Know your place
Summary: Isobel is in the cross-hairs of violent supremacists. Prompt by Jenzi. One-shot published in AO3 in the collection "Narrow escape".
She wakes up in the dark, pain hammering her skull and plaguing her ribs, her belly. Trying to put her hands to her head, Isobel discovers she can't: they are tied behind her back. Her ankles are also immobilized, her feet bare. A rag between her teeth gags her. The cold seeps into her flesh from the hard floor through her nightwear. A cloth covers her face, making it hard to breathe. It smells like a stuffy basement.
The ferocious creature of panic assaults her chest, tearing it apart. Heart pounding, she gasps, fighting for air. She doesn't know where she is, or how she got into this situation.
She struggles through the fog of bewilderment and confusion. The last thing she remembers is having dinner at home,alone. Jubal -worried?- had offered to stay with her. Why? She doesn't remember and it doesn't make sense...
The pain in her head threatens to split it in two, but Isobel tries even harder to remember. Mixed with fear and anguish, some flashes return.
A noise in her bedroom, a confused struggle in the dark. Blows to her torso left her breathless. She supposes there must have been another one, to her head, but she doesn't remember it.
Now, she hears someone open a door, and Isobel tries unsuccessfully to turn panic into alertness. A light comes on, allowing her to discover her face is covered with a black hood.
Footsteps of two individuals approaching.
"Like this, she doesn't seem like a big deal, does she?" a male voice mocks.
A doggy laugh answers him. "No. She doesn't seem a big deal because she isn't," says another man's voice in contempt.
One of the guys unloads a kick Isobel's belly, and she cannot suppress a groan.
"She's awake."
Rough hands grab her and lift her to a sitting position on the ground, slamming her back against the wall. The guy brings his face close to her. Isobel can glimpse his face through the fabric, can smell his bourbon and menthol breath.
"We're going to show you to know your place," he says in a hoarse voice. "Your rightful place, fucking wetback."
Below the lower edge of the hood, Isobel clearly distinguishes it: tattooed on the man's forearm, the sharp fang worn as the symbol by the supremacist organization White Pride.
The train of her memories bursts into her mind at full speed.
Information received from Homeland Security, Professor Kaplan of Columbia University, targeted for his activism and his very public pro-migrant views.
The attack.
Several historic university buildings were severely damaged and dozens of people injured, some critically. Isobel's team, led by Jubal, managed to get the professor to safety, but the bomb in his car exploded anyway. The Director was very upset. He wanted an immediate reaction. A chastisement. An overt declaration the FBI was never going to let that happen again.
A press conference was called.
It was ADIC Hawkins who forced Isobel to be the spokesperson. To make it more visible the FBI is inclusive, he said. To capitalize on political momentum, more like.
At first, Isobel refused. She did not want to trivialize what happened, the destruction and victim suffering, just for the sake of politics. Jubal, on his part, was outraged. Also worried. The rumors were White Pride leaders were furious at not having achieved their true goal: blowing up Kaplan.
However, Hawkins ordered her to do so. Isobel appeared before the press and stated those responsible would not go unpunished, there would be no rest until they were brought to justice. "The Federal Government will not allow anything like this to ever happen again."
No one noticed, but Isobel hesitated before saying this sentence. The ADIC added it to the speech and she did not agree. It was an invitation for another attack, a provocation they could not afford. Not before dismantling the armed wing of White Pride.
Later, Jubal didn't want to leave her alone, but Isobel had to play the brave act, of course. Would things have been different if he was with her when she was attacked in her own home, in her own bedroom? At least Jubal didn't end up captured with her. Or worse, dead defending her.
"Fuck you," Isobel snaps, trying to pull away from her abject uncontrollable fear, her words distorted by the gag, but understandable nonetheless.
"Shut up, bitch!"
Then he slaps her. Hard.
The blow doesn't take her completely by surprise, but tears well up in her eyes and she is stunned all the same. Her face burns; her nose starts to bleed.
The man grabs her by the front of her pajamas.
"We're going to teach you a lesson," he growls at Isobel. "The last one of your life. You'll learn to know your place. They'll have to go look for your bones on the other side of the wall". Hatred oozes from his voice and his words. "I hope if they ever find them, they leave them there."
And he releases her, crashing her against the wall.
The back of Isobel's head hits hard against the hard surface. She felt her skull crack along with her consciousness.
·~·~·
"Have you gone mad, Valentine? You can't go on with these indiscriminate raids!" ADIC Hawkins rebuked Jubal.
"Oh, when it is done in immigrant neighborhoods there is no problem, but when we break down a few doors of extreme right-wing radicals, it is frowned upon?" Jubal retorted, dripping with sarcasm.
"Valentine, you are harassing even decent people. People only supposedly related to-"
"Sure. Saints. All of them."
Hawkins' face reddened, the veins in his neck bulging.
"Don't you realize you're irritating a lot of people? People who have contacts, Valentine. Stop these operations right now before we have to deal with the consequences!" he ordered, almost out of his mind.
Jubal took a breath, absolutely outraged. The images from the security cameras in Isobel's house replayed endlessly in his mind, stripping him of his sanity.
Three men creeping in silently through the back door, entering the house, going upstairs, and the alarm, obviously tampered with, does not go off to warn Isobel, who is still asleep in her bed. She waking up surrounded by enemies, too late; putting up a fight, but not being enough.
Despite the gloom, despite Isobel's fierceness, Jubal can see the fright and desperation in her face, in the way she moves trying to defend herself, trying to escape.
One of the men has a truncheon. He brutally beats her once, twice, three, more times than Jubal dares to count. The impact on her head suddenly knocks Isobel unconscious; her body falls limp on the bed. One of the men quickly ties her hands and feet with a zip tie. Another of one throws her onto his shoulder unceremoniously and carelessly, as if she were nothing more than a sandbag.
And they take her away. The street cameras have been conveniently destroyed. They take her away and leave in the silence of the night without trace.
Jubal could not live with the heartbreaking thought he should have been there to prevent it.
He insisted Isobel to stay with her that night, but when she politely and increasingly formal continued to reject his offer, Jubal came to feel out of place and gave in.
He shouldn't have listened to her. Damn it. At least, he should have at least sent some agents to guard her door. Or even done it himself.
"Consequences? Consequences!?" he burst out. "You didn't care about consequences when you ordered Isobel to hold that press conference, instead of doing it yourself." He remembered with a knot in his stomach how Isobel stood in front of the cameras. Solemn, somber, even fearsome. "When you used her as a political tool for your own benefit. When, when you put her in the crosshairs of those bastards!" he boomed, making the ADIC to even back up a little.
In two strides, Jubal stepped forward until he was directly in Hawkins' face. His voice became a harsh whisper. "I don't give a damn who gets upset and how many hackles it raises. I'm going to find Isobel no matter what it takes. You can fire me when we get her back safe and sound."
He turned around, determined to storm out.
"You're only going to get her killed, Valentine," Hawkins snarled at his back.
Jubal clenched his fists and teeth. He could have sworn his heart stopped. He left the ADIC's office without looking back, slamming the door.
·~·~·
Immersed in the fog of fainting, Isobel hears men arguing in the next room, but cannot make out what they are saying. Their words are indistinguishable through the wall. Not even when the quarrel escalates into aggressive shouting, into strict orders.
Then silence.
Incomprehension, pain and fear overcome her, and Isobel cannot help but surrender to tears under the black hood.
She doesn't know if minutes or hours have passed, when some people re-enter the room.
Whoever they are grab her with sudden jerks and someone carries her on their back. Isobel tries to resist, to fight, but finds she is too weak and in pain. Her efforts turn out futile.
"Let's get it over with," she hears them talking to each other.
Desperation swallows her up, knowing she may be taken to her final fate.
·~·~·
It was just after 6 a.m. when Jubal arrived at 26 Fed from home. He hadn't gone there to sleep, just to shower, change and grab some extra clean clothes.
He didn't do it because he wanted to, despite how much Maggie and Elise insisted he should rest. Rather, he had no choice.
After three straight days in a row on the go, three exhausting days of JOC, interrogations and arrests, one of the detainees split his eyebrow with an elbow during a raid. His last shirt ended up stained with blood.
Jubal crossed the sidewalk to the door, drinking his coffee as fast as possible, even though it was almost burning. He needed the caffeine.
"Back already? Kelly told me you didn't leave before 4:30," said OA, walking alongside. "It's foolish to want to be everywhere at once, Jubal."
OA was right, but Jubal did not answer. Although he was exhausted, he couldn't have slept even if he tried. Hawkins' words haunted him. With each fruitless search, each dead end, despair crept over him a little more. He was terrified the ADIC would end up being right and Isobel would turn up dead somewhere. He paused to reply to OA and the other man stopped next to him.
Before Jubal could verbalize the maelstrom inside him, something made him turn his head toward the roadway. He would not have known why, probably out of occupational habit. A dark car was speeding down the street, taking advantage of the scarce traffic at those hours. No, it was at full speed. It also had no license plate.
Jubal reached for the gun on his hip out of pure reflex. Beside him, OA did the same almost at the same time.
The vehicle approached the curb, and slowed slightly. One of its rear doors burst open. OA and Jubal drew and took aim, expecting anything.
From inside, someone pushed a woman out of the car. She fell, rolling hard against the asphalt due to the momentum of the vehicle's speed. OA and Jubal ran towards her, while the car sped away, its wheels screeching.
Jubal's heart leapt into his throat.
"Isobel!"
He dropped to his knees next to her. OA was firing at the vehicle.
At first, Jubal even hesitated to touch her. She was pale, motionless, covered with scratches and bruises, had an open wound on her head. Jubal's worst nightmares materialized before him.
"No... Isobel..." he gasped.
She coughed weakly, trembling. Jubal breathed again but barely managed to find a pulse.
"Jubal... Help me..." she said in a weak, rambling whisper.
He almost panicked. "Get me a medic! NOW!" he bellowed to the few people who came around them. "Isobel... open your eyes, please."
Her eyelids fluttered for a moment, but remained closed. Her blood was spilling onto the sidewalk.
"Isobel," he called, taking her hand. He wanted to wrap her in his arms but didn't dare move her. What if she had a spinal injury, a skull fracture? He felt himself tearing up inside. "For God's sake, Iz, don't give up," he begged. "Stay with me... Don't give up..."
·~·~·
She heard rhythmic, steady beeping sound, and Isobel's first thought was she left the refrigerator open.
She tried to open her eyelids, but they were like slabs of stone. The rest of her body felt even heavier. She was lying down, warm and comfortable, at least. After several attempts, she managed to open her eyes. Looking around, but not moving her head, she knew she was in a hospital room.
"Stay with me..." she heard a voice murmur.
Isobel recognized Jubal's voice immediately. He was asleep, sitting beside her, his head resting on his arms on the bed. Finding him there, seeing how bad he looked, pale, haggard, unshaven and with a broken eyebrow, Isobel felt a pinch of dismay inside her chest. And something else she should not allow herself to feel.
"Jubal...?" she called him.
Or so she tried to, in fact she just emitted a hoarse moan. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Jubal woke up immediately, anyway, jerking his head up. He looked up to her face and the beginnings of a hopeful smile tugged at his lips.
"Isobel..." he sighed.
Tears of relief came to his eyes. Isobel's gaze was caught in them, transfixed by the myriad and intensity of emotions they gave off... until her dry throat made her cough slightly.
Jubal blinked, and ran out, calling for a doctor.
·~·~·
"It has resulted in 16 arrests, so far. We have seized dozens of automatic weapons and 42kg of explosives," Tiff explained. "These guys will take a while to cause trouble again."
Her best four agents surrounded Isobel's bed. The sanitary personnel didn't want to let them in yet, but the agents insisted to Jubal, and he managed to win over the nurses to sneak them in for five minutes so they could see her.
"All thanks to Jubal," said OA, "who has had us leaving no stone unturned for three days, looking for you all over the state."
Jubal, leaning against the wall, lowered his head.
"And giving work to local carpenters by kicking down doors," Stuart joked. "In fact, I think Jubal's cousin is a carpenter."
Everyone let the tension escape with quiet laughter, still worry shadowing their tired eyes, acutely aware of how close they came to never seeing Isobel again.
"The JOC people send you hugs and lots of encouragement," Maggie added, gently squeezing Isobel's arm. "We all are very happy to have you back with us..."
With you, Isobel thought breathlessly. It would have been difficult for her to explain what she felt at the moment. It embarrassed her, but she had to admit the contempt and hatred with which the supremacist filled his words hurt her inside, opening an old but deep wound. 'If you are from Mexico, what are you doing here?', 'Go back to your country', 'We don't want you here'... 'You're not needed here'. But then Maggie said 'with us' and everyone else nodded.
Yeah, that was it. Where I truly belong. Among them. With my people. This is my place. She looked at them one by one with deep emotion knotted in her throat and tears in her eyes.
There were two knocks on the door, and it then opened to reveal a doctor who looked like Night M. Shyamalan.
"Please, would all of you leave the room? I need to speak to Mrs. Castille," he asked politely.
The four agents left.
At the door, Maggie exchanged a quizzical glance with OA, because Jubal remained inside, and the doctor did not say anything to him.
·~·~·
The doctor finished performing the neurological exam on Isobel and took a few more notes.
Theyran some tests on her, but it was the first time the doctor sat down to talk to her.
"For the moment, everything seems to be fine, Mrs. Castille. I don't see anything worrisome in your reflexes, or your motor and cognitive functions. The scratches and bruises won't take long to heal. And, as I said, the broken wrist will not require surgery.
As if to include him in the conversation, he turned for a moment to Jubal who, standing by the wall, sighed visibly relieved. Isobel found it curious the doctor allowed him to stay. Not she had any complaints about it. Jubal's presence was wonderfully reassuring to her.
The doctor turned again to Isobel. "In any case, we will do a CT scan again in a few days and will continue to monitor the progress. Head trauma can be deceiving. No sudden movements, okay?"
He waited for Isobel to answer with a docile 'Yes, doctor'. Going towards the door he stopped next to Jubal and told him to take care she did not overexert herself.
"Let me know immediately if you see any unusual signs such as facial paralysis, aphasia, or loss of visual focus," he told Jubal. "Anyway, we have many reasons to be optimistic," he added, placing a hand on Jubal's arm in a gesture of empathetic support. "I'll give you both some privacy."
And he left the room.
Isobel stared at Jubal, somewhat puzzled, as he approached the edge of her bed.
"'Privacy'?"
"Yeah... aaam... Well..." Jubal lowered his eyes for a moment. "They didn't want to let me stay here with you so I may have said we... we're engaged."
The window had the curtains drawn, but Isobel could make out Jubal was blushing slightly.
"Oh," was all Isobel could answer.
It was peculiar Jubal chose that particular parentage, when he could have said he was her brother or any other relative...
"Yeah..." He cleared his throat. "Aaam... Sorry. I'll tell them the truth as soon as I can". There was an awkward silence. "But I wish you'd let me stick around and... help. In any way I can. Please."
"Jubal, you don't have to take care of me," Isobel said in a tone somewhere between patient and condescending. "You need to rest. Maggie told me you've been here for days". Jubal looked embarrassed by this revelation. "And I'm fine," she added.
His brow furrowed swiftly and Isobel would have been embarrassed to confess she felt intimidated.
"Your heart stopped in the ambulance on the way here, Isobel-" His voice broke. "I almost lost my mind," he hung his head for a moment, ashamed of having said this. "I mean, that's as far from 'fine' as you can get without being..."
Dead. He didn't get to say it.
Isobel looked down at her hands in her lap, overwhelmed by the terrible memories of her captivity. Suddenly she was having a hard time just breathing.
"I'm sorry," Jubal hastened to say, his throat tightening. "I'm sorry. Of course, it's not your fault. Those... Bastards... they haven't the slightest right to think they're better than you. Hawkins shouldn't have put you in that position. And I... I should have been there..." He swallowed hard. "I practically let them kidnap you. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," he muttered, wracked with guilt.
Taking a deep breath and Isobel managed to control the tears, to calm her stressed heartbeat a little.
"Jubal... I think you're not aware you've saved my life. Thanks to those raids I am here now." And not rotting in the desert on the other side of the border. She couldn't quite control a shudder. "I overheard them talking to each other as they were taking me to 26 Fed... The pressure you put on White Pride, on anyone remotely related, created a schism among them. Some of them decided they... they didn't want to piss you off anymore."
She said it with a shrug of her shoulders, a slight tone of dark humor and a double dose of admiration. Her smile was contagious.
A chuckle escaped Jubal's lips.
"I was pissed off," he admitted, running his hand over the back of his neck.
"So I heard," Isobel said, amused.
Her bright eyes took Jubal's breath away.
He cleared his throat. "Well, I'll go... I'll go say I'm not really... You know."
Maybe it was the medication but Isobel felt warmth spread within her. She smiled tenderly at him. Carefully reaching out her arm, she stopped him, taking his hand.
"No rush..."
~.~.~.~
Prompt by Jenzii: Isobel is taken then for a few hours or days then was pushed out of the moving vehicle in front 26 fed.