Chapter 1
She was aware of a warmth to her face that was almost soothing as she struggled to open her eyes. The house was quiet; too quiet and she quickly realized that she was no longer in bed. Opening her dark eyes, she felt pain in the side of her head and realized that the warmth was Hope, trying to diligently lick her awake.
"Hope…" Monica murmured groggily, trying to remember what had occurred. She started to sit up, but a pain in her stomach hit her at full force, causing her to cry out and that was when she realized that she was still having contractions. The contraction was hard and she struggled to remember how to breathe through it, but it was stealing her breath as her heart raced.
It was too early! Only thirty-five weeks! Her desperate and pain filled eyes scanned the room. Where was Alex? Terror intermingled with the pain as the memory came flooding back to her. A man. A man with a knife had been holding her and Alex had been trying to get away. Monica’s hands pressed up against her stomach as she started to cry. He was going to hurt her! He had taken Alex away and he was going to hurt her, maybe even rape her.
"Noooo," The word was a plea on her lips as foggy images filled her mind of a dark and filthy alley and a man with a knife taking what he wanted without consent or feeling. The contraction had ceased and the angel struggled to clear her mind of the flashbacks that were trying so hard to overtake her. She had to find the phone. She had to find help for Alex before it was too late. She couldn’t allow her friend to suffer like that!
Monica managed to get to her feet and she stumbled, dizziness overtaking her. The room was spinning as she fell to the floor once more, the pain in her head growing in intensity. It was hopeless. She couldn’t save Alex and her little daughter was going to be born right here on the floor without a chance to survive. An anguished cry escaped her and Hope whimpered her distress. The fact that the puppy was limping only caused her to cry harder as it was all more than she could take in with her pain-filled mind.
"I don’t know what to do…I don’t know what to do…" She was sobbing as she forced herself to crawl closer to the phone, but the cordless was not nestled in it’s place, "Father, help me. I don’t know what to do…"
"Monica!"
"Alex!"
The voices of her two protectors sent relief flooding through her, though she could barely choke out her husband’s name, but a heartbeat later, he was there and his arms were around her. Her trembling fingers clutched at his jacket as she took in huge, gulping breaths around the tears.
"Alex? Monica, where is she?" Paul’s voice was pleading and she had to force herself to look up and see the pain that was written on his face. He had seen the flowers by the door, scattered on the hard wood, but he still wanted to believe it wasn’t what it had to be.
"He…he has her….I tried…I tried…"
"Son of a bitch!" His anguished cry caused more tears and guilt to rip through her, "Damnit! Damnit to hell! What was he driving? Did you see which way he went? Did her hurt her?" The questions were rapid fire and she held no answers.
"I don’t know…" She sobbed against Andrew’s chest.
"What do you mean you don’t know?!"
"Paul." Andrew’s first word held warning before he returned his attention to his wife, "It’s okay, baby. Shhh. Calm down, angel. Calm down, sweetheart."
"I…I heard her scream…and Hope…she started growling…Alex wouldn’t answer me so I came downstairs…he had her…a knife…then he hit me and when I woke up…they were gone…" The words were broken and frightened, "I’m sorry, Paul….I’m so sorry…."
Paul’s jaw was locked as he fought back tears. His wife, the love of his life, the mother of his son, was in the hands of this son of a bitch psycho and he didn’t have so much as the color of a car to go on. He had never before felt so helpless, "It’s not your fault, honey…" The words sounded as if they were coming from someone else.
Had he killed her yet? Was she still alive and fighting for her life? There was no doubt in his mind that if Alex were able, she would fight the bastard until there wasn’t a breath left in her. Surely he would know if she were dead. Surely there would be some feeling, some sensation, wouldn’t there?
A cry from Monica forced his thoughts back to the present and he watched in horror as the little angel all but doubled over in pain.
"Monica!" Andrew cried out as he supported her in his arms.
Liquid brown, red-rimmed eyes looked up at him and despite the pain, her words were soft and sad, "The contractions aren't stopping and I didn't have time to use the pump….I don't know…I don't know if it's too late or if it is broken….it got pulled away when he…"
All that had happened and it was the last thing she chose to tell him, and his eyes were nearly wild with fear. Everything was happening so fast he could barely keep up so it was no wonder why his wife was so overwrought. Looking over, he saw the terbutaline pump lying in the corner by the stairs. She had been trying to stop the contractions and trying to help Alex when he had rendered her unconscious and left her unable to do either of those things.
"Okay, baby," Andrew whispered, "Remember how to breathe through it like we learned in class?" She was trying to do as he asked, her tears and fear getting in the way.
The knowledge of what had happened and the sight of what was happening before him now, caused Paul to snap into action. He was fucking terrified, but being afraid wasn’t going to save his wife. Being afraid wasn’t going to help Monica. Grabbing his cell phone, he called 911 and demanded an ambulance and the police before calling Adams to demand a report. The agent was still working on it and based on the tongue lashing Paul gave, he had a feeling Adams would be working on it much harder now.
By the time he had hung up the phone, the contraction had passed, leaving a shell shocked Andrew trying to soothe his badly shaken wife. Kneeling down beside of them, Paul rested a hand on the little angel’s knee, "Honey, can you remember anything at all? I know this is a shit time to ask, but…"
"But you have to know," Monica whispered, her voice trembling, "It all happened so fast…" She murmured as she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to replay the jumbled events in her mind. She could hear Alex’s scream and Hope’s cry of pain and then, "Dark hair…tidy…about the length of yours. Moustache. Shirt and tie…his shirt was light blue. Black tie, like he was dressed for work. His eyes…his eyes…" She struggled with the details, feeling Paul squeezing her knee and Andrew’s hold on her tightening, "Blue. Yes, definitely blue. Cold. So cold…" She was crying again and she buried her face against Andrew’s chest.
Paul and Andrew shared a look, before Paul laid a hand against her head, "Thank you, sweetheart. That helps more than you know."
As Paul rose to his feet, desperate to do something, anything, Monica whispered to her husband, "What if he rapes her, Andrew? He raped the others…I tried to help her…I did."
"Of course you did, baby."
"The baby. She’s too early. Her lungs-."
"Don’t borrow trouble, angel. She obviously is ready to come into this world," He held her more tightly so she wouldn’t realize how badly his hands were shaking, "I love you so much, Monica." He whispered against her hair, "It will all be all right, baby."
A shudder went through her at his words. Would it? With both Alex and her baby fighting for their lives, for the first time ever, she found herself doubting her husband’s words.
*****
Alex didn’t wake up until the vehicle stopped so suddenly, she felt herself being thrown. Forcing her eyes open, she found herself in complete darkness. The trunk. He had put her in the trunk of his car and now her hands pounded against the top of it, trying to get someone’s attention. Anyone’s.
"Looking for me, Alex?"
His voice sent shivers through her body as the trunk opened and he grinned down at her, a smile so evil and delusional it made her blood run cold, "Hardly." She replied angrily.
"You’ll change your attitude, sweetheart. By the end of the weekend, you’ll be begging for my touch."
His hand caressed her cheek and she flinched away from it, but the gesture obviously angered him as he jerked her from the trunk of the car, the knife once more against her throat, "I don’t recommend trying to get away if you care to live, Alex."
Her frantic eyes took in her surroundings, her years of agent training coming to the surface when she most needed it. It was a house. A normal looking house, secluded from any others by the tall wooden fence that surrounded them. She had no idea where it was, or how long she had been unconscious and her heart raced. Was Monica all right? Was Andrew with her? Did Paul know she was missing?
Paul. Just the image of his face in her mind made her want to weep, but she forced her stoic expression to remain in place as this asshole maneuvered her into the house and then locked the back door.
"Like what you see?" He whispered against her ear.
"Like I give a rat’s ass," She retorted, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking the way she was certain it was.
"You have a bad attitude, but I’ll turn all that around, Alex. After all, you’re the one," As soon as the words were out, he shoved her up against the wall, blocking her movement with his strong body pressed up against hers, "Yes, you’re the one. Pretty, smart, a body to die for," He grinned again as he brought his face closer, "A body I’m gonna fuck so good, baby, that you’ll be screaming out my name."
Her breathing was short and shallow as absolute terror gripped her and held her in it’s grasp, but before she could even think, his lips were on her and she was fighting against him as her stomach revolted. When he finally pulled back, she spat at him, though she was too afraid to feel truly satisfied that her aim landed right at the corner of his mouth.
Pain exploded as he backhanded her across the face and then wiped at his own. "Looks like you need some time of reflection, Alex, before we consummate our relationship," He growled, and was then pushing her down the basement steps, not stopping until she was at the bottom. "I’ll be back for you soon, sweetheart and I’ll expect a change in your attitude," He turned to leave and then stopped and grinned at her over his shoulder. "Oh and when I return, don’t bother dressing up. The less you are wearing, the better. It will save me the time of ripping your clothing off of you and I will expect your nakedness as a sign of your submission to me."
She almost moved to race up the steps after him but she stopped. He was twice her size. He would only throw her back down the stairs and probably decide that waiting wasn’t worth it. No. She needed to buy all the time that she could. She needed to be ready for when he came back. She watched as he slammed the heavy door at the top of the stairs, and she heard the unmistakable sound of a lock being turned. With a heavy sigh she closed her eyes and then turned and opened them to look at her surroundings. What she saw made her wish that she had kept them closed.
A bare mattress on a metal frame was the most normal piece of furniture in the room. It was tucked into one corner, right next to what looked like a large dog cage. Alex had to force herself to walk away from the stairs and into the room. She tried to tell herself that it was the bare concrete floor that made the chill run up her spine, but that wasn’t it at all. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked around the main feature in the room, a large, wooden table, with leather cuffs attached to each corner. Turning around she covered her mouth as she saw, in the dim light, what was contained within the bookcases that stretched from floor to ceiling.
There were books and video tapes with titles she couldn’t even repeat aloud, and sex toys lined up like prized possessions. Her eyes lit on a pair of vicious looking clamps and she let out a sob, remembering her teasing comment to Paul about his gift to her. She started to shake and as much as she tried not to she felt herself sinking into desperation. What was going to happen to her? Had Paul tried to call home? What was going on with Monica? She needed help! She couldn’t have the baby so early, it wasn’t time yet! How was she going to get out of this alive? What would she have to endure? Would it even be worth it? She could fight so hard and so fiercely that maybe he would just kill her and get it over with. Was that what she wanted? She tried to look away from the shelves full of horrors, but she couldn’t drag her eyes from them, and then they settled on the bottom shelf.
Lined up like soldiers were various whips and crops. Weapons. She swallowed down her tears and grabbed for them. Fucking bastard. She’d show him subservience. But almost at once she realized the futility of her actions. Each and every one was chained and locked into place. Anger swelled through her and she pulled and yanked at them with all of her strength. She didn’t care if she pulled over the whole damn bookcase! Her fingers ached and her breath came in pants as sweat beaded on her forehead and finally she had to stop. She just fell to her knees and collapsed, with her head almost touching the floor.
"Please, God. Please. Help me."
*****
"Keep breathing, angel, we’re almost there."
Andrew was trying to remain calm, but his own heart was racing and he wanted to grab her up into his arms but that was now impossible. She was strapped onto a gurney and already the EMTs had started two IVs and oxygen. He was forced to remain by her head, out of the way, as they worked on his wife and his unborn daughter. He couldn’t even concentrate on half of what they were saying to each other as they worked. He just stroked her hair and kept whispering reassurances into her ear.
The second that they arrived at the hospital she was whisked into a private room, and a doctor was already waiting. Andrew was shocked at the speed, but apparently Paul had warned them that Monica was the wife of a federal agent.
"Please… stop this…" Monica whispered as the doctor removed her oxygen mask. "It’s too early. I can’t have her yet." They were the same words she had been repeating since they’d found her.
"I know, Monica. We’re going to try to do that. You just need to try to stay as calm as you can," the doctor advised, his voice steady and self-assured.
He examined her quickly but thoroughly, not wanting to make her more uncomfortable than she was already, and then threw away his rubber gloves and started writing on Monica’s chart.
"How is she? How is the baby?"
"The good news is that she is barely dilated and her water definitely hasn’t broken. What we need to do now is get her up to a room and get her started on an IV of terbutaline. It’s going to be a much stronger dose than you’ve ever had, Monica," he warned her, "but it should get your contractions under control. We’re also going to start corticosteroid treatments to try to hurry your baby’s lung development. Just in case."
"Whatever it takes," her words were quiet but filled with conviction. "Is Dr. Klein coming here too?"
"Probably not, Monica, but she has sent down all of your records and we’re going to take good care of you here. We would transfer you to her hospital, but right now…"
"No. I understand." She reached for Andrew’s hand, feeling relief run through her just at his touch.
"Keep breathing and we will get you upstairs as fast as we can. The EMTs gave you a shot of it in the ambulance so it should be kicking in soon."
Monica just nodded, but Andrew looked up at the doctor gratefully. "Thank you."
"We’re going to take good care of both of you, Monica. Just put yourself in our hands."
She nodded again, but in her heart she was putting herself and her baby in God’s hands.
*****
"What the hell do you mean, there are no records of any of the victim’s addresses on the delivery log?" Paul demanded, unable to stop his restless movement now that he had returned to FBI Headquarters. His wife was in danger and they had just come to a dead end. There was no way in hell this was happening to him!
"I’m telling you, Paul," Mike Adams ran a weary hand through his hair, "They keep records but none of the addresses match to either their homes or their places of business."
"Damnit! Damnit all to hell!" He exploded, his face red with anger. Why hadn’t Alex ever mentioned the damn flowers? Had she just done that, they would have known weeks ago that she was a target and he wouldn’t have allowed her to be without protection for a second!
He knew it wasn’t her fault. Who the hell else could she have thought they would be from? He closed his eyes painfully, remembering the day last week when he had come in from work. She had been so enthusiastic in her greeting and had made some comment about him knowing what it was for. Was it for flowers? And why the hell didn’t he question it? He shook his head in frustration, already knowing the answer. Because they had wound up having great sex in the kitchen was why and he hadn’t given it another thought. What the hell kind of agent was he to not even know when his own wife was in danger?
Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back his emotions. Now he had some idea of how Andrew had been feeling. To know his wife was suffering and not being able to do a damn thing about it. He felt helpless but on the same token, he knew he couldn’t remain that way for long. Alex may not have that kind of time and right now every second counted and he sure as hell wasn’t just going to stand here panicking and envisioning the worst while the bastard raped and killed her.
He knew where the flowers had come from and he had a rough description of what he looked like. It was something and he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair as he headed out the door. He’d start at the store and if that didn’t pay off in some way, he’d overturn every fucking rock in the city until he found her.
"Alex," He murmured under his breath, "Hang on, baby. I’ll find you. I fucking promise I’ll find you." He blinked back tears, knowing that no matter how long he had been an agent, this was even bigger than his abilities, "God," He added softly, "You know where she is. Help me find her and hold her tightly in Your hand until you bring us back together."
It was a prayer he had to believe in. It was nearly all he had left.
*****
She had surveyed every corner of the basement and was left with the knowledge that there was no way out. The windows were boarded tightly and her fingers were raw from trying to pry them loose. There was nothing she could use as a weapon and there was no where to hide. She had depleted her resources and all she had left was herself and God.
"Okay, Alex," She whispered aloud to herself, finding the sound of her voice a bit more comforting than the horrible silence, "You need to make some decisions, girl and they sure as hell aren’t going to be easy ones."
No. They would be the most difficult ones she had ever made before and just thinking about it nearly sent her flying into a panic, but she forced herself to remain calm. The most important decision had already been made. She was going to do everything in her power to survive this. Any after effects, she had Paul and Matthew to help see her through. She wanted to be back with them more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. Her sweet son, with his chubby little cheeks and hands. She was determined not to leave this world and him motherless. She had too much to teach him and so much to learn from him. The love she felt for him was one of the strongest things she knew and to die and give that up….for him to never know his mother, was simply not an option. Though she knew Paul was quite capable of raising him, she didn’t want to leave her husband alone with that task.
Paul. The love of her life. The tough guy who could touch the deepest recesses of her soul in such a tender way. They hadn’t had enough time yet. She wanted to grow old with this man, wanted to have more babies by him, wanted to spend every night loving him. No. She was not going to give into this bastard nor take the easy way out by allowing him to kill her or getting herself killed. So now she had to decide.
It was only her body, right? Asshole couldn’t touch her heart or her soul. He could touch her flesh, he could rape her, but she could recover from that. Paul would help her, of that much she was certain. She had witnessed first hand the gentle and caring way he had handled Monica after her run in with William Grady. Yes, Paul would be fucking furious, but like Andrew had done, he would put it aside and help her put the pieces of herself back together again.
Doubt rose up in her and threatened to choke her, but it had nothing to do with what she knew Paul would provide. She could tell herself it was only her body, that she had been with other men before Paul, but now, since meeting him, since marrying him, it was a part of her she felt belonged at least partially to him. To allow another man to touch it. Could she close off her heart enough to allow that to happen? But if she fought him, he could easily kill her and she had already decided that was not an option. So she would have to find a way to think of it, to accept it and to comply.
The sound of a key in the lock nearly caused her heart to stop beating as she stared up at the stairs and watched the door slowly open. Her hands clenched into fists as she mentally tried to steel herself. Would he throw her down on that fucking table and rape her here and now? Would he torture her first with those horrible devices on the shelves? No matter what he chose, she reminded herself, the goal was to live.
"Miss me, Alex?" He asked as he descended the steps and stood facing her, practically undressing her with his eyes as he did.
She remained silent. Alex didn’t want him attacking her again, but she’d be damned if she’d make small talk with him either.
"Ah, well, at least you have your tongue in check for the moment," He remarked as he walked past her, not noticing how she bristled, and took a seat on what in her mind, she had been referring to as "the table from hell." He was silent for a moment, before he spoke again, "Look at me, Alex."
She blinked rapidly to force back the frightened tears that were trying to push their way forward and then did as he asked, not missing how he smiled at her compliance. It was then that she noticed the gun in his hand.
"Just a little reassurance that you obey my orders, sweetheart," He explained, following her line of vision, "And it seems that you have not. You are still far too overdressed for the occasion."
"Please…" The word was out before she could stop it. She didn’t want to beg, but knowing that trying to fight could sever her connection to her husband and child, it was all she could do.
"Still a little nervous, I suppose. It’s sweet really, but what to do?" He seemed to think for a moment and then raised a finger, "I know. I’ll make you a deal. We’ll learn to trust each other slowly if that is the way you prefer it. I promise I will not touch you tonight. How’s that? Does that make you feel a bit better?"
Alex didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, but she nodded her head, "Yes."
"Very well, then. Now you must prove that you trust me, Alex. I’ve just given you my word and in order for you to trust me, it has to be proved by our actions," His eyes darkened as he looked at her, "Remove your clothing."
Her breathing quickened and she bit the inside of her lip and suddenly the tears could no longer be held back, though she was angry about them as they coursed down her face.
"I promise not to touch you, sweetheart. Now please, do as you were asked." He gestured with the gun which completely disregarded the gentle way he was speaking.
"You won’t touch me?" Her voice trembled and she could barely see through the tears in her eyes.
"You have my word."
It was the most horrible thing she had ever had to do and her hands trembled as they fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. Her tearfilled blue eyes remained focused on the wall above his head, trying desperately to somehow detach herself from what was happening. Goosebumps rose up on her arms as she slid the blouse down over her shoulders.
"Good girl. Keep going," She heard him say as she stared at the gray wall and forced herself to keep moving. She removed her jeans slowly, feeling sick in the pit of her stomach once they were off and she stood in front of him with nothing more than her bra and panties.
"Very nice, Alex. The rest please." His voice was ominously soft.
With each blink of her eyes more tears fell and it was all she could do to unhook her bra, wanting to die as she slid it slowly off her arms. She had never felt so horribly exposed and she fought to think of Paul and Matthew and how wonderful it would feel to have her husband hold her in his arms. Those thoughts alone got her through the rest as she stood before him, completely naked and crying softly.
"So beautiful," He breathed as he stood up briefly and walked towards her. She nearly crumpled, sure he was going to go back on his promise, but he walked around her slowly, never once laying a finger on her before he returned to his seat, "Absolutely stunning."
Alex’s eyes never moved from the wall until she heard the sound of his zipper and then they flickered briefly towards him, nearly sobbing with relief and disgust. The son of a bitch was jerking off in front of her, but at least he wasn’t raping her, touching her. Her eyes returned to the wall as she silently offered up prayer after prayer for safety and deliverance.
He came with a groan and then wiped his hand on the leg of his pants as he stood up and gathered her clothing, "You won’t be needing these anymore, my love." He advised her, bringing her panties up to his face and inhaling, "So sweet. Goodnight, Alex."
Chapter 2
It was only once he had walked up the stairs and she heard the door close and lock that she crumpled to the floor, shivering and sobbing and praying for Paul to find her. She stayed there for a long time, until she had no more tears to cry, and her sobs had turned into gasps for air. She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious in the trunk, or how long he had left her alone before joining her in the basement, but she jerked when the overhead light flicked off, and a nightlight at the top of the stairs flicked on. The day was over.
The last thing she wanted to do was lie on anything that he had touched, but the cold had infected her, making her muscles tighten until they felt about ready to snap. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light she felt her way over to the bed. There was a blanket folded at one end and she gingerly picked it up. It turned her stomach to even touch it but she remembered her promise to herself and to her family. She had to stay strong for them. Trying not to think about it, she wrapped herself in the blanket and lay down on the mattress. Her breath was still coming in fast little half-sobs and she willed it to even out but she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Instead her bright eyes peered into the darkness, barely blinking as the minutes ticked by on the way to morning.
*****
The beeping monitors were back. Attached carefully, with wires threading out from under the blankets, they beat almost in time with one another. Monica’s eyes drifted to them briefly, but her eyes were more focused on the IV bag that hung beside her, sending a steady stream of terbutaline into her system. The shot in the ambulance had already stopped her contractions and left her breathless, nauseous and rattled and for the first time Andrew had seen everything from start to finish.
The drug had stopped labor but the doctor was afraid that the contractions could start up again at any time and they couldn’t take that chance. The only other drug was magnesium sulfate and its side effects were even worse than the terbutaline, so they had stuck with the devil she already knew, and now she waited, steeling herself for what she already knew was coming.
"Angel, it’s going to be all right. I’m right here," Andrew whispered as he squeezed her hand.
"But you shouldn’t be," Monica finally voiced what she had been thinking all along. "You should be with Paul, finding Alex!"
"Monica, no. Paul is fine on his own. He’ll call me if he needs me," Andrew tried to sound confident, but the truth was that he was torn nearly in two. How could he sit with his wife when Alex was in the hands of a murderer? But how could he leave Monica’s side when she and the baby were still in so much danger.
"If he hurts her… Andrew… If he… if he… And I was right there! Why didn’t I call you from upstairs? Why? What was I thinking? What if he’s already raped her? What if…"
"Shhhh." Andrew cut off her tortured words. "You didn’t know what was going on, baby. You had no reason to call us, and even if you had, we never could have made it there in time."
Monica was still shaking her head as she pressed her lips together to keep from crying. Every horrible image had flooded back to the forefront of her mind and all she could see was Alex in her place.
"She’s so strong," her voice was tight and pleading, "but what if…"
"Stop. You can’t do this to yourself. Not now. Please, Monica. Please…"
"I can’t! I can’t stop thinking about her and about the baby! If our baby lives but Alex… doesn’t… I don’t think that’s something I can live with!"
"She is going to live," Andrew insisted, his eyes boring into hers. "We are going to find her and no matter what he has done to her, she is going to be fine. You’re right. She’s strong. And she has strong friends around her. You have to hold onto that, Monica, not those pictures in your mind you keep torturing yourself with."
"It’s hard not to," her words were barely audible and Andrew felt instantly guilty.
"I’m sorry, angel. I know it is. Just put it all before God. Remember that He is still watching over us, and over Alex. He’s kept us all together this long. I don’t think He intends to pull us apart now"
Monica started to give a little nod, but at the same time her heart monitor showed her heart beginning to race. She closed her eyes against the now almost familiar sensations. Andrew wasn’t quite so blasé. He pressed the call button immediately and by the time the nurse arrived Monica was glad that he had. Her heart was beating so fast and her breath coming so short that it was causing her entire body to shake. Andrew’s grasp on her hand was the only thing keeping her from lapsing into unconsciousness. A few minutes later and even that couldn’t keep her from passing out.
An hour passed before they were able to stabilize her condition by giving her yet more drugs to counteract the effects of the first. Her heartrate remained elevated, and a steady supply of oxygen aided her labored breathing. Nothing could stop the nausea that had emptied her stomach and continued to cause it to twist. Another IV had been inserted to give her the nutrients that she probably wouldn’t be able to keep down on her own until after the terbutaline was stopped and the baby was born. The only thing that Andrew could find to feel grateful about was that she had fallen into a deep sleep so at least she could no longer feel what her body was going through.
The door swung open and Andrew didn’t even look up, expecting yet another nurse. He pushed back from the bed slightly and reached for his cell phone. He needed to call Paul.
"You can put that away." Paul’s voice behind him made him jerk his head around in surprise.
"What are you doing here?"
"I had to see how she was doing," Paul said, the sadness and anger and frustration seeming to roll off him in waves.
"Alex?"
Paul shook his head. "Nothing yet. The cops are out combing the streets, and so are our guys, but they don’t even know what to look for. I want to go back to that fucking grocery store but they’re already closed. I swear, if I had the power I’d just start tearing open every door in this city until I found her." His voice was hard and fierce, but Andrew could see the redness and shine in his eyes as well.
"We’ll find her Paul. You know that’s true."
"That’s the only thing that keeps me from going completely fucking crazy, but what then? He has her right now! Who the fuck knows what he’s doing to her…"
"Whatever it is… she’ll get through it. You’ll get her through it," Andrew insisted, realizing that Paul was right back at the farmhouse with Monica.
He nodded his head and then swept his hands angrily over his face, scrubbing at it. "I’d do anything for her, Andrew," he said, his voice choked.
"I know that. And so does she."
Paul nodded again and took another step closer to Monica’s bedside. "How is she? How’s the baby?"
"They’re both holding their own. She’s on some pretty powerful drugs right now. I’m just hoping she’ll sleep through the night."
"Yeah." Paul walked around the bed and sat down heavily in the chair there. Andrew looked at him questioningly for a minute before the man raised his head and spoke again. "I can’t go home, Andrew. I can’t walk in that house without her."
Andrew’s heart clenched, knowing exactly how Paul was feeling. "Stay here. It’s not comfortable, but maybe you’ll get an hour or two of sleep."
"A minute or two is more likely, but thanks, buddy. Thanks a lot."
Paul had been correct in knowing that sleep would not come. All he could see when he closed his eyes was Alex hurt at the hands of a sex offender and murderer and all he saw when he opened them was Andrew dozing in his own chair, holding tightly to Monica’s hand and he wished he was able to hold onto Alex’s in the same way. Andrew couldn’t take the pain and fear away, but he could assure her that he was there and that he loved her while Alex didn’t even have that much.
While Monica slept through the night, her rest was fairly troubled and filled with murmurs from the past intermingled with Alex’s name. It tore at the agent’s heart, the words painful for him to hear and one look at Andrew told him that his friend was also temporarily lost in the past as well.
By morning light, Paul knew he couldn’t sit still any longer. He had to do something. Maybe there had a been a lead, even though in his heart he knew that if there had been, he would have been called immediately. Standing up, he stretched his aching muscles and reached for his coat.
"You’ll find her, Paul."
The voice was but a whisper but he turned to see the little angel looking up at him through tired and pain-filled dark eyes. Andrew was finally dozing fitfully in the chair and Paul briefly sat down on the edge of her bed, "I have to, Monica. I can’t image any other options."
She reached for his hand and held it tightly in her own as her eyes traced over the worry lines in his face, "I wish I could have done more. Maybe I should have been able to-."
"No. Honey, you did all you could. You tried to help her and I’m just thankful he didn’t take you as well."
Monica fell silent for a moment, measuring her next words carefully, "Paul, no matter what happens, when you find her, you’re going to be angry. You have every right to be, even if he didn’t…even if…even if he didn’t hurt her that way and I’m praying every moment that he hasn’t or won’t. But, you have to put how you feel aside for Alex’s sake. She went into this knowing who she was dealing with and I think she’s had to make some tough decisions, some you may have trouble understanding."
His eyes were wet with tears and he realized that other than Alex, Monica was the only one he had ever allowed to witness any weak moments he may have, "How do you mean, Monica?"
"I mean, it’s possible she may have had to decide to fight and maybe die, or submit to him and hopefully live." She could see the fear etched into his eyes and she blinked back tears of her own, "I know with all my heart, that she would do anything to come back to you and Matthew. Anything, Paul. No matter what it was. All that matters to her is getting back to you. That’s how much she loves you."
He looked away briefly as he felt the tears fall and he knew the angel was right. If Alex downright feared for her life, she would let this bastard do as he would in order to survive. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain it would cause her, or the cost after the fact, but he knew it to be true, "I love her so much, Monica." His voice was broken and weary and his pain went right to her heart.
"I know." She whispered, "And more importantly, Alex knows and she’s going to need you to be strong and gentle. Not distant and angry. I know you. You get mad sometimes and you close yourself off and you cannot do that this time, Paul."
"I won’t," He uttered, his reddened eyes turning back to her, "I just want her back in my arms in one piece." He wiped at his eyes with the hand that she wasn’t holding tightly to, "I sat here last night, watching Andrew holding onto your hand, and…I couldn’t help but wish that there was someone holding onto Alex."
Monica longed to throw her arms around him and hold him tightly, but IV s and monitors wouldn’t allow it, "Someone is, Paul. God is holding her so tightly right now, I promise you that. I promise. He knows her fear and her pain and He has her and I think she knows that. You need to know it too."
"I do. You’ve reminded me of that for so long now, honey."
"You had to trust Him once before with her, when Jackson poisoned her. Remember?" She saw him nod his head as she continued, "He came through for you then, Paul. Trust him this time too."
"I will," He swiped at his eyes one more time and then leaned down and gave a lingering kiss to her pale cheek, "I love you, little angel. You take care of yourself and I’ll be back as soon as I can."
"I love you too," She blinked back tears and then gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze before reluctantly letting him go. She watched him walk out the door and then closed her eyes, "Please Father, keep her safe and lead Paul to her. Please."
*****
Paul stopped by the office, but it was horribly quiet and any check of his e-mails and messages didn’t reveal anything. It was still too early to go to the grocer and he was all but stir crazy. The helpless feeling was settling in again and he was desperate to avoid it. He had already touched base with Alex’s parents and his mother-in-laws near hysteria had added to him feeling completely useless. Yes, he was looking for her. Of course he would call as soon as he had something. No, she didn’t mind looking after Matthew until this was over.
Over? What did "over" consist of? He prayed it was of holding Alex in his arms for a long time and he struggled to hold onto Monica’s words. The walls were closing in on him and he was jittery from all the coffee he had already consumed this morning. Sitting still was not an option and he once again grabbed his jacket and headed out of the building.
He killed time by driving around, several times past Lucky’s in the hopes that there would be some sign of life, but all the lights were still off inside and he cursed under his breath. It was his best lead, his only lead and he was forced to wait to pursue it. It was almost agony.
Somehow he found himself walking up the path to the townhouse; the home he shared with his wife and son. Opening the front door, he breathed in the scents of home. A lingering smell of cinammon and baby lotion, and a trace of Alex’s perfume and he was struck by the way his entire life had been transformed.
He had been a miserable bachelor after Lauren had died, angry, bitter, a loner who cared about nothing more than work and catching the bad guy. It had been a lonely existence, never a life and looking back on it, he nearly shuddered. Meals had been eaten from a can or a box and the television had been his only true friend. The news, movies and sitcoms temporarily numbed his aloneness and kept him from thinking about the things that had been missing from his life.
Then Douglas McArthur had happened and he had met Monica and Andrew. Even with his rough disposition, he had known that there was something special there. Before he had even realized what had been happening, he had found himself laughing for the first time in years, and rescuing kittens and horseback riding again. He had damn near craved their company and by the time Mike Deatrich had been put behind bars for masterminding Lauren’s murder, he knew he was no longer alone. He had friends, even if they were angels, and he had God. It had been a freedom so sweet that he hadn’t been able to imagine his life being any better, but then it had all changed again.
He had known he had liked Alexandra Bennett from the moment had had met her, but she stubbornly refused to believe that God existed and after all his experiences, Paul had been hesitant to pursue the relationship. His faith had been new and while it was a quiet faith, it had started a fire in his soul and to not be able to share it with those in his life was unfathomable.
But trusting God had also taught him to to take leaps of faith and with poison flowing through her system, he had taken one, and had not regretted the decision since then. Marrying her had been the happiest moment of his life, other than when his son had been brought into the world. Alex was able to see inside his soul and still could. He loved her with all that he was and nothing felt more right to him anymore than spending a quiet evening in front of the fire with her, playing with Matthew. Where once work had come first, now his family did and right now, the two had met in a horrible crossing of paths.
He had to find her. His life without her would take him back to that dark place he had been before angels had lit the way for him. He needed her. Needed. Three years ago he hadn’t needed anyone, but all that had changed. He craved her touch and her smile and even the occasional punch to the arm when he was teasing her.
"God," He whispered, staring up at the ceiling, "You’ve given me so much that I know I have no right to ask for anything more, but I’m only human. I need you to lead me to my wife. Till death do we part hasn’t been long enough yet, Lord. Please, hold her until I can and then I promise I will never let her go again."
*****
She didn’t know if she slept or just drifted into a place outside herself, but she was brought immediately back to reality by the sound of the lock turning at the top of the stairs. She took deep breaths, gathering her strength and sealing her heart and soul into an impenetrable fortress within herself. When he came into view she was sitting up, bare feet flat on the floor, fists balled against her thighs. Ready.
"Why, Alex, I see you’re already awake and waiting for me. That’s very good."
She said nothing. Disagreeing would only make him angry, but she still had her stubbornness and her pride.
"But that blanket is going to have to go," he admonished her, waving at the way she had wrapped herself up in it. "I thought we learned that lesson last night." His voice changed from sickeningly sweet to dangerously low in the space of one sentence and Alex felt herself involuntarily suck in her breath. "Now stand up and drop it." The words were an order and the look in his eyes was a warning not to disobey.
She rose to her feet gritting her teeth and tightening her muscles to keep her knees from shaking. There was almost a leer spreading across his face. He wanted to see her reluctance and fear. He was feeding on it. It was a small thing, but she wasn’t going to give him even that much satisfaction. She dropped the blanket quickly and stood up straighter. He wanted her to cower before him, and maybe before this was all over she would, but not yet. She would do what she had to do to stay alive but she wasn’t going to do one bit more.
He chuckled and raised one eyebrow at her. "Still feeling feisty? Don’t worry. I’ll change that."
He walked around her the same way he had the night before, but this time there was no promise between them and she closed her eyes, every nerve alive, waiting for him to touch her. His breath against her ear seemed to burn her and she bit her lip to keep from crying.
"You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you?" he hissed. "Don’t you!" He shouted into her ear, making her jump and let out a startled cry.
"You’re going to rape me." Her voice was very small and it cracked as she spoke and then she felt her shoulders beginning to shake with the sobs she refused to give into.
"Oh, sweetheart, no. No, it’s not like that at all." The sweetness was back, and somehow it was worse than the shouting. "I’m going to make love to you. You might resist a little bit at first, but with time and training, you will start to crave it. You’re going to love me, sweetheart. Now let’s hear you say it, just for practice."
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. No. He couldn’t make her do that. She wouldn’t do that. She loved one man and one man only, and she would never say she loved anyone else.
"What? Cat got your tongue?" He reached around and grabbed both her breasts in his cold, strong hands. He wasn’t squeezing, just holding them, feeling their weight in his palms, and she let out a small whimper. "Nice," he whispered against her ear again. "Beautiful. You’d like to keep them that way, wouldn’t you?" She nodded her head. She felt like his touch was burning into her skin. How would she ever be able to erase it? "Well then, I don’t think you want me whipping them until they’re nothing but useless mounds of flesh, do you?"
"No… please… just…" Just what? Just let her go? She knew he wasn’t going to do that and she cursed her own weakness for speaking.
"No, of course you don’t. But I will. I will make you beg me to stop and then I’ll keep going for hours more." He felt her stifled sobs and the sick smile on his face grew wider. "Now just say it, Alex. Say that you love me and you can avoid all that. At least for today."
With everything that was within her she was praying for strength and guidance and deliverance, but now her prayers changed to pleas for Paul to forgive her for what she had to do. "I…I love you…" the words were weak and he could barely hear them, but he smiled nonetheless.
"Very good, Alex," he said as his hands dropped from her breasts. "Very good. I love you too. That’s why you’re here after all." He traced one finger down her arm and then took her hand in his, leading her over to the table in the center of the room.
She barely knew she was doing it but her head was shaking back and forth, as her stomach twisted into a knot. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. She was going to throw up. She couldn’t let him do this to her. She started to struggle against him and all of her training sprang right to the fore. She stomped down on his instep and then jabbed her elbow back into his stomach, wrenching her hand away from his with a cry. He let out a shout and then grabbed her by her hair and the next sound she heard was a gun cocking right at her temple.
"Alex, Alex, Alex. I wanted our first time to be beautiful. Now you had to go and spoil that."
His voice and the sound of the gun snapped her back to herself. Paul. The image of him sprang into her mind. She would do anything to get back to him. Anything. She had already made that deal with herself, and now she was going to go through with it. Paul’s and Matthew’s names continued to repeat over and over again in her mind.
"I’m sorry," she forced herself to speak, the words sounding like they were coming from outside herself.
"Oh, Alex. That’s a wonderful start." The gun was pulled back and he lessened his hold on her hair. "Of course I’ll have to punish you for your transgression, but that can wait." He pulled her back to the table, and this time his voice was cold and harsh as he spoke. "Get up, Alex. Don’t make me hurt you."
Closing her eyes, Alex took in another breath, releasing it in a sob as she sat down on the table. Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t going to even remember this. She was going to go somewhere else.
"Now lie down." Again the words were an order and with every part of her body shaking she managed to do as he asked.
The wood was hard and cold against her skin, and her trembling only made it worse. She stared up at the ceiling as she felt him tightening the straps around her ankles, and then he was kissing her forehead and securing her wrists to the table as well. She was completely helpless and she had let him put her in that position. Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul. She had to keep reminding herself. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She just had to live. That was all she had to do. That would be enough.
Chapter 3
Andrew had woken up and was surprised to find Paul gone and Monica awake. Her heart was still beating rather quickly and her hands were still trembling, but she managed a tiny smile that he knew was for his benefit.
"How are you feeling, baby?" He asked softly as he moved to stroke her cheek. She was so pale and looked so exhausted and he remembered the nightmares that had plagued her in the night.
"I’m okay," She closed her eyes briefly at his sweet touch, saying another silent prayer of thanks just for him, "Tired, but all right."
"Were you up when Paul left?"
"Yes. We had a little talk…and now I need to have one with you."
His brow furrowed, having a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was coming, "What is it, angel?"
She looked up at him, the love in her dark eyes unmistakable, "You know I love having you here and that I need you here, but right now, there is someone else who needs you more."
"Paul." He said without even thinking about it, knowing her tender heart was struggling with their friend facing so much alone.
"Yes. I have doctors and nurses all around me, Andrew, but Paul needs your presence right now, even more than I do. Please go find him. Help him find Alex." Her eyes were pleading and he watched as tears sprang to them.
His jaw clenched. Though he had been struggling with the same things, now being faced with it directly made leaving her feel nearly impossible, "Angel…"
"Please? It’s killing me knowing what Alex could be going through. I want you and Paul to find her. I want her brought home safely," She blinked and the tears fell, "She’s my best friend, Andrew, and I can’t help her right now."
She looked as tired and anguished as he felt and he reached up and swiped at a tear, "You are helping her, baby. You’re praying for her every minute."
"Please go? Don’t come back until you find her. Until she is safe." She reached up and laid her hand over his, her eyes pleading with him.
His shoulders slumped in resignation as he nodded his head, "You’re right. It’s just so hard to leave you like this, Monica."
"I’m all right and I’ll be even better when you come back and tell me you found her."
He smiled sadly as he leaned down and gently brushed his lips with hers, "I love you, baby."
"I love you too, with all my heart."
*****
For some reason, Andrew felt driven to go past Paul’s place and the feeling paid off when he saw Paul coming out the front door, head down, hands stuffed into his pockets. His friend looked downright haggard, though surprise shone on his face at seeing Andrew there.
"Andrew? What the hell are you doing here?"
Andrew reached over to open the passenger door, "Get in, Paul. Lucky’s should be opening shortly and we aren’t wasting any time."
Climbing into the car, Paul closed the door as Andrew pulled away, "You should be with Monica."
"She doesn’t think so and you know how persuasive she can be," He managed a tired grin though he saw Paul fighting for control of his emotions, "And she was right."
The agent was silent for a moment, before he managed to reply tightly, "Thank you…and make sure you thank her for me as well."
They were quiet as Andrew raced towards the grocery store, thankful that the morning traffic was relatively light given the weekend. The lights were now on inside of the store and Andrew pulled to a screeching halt up in front before they both all but ran inside, searching for the florist counter. As it turned out, it was in the back of the store and somehow they managed not to knock anyone over in their haste to reach it.
Paul had the little cards out before they even reached it and the girl behind the counter looked somewhat surprised, "May I help you?"
"Paul Gatlin, FBI," He flashed his badge and then launched right into his explanation about the cards and needing confirmation that they had come from this store. She listened attentively and then looked at each card closely. The agents were nearly steaming with impatience by the time she finally spoke.
"If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was Ron’s writing. He’s the manager and come to think of it, he has mentioned having dates lately, so that would make sense."
"What does he look like?" Andrew barely left her with time to take a breath.
"Ron?" She rolled her eyes and shook her head, "He thinks he’s all that, but actually he ain’t. I mean, he’s okay looking, but nothing to get excited about if you know what I mean."
"We need a physical description," Paul pressed, trying to keep his growing impatience from showing.
"Oh. Well. Dark hair, mustache, blue eyes. I guess he’s around forty. Thinks he is quite a ladies man, but my boyfriend says he has seen his car outside most of the strip joints outside of the city. I think he’s a bit of a pervert, but as long as he doesn’t bother me, what do I care?"
"Is he here?"
She looked at the blond agent who had asked the question and shook her head, "Nah. Called in sick today."
"I’ll need his address. Do you have that?"
Ten minutes later, Paul and Andrew were racing back out to the car, florist card with Ron Bussey’s address in hand. Now they just had to pray that it wasn’t too late.
*****
"They’re on the way," Andrew said as he hung up his cell phone. "They’re going to meet us there with a warrant."
"Fuck that! That son of a bitch has my wife! I’m not waiting for some damn warrant!"
Andrew didn’t reply. The truth was that he felt exactly the same way. The rest of the drive was silent except for Paul cursing under his breath and pounding on the steering wheel. When they pulled up to a screeching halt in front of Bussey’s house, there were no other cars in sight.
"Let’s go," Andrew said, giving his tacit approval to Paul’s plan to go in without back up.
The house was very ordinary, even dull, but it was quite large, an older colonial, nearly identical to every other house on the street. It was painted a dull grey color with black trim, and Paul noticed that even the mailbox post matched the paint scheme. There was a car in the driveway; dark, with a large trunk. Paul felt his insides churn at the thought of Alex being inside it. He and Andrew made their way to the front door and were not surprised to find it locked.
"I don’t want to break it down," Paul said as he took out a lock picking kit. "I don’t want him to hear us." The implication was clear. If he heard them and Alex was still alive, then the bastard might kill himself and take her with him.
They stepped inside and the smell of cleanser and lemons assailed their nostrils. Three pairs of identical shoes were lined up on a mat by the door. The mail was neatly divided into stacks, and sat on a polished table that almost gleamed.
"Check upstairs," Paul said, as he headed down the hallway. She was here. He could tell. It was like a pulling on his heart, leading him to her. Prayers kept repeating in his head. All he wanted was to find her alive. He didn’t give a damn about anything else. She just had to be alive.
He walked into the kitchen and moved as slowly as he could so that his shoes made no sound on the painfully clean linoleum. Coffee pot on warm, one mug in the dishdrainer, towel hung neatly on a hook. It all looked perfectly normal and Paul felt himself growing desperate. She had to be here. He could feel her!
That was when his eyes drifted to the left. There was an extra lock on the basement door. How many people padlocked their basements? Paul had his gun drawn and was opening the door only seconds later. He was quiet about it and stepped softly down the first few steps but then he heard Alex’s stifled crying and he practically flung himself down the stairs. His eyes took everything in but he couldn’t allow his mind to process it yet. Alex, naked and crying, chained to a table; a man looming over her, shirt off, top button of his pants undone. Had he just finished or was he just starting? Paul felt his rage overpowering him.
"Get the fuck away from her you goddamned fucking bastard!" Paul was shouting at the top of his lungs as he struggled not to just pull the trigger.
Ron felt for his own gun and realized he’d put it down on the shelves while he’d cuffed Alex to the table. He made a grab for it, but was too slow. Paul was already on him, slamming his gunhand into his face. The agent threw him up against the wall, the hard concrete scraping hard enough to draw blood.
"You fucking psycho! Sick motherfucking bag of shit! That’s my wife! My wife you worthless asshole!"
With every word, Paul’s fist flew at the murdering kidnapper’s face. The bone in his nose was the first to break and then blood poured from his mouth as he struggled to spit out two teeth that threatened to choke him. Paul couldn’t stop himself. His fear, his frustration, his absolute rage; he poured it out over the man responsible for it all.
In the background he heard Alex screaming. She was crying and begging him to just stop and free her. He landed another punch, straight to Bussey’s left eye, and then dropped him and watched him fall, a bloody, pulverized mess, barely able to groan. He spun around, his swollen hands out at his sides and looked at his wife for the first time.
She was still crying and she strained against the cuffs. She met his eyes briefly but then turned away, humiliation washing over her like a wave. Paul’s stunned reaction lasted no more than a second before he was beside her, touching her face, begging her to look at him.
"The key baby, where is it? Did you see it?"
"On the… on the shelf…." She managed between sobs.
Paul went to them and his stomach almost revolted at what he saw there. He couldn’t look. He couldn’t think about it. Not now. He grabbed the key and raced back to Alex’s side. The cuffs sprang open, first wrists, then ankles, and he had tears tracking down his own cheeks as he pulled her shaking body hard against his. She curled herself up like a child in his sheltering embrace and he rained kisses down on her soft hair.
"Alex… tell me… where are you hurt? What did he do to you? Please baby… let me help you," Paul murmured, although he was afraid to hear her answer.
"He didn’t… he didn’t hurt me… he didn’t…"
Paul continued to hold her close as he closed his eyes and thanked God for the fact that her body, at least, was unharmed, but he knew that emotionally, her recovery would be twice as long as Ron Bussey’s. The thought of that sent another shot of anger through him but he simply held his wife closer. She was safe. That was all that mattered.
Upstairs, Andrew had heard the shouting, and he ran back through the house, calling Paul’s name. By the time he reached the basement, it was all over, and he looked sadly down at his best friends. It was impossible not to see that Alex had been stripped bare, and the way Paul cradled her was a painful reminder of a part of his past with Monica. Ron Bussey was still on the floor, and Andrew was about to turn and give Paul and Alex their privacy when he saw the murderer move. It was much faster than he could believe, but somehow the man managed to hurl himself towards Paul, reaching for the agent’s gun.
The sound of the gunshot rang through the basement, rattling off the hard walls, and lingering in the air. Paul and Alex both looked up with shock on their faces and saw Andrew, standing halfway down the stairs, gun still in his steady hand. Following his gaze they saw Ron Bussey, lying dead on the ground, blood pooling out from underneath his chest. The sight, which Alex thought she would have relished, instead brought another sob to her throat and she buried her head against Paul’s chest.
Andrew met Paul’s gaze, and never wavered. "Let me look around for some clothes," he said. "The rest of the team should be here any minute.
"Paul…" Alex murmured through her tears as Andrew walked back up the steps, "Paul…" Just saying his name and knowing he was holding her was more than she could ever want.
"I’m here, baby. I’m here, sweetheart," It was nearly all he could manage around the emotion in his throat, though there were a million other things he wanted to say. She was still crying uncontrollably, hands clutching at his shirt, face buried against his chest and he remembered the look of shame in her blue eyes before he had freed her, "Alex. Look at me, baby." Another sob escaped her as she pressed her face tighter up against him, "Honey, please."
It took all the remaining strength she had to raise her head, her teary blue eyes briefly meeting with his. She would have looked away again, had he not gently captured her chin in his strong, but gentle hand. It was only then that she saw the tears in his own eyes.
The emotions washed over him in waves as he looked down into her face, his hand moving lightly over the bruise on her cheekbone. She was struggling to stop crying, but her eyes were still brimming, "I love you so much, Alex Gatlin. Just so incredibly much, baby. The thought of losing you…Alex, it was killing me inside." He watched as her chin trembled and more tears fell and he felt another of his own break free, "You’re sure he didn’t hurt you? Don’t hide it from me, baby. If he did, I am here for you and we will get through it. I promise you that."
"He didn’t…" She uttered tearfully, "He was getting ready to, but….you got here in time. Oh God, Paul, thank God you got here in time!"
He pulled her close once more as he heard the steps creak and then Andrew’s voice, "I found your clothes, Alex," He stated softly, hesitating to come any closer as he didn’t want to upset her anymore than she already was.
"Just lay them on the table, buddy," Paul stated softly, his hand running through his wife’s hair soothingly, "Have the rest of the guys arrived yet?"
"They just pulled up. I’ll brief them and give you two some time."
He departed again, and Alex swallowed back her tears, "Please…I just want out of this hell."
Paul nodded his head and pulled away to help her. She was still shaking so badly, both from fear and exhaustion, that he helped her dress without a second thought. He knew that there were many things still inside of her that needed to come out, but he was not about to push her. He had learned that lesson over a year ago with Andrew and was not about to repeat the mistake. He would give her some time, then make the offer and then remain patient until she was ready.
She seemed to calm a bit once she was dressed and no longer so vulnerably exposed, but when he helped her up and her eyes were forced to take in her surroundings once again, she nearly crumpled. "Paul, I can’t…I don’t want to see…"
She didn’t even have to finish the thought before he had swept her up in his arms as she buried her face against his neck. She was tired, probably hungry, and badly shaken, and he had no desire to let her out of his embrace anyway. As they emerged into the winter sunshine, the team was already dispersing with orders from Andrew and his partner was already waiting in the car with the engine running and the heat on high.
Paul helped Alex inside before getting into the backseat with her and she immediately pressed into his arms once more. Andrew’s eyes were pained and when he turned around, only Paul noticed the haunted look in them as he reached for Alex’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"I’m glad you’re okay, sweetie," He stated softly.
"Me too," She whispered. He released her hand and steered the car back in the direction of the Gatlin’s place, knowing they both needed time and rest.
"How’s Monica?" She asked, the warmth of her husband’s body slowly bringing peace back into her heart.
"In the hospital, but they stopped the contractions. I don’t think she’ll be coming home until the baby comes home with her. But other than worried sick about you, she’s hanging in there."
"I’ll be in to see her soon. I just need…I just need to sleep."
"You take your time, sweetie. You know she understands."
The rest of the ride was in silence and when he pulled up in front of the townhouse, there was a brief exchange about Paul checking in later and for both of them to get some sleep. Andrew waited as they walked up the front path, Paul’s arm securely around his wife’s waist and it wasn’t until they were safely inside that he pulled away.
He called and checked in with the nurse who reported that Monica was asleep and resting as well as could be expected and he was grateful. Though he longed to get back to her side, he needed just a little time to deal with his own actions.
He had always been an angel of death, escorting people to God’s presence, but today, he had killed a man. It wasn’t even so much that he had killed Bussey that bothered him, it was the fact that he felt not even the smallest trace of remorse for doing it. When he had seen him lunging for Paul’s gun, he had simply reacted, but not before the vision before his eyes had changed.
Suddenly it had not been Ron Bussey in that dark basement but William Grady and that realization had hit him hard. He had somehow thought that he had resolved his anger at the man that had raped Monica, but apparently he had been wrong and surprisingly he was still feeling angry. He knew he had to get rid of that anger before he faced his wife.
He drove around the outskirts of the city until he saw a small stone church, set back from the street and surrounded by an evergreen hedge and a wrought iron fence. Although it was Sunday all of the services were already over and Andrew wasn’t even sure if the church would be open. He almost kept driving, but at the last second he yanked the wheel hard to the right and pulled into the parking lot.
The sun shone down on him as he got out of the car, but it was a cold light and he pulled his coat tight and hurried towards the front door. Made of oak, with heavy iron hinges, Andrew was certain that it wouldn’t be unlocked. He wrapped his fingers around the curved handle and gave a strong pull, then almost fell backwards when the door opened easily.
Taking a breath he stepped inside and the door closed heavily behind him. His footsteps echoed against the stone tile floor and he walked down the center aisle between the rows of pews, his eyes trained on the wooden cross that hung at the front of the church. The only light was what came through the stained glass windows, but it was more than enough.
Andrew sat down in the front row and it was then that he realized how hard his heart was beating, not just from the anger that swirled through him, but from the sudden closeness he felt to God. He let out a long breath and rested his elbows on his thighs, hands tightly clasped as he lowered his head.
"Father, I know that you can’t speak to me in the way I’m used to, but I’m coming to you to place everything that I am feeling before you. You already know what I had to do today… that I had to take a human life… something that I had never even imagined it possible for me to do. I may have had moments in the past where I felt like I could kill, but I never really thought it could happen. And now it has, and I feel as if I should be remorseful, but instead I am filled with anger… anger about a past that I know I can’t change… a past that I thought I had moved beyond."
"You have given me so much… everything… absolutely everything I ever dreamed of, and this is how I repay You, by going against Your teachings with hardly a second thought. That isn’t what I want for myself or for my family, but I see now that I need You more than ever. I need You to help me. You have made me a human, and now I need your help to become a man… the type of man worthy of all the gifts you have granted."
Andrew fell silent, knowing that he would not hear a reply, but waiting in the stillness for something he couldn’t even define. As an angel the voice of God had been like music to him, like the wind in the trees and the sound of water rushing over rocks; constant and always there when he spoke to Him. Now he fully realized the patience and faith of the human race, who heard no words, and yet were still touched by the presence of God.
He waited for what seemed like a long time, his breathing loud in his ears, until finally, very slowly, he felt the weight on his heart begin to lift, and a wave of pure love felt like it pressed into every pore. He raised his eyes to the cross again and mouthed the words, ‘thank you’. There was more he needed to do, but now he felt he had a new place to begin.
*****
Alex’s tears had stopped on the drive back to the townhouse, and Paul was surprised at the way she pulled herself together. He was even more shocked when they entered the house and he saw her knees begin to shake, and all of the blood drain from her face. Only his arm around her waist kept her on her feet.
Her eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, from the broken umbrella she kept reminding herself to throw away that was still hanging from the coat-rack, to the vase on the entryway table that had been a wedding gift from a distant cousin. As much as she had prayed, and as hard as she had fought to hold onto hope, she now discovered that a part of her had never expected to see this house again. She pulled in a breath and swallowed it down, choking back a sob.
"Alex? Are you all right? Talk to me." He tightened his hold around her and reached his other hand out to grab onto hers.
She nodded, lips pressed together and jaw clenched.
Paul didn’t understand it, but he didn’t question her. "C’mon, baby. Let’s get you upstairs." He gently led her, like a child, his arm guiding her, his body close to hers, praying that his warmth would pass into her.
When he arrived at the bedroom he released her and moved to turn down the bed.
"Shower first," she whispered and he wasn’t surprised but he hadn’t wanted to do anything to second guess her.
"Of course, baby." He returned to her side and couldn’t help taking her into his arms once more. He breathed in the scent of her hair and let himself fully take in the fact that she was safe and she was home. "Alex… I love you so much. I can’t stop thanking God that you’re still here with me. It was all I prayed for the whole time that bastard had you."
"I prayed for that too," Alex murmured, face pressed against his shoulder.
They held each other for a long while before Paul finally pulled back and looked down at his wife, sadness filling his eyes at the traumatized look on her downturned face. Their love would get them through this, but it wasn’t going to make it go away.
"Okay, let’s get you in that shower."
She stiffened immediately when he seemed about to follow her into the bathroom. "I’m all right. Really," she said quickly, at once embarrassed and ashamed. She hadn’t been raped. He had barely touched her! But she still couldn’t stand the thought of Paul seeing her, not now. Not yet.
He stopped in mid-step and froze, heart clenching in his chest. "Of course you are, babe. I’ll just be right out here. Give a call if you need anything."
Tears pricked the backs of her eyes as she nodded. He was being so perfect and she was acting like a fucking idiot. She walked into the bathroom and leaned back against the door. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that she was experiencing all the textbook signs of sexual assault, but she couldn’t stop the anger she felt at herself for not being stronger. She had been preparing herself for the worst, and none of it had happened. By all rights she should have been crying for joy. Instead she slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor and let the hot tears spill out of her eyes.
Chapter 4
Though calmer when he walked back into the hospital, by the time Andrew walked back into Monica’s room, his heart leapt to his throat. Though his wife was asleep, it was anything but restful and soft, frightened whimpers were escaping her and he knew these signs only too well. Though it had been months since she had endured any flashbacks from her rape, the situation with Alex had brought it all back to the forefront of her mind and it was heartbreaking to see.
One of her nurses was standing by her bed, obviously looking uncertain and then relieved to see Andrew, "I’m so glad you’re here. She seems to be having a bad dream but I hated to wake her up."
"You always wake her from these!" He heard himself snapping at her, all the while knowing that the nurse couldn’t possibly have any idea what he was referring to. Hurrying to Monica’s side, he touched her face gently, "Angel. It’s okay, baby. C’mon, wake up for me, sweetheart." He watched as her panicked eyes sprang open and she looked around the room frantically.
"Nooo," She whispered tearfully, suddenly certain she was in another hospital for an entirely different reason as the nightmare refused to completely release her from its grasp, "Please…please…no…"
"Shhh. Monica, no. You’re only dreaming, baby. Come on back to me," He saw the confusion in her dark eyes and he reached down and laid a hand againt her belly, grateful when their daughter kicked at just that moment, "She’s moving around in there, angel. Can you feel her?"
Understanding slowly settled in as Monica reached down to link her fingers through his, relief flooding her delicate features, "Yes," She said softly, a trembling smile on her face, "I feel her. I feel her."
He released a breath he had been holding before looking up at the nurse apologetically, "I’m sorry. You couldn’t have known. Thank you for watching out for her." He still felt badly as she managed a faint smile before scurrying from the room, but he quickly let it go as he turned his attention back to his wife, "How are you feeling, baby?"
"Like I want to throw up," She stated honestly, "But I know that I have nothing left inside of me, other than our daughter and I don’t think it is meant for her to come out that way."
Andrew chuckled softly, pleased to see a little trace of her humor in light of all that was happening to her, "No, Monica, I don’t think God intended it that way either."
Her eyes suddenly widened, realizing he was here and he had promised not to come back until they…"Alex? Did you and Paul find her?"
"Yes, we did," He reassured her, moving his hand to stroke through her hair, "She’s all right, angel. Paul got to her in time."
"Oh thank God!" Tears pooled in her eyes as she closed them on a prayer and despite the fact that her heart was still racing, it now felt lighter, "And you caught him?"
He hesitated for a moment, the guilt and anger surfacing ever so slightly. He wanted to tell her, but now was not the time. She had enough to deal with as it was, "He’s dead, Monica. He won’t hurt anyone again."
She accepted this answer immediately and didn’t question how he had died, and Andrew knew that would be her reaction. She would assume an agent killed the man, but never that her own husband was responsible, and for now he was content to keep it at that.
"Is Alex all right?" Her eyes were still filled with worry for her friend and Andrew struggled with what to tell her, as he really wasn’t sure of the answer himself.
"I’m not sure, baby. I know she was exhausted and Paul took her home to rest," He left out the details, another thing he didn’t feel she needed to know at the moment. Maybe his overprotective streak was rearing it’s ugly head again, but he had been able to protect her from so little these days and he didn’t want her worrying more than was necessary. He wasn’t sure at all himself of what had happened down in that fucked up basement and speculating to Monica would just be wrong.
"I’m so glad she is safe. Thank you for helping Paul to find her."
"I had wanted to all along, angel, I just couldn’t figure out how to be in two places at once."
"You didn’t need to be in two places. I was just fine."
Though he certainly wouldn’t call the way he had just found her "just fine" he allowed it, "I’m just happy to be back with you and I have a feeling Paul will not be expecting to see me back at work for a while."
Monica smiled sleepily as her eyes began to drift closed once more, "Then all my prayers have been answered…"
*****
Though Paul had been expecting nightmares, he supposed Alex was simply too exhausted to dream as she slept soundly through the late morning and into the afternoon. She was curled tightly up against him, her face nestled against his chest and he kept his arms around her protectively.
It was only once he had awoken from a nap that he allowed his mind to go back to the basement of Bussey’s house and when he did it was all he could do to keep his breathing even. The things he had seen on those shelves had been horrifying and he had instantly expected the worst to have happened to his wife, but she was insisting it hadn’t happened; that he hadn’t hurt her.
But just seeing her cuffed to that table, naked and humiliated, Paul knew it had to have hurt her and he knew that eventually the pain would come tumbling out. She had been sexually assaulted, even if not raped, and there would be aftermath to deal with. He stared down at her, seeing the pensive expression on her face, even in sleep and he kissed the top of her head lovingly.
He was up for it and his talk with Monica had put many things into perspective for him. Alex was alive and it was all that mattered. She was alive and she was in his arms and he could find patience for anything and everything else.
Alex stirred slightly and when she finally opened her eyes, she found Paul looking down at her tenderly, "Thank you for staying with me," She stated softly.
"No where else I wanted to be, sweetheart, not now, not ever." His fingers brushed through her hair gently, "What do you need, babe?"
She closed her eyes wearily, "Just you, Paul. Just you holding me."
"An easy and very enjoyable request," The doorbell rang and she startled slightly, but he was quick to reassure her, "I’m sure it’s fine, baby. Just stay here and I’ll be right back."
Alex felt anxious in his absence, suddenly feeling horribly alone. She shivered as she sat on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. She heard the front door close and then Paul’s foot steps on the stairs and when he came back in the room, she immediately began to cry.
Matthew was in his arms, his chubby little arms outstretched for her and she sobbed uncontrollably as she accepted him from Paul. She covered his face in kisses and held him close, her cheek resting on top of his head. The two men in her life she had resolved to survive for and being with them both again was nearly overwhelming.
Alex felt Paul sit down next to her, wrapping his arms around them both and she leaned back into his arms, feeling him kiss the side of her head as he let Matthew grab hold of his fingers. "I love you both so much," She managed to choke out around the sobs.
Paul held his family tightly to himself and it took him a moment before he was able to whisper, "We love you too, sweetheart. More than you could possibly imagine."
With Alex and Matthew in his arms Paul felt himself at peace and he closed his eyes, wanting to memorize the feeling, wanting to be able to recall everything about the moment. No matter what else happened he never wanted to forget how grateful he felt, and how blessed. Different trials were bound to happen throughout the rest of their lives together, but he was determined to hold onto the way he was feeling and call on it whenever he felt that he had too much for one man to handle. Because then he would remember that he was not one man.
The baby continued to giggle and coo as Alex tickled him with her hair and walked her fingers up his round little belly. For the moment the tired and drawn look about her eyes had vanished. She was right where she needed and wanted to be. Nothing was ever going to tear her away again. She wasn’t going to let it. Her throat got tight as she kissed the top of Matthew’s head.
She had lain on that bare, stiff mattress in the basement and just imagined holding him in her arms. She had repeated to herself over and over again that it would all be worth it if she could just hold him and be held by Paul. She had said it so many times that she had made herself believe it, but now she was no longer so sure. In the end she knew that she would have done anything to stay alive, but had she given in too soon? She never wanted to relive those hours but in her mind she kept going back to them, thinking over her every action, her every word. What could she have done differently? She closed her eyes. Now wasn’t the time for that. She couldn’t think about it. She had to push it aside.
"Hey, it sounds like someone is hungry," Paul’s gentle hand reached around and brushed her stomach.
She hadn’t even noticed it rumbling. "I guess I am a little hungry," she admitted.
"Did you have…" it was the first question he had asked.
"No," she was quick to answer. "Nothing."
Paul noticed the way she tensed up and he rubbed his other hand on her shoulder and down her arm. "Okay then, why don’t I go fix a late lunch, huh?"
""Okay," her reply was flat and she kept her eyes on Matthew.
"You just keep the boy company. I’ll be back in no time." He slipped from behind her and pulled a sweatshirt on over his undershirt, then gave her a little smile just before he left the room. He wasn’t even sure if she saw it.
Alex’s hands curled into tight fists as soon as Paul closed the door. This was definitely not going the way she had thought it would. He would never ask her about what had happened, but she could tell that not knowing was tearing at his guts. She remembered all too well how Andrew had felt, and how he had reacted. Even with her reassurances that she hadn’t been hurt, Paul had to be wondering what exactly had gone on in that cold, horrible room. He had seen what it was. He knew. He knew exactly what might have happened. Ironically the fact that it hadn’t was exactly what made Alex feel so guilty.
She shook her head and took a deep breath, then smiled down at Matthew and tickled him again. Eventually she was going to have to tell him. She just didn’t know how, and she didn’t know what to leave out. She couldn’t imagine telling him that she had allowed him to touch her without a fight. That she had climbed up on that fucking table. That she had told that bastard that she loved him.
She looked up, eyes wide, and muscles tense when the bedroom door opened, and then clenched her jaw. Damn. She had to stop doing that. She looked up at Paul and attempted a little smile. She knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes, but he returned it anyway, as he carried the tray over to the bed.
"I know it’s usually breakfast in bed, but rules are made to be broken," he joked.
Alex’s stomach rumbled again and she covered it with one hand. "I guess I’m more hungry than I realized," she said, and Paul just continued to look at her lovingly.
He stifled a curse as the phone rang and he reached over to pull it off the nightstand.
"Hello? Oh. Hi, Walt."
Alex looked up. Walt was Paul’s superior. He had to be calling about Ron Bussey and everything else that had happened.
"Yeah, yeah, hold on, a sec." He covered the mouthpiece and spoke to Alex. "I’m just going to go into the other room. You eat. Hear me?"
She nodded even though she suddenly felt much less hungry. Soon she was going to have to go into the office. She was going to have to fill out a report. She was going to have to sit through endless interviews. She might not be an official agent anymore, but she was damn close, and everyone was going to want to know what had happened.
By the time Paul came back into the room she had managed to eat half a sandwich and part of an orange. She was still picking at the neat little wedges as he sat down on the bed. He did not look happy.
"You have to go in," she guessed.
"I’m sorry, Alex. With everything that went on… and three other victims… and the press is all over this. I’ve just gotta go."
"I’m going to need to come too, and fill out a statement," she said slowly, frantically trying to think of what details she could safely leave out without it looking suspicious.
"No!" Paul’s voice was surprisingly forceful, and he instantly softened it. "I mean, no, baby. You don’t need to do that yet. You’ve been through enough right now. That can wait."
She was shocked. They always tried to get victim statements as quickly as possible, before the events started to fade from their minds… as if they ever could. But here was Paul, pushing her to wait. She bit the inside of her lip. Maybe he didn’t want to know after all. Maybe ignorance was bliss. Or maybe he didn’t want everyone else to hear how his wife, the trained agent, hadn’t even fought back.
"Hopefully it won’t take too long," Paul tried to reassure her.
Alex cleared her head and suddenly realized that if he went that meant that she was going to have to stay at the house alone. She didn’t even have time to mask her fear, and it was instantly obvious that Paul had seen it.
"Or maybe I have a better idea," he continued. "Why don’t I drop you and Matthew at the hospital? You could visit with Monica. I know that seeing you will make her feel a hundred times better."
Alex felt as if her lunch might suddenly make a reappearance. Monica was her closest friend… practically her sister… and now she was afraid to even see her. What would she say to her? What could she say? She felt like she was falling apart inside, but how could she admit that to someone who had been a true victim? Her heart sped up and she concentrated on calming it. If she didn’t go then Paul would want to know why. Either way she was trapped.
"That sounds like a good idea," she agreed. "I really don’t want to be alone right now." At least that was the truth."
Paul pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "And I don’t really want to leave you alone either."
*****
As Alex walked through the corridor at the hospital, her thoughts briefly strayed to how normal she must look. She was dressed comfortably in jeans, a turtleneck and a sweater, carrying her son in her arms. She wasn’t bleeding, or crying or ever remotely hurt, yet inside, the pain in her heart was damn near physically impossible to bear. Nothing about her felt normal and the person she was going to see, the one person that she should be able to share this with without shame, she couldn’t.
The little angel, her best friend, had been raped. A man had brutally ravaged her tiny body and had taken her virginity forcefully. Monica’s clothing had been cut and ripped away from her body. Alex had removed hers all by herself. William Grady had humiliated Monica, calling her terrible things, while her own assailant had referred to her as "sweetheart" and "baby". Monica had been dragged into a filthy alley, while Alex had gotten up on that table without a fight. Monica had pleaded with Grady to stop and had fought him until every muscle in her body ached. Alex had told Bussey she loved him. Monica had no training, no way to protect herself, while Alex was a well trained agent who with a single move, could render a man unconscious. She had found peace in Paul’s arms, while Monica had been unable to allow anyone to hold her for days.
By the time she reached Monica’s door, she had to will her hand to keep from shaking. With everything in her, she wanted to tell her best friend what had happened to her, but how could she? How could she tell her that she had done nothing, had walked away unharmed but still felt nearly worthless at the moment, when Monica had fought so hard and had still lost to Grady? The answer was simple…she couldn’t.
So instead, she plastered on a smile as she opened the door, "I hear someone has been looking for me?"
Monica’s eyes widened and tears instantly filled them, "Alex!" She was barely able to choke out the name, "I was so worried. Are you all right? I wasn’t expecting to see you today…"
"I’m fine, honey," She gave a little wave of her hand and rolled her eyes, "He didn’t hurt me and the rest of the world is now safe from him. End of story. Where’s that husband of yours?"
The angel was suddenly feeling very wary and ill at ease. She had heard two of her nurses talking a little while ago about the fact that the Washington Stranger had been killed by an FBI agent. The two girls had been speaking in horrified whispers about the "sexual dungeon" Bussey’s basement had been and it had sent shudders up the angel’s spine. Surely Alex hadn’t gotten away completely unscathed. The look in her friend’s eyes alone told her that much, but for the moment she elected to play along, "I talked him into getting himself some dinner. I can’t eat, or rather, if I did I would get to watch it all in reverse a few minutes later, so he won’t eat in front of me. I tried to tell him I’m getting what I need from that," She pointed to one of her IV bags, "The nurse tells me this one is a BLT." She winked and watched Alex smile though it didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes.
Matthew was reaching for the angel and Alex looked uncertain, "Can you handle him? Your hands are shaking and I don’t want him to be too much for you."
"I’m afraid he would be today," She sighed and indicated the chair, "But please, sit down so I can at least play with him a little." Monica was watching Alex closely, noticing how stiff she seemed as she sat down in the chair next to the bed. She reached out her hand and smiled as the baby latched onto her fingers, but then she looked up, trying to meet Alex’s eyes, "So what happened? When I woke up, you were gone…"
Her act was getting easier as she fell into a routine with it, "He took me to his place, I stayed the night in his basement and this morning, Paul found me. It was pretty cut and dry. I was so worried about you! I knew the contractions had started again and I couldn’t help you."
Again the conversation was turned around and now about her and Monica didn’t like it one bit. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the terbutaline, "Alex, what aren’t you telling me?"
"What? Monica-."
"Listen, whatever it is, I can take it. If it’s me you are trying to protect, you don’t need to do that."
"Honey, really, everything is fine-."
"Alex. You’re my best friend and I love you," Monica pleaded, "Please…let me help."
For a moment there was silence in the room other than Matthew’s little sounds, which Alex didn’t even hear this time. She was meeting the angel’s gaze, longing to burst out with everything that had happened, how she had feared for her life and not being able to come back to Paul and Matthew, how Bussey had humiliated her and terrified her…how completely broken inside she felt. She felt the tears pushing forward and then she forcefully blinked them back, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep the little tremble from her voice, "You can’t help, Monica. Please, just let it go."
Monica studied her silently for a moment. It was all there on her face. In her eyes. She knew what a victim looked like. She had seen herself in the mirror the day after she had been raped and she knew the signs all too well. No. Maybe Alex hadn’t been raped, but something horrible had happened to her just the same.
As Matthew released her hand, she reached for Alex’s, grasping it firmly when her friend tried to pull away without thinking, "Alex, I’m not going to push you anymore today, other than to say this. You know how terrible it was for me to tell Andrew what William Gardy had done to me, but in looking back at that time, I see it now as a turning point in my healing. Though he wasn’t my husband at the time, he was still so much to me then as he is to me today. What I was keeping inside of me, had to come out, as being silent was only allowing it to fester and grow. The longer you keep it inside, Alex, the longer it will eat away at you, the longer it will hurt at the same intensity level as it does now. You can tell me nothing happened and maybe by your comparision, it feels that way, but I can see the truth in your eyes," She watched as a single tear slid down her friend’s face and Monica felt tears welling up in her own eyes, "Alex, please. If you don’t feel as if you can tell Paul, then tell me, tell someone. But don’t keep yourself in the darkness of that basement any longer than you need to be there."
Alex lowered her eyes, trying to get her tears back under control enough to speak, "I just…I need a little time, Monica…"
"A little is fine, but not much more than that, Alex. Keeping it inside is only going to hurt you more. I want to help you, and I think we both know I can, but you have to let me first." As her friend nodded, Monica sighed. She had made the offer and stated the reasons. The rest was up to Alex.
*****
Andrew noticed the silence that came over his wife after Paul left with Alex and Matthew and he wondered just what the two friends had discussed. When he had returned from dinner in the hospital cafeteria, they had been talking about how Monica was feeling, but he knew that more had been said before he had returned.
He soon found that he didn’t need to wait long to get an idea of what that conversation had entailed.
"When you found Alex," Monica finally broke the silence quietly, "How did you find her, Andrew?"
He looked slightly uncomfortable, but her eyes were steadily on him. He had wanted to spare her the details but it was obvious that she already knew something, "She was pretty shaken up, angel."
"I’m sure she was, but that isn’t what I’m asking. How was she physically? Did he have her tied up?" She was pleading for answers and he knew this wasn’t going to go away without the truth.
"When I got down there, Paul was already holding her, but…"
"But?"
He reached for her hand and sighed, "She…she wasn’t wearing any clothes, baby."
Monica sucked in a deep breath, already understanding more than she thought she cared to. No, that wasn’t true. She needed to know. She needed to know how to help, "She won’t talk to me about it."
He was quiet for a moment as he reached to stroke her cheek, "I remember someone else who wasn’t too keen on talking about it either."
"I know," She whispered, laying her hand overtop his, "But I can see now how much telling you helped me."
"I’m not sure how much it helped you at the time, sweetheart," The memories felt so fresh in his mind at the moment it nearly scared him. He remembered how she had screamed at him and how it had felt like she had been living the rape all over again.
"No. In the moments I was telling you…it hurt so much, but once you knew, I needed and wanted you there so badly, all the time," A tiny smile flitted across her face, "And to this day, I still do."
Andrew kissed her softly, "And to this day, I am eternally thankful for that fact," He replied, his hand back to stroking her cheek lovingly, "I’m not sure I ever really understood, angel. I forced it from you and then left you to go to Boston. How could you have still wanted me there?"
She met his eyes with her own, which were shining with tears, "Because I loved you so much. Because I shared with you the terrible things he did to me. Because I saw your tears when I was telling you and could see how much it hurt you, not to hear it but to know that I had gone through it. I could see that if you could have, you would have taken it all away from me.. Knowing those things didn’t make the hurt go away, Andrew, but it was a powerful reminder that to someone, I still had worth."
A lump had risen to his throat as she had been speaking and he raised her hand to his lips as he worked to get control once more, "You are worth everything to me, baby, and you always have been. I could give up everything else in this life, and as long as I still had you, I’d be he happiest guy on the planet," He saw her smile and wondered at the fact that it always melted his heart, "You’ll get through to Alex, Monica."
"I have to. Her worth depends on that."
Chapter 5
They drove home in silence, the bright lights at the center of the city slowly giving way to the relative tranquility at the outskirts. Not many cars were out on the road and Paul moved through the ones that were with practiced skill. He pulled smoothly into the driveway at the townhouse and waited while the garage door slid open. Glancing quickly at his wife he saw that she was still looking out the window, exactly the same way she had been since they left the hospital.
"Looks like the little man is passed out from the bottle you gave him," he said lightly, "so what would you like for dinner? I’m cooking."
Alex pulled her gaze form the window and turned to her husband. "What?" she shook her head to clear it. "No… Paul, you don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of it. What are you in the mood for? I think I have some chicken… or maybe spaghetti?" Suddenly, recalling the contents of her own refrigerator and pantry seemed much harder than it was supposed to be.
Reaching across to place a hand on her knee, Paul brought her words to a halt. "Baby, I know you don’t want to talk, but could you at least give yourself a break? Maybe you want to pretend that nothing happened, but I can’t do that. In a single day I was forced to think about what an entire life without you would be like, and now that you’re back, I think I should have permission to show my gratitude however I choose."
His words completely stole whatever she was thinking of saying next. She swallowed and tried very hard to keep her chin from shaking. "Okay," she said at last. "Whatever you want to make is fine."
She got out of the car and gathered Matthew from the backseat while Paul remained where he was and cursed the day he was born.
"Nice way to be sensitive, asshole," he said to himself as he got out of the car and slammed the door. "Accuse her of pretending and then throw your own feelings into the mix. Yeah… very nice…" he rolled his eyes and clenched his fist before shaking it out and grabbing hold of the doorknob. A few deep breaths later and he opened it and stepped into the kitchen.
Slowly he made his way through the house and up to the nursery. Alex was singing a low lullaby to Matthew and Paul leaned against the doorjamb to listen. Her back stiffened slightly and he knew that she could sense his presence but she continued to sing. When the tune ended she turned to him with a little shrug.
"I was a little afraid I might not ever be able to do that again," she said, and her voice sounded tight and strained.
"I’m sure you were, sweetheart," Paul replied, his eyes growing dark when she flinched. "Alex? What is it?"
"It’s nothing, Paul. I’m fine. You saw for yourself. There’s not a mark on me."
He crossed the room to stand in front of her and took her hands in his. He lifted them up and her sleeves fell back just enough to reveal the raw skin and bruises made by the cuffs she had been fighting against when he found her.
"I’d call these marks, Alex."
She shrugged again and tried to pull her hands back but he held tightly to them. "Alex…" he had promised himself that he was not going to push, and he struggled against his own words. "Baby, I know that you don’t want to talk about what happened, and I’m not going to make you. All I’m going to say is this. I am your husband, now and forever, and you are my wife and I love you so damn much that sometimes I don’t know how I’d go on breathing without you. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. You can tell me anything and it won’t make me love you any less, and you can tell me nothing, and I’ll still understand. So you can tell me what just made you flinch or you can just let me hold you. Either way, I am here, Alex, and I’m not going anywhere."
Taking a tentative step forward, she closed her eyes against the tears as she felt his arms wrap around her, holding her so gently and so lovingly. "He called me sweetheart," she whispered against his shoulder. "It’s totally stupid, but…"
He closed his eyes briefly and rested his cheek against her head. "It’s not stupid," he said, with just the barest hint of anger. He slowly rubbed her back. "D’you want me to stop calling you that?"
She clenched her jaw. God, how much more pathetic could she get? She didn’t have anything to really cry about so she was upset over a pet-name? She shook her head and blinked away angry years. "No. I’ll get over it."
Paul hated those words but there was nothing he could do about it. He kissed her hair and wondered where the hell Andrew had found the patience to last two weeks without needing to know what had happened to Monica.
Carefully, Alex pulled away. Paul’s concern was so like him, so perfect, but at the moment she needed distance. "I’m just going to take a quick shower while you make dinner, okay?" she said as she took a step back.
Paul didn’t even bat an eye at the fact that she had showered less than six hours earlier. "Sure, babe. Come on down when you’re ready."
He watched her leave the room and then ran his hands through his hair, frustration seeming to seep from every inch of his body. He loved her so much. Loved her strength and her stubbornness, and her incredible heart, but now that strength felt more like a wall between them, and he wondered when he would be able to see her heart again. For a few brief minutes in that fucking basement, she had let her vulnerability and all the pain she had gone through show, but that was as much as she had been willing to allow herself. Paul let out a long breath as he left turned on the baby monitor and left the nursery. Maybe she didn’t think she needed or deserved any more, but she was wrong and he prayed that she realized that sooner rather than later.
*****
"Alex?" Paul had just woken up to find his wife already showered, dressed and looking completely exhausted. It was obvious she hadn’t slept well if at all.
"Good morning," She managed a little smile that even felt forced, "I thought I’d drop Matthew off at mom’s and go down and give my statement at the bureau."
"Babe, you don’t have to do that," Paul insisted, sitting up in bed and watching her worriedly, "There is plenty of time."
"You don’t want to know, do you?" Her quiet question took him by surprise, "That’s fine actually. I was going to give my statement to Jackie Baker." Alex knew that there was no way in hell she could tell another man what had happened to her.
The tension on his face was unmistakable, "Alex, I just don’t want you pushing yourself right now. That’s all. You’ve just been through a terrible ordeal and there is no rush to give your statement. You can give yourself a little time first."
"Paul, I don’t want to wait a week or two and try to put it behind me and then have to dredge it all up again by giving my statement. I want to get it over and done with!"
"Okay," He said in a voice he hoped was soothing, "Whatever you want, babe. I understand completely."
She stared down at the floor. What the fuck was wrong with her? Paul hadn’t done anything wrong and here she was jumping down his throat. He had been perfect and sweet and understanding and she was acting like a bitch. Like some shattered victim. Hell, Monica had been raped and hadn’t taken it out on anyone else and here she was trying to pick an argument with her husband.
"I’m sorry," Alex whispered, blinking back tears, "I didn’t mean to jump down your throat."
He approached her carefully, almost afraid if he moved too quickly, she would run. "You don’t have to apologize for anything," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her, relieved when she leaned into him heavily, "I want to help you, baby, anyway you’ll allow me to, but please, don’t push me away completely. That’s exactly what I don’t want, Alex."
"I don’t want that either," She uttered from against his shoulder. God, would she ever find the courage to tell him the truth? To tell him what had happened in that basement? To tell him that she hadn’t fought? That had been one of the first questions in Andrew’s mind after Monica’s rape, so surely Paul was wondering it now as well.
When she didn’t volunteer any more conversation, he asked gently, "Do you want me to drive you?"
"No. It’s okay. You need to go to work and I…" What? She sure as hell didn’t want to be alone. If she went to the hospital, she had to face Monica, who was a true victim, but yet, she didn’t want the little angel thinking that she didn’t care enough to be there for her, "Has anyone checked on Hope and Lucy?"
The question was a grasp for something to do. Some way to pass time and to feel normal again. Even Paul knew that much, "Ray’s oldest daughter as been taking care of them. She even had Hope checked over by a vet and she’s fine."
"Good," Alex pulled away, her mind racing and her words bordering on helpless, "Monica would have been devastated if she had been hurt." What was she even talking about anymore? Though talking about the puppy steered the conversation from where she feared it would stay, "Will you drop off Matthew for me?" She needed time to think of what she was going to tell and what she was going to keep hidden as surely Paul would read her statement.
"Of course," He replied, kissing her forehead, "Can I whip you up some breakfast first?"
"No thanks. I’m not all that hungry. I’ll see you later, okay?"
His shoulders sagged as she left the room and only then did he allow his frustration to show on his face. That son of a bitch still had a grip on her from death and it was pissing him off. He wanted to make her tell him what had happened but he couldn’t do that. Forcing her would only wind up a disaster, but this walking on eggshells with her was almost as bad. The fucking nightmare that had begun two days ago was still picking up momentum and he suddenly felt not only powerless but completely inadequate to stop it.
*****
"Angel, what is wrong?" Andrew had been watching his wife all morning and she was more agitated than usual. Well, not as usual, but as usual as she had been lying in a hospital bed coping with drugs that made her feel lousy.
"Nothing," She murmured with a sigh as she closed her dark eyes, but Andrew could see the suppressed tears clinging to her lashes.
"Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me, baby." He observed, giving her hand a squeeze.
There was another sigh as she struggled to gain control of her emotions, "I’m just tired of all this. Please don’t misunderstand. I’m so glad the baby is doing well, but…I just want her here now. I’m sick of lying in a bed and sick of feeling so sick on my stomach. I want to be able to hold her and I want you to be able to hold me and I want to go find Alex and make her tell me what happened so I can help her…"
"Hey," Andrew whispered as she let out a little sob and he got up to sit down next to her on the bed, laying his hand against her cheek, "I’m sorry, angel. I can only imagine how hard this has all been for you…"
"I don’t mean to complain," She uttered miserably.
"No, baby, you’re only stating the truth. That’s all. I know how worried you are about everyone; the baby, Paul, Alex, me," He wished he knew how to better help her see this through. She had always been such a free spirit and the last few weeks she had truly been caged.
"I didn’t think it would be so hard," Monica stated softly, looking up at him and once again feeling grateful for his calming presence, "Alex needs my help and I have to sit here and wait for her to come to me."
"That may be the best way, Monica. When she comes, you’ll know she is ready to talk. You can’t just track her down and beat it out of her," He winked at her, and was rewarded with a little tearful smile before his eyes grew serious once more, "I think you’ve handled all of this beautifully, baby. I know it hasn’t been easy for you and I also know that you don’t realize your own dedication to keeping not only our daughter safe, but yourself as well. That means more to me than you know, Monica."
"I try to concentrate on what it will be like when she’s finally here," Monica said slowly. "I imagine holding her and kissing her tiny little hands. I think about all of us at the Gatlin’s farm with hope running around like mad and you swinging her up in the air. I can almost hear what her laugh will be like," she continued, her voice growing slightly dreamy as she met his eyes.
He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. It was a real kiss, not just a little peck, and Monica let out a long sigh when they finally parted. "Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have done that," Andrew said sheepishly.
"No… I think I really needed that."
"And so did I."
*****
The first thing Paul did when he arrived at the office was swing by Jackie’s desk to see if Alex had made out her report and left or was still there. His jaw tightened slightly when he saw Jackie’s spare chair was empty. He tried to put a more neutral expression on his face as he approached the other agent.
"So, Alex made out her report this morning. Do you still have it or did you drop it by my desk?"
"Alex?" Jackie looked thoroughly confused. "She hasn’t been by today. Is she coming in? I can’t even imagine everything she went through… I figured she’d take a few days." She regretted her words as soon as she said them.
The look of confusion alone had been enough to make Paul’s heart pound, but when Jackie confirmed it with her words he felt his palms begin to sweat. "No. She left the house this morning and said she was coming here. She said she was going to talk to you."
Jackie was just a few years younger than Paul but she was just as adept at reading body language and at the moment Paul’s was all about fear. "I’m sure she probably just stopped for coffee or something," she said, trying to get him to relax.
"Yeah… yeah, of course," Paul replied in a late attempt to play it cool. "Just let me know when she gets here okay?"
"No problem, Paul. I’m sure she’ll want to stop in and see you anyway."
Paul nodded as he walked quickly to his office, in no way certain that Jackie was right about her wanting to see him. Where was she? God, he’d just gotten her back. He couldn’t lose her again. He knew he was overreacting but he couldn’t help it. Had she been in a car accident? No, he would have passed it on his way. Then where? He paced his office, cell phone in hand, her number already up on-screen, thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button. If he called her it would put his mind at ease, but what if she didn’t answer? That would just make him even crazier, and what if she took it as him checking in on her and not trusting her to take care of herself? She already had to feel helpless enough without him rubbing it in. He rubbed at his temples to dispel the already forming headache. Damn, this was not going to be a good week. His thumb pressed the button.
"Hello?"
Just the sound of her voice caused a wave of pure relief to pass through him, and it was so strong it made his fingers tingle.
"Alex," her name was prayer that came out in a rush.
"Paul, why are you calling?"
"I… uh… I just stopped by Jackie’s desk and she said you hadn’t come in yet. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t had car trouble." He slapped his forehead, disgusted by his lame excuse.
"No. I’m fine. I just took a long way into the city." A pause. "I needed a few minutes to clear my head."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He felt like a complete asshole. "Of course, baby. Look. Forget I called. Come in, don’t come in… it’s fine… whatever you decide."
There was a long silence before Alex spoke again. "You’re going to read it, aren’t you." Her voice was flat, and it wasn’t a question.
He groped around, thinking for the right words to say. "I won’t if you don’t want me to," he settled on.
"You can’t do that. It’s your job. It’s part of the case file."
"To hell with that."
Another silence and Paul wished more than anything that he could see her face. "If you could not read it… I’d appreciate it," she said softly.
She’d appreciate it. Paul closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. What the hell kind of answer was that? His wife would have told him exactly what to do. She wouldn’t have said that. Not before. He was suddenly furious with Andrew for killing the bastard. If he was still alive then maybe he’d be able to go down and use him for a punching bag on just these occasions.
"I won’t read it, Alex," Paul said, although every fiber of his body was aching to know what she was hiding so that he could help her.
"Thanks, Paul. You can tell Jackie I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes."
"Okay, babe. I’ll do that." This time he was the one who paused before adding, "I love you, Alex. I could read the report ten times and I don’t care what’d be in it, I’d still love you."
"I know," she whispered, and in an instant a few things became startlingly clear to her. What had happened to her… and what she had and hadn’t done… It wouldn’t matter at all to him. The problem was that it mattered to her. It mattered a lot.
*****
Andrew walked down the hall towards Monica’s room that evening, having just returned from his usual dinner in the hospital cafeteria, longing for the day when meals would again be at their little kitchen table at home. It wasn’t that the hospital food was terrible, but he missed his wife’s company and animated chatter during dinner. At home, it was one of his favorite times of the day. He and Monica would catch up on each other’s day during the week and the meal always seemed to fly by all too quickly. He had no understanding of couples who preferred to eat in front of the television as he couldn’t imagine not sharing that time, or any time for that matter with his wife. After dinner, they would both clear the dishes and clean up the kitchen and even if it was an evening where they were both relatively quiet in the process, there was a contentedness that would fill his heart in those moments they shared together.
He missed those times now that she was back in the hospital and he refused to eat in front of her. He would probably barely eat at all if he had his way, as he hated to leave her long enough to go, but she always insisted. Andrew knew she was getting what she needed from the IV, but he still felt badly that eating was just one more thing she was having to sacrifice.
As he rounded the corner to her room, his heart leapt to his throat as he watched her doctor hurrying into the room, and Andrew picked up his pace, all but running the remaining distance. One look at Monica’s face told him she was scared and he wasted no time to getting to her side and grabbing her hand in his.
"What’s wrong, angel? What’s going on?"
"They…they stopped the medication," Her voice was trembling as she looked helplessly into his eyes.
"What? Why?" His demanding eyes turned to the doctor.
"Her blood pressure has spiked, Andrew," Dr. Greenberg explained calmly, "It’s a symptom of possible preeclampsia and we don’t want to take any chances."
"Preeclampsia?" His eyes showed his confusion as he held his wife’s hand tighter.
"A condition that would put both Monica and the baby in danger."
"But if…if you stop the medication…" Monica was struggling to catch her breath and Andrew could feel the rapid beating of her pulse against his palm.
Dr. Greenberg smiled and nodded in answer to her question, "Your daughter will be coming into the world shortly, Monica."
"But her lungs! Dr. Klein-." She was pleading and Andrew was doing his best to soothe her.
"Hopefully her lungs are developed enough by now and we’ve already called Dr. Klein. As she did your daughter’s surgery, she is on her way."
"Hopefully?" The tears were welling up in Monica’s dark eyes. Her baby had come so far! How could she risk her now?
The doctor laid a gentle hand on her arm, "Monica, you need to calm down. If your daughter has any breathing problems at birth, we can treat it at that time. To leave things as they are, puts both her and you in much more danger than delivering her now." He looked over at Andrew then, "It will take a while for the turbutaline to get out of her system, so hit the call button when her contractions start. Dr. Klein should be here before that happens."
"Thank you," Andrew heard himself saying as the doctor departed. His mind and heart were racing, barely able to keep up with everything that had been happening. The stress and worry of the last several weeks was quickly catching up to him, but in looking down at Monica, he knew he had to be strong. She was terrified.
Her teary eyes looked up at him, "I’m scared." She whispered simply.
Unable to handle the distance a moment longer, Andrew sat down on her bed and managed to wrap his arms around her, "I know, baby," He replied, kissing her forehead tenderly, "but remember what you said earlier, about wanting to hold her in your arms? That time is so close now, angel," He smiled softly, seeing her trust for him in the dark pools, "You’re about to become a mommy, sweetheart."
A trembling smile crossed her face at his words, "D’you think she’ll be all right?"
Her simple words spoke of so much and not just her desire for their daughter to be healthy. He knew it also had to do with her desire to remain as they were right now; together, all the time, with no fear of separation and the emotion welled up in him so strongly, it was all he could do to speak. "I think everything is going to be just fine, baby. God has brought us this far and he’s going to take us the rest of the way as well."
"Will you call Alex and Paul?"
"I will in a bit," He promised. Alex had filled in for him during the few birthing classes he had been forced to miss due to the strangler case and he and Monica had made the decision together months ago and had asked Alex to be Monica’s second coach during labor.
She nodded her head, tears clinging to her lashes, "I love you so much, Andrew."
He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb brushing away her tears, "I love you too, my little angel. Try to sleep, Monica. Do it while you can," He knew it was going to turn out to be a long night and that the hardest part of this entire pregnancy lay in the hours ahead.
"Will you talk to me until I do?"
The beeping of the monitors faded away as he laid with her in his arms, speaking in hushed whispers of his love for her, of their daughter, and of their future together, and when Monica finally drifted off to sleep, it was with a peaceful expression on her face.
He remained where he was for a few minutes after she fell asleep, just enjoying the weight of her against him and the feel of her in his arms. He was reluctant to ever move again, but he knew he had to. A wide smile began to spread across his face. He had another little angel girl to help bring into the world. Very carefully he slipped from her bed and walked out into the hallway to call the Gatlins. It was only seven o’clock and he hoped they had already eaten dinner.
"Hello?" Paul answered the phone and his voice sounded weary.
"Paul, it’s me. They just stopped the anti-contraction medicine. They’re expecting Monica to go into labor pretty soon. It looks like tonight is the night."
"Tonight?" Paul exclaimed. This was the last thing he had been expecting.
"Yes. Her blood pressure skyrocketed and they don’t want to risk it."
"Man… I wasn’t…"
"Yeah. Me neither. But she’s past thirty-six weeks now. The doctors are all hopeful that everything will go well."
"How is she right now?"
"She’s sleeping. We’re waiting for the medicine to leave her system and then the contractions will start up again."
"I’ll tell Alex and we’ll be there as soon as we drop Matthew off at her parent’s place."
"Thanks, Paul. I know Monica wants you both here, especially Alex… no offense."
Paul grinned. "None taken buddy. I think I can understand that she’d want someone who’s already been through it all!"
"We’ll see you soon. Drive safe."
"Will do, buddy. Tell her to cross her legs until we get there!"
Andrew laughed as he shook his head and ended the call, heading back into Monica’s room. Monica was still sleeping and he hoped she could get at least a good hour in before the contractions started.