NOTES: Yeek! After seeing the scenes from next week, I figured I needed to finish and post this story before Sunday, or it might seem redundant. Yes, a story with a real plot! Sure, it's a simple plot, but a plot, nonetheless. Since I started this before season three began, some things may seem a bit off, like the trials and Maia's visions. Just think of this as happening between the seasons, before Maia had recovered from the promicin inhibitor to the point she can see everything and when the trials mattered. Thank you PurpleYin for betaing.
SPOILERS: through Mommy's Bosses/season two
DISCLAIMER: The 4400 and all things associated with it belong to other people.
NOT ALONE
Part 1
It had become a pleasant habit.
After each week's worth of work and trial attendance, Diana and Marco would go to dinner. Depending on who they were with at the end of the day, sometimes they'd go with Maia or Tom and Alana or even Nina. Marco knew of a remarkable variety of great restaurants to eat and had an exceptional knack for picking ones that would please everyone. He'd taken them to places as posh as the foie gras-serving Campagne and as simple as Husky Deli, where she'd eaten her first hot pastrami and the chocolate malt had made Maia skip happily the rest of the night. These weekly dinners had become an enjoyable way to unwind and bond with the others who were going through the same ordeals, but it was just the two of them tonight.
He'd brought her to a place in Kirkland called Mixtura. From the upscale Latin menu, she'd selected a duck entree that had been subtly spiced and completely sublime. Between the food and the wine, they hadn't had room for dessert, but that had given them more time to enjoy the little park at the other end of the block. Overlooking Lake Washington, it offered a spectacular view of the night skyline and the perfect opportunity for a quiet, romantic moment.
She had been alone for so long, it had taken a bit of getting used to, but she was finally to the point where she was comfortable with him initiating contact. He never pressured her and seemed content to just hold her hand, if that was all she was in the mood for. Tonight, he held her close, humming along with the music that floated down from the restaurant and swaying in time with its slow beat. How was it he could make her feel like the center of the world? Sometimes, it seemed like too much, but not now. It felt right. She was ready.
"Marco?"
"Hmm?" Aware of her ease, he nuzzled just below her ear.
With a satisfied sigh, she tilted her head to give him easier access. "It's been a really good week." They were just days away from convicting one of Ryland's superiors.
"Mmm."
"I was thinking, maybe, after the trials are over, a vacation might be in order." She never took vacations, never had anyone to spend one with.
"Maia's always wanted to go to Disneyland," he murmured against her neck.
"I meant just the two of us."
This caused him to stop and pull away from her so he might look into her eyes. His own were guarded, but the slight trembling of his hands at her waist betrayed his surface calm.
"Maybe a B&B across the Sound for the weekend, something like that?"
"Diana..." Usually articulate and smooth, it amused her to have rendered him speechless.
"Say, 'yes.'"
"Yes." There was a reverent intensity to his voice that sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
She gladly leaned into his imminent kiss and briefly lost track of everything but the delightful stimulation of his heated touch and its effects on her pulse. Usually tender and enticing in his affection, it was rare for his passion to be stoked to an uncontrolled intensity. His ardent lips seemed to demand reciprocation, and his embrace nearly drove the breath from her. There was something giddy and empowering about knowing she could bring this out of him. Combined with her body's fervent response, it felt like falling--frightening yet liberating.
Naturally, reality wouldn't allow the beautiful moment to last too long. With a little groan of disappointment, she apologetically pulled away from him to answer her vibrating cell phone. But it wasn't a call, just a text message. "Come home."
On their way back, they discussed possible places they might go on vacation and puzzled over why Iris would send a message when it was almost time to head home, anyway. Had Maia had a vision? Was she sick? Was there some family emergency Iris had to attend to? Curiosity turned to outright concern when they approached her block to find it closed by a trio of squad cars with flashing lights. Diana opened her car door before Marco finished pulling into an empty spot. Together, they jogged up to the police line, and, with a flash of IDs, they were past it, making their way to her building's main entrance on the corner, passing a pair of paramedic trucks along the way. Much to her aggravation, they had to show their IDs again to get inside. Whatever had happened, it seemed the police had yet to coordinate their efforts.
Her concern transformed into dread as the doorman, with an ice bag pressed against his head and misery in his eyes, motioned for them to hurry upstairs. At her floor, the elevator opened to a mass of neighbors and police, all seeming to talk at once.
"Ma'am, sir, you'll have to go back down," said a young officer, arms outstretched as though to herd them back into the elevator. For some reason, the blue of his eyes stood out against the muted tones around them, giving her something to focus on.
"The hell I do."
"Diana," murmured Marco beside her, holding up his ID, "he's just doing his job."
At the mention of her name, suddenly there was a chorus of "Diana"s and "Ms. Skouris"s and even a few "Marco"s from her neighbors, asking questions and voicing concerns, but she ignored them, pushing past the police blocking her end of the hall. That was when she spotted another officer attaching crime scene tape to her front door, heard Marco's breathless, "Oh, God," and felt her icy dread ignite into anger.
Surging down the hall, she ripped the tape off the door and stormed in. Behind her, Marco mollified the policewoman, but Diana's attention was on the tearstained Iris, sitting on a dining room chair and talking to an officer.
"Where's Maia?"
Iris looked up, wide-eyed, then stumbled to her feet. "Oh, Diana, I'm so sorry." She reached out, as though to comfort her, but Diana stepped back.
"Where is she?"
"Ma'am," began the officer, "this is a crime scene and-"
She rounded on him and his mild officiousness. "This is my home. Where is my daughter!"
"Maia..." began Iris, fresh tears in her eyes, "she's been kidnapped."
Although the words made Diana's worst fears a reality, they also somehow separated her from it. It was almost as though this were happening to someone else, that she was a bystander in her own life as her mind refused to process her anxiety. If not for Marco putting his hands on her shoulders, she might not have known she was shaking with rage. Shrugging him off, she stepped closer to her neighbor. "How did they get in? How many were there? Did they hurt her?" She struggled to keep her focus, to keep her fury from consuming her.
"There were three of them. They were dressed like people from Sears--you know, the kind who deliver appliances."
"You let them in!"
"No, no!" Iris' eyes went wide. "There was this noise, like keys in the lock--I thought it was you getting home early--then they were inside. They had guns." At this she sat back down, holding herself, gazing into space as she retold the experience. "What was I supposed to do? I remembered you once talking about never arguing with a gun, so I just held onto Maia as tightly as I could. But they took her from me...they just took her." As Iris ran her hands restlessly up and down her arms, Diana finally noticed the bruises all over them. Some part of her, separate from the fury that consumed her, appreciated the effort. "She was so brave. I could hardly breathe, but she managed to scream once. Then they put a cloth over her mouth. She fought it but eventually passed out. Once she was still, she was tied up and put in the refrigerator box they'd brought with them. While one man did that, the others taped my mouth shut...tied me up. I didn't fight them...I didn't fight them."
The doorman would have hit the silent alarm if they'd forced their way in, so their front must have been convincing enough to get past him. There were only so many who'd have the resources to pull off something like that.
"You did the right thing, Mrs. Benke." Marco was at her side, close enough for support but not touching. Why did her body perceive that at a time like this? It was distracting. "They probably didn't knock you out because of it, and that let you free yourself and contact us and the police sooner."
How did he know that?
Looking around, she noticed the broken vase, blood stains and severed ziptie on the floor.
"We're sorry you had to go through this and glad you weren't seriously hurt."
We?
She turned to Marco in his all but unflappable self possession. He wasn't the one who'd just had a child taken by force.
"We need to contact Nina, start an investigation."
How could he remain so sedate and soothing? She didn't want to be soothed.
"We don't need to do anything."
He blinked at her, plainly baffled. "The sooner we get on this-"
"Why should you get on anything?" She could hear the accusation in her voice, almost as though she were listening to someone else. "None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for you!"
His eyebrows lifted then furrowed in confusion. "How could you think I had anything to do with this?" There was a hint of indignation beneath his otherwise calm question.
"I should have been here, protecting my child!"
Understanding lit in his eyes, and he smiled sadly. "Your being here probably wouldn't have changed anything."
There was a loud, sharp noise. It took the sound of Marco's glasses hitting the floor for her to realize what had caused it, before she felt the skin of her palm tingling from having slapped him, hard.
"Get out." The two words were spoken so harshly, she hardly recognized them as her own.
She wasn't sure if the silence that followed was real or her inability to hear above the roaring in her ears and the deafening weight of the space between them. Slowly, he straightening from the position her slap had forced on him and stared at her, wide eyes wider without his glasses to hide them. In his shock, she saw everything he was feeling--longing, anxiety, disappointment and, most of all, hurt. Then he blinked, and she could read nothing beneath the smooth surface of his conviviality. With a bland smile and a nod, he bent to retrieve his glasses from the floor then turned and left, ducking lithely under the police tape.
Something in her snapped, causing a brief moment of vertigo, and she fought to keep her dinner down. Being ill in front of others was not acceptable. She felt a hand at her elbow, heard words in a comforting tone, but she brushed them off and stormed into her master bath--she couldn't bear the thought of seeing Maia's things in the other bathroom. Locking herself in, it was then she saw her reflection, angry tears staining her makeup. With a hasty jerk, she cranked the faucet to hot, full blast, and started scrubbing her face with a vengeance, contending again with the bile in her throat as she bent over the sink.
Once she was satisfied her face was clean, she looked up to see fear and desolation in her eyes. It caused her anger to rise up, whitening the edges of her vision. She had more important things to do than feel these things, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the pitiful woman in the mirror, the woman who may have just lost her child and the man she loved. In a growl of rage, she hefted the nearest heavy object, smashing it into the taunting reflective surface. The glass shattered with a satisfying crunch, the soap dish fulfilling its job--she no longer had to look at herself.
There was a pounding at the bathroom door, accompanied by concerned voices. The lock held, so she ignored them and sank with a sob onto her toilet seat. After the first one was out, another sob came, then another, until they overwhelmed her.
She was alone again.