Safe Haven - Part 8
Feb. 23rd, 2008 07:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
diandrahollman
E-Mail: diandrahollman@yahoo.com
Website: http://diandrahollman.tripod.com/index.h
Rating: PG-13 to R for language and violence.
Keywords: Crossover, Alias/X-Files/Lost, slash, Vaughn/Mulder, Jack, hurt/comfort, angst
Spoilers: Only if you never watched season 5 of Alias or any season of Lost.
Disclaimer: All characters from The X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 1013. All other non-original characters belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot. I will put most of them back when I'm done with them, but I can't make any promises about Vaughn. The nurse is mine; any resemblance to the coroner on CSI: Miami is purely coincidental.
Author's Notes: See first chapter.
Previously
As an agent I had learned long ago to take any opportunities I could get to rest as I never knew when the next one would be. I was drifting somewhere between consciousness and sleep when I heard the doorlocks click open. I was immediately alert, tightening my grip on the pistol and holding my breath as I listened to someone slip behind the wheel of the car.
"You okay?"
I relaxed as I recognized the sound of Jack's muffled voice. "Yeah," I called back.
"Don't move."
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me and held still as the car started and began to move. I clenched my teeth as my bladder throbbed suddenly and cursed my lack of forethought for not emptying it before I was "discharged" from the hospital.
"Okay, we're clear," Jack announced several minutes later.
I folded down the seat on the passenger side and climbed into the cab, stifling a groan as my muscles - stiffened from hours of inactivity - screamed. I blinked at the dark streets passing by outside and glanced at my watch. 11:47. "What happened to a couple hours?"
Jack glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Sorry. I tried to get out sooner, but I didn't want people to get suspicious."
I nodded. "No, that's good." I clicked the guns safety off and simply held it in my lap. "So what does a doctor need a gun for?"
He chuckled. "Protection. Same as everybody else."
I smothered the urge to ask him who he might need protection from. I sat silently as he navigated the car through several winding streets and pulled into another parking structure - this one connected to a modest apartment building and guarded by an automated gate with a keypad entry.
"This is where you live," I asked somewhat obviously.
"Sort of. I don't spend much time here."
I nodded. Of course. If the last couple days were any indication he practically lived at the hospital. "Does the building have any security cameras?"
He frowned. "Yeah...in the elevators and at the main entrance. Is that going to be a problem?"
"Only if the people who are after me figure out you helped me sneak out of the hospital. We'll have the surveillance footage pulled just in case." I paused as Jack pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. "When we go inside I want you to do whatever it is you usually do when you get home from work - check your mail, get a beer - just pretend I'm not there. And as soon as possible check your answering machine."
He blinked at me in confusion. "Why..."
"I need to make sure the apartment isn't bugged."
He nodded after only a brief hesitation, looking dazed.
We rode the elevator in silence and I followed Jack down the hall to room 442.
"Hang on," I whispered, putting a restraining hand on his arm before he could put the key in the lock. I squatted and ran my fingers along the edge of the door where it met the frame and found a small piece of break away transparent tape placed over the seam near the bottom. It was a low-tech, simple way to determine whether anyone had opened a door since the person who had placed the tape left. It was intact. I stood and stepped back, nodding to Jack. He looked at me strangely but said nothing.
The tape broke cleanly and silently as the door swung open. I stepped quietly into the apartment after Jack, keeping my footsteps inaudible. Jack shut the door and dropped his keys on the nearby desk next to a blinking answering machine. He hit the replay button and stood apprehensively, listening as the first message began to play.
"Jack, it's your mother," a woman announced in a clipped voice. "Call me when you get this message." A shrill beep sounded and then a male voice with a thick German accent drifted from the speaker. "Uh, this is Gregor calling from Mercy hospital for Stacy. We have your test results - they were all negative. If you have any questions, please call..."
I breathed a sigh of relief as the man rattled off a phone number, recognizing Weiss' voice beneath the phony accent. "The apartment's clean," I explained to an obviously baffled Jack as the machine stopped and emitted two quick beeps to signal that it had reached the end of the messages. My bladder pulsed angrily and I added, "Can I use your bathroom?"
**********
I emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later and took stock of my surroundings. Aside from a few essential pieces of furniture and at least a dozen boxes, the apartment was bare. Either Jack had moved in recently or he really didn't spend much time at home.
I found him hovering near the counter island in the kitchen, a glass one third full of amber liquid cradled in his hand. He gestured to the nearby stool. "You should sit."
I slid into the stool gratefully, feeling worn out by the sudden burst of action after nearly two days of being confined to a bed. He set a glass full of water in front of me pointedly.
"I'm not really thirsty," I protested.
"Drink it anyway," he said, his tone of voice leaving no room for further argument. I was reminded that even though he had little control over or understanding of his current situation I was on his turf and he was still my doctor. After one sip I realized I was thirsty after all and drained half the glass.
"So what happens now," he asked.
"We wait for my contact. I assume they gave you the protocol?"
He nodded.
"If anything goes wrong, if somebody tries to use the wrong protocol, just follow my lead. We may need to get out of here in a hurry."
He swallowed hard and nodded.
"The CIA can protect you if you need it."
He frowned and took a sip of his drink. "Who are these people and why are they trying to kill you?"
"I don't know who they are exactly," I said carefully. "I just know that they're powerful and they're dangerous...and my father was so afraid of them that he hid from them and changed his name and mine. He died when I was eight."
Jack's frown deepened. "Why did they wait so long to come after you?"
"Because I wasn't a threat to them then." I went quiet, looking at my hands as they toyed with the glass of water. "Mulder didn't even know any of this until yesterday." And he wasn't even the first person I told - I had turned to a civilian I didn't even know. 'Mulder doesn't even know my real name,' I thought. Not that it mattered. I couldn't imagine him calling me anything other than Vaughn. "I may never see him again," I said softly.
Jack shifted awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
I nodded and blinked back the angry, frustrated tears that sprang suddenly to my eyes. Our relationship was really just getting started and now these people were taking him away from me, just as they had taken my father from me. I looked at Jack as it fully occurred to me just how much this man was risking to ensure my safety. "Thank you for helping me. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."
He shook his head. "No, I walked into it," he said stubbornly.
I grabbed the barely-used notebook next to the portable phone on the counter. "Do you have a pen?" He gave me a questioning look but pulled one from a drawer that seemed to contain all the odds and ends he had bothered to unpack. I scribbled a number on the top page and ripped it from the pad, handing it to him. "If you ever need anything call this number. Tell them who you are and ask for me...Michael Vaughn. You've done more for me than anyone could ask. I owe you."
He accepted the slip, albeit with some apparent reluctance, and slid it into his pocket with a nod. He flinched when a loud knock came from the front door and looked at me. I nodded and reached for the gun he had left on the counter.
I followed him to the door and stood to one side, pressed against the wall, the weapon held in a ready position in front of me and nodded to him. He opened the door without even bothering to engage the chain lock. I prayed he hadn't just made a fatal mistake.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I'm looking for my cat," a voice said. "Have you seen him?"
"Have you tried putting bells on his collar," Jack asked. The oddity of the response and the subtle slackening of the muscles in his shoulders told me this was the proper protocol. Still, I waited until the man showed Jack his badge. Jack glanced at it and nodded to me.
I uncocked the gun and stepped forward. "It's good to see you," I said as the man in the hall came into view.
Dixon nodded. "Are you all right?"
"I'll live." 'For now,' I thought morbidly. I handed Jack his gun and shook his hand warmly. "Thanks for everything."
He gave me a fragile half-smile. "Sure."
I turned to Dixon. "I'm ready."
Dixon placed a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder and guided me into the hall. "Let's get you out of here."
Next chapter
"You okay?"
I relaxed as I recognized the sound of Jack's muffled voice. "Yeah," I called back.
"Don't move."
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me and held still as the car started and began to move. I clenched my teeth as my bladder throbbed suddenly and cursed my lack of forethought for not emptying it before I was "discharged" from the hospital.
"Okay, we're clear," Jack announced several minutes later.
I folded down the seat on the passenger side and climbed into the cab, stifling a groan as my muscles - stiffened from hours of inactivity - screamed. I blinked at the dark streets passing by outside and glanced at my watch. 11:47. "What happened to a couple hours?"
Jack glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Sorry. I tried to get out sooner, but I didn't want people to get suspicious."
I nodded. "No, that's good." I clicked the guns safety off and simply held it in my lap. "So what does a doctor need a gun for?"
He chuckled. "Protection. Same as everybody else."
I smothered the urge to ask him who he might need protection from. I sat silently as he navigated the car through several winding streets and pulled into another parking structure - this one connected to a modest apartment building and guarded by an automated gate with a keypad entry.
"This is where you live," I asked somewhat obviously.
"Sort of. I don't spend much time here."
I nodded. Of course. If the last couple days were any indication he practically lived at the hospital. "Does the building have any security cameras?"
He frowned. "Yeah...in the elevators and at the main entrance. Is that going to be a problem?"
"Only if the people who are after me figure out you helped me sneak out of the hospital. We'll have the surveillance footage pulled just in case." I paused as Jack pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. "When we go inside I want you to do whatever it is you usually do when you get home from work - check your mail, get a beer - just pretend I'm not there. And as soon as possible check your answering machine."
He blinked at me in confusion. "Why..."
"I need to make sure the apartment isn't bugged."
He nodded after only a brief hesitation, looking dazed.
We rode the elevator in silence and I followed Jack down the hall to room 442.
"Hang on," I whispered, putting a restraining hand on his arm before he could put the key in the lock. I squatted and ran my fingers along the edge of the door where it met the frame and found a small piece of break away transparent tape placed over the seam near the bottom. It was a low-tech, simple way to determine whether anyone had opened a door since the person who had placed the tape left. It was intact. I stood and stepped back, nodding to Jack. He looked at me strangely but said nothing.
The tape broke cleanly and silently as the door swung open. I stepped quietly into the apartment after Jack, keeping my footsteps inaudible. Jack shut the door and dropped his keys on the nearby desk next to a blinking answering machine. He hit the replay button and stood apprehensively, listening as the first message began to play.
"Jack, it's your mother," a woman announced in a clipped voice. "Call me when you get this message." A shrill beep sounded and then a male voice with a thick German accent drifted from the speaker. "Uh, this is Gregor calling from Mercy hospital for Stacy. We have your test results - they were all negative. If you have any questions, please call..."
I breathed a sigh of relief as the man rattled off a phone number, recognizing Weiss' voice beneath the phony accent. "The apartment's clean," I explained to an obviously baffled Jack as the machine stopped and emitted two quick beeps to signal that it had reached the end of the messages. My bladder pulsed angrily and I added, "Can I use your bathroom?"
**********
I emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later and took stock of my surroundings. Aside from a few essential pieces of furniture and at least a dozen boxes, the apartment was bare. Either Jack had moved in recently or he really didn't spend much time at home.
I found him hovering near the counter island in the kitchen, a glass one third full of amber liquid cradled in his hand. He gestured to the nearby stool. "You should sit."
I slid into the stool gratefully, feeling worn out by the sudden burst of action after nearly two days of being confined to a bed. He set a glass full of water in front of me pointedly.
"I'm not really thirsty," I protested.
"Drink it anyway," he said, his tone of voice leaving no room for further argument. I was reminded that even though he had little control over or understanding of his current situation I was on his turf and he was still my doctor. After one sip I realized I was thirsty after all and drained half the glass.
"So what happens now," he asked.
"We wait for my contact. I assume they gave you the protocol?"
He nodded.
"If anything goes wrong, if somebody tries to use the wrong protocol, just follow my lead. We may need to get out of here in a hurry."
He swallowed hard and nodded.
"The CIA can protect you if you need it."
He frowned and took a sip of his drink. "Who are these people and why are they trying to kill you?"
"I don't know who they are exactly," I said carefully. "I just know that they're powerful and they're dangerous...and my father was so afraid of them that he hid from them and changed his name and mine. He died when I was eight."
Jack's frown deepened. "Why did they wait so long to come after you?"
"Because I wasn't a threat to them then." I went quiet, looking at my hands as they toyed with the glass of water. "Mulder didn't even know any of this until yesterday." And he wasn't even the first person I told - I had turned to a civilian I didn't even know. 'Mulder doesn't even know my real name,' I thought. Not that it mattered. I couldn't imagine him calling me anything other than Vaughn. "I may never see him again," I said softly.
Jack shifted awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
I nodded and blinked back the angry, frustrated tears that sprang suddenly to my eyes. Our relationship was really just getting started and now these people were taking him away from me, just as they had taken my father from me. I looked at Jack as it fully occurred to me just how much this man was risking to ensure my safety. "Thank you for helping me. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."
He shook his head. "No, I walked into it," he said stubbornly.
I grabbed the barely-used notebook next to the portable phone on the counter. "Do you have a pen?" He gave me a questioning look but pulled one from a drawer that seemed to contain all the odds and ends he had bothered to unpack. I scribbled a number on the top page and ripped it from the pad, handing it to him. "If you ever need anything call this number. Tell them who you are and ask for me...Michael Vaughn. You've done more for me than anyone could ask. I owe you."
He accepted the slip, albeit with some apparent reluctance, and slid it into his pocket with a nod. He flinched when a loud knock came from the front door and looked at me. I nodded and reached for the gun he had left on the counter.
I followed him to the door and stood to one side, pressed against the wall, the weapon held in a ready position in front of me and nodded to him. He opened the door without even bothering to engage the chain lock. I prayed he hadn't just made a fatal mistake.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I'm looking for my cat," a voice said. "Have you seen him?"
"Have you tried putting bells on his collar," Jack asked. The oddity of the response and the subtle slackening of the muscles in his shoulders told me this was the proper protocol. Still, I waited until the man showed Jack his badge. Jack glanced at it and nodded to me.
I uncocked the gun and stepped forward. "It's good to see you," I said as the man in the hall came into view.
Dixon nodded. "Are you all right?"
"I'll live." 'For now,' I thought morbidly. I handed Jack his gun and shook his hand warmly. "Thanks for everything."
He gave me a fragile half-smile. "Sure."
I turned to Dixon. "I'm ready."
Dixon placed a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder and guided me into the hall. "Let's get you out of here."
Next chapter
