Two sides of the same coin
Summary: An undercover mission in prison brings back harmful memories Isobel thought left behind long ago. Sequel to "Assumable Risk". Inspired by the excellent one-shot "Mama bear on the warpath" by nicalenav in AO3.
Author's note: Dedicated to nicalenav, Gogo_25 and Ingrid_Isobel. For the great ideas, support and invaluable help.
Chapter 1. History repeating
"Can I at least demand that the Chief of the State Police give some guarantee? That they will enter in case of a riot and back up our people?" Isobel's jaws clenched at the answer she received. "What? But that doesn't comply with protocol-! No, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir" that last time, she chewed on the words rather than said them. "Fuck!" she exclaimed, hanging up the phone receiver with a thud.
Jubal, who was entering his office at that moment, had his eyebrows involuntarily raised at the expletive and brusque gesture.
"Hawkins?" he asked.
"He won't let me get Maggie and OA out of prison," she complained and cursed again, this time under her breath.
She exchanged a half-embarrassed, half-anguished look with Jubal.
From the very beginning, Isobel had resisted sending Maggie and OA undercover to Green Haven Correctional Facility -she as a nurse, he as an inmate- for that international drug trafficking case. After much pressure from above, she had had to comply.
OA was getting the information, and Maggie took care of passing it on to the outside. At first they were getting results quickly and it seemed that it hadn't been such a bad idea, but Jubal had been able to see with concern how the tension was building up more and more inside Isobel.
Following the previous undercover mission, Jubal set to work to further tighten relationships within the team. Isobel wasn't the only one going through a rough patch: Maggie for her accident, OA for the same, Stuart for Nina's injury and Tiffany for her brother, himself for his brief relapse. Jubal had worked hard to foster a group feeling, so that everyone felt supported, including the JOCies.
He had proposed get-togethers, outings, shifts to order lunch or have it together, meetings where everyone had a chance to talk about what was overwhelming them with the people who could best understand... Jubal was exhausted but, hey, organizing was his forte. Besides, keeping busy helped him fight the strong temptation that drinking had been exerting on him lately, his will weakened after losing the momentum of ten years of sobriety.
And it seemed to be working. Last weekend they had had a barbecue together. They had had a great time that day and now you could objectively see that morale had improved.
On each of those occasions, Jubal had had to insist, and sometimes even drag, Isobel to join in, but each time she had less resistance and it had become almost a joke between the two of them. On the afternoon of the barbecue day, Isobel had thanked him for what he was doing with a smile that Jubal couldn't stop thinking about.
The relationship between the two had grown noticeably closer during those weeks. They went to work together almost every day, had lunch or dinner together on a regular basis, and on some weekends Isobel had joined Jubal's plans with his children; Abby and Tyler had welcomed her warmly. Sometimes they had even slept over at each other's house.
However, they had never crossed the invisible line of friendship.
Yes, that day they spent together after Isobel's ordeal, they came to step on it, she shared with him her fears, she shared her bed, but not her warmth. Not exactly. At parting she had given him that lover's embrace she had never given him before, which perhaps he misunderstood, but which, in any case, had never been repeated since.
No. After that she continued to keep her distance and Jubal... Jubal tried hard not to crave what was beyond his reach. He was content that he had regained her trust -and gained even a little more-, that she sought his company.
Even if, occasionally, Isobel kept pulling back and push him away again. Like now.
Jubal feared that Isobel was still carrying the trauma of the assault she had nearly suffered in that abandoned farmhouse. Leaving aside the hurt of her reserved behavior, he had tried to get her to confide in him what was behind all the tension, this fear that he could almost physically feel radiating from her.
To his disappointment, Isobel had shut down completely, and had even started making excuses for not seeing each other outside of work.
Jubal's concern had already gone off the scales by the time an inmate at Green Haven fell ill with a particularly severe variant of COVID. Then it was another. Then three more.
The situation at the prison deteriorated rapidly. In Maggie's first communication that day, she had told them that eighteen more cases had come in overnight; that already made seventy-two. The infirmary had its capacity exceeded. The doctor hadn't even shown up for work, along with some of the guards. In addition, Maggie relayed to them that OA had reported that the inmates were getting more and more agitated. There had already been some fights over just coughing too close. They had found out about the doctor and there was a rumor that there had been deaths from COVID, although it was not true. Certain individuals were instigating rebellion, saying that they were going to let them all die there. The fact that the warden had forbidden to get in visitors and that no other civilian personnel, including a substitute doctor, did not exactly help to calm things down. Tension was rising by the minute inside the prison and everything seemed about to explode.
"And he told me to leave the State Police alone," Isobel added almost exasperatedly. "He doesn't want political repercussions at this moment, he says, the a-". This time she did manage to control her tongue. "Any news?"
Isobel mastered the expression on her face, but Jubal saw the twitching in her hands, the stiffness in her shoulders, the concern in her eyes.
He was on the verge of keeping quiet about what he had come to tell her. He swallowed hard.
"OA has fallen ill."
·~·~·
"I have recommended that you be transferred to the minimum security camp. I hope the pressure there will be less and push you less to do... anything foolish."
The boy's lean, dark face lifted to meet the one of the young, dark-haired woman sitting across the table, his black eyes full of gratitude, although he kept clenching his fists in anxiety.
"Thank you, doctor," he said in a breathy voice.
"You are welcome, Elijah."
She hoped she wasn't making a mistake. That boy's case was clearly a clerical error. His crime should not have landed him with more dangerous inmates. Although she had studied some psychology in college, she wasn't really prepared to practice it, but Elijah's failed attempt to end his own life and those self-destructive thoughts he had confessed to her were not something that should be overlooked, of that she was sure. She hoped with all her heart that the transfer would be helpful, and prayed that the boy wasn't just playing games with her.
"I'll have an answer in a few days," she said, walking him to the door. "In the meantime, focus on what we talked about, okay?"
"Yes, doctor," he murmured, crestfallen.
She knew better than to touch the prisoners, but she put her hand on the boy's bony shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze of encouragement. The gesture alone seemed to restore some of Elijah's composure.
On the other side of the door, a prison guard was waiting for the boy to take him back to his cell.
Five minutes later, two knocks on the door and a "come in" gave way to another of the prison guards who, pulling a handcuffed prisoner by the arm, he ushered him into the office. "Dr. Sandoval. Here he is."
Isobel nodded in greeting.
The prisoner wore the orange jumpsuit open and tied at the waist by the sleeves, a tight white tank top was all that covered his torso. He sat down in the chair opposite her desk with his characteristic cocky mannerisms and a blasé expression on his face.
"I'll be outside, doctor, in case you need me," said the guard, clutching the hilt of his truncheon and looking menacingly at the prisoner.
She thanked him calmly and the guard left, closing the door behind him. Isobel got up, went to the door and locked it from the inside.
The prisoner looked her up and down as if she were an appetizing piece of cake.
She rolled her eyes.
"You're getting too much into the role, Kyle."
"Who could blame me? At least you listened to me and you're now wearing pants."
The first time Isobel had gone to her cover as a psychologist at the penitentiary in Hazelton, Virginia, she had worn a conservative straight skirt. Nothing provocative, but Kyle had gotten very upset and insisted that she never again wear clothes that showed her legs in that place. She had heeded him ever since.
Showing arms, with his silver-flecked hair in a crew cut, several days' stubble, and a yellowing bruise on his face from a fight on the first day, Isobel's undercover partner looked very different from the dapper and neat appearance she was accustomed to. His attitude was also rougher, more direct than usual. He seemed like a different man.
"Why did you skip the last appointment?" asked Isobel, irritated.
The mission was taking its toll on her. She felt too much out of her element. Just yesterday, she'd had to ask the guards mid-session to take away Strickler, her most troublesome patient, because he had once again started saying nasty obscenities to her. She felt bad that she had not been able to redirect the situation as she had done the other times that this had happened.
Besides, she had been very worried about Kyle's absence.
"You had nothing to report?" she added.
"No, it's just that I was confined. I had to get in trouble. There was a guy who was suspicious, you know." Isobel looked down at Kyle's recently damaged knuckles. "Things are getting complicated, Isobel," he said then, deadly serious.
She looked at him in alarm.
"I had already noticed that the atmosphere was very tense... What happened?"
"One of the Armenians has disappeared and not because he escaped. The guards refuse to give information. I hear Malekian's going ballistic. Apparently he believes that Henderson has broken the pact he had with him. I don't think he's going to sit on his hands."
Isobel reflected. For a prison warden, Henderson maintained some very troublesome dynamics with the inmates.
"Henderson probably thinks Malakian has too much power over him," said Isobel. "I think he's been looking for someone to balance things out." She walked slowly around the room. "Maybe he's only holding that man because he's managed to make him talk."
"Or because he hasn't."
The two exchanged a worried glance.
"I'm becoming more certain that the other dead were Henderson's doing, not Malakian's, the Latin's, or Supremacy's," Isobel opined. "I think he's been turning them against each other, to weaken them."
"I'll spread the rumor that the missing guy is just sick. Maybe it will calm things down a bit," Kyle proposed.
"I'll try to find out what happened to him, anyway. If one more body shows up, hell is going to break loose."
"No, Isobel. You should drop it now and get out of here. The sooner the better."
"Can't. Geller said I have to hold on for now."
"What? What do you mean, 'For now'? Until when? Until it's too late?" Kyle exclaimed.
"Until I have the session with Malakian this afternoon, at least. He wants to see what else I can get out of him. Besides, I have no intention of leaving you in here on your own."
"I don't care how much of an SSA Geller is," Kyle growled. "When I'd see him, I'm going to kick his ass."
Isobel scolded him with her eyes. Prison was getting to him. To her too, but in him it was manifest. He was grim, gruff. He was looking less and less like her partner and more and more like a caged beast.
When Isobel walked past him again, Kyle pulled her onto his lap. He passed his cuffed hands over her head. Removing carefully the clip holding her hair, he slowly slid his fingers through her dark mane, long to past her mid-back, then lowered his hands to her waist. Isobel shuddered; feeling her heart flutter. She had not yet come to grips with the idea of what lay between the two of them. With that burning secret.
He gently rested Isobel's forehead on his.
"I... I don't know what I'd do if something bad happened to you, Isobel," Kyle murmured hoarsely.
·~·~·
When Jubal returned to her office just a couple of hours later, not even Alexander the Great himself would have been able to cut the knot that the anxiety in his ASAC's expression put in Isobel's stomach.
Jubal had not yet opened his mouth and Isobel already knew what he was going to say: riot had broken out in Green Haven. She let him say it, anyway, to let his words solidify into choking reality.
She leaned her full weight on her desk with her hands, arms outstretched. She hadn't even realized that she had stood up.
He saw it in her face.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Hawkins has forbidden me to intervene to remove OA and Maggie."
Jubal abruptly turned a pale shade of color.
Even though OA was sick, even though both of their lives were now in danger, there was nothing they could do. Isobel's hands, flat on the table, were virtually tied. She let her head hang, overwhelmed by the unmanageable weight that made her impossibly small, useless and insignificant.
Only a few days ago, Isobel had been laughing with the whole team, sitting around the table at the barbecue Jubal had organized. OA and Maggie's happy expressions mutated in her mind horribly into ones of horror and agony, like inside a nightmare.
Isobel raised her face. Jubal was looking at her more distressed than expectant, clearly dismayed by her silent suffering. She scrutinized his beautiful hazel eyes, searching in them for the strength that was slipping through her fingers like sand.
That day, after the meal, while the others rested lying on the grass in the sunny park, Isobel had taken Jubal aside, thanking him from the bottom of her heart for what he was doing for all of them. And even more so, what he had been doing for her after the terrible night at the farm, taking care of her during those last few weeks. He had shrugged and humbly downplayed it. Filled with more than admiration, she had been about to kiss him there under the shade of that willow tree, in the warmth of the afternoon and his smile.
Now, that day of laughter and good company seemed no more than a dream. Something vague, unattainable, that would never be repeated again. What was happening would simply destroy them all, one way or another.
"No," she said with unshakable firmness, "I'm not going to leave them there."
It was evident that Jubal found it hard to find the courage to argue with her. But he did.
"Isobel, you can't disobey a direct order..."
"Someone has to save them."
"Maggie has moved the OA stretcher to the doctor's office. They have locked themselves inside. They'll be safe there until the police come in," he said, trying to be optimistic.
"That, Jubal, can change at any moment. Also, despite Maggie's care, OA is getting worse and worse. You know he's having trouble moving and even breathing. And the state police have orders to wait. No, Jubal. I'm going to go in there and I'm going to get them out."
"But-"
"You don't understand! I can't leave them to their fate!"
"Then make me understand!"
Horror rose in Isobel's throat, like a silent scream.
~.~.~.~
Next chapter, "Caged beasts": As soon as she stepped foot in Hazelton, Isobel should have seen the evil that lurked there.