Saving Harriet, Chapter Sixteen
Title: Saving Harriet
Author: Sarah-Beth (memorysdaughter)
Character/Pairing: Sarah, John, Derek, Cameron, Cromartie, other
Rating: PG
Summary: To keep future-changing software out of the wrong hands, Sarah, John, Cameron, and Derek must kidnap a wheelchair-bound genius from a technology expo before Cromartie can get to her.
Timeline: some time in the middle of Season 2 (no specific spoilers)
Disclaimer: I don't own things. I just meddle with things.
Chapters 1-15
Saving Harriet
Catherine Weaver pulled open the door to the Haven Brook School for the Deaf-Blind. Her high heels clicked across the tile floor.
At the far end of the lobby, a dark-haired receptionist looked up. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m here to deliver a message to Grace Pullman,” Catherine said. “I’m a business associate of her father’s.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, all of the students are in their dorms for the evening,” the receptionist said. “If you’d like to write down a message, I can have it delivered to Miss Pullman.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Catherine said. “Miss Pullman’s father was in a serious car accident this evening. I’m here to take her to the hospital.”
The receptionist looked over his glasses. “We’re not allowed to release our students to anyone but their parent or legal guardian, ma’am.”
“I have it in writing,” Catherine said.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the receptionist repeated. “Would you like to speak to our headmistress?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll get her,” the receptionist said, and pressed a button on his telephone. “Headmistress Simpson? This is Derek out at West Side reception. Could you come out here for a moment? Yeah. Yeah, there’s someone here who’d like to speak to you. Yeah. I’ll ask her to wait.”
He hung up the phone and turned to Catherine. “Mrs. Simpson will be out to speak with you in a moment. Would you like to have a seat?”
Catherine nodded and sat down in the chair he motioned to. She crossed her legs and watched the receptionist. He went back to reading his magazine, and appeared to take no further interest in her.
The lobby was spacious and pleasantly understated. The furnishings were dark wood and contrasted with the pale, cream-colored walls. Signs on the wall were written only in Braille. Catherine fixed her eyes on the closest sign and focused her scanner on the dots.
“Ma’am?” a voice said before she could discern its meaning.
The woman in front of her was petite, skinny, wearing simple, loose clothing. It appeared that she had been working out - yoga, perhaps, or some tai chi. Her face was open and honest, and she seemed comfortable in her surroundings. The glasses perched on her nose were thick, with reddish frames. Behind them, her eyes swam in a semi-focused manner. “I’m Althea Simpson,” she said. “Please, step into my office.”
Catherine stood. “Catherine Weaver,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.”
She followed the headmistress into her office, which was brightly-lit and very comfortable. Books lined the walls, and most of them were in Braille. It was an office filled with clutter, but Catherine had the sense that Althea Simpson knew where everything was.
“Now, what can I help you with?” Althea asked, sitting down behind her desk.
“I’m here to collect Grace Pullman,” Catherine said, taking a chair on the other side of the desk. “Her father was involved in an automobile accident this evening, and I’m here to take her to the hospital to be with him.”
“Like I’m sure Derek told you, Miss… Weaver, was it? - we can’t release any of our students to anyone except their parent or legal guardian. I’ll need to call the hospital to ascertain that Mr. Pullman is indeed there. We can take Gracie over in the morning.”
“He’s in very serious condition, Mrs. Simpson,” Catherine said. “There’s a chance he may not survive the night. Time is of the essence.”
Althea looked down at the desk blotter, then back up to Catherine’s face. “Let me call the hospital, and then I’ll speak with our housemother.”
“Of course,” Catherine said, nodding.
“Which hospital did you say he was at?”
“I didn’t, but it’s Bridgeport General.”
“Thank you. If you could just step out to the lobby, I’ll make a few phone calls and get back to you.”
Catherine allowed herself to be shown back into the lobby. Derek the receptionist was gone from his desk, the magazine still open to the article he’d been reading last. In one quick movement, she stepped behind the desk and accessed the student database. Four quick keystrokes found her Gracie Pullman’s record, and her dorm room number.
This was going to be easier than she had previously projected.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Pullman said as he brushed his hand along the front of the crypt. “Got something for you.”
“Why does he talk to it?” Cameron asked quietly.
“Sometimes people believe that it’s possible for the essence of their loved ones can live on through a memorial like a crypt,” John answered.
Cameron clearly didn’t understand, but she said nothing further. In her arms, Harriet clung tightly to the flash stick.
“There’s a bad bunch of people out there, baby,” Pullman went on. “Need you to keep a secret for us while we go rescue Gracie.”
He turned to Harriet and gently pried the flash stick from her hand. Then he grabbed one of the brass vases on the side of the crypt and gave it a hard yank. The vase came cleanly off of the wall, exposing a fist-sized hiding spot. Pullman put the flash stick into the hole and replaced the vase. “This is as secret as it gets,” he said. “I used to hide all sorts of stuff here. Well, not really all sorts of stuff… but for awhile after Marylyn’s death… well, I was into a little bit of the medicinal herb to help me cope. I kept it here. I figured she’d appreciate the irony. She used to be the DARE captain for the whole Eastern seaboard.”
He sighed. “Well, let’s go.”
“Good,” Cameron said. “Time to save Gracie.”
Harriet awoke in the back of the van with the oxygen cannula still in her nose, with the heart monitor tape still attached to her foot. “Where are we?” she murmured.
“Going to get Gracie Pullman,” John said quietly. “Professor Pullman’s daughter. She’s in danger from the same folks who are after you.”
“Where’s the virus?”
“We left it with Professor Pullman’s wife.”
“But she’s… dead.”
“Sometimes it’s better if you don’t understand everything,” John said. “Marylyn’s the safest keeper of your program, at least until we can get it back in Professor Pullman’s hands.”
“Is that ever going to happen, John?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m never sure about stuff like this,” John said. “But I have it on good authority that Professor Pullman is our man.”
“You do things like this a lot, don’t you?” Harriet asked sleepily.
Though she had asked the question before, John answered, “Yeah,” and then added, “but we do things like this a lot so that someday… we won’t have to do things like this ever again.”
Author: Sarah-Beth (memorysdaughter)
Character/Pairing: Sarah, John, Derek, Cameron, Cromartie, other
Rating: PG
Summary: To keep future-changing software out of the wrong hands, Sarah, John, Cameron, and Derek must kidnap a wheelchair-bound genius from a technology expo before Cromartie can get to her.
Timeline: some time in the middle of Season 2 (no specific spoilers)
Disclaimer: I don't own things. I just meddle with things.
Chapters 1-15
Saving Harriet
Catherine Weaver pulled open the door to the Haven Brook School for the Deaf-Blind. Her high heels clicked across the tile floor.
At the far end of the lobby, a dark-haired receptionist looked up. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m here to deliver a message to Grace Pullman,” Catherine said. “I’m a business associate of her father’s.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, all of the students are in their dorms for the evening,” the receptionist said. “If you’d like to write down a message, I can have it delivered to Miss Pullman.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Catherine said. “Miss Pullman’s father was in a serious car accident this evening. I’m here to take her to the hospital.”
The receptionist looked over his glasses. “We’re not allowed to release our students to anyone but their parent or legal guardian, ma’am.”
“I have it in writing,” Catherine said.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the receptionist repeated. “Would you like to speak to our headmistress?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll get her,” the receptionist said, and pressed a button on his telephone. “Headmistress Simpson? This is Derek out at West Side reception. Could you come out here for a moment? Yeah. Yeah, there’s someone here who’d like to speak to you. Yeah. I’ll ask her to wait.”
He hung up the phone and turned to Catherine. “Mrs. Simpson will be out to speak with you in a moment. Would you like to have a seat?”
Catherine nodded and sat down in the chair he motioned to. She crossed her legs and watched the receptionist. He went back to reading his magazine, and appeared to take no further interest in her.
The lobby was spacious and pleasantly understated. The furnishings were dark wood and contrasted with the pale, cream-colored walls. Signs on the wall were written only in Braille. Catherine fixed her eyes on the closest sign and focused her scanner on the dots.
“Ma’am?” a voice said before she could discern its meaning.
The woman in front of her was petite, skinny, wearing simple, loose clothing. It appeared that she had been working out - yoga, perhaps, or some tai chi. Her face was open and honest, and she seemed comfortable in her surroundings. The glasses perched on her nose were thick, with reddish frames. Behind them, her eyes swam in a semi-focused manner. “I’m Althea Simpson,” she said. “Please, step into my office.”
Catherine stood. “Catherine Weaver,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.”
She followed the headmistress into her office, which was brightly-lit and very comfortable. Books lined the walls, and most of them were in Braille. It was an office filled with clutter, but Catherine had the sense that Althea Simpson knew where everything was.
“Now, what can I help you with?” Althea asked, sitting down behind her desk.
“I’m here to collect Grace Pullman,” Catherine said, taking a chair on the other side of the desk. “Her father was involved in an automobile accident this evening, and I’m here to take her to the hospital to be with him.”
“Like I’m sure Derek told you, Miss… Weaver, was it? - we can’t release any of our students to anyone except their parent or legal guardian. I’ll need to call the hospital to ascertain that Mr. Pullman is indeed there. We can take Gracie over in the morning.”
“He’s in very serious condition, Mrs. Simpson,” Catherine said. “There’s a chance he may not survive the night. Time is of the essence.”
Althea looked down at the desk blotter, then back up to Catherine’s face. “Let me call the hospital, and then I’ll speak with our housemother.”
“Of course,” Catherine said, nodding.
“Which hospital did you say he was at?”
“I didn’t, but it’s Bridgeport General.”
“Thank you. If you could just step out to the lobby, I’ll make a few phone calls and get back to you.”
Catherine allowed herself to be shown back into the lobby. Derek the receptionist was gone from his desk, the magazine still open to the article he’d been reading last. In one quick movement, she stepped behind the desk and accessed the student database. Four quick keystrokes found her Gracie Pullman’s record, and her dorm room number.
This was going to be easier than she had previously projected.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Pullman said as he brushed his hand along the front of the crypt. “Got something for you.”
“Why does he talk to it?” Cameron asked quietly.
“Sometimes people believe that it’s possible for the essence of their loved ones can live on through a memorial like a crypt,” John answered.
Cameron clearly didn’t understand, but she said nothing further. In her arms, Harriet clung tightly to the flash stick.
“There’s a bad bunch of people out there, baby,” Pullman went on. “Need you to keep a secret for us while we go rescue Gracie.”
He turned to Harriet and gently pried the flash stick from her hand. Then he grabbed one of the brass vases on the side of the crypt and gave it a hard yank. The vase came cleanly off of the wall, exposing a fist-sized hiding spot. Pullman put the flash stick into the hole and replaced the vase. “This is as secret as it gets,” he said. “I used to hide all sorts of stuff here. Well, not really all sorts of stuff… but for awhile after Marylyn’s death… well, I was into a little bit of the medicinal herb to help me cope. I kept it here. I figured she’d appreciate the irony. She used to be the DARE captain for the whole Eastern seaboard.”
He sighed. “Well, let’s go.”
“Good,” Cameron said. “Time to save Gracie.”
Harriet awoke in the back of the van with the oxygen cannula still in her nose, with the heart monitor tape still attached to her foot. “Where are we?” she murmured.
“Going to get Gracie Pullman,” John said quietly. “Professor Pullman’s daughter. She’s in danger from the same folks who are after you.”
“Where’s the virus?”
“We left it with Professor Pullman’s wife.”
“But she’s… dead.”
“Sometimes it’s better if you don’t understand everything,” John said. “Marylyn’s the safest keeper of your program, at least until we can get it back in Professor Pullman’s hands.”
“Is that ever going to happen, John?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m never sure about stuff like this,” John said. “But I have it on good authority that Professor Pullman is our man.”
“You do things like this a lot, don’t you?” Harriet asked sleepily.
Though she had asked the question before, John answered, “Yeah,” and then added, “but we do things like this a lot so that someday… we won’t have to do things like this ever again.”