May I: Hand In My Pocket

As Cal walked into the scene about fifteen minutes later, Ben Reynolds looked a little confused to why he was the only one there, when he clearly asked for Foster as well. In fact, Cal was prepared for the question, before the question registered to Reynolds.

“Where’s Foster?” It was like an ‘ah-ha moment’ as Ben peered around to make sure that Gillian hadn’t stopped somewhere—or he hadn’t missed her coming in.

“She’s taking a bit of a personal day.” Was all Cal offered as they walked through the scene; wreckage, blackness, ensued chaos, and a heightened sense of fear had rattled the city of Washington D.C.

“Since when does Foster take a day off?” Shaking his head, Ben didn’t expect to get an answer, so he opened up the file instead. “Looks like the bomber, was nineteen year old, Jamal Bata. His parents conferred to Islam in the 60’s. They’re now deceased. He has no siblings, and he attended a mosque in North-East, D.C.” Lifting his hand, he pointed out a young man that was sitting on the edge of the curb. “Right now, we’re talking a friend of Bata’s that claims that he couldn’t get on the bus.”

“Does the FBI, have anyone in custody? Cal inquired; surveying the damage, they passed a couple that were sitting in the back of an ambulance.  The wife was patting her husband’s shoulder; more in comfort as he held an oxygen mask up to his face.

“Just picked up the coach of the bomber’s soccer team.” Opening up another file, it revealed an older guy—mid thirties. “He’s got ties to groups on our watch list.”

“Okay. Can I talk to him?” Stepping off the curb, they crossed the street over to a different, less chaotic part of the scene that had been enforced with yellow barrier tape.

“Nah. Deputy Director Messer doesn’t want anyone else in with the suspect.”

“Well, she’s got Deputy in her title for a reason.  Can we go around her?” Cal raised his brow, and licked his lips in anticipation; all the while pressing his luck as much as possible.

“Yeah—that sounds good, but that’s just not how it works.”

“Oh yeah? How does it work?”  Solitary Confinement? Stress dispositions at Guantanamo? “His words were heated, as he was just getting started. Everything . . . all the frustrations that had been building up all week long were coming out as argumentative, and he didn’t care.

“Calm down.” Reynolds offered, exhaling. 

“Oh—did you guys set up a new place now?” Pausing momentarily with wild gestures. Cal stood; observed five people that were lying on the ground in body bags—then turned back to Ben. “--what with all the bad publicity and that.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. “You said something about Jamal Bata attending a mosque?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get Torres to take a look at that” Watching him turn away to make the phone call, Ben stood there watching in frustration. Something was seriously up. Cal was usually irritating, but something in his demeanor wasn’t right. Foster was always usually by his side—which held keep him in line. But today: she was missing in action.

Taking out his phone—while keeping an eye on him, Ben pushed the speed dial and held the receiver up to his ear. Hoping that he could get some answer to all of this, he waited as the phone rang on the other end.

---

Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Gillian got out of the car to confront him, only to go around a unbuckle Sophie from her car seat. The man resembled her with his blonde hair and blue eyes.

“I get that you didn’t want me to come—but I couldn’t stand back without at least coming by and talking to you.” Feeling the slight pull in her shoulder, she lifted Sophie out her seat. “You have a daughter?” The question almost froze her—repeating in her head like a dream.

“No.” She offered sternly, still quite exhausted from the previous days of lack of sleep. Her eyes flickered up to his, knowingly. “This is Sophie.” Introducing, she almost regretted telling him—just because she could already see the questions forming in the back of his mind, followed by the light bulb of recognition.

“Sophie.” He repeated. “The little girl that got taken from you?” Taking a double look, he shook his head upon seeing the hurt expression on her face. He took a few steps forward. He had seen that expression many times before. “What happened?” 

Hurt turned into pain, and he watched as she almost crumbled to the ground. His hands wrapped around her as Sophie clutched her arms around her neck. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Once inside, he helped her sit down on the couch. Sophie had her arms around her neck, like she was going to be taken away. Reaching up, Gillian tried to bring the little girl to sit down, but she only felt Sophie’s hands wrap around her tighter. Her brother came back from the kitchen, with a glass of water that he placed on the coffee table—just about the time that she finally got Sophie to sit on her lap.

“I take it, you haven’t been sleeping much. How long have you been feeling sick?” Sitting on the edge of the coffee table, he gave her gentle smile, like the one a big brother gives to a little sister when she wasn’t feeling well.

Her eyes narrowed on his as she let out a frustrated sigh. There were many things that she could say to him—but the real truth wasn’t one of them. Her brother could always read two things: when she was down, or when she was sick. Unfortunately, she was both. And the fact that he could always read her so easily—had always irritated her greatly.

“Sophie’s mom approached me earlier in the week and asked that I take Sophie.” She paused, trailed off and looked absently over his shoulder.

“Take her . . . why?”

It took her a moment, but she answered almost abruptly, and her tone was flat and pressing as she looked back at him. “She’s in the final stages of cancer.” He looked stunned just as much as she had been.  Even though most of being stunned had turned to numbness. She could see him putting the pieces together—how she had come to taking Sophie into her home.

“You think you’re going to keep her?” There was a few seconds between her thinking and the phone ringing in her purse. Absently, she reached in to where it was; pulling it out to look out at the caller ID, she was indecisive whether she wanted to answer.

Usually, any other day she would answer Ben Reynolds’s call, knowing that it was probably about the case. Cal would have definitely have arrived at the scene, and Ben was most likely than not, wondering why he had come alone.

Pushing the ignore button, she efficiently cut off phone call so that it went into voicemail. That’s when she noticed that his phone call added to the two missed calls that she had today. Half-expecting it to be Cal that had called, she was surprised that it had been Anna.

“Everything okay?” His tone asking “Since when do you ignore phone calls?”Although, he didn’t say it out loud.

“Yeah.” She spoke quietly, as Sophie grabbed her free hand as she placed her phone back into the purse with the other. Both watched as Sophie placed her hand over hers, and watched as the young girl marveled at how much smaller her hand was than Gillian’s.

Tipping her head up, Sophie smiled proudly. “Your hand, big.”

Gillian smiled back at her—then leaned in and began tracing imaginary lines around the little girl’s hand. “My hand is big. Did you know that your hand is going to get bigger too?”

The little girl shook her head back and forth, while shifting in her lap. “Tickles.” She giggled as Gillian traced her hand. “Me try.”

“How old is she?” Ryan broke in, watching the two of them interact. He had a big reminiscing smile on his face, with sort of a distant look on his face.

“She’s almost two.” Her voice cracked, and she reached over and took a drink of water, before setting the glass back on the coffee table.

“I remember when you were that age.” Ryan began, intertwining his fingers together. “Well, it started at the age of two when you use to carry around a doll in your arms. If anyone else touched that doll, you would let out this big screech. In fact—“He stood up from his place on the coffee table. “I have something in the car that you might like. Hang on—I’ll go get it.”

“Where he go?” Sophie asked, stretching her arms up, as they watched him go out the front door.  Upon his departure, Sophie quietly hopped off her lap and went over to the window to watch out the window. At one point, she pressed her lips against the glass.

It had been awhile since she had been around a child. As she watched Sophie look at the window with fascination and excitement, made her realize that she had been given a second chance to be in this little girl’s life. Many instances came to mind when she wished for another chance to see her again. And now that chance was finally here—whether she was ready or not.