Trauma

Luke gives a short sigh. “I’m sorry…I just…I know you want to take care of me, and you’re glad to do it… I just don’t like piling on any more worries for you.” He throws up his arms. “And I know this whole thing is stupid… I was hurting and I didn’t want to bother you, so when I was in town a while back I got a prescription and Eric’s been picking it up for me when he’s out driving.”

He’s clearly upset by the look in his eyes. “They worked at first, but then stopped, and by then it was too late and I couldn’t go without.” He shrugs lamely. “Eric warned me, but I thought he was wrong.”

Luke looks down at the ground, feeling like an idiot. “I just wanted something to stop the pain so…so you wouldn’t have to worry about me so much.”


Clint watches Wendy leave, a grin still on his face. He could still remember the day he’d shown up at the ranch with a banged up shoulder because a dumb dog had crossed his path on the road. Where would he be today if it hadn’t been for that? Wendy had become his best friend, and he wouldn’t want to be living anywhere else but here. Things had been a little tough with his family…but now…even with the stress of the Agency, he couldn’t imagine it any differently.

He shakes his head and slides back under the car, knowing good and well that he wouldn’t make it in for lunch. He’d started this stupid thing this morning and was going to get something accomplished before quitting time if it killed him.

And…the thought of Wendy bringing lunch out to him didn’t exactly upset him.


Carson wanders down by the holding cell, spying a telephone out of sight of the security cameras. He’d discovered that the two lawyers he was supposed to take down were in no way connected to TJY. It was something completely separate that the Agency was working on, and if they were out of the picture, it would affect nothing here. That was a plus.

Now he wanted to know what cases the lawyers were working on. He needed to cover all bases before going to Arizona and earning that money. He didn’t see it as anything that went against TJY, but people around here might not take things that way, so they couldn’t find out. If Carson could get all his ducks in a row, he’d be set.

Glancing around to make sure no one is within earshot, he goes for the phone in the corner, dials, then waits. “Ah, Martin.”

“I knew you’d be calling again. You never wait as long as you say.”

Carson smirks. “Just seeing if you were still around.”

“Well I’m glad you called.”

“Why?”

“The appointment has been bumped up.”

Carson raises his eyebrows. “What? To when?”

“Next week.”

“Next week?!” Carson doesn’t realize he just raised his voice. “Why?”

Martin pauses, rustling paper heard. “Uh…the guys they’re defending or something got lucky with an earlier trial date.”

“Aw, great.”

“Problem?”

Carson knew that question was one asking if he was still going to do the job. “No…I’ll work with it. Look, where will they be at?”

“Downtown… it’s a town near Phoenix.”

“At the courthouse?”

“Yep.”

Carson calculates a plan of action in his mind. “Alright, here’s the deal. Since I don’t have as much time, I want you to email me blueprints of all the buildings on that block. I want info on that case, and I want to know if the press is going to be there or not. This is gonna be a clean job. No witnesses, no cleanup.”

After just a couple more minutes of talk, Carson hangs up the phone and leans against the wall. The adrenaline was already starting, beginning to satisfy his craving to get back on the job. But how was he going to get away with it? And why was there guilt in the pit of his stomach?


“Alright, Stevenson. Out.”

Jason stands up from his cot and exits his cell, confused as he’s placed in handcuffs again. “What’s going on?”

The guard shuts the cell door and aims Jason down the hall. “We need the space. You’re going in the spare room.”

Jason’s instincts warn him. “What are you talking about?”

The guard chuckles. “Ever hear of solitary confinement?”

Jason stops in his tracks. “You can’t do this to me.”

“Oh, no?” The guard pushes him to keep him moving. “I’m doing it. What are you gonna do about it?”

Jason grits his teeth and trudges down several dim corridors. There was nothing he could do but take it. Otherwise they’d accuse him of more than they already had. “This isn’t going to sit well with my lawyer,” he threatens.

The guard doesn’t respond, but stops, opening heavy door at the end of the hall. “You. In. Now.”

Jason holds out his hands. “Cuffs?”

“Ha!” The guard manhandles him inside, giving him one last shove that sends him into the far wall. “Goodnight!” he sneers. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No!” Jason spins around, only to see the door shut, cutting him off from the world. It was dark…there was no light…now window…no sound.

Panic stirs inside of him. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll see you in the morning…” That wasn’t the first time he’d heard those words…only last time it had been Alex’s voice after he’d thrown Jason into that dreaded room.

Jason’s mind begins to hurl memories in his direction, clouding his conscience. He puts his hands to his head and cringes. “No,” he groans, fighting it. “No!” But it’s no use. The pressure was too great…the emotional strain too much…

…Jason lies curled up in a ball in the corner of the pitch black cell. His body trembles as he breaks out in a cold sweat. Nightmarish images flash before him, skewing reality into some sort of sick dreamlike world that he couldn’t escape. Reality was there…he could see it…but he was just out of reach. “Katie…” he manages to whisper. But on a level of logic, he knows it’s useless…she would not be coming to him this time.

In torment, he writhes, completely consumed by the severe attack. His body tenses as his muscles tighten to the point of cramping, shaking uncontrollably. He’s being chased, he’s being hit, tossed in a corner, yelled at…he sees faces again, he experiences the terror again…every little detail that evoked fear was driven into him like an unforgiving dagger.

No one can see him…no one can hear him… Without outside assistance, the torture persists for over an hour.