This story was written as a thank you for my beta reader, Anon.

Roman Candle

Crack! Casey jerked, his eyes blurred with scotch-induced sleep. His hand automatically reached for his gun, and he realized with a start that he was wearing his blue flannel pants and a t-shirt; his gun was lying on the sideboard next to the front door. His ears picked up a rustling sound from the courtyard and he leaned forward in the chair. He shrugged off the drowsiness and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

A glowing light flickered across the blinds, and he stood up, walking with bare feet across the plush rug to the sideboard. He picked up his gun and released the safety. He stood quietly, listening. Silence. Why the hell weren't the outdoor monitors working? The screens were black. Even though Chuck had taken Sarah somewhere for the weekend, Casey still monitored the courtyard and Chuck's apartment. He smirked, remembering how flustered Sarah had been while waiting for Chuck to ask her out. When Chuck first asked him to secure a safehouse, Casey had refused. But Chuck wore him down eventually, and Casey had to admit, a weekend without Chuck was impossible to refuse.

Up till now, he had been enjoying his night of solitude, watching the Godfather movies on the classic movie channel. Now that he thought about it, the television was off as well. He glanced into the kitchen; the microwave clock was dark. No power.

He stepped toward the window and his elbow brushed against metal. A few anxious chirps and a flapping of wings filled the silence.

"Shhh," called Casey softly. Soothed by the familiar voice, the cockatiel settled onto his perch, tilting his head to peer out of an opening in the cage cover. His black eyes reflected the soft orange light emanating from behind the blinds. The bird blinked a few times, and then tucked his beak beneath one wing.

Casey moved closer to the window, flattening himself against the wall as he slowly lifted the edge of the blinds to look out. He could see part of the fountain; the water reflected the same orange light. He heard muffled voices—at least three separate people. He lifted the blind further, and suddenly a figure ran past the window. Startled, he let go of the blinds and moved back into the room, watching his front door.

What the hell? He imagined a dozen possible scenarios, but Fulcrum was foremost on his mind. Lately, Fulcrum was turning up more and more often right here in Burbank. It was as if they were being drawn to the Intersect by some unnatural force.

Suddenly, there was a scraping noise just outside his apartment; metal sliding along concrete. More voices. He looked out the peephole in the door; he saw only darkness mixed with soft light. He pressed his ear to the door and tightened his grip on the gun.

Ka-boom!

The explosive sound vibrated through the air, through Casey's door, and he lurched backwards. Someone shouted outside. The cockatiel chirped loudly and flapped his wings noisily, flying about the cage. Casey returned to the door and flung it open with his gun at his side.

He stood in the doorway, looking through a smoky haze at the courtyard. Several people had gathered in front of Chuck's apartment, sitting in lawn chairs or stretched out on blankets. Tiki torches had been spaced around the perimeter of the courtyard, bathing the area with an eerie orange light. Casey took a step back and placed his gun back on the sideboard and then entered the courtyard, closing his door. The air was hot and heavy compared to the air-conditioned interior of his apartment, but the concrete beneath his feet was pleasantly cool. To his right, a figure was crouched down, and Casey grabbed the back of the man's shirt, hauling him to his feet.

"Casey!" Morgan cried out. "You're home?"

"What are you doing?" Casey slammed Morgan against the wall.

"Hey there, big fella," Morgan stammered, his eyes wide. "We thought you were out."

Casey felt a hand on his shoulder and he spun around, letting go of Morgan. Ellie took a step back. "Hi John," she said. "We didn't mean to disturb you."

Devon stood just behind her. "Yeah, Morgan had this brilliant idea to set off an M-80 in a metal cashbox." He threw his arms wide. "Awesome, wasn't it?" He stepped past Casey to give Morgan a high-five.

"I don't think we need any more of those, Devon," said Ellie. "Are those even legal? Morgan could have lost his fingers."

Devon grabbed her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "These ones are legal, babe. And I'll watch out for Morgan's fingers," he said, his eyes bright with excitement. "Besides, that was the only one. Roman candles are next!"

"Boys," said Ellie, watching as Devon directed Morgan in setting up the candles. She turned to Casey and smiled. "Why don't you join us, John? The power's out and the city postponed the fireworks for tonight. We thought we'd celebrate the Fourth of July right here."

Casey's expression softened. "Well, I don't think. . ." he began.

Devon jogged up to him and threw his arm around Casey's shoulders, guiding him toward a blanket. "C'mon John! You can keep Ellie company while Morgan and I present the next round." He handed Casey a bottle.

Casey held the bottle up to the light of a tiki torch. "Amstel," he said, obviously impressed.

"Only the best on the Fourth, John," said Devon, walking away.

Ellie sat down on the blanket and gestured for Casey to sit. Casey's eyes flicked back toward his apartment.

"Oh no you don't, John," said Ellie. "You're going to stay out here and enjoy the show."

Casey furrowed his brows. Ellie was even more stubborn than Chuck. He sighed and sat down, stretching out his legs and leaning back against the wall. He took a long drink from the cold bottle. He surveyed the people sitting around him; they spoke in excited tones and laughed. Some of them greeted his eyes with a nod and a smile.

He watched as Devon and Morgan ran off to one side, and the roman candles began to burn, shooting off colorful flares of light. The faces of Ellie and his neighbors glowed in the darkness. Casey lifted the bottle to his lips, but just before he drank, he smiled.

The End