Crime Watch: A Full Circle Story Author: Suzanne Moore Email: suzanne.moore8@verizon.net Rating: PG-17 (severe Nick angst) Summary: A late night at LSP lands Nick in a different kind trouble. Author's Notes: Thanks to Shirley and Bar for the fabulous Nicfic discussion session at the Omni William Penn's Tavern. It's a great place to kick back, have a few drinks, and discuss Nick Fallin for hours on end. I also tip my cowgirl hat to Linda Wilson, expert beta-reader, who will someday cheer when I finally learn the difference between "laying" and "lying". ~*~ "So how much will you give me for all this stuff?" the teenaged boy asked the clerk behind the sleazy pawn shop counter. "How do I know it's yours?" The man suspiciously eyed the cell phone, the leather binder, the silver pen, and several other personal items. "You could have stolen all of this." The boy rattled his car keys and glanced at the silver BMW parked just outside the door. "Let's hurry it up, dude. Is it yes or no? You gonna buy this stuff or not?" The man huffed, and named his price. Then he filled out a pawn ticket and pulled a handful of bills from the register. The punk agreed greedily, tilting his lips into a slow, wide grin. His reptilian eyes watched the clerk count out a stack of twenties and fifties. "Thanks, man. Maybe we can do business again sometime." He slipped the money and pawn ticket in his jeans and quickly left. ~*~ Nick opened his eyes and found himself lying face down in a pool of blood. As he pushed himself to a sitting position, he realized how much his head hurt. His hands hurt, too. He rose to a standing position and discovered that he was not wearing shoes. Or his overcoat, for that matter. Or a jacket. His shirt and pants were in shreds, and his tie was gone. The cuffs of his shirt hung open, the cuff links now missing. He didn't understand why there was so much blood on his left cuff. He felt weak and couldn't think straight. Nick couldn't remember what had happened to him. He couldn't remember where he was. And he couldn't remember who he was. Shivering now, he found himself very much alone in a dark and empty parking lot. Nick glanced at the sign on the nearest building. `Legal Services of Pittsburgh.' It meant nothing to the young man. Did he work there or was he just visiting? Was he there because he needed some type of legal help? He noticed a bridge across the street. A ghost of a memory danced through his mind, something about talking to a dark-haired woman there. He remembered that she had laughed, but he couldn't remember why. He walked toward the bridge, hoping it would somehow jog his mind, hoping somehow he could find what he'd lost. Although it was late, there was always traffic in downtown Pittsburgh. Nick was completely unaware that he was wandering down the middle of the street. Cars honked and people yelled at him to get out of the way, but he walked doggedly onto the bridge, hoping that he would awaken his sleeping memory. "Hey, you! Get out of the street." A police officer stopped his patrol car directly behind Nick, the car's blue lights flashing eerie shadows across the night. "Stop right there!" Nick didn't respond verbally, but he did stop walking. He turned and glanced at the officer with a pale, blank expression. The officer quickly noticed the blood covering Nick's face and shirt. "Say, buddy, are you all right?" He felt so cold, so tired, so confused. Nick knew he needed someone to help him, someone to help him look for -- what? But he didn't know how to explain his predicament, and he was at a loss for words as the policeman approached. "Are you drunk? On drugs?" Officer Jenkins was carrying something, but the headlights on the patrol car made it hard for Nick to see. He squinted, trying to focus on the police officer. "Watch -- " he began. "Watch you do what? Get yourself killed?" Jenkins wrapped a blanket around Nick's shoulders and led him to the back seat of the patrol car. He soon discovered that Nick had no ID and was unable to identify himself. As Jenkins called for an ambulance, Nick's eyes fluttered. Exhaustion and shock overtook him. He lost consciousness before the officer could ask another question. ~*~ "Mr. Fallin? A police officer is in the lobby. Something about Nick's car. . ." Gretchen glanced over her shoulder at the tall man waiting patiently by her desk. "His car? Why doesn't he just talk to Nicholas?" "Because he hasn't come in yet." Grumbling something about his son and LSP, Burton Fallin asked Gretchen to show the officer into his office. After pleasantries had been exchanged, Burton began. "My son's not in the office at the moment. What's the problem? Something about his car?" "We arrested two young punks last night who were in possession of a silver BMW leased to your firm. One of them was found with a wad of money, a pawn ticket, and Nicholas Fallin's driver's license and credit cards. We stopped the kids for reckless driving in the Fort Pitt tunnel." Burton Fallin quickly jumped to his feet. "Where's Nicholas? Where's my son?" "I thought you might know. I need to talk with him. These punks insist they are not car thieves, that your son gave them the car. Do you know anything about that?" "That's utterly ridiculous and you know it," Burton glowered as he pressed the intercom. "Gretchen, will you see if you can track Nicholas down for me, please?" He paced, a worried father anxiously awaiting an assuring phone call from his son. Burton didn't get one. Instead, the elder Fallin got a phone call from Allegheny General. A John Doe who had been admitted to the hospital last night had just been identified as Nicholas Fallin. ~*~ The day clerk sifted through the items sold to Uncle Sam's Pawn Shop overnight. He admired the silver cuff links, each monogrammed with a scrolled F. But his eyes popped wide when he picked up the Rolex. He read the inscription on the back and wondered how someone could part with something so personal. He shrugged and placed the swanky watch in the display window, knowing full well that it would be sold by the end of the day. ~*~ "He has a concussion, multiple cuts on his hands, and a deep laceration on his left arm near the wrist," the young doctor said to Burton Fallin. "He's a lucky man. Your son lost a lot of blood and could have easily bled to death." Burton ran his hand across the top of his head. "What happened? Did he tell you?" "No. He was disoriented when he was brought in last night. " "Disoriented? God! When can I see him?" "In just a few minutes. I'll send for you when I'm done." The doctor excused himself and bustled into Nick's room. Burton grimaced, wondering what on earth had happened. From what he'd been able to piece together so far, Nick had been found at 1:00 A.M., bloodied and confused, wandering on the Seventh Street Bridge. According to Alvin, Nick had stayed late at LSP, working on one of the many cases that took up so much of his time. Burton cringed, imagining the thugs attacking and robbing his son and then stealing his car. Nick's valuables. Would he be able to recover them all? Burton doubted it. He wondered what items had been stolen. Nick's cell phone, of course. All of his cash and credit cards. What else? His thoughts were interrupted when a nurse came around the corner. Nick was still sleeping, but if Burton wanted, he could sit quietly with his son. ~*~ Burton Fallin entered the hospital room, anxious to see Nick for himself. He eased himself into the vinyl visitor's chair and studied his sleeping son's face. Nick's left temple was scraped and swollen. A dark purple bruise spread into his hair line where the stitches began. Dried blood matted his reddish-blonde curls. Nick rolled to his side and groaned softly. His face contorted into a mask of horror as he mumbled one word. "Watch. . ." Burton furrowed his brow. What was Nick trying to say? Watch out? Watch me? Don't watch? Burton's eyes left his son's face momentarily and refocused on the heavy bandaging around Nick's left wrist. He wondered how deep the laceration was and why his boy had been cut so viciously there. The elder Fallin's stomach suddenly sank through the floor. Nick always wore his watch on his left wrist. The same watch that he'd given Nick last year when they'd stopped in front of the house on Parker Street. The watch was a Rolex. The watch screamed `steal me'. Burton Fallin slipped out of the room quickly and quietly. He had some things to do. And tracking down that watch was the first thing on his agenda. ~*~ Nick felt someone lingering in the room. He slowly drifted awake and cracked open his eyes. "Dad," he said with a grimace. His head still hurt -- a lot. So did his hands, especially his left wrist. He held up his bandaged arm and a look of confusion crossed his face. "Son," Burton answered gently, "you're in the hospital. How are you feeling?" He wished he could pat Nick on the shoulder, but held himself in check. He knew his son did not welcome physical demonstrations of affection from him. So he just leaned forward in the visitor's chair and rested his elbows on his knees. "How long have I been here?" "You were brought in last night, and you've slept all day." Burton paused for a moment before continuing. "Do you remember what happened, Nicholas?" "Some," Nick replied quietly, "but not all." His memories were returning, flooding his aching head. He remembered who he was and why he was at LSP. But there were still gaping holes in his memory, including much of last night's attack. "What do you remember?" Nick continued to stare at his hand. "One of them had a knife," he said with no emotion in his voice. "I pushed him away. He cut my hands." He broke into a sweat and his coloring paled. "Then he sliced my wrist," he whispered. Burton quickly changed the subject, realizing that this conversation was too much for his son to handle at the moment. He stayed a few more minutes, encouraged Nick to get some more rest, and promised he would return in the morning. ~*~ "What time will you retrieve the items at the pawn shop?" Burton was on the phone to the police again the next morning, tracking down Nick's stolen items. Satisfied with the answer he'd gotten, he cancelled the rest of his appointments for the day and left for the hospital. Nick was sitting up and picking at a bagel when Burton arrived. He looked better, although the bruise on his temple looked darker. His coloring was back in his cheeks and he looked more rested, more like himself. He would be going home later in the day. "The police want to question you," Burton said. "You feel up to that?" "Sure, but there's a lot I still don't remember. The doctor said I might not remember everything that happened." The two men talked business the rest of the morning. Just before lunch, Officer Jenkins entered Nick's room with a spring in his step. After taking Nick's statement, he handed the young man an evidence bag. "I think you lost this." Nick looked inside the bag, his eyes zeroing in on the Rolex. He caught his breath. "My watch." "Of course, we'll have to keep it for now - it's evidence. But don't worry, it will be safe," Jenkins said with a grin. Nick nodded, his face revealing what he was unable to verbalize. The overwhelming anxiety he'd felt had been removed, and he was suddenly exhausted. Burton eyed his son, aware of Nick's unspoken relief. He offered to buy Jenkins lunch. The two men hastily excused themselves, leaving Nick alone to rest. Glad to finally be alone, Nick's thoughts drifted. He'd fought like crazy not to have his watch stolen, and had almost bled to death because of it. But that watch was a connection to an earlier time when his family had been intact and his parents had seemed to love each other. That watch was one of the few tangible connections to his mother that Nick Fallin had. That watch was something he wanted -- no, needed -- to hang on to. Nick closed his eyes and fell asleep, relieved. ~*~ Because of the robbery, a security company would be hired to patrol the LSP parking lot after hours. The name of the company, Crime Watch, would always make Nick cringe. For him, the words "crime" and "watch" would mean something very different. The scar on his wrist would fade in time. It would be masked with cuffed shirts, jacket sleeves, and a certain watch. A watch that Nick Fallin would hold very close to his heart the rest of his life. ~Fin~