Hello everyone,
Apologies for the late post, I really struggled to write this chapter and must have rewritten every section again at least twice! I really needed to make sure I kept it authentic with the rest of my fic and characters though, whilst attempting to propel the story forwards, which wasn't easy to do. Or at least I found quite challenging this time around. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. And I'll try to be quicker with the next chapter!
Thanks again for your continued support. X – Colby'sGirl19
Chapter 13:
*"Scotch always tastes better when someone else is buying." – Lt. Gary Walker
Season 4, Episode 5: Robin Hood*
*Later that Afternoon*
"You look stressed," Don observed dryly as he wavered uncertainly in the doorway to the AD's office.
"What this? This? This is just my face," Nick smiled ruefully as he waved enthusiastically for Don to come in and join him at his desk.
"No, I know you," Don frowned as he took a hesitant step forward into Nick's office. The last time he'd been there he'd gotten drunk, passed out on the couch and made an ass of himself. It was hard to believe that was only a couple weeks ago now or that he had ever felt that hopeless and yet it still made his chest go tight to think about how close he had come to losing her. "What is it?"
"I've just come from a meeting with the Director," Nick grimaced from the memory, making Don wince with him. A meeting with the Director was rarely a good thing and Don sensed that this meeting hadn't gone well either.
"You mean the old boy actually made it off the golf course?" Don smiled sympathetically, trying to lighten the mood.
"Don't be silly," Nick laughed sarcastically. "He made me meet him there!"
"Well that's a new low, even for him," Don smirked as he edged his way further into the room, keeping his hands tucked low in his pockets, shoulders hunched. "What was he picking at today?"
"Our choice of undercover operative," Nick sighed as he stood and moved around his desk to where Don stood tentatively in the middle of the office.
"He doesn't approve or sending Marc into the field?" Don looked up surprised as Nick flopped down onto the stiff couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. The Director usually got behind bold moves.
"No, he doesn't approve of putting a cripple in the field," Nick sighed irritated as Don sat down on the strong wooden coffee table opposite his boss.
"Marc is one capable cripple though," Don replied quietly voicing what they both already knew. Sure on paper Marc looked like a liability but in person? Marc was as strong and commanding as he was bitter and angry, which was saying a lot. Don didn't like the man much, possibly because he was jealous of the relationship Marc and Robin had established in the past week, a relationship that mostly excluded Don and put him on edge. But even Don was starting to come around to the idea that Marc was the right man for the job and not just because Ian had given him the hard sell on the idea the night before. Marc had the perfect backstory and none of it was a cover except for the part where he had turned his back on the ATF…no after Ian had suggested it, they had all known that Marc was the one who needed to go undercover, even Marc agreed and he was the one who was the most likely to have needed convincing after his last mission in the field.
"Try telling the director that!" Nick threw his arms up petulantly before crossing them across his white shirt, crumpling it.
"You're not pulling the plug on it are you?" Don asked concerned. The undercover operation was the only thing keeping Don from going to the bar and kicking this Ethan Gilbert's ass himself. Oh yeah that and the threat of another bomb out there…or that whilst his soldiers frequented the bar, Gilbert himself rarely left his compound. Besides deep down Don knew that going off half-cocked would be a bad idea, it was just frustrating to be on the bench when such an important operation was going down. He'd failed to protect Robin once; the thought of letting her down again was tearing him apart.
"Of course not," Nick grumbled quietly, so quietly Don had to lean forwards to hear him. "It just means that if this goes tits up it's my career on the line. Sorry, we shouldn't be talking about this."
"You're right," Don leaned back and rested his hands in his lap, his gaze lowered, "And I'm sorry for the way I reacted back at the hospital. I shouldn't have gone off at you like that. I heard that you're the one who organised for her to have Dr Foster in the first place…he's done a good job with that graft…thank you."
"Of course," Nick whispered surprised by Don's little apology. "It was Livia's suggestion," He added, referring to his wife who was also an old friend of Don and Robin's. "I'm just sorry that he wasn't able to help save the baby."
"He helped save Robin…we can always try again," Don gave a watery smiled, his voice rough and thick with emotion.
"Of course," Nick coughed uncomfortably, swallowing a lump in his own throat, "How's your first day back going?"
"It's been a pretty uneventfully day," Don lied deciding Nick didn't need to know about his and Ian's little side adventure during his lunch break.
"You cannot be serious!" Logan shouted pissed as he and Ian came bursting into the office before Don could continue.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Ian replied sternly, his face pinched with annoyance. "You are not going to attract the attention of a man like Ethan Gilbert through the introduction of one of your ex-cons. He'll be expecting that. There has been too much media heat since the identity of the courthouse bomber was leaked…oh yeah and the fact that we know he's connected to a group of anti-governmental soldiers! "
"Enough!" Nick snapped angrily at the pair of them as they looked back sheepishly from Nick to Don and back again. "What's the matter?"
"I just informed Agent Pierce about the changes to the operation," Ian explained slowly, his expression deadpan as he ignored Logan who was steadily going red in the face with anger. "He's not exactly receptive to the new plan…"
"Because I've already talked to my contact!" Logan fumed as he pointed angrily at Ian who looked mildly annoyed, which for Ian meant he was probably dying to deck Logan one but was restraining himself, barely. "The deal is in motion," Logan ranted as he turned from Ian, unable to meet the murderous glint in his eyes any longer, and tried imploring to Nick instead. "Ethan Gilbert will be at the bar tonight and he's expecting Marc."
"Did your contact use Marc's name?" Don asked curiously when no one else spoke for a minute or two.
"Of course not because that would give Gilbert too much time to look into Marc before Matt Li has finished leaving a cyber-trail for him to follow," Logan replied impatiently, his tone luckily just the right side of respectful or Don might have taken offence at being addressed so brashly. "Gilbert just knows that the guy he's meeting is an ex-Marine."
"Then I fail to see the problem," Nick replied annoyed as he sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. "Tell your contact to call Gilbert and cancel the meet."
"But then he won't be at the bar tonight," Ian mused as he looked thoughtfully at Logan.
"Exactly," Logan waved his hands exasperated. "The whole point of arranging the meet was because it was the only way to coax Gilbert from the compound."
"What if you send someone else in to tank the meet? That way Gilbert still shows up?" Don suggested quietly as he sent Ian a look.
"I could go in," Ian nodded, picking up on Don's look. "I'll start a fight which Marc can finish. Gilbert will be grateful; he'll order Marc a drink and the two can cosy up."
"I've come up with some half-cocked plans in my day but this one takes the biscuit!" Logan grunted disbelievingly as he fought to control his temper. "And you're seriously supporting this?" He added, rounding on Nick.
"I have every confidence in Don's solution," Nick replied diplomatically, refusing to be intimidated. "Marc has a remarkable record in the field as does Ian. If anyone can infiltrate the compound it's them."
"But there are too many variables in the plan, too many risks! You're assuming Gilbert will act this way but what if he doesn't?" Logan protested angrily. "Gilbert is dangerous. He's already blown up three buildings that we know of with intention to blow up a fourth! It's just too dangerous to change the plan now!"
"We are well aware of how dangerous Ethan Gilbert is Agent Pierce," Nick cut Logan off as he fixed him with a stern look. "It is because we are running out of time that we've had to adjust our plans. Ian will meet your contact and Gilbert at the bar. When the deal goes south, Marc will step in and gain Gilbert's respect and trust. They will take him to the compound where he will discover the location of the next bomb, sabotage the bomb and radio for us to storm the compound when the threat has been removed. Is that clear Agent?"
"Perfectly," Logan practically growled as he stormed from the room apparently too angry to stay a moment longer.
"I'll go see Matt Li about my cover," Ian told Nick as he headed after Logan, pausing briefly at the door to say: "I have an alias I think we can revive for the part," Before disappearing through the door and sending the room into silence once more.
"Well," Nick breathed out a long tired sigh, "Welcome back," He smiled ruefully as Don stood up and moved over to the large window that looked out on the street below.
"I want to be there," Don whispered so quietly Nick almost thought he'd imagined it. Almost, but he knew Don better than that.
"You can't," Nick sighed again as he stood and joined his friend at the window. It was a beautiful sunny day and the people below were dressed in brightly coloured clothes to match the season.
"I promise I won't do anything to jeopardize the mission," Don turned pleadingly to Nick, as he rested a hand on Nick's shoulder, scrunching the shirt's epaulet. Who wore shirts with epaulets on them these days? "I'll sit in the car and just listen in…"
"No Don," Nick whispered sadly, unable to meet Don's watery gaze. "You need to stay here; I'll keep you updated as the operation progresses."
"The way you kept me updated when Charlie was being held hostage by the Child Snatcher?" Don shouted back resentfully as he dropped his hand back to his side.
"You didn't give me a chance that night," Nick spat back angrily. "It had only been half an hour."
"Funny to me it felt more like a life time!"
"Don, please," Nick shook his head as Don turned his face away. "You're not the SAIC on this case; you're the fiancée of one of the victims. I can't let you be there you know I can't."
"Do you remember what you said to me…when I turned up at Cal Sci that night?"
"Don."
"You said that if I think I can be SAIC first and brother second…then I'm wrong. Do you remember what I said to you?"
"That I clearly didn't know you very well, because you'd be whatever Charlie needed you to be. But Don…this time I'm telling you that if you think you can be SAIC first and fiancée second…then you really are wrong."
"No," Don shook his head, his face expressionless as he turned his cold eyes on Nick who took a step back in surprise. "Because I'll be whatever Robin needs me to be. Let me be there when you end it."
"Don," Nick whispered uncertainly as he shook his head and looked back out at the pedestrians below them, happy and unaware of the looming bomb threat.
"Please Nick…I need this."
"Fine," Nick groaned loudly, already regretting the decision the second the word left his lips. "But you only sit in the van and listen. You try to leave, even to pee and I'll cuff you to the table. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Don smiled but it was devoid of humour, making Nick shudder.
"Oh, and you stay by my side the whole night. I want to be able to keep an eye on you. I have no doubt you'll be what Robin needs you to be, in fact it's exactly that what worries me most."
"What if you leave the van?" Don frowned petulantly as he squinted at his boss and old friend seeming to read the answer in the warning look Nick flashed him. "Right, you'll cuff me to the desk. Like I say, I just want to be there. I won't get in the way."
"No you won't," Nick warned again as he reached over his desk for his suit jacket that was resting on the back of his chair.
"Where are you going?" Don asked confused when Nick headed for the door that Logan and Ian had left open.
"Where are we going?" Nick corrected as he motioned for Don to follow him. Apparently he was Nick's shadow starting from now and Don couldn't blame him, he probably wouldn't trust him either if he was in Nick's shoes.
"Of course," He smiled meekly as he followed Nick to the door. "Where are we going?"
"To make sure preparations for tonight's op are going smoothly. We have one shot at Gilbert," Nick replied cautiously as he shot Don another stern look. "There can be no fuck ups."
"There will be hell to pay if there is," Don whispered back but Nick had moved ahead of him in the hallway now and didn't hear. Which was probably for the best, Don was having some very un-SAIC thoughts. None he would act upon of course…but the temptation was definitely there…
*Break*
Ignoring the buzzing of her cell phone, Robin looked down at the file in front of her. She hadn't been lying that morning when she had said that Michael had dropped some case files off but she had been lying when she'd said that she actually felt like going through any. The truth was she wasn't ready to see what was in the folders…and she didn't know when she would be…if she ever would be and that scared her.
She wasn't used to feeling weak or helpless but that was exactly what she was now. She couldn't even change her own bandages for Christ's sake! She'd had to let Don do it for her even though she didn't want him to see it…to see her that way…and yet…he hadn't looked at her the way she had expected him to.
Maybe that was why last night had happened and why she wanted for it to happen again. As long as she and Don were together, she felt stronger…like she could be the person she was before again. For those few blissful hours that morning she hadn't been weak, she had even almost forgotten who and what she was now. But in the cold light of day she realized that she was only fooling herself and it was as if the files in front of her were taunting her to that fact.
"That's the fifth time that things rung," Gloria informed Robin from the other end of the table where she was doing afternoon tea. (Something she brought with her as Robin and Don were strictly coffee drinkers, something else Gloria had disparaged at since she'd come to stay.)
"It's Don. I'll call him back later," Robin sighed exasperated as Gloria eyed her from over the rim of her precious china tea cup. Considering the fact that she wanted nothing more than to be locked back in the bathroom with Don, the fact that she was purposely ignoring his calls might have seemed strange and to not make much sense. She knew it certainly didn't make any sense to her, she just really didn't feel like talking right now. No, she wanted to do something hotter, dirtier where neither she nor Don talked. She wanted to feel desired again. She wanted to feel his need for her pressing up against her. She wanted to feel powerful again.
"Maybe it's important," Gloria suggested sweetly as she placed the cup back onto its little saucer.
"I'm sure it is," Robin agreed absently as she remembered the way her body had puckered and responded just to Don's intense gaze, it had been a good thing she'd been perched on the bathtub because she'd about fainted from his touch. "Are you sure?" He had whispered huskily, his breath tickling the side of her jaw and ear. She had heard the need in his voice and she had never felt more desired or had wanted anything more than she had wanted Don in that moment.
"Robin?" Gloria asked concerned when she finally realised her oldest daughter wasn't listening to her anymore. "ROBIN!"
"What?" She looked up annoyed as Gloria rose and picked up her tea cup and saucer. Mercifully she was saved by the sound of the doorbell before Gloria could launch herself into one of her many lectures about how Robin should behave now she was out of that sorry excuse for a hospital.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" Gloria let out a frustrated breath as she put her precious china cup down on the draining board next to the breakfast dishes Robin had meant to clean up earlier but hadn't bothered with in the end.
"The only people I care to see have keys," Robin shrugged as the doorbell went off again to Gloria's obvious annoyance.
"Fine," Gloria exhaled again as she threw Robin one of her trademark frowns of disproval. "I'll get it then shall I?"
"Suit yourself," Robin shrugged again, causing the little vein on her mother's temple to throb and just to prove how disinterested she was in the mystery of who had battled their way through the wall of reporters to ring the doorbell she opened the folder in front of her and began to scan the top page.
"Fine," Gloria huffed angrily before shuffling unhappily from the room. As soon as Robin saw her mother had disappeared, she slammed the file shut again. Opening it had been a mistake.
Angry and disgusted with herself for being such a baby, Robin grabbed her coffee mug and stormed over to the sink of dirty dishes. In the distance she could just make out the angry tones of her parents as she filled the sink with hot soapy water. It must have been her father who had been at the door. Now she was definitely glad she hadn't been the one to answer it. The last thing she wanted was to get between her mother and father when they started arguing.
Taking the pent up frustration she was feeling out on the dishes, Robin made quick work of washing the breakfast dishes. Don thought she was mad for doing it by hand when they owned a dishwasher, but Robin found it cathartic. It helped her to clear her mind and think. Many a winning closing speech had been worked out at her kitchen sink as she stared absently out of the window admiring the way their large garden bloomed beautifully with an explosion of colours and today was no exception.
Picking up her mother's little saucer she gave it a quick scrub and a rinse as she admired the way the flowers were blooming on the royal Poinciana tree she and Don had planted when they had first moved in, letting the beauty wash over and soothe her. That was when she saw him. Opening and shutting her eyes a few times, Robin froze. She hadn't been mistaken there was definitely a large hooded figure hiding behind her tree.
Heart slamming in her tight chest, Robin took a sharp step backwards, dropping her hands to her sides as her mother's precious tea cup slipped from her numbed fingers and smashed into several large pieces on the stone kitchen floor.
Dropping to her knees, all strength gone from her legs, Robin flopped back against the solid wooden cabinet and picked up one of the larger china shards, squeezing it for all she was worth in the palms of her violently shaking hands.
*Break*
"You're over thinking it," Marc rebuked hotly as he flattened Ian hard against the polished wooden bench of the men's locker room, pressing his camouflaged cane across Ian's exposed throat.
"It's for Robin. Of course I'm over thinking it," Ian frowned as he snatched out with lightening reflexes and grabbed both ends of the cane before rolling off the bench so that he landed on top of Marc, using his weight to wind him. "We only get one shot at this…"
"I know," Marc grinned as soon as he caught his breath, "And I'm supposed to be winning remember?"
"Right…sorry," Ian replied startled, dropping the cane to one side before getting up and offering Marc a helping hand.
"What's really bothering you? Is this about your little outing this morning?" Marc asked concerned as Ian bent over and scooped up Marc's cane.
"How did you know about that?" Ian asked surprised as his grip tightened on the cane.
"I called Robin when you guys didn't come to the range this morning and how else do you think Don found you this afternoon?" Marc shrugged as he sagged tiredly onto the bench, his hand rubbing unconsciously against the spasm in his leg. "You need to talk about it?"
"I'm already seeing a shrink, I don't need another," Ian replied bitterly as he sunk down on the bench opposite Marc's, the cane resting across his lap. They had both been practicing their little fight for hours now and were exhausted.
"I'm not asking to be your shrink, I'm asking because I'm your friend," Marc grouched as he rubbed harder at the spasm in his leg. "Just know that you can tell me anything without fear of judgement," Marc added before pausing thoughtfully, "I was going to say because I know you, but I won't because I don't…not really. But I do understand you Ian…I understand what drives men like us, how our minds work…how we process situations. Just know that if you ever need assistance when processing…that I'm here to help. No questions asked."
"Thank you," Ian smiled as he passed the cane out and the two held on to either end for a moment, a long look of understanding passing between them before Ian finally let go, severing the connection. "Let's go over the plan again."
"Haven't we gone over it enough already?"
"Last time, I promise," Ian grinned as Marc winced; the spasm in his leg had turned to pins and needles. "Here," Ian gestured to the leg before kneeling down in front of Marc. "Come on. Walk me through it again," He whispered gently as his long slender fingers went to work kneading and massaging Marc's sore leg.
"I'll be at the bar; you guys will be sat in Gilbert's favourite booth," Marc groaned with relief as he let his head fall back against the lockers.
"Right," Ian smiled. "But before Logan's contact and I arrive, I want you to ask Gilbert for a light."
"Why?"
"Because if you want someone to trust you, you don't give them something, you get them to give you something, even something small like a light. It'll make them think they've invested in you. It's all subconscious. I saw it on a TV show once," Ian grinned as Marc gave a bark of laughter.
"I thought you didn't own a TV," Marc grinned, though his jaw was locked tight with pain.
"Don't believe everything Robin tells you," Ian frowned reproachfully, but Marc could see Ian was holding back a smile. "Ok Charlie might be a bad influence on me," Ian conceded, no longer able to hold back the soft chuckle.
"No, it's good," Marc grimaced as Ian's fingers pressed a little harder against his leg. "The bastard son of Clint Eastwood and Yoda deserves a little normalcy."
"You know I've never really cared for that nickname…but it is kinda badass," Ian grinned, his fingers never letting up as he refocused his mind back to the operation at hand. "Don't forget to ask for the light," Ian warned. "It'll make it that that much easier to establish a connection with him when you stop me from stabbing him."
"How close do you want me to let you get?" Marc asked making Ian pause thoughtfully.
"I'll leave that up to you," Ian stood suddenly. "But if you were to…be a little slow to the bit because of your leg…well accidents happen."
"It has been sore lately," Marc nodded as the look of understanding passed between them once more. "I think maybe it was all that training. It tired me out more than expected."
"What do you do after I've threatened you and left?" Ian nodded again before looking away, severing the connection once more.
"I finish my drink then follow you out."
"Exactly. Don't engage Gilbert. When he thanks you shrug it off and pull out your cigarettes, he should offer up the light again and then we'll know he's hooked," Ian smiled cruelly.
"You know, Logan doesn't think it'll be so easy," Marc replied thoughtfully, making Ian frown with distaste.
"He's always been afraid to act," Ian spat back bitterly causing Marc to arch an eyebrow in surprise.
"When the Snatcher had me held captive, Logan tried to stop everyone from raiding the building. He doesn't like conflict he's more of a Politian than a cop."
"I heard you'd already escaped though?"
"He didn't know that. She was unstable…they both were. No way were they going to negotiate. He'd have gotten me killed if as you say I hadn't already escaped."
"Well let's hope he is wrong about Gilbert to," Marc smiled sadly as he used his cane to leaver himself into a standing position. His leg was feeling a hundred times better after the massage.
"If he's not. There is one last thing you might have to do to get Gilbert's attention…something the other's would probably frown over and definitely wouldn't want you to do…"
"I'm listening," Marc nodded seriously as he leant in to hear Ian's whispered reply.
*Break*
How long Robin sat hunched against the solid wooden cabinet with the cold hard tiles numbing her trembling legs, she didn't know. It felt like a while but she knew somewhere deep down that it had probably only been a few minutes. It was hard to count the seconds however when her heart was beating so ferociously in her chest. The last time she had felt such crushing fear had been when Don had gotten stabbed. The only person getting stabbed today, however, was her from where the china shard was cutting parallel incisions into her palm.
Dropping the shard and raising her hand above her panicking heart, Robin half crawled, half dragged herself across the smooth hard tiles until she was sitting next to the large dining table and reached up and over with a shaking hand until her fingers landed on her cell. All morning she had avoided Don's calls, not knowing what she would say to him when she saw him next…afraid that he would see her for the fraud she was. But now she was desperate just to hear even a snippet of his deep comforting voice.
Grasping the phone, Robin dragged it across the table into her waiting lap and was startled when it started ringing. It was Ian. "Hello?" Robin's voice trembled when she answered the call, but it was a bad connection and Ian didn't seem to hear her.
"Hello? Hello? Robin?" Ian shouted, but it seemed to come from far away.
"Yes!" She shouted back, "I'm here!"
"…Hey…operation …Don …be home late…wanted me to tell you…not picking up his calls?" Ian called down the phone but due to the bad connection she only caught every other sentence.
"Ian, Ian, I can't hear you!" She shouted back frustrated as the line continued to crackle with static.
"Tonight…!" He called out again, but the rest was lost to her as the line went dead. Pulling the phone away from her ear, Robin stared blankly at the silent display. What had all that been about?
"Robin?" Elliott asked carefully as he walked slowly into the dimly lit kitchen. "What happened?"
"There is a man in the garden," She whispered confused as she looked around as if unsure how she had gotten there, her eyes were still red from crying and wide from fear. But this time it was from a different fear. Ian had said something about Don…
"I know," Elliott told her firmly, his solid presence starting to soothe her frazzled nerves. "That's what I came to tell you. Chris and I found a reporter in the garden. We've confiscated the camera. Are you ok?" He asked nervously as he spotted the twin red lines running parallel on her limp palm for the first time since entering the kitchen.
"It's nothing," She told El quietly as he bent down to examine her hand.
"They don't look deep," El muttered to himself as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wound it around her clammy hand to stop the little bubbles of blood that slipped from the wounds when she moved her hand. "Can you stand?"
"I think so," She nodded numbly as Elliott helped pull her up with her good hand before promptly sitting her back down in a dining chair. "So…he was just a reporter?" Robin whispered to herself, Elliott wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question but decided to answer it anyway as he took a seat next to her at the table.
"Yes. He found a way into the back garden with the hope of getting an exclusive," Elliott replied gruffly. He had a long history with reporters and none of it was good. How Robin could stand to be in this house knowing they were outside and baying for blood every second of every day, El didn't know.
Reading his thoughts Robin whispered hesitantly, "I want to go…"
"Go where?" He smiled kindly as he took her good hand in his and gave it a little squeeze.
"I don't know. I just can't be here anymore. I just want to be left alone."
"I think I know of a place where you can be left alone, a place the reporters shouldn't think to look for you."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you can stay at mine ok? Karen won't mind. Go upstairs pack a bag and we'll go ok?"
"Your place?" Robin asked astonished. "But I thought that after what happened with…the snatcher…well we'd be the last people you'd want in your house…or around your family…"
"I was angry for a while," El replied honestly as he stood and using her good hand pulled her to her feet with him. "I held onto that anger until I'd pretty much isolated myself from everyone that wasn't too stubborn to let me push them away. I see now that I was wrong…and dishonouring Brian. He knew what he was doing that day. He's a hero and I think I can finally live with that. Still sucks…but I can live with that."
"I'm glad, and thank you," Robin smiled comforted as Elliott placed a reassuring arm around her shoulder before steering her from the kitchen.
*Later*
Marc didn't know if it was because there were no windows or because the lights were set way down low but it was virtually impossible to make anything out through the thick smoke fogged atmosphere of Ethan Gilbert's favourite haunt. So much so, Marc almost missed Gilbert as he took the bar stool one to the left of his.
"Got a light?" Marc asked gruffly as his fingers twitched next to the open pack of cigarettes in front of him, desperate for a fix.
"Sure," Gilbert smiled as he reached inside his army surplus jacket and pulled a shiny metal lighter from one of the inside pockets. "Here," He added as he slid the lighter along the bar to where Marc was sitting.
"Thanks," Marc nodded as he shook a cigarette from the packet and hastily shoved it between his thin lips before lighting it. "One more," Marc smiled, motioning to the bartender to get him another beer as he slid the lighter back across the bar into Gilbert's waiting hand. "And whatever he's having," He added as he picked up his fresh beer, dropped some money on the counter and walked away. "You're up Ian," Marc whispered softly against the bug in his watch as he went for another drag of his cigarette. Gilbert had been baited, now all he had to do was find a seat to kick back in and wait for the show to begin.
*Break*
Pulling onto the driveway of a small detached bungalow on a quaint residential street, Robin patiently waited for Elliott to park the car before unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out. She hadn't known what to expect when Elliott had offered up his spare bedroom, but the whitewashed walls, green shuttered windows and well maintained front garden hadn't been it. There were window boxes under each window, a basketball hoop above a built in garage and a vine of honeysuckle creeping up a brown varnished trellis that were so unlike the burly, sour, prickly nature of Detective Hayes that the small house brought a smile to Robin's lips before she even knew she was smiling.
Pleased, Elliott took Robin's elbow and steered her around the car to the partially glass front door where a tall middle-aged woman was waiting for them. "Karen, this is Robin. Robin, this is my wife Karen."
Hello-"
"-Detective Hayes! Mrs Hayes!" A loud round woman shouted from a front porch two houses down, making Robin jump. "Yoo-hoo!"
"Oh God," Both El and Karen cursed together as the robust woman sprang down her garden path and was halfway down the street before any of them could react.
"Quick, get inside," Karen ushered Robin urgently. "That woman follows the news like a hawk. If she recognises you everyone on this street and every reporter in LA will know you're here by breakfast!"
"What about my bag?" Robin asked confused as she was all but pushed over the threshold and into a cool dark corridor.
"I'll get it for you," Elliott assured her as he put his arm around his wife to form a solid wall between the prying eyes of the old lady and Robin. "Go into the living room. We'll be in in a second."
"Ok…" Robin agreed slowly, still a little flustered from earlier events, as she made her way to an open doorway that was emitting an inviting orange glow.
"Good afternoon Mrs Walker," She heard Elliott and Karen sing in unified chorus as the older lady came to a wheezy halt at their doorstep. Mrs Walker might have been a surprisingly spritely old lady, but apparently she wasn't a fit senior citizen.
"Got company?" Robin heard the old woman enquire casually as she stepped into the cosiest living room she'd ever seen and was surprised to see a little boy sat on a sheepskin rug playing with some toy trains.
"Hello," Robin smiled sweetly as the boy stopped his game to stare at her, confusion clouding his wide eyes. "My name's Robin."
"Like the bird?"
"Yes," She grinned, "Exactly like the bird. What's your name?"
"Lucas," The boy whispered shyly as Robin took a seat on the overstuffed couch and examined the small room. There was an old fashioned brick fireplace and safety guard opposite where she was sitting and to her right was a worn armchair and slippers-it was the only thing she had seen in the house so far that screamed Detective Hayes, that and the flat screen TV. Everything else from the floral print couch, crochet covered side tables and the family portraits, all screamed Karen, which Robin was surprised to notice considering she hardly knew the lady. Perhaps it was because she had come to know Elliott so well over the course of the Snatcher case that she knew the rest was so unlike him that they had to have been like Karen…
"Lucas," Robin smiled again as she turned her gaze back onto the child. "That's a beautiful name."
"No it's not!" The boy cried outraged, his face scrunching up like his fathers.
"Do you know what the name Lucas means?" Robin asked as she supressed her laughter as Lucas's face went from a mask of indignation to one of wonder.
"No," He told her eagerly as he crawled across the rug to sit at her feet. "What does it mean?"
"It means light," Robin grinned as a toothy smile broke out across the boy's face.
"What does Robin mean?"
"I think it means famed…bright…or shining…I can never remember," Robin informed the young lad sadly as she heard a door slamming, hushed whispers and then the sound of footfalls in the corridor.
"Sorry about that," Karen apologised profusely as she entered the room, closely followed by Elliott, who had Robin's bag slung casually over one shoulder. "Mrs Walker is the head of our local neighbourhood watch; she takes the role a little too seriously."
"Head of busy bodies anonymous more like," Elliott grunted unhappily as he placed Robin's bag down on the couch next to her before slumping into his favourite armchair.
"Did you want a drink or anything to eat Robin?" Karen offered politely as she finger combed her waist length hair before plaiting it and tying it off with an elastic band she had been wearing around her wrist.
"No, I'm fine thank you," Robin smiled as Lucas climbed up onto the couch next to her. "I'm actually really tired. Would it be too rude of me to retire early?"
"Of course not," Karen replied softly, like a concerned mother, or at least what Robin thought a concerned mother would sound like considering that was not at all like her own mother. "You must be exhausted. Darling, why don't you show Robin where the guest room is."
"And my room!" Lucas grinned his toothy little grin again, before taking Robin's hand and half pulling half dragging, got Robin to stand up and follow him out of the room.
"Slow down Lucas," Elliott chided gently as he quickly got up and grabbing Robin's bag, followed his son and Robin down the long hallway to the back of the house. "You'll pull Robin's arm off!"
"It's this way!" Lucas informed Robin excitedly, ignoring his father's warnings; unaware that he was tugging on Robin's swore arm and bad shoulder…and her heart strings. Elliott's son was beautiful and adorable…and she could have been pregnant with a boy just like him. Staring through watery eyes, Robin watched as Lucas ran about his room excitedly showing off his toys as his father playfully chased him about his room. Family. It was what she and Don had almost had and what they had lost. It was what she hadn't known all those weeks ago if she was ready for…and now she knew. She loved Don, she had never stopped…but more importantly she wanted to be a family with him again.
"Sorry about this," Elliott apologised as he grabbed his giggling son and held him upside down.
"Don't be," Robin smiled, "I needed this. Thank you."
*Break*
"Another?"
"You buying?"
"You're pretty, but you aren't that pretty," The bartender grinned at Marc as she wiped down the bar across from him, the movement jiggling her breasts that were already straining against the tight material of her corset.
"That ain't what my mama says," Marc smirked back as he put on a decent imitation of a Texas twang before downing the last dregs of his current beer. "You ain't calling my mama a liar are you?"
"Well you know what they say," The bartender whispered seductively as she leaned on the bar, arms folded so that they pushed her breasts up invitingly.
"What do they say?" Marc whispered back mesmerized as he leaned in and ignoring her breasts settled his eyes on the dark smudge of red lipstick covering her soft lips instead.
"A face that only a mama could love," She copied his Texas twang with a southern drawl of her own before straightening and tucking the long strands of her honey blond hair behind her ears.
"Ouch," Marc laughed as he feigned being stabbed in the heart with his cane. "That a no then?"
Grabbing a beer from the back, she uncapped it and put it down in front of him. "Well," She smiled sexily as Marc raised an eyebrow in surprise, "We wouldn't wanna call your mama a liar now, would we?" She winked over her shoulder before moving away to serve another punter.
"No we wouldn't," Marc smiled as he took a sip of his fifth beer, careful not to have too much as he was already feeling a little buzzed, before moving his gaze from the bartender's ass in her tight jean pants to look in the mirror behind the bar at the booth in the back. Ian and Logan's contact had been back there with Gilbert for over half an hour. He didn't know what was being said but he knew what to look for and so far Ian hadn't given the signal, leaving Marc little choice but to flirt and drink beer to save himself from the boredom, it wasn't like he could even have a fag as he was pretending not to have a lighter.
Sighing to himself, Marc had another drag of beer as his eyes drifted back to the beautiful bartender's ass. It was a shame he was going undercover in a locked compound. It had been a while since Marc had enjoyed the finer things in life, and the bartender was certainly fine. So fine that had he not seen her suddenly pull a baseball bat from under the bar he would have missed Ian's signal altogether. Fortunately the bar went silent and no further signals were needed.
Standing up, Marc held a hand out to stop the bartender, " Let me," He told her as he walked over to where Ian was holding a knife pointed at Gilbert's chest.
"You're making a big mistake," Gilbert warned Ian casually, as both Marc and the two bouncers from the front door approached Ian from behind.
"No, the mistake would be letting you walk out of here," Ian growled back before darting forwards with cat like agility and lightning reflexes that surprised everyone in the room. Marc had a job to keep up. Knocking Ian's arm, Marc changed the trajectory of the blade so that it glanced off of Gilbert's side instead of burying itself in his chest.
"Gah!" Gilbert called out in pain as Marc used the momentum to unbalance and disable Ian.
"This is nothing to do with you!" Ian shouted angrily at Marc as both of the bouncers grabbed one of Ian's arms and held him tight in their iron grips.
"I'm bleeding!" Gilbert exclaimed confused as he looked down at his army beige cotton shirt that was slowly soaking up an expanding ring of red.
"Let me see," Marc told Gilbert as he picked up the knife and used it to cut away at the older man's shirt to expose the wound below. "It's just a scratch," Marc observed dryly. "You'll live. Here hold this against your side," Marc instructed Gilbert as he took the cloth the bartender offered him and handed it over.
"Hold him still!" Gilbert instructed angrily of the two bouncers who were now having a little difficulty holding onto the struggling Ian.
"Not in my bar you don't," The beautiful bartender warned Gilbert sternly, making him stop shy of punching Ian in the gut. Marc was surprised, he'd just thought she was another bartender he didn't realise she was the owner.
"Stay out of this Kendra," Gilbert hissed frustrated, the baseball bat that was still in her hands making him hesitate before attempting to enact his revenge again.
"I said no Ethan. Take them both outside," Kendra ordered the two bouncers who hesitated before remembering who paid their wages.
"What do you want doing with them?" The taller and bulkier of the two bouncers asked gruffly as he let go of Ian to grab hold of Gilbert.
"Who cares, just get them out," Kendra dismissed the bouncers as everyone else in the bar sat back down and resumed their drinking. "Oh and make sure no one drives home," Kendra threw over her shoulder on her way back to the bar. "Take their keys. I don't want these idiots killing anyone by driving drunk."
Slipping through the crowd after Ian and Gilbert, Marc watched impressed as Ian managed to wriggle free of his bouncer and escape off into the night.
"How's the bleeding?" Marc asked Gilbert as the other bouncer wrestled his keys from him before pushing him back hard against the wall with a firm warning to stay out for the rest of the night.
"It's just a scratch," Gilbert smiled at Marc dryly, using the same tone that Marc had used inside. "I'll live."
"Good," Marc nodded as he pulled his cigarette packet from his jacket pocket and shook one loose.
"Here," Gilbert handed the lighter over as Marc put the cigarette between his lips and re-pocketed the pack. "And thank you."
"For what?"
"For stopping me from being skewered. I realise I underestimated my…companion tonight."
"Whoever checked him over for weapons needs sacking," Marc added sarcastically, trying to fuel doubt between Gilbert and his men.
"Yes…sacked," Gilbert nodded although it was clear from his tone he had more than sacking in mind. "I just wish I knew where to look for that arsehole…if only Kendra hadn't gotten in the way!"
"Yes, that was unfortunate," Marc agreed although he was secretly glad she had, not that Marc had been worried. He knew that Ian would have found his way out of the bouncers grasp and away before Gilbert could have landed a punch. He was just glad to avoid a scene and any more fighting, his leg was cramping badly. So badly it was an effort to stand. Not that he'd let his face betray the pain he was in. "Although…"
"What?" Gilbert asked desperately, his pent up anger shaking his voice, he too was in a lot of pain.
"I have an idea at how you can enact a little revenge," Marc grinned wickedly as he pushed himself away from the wall and over to where the bouncers had set up post again at the front of the bar. "Hey," Marc greeted them as he took a puff of his cigarette and blew the smoke back out. "Kendra asked me to come out and check that you got those guys keys?" Marc told the bouncer who was massaging his chin from where Ian had decked him one.
"Of course I did," The bouncer replied roughly as he tapped the keys in his jacket pocket, clearly pissed by the insinuation that he might not have done his job properly. "Who are you again?"
"My name's Marcus. Anyway like I said, had to ask," Marc threw the bouncer his best used cares salesman grin before turning away, tripping and falling against the bouncer. "Sorry, sorry!" Marc apologised profusely, gesturing at the cane and shrugging in a 'what you going to do about it' kind of way.
"Just watch where you're going," The bouncer huffed angrily, unwilling to say anything or do anything more to a cripple.
"What was that all about?" Gilbert asked curiously as Marc re-joined him, grinning from ear to ear.
"I got the guy's keys," Marc held them up for Gilbert to see. "Let's see which car here is his."
Snatching the keys from Marc's open hand, he pointed them at the mass of cars parked in the bar's small car park and was rewarded with an answering beep and flash of yellow lights. "That one," Gilbert pointed it out for Marc as if he couldn't see for himself.
"Sweet," Marc smiled as he took the bar rag from Gilbert, who was still holding it pressed against his side. "Stay here."
"Wait, what are you going to do with that?"
"You'll see," Marc winked as he moved through the line of parked cars to the one Ian had shown him earlier after their little training session. Making sure there was no one standing close by, Marc pried the fuel cap open, shoved the rag inside and pulling Gilbert's lighter from his packet where he had stowed it earlier, set fire to the rag. Shuffling away quickly, Marc made it halfway across the parking lot to where Gilbert was still waiting for him before the car exploded, showering the other cars in fire and debris.
"You crazy son of a bitch!" Gilbert laughed excitedly as Marc joined him by the wall as everyone came streaming out of the bar to find out what had happened.
"We should get out of here," Marc warned as he saw Kendra push her way to the front of the throng of people, baseball bat in hand.
"I don't have any wheels, that git took the keys from me."
"What these?" Marc laughed as he pulled the other set of keys he had swiped from the bouncer to show Gilbert.
"You're insane!" Gilbert laughed back impressed. "Quick, this way." Taking Marc's arm and wrapping it around his neck, they helpped support each other as they staggered away from the scene of the explosion to a military grade jeep parked across the street.
"Where are we going?" Marc asked curiously as he climbed into the passenger seat, his cane resting between his legs.
"Home," Gilbert replied mysteriously as he turned the key in the ignition and pulled away.