the hand once more and let go, giving the nurse permission to wheel his mother back inside.
Once they left the young mans' shoulders slumped forward and he ran tired hands over his face and through his hair. He bowed his head, rested his hands at the small pit of his neck and looked down on his lap. Hetty knew this was the right time to join the young man and got up from her bench. She walked over and stopped right next to him. She folded her hands behind her back and faced the pond.
"This is a beautiful place, don't you think?" she asked by way of greeting.
The young man jumped visibly and looked up to his unexpected company. He regarded the tiny woman standing a few feet away. She was at least ten years older than his mother, he assumed but she looked nothing like a resident of St James. Realizing he had yet to answer he blurted out an informal, "um, yeah," as not to appear rude and then turned back to staring at the lady with a frown adorning his face.
Lange turned to face him after an indefinite amount of time and gestured at the vacant spot next to him on the bench. "May I?"
"Ah…" he said unintelligibly and cursed himself for the bad habit. "Yeah sure. Go ahead," he finally offered and shifted a little to the far end of the bench to make more room for her. Not that she needed it considering her height and petite build, but it seemed like the polite thing to do so he did it anyway.
"Thank you." Hetty sat down and nodded at him with a friendly smile. "I like to come here whenever I feel the need for quiet and solitude. There are only so many places in this crowded city where you can truly hide from the hustle and bustle. But sometimes one just needs a sanctuary. A safe haven if you will. I call this place mine," Hetty explained casually.
She felt the young mans' eyes on her when he answered, "Yeah, I agree." He scratched his head and let his hand fall back into his lap. "Do you have a relative here?" he asked after a few moments of strained silence.
Hetty gave him a sideways glance. "In St James Home for the Elderly?" The blonde nodded. "Actually, I don't. But I had a friend residing her a few years back. He isn't here anymore, though. He found his own sanctuary someplace else," she offered cryptically and nodded skywards to underline the last sentence.
"Oh." The boy shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm sorry." And he looked it, Hetty noted.
"Don't be. This is the course of life that nobody is able to circumvent, I'm afraid. But we all get the chance to see the loved ones that left us already again when the time is due."
The young man frowned. "I guess so." He really didn't feel comfortable with where the conversation was going. This was a sensitive topic for him right now, especially after the talk he had had yesterday with the doctors and nurses tending to his mother. They had told him that he should prepare himself for the inevitable. His mother's organs started to fail, slowly and painfully and there was nothing they could do anymore. She wouldn't be able to fight much longer, the disease revealing its cruelty more and more each day. From what he had witnessed today he had every reason to believe what they had told him. He knew the stranger sitting next to him was right with what she said, but it pained him to hear the words. He didn't feel ready to let go. Not today and probably not ever.
He shook the thoughts from his mind and turned to face the older woman again. She sat completely still next to him and overlooked the pond. "So, why do you still come, if you have no one to visit here?"
Hetty turned her head towards him and looked at him. He had a feeling her piercing look saw straight to his soul and he squirmed uncomfortably. "Like I said, there are not many places like this one in Los Angeles." She was quiet for a moment and then shifted on the bench so she would face him fully, her left arm resting on the back of the bench. "Today, though, I don't seek the quiet and solitude." The blonde frowned in confusion. "I'm here to see you, Mister Beale."
Erics' eyes widened considerably, surprised and shocked that this strange woman knew his name. He immediately turned into the stuttering, nervous mess that he always became when something unpredicted happened. "I, um… How do you…?" He shook his head. "Who are you and how do you know my name?" he finally blurted out.
Hetty drew her lips into a crooked smile, amused by his flustered reaction. "My name is Henrietta Lange, although I prefer to be called Hetty." Still confused, Eric just gaped at her. "I'm working with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service or more commonly referred to as NCIS. You have heard of them." The last sentenced was formulated as a statement and not a question.
The younger man gulped and started fidgeting nervously with his hands. The color drained from his face – not that there was much to begin with – and he looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Um, no I… I really don't know what you're talking about," he denied unconvincingly.
Hetty looked at him with a piercing gaze and decided to cut right to the chase. "I'm not here about your hacking into government databases including that of NCIS," Lange tried to soothe his mind but if anything the young man became more agitated. He tried to hide it but his hand trembled with apprehension and his left leg bounced up and down.
"I can explain…" he started weakly but his voice faded out.
"No need," Hetty said firmly.
The blonde misread her message and started defending himself once more. "But I… Listen, I really didn't mean…" Eric found himself unable to form a coherent thought. He worked himself into a frenzy.
Lange couldn't stand watching him beat himself up any longer. She reached out and laid one calloused hand on his bouncy leg and the other on the trembling hands that were still resting on his lap and squeezed firmly. It seemed to do the trick. Eric seemed to calm down enough to meet her eyes. "Relax, Mister Beale. Take a deep breath," Hetty instructed and he followed her lead. "Good. Now listen." She waited for his jerky nod. "I'm not here to arrest you. Do you understand?"
Eric blinked once, twice and then opened his mouth slightly gaping at her like a fish out of water while he tried to get his voice working again. "You… You aren't?" His voice was a little pitched and he sounded shocked.
Hetty smiled at him. "No, I'm not. I'm just here to talk to you." Sure that he wouldn't break out in tremors again she released the firm pressure from his hands and his knees.
"Oh, thank God. I mean… Good, because I really didn't feel like outrunning an old lady like you was fair…" he trailed off. He tended to run off his mouth when he was extremely nervous and usually the only things forthcoming never worked in his favor so he shut his mouth again. But Lange pursed her lips and raised her brows daring him to continue, so he tried to backtrack. "I'm sorry. That came out completely wrong. I didn't even consider running. And I didn't mean to imply…"
"I suggest you shut your mouth now, Mister Beale. The hole that you are digging for yourself is big enough to swallow a herd of elephants already." She chuckled at her own analogy.
"Shutting up," Eric agreed and nodded jerkily. His face was now a light pink shade and even though it was from embarrassment Hetty was glad to see some color return to his skin. She decided that he could use considerably more of that.
"As I was about to say earlier," Hetty picked up on her earlier trail of thoughts, "the agencies weren't exactly thrilled upon realizing that someone had bypassed their security protocols and hacked into our databases. In fact, they were ready to hunt that someone down and throw him into jail. You are probably aware of the fact that this is a serious federal crime, Mr. Beale."
Erics' knee started bouncing again. "I'm aware…"
"Shut up and let me finish," Hetty bellowed, raising her voice considerably. Eric gulped and bit down on the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from saying anything else. Hetty lowered her voice again once she continued. "They started following a trail that was barely there and I'm not yet sure as to how but they managed to track the hacking back to you. But during the investigation they also noticed that whoever hacked the system added encryptions in the security files and upped the firewalls to prevent others from stealing information. It also became clear that no information whatsoever was being stolen."
Eric allowed himself a small smile at that, but still didn't dare utter a sound.
"The agencies are still none the wiser as to what the point was to this hacking job and frankly, neither am I. I managed to convince my superiors that since there was no damage done your case shouldn't be prosecuted. We all agreed that it was dangerous to leave someone with such an unequaled skillset out on the street for our enemies to grasp and make him their asset. This would probably turn into a disaster."
Eric, who had tried his best to stay quiet couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "I don't intent to turn against my country, if that's what you are worried about. I would never do that, you have to believe me!" He was talking so fast that it was a wonder he didn't actually stumble over his own words.
"I do, but this isn't always something you have control over, Mister Beale."
Eric opened his mouth again to protest, but Hetty effectively shut him up with a deadly glare. He pressed his lips together.
"Now I took the liberty to look into your résumé and I understand that you are still attending the California Institute of Technology – very prestigious university I might add – but you are about to graduate in a month." Eric nodded once and Hetty took it as a cue to continue. "As mentioned beforehand, I don't think it is wise to leave someone with your skills unsupervised, so I took it upon myself to offer you a job with NCIS as soon as you graduated. Truth be told, other agencies, namely the FBI and the CIA among others are most likely to approach you in the near future as well. I'm not stupid enough to think that my being the first to ask you this will have an effect on your decision which if any of the agencies you want to join. But I want you to understand that working for the government can give you a lot of access to technology that you would never get a hand on otherwise. On top of that it would give you a lot of leeway in accessing data." Hetty paused for a moment and then added insistently, "this is an opportunity that might not arise again."
She herself knew that she would always give the young man another chance, especially after following his every move for the past ten years. Beale had grown on her despite her not having met him in person before today and she wouldn't throw that in the wind. But Eric didn't need to know that and he probably never would.
Eric was staring at her by the end of her speech unsure as how to react to something like this. He had never really made any plans for after college. With the uncertainty regarding his mother's health and the two part-time jobs he was working to cover the bills for his mother's stay at St James his mind had been too preoccupied to think any further than the next day to come. He'd figured he would keep working his jobs for a while after graduation and worry about anything more proficient and suitable later. But here was a petite woman basically begging for him to join an agency of all things. He felt overwhelmed.
Upon realization that he was still staring at the tiny lady, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat, before answering slowly. "I really don't know what to say, Mrs. Lange…"
"It's Miss. But Hetty will do just fine," she corrected him.
"Right, Ms. Lange. I mean, Hetty," Eric rectified and scratched his head. "Can… can I think about this? This is a lot to get my head around on." He glanced at her sideways, his eyes pleading.
"Of course, Mister Beale." Hetty nodded. "I wasn't expecting an answer right away, anyway. You are right. This is a lot to take in. Take all the time you need and let me know as soon as you made your decision."
"Okay. Thanks." Eric offered her a small smile and she happily returned it.
She stood up, rummaged in the pocket of her vest and handed him a business card. "Call me with whichever decision you make. Have a good afternoon, Mister Beale." Without waiting for a reply she walked away from him, but not without calling one more thing over her shoulder: "Just for the record, you wouldn't be able to outrun me even with both my legs broken."
I would like to give a shoutout to both ncisnewbie and Dubigail for their continued support and insight in regards of the story. It helps and means a lot to me. Thank you so much!
-S.