Chapter Text
"What the hell do you mean, 'he was stabbed'?" Roger channeled his frustration into the words. He had only enough time to drop Molly and Ben at their home before he heard the news.
"No! Put two men on his door and keep me updated. I'm on my way there now!" He wasn't sure where to direct his fury, meaning everyone in his direct vicinity would obtain an equal helping.
He decided that keeping Molly and Trish out of the loop, for now, would be a mercy. The news would be the last thing they needed.
The speedometer spiked as he charged back to the hospital. Unsuspecting drivers scattered to avoid the champagne blur of the speeding ford.
Roger tore into the nearest parking spot and made his way hastily to Riggs' room, the bustle of patient and staff growing as he neared his quarry.
He hit the wall of activity before he made it to the door. Uniforms meandered the hallway and nurses silently scuttled past them. A short and stocky man stood in handcuffs, getting a quick once-over by the nurse. The wiry redhead's eyes were glazed in concussion as his pupils lagged to catch up to the light he was tracking. His face bared the marks of a scuffle with a mac truck...or Martin Riggs.
"I need to talk to him." Roger's tone was laced in ice.
"I have to check him out first." The nurse wagged the flashlight in Roger's direction, clearly frustrated at the interruption.
"He attempted to kill a detective currently under the care of your staff." The statement fell flatly from his lips. He was in no mood for pleasantries.
The nurse took a few hesitant steps back.
"Who sent you?"
Silence.
Roger clasped the collar of his partner's attacker and shoved him hard against the wall. The man's head jerked violently against the unforgiving surface.
"I said, who sent you?"
The nurse stepped in, forcing his arm between Roger and the redhead. The action forced a sly grin to form on the face of the aspiring assassin.
Roger jerked his hand back and pushed past his partner's attacker. The officer charged with booking the suspect firmly gripped redhead's bicep and tugged him back to his seat. He offered Roger a nod, letting him know he had the situation under control before giving his full attention to the task at hand.
Roger reached the room Riggs had occupied only hours before, his eyes instantly drawn to the newly formed crimson staining the tile. He had become too familiar with the color over the past few days and couldn't help but feel just as responsible for this pool of liquid as he did for the red stained grass at the graveyard. He shot one last threatening glare to the man responsible before leaving the officers to log the crime scene.
He stalked to the new location of his partner, finding Cahill leaning against the wall just outside. His anger and frustration mounted and crushed what little calm he had managed to maintain.
"He alright?" He needed to know what he was up against before he faced his partner again.
The look across Cahill's face assured that Riggs was alert enough to hear them.
"Emotionally or physically?" She spoke in quiet tones, answering his question with another query in her calm, shrink like manner.
"Is he more broken than when I left him?" Two could play at that game.
"He's downplaying his pain, physical and otherwise."
"So nothing new then." Roger regretted his line of questioning at the response. The subtle shake of Cahill's hands didn't go unnoticed, stumbling into the aftermath of the attack had rocked her. "How are you doing, Doc?" His tone softened as he raised a hand to the doctor's shoulder.
"Just worried about him."
"I know the feeling. You don't have to stay."
"I want to. I'm okay, Roger." The subdued reply seemed to be an attempt to persuade herself as well as him.
Roger squeezed Cahill's shoulder before making his way to the door. Two officers stood dutifully at the entrance. Roger could hear another taking Rigg's statement before he reached the door.
"The evil leprechaun tried to stab me, so I broke his face."
"And that's your official statement?" The officer didn't seem to be amused.
"Yup!" Riggs grinned.
"It's consistent with most of his other reports." Roger entered the room, forcing a smile to accompany his words.
"Oh hey, Rog! Long time no see. I was just about to call you. Trish and Molly okay?"
The dumbstruck officer made his way silently to the door, pausing for a moment before deciding it best not to push the matter any further.
Roger moved aside to let him leave. He tried to ignore the thick wrapping of crisp bandages covering the length of Riggs' forearm and the additional material that lay obscured under his hospital gown. He had gotten a summary of the man's new injuries over the phone. The deep tear in his right forearm would make it difficult for the man to use his right hand for the next few weeks and the shallow abrasion to his side was just another addition to the growing collage of scars he seemed to be collecting. Roger wished Riggs would collect coins or stamps instead.
"Yeah, I just dropped Molly and Ben off at her place."
"Okay great! I need you to go pick them up and tell the tools at my door to skedaddle. They won't listen to me and I used some real persuasive language."
"What the hell are you talking about? Did I press the morphine button too many times? Someone is out to kill you, Riggs."
"And if we make it difficult, then they will find some other way to get to me. How do you think they will do that huh, Rog?"
"They go after the ones they can."
"Exactly." Riggs made to stand, the wires attached to his skin tugging at the motion. Roger placed his hand on his partner's shoulder and pushed him back into bed.
"Will you lay back down! What you gonna do, flash the bad guys into submission?"
Riggs tilted his head in contemplation, seemingly considering the insane suggestion.
"If that's what it takes."
"You are in no condition to…"
"Roger, please?" The desperation of the plea cut him off. "I know my dad. He's the one behind this. I'm certain of it. He won't stop until he gets what he wants."
And how far will you go to stop him? Roger didn't want to know the answer. His hand remained on Riggs' shoulder, holding him in place. When he made no attempt to release his grasp, Riggs' facade slipped. The concern was visible in his taut shoulders. The dark within his irises glistened in raw vulnerability, forcing Roger to break his gaze.
"I will get some uniforms to pick up Molly and Ben."
"Not good enough. You go or I do." The finality in Riggs' tone was unsettling.
Roger fought with the need to stay by his partner's side. He wouldn't be responsible for another attempt on his life.
"Okay, but the detail stays." Roger waited for confirmation before taking any steps to leave.
A subtle nod was the only signal that Riggs had heard him.
He made for the door.
"And I want my gun!" Riggs called after him.
***************************************
Nathan stood in the yard, the sun assaulting his senses and forcing his aching head into overdrive. He submitted to the midday heat and found relief in the relative shade of a nearby guard tower. He loathed the weakness afforded him by his eldest son. The slowly healing laceration across his scalp and the constant need to keep the boy in line reminded him of his failures.
He had sacrificed everything to mold his sons into men. In return, he had received only disappointment. Martin cowered and ran from him, choosing to stand in his father's way over joining his own flesh and blood. That boy was as weak as his mother. Garrett's good intentions turned to hassle over his inability to use his damn head. He cursed the stupid boy for botching the attempt on Martin's life. He was certain that Garrett had acted on unchecked emotion, a misguided attempt to right the most recent in a long line of wrongs.
Now, he was forced to rely on others to take care of family business. He had hoped that Sheppard would have taken the job. Nathan would have loved to see the look on his son's face when the man he had saved more than once put a bullet in him. He was perfect for the job. Nathan doubted Martin would pull the trigger, even in self-preservation. Sheppard wouldn't hesitate to take out the man responsible for his dishonorable discharge and his place along the dark path he now lingered upon. At least, that's what Nathan had thought.
The heat beat unrelentingly into the dirt as he waited. His influence had allotted him time in the yard, despite his misdoings. The knowledge of which guard to bribe and what item each prisoner coveted was a precious commodity in a place where all you had was time.
The familiar square face of one of the guards made his way over to Nathan's shady corner.
"Hey, you there. I heard you gave some detectives a hard time while on parole!"
He fully expected the punch that carved into his gut.
"Bull's man failed. It won't be easy to get to him now." The burly guard whispered between taunts. "Maybe this will make you rethink your situation!" This time he bellowed the words for the yard to hear.
Nathan's fury was tempered only by the lack of air in his lungs. He remained doubled over as the guard grabbed a fistful of his hair.
"I don't care what it takes. We go after that perfect little family of his. The kid, the woman, even his partner. If we can't get to him, we get him to come to us." The hushed response scattered between each labored breath as the guard dealt him another blow to the abdomen. Nathan suspected he was enjoying the exchange a little too much.
He grasped ahold of the guard's sleeve, a signal that he had not yet finished his message.
"I want Garrett to be the one to do it. Don't send him alone, but make sure he fixes his mess." The quiet demand was punctuated with a swift shove into the dirt. Nathan landed hard and felt the rocky grains cut into his palms.
"Be on your best behavior from now on, inmate!" The guard stalked away from him with the last taunt.
The exchange went mostly ignored by guards and inmates alike. The flaws in the system a convenient cover for the less than honest dealings of those on both sides.
Nathan settled into the dirt and leaned his weight against the fence. The warm metal sat uncomfortably against his already hot back. He allowed himself a smile in the satisfaction of Martin's predicament. His eldest son's care for others had always been his weakness and now it would lead to his end.