Fic: Target, Chapter 3 (Numb3rs, Don / Martin, David / Ian / Bobby)
Title: Target, Chapter 3
Pair: Charlie Eppes / Colby Granger,
Don Eppes / Martin Fridegord,
David Sinclair / Ian Edgerton / Bobby
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Feedback: Always Welcome
NUMB3RS Main List
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
“-and here’s socks, boxers, T-shirts, that kinda stuff.” David took the last shopping bag and emptied it on the bed. “I think I covered all the basis. Look around, just in case I forgot something essential. I’ll go talk to Don and Martin down the hall and then I can go to the store again.”
“When do I get to check my apartment?” Bobby asked and started showing the clothes into the closet. “I mean these are good for starters, but I’d like get some of my own stuff back.”
“Yeah, that…” David looked uncomfortable and kept moving his weight from on foot to the other.
“It’s all gone, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s…” Bobby sat down on the hotel bed. “I kinda guessed.”
“Are you okay?”
“No, but… it’s not exactly the first time I have to start from the beginning. It’s just that last time I got to take some stuff with me.”
“We’ll replace everything-”
“You can’t replace everything.” Bobby sniffed and pulled his legs up against his chest. “All that stuff… that was the last link.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t get in touch with people I knew, because that could pout them in danger. Everything I brought with me… that was the only reminder of the life I had before all this.”
“You wanna be alone?”
“Not really.”
“Okay.” David looked around and finally sat on the chair opposite the bed. He waited for Bobby to say something, but the man remained quiet. Bobby wrapped his arms around his bent legs and started rocking slowly against the headboard.
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“Think about it this way: This place is a lot better than what I could get on my the bureau travelling allowance.” Don continued. “And there’s a guard on the other side of the door.”
“It’s not the hotel.” Martin nailed him with a frustrated glare. “I want to go home, I have work to do-”
“We contacted your boss, he knows what’s going on and they’ll delegate your stuff to other people for now.”
“I’m the only one who’s worked on that deal from the start-”
“And your safety is more important. Wilson is talking with her contacts and the higher ups will decide how we’ll proceed, but right now you gotta stay out of sight.”
“So you really believe they mixed up me and Bobby? We look nothing alike, we’re fifteen years and about twenty pounds away from each other.”
“They don’t know what exactly what he looks like now, and with sunglasses and baggy clothes they could have made a mistake. I know it’s frustrating, but if there’s a chance they’ll come after you again, I’ll keep you here locked up as long as it takes.”
Martin slumped down on the bed and took a deep breath.
“Okay.”
“Are you sure? You’re not gonna try to loose the guard and go to work or something?”
“I promise. But I’m not staying here forever.”
“You don’t need to, we’ll find the guys one way or another.”
“And I’ll do what?” Martin gave Don a small smile. “Count the cracks in the ceiling?”
“You could watch TV.”
“When was the last time there was anything worth watching on TV? And I’m not watching any daytime shows, my dad used to do that.”
“I remember.” Don grinned. “When we first met, he talked about his soaps for at least ten minutes straight.”
“So you got the abridged version. He doesn’t do dayshifts at the restaurant, so he can keep up on all of those shows.” Martin leaned back against the mattress and looked up at the recently painted white ceiling. “When do you have to go back?”
“Not for a while, Wilson will call me when she hears from her contacts. They’re trying to locate some known offenders from Chicago, who didn’t show up for their meetings with their parole supervisors.”
“She thinks they came to L.A. to make sure Bobby can’t testify if the case gets a retrial.”
“And they got a good reason to stay under radar, so it’ll be harder to find them.”
“Harder and you may not find them at all.” Martin rubbed his bandaged arm against the mattress to relive the itching. “Have I done something I just don’t know about?”
“Like what?”
“Have I done something so bad, that my karma’s trying to get me in every turn? Plane crash, getting shot, almost run over-”
“Nothing to do with you, that’s just bad luck.”
“I always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Yeah, but you’re still alive.”
“I’m too young to find that comforting.” Martin tilted his head to the side so he could see Don’s face. “Stay here a while. Keep me company.”
Don kicked off his shoes and laid down next to him on the bed.
“How are the bruises?”
“Itchy. The bandage itches more than the cuts hurt.”
“Should I take a look at it?”
“No, David wrapped it up pretty well.” Martin rolled over so he was laying against Don. “But I’m definitely giving up jogging.”
“Good.” Don leaned close to breath in his scent. “You really scared me for a minute. Again.”
“I know.”
“You gotta stop doing stuff like that.”
“You just said it was a stroke of bad luck.”
“Yeah, but you’re not stepping out of this room before I know those guys are caught. Preferably you won’t even leave this bed.”
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David took one last look at the man sleeping on the bed and closed the door quietly. He gave a small nod at the agent guarding the door, and walked down the hallway. A young agent, whose name he couldn’t remember, was pacing back and forth in front of Martin’s door.
“How are we doing here?”
“Agent Sinclair.” The young man looked just about as jittery as Charlie after an all night rendezvous with the coffeepot. “Sir, you can’t go in there!”
“I can’t?”
“I mean agent Eppes is there. I think… they… I mean… or maybe they…” The agent’s rambling was getting faster and faster. Finally he had to stop to take a breath. “… I think they’re arguing about bureau regulation limits about using room service.”
“Listen, kid.” David placed a calming hand on the man’s shoulder and pulled him closer so they were face to face. “What was your name again?”
“Agent Frantz, sir.”
“Frankie, just take a deep breath and try to say what you’re trying to say. One sentence, no more than ten words.”
“They… agent Eppes…” Frantz was about to start another rambling binge, when a loud moan echoed through the door.
“So you meant that kind of room service.” David grinned. “Just stick your fingers in your ears and wait till they’re done.”
“But… that… they… Is this really how security is done in Los Angeles?” Frantz sounded absolutely horrified.
“How long have you been here, Frankie?”
“Two months, sir.”
“And where did you work before?”
“Anchorage field office, sir.”
“Well, in warmer climate we do things a little differently.”
Chapter 4