Author: dakFinv

Disclaimer: I don't own "Touching Evil" or any of the characters, but I do like to borrow them once in awhile for some non-reimbursed fun.

Author's Note: This is my first TE fanfic, so I hope it's somewhat good. Since there's only been four episodes (as of writing this story) I'm not sure if I have a complete feel for the characters yet, but I tried my best, so please forgive me if they feel a little out of character. This is also my own response to my fanfic challenge posted at the USA Touching Evil BBoard.

I have some other fics under "The Invisible Man" so you can check them out if you wish. Now on with the show!

" 'Creegan, what the hell are you doing?' That's what you might be asking yourselves, 'Creegan, what the hell are you doing?' But trust me, I know what I'm doing."

Detective David Creegan was pacing around the War Room at the OCS. Well, not so much pacing as he was doing pathetic cartwheels around the room.

His partner, Susan Branca, just shook her head and went back to reading "The Da Vinci Code". She was getting used to Creegan's antics, and was slowly realizing that they actually helped in solving cases.

"That gun shot must have left you psychic, too, Creegan, because that is exactly what I was thinking," remarked Charles Bernal, who wished to get as far away from Creegan as possible.

The problem was, he couldn't. No one was allowed to leave the OCS building. Earlier that day, a suspect, who was in their custody, developed flu-like symptoms and died an hour after his interrogation in one of the OCS holding cells.

The doctor on duty was unable to determine a cause of death, and after he alerted the CDC, the OCS was immediately closed off from the outside world.

The CDC informed them that, according to his symptoms, the suspect may have had a rare form of a SARS-type virus, and until the cause of death could be identified, and the OCS employees screened for illness, they all were stuck in the building.

"I don't like being cooped up in one place, knowing that I can't leave. I need to do something before I go crazy," replied Creegan.

"Too late," smirked Bernal.

Creegan stops mid-cartwheel behind Bernal's chair, and pulls it out from under him.


"Knock it off kids," Hank Enright said sternly, "Creegan, try, oh I don't know, drawing something. Bernal, ignore him. Jesus Christ, I feel like a kindergarten teacher."

"Captain, do you know when they're gonna let us out of here?" asked technician Jay Swopes.

"The last thing I heard from the CDC was that Pearson's cause of death was still 'undetermined,' and since they can't identify what he had, they don't know what to test us for, and they don't know how long it takes for symptoms to develop, so they don't know how long we'll be stuck here."

"They don't seem to know a lot," replied Creegan, who was now busily drawing something on the back of one of Bernal's case reports.

"I'm sure it can't be too much longer. It's been what, ten hours already?" asked Branca.

"Ten hours, thirty-four minutes, and," Creegan glances at his watch, "nineteen seconds. No, twenty seconds. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty...."

"We get it Creegan," interrupts Bernal. "Hey, isn't that my case report?"

"So, Susan, is that a good book?" Creegan asks, changing the subject.

"So far. I just started it."

"What is this?" Bernal shouts as he grabs the paper from Creegan's hands.

"I was using that."

"What the hell have you drawn on my report?!"

Swopes takes a look. "It looks like a monkey, wearing a name tag, that says...'Bernal'."

Bernal's face turns red and he practically leaps across the table to get at Creegan. Enright and Swopes grab him and hold him back as Creegan calmly takes another piece of paper and starts drawing a picture of a cat.

"Bernal. Calm down. Didn't I say to ignore him?"

"Yes, sir." Bernal fixes his shirt and sits back down in his chair. Swopes takes the drawing and takes a closer look.

"Creegan, what's this coming out of the monkey's...."

With that remark, Bernal jumps across the table and grabs onto Creegan before anyone can stop him. He pulls Creegan out of his chair and onto the ground. The two men wrestle for control and end up under the table. Branca and Swopes try to break them up, when the phone rings.

Everyone immediately freezes what they are doing.

Creegan and Bernal sit on the floor their hands around each other's throats. Branca has a hold of Creegan's arm, and Swopes has both his arms around Bernal's waist. All four stare at the ringing phone, their possible key to freedom.

"Quiet down everyone! This is probably the CDC." remarked Enright.

"Maybe it's the principal."

"Creegan." Enright answers the phone. "Enright....Yes....Uh-huh...."

As Enright continues his conversation, his four employees slowly pick themselves up off the floor and dust off their clothes.

Creegan starts to help Bernal brush the dirt off his shirt. Bernal brushes Creegan's hands away several times and finally manages to get him to leave him alone.

"Alright...Yes, we appreciate that very much. Thank you." Enright hangs up the phone, while the rest eagerly await the news.

"So?" asks Creegan.

"Jameson Pearson had a pre-existing heart condition that was triggered by the stress of the interrogation. He died, basically, of a heart attack. We're free to leave."

Branca, Bernal, and Swopes sigh and go to gather their belongings. Creegan just stands and stares at Enright.

"They held us in for ten hours, thirty-eight minutes and," he looks at his watch, "fifty-six seconds, because of a heart attack?"


"Okay, just checking." Creegan goes to grab his jacket and looks around for his drawing. "Hey, where's my monkey?"

Meanwhile, Bernal calmly exits the main doors of the OCS building, whistling as he crumples up a piece of paper in his pocket.

And the monkey was never seen again.