Fanfiction: Enemy Combatant--Chapter 1
Fandom: Early Edition
Rating: pg-13
Status: WIP, but only one chapter left to write. Should be completed in less than two weeks.
Genre: Angst
Pairings: none
Chapter one excerpt:
His mouth was dry. Dry and stale and he opened his eyes with the intent of searching out a glass of water. Cold water. Icy cold water. Gary Hobson licked his lips in a futile effort to supply moisture and then blinked as an unfamiliar gray ceiling came into focus. He forgot about his intense thirst as the horror of the last few days flooded his mind.
At six-thirty a.m. on September 11th, he’d been the only one who knew what was going to happen in the next few hours. Well, almost the only one. The terrorists knew. He’d tried so hard to warn someone, to get someone to listen to him, but nobody would.
________________________________________________
Characters and premise borrowed from Early Edition.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His mouth was dry. Dry and stale and he opened his eyes with the intent of searching out a glass of water. Cold water. Icy cold water. Gary Hobson licked his lips in a futile effort to supply moisture and then blinked as an unfamiliar gray ceiling came into focus. He forgot about his intense thirst as the horror of the last few days flooded his mind.
At six-thirty a.m. on September 11th, he’d been the only one who knew what was going to happen in the next few hours. Well, almost the only one. The terrorists knew. He’d tried so hard to warn someone, to get someone to listen to him, but nobody would. Not the police, the FBI, the CIA or the Secret Service. He’d tried them all, even the Defense Department. Anger suffused Gary as he thought of how his warnings had been blown off. When the first plane had hit, he had been on hold with the FBI. His hand still ached where he had punched his refrigerator when the news had broken on the television.
All those innocent people were dead. Thousands of them. His efforts to avert the disaster had landed him here--in a padded cell.
The guys in the suits had come for him yesterday morning. Or was it the day before that? Gary ground the heel of his hand against his forehead, unsure exactly how much time had passed. His still felt the burn of humiliation and shame as they snapped the cuffs around his wrists while his employees looked on in disbelief. He’d wanted to die.
He sat up and closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Absently, he rubbed his arm where they’d given him the injection. Bile rose in his throat as he flashed back to the scene in the interrogation room.
“Why, Hobson? You gotta beef with the U.S. government?”
“No! I didn’t do anything! I swear to God.”
“What was in it for you?”
“Do you get your jollies out of killing children? Or didn’t you even think about the innocent kids?”
The thought of those children and how terrified they must have been made him physically ill and he had barely made it to a small trashcan in a corner. The sounds of disgust from the agents had heightened his shame. When he had finished emptying his belly, he had gone silent.
That didn’t go over well with the suits. They called in the big guns.
“Tell us who you reported to?”
“No one.”
And then the piece of cloth had been placed over his nose and mouth. Gary felt the fear return as he remembered the water trickling onto the cloth. He'd had to breathe through that cloth. That’s when he began fighting them. He didn’t know how long that had gone on, but it had seemed like forever. Gary began hyperventilating as he remembered the feeling of drowning. All out panic had set in and he had tried to kick and punch but they had held him down.
Then they had shoved the needle in his arm.
“Hey, Hobson.”
Gary’s head shot up, his eyes widening as he saw Toni Brigatti sitting in a chair across the room. She looked at him intently, her expression wary. “How are you feeling?”
Gary swallowed and looked away. She thought he was crazy. He could see it in her eyes. “Dizzy. Sick. What’d they give me?” His voice was rough and he tried to clear his throat.
“Some kind of tranquilizer. It was quite a heavy dose. You’ve been out for hours.”
He cradled his head and grimaced. Well, that explained the fog in his brain. All he’d tried to do was get someone to believe him. Gary braced his elbows on his knees and raked his hands through his hair, freezing in the act when his gaze fell on his bare feet and the thick metal cuff around his right ankle. His eyes followed the short chain back to the leg of the bed and saw that the leg was bolted to the floor. He gave a tug on the chain even though he could see that there was no way it was going to budge. “What the hell?”
“It’s the only way they’d let me in here, Hobson.”
Gary looked up in disbelief. Did the guys in the suits, the feds, actually believe that he could hurt her? That he could hurt anybody? His stomach clenched as a stab of pure agony shot through him. They did think that, and soon, everyone he knew and loved would believe that too. Oh God. He wrapped his arms around his belly.
His gaze dropped, focusing on a stain on the floor that looked like the remains of a roach. Gary didn’t know what to do any more. He’d told them everything. Explained about the paper and the cat and how it came every morning. It wasn’t like he had a choice. There was no other way to explain his prior knowledge of the sickening acts of violence perpetrated against the United States. “They think I’m crazy, don’t they? You think I’m crazy.”
Brigatti tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and avoided looking at him, her gaze seeming to land somewhere over his left shoulder. “What do you expect? You claim that a cat brought you a newspaper warning you of attacks and then you wonder why nobody believes you?” She finally shifted her gaze and looked him in the eye, anger lacing her voice. “Come on, Hobson!”
“I don’t know about them, but I thought you’d believe me.” Gary stood and took a step towards Brigatti, barely catching himself when the chain brought him up short, the metal cuff biting into his ankle. With a cry of frustration and anger, he yanked his foot, not caring about the pain or the blood that began trickling down over his ankle. Gary jerked his leg again and again, futile rage against the injustice of it all fueling his actions. How many thousands of people died because nobody would listen to him? And yet, here he was chained up like some kind of dangerous animal.
“Stop it! You’re hurting yourself! Are you crazy?” Toni moved as if to stop him, but hesitated, fear flashing in her eyes. It was just a glimmer and it was gone almost instantly, but he saw it and stilled.
The realization that she was truly afraid of him was like a blow and Gary staggered backwards, a harsh bark of laughter erupting from his mouth. “Crazy?” He sank down onto the hard bed and held his arms wide. “Look around you, Brigatti. I guess…I guess I am…crazy.” The last word tumbled out as a sob as he bent his head and covered his face with his hands. He wanted to hide, to find some corner and curl up with his shame and humiliation. He dropped his hands and leaned against the wall behind him, his spirit as bleak as his surroundings.
It almost killed Toni to see him withdraw. She didn’t want to believe that he’d had anything to do with the terrorists but how had he known? His story about a cat was ludicrous and she wished he had said anything but that. “Why can’t you just tell them the truth? If you somehow got mixed up in all of this by accident…tell them that!”
Hobson’s eyes flicked to her then settled once more on some spot across the room. “You gotta talk to me, Hobson.” Toni walked over to the door to see if she could hear anyone outside it. “They’re going to make me leave soon. You need to tell me what really happened so we can get this whole mess straightened out.”
That plea didn’t even rate a flicker. Toni felt her own anger rise up. Didn’t he care what happened to him? “Listen, I’m the only one you have right now and the only reason I was able to get in here was because of my past work as a U.S. Marshal.”
“I thank you for coming, Brigatti. You’ll have to see yourself out,” Gary replied in a monotone, his gaze still fixed on a spot on the floor.
Toni stalked to the bed and stopped in front of him, forcing him to see her. Hands on her hips, she ground out, “I don’t think you’re quite understanding the situation, Hobson. The guys who interrogated you,” she swept one arm out in gesture, vaguely pointing out towards the hall, “they’re not the local police, or the state police. They’re so high up, they report to the Secretary of Defense and maybe even higher. And the usual rights don’t apply.”
She heard him swallow and he shifted slightly, the only indication that he was listening. “They’ve labeled you an enemy combatant.” Toni paused and when there was no reaction from him, she shook her head. “You have no idea what that means, do you?”
He gave a slight shrug. “No.”
Hobson’s eyes remained downcast and she didn’t think he was really listening. Toni wanted to shake him, instead she reached out and grabbed his stubbled chin and raised it. The raw pain in his green eyes hit her like a sucker punch and she softened her tone. “It means that they can keep you locked up indefinitely without even pressing charges. That means no lawyers, no trials--just you and them.”
His eyes widened and she saw fear in their depths. It made her wonder at the interrogation techniques they’d already employed on the Hobson. She’d heard rumors before about prisoner interrogation and barely suppressed a shudder as a few remembered details ran through her mind. Toni prayed he hadn’t been subjected to any of the practices she had heard about.
“What can I do, Brigatti? Help me…I…I know I don’t deserve it…but I need your help.”
Toni closed her eyes, unable to face the naked vulnerability on Hobson’s face. She sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders, feeling his body shudder. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try to talk to some people I still know. But, Hobson? I have no clout. You have to understand that. You have to talk to them.”
“I tried that. Didn’t work.” He pulled away from her and she could practically see the walls rising up in the man as he withdrew again.
“Well, try again, Hobson! Just tell them the truth and they’ll-“
“Set me free?” He bit the question out, his voice tight. He stood and went as far as the chain allowed and leaned his forehead against the padding, his shoulders slumped.
There came a clink of a key in the lock and a scrape as the bolt slid free. Hobson jumped away from the wall, his eyes shooting to Toni’s in a wordless terror.
“I have to leave, Hobson.”
She wanted to go to him but the guard was already opening the door. “I’ll do what I can.” Toni’s heart felt like it shattered into a thousand pieces as she turned and exited.
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One year later:
Toni Brigatti took a swig of her coffee and set it beside her on the desk. She groaned at the mountain of paperwork she still had to do on her last case. Resolutely, she reached for a file.
“Detective Brigatti?”
Toni opened the file and flipped a few pages. “Yeah, who’s asking?” She glanced up at the man. He looked slightly familiar. Two cameras hung around his neck.
“I’m Miguel Diaz, a photojournalist with the Sun-Times. I’m doing a story for next week’s nine-eleven tribute section. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”
Toni’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of questions?”
Diaz pulled out a chair across the desk and began to sit, but stopped halfway, his eyebrows raised as though asking permission.
“Have a seat.”
“Questions about Gary Hobson.”
Toni barely stifled a gasp. “I don’t have any comment.” It was still too painful for her to talk about. Many nights she dreamed about Hobson and how terrified he’d looked right before she had left.
“Listen, Detective, I’m not here just as a reporter. I knew Hobson. I wrote the exclusive story on the Scanlon fiasco.”
Toni sat back, her arms crossed. So that’s why he looked so familiar. “What’s your question?”
“I heard you were the last person to report seeing him. I want to know where he is.” Diaz sat forward, his gaze intense.
A lump formed in Toni’s throat and she tried to swallow it. It took several seconds before she trusted her voice. “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen or heard anything about him since right after he was detained.”
There was a long silence as that information sunk in. Diaz looked up, blinking, and then cleared his throat. “So that’s it? He’s just…gone?”
Toni nodded. “I’ve heard that some lawyers are fighting this enemy combatant status that leaves prisoners in a legal limbo, but it’s going to be a long fight.”
Diaz stood. “He was a good guy. There’s no way he had anything to do with nine-eleven. He was too straight arrow for something like that.” He chuckled and shook his head. “First time I ever saw the guy he was stopping traffic to allow a family of ducks to cross the road.”
Toni smiled. That sounded like Hobson all right.
Shaking his head, Diaz pulled out his wallet and removed his card. “Here. If you find anything out, call me.”
She took the card. “I will.”
Diaz left and Toni sat for several moments, cart wheeling the card in her hand as she thought about Hobson. She wondered how he was doing. If he was okay. She was startled out of her reverie when her phone rang. “Detective Brigatti.” She listened for a second then sighed. “Yeah, I have the file right here. I’ll have it on your desk by lunch.”
Opening a drawer, she tossed the card in and then tackled the papers on her desk.
Rating: pg-13
Status: WIP, but only one chapter left to write. Should be completed in less than two weeks.
Genre: Angst
Pairings: none
Chapter one excerpt:
His mouth was dry. Dry and stale and he opened his eyes with the intent of searching out a glass of water. Cold water. Icy cold water. Gary Hobson licked his lips in a futile effort to supply moisture and then blinked as an unfamiliar gray ceiling came into focus. He forgot about his intense thirst as the horror of the last few days flooded his mind.
At six-thirty a.m. on September 11th, he’d been the only one who knew what was going to happen in the next few hours. Well, almost the only one. The terrorists knew. He’d tried so hard to warn someone, to get someone to listen to him, but nobody would.
________________________________________________
Characters and premise borrowed from Early Edition.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His mouth was dry. Dry and stale and he opened his eyes with the intent of searching out a glass of water. Cold water. Icy cold water. Gary Hobson licked his lips in a futile effort to supply moisture and then blinked as an unfamiliar gray ceiling came into focus. He forgot about his intense thirst as the horror of the last few days flooded his mind.
At six-thirty a.m. on September 11th, he’d been the only one who knew what was going to happen in the next few hours. Well, almost the only one. The terrorists knew. He’d tried so hard to warn someone, to get someone to listen to him, but nobody would. Not the police, the FBI, the CIA or the Secret Service. He’d tried them all, even the Defense Department. Anger suffused Gary as he thought of how his warnings had been blown off. When the first plane had hit, he had been on hold with the FBI. His hand still ached where he had punched his refrigerator when the news had broken on the television.
All those innocent people were dead. Thousands of them. His efforts to avert the disaster had landed him here--in a padded cell.
The guys in the suits had come for him yesterday morning. Or was it the day before that? Gary ground the heel of his hand against his forehead, unsure exactly how much time had passed. His still felt the burn of humiliation and shame as they snapped the cuffs around his wrists while his employees looked on in disbelief. He’d wanted to die.
He sat up and closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Absently, he rubbed his arm where they’d given him the injection. Bile rose in his throat as he flashed back to the scene in the interrogation room.
“Why, Hobson? You gotta beef with the U.S. government?”
“No! I didn’t do anything! I swear to God.”
“What was in it for you?”
“Do you get your jollies out of killing children? Or didn’t you even think about the innocent kids?”
The thought of those children and how terrified they must have been made him physically ill and he had barely made it to a small trashcan in a corner. The sounds of disgust from the agents had heightened his shame. When he had finished emptying his belly, he had gone silent.
That didn’t go over well with the suits. They called in the big guns.
“Tell us who you reported to?”
“No one.”
And then the piece of cloth had been placed over his nose and mouth. Gary felt the fear return as he remembered the water trickling onto the cloth. He'd had to breathe through that cloth. That’s when he began fighting them. He didn’t know how long that had gone on, but it had seemed like forever. Gary began hyperventilating as he remembered the feeling of drowning. All out panic had set in and he had tried to kick and punch but they had held him down.
Then they had shoved the needle in his arm.
“Hey, Hobson.”
Gary’s head shot up, his eyes widening as he saw Toni Brigatti sitting in a chair across the room. She looked at him intently, her expression wary. “How are you feeling?”
Gary swallowed and looked away. She thought he was crazy. He could see it in her eyes. “Dizzy. Sick. What’d they give me?” His voice was rough and he tried to clear his throat.
“Some kind of tranquilizer. It was quite a heavy dose. You’ve been out for hours.”
He cradled his head and grimaced. Well, that explained the fog in his brain. All he’d tried to do was get someone to believe him. Gary braced his elbows on his knees and raked his hands through his hair, freezing in the act when his gaze fell on his bare feet and the thick metal cuff around his right ankle. His eyes followed the short chain back to the leg of the bed and saw that the leg was bolted to the floor. He gave a tug on the chain even though he could see that there was no way it was going to budge. “What the hell?”
“It’s the only way they’d let me in here, Hobson.”
Gary looked up in disbelief. Did the guys in the suits, the feds, actually believe that he could hurt her? That he could hurt anybody? His stomach clenched as a stab of pure agony shot through him. They did think that, and soon, everyone he knew and loved would believe that too. Oh God. He wrapped his arms around his belly.
His gaze dropped, focusing on a stain on the floor that looked like the remains of a roach. Gary didn’t know what to do any more. He’d told them everything. Explained about the paper and the cat and how it came every morning. It wasn’t like he had a choice. There was no other way to explain his prior knowledge of the sickening acts of violence perpetrated against the United States. “They think I’m crazy, don’t they? You think I’m crazy.”
Brigatti tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and avoided looking at him, her gaze seeming to land somewhere over his left shoulder. “What do you expect? You claim that a cat brought you a newspaper warning you of attacks and then you wonder why nobody believes you?” She finally shifted her gaze and looked him in the eye, anger lacing her voice. “Come on, Hobson!”
“I don’t know about them, but I thought you’d believe me.” Gary stood and took a step towards Brigatti, barely catching himself when the chain brought him up short, the metal cuff biting into his ankle. With a cry of frustration and anger, he yanked his foot, not caring about the pain or the blood that began trickling down over his ankle. Gary jerked his leg again and again, futile rage against the injustice of it all fueling his actions. How many thousands of people died because nobody would listen to him? And yet, here he was chained up like some kind of dangerous animal.
“Stop it! You’re hurting yourself! Are you crazy?” Toni moved as if to stop him, but hesitated, fear flashing in her eyes. It was just a glimmer and it was gone almost instantly, but he saw it and stilled.
The realization that she was truly afraid of him was like a blow and Gary staggered backwards, a harsh bark of laughter erupting from his mouth. “Crazy?” He sank down onto the hard bed and held his arms wide. “Look around you, Brigatti. I guess…I guess I am…crazy.” The last word tumbled out as a sob as he bent his head and covered his face with his hands. He wanted to hide, to find some corner and curl up with his shame and humiliation. He dropped his hands and leaned against the wall behind him, his spirit as bleak as his surroundings.
It almost killed Toni to see him withdraw. She didn’t want to believe that he’d had anything to do with the terrorists but how had he known? His story about a cat was ludicrous and she wished he had said anything but that. “Why can’t you just tell them the truth? If you somehow got mixed up in all of this by accident…tell them that!”
Hobson’s eyes flicked to her then settled once more on some spot across the room. “You gotta talk to me, Hobson.” Toni walked over to the door to see if she could hear anyone outside it. “They’re going to make me leave soon. You need to tell me what really happened so we can get this whole mess straightened out.”
That plea didn’t even rate a flicker. Toni felt her own anger rise up. Didn’t he care what happened to him? “Listen, I’m the only one you have right now and the only reason I was able to get in here was because of my past work as a U.S. Marshal.”
“I thank you for coming, Brigatti. You’ll have to see yourself out,” Gary replied in a monotone, his gaze still fixed on a spot on the floor.
Toni stalked to the bed and stopped in front of him, forcing him to see her. Hands on her hips, she ground out, “I don’t think you’re quite understanding the situation, Hobson. The guys who interrogated you,” she swept one arm out in gesture, vaguely pointing out towards the hall, “they’re not the local police, or the state police. They’re so high up, they report to the Secretary of Defense and maybe even higher. And the usual rights don’t apply.”
She heard him swallow and he shifted slightly, the only indication that he was listening. “They’ve labeled you an enemy combatant.” Toni paused and when there was no reaction from him, she shook her head. “You have no idea what that means, do you?”
He gave a slight shrug. “No.”
Hobson’s eyes remained downcast and she didn’t think he was really listening. Toni wanted to shake him, instead she reached out and grabbed his stubbled chin and raised it. The raw pain in his green eyes hit her like a sucker punch and she softened her tone. “It means that they can keep you locked up indefinitely without even pressing charges. That means no lawyers, no trials--just you and them.”
His eyes widened and she saw fear in their depths. It made her wonder at the interrogation techniques they’d already employed on the Hobson. She’d heard rumors before about prisoner interrogation and barely suppressed a shudder as a few remembered details ran through her mind. Toni prayed he hadn’t been subjected to any of the practices she had heard about.
“What can I do, Brigatti? Help me…I…I know I don’t deserve it…but I need your help.”
Toni closed her eyes, unable to face the naked vulnerability on Hobson’s face. She sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders, feeling his body shudder. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try to talk to some people I still know. But, Hobson? I have no clout. You have to understand that. You have to talk to them.”
“I tried that. Didn’t work.” He pulled away from her and she could practically see the walls rising up in the man as he withdrew again.
“Well, try again, Hobson! Just tell them the truth and they’ll-“
“Set me free?” He bit the question out, his voice tight. He stood and went as far as the chain allowed and leaned his forehead against the padding, his shoulders slumped.
There came a clink of a key in the lock and a scrape as the bolt slid free. Hobson jumped away from the wall, his eyes shooting to Toni’s in a wordless terror.
“I have to leave, Hobson.”
She wanted to go to him but the guard was already opening the door. “I’ll do what I can.” Toni’s heart felt like it shattered into a thousand pieces as she turned and exited.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
One year later:
Toni Brigatti took a swig of her coffee and set it beside her on the desk. She groaned at the mountain of paperwork she still had to do on her last case. Resolutely, she reached for a file.
“Detective Brigatti?”
Toni opened the file and flipped a few pages. “Yeah, who’s asking?” She glanced up at the man. He looked slightly familiar. Two cameras hung around his neck.
“I’m Miguel Diaz, a photojournalist with the Sun-Times. I’m doing a story for next week’s nine-eleven tribute section. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”
Toni’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of questions?”
Diaz pulled out a chair across the desk and began to sit, but stopped halfway, his eyebrows raised as though asking permission.
“Have a seat.”
“Questions about Gary Hobson.”
Toni barely stifled a gasp. “I don’t have any comment.” It was still too painful for her to talk about. Many nights she dreamed about Hobson and how terrified he’d looked right before she had left.
“Listen, Detective, I’m not here just as a reporter. I knew Hobson. I wrote the exclusive story on the Scanlon fiasco.”
Toni sat back, her arms crossed. So that’s why he looked so familiar. “What’s your question?”
“I heard you were the last person to report seeing him. I want to know where he is.” Diaz sat forward, his gaze intense.
A lump formed in Toni’s throat and she tried to swallow it. It took several seconds before she trusted her voice. “I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen or heard anything about him since right after he was detained.”
There was a long silence as that information sunk in. Diaz looked up, blinking, and then cleared his throat. “So that’s it? He’s just…gone?”
Toni nodded. “I’ve heard that some lawyers are fighting this enemy combatant status that leaves prisoners in a legal limbo, but it’s going to be a long fight.”
Diaz stood. “He was a good guy. There’s no way he had anything to do with nine-eleven. He was too straight arrow for something like that.” He chuckled and shook his head. “First time I ever saw the guy he was stopping traffic to allow a family of ducks to cross the road.”
Toni smiled. That sounded like Hobson all right.
Shaking his head, Diaz pulled out his wallet and removed his card. “Here. If you find anything out, call me.”
She took the card. “I will.”
Diaz left and Toni sat for several moments, cart wheeling the card in her hand as she thought about Hobson. She wondered how he was doing. If he was okay. She was startled out of her reverie when her phone rang. “Detective Brigatti.” She listened for a second then sighed. “Yeah, I have the file right here. I’ll have it on your desk by lunch.”
Opening a drawer, she tossed the card in and then tackled the papers on her desk.