"My eyes are green, 'Cause I eat a lot of vegetables,
It don't have nothing to do with your new friend"
― Erykah Badu
"Mitchell."
"Detective," the voice on the phone said, "there's someone here to see you."
Wes blinked. No one ever came to visit him, at least, not in an unofficial capacity. Anyone coming for official reasons would have been allowed through after showing their credentials. That meant whoever was waiting out front was either here for a social call – something he was not in the mood for – or just wasn't smart enough to lie. "Who is it?"
He heard the muffled noise as she moved the phone away from her mouth to ask just that. "He says he's from the law offices of McClellan, Dowd, and Pike and that the name should mean something to you."
It did mean something to him – mostly it meant failure and disappointment, but at one time it had also meant pride and success. He briefly glanced at Travis' desk. Seeing it was still empty, he sighed. "Send him through, Julie."
"You've got it."
Wes was thankful Travis hadn't yet returned from whatever harebrained errand he had set off on. He wasn't sure what this peon from the old firm wanted, but he was certain he didn't want Marks privy to the conversation.
"Wesley Mitchell?" The query came from near the entrance to the Robbery-Homicide Division.
"Over there," was the response. "Blond. Wearing a fancy suit. Cranky."
Wes would've resented that last bit if it there hadn't been more than a little truth to it today. Shrugging it off, he turned his chair to face his oncoming visitor. As he came closer, Wes noticed he was young – too young to have been at the firm when he'd been a part of it – and dressed in a suit equal to his own. So, he's one of the favorites, he thought. Interesting.
"Wesley Mitchell," the young man asked again, this time directing it at Wes.
"Detective Wes Mitchell," he clarified, emphasizing the detective part of his name. "And you are?"
"Aaron McClellan," he responded, reaching out a hand. "I'm –"
And then the heavens opened and the light shone down. Realization struck Wes like a lightning bolt at the pronouncement of his name, bringing back all the things he'd worked for so long to forget.
"I know who you are," Wes said, ignoring the proffered hand. "Aaron McClellan, the third, if memory serves. Eldest son to Aaron McClellan the second, proprietor of the law firm you are currently serving as errand boy for. A man who, at one time, was directing my future."
The younger man lowered his hand but never took his gaze from Wes' face. "My father was right, you're a sharp one."
This wasn't good. Aaron McClellan II was not an easy man to please and Wes' leaving had done anything but please the elder McClellan. What he could have possibly sent his son here for was a mystery, one he didn't think he wanted to solve. "If you don't mind, Aaron, I have a full caseload and if we could cut to the chase, I'd appreciate it."
The smile slipped from the younger man's face at Wes' tone. In an effort to hide his disappointment, he made a show of reaching inside his suit jacket and retrieving a sealed envelope. "My father has a proposition for you." He held out the envelope.
Wes glanced at the envelope, remembering the heft of the monogrammed stationery. "Unless that psychopath Jake McGivers has finally snapped and strangled someone, I'm not interested. You can quote me on that, too."
"Jake – uh, Mr. Mitchell, you don't understand," he began before being cut off.
"I told you earlier, it's detective and I do understand. I left that life behind me and I'm not interested in going back. Ever. Got it?"
Aaron chewed idly on his lower lip, watching him closely. The scrutiny was beginning to make Wes uncomfortable. He tilted his head to the side, waiting for the inevitable rebuttal.
"Not even for what's in this envelope?" He shook it a little to make his point.
"Not even," Wes reiterated. "I don't even want to know how much he's trying to bribe me with this time. I'm not interested. And now, I have to get to work. I trust you can see yourself out?"
Slowly, Aaron nodded. "Of course, Mr. – I mean, detective – Mitchell. Be aware, I will be back. My father's not one to take no lightly."
"Yes, I've figured that out seeing as I've been gone from the firm for a very long time now."
Without waiting for a response, Wes returned to his chair and swiveled to face the proper direction. He smiled as he heard the footsteps retreating behind him. The boy was correct, however, and he knew this wouldn't be the last he saw of him. Old Mister McClellan must be really desperate to get him back if he was sending his son to do his dirty work.
xx
Travis stood in the break room, watching Wes interact with an unknown variable. Whoever he was, he looked like he had stepped right out of his partner's former life and that bothered him. He knew Wes had no intentions of ever returning to practicing law, but the idea that he could go back anytime worried him in a way he didn't quite understand. It was time to get to the bottom of this before his imagination ran away with him.
"Who was that guy," he asked, trying for casual and hoping he made it.
Wes looked over his shoulder, frowning. "No one important," he said, turning back to the case file he had open on his desk.
Well, alrighty then, he thought. "Looked like an overpriced lawyer," he tried again. Wes grunted in response, making Travis rethink his strategy. "New case or the one we just closed?"
"The one we just closed," he muttered, still focused on the case file. "Going over the paperwork one last time before I turn it all in."
Travis frowned. He'd written the reports this time and it pissed him off that Wes didn't trust him to get it right. "I did them correctly, Wes."
This time, Wes looked up. "I never said you didn't. An extra set of eyes can't hurt, just in case you missed something."
"Whatever, man," he said, angry at Wes for what must've been the hundredth time that week. "I'm going to grab a coffee."
Standing, Travis stalked across the floor of the robbery-homicide division and out the front of the building. He didn't get it, but Wes refused to believe he could do a decent job at anything and was forever 'going over' everything he did, and it annoyed him. Eventually, he'd have to realize they were equals.
The little coffee cart was in its usual spot, calling his name. Too bad I couldn't get a shot of something stronger than espresso, he griped silently. "Hey Caroline," he said, smiling at the barista.
"Morning, Travis. The usual?" Her smile was genuine as she liked him, unlike his partner.
"Yes, that'd be perfect," he said. "And a sugar donut, too."
"You've got it," she said, turning to grab his donut before pouring his coffee. "What about for Wes? You getting his, too?"
That hadn't occurred to him. He was being a jerk, but maybe he wasn't caffeinated enough yet. "Yeah, sure, give me the Mitchell special, too."
"Mitchell?"
The voice came from behind him. Travis turned and studied the man and realized it was the same prick Wes had been talking to a few moments ago. Slicked back dark hair, melted chocolate eyes. He might have been handsome if he didn't have such an air of entitlement about him. "No, I'm Travis Marks," he said, knowing this guy didn't think he was Wes. "Mitchell's inside."
"Yes, I know that," he started, smoothing the lapels of his tailored suit jacket. "I just spoke with him, or tried to. He wasn't very receptive."
So it wasn't just Travis he was being an ass to this morning. Good to know. "And?"
"And I was hoping you'd give this to him for me." The officious lawyer-type held out an envelope embossed with the name of a law firm. The firm rang a bell in Travis' memory, but he couldn't pinpoint why.
"If he refused to take it from you, why would he take it from me?" Now he was being an ass, but it was one of the hazards of working so closely with someone like Wes. They eventually rubbed off on you.
The young man deflated somewhat. "He probably won't. My father warned me he was a stubborn son of a bitch. I ignored him when he warned me because ninety-five percent of lawyers are, you have to be. I just hadn't realized how true that was in this case."
He hated that that made him smile, but 'stubborn son of a bitch' was putting it mildly. Wes was tenacious, to say the least, and did not give up ground very easily. "What's in the envelope?"
Shrugging, he played coy. "An offer Wesley Mitchell can't refuse."
Travis' words lodged in his throat. The firm – it was the one Wes had worked for before joining the LAPD. That was why it sounded so familiar – and it was true – they wanted him back. He had to stop this, he couldn't let Wes leave the force – leave him. "Sure, I'll take it to him," Travis lied, already planning how to get rid of whatever was inside so Wes never had the chance.
"Thank you," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Aaron McClellan."
Travis looked at his hand for a second before gripping it tightly with his own. "Detective Travis Marks, Wes' partner." He released the kid's hand wondering why they'd sent someone so green to deal with an ass like Mitchell.
"I'll remember that," McClellan said, winking and walking away.
You'd better, Travis thought. Making a mental note to keep an eye out for this kid's return visit – because he knew there'd be at least one, if not many – he retrieved his order from the barista and went in search of his prickly partner.
xx
Aaron McClellan slid behind the wheel of his sleek, black Mercedes and let out a breath. Wes Mitchell was going to be harder to convince than he'd thought. He liked a challenge, it was the reason he'd become a lawyer in the first place, the family business notwithstanding. This was his father's idea of a test and he refused to fail. Besides, with such a tempting prize as that beautiful blond, there was more at stake than just his reputation.
Revving the engine to life, Aaron pulled out of the parking spot and onto the street. The entire drive back to the firm his mind raced with ideas of how he could sway the stubborn, wayward lawyer to return to where he belonged. He would not fail.
xx
"Got something for you," Travis announced, placing the cup of coffee on the desk before his partner. Dropping unceremoniously into his own chair at the desk opposite Wes', he opened the bag containing his donut.
Wes watched him munch happily on the fried dough before speaking. "Is the coffee it or should I be expecting something else? Not that I'm ungrateful."
He considered lying again and not telling Wes about his encounter outside, but he knew his partner and that he'd figure out something was up before long. "I met a funny little man in an expensive suit at the coffee cart."
"Oh good lord, please tell me he wasn't harassing you," Wes groaned.
Travis smiled at that. "Naw, just asking about you, baby. He's from your old law firm, isn't he?"
Wes frowned. "Yes, he is. Matter of fact, he's one of the managing partners' sons."
"Oh, a bigwig," Travis said, impressed.
"Not hardly," Wes snorted. "He's barely out of law school. Still can't believe they sent someone like him to me."
"So you know what this is all about then?" Travis brandished the sealed envelope he'd been given, catching Wes' undivided attention.
"Why the hell do you have that?" Reaching across their desks, he ripped it from between Travis' fingers.
"He gave it to me and I've gotta say, I didn't think you'd take it from me." If looks could kill, Travis would be a smoldering pile of charred flesh right then. Wes' laser gaze focused sharply on him. "I know, I know, I should have told him to shove it, but in my defense, I was going to burn it and never give it to you."
A harsh bark of laughter escaped Wes' mouth. "Oh, that's good, Travis. And why would you do that?"
He shrugged. "They want you back, don't they? I can't let that happen. You and me? We're good together, even when we don't like each other very much. I won't let you go back to that life."
"I guess I should thank you for having my back, but I'm still not sure you do." He tilted his head, waiting for something Travis couldn't discern. "But you do get bonus points for being honest enough to give it to me."
Travis smiled broadly, soaking up the sort-of compliment from his partner. "I figured you'd know I was hiding something, so what's the point, right?" He tapped his fingers on the desk, stalling. "So, do you know what's in the envelope?"
Wes glared at the offending object, looking like he was willing it to burst into flames right there. "Probably a written job offer promising things they'll never adhere to. Also, a check signed by Mr. Aaron McClellan the second himself, for some exorbitant, outrageous amount of money."
"Are you going to open it?" Travis couldn't hide his curiosity.
"Nope," Wes said, tossing the envelope into the trash can beneath his desk.
"Why the hell not?" Travis stood abruptly, staring at him in disbelief. "Aren't you even curious?"
"Not really, I have no desire to venture back into that world." He met Travis' gaze, holding it steady. "I like where I am and what I do. There's zero temptation."
"What if I'm curious?" Travis sat back down, sipping his coffee. Waiting.
The left corner of Wes' mouth angled up in an amused half-smile. "When aren't you curious about someone else's business, Marks? But if it'll shut you up, I'll open it."
"About damn time," he muttered. It never failed to tickle him when Wes tried to give him the bitch face. He had to admit that the one he was giving this morning was better than the rest. "Well, go ahead. Whatcha waiting for?"
Wes glared at him for a moment longer then retrieved the envelope from the trash. Carefully ripping the envelope, he removed two pieces of paper: one that was obviously expensive stationary and the other closely resembled a check. Giving each a quick glance, Wes waved them before Travis, showing they were exactly what he thought they'd be. Then he shoved them into his desk and shut the drawer.
"Wait, you're not going to show me?" Travis wasn't exactly shocked, but he figured Wes would have given him some detail.
"Why should I? They're exactly what I told you they'd be – a job offer and a check. Now, can we get to work?" Wes shook his head, muttering something about nosy bastards under his breath.
"Yeah, whatever, man. If you don't want to share with your partner, then fine. What's on the menu for today?"
He was pissed that Wes was playing this so close to the chest, but he should have known that he would. His partner wouldn't have ever divulged every detail, not for something so personal, but he figured he'd have at least hit the highlights. 'They think I'll come back for that paltry sum of money? Are they nuts?' That kind of thing. But he got nothing. Nada. Zilch. And that worried Travis. Made him wonder if the offer had been better than expected. Terrified him that Wes might actually be considering taking it.
xx
Travis wandered off to parts unknown – most likely in search of food as it was rapidly approaching feeding time – and Wes sighed. Finally. Once he was certain Marks was out of sight, he pulled the sheaf of stationary out of his desk drawer and studied it again, more carefully this time.
Mr. Mitchell,
Our firm is constantly in need of a few exceptional lawyers. You know from experience that we here at McClellan, Dowd, and Pike only accept the best and the brightest. At one time, you were among the top of that class, on the fast track to partner. Had you stayed in our employ, you very well might have been there now. However, I am not one to hold a grudge and deeply urge you to reconsider. A significant boost in salary plus a shot at partner is in your future should you choose wisely.
Sincerely,
Aaron S. McClellan II
He stared at the letter for a long few seconds, confused as to why this offer suddenly felt so tempting. None of McClellan's other attempts had ever aroused any interest before, so why now? As attractive as the younger McClellan was, he didn't think that was quite the reason, either. Although, having someone that handsome – and well-connected – around might be a bonus. Wes felt a niggling of guilt building in his gut at that thought, but he pushed it away before it could take hold.
"There's nothing in the break room even closely resembling food," Travis said, breaking into his thoughts. "You want to get something to eat?"
Wes shoved the letter into his desk drawer, sure the guilt was plain on his face. "Food? Uh, sure, why not."
Standing, Wes led Travis out of the station and to his car, wondering the whole time what Travis would think if he had any idea he was considering the offer. He knew he couldn't actually do it, go back into law. The amount of money they were willing to pay him, however, was a good incentive to try. Mentally kicking himself, Wes reminded himself of why he'd left the firm in the first place – the awful mistake he'd made – and how he couldn't ever allow something like that to happen again.
But then there's Alex, too, Wes, his subconscious taunted him. It was true – she'd made it very clear that she'd be willing to reconcile if he only left the department and came back to the firm. He missed his ex-wife horribly, her sweet smile, her reassuring presence, but it'd been over a year since they'd split. There were times when he wondered if he could ever get used to living with someone after spending so much time alone.
It was a moot point. He wasn't going back to the firm, he wasn't getting Alex back, and he wasn't going to abandon his partner just because he was offered a crapload of money. No matter how tempting the offer might be.
Or, so he kept trying to convince himself.
xx
Lifting his sandwich to his mouth, Travis watched his partner. Wes had been acting strange ever since his visitor this morning and it was beginning to worry him. He knew he should ask him if something was bothering him, but he didn't know how to approach it. Blondie could be irritable on his best days. And today? Definitely not one of his better ones. Travis took another bite, chewing slowly, watching as his partner played with a French fry. There was definitely something bothering him and a good partner would ask, even if it ended in an argument that might just get them tossed out of the sandwich shop.
Sighing, Travis steeled himself. "You okay man?"
Wes' head snapped up, angry glare fixing on Travis' concerned face. "Fine. Just eat so we can get back to work."
He was anything but fine, but whatever. Obeying orders, he tore another chunk off his sandwich and chewed, figuring they could sort this mess out later, maybe once his ass had calmed down. "Whatever you say," he grumbled around a mouthful of lunch.
"Gross, Marks. Chew before you answer next time." Wes made a sour face, attempting to show his disgust.
Travis smirked around his mouth full of food, accomplishing his mission. Wes was now considering him in a much less angry manner and the relief he felt was palpable. He hated it when Wes was pissed at him, even though he often deserved it – or even encouraged it. Not today, though, today he wanted to get to the bottom of the whole 'why now' question that had been bugging him all morning.
"Wes, question."
His partner looked him over briefly before nodding. "Go ahead."
"I know you were a badass attorney before coming here," he said, wiping his face with a napkin. "So, if you were as good as I hear you were, why is the firm only now looking to get you back?"
Something unidentifiable crossed Wes' face as he considered his answer. At first, Travis thought it might be surprise, but the longer he watched, the more he was sure it was something else. Surprise, maybe. Or was that guilt he saw? Why would he feel guilty?
He tossed the abused fry onto his tray and sighed heavily. "Look, truth is, I wasn't that great of an attorney," he confessed. Travis opened his mouth to protest and he held up a hand, stopping him. "I know what the Captain has told you and what you've probably heard from Alex, but really, there were better men in the firm than me." He looked away, staring out the window, considering his next words.
"So, if you sucked, which I highly doubt – I've seen you in the interrogation room, you know, I can't imagine how awesome you might be in a courtroom - why are they wooing you now?" He knew Wes was downplaying his own skills and he couldn't understand it. He wasn't a braggart by any stretch, but when it came to something he did well, he didn't mince words about it either.
xx
He had to come clean, but it'd piss Travis off and he wasn't sure he could deal with that today. If he didn't, Marks would keep on pushing and they'd end up fighting in the end anyway. Unhappy, he admitted to the truth he'd been hiding. "It isn't actually the first time they've tried to lure me back."
"What?" Travis dropped the last corner of his sandwich and stared at Wes, disbelief and something akin to betrayal etched on his dark features. "Why the hell didn't you ever say anything?"
Why, indeed? "I didn't see the point," he lied, trying to smooth his admission over a bit. "I didn't plan on going back, so why bring it up?"
"So maybe I could be prepared in a situation like the one we had this morning?" Travis shook his head roughly. "But you don't trust me to do or say anything right, so I probably shouldn't be surprised."
Where the fuck was this coming from? Wes did trust him, maybe not implicitly, but mostly. Travis had the tendency to be impulsive and reactive, but he was also a damn good cop with excellent instincts. Those things he trusted without a doubt. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Know what? Never mind. Let's go." He stood and dumped the remainder of his food in the trash.
Wes watched as he stomped off towards the car, leaning against the door when he got there and couldn't get inside. Something was going on here and he didn't know what, exactly. Sometimes, with Travis, it was hard to even guess. Pushing to his feet, Wes mentally stuck a pin in it to think about later. Right now, they had work to do.