Last Seen Alive

Chapter Twenty-Three

Something was wrong.

Michael sensed it before the commotion that broke out behind him. He turned to his right where he'd last seen Kelsey to urge her to move faster so they could get out of the crowded prison lobby before they got caught in the middle of whatever was happening, but she wasn't there.

And instinctively he knew. Whatever was going on with the crowd of prisoners that the prison guards were struggling to control involved Kelsey.

He strode forward with purpose, pushing down the dread that was clawing its way across his chest. Had one of the prisoners attacked her? Or had she simply lost her way?

The first thing he saw when he pushed through the circle of prisoners making the most commotion was Claire. Seeing her was so unexpected it stopped him in his tracks, fuddling his brain for a moment.

A lot of questions came to his mind and he had to shake them off and remind himself that he was supposed to be looking for Kelsey, not dwelling on Claire. And then the pieces of the puzzle clicked together.

Kelsey was missing and Claire, the murderer who had kidnapped and tortured her 2 years ago, was standing in the exact spot she was in a few minutes ago.

As if she felt his searing gaze on her, Claire looked up at him.

"I didn't even touch her," she said, lifting her hands and backing away a bit.

Confused, Michael pushed past the prison guard standing between him and Claire and met with a sight that almost tore him apart.

Kelsey was on her knees on the floor, gasping for breath and clutching her throat. Her eyes were trained unwaveringly on Claire and she had a tortured expression on her face, like she wanted to look away but she couldn't find the strength to do it.

Michael strode forward and knelt in front of her, but she didn't even notice him. This wasn't her usual case of nerves, which usually resulted in her talking non-stop, he realised. This was a full-blown panic attack.

Since he'd never witnessed her panic attacks, he wasn't sure how to help her. His first instinct was to pick her up and take her away from there immediately, but he wasn't sure how she'd react to a stranger's touch in the midst of panic.

Pushing away the stinging sensation of thinking of himself as a stranger to her, he thought of calling Natasha to ask if she knew what he should do. The crowd pressed in closer and Kelsey's breath grew fainter. He didn't have time for a call; he had to figure out what to do himself.

He shuffled a little closer to her, blocking her view of Claire behind him. "There you are," he said, gently. "You scared me for a second, Harris. I thought I'd lost you."

She didn't move or say anything or respond in any way, so he wasn't sure if she heard him but he went on anyway. From what he knew of a panic attack, the person having it felt a loss of control and distance from their surroundings, so had to find a way to make her conscious of where she was and give her back control.

"The ground is really hard and cold," he told her, "If we stay down here too long, we might just turn to stone. I don't think I'd look that great as a gargoyle, do you?"

She didn't reply, but he hadn't expected her to just yet anyway.

"You, on the other hand, would look great as a gargoyle. Although, it'll be a shame about your hair. It looks and smells amazing." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "Every time I take a deep breath around you, it feels like I'm sniffing a fruit basket. Can you smell it too?"

She took a small sniff, much to Michael's delight. That little action showed he was finally getting through to her. When she sniffed a second time, her eyes focused on him and her shoulders relaxed too.