Disclaimer:Numb3rs belongs to CBS and 'Chinese Box' was written by Ken Sanzel.
Author's Note:I. hate. shoe shopping. I wasn't happy with this chapter last night, but I think now, it's alright.
Oh, and before I forget, there's a really nice forum on this site, started by Alice I called "Calling All Authors" directed towards writers and would-be writers. It's, I think, on page 6 on the General Forums list. Check it out.
And also, thank you for all the feedback, appreciate it :-) Enjoy this last chapter.
No Quarter
III
"Those who do not last are always more beloved since no one has to see them in their long, dull, unrelenting, no-quarter-given-and-no- quarter-received, fights that they make to do something as they believe it should be done before they die."
-Ernest Hemingway
"Your plan didn't work, Agent Reeves. Now, I have both guns," proclaimed Blakely over the phone, a touch of glee in his voice. "I'm in control now." Megan had no response for this, instead looking at the people around her. Colby, uncharacteristically, was allowing his anger to shine through his facial expressions and his pacing the bull-pen floor; the SWAT leader, King, was looking less than pleased and was watching Colby as one who was about to go into battle with a caged animal. Her main concern, however, was directed towards the Eppes. Alan, at Blakely's words, had dropped his head in his hands, and Charlie had begun to chew on a thumbnail with a passion.
Blakely didn't seem to be finished with crowing over his victory, however, and Megan could hear him muttering to Don before her boss's strained voice came through the speaker phone:
"Everything's just peachy in here, Megan." She was not very surprised when immediately following Don's lie, she heard a beep which signalled Blakely bringing an end to the conversation. She had barely begun to think of another plan of action when heated voices reached her ears from her left:
"-trying to keep your men from shooting my boss," Colby was saying in response to King's words.
"My men are trained," defended King.
"Trained to do what? Shoot too fast?" fired back Colby and Megan thought it was high time to jump in:
"Guys! Not now." A minute shake of the head to indicate a very pale Alan and a wide eyed Charlie which was enough for Colby and King to stalk off in different directions, leaving Megan behind to clean up the mess.
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Inside the elevator, Blakely reached out one arm to hit the call-button before aiming both guns at Don again.
"Why are you lying?" Ben asked.
"Just call me Mr. Contrary," replied Don, using his uninjured arm to push himself into a sitting position against the wall.
"But I have both guns now." To emphasize this, Ben shook both weapons but his actions went unnoticed as Don's eyes were on his injured arm as he poked a finger through the hole in his sleeve.
"It only takes one bullet to kill," pointed out Don. "And it's not like you can miss in this small a space." Don looked up. "Can you?"
Blakely finally lowered the guns a bit and stepped away. "At least we both know where we stand now."
"I don't know about you, but I'm sitting down," replied Don. Taking a bullet to the vest and having a gun, let alone two, pointed at him really didn't do Don's mood any favours.
"You tried to kill me." Ben's voice was just a touch above a whine.
"Stop being so dramatic; if I wanted you dead, you would've been ages ago," said Don, pressing more firmly against the wound in his arm, wishing he'd worn a tie today so he could have used it as a bandage.
Blakely sighed, and sat down opposite Don, finally at eye level again. He steadied one gun on a bent knee, while he kept Don's Glock by his side, but his mind was elsewhere. Don was content for the moment with this break, and waited for Megan and the rest of his team to make the next move. This plan was shattered when Ben slid Don's Glock back towards its owner.
Don raised an eyebrow but made no move to pick up his weapon. "Ben, what are you doing?"
"There's no point waiting. I'm not getting out of this one alive. Shoot me," he said, motioning towards the gun.
Don had barely begun to shake his head when Blakely moved suddenly and kneeled in front of Don, bringing his own gun to poke the agent in the chest.
"Shoot me, or I will shoot you," ordered Ben.
"Vest," pointed out Don, trying to appear unfazed. His comment, however, led to the gun being pointed directly between his eyes.
"Shoot me!" said Ben again.
"No," replied Don, simply.
"Why not?"
"You're not a criminal, Ben. Yeah, you did an extremely idiotic, stupid, thoughtless thing, but that doesn't put you on the same level as rapists and serial killers. I am not going to help you commit suicide."
"You won't be helping me, you'll be acting out of self-defence." To emphasize his point, Ben drew back the hammer on his gun with a 'click' which sounded extremely loud in the small, enclosed space.
Megan's voice coming over the inter-com cut through whatever haze was in Ben's mind and he drew back as she started to speak:
"Mr. Blakely, you were right. Devane was following you, and we have proof and a confession. All you have to do is come down and get out of the elevator, and together we can put this mess behind us."
Don had just begun to wonder if a diamond ring would be an suitable enough present for Megan in return of her timely interruption, but it was not to be, when Megan continued:
"There's nothing else we can offer so… Don, the negotiation is in your hands now. It's your call."
Blakely seemed to literally take this as a sign from the heavens, and he pointed the gun once again at Don with renewed conviction.
"Missed the part about the confession and evidence against Devane?" asked Don, although he didn't expect an answer. He picked up the gun, which had Blakely stepping back a little but not out of fear, and transferred it to the hand of his injured arm. He then used his other hand to grab the railing lining the elevator compartment and pulled himself upright.
Blakely eyebrows creased together when instead of Don pointing the gun at him, he holstered it.
"What are you doing?" he shouted as Don moved towards the panel and his fingers hovered over the call button.
"Ending this," replied Don, succinctly. He pressed the button: "We're coming down, Megan."
"I will kill you," warned Blakely for the umpteenth time.
"You shot Devane because you felt threatened. What's your excuse for shooting me? Not threatening you enough?" Don shook his head. "You wanna die, I'm sure SWAT will be more than happy to comply. But I'm not going to be the one to shoot you." Remembering that the feed was still active and their conversation could be heard by anyone listening upstairs, Don pressed the call button again and moved his hands towards the button for the ground floor.
"Are you suicidal?"
Don considered this. "If my shrink asks, I'll say I was hypoglycaemic. Face it, Ben, you're not going to kill me."
"What makes you think that?" challenged Ben.
Don shrugged with one shoulder. "Call it a hunch."
And pressed the button.
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Charlie followed Megan, Colby and the other SWAT guys down the stairs towards the ground floor, keeping far enough to not attract the notice of his brother's team members. If he did, he was pretty sure he'd be sent back upstairs with a glare and a command. He had moved fast enough that his father hadn't had time to voice his own protests. He hoped that the relief of Don getting out of this in one piece would prevent his being chewed out later.
Finally reaching the floor where the elevator would open, he carefully stood in the doorway of the stairwell. The bank of elevators were surrounded by SWAT and FBI agents so the chances of any direct threat towards him was virtually nil. Unless a stray bullet came his way, of course. That would not be optimal…
The 'ding' of the elevator bell sounded, and the doors slid open. Each new sound had Charlie creeping closer and closer to get a better view, even though he knew he shouldn't. He didn't even know he had been holding his breath until he heard his own exhalation when Don's voice called out from inside the elevator car:
"It's alright. Stand down. I have both guns."
The effect of his brother's words were visible: there was a sharp decrease in tension, especially amongst all those agents in FBI vests and guns were lowered a few inches although the SWAT team was less inclined to follow. Don's next words were quieter, but in the silence, they could be heard:
"Just step out slowly, Ben, don't make any sudden moves. Colby."
Colby heeded his boss's command and moved towards Blakely who stepped out of the elevator with his arms raised, a picture of abject misery, confusion, and uncertainty, and handcuffed him. As Blakely was led away by another agent who Charlie had seen often around his brother's office, Colby accepted the gun Don held out before he even got off the elevator.
Sure that the danger was now over, and wanting nothing more than to make sure his brother was alright, Charlie stepped away from his hiding place and was only a few feet from Don when Megan stepped to the side, allowing Charlie to see the large, red stain on his brother's sleeve.
Don, on his part, looked relatively steady on his feet, considering, and while talking to his team-mates, his eyes would constantly dart towards Ben Blakely until he disappeared into another elevator to go upstairs and commence the interrogation, as if the day hadn't been long enough already.
Probably on Don's behest, Charlie saw Colby move to go back upstairs, but not before he saw the junior agent say something less than pleasant to Tim King, if the SWAT leader's expression was anything to go by. Don looked his way as Charlie approached and the young mathematician saw a range of emotions flicker across his brother's eyes: from a touch of irritation to mostly concern and relief.
"You shouldn't be down here, Chuck," said Don as way of greeting.
"You should have been at breakfast, Don," responded Charlie. This would probably be as close as Charlie would come at voicing his regret at what Don had to do for him, even though he knew that had it been anyone else taken hostage, Don would have done no less.
"You ok?" asked Don.
"I've been photographed all day, what do you think?" Charlie said with a grimace. He nodded towards Don's arm: "How are you doing?"
"I could really, really use a shower," misdirected Don.
Charlie crinkled his nose and sniffed loudly. "Amen to that, brother."
"Hey," protested Don. "Where's the sympathy? Injured man here." He moved as though he was about to swot his brother on the head when he realized that one arm had a bullet hole in it, and the other hand was covered in blood. Don looked behind Charlie and called out, "Hey dad."
Turning, Charlie saw his father come from the same stairs he himself had used, and from the look his father gave him, he knew he'd be hearing about his rushing to the scene of a hostile situation once they got home.
"You know, there's nothing wrong with using the elevator," Don grumbled as his father carefully gave Don a hug, in light of his injuries.
"Says the man who got shot in one," rebutted Alan as he stepped back.
"So if I say it, it must be true," responded Don. "But hey, if Charlie wants to use the stairs, it's fine with me. He could do with some exercise," he added with a grin.
Charlie responded with a heatless glare and side-stepped into concern as he noticed Don shift a little.
"Hey, shouldn't you be going to the hospital right now? Where are the paramedics?"
"Nah, Charlie, no need for a hospital. It's barely more than a graze, just need a bandage and we're good to go. Anybody in the mood for breakfast?"
Alan and Charlie both opened their mouths at the same time to voice their protests but were prevented from saying anything by Megan's timely arrival, a team of paramedics behind her: "Nice try, boss, but you're on the fast track to the hospital. Wouldn't want to stay behind and do the paperwork, would you?"
"Well, when you put it like that…," Don mumbled. He looked so dejected that Charlie had to laugh, and offer:
"Hey, you go with the nice paramedics and I'll grab some breakfast on the way, so you won't have to eat hospital food. Alright?"
"Best suggestion I've heard all day."
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Don had only walked a few steps away from his family when a hand on the shoulder stopped him. He paused, and turned to see his father behind him leaning towards Don's ear to whisper:
"I'm proud of you, son."
Don leaned back, confused. "What do you mean?"
Alan shrugged and continued in a low voice which only Don could hear: "Not just what you did for Charlie but… we heard you in the elevator with Blakely. You trusted a man, even at the threat of your own life, and saved his in return because of it. You… did good, Donnie. Who wouldn't be proud?"
Don smiled, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes. He didn't respond to his father directly but instead flicked his eyes to where Charlie was standing:
"When he had Charlie hostage, I would have liked nothing better than to shoot him. But… Ben isn't a bad guy, not really, and there are already too many lives I've ended, whether they deserved it or not." Don shrugged and made to move away, but not without a few parting words:
"Tell Chuck I expect a really nice breakfast, followed by lunch and dinner for a week, as a thank you."
Khatum (The End)
Hope you enjoyed. Next in mind is a vicous plot bunny that is aching to grow. And if my muse is feeling co-operative, I'll a New Year's fic.
If I don't see you before the 1st, have a Happy New Year, and may the coming year be nicer and more wonderful than the one you just experienced. :-) Night.