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A Few Loonies
Elf for a Day
Thu Sep 14, 2006 00:48

"He shot a man, Caleb." Oh Jesus, was he never going to stop with that line?!

The agent-turned-actor - who secretly hoped it was his last time with this nonsense - cast an irritated glance towards the Special Agent in Charge of New York City, Robert Fowler. Affectionately known as The Jackass. On a more secret note, once he had been called Captain Picard, but apparently the man was sensitive about his fascination with the Star Trek series, and went on a tirade for weeks after the incident. Maybe it was someone wandering around the office in a red shirt, and a couple of Klingons coming in and 'killing' him that had been a bit over the top. Well, it had been funny at the time, especially when they secured the security tape of the office and played it at Rob's birthday party.

"Are you listening to me?"

"No, not especially. Give me my gun," Caleb muttered as they stopped beside the body, which he nudged with his boot. Couldn't help it, ever since one body had sprung up and began to run after a mission, he was sort of freaked out by dead people - or those playing at it. Receiving the firearm - which was a surprisingly standard Glock .357 automatic - he aimed it right at Simon's corpse and pulled the trigger.


"What the fukk was that for?!" Rob shouted over the echo. Nearly all of the agents in the building whipped their heads around, guns at the ready, only to see the guy in charge of all of this shooting a lifeless body. A few snickered and shook their heads, as if they were used to the scenario.

"There. I shot a man. Stop whining." Pausing, Caleb glanced about, and had the temerity to speak into the microphone that had been used during the operation. "Who shot this man?"

Only saw you shoot him, boss, one said.

Sounds 'bout right to me, came another voice.

I ain't seen shit! Do it again! was the last voice, filled with laughter.

"See? I shot him. He must've dropped dead before now from unknown causes." Was he being a jackass? Most definitely. Furthermore, why was he even bothering? Frankly, Caleb wasn't quite sure. But if this was pinned on Michael - who cared if he actually did it? The guy was dead either way! - it would only amount to more jail time. Right now they were titling him as an 'emergency consult' for the operation, if only to cover their own asses. "Are we done here? I have paperwork to do before going to see how Devon is doing." He'd had enough peace of mind to phone his father and inform him of what had happened, and the man was rushing to the hospital at that very moment. "I don't want to leave him alone longer than I need to." Wait, leave who alone?

"What paperwork?" Normally, Caleb would have thought Rob was going insane. But he said it with such perfect innocence, and fighting back a devilish grin that most woman would have likely found charming, he was almost hard-pressed to laugh himself. "Sounds like your ride is here, Holmes." More whirring chopper blades cutting through the air were clearly heard above head. "Don't let him kill anyone else." Smartass.

With the aid of the chopper, which he didn't feel the least bit guilty for using right now, Caleb found himself setting down inside the military base in under a half-hour's time. That was one of the things he'd never learned, and always wanted to; how the hell did that little stick fly the damned helicopter anyhow?! Maybe he could convince Lucy to take lessons with him. Almost snickering at the mental image, the agent-impersonator rushed towards the hospital on-base, which was under heavy security of course. But what he didn't realize...

"Sir? Sir!" Huh? Stopping right after a checkpoint, which was just a set of MPs with rifles, he quirked a brow. "Weapons check-in is here, sir." Ah fukk. He knew it'd only take a minute or two, but that wasn't time he wanted to waste. "I just need some identification and the serial numbers."

"Does it look like I have my freaking drivers license on me?" Caleb muttered off-handedly after glancing down at his attire. He really should have changed, there was no reason to be walking in here like this. But he hadn't even thought of it. Sighing, he issued his military identification number, which was still valid, and the serial numbers. Two weapons - one was the Glock, the other was a SIG 556, to laymen it was a nasty rifle. The damned thing looked like something right out of a movie. But after a phone call confirming his identity, he was running back down the hallway.

"Caleb!" Huh?! Whipping his head around, considering he had been making a bee-line for the nurses station beside a set of double doors that said NO ADMITTANCE, he was surprised to find John and his father sitting there, with Michael pacing and muttering to himself. The look on his face must have said it all though; he was beyond confused. "Devon's in surgery right now. There was some swelling, and they were worried about..." Frowning at Michael, John leaned closer. "The doctors were concerned that his brain would hemorrage before anything could be done."

"Oh." Such a small word, but it said exponential things right now. Rubbing a hand over his face, Caleb slowly nodded. "All right then, we'll just wait. Anyone call Lucy yet?"

"I did on my way in," James Sr. murmured, staring into the styrofoam cup of coffee that rested in an unsteady grip. The elder man rose, gesturing down the hall. "I need some more coffee. Walk with me, Caleb." What, like he was going to say no to that? The machine was actually in a small waiting room, which looked surprisingly cozy considering the utilitarian walls of the rest of the hospital. And his father did fix another cup, speaking quietly. "That look suits you." Oh, that was a cheery thought. "When did Devon and... I mean, when did they... How the hell did this all happen?"

"No idea, Dad. But... Michael's real name is James Michael Moriarty." Shit, there went the coffee cup, crumpled in his father's hand, causing him to speak quickly. "None of us knew until Michael showed up one morning in my office, asking to be arrested. He had a couple of... friends he was running with. They thought he turned rat, though in a way, he really did. Took Devon as leverage."

"And what happened to them?" God, he hadn't heard that cold tone out of his father in years.

"Dead. Michael killed one, John the other." Why did the man seem so relieved to hear that? No need to say that Mick used his personal firearm, instead of an issued one. "Come on, make yourself another cup and lets go wait with the guys."

And that was exactly what they did. A shitload of waiting. Frankly, it was driving him batty, because he hated not knowing. Why hadn't he really become a jack of all trades, and got the medical license, so he could be in there? Oh right, that whole ten years of schooling. John had opted to take one of the sofas, laying down with his mask shielding his eyes, to apparently get a bit of sleep. Come to think of it, he was damned tired too. The rush of adrenaline had long since worn off, and the coffee wasn't helping any either, even after making a fresh pot of the swill.

"Mister Holmes?" All four men bolted up right at the sound of a man's voice, looking impeccable in a pair of white scrubs; not a drop of blood was on them. He must have worn a smock... Caleb thought to himself. Once James stepped up as the father, and including the three men in being allowed what to hear, the doctor continued with a scrutinizing gaze. It likely was not the first time he had seen this, judging by his lack of surprise. "We managed to get the swelling under control, but he's on a respirator at the moment, though that will change soon, and sedated due to the large amount of head and body trauma." Then a series of injuries were listed off; from a broken kneecap to tears in the colon and - Oh God. Caleb knew his expression was a horrified rictus, matching John and his father's. But Michael didn't seem surprised at all, taking it in with a grim face. "All we can do is wait, gentlemen. You can see him, but one at a time."

The rest of the evening was a blur, Lucy coming in with Sean, Jane, Bennett, and Lara, each visiting for a brief time before moving on. John was bodily dragged off by his partner, while he promised Lucy that he would be home when he could. She seemed to understand; just like he did when something similar happened to Sean. How long ago was that now? The final obstacle was obtaining permission for Michael to stay with Devon, because he obviously wasn't going anywhere. James' consent was a sour grunt, obviously not wishing to discuss it, so Caleb wrote the man's name down on the allowed list. And then, they waited.

It was an absolute shock the first time Devon woke, screaming in a waking nightmare. It took Caleb reassuring him he was safe, and Michael's touches, to get his head back onto the pillow. Then he was gone again. The cycle would simply repeat, which was wearing both men out. Michael refused to even close his eyes, apparently convinced if he took his eyes off Devon's chest, the man would stop breathing. Well, he could understand that to an extent, and could hardly fault the fellow for it. What would he have done if Lucy was in this position? ... He'd go mad, that was certain. So Caleb opted to remain quiet, leaving the actor in his own personal hell until morning came. By that time, his father was becoming even more surly, muttering things about relations between a Moriarty and a Holmes being completely unnatural. He snickered, until James cuffed him lightly. No sense of humor. Why couldn't they just leave Michael with Devon for a bit longer?

"My darlings, I came as soon as I could." How the hell did she get in here?! Staring at one of the most amazing exchanges in history when concerning Michael Pierson, Caleb shook his head when the actor actually followed Isabel out.

"Was that who I think it was?" James asked wonderingly.

"Isabel Marchand," Caleb responded, dumbly nodding his head. "Now I can see why Devon calls her Mom." James seemed shocked by this, to which he could only shrug. "He spent a lot of time with her when Sonnet was hurt, they grew close. That and Moira is a fangirl, which didn't help anything." Oh no! "Did anyone call--"

"Go and call, I'll sit with Devon." It was going to be a long wait, he could just feel it.

Inky blackness... Suffocating. Strangling.

Devon tried to scream, but it felt like he was gagged. Clawing at whatever it was - and it was such an elusive thing, slipping through his fingers - he tore at whatever blocked his vision. Hands were holding him down, pinning him, forcing him to struggle that much harder.

"Stop stru... Holmes!" Everything sounded watery, but it was a shock to hear his name. "Agent Holmes!" The sound rushed into his ears, a horrendous screeching beep, accelerating with every moment. "Sedate him!" He couldn't breathe, he couldn't... "Devon! Stop fighting!" Huhwha? Suddenly whoever was screaming stopped, and it felt like he was floating, swimming in a sea of... jello? When did that pink elephant get there? "Stabilizing..." The beeps slowed, and his heart ceased thumping so erratically. Devon took a chance and opened his eyes...

"Welcome back!" a jovial fellow with a potbelly declared, grinning down in his face. Why was the man so damned close?! "Can you tell me your name and title?" People were swarming over him in a disconcerting manner, and it was really distracting. Plus he felt so light, like he was floating right off the bed...

"Holmes... Devon..." Constants were hard and cracked, the rest of the word a whisper. His jaw and throat hurt so badly, couldn't he just go back to sleep? "Special Agent... In Charge... of Missing Persons Unit." There! He got it out! Devon gave a lopsided smile, whimpering at the pain such a simple action brought. It was then he realized that tears were streaming down his cheeks, but he wasn't certain as to why. It didn't feel that bad now.

"Very good, Agent Holmes! Can you tell me who the president is?" Uhm... His brow furrowed, mind falling further into the muck. "How about what year it is?" That one vanished through his fingers too, eyes falling shut. "Agent Holmes?" the doctor queried, speaking louder. "Agent Holmes!" Smack. Just a light tap, but along his bruised jaw and it was agony. "What year is it?" He answered correctly, winning a thousand dollars on the Pyramid! "Where do you think you are?" Someone poked his knee, and he screamed. The fog cleared almost immediately.

"The fukking North Pole and you're mother fukking Santa Claus! I'm in a fukking hospital with incompitant nitwits is where I'm fukking at!" Wow, everything just went fuzzy again, everyone smirking at him. Why hello Mister Elephant! "...Miiick...?" A dark-haired man had caught his attention, who immediately came over and kneeled beside the bed. A mask was propped on top of his head, decked out like the guy thought he was playing army... "Caleb..." Devon managed to breathe. It didn't hurt anymore! But it did, too. Nothing was making sense!

"Shh, don't worry. I'll go call Michael and he'll be right here, okay? Isabel dragged him out of here early this morning." Devon couldn't managed to slant his eyes towards any windows, but a large ticking clock declared it to be pretty late, nearly midnight. "You've been asleep a while, Dev. Don't worry about it, just get some rest."

"S-S-S-iiimon?" God, he could feel his teeth chatter on that name. Just thinking of... of him scared the fukk out of Devon. Caleb seemed to debate on a point silently, but spoke regardless.

"Dead. So is Conrad."

"Thank you..." Devon breathed, barely feeling Caleb leave and James take his place. It was safe here. Safe...

Caleb really did run down the hallway toward the doors, and out of them. There was a static field over the hospital, which wouldn't allow cellphone signals to transmit, so it was here that he had to make the call. Multitasking, he managed to dial the number, wait for it to ring, and bum a cigarette off of one of the nurses standing outside the door with an MP, and he breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally answered.

Holmes residence. Lucy sounded... flustered.

"Baby! He's awake!" God, he hadn't even realized how elated he was. "He's asking for Michael; have John drive him, since they have unrestricted access. I love you..."

Oh, now things were going to be fun once Michael got here. He didn't think Dad would leave it at 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'.

"Oh boy."

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