Hi All!
Apologies for the late post, I have quite severe carpal tunnel in both of my wrists and typing for too long gets painful, mix that with writers block and well…
I think I rewrote this chapter three times in the end and finally I'm happy with the results and I hope you will be too!
I'm having surgery on one of my wrists tomorrow (again with last minute posts, I know I was terrible at school with deadlines too! Lol!) and sadly it's my writing one too, so planning the next chapter is going to be…interesting. Unfortunately it does mean it's going to be another long wait between chapters but hopefully it'll be worth it in the end.
Cheers and Enjoy. –Colby'sGirl 19 x
Chapter 6
*Don Eppes:"He's just lost."
Robin Brooks:"So am I."
Don Eppes:"Nah. You can never be lost, somebody already marked the way…it's just something from Scripture called Halakha. You know, it means "the path." I don't know…I find comfort in it…"
Season 5, Episode 15: Guilt Trip.*
Stepping reluctantly from the comfort of the FBI's square elevator, fists clenching and unclenching at his side, Detective Hayes couldn't help but note, somewhat bitterly, that in his absence absolutely nothing had changed. It may have been six long weeks since he had last stepped foot on the nineteenth floor of the FBI building in LA, but the giant open planned room was every inch as cold, dark and intimidating as it had been the first time that he had visited.
Seriously? Elliott asked himself silently, his grim mouth set to sneering; doesn't anyone ever open a curtain or raise a blind around here? Not that he really minded the dimness of his surroundings because ironically it rather suited his current mood. El was just angry at himself for still feeling nervous and inadequate in the company of the many slick looking FBI agents he could see dotted around the room, hard at work at their desks despite the lateness of the hour, and was taking it out on the room. What? Nobody said it was rational!
In fact it was very irrational but whilst Elliott couldn't control the mixture of nerves and resentment bubbling away in his gut, he could at least pretend not to give a fuck. Forcing a look of boredom on his tense and angry face, El made his way deeper and deeper into the office, careful to take slow measured steps as if he strolled through the FBI offices every day and thought nothing of it. But he didn't and six weeks or not, the closer Elliott got to the bull pen the harder he found it not to care because no matter where he looked, memories spilled out and fought for his attention…
To his left was the desk that Elliott had sat at all night waiting for a phone to ring and begging it to be the one that finally revealed the location of the LA child snatcher. Brian had revealed his plans to join the FBI that night and to think at the time Elliott had encouraged him to go for it…
To his right was the FBI bull pen and locker room, as busy now as they had been that same night as team after team left in the hopes of being the team that would catch the LA Child Snatcher…and save the kidnapped Agent Edgerton…
Funny, Ian's missing presence had been as obvious then as it was now and Elliott didn't know how he felt about that, which bothered him more than he was willing to admit and no matter how hard Elliott tried not to remember, not to care, the harder it only became to stop the memories at all.
They were like relentless waves crashing against a shipwrecked vessel, as he was tossed around from the storm of memories of his and Brian's time together at the FBI, to the tall, skinny Brian on his first day in homicide, El's argument with the Captain for being paired with the police commissioner's son, the stake outs, the chases, the easy laughter and friendship that followed…Brian lying dead in Ian's arms, cradling him against his chest like a mother would her new-born child…
It didn't matter how much alcohol he consumed, nothing seemed to be able to take that particular memory away, which annoyingly was also the memory that deprived him of sleep and kept him up at night. All he had to do was shut his eyes and he was back there in the doorway to Charlie's office, his eyes just scrambling to make sense of the scene before him…
Closing his eyes, Elliott could see it as if it was only yesterday…Ian semi naked in tight pants and a bullet proof vest, Brian limp in Ian's straining arms, blood dribbling from the corner of Brian's mouth, tears leaking from his eyes, skin waxy and ashen, eyes wide and staring, the burning in El's throat as he screamed at his partner to get up, Don crouching beside him, talking, reasoning, Claudia's soft voice whispering, pleading as the two took Brian away leaving Elliott kneeling in Charlie's office alone, his partner's blood on his clothes…on his hands…he never should have let them take him…
"El?" Colby asked confused from the open doorway of the FBI bull pen.
"Yes?" Elliott snapped as he opened his eyes and forced the look of boredom back on to his face, his only mask against the pain.
"Briefing's about to start…" Colby replied hesitantly, his own uncertainly obvious on his stocky, yet handsome face, his hazel eyes shining with concern. To think Elliott had liked the man, just showed you what a horrible judge of character he was… "You coming?"
"Of course," Elliott replied sharply, as he shook his head to clear it of that last lingering memory, shoving it to the back of his mind as he followed Colby into the FBI's bull pen and slipped into a seat near the back.
"Welcome, as all you should be aware by now, five days ago a bomb was detonated in the lobby of the La County Courthouse. So far no one has come forward to claim responsibility for the bombing. That does not mean however, that the bomber was working alone or that the threat off further bombings no longer exists. Either way, people are starting to panic. It is therefore absolutely paramount that we bring a swift resolution to this mess, with that in mind I will hand you over to Detective Hayes to fill you in on the details. Detective Hayes?"
Flexing and un-flexing his fingers anxiously, Elliott took a long deep breath before standing up and gesturing for Chris to join him as he made his way to the front of the large oval shaped room. "Thank you," He nodded fractionally at Nick as he and Chris turned to face the mumbling crowd of FBI agents, some of whom he recognised from the snatcher case and a few he didn't know. Obviously he recognised Don's team and was grateful to see that Ian definitely was absent, just as Logan had promised he would be.
Elliott also recognised the slightest shiver of fear that passed behind his young partner's eyes. El had felt a similar sense of foreboding the last time he'd had to bring the FBI up to date on the Snatcher case. The difference this time being that he didn't care what they thought of him and therefore wasn't the least bit daunted or intimidated, which was for the best because this time he didn't have Ian's friendly smile and Brian's thumbs up to relax him, which he reminded himself was Ian's fault in the first place.
"Twenty dead, sixty injured," Elliott told the mass of muttering agents, deciding to jump straight to the punch line of the nasty joke that had become his life. For the last week he had thrown himself into his work, this case in particular. "My department and I interviewed those sixty witnesses the morning after the explosion but as you will see from the statements in your files, they had nothing pertinent to tell us."
"What? Nothing?" Logan asked disbelievingly as Elliott turned to regard him closely, he'd looked sharp in the lobby only hours earlier and yet the man before El looked faded, tired and worn. Thinking about it now, it occurred to El that Logan hadn't exactly looked happy about taking on the case earlier and despite his anger and resentment towards the guy and team in general, Elliott couldn't stop a smidgen of concern breaking through…
"Don't get me wrong," El smiled warily as he scratched his neck thoughtfully. "They all had plenty to say, they just couldn't agree on details, hell half said there was a bomber and half described a suspicious suitcase or briefcase…"
"And what do you think?" Logan replied sombrely as the other agents mumbled to themselves.
"CSI's found evidence of C4 and a harness of some kind, it's their belief that our bomber was wearing a waistcoat of C4. It's possible the briefcase or suitcase was dropped in the confusion." Elliott shrugged, he'd never been one to put much stock in witness testimony and wasn't about to change the habit now.
"Ok…so it has to be one of the twenty right? What can you tell us about them?" The question came from Colby who had spent the AD's little introduction skimming the folder that Logan had gotten Liz to make up for everyone from the files Elliott had surrendered over to his custody earlier that day.
"Claudia and her team were able to secure ID's on all but one of the victims," Chris replied, finally finding his footing in what was fast becoming an interrogation as Elliott watched the other agents flick to the relevant tabbed section in the folders they'd been supplied with…Liz really had done a good job organising the mess of files El and Chris had accumulated over the past week, and quickly too he noted as he looked scornfully at the folder he had left on his chair when he had gotten up to address the rest.
"And?" Nick asked after a moment, once he was sure he had all the agents' attention once more.
"And we have been doing extensive background checks but it's going to take time to sift through all of the data collected, perhaps Charlie can help there?" El explained carefully as he turned to look at the massive interactive whiteboard behind him, where Matt Li, the team's tech guy, was currently bringing up images of all of the victims' bodies as well as their driver's licence photo save for Jane Doe's of course, whose only image was of her crispy and melted corpse. All Elliott could think about was when they'd had time to digitalise the files… It looked like Liz wasn't the only fast worker, he'd forgotten how efficient the FBI could be which was stupid as it was one of the many qualities he'd greatly admired before…everything.
"What are your thoughts? You must have some. Which of the twenty are victims and which are suspects?" Nick replied slowly as if speaking to someone simple…or a child.
"I've made notes on my thoughts in the files I surrendered to your team earlier. You should be able to find them on the photocopies in your files, you need only turn to the relevant page," El replied tersely as he folded his arms and frowned hard at the AD who did his best to hold Elliott's ghostly glare. "Don't look at me like that!" Brian had told him once, in these very offices. "I'm not some weak willed suspect that you can break with a simple glance!" Naturally Brian had relented and told him everything. They all did eventually…except for Ian…Ian had only smiled back with that wolfish smile that El hadn't entirely trusted, not at the time at least and El had been impressed…at the time at least. "Perhaps when the checks are finished I'll be able to be more specific.
"What does your gut tell you?" Logan asked quietly as if he was genuinely interested…
Sighing, El turned to address him directly, "Truthfully? My gut says none of them."
"But you said that the bomber exploded with his bomb, so which is it?" Liz asked frustrated as the other agents began to murmur amongst themselves again, most likely agreeing with the press at the 'hack job' the LAPD had made of this case so far.
"Enough!" Nick shouted, his eye's flashing angrily until one by one the agents fell silent again. "Explain yourself Detective Hayes."
"None of them fit the profile that I had our profiler make up," El replied stone faced. "You'll find a copy in your folders somewhere," El sneered as he watched the agents flick obediently to the right place at the same time.
"We also found two other cases of minor bombings from several months ago that involved C4," Chris cut in quickly before Elliott had the chance to insult the assistant director any further. "LAPD had a few suspects but all were eventually cleared. No arrests were made and the file was eventually passed off. Until this bombing it was unclear whether the other two were even related but we believe they are."
"Why?"
"Because both were governmental buildings like the courthouse, only difference was that in those cases the bomb was placed and set off with a remote detonator." El added, his temper partially under control as the AD and Logan scanned the report from the same folder. "The profile matches for all three bombings, it's possible that they were just tests for the courthouse bombing."
"The profile suggests that the bomber is some right wing activist," Nick growled back, exasperated.
"Which fits," Chris cut in defensively, his hands working as fast as his mouth as the detectives did their best to explain.
"If you read on you'll find that the profiler also states that the devices could only have been made by an expert," Elliott snapped back as the other agents watched on slightly agog. "None of the twenty have a background in bomb making or disposal. Naturally we are checking their homes and have confiscated their PC's to make sure but it will take the techs a while to sift through it all."
"So what? You think that the bomber used one of the twenty as a patsy? Dressed them in C4 and sent them into the courthouse?" Nikki Betancourt asked confused as she leaned back in her chair, ran her fingers through her curly afro and held it in a rough pony tail behind her head. "Are you suggesting that the bomber is still out there?"
"It's possible but not with one of the twenty," Elliott grimaced as he fought to find the words.
"Why?" Nick asked through gritted teeth, barely holding onto his patience.
"The limbs…" Logan noted quietly as he shifted quickly through the thick file. "If they were wearing a harness of C4 then at least a limb or two would have been torn from their bodies. I've seen the carnage left behind of a suicide bomber in Iraq…took out an entire squadron and the orphanage they were protecting…these remains are too intact to have been the bomber…or the bombers unwilling victim."
"Great," Nick blew out frustrated. "So besides pieces of a bomb and a profile that discounts every suspect and points to the bomber still being at large…what other evidence have you actually collected?" Nick asked tersely, the other agents forgotten as he frowned up at Elliott, possibly wondering why they'd let him stay on the case in the first place…
"Some CCTV footage survived the wreckage, time stamped moments before the blast but unfortunately it's damaged. Our techs recovered a still but as you can see it's conveniently missing a section of the photo," Chris interjected again, coming to his partners rescue? El mused; though there was little humour in it as he watched the other agents grumble their agreement that the photo was useless as Matt brought it up on the large screen.
"What about Charlie?" Colby asked suddenly, cutting through the other agents blather as he turned to face Liz who was in the row behind. "He's done this sort of thing for us before.
"What recreate the image behind the glare?" Chris replied disbelievingly but Liz was nodding enthusiastically now and Elliott had seen enough of what Charlie could do on the last case to at least make El hear them out.
"It's called diffeomorphic matching," Liz smiled as Chris looked at her as if she was insane and speaking another language.
"Diffeo-what now?"
"Diffeomorphic mapping," She replied as she stood up, her long hair bouncing around her slim shoulders as she tucked the folder under her thin arm and walked over to where Matt was sitting at the interactive board's computer. "Email that photo to Charlie, I'll head over to his office and see if he can't recreate the image for us."
"Whatever is behind the glare could tell us something about what happened seconds before the bomb was detonated. Tell Charlie to do what he can," Nick nodded thoughtfully as Liz left quickly and without further delay.
"Whilst agent Warner is on that I want Detective Hayes and Morrison to go to the hospital and interview Robin. She's awake and conscious and as much as I'd like to leave her out of all of this she's also the only surviving witness close enough to have possibly seen the bomber or their victim. Either way we need to know what she saw. Agent Betancourt, I want you to go and see CSI Knolls about the court records. It's possible our bomber cased the courthouse before hand and everyone that visits is recorded religiously in the hope of preventing something like this happening. See if you can't find any names that stand out as suspicious or come up on the background checks of our twenty victims. Agent Granger I want you to look into the bomb itself. Get in touch with the Behavioural Analysis Unit and see if they can't shed more light on the sort of person we're looking for. I want a proper and in depth profile so fly them here if you have to," Logan told them all as the other agents began to shift restlessly in their seats, aware that the meeting was almost over.
"As for the rest of you…return to your current cases until needed," Nick ordered them all sadly as he closed the folder he was holding and handed it back over to Logan. "You're all dismissed."
"Sir?" Elliott asked as he stepped over to where Logan and Nick were whispering conspiritably in the corner.
"Detective?" Nick replied as he and Logan jumped apart guiltily and looked anywhere but directly at him.
Interesting…El thought as he put the suspicious behaviour aside and frowned over at his partner who was talking animatedly with Matt Li, a similar curiosity alight in his eyes that had ultimately gotten Brian killed. El wouldn't let it happen again even if he wasn't that fond of his latest partner. Someone had to protect the kid against the FBI…"I was hoping that agent Pierce might accompany me to the hospital instead to detective Morrison."
"Why?" Logan frowned unhappily and shifted uncomfortably.
"Because we might have a possible lead on identifying our Jane Doe. I was hoping that detective Morrison might be reassigned to look into it. We don't know anything about her and have no background to check…it's important that she's identified and quickly." Elliott replied as his partner slapped the tech goodbye on the back before heading over.
"Ready?" He asked El with that boyish grin that told Elliott he was enjoying himself too much. Brian had enjoyed himself at the FBI too much as well; look at how that had worked out for him.
"Actually detective Morrison I've decided to reassign you to a different task," Nick informed the no longer smiling detective as this time El found it hard to meet anyone's eyes. "Agent pierce brought it to my attention that you had a possible lead on identifying Jane Doe, I want you to follow up on it."
"But…" Chris floundered, his jaw moving but no words came out.
"Agent Pierce can go with detective Hayes to the hospital. Now I really must get going," Nick sighed miserably as he looked at his watch and scowled at the time. "I have a meeting with the director to get to."
"Bye," Logan grimaced with sympathy before turning to regard Elliott with interest, his emotion's well hidden. "Well, better get a move on," He smiled as he clapped his hands together with badly mustered enthusiasm. "Just got to make a quick pit stop first. Meet me at the lift in ten."
"No problem," Elliott nodded, his teeth gritted as the agent left him and his partner alone.
"What the fuck?" Chris asked when the last of the agents had filed out of the FBI bull pen leaving the pair alone.
"What?" El asked innocently but knew he wasn't quite pulling it off.
"Why are you benching me?" Chris asked angrily, his boy next door looks twisted angrily as he looked at Elliott as if he'd grown an extra head.
"I'm not, Logan thought that Robin would open up more if it was to people she knew; besides you're hardly benched."
"Oh right, my little assignment to find Jane Doe's identity."
"Hey, Jane Doe could be the key to understanding what happened in that courthouse," Elliott shouted back defensively, even though they both knew deep down she wasn't.
"Sure," Chris growled as he gripped the folder tightly as if he wanted to hit El on the back of the head with it but thought better of it. "I'd best get to it then, hadn't I," Chris grunted furiously before storming out.
Sighing tiredly Elliott moved through the row of chairs, which had been added for the briefing, until he found his folder where he'd left it. Slumping down in the chair next to it, Elliott picked up the folder and fingered it angrily. Chris couldn't see it but Elliott was protecting him…the FBI…it was bad news and Elliott didn't want the kid finding that out the hard way…the way Brian had…
Eyes sliding to his left, El spied the make shift desk Ian had used during the Snatcher case. Elliott and Colby had searched the cluttered mess for clues as to his sudden disappearance and discovered that Ian was being stalked. Don had told Elliott that day that Ian worked alone. He'd said it so matter of fact that El had been left with no illusions as to the man that was the legend. It's lonely at the top he had surmised at the time.
Getting up, Elliott moved over to the desk, the folder still gripped in both hands as he looked at the mess. It didn't look any different. Almost like it hadn't been touched in six weeks, which El knew it hadn't because the second Brian had been buried the 'mighty' Ian Edgerton had run away. Packed up and moved on. Left. Gone. Vanished.
Biting his lip until it bleed, Elliott growled angrily as he took the case folder and swung it wide at the cluttered stack of files that had been dumped unceremoniously on Ian's makeshift desk. Laughing throatily, close to sobbing, Elliott watched with satisfaction as the files flew and scattered around him like a sudden snow storm of paper as he raised the folder once more and took another swipe at the desk and then another and another until the table was practically bare and the floor was a white sea in which Elliott found himself suddenly adrift.
Damn.
*Break*
"Damn…" Charlie stated shocked as Liz pulled up outside the LA Courthouse and saw the damage for the first time. He'd seen the news reports and photos of course but somehow they'd managed to down play the scale of destruction. The front of the courthouse looked like a blackened and caved in ruin, a shell of some ancient architecture that was centuries old and as he, Larry and Liz shuffled their way inside, he felt more and more like some architect who'd somehow stumbled upon some monumental and horrific find.
"Damn is right," Liz sighed sadly as Larry righted a table and did his best to brush off most of the ash before placing the laptop down. "Are you going to be ok professor?"
"Yes…it's just…I look around this room and it's a wonder anyone made it out alive…"
"Some didn't," she sighed sadly as she made her way around the room, careful not to touch or disturb anything.
"Of course…I guess I'm just having a hard time understanding…this," Charlie replied quietly as he gestured to the remnants of a large desk and metal detector that were standing at awkward crooked and melted angles from each other, both warped and singed to within a breath of recognisability.
"As unethical as it sounds, for as long as there have been men, there have also been the select few that believe that peace can only be achieved through drastic and violent means. After inventing dynamite, Alfred Nobel still believed that whilst being a destructive power, it was also a harbinger of peace." Larry told Charlie sadly as he perched himself on a fallen peace of debris, crossed his arms and rested his chin against his chest.
"Wait…Alfred Nobel invented dynamite?" Liz asked confused as she picked her way back through the mess to where Larry was perched. "I thought he was the peace guy…"
"When he died, having seen what his invention was being used for and the lack of peace in his life time, Nobel wrote a will donating ninety-four percent of his estate to the establishment of the Nobel prizes in physics, chemistry, physiology or medicine, literature, and peace," Charlie explained as he too worked his way over to where Larry was resting.
"Nobel put it in the will that each prize was to be awarded to 'those who, during the preceding year, shall have conferred the greatest benefit on mankind.'" Larry added as Charlie took a deep breath before turning to face Liz.
"Right…what do you need us to do?"
"Recreate the missing area in this photo," Liz replied as she plugged the USB into the back of the computer and loaded the image for them to assess.
"Wow," Charlie replied stunned, he knew he had created miracles for the team before, but they usually given him more to work with.
"Can you help?"
"No," Charlie stated heatedly, his anger a mixture of despair that he couldn't help and that they were pinning their hopes on him once more to pull a rabbit from his arse.
"But what about using diffeomorphic mapping?" Liz replied deflated, she really thought that Charlie would have had the answer.
"When we did that before it was because you had caught a reflection on the wheel, there is no reflection here," Larry explained as he leaned in and scrutinised the image.
"Well…it would be by no means ideal…but…"
"But what?"
"What if we use the reflection on the marble floor?" Charlie asked more to himself than to Larry.
"Could you do that?" Liz asked confused, desperate just to keep up.
"The image would be less than perfect…" Larry replied hesitantly as he looked across at his young protégée.
"When he says less than perfect," Charlie stood and looked Liz directly in the eyes so that there was no confusion. "He means that it won't be good enough to make out the face of your bomber, only weak details like height, hair colour and ethnicity…"
"It's more than we have now," Liz admitted reluctantly, disappointed that the 'geek squad', as Colby referred to them, couldn't give them more on this occasion. "You never know, there could be something important behind that glare that we're missing."
"Then I'll get measuring," Charlie nodded as he pulled his measuring tape from his trouser pockets, just relieved to be doing something, anything to help and set to work measuring the floor. When Larry didn't move, Charlie pulled a second tape measure from his pockets and threw it at his old professor. "Are you just going to sit there or are you going to help?"
*Break*
"Are you just going to sit there or are you going to help?"
"I guess I'm going to help," Ian sighed as he stood up and emerged from the murky edges of the shooting range and approached the mat where his mother was laying prone, scope of his favourite rifle pressed against her eye. "Wouldn't want you to miss," He mocked openly as she made room for him and he joined her on the hard ground.
"What makes you think I'll miss?" She snorted indignantly and then laughed, her smile achingly familiar as her long brown locks fell about her bare shoulders and he fought the urge to run his fingers through her soft hair.
"Because you're doing it all wrong," He smiled back as he rocked his body so that he was resting on his side and surveyed her body. "Firstly, you need to open your legs wider, and square your hips with the ground, they'll give you balance. Secondly, move your left arm so that your elbow is under the barrel of the rifle, rest the nozzle on the sandbag if it's too heavy and then move your right elbow out wider so that it takes some of the weight. Thirdly, place your cheek so that it's smooth against the wood and look into the scope. Keep both eyes open, line up the rear sight with the front sight and then the front with the target."
"What's next?" She whispered so softy that he had to lean in closer to hear it.
"Next you take a breath in, take a breath out, take a breath in and hold it. On the count of three you pull the trigger and hit the target." Ian whispered back as she adjusted her body, spreading her legs as far as the white shift she was wearing would allow, adjusted her elbows and lined up her sights. "Ready?" He asked softly as he watched her take two deep breaths in and out and in again before squeezing the trigger hard.
"Like that?" She asked proudly as she handed the rifle over and he examined her shot through the scope.
"Not bad for a first go," Ian smiled proudly as his mother rocked so that she was resting on her side, this time observing him.
"You look like crap," She told him earnestly as he shifted his body until he was comfortable and the rifle and his body had melded into one. Ian's old instructor had once told him 'that you couldn't tell where Ian ended and the rifle began, the way he carried it, you'd almost believe that the rifle was just another limb' and ever since Ian had always considered his rifles as an extension of his body. They were as much a part of him as the woman lying next to him on the mat, his mother but not really for she hadn't exactly been one to him for a very long time.
"You lost the right to tell me that when you abandoned me at that orphanage," Ian snapped bitterly as he lined up his sights and aimed for the centre of the target before switching his aim two inches to the left, to the hole that his mother had just created and fired…"No!" He shouted as Detective Hamilton came stuttering out of the shadows, his hands pressed tight against his shirt where the bullet had exited through his chest. "No!" Ian screamed again as he jumped up, throwing the rifle aside as the Child Snatcher laughed a mocking and cruel laugh, as he failed to reach Brian in time.
"I'm scared…" Brian grunted as Ian wiped furiously at the blood now dribbling from the corner of Brian's mouth as the two slumped to the ground, suddenly unable to stand any longer. "I'm scared…" He whispered again as Ian's mother approached slowly, only when she pushed back the curtain of her hair her face was no longer there, instead that cruel little sneer of Debbie Harris's looked back at him in the dim light, her body casting a long shadow over him.
"I killed him…" Ian shook his head with disbelief as Brian's body went limp in Ian's tight grasp. "Why did you do this? Why didn't you stop me?"
"Because we're killers. It's what we do and we love it," She smiled cruelly, her lips twisted and arrogant. "And that's not a guess either. It's fact." She parroted back to him what he had told Charlie all those years ago…
"What?" He told her angrily as he clung to Brian's lifeless body. "No! I'm not that man anymore!"
"Ian?"
"No!" He shouted again, his fingers digging in as he attempted to hold on to Brian this time.
"Ian," The voice told him sternly, this time shaking the thrashing Ian until his sleep crusted eyes twitched open and the sounds of the hospital flooded his consciousness once more. "You alright?" Don asked as Ian looked down confused at the leather jacket cradled in his arms.
"Always," Ian grunted angrily, as he tensed his body to hide the trembling and clenched his fists to try and stop the shaking in his hands, because the last thing Ian Edgerton wanted to do was 'talk about it', no matter how many times Charlie or his shrink asked…"How is she?" Ian asked a little worriedly as Don looked over at the closed door of Robin's hospital room with concern.
"She's processing," Don replied roughly as he forced the emotion from his throat and turned to look back at Ian in earnest. "I'm surprised you're still here. I thought you'd left when I got back," Don told Ian quietly as he slumped down next to Ian, pretending not to notice the way his old friend was clinging to his jacket in a bad attempt at hiding his shaking hands.
"Charlie is working on the case, said it could take him and Larry all night…I didn't fancy going back to an empty house alone so I waited here hoping I could still be of some use," Ian admitted reluctantly as he loosened his grip on the jacket but was still flexing and un-flexing his fingers nervously.
"You should have come inside instead of sitting out here alone for two hours," Don shook his head sadly as he slumped a little lower in his chair. "Robin was just asking after you, I was just going to phone you. Would you mind sitting with her for a while?" Don asked shyly as Ian nodded enthusiastically, or as enthusiastically as Agent Edgerton did, just happy to be of use.
"Of course," Ian smiled placidly, his face and his emotions finally in check due to his new found sense of purpose as Don rested his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and let out a loud yawn. "You should try to get some sleep," Ian told Don sternly as he stood up and moved over to the door of Robin's room. "I'll look after her while you sleep," Ian told the already snoring Don and on instinct placed his jacket over the sleeping Don so that he wouldn't get cold, before heading back to Robin's room.
"Hi there," Ian greeted as he slowly made his way inside.
*Break*
"Hi there," Chris greeted as he slowly made his way inside.
"Welcome sir, how may I be of service today?" The expensive looking clerk asked as he looked down the long length of his straight roman nose at Detective Morrison, the merest fraction of a sneer pulling at the man's full lips, making sure that Chris knew he most certainly was not welcome.
"Are you Antonio?" Chris replied as he made sure to close the door behind him.
"Antonio is just the name on the door, I'm Clark."
"Well Clark, I'd like to buy a ring," Chris smiled affably as he moved through the glass cabernets to the main counter at the back of the room where the man was leaning, a glossy magazine open in front of him.
"Ok," Clark nodded slowly as he stood up straight and folded his arms across his soft cashmere shirt, which was more of a sweater, and gave Chris another of his most scrutinising looks. "And what sort of ring was sir after today?"
"Engagement," Chris smiled again as he reached inside his jacket for the evidence photo of Jane Doe's ring. "My mate got his fiancée's here and when mine saw the ring, well she just had to have the same," Chris sighed exasperated as he gave a 'what can you do' shrug. "This ring." He added as he placed the photo down on the counter for the man to see.
"Impossible," Clark shook his head, his perfectly gelled hair not moving a whisper.
"Why?" Chris asked sternly as he jabbed the photo with his finger, pushing it across the clear glass for Clark to get a better look. "You're not denying that you sold it?"
"Of course not," The man barked back insulted as he pushed the photo back. "That ring is one of my finest creations! It is also a one of a kind, all of our high-end rings are, which you should know as your friend paid extra to have it that way."
"One of a kind…" Chris repeated slowly causing the man to scowl harder.
"That's what I said," He replied stonily.
"So you could tell me exactly who you sold it to?"
"I thought your 'mate' bought it, who exactly are you?" Clark asked accusingly, pointing his slim finger in Chris's face.
"I'm Detective Chris Morrison, LAPD and I'm going to need the name of the man you sold this ring to."
"Detective," Clark shuddered as he rolled the word around his mouth as if it was something disgusting. "I should have known from the cheap suit."
"No need to get nasty," Chris grinned, knowing it would make the man bristle more. "Give me the name and I'll leave."
"I'm afraid our clientele records are confidential," Clark replied, giving Chris a small satisfied smile. "You're going to need a warrant."
"Sure, I could go and get a warrant. Or you could tell me right now," Chris gave his own wolfish grin causing the man to take a step back from the young detective.
"And why would I do that?"
"Because I found that ring on this lady," Chris replied as he pulled the picture of Jane Doe's burnout corpse and held it up to Clark's straight nose.
"Oh my god," Clark gasped as he instinctively held his hand to his mouth as he gagged.
"I'm trying to ID her," Chris added quietly as he moved around the island counter so that he was only inches from Clarks recoiling body. "Whoever bought the ring doesn't know that she's dead yet. The name please."
"Of course," Clark nodded as he stood up straight, his face ashen behind the tan. "Follow me."
"Of course," Chris smiled as he followed Clark to a back room that's door hadn't been obvious before because it was painted and styled to look just like the walls. The room was swankier than he had expected too. There was an antique work station and desk, antique materials and tools and expensive hardwood floor and wood panelling. It all looked expensive and gaudy to Chris…
"…Nice room," Chris lied before taking a seat opposite.
*Break*
"…Nice room," Logan lied before taking a seat opposite.
"I'll tell the nursing staff that you approve," Ian smiled blandly, his face was smooth of emotion but his tone suggested he was irritated.
"I've been phoning you all afternoon," Logan continued as if the other agent hadn't spoken, letting it slide because it was Edgerton.
"I've been here," Ian sighed but only a fraction of his impatience showed. "My phone's been off the whole time."
"Of course," Logan nodded as he reached into his briefcase and removed a spare folder that he'd had Liz make extra for him. "This is a copy of the case file for the courthouse bombing, I need you to take a look over it and tell me what you think," Logan added as he held the file out but when Ian didn't automatically reach for it, Logan had to settle for placing it down on the seat next to Ian instead.
"I thought you made a deal with Elliott that I wouldn't be on the case," Ian frowned at Logan, refusing to acknowledge the file in any way.
"I said you weren't part of the team, that doesn't mean that you can't look over the file by yourself…report your thoughts back to me," Logan smiled slyly but Ian only looked pointedly back.
"No."
"No?"
"El doesn't want me near this case."
"That's not for detective Hamilton to decide. I told him what he needed to hear at the time. Now I'm ordering you to look over the file and tell me your thoughts," Logan frowned himself, he had a bombing to solve and a murderer to catch he couldn't waste time on principals and pride…he'd thought out of everyone Edgerton would have understood. What needed to be done and all that…
"Sorry," Ian replied, not sounding sorry at all. "But my answer is still no."
"Ian," Logan practically growled his impatience.
"But, that doesn't mean I don't someone who could help you. I'll send the file to him and give him your number," Ian smiled a small, strained little smile before getting up.
"I don't want someone else's fucking opinion," Logan hissed as Elliott entered the small waiting room with two coffees in hand and froze at the sight of Ian, a mixture of emotions flashing across his stubbled face.
"Visiting hours are almost up," Ian told Logan pointedly as he slyly pushed the file under his leather jacket before picking them both up together with elegant ease and agility, the file neatly hidden at all times. "If you want to question Robin today, you had better do it soon."
"Then we should get going. Your presence is not required Agent Edgerton," Elliott replied briskly, his face flushing with colour as the tall agent approached.
"Robin wants me there," Ian replied genially, any emotion he didn't want showing securely hidden.
"Then let's get a wriggle on," Logan cut in before El could protest and gestured at the pair of them to stop dancing awkwardly around each other and to get a move on.
"Yes lets…" El frowned disapprovingly, his ghost eyes flashing with anger as he bit his tongue to stop from saying something that would land him in trouble. After all his position on the team was tentative enough already. Besides, he wouldn't have put it past Logan to have tried some sort of angle to get Ian involved and then have him removed if he was to push too hard. His silence however, only served to make Logan more suspicious of the abnormally silent and usually disagreeable detective, causing him to shoot several calculating looks at El on their way from the small waiting room to Robin's hospital room. There was no point trying to get anything from Ian, besides a tense jaw and tight fists, Ian could have been taking the scenic route on a stroll through the park.
"Let's just get this over with," Don greeted them heatedly as they all shuffled their way into the room. In his opinion Robin was still too fragile for questioning, he had however been out voted by the woman herself. Robin was just determined to get the questioning over with already so that she could go back to grieving and ignoring them all in horrified silence. Ian was in two minds himself on whether she was ready or not, on the one hand he wasn't entirely sure that the shock of the day had entirely worn off yet and on the other the questions needed to be asked…
"Hey," Ian whispered softly as he took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You sure you're ready for this?" He asked her for the hundredth time, just to make doubly sure she was definitely up for it, or as up for it as one could be expected to be given the circumstances.
"I'm ready," She croaked as Elliott opened his pad and pulled out his pen whilst Logan busied himself by looking out of the room's large window at the garden below.
"Well when you're done, you just squeeze my hand and I'll kick them out," Ian smiled warmly as she tried her own little smile; the twist of her lips however looked more like a grimace and her throaty laugh a weary groan.
"I'd like to see that!" She rasped as Don settled down in the chair next to her and took her hand in his. "Ask your questions detective," Robin told Elliott as she pulled her hand back from Dons grasp and draped it over her sore body. "You've got five minutes and then he's kicking you out."