Stoking The Fire

Chapter Two

Inhale. Exhale. The sounds of organized chaos, though very muffled through the ringing in my ears. Hands cutting the bonds at my wrists and ankles, and my arms coming loose with a numbness that nearly makes me weep. I could open my eyes and see what's actually going on, but in all honesty, at this point? I really don't want to know why, or how, I'm alive, and Jack isn't. The mere fact that I'm still alive means he isn't.

I can hear muffled conversation right in front of me, and then finally arms just lift me out of the chair and carry me outside. I finally open my eyes when I'm set back down, and the smell of medicinal chemicals clears the funk from my nose. I'm in the back of an ambulance, and two paramedics are bearing down on me with disinfectant and gauze and who knows what else. I hold up my hand.

"No, no aid. No hospital. I can't afford it. I'm fine. A little slapped around and sore, but I'm fine." I mutter, trying to forestall the two people glaring at me. They start talking, but my hearing is still going in and out a bit and I'm not catching enough of it to make sense. Watching their mouths move as they repeat themselves, though, finally allows me to catch the gist of it.

"The department is footing the bill, and the bossman says you don't leave until you're at least checked out and cleared by us." I frown and turn my head as the female points to the person standing by the door of the ambulance, and I see Officer Richards standing there, nodding. I roll my eyes and throw my hands up as far as they'll go in mock surrender.

"Fine, but no hospital. And nothing major." By the time they're done with me, my hearing has mostly returned. It's still a little fuzzy, but overall I'm catching things pretty well. Richards helps me down from the back of the ambulance with a small grin.

"Tough little cookie there, aren't you? Always knew it would take more than some random asshole to take you down." he quips as he leads me away, and over to one of the many black SUV's parked about the place. It finally sinks in that there are a LOT of cars here, and my brain just skitters away from any thoughts related to that. I literally can't even deal with this right now. Unconsciously I reach down and pat around for my gym bag, only to have it come crashing down on me that it's not with me, and I've probably lost it forever. At least my keys, wallet, and phone were in my pockets but still, that was the majority of my wearable clothes and all of my toiletries and most recent important mail.

"Don't look so down, Kari! I have a surprise for you." Puzzled, I look up into Richard's grinning face, as he opens the back passenger door with a flourish and steps back. "Behold your luggage, milady! We found it in the parking lot of the lab on our way out." he quips, and I just stare at him blankly for a moment before jerking forward and nearly ripping the bag open, sighing in relief to find that it is indeed my bag. I rifle through it and pull out another ratty tank top, before stripping off my bloodied hoodie and trashed tank. Pulling the fresher shirt over my head, I turn to see Richards turned away from me, making an exaggerated show of shielding his eyes.

"Oh for fuck's sake Richards it's only a fucking bra, like no one around here has ever seen a fucking bra in their lives. Fuck me." I snort, as I slip my hoodie back on. It really needs a wash now because it's likely covered in gods only know what, but it's the only one I have at the moment, so I'm going to just have to deal with it. Holding the balled up tank in my hands, I turn and look at him. "Do you think someone's going to, like, want this for evidence or something?" I ask.

He frowns for a minute, then waves some young tech over and has a whispered, brief conversation with him. The kid walks away for a moment then returns with a paper evidence bag, and I wordlessly drop the ruined shirt in it before he scurries away. I look at Richards questioningly. "Yeah I really don't know, but I figured better safe than sorry, you know? Here, you should sit down." he comments, as he opens the front passenger door and tries to usher me inside. I hesitate to leave my bag in the backseat, but he closes the back door for me, and stares me down until I finally take a seat in the front. He smiles broadly at me one more time, before quickly hitting a button on the door and slamming it shut, watching my eyes widen as I see the door locks go down, as well as my frantic and fruitless attempts to open the door from the inside.

He sees me shooting daggers at him through the glass, and he shrugs apologetically before leaning forward and yelling through the glass of the window. "Sorry Kari, boss's orders! You're to stay put until I receive orders stating otherwise, or he comes to talk to you himself! I didn't want to, but we all know you're just going to run away as soon as my back is turned! This is for your own good!" With that last comment, he just walks away from me. The nerve of this bastard!

Frustrated and in pain, I turn around in the seat and reach over into the back, digging through my bag until I find my bottle of ibuprofen and a stale bottle of water I had tucked away in the corner. Tastes like shit, but it's better than nothing at this point. Agitatedly I zip everything back up and turn back around, flopping my head back against the headrest as I sigh heavily. Okay, don't do that again, the back of the head is still tender. I wince and close my eyes, taking several deep breaths to ride out of the flair of pain.

It's then I finally take in my surroundings, and truly realize just exactly where I am. Of course the car smells of car, and all the little things that a car smells like over the years, but it also has one very subtle, very important underlying scent. The scent I would know anywhere, at any time, even if I was old and feeble and had lost all of my marbles. That rich, low-key, indescribable scent that was purely unique to one man and one man only.

Nick Stokes.

I'm fucked.