NEW! "Caught by the River - Part One" (Nuke/ATWT/"Angels Lie")
Title: Caught by the River -- Part One of Two
What It Is: Oneshot in two parts/Songfic/"Angels Lie" 'verse
Pairing: Nuke
Rating: M for language
Prompt: Still another sequel to "Angels Lie"
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't make no money.
link
Sorry for the long wait, folks!
Apparently Holden was jealous that Jack got a chapter, so...
***
Caught by the River -- Part One
Holden tries, he really does. He reminds himself that Jack and Margo are trained law enforcement officers who can handle the situation. The last thing they need is a civilian butting in and trying to help. He tells himself his job is to take care of his family, especially Luke. He tries to keep busy, doing every last chore he can think of until he accidently smashes his thumb fixing a squeaky stall door, curses a blue streak, and hurls the hammer the length of the barn.
The truth is, Holden feels helpless.
Snyders don't like feeling helpless.
The pending thunderstorm isn't helping his mood. Holden's known all day that there’s a storm brewing, even before he checked the forecast. A lifetime on the Illinois prairie has taught him the signs - willow branches heaving in the wind, heat lighting in the evening sky, the low pressure system that makes his head ache and leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The horses are restless, shifting anxiously in their stalls, sensing Holden's mood as well as the weather.
Even though Holden’s told himself not to bother Jack, he breaks down mid-afternoon and calls. When he gets voicemail, he dials the front desk and is told Jack is on out of the county on a case. He badgers the desk sergeant into putting Margo on the phone. She confirms that Jack’s following a lead, a strong one, but won’t give him any details. Holden leaves several more messages for Jack, but doesn’t hear back.
By nightfall he’s beside himself. He checks in at home, and Lily says the kids are okay. ‘Okay’ being a relative term, of course: Faith is even bitchier than usual (which, for a teenage girl, is saying a lot), Ethan and Natalie are anxious and clingy, and Luke...
Holden sighs. The first few days after Noah’s disappearance, Luke was angry and mouthy, furious with his parents for forcing him to stay home. But the day they found Noah’s truck in the Mississippi, Luke crawled into bed and hasn’t gotten out since. Hasn’t spoken, despite his mother’s pleas. Granted, Holden no longer has to worry about Luke running off to do something reckless and stupid, but frankly, he prefers an enraged, vindictive Luke to one heartbroken and shut down.
The thought of going home and facing his son’s silence, his wife’s worried eyes, is suddenly more than Holden can bear. Besides, he reasons, two of Lucinda’s armed guards are at the house, keeping them safe. A quick detour to the police station won’t hurt. That way, if there is bad news-hell, any news-Holden’s family can hear it directly from him.
Pleased with his logic, Holden climbs in his truck and drives to town. The storm breaks overhead a half-mile in, and he has to fight to keep the vehicle on the road in the buffeting winds. The rain is brutal, coming down in sheets, and when he gets to the station, he’s annoyed to find a vintage Plymouth parked haphazardly across the tiny lot, blocking the entrance. Holden is forced to park across the street and gets drenched to the skin running to the station.
He pauses by the Plymouth. The right front fender is crushed inward, and a crack runs the length of the windshield. The driver’s side door gapes open in the pouring rain while the red hazard lights blink on and off monotonously. Thinking the driver might be injured, Holden bends and peers into the front seat, but the car is deserted. His annoyance grows, and he stomps through the rain toward the entrance. Whatever idiot left that wreck in the way is about to get a piece of Holden Snyder’s mind.
Son,
What have you done?
You're caught by the river.
You're coming undone.
Life,
you know it can't be so easy,
but you can't just leave it
‘cause you're not in control no more.
And you give it all away.
Would you give it all away now?
Don't let it come apart.
Don't want to see you come apart.
Inside, Holden’s bad luck continues. As he enters the main door, there’s a crash of thunder, and the lights go out. Holden stops, knowing that the generator will kick in. It does, and the lights come on half-way. Holden cautiously moves forward through the gloom into the squad room.
Inside, he stops in surprise. Jack, Dallas, the entire office -- all are frozen in tableau, staring at a dripping-wet figure in the center of the room.
It’s Noah.
As Holden watches, Noah steps forward, pulls a gun from his waistband, and ejects the clip. He sets both on Jack’s desk and says something Holden can’t hear. Jack stares at him, mouth open in shock
There’s a groaning sound as the generator clicks up another notch, and the lights come on all the way. It seems to kick-start everyone into action. Jack stands, and Holden hurries forward.
“Noah.” Jack reaches forward to grasp Noah’s arm. Noah pulls back, just a fraction, but enough that Jack’s fingers don’t make contact. Instead, his fingertips brush the wet fabric of Noah’s hooded sweatshirt.
Holden doesn’t recognize the jacket. Not that he’s particularly aware of the contents Noah’s wardrobe, but Noah has so very few possessions that he tends to wear the same thing week after week, and it’s startling to see him in something different. Looking closer, Holden realizes that the sweatshirt might be new to Noah, but it’s clearly old and used. The dark-blue fabric bags over Noah’s narrow hips and the sleeves are worn to shreds at the wrist. Meanwhile, his jeans are torn and bloody at both knees, and his feet are bare.
“Noah,” Jack says again. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Noah says. His lips are pale, and he has dark circles under his eyes.
Jack hesitates. Judging by the muscle twitching in his jaw, he wants to grab Noah by the shoulders and scream, “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?” At least, that’s what Holden wants to do. Instead, Jack speaks with admirable calm.
“Your father?”
In reply, Noah digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulls out a set of car keys, and holds them out to Jack.
Jack stares at the keys in puzzlement.
“In the trunk,” Noah says.
Holden’s blood runs cold. Part of him - okay, a large part - is glad that Colonel Mayer is dead. Hell, Holden’s fantasized about killing the man himself, more times than he can count. But an even larger part of him grieves that Noah has lost the final shred of innocence in his short, far-too-difficult life.
Jack must feel the same way-the muscle in his jaw twitches again-but he merely nods and takes the keys.
“Okay,” he says in that same relaxed tone. “Dallas and I will take care of it.” He glances at his partner, but Dallas is already moving toward the door.
Noah nods, then turns.
“Whoa,” Jack says. “Where do you think you’re going?” He reaches out again; again, Noah twitches away-just the barest movement, but enough to take him out of reach.
“Home,” Noah says. “Sleep.”
“You can’t do that,” Jack tells him.
Noah frowns, suddenly looking very young. “Why not?”
“You need a doctor.”
Noah’s frown deepens. “I’m fine.”
“The hell you are.”
Noah gets a stubborn set to his chin. In reply, Jack folds his arms.
Holden steps between them. “Jack’s right, Noah,” he says. “You can’t go home just yet. Because of Margo.”
Noah looks at him in absolute confusion. “What?”
“She’ll need you to make a statement. Right, Jack?”
“Right,” Jack says smoothly. “You know Margo, she’s such a stickler for the rules.”
Noah’s shoulders droop, and he looks even more exhausted, if that’s possible. “Can’t it wait? I just want to sleep.”
“Sorry, buddy,” Jack says. “It’ll only take five minutes. She’s already pissed at you,” he adds. “Because you took the law into your own hands again, after she told you not to. Don’t want to make her even more mad, do you?”
Noah blinks in defeat. “I guess not.”
“Good. So you’ll stay right here,” Jack stresses the words, glancing at Holden. Holden gives a brief nod, and Jack continues. “And I’ll be back.” With a final worried glance, he hurries after his partner, who waits impatiently by the door.
Holden speaks again, before Noah can get any ideas. “So, you got caught in that rainstorm, huh?”
Noah looks down at his clothes, as if surprised to see they’re wet. “I guess.”
“So did I. Why don’t we get dried off?” Holden glances at a uniformed officer, who nods and rises from her chair. Between the two of them, they’ve got Noah boxed in.
“Maybe we can rustle up some coffee, too,” Holden continues easily. “There should be some in the break room.” He keeps his voice soft but steady, like he would with a spooked horse.
Noah hesitates, then nods. “Okay.”
“Good.” Holden holds out his hand, not touching Noah, but definitely herding him in the right direction.Noah wraps his arms around himself and shuffles off.
In the break room, the officer helpfully starts a fresh pot of coffee and rounds up a few towels from the locker room. Holden dries off, watching Noah surreptitiously. He has several bruises on his face and moves stiffly, but doesn’t seem to have any major injuries. Still, Holden can tell he’s probably dehydrated and definitely heading into shock. Holden assumes Jack has already called an ambulance. Between the two of them, they should be able to force Noah in the back, whether he wants to go or not.
Sure enough, there’s a siren in the distance, audible now that storm front has passed. Holden’s fingers itch to call his family, to tell them the good news, but he decides to focus on the task at hand. One thing at a time, he tells himself. The last thing Noah needs right now is the Snyder family hovering around him en masse. First, he’ll muscle Noah into a hospital bed, then he’ll alert the troops.
As Holden watches, Noah finishes toweling off his hair, leaving it standing up in little spikes and swirls. He sways on his feet but hesitates, characteristically not wanting to get the furniture wet.
Holden sighs, drapes his towel on the narrow couch, and points at it. “Sit.”
Noah sits obediently. Holden hands him a bottle of water from the fridge. Noah stares at it as if not sure what to do. Holden takes the bottle, unscrews the lid, and hands it back to Noah. “Drink,” he says. “Small sips.”
Noah obeys again. Holden wishes he found it reassuring instead of worrisome.
There’s an angry bellow from the squad room, and Holden jumps in alarm. Several other voices start shouting. Holden recognizes Jack and Dallas. There’s a crash, and the original voice bellows again in rage, a long string of partially-muffled obscenities.
“What the hell?” Holden asks.
It’s Noah’s reaction that brings it home. The blank expression on his face doesn’t change, but his entire body starts shaking reflexively.
Colonel Winston Mayer, Holden realizes, is still very much alive.
To be continued…
***
Lyrics from "Caught By The River" by Doves
What It Is: Oneshot in two parts/Songfic/"Angels Lie" 'verse
Pairing: Nuke
Rating: M for language
Prompt: Still another sequel to "Angels Lie"
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't make no money.
link
Sorry for the long wait, folks!
Apparently Holden was jealous that Jack got a chapter, so...
***
Caught by the River -- Part One
Holden tries, he really does. He reminds himself that Jack and Margo are trained law enforcement officers who can handle the situation. The last thing they need is a civilian butting in and trying to help. He tells himself his job is to take care of his family, especially Luke. He tries to keep busy, doing every last chore he can think of until he accidently smashes his thumb fixing a squeaky stall door, curses a blue streak, and hurls the hammer the length of the barn.
The truth is, Holden feels helpless.
Snyders don't like feeling helpless.
The pending thunderstorm isn't helping his mood. Holden's known all day that there’s a storm brewing, even before he checked the forecast. A lifetime on the Illinois prairie has taught him the signs - willow branches heaving in the wind, heat lighting in the evening sky, the low pressure system that makes his head ache and leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The horses are restless, shifting anxiously in their stalls, sensing Holden's mood as well as the weather.
Even though Holden’s told himself not to bother Jack, he breaks down mid-afternoon and calls. When he gets voicemail, he dials the front desk and is told Jack is on out of the county on a case. He badgers the desk sergeant into putting Margo on the phone. She confirms that Jack’s following a lead, a strong one, but won’t give him any details. Holden leaves several more messages for Jack, but doesn’t hear back.
By nightfall he’s beside himself. He checks in at home, and Lily says the kids are okay. ‘Okay’ being a relative term, of course: Faith is even bitchier than usual (which, for a teenage girl, is saying a lot), Ethan and Natalie are anxious and clingy, and Luke...
Holden sighs. The first few days after Noah’s disappearance, Luke was angry and mouthy, furious with his parents for forcing him to stay home. But the day they found Noah’s truck in the Mississippi, Luke crawled into bed and hasn’t gotten out since. Hasn’t spoken, despite his mother’s pleas. Granted, Holden no longer has to worry about Luke running off to do something reckless and stupid, but frankly, he prefers an enraged, vindictive Luke to one heartbroken and shut down.
The thought of going home and facing his son’s silence, his wife’s worried eyes, is suddenly more than Holden can bear. Besides, he reasons, two of Lucinda’s armed guards are at the house, keeping them safe. A quick detour to the police station won’t hurt. That way, if there is bad news-hell, any news-Holden’s family can hear it directly from him.
Pleased with his logic, Holden climbs in his truck and drives to town. The storm breaks overhead a half-mile in, and he has to fight to keep the vehicle on the road in the buffeting winds. The rain is brutal, coming down in sheets, and when he gets to the station, he’s annoyed to find a vintage Plymouth parked haphazardly across the tiny lot, blocking the entrance. Holden is forced to park across the street and gets drenched to the skin running to the station.
He pauses by the Plymouth. The right front fender is crushed inward, and a crack runs the length of the windshield. The driver’s side door gapes open in the pouring rain while the red hazard lights blink on and off monotonously. Thinking the driver might be injured, Holden bends and peers into the front seat, but the car is deserted. His annoyance grows, and he stomps through the rain toward the entrance. Whatever idiot left that wreck in the way is about to get a piece of Holden Snyder’s mind.
Son,
What have you done?
You're caught by the river.
You're coming undone.
Life,
you know it can't be so easy,
but you can't just leave it
‘cause you're not in control no more.
And you give it all away.
Would you give it all away now?
Don't let it come apart.
Don't want to see you come apart.
Inside, Holden’s bad luck continues. As he enters the main door, there’s a crash of thunder, and the lights go out. Holden stops, knowing that the generator will kick in. It does, and the lights come on half-way. Holden cautiously moves forward through the gloom into the squad room.
Inside, he stops in surprise. Jack, Dallas, the entire office -- all are frozen in tableau, staring at a dripping-wet figure in the center of the room.
It’s Noah.
As Holden watches, Noah steps forward, pulls a gun from his waistband, and ejects the clip. He sets both on Jack’s desk and says something Holden can’t hear. Jack stares at him, mouth open in shock
There’s a groaning sound as the generator clicks up another notch, and the lights come on all the way. It seems to kick-start everyone into action. Jack stands, and Holden hurries forward.
“Noah.” Jack reaches forward to grasp Noah’s arm. Noah pulls back, just a fraction, but enough that Jack’s fingers don’t make contact. Instead, his fingertips brush the wet fabric of Noah’s hooded sweatshirt.
Holden doesn’t recognize the jacket. Not that he’s particularly aware of the contents Noah’s wardrobe, but Noah has so very few possessions that he tends to wear the same thing week after week, and it’s startling to see him in something different. Looking closer, Holden realizes that the sweatshirt might be new to Noah, but it’s clearly old and used. The dark-blue fabric bags over Noah’s narrow hips and the sleeves are worn to shreds at the wrist. Meanwhile, his jeans are torn and bloody at both knees, and his feet are bare.
“Noah,” Jack says again. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Noah says. His lips are pale, and he has dark circles under his eyes.
Jack hesitates. Judging by the muscle twitching in his jaw, he wants to grab Noah by the shoulders and scream, “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?” At least, that’s what Holden wants to do. Instead, Jack speaks with admirable calm.
“Your father?”
In reply, Noah digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulls out a set of car keys, and holds them out to Jack.
Jack stares at the keys in puzzlement.
“In the trunk,” Noah says.
Holden’s blood runs cold. Part of him - okay, a large part - is glad that Colonel Mayer is dead. Hell, Holden’s fantasized about killing the man himself, more times than he can count. But an even larger part of him grieves that Noah has lost the final shred of innocence in his short, far-too-difficult life.
Jack must feel the same way-the muscle in his jaw twitches again-but he merely nods and takes the keys.
“Okay,” he says in that same relaxed tone. “Dallas and I will take care of it.” He glances at his partner, but Dallas is already moving toward the door.
Noah nods, then turns.
“Whoa,” Jack says. “Where do you think you’re going?” He reaches out again; again, Noah twitches away-just the barest movement, but enough to take him out of reach.
“Home,” Noah says. “Sleep.”
“You can’t do that,” Jack tells him.
Noah frowns, suddenly looking very young. “Why not?”
“You need a doctor.”
Noah’s frown deepens. “I’m fine.”
“The hell you are.”
Noah gets a stubborn set to his chin. In reply, Jack folds his arms.
Holden steps between them. “Jack’s right, Noah,” he says. “You can’t go home just yet. Because of Margo.”
Noah looks at him in absolute confusion. “What?”
“She’ll need you to make a statement. Right, Jack?”
“Right,” Jack says smoothly. “You know Margo, she’s such a stickler for the rules.”
Noah’s shoulders droop, and he looks even more exhausted, if that’s possible. “Can’t it wait? I just want to sleep.”
“Sorry, buddy,” Jack says. “It’ll only take five minutes. She’s already pissed at you,” he adds. “Because you took the law into your own hands again, after she told you not to. Don’t want to make her even more mad, do you?”
Noah blinks in defeat. “I guess not.”
“Good. So you’ll stay right here,” Jack stresses the words, glancing at Holden. Holden gives a brief nod, and Jack continues. “And I’ll be back.” With a final worried glance, he hurries after his partner, who waits impatiently by the door.
Holden speaks again, before Noah can get any ideas. “So, you got caught in that rainstorm, huh?”
Noah looks down at his clothes, as if surprised to see they’re wet. “I guess.”
“So did I. Why don’t we get dried off?” Holden glances at a uniformed officer, who nods and rises from her chair. Between the two of them, they’ve got Noah boxed in.
“Maybe we can rustle up some coffee, too,” Holden continues easily. “There should be some in the break room.” He keeps his voice soft but steady, like he would with a spooked horse.
Noah hesitates, then nods. “Okay.”
“Good.” Holden holds out his hand, not touching Noah, but definitely herding him in the right direction.Noah wraps his arms around himself and shuffles off.
In the break room, the officer helpfully starts a fresh pot of coffee and rounds up a few towels from the locker room. Holden dries off, watching Noah surreptitiously. He has several bruises on his face and moves stiffly, but doesn’t seem to have any major injuries. Still, Holden can tell he’s probably dehydrated and definitely heading into shock. Holden assumes Jack has already called an ambulance. Between the two of them, they should be able to force Noah in the back, whether he wants to go or not.
Sure enough, there’s a siren in the distance, audible now that storm front has passed. Holden’s fingers itch to call his family, to tell them the good news, but he decides to focus on the task at hand. One thing at a time, he tells himself. The last thing Noah needs right now is the Snyder family hovering around him en masse. First, he’ll muscle Noah into a hospital bed, then he’ll alert the troops.
As Holden watches, Noah finishes toweling off his hair, leaving it standing up in little spikes and swirls. He sways on his feet but hesitates, characteristically not wanting to get the furniture wet.
Holden sighs, drapes his towel on the narrow couch, and points at it. “Sit.”
Noah sits obediently. Holden hands him a bottle of water from the fridge. Noah stares at it as if not sure what to do. Holden takes the bottle, unscrews the lid, and hands it back to Noah. “Drink,” he says. “Small sips.”
Noah obeys again. Holden wishes he found it reassuring instead of worrisome.
There’s an angry bellow from the squad room, and Holden jumps in alarm. Several other voices start shouting. Holden recognizes Jack and Dallas. There’s a crash, and the original voice bellows again in rage, a long string of partially-muffled obscenities.
“What the hell?” Holden asks.
It’s Noah’s reaction that brings it home. The blank expression on his face doesn’t change, but his entire body starts shaking reflexively.
Colonel Winston Mayer, Holden realizes, is still very much alive.
To be continued…
***
Lyrics from "Caught By The River" by Doves