(no subject)
It had taken a couple of tries and some rescheduling, but they’ve finally made it-first to Mount Baker, and then to the crest of the trail. Despite the deep snow, Frank reaches it first and turns to look out at the view. As he pulls off his sunglasses to see better, Bob Bletcher trudges up beside him, breathing a little heavily.
“What’d I tell you, huh? It’s like standing on the edge of the world.”
Frank turns to give his friend a quick grin. "Oh, yeah."
"My dad used to take me to the same spot,” Bletcher tells him, waving one hand out at the vista. “I come here once or twice a year. It's the only thing in my life that never changes. Feels like you're a million miles from nowhere."
Frank starts to answer, but as he does his pager buzzes. Unclipping it from his belt, he looks at it, and as he does his smile fades.
Bletcher watches this, and asks with forced lightness, "Something important?"
"Yes, it is." Frank sighs, deeply, and turns to retrace his steps. As he passes Bletcher, he pauses to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bletch. Another time?”
“Sure. Not like the mountain’s going anywhere, right?” As Frank heads back down the trail, Bletcher gives one last look to the view before turning to follow.
It’s been a long time since he’s lectured at Quantico. Given the circumstances, however, as Frank steps into the conference room in the Behavioral Sciences Unit he spares a bitter moment to wish that it could have been longer still.
Several agents are waiting for him, seated around a large U-shaped table that faces a fifteen-foot screen with a photograph projected on it. One of them-an acquaintance of his from earlier days, Tom Babich - walks over to meet him and then proceeds to introduce him to the rest before beginning to outline the situation for the group. Frank listens with half of his attention, but the rest of his focus is devoted to studying the man in the projected picture: Dr. Ephraim Fabricant.
Originally incarcerated following the extreme torture and murder of five nurses in Cedar Falls, as a child Fabricant was known to have slit the stomachs of neighborhood cats to see how long they would live. He was later found to have done the same thing with no-code patients, responding just to see how they died. He who said the medical profession had only one interest for him -- the knowledge and opportunity to rend death from life - had been removed from life imprisonment to the hospital for the purpose of donating a kidney to his sister.
And then he'd escaped following the surgery.
As he looks into the eyes of the murderous psychopath shown on screen, it’s a question from one of the agents that draws his attention back to the room.
"What do you think Fabricant wants? Freedom?"
At this, Frank turns back around to face the others. "If you’d read my profile on Fabricant, you’d know that freedom to him is only the freedom to kill. This man should never have been allowed one minute out of his cell, never been allowed human contact again."
One of the other agents observes, neutrally, "That chance was passed up."
Frank shakes his head. "I'm not here to discuss that. I'm here to help catch him, just the way I helped catch him once before."
After the meeting, Frank is walking toward the lobby of the building in search of fresh air when he hears a familiar voice from behind him and turns. “Peter, what are you doing here?”
“I knew you’d get the call on this,” Peter Watts tells him. “They really laid into you, didn’t they?”
“Fabricant’s alive because of me,” Frank reminds Watts, bitterly. “I argued for his incarceration; my testimony made it so that he didn’t get the death penalty. If I hadn’t done it-this wouldn’t be happening now. He’d be dead, with no prospect of ever killing again.”
Peter shakes his head. “You can’t let them lay all this on you. We learned a lot from studying how his mind works. Your intentions were good, and the judge agreed with you.”
“You know what they say about good intentions,” Frank tells him. “Is it worth even one life?”
“Hopefully we’ll never have to answer that question.” There’s a beat of silence. “We’ll find him, Frank. We’ll find him.”
“What’d I tell you, huh? It’s like standing on the edge of the world.”
Frank turns to give his friend a quick grin. "Oh, yeah."
"My dad used to take me to the same spot,” Bletcher tells him, waving one hand out at the vista. “I come here once or twice a year. It's the only thing in my life that never changes. Feels like you're a million miles from nowhere."
Frank starts to answer, but as he does his pager buzzes. Unclipping it from his belt, he looks at it, and as he does his smile fades.
Bletcher watches this, and asks with forced lightness, "Something important?"
"Yes, it is." Frank sighs, deeply, and turns to retrace his steps. As he passes Bletcher, he pauses to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bletch. Another time?”
“Sure. Not like the mountain’s going anywhere, right?” As Frank heads back down the trail, Bletcher gives one last look to the view before turning to follow.
It’s been a long time since he’s lectured at Quantico. Given the circumstances, however, as Frank steps into the conference room in the Behavioral Sciences Unit he spares a bitter moment to wish that it could have been longer still.
Several agents are waiting for him, seated around a large U-shaped table that faces a fifteen-foot screen with a photograph projected on it. One of them-an acquaintance of his from earlier days, Tom Babich - walks over to meet him and then proceeds to introduce him to the rest before beginning to outline the situation for the group. Frank listens with half of his attention, but the rest of his focus is devoted to studying the man in the projected picture: Dr. Ephraim Fabricant.
Originally incarcerated following the extreme torture and murder of five nurses in Cedar Falls, as a child Fabricant was known to have slit the stomachs of neighborhood cats to see how long they would live. He was later found to have done the same thing with no-code patients, responding just to see how they died. He who said the medical profession had only one interest for him -- the knowledge and opportunity to rend death from life - had been removed from life imprisonment to the hospital for the purpose of donating a kidney to his sister.
And then he'd escaped following the surgery.
As he looks into the eyes of the murderous psychopath shown on screen, it’s a question from one of the agents that draws his attention back to the room.
"What do you think Fabricant wants? Freedom?"
At this, Frank turns back around to face the others. "If you’d read my profile on Fabricant, you’d know that freedom to him is only the freedom to kill. This man should never have been allowed one minute out of his cell, never been allowed human contact again."
One of the other agents observes, neutrally, "That chance was passed up."
Frank shakes his head. "I'm not here to discuss that. I'm here to help catch him, just the way I helped catch him once before."
After the meeting, Frank is walking toward the lobby of the building in search of fresh air when he hears a familiar voice from behind him and turns. “Peter, what are you doing here?”
“I knew you’d get the call on this,” Peter Watts tells him. “They really laid into you, didn’t they?”
“Fabricant’s alive because of me,” Frank reminds Watts, bitterly. “I argued for his incarceration; my testimony made it so that he didn’t get the death penalty. If I hadn’t done it-this wouldn’t be happening now. He’d be dead, with no prospect of ever killing again.”
Peter shakes his head. “You can’t let them lay all this on you. We learned a lot from studying how his mind works. Your intentions were good, and the judge agreed with you.”
“You know what they say about good intentions,” Frank tells him. “Is it worth even one life?”
“Hopefully we’ll never have to answer that question.” There’s a beat of silence. “We’ll find him, Frank. We’ll find him.”