Note: Happy Easter to all who celebrate! Thank you very much to those who left reviews since the last chapter. Every one is very much appreciated and inspires me to keep writing. Thanks to ulstergirl, TinDog, EastBlue, Caranath, Red Hardy, Paulina Ann, max2013, hbndgirl, EvergreenDreamweaver, and Hero76. Thanks for sticking with the story- there's a lot more to come. One of these days I'll write another lighthearted story like "First Impressions"- but this one isn't it! LOL :)

The Secret Spaces

Chapter 16

Fenton looked up at the man who had entered the room and sucked in his breath. He wished that he had been able to think about things for a few moments, been able to try to piece together exactly what the hell had been going on. It looked like that was a chance that was not availing itself to him right now.

"Special Agent Clara," he said neutrally to the man now standing in plain clothes in front of him. "Or is that even your real name?" he added.

"It is, Detective Hardy." He said no more.

Fenton decided to wait it out; trying to see what game this man was playing. After several minutes, Clara spoke.

"Mr. Hardy, you must be wondering why you're here- where you even are. I can assure you that all will be revealed soon." He again said no more, just stood staring at him.

Something was off, and Fenton couldn't place it. He changed his tactic and decided to try being aggressive. "What are you doing- huh? How did an FBI agent get involved in kidnapping?"

"Things happen," was the only response he received.

"Come on, Clara. You're here for a reason. What's your connection to the murders in NY state? How do you know Cotnig? Why are you going to all this trouble to go after me and Ezra Collig? We don't even know you!" He tried to move against the ropes, but they would not budge. But if he could get some answers, get this guy talking, then maybe- maybe- he could start to formulate a plan.

He saw the slightest flicker in the agent's eyes. Why?

"Mr. Hardy," he repeated, almost regretfully, "sometimes life takes you in directions that you would least expect. Sometimes you find yourself having to act for a cause greater than yourself. And sometimes you have to go further than you thought you would to get the end result and do things you don't want to do. TRUST ME."

Fenton's eyes widened at the emphasis on the last words, and he raised his brows quizzically.

Before he could think further, he heard the agent say, "I'm sorry, Mr. Hardy," before he was hit hard with an open palm slap across the face. It was followed by another one on the opposite side of his face across his ear.

"Clara!" a voice boomed in the background. "Enough. He'll have to wait a bit longer before it happens. Back off!"

Fenton fought back a groan as his ear started ringing. Everything was confusing and he was trying to think above the pain. Clara… something was wrong.

Clara gave him one last glance and turned in the direction of the voice. A moment later, an angry, tough looking man who looked to be in his late 50s, came into the room. He walked right up to Fenton, who tried to analyze his movements; study his mannerisms as much as he could.

"Like that, Hardy?" he growled. "Consider that a small preview of what's to come. Everything will happen in its own time, I assure you. I assume you'll be comfortable here in the meantime." He smiled without humor. "By the way, how are your sons' wives and friends? Have you heard from them?"

Fenton stiffened, refusing to take the bait. "Why don't you tell me what you want?" he replied evenly.

"Oh, I think you know what I want- what we want. It's you- and your friend, Collig. He's still alive, sadly. That's okay. He'll be reunited with you soon enough. It'll be all the sweeter."

"Well, you have me then," Fenton replied, keeping a cool head. "So why not tell me where my daughters in law are? You have me. You don't need them anymore. Tell me why you need John Gellers." He was biding his time, grasping at straws for any piece of information he could get.

The man smiled. "Hardy, you'll be begging for your life to end when we're done with you, not just because of the pain you'll be in, but because you will have watched every single person dear to you be lost. It's the same thing that you did to me; to Alan. To many of us. And you'll be kicking yourself that you never saw the whole puzzle right in front of you."

Fenton got a sinking feeling that this wasn't going to end well. "I guess you're too smart for me," he replied in a neutral tone.

"Damn right I am!" he replied with a ruthless grin. Almost unable to help himself, he went on and got close to Fenton's face. "Morton. Prito. Hooper. Figure that out. They're just for fun; just to add confusion for your sons. The show? Have you figured that out yet? And your sons- they'll be next. You'll watch them die before you die, yourself."

Fenton paled and took in a deep breath. The man would not see him panic. "As far as your sons' friend, Mr. Gellers, we're still waiting to see what next season will hold in store. It's quite the twist, we think- the star of the show dies. By the way- right now, Joe's wife might be dead. Frank's wife and your grandchild are dead."

"No," Fenton whispered, horrified. He was bluffing.

"Oh- yes," the man replied with a sneer. "You were too late, Mr. Hardy. Tick, tock- they die by the clock. And it was prolonged and painful. She didn't have a chance."

"You're lying," Fenton managed again. He had to be.

"No. I'm not. That's why I'm here. I thought you might like to see a picture of Callie Hardy and Jonathan Gellers as they were dying. Here you go." He held out his phone. "Clara- come here-" he beckoned. "Hold Hardy's head."

Within ten seconds, Fenton found his head being held in place, his eyes being forced open. And right in front of him the man shoved a cell phone with a picture.

"No. No no no no," he whispered and felt himself start to tremble. "Please, no." He literally couldn't look away. There, right in front of him, were John Gellers and Callie, white; lifeless; covered in red. It was a bloodbath.

Then his head was shoved forward as the phone was removed. "Picture that as you wait here, Hardy. Poor Frank will be so upset." He turned around, followed by Clara.

Alone, he fought nausea… and started to cry.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"They're alive."

That phrase was all he had to hold onto as he sat in an isolated wing of the emergency room, waiting to see if Callie would even make it. He knew literally nothing, except that Callie and Johnny had been found, barely clinging to life, and it didn't look good. He hadn't even seen her. He needed to have seen her.

Frank looked ahead, staring at the wall in front of him, seeing nothing. He felt completely numb, which was followed by intermittent feelings of intense anxiety and panic. He could barely move, but knew it was hard to breathe normally. He felt clammy.

Frank was somewhat aware of his mother in law sobbing in his own mother's arms; of his father in law sitting stoically next to him; of Joe's arm around him, the comforting touch almost painful to him now. He didn't want to feel. He just wanted his wife.

Time ceased to have meaning to him. It could have been 30 minutes sitting there; it could have been hours.

A doctor came out at last. "Is the family of Jonathan Gellers here?"

As the silence became deafening, Frank felt Joe pat his back. "Frank," he whispered.

Frank forced himself to come back to the present. He stood up weakly; Joe stood with him. "John's parents are dead. My wife and I are basically the next of kin." He felt Joe staring at him, curiously.

"I'm Doctor Giacomo," he responded. "I understand. Right now, he's in critical condition. He suffered major blood loss as a result of a gunshot wound to his left lung. Fragments passed into his left kidney. John suffered from exsanguination and had to receive several blood transfusions. He was already in a weakened state because of a severe infection as a result of a stabbing to his right thigh and extreme hypothermia, which resulted in a barely perceptible pulse."

"My God- what the hell happened?" Joe asked, horrified.

Frank was trying to register everything. "Will he be okay?" he managed.

The doctor didn't mince words. "I really don't know. We've started him on a heavy course of antibiotics and have been trying to work on raising his body temperature. The next 24-48 hours will be critical. I'm not going to lie to you- he could die. Please be prepared for that possibility. It's very serious."

"Oh, Frank," he heard his mother say, and he felt her grab his hand.

"Thank you," he heard himself say.

"He's in the ICU in recovery. You can see him within the hour." The doctor turned slowly to leave down the hallway.

Again, the numbness came over him. Stabbing? Had Vanessa mentioned that? Joe had- right? Or no? Gunshot? And if that had happened to Johnny, what about Callie? Oh, God. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead, felt Joe lead him back to a chair, his mom try to rub his hand.

"Breathe, Frank. Breathe," he heard Joe tell him. How he wanted to surrender to the darkness that was threatening to overwhelm him.

Before he could settle his thoughts, two more doctors came out, one dressed in scrubs and one in a hospital coat. "Family of Callie Hardy?" the surgeon asked.

"Here," he said at once, pulled back forcefully to the present. "She's my wife."

"And our daughter," his father in law said, holding tightly to his mother in law with one arm. The other arm, he realized, was holding on to his for support.

"I'm Dr. DiNapoli," the doctor said, identifying himself. "And I'm Dr. Weitzer," the woman in the coat answered.

"Mr. Hardy," DiNapoli began. "Your wife has made it through several procedures so far, but this is an extremely critical situation. She is not stabilized, and things are literally changing by the minute. Callie is suffering from extreme hypothermia, dehydration, and blood loss. We've had to give her many blood transfusions and have called in specialists from the NICU"- he motioned at Dr. Weitzer- "and OB-GYN departments. Right now, your wife and child are in grave danger, but I'm going to let Dr. Weitzer explain in more detail as I go back to check on Callie. Excuse me."

Frank found he couldn't register anything and couldn't catch his breath. He heard Joe say something about "in shock" and his mom and mother in law crying, but somehow he was standing, almost held steady by Joe on one side and his father in law on the other.

"Sit. Please," Dr. Weitzer said, gently, and Frank could only imagine what they all looked like to her.

"Mr. Hardy, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, everyone. Please. I'm here to explain what's been going on and to answer any questions that you have," she said with kindness.

"I think we all need to concentrate right now," she went on. "And let's start with the fact that Callie is alive and, by some miracle, so is her child. Think about that for a minute and take a few breaths."

Frank sucked in his breath and concentrated on breathing. She was right. No matter how long he had them for, Callie and the baby were okay… right now. It was a miracle, if only for now.

He nodded. He had to keep it together. For Callie- his precious Callie.

"Let me explain where we are right now in as lucid and concise a fashion as I can," the doctor began. "Problem #1- Callie, at some point, started bleeding, probably as a result of the dehydration and stress on her body, as well as the problems with anemia that she was already suffering. Obviously, the blood loss exacerbated the anemia. When a woman is pregnant, we try to avoid transfusions unless it is an emergency, as this obviously was, because of complications that it can cause mother and child. We have, by protool, transfused her with red blood cells only, avoiding platelets and plasma. But we have to be very careful with her. Anemia can be a risk factor for many things: the baby having anemia, developmental delays, low birth weight; some neural tube defects. The bad news is that the bleeding was severe and lasted, as far as we can tell, at least a day, but not constantly. The good news is also that it lasted a day or two- not seven months. We may have been able to avoid a lot of these risks, since Callie was receiving excellent prenatal care until this point. But we need to monitor things carefully."

"Okay," Frank managed.

"Problem #2- Callie, as you know, has Placenta Previa, and rest was very important. She's been under incredible duress and thus her bleeding began. If she makes it through this, she will be in the hospital for the duration of the pregnancy on strict bed rest. I have to be honest," the doctor continued, and Frank saw her looking directly at him, "I don't think it'll be a long stay. As a result of her trauma, your wife started with preterm labor."

"Oh, God," Mrs. Shaw sobbed.

"If we can get her strength up quickly, I can't see this pregnancy lasting much longer. We've started her on injections of corticosteroids to help build the baby's lung capacity, since a barely 33 week old baby would not have fully developed lungs. We'll repeat the injections as needed. She is also being given Magnesium sulfate to reduce possible brain damage to the baby and Tocolytics to temporarily stop her contractions. She's also being given large doses of antibiotics. The longer that Callie can hold onto this pregnancy, the better. Literally, every day - every hour- matters."

"Anything else?" Mr. Shaw asked, afraid of the answer.

"Yes," the doctor sighed. "Hypothermia is very dangerous. We're treating her for it as best we can. As an OB-GYN, I'm concerned both about the effects of it on Callie as well as the baby. Fetal heart rate can drop rapidly in these circumstances, and the baby is being monitored very closely. And finally, Callie was very dehydrated when she arrived and we're measuring now for the level of amniotic fluid that she has- which is another reason why this pregnancy won't be sustained much longer. There are other potential problems with dehydration, but we're taking things one moment at a time. She also has a bruised kidney, which we saw after noting a huge bruise on her back, and, oddly, a sprained knee. That's not serious. She was in the surgery unit for transfusions only and to work on her body temperature. Unlike her friend, she was not shot or stabbed. Do you have any questions?"

Frank felt his heart pounding and forced himself to focus. "Is she awake?"

"No- she hasn't regained consciousness."

"Will she?" he whispered.

"We honestly don't know," the doctor replied.

"But if she doesn't regain consciousness- what happens?" Joe asked, and Frank heard the fear in his voice.

"It depends," the doctor said, her voice serious. "If she continues to get weaker," she paused before continuing, "and is showing signs of crashing, then we'll have no choice but to operate to save the baby, because…."

Oh, God. Because she'll die anyway. Frank felt his stomach turn and his head start to pound.

Frank felt Joe squeeze his hand and hold on tightly.

"And if she does wake up, is she even strong enough to have the baby?" Frank asked weakly.

"We won't know that for awhile. A lot of factors come into play here- vaginal birth or c-section- could she make it through an operation with such severe blood loss? Normally a C-section is standard with Callie's condition, as its best for the health of mother and health of baby, but the extent of bleeding and severity of contractions have to play a big role here. Honestly, we just don't know."

"Ideally, if everything goes well, how long… how long could Callie hold onto the pregnancy?" Frank heard his father in law ask.

The doctor smiled kindly. "Technically, there's no answer to that. But based on my experience and her health, I'd say a matter of days."

Frank felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Mr. Hardy," the doctor said compassionately, "A lot could go wrong- yes. Honestly speaking, your wife is in critical condition. There is no way to know which way she will turn, and, frankly, her condition is grave. We are doing all we can in this scenario. But please know- for your child at least- we have a top-notch NICU here and babies born at 32- 33 weeks have an excellent survival rate. They're preemies, not super preemies. Have faith. You'll be a father very soon."

"Can I see her? Please?" he begged.

"Soon," the doctor promised."I'll let you know shortly."

Frank felt as though the walls were closing in on him. He stood suddenly and bolted out of the room, barely making it to the bathroom before he started vomiting. His stomach was churning; his heart was pounding. He felt like his legs would give out beneath him. Weakly, he stumbled to the sink and splashed his face with cold water, trying to stop the shaking, to get his emotions under control. This felt like the longest day of his life.

Finally, he was able to leave the bathroom and he sank to the floor a few feet away, head buried in his hands. It was only moments later when he felt Joe sit down next to him and pull him into a tight hug. "Why, Joe?" he managed as he felt the tears threaten to spill over.

"I don't know," Joe answered."But I'm right here with you."

Frank just clung onto his brother, and, unable to hold back any longer, allowed himself to cry.