If it isn't mine by now, it probably never will be.
Part I - David
i.
The heels of his hands are pressed to his eyes and the tension in his shoulders has reached a point where he thinks he may be becoming a hunchback.
Sitting upright on his desk is the limited file they have on Angelo Barinelli and he lifts his head from his hands, looks at the picture, takes in the eyes under the rim of the lowered hat, the long fingers wrapped around a cigar. He isn't sure whether the roiling sensation in his stomach is anger or indigestion, but he settles on anger.
That's the man responsible for the last six weeks, he tells himself as he closes his eyes again. That's the man responsible for the bruises on Billy and Colby and Liz, for the shadows in all their faces and the feral gleam that seems to be slowly consuming them and scares the hell out of him whenever he sees it.
He doesn't pretend to have any influence or authority over Billy Cooper, he never even bothered to try and be the alpha in the other man's presence. It would have been a losing battle had he chosen to fight it and if he's honest, the man has always unnerved him just a little. Colby though, familiar and dependable, has started to frighten him.
There have been more moments than he'd ever admit when he's wished for Don back simply because he doesn't know if he can hold everyone together anymore and the thought of what'll happen when he can't is too unbearable to even think about.
ii.
Nikki brings him a fresh coffee at about eleven pm on night thirty seven. She nods at him and offers a small twist of her lips which has become the office-wide substitute for a smile recently before settling at her desk with her hands wrapped around her own cup. David knows that she's been a little more unsettled than usual since Megan had flown in from Washington but he doesn't have the energy to reassure her verbally so he just smiles as best he can in thanks.
He remembers telling Megan that he wished she was back in the office as one of them and the sad smile she'd given in response. He types a quick text message to her asking how Alan and Charlie are doing and whether Amita and Larry have come up with anything new.
She responds fairly quickly, telling him that Charlie has been alternating between manic energy, trying to come up with more movement patterns and locations, and complete dissociation and Alan is holding up as well as they could expect but that Amita and Larry are drawing blanks. It makes his stomach clench a little.
Tim King seats himself in Colby's chair a few moments later and tells David very bluntly that he both looks like shit and smells like a vagrant and would he do everyone the favour of spending some quality time with the shower in the change rooms?
It takes a moment to get over the fact that the SWAT agent had one, told him he stank and two, used the word vagrant to do so. Whatever happened to telling people they smelled like hobos, he asks as what might be the slightest hint of a real smile twists his own lips. He never knew that schoolyard bullies had such a refined vocabulary.
The other man smirks wolfishly and says that if calling him a hobo will get him into the shower quicker then he is perfectly happy to say it again for those with less extensive learning.
Liz, a cubicle over, raises her hand. Tim, smirk still in place, asks if she has a question. She smirks too and tells David very politely that he does smell like a hobo and there is a clean towel in her desk drawer that she will donate to the cause.
Billy and Colby aren't there to back him up as he protests that it's a man's prerogative to sweat a little so when Nikki takes the towel from Liz and throws it at him, he lets a small chuckle escape him and goes.
iii.
Grateful for the building's unlimited supply, it takes about twenty minutes before the tension slowly begins to ebb away under the pounding streams of hot water.
He doesn't think it will ever really leave completely, not until they have Don and Ian home, but even just a reduction will make it easier to face the bullpen, the street, the real world and everyone that is depending on them.
Tiles cool under his forehead, he leans on the taps as he lets the water hit the skin of his shoulders and back and thinks about the last week.
After the failed raid on day thirty, he'd called his grandmother again. She'd listened as he tried to put words to the fire and the tar and the everything trying to burst free past his guard and when he'd finally accepted that he couldn't, she told him that she was at his sister's and that he should bring his friends over the next day for dinner because she was going to make his favourite.
He doesn't remember why he agreed or even asking the others, he thinks that Wright may have had something to do with convincing them to leave and sleep or eat or do anything except frighten the hell out of everyone else in the office. The five of them had somehow arrived at his sister's apartment the next evening. Billy had startled everyone by kissing his grandmother's hand in greeting and proving that upbringing never really leaves you. The table was set with plates and cutlery and glasses of lemonade.
His sister pulled him aside, saying that she'd had to convince their grandmother that she couldn't serve wine because they're on duty and the laugh that escaped him was the most genuine in what feels like months and when she hugged him in greeting, she whispered that she'd left her ex-husband and that she's sorry she didn't listen to him sooner.
They hadn't eaten so well or laughed so much in weeks and when they left, his grandmother had hugged and kissed all of them goodbye and said that she was staying through Christmas and New Year and that they simply must come back. When she reached up to kiss David, she said softly that it's okay to be scared when someone is trusting you with their life but it's the fact that you don't let the fear stop you from doing what you have to that means you've earned and deserve that trust.
When he tilts his head back to wash his face, he isn't sure how much of the water running down his cheeks is from the shower and how much is from his stinging eyes.
iv.
He shaves in the bathroom, and redresses.
Studying his reflection in the mirror, he realises that he might be scared to death of the trust that falls to him in Don's absence, but he won't ever let it stop him from doing his job and proving that he earned and deserves it.
The realisation straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin and makes it just a little easier to re-enter the bullpen and move to his desk. The file has fallen over but there is a note written all in capitals atop it.
v.
In the end, sixty one seconds pass while David Sinclair digests the words scrawled in front of him and only sixteen before he erupts into action.
And so begins another. Most of these will probably not be especially long, just a last ditch filler to tie a few loose ends and indulge some missing moments/characters before we get to the aftermath. Poor David. It'll be okay though, they can have a cuddlepile later. Wait a minute though, I don't write happy things… bad luck. Nikki is coming up! Also, teddybear3, if you review this can you leave a way for me to get in touch with you? I really want to address the point you made in your last review for Sixteen Hours but when I typed it out it was about 350 words and that is way beyond acceptable for a note in the chapter. Because of the filters, if you leave an email or something just leave what goes before the and then the provider and whether it's a .net or .com or whatever it is.