Guilt

Jason's eyes dance back and forth between Katie's as she speaks, searching for truth of emotions. Her stare was like a pool with such depths one could not reach the bottom, yet so clear as to see every detail. The look in her eye, Jason recognized. He'd ignored it so many times...shrugged it off as a fleeting emotion she maybe felt for him. But it was still there...it hadn't left...it hadn't changed. His pulse quickens just a little.

Standing up, he shakes his head. "Nope. Tonight the date is coming to us." He grabs the television remote and tosses it to her. "I'm going down to get the food, and you're finding the movie."

Jason turns and heads for the door, but stops and turns halfway back around, glancing to Katie once more, his voice still with a teasing edge, yet softer...truer. "But don't worry...I think you'll get that date yet."

Fifteen minutes later, he returns with a tray of their supper and divvies out the food, grabbing the chair and pulling it up next to Katie's bed at an angle where he can see the television too. He says nothing more about the night or the future, wanting only to enjoy the evening until he had to sleep.

As the movies play, Jason's eyes grow heavier and heavier and he slides down further in the chair, leaning his head back. He tries to concentrate on the plotline instead of his own thoughts, but it becomes harder as the minutes pass. Finally he loses the battle and drift into sleep...

Jason feels himself being dragged to the room, the carpet burning his bare feet...his hands grabbing at Alex's legs out of desperation to stop him. The door halts his momentum as he's slammed into it, his shoulder taking the brunt of the shove. Alex's voice screams in his ear, and a kick to Jason's ribs punishes him for having ventured outside on his own. Jason doubles over, but isn't allowed time to recover before he's dragged into the room. The tears didn't even want to come any more. This torture would never end. No one was coming. Life, as he knew it, was over. The click of the lock on the door seals the fate of his night.

A cry makes its way to the surface and Jason sits bolt upright, almost falling off the chair. Beads of sweat trickle down the side of his face, his eyes wildly searching the room. The television was off...it was dark...it was late. He'd been sleeping for some time before the nightmare had finally hit. His pulse racing, the dream replays in his mind, and he leans his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. Alex had won again...how many more times would he win...

A tear escapes to run down through Jason's finger, making a trail on his arm. No matter how much control he had...not matter how much time passed...there would always be pain there. He'd tried to ignore it...he'd tried to bury it...he'd tried to destroy it. He'd succeeded in moving past it, but just because it was left behind, didn't mean it no longer existed, and he knew that it would catch back up to him when least expected as long as he lived. If only it wasn't so hard every time... If only it didn't continue to be a shock...


Con frowns as he looks at the files in Nate's hand. "What? She wasn't. I mean...she wasn't that involved...maybe she did some work back here, but..." His voice trails off as he thinks. His mind reels with possibilities of who would have taken Jamie and why. The Texas case...the Agency.

The blood drains from Con's face. "It's me," he whispers. "They're after me." All of a sudden he feels like he's going to be sick and he leans on the cubicle wall for support. He'd been seen in public with Jamie a lot just recently... "The Agency...it's all my fault..." They'd just tried to kill him, and now Jamie was missing. It was a direct hit to him, personally. He closes is eyes, feeling unable to take this. "God, please no."

Putting a hand to his mouth, he thinks in desperation. There had to be a lead. There had to be something. Anything. He spins around and scans the floor, completely ignoring Nate's presence, and he heads to the row of filing cabinets on the wall. They'd tried to kill him...someone had injected him in his arm...someone had touched him.... He racks his brain as pictures emerge from the last few days. ...The auto shop...the man had bumped him...he'd had dark hair...his eyes...Con could almost see the face. He had to find that face again.

His walk becomes a jog and he reaches the filing cabinets, his eyes searching the alphabetized listings. Pictures...pictures...mug shots...convictions.... Con grabs several folders. He had to find that face...he had to find out who that had been.

Reese emerges from his office and heads in Con's direction. "Con...what are you doing? I've got Nate starting this thing, and Wyatt has been called. I tried Jason, but someone else answered his phone - apparently he left it at a friend's house after a bad spell, so I won't bother him until tomorrow. You, on the other hand, should be at home recuperating."

"I'm not going anywhere," Con states flatly, and begins to sift through the files.

"Con, it's late," Reese argues. "We can't do anything tonight. We're going to have to wait until morning when we can have someone sweep Jamie's house to figure out what happened."

"It's the Agency." Con keeps his eyes glued to the pictures.

"The Agency?" Reese is confused. "Why would they want her?"

Con finally looks up at him, emotion filling his eyes. "Because they want me."

"But why...just because she's a friend of yours? Why not Jason? Or Laura?"

Con doesn't answer, but shifts his gaze back to the file. He had to concentrate...he had to find out who had done this...he had to find her. It was all his fault...

"Con..." Reese moves closer. "Go home. We'll find her. You're in no shape to be here."

"I said I'm not going anywhere." Con throws his boss a glare.

"But..."

"Make me," Con challenges. He spins on his heel and walks to a nearby table, sinking down in a chair and spreading out pictures in front of him.

Reese looks over to Nate and throws his arms up in the air, showing his frustration. They had to treat this with caution like any other case...Wyatt was coming in to help, Nate was already on it... there wasn't much more they could do until morning. But apparently Con really didn't have any intention of leaving. Why it was so important to him, Reese wondered. He'd never seen Con quite so worked up before.