A short fictional work based on the tv series 'Without a Trace'
Rating: PG-17 (Language, violence)
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the show or characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only, without profit or gain of any kind.
Note: First, thanks to all of you who've read both of my earlier Without a Trace pieces, Nothing Gold Can Stay from last year and more recently, In Extremis: Epilogue. I truly appreciate your kind and generous support, it really does make a difference hearing from you, it helps me write better.
A big huge Debt of gratitude to my friend and advise giver and most excellent editor, Christy. Thanks Pard, without you, this story wouldn't be here.
Warning, this story might be long, (those of you who've read my Magnificent Seven Fic's know how hard it is for me to write short stories. Stop laughing Laramee, I can hear you!)
Without Further interruption, let the tale begin.
Martin paused at the entry to the Intensive Care Unit and took a deep breath. After his prior trip here, the image of Samantha Spade had shaken him so much he'd thrown up. Then he'd heard the echo of Chris Boone's edict and the thought of being locked up in the pysch ward had forced him to make the decision to find out who had been behind the bizarre attacks on Sam and Danny. He was already suspended, it couldn't get much worse. So he'd returned to his room, gotten dressed and left. He went across the street to the coffee shop to eat, his weak body and glycemic condition requiring fuel. He had to see Sam first, to tell her how sorry he was and then he was going to find his doctor. The missing psychologist might have left notes or clues to his whereabouts at his office. Doctor Gibson's office was the next stop on his journey for the truth.
"Yes?"
Martin blinked at the reply through the intercom to his rap on the door. He held his badge up and watched the nurse's face as she studied it carefully. Visiting hours didn't start for several hours and he coudln't couldn't afford to run into Chris Boone and get caught. He didn't even want to think about Jack and his reaction.
"F.B.I. I need to see Agent Spade."
"She's not conscious."
"Yes, I know, but she was attacked and she's going to need protection incase this man attempts another attack."
"Hold on."
Martin waited for the buzzer to sound and a light to go on over the door. He nodded to her in thanks as he eased his slim body into the critical care division of the busy hospital. The smell was the first thing that assaulted his rocky belly. A curious mix of antiseptic and sickness mingled all around him. From the corner of his eye, he saw several nurses turn towards the door. He gathered his jangled nerves while managing to maintain a steady walk, he approached the bed. It took all his strength not to show his broken heart on his face. He pulled the curtain around, giving them a bit of privacy. The edge of the nurses station was in partial view and he sat down, keeping his eyes on the nurse watching him.
The clock on the wall seemed to drag, turning the minutes into what felt to him to be hours. He looked relaxed and casual to the untrained eye, but inside he was a mess. Seeing her lying so pale and helpless made his guts feel like they had been shredded by a ferocious raptor. His cowardice had put her there. He swallowed hard and forced himself to calm down. but the beeping of the monitors near her seemed to mock him, accusing him of the deed. Finally, the nurse at the desk was diverted to the other side of the unit. He took the opportunity to unleash the sorrow in his heavy heart. He picked up her hand and flinched at how cold it felt.
"I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered in a broken voice, trembling badly. "If I could trade places..."
"Martin?"
Sam heard a familiar voice and relaxed at the warmth of the hand holding her own.She listened as he poured his heart out, blaming himself for her injuries and for Danny's disappearance as well. His voice broke several times and she heard him choking. She knew those emotive eyes all too well and it hurt to picture them so wet and filled with pain . As he spoke of what happened, she thought back on the warehouse. She saw the large man and then she saw him whisper something into Martin's ear. In an instant, the normally fearless agent was transformed into in a pile of jelly. The echo of the whispered word revisited and she realized her partner was being used.
Scorpion? What does that mean, Martin? Who is he? What did he do to you? Does he have Danny? Martin?"
Her mind was working but she was trapped in her body's comatose state . She couldn't vocalize her clues; she couldn't warn the shaken man that he was being used. What had the beast done to Danny? Was Danny still alive? Why was he using Martin? How did he have the power to use one word to take Martin's backbone away? So many questions and nobody could hear them.
"How the hell did you get in here?"
Martin dropped Sam's hand and whipped his head up. His color drained when Eric Keller's unwanted face appeared. His eyes shifted to the nurses' desk and the path to the door. He couldn't let Keller take him in; he had to get the answers he sought.
"I'm talkin' to you, shitface," Keller grabbed the confused agent and hauled him to his feet, shoving him against the wall out of sight. "You stay away from her. You got balls showin' up here after what you've done. Did you take a good look? First you let somebody kidnap Danny, then you let him put her in that bed. You proud of yourself?"
"Eric? Leave him alone. Shut up. You don't know... it's not his fault. Dammit!"
Sam could hear the whole conversation but was unable to move, to help to support her partner. She listened to every brutal word that the furious NYPD detective issued and didn't hear Martin reply once. Already emotionally wrecked, she knew Fitzgerald was on the verge of collapse. She wanted to throttle the arrogant Keller for his bully tactics. Eric's threat to Martin only increased her fury and frustration.
"You come near her again and I'll mess up that pretty face of yours."
"Don't you touch me...""
Sam wanted to throw off the hand that now swept over her brow. It wasn't Martin's warm touch it was Eric's cold one. His skin temperature was the same as his icy heart. She was repulsed by his touch and the shallow words of comfort he offered. She couldn't move to intercept the hand only lie by and endure his hollow words. One question kept looming up, haunting her.
"Where are you Martin?"
Eric couldn't believe how frail the normally feisty blonde was. Upon his arrival, the nurse had updated him, telling him she was expected to survive. The bruise to her brain was causing her to remain unconscious, but she was starting to respond to stimuli and they felt she would awaken at any time. His beeper went off, causing a frown. He was stroking her cheek and paused, flicking his eyes at the numbers.
"Boone?" He recognized the phone number and eyed the nurses' station. He left Sam and made his way to the nurse, flipping his badge. "I gotta make a local call. Can I use this phone?"
"Sure, just dial 9 to get an outside line."
"Chris?" Eric stated when the ringing stopped. "It's Keller. What's up?"
"I'm in Newark, at an old Italian Villa, Pietro's. Vivian Johnson's missing."
"What? How?"
"I'm not sure," Boone admitted, watching as they loaded the unconscious patrolman into an ambulance. His patrol unit was outside and he'd been found in a room behind the kitchen. "She called my office and said she got a call from Martin. He'd heard from that nun they're looking for and was on his way here. Brendan Gavin took the call and got NYPD to roll. We found a patrolman unconscious inside. We also found Fitzgerald's car but he's not here. Johnson's car is here, along with her weapon, but she's gone. There are some tracks outside, the lab is taking castings. He's not answering his phone. He's supposed to be at the hospital, but they lost him a few hours ago. I don't know if he was taken too or..."
"He was just here," Eric updated. "Missing for a few hours huh? Isn't that convenient! I'm with Spade at the hospital. I got here a few moments ago and he was by her bedside."
"Is he still there?" Boone's hope rose briefly. "I need some answers."
"No, he just left, I'll catch up to him. I need some answers myself." He snapped the phone shut and took off in pursuit.
"Danny"
Somewhere in the painful netherworld he was lost in, a voice penetrated the thick fog. He frowned and groaned, trying to push the painful word away. It kept repeating, each time causing his tender skull to throb. He fought against the voice, seeking to return to the place where he'd been hiding without pain.
"Danny... wake up... come on now..."
Vivian sat on the side of the bed and watched his badly bruised face screw up in annoyance. He turned away from her and moaned slightly, pushing weakly against her with his hand. She'd only been awake about twenty minutes herself and had no idea where she was. She'd found the bathroom and the connecting door and then saw her partner lying on the bunk. She was more curious than shocked by his injuries, since they appeared recent and he'd been missing for a couple weeks.
"Come on, honey, wake up, it's Vivian." She paused and tapped the unconscious man's scowling face. "Danny!"
A cough preceded a fist rising, which she intercepted. She gently pushed the hand back down and kept her other hand on his neck. His pulse was good but the raspy breathing and protective curve of his body told her there might be bruised ribs matching his marred face. One eye was swollen shut, a nasty shade of purple under a neatly stitched eye. The other eye opened with guarded skepticism and a touch of confusion. She watched as that dark eye blinked and finally seemed to part through the fog.
Danny's blurred vision cleared up and the voice that lured him painfully into the present had a name. It took him several moments to realize that he wasn't dreaming; Vivian Johnson was sitting next to him. Still his hand moved, tapping against her leg. A warm hand took his own and he sighed and relaxed a bit. Then the questions rose up, swirling and stabbing his already tender brain. What was Vivian doing here? Had he been rescued or was she a prisoner too? Before his thick tongue could form a word, pictures appeared in the haze. Uninvited and troubling, they rudely shoved their way to the center of his murky mind; a reporter's words, a special bulletin about a 'young female F.B.I. agent' who'd been badly injured.
"Sam!"
"Easy," Vivian addressed the alarming darting motion of the brown eye and the trembling of the hand she gripped.
"...dead..."
"No, she's not dead." She eased him upright and waited for his swaying body to right itself. She saw the bruised lips moving over what must be a dry mouth. His pained face eyeing the refrigerator across the room. "Can you walk?"
"Yeah..." Danny rasped, cradling his ribs. He hunched over for a bit until the burning in his chest subsided. Then he lifted his face and saw the familiar orange jumpsuit. She wasn't here to rescue him, she too was a prisoner. "How?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Vivian answered."I was at the airport and got a call from Martin. He said he'd gotten a call from Sister Michael.His phone was breaking up but he said she was at Pietro's Villa."
"...trap..." Danny croaked and saw the dark head bob.
"Yes." She sighed, shaking her head. "But she was there, I saw her. Just before something stung my neck, I saw her eyes shift."
"Pietro's," Danny mumbled, rising with her assistance and gingerly walking to the refrigerator. The English translation of the name irritated him only further. "Arrogant bastard."
"Who?" Vivian followed him, watching as he got a can of soda. "Do you know who's doing this?"
"Pete Gibson."
"Snake?" Vivian sat at the table and pondered. "Are you sure?"
"Perfect nickname," Danny snarled. "Sure?" He replied, holding the cold can to his face. "This look sure to you?"
"But why?"
"I don't know," Danny answered, popping the top and drinking a gulp of ginger ale. "But it's tied to Martin. He's framing him, using drugs and hypnosis."
"Danny how can you be so sure?"
"Technicolor!" The irate Taylor waved to the large screen. "He's been taping Martin for months. He plays videos of the older stuff and the feed from the news. That's how I knew about Sam. Bastard!" He vented, fisting the can. "I'm gonna kill him."
"We need a plan," Vivian directed. "You've been missing two weeks and..." she paused as the color drained from his face. "It's easy to lose track of time in a place like this."
"Two weeks," Danny's voice dropped and he thought of his lost partner's blue eyes. "How's Martin?"
"By now, I'd say the Bureau will want his badge. After the incident with Sam and now me..." She saw him puzzle up and spent the next several minutes updating on all that had transpired.
Danny absorbed the information and began to think, trying to put the pieces together. He rose and began to pace, thinking on the past six months that the rookie had been on their team. He couldn't come up with one incident that involved the NYPD's retired detective. What motive could Gibson have?
"I can't figure it, Viv," Danny admitted. "Why Martin?"
Vivian didn't reply right away, she too had been thinking quietly. She mulled over all that had happened and motioned for Danny to sit down. She had a hunch but wanted to play it out, to see if Danny could add anything to it.
"Let's start at the beginning. You and Martin were in the cave and he was inside? Gibson was waiting? He used that old tunnel?" She saw the head nod and proceeded. "He shot you with a tranquilizer and you woke up here? What about Martin? Was he knocked out? Why didn't he step in?"
"I told you," Danny snapped a bit, guilt stabbing at him."Gibson's fucked around with his head. All that time I thought I was helping him..." he seethed, punching the table and causing the can to dance a bit. "I led him right to that son-of-a-bitch! I suggested he go to see him for therapy."
"Martin is a patient of Gibsons?"
"Yeah, you see that first night the nun went missing," Danny updated. "We were hunting in the cave and he freaked out.A bad flashback, like an anxiety attack. I didn't know then that Gibson caused it, I told him he had to get help.That's who he was seeing all that time he had after he left the hospital."
"I see, " Vivian replied. "So while he was on the good doctor's couch, he was hypnotized. Usually that means a trigger of some sort."
"The phone," Danny answered. "He calls him on the phone and whatever he says, it turns Martin into jelly.I mean he's cowering..." Danny thought on the awful film he'd had to endure. "Goddammit!"
"That won't help, you calm down!" Vivian ordered."So he called Martin while you were in that cave? That's the start."
Danny eased his aching body down and frowned. "No, it started before that. That bastard has access to his Martin's apartment. He spiked Martin's water and he's connected to Martin getting sick. I saw the video of him injecting something into Martin's ankle. I don't get it Viv," Danny sighed hard. "What's his connection to Martin? They haven't worked together, Martin hasn't been here that long. Maybe he's got an ax to grind with Victor?" He noted of the rookie's father, a legend in the Bureau.
"Martin's not the target," Vivian answered, meeting the stormy eyes across from her. "He's the bait."
"What? How? Why? Who's the target then?"
"Jack," Vivian answered and heard a laugh echoing from the speakers in the wall.
"Excellent work Agent Johnson."
"You're pathetic, Gibson and you won't get away with this," she calmly replied, moving her hand over to grab the furious Taylor who was ready to explode. She met his eyes and shook her head, indicating he better calm down.
"I'm afraid I already have," he stated, "and you and your hot-headed partner will have a front row seat when Malone's dawn of judgement rises. As for my poor blue-eyed fly, causing the deaths of his teammates , what other course does a broken man have then to kill himself!"
"Danny!" Vivian scrambled to corral the irate Taylor, who leapt to his feet and began to curse. She'd already gone over the two rooms and saw no point of entry. Unless they were rescued, they were trapped, completely at the mercy of the madman.
Jack Malone was not a patient man. The grueling pace of the last few days was catching up to him fast. He needed sleep, food and more answers than he had questions for. He tossed the end of the roll from the sandwich he was eating away and his beleaguered eyes found the clock on the wall of the hospital coffee shop. The day seemed endless, although it had barely begun. After being stunned with news that Sister Michael was dead, the priest had suffered a severe coughing fit and passed out. The nurses had ushered him out, in order for the doctor to examine the frail old man. It was not the answer he'd expected and he needed details. Especially since Chris Boone's phone call informing him of Vivian Johnson's disappearance. His counterpart had been calling him with progress reports on Spade and he had been relieved to find out the blonde was doing better and expected to recover.
His initial rage at Martin had taken an odd turn. His years of experience told him that all was not as it seemed. It was too convenient for Martin to be at the scene of each incident. His gut told him there was something out there he wasn't seeing. Had it just been Danny, it might have flown. But Sam's fall and Vivian's disappearance changed that. He'd been thinking about nothing else since Chris Boone called. If Sister Michael was dead, who was the woman who lured Vivian into a trap? How was it connected to Danny? Did Victor have an enemy using Martin for revenge? He tried calling Martin again but the cell didn't answer. Sighing hard, he drained his warm coffee and decided to check his voicemail messages. There were several to wade through, four alone from Victor Fitzgerald. He winced at the ordeal of calling the arrogant Deputy Director back. The final message was one that chilled him to the bone.
"Little boy blue come blow your horn, the sheep are waiting by a wall for their heads to adorn. So Jack be nimble, Jack be quick before the gilded heir turns fatally sick."
Martin was walking through the parking lot, outlining his path. He could take the bus uptown far enough to get off close to Gibson's office. He would use his badge again to gain entry and then hunt for clues. He was nearly through the parking lot, heading towards the bus stop when hurried steps just behind him caused him to halt. He turned just as a hand grabbed his jacket and shoved him hard into the side of an old truck.
"Okay, I'm done playing around, Fitzgerald. You fucked up for the last time. Just where the hell where you this morning? You checked out a few hours ago..."
"Get offa me!" Martin hissed, slamming his elbow backwards into Keller's gut. It was enough to loosen the tight grip on his throat.
"Oh no you don't," Keller snarled, punching the wiggling younger man hard in the lower back. and forcing him to his him to his hands and knees. He hauled him upright and turned him, shoving him against the truck. "I want some answers and I don't give a flyin' rat's ass how much skin you lose getting them. Now you answer me. Where were you this morning?"
"None of your fuckin' business," Martin snapped, punching Keller in the gut.
"Vivian Johnson's missing and your car was found where she disappeared. That makes it my 'fuckin' business' you yellow-balled dog. Now answer me!"
"Vivian?"
That caught Fitzgerald off guard and rocked him. He knew she was due in from her trip with Jack, he'd left a message for her about Sam. Her plane would have just about landed, whatever happened, had to have happened on the road from the airport.
"Look, I was here, I got dressed and got some food," Martin supplied, moving his hand to his jacket pocket. Didn't he shove the receipt from the coffee shop in there? "Shit..."
"Enough of your bullshit, Chris Boone wants you brought in and you're going. You're history, Fitzgerald. Even your father can't save you this time."
Martin sagged, giving the other man the false impression he was defeated.Just as Keller's hand grabbed his collar, he sprung back, catching the NYPD cop off guard. He fought without abandon, using his fists like pistons.Keller fought back, sending both of them hard into asphalt, car hoods and a bench. Finally, Martin's fist connected solidly to Keller's jaw. He took a few moments to collect his breath and swipe the blood from his mouth. He saw some movement from the other side of the lot as some visitors were running towards them.He leapt over the curb and didn't look back, racing down the street.Vivian's disappearance gave him the fuel he needed to continue his quest. He would find the answers and Gibson had the key.
"All the pieces are at last in place. Finally the rosy rays of the Dawn of Judgement are approaching. At last justice will be served and Jack Malone will be broken, his soul left shattered and unrepairable .irreparable The blood of the missing lambs will be on his hands as well. As for my prized lab rat, his fate is sealed. His body, lifeless and cold, all the potential drained along with the lifeblood will be the final stain on Malone's dented armor. The sight of the lifeless body will haunt Malone all his miserable days. Soon the new day will come when Jack meets his fate and at last the scales will be righted.
With that final short scripted note, Peter Gibson put the journal away and pushed his chair back. He cast an eye on the monitors, seeing Taylor and Johnson still trying to solve the puzzle. An exercise in futility, they didn't have, nor would they find , the answer they sought. His icy blues traveled to the other camera. His unwilling accomplice was sleeping, courtesy of the drugged coffee she'd ingested. Slowly she was breaking down, falling further into the madness that would eventually consume her. Secure that all was locked down, he left the Tower and headed for his car. He had to clean out the remaining files and notes from his office. By this time tomorrow, the final pieces would be falling into place.
The noose around Jack Malone's neck just got tighter.
Prelude | Page 1 | Page 2 | Page 3 | Page 4 | Page 5 | Page 6 | Page 7 | Page 8 | Page 9 | Page 10 | Page 11 | Page 12 | Page 13 | Page 14 | Page 15 | Page 16 | Page 17 | Page 18 | Page 19 | Page 20 | Page 21 | Page 22 | Page 23 | Page 24 | Page 25 | Page 26 | Page 27 | Page 28 | Page 29 | Page 30 | Page 31
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