Episode 5 (Guest Services)
Angel S:2 E:5 "Guest Services”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright © 2014
Edited by: jeffusually
Liz’ eyes shot wide open, her face buried in the pillow and her hip digging into the soft mattress. She brought her hand up to her chest and pushed against the bed, lifting her body slightly. Tilting her head straight, she gazed around the dimly lit room before locking her eyes on the alarm clock, reading the time. She let out a long sigh before rolling onto her back.
A soft rap on the door briefly startled her before she remembered the time. It was 10am, and Ashley always woke up early, her brain highly active and craving stimulation. Liz envied her as well as Kaaren. What she would give to avoid sleeping–avoid the dreams.
“Mommy, can I come in?” she said, already cracking the door open and peeking through the small slit. Liz spied her daughter’s cute face, partially covered with the messy dirty blond hair she had yet to tidy up.
“Oh sweetie, of course you can.”
She entered, carefully carrying a mug in her hand. Liz’ pain temporarily faded, watching in joy as her treasured little girl inched closer to her, cautious not to spill a drop. Behind her, Cosmo followed curiously, entering into Liz’ bedroom for the first time.
“Just the way you like it, milk and a single sugar cube.” Liz sat up and adjusted her nightgown before reaching out for the mug Ashley held before her.
“You made me coffee?” she asked, taking the cup and inhaling the aroma before taking a sip. It was weak and several grounds hitched a ride on the current, seeping into her mouth and catching on her teeth. Liz took a second larger sip, pretending it was just the ticket she needed to wake her from her slumber. “Very good, that was very sweet of you to do that for me. Thank you Honey.”
“Are you okay Mom?”
“I’m fine, why?” Liz said, stretching her arms out. Ashley jumped up onto the bed, kneeling before her mother. Liz leaned forward and kissed her forehead while wrapping her arms around her.
“I heard you screaming. Did you have another nightmare?”
“Yes sweetie, I did. Don’t worry though, I will be okay.”
“I get them too. Most of the time, I know they aren’t real, but sometimes I see ones that are kinda real.”
“Sometimes they are, but this one wasn’t, just a silly dream,” Liz said, lying. Part of her didn’t want to trouble her daughter, who had enough of her own memories. The truth was that Liz couldn’t bring herself to conjure up the memories, painful events Ashley was still too young to understand. They laid back, settling into bed holding each other.
“I wish you weren’t so sad all the time. I miss the way you used to be.”
“I’m trying my best Ashley. You are going to have to get used to it. Things aren’t they way they used to, and they will never be that way again.”
“But Daddy will be back, right?”
“Not for a long time Honey. Ashley, I don’t want to talk about it. Dad’s not coming back any time soon. As much as I want him to, he’s going to be gone a while."
"How long?"
"Honey, I don't know. Ten years. Maybe more, maybe less."
"I'll be a big girl then, 21 years old," she said without stopping to calculate.
"That's right, my darling little girl is going to be a grown woman then. There will still be plenty for your dad to see. He will be home when you get married, maybe have your own kids."
"You think he will forget about me?"
"Your dad? Never. He will be thinking of you nonstop. You wait and see."
Liz kicked the sheets aside and rolled out of bed. She hit Ashley playfully with the pillow.
"Put the puppy in his box and go take a shower."
"Why?"
"Cuz, we are going out for breakfast, then we are going to take a little drive in daddy's car."
---
The sound echoed throughout the apartment, stirring me awake. For a moment I was confused as to why my head was pounding.
The bell sounded again, followed by a series of knocks.
“Shit, what was that?” Megan said, jarring herself awake. She was stretched across the couch, with her head on my belly and her arm dangling over the edge, still holding an empty bottle of wine. My bare feet were propped up on the coffee table while I was sitting upright with my arm hung over Megan’s chest.
“Some asshole selling something. Go Away, I’m not interested.”
A continuous, yet obnoxious scratching sound permeated the living room.
“Michael, your hand is on my breast.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t getting fresh ... at least I don’t think I was,” I said, quickly pulling my hand back. Megan struggled to sit up as I searched the room for the god-awful noise piercing my head before finally identifying the record player on the shelf.
“Karen, you home?”
“Oh shit, it’s Jim.”
“What time is it?”
“0800. Jim, go away, I don’t want to get up,” I yelled through the door.
"Karen, can we talk?"
Slowly, I got to my feet and surveyed the damage. My floor was littered with empty bottles of vodka and my new clothes were scattered on the floor inside out. A dull pain permeated my head, restoring my ability to feel pain. It was a love / hate relationship, one I begged for until I was in the middle of experiencing it.
"Go hide, I can get rid of him for you," Megan offered, trying to get up.
"No, I need to talk to him," I replied as I started picking up the bottles and collecting them on the counter as Megan tossed my new clothes into the bedroom then shut off the record player. After a couple of minutes of tidying up, I finally opened the door, too hung over to care I was still in the red dress Ash bought me.
The blinding light of the early morning sun burned my dilated and extremely sensitive eyes, forcing me to clamp my eyes closed.
"Wow, you look pretty...um, well pretty. A total train wreck, but pretty."
"What do you want Jim?"
"Can I come in?"
His blurry face came into view as my eyes rapidly adjusted to the intense light. His face was peeking over a bouquet of flowers.
"You going to see Whithers?"
"No, these are for you. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about the other night. I was a jerk and said some stupid things that I shouldn't have."
"What, are we dating or something?"
"No, but I value our friendship and want to do something nice for you."
"Jim, save you money I'm–"
"–Jim," Megan said, interrupting as she fell in behind me, "that is very sweet of you. Isn’t that right Karen?"
Reid's face changed as he realized he wasn't alone.
"Oh hi Doc, I didn't know you were over this early."
"Yeah, well I never left last night." Megan put her hand on my shoulder and gave a soft reassuring squeeze. "Why don't you let him in Karen; I can put some coffee on."
She took the liberty of opening the door, inviting him in. Jim reached out with the bouquet and handed it to me. I hesitated a moment, thinking this had to be the first time anyone bought me flowers, especially another man. It was awkward and uncomfortable, standing there with some guy nearly twice my apparent age handing me a bouquet of red roses.
"Aww Jim, these are beautiful," Megan said, not helping the situation.
"I know these are a little much, but I didn't know what kind you like, so I went based on color and got you your favorite–red."
I reached out and took them from his hand as I stepped aside to let him in. Megan leaned over, sticking her nose in them and taking a long deep breath.
"Yeah, well thanks Jim, I don't know what to say," I stuttered.
"You don't have to say anything, I'm the one that's sorry."
I pretended interest and took a long drag, inhaling the pleasant perfume-like aroma of the roses. They were bright red with a darker deep base near the stem and stimulated my vision and sense of smell in the most pleasing way. My stress surprisingly melted away, leaving me calm and peaceful. A warm feeling permeated my body, leaving me feeling a little flustered.
"Hey no worries, forget about it. It's all good. Hell, I was being an asshole too."
Megan sat and watched the exchange with a slight grin on her face as we moved inside. She reached out, offering to take the bouquet just as I was about to toss the flowers on the kitchen table.
"You two relax, I'll put these in some water for you and get the coffee brewing." Megan pulled the cellophane wrap away from the flowers, finding a small packet attached to the rubber band. "What's this?" she asked, trying to read the small print on the foil. Jim turned his head, curious as to what she was inquiring about.
"Oh, the florist said that's aspirin. You're supposed to add it to the water, it helps the flowers stay alive longer."
"Oh thank god, this impervious alien friend of ours doesn't have any painkillers. You mind?" she asked, to which I affirmed her request. She tore the foil with her teeth and downed the tablets with a glass of water.
"So Karen, you didn’t go shopping after I took that stab at your wardrobe did you?"
“No, it was a gift from my ... Michael’s family,” I said, quickly thinking myself out of my blunder.”
“Well, Liz has good taste, you look like quite a knockout."
"Don’t get used to it, Ash made me try it on last night. Megan and I got drunk and passed out before I could take it off."
“It suits your looks."
"Yeah, well not me," I said as I made my way into the bedroom to change.
---
"I hear you two got into it the other night?" Megan asked as Reid limped over to her in the kitchen.
"Go sit down doc, I'll take care of the coffee. You look like hell."
"I feel it. Thanks Jim," Megan mumbled as she made her way to the couch, falling back into the soft cushions.
"So, she told you what happened?"
"Of course. We tell each other everything, but that's between you two. I'm not going to get in the middle of that."
"Fair enough. Listen Doc, you think you would be comfortable working with Trish?"
"What about?"
"Well, I thought you might be able to empathize with her as she deals with her shooting," Jim said while searching through the fridge for creamer, finding an endless assortment of junk food. He was about to comment when he considered Karen's alien nature and decided against it.
"If she's willing to see me, I can schedule some time with her. Tell her to call me."
"Yeah, it might be a few days. She's a little upset with me right now."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"We can later, you need to rest. Milk, sugar?" Reid asked, holding up the milk carton.
"Black please. I'm okay, we might not get another chance. Tell me what you did," Megan said in a curious tone.
"Always our fault." Reid said, sitting next to Megan after handing her the mug. "It was stupid really. Karen told me not to, but she had an episode last night and I thought it would cheer her up."
"I'm confused, what did Karen tell you not–"
"–You didn't?" Karen said, peeping her wet head through the door. "Jim, what a way to screw up. What did you do, ask her at the dinner table?" Jim hung his head low, shame overwhelming him.
"Jim, you proposed to Trish? Aww, I'm sorry she turned you down. Karen's surprisingly right, now's not a good time for her to make a decision like that, especially in front of people she doesn't know."
"Surprisingly right? What do you mean by that?" Karen said, peeking through the door again. Megan giggled, finding her friend's actions rather cute. She ignored the question, as did Jim, who turned back to finish his story.
"Yeah, I kept telling myself not to, but I wanted to cheer her up."
Karen popped her head through the door again, this time partially clothed in a black turtleneck sweater. "Way to go, bet you fixed everything."
Karen caught eyes with Megan glaring at her. She watched as her friend rubbed Jim's back as he sat there sulking. "Sorry Jim, didn't mean that."
"No, you were right, I deserve it."
"You want me to talk to her?" Karen called out, disappearing again behind the door only to re-emerge moments later dressed in a pair of jeans. He watched as she pulled her long curly hair back while holding an elastic band in her mouth.
"Thanks, might just need some advice from you two experts."
"Of course Jim, don't worry, she will come around and when she does, Karen and I can help you ... " Megan stopped mid-sentence, Karen's face having suddenly changed composure. "Karen, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, I can hear your pager vibrating."
"Anyway, I was saying, we can help you plan a perfect proposal." She finished her thought as she dug her purse out from under the coffee table, careful not to expose her and Michael's gifts to each other lest Jim see them.
"So, enough about me, how was your dinner with Liz and Ashley? You have a good time other than your presents?"
"It was enjoyable. Ash loved the puppy. In fact, your name might stick."
"And Liz? How was she?"
"Surprisingly, pretty chipper."
Karen reached opened her fridge and withdrew the plate of leftovers. Reid stood up and stretched before walking over to investigate the plate of food his friend was placing in the microwave.
"Good, glad to hear all went well."
Megan wandered over to the kitchen, her pager in hand. She lifted the phone and started dialing as if it was her own phone. Michael had made it clear to her many times she should feel right at home after having him as her guest.
"Jim you gotta try some of Liz' cooking, it was so good. Felt like I gained twenty ..."
She stopped talking, holding her finger up. "Hi Mom ... No, I'm over at Karen's right now ... yes, last night was great ... I missed you too, I wish I could have been home but this was important ... Yes I'm fine, you don't need to worry about ... what? ... When? ... Oh my God ... I have to go, I will call you back shortly."
"Everything okay Doc?" Jim asked, seeing Megan's face suddenly change.
"Jim, you better get to work, there's been another attack."
"What? When?"
"Last night around 9pm. You know an officer Miller?"
----
Cloaked, I scanned the streets below. The block was still sealed off to traffic. It was midmorning, but spectators still gathered around the barricades trying to catch a glimpse of the action.
"Nothing on infrared. It was doubtful this guy is still around with the armed response this attack drew. A full SWAT brigade established a tight perimeter around the crime scene, standing guard over the detectives investigating Miller's murder.
"10-4. What's your twenty?"
"Look up, perched on the left corner ledge ... higher, all the way up." I watched the small figure that was Reid gaze higher and higher until he found the ledge.
"I don't see you ... oh wait, I see a faint movement."
"I'm waving to you."
"That's some pretty awesome shit."
"Okay, pipe down, you got a detective approaching you. I'm going to change, will be down in a moment."
From the roof I could see the crime scene clearly. The single white VW Van was parked curbside across the street. Directly below me was a long alley that dead-ended into another building. The opening on Alabama St. was the only way in or out of the alley. If you had access, you could use the dozen or so loading docks for the various businesses connected to the alley.
I stood on the ledge and kicked off, propelling myself across the street toward the lower roof of the opposite building. In mid-flight I rotated my body, bringing my legs down in preparation for landing. My body began slowing its descent as I applied downward thrust, bringing me to a silent touchdown.
From this angle, I could see the end of the alleyway about two hundred yards away, lining up perfectly with Miller's body. If the shooter hit him with a rifle, he could remain hidden in the shadows at the far end of the alley and easily take the shot. Many variables ran through my mind.
"Reid, will be down in a second. Meet me at the barricade to your right."
He was busy conversing with another detective so I didn't expect an answer. I descended to the driveway below and ducked into the cover of a receded side doorway, de-cloaking in the process. After pulling the hood off and fixing my hair, I shifted the suit's color to black, then removed the gloves. Inside the bag, I had packed my sweater and a pair of wrinkled slacks. With great speed I dressed, covering Kaaren's suit, leaving only the boots exposed.
"She's with me, let her through," Reid called out to the officer holding the crowd at bay. The officer traced to where Reid was pointing and motioned for me to proceed through the barricade. Several men locked eyes onto me as I scooted through the crowd and began calling out, one begging for my phone number. Their words fell on deaf ears as I opened the floodgates, letting a full barrage of sounds penetrate my eardrums, effectively drowning out their lame attempts to win my attention.
"What's the word Jim?"
"Puzzling. We have a person of interest. Miller reported he saw a man at the end of the alley."
"You don't think it's Broderick?"
"Oh yes I do, he's high on my list, but there is always a possibility this could be a copycat."
"What about Miller's son?"
"He's still in county, not eligible for parole for another year." We approached the van just past Miller's patrol car, still parked where he left it. A large yellow tarp that appeared to be covering the body fluttered in the gentle but crisp morning breeze.
"Miller's body still there?"
"No, we are just preserving the impacts to the car and blood splatter patterns. Ever see a dead body before or been around blood?"
"Yes ... and yes."
"What's the 'and yes' mean?"
"The body was human."
"Last name didn't start with a T did it?"
"Not now, maybe I will tell you about it later."
As we examined the scene, a man dressed for a rodeo approached. He wore a white cowboy hat along with a dark blue shirt, denim jeans and an expensive looking pair of boots to complete the look. His rawhide holster holding his automatic service weapon rode high on his hip.
"Lt. Brennan at your service. Who do we have here Reid?"
"Lieutenant, this is Karen Guest. She's on retainer with the department."
"Not like I'm complaining, but under whose authorization?" Like most guys, Brennan's eyes were fixed on me. He spoke to Reid, not allowing his gaze to wander. I wondered if I could ever get used to being constantly stared at.
"Captain approved it."
"So what's she here for?"
"Just watch."
"Trust me, I'm watching." He turned and tipped his hat to me, "Howdy Ma'am"
"Lieutenant, can I see where Miller expired?" I asked, cutting to the chase. He simply waved for the techs to remove the tarp. One of the forensic technicians, who I had worked with several times, greeted me.
"Hi Karen, good to see you again," Doyle said, carefully removing the covering, revealing a bloody mess. In the corner of my eye, I could see the crowd reacting to the uncovering, but a couple of strategically placed patrol cars blocked their view.
"Hey Gary, same here. Good to hear you weren't in that house when it blew."
"Same here. Counting my blessings I procrastinated with a report and had to finish it that morning. Still, lost a few friends that day. So what are you doing here? You working for us?"
"Just helping out."
"Thanks, anything we can get is a help."
"Hey, quit yapping, I need to get this street opened up like yesterday." Brennan barked.
"Were there any witnesses?" I asked as I squatted just outside the chalk outline of Miller's body. His lower half was outlined on the asphalt, while the upper half was traced along the door of the car. The car door had been pierced by two large caliber bullets and possibly a third that took out the window.
I scanned the rest of the scene, rapidly making a mental note of the details. There was a large volume of blood already dried and oxidized into a rusty brown color and giving off an odor of decay. Seventeen markers were laid around the body with a corresponding number associated with them, but nothing to mark.
"What are these markers for?"
"Officer Miller's service weapon, spent cartridges and his radio. We photographed the scene, so we collected them."
"Where was he shooting?"
"We are still trying to find all the rounds. So far we found five, in the alleyway. All of them were spread pretty wide."
"Panic fire?" Reid asked.
"We think so," Brennan answered. "He reported seeing the shooter in the alley. We have a vagrant downtown for questioning who was found in the trash heap. Likely that's who Miller saw and confused him with the shooter as he bled out. This guy was pretty drunk; doubt he knows anything."
"You find where the shots originated?"
Brennan turned and pointed down the alley. It was a eight story building, mostly businesses occupying the floors. The first two floors had no windows or doors facing the alley. The third through eighth floors had windows and a fire escape. A couple of officers were climbing the ladders and carefully checking each of the fire escape platforms.
"We are still trying to locate it. Huge mess of trash we are searching through for shell casings. If that fucker shot from the ground, he must have no sense of smell, or he was one determined son of a bitch."
"I think it's fair to say Broderick is determined enough, and fucking crazy," Reid added.
"Lieutenant, I count about three bullet strikes, how many times was Miller hit?"
"Four. One to the upper left shoulder, one to the right thigh, left hip, and finally to the head."
"Sounds like the right order," I said.
"That so?"
"He's standing when he takes the hit to the shoulder. Bullet knocks out the window. He turns and takes one to the thigh but remains standing."
"Wait Karen, I took one to the thigh, I fell like a brick," Reid chimed in with his personal experience.
"Did you have a wall to lean against? Also, this hole is about right for his thigh for his height. I assume the hip shot didn't penetrate the bone, that's why I only count the hole in the door and one, maybe more, in the window. If the second took out the hip, that would have dropped him. No, round two was the thigh. He remains standing and fires back, then the third bullet strikes. Now, lying on the ground, his head lines up with this hole here."
"See?" Reid said, tapping Brennan's upper arm with the back of his hand.
"Pretty impressive Mr. Guest. That actually aligns with eyewitnesses who saw the shots."
"Where did the witnesses say the shots came from?" Reid asked.
"No one heard anything."
"Suppressor."
"Of course it was a suppressor, you see fucking arrows sticking out of him? Also removes doubt this was our guy. He would have that kind of hardware."
I stood up and walked around the van. The passenger side window was cracked in a spider web pattern with a hole in the middle, somehow still holding together despite the driver side being completely shattered. I peered through the hole, trying to see all the possible shooting positions that were available.
"What are you thinking about Karen?" Reid asked.
"The bullet's trajectory."
"Kinda hard, we need the shooter's position to determine that," Doyle said.
"What if we can minimize digging through that mess of trash down there and pinpoint the angle of attack?"
Reid limped up and peered through the hole in the passenger window. His head moved in circles, trying to line it up with possible shooting positions. There were many possibilities; it was hard to isolate with one point of contact.
"Hey Doyle."
"Detective?"
"We have an ID on the caliber?"
"Yes. We are still looking for the one that made that hole you are looking through, but we recovered the head shot. A .308 Winchester."
"What do you say the distance was to the target?" I asked.
"All the way to the back wall? Two hundred and ten yards."
"Jim," I said in a low voice. "What about the shattered window, what if we can reconstruct it and line it up with this one? That will give us two points to work with and we can triangulate the origin of the shot?"
"Sounds good, but we would have to take that back to the lab and rebuild it. We have to get this vehicle off the road, like soon."
"No time. Can you have them extract all but the smallest of fragments and lay them out on the pavement?"
"Sure, but why?"
"Just do it."
Reid and Brennan barked at each other a moment, until Brennan finally agreed to his madness. Doyle, skeptical, was on it in a heartbeat and began carefully removing the shards, handing them off a few at a time to the other techs. Doyle combed every inch of the van until each piece was laid out on a large sheet of cardboard on the ground.
"Impossible, this is going to take days to fit together," one of the technicians whined.
"This is a waste of time Reid."
"Hold on," I said, kneeling down next to the shards, the glass sparkling in the midmorning sun.
"Here, the ones with the large density of blood should be the center."
As Doyle spoke, I dilated time, my eyes rapidly scanning each and every jagged corner in the glass and memorizing what shard it belonged to. Kaaren's keen eyesight was as sharp and vibrant as an Eagle able to spot fish high above the lake. Only it was minute cracks, bubbles and imperfections in the glass I was able to see clearer than any human. Seconds in real time passed, yet hours from my point of view. I compared every little detail and was ready to begin work.
"Okay, let me at it, move back."
"Here Karen," Gary said, handing me a pair of rubber gloves. When I first met him, he was a prick and hated Reid, having little respect for such a low ranking detective. He loved the major crimes and resented receiving evidence that didn't challenge his mind. Over the course of the year, he caught glimpses of my handiwork and became a fan, eventually finding respect for Reid as well.
"Thanks," I said, stretching them on and immediately tackling the puzzle that could bring us one step closer to justice for all the recently departed officers.
As my eyes locked onto the next piece, my memory rapidly recalled the opposite piece and its location. Just like a real jigsaw puzzle but without having to pick up the same piece over and over again, failing to find a fit.
In deep concentration, the gasps of those surrounding me were barely audible as they whispered in disbelief. The puzzle that was the window was coming together. Starting with the bullet hole, I worked my way outward, fitting the shards together, careful not to crush them with my invincible yet strong hands.
It wasn't a perfect fit; many small pieces too tiny to collect remained in the van, but so far, my work was rebuilding the impact as the .308 exited Millers shoulder and penetrated the first window.
"Simply amazing Karen. I clocked you at eight minutes," Doyle said, patting my shoulder.
"Thanks Gary, you by any chance have a tape measure and some masking tape, maybe duct tape?"
He ran off to fetch the items as Reid and Brennan hovered over me.
"Un-fucking believable," Brennan said, exhaling a cloud of smoke then bending over to examine my handiwork up close.
"What else can you do?"
"You don't want me to spoil it do you?"
"Ahh, I see how it is. Smart, very smart. Well, until you uncover something with this time we wasted, I'm not entirely convinced."
Doyle returned and began stretching out a length of duct tape as long as the reconstructed window.
"Good thinking Gary, but that's not what I had in mind."
"How are we going to lift the glass?"
"We're not." I measure the dimension of the window, then measured the cross section of the bullet hole. He caught on immediately where I was going and stretched the tape across the opening where the window used to be. Within a few minutes a duct tape model of the window was in place with the hole precisely where it should be.
"Bingo! Way to go Karen," Reid said excitedly.
"Doyle, you have a spool of cord?"
"Sure, how much?"
"About a two hundred and ten yards worth."
"I only have about 300 ft of 550 cord."
"Shit." Brennan yelled as we hit another brick wall.
I glanced around trying to find something to use in its place. Nothing shy of finding a hardware store.
'Think Michael.'
"Karen, I got an idea," Reid called out. He hurried over as quick as he could and spoke softly. "You can see infrared, right?"
I simply nodded in the affirmative.
"What about a laser? Like he has on his assault rifle?"
"I can tune to just about any frequency in that range. Great thinking."
"Lockwood!" Reid called out getting the SWAT leader's attention as he stood on guard, waiting for an ambush. He responded cautiously to Reid's summoning, alerting his men to increase their awareness.
"Detective?"
"Mind if we borrow your laser sight?"
"As in just the sight? Hell yes I mind. You know how long it takes to zero these things. You take it off and it's useless until I get back to the range and recalibrate it."
"Well, can we barrow the rifle too?"
"What for?"
"We have two points of entry along the bullet's trajectory. We want to line them up to isolate the shooter's position."
"Detective, your job is to detect, mine is to make sure this asshole doesn't light you up when you get close nailing him. You take my weapon out of my hands and you put us at risk."
Lockwood was a tall man, solid but with a slim physique. He paid little attention to me; he was more worried Reid was going to take his gun away.
"You mind helping us out?" I asked politely before realizing what I was doing, using looks to get what I want.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"It's okay Lockwood," Brennan said jumping in. "I agree with my guard here, I don't want him disarmed, but if you can put a dot through those two holes and paint that wall on the far side while we mark it, I would appreciate it. Fair enough?"
"Yes sir."
Without hesitation he lifted his M-16A2 with his finger ridged outside the trigger guard. I watched as his thumb pressed down on a little button running from his pistol grip to an overly large cylinder running alongside the M-16's heat dissipating forearm grip. At once, my eyes detected a faint illumination all but flooded by the bright sunlight. The sun had risen high enough to cast hard light onto the wall, washing out the red dot.
"Thank you."
"You're not going to find that dot." I laughed as I turned and ran, shifting my left eye to infrared while keeping my right tuned to the visible spectrum. Sure enough, a superimposed beam cut through the alley.
"Want me to carry you?" I joked with Reid as I ran past him. He ignored my friendly taunt and continued limping forward. Brennan and several officers were scanning the walls looking for the beam. I honed right in and put my finger on the the side of a dumpster parked in front of the wall.
"Got it," I yelled out to Lockwood. The beam immediately turned off.
"Too high," an officer said.
"No, it's perfect, you have to account for the bullet drop."
"It's still too high, what do you know about guns."
"Not a lot, but I know about escape velocities and trajectories of spacecraft. Same thing, instead of shooting bullets, you are shooting rockets." I finished my monolog on Newtonian physics to a bunch of jaw-dropped men who clearly didn't comprehend a word I was saying.
"Boys, what Shelock Holmes here is trying to tell you, when you shoot long distances, you fire up and the bullet essentially lands on top of your head. Now this is a simple two hundred yard shot, but you still have to account for elevation and bullet drop. Since the alley is covered, there is no crosswind, so, look around for any signs of a shooter. Footprints, sandbags, bipod marks, shells, cigarette butts, recently eaten food. Get to work."
"Yes sir." They scattered again, each whining they already searched the area.
"You okay?"
I shook my head no. The foul smell was too much for my heightened senses.
"Here, try this," he said withdrawing a little jar and tossing it to me while making a motion with his finger under his nose.
"Vicks?"
"Helps mask the odor of decay."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome ... Sherlock." I gave him a sour look as I opened the jar. Instead of rubbing it on my nose where it would likely screw up my senses when i might need them most, I tossed it back. Instead I tried controlling my sensitivity just as I could with my eyes and ears. A young rookie cop, barely my apparent age, sat there frozen on a trash heap chuckling, his eyes in a tight gaze, staring at me and smiling.
"Think it's pretty cute how you wiggle your nose like that," he said, abandoning his duty and walking over to me. "Name's Officer Scully." The kid straightened out, showing off his posture, clearly a rookie enjoying the power his uniform had on attractive females.
"Officer."
"Give it up Scully, Karen will kick your ass, get back to work," one of his friends called out. There was a small cluster looking our way laughing.
"You're Karen?" he asked as I tried eavesdropping on their conversation. To my relief, they were using the time to make fun of the kid, rather than make lewd comments about my figure.
"Yes, you've heard of me?"
When he started to reply, his voice was loud enough to down out the conversations and a really bad rendition of Space Oddity. I toned down the sensitivity, canceling the other noises.
"Yeah, you still teaching that Ninjitsu stuff? I heard you were teaching these guys a while back and was hoping I could meet you.
"Might resume some time soon. Talk to Reid here." I pointed in Jim's direction as the lyrics of that song I just heard kept playing through my mind. We played that song so many times during shuttle missions, I knew it by heart. In an attempt to ignore the kid, I tuned my hearing, focusing on the source, while fading his voice as best as I could. The music was muffled, but audible. Some garage band attempting, with little effort, to play Bowie's song.
"God that's bad," I accidentally said out loud.
"What, you're actually able to hear them playing in there?" Scully asked.
"What? Where? What are you talking about."
"The other side of this wall. That's Downtown Sound, it's a rehersal studio. I have a band, couple guys from the academy used to rehearse there. Wann ..."
I shut him out and faced the wall, switching my vision to detect body heat. Faint images appeared, clearly the walls were insulated.
"Shit."
"Hey, you even listening to me?"
I turned to the kid. "No on the band, sorry." His face sunk as his friends started laughing because I denied him. Scully was a nice looking kid, full of energy and spunk, just like many of the pilots I flew with at his age. I smiled at him. "Scully, if you're off Wednesday, 10am in the gym, bring a couple pairs of sweat pants and be prepared for some pain."
I spotted Jim moping around, using his injured state to get out of the dirty work of sifting through the trash. "Reid, I got something," I said, giving the dumpster a nice hard kick away from the wall.
---
"Police, everyone on the ground," Lockwood yelled, charging into the soundproof room seconds after the owner cut power to the amps. The four sweaty band members and the five girls packed together on the couch screamed as armed men burst into their room, disturbing their session. A moment of confusion passed and, realizing this wasn't a joke, they each complied and hit the deck.
Reid and I walked straight to the wall. Sure enough, a small insulated door has been installed, rigged to swing inward. I laid down as Reid popped the door to reveal a green dumpster with a two foot square section cut out of the back. An officer on the outside lifted away the false sign affixed to the front, giving me a clear view to the van on the far end of the alley.
"Son of a bitch. Even got a free set of sand bags with the rental," a cop said, lifting a blue bag with a canvas handle off of a light stand.
"This was one well planned hit, not the typical hit and run. He's becoming more careful," Reid added.
"No, this took weeks to plan."
"Okay, Reid, excellent job, I am fucking impressed to all ends. Take your friend here and get back to HQ. Prop that leg up and you two find me a connection between our boy and Miller. Scully, get back with Sergeant Nolan and you toss that Twinkie inside and out. Get those boys to dust the shit out of that van. This SOB drove that and parked it there knowing Miller was going to find it. Now, someone bring me the owner of this joint. I wanna have a nice friendly chat.
---
"Smells good, what did you pick up?" Reid asked as I set the bags on his desk. He piled up several stacks of folders, making space for our dinner.
"Peruvian, ever have it?"
"When I was younger. Friend's dad was from Peru. His mom learned most of the dishes. Was a welcome alternative to the Reid's BBQ.
"Well, first time for me. Gonna make my new years resolution to eat out more."
"Must be nice, spontaneous trip anywhere in the world just to get a bite to eat. Just don't go bragging about that to your human counterparts, they usually stop eating for the new year."
"Yeah, I know. So you find anything while I was gone?" Reid opened a file and passed it to me. I skimmed through it as he leaned back and opened a little fridge, withdrawing two cans of soda.
"Not a whole lot here is there? A few incidents, but nothing out of the ordinary."
"No, that's most puzzling to me."
"Miller was Broderick's first partner. When we start off out of the academy, we get assigned to a senior officer or Sergeant for our first year. They make sure we learn all the shit they don't teach in the academy. We learn the streets, the lingo, when to arrest someone and when to let them go so we can build their trust in hopes they will lead us to the bigger fish. You know Miller, total asshole like Broderick."
"Anyone visit Clyde yet?"
"Mrs. Miller went out. From what I hear, the kid was just said 'Good' and asked to be taken back to his cell."
"Sad, you can push someone so far out of your life they couldn't care less about your death," I said, thinking as much as I considered my mother dead to me. Deep down, I still have compassion for her, even if it's minuscule. No matter how much I despised her for leaving, her death would nevertheless cause me grief.
"Look Karen, something I have been thinking about. It's off subject, but since we are kinda talking about it ... the other night, I want you to–"
"–Jim, it's done, no need to dwell on it."
"No, I had something I wanted to tell you, but didn't because Megan was there. Trish told you my mom pushed Sarah away, but that's not the truth. The real story, it was me. I couldn't stand the fact my little sister was disrespecting our family values by sleeping with that girlfriend of hers. Sure my mom played a part, but I just couldn't deal with it. We went from best friends to enemies and now, well, let's just say if you were to knock on her door and tell her that had been me that had been killed, she would have reacted the same way."
"Come on Jim, that's not true, I know she still loves her brother, especially if she found out you were looking for her."
"No it's not like that." I listened as he told me his story, culminating with Sarah's girlfriend's suicide. Everything I knew about Jim proved his remorse was genuine. His hatefulness of others for their lifestyles didn't keep him bound as it used to. Still, traces remained, lurking inside, occasionally fighting with the new and improved character, like in the car the night we saved that girl in the park.
"I was being disrespectful and said things I vowed to myself I would never again say, but I would like to try helping her if you still want to."
"Yes, I find her to be very interesting. I've been meaning to talk to the doc about her."
"Well, I admit, I don't understand why one would change yourself like that, but perhaps I would like to hear her side of things. Might help me understand my sister's choices."
"Jim, maybe your problem is you keep looking at it like they are choices. Perhaps what is governing your sister's life is a conflict inside. She was simply born that way, just like you were born the way you are. You didn't choose to like girls, you just do."
"Thank you for that. I've never once thought ..." Reid looked up as a soft rap on his door startled him. I turned to see the Captain reaching for the doorknob. Reid stood while I jumped out of my chair to let him in on Jim's behalf.
"Captain."
"Reid," he said, entering.
"Captain, you remember Karen, right?"
"If I didn't, I've had a rash of recollections throughout the day. Quite a fast-thinking mind you got there amongst other things."
"Thank you."
"I'm glad you are both here," Brownly said, reaching over and grabbing a few potatoes from the container without bothering to ask for permission. I handed him a plate, seeing his approval as the first signals registered on his taste buds. He wasn't shy and loaded up.
"What's up, sir?"
"Here's Brennan's report from his questioning of the owner of that soundstage. He's had a few regulars coming in on a regular schedule. We have their names; I need you to pay them each a visit and see if they noticed anything. Get them to give up any names of their guests."
"This guy didn't see anyone fitting our boy's description coming by with a large guitar case?"
"Nothing. Mostly your typical metal bands, guys dressing like drag queens and getting away with it." I chuckled, having said the same thing about some of Liz' favorite bands.
"What about forced entry after hours?" I asked.
"It would have been several entries in order to set this up. The lock was old, kinda hard to determine if it was picked, but it's possible he came in during the night. Local business owners were questioned. No one saw a man fitting his description. Either way, we know how he slipped away after the shooting without any witnesses."
"Quite brilliant using a sound booth as a shooting hide. You could shoot a high powered rifle without a suppressor and not make a sound."
"You will find this interesting." Brownly passed Reid several photographs. It was a hollowed out amp filled with foam insulation. "Tested positive for powder residue. Lab is working on an ID on the make of powder."
"Karen and I have been working on a connection under Brennan's order. So far little to go on. Are there any other records I should have?"
"I have a few incidents I kept off the books. Mostly insubordination."
"Is that something I can review?"
"Yes, but the files stay in your office and locked. Speaking of, I'm changing the locks in here. They will be in in the morning to do the work and take down that nameplate. What color marble you want?"
"You letting me keep this office?"
"Well you stunk it up eating in here, don't think I could give it to anyone else. Besides, it goes better with this."
Brownly stood and handed him a leather box. "Congratulations Detective Sergeant." I watched Reid almost choke up as he stood to accept his new badge.
"Thank you sir, I don't know what to say."
"You deserve it. Next Tuesday, there will be a ceremony with the Governor and Mayor. Gonna be a lot of media, so I hope you're ready."
"Why the big show?"
"In addition to your promotion, you are being awarded the Blue Heart and Meritorious Service awards." He turned to me. "Your sister-in-law will be there with her daughter to present. Hope you're proud of him. Me personally, taking a round to the leg with your own gun isn't much to brag about."
"Right? I thought I taught him enough about weapon retention," I said, smiling. "Congratulations Sergeant Reid."
"Now, let's talk about you. What are your plans?"
"Karen's getting her hours for her PI license. She needs about three thousand hours."
"Put em together and I'll sign off on them."
"I still have a ways to go."
"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it. I'll get you some work space and a steady check, how does that sound?"
"Thank you very much Captain. I am quite honored."
"I'm pleased to have you helping us out. Wish you would reconsider putting on a uniform."
"I'll think about it Sir."
"Karen insists she will think about it Sir, but I think she can be much more useful to us as an objective outsider, especially with all that's going on. She has less emotional ties with the department. Face it, morale is down, people are mourning, operating on little sleep, and, face it, quite scared they will be next."
"He's right Sir. While I do feel the losses you have been encountering, I'm not part of the department. This guy doesn't know me, therefore, I'm not on his hit list. I can work with a clearer mind."
"You make a good point and the two of you seem like a good team together. Just watch her back Reid, you're responsible for her."
"I will Captain. One more thing, we know when the services will be held for Miller?"
"Not yet. A notification will go out to all the department heads in a couple of days."
Brownly excused himself, stepping out of Reid's new permanent office. Reid stretched his legs out, lifting them onto the desk, staking his claim.
"Detective Sergeant. I can get used to that."
---
"Dr. Shephard, don't worry. Everything will be fine. Dr. Meersman and I will make sure the tests you ordered on the items are completed on schedule and the data sent to you. You need some time to relax."
"Thanks Cat, I don't know what I would have done without you. You've been a great help and one hell of a research assistant. I don't suppose I can convince you to come to the US when I move back permanently?"
"We will talk when you get back." She handed Gene several thick envelopes. "Listen, everything is organized so you can find it easily. This is our offer letter and agreement for you to get familiar with on your flight. Dr. Meersman has arranged for a company attorney to meet with you Thursday morning when you arrive at the offices. He is a top attorney with many years experience with tech company acquisitions. Their company is in dire need of cash to get them out of the hole they're in. They will accept this offer, especially after hearing from you."
Eugene shifted the stack on his lap. "And this?"
"Their company profile and ten year business plan before it went south. Get familiar with it. Appendix B has a list of all their current patent holdings. You should already be familiar with them."
"Yes, most of them. Are these the latest batch of test results on Item 232A from Lone Star Labs?"
"That's correct Doctor. A little light reading after you finish with the difficult legal documents. The last envelope I am going to put in your side pouch. That's your passport, Texas ID, boarding passes and a customs declaration already filled out. The Embassy has made arrangements for your arrival at Dulles. Someone will be there to assist you through customs and get you to your hotel in DC before your meeting in Langley. After, they will drive you to the airport for your trip home."
"Someone will pick me up in Houston, right?"
"Sorry, there you are on your own ... kidding, of course. Yes, it's all been arranged."
Gene chuckled as she collected each of the items and placed them in the backpack hanging off the rear of his wheelchair.
"I put a couple of fresh batteries in the smaller compartment along with your Walk-Man and your favorite tapes."
"Life saver, barely made that last flight. How's that going to work by the way? Never flown in a wheelchair before."
"Well Doctor, the plane will do the flying," she said, joking with him. Eugene liked that about her. She was funny and not afraid to crack a light joke about his new handicap. She helped him fully come to grips with his injury to the point he forgot what it was like to wiggle his toes.
"They will board you first. You are in the front row, the first window seat in first class. The seat next to you has been booked as well for privacy, so no one will disturb you. They will take you as far as the end of the ramp where they will move you to a wheelchair that will fit between the aisles and take you to your seat assignment. If you need anything, the stewardess will attend to your needs."
"Anything else?"
"Lastly," she said, holding out a little box. Eugene carefully took the box into his hand and opened it up, examining the contents.
"Absolutely perfect. She's gonna love it. Thank you again."
"Yes she will Doctor. Go get her."
---
"What's it like being able to fly around like you can without gravity?" the girl asked.
"At first it's really exciting, floating around, but after a few hours, the excitement wears off. Lots of tasks are easier, but other everyday tasks like eating, sleeping, exercising, or going to the bathroom can be difficult. Moving large heavy objects, while easy since they are weightless, still requires effort because they still have mass. Some of the bombs we used on the asteroid had more mass than me. If I pushed it, I would move more than it would. So, all over the cabin, we had straps for our hands and feet to keep us in place while we worked. We were in micro gravity for almost a year; by then, our bones were weak, our muscle mass deteriorated. At that point we wanted nothing more than to be home. When I landed on Earth, it felt like someone was sitting on me constantly for a week. At first I couldn't walk, it took me several months before I could walk normally again. It was a painful recovery, but it was all worth it, because we are all able to be here and talk about it."
"Any other questions for Dr. McCormack?" the tour guide asked the Girl Scout troop.
"Was it stinky living with six guys for so long? My daddy sweats, it's gross. How did you not gag?" Megan chuckled, as did the rest of the troop.
"I guess it can be smelly at times, but it's the price you pay for the best job in the world. Keeping clean in space is difficult. With micro gravity, water floats around and that's dangerous if the droplets float into an electrical component. Even shaving, the little hairs can damage components, which would cause our mission to fail. Instead of a shower, we have this special soap you rub on your body. We don't wash it off, instead we leave it there."
"Dr. Megan," one of the older girls said, raising her hand. Megan had asked they use the same name as Ashley, maintaining respect, while marginally informal at the same time.
"Yes Heather."
"What about your um ... I mean does your ... never mind," she said, blushing.
"It's okay Heather, what do you want to ask her?"
"I just wanted to know if everything works the same in space for girls."
"Okay Heather, that's not appropriate."
"No, that's a great question," Megan said, jumping in. "A menstrual cycle is a normal part of a woman's life, nothing to be ashamed of. All of you one day will experience it," Megan began. Judging by the age group, many were close to that stage in their journey toward womanhood. "As far as we know, everything works just the same as it does here on Earth. For me, I used hormone treatment to alter my cycles, so they were infrequent. This was mainly done for safety on our long trip. I hope one day to study more thoroughly the long term effects, because you know what ladies, in the future, there will be women shuttle pilots, women will command missions and one day we will travel to other worlds."
"What would you say to girls wanting to be like you?" the scout mom asked.
"Well ladies, being an astronaut is the best job in the world, but it takes lots of hard work. NASA's a great place for women to work. We are a big family and if you are smart, it doesn't matter if you're male or female, white, black, or green." The girls laughed. "Work hard in school, you ladies are our future and we need you. There are going to be some amazing new technologies for studying the universe that will be ready by the time you are graduating college. I hope you all come back as candidates."
"One more question, then we have to call it a day. Carly make it quick."
"Dr. Megan, do you think there are aliens out there?" Megan paused a moment, pondering her response. "I do. Not everyone I work with thinks so, but the universe is a really big place. From what we can see, there are billions of galaxies, each with hundreds of billions of stars. If you think about all the planets that might be orbiting those stars, it's inevitable we will find some with life on it. But I'm not going to make that discovery, I'm counting on some of you to. So make sure you study hard and I hope to see you come back some day."
"Okay girls, say thank you to Dr. McCormack for her time."
Megan spent another twenty minutes answering questions and signing autographs. She identified the ones who would clearly return one day as the next generation of astronauts. They were inquisitive, having to be pried away by the scout leaders in order to make the bus back to town. As the last girl exited, Megan looked up, catching a figure in the doorway.
"Sean! Oh my god, come here," she yelled out in excitement, standing and quickly shuffling over to him.
"I heard a rumor you were around. Some of the guys said they saw you, so I asked and found out where you were."
"It's so good to see you, how was Christmas? How's Deborah?"
"Christmas was good, Deb's better. Still has nightmares."
"Aww poor thing. Trust me, I have them too."
"So, recruiting for the Star League?" he said, shifting the conversation away from Russia, regretting he mentioned his wife's inability to deal with the incident.
"A few of them perhaps. What about you. What's NASA got you doing?"
"Training."
"You back on active flight status?"
"I am. Been working my tail off getting back in shape. Last month doctors cleared me. My lung is healed, ribs mended. Hoping to get command of STS-35."
"Well, I knew you would be the one to head back out there. I hope it works out for you."
"Have you heard from Eugene or Nikolai?"
"Actually, Gene's coming home this week. I think his flight gets in tomorrow. You didn't know?"
"No. I've been trying to get in touch with him, but it's difficult. Is he coming back to stay?"
"Not this time, but he will be back for a few weeks. He said he's working on making the transition back to the states and will finally be back for good in a few months."
"Great, can't wait to see him. I trust he is doing well."
"Yes. Very well."
"What about Nikolai? Been hearing buzz on the news about him. He really taking up politics?" Megan gathered her belongings and motioned toward the door.
"Got time for a coffee?"
Sean checked his watch, staring at the display and making a few funny faces. "I have about forty five minutes before I need to be in the simulator. Sure, why not."
"Great, I'm buying."
---
Kneeling on the mat, I took a deep breath through my nose, holding it in a moment before exhaling through my mouth. "Just like that, in through the nose, out the mouth. Close your eyes and clear your mind of everything that's troubling you. No more worries, no more pleasant thoughts, just emptiness, a void in your head. Now breathe again. In through the nose, out the mouth." I led the meditation while trying to clear my busy mind. Thoughts of regret impeded my attempt to reach the same level of emptiness I was teaching. After a few minutes of my own relaxation, I clapped my hands together, producing a sharp sound echoing through the gym.
"How do you feel?"
"Better. Much more relaxed and focused."
"Good, keep doing this at least once a day. All the stretching exercises and about twenty minutes of meditation. More effective than cigarettes when it comes to calming nerves."
"I know. Jim doesn't like it, but he says it's okay, he understands my situation."
"He's a good guy you got there, he really loves you."
"I know, and I love him. Would be a stupid question to ask if you know what happened."
"Of course I know," I said, holding out my hands to her. Trish was my mirror image, kneeling inches away. She reached out and let me grab her wrists. I tightened down, firm, but within the realm of human strength. I watched proudly as she closed her eyes, inhaled and brought her hands together as if praying. Her new position made it difficult to maintain a solid connection without resorting to my hidden strength. Instead I lifted my body, curling my toes so they were now dug into the mat. Raised higher, my palms were now able to maintain a connection to her wrists instead of becoming separated.
Trish spread her arms out, rotating her wrists. Her left arm moved high above the side of my head, while her right took my hand low to the mat. She had my center mass divided and neither hand could contain her movements. She pushed me off balance, pivoting on her knees as I rolled backward and pinned her open hands inches from my face.
"Good. Getting better."
"Thank you. So you think I was wrong to turn him down?" she said, letting me back up and resuming our position facing each other. I grabbed her hands again, waiting for her to repeat the exercise.
"No, you weren't wrong. He was just doing what he thought would cheer you up. Guys are clueless at times. What usually works on them, doesn't work on women. There was no harm in it, well intended, just not the right time."
"You think I should say something to him?"
"Sure, but take your time. Think it through. He will wait for you."
"Thanks. I just wish I could get through this crap. I can't stand the pain."
"You know, Marines are trained to kill. The Corps strips them of their humanity, and makes them a killing machine. After Vietnam, they returned home suffering from all kinds of post-traumatic stress. Worse, the institution that turned them into killers didn't bother spending the time or resources to deprogram them. Instead, they just let them go back home to roam the streets without a way to channel their feelings. A dojo in California specialized in taking in some of these marines and taught them Aikido as a way to restore peace and harmony, neutralizing the aggression within them. It worked, and many of them went on to find success."
"You think it will work with me?"
"I know it will, but it will take time. If you are willing to commit, so will I."
"Anything to get my life back. I don't want to quit, but I'm such a wreck," she said as my 10 o'clock strolled in full of confidence. I watched through my wide vision while maintaining my eye contact with Trish.
"We'll get the old Trish back and improve her at the same time." I turned and swiftly walked on my knees like a duck until I was a few feet away, then pivoted to face Trish again, pausing a moment before bowing to her.
"Thanks Karen for talking straight with me. This was better than a hour of therapy with your friend."
"Don't discount her as a resource as we work to regain control of your life. She can offer you insight I can't."
"You think I should see her?"
"Hey, you think our relationship is all fun and games? Many times I have sought her wise counsel."
"I know you're right," she said, turning to see Scully approach.
"Good morning."
"Morning Karen. Morning ... I'm not sure we've met. Scully."
"You the fresh fish I've been hearing about?"
"That'd be me. You are?"
"Mendoza. Usually work the NW beat. Who you riding with?"
"Sergeant Nolan."
"Sergeant Nolan's a good guy. Worked with him several times. You listen to what he says."
"You're Patrica Mendoza right?"
"Scully," I said, interrupting, "Officer Mendoza and I are still wrapping up, you mind excusing us a moment?" He withdrew quietly without making a scene, leaving us alone again.
"Thanks. Kid's pretty cocky, do me a favor and knock some sense into him. Thinks he's hot shit for being the only one to fire on Broderick."
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him. So, what do you think about Jim's big news?" I asked, tossing her a breadcrumb. They hadn't spoken since Christmas Eve, but I wasn't there to get in between them.
"What news?"
"Duh, I didn't know you hadn't heard. How about you ask him, I don't want to spoil anything."
---
The war room was bursting at the seams. Representatives from every department were present, the officers and detectives most directly involved were lucky to have a seat at the large conference table. The rest leaned against the walls with their notepads in hand.
"First order of business, people. Services for Officer Miller will be held next Thursday. For sake of manpower, and in light of the current situation, this will be a limited service. Those of you in attendance, it will be the same routine as the previous services. A fund has been started for Mrs. Miller. If any of you care to donate, Brewer will be handling the collections. Everyone, I don't know about you, but I am getting tired of funerals. This department needs to step up its game and nab this SOB," Chief Gormley said, addressing his people. He had a reputation for not investing enough time with his main duties.
"Prick's gonna start screaming in 3, 2, 1 ..." Harris whispered into Reid's ear. His estimation lagged; several seconds passed before the Chief morphed into a raging beast, yelling and cussing. He attacked the department as a whole, then trickled down to departments for their shortcomings on the case. Finally, he called several individuals out, reducing them in front of the crowd.
"His days are numbered. The Mayor is shitting down his throat for his fancy excursions. Now he's doing the honorable thing and shitting on us," Reid said.
The room relaxed when Gormley finally ended his bitch session and excused himself, leaving the meeting in the care of the Captain.
"Okay, that about ends the ass chewing. If you all feel you lost a fair portion of padding back there, feel free to check out mine." He received some laughs, enough to mellow the mood so that he had their attention. Brownly was a tough boss to work for, expecting much from his people, but if you excelled at your job, he was an approachable man. For that, the department respected him.
"Our boy is still out there. Like the Chief said, we've been doing a sloppy job at catching him and need to step up our game. So let's hear it. "Moony?"
"Sir, Air Support will be adding two additional birds on loan from NASA. They are a pair of Bell Jet Rangers distinct from our MDs and will have the call signs Fox 51 and Fox 52. Both are being repainted and fitted with necessary equipment. I expect them to be flight ready by 1400 today. In addition, we have four transfers from Dallas, Austin and even Los Angeles. All four are pilots and will rotate duty as Tactical Flight Officers. This will keep us airborne up to 24 hours if needed."
"Thank you Moony. Next on the list. We received another round of AR-15s and Ruger Mini-14s. Due to limited supply, we are issuing them to select vehicles and will send notifications through the pipeline to report to the armory."
Brownly continued through the list of topics, pausing now and again to call upon his department Lieutenants for updates. Everyone was prepared for war, each department eager to bring to the meeting the critical piece of the puzzle that would end this madness.
Fergusen stepped up, addressing the room's occupants. "In addition to the pilot transfers, we will also be transferring several officers from nearby counties to help fill some of our losses and take up the slack. We need to press hard, but we are getting tired. Expect about twelve transfers coming in in the next few days. Three from San Antonio, two more from Dallas, one from Oklahoma City, two from New York, three from Austin, and one from Galveston. Reid, that's your cousin coming up from the coast, right?
"That's right. Said he was a little bored now that the weather forced the bikinis back into the drawers." The seriousness of the room briefly relaxed as the crowd laughed at Jim's joke.
"Well, we are damn lucky to have him, you express our appreciation."
"I will sir."
"Okay, to follow up on the transfers, several of you will be divided up and partnered with them." Fergusen yelled for order the moment his patrol officers started barking about being reassigned to a new partner. "Quiet. I don't care how long some of you have been dating, you will take your new duty assignment without question. This is a temp assignment and we have chosen our best officers so that our new guys can learn these streets by yesterday. There will simply not be any discussion on this, so shut your holes. That understood?"
"Yes sir." Several moaned in partial agreement.
"Captain?"
"Thank you. Finally, while some of you are being assigned to a new partner, a few of you will be asked to report to the War Room immediately following the conclusion of this meeting. A new joint task force is being established, and representatives from this precinct, Westside, and several from Dallas will join with the Marshal's Office and our own Texas Rangers. The following from Houston have been selected, Harris, Gates, Alvarez, Reid, Scully, Lockwood, and Hernandez. Brennan, who as you know is on loan from Dallas, will be one of their representatives. Each of these officers will be sworn in and given special powers including interstate jurisdiction. This will mean we can cross into Oklahoma or New Mexico to catch this asshole."
"Any questions?" Fergusen asked, being met with silence. "Ok, let's get back out there."
---
Far from having my own office just like Reid's, the room they provided felt like a file storage closet that had recently been partially cleared. A handwritten sign with large lettering was taped to the wall saying "Guest Services."
"I like that," Jim said.
"Thanks, Megan kinda thought of it."
I opened the door to find my desk had a fresh vase of flowers and several gift bags.
"Shit, already? Maybe I should get some office space outside the department."
"What, this? No read the card."
The flowers did bring a pleasant aroma to the closet, masking the stale mildew smell from the boxes of old case files. Attached to a plastic pitchfork sticking out of the vase was a small envelope with my name written in neat feminine-looking handwriting.
"Some of the girls insisted on giving you a little welcoming."
"Yeah, nice of them. I'll read it later."
"Not a flower kinda girl are you?"
"Was nice of you the other day, but no, I'm not. In this case it keeps this room from stinking."
"About that. Most of these are old files. We have been trying to enter them into our new computer system, but it's been taking a long time. Most of us don't like all this new technology, so finding computer savvy people to enter all the records is challenging. Might be about six months before we completely clear this space out."
"Just tossing it out there, but not only am I good with computers, I can type pretty damn fast."
"You volunteering?"
"Perhaps, might be a good chance to give some of these cases a look-through."
"Most of these are from traffic. Mostly collision reports, vehicle citations and such. There are a few cold cases, but nothing important. Let's get you settled first, then we can worry about taking on other projects. For now I need you, I have to make a house call, I wanted you to come along.
"Sure, where are we going?"
---
Ashley lay curled up on the couch, a tear dripping down her face. Under her arm was her puppy, who lay on his side enjoying the warmth of his companion.
"Ashley, remember, the rules don't apply in this room. It's a magic room, the only one in the world. You can come here and all the feelings and secrets you want to get off your chest, you can. Everything you tell me in this magic room stays behind these doors."
"I know."
"It's okay. Ashley, don't be afraid." Megan asked.
"I have bad dreams sometimes. I want to tell my mom about them, but she has dreams too. When I talk about mine, she starts crying. Sometimes she won't come out of her room and I spend several hours by myself. At least I have Cosmo to keep me company now."
"I'm glad you decided to keep that name. It's a cute name for him don't you think?"
She simply nodded her head as she lifted her hand to rub Cosmo's chin.
"Tell me about the dreams."
"Did Aunt Karen kill Dwayne?"
Ashley's sudden deviation from the dreams to her asking such a serious question startled Megan. It was a fair question, one Michael never talked about. The creep's demise was well accepted, his plane crashed into the ocean and nothing but his jacket washed ashore. It was the jacket she had thrown Michael though, not the flight jacket Liz said he left with. She knew from Michael's reaction that Dwayne was alive. If Dwayne's death was as everyone thought, Michael would have confirmed it, instead, he asked that she trust him. It was all Megan needed to know, that Michael didn't kill him in cold blood. She knew her friend well. He was now an immortal alien with no one to answer to. No one but a few could place Karen with Dwayne and if they did, not a soul on Earth could force her to answer for it.
It was Michael's lack of emotion that told Megan Dwayne was still alive. Where, she had no idea. Perhaps locked in his basement up in his cabin, a fitting punishment. She made a mental note to confront her friend, if for no other reason, out of concern. As much as she disliked Dwayne, he was still human and an American, deserving of Justice as guaranteed by the constitution which she helped preserve.
"Honey, Aunt Karen isn't a killer. Dwayne probably crashed just like everyone says."
"I hope she did."
"Ashley, I know Dwayne was a very bad man, but do you really wish he would die?"
She paused a moment in thought, then squeaked out a response. "Yes. He hurt my mom and made her sad. Aunt Karen left me on the roof to go stop him. Maybe she made him crash."
"Let me ask you, do you think your daddy would kill Dwayne if that was him instead of Aunt Karen?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because my daddy's good and doesn't like hurting people."
"That's right. Remember your dad's birthday party when you and your mom came to Florida?"
"No."
"No? It was you, your mom and I sitting at the table."
"Oh yeah, I remember. That other lady was sitting with us, tall like Aunt Karen."
"Yes. I forget her name, but that was the night. Well Dwayne was being mean to Mr. Yeltsov. Instead of hurting Dwayne, your daddy was nice to him in order to protect Mr. Yeltsov. He could have hurt Dwayne really bad, but he chose not to because like you said, your daddy is a nice man. Maybe he told Aunt Karen to protect you and your mom, but to be nice. You think that's possible?"
"I guess."
"Good. Let's talk more about this next time. Tell me about your dreams."
"Can I talk about that next time too? I'm tired of talking Dr. Megan. Can we go out?"
"Sure Ashley, anything you like. This is your time, so you get to use it however you want. Wanna go out for lunch and shopping again?"
"Can we?" she said with sudden excitement, sitting up.
"Sure, but I have to talk to you about something, can you give me ten minutes?"
"Awww. I guess."
"Good. Remember Detective Reid, the policeman who found you and your mom?"
She nodded her head while stroking Cosmo's head. She held him like an infant, close to her chest, rocking him back and forth as if trying to put him to sleep.
"Well, next week is a special ceremony where they are going to give him an award for saving you two."
"But Aunt Karen saved us."
"She did, but Detective Reid found you first, but Dwayne shot him."
"Yeah, because he tried to stop my mom from shooting Dwayne."
"Tell me about that," Megan asked, surprised as she had never heard this part of the story.
"He was trying to handcuff Dwayne when my mom tried to shoot Dwayne in the head. The policeman stopped her and let Dwayne get away and hurt my mom. Aunt Karen should get the award."
"Well we are her friends, that's the best award. You know, Ashley, that no one can know who Aunt Karen really is, so Detective Reid is going to pretend he saved you two."
"But that's lying."
"Kinda. Did you know I got an award for saving the whole planet?"
"No."
"I did, the President of the United States and other world leaders gave it to me, Mr. Collins, Mr. Mitri and Dr. Shephard. But you know what? We didn't really save the planet. You know who did?"
"Aunt Karen."
"That's right. And as much as I want the whole world to know it was her, she wants to hide. Because everyone will want her for the amazing things she can do. Some will try to hurt her, but won't be able to. So they will hurt those special to her instead. Aunt Karen doesn't want anyone to find out about her, because you won't be safe. So, I pretended to be the one who saved the Earth and got a shiny metal I don't deserve, just to keep Aunt Karen and you and your mom safe. Do you understand?"
"Kinda. But I still don't like him."
"Ashley. He really is a hero. He saved your mother from making a mistake. Killing Dwayne would have hurt her in many ways. One day you will understand that and appreciate him. Look Ashley, I know Dwayne made it hard for you to trust men, but Detective Reid is a really nice man. I know your father would trust him. Now your mom doesn't want to force you to do something you are not comfortable with, but it would mean a lot if you could be there to give him his award. Do you think you can do that?"
"I don't know," she said, hugging her dog. Cosmo turned and licked her face, causing her to giggle. Seeing Ashley's bright smile brought a smile to Megan's face, enjoying the spirit of Michael and Liz' daughter. She knew Liz wasn't ready for the truth, but Ashley would accept him. Kids had a way of cutting through the crap adults added to complicate everything. Politics, religious superstitions and such played no part in a child's life. They were simple creatures, able to see people's hearts clearer than the most intelligent of adults.
"Would you try seeing him, maybe if you and your mommy took him out for dinner?"
Ashley quickly shook her head no.
"What if Aunt Karen came too? You know she and Detective Reid are friends? Aunt Karen helps him stop bad guys. Would you go if she went?"
This idea received an affirmative from Ashley.
"Good, then I will ask your mom if it's okay. If she says yes, then we can all go out."
"Can we go now? I'm hungry."
Megan looked at her watch. She still had a couple of minutes left.
"Well look, I said ten minutes, and ten minutes is up. Go take Cosmo out back to do his duty, then put him in his playpen. I'm going to go change real quick. Why don't you call your mom and tell her we are going out."
"Okay Dr. Megan."
"Sweetie, I think it's cute you call me that, but you're a young little lady and we are friends, you can just call me Megan okay?"
----
"Seriously, I should be thanking you for that smooth flight."
"Nonsense Dr. Shephard, it was an honor having you on my aircraft. Consider this the least I can do to show my appreciation," the captain said, pushing Gene's wheelchair up the ramp. Gene, like most with handicaps, didn't like being treated as someone inferior because of his injury. Worse, he didn't like the hero status–not from THOR, or saving Megan's life. The latter he knew was justified and deep down knew he would do it all over again, but the mission was a crock. None of his work was considered beneficial to the outcome. The trillions of dollars spent, the efforts of all the nations, didn't matter. In the end, it was some mysterious supernatural event that was responsible. An event he couldn't stop thinking about.
"Looks like you won't be waiting around after all Doctor," one of the flight attendants said as they cleared the ramp, entering the main terminal. Gene picked his name out of the crowd of chauffeur's signs and wheeled himself up to the man–a short slender man wearing a black suit, holding the name card high over his face.
"I'm Doctor Shephard, Dr. Meersman send you?"
"You're not going to puke all over my limo are you?"
"Pardon me?"
"You better not Gene, cuz I just got the smell out of my T-38," the man said, lowering the sign."
"Only if you start talking about the Earth being 6,000 years old you old bastard. How'd you know I was coming?" Gene asked, playfully duking it back to his friend.
"Quiet, I don't want anyone here to recognize me."
It wasn't until Sean had the last bag loaded in his Mercedes and Gene comfortably situated in the front seat that the two began conversing.
"Damn it Sean, that was a hell of a surprise. Seriously, how did you know I was coming back?"
"Saw the Doc yesterday at JSC talking to a troop of Girl Scouts. How come you didn't call me to tell me you were coming back?"
"I didn't want a welcoming party, just wanted to get back quietly and get settled in. I've been gone way too long."
"I know how you feel my friend. I get tired of people asking for my autograph and posing for pictures. Kinda hard to turn them down, but it's not what I went up there for." Sean patted Gene on the shoulder, "damn, it's great to see you."
"Same here. Been a long time my friend. The U.S. liaison to the embassy told me you were alright and made it out safely with everyone else."
"Yeah, sorry I didn't come see you."
Sean thought back to the night Gene's life changed forever. For everyone involved, the banquet seizure was a life-changing event. The lights cut out, just like the coded message said they would. The group, all clustered together, immediately falling flat on the ground, below the typical line of gunfire that had erupted seconds later as KGB forces forcibly entered and took the room. The terrorist resistance was short-lived, the KGB team entered and mowed the conscripts down, using the latest in night vision technology to peer through the darkness.
As the last of the terrorists, riddled with bullets, hit the ground, a second team breached the doors, pouring into the hall. At first Sean thought is was reinforcements arriving to assist in securing the site. Instead, they ordered the first team to surrender their weapons. Sean almost expected a tumbleweed to blow through the hall as the two groups stood, weapons trained on each other.
The women in the crowd whimpered or cried, scared out of their wits, while the men held them close, silently terrified themselves. Finally the standoff ended with the first group's surrender. In the aftermath, the confusion as to who the good guys were became more clear, learning of the attempted overthrow of the Soviet Leader.
"No worries Sean. To be honest, I didn't really want a lot of visitors for a while."
"I guess I could understand that. Still, you and I have been through a lot. Might have started off on the wrong foot, but hey, look at us now. How's Debbie doing?"
"She's hanging in there. We both have our share of nightmares, hers are worse."
"You should try watching mine sometime. It's like being shot over and over again. Can't feeling anything down there, but in my dreams I can. Not sure if I actually like the feelings in the dream or not."
"Well, I'm just glad we're all alive, that's most important."
"Yes indeed. Thank God Mitri was able to take that room without any casualties."
"Mitri? What are you talking about?"
"Oh shit, you don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Nikolai's brother?"
"News to me, what about him?"
"Sergei Mitri, he's the one that led the assault. He's a major in the KGB. Actually I think he's a Colonel now, maybe higher."
"No kidding. I didn't know Nikolai had a brother. Hey isn't the KGB dismantled?"
"No, just operating under a new name and answering to a new aspect of the government. Pretty much still the same."
Sean sat in silence pondering the new information. Things made more sense.
"Gene, a couple things have been bothering me about that night."
Gene lifted his hand and pointed to the sign. "Get off at the next exit, then hang a left. God I miss home."
"You are a native Texan like Megan, right?"
"That's right. Grew up in Dallas. Family had a lot of ties with big oil companies. My great great grandfather on my mom's side sunk his first well about 100 years ago."
"Hell, spent a year crammed in a small ship with you and I'm finally learning about you."
"So, what's been bothering you about the banquet?"
"Right. So this might sound strange, but I've been trying to find a rational explanation."
"You, trying to reason?"
"Yeah, no kidding, right?"
Sean pulled off the expressway and headed down the ramp, flicking his left turn blinker on. "So, about five minutes before–What's Nikolai's brother's name again?"
"Sergei."
"Right. So, just before Sergei and his men hit the lights, I received a ..." Sean stopped, wondering if he should continue.
"Received a what?"
"A message, in morse code. Told me to prepare everyone for the lights to go out, and shooting to start," Sean said before continuing his story. He explained the repeated message that used his call sign to get his attention. The message came in the form of dots and dashes encoded into audio feedback in the banquet hall's audio system.
"Really? So what do you think it was?"
"I don't know. In light of our experience with coded messages, my first instinct is to appeal you know where."
"Why not? You think only ghosts know morse code?" Gene asked, knowing there were other alternatives to a supernatural intervention but not wanting to derail the conversation. Instead he let Sean continue.
"Well. I'm sure there's a sound explanation for the message, but that's not all," Sean said while thinking about that.
"About five miles, turn right on William Travis Ave," Gene said, preparing him for his next turn. "So, what do you mean that's not all?"
"I don't know if you remember much right after you were hit."
"Can't say I do. All I remember is thinking that I was going to die, and so was Megan as that asshole turned back to shoot her. She was screaming in absolute terror."
"Right. That's just it."
"Not following you buddy, what's bothering you?"
"What it was she was screaming."
"That, I didn't quite hear."
"Well I did, and so did Debbie. She was screaming for Michael."
Gene fell silent a moment in deep thought. "You saying Megan was calling out to Michael?"
"Yes. She screamed for Michael to help." He repeated the message verbatim, just the way she screamed it, seconds before the Russian's head exploded.
"Likely just reactionary. I mean, sure, every one one of us–even yours truly–believe he saved us somehow."
"Yeah, but don't you think it's strange, she's the only one of us that, from the first day after we returned to Earth, she's denied everything."
"True, she doesn't talk about it much, but she was also closer to Michael. It's possible she took his death harder ... no, I know she did. She likely believes the same as we do, she just won't admit it. She's a psychologist, she's much more grounded than we are."
"Still, I find it strange that she called out to him and a short time later, he codes a message to me."
"So you think she has the power to call him out of the afterlife at will, as if he's her own personal guardian angel now?"
"There was a time in my life I would have absolutely said yes to that. Now, I'm just trying to find the truth."
"Well, maybe he is watching over us. Frankly I like the idea."
"Funny isn't it Gene? You believing, while I have no idea what to believe."
"Sean, you really let all that get to you? Don't tell me you lost your faith?"
"What's the next turn?" Sean asked, making the right. Gene gave him the remaining directions.
"So where are we going?"
"Biotech Labs."
"Isn't that dipshit's company?"
"Was. They filed for bankruptcy. Turner made off with the federal grants and private investments. He's shark food, and the money's in offshore accounts. Investors want their money back and Turner left a dark stain on the company. Won't be long before they close their doors."
"So what are you going to see them for? You're not going to invest in that asshole's company are you?"
"Hell no, I'm going to buy it, take their facilities and their patents and incorporate it as my corporation."
"So that's what you are doing out here?"
"That and other things."
"So I hear. When are you going to see her?"
"Taking her out for dinner tomorrow night."
"You and the Doc. Damn, Gene, who would have thought?"
"Right? Probably the same people that wouldn't have thought we would be friends."
---
"What are we doing here?"
"I'm waiting for someone."
"Okay, can you be a little more vague?"
"Name is Stephan Kránger. He's the lead singer in a band that used that sound booth on a regular basis. The owner said they had a big guy with them on a few occasions," Reid explained in between sips of his coffee. It was a quiet, upscale neighborhood that likely retaliated against their garage performances and forced them to seek out alternative venues as they improved their musical craft.
"So you think our boy knows these guys?"
"Doubtful, but we need to be thorough. I still think he broke in in the middle of the night."
"What about the VDub?"
"DMV shows it registered to a man in Dallas. He reported it stolen a few days before Miller's murder."
"Isn't that where Broderick is from?"
"Good catch. Our friends in Dallas have a surveillance team watching his parents' house. If there is any attempt at contact, we will know."
"Must make his parents real proud."
"Mr. Broderick is a prick. Rich slimy scumbag who dumped a shitload of money on his attorneys and probably anyone else he could bribe. It worked because the DA dropped the charges against Seth. They're still barking that their sweet innocent shithead of a son isn't behind this."
"The guns registered to him, the bomb in his house, his truck on the scene, hell, even that perp ID'ing him in a photo not enough to convince them?"
"Parents get crazy when their kids do wicked things, but these parents are shit. Should have let him fall. He would still be in prison now and we wouldn't be in this mess."
"Stupid thinking Jim. We are in this mess, thinking about what could have happened is pointless. So, I take it the parents are refusing to assist in locating him?"
"Of course, wouldn't you?"
"No." I said with certainty, but deep down knowing it would be one of the hardest things a parent would have to face. Protect a known murderer because you don't want to see your child sent to prison or executed, but the torment of knowing you allowed innocent lives to be taken at the hands of your offspring. Their blood equally on your hands.
"How about I go up to Dallas and poke around? I can check out the van's owner, then maybe befriend the Brodericks. Maybe get close to the mother and see what I can find out."
"Good idea. I'll let my contact up there know you will be snooping around so they won't harass you."
"Okay, I will leave in a couple of hours and spend the evening up there. Give me what you have on them."
"Wait, I forgot. You might want to hang around tonight."
"Why?"
"I think Megan was going to call you, but Liz, Ashley and Megan want to take me out for dinner tonight, she mentioned something about inviting you as well."
"Dinner, what for?"
"Hold on, he's here," Jim said, interrupting me as a beige station wagon pulled up into the drive way. A young adult about my age exited the vehicle, then lifted the back gate, withdrawing a large case.
"Stephan Krá¼ger?"
"Yes," he replied in a moderate German accent. Reid flashed his new Sergeant's badge.
"Sergeant Reid with Houston Police."
"I've never been greeted that way before. Is there a problem?"
"I'm investigating the murder of one of my police officers behind the sound studio you and your band practice in."
"Yes, I've heard. Terrible to hear. I'm quite sorry. What is it you need me for?"
"We are looking for this man," Reid said, holding up a photograph of Broderick. "I understand a large muscular man was seen with you and your friends."
"I've never seen this man. My friend Karl, his brother is a big guy and a sound engineer. Helped record our demo."
I listened to his heartbeat as he spoke, watching his body heat for fluctuations. As far as I could tell, he was being truthful.
"You have a name for Karl's brother and an address?"
"I can. Is he in trouble?"
"No, just want to ask them if they've seen this guy."
"His brother's name is Gá¼nther Lanz." Reid started patting his jacket down as Stephan dictated his friend's address.
"You need me to write it down for you?"
"No it's okay," I said, memorizing the information for Reid. As he continued to speak with Stephan, Reid's radio sparked to life off in the distance. I listened to the message and grabbed Reid, pulling him toward the car.
"Reid, we gotta go," I said, pulling him toward the car.
"Wait, I'm not finished–"
"–There's been another shooting, get in the car," I said, ducking under his arm and lifting him off his bad leg. Moments later he was peeling out, racing down the street with his lights flashing.
"What did they say?"
"All units, all units priority one, officer involved shooting on the corner of Travis and Polk Street in downtown."
"151 10-4, proceeding to scene. ETA 10 minutes." Reid turned to me as I began stripping my top off.
"What are you doing."
"I can get there in seconds."
"It's broad daylight."
"No time, trust me," I said, kicking my slacks off, leaving them crumpled on the floor of Reid's car. His head kept shifting back and forth, watching as I pulled the hood over my head, sealing my thick head of hair and pretty face under the alien garment.
"You look like a mannequin."
His comment forced a laugh through my nasal passages just as I activated the stealth on my suit, rendering me semi-transparent.
"Screw you, I just sneezed in this mask," I yelled, pulling myself through the open window and taking flight.
---
"Captain, phone company finally got us the phone records. The call that triggered the bomb was routed through five different residences. That's why it took so long to track."
"Where did it originate?"
"Dallas, the Broderick home. There's a guest house on the property and a phone line dedicated to that location. The call originated from there."
"I want the parents picked up for aiding and abetting this bastard. I'm not going to stand by and listen to this bullshit they don't know where he is. Tell your boys back home you are coming up with a team to take the house. Maybe we can put a squeeze on this fucker by prosecuting his parents. I'll get with the DA to find anything we can charge them with."
"Might be a stretch, but I like it." Brennan's head snapped back as the door to Brownly's office burst open. Officer Brewer stood at the door out of breath."
"Jesus Christ Brewer you wanna fucking kno–"
"–Captain, we got him.
Comments
Scully? Any relation to Dana
Scully? Any relation to Dana Scully?
Great chapter as always and can't wait for the next one.
Hugs,
Andrea
Scully?
I love Gillian Anderson. As far as Officer Scully? We will have to see. I am about to introduce a character from a favorite cop show of mine. Should show up from an alternate timeline had the Icarus altered the events from that show. I did have a character from one of my all time favorite superhero shows make a cameo last season. Not sure if anyone caught it. It was fun writing the character and wouldn't mind bringing him back.
Glad you liked the episode.
Megan
People say, "You don't know what you had until it's gone." Very true, but also equally true is, "You don't know what you've been missing until is arrives."
As crazy as this
guy is, I'm afraid he's got a suicide bomb strapped on him or something. You've done a great job of setting the background right for the time period. I'm enjoying this!
hugs
Grover
Writing the 80's
Hi Grover. Definitely a challenge at times. We are so used to our smart phones to do everything for us. I am constantly trying to remember what it was like to call the restaurant in order to get ahold of my parents when they took a little break. Using payphones, pagers, typewriters, Thomas guides, phone books in the story is has been a fun throwback. I'm constantly stopping to make sure the technology was correct for the time with a little bit of leeway due to the technological advances made for the mission.
Thanks for your continued support
Megan
People say, "You don't know what you had until it's gone." Very true, but also equally true is, "You don't know what you've been missing until is arrives."
Thanks for another great chapter :D
Really enjoyed it, as usual :D. You're really starting to get these out like clockwork.
One typo: you wrote "Were are still trying", which should probably be "We are still trying".
One thing that puzzled me was the packet of Aspirin earlier in this chapter. I don't think they give flowers Aspirin and even if they did, I would think that Megan is smart enough not to take anything that's meant for plants. That's just nitpicking of course, but I'm pretty okay at nitpicking.
Keep up the good work and thanks for another amazing read.
P.S. I like the chapter title :D.
Aspirin.
The aspirin helps hung over flowers recover quicker after a night of hard partying. Actually, it creates a more acidic environment which helps water move up the stem easily.
Megan might have been too lazy and hung over to read the label in the first place. After Reid explained what they were, Megan would have verified. I just didn't get that detailed. But yes, aspirin does extend the life of flowers. Thanks for the heads up on the typo. I will get it fixed.
Megan
People say, "You don't know what you had until it's gone." Very true, but also equally true is, "You don't know what you've been missing until is arrives."
Great Episode
Great Episode as always! Can't wait for the next!
G.M.
Great Chapter, I am glad you are continuing this story as it is truly one of my favorites. I doubt it that you will but for both of their sakes I think Kaaren needs to tell Liz who she is really is. I truly doubt that we are close enough in the story that that will happen but it is thought as no one knows if the real Kaaren will be back with Michael's real Body soon or ever at all. The progress of the story is fantastic. I applaud your skills and talent.
Thanks again for sharing this with us
SDom
Men should be Men and the rest should be as feminine as they can be
It will happen
at the right time. Don't forget, Michael hiding his true self from his family, while secretly confiding in a trustworthy friend and therapist is a metaphor for the journey we all take in coming out. It's a little backwards, but ultimately, it's designed to teach others about the steps we go though, the loneliness, the rejection, and the pain caused my hiding and pretending to be someone we are not in order to fit in. We are all scared that those we love, will turn their backs on us and think a life of misery in exchange for our family's love is better than living as the real person inside and utterly rejected. Michael will simply go through a journey as will his wife and daughter as well as his other friend. It won't be easy, and his fear will be realized, and will face times when giving up seems like a good option. Just be patient, their eventual reunion is already written...start investing in kleenex now.
Megan
People say, "You don't know what you had until it's gone." Very true, but also equally true is, "You don't know what you've been missing until is arrives."
Great story, hope Liz gets
Great story, hope Liz gets better and trusting
J Schade