Misconceptions pt. 29
John widened his palm and softly pressed Natalie's hand against it. He compared the two, noting how much smaller hers was next to his. Her nails were smooth and polished, much like the woman herself, and they were sans nailpolish. His were rough and dark, stained with another man's blood. He sighed, wishing that was the worst part of his life, but it wasn't. He quickly glanced at the closed door to the Commissioner's office, frowning and wondering what the hell they were saying in there? He had a right to know because it was about him, his life, but he would find out soon enough.
"John?" she said, tentatively. He wasn't looking at her and she couldn't take it anymore. She needed to see for herself what was going on inside of him, and his baby blues would tell her that. They were expressive. She has learned to read them well.
He finally looked her way. "I'm alright."
She didn't believe him. "I don't think you are, John." How could he be? Just thinking about his family made her shake with rage. She could only imagine what he was feeling about everything? Her eyes dropped to their connected hands, and she smiled. "You probably shouldn't be doing that."
His lip curled and he twisted in his seat for a better view, taking in all of her. He blew out a long breath, and brought her soft wrist to his lips. He placed a tiny kiss against her pulse. Her porcelain skin was flushed, and his smile widened. "You're probably right, but it doesn't matter anymore."
She tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but was having a heck of a time. His hands were clutching her arm in his lap and his fingers were caressing her skin. "What does that mean?" He just stared and it made her nervous. "John? What does that mean?"
He didn't answer her question. "What do you think is going on in there?" His heart was pumping steadily in his chest.
She looked at the closed door and frowned. "Nothing good." Then she found his expecting stare head on. "You know, your father isn't one of my favorite people, or your mother," he was paying close attention, "but I kind of like their son." A shiver was travelling her spine with every soft brush of his fingertips over the back of her hand. She bit her lip.
He was so grateful that she was here. "You do, huh?" He wanted to kiss her senseless.
She nodded silently, lost in his stare. The instant reaction that he envoked with a gentle word or touch, it was growing on her. She was getting used to the raw, sensual power of this man and that was exciting. The look in his eye was another familiar thing about John McBain. It made her body heat up and her heart stop. He wanted to kiss her and she wanted that too, maybe more than he? But this was hardly the place. "Tell me what's going on in that head of yours?"
"Well," he teased, embracing the distraction that she provided, "I'm wishing we weren't sitting in the middle of the squadroom." He blinked. "That we were alone."
God, she'd give anything for that to be true! It wasn't true, and ignoring it wasn't going to help their situation. Natalie pulled her hand away from his grip, already missing his warmth. "What's going to happen to you? How much trouble are you in because of me?"
"I'm not in any trouble because of you. I'm in trouble because of me."
Natalie frowned at his words. The lightness was gone and he was all business. "Please tell me, John? I'd rather not be surprised." Her tone was soft. She didn't want to hurt him anymore than he's been today, but hiding just wasn't her thing. Being protected? Also not her thing.
He continued to look at her. She was like no one else he has ever come across. Her eyes were so full of concern, and that made him ache. "I honestly don't know, Nat? I never would have believed that my father would take things so far," he swallowed, "that my parents would do that?"
She wanted to cry. The betrayal and pain in his wide eyes was laid bare, finally there for her to see. She touched his face. "They love you, John," she choked, feeling her anger rush back to the surface. He was concentrating on her fingers again, so she decided to drop it for now. They would contend with the emotional toll of his family another time, when they weren't waiting for prosecution from all sides. "I need you to do something for me, McBain."
He looked up, curiously. "What's that?" he asked. His voice was thick.
"Take care of yourself."
He stared into her eyes for a long moment. "That's what I'm doing," he answered, truthfully.
Eve sat across the room, watching her son with the redhead. He was drawing his strength from her, she could see it as plain as day. As happy as she was that he was talking to someone, it didn't thrill her that his confidante of choice was a felon. She stood, keeping her eyes on the boy who was torn wide-open. He was wounded and that was her fault. Her and Tom's. They had only wanted to help, but it certainly didn't work out that way, and now he was furious! She wasn't sure how to get him to speak to her? To ever trust her again? There had to be a way?
She stood from her seat, needing to talk to her son. If he would only listen for a moment, then she could make him see the truth about what they've done and why? He could understand that they were protecting him. She watched as Natalie Buchanan stretched out a hand and caressed his beautiful face. Her stomach clenched. Things would only get worse if she didn't act now, so her legs began to carry her toward him.
She only took two steps however, before being blocked by someone in her path. "Michael?" she asked, questioning his behaviour with that one word.
Mike saw the confusion on her face, but he didn't care. He had been watching her and John through his office window, and knew that it was only a matter of time before she approached him again. She wanted to make things right, and he knew that too, but what she wanted wasn't his top priority anymore. Not tonight. Now he was going to finally do what he should have done right from the start. He would help his brother. "Sit down, ma."
Eve frowned. "Get out of my way, Michael!" He was ordering her to take a seat?
He grabbed her elbow and helped her backwards, forcing her back into her wooden chair. "Leave him alone!" He was very mad at his mother. At his father. Eventually, he would help them pick up the pieces of their mess, but that wasn't going to happen now! John has more than enough to deal with at the moment, and that was because of them. He sat beside her, staring hard. "You're going to leave him alone, do you hear me? You've done enough for one day."
She blinked. "I..." What? He was right and she knew it. She looked at John longingly, before focussing on the angry face of her youngest. He was furious too! "I'm sorry, Mike," she whispered, feeling very lost.
He stood. "You should be," he answered, coldly. "You deserve to be." He continued to observe her, and began to soften a bit. "I'll check on him." That was all the sympathy he could muster at the moment. She nodded, and he walked away.
He took a quick detour and went to his office door, dropping money into the vending machine that stood in the hallway. He made his way toward his brother.
John tilted his weary head, resting it against the wall. "Can I get you anything?" he asked, realizing that they needed a lot of things, sleep and food being a couple of them.
She yawned, chuckling in embarassment. His hands were still holding her tightly. "No, I'm good. I've got everything I need." He was staring in that intense way of his, and she felt short of breath.
Michael stopped for a second, slightly afraid that he was on the same betrayal list as their parents, but there was really only one way to find that out. He walked up to the two of them and waited.
John turned to his brother, who was looking very uncomfortable. He saw him offer two water bottles, and they took them. "Thanks, Mike," he said softly.
He nodded. "John, man. Why don't you go take a shower? Get cleaned up? You can borrow something from my locker."
He hadn't thought of that, but he was still covered in a man's blood. It was disgusting and it was beginning to effect others. The smell was not a good one. "I'm fine," he answered, stubbornly. He wanted a shower more than anything, but he wasn't about to leave Natalie alone.
She shook her head. "I'm fine McBain," she smiled, "and you stink."
He grinned at her, lacing their fingers together lightly. "Thanks a lot."
"Listen," she pushed, "you'll feel better if you go wash some of your crap away. Trust me." He was staring, but not moving and she sighed. "Something good came from being arrested. I got to wash and change, and now you can too." He didn't say a word, and she felt her irritation take a sharp climb. "I can take care of myself, remember?"
He remembered, but the last time he left her alone she ended up in a shoot-out.
Michael crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll keep an eye on her, John." His heart was pounding. Would that be enough for his brother? He wasn't sure?
John stared at him hard. He felt her brush his hair from his eyes, and it made his blood boil. He saw her getting really annoyed with him. "Nat..."
"Don't Nat me! I'll be fine with your brother and you damn-well know it!" She was beginning to lose her temper.
He continued to stare into her blazing eyes, feeling apprehensive. He couldn't protect her from everything, and he did need to get clean again. "I won't be long," he said, caving.
"So get lost already!"
He stood from his seat and finally let go of her hand. He turned to Michael. "Don't give her a hard time."
He grinned. "I can't make any promises." When a smile spread over John's face, he relaxed. Then his brother walked away. He looked at the girl. "Thanks," he said softly.
"Anytime," she answered, drinking her water. It was smooth and wet, and tasted spectacular as it went down her throat. She looked at the closed door to the office and frowned. She drank some more.
Agent Andrew Clayton was tired. He sat in the tiny office that housed the Police Commissioner of this little burg, and he sighed. Field work was part of the job, but it wasn't the part he enjoyed. The trip here had been taxing, made even more so by the fact that he had already been on an assignment. When dispatch had contacted him about McBain, it wasn't surprising that there was some sort of problem, a wrinkle. There was always a wrinkle, but this wasn't just some small town complaint from some non-descript sheriff. The Commissioner of Police was calling in regards to his agent. A Commissioner who also happened to be a McBain.
He scanned the room slowly, noting all the awards and accolades on the walls. They told him what he already knew, that Thomas McBain was a veteran officer and a damn good one. He had taken the opportunity to study his file on the train ride up from Atlantic City. It was his usual routine. He liked to know what he was walking into before arriving for a meeting.
Thomas was a strict, by-the-book cop. That was something they had in common. It was also why he was getting even more irritated. He was here because this man called to complain about an Agent's conduct, but now, taking a close and careful look at him, he was uncomfortable. He didn't want him here at all. This better be legitimate! If he pulled himself from his case and made a long trip to Llanview for nothing? If this was a father and son tiff? Well, heads would roll!
He focussed on the older man who was trying to appear confident, but failing miserably. "Why don't you tell me why you called?" He stared hard, waiting for the answer.
Tom hated himself at this moment. He hadn't thought things through before he picked up that damn phone! He cleared his throat. "I've had some concerns about how your agent has been handling this investigation."
He nodded slightly. "You said that on the phone." He felt his irritation begin to shift, it was transforming into anger. "Listen, I've had kind of a long day. Let's get to the point. What concerns exactly?"
Tom leaned forward on his desk. He met the man's eyes dead-on. "I don't like the Feds in my jurisdiction."
Clayton grinned. "Yes, I know. Your feelings regarding the bureau are pretty clear."
"I especially don't like being played."
He frowned. "You lost me."
Tom sat back but kept his blue eyes on the dark, brown pair across from him. "I'm talking about John. The only reason you sent him here was because he's my son. This isn't even his type of case!"
Andrew's eyes narrowed. This man was trying to deflect. "That's not a very flattering opinion of your own son, Tom. He's a good agent. That's why he's here, period." There was a long silence stretching out between them. "Please tell me that this is not why I was ousted from my life?" He stood slowly and leaned forward onto the desk. "Please tell me that I'm not here for some pissing contest between you and your estranged progeny?"
He felt his heart begin to pick up speed. "Why the hell are you here? I wanted John removed from this case, not another Fed in my town!"
Clayton stood straight. "Removed?"
Tom dropped his eyes. Damn it! "I don't want my son on this case. It's not working."
He sat back down and watched the officer. His eyes were speaking volumes. There was definitely something going on here, but he wasn't going to get the truth from him. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that he called the bureau for help, and that was very telling. From this particular man, it was the most compelling evidence he had to think about. "If you want me to remove my agent from this case then I'm going to need a reason."
What the hell reason could he give? Not the real one. "John's out there, alright! He's uncooperative and beligerent and this just isn't working. Him being here is wrong. You put him on this case because of his family connection, but it's not what you had hoped? We can't work together. Just get him out of town."
Well, this was getting more interesting by the minute. "You've been a cop for what...35 years?"
"Forty."
He ran a hand through his thinning black hair. "I've been a cop for 25 years, and a Fed for nearly 15." He looked directly into the man's blazing eyes. "So you get why I can't possibly believe a single word that just came out of your mouth. Tell me what it is that you don't want me to know?"
He stood. "You obviously wasted your time coming here. If you're not going to leave and take your agent with you, then we're done. I've got a prisoner to arrest for attempted murder."
"The redhead. I read the details of the case on the way up," he stood too, "but I'm not done, McBain. Not by a long shot." He went to the door and gripped the handle. "You, myself and John are going to have a little chat." He opened the door to summon his man. It was time to get to the bottom of this mess.
John felt better. She was right, washing away his crap did feel good, but it wasn't really his stuff going down that drain, it was just the blood. The reality of the situation and all the problems that came with it were front and center. It was staining his soul.
The locker room was empty, which also felt good. He liked the silence. It gave him time to think about what was about to happen? His dad was talking to Clayton, while he stood here in front of a semi-fogged mirror and stared into the eyes of someone he almost didn't recognize. When he had been given his orders to come to Llanview and work with his family, he knew it would be difficult. He couldn't have foreseen what was really going to come of this forced reunion, and he definitely couldn't have prepared himself for Natalie Buchanan. She turned his entire world upside down, and now he saw a stranger looking back.
He pulled a navy blue t-shirt over his head and sighed. A circular yellow emblem that read Llanview Police Department reflected back at him. He felt like a fraud in the oversized shirt. ...if you remembered what it felt like to be a real cop... His father was in his head and he shook it, wanting to be rid of the spectre that haunted him wherever he went, but that particular ghost was far from exorcised. He wasn't sure it ever would be? All he wanted was for that man to see him, and he never could. He only saw failure, a federal agent. He sat on a bench and continued to stare into his wide eyes in the mirror. They were the same, but he wasn't. He felt different.
He remembered the feeling that had consumed him when he finally heard words of approval, words he dreamt about his entire life. ...you're a good cop, John...i've followed your career...you've moved up fast...i knew you would... But they were lies. He blew out a breath and stood, frowning at the man in the mirror.
He was being ridiculous! Standing here and crying about his poor, hard life was not going to get Natalie out of here. He grabbed his cell and made an important call, but the connection wasn't going through. Damn it! He needed to get back. She was alone in the police station, and he left her for far too long.
John quickly slipped his jeans on, wishing he could change these as well, or burn them maybe? They were covered with blood stains, but there was little choice. Mike's clothes were too big for him. He was already swimming in the shirt. When the hell did my little brother outgrow me? He took another look at his reflection and sighed. That man was worn out, but there was no time to take it easy. Then he left the showers behind and headed back to where he was needed, only he was nervous. She could take care of herself, he knew that, but... His hand raked through his wet hair as he walked. Was she keeping her mouth shut? That was an entirely different question, and it got him moving faster.
Natalie lifted her bound wrists and rubbed her tired eyes. She casually glanced around the squadroom, noting how almost everyone was busy doing something else. They seemed to have forgotten about her, and she wasn't sure whether or not that should tick her off? Time was standing still, and the door to the Commissioner's office was as tight as ever. She frowned, turning to find Eve McBain watching her from across the room.
She inadvertantly took a breath, impressed with the level of hatred that was being directed her way from such a tiny woman. Well, she wasn't the only one who was pissed, or doing a little hating either. She had hurt John today. Regardless of the woman's intentions, she had no desire to understand. First they lied to him about that dinner, and now John's fate was being decided behind a closed door. To hell with the McBains! There was only one who was of any concern to her at all.
Michael walked over and sat at her side, noticing how two of the women in his life were shooting daggers at one another from across the crowded space. "She loves him."
Natalie frowned. "Yeah, well he doesn't need that kind of love."
"Or maybe he doesn't need yours?"
She snapped her head around sharply, taken off guard by his comment. "Love? You still have no clue what you're talking about?" She stared at the metal bracelets on her chaffed wrists.
He blew out a soft breath. He didn't actually mean to insult her, but she had a hold over his brother, and things were getting worse by the minute. He also knew that this young woman was lying through her teeth. She did love him. It was painfully obvious how much that was true. "Natalie, you could help John by talking to me about the train station." She was watching him, but her lips weren't moving. He hadn't really expected them too. "The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt my brother."
She nodded. "I know that. I can see that, but here's the thing," she said, holding his steady gaze, "he told me not to talk to anyone and I trust him. He's the only one I trust. Sorry."
He sighed softly, accepting that she wasn't going to be confiding in him anytime soon. He leaned forward, bent over his knees while he stared at the floor in contemplation. Then he stretched out a hand.
"What's this?"
"What does it look like?" He dropped the item in her lap and sat back, relaxing.
She grinned. "A Twinky?" Was he kidding?
Michael huffed and found her amused eyes. "I couldn't find anything to eat, okay?" He licked his lips. "I thought you might be hungry."
She blinked, beginning to feel a little confused about this particular McBain. "Thank you," she muttered, gingerly peeling open the plastic and taking an avid bite of the sponge cake. She was absolutely starving.
John rounded the corner and found her right where he left her, and his brother hadn't moved either by the looks of it. He saw them talking and laughing, and his stomach twisted a little. What were they talking about? He loved Mike, but his supply of family trust was depleated for the time being. "Hey," he greeted, walking up in a hurry.
"Hello," she answered, eyeing him slowly. He was wearing a t-shirt that could hold two of him, and his old, stained jeans, but he looked better...and his wet hair was very sexy. She wanted to run her fingers through it. "You look nervous. Why do you look nervous?" She felt her stomach drop.
He shook his head quickly. "I'm fine." Judging by her expression she wasn't buying it. He was about to find out what they had discussed while he was downstairs, but the door to the office finally opened. It wasn't his father standing in the frame. "Andrew," he said, acknowledging the man who looked very determined. He knew that expression well, and it always warranted results. Of course, this was the first time he was at the receiving end of his friend's investigation.
Natalie swallowed and quickly stood from her chair. She was standing very close to John, but her eyes were on the man who was watching them. She was suddenly very afraid. "John?" she voiced, finding his eyes. They were already on her, waiting for her and she swallowed again.
He didn't say anything, he just looked at her for a moment. Then he went into the office and took a seat.
She was staring at another closed door. "Michael?"
"He'll be okay, Natalie. He's pretty good at taking care of himself. Besides, he's gone this long, hasn't he?" Though he knew that his words were solely for her benefit. He didn't believe them. John was in a lot of trouble. He knew it was coming, that it would catch up with him, and now here they were, time was up.
She sat down and tried to slow her raging heartbeat. He was going to be fine. She sighed and rubbed her eyes again. Everything would work out the way it was supposed too. It had too. This wasn't a problem. Her eyes closed, and she concentrated on believing her own mantra.