He heard the clock tower outside the hospital chime the hour. By now, Jessamyn would be preparing for bed. When he got home, he always tried to not wake her, but she would always roll over and snuggle up against him, sighing contentedly. More often than not, they would make love. No matter how tired he was, just the sight of her was enough to rejuvenate him.

Of course, that was a normal night. This was by far a normal night. He didn't know where she was. She didn't even care where he was.

Charles threw the glass back, draining the last of the gin. He always abhorred gin, but some reason, he craved it tonight. It had a mind-numbing affect, something he remembered from the still in the Swamp. And that's what he wanted. To be numb. To not feel anything at all.

After composing himself on his sister's front lawn, he had returned to the hospital with the idea of getting on with the day. He couldn't go home. He couldn't stay in Honoria's front yard. He would go back to work.

However, he stood in front of the imposing structure for a moment, not wanting to go inside and deal with the ever-present problems he dealt with over the past few weeks with trying to get his position back as chief of thoracic surgery. All the worry and frustration, all the while trying to keep it from Jessie that he had been 'temporarily demoted' while Jenkins brought in new surgeons to usurp the existing ones seemed trivial.

What did any of it matter now?

Resigned, he had turned and walked across the street to a bar frequented by the staff at the hospital. Choosing a table in a dark corner, he tried to remain inconspicuous as he drank the evening away.

I don't have anywhere to go.

The idea that the house actually belonged to him never crossed his mind. He didn't want to be there with Jessamyn absent. Even if she was there, she probably wouldn't talk to him anyway. He just couldn't handle that.

She's probably halfway to Texas by now. Her dad is going to kill me. Unless my father gets to me first.

Not that his father would care one way or the other about his or Jessamyn's feelings. No, his father would only care how it all appeared to everyone else.

The waitress brought another drink and tried to clear away some of the empty glasses. He waved her off. Indifferent, she walked away.

"Hi."

Charles struggled to focus on the figure who sat down in front of him.

"Go away."

Martene sighed. "About earlier. I didn't know . . ."

Charles waved his hand impatiently, sloshing some of his gin on the table. "What's done is done. Just let me suffer in silence."

"Talk to her."

"She won't talk to me! Hell, can you really blame her? I've been working so hard lately because of your father's chum that I've avoided her. Now, she thinks that . . . thinks we've . . ." He slammed his fist on the table in frustration. "Damn it, just leave!"

"Let me talk to her . . ."

He gave her an icy glare. "Don't you think you've done enough already?"

She returned his stare. "You could have told me you were married sooner, you know."

His anger retreated, leaving him drained. "Don't you think I've thought about that already?"

She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away.

"Please. Leave," he pled.

Resigned, Martene rose. He didn't watch her go, just stared into his half-empty glass.

*************************

Jessie leaned her forehead against the cool window of the car. She squeezed her eyes shut, a headache trying to form behind her eyes.

I'm so, so tired.

Honoria had taken her to her house and calmed her down long enough to get her to eat something. Reluctantly, she had choked down a sandwich, but it sat like a lump in her stomach. Fighting nausea, she laid down for a moment.

She must have fallen asleep because when she awoke, it was dusk. With her emotions churning, it was hard to believe she had slept the afternoon away. Honoria had insisted she eat dinner with her and Daniel, but Jessie didn't want to be there when he got home. Seeing their happy little family would just make her feel worse, knowing that was something that was unexplainably out of her reach.

So, what's next? Separation? Divorce? Bile rose in her throat, and she fought it back.

Worried, Ivan watched her in the rearview mirror as he drove the short distance home. She didn't even seem to realize they were pulling into the driveway. All she did was peer forlornly into the dark night.

Sighing, he parked the car in front of the house and exited the driver's seat. It was darker than usual, but he ignored it, opening the backdoor for Jessie. He offered her his hand, something he didn't normally do. Gratefully, she took it, glad for the assistance.

"Thank you. . ."

Her eyes widened in alarm, looking at something over his shoulder. He started to turn, but something heavy hit him in the back of the head. He thought he heard her scream before he sank to the ground, everything going dark.

*******************************

Jessie tried to scream, but her heart was beating so fast, all she could manage was a squeak. Pinned against the car, she started to climb back inside and lock the door, anything to get away from this . . . this crazy person!

She turned, but an arm grabbed her around the waist. Struggling against his grasp, she didn't notice the chloroform-coated cloth coming at her before it was too late.

************************************

It was past midnight when he stumbled from the bar to catch a cab. He had to go home eventually. Now that he was drunk enough, he thought he could handle her absence or her tears or whatever it is he would have to eventually face.

The flashing blue and red lights blurred his vision when they turned onto his street, and he shook his head slightly, thinking he was seeing things.

What have the neighbors done now?

The closer they got, the more he realized the dizzily flashing lights were on his lawn! He jumped out of the cab before the driver came to a complete stop, almost forgetting to pay the fare.

Maybe it's not her. Maybe it's the help or a visitor or . . .

Jogging up the driveway, he rushed past a cluster of police officers. They grabbed him to keep him from going any further.

"Let me go!"

"No one is allowed at the crime scene but authorized personnel."

Crime scene? "This is my home, you imbecile!" He jerked out of the officer's grasp, the flashing lights making him dizzy. Stumbling to the front door, he saw the car, still idling, the back door open. Someone was taking pictures.

His heart in his throat, he steadied himself on the car frame as he walked around, afraid of what he might find. All he saw was a piece of wood, a dark stain on it, an equally dark stain on the sidewalk nearby.

He almost slumped in relief until he realized what the stain was.

Staggering to the front porch, he managed to make it to the bushes next to the house before he threw up.

Pulling himself up using the banister, he found himself face-to-face with a man in a trench coat and a note pad.

"Dr. Winchester?"

Charles wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, resisting the urge to shove the man out of his way. Where is she?

"Dr. Winchester, where were you between the hours of 8 and 10 this evening?"

It wasn't quite registering what the man was saying, the alcohol in his system wrecking havoc. "Excuse me?"

The man repeated his question.

"And just who the hell are you? And where is my wife?"

"Detective Holbrook, Boston PD. Now, answer the question."

"Charles!" His mother's relieved cry interrupted their conversation. She ran down the front steps, falling into his arms. "Where have you been? We were worried sick!"

"Mother." He pat her on the back absently, his mind whirling. The blood . . .

He pulled her to arm's length. "Where's Jessamyn? What's going on?"

His mother burst into tears, and he had to resist the urge to shake her.

"Dr. Winchester, you still haven't answered the question?"

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Detective." Sidney Freeman walked out of the house, followed by his father.

Charles was beyond caring what Sidney was doing in his house.

"What's going on? For God's sake, someone tell me!"

"Come inside, Winchester. Have a seat."

"I don't want to sit down! I want someone to tell me why all these police officers are on my front lawn, taking pictures of my car. And just where in the hell is my wife?"

Sidney cleared his throat. "It appears she's been kidnapped."

His mind reeled. Kidnapped? He reached out to steady himself as his vision blurred. "What? The blood . . ."

Sidney took his arm. "Come inside, and we'll explain."

This time, he allowed himself to be led inside.

Still sniffing, his mother said she was going to lie down for a moment. She clasped his hand briefly before wearily ascending the stairs.

Charles sat down carefully in a chair in the foyer, his father and Sidney watching him closely. Rubbing his face with his hands, he kept trying to understand. The emergency lights outside kept making strange patterns on the wall, making him lightheaded. A deep breath helped. A little. "Start at the beginning."

"One of the maids heard the car. About 9 o'clock this evening. When no one ever entered the house, she went outside to check. It was so dark, she couldn't see."

"There's . . . there's lights."

"The wires were cut." It was the first time his father had spoken. All Charles could do was look at him, his mind not wanting to comprehend where this horrid story was going.

Sidney continued. "She found the driver lying on the ground, bleeding from the head. Jessie was no where to be found. So, she called the police." He shrugged. "That's all we know."

"That's it?" Charles stood up too fast, and his knees almost buckled. He leaned on the wall to steady himself. "No note, no clues, no nothing?"

Sidney shook his head.

Kidnapping for great sums of money was not unheard of in the upper echelons of society. Most of the time, it turned out to be someone they knew. "I . . . I don't know who . . . would do something. Something like this."

"It's Flagg. It has to be." Sidney watched him closely for a reaction.

"Flagg?" Charles asked, confused. "You mean . . ."

But, he remembered.

Flagg wanted his help in finding some dirt against Pierce and Hunnicutt, trying to blackmail him in the process. Charles made Flagg look like a fool when he hinted that the card game each week with the local mayor and his brother had in the Swamp was actually a Communist sympathizer meeting.

It's amazing how past sins come back to haunt you.

He realized Sidney was still talking. ". . . can't find Hawkeye. But, we've contacted B.J., so he's on the lookout. Someone did try to break into McIntyre's home this evening, but he chased them off. He sent his family to an undisclosed location."

That's what I should have done when Sidney called me last week.

Helpless. That's all he was. He could do nothing. Not a thing.

The front door flew open.

"You! You . . . you b-b-bastard!"

"Honoria! Such language!"

She ignored her father, stalking up to her brother and slapping him hard across the face. Charles stepped back, stunned, as did their father as Sidney watched calmly.

"H-h-how c-c-could you?"

"Honoria! He didn't do this! You know that! Get ahold of yourself!"

She turned her fury towards her father. "I'm t-t-talking about h-h-him spending the evening, and every evening f-for the past few w-w-weeks with . . . w-w-with that woman!"

"What woman, Mrs. Baker?" Sidney asked, calm as ever.

"M-Martene!"

Charles's eyes widened. "I wasn't . . ."

"Th-then where w-w-were you? David and I l-l-looked for you everywhere!" She narrowed her eyes. "It was a h-hotel, wasn't it? While your pregnant w-w-wife is being k-k-kidnapped, you're off g-g-getting your j-jolly's with her!" She drew back as if to hit him again.

Charles grabbed her wrist, instantly sober. "What did you say?"

"You h-h-heard me! While your w-w-wife is . . ."

"No . . ."

"I believe you said she was pregnant," Sidney intervened.

Honoria teared up, all the fight instantly leaving her. "She j-j-just f-f-found out today."

They looked to Charles for his reaction.

This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening. The mantra kept repeating itself in his mind. He let go of Honoria's arm, sitting back down in the chair heavily and putting his head in his hands. This is almost too much . . .

"How far along is she?" he managed to croak.

Honoria sniffed. "S-s-seven w-weeks."

Seven weeks. That's why she was so sick. Why couldn't he see it?

Because you were too busy worrying about your job, that's why. And now, some idiot has run off with her. And you can't do anything about it.

Charles felt drained off all energy.

This is not happening.

His father cleared his throat. "Just what is all this nonsense about you and this woman."

In a voice devoid of emotion, he told them everything.

"She showed up today and caught me off guard. I swear to you the first time I saw her was today." He looked at his sister. "You believe me. Don't you?"

She really wanted to. "Then, where h-h-have you b-b-been these p-p-past few weeks?"

"I've lost my position at the hospital. I'm trying to get it back."

Honoria burst into tears again. "Th-that's all? Why d-d-didn't you tell her?"

He struggled for words. "She didn't need to know. That I had failed."

"F-for God's s-s-sakes, Charles! She's your w-w-wife! She l-l-loves you!" David tried to comfort her, but she shrugged him off. "I can't b-b-believe you! You l-l-let her b-b-believe you were w-w-with another w-w-woman just t-to save f-f-face! How could y-you?"

Is that what I did?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Good Lord, what kind of husband am I?

Miserably, Charles stood, still a little unsteady on his feet. Without speaking, he trudged through the house, ignoring concerned glances from the staff, as well as the others gathered in the foyer. When he reached his study, he quietly shut the door behind him and leaned heavily against it, closing his eyes, trying to compose himself.

Is she scared? Well, of course, she's scared. If she's still alive. He thought about the blood in this driveway and shuddered. If he hurts her, I'll kill him with my bare hands.

What about the baby?

He struggled to remember from med school all the things that could go wrong this early in a pregnancy. And that was under the usual circumstances. Now that she was at the mercy of some half-crazed military lunatic, who knew what would happen.

He felt helpless, useless. This morning, he was normal man with a wife he loved, albeit a little stressed from his job situation. Now, his wife thought he had committed adultery, she was missing and just found out she was pregnant.

Jesus.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

If it's that detective, I swear I'll slug him.

Stiffly, he stepped away from the door and opened it.

It was Honoria, eyes red from crying, anxiously twisting a handkerchief in her fingers. They stared at each other for a moment until he reached out his hand and drew her to him.

She started crying again. "I-I sh-should h-h-have m-made her st-stay w-w-with m-m-me!" she wailed.

Charles felt his own tears fall. "It's . . . it's not your fault. It's mine. I should have . . . been with her. I would've been if I wasn't so . . ."

"She d-d-doesn't know, Charles! She th-thinks you've b-b-been with . . . with h-h-her! This whole t-t-time! She's s-s-scared and alone and c-c-confused and d-d-doesn't know!" Honoria wailed.

"Don't you know that's all I can think about? How much I've hurt her? How much he might . . . hurt her?" He could feel a sob rise in his throat.

Unwilling to completely break down in front of his sister, he let her go and turned away. Hesitantly, he made his way to the fire place, leaning heavily with both hands on the mantel, taking deep breaths.

"I'm s-s-so sorry. For accusing y-y-you and f-f-for . . . for everything."

He stared into the flames, trying to control the anger, frustration and helplessness welling up deep inside him. I should have been there . . .

He didn't know how long he stood, staring at nothing at all. He didn't know if Honoria was still in the room, and honestly, he didn't really care. All he wanted was to wake up from this nightmare.

Someone placed a drink on the mantel. He didn't take it.

"I explained to the police. They've put out an all points bulletin for Flagg and an unnamed accomplice."

Charles struggled back to reality. "An accomplice?"

"He has B.J.'s daughter. I just found out a few minutes ago. He can't be working both coasts by himself."

Charles remembered blurry pictures of a cheery blonde baby. "Is he . . . he violent?"

Sidney shrugged. "We don't know. We'd like to think not."

McIntyre and Hunnicutt. "Pierce?"

"We can't get in touch with him. We're hoping it's by his choice and not Flagg's."

When Charles didn't reply, Sidney clamped his hand on Charles's shoulder. "It's not your fault."

Charles's nails dug into the mantel. "She's my responsibility. I would have been home. I could have done something." His voice rose against the emotions in his chest. He shut his eyes tightly, an image of her struggling against her captor rearing its ugly head in his mind.

He continued, this time in a calmer voice. "I thought when I left Korea, I could go on with my life and leave all of it behind. But, it haunts me still. First, the mumps I caught while in that wretched place makes me . . . unable to have children . . .

"You thought."

"Then, Martene waltzes back into my life. And now Flagg!"

Sidney remained quiet for a moment. "But what about Jessie? You never would have met her, you know."

Charles paused, considering the psychiatrist's words. He had never thought about it that way before. "But, it doesn't matter now. Some lowlife creep has taken her from me, and I can . . . I will . . ." He couldn't continue. He didn't want to even begin to think what he would do without her.

Sidney cleared his throat. "I could quote things like, 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger,' and 'when life gives you lemons make lemonade . . ."

"Please don't."

"But that's a bunch of bunk. I'm not going to tell you not to worry because that's insane. Of course you're going to worry. I'm not going to make you any promises, either, Winchester. She's in danger. She may not get out of this alive. But, all of us will do everything within our power to make sure that doesn't happen."

Charles didn't reply. What could he say? Sidney was laying bare in front of him.

"Besides, she's one plucky broad, if I remember correctly."

Charles managed a small smile, still staring into the flames. "You remember correctly."

"Hunnicutt's on his way out here."

Charles finally looked at Sidney. "Why here? How do we know Flagg's not halfway to the west coast? Or anywhere else for that matter?"

"Security caught a man with a little girl matching Erin's description getting off a plane in Boston. He got away. It's just a guess, but it's all we've got."

"Just a guess . . ." Uncontrolled anger swept through him. "Jessamyn could be halfway around the world by now, and all we have a goddamn guess!" He spotted the glass Sidney had set in front of him. Snatching it up, he flung it across the room, cognac spraying across his desk and the floor. It felt good to feel something other than helplessness.

Sidney crossed his arms, unfazed. "Hey, you take what you can get."

**************************

Can anyone spot The X-Files reference? I just realized it was there after I was proofing the thing!