Profiler/Bones: The Taking-- Chapter 10
It's been a LONG time since I've updated since I'm kind of stuck. Please be patient with me as I work through the block I'm experiencing with this fic. Thanks!
Profiler: The Taking-- Chapter 10
Rating: R for violence, sexuality, salty language.
Pairing: Grace/George friendship; Grace/Bailey; mostly VCTF friendship.
Fandoms: This is my first cross-over with “Bones.” "Bones" and all related characters are property of Hart Hanson, Kathy Reichs, and Fox.
A/N: My sincerest thanks to all who have been reading and commenting. YOU ROCK!
A/N 2: All of my stories are unbetaed and all mistakes are mine. Please feel free to point out if I've gone astray. Con-crit only, please-- do NOT flame.
For "The Taking" thus far and any of my other fics, click here:
http://community.livejournal.com/profiler_fans/tag/kosmickway
“Why would your assistant kidnap my sons?” Grace asked, stroller forgotten as she stared at Vega.
“She wouldn’t. It’s not- She lives in D.C, same place I do.” He shook his head, perplexed. “There has to be some mistake. Same name, maybe. It’s no Jane Smith but Janine Monroe can’t be an uncommon name.” He turned to John. “What did she look like?”
“Slender but curvy. Long brown hair with streaks of red. Maybe 5 foot 7. Pretty.”
Brennan was shaking her head. “That could fit any of a thousand people living in the Atlanta area. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
“I don’t think moving on a suspect is jumping to conclusions,” Morgan put in. “If she was your assistant she’d know about the Gravedigger, wouldn’t she?”
“Janine helped me write the book on the Gravedigger. Literally. She knows more about him than anyone else aside from me.”
“But I don’t know her. I’ve never met her in my life,” Grace said, stating the obvious. “90% of abductions are committed by family or friends of the victim. There’s no one the boys or I interact with on a daily basis other than Morgan, you guys, and my sitter, Ruth, who was screened by the FBI before I hired her.”
“I’m telling you, this has to be a mistake,” Vega insisted. “Janine still lives in DC. It’s been a few months since I talked to her but-“ He shook his head. “No, it’s just not possible.”
“We can verify her identity easily enough,” John said. “We’ve got a tail on her now. If you come with me, Mr. Vega, we can verify whether this person is or is not your assistant.”
Vega, looking dazed, nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s go. But I’m telling you, it’s insane. Janine wouldn’t- she just wouldn’t.”
“That’s what Ted Bundy’s family said,” John replied and headed off up the trail, Vega in tow.
Bailey’s phone beeped and Rachel’s voice came through the speaker. “Bailey, it’s Rachel. I think we’ve got the boys.”
Grace and Morgan sprinted up the trail and toward the pumping station looming ahead. A group of agents was outside. Rachel’s distinctive red shirt stood out among the sea of navy blue flak jackets as she waved them over.
“We’re trying to take the door down.”
It was a metal monstrosity, heavy and old with rusted hinges. The agents trying to work the lock free were having no luck, and the door was made in such a way that it was impossible to take off the handle. One of the agents backed off and spoke to another, who nodded and headed for the car, the words “battering ram” audible to the others in the group.
“What’s taking so long?” Grace’s voice was shrill. “Get the damn thing down!”
“They’re trying,” Rachel soothed, though her words were lost on Grace who was pacing manically around the outside of the pumping station, looking for any other access point. Morgan stumbled along after her, feeling the walls, hands trembling.
“Are you sure they’re in there?” Bailey asked Rachel. “You’re not going to want to be the one to face Grace if they aren’t.”
“According to the Park Service people, all the doors to these places should be readily accessible to rangers. This one wasn’t. It stands to reason-“
”You didn’t confirm that they’re in there?” Bailey’s voice was low but fierce. “You’re going on ‘it stands to reason’? Dammit, Rachel, if they’re not in there-“ He broke off when he heard Grace’s voice raised above the din.
“Get this fucking door open! My boys are in there!”
“Ma’am, you need to step back so we can-“
”MY SONS ARE IN THERE! Don’t you understand, my boys-“
Morgan made a grab for Grace, tried to hold on to her as she lunged at the door. Bailey hurried over, startled by how hard it was to hold on, especially when she was fighting them tooth and nail. He managed to wrap both arms around her from behind and pin her arms down at her sides.
“Grace, stop. Let them work on it.” He held on to her tightly, whispering the words over and over again into her ear until they finally penetrated. She stopped struggling but remained tense against him, ready to spring forward the moment he let her go. He didn’t let her go, but he did loosen his hold, still murmuring soothing words in her ear.
Morgan was watching them with a strained expression on his face, a look somewhere between impatience and fear. He had obviously never seen his ex-wife act like this.
There was a sudden flurry of activity and the door came off its hinges. Grace broke away from Bailey, pushed her way through the crowd and dashed inside, Morgan following hard on her heels.
“Jayson?” she yelled, stopping to assess the room. “Where are you, honey?”
A flash of yellow caught her eye- Georgie’s onesie-and she saw them, both either deeply asleep or unconscious on small sleeping bags in the corner of the pumping station.
Shaking, she dashed to her boys. She snatched up Georgie, who was limp as a rag doll, but warm and breathing.
“Oh baby, oh baby, I’m so glad to see you, sweetheart, it’s okay, Mama’s here.”
Morgan was checking on Jayson- she could see him out of the corner of her eye- and Bailey was shouting for an ambulance. She was aware of the rest of the team moving inside, forming a protective ring around Grace and Morgan.
“Grace?” Morgan sounded deeply frightened. “He won’t wake up.”
“I--.” Grace tried to calm down, to think, to assess clinically, but these were her boys, her sweet babies. She shook her head, tears flooding her eyes with a suddenness that was overwhelming.
Brennan knelt beside Grace and Georgie, moving in gently to peer under the baby’s eyelids and feel his pulse. “Probably a drug of some kind.”
“Where’s that ambulance?” Morgan demanded. “What’s taking so long?”
“They’re on the way now,” Bailey replied, snapping his phone shut and moving in closer to Grace.
Grace clutched at Georgie, rocking him, saw Morgan in her peripheral vision doing the same to Jayson as if rocking could undo the last 48 hours and the damage it had wrought.
Georgie took a little hitching breath in her arms, then another. The breaths quickly became gasps that began to come quicker, more fitfully. Grace’s heart constricted sharply in her chest as she lifted Georgie to her shoulder and patted his back. The gasps continued, giving way to the tell-tale whistling of a closing airway.
“No, don’t do this to me,” Grace murmured, setting Georgie back down on the sleeping bag where he’d been nestled before. “Don’t do this.”
“Grace-“ Morgan asked, clutching at Jayson.
“He can’t breathe.” She tilted Georgie’s head back and checked his airway. “Oh, Jesus, Jesus, somebody get the paramedics!”
Profiler: The Taking-- Chapter 10
Rating: R for violence, sexuality, salty language.
Pairing: Grace/George friendship; Grace/Bailey; mostly VCTF friendship.
Fandoms: This is my first cross-over with “Bones.” "Bones" and all related characters are property of Hart Hanson, Kathy Reichs, and Fox.
A/N: My sincerest thanks to all who have been reading and commenting. YOU ROCK!
A/N 2: All of my stories are unbetaed and all mistakes are mine. Please feel free to point out if I've gone astray. Con-crit only, please-- do NOT flame.
For "The Taking" thus far and any of my other fics, click here:
http://community.livejournal.com/profiler_fans/tag/kosmickway
“Why would your assistant kidnap my sons?” Grace asked, stroller forgotten as she stared at Vega.
“She wouldn’t. It’s not- She lives in D.C, same place I do.” He shook his head, perplexed. “There has to be some mistake. Same name, maybe. It’s no Jane Smith but Janine Monroe can’t be an uncommon name.” He turned to John. “What did she look like?”
“Slender but curvy. Long brown hair with streaks of red. Maybe 5 foot 7. Pretty.”
Brennan was shaking her head. “That could fit any of a thousand people living in the Atlanta area. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
“I don’t think moving on a suspect is jumping to conclusions,” Morgan put in. “If she was your assistant she’d know about the Gravedigger, wouldn’t she?”
“Janine helped me write the book on the Gravedigger. Literally. She knows more about him than anyone else aside from me.”
“But I don’t know her. I’ve never met her in my life,” Grace said, stating the obvious. “90% of abductions are committed by family or friends of the victim. There’s no one the boys or I interact with on a daily basis other than Morgan, you guys, and my sitter, Ruth, who was screened by the FBI before I hired her.”
“I’m telling you, this has to be a mistake,” Vega insisted. “Janine still lives in DC. It’s been a few months since I talked to her but-“ He shook his head. “No, it’s just not possible.”
“We can verify her identity easily enough,” John said. “We’ve got a tail on her now. If you come with me, Mr. Vega, we can verify whether this person is or is not your assistant.”
Vega, looking dazed, nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s go. But I’m telling you, it’s insane. Janine wouldn’t- she just wouldn’t.”
“That’s what Ted Bundy’s family said,” John replied and headed off up the trail, Vega in tow.
Bailey’s phone beeped and Rachel’s voice came through the speaker. “Bailey, it’s Rachel. I think we’ve got the boys.”
Grace and Morgan sprinted up the trail and toward the pumping station looming ahead. A group of agents was outside. Rachel’s distinctive red shirt stood out among the sea of navy blue flak jackets as she waved them over.
“We’re trying to take the door down.”
It was a metal monstrosity, heavy and old with rusted hinges. The agents trying to work the lock free were having no luck, and the door was made in such a way that it was impossible to take off the handle. One of the agents backed off and spoke to another, who nodded and headed for the car, the words “battering ram” audible to the others in the group.
“What’s taking so long?” Grace’s voice was shrill. “Get the damn thing down!”
“They’re trying,” Rachel soothed, though her words were lost on Grace who was pacing manically around the outside of the pumping station, looking for any other access point. Morgan stumbled along after her, feeling the walls, hands trembling.
“Are you sure they’re in there?” Bailey asked Rachel. “You’re not going to want to be the one to face Grace if they aren’t.”
“According to the Park Service people, all the doors to these places should be readily accessible to rangers. This one wasn’t. It stands to reason-“
”You didn’t confirm that they’re in there?” Bailey’s voice was low but fierce. “You’re going on ‘it stands to reason’? Dammit, Rachel, if they’re not in there-“ He broke off when he heard Grace’s voice raised above the din.
“Get this fucking door open! My boys are in there!”
“Ma’am, you need to step back so we can-“
”MY SONS ARE IN THERE! Don’t you understand, my boys-“
Morgan made a grab for Grace, tried to hold on to her as she lunged at the door. Bailey hurried over, startled by how hard it was to hold on, especially when she was fighting them tooth and nail. He managed to wrap both arms around her from behind and pin her arms down at her sides.
“Grace, stop. Let them work on it.” He held on to her tightly, whispering the words over and over again into her ear until they finally penetrated. She stopped struggling but remained tense against him, ready to spring forward the moment he let her go. He didn’t let her go, but he did loosen his hold, still murmuring soothing words in her ear.
Morgan was watching them with a strained expression on his face, a look somewhere between impatience and fear. He had obviously never seen his ex-wife act like this.
There was a sudden flurry of activity and the door came off its hinges. Grace broke away from Bailey, pushed her way through the crowd and dashed inside, Morgan following hard on her heels.
“Jayson?” she yelled, stopping to assess the room. “Where are you, honey?”
A flash of yellow caught her eye- Georgie’s onesie-and she saw them, both either deeply asleep or unconscious on small sleeping bags in the corner of the pumping station.
Shaking, she dashed to her boys. She snatched up Georgie, who was limp as a rag doll, but warm and breathing.
“Oh baby, oh baby, I’m so glad to see you, sweetheart, it’s okay, Mama’s here.”
Morgan was checking on Jayson- she could see him out of the corner of her eye- and Bailey was shouting for an ambulance. She was aware of the rest of the team moving inside, forming a protective ring around Grace and Morgan.
“Grace?” Morgan sounded deeply frightened. “He won’t wake up.”
“I--.” Grace tried to calm down, to think, to assess clinically, but these were her boys, her sweet babies. She shook her head, tears flooding her eyes with a suddenness that was overwhelming.
Brennan knelt beside Grace and Georgie, moving in gently to peer under the baby’s eyelids and feel his pulse. “Probably a drug of some kind.”
“Where’s that ambulance?” Morgan demanded. “What’s taking so long?”
“They’re on the way now,” Bailey replied, snapping his phone shut and moving in closer to Grace.
Grace clutched at Georgie, rocking him, saw Morgan in her peripheral vision doing the same to Jayson as if rocking could undo the last 48 hours and the damage it had wrought.
Georgie took a little hitching breath in her arms, then another. The breaths quickly became gasps that began to come quicker, more fitfully. Grace’s heart constricted sharply in her chest as she lifted Georgie to her shoulder and patted his back. The gasps continued, giving way to the tell-tale whistling of a closing airway.
“No, don’t do this to me,” Grace murmured, setting Georgie back down on the sleeping bag where he’d been nestled before. “Don’t do this.”
“Grace-“ Morgan asked, clutching at Jayson.
“He can’t breathe.” She tilted Georgie’s head back and checked his airway. “Oh, Jesus, Jesus, somebody get the paramedics!”