Buckle up, because we're nowhere near the end yet. LOL

Misconceptions pt. 28

Thomas strode swiftly into his precinct, and spotted his son right away. "Michael!" he snapped, wanting to know what the hell was going on? "Where's John? And what was it you wouldn't say over the damn phone?" A large part of him didn't want to know that.

"Easy," he instructed, looking around the squadroom nervously. The last thing they needed was a public display in the center of the station. Things were bad enough at the moment. He nodded his head, indicating for them to follow. When they were near his office, he spoke. "Buchanan's downstairs."

Tom frowned, and quickly glanced at Eve. She was frowning too. "I asked about your brother."

Mike blew out a frustrated breath. "He's downstairs too." He was downstairs alright!

"I told you to keep him the hell away from that girl!" he yelled, feeling as though for the better part of the week he's been banging his head against a wall. This wasn't Michael's fault, but he was the only son here right now.

Eve watched her boy closely. He was anxious and flighty. He looked a lot like he did when he got caught drinking some whisky in the basement at the ripe old age of ten. "Talk, Michael," she demanded, firmly. He squirmed some more and she held his wide stare.

He couldn't put it off any longer. "John snuck in here and lured the guard away from the cell so that he could see her." There was the cold, hard truth of it. The shocked expressions on their faces were not lost on him. "We noticed him about ten minutes ago, but won't know how long he's actually been here without looking at the security tapes." He felt a huge, sick knot in his gut. "Cam's bringing them up right now." He looked from one to the other slowly. "We'll get some answers," he said, confidently.

"But do we want them?" Tom mumbled aloud. His throat felt dry. "What about the shooting? The officer involved? How is he?"

"It's too soon to tell."

Eve's heart was beating frantically. "Who shot him, Michael?"

That question hung heavily between them, and it was compounded by the fact that he didn't know? His eyes softened. "Let's talk to John, ma. He'll clear all this up." He had too.

The walk upstairs felt longer than ever, but he knew that was brought about by the circumstance. He was traversing the steps from the otherside of the law, and it was a foreign, disconcerting feeling. John watched Natalie as she moved, and it made him want to reach out and touch the silk threads of her fiery hair. He could go to jail soon, to prison, and he wanted more time with her. Then they rounded the corner, and he came face to face with his family, who were as shocked to see him being escorted by uniforms as he was to experience it.

His mother's hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped loudly. She ran straight for him, and he was more than a little confused by her reaction. Her slender arms wrapped around him tightly, and he squeezed back, meeting Natalie's surprised face. "Ma?"

"Oh my God!" she breathed, panicked. "Are you hurt?"

He blinked. "No, ma." His hands pried her away, and he found her eyes. He felt like an idiot, once again forgetting about his appearance. "It's not my blood. It's okay." He swallowed, seeing her let up a bit. "I'm okay."

When she saw him round the corner with blood all over him, her heart stopped beating instantly.

Thomas took her hand gently. "Honey," he said, forcing a distance between them. For a moment there he shared her fear, but that moment has passed. Now he had to deal with the present. He looked at Natalie Buchanan coldly. "Why isn't the prisoner restrained?" he asked, glaring at the redhead. No one moved, so he looked at Officer Tate. "Well?"

Tate pulled out his cuffs, but only took one step forward before the Fed was in his path. He really hated not knowing what he was supposed to be doing?

John shook his head firmly and grabbed the metal from the uniform. He stared at his father. "This isn't necessary, she's caught." He could feel his anger building momentum as he held the unyielding glare from the commissioner. The man was pigheaded!

Tom was furious. He was at a loss. Who was this boy in front of him, because it didn't feel like it was his son? His John. He was a stubborn, misguided stranger who was throwing everything away for nothing. His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare. "Restrain her or those are going on your wrist." He swallowed, terrified about where this day was going to lead all of them. "Do it, John."

John continued to look into the angry, unforgiving eyes of his father. Father? he thought bitterly, wanting to laugh. This man hasn't really been that in a very long time. Now it was just biology. He felt a wave of sadness wash over him, and then walked over to Natalie. She was sitting in the chair, watching him closely, and he knew that she was the priority here. Not his family, or their antiquated notions of how he should behave or feel? He looked into her blue eyes, and felt his purpose take hold. She was his purpose. He needed to stay focussed on what had to be done to get her out of this mess.

Slowly she stood and their eyes held. He felt the heat in his body, the heat that always flared up when they were close, and they were definitely close now. She was a kiss away. Her arms stretched out, offering herself to him for the second time.

"Handcuffs, huh?" she asked, flirting openly. "All you had to do was ask."

He couldn't help it, he grinned widely, snapping the bracelets over her soft skin. "Behave yourself," he instructed, taking a breath and moving away from the warmth of her body. He turned to his family, who looked like they could be blown over like a feather. "We have a lot to talk about." Then he walked into his brother's office for privacy. They needed to get everything out into the open finally. He hopped onto the desk and he waited for them to follow. They did, filing into the room one by one. The door shut everyone else out, and he stared around the room slowly. "So? Where should we begin?"

Natalie reclaimed her seat, wishing she could be in that room with him. She should be in that room with all of them. It didn't matter that they hated and blamed her for John's troubles, because she never asked for any of this, but she was damned well going to finish it! Someone was setting her up and trying to ruin her life, her reputation, and now they wanted her dead. That meant that she was doing something right, because her situation was escalating. She thought about Max and what he had done to her in that alley. She thought about John, and the list they compiled together in his hotel room. Who was it? Who hated her so much that they would go to so much trouble to get their revenge? Someone she had wronged. Someone she had rejected maybe? An ex-boyfriend or a one night stand? In her younger years, she had been a little more loose than she would have liked, but it got her the things she wanted. Sex was a powerful weapon, and so she yielded it, but maybe she was assuming too much? Max told John that a woman hired him. What woman?

"There's smoke coming out of your ears," a voice said, disrupting her intense thoughts.

She slowly turned her head and stared at the brown eyes that were watching her from the next seat. "Not part of the scooby gang, huh?" she asked, taunting his ass.

Cameron shrugged. "It's a family thing."

"And you're not family." That was a statement, not a question, and she smiled at how much it pissed him off.

"I'm more family than your boy will ever be." He really hated this woman. She was still a bitch. "Why'd you shoot him, Natalie?"

This time she was the one who was pissed. "I didn't shoot anyone."

He wasn't sure whether or not he believed her? "Then who did? John?"

She grinned and shook her head, staring straight ahead. "You're an idiot, Cameron! Why don't you go bungle another investigation and leave me the hell alone?"

He glanced at the closed door of his partner's office. "I'd love to leave you alone Buchanan, but everywhere I turn I see evidence of your guilt." She was watching him again. "Of embezzlement and now of attempted murder."

She didn't flinch. "I haven't been charged with anything else yet, and I won't be."

He laughed. "Your faith in McBain is touching, but he's in his own mess right now honey." He could see the confusion and fear on her beautiful face. "He was helping you Natalie, and if he doesn't step up, then he's going to be put in the cell right next to you. No amount of nepitism is going to help him out of this one. Not this time."

Her heart was pounding. "John hasn't done anything, damn it! In fact, as far as I can tell, he's the only cop within the city limits who doesn't have his head in his ass!"

He knew that pushing her about her boyfriend would get her talking, and he needed her to talk. "Well if it wasn't him, then it was you." She was angry. "Why not just confess and save us all a lot of time?" He roughly grabbed the handcuffs that held her. "Stop playing games with everyone's lives!" he shouted, enjoying the look of hatred that was directed at him. "Your boy's going to rot in prison and it'll be your fault, Natalie!"

She wrenched her hands from his hold and stood abruptly. He stood too, pinning her with an aggressive stare. One that said, I don't believe you! "John didn't do anything, you moron!" She felt like she couldn't catch her breath.

Jason stood straight, placing his hands on his hips. He definitely got a reaction out of her, but not the one he expected. He figured she'd either blame McBain for the crime, or confess herself, but she did neither of those things. "Maybe it was someone wearing size ten hiking shoes?" He winced, not really able to believe that he just said that out loud? What the hell was he doing, giving her any information about the crime scene?

She froze, and then her wide eyes grew wider. "You know! You know that there was someone there, you know!"

He grabbed her by the elbow and shoved her back into a chair. "I don't know anything, because you won't talk to anyone." He lowered his voice, speaking through clenched teeth. If he were lucky, maybe she'd take the hint?

"Liar!" Natalie shouted, staring hard. "You son of a bitch!" She watched him sit at her side, and it made her stop talking. He was clearly not wanting anyone to hear their conversation, and that made her even more angry. "Alright," she said in a softer tone, "you have my attention."

He blew out a breath. "I don't know anything, Buchanan. I know that you and John were together in that trainyard, and I know that he didn't arrest you or call into the station about you. I know that a cop is in the ER in critical condition with a bullet in his stomach, and I know that you and McBain are covered in the victim's blood." He couldn't help but feel that this conversation was a tactical error.

"And you know that there was someone there," she pushed, "someone who shot that cop!"

He stared at her feeling all kinds of things. She was such a pain in the ass, and now she had someone else to blame for the shooting. Unless she's telling the truth? He quickly shook that thought from his head.

An officer walked toward them slowly. He cleared his throat for attention. When they both looked, he cleared his throat again nervously. "This is from the lab," he said, handing over a report and then retreating as fast as he could.

Cameron read the report three times before turning his attention to the redhead. "Well, I guess I got my answers." She was confused, and it made him angry again. "Your prints are all over the weapon that fired the bullet at a cop, Natalie." He frowned, staring hard. "That means that you will be charged with attempted murder." He stood from the chair, feeling disgusted with her.

She wasn't surprised by the news, because she had held the weapon. She knew it was a matter of time before they knew it too. She just thought she'd have more time. "It wasn't me, Cameron."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Maybe I'll let you tell that to the man's wife?" He clutched the sheet of paper tightly in his fist. "You're gonna go down, and so now you just have to decide whether McBain is going with you." He walked away, heading for the parking lot. He needed air, and a little time to sort out his thoughts. Things were just getting worse. Now he had to tell Mike that she did it, which will probably put the final nail in the McBain family coffin? How the hell was he supposed to deal with that?

John sat perched on his brother's desk, waiting for someone in his family to say something, but they weren't talking. He watched his mother and father sit on a black sofa against the wall, and he saw Mike stay where he was, crossing his arms over his chest. "Any ideas on how we fix this?"

Tom frowned. "Fix what, John? Your life or this family?"

He bit his lip, holding back the sarcastic reply that wanted out. He couldn't understand how they had gotten to this place? "Why can't you just trust me?" His voice was soft, raw. He felt like a kid needing his daddy's approval, but in the end, that was the whole crux of the matter.

Thomas heard the question but didn't have an answer, so he threw it back. "Probably for the same reason you can't trust us?" He felt his wife's warm fingers curl around his own, and it made him stronger.

"John?" Mike said, interupting the awkward silence that was holding them all hostage. When he had his brother's attention, he pressed on. "Were you there when the officer was shot?"

John shook his head. He was having a hard time speaking, so he didn't bother trying.

"So?"

"So what?" he replied, staring at his baby brother.

Michael walked closer, staring hard. "So, do you still believe that she's innocent?"

"Yes." He didn't hesitate. She was innocent. Natalie was a lot of things, but one thing she would never be, could never be, was a murderer. Attempted or otherwise. He glanced to his parents, who were uncharacteristically quiet. "She didn't pull that trigger," he reiterated, firmly.

That was a lot to process, a lot, but Mike knew that this was the moment where their entire broken family hung in the balance. So he made his choice. "John, man. Tell us what happened so that we can help you?"

"You're asking me to trust you with her life, Michael, and I can't do that." The risk was too great, so they seemed to be at an impass.

"John..?" he tried again.

"John, honey," Eve said, standing and walking toward her boy, "you need to start thinking about yourself now."

He frowned, holding tight to his anger. "I am."

Tom stood tall. "Both of you, out!" he boomed, issuing a clear and direct order. Michael and Eve were shocked by the outburst, and he lowered his voice some. "Please? I need to talk to John alone." Nobody moved. He stared at his wife in earnest. "It's okay, babe. Please, just let us alone for a minute." She nodded, taking Mike's hand and leading him to the door. When they were gone, he refocussed on the young man who was standing straight, waiting for him to start their conversation.

He sighed and walked around the desk, sitting in Michael's chair slowly. They stared at each other in silence, until finally, John sat too.

Despite their difficulties, Tom always believed that they would find their way back to being a family. He saw great things when he looked at John. He was young and healthy and smart, and he was a damn good cop. They stopped speaking after his graduation, because that was when he was accepted into the Bureau. So much time was wasted between them. He hadn't even known about Caitlyn until a few days ago, when Michael mentioned it, and he had been so sure that they would marry. That she would help them reunite as a family.

"Are you going to say something?" John asked, not at all comfortable with the way his father was watching him.

Tom cleared his throat. "You know, when you were a kid you were always getting into trouble, but you used to listen when I gave advise." He frowned. "You don't do that anymore."

John frowned too. "Well, I'm not a child anymore, pop. I'm a grown man who makes his own decisions. I've made them for a long time without you." Was there air in this damn office?

"You're a good cop, John." He licked his lips, wanting to tear his eyes from his son's, but he wouldn't. He would look at him for this conversation.

He had to have heard that wrong? He opened his mouth to speak, but realized that he didn't know what to say? He was completely thrown by that confession, and even more so by its sincerity.

Tom wasn't good at this. Talking about feelings, but he needed to reach his boy before his entire life went down the toilet. This was their last chance, he could feel it. "I've followed your career since you left for Quantico, and you've moved up really fast." He swallowed. "I knew you would." Then he grinned sheepishly. "I could have slept easier knowing you weren't in the Violent Crimes Division hunting down maniacs, but hey?"

John couldn't move. He wasn't sure he was breathing either? He felt numb. His father has followed his career? As a Federal Agent?

"I wanted to call you when you got that Civil Service Citation for saving those young women. The one's from the Kingston case? I was very proud of you for your part in that." He felt an ache in his chest.

John cleared his throat. "You didn't call."

"No, I didn't. I've been angry for a long time John."

"Yeah."

He blew out a breath and stood from the chair quickly, opening the window to the office. They needed air in here and pronto. "Listen son, I want you to tell me what happened at the trainyard? I want you to tell me everything."

And there it was. "I can't do that." He stood too. "I wish I could, pop."

Thomas leaned against the window sill. "John, I know you want to protect her but I need to know everything so that I can protect you."

He lowered his head, staring at the floor. His hands went to his hips. "Damn it!" he shouted, finding his father's surprised expression. "You just don't get it! I don't need your protection and I don't want it! I've never wanted it! I'm not going to let you push Natalie behind bars so that I can go back to my life without her, do you hear me? Do you get it?" His heart was racing. He stormed from the office and ran right into Agent Andrew Clayton.

"Surprised to see me, John?" the man asked, clearly in a foul mood.

He blinked. "What are you doing here?"

Clayton blew out a frustrated breath. "Apparently, investigating the questionable behaviour of one of my best Agents." He glanced around the squadroom. "Where can I find Commissioner McBain?"

John turned to his father, who was behind him now. "You called my boss?" He was shocked, but more than that, he was furious! That whole speech about being a good cop, about him being proud, that was nothing but a lie - a tactic to help them hang Natalie! He looked at his mother who was as guilt ridden as his so-called father. "You knew?" He turned to Mike, who thankfully was as surprised and disgusted as he was. He fought hard, but managed to surpress his emotions. Then he looked back at his evaluator. "I think you came all the way down here for nothing, Andrew."

The man was observing everyone in sight. He quickly trained his eyes on the handcuffed suspect. "I hope so, John," he answered, evenly. "Commissioner, I'd like a word in private if you have a minute?"

Thomas felt like throwing up. This was all wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen, it's not what he wanted. He had made one mistake when he was emotionally over-wrought, and now he may have ended his own son's career? Well, that wasn't going to happen. "I have time right now," he said, smiling and leading the agent behind closed doors.

John felt a betrayal like no other, and he wasn't sure how long he could hold it together? He had to for Natalie. He walked over to her and sat in the chair at her side. Then he reached out and took her bound hand in his and played with her fingers softly. Her eyes were watching him, but he didn't look. He couldn't right now. Instead, he focussed on her touch and not the father who was stabbing him in the back. Not on the mother who went along with it, or the brother who was staring with sympathy in his big eyes.

There had to be a way out of this whole mess? He just wished he could see it.