The case had been closed and the others were celebrating, but all that Nikki wanted to do was curl up on her couch with her old friends Ben, Jerry, Mulder and Scully. So she said goodbye to the team, claiming that she was having dinner with her parents, and left them where they were waiting for two mathematicians and a physicist in the emptying bullpen. She made her slow progress to the elevator. Ends up the gentleman in the van gave her a few more bruises than had been noticed in the heat of the moment, and the subsequent rainstorm that followed.
Nikki had made a direct effort not to be left alone in a room with her boss since their encounter in the kit room. She knew that he was not going to just drop his line of interrogation; when Don Eppes wants to know something, at the end of the day he knows it. Another reason that she didn't want to go out for drinks tonight. With one beer in her, she's more likely to blurt out her life story to her annoyingly persuasive partner that she is with none.
Walking across the underground parking lot, wishing for nothing more than to get into her car safely and soundly, and drive home listening to cranked up Springsteen with the windows wide open and the heat on full blast, she groaned internally as a car she recognised as Charlie's pulled into the parking lot. She had grown quite fond of the resident geeks over the few weeks which she had known them, and she would hate to turn down spending some quality time listening to their math banter. It was bad enough seeing the disappointment on Liz's face, who was delighted to have another girl on the team and wanted to get to know her better.
Trying to angle her face away from Charlie's car and cursing her distinctive hairstyle, Nikki increased her speed as Charlie pulled into a nearby spot. Quickly, hoping for a quiet and uneventful escape from a depressing moment, she pulled her keys out of her pocket.
Hearing the engine stop and a door open – presumably Charlie's because his was the voice she heard next – she realised that she wasn't going to reach the car in time.
"Yeah, I'll go tell them that we're ready; someone can come with us and the others will fit in Don's car." The voice was clear; echoing in the underground car park. Then: Amita's voice.
"Look, is that Nikki?" Closing her eyes and wanting the ground to swallow her up, formulating her tired lie in her head again and feeling bad for making it up in the first place, Nikki stopped short, waiting for one of them to call her name. They didn't. She heard car doors opening and the scuffling of shoes, but no one called her back.
Daring to peek behind her, to see if they had taken the hint and that she was tired and going home, she came up with nothing. Rationalising that they had entered the main building already, she relaxed, and turned around to carry on her way. But something itched. There was this niggling feeling in the back of her skull: why would they leave the car doors open? And who the hell walks that fast?
Nikki didn't know what it was, but something was wrong.
Unnerved by the inexplicable turn of events, Nikki hesitated then leant backwards, trying to catch a visual on one of the three brilliant minds. Nothing.
Apprehension mounting, she retraced her steps, keys still hanging from her hand, jangling eerily in the quiet as she moved. Were they hiding? If so – Why? Out of habit and common sense, Nikki's hand hovered over her weapon.
"Charlie? Amita?" Her voice was low; hardly audible yet deafening in the giant expanse of vehicles and solid concrete. Nikki, as always, kept one eye on the door. "Larry? Seriously guys, stop messing about."
As she rounded the back of their car, careful not to let the heels of her boots touch the floor and make a noise, she could have sworn she heard someone crying. That was the moment which Nikki thought it was a good idea to phone for help. She had just brought out her phone, and had dialled speed dial one – Don – when she heard the clear scuff of a shoe behind her.
Dropping to her knees to avoid a head on collision with whoever it was sneaking about between the SUVs, she drew her weapon and came face to face – or rather, gun to gun – with the one and only Ian Edgerton.
Frozen with her finger poised over the trigger, Nikki barely breathed as he slowly raised his finger to his lips in the universal "shut up or you're toast" sign. He let his gun fall slightly, still alert and upright, just no longer pointing at her face. Nikki too lowered her gun, but she was far from relaxed. She felt guilty for the initial urge she felt to pull the trigger; as if he was the enemy.
Beckoning, Ian circled around her a peered around the edge of the car, not appearing to see anything. He mouthed the words "stay down" and she did; he was more experienced than her. In the field, the more experienced agent is always in charge.
Suddenly, an engine revved and the headlights of the car two SUVs down sprung on, a couple of cars in the opposite direction to where they were looking.
Nikki threw herself back; just in time as the small black van with a Florida licence plate sped into the space she had barely vacated seconds earlier, leaving a massive dent in Charlie's car. Springing up and running after it, Ian close on her heels, Nikki ignored his yells for her to stop. He only wanted her to stop because he didn't want her in the lead. He didn't want her to get hurt. Gritting her teeth, the East LA ex-cop sped up, thinking to hell with him. If she let these guys get away with Charlie, Eppes was going to shoot her anyway.
Although she was seen, clear as day, in the rear-view mirror of the van, it only sped up; its bulk hurtling towards the traffic barrier at the exit at twenty miles an hour and accelerating at an exponential rate. Bringing up her gun, she squeezed off two rounds at the back of the van. It was too risky to try and shoot out the tyres – if she missed; she might end up blowing the whole damn thing up. The irony would be embroidered with fucking gold if she ended up killing the people she was trying to rescue.
Immediately, as if whoever was holding the Uzi had been expecting it, the door to the back of the van flew wide, and he opened fire, black eyes wide through the tiny holes in his charcoal ski mask. Nikki just had time to see two handcuffed figures and another masked one behind Mr. Uzi before she spun behind a washed-out white reconnaissance van, the greyish expanse blocking not only the van from view, but also the offensive spray of bullets.
She was pretty sure that her shots went wide, which was good. At this distance, while the vehicle was moving so erratically at that speed, she wouldn't dare take a shot at the man without risking a hit to the two handcuffed figures. Nikki would wonder later about why there was only two and not three, hoping that one of them had just preferred to stay at home tonight, or late at the office.
Mid-turn, as she threw herself behind the van – a searing pain between her shoulder blades trailing across her left scapula, occupied by a ripping noise as her shirt split open. She only felt the pain once she hit the ground.
Screaming an ugly syllable to the echoing garage, she hid beside one of the giant tyres of the greying surveillance van she was taking cover behind, as the bullets skittered around her ricocheting off the cars metal surfaces at all angles at every speed imaginable.
There was a shrill ringing moment of silence; the bullets had paused and Nikki was just about to journey from her safe haven to scope out the situation when the unmistakeable sound of the van carrying her newly acquired and unfortunately kidnapped friends crashed through the traffic barrier at the exit, silencing the yells of the security guard on duty.
Immediately, disregarding her safety completely, she ran out from behind the van, ignoring the pain shooting across her back. There was nothing left to see; no van, and no scientists. Merely the remainders of the destroyed barrier and the metallic stench of gunpowder and car exhaust fumes remained; the only evidence that anything had happened at all.
Reaching the debris and gracefully tripping over it, she took in the security guard's body and felt decidedly nauseous. Ian appeared behind her, gun held by his side and phone to his ear. He laid a hand on her back, clearly not realising that she was heart. By the sound of his one sided conversation, he was calling security, which was already starting to appear through the huge metal doors to the garage, guns drawn. They were a little too late.
Ian hung up, and grabbed her by the arms, trying to look into her face. Her vision swam: his features blurred and merged into an unrecognisable blob.
"Ian..." She croaked, trembling. He appeared to realise that something more than shock was wrong, and his forehead creased in worry.
"Nik, what's wrong?" She shook her head, which he failed to interpret. "Were you hit?" Taking his hand away from her back, he noticed the blood seeping through her shirt and truth be told, he panicked a little bit.
Immediately, he pulled his cell phone back out and called the switchboard. They had medics on site already – the FBI was a place containing several stubborn, reckless adrenaline junkies who didn't know their foot from their face. Or for someone else's, the way they carried on. Yes, the FBI was a place where medics were always required.
The street where the van had turned out was empty, though cars had stopped left, right and centre; their horns penetrating the otherwise silent LA night. Sirens could be heard in the distance. The van had taken an unknown route and for once, they could not rely on Charlie to find it.
Below all of the high pitched screeching of the pandemonium ensuing around her, Nikki swore she could hear a low, whining noise. A man, groaning for help. Feeling unsettled and unnerved, she sprinted back to Charlie's car, following her instincts and her ears and hoping to God that noise was what she thought it was.
Proving her half right, a singular form lay on the ground, answering her earlier question on why there were only two forms in the back of the van.
"Larry!" She dropped to her knees by his side, immediately producing a key; the handcuffs looked like FBI issue. Luckily it worked, and she freed Larry's hands, which fell limply by his half conscious form. Checking his pulse, Nikki redirected the medic, who had just arrived, to him instead, much to Ian's displeasure. She backed away, waiting for another medic, and letting her colleague and occasional lover take over the scene.
Whether it was from blood loss, exhaustion of utter shock at the series of events which had brought her there, Nikki's vision of the scene began to fade, and she fell against the newly arrived medic. Agents were now piling onto the scene, weapons drawn and cell phones in hand, but she took no heed. She was too tired. Chaos was the last thing that she remembered.
Short one here: Sorry for that. I know, I know... Charlie's in trouble! Can you handle it, or will you have to review to show your displeasure? I can only write his rescue if you review...
I'm sorry, that was backhanded. I'll save him anyway.
