Fic: Escape 2009 5/9

[ellery]

Title: Escape 2009
Author: Lancer Redux
Rating: For mature readers
Word Count: around 2,300
Warnings/Spoilers: Modern AU.
Disclaimer: Nope, don’t own Lancer.
Summary: Continuation of the Modern Lancer series. Men arrive at Lancer seeking revenge, blaming Scott for an Army mission gone wrong.

Part Five

Scott checked the altimeter…just a few more feet. He cut the engines and they started to free fall, the blades catching in the downdraft. Arellano panicked and clawed at his shoulder harness, slapping at Scott and the controls. Anything he could reach.

 

Suddenly, everything around Scott began to spin. His ribs dug deeper into his lungs. He couldn’t breathe anymore. Not now…not now. He pulled at the cyclic forcing the ‘copter into a roll.

 

He felt his body floating. The pain was gone. So this is what it feels like to die. Soothing grey flitted across his vision then a soft white. High above Arellano’s screams to his God, he felt sorry for Ramirez…this landing wasn’t going to be soft. 

Scott woke with his heart pounding in his chest and a yell locked in his throat.  

“You back here?” 

Again, there was that disconcerting shift in time and place. He knew the voice, but it didn’t belong, only it did. Joe Bell. He lived near Lancer and Scott was in his house. Honduras was a few years ago and many miles away. If only distance would make the memories disappear.  

Scott raised a shaky hand to wipe the trickle of sweat working down his temple. “I’m back.” 

“You ever talk to a shrink about those dreams?” Bell stood by the fireplace coffee cup in hand. That one eyebrow went up again at Scott’s look. “Went well?” 

“Much like yours must have.” 

Bell looked down in his coffee, chuckling.  

Scott turned to his side and sat up. Didn’t enjoy the process. “I should go.” 

“Would be best to get you to a doc so they can have a look at you.” Bell set his cup on the nearby table. “On that stand there’s a clean shirt for you. Figure it will fit.” 

Scott laid his hand on the soft Henley. “Thank you.”  

Bell gave a nod and stepped out the door while Scott worked his uncoordinated way through dressing and was more than grateful Bell hadn’t removed his jeans. The shirt was enough. Restless, he wanted to move and shake the remnants of the dream loose. 

Hand on the wall, he rose to his feet and waited for his head to become used to the idea. Took longer than he would’ve liked, but his mind was as clear as it was going to get when Bell returned. 

“You good to walk?”  

“Close enough.” Scott took a step and the rest of his body followed. It was a good start. 

“Truck’s outside.” 

~#~#~#~ 

Under normal circumstances the drive to Morro Coyo was a quick trip. 

Johnny loosened his grip on the steering wheel when he realized it had become so tight his hands were aching. Stretching his fingers out he took a deep breath and let it out slow, wishing he’d never heard of Sarah or the story she shared with them.  

Didn’t make sense with what he knew of Scott, and he realized that deep down he didn’t believe it. Maybe not even that deep. Maybe he didn’t want to believe it. Not quite sure which it was, but that could be worked out later. Right now he’d be happy to find Scott and hear him tell his side. If he was willing. Johnny had things in his own past that he wasn’t all that ready to share. What he did know of Scott, he’d bet that his brother wouldn’t be all that eager for show and tell. 

Right now, with no luck in locating Scott, he decided to go into town and do some research. Research he thought it best to do away from Lancer and without the chance of Teresa overhearing. She was as tough as they come, but Johnny wasn’t interested in seeing how tough.

~#~#~#~ 

Scott concentrated on not yelling as the truck made its way down the so-called driveway that was more a two-lane rutted nightmare. The pain meds were wearing off and right now he missed them with a fierceness that matched the fire in his shoulder. They turned onto asphalt and Scott sagged into the seat with relief. Every little bump was still felt, but at least this was manageable. 

Bell wasn’t the chatty sort and he concentrated on his driving while Scott concentrated on staying upright until he saw the “Morro Coyo ten miles” sign.   

“I need you to take me to the Sandpiper.” The words were out before he had put any real thought into it, but once said, it was the only course he was willing to take.  

“Didn’t think you were suicidal.”  

Scott half-smiled at the dry comment. “I’m not, but I don’t think this can wait. I go to the hospital and they’ll keep me there. I can’t stay.” 

“Yeah, well, I can see the medical professions point in this case.”  

“I’ll just check myself out AMA, but I’d just as soon not waste the time.” 

Bell glanced Scott’s way. “If nothing else, they could get some more pain meds into you.” 

“Did I deplete your stash?” 

“Can always get my hands on more.” 

“Don’t think I want to know.”  

“Don’t think you need to know.” Bell sighed. “Lancer, I’ve got a lot of respect for your father, and I hate what he might be going through right now.” 

Damn. 

Scott had avoided thinking about his family since he believed Teresa was safe. He couldn’t afford it, but now it was up front and center and it didn’t sit easy with him. 

“I need to see if I can end this before my family becomes involved.” 

“Who’s to say they’re not?” Bell frowned at the road. “They gotta know you’re missing by this time.”

“Probably, but as long as they’re out of it – ” 

“Did they come for you at your house?” Bell’s tone was hard with a coldness that shocked Scott into silence. “Did they?” 

“Yes.” 

“That little Teresa, was she there?”  

“She didn’t see them.” 

“But they saw her.” 

Scott’s silence said it all and he cursed Bell’s perceptiveness. A couple of miles passed before Bell spoke again.  

“I’ll drop you at the motel.” 

“Thank you.” 

Bell glanced at him and then shook his head. Scott didn’t bother working Bell out. That was for another day when there wasn’t so much riding on this one.

~#~#~#~ 

His weak leg threatened to give out beneath him, and it was with relief that Dan opened the door to their motel room.  

“We haven’t found him, yet. Jed Lewis is still looking. I'm beat, I'm gonna lie down for a little while.” He took a step towards the bed and stopped when he saw her open suitcase, half-packed. “What do you think you're doing?” 

Sarah sat at the small desk, a pen clutched in her hand. “I'm leaving, I’m going home. I---I was just writing you.” 

He looked down at the motel stationary with a few lines in Sarah’s flowing hand starting with ‘Dear Dan’. “You were writing me? After ten years of marriage, you were leaving me a note?”

Sarah stood, shaking her head. “I'm sorry. I just can't stay here and watch you do this.”

“Oh no, no, you can't use my love for you to twist my arm.” He closed the small distance between them. “You're a strong woman, Sarah, but not that strong.” 

“Twist your-” The consternation that crossed her face was replaced by dismay. “I don't understand you anymore, Dan. You’ve changed. Ever since Honduras.”  

“Scott Lancer left us to die in that jungle. That is the cause.” The anger of Lancer’s betrayal hadn’t waned since the day they parted in Honduras.  

“Scott is the cause for all of this? Do you even hear yourself?” She flung her arms out to the side. “Take a good look around Dan; it’s only you and me here.”

 “You weren’t there, Sarah. How can you understand what it was like to watch Jack Lewis die in his brother’s arms? Jack fought every step of the way, but it was too late for him and now Scott knows how it feels to hurt, to bleed.” Dan couldn’t maintain his anger at the look of resignation in her face. He turned towards the window his damaged leg almost giving out beneath him.

“How can I forget what happened when I am reminded of it everyday?”

Dan leaned against the sill and rubbed at the ache in his thigh. He was so tired. Sarah came to him her soft hand covering his on his leg. “I’m not asking you to forget what happened. But to see that there is no one to blame for any of it. Except for what you are doing now.

“What?” He couldn’t have heard that. Not from Sarah.

“What you are doing now is wrong and this time the blame is yours or Jed Lewis.” Her hand tightened over his. “You came back so sick and wounded from that mission and I was so frightened that I would lose you that I accepted that it was your hate for Scott Lancer that fueled your recovery, not any love for me. For us. But it didn’t matter, because you survived and I thought that was all that mattered. But I was wrong. You’re still sick, and still angry. Maybe in time it would’ve become different, but Jed is using your hatred, fueling it and you’ve allowed that to destroy the man I once loved.” 

Once loved? 

Dan heard her gasp, knew his hand clamped around her wrist yanking it up. In some dim part of the red haze that swept over him he was aware that he had shoved her against the wall and her voice calling out to him. Telling him to let her go, that she was hurting her. He felt her twisting against him, fighting, felt her fear. 

God. 

“Let me go!”  

His Sarah, blue-eyes wide, staring at him like he was a stranger and maybe that wasn’t so far from the truth. He released her and stepped back, attempting to catch his breath, to speak, but it came out a weak whisper. “Sarah, I’m so sorry.”  

She shoved him back further and edged away from him. “Stay away from me.” 

Dan pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and backed away to the bed, sitting down. “I won’t touch you again.” 

“No you won’t.” Now with some space between them, the shock on her face morphed into disappointment. “Is Lancer responsible for this too?” 

Was Scott Lancer responsible? No, there was no excuse for what he had done to Sarah.  

“What would you have me do?” 

A small fleeting hope crossed Sarah’s face. “Come with me now.  We’ll find someone to help, someone you can talk to.” 

Fear swamped him. Memories of broken minds and bodies slumped in wheelchairs. “A VA hospital? Where they’ll lock me up with the rest of the loonies?” 

Sarah looked horrified. “No! It won't be like that. There are plenty of other places. We need to move on to something better.” 

But three years he had waited, searched, planned. “Not until this is finished.” 

“Dan…”

He rose to his feet. “Nobody's going anywhere, not until this thing is done.”

She flinched, but in his anger he couldn’t care. Sarah backed away. “You're wrong, Dan. I'm leaving just as soon as I can get a rental and there's nothing in the world you can do to stop me.”

He hesitated, searched her face, and saw resolve that matched his own. “Fine, go…and the hell with you!”  

Sarah just shook her head, took up the motel key and left the room, leaving Dan in his dying fury. 

Scott Lancer had to be dealt with. Sarah didn’t understand. Only Jed did, he had been there, watched his brother die. Yes, this was their right.  

~#~#~#~  

“He couldn’t have done it, not what that woman said.” 

Murdoch rattled around in his desk.  

“We both know that, we’ll find him, everything will be all right.” 

He yanked open a drawer and pulled out the missing map.  

“Everything’s gonna work out.” 

Map spread out, Murdoch searched for the grid coordinates. 

“Whatever you believe, he didn’t do it.” 

His hand stilled on top of the map. What did he believe? Just what the Pinkerton’s reported. That Scott had finished college then did something Murdoch was sure Harlan had apoplexy over—he joined the military. The investigators hadn’t been able to find out much about Scott’s service record; aside from his rank on discharge and occupation. His boy was a helicopter pilot, with a tour in Iraq. A spurt of pride burbled up. “I’d like to think that no son of mine could do a thing like that…” 

“But, Murdoch, you aren’t sure?” 

“Let’s sit down, Teresa.” He rose and started to take her arm, but she shook him away and stepped back. 

“But you know him now. You’ve seen how he acts.” 

“I don’t know my son.” The words, blurted out, contained a healthy portion of pent-up frustration.  

Scott had won over Cipriano and that was no small feat. He was also attentive and hard-working. But all those things just told Murdoch what his son did, not how he measured up in life. “Maybe he was a different man back then. Sometimes, given the situation, when a man is pushed hard enough and there’s no other way out…”  

 “What?” 

“He has to make a decision…” 

 “No! I don’t believe that, and neither should you.” 

“It’s a possibility.” 

“But…well, what’s gonna happen if it’s true?” Hugging her arms, she turned away. “I don’t want to him to go away, Murdoch.” 

So Scott had another supporter in Teresa, and if he had to put money on it, he’d lay odds that Johnny would be in Scott’s camp along with her.

He contemplated Teresa’s rigid posture near the fireplace, feeling an overwhelming sense of loss. “One bridge at a time, honey. We need to find him first and hear what he has to say.”

Part Six