Rappaccini's Daughter - Found

[x-courier.livejournal.com]

Upon arriving in Vermont, Jake gets the phone call he's been dreading. He tries to run, but Wanda won't let him.



Upon their arrival in the hotel suite, Wanda had dropped her bags and declared that she was taking a shower, so after ordering room service Jake sprawled across the bed and started flipping through television channels. He'd just settled on some History Channel show on Bigfoot when his mobile phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and frowned; it was from a number he didn't recognize, or at least, hadn't added back into his contacts. Curious. He thumbed the answer key. "Hello."

"Jacob Gavin!" the voice on the other end answered, a little too excitedly. "Junior, I presume? Do you mind if I call you Junior? Of course you do, who in the hell actually goes by Junior these days except for rednecks with three teeth? Anyway, Jacob! How're you feeling?"

"...It's Jake, actually," he replied, caught off guard. He didn't bother keeping the curiosity out of his voice. "Who is this?"

"Just someone who knows you've been feeling a little... shorthanded... lately," the hyperactive, nasal man on the other end of the conversation said in a horrible attempt to deliver an ominous one-liner. The attempt was ruined by the self-effacing laughter that followed. "No, you're right, that sucked. Banter never sounds as cool in real life as it does in the movies. Jake, buddy, I'm the guy who's here to talk to you about that arm you misplaced a few months back."

Horrible though it was, the line still had the desired effect. He rolled off the bed and onto his feet and started to pace. "If you were trying to get my attention, you have it," he said, trying to keep his voice casual. "What do you know about my arm?"

"Jake, Jake, Jake..." the voice was petulant now, almost mocking. "Don't get all... what is it your people say? Meshuggah? That's it. Got your attention now? Of course I do, I've got what they call charisma, you know? It's a hit at parties. So now we're at the bargaining stage of our relationship, right? Where I tell you that my parents got divorced and that messed me up and you share about how you can't sleep without your pet binky bear, but we're not ready to fully commit to the leaving-a-toothbrush-over stage, am I right? I've got something you want, and you have all sorts of things that could be very very useful to the people I represent."

Jake smiled wryly despite himself. "Bargaining. My favorite stage," he said easily. "You know what I want. What can I do for you?"

"Grand Falls, Vermont. Not too far from where you're at. Kurtzberg and Lieber Furniture Warehouse. Been out of business for a few years, but I'm sure you can find it. Show up, unarmed - hah! I kill myself, I really do. Show on up, and I'll see if I can't give you a hand. Okay, that one wasn't even intentional, I'm giving it to you for free."

He ignored the puns in favor of the information the man had dropped--not too far from where you're at. Meaning someone was watching him more closely than he'd realized. "All you want is for me to show up," Jake said, raising an eyebrow. "No briefcase full of cash, no pilfered government documents, no weapons smuggled in from Latin America--just my pretty face? That's too easy. I'm almost disappointed." Or terrified, really, but that was beside the point.

"You won't be, Junior. Trust me, we're gonna be great buddies." The unidentified voice sounded rushed all of a sudden, as if something was distracting him. "Anyway, you got the place, just... just get here and then we'll talk. Okay? Okay, cool."

It was more than he'd had before, at least. "Do I at least get to know your name, buddy?"

"Yes. Your friends and contacts that you'll be on the phone with in forty-five seconds, however, don't. I'll introduce myself when you get here. Don't make me wait, Jake."

A click, and then a dial tone.

Jake's first thought was that at least he wouldn't have to pack anything; his second thought was that he only had one passport with him. He grabbed his laptop case and dropped it on the bed, booting up the computer and then rifling through the bag to see what else he had at his disposal, mentally working out the best route to escape.

Hands, wet and warm, grabbed him around the upper arms and gave him a strong shake. "Jake!" Wanda snapped, voice raising over the sound of the shower still running strong behind them. She'd heard the commotion of him throwing things around and had barely thrown a towel around herself before barreling out in the room, half-convinced that someone was attacking him.

Instead, she'd found him in the throes of a panic but one she recognized. His flight or, well, flight instincts had kicked in but good. She shook him once more for good measure before pressing him up against the wall, angling her body so that despite his frantic attempts to get away, he really couldn't. "Stop, Jake, just stop and calm down before I sit on you!"

He'd thrown his arms up in front of his face when she grabbed him, and the look he gave her was wide eyed and frantic. But at least he was focusing on her now, rather than just looking for an escape route. He blinked. In his panic, he'd forgotten where he was, why he was there, and most importantly, that Wanda was there with him.

And pressed up against him, wet, warm and mostly-naked, his guy brain oh-so-helpfully supplied.

He stared at her for a few seconds more, his brain locked up as it vacillated wildly back and forth between panic and lust until a more controlled panic won out. "Ulan Bator," he blurted out.

"I have no idea what that means," Wanda said slowly, easing her grip off of him as she took a tiny step back away from him. One hand remained on his arm while the other dropped to secure what was probably more of a hand towel than anything else. "What happened while I was in the shower?"

"It's in Mongolia," he said miserably, eyes dropping as she readjusted the towel. "I don't think they'll find me there." He let out a shuddery breath, then closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the wall. "I got a phone call from someone who says he has my arm. Or information on my arm. He knows I'm here, and he wants to meet me in some place called Grand Falls."

Her eyes narrowed sharply at that. "Sit," she said, leaving no room for argument. "And if you try to run, I will kick you in the head." Wanda sighed in frustration when she realized that all of her clothes were still packed as she'd headed straight into the shower; she improvised by simply stealing one of Jake's shirts that was peeking out from the bag he'd been tossing things in.

A moment later and the towel was wrapped securely around her waist as his shirt lay draped on top. "Are you going to run?" she asked simply, wringing out the water from her hair.

He buried his face in his hands, trying to avoid looking at what was barely being covered by the towel. "Yes? Except that you're going to kick me in the head, and then tell me a hundred reasons why I shouldn't, and even if I still manage to leave at that point, Remy's going to track me down and cut me into a hundred little pieces and goddammit, Wanda, they found me--" He rubbed one hand over his mouth to shut himself up, the other one flexing unconsciously.

The bed dipped as Wanda sat next to him and covered the one that was flexing with her own hand. Gently, she straightened out his fingers so she could slip hers in between his. They twitched under her hand but she held them firmly. "Well, more like I would simply go there in your place," she responded blandly. She knew Jake's typical reaction was to run but she knew he would hate to see her place herself in danger because of him.

Tough for him, she supposed, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. It was simply something she did.

If it had been anyone else, he would have flinched violently away from her touch. Instead, after a moment's hesitation, he clung tightly to her hand. "You can't," he said simply. "They want me. They'll figure out pretty quickly that you can't shift. And--" He shook his head, clearly frustrated. "I don't think I can take them cutting me up any more," he said, unable to keep his voice from wavering.

"All right, then you don't run." Wanda smiled at him, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "It is not as hard as it might sound, Jake, I promise. It is not like you will be going alone." Already she was prioritizing her schedule - she had come for a conference, true, but not one she was speaking at. All she had to do was register and no one would know she hadn't attended the sessions. Easy.

He sighed, a sound of pure misery. "I have to. Just like the movies--abandoned warehouse, come alone, unarmed--pun very intended," he said darkly. He covered his eyes with his free hand, trying to think, but it was hard to concentrate over the urge to flee the country.

Wanda shook her head hard, once, spraying him with a small shower. "You are not going in alone." Nothing could have moved the resolve in her voice, not him, not anyone. Before he could try, because she just knew he would, Wanda held up her free hand. "Listen to me. You go in with no back up and there's a good chance the trap, because I am putting easy money on that it is one, will grab you. I'll watch from a safe distance - give me a pair of binoculars and time to concentrate and I can still be of use."

The fingers she held in her hand twitched at the word 'trap.' "I hear the Mongolian steppes are lovely this time of year?" he tried, glancing at her hopefully.

"They're soggy from winter," she rebutted, leaning into his shoulder.

He sighed again, resting his head against her wet one. "You spoil all my fun." They were silent for a moment before he spoke again. "Do you want to call Remy or should I?"

"Oh I'll let you do it - ruining your fun is a favored past time of mine, you know."

Jake pouted. "I know. First you don't let me run away, then you make me call Remy...I totally hate you."