Fic: Silent Tango 5/5 Part 1
Title: Silent Tango
Fandom: Fake News
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/'Stephen'
Summary: With Stephen back from Iraq, Jon and Stephen struggle to deal with their divorces, their budding relationship, oh, and a telepathic mind link, an assassination attempt and bananas on their breakfasts, too.
Chapter 5.1
This chapter Grew and Grew past LJ's limits, so it's been divided into parts 5.1 and 5.2
Silent Tango 5.1
Much to his credit, Jon didn’t panic.
He stayed calm and started to take control of the situation, his ‘Executive Producer’ persona taking over, instructing the candy striper behind the desk to call the police and send the officer in charge of Stephen’s case straight to the hospital. Meanwhile, he was demanding to speak to the nurse on duty at the time of Stephen’s disappearance. After finally convincing the head nurse of the seriousness of the situation she agreed to try to contact the night nurse, but warned that she would most likely be asleep.
Thanking her, Jon pulled out his cell and dialed the number for the Colbert Report offices in New York. After a few rings someone finally answered.
“Hello?”
“Jimmy?”
“Mr. Stewart? Yeah, I was just running tech checks on the new set for the show on Monday…”
“There may be another week or so to do that, Jimmy. Could you do me a favor?”
“Is something wrong? And yeah, of course! How’s Stephen?”
“…He’s fine.”
I hope.
“The cops went through Stephen’s office when they started their investigation, right?”
“Yeah. Made a real mess too. I had to clean up.”
“Well, I trust you more than them. I need you to go through the office again, looking for anything they might have missed.”
“Sure thing boss. I’ll get out my junior detective kit.”
Two uniformed cops turned the corner and started heading for the Nurse’s Station, talking in hushed tones with the head nurse.
“Thanks Jimmy, call me immediately if you find something, yeah?”
Jon hung up before he could respond, bearing down on the officers with intent.
“Detective Rainson.”
“Mr. Stewart.”
“I assume you’ve been briefed on the situation by miss…”
“Nurse Zelman”
Jon wasn’t listening.
“Yes, she was good enough to fill in some of the details for us. If you don’t mind Mr. Stewart, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course. What do you need to know?”
“Where were you between the hours of 4 and 8 AM?”
Jon blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I asked you where you were this morning.”
“At my hotel, then I came over here. Is this relevant?”
“No where else?”
“I stopped to pick up breakfast.”
“For yourself and Mr. Colbert?” The younger officer, who looked to be in training, was obviously trying to imitate his superior’s curt and skeptical demeanor.
The semblance of calm and courtesy Jon had managed to maintain so far didn’t crumble; it crashed to the ground like bulldozer had hit it.
“Am I a suspect?”
The older cop shot a disapproving look at his unsubtle subordinate, before slowly choosing his words.
“You have been present at both Mr. Colbert’s shooting and his current ‘disappearance’. As Mr. Colbert’s Power of Attorney and friend you are quite close to him and have had ample opportunity to plan such an operation. Your name is on the patient outlog, and as we have no other current leads at this time-”
“Excuse me?” Jon was nearly radiating anger. “You are the one that has screwed this up royally. If you had any cause to doubt me, why let me near Mr. Colbert at all? Why did you not post a guard at his door? That is standard procedure on botched assassinations, and don’t give me that crap about being understaffed and not wanting to give away his secure location with uniformed officers, you left him more than vulnerable to attack.
“You have, as you said, no leads whatsoever on this case, and are currently attacking one of the few people attempting to help you, so as I still have Mr. Colbert’s power of attorney, why don’t you give me the file on his case so I can see for myself that you have in fact, done something, all right?”
The trainee looked angry, and was obviously about to shout at Jon, but his superior held him back.
“Of course, Mr. Stewart. I understand entirely. Rob, would you please fetch Mr. Stewart the Colbert Case File from the car?”
Still mumbling angrily, but nodding meekly, ‘Rob’ headed off towards the elevator, shooting Jon a glare over his shoulder.
Jon returned fire with equal intensity.
The old cop was about to say something, probably apologize once more, when Jon’s cell rang.
Taking a slight and petty pleasure in waving away the officer, he answered immediately.
“Yeah?”
“Jon? It’s Jimmy. Look, I may have something, but it’s probably nothing…”
“Nothing’s nothing. What is it?”
“Well, when the cops swept the place they went through all of Stephen’s emails, letters and fan mail that were lying around, and they went through the trash out back, but...”
Not appreciating the dramatic pauses, Jon waited impatiently, hearing the rustling of paper in the background.
“We started that recycling program last year. So the cleaning staff sorts out the trash into paper and non-paper. The trash comes once a week, but the recycling only once a month. So they keep it in this big bin in the mail room until the first trash day of the month.”
Jon’s heart sank. “It’s been over a month since Stephen was shot. There won’t be anything useful then.”
“Yeah…but the cleaning crew is lazy. If the bin isn’t full they often put it off until the next month. And since we didn’t have any paper input at all this month other than fan mail for Stephen we redirected to your office…It looks like they haven’t emptied this in at least three months. I’m going through it now.”
“Jimmy?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“If you find something, I’m giving you and the cleaning crew all a raise and a double bonus this year.”
Rob was back, handing a suspiciously thin file to his boss, deliberately not looking at Jon.
“Thank you,” the veteran cop accepted the file and began to flip through it. “As far as we can tell, Mr. Colbert was shot from the fourth floor window with a -“ He rattled off some number Jon didn’t understand.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a sniper rifle. Odd, actually. It can’t be purchased by the public. It’s currently only used by Russia and the U.S. Military.”
Distracted, Jon noticed that Jimmy was squeaking from the cell phone in his hand, trying to get his attention.
“Jon? Jon, you there!?”
“I’m here. Did you find something?”
“Again, it’s probably nothing, but there are a bunch of letters in here that were obviously run through the shredder, but didn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a gold foil seal it couldn’t cut through. It’s the seal of the United States Army…”
Jon finally connected all the dots and stood back.
“Jon? You there? I asked if you thought I should keep looking.”
“Jimmy? I need you to get to a computer and call me back in five minutes.”
He hung up and faced the waiting officers.
“You want to do something useful for once? You can drive me to the Pentagon.”
***
“I want to see General Richmond.”
“The General is unavailable right now, Mr. Stewart, but if you’d like to leave a message…”
Jon had had enough of secretaries, nurses and overly peppy assistants the past month to last him a lifetime.
“No, you listen to me, sweetie, you tell him I’m here and I see him within 10 minutes or so help me God…”
The door behind the terrified aide opened and General Richmond appeared, dressed in dress blues and a polite, if slightly strained smile.
“Jon! Good to see you. Come on in.”
Pushing passed the terrified young man, Jon stormed into the office.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. Where’s Stephen?”
“I’m sorry? Have a seat, would you?”
“I’ll stand. I have evidence of blackmail, or intimidation, or whatever the hell you sent him that scared the shit out of him, and a pretty damn good idea that the U.S. Army was involved in his attempted assassination.”
Richmond sunk into the chair behind his desk.
“Mr. Stewart, I hope you are aware of the magnitude of these accusations. The United States does not take such statements lightly¸ and if you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t seem entirely sure of what it is you are accusing us of being involved in.”
“Oh, I think you know. I think you know a lot, General.” Jon was trying to make himself far more imposing then he was, leaning over the enormous mahogany desk towards the man behind it.
“I think you know who ordered the intimidation and attempted assassination of my friend and his consequent kidnapping from a hospital room, and I really, truly hope it wasn’t you, because I respect you, sir, and I know for a fact Stephen damn near idolizes you. I think you know why said measures were taken, and if that’s the case then you know how I’m deeply, intensely involved, and if you or any of your pals have any plans involving me then you should know exactly what you’re getting into.”
Jon felt comfortable now, far more comfortable then he had any right to be. He had no idea who this badass that was speaking for him was, but he liked what he was saying. This went way beyond ‘Authoritative Producer Jon’ or even ‘Seriously Pissed Off Jon’. This was ‘You Can’t Handle the Truth’, and every badass courtroom scene ever. This was Dirty Harry’s ‘Do You Feel Lucky’ and those speeches from the Lord of the Rings he now knew far too well.
He was holding all the cards. They may have been a complete bluff, but damned if he wasn’t going to give the performance of his life.
“I’ve got over Two Million viewers and far more credibility then I should really rightfully have. And Stephen? The Colbert Nation has a dedication and power that scares the crap out of me sometimes. They’re all already riled up and ready to believe anything after the shooting and the two of us almost disappearing. We’re due back on the air next week after over a month. If we disappear again right before that they’ll believe almost anything.”
Stepping back from the desk, Jon casually took the seat he’d been offered, crossing his legs and leaning back before continuing.
“And don’t think you’re going to get out of it if you move quickly. I’ve got a policeman outside who’s been fully briefed - Well, about the parts he’d understand, if you get my drift - and I’ve already got someone else who’s fully apprised of the situation and is, as we speak, sending off sealed letters to my lawyers, Stephen’s lawyers, and the producers of our shows. To top it all off he has orders to release this information to the public if he doesn’t hear from both Stephen and I within 24 hours.”
Sitting forward, he fixed the silent man before him with a grin that was only slightly malicious, resting his arms on his knees.
“But even with all the evidence, which, as you said, is quite circumstantial and probably wouldn’t hold up too strongly in court, I wasn’t sure until I got here.
“Because,” he whispered conspiratorially, “When I set foot through the door to this building I could feel him.”
Richmond’s face, stonily still throughout Jon’s little speech suddenly flashed…what was it? Fear? Shock? Interest? It was gone too quickly for Jon to analyze it, but it merely reinforced his convictions.
“I can feel him,” he repeated, “ And I can tell that he’s unconscious, but terrified and in pain. Now I’m a very reasonable man, General Richmond. Most would even call me…funny, pleasant, sweet, even. But if you fuck with me and the ones I love you will see a side of Jon Stewart very few ever see.”
He leaned back into the black leather of the chair, smile easing into a comfortable, lazy smirk.
“I think I’ll have that drink now, thanks.”
General Richmond didn’t move for a few seconds, seemingly in shock before stand slowly to head to the bar at the side of the office.
“Mr. Stewart, within the past five minutes you have accused the U.S. Military of Threatening, Kidnapping and Attempted Assassination of a U.S. Citizen. I don’t even want to go into the other insinuations you made, as I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about. You have also directly threatened a U.S. Army General…”
Jon didn’t hear the rest of the speech. He had already succumbed to the hand holding a chloroform soaked cloth over his face.
Fandom: Fake News
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/'Stephen'
Summary: With Stephen back from Iraq, Jon and Stephen struggle to deal with their divorces, their budding relationship, oh, and a telepathic mind link, an assassination attempt and bananas on their breakfasts, too.
Chapter 5.1
This chapter Grew and Grew past LJ's limits, so it's been divided into parts 5.1 and 5.2
Silent Tango 5.1
Much to his credit, Jon didn’t panic.
He stayed calm and started to take control of the situation, his ‘Executive Producer’ persona taking over, instructing the candy striper behind the desk to call the police and send the officer in charge of Stephen’s case straight to the hospital. Meanwhile, he was demanding to speak to the nurse on duty at the time of Stephen’s disappearance. After finally convincing the head nurse of the seriousness of the situation she agreed to try to contact the night nurse, but warned that she would most likely be asleep.
Thanking her, Jon pulled out his cell and dialed the number for the Colbert Report offices in New York. After a few rings someone finally answered.
“Hello?”
“Jimmy?”
“Mr. Stewart? Yeah, I was just running tech checks on the new set for the show on Monday…”
“There may be another week or so to do that, Jimmy. Could you do me a favor?”
“Is something wrong? And yeah, of course! How’s Stephen?”
“…He’s fine.”
I hope.
“The cops went through Stephen’s office when they started their investigation, right?”
“Yeah. Made a real mess too. I had to clean up.”
“Well, I trust you more than them. I need you to go through the office again, looking for anything they might have missed.”
“Sure thing boss. I’ll get out my junior detective kit.”
Two uniformed cops turned the corner and started heading for the Nurse’s Station, talking in hushed tones with the head nurse.
“Thanks Jimmy, call me immediately if you find something, yeah?”
Jon hung up before he could respond, bearing down on the officers with intent.
“Detective Rainson.”
“Mr. Stewart.”
“I assume you’ve been briefed on the situation by miss…”
“Nurse Zelman”
Jon wasn’t listening.
“Yes, she was good enough to fill in some of the details for us. If you don’t mind Mr. Stewart, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course. What do you need to know?”
“Where were you between the hours of 4 and 8 AM?”
Jon blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I asked you where you were this morning.”
“At my hotel, then I came over here. Is this relevant?”
“No where else?”
“I stopped to pick up breakfast.”
“For yourself and Mr. Colbert?” The younger officer, who looked to be in training, was obviously trying to imitate his superior’s curt and skeptical demeanor.
The semblance of calm and courtesy Jon had managed to maintain so far didn’t crumble; it crashed to the ground like bulldozer had hit it.
“Am I a suspect?”
The older cop shot a disapproving look at his unsubtle subordinate, before slowly choosing his words.
“You have been present at both Mr. Colbert’s shooting and his current ‘disappearance’. As Mr. Colbert’s Power of Attorney and friend you are quite close to him and have had ample opportunity to plan such an operation. Your name is on the patient outlog, and as we have no other current leads at this time-”
“Excuse me?” Jon was nearly radiating anger. “You are the one that has screwed this up royally. If you had any cause to doubt me, why let me near Mr. Colbert at all? Why did you not post a guard at his door? That is standard procedure on botched assassinations, and don’t give me that crap about being understaffed and not wanting to give away his secure location with uniformed officers, you left him more than vulnerable to attack.
“You have, as you said, no leads whatsoever on this case, and are currently attacking one of the few people attempting to help you, so as I still have Mr. Colbert’s power of attorney, why don’t you give me the file on his case so I can see for myself that you have in fact, done something, all right?”
The trainee looked angry, and was obviously about to shout at Jon, but his superior held him back.
“Of course, Mr. Stewart. I understand entirely. Rob, would you please fetch Mr. Stewart the Colbert Case File from the car?”
Still mumbling angrily, but nodding meekly, ‘Rob’ headed off towards the elevator, shooting Jon a glare over his shoulder.
Jon returned fire with equal intensity.
The old cop was about to say something, probably apologize once more, when Jon’s cell rang.
Taking a slight and petty pleasure in waving away the officer, he answered immediately.
“Yeah?”
“Jon? It’s Jimmy. Look, I may have something, but it’s probably nothing…”
“Nothing’s nothing. What is it?”
“Well, when the cops swept the place they went through all of Stephen’s emails, letters and fan mail that were lying around, and they went through the trash out back, but...”
Not appreciating the dramatic pauses, Jon waited impatiently, hearing the rustling of paper in the background.
“We started that recycling program last year. So the cleaning staff sorts out the trash into paper and non-paper. The trash comes once a week, but the recycling only once a month. So they keep it in this big bin in the mail room until the first trash day of the month.”
Jon’s heart sank. “It’s been over a month since Stephen was shot. There won’t be anything useful then.”
“Yeah…but the cleaning crew is lazy. If the bin isn’t full they often put it off until the next month. And since we didn’t have any paper input at all this month other than fan mail for Stephen we redirected to your office…It looks like they haven’t emptied this in at least three months. I’m going through it now.”
“Jimmy?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“If you find something, I’m giving you and the cleaning crew all a raise and a double bonus this year.”
Rob was back, handing a suspiciously thin file to his boss, deliberately not looking at Jon.
“Thank you,” the veteran cop accepted the file and began to flip through it. “As far as we can tell, Mr. Colbert was shot from the fourth floor window with a -“ He rattled off some number Jon didn’t understand.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a sniper rifle. Odd, actually. It can’t be purchased by the public. It’s currently only used by Russia and the U.S. Military.”
Distracted, Jon noticed that Jimmy was squeaking from the cell phone in his hand, trying to get his attention.
“Jon? Jon, you there!?”
“I’m here. Did you find something?”
“Again, it’s probably nothing, but there are a bunch of letters in here that were obviously run through the shredder, but didn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a gold foil seal it couldn’t cut through. It’s the seal of the United States Army…”
Jon finally connected all the dots and stood back.
“Jon? You there? I asked if you thought I should keep looking.”
“Jimmy? I need you to get to a computer and call me back in five minutes.”
He hung up and faced the waiting officers.
“You want to do something useful for once? You can drive me to the Pentagon.”
***
“I want to see General Richmond.”
“The General is unavailable right now, Mr. Stewart, but if you’d like to leave a message…”
Jon had had enough of secretaries, nurses and overly peppy assistants the past month to last him a lifetime.
“No, you listen to me, sweetie, you tell him I’m here and I see him within 10 minutes or so help me God…”
The door behind the terrified aide opened and General Richmond appeared, dressed in dress blues and a polite, if slightly strained smile.
“Jon! Good to see you. Come on in.”
Pushing passed the terrified young man, Jon stormed into the office.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. Where’s Stephen?”
“I’m sorry? Have a seat, would you?”
“I’ll stand. I have evidence of blackmail, or intimidation, or whatever the hell you sent him that scared the shit out of him, and a pretty damn good idea that the U.S. Army was involved in his attempted assassination.”
Richmond sunk into the chair behind his desk.
“Mr. Stewart, I hope you are aware of the magnitude of these accusations. The United States does not take such statements lightly¸ and if you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t seem entirely sure of what it is you are accusing us of being involved in.”
“Oh, I think you know. I think you know a lot, General.” Jon was trying to make himself far more imposing then he was, leaning over the enormous mahogany desk towards the man behind it.
“I think you know who ordered the intimidation and attempted assassination of my friend and his consequent kidnapping from a hospital room, and I really, truly hope it wasn’t you, because I respect you, sir, and I know for a fact Stephen damn near idolizes you. I think you know why said measures were taken, and if that’s the case then you know how I’m deeply, intensely involved, and if you or any of your pals have any plans involving me then you should know exactly what you’re getting into.”
Jon felt comfortable now, far more comfortable then he had any right to be. He had no idea who this badass that was speaking for him was, but he liked what he was saying. This went way beyond ‘Authoritative Producer Jon’ or even ‘Seriously Pissed Off Jon’. This was ‘You Can’t Handle the Truth’, and every badass courtroom scene ever. This was Dirty Harry’s ‘Do You Feel Lucky’ and those speeches from the Lord of the Rings he now knew far too well.
He was holding all the cards. They may have been a complete bluff, but damned if he wasn’t going to give the performance of his life.
“I’ve got over Two Million viewers and far more credibility then I should really rightfully have. And Stephen? The Colbert Nation has a dedication and power that scares the crap out of me sometimes. They’re all already riled up and ready to believe anything after the shooting and the two of us almost disappearing. We’re due back on the air next week after over a month. If we disappear again right before that they’ll believe almost anything.”
Stepping back from the desk, Jon casually took the seat he’d been offered, crossing his legs and leaning back before continuing.
“And don’t think you’re going to get out of it if you move quickly. I’ve got a policeman outside who’s been fully briefed - Well, about the parts he’d understand, if you get my drift - and I’ve already got someone else who’s fully apprised of the situation and is, as we speak, sending off sealed letters to my lawyers, Stephen’s lawyers, and the producers of our shows. To top it all off he has orders to release this information to the public if he doesn’t hear from both Stephen and I within 24 hours.”
Sitting forward, he fixed the silent man before him with a grin that was only slightly malicious, resting his arms on his knees.
“But even with all the evidence, which, as you said, is quite circumstantial and probably wouldn’t hold up too strongly in court, I wasn’t sure until I got here.
“Because,” he whispered conspiratorially, “When I set foot through the door to this building I could feel him.”
Richmond’s face, stonily still throughout Jon’s little speech suddenly flashed…what was it? Fear? Shock? Interest? It was gone too quickly for Jon to analyze it, but it merely reinforced his convictions.
“I can feel him,” he repeated, “ And I can tell that he’s unconscious, but terrified and in pain. Now I’m a very reasonable man, General Richmond. Most would even call me…funny, pleasant, sweet, even. But if you fuck with me and the ones I love you will see a side of Jon Stewart very few ever see.”
He leaned back into the black leather of the chair, smile easing into a comfortable, lazy smirk.
“I think I’ll have that drink now, thanks.”
General Richmond didn’t move for a few seconds, seemingly in shock before stand slowly to head to the bar at the side of the office.
“Mr. Stewart, within the past five minutes you have accused the U.S. Military of Threatening, Kidnapping and Attempted Assassination of a U.S. Citizen. I don’t even want to go into the other insinuations you made, as I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about. You have also directly threatened a U.S. Army General…”
Jon didn’t hear the rest of the speech. He had already succumbed to the hand holding a chloroform soaked cloth over his face.