Moses and Pest are separated but it doesn't matter – they both know better than to roll on each other. Moses stays quiet through fourteen exhausting hours of questioning. They bring him water and that's all – no food, no bathroom breaks. Moses knows, or thinks he knows, what they're trying to do and he holds firm. Some basic questions, the most unbelievable ones, he answers: What exactly did he kill? Aliens, you should know, you've got about a dozen of their deep-fried corpses. What happened to Jerome and Dennis? Eaten. What about Patrick O'Leary and Byron Dunlap, found shredded in an elevator, and Larry Tonks in the parking garage? Same .The police who arrested him? Surely he didn't expect them to believe he escaped because his captors were conveniently eaten? Depends… did you see the corpses? You think a kid from the ends can do all that? At some point in his extended 'interview' one of the police lets slip that Samantha is dropping the charges. He clearly thinks this is a terrible idea but that's her option and she's been insistent – she doesn't want Moses or any of the gang prosecuted. They still want him for killing the officers and hijacking the bully van, but Moses won't admit to those things. He holds his silence even when the hours seem to wear on his interrogators and they get in his face, threatening him with the foster system, with juvie, with adult prison.
Then they leave and Moses sits there, handcuffed to his chair, steadfastly trying not to focus on how badly he has to take a piss.
It isn't the bullies that return, though. It's a man, white, not too tall, with a receding hairline and a very average frame. His suit is slick, pure MIB, but the way he looks at Moses isn't like a Fed. He smiles for one thing, in a tired but understanding way that gives Moses hope until he reminds himself there's no limit to the deception of the Feds and shuts that down. When he opens his mouth Moses gets another surprise… he's AMERICAN, and his open drawl is as disarming as it is unexpected.
"You must be Moses," he said simply, and sets a plain manila folder on the table between them. "You must have had a pretty rough night."
Moses plays it like a game. Responding will lose him points. He stares at the table, stoic. Won't admit to nothing.
"I'm Agent Phil Coulson," the American says, and sets his open badge on the table – full disclosure, Moses sees it as a trap. "I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention Espionage and Logistics Division. S.H.I.E.L.D. for short. You won't have heard of us. The beings you encountered fall under our purview so it turns out I have jurisdiction over your case. Have you eaten anything?" Moses fixes him with a level stare. "Would you like to use the restroom?" He can't tell if that's a genuine offer or if the Fed is just playing Good Cop. Agent Coulson seems to understand that; he stands up and circles, unfastening Moses' handcuffs. "Come on," he urges, "it's fine. There's no line. We'll take a walk and be right back here, let's go." He doesn't lay a hand on Moses, so Moses goes quietly, ignoring the accusing stares of the lingering officers. Agent Coulson directs him to the bathroom and when he emerges, having finally washed some of the soot off his hands and face, Coulson has three different candy bars and a packet of plain crisps in his hand.
"I didn't know what kind you liked," is his explanation. Moses would refuse but he's starving. He takes the crisps.
Their return to the Interrogation Room passes the waiting area and Moses is surprised to see Sam still there, looking like she slept in that chair in her clothes. She jolts to her feet when she sees him and practically climbs over the other waiting victims and perps. "Moses!" she calls, and Coulson obligingly stops, one hand resting very lightly on Moses' shoulder. "Moses, are you okay?" She comes to a flustered halt in front of them and self-consciously tucks her hair behind her ear. "Agent Coulson."
"Ms. Elway." Agent Coulson is perfectly courteous and suspicious fear coils in Moses' gut – they've met before. Coulson probably interviewed Sam before he came after Moses, and Moses wonders where Pest is, if he's still stuck in an interrogation room, starving, sleepless, desperate to pee. "Moses and I were just about to have a conversation. I'm sure it won't take long. We appreciate you waiting."
Sam nods and Moses is disgusted by her obvious trust in the Feds. "Moses," she said, fidgeting her hands together, "They've blocked off my flat and what's left of yours. I'm staying with my mum till it's all sorted. You're to come with me, you know, until you or your uncle can figure something out… we've got plenty of room."
Moses hadn't given any thought to going back home, and Sam's invitation surprises him. It's nice of her to care, but…. "See to Pest," he tells her, pitching his voice so she won't question. "Make sure he gets home to his grandma. I'll bunk up with him."
"Are you sure? Well, fine," Sam relents. "Then I suppose I'll drive both of you. Any word when they'll be releasing him, then?" This is directed at Coulson, who hedges.
"My understanding is they had probable cause for a drug test," Agent Coulson confesses. "They want to keep him on unrelated charges. We'll talk about it," he tells Moses, and pats him on the shoulder, gesturing that he should keep walking. They leave Sam worrying, rubbing her palms against her jeans.
It's just the two of them in the interrogation room. Agent Coulson doesn't cuff Moses again. He sits quietly and sips bad precinct coffee while Moses devours the bag of crisps and two of the candy bars even though he doesn't particularly like them.
"Feeling better?" he asks, and Moses is slow to nod, brushing greasy crumbs off his fingers. "Good. I want to make it clear to you that I'm not here about drugs or guns or vandalism. I don't care about any of those things. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s job is to monitor potential threats not just to one nation but to the entire human race. You've just had direct experience with the kind of potential threat we're interested in. That's why I'm sitting here. Now we found the alien in the penthouse safe room. We think we've pieced together a lot of what happened last night but you were on the ground floor. I need your perspective; the whole story, from the beginning."
Moses just stares. Agent Coulson seems content to wait.
A day ago Moses would have kept his mouth shut, but his entire world has changed in twenty-four hours and he knows he's in over his head. Somebody has to handle this, somebody higher than him. He's not sure whether the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. exists is reassuring or terrifying.
"Pest goes home," he said, finally. "Charges dropped. Nothing on the record," he says, emphasizing the word so Agent Coulson will be sure to understand. "He goes home clean."
"Well, I have no control over local authorities…"
"Don't spin me that bullshit. You got bigger fish to worry about. Pest goes home, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
Agent Coulson stares at him. Moses is the rock, unyielding, content to keep his mouth shut until fire rains down from the heavens. He hopes Coulson can see that in his eyes.
He does. "I'll make a few calls." Coulson leaves him alone and Moses sits, well aware that he's being observed through the glass, unwilling to show weakness. If it comes down on him it comes down. As long as Pest is free and clear he doesn't care – he'll take the rap for every one of them. That's love for Moses: bearing burdens. Always has been.
He expects Coulson to be gone longer, but he's barely out five minutes before he walks back in and says, "Your friend is being transferred. He's going to need reconstructive surgery on that leg. Interesting injury, I'm surprised he's up and walking around. But I suppose enough weed will do that? So." He sits, and Moses knows the time has come. "I held up my end of the bargain. It's your turn."
It's Moses' turn.
He takes a deep breath.
He tells Agent Coulson everything.
x-x-x
Sam is waiting for him when Coulson takes him out to processing and gets his release papers signed. Moses is still reeling. Coulson asked questions and took notes and even recorded portions of his interview, then thanked him for his time, and now… he's going home?
"They took Pest to the hospital. I called his grandma, she's going over now." Sam is still waiting and Moses is grateful because she doesn't owe him this. He held a knife to her and knocked her on her ass, took her stuff, then saved her life a couple times. They're square. "You should come with me and get some sleep."
"I'm going to the hospital." Moses does stubborn very well, but Sam is fed up.
"You'll go to the hospital AFTER you've had sleep and a shower and something to eat that isn't sugar. I won't quarrel with you about this, do you understand? You'll see Pest tomorrow," she promises. "He'll be out of surgery by then. Come on. Agent Coulson… thank you." Moses wonders if Sam is a little sweet on Coulson, the fluttery way she tries to force a smile. Coulson's smile is wan in return.
"Just doing my job." He turns to Moses. "You'll be hearing from me." Somehow he doesn't make it sound like a threat. And then Sam's hands are on him and she guides him to her car and he passes out before they make it to her mum's house. She must have woken him up to get him inside, but he doesn't remember – he's toast.
x-x-x
Sam's mum is nice. He can see Sam in her, in her nervous patterns and her erratic spells of assertiveness. She makes him sit down to breakfast and she seems a little uncomfortable with him in the house, a black boy, a thug from the ends, sitting in her kitchen as if he's not at all dangerous. Like her daughter brought home a barely-tamed lion. Moses tries to cut her a break – at least she's feeding him. Kippers of all things, but it's fine, it's nice, and the coffee she offers him boils in his belly and makes him feel almost human again. Sam's gotten an excuse from work after everything that happened and she uses her day to take him to the hospital.
He sits with Pest's grandma, who has clearly been crying for hours. She's so desperate for company that she tells him everything the doctors have told her and spins wild conclusions from it, the most dire possibilities she can imagine, working herself into a tearful frenzy. Moses doesn't begrudge her – she's old. But he doubts Pest is in any serious trouble. After all, it's just the leg and he was walking yesterday. More disturbing is her lament over how all this happened. Not the aliens of course – she's quick to tell Moses she doesn't believe that drivel because goodness people will make up anything these days. But her baby committing vandalism, being involved in such nasty business, people dying, and drugs, lord have mercy. Moses covers for Pest as best he can, tells her Pest didn't hurt no one, didn't vandalize nothing, was just trying to save his own skin. He tells her the weed was just for the pain because they had nothing else and didn't know what to do. He tells her Pest was brave. He's not sure if she believes him but it seems to mollify her slightly and that's something.
The surgery is over mid-afternoon but they're not allowed to see Pest that night. Moses winds up calling Sam to bring him back to her mum's. She gives him an awkward hug and says she's sorry he didn't get to see Pest but she's certain he'll see him tomorrow, and once she goes back to work she can call and check up on him anytime. In the meantime isn't he missing school?
Moses doesn't care about school, doesn't think he could focus even if he went.
The second day at the hospital, Agent Coulson shows up while Moses is in the waiting room. He sits quietly and plays Angry Birds on his phone while Moses stares at the wall, slouched, knees spread wide and arms folded across his chest. He feels naked without his hat but he hasn't seen it since Ron's Weed Room… it's probably in evidence now. It's after noon before a nurse comes and says Pest is asking for them. She doesn't want to let them all in at once but Agent Coulson pulls rank – he's not there just as a visitor after all. Moses hangs back with Coulson while Pests' grandma makes an embarrassing fuss and Pest insists – no, really, honestly – that he doesn't need her to stay with him. He says the pain is nothing major and he's enjoying the painkillers and really she can go home and get some rest. All she does is trundle down to the cafeteria to buy him something better to eat than what they've offered.
"Bruv." Pest reaches for him and Moses doesn't bother hanging tough. He hooks his fingers around Pest's, squeezes, then hugs him. "Ain't seen none of the police. Is it true what they're saying? They're just letting us go?" He notices Coulson then, who's doing his best to pretend he doesn't see any of this male bonding going on, and is very interested in the ceiling tiles. "Who's the fed?"
"No Fed." Moses glances over his shoulder and tries to quantify Agent Coulson. "… Alien patrol, bruv."
Pest's eyes go wide. "Swear down?"
"Yeah. Already told him everything about the aliens," Moses confesses. "He believes us. Made a deal for them to cut you loose."
"Ain't taking heat for me, Moses," Pest insists, trying to sit up, and Coulson chooses this moment to intervene.
"There's no… heat," he says, holding his hands up. "The local police won't be filing charges. It'd be unfortunate if you wound up in prison just for making the best of a bad situation and this was a very bad situation."
"No shit," Pest says, eying Coulson like a bug in his salad. "Where've you been then? Fucking aliens in London and you're just here for clean-up? What if they'd killed us?" he accuses, and Coulson has the grace to look sheepish. "What if we hadn't fucked them up 'fore they could kill everyone in the block and breed like what Brewis was talking about? Could have been hundreds of them! What are you sitting around scratching? Can I sue you?" He flops back to the pillows, scandalized. "I want to sue."
"We have monitoring systems in place," Coulson says. "But these came in like asteroids – small, minimal cross-section, no energy readings. They didn't send up any flags. Normally something that size would burn up in the atmosphere before ever reaching the ground. It's a completely different sort of life form from anything we've ever dealt with."
"Is it?" Pest's eyes are narrow and Moses can see him working things out. "So you get a lot of extraterrestrials then?"
"Nothing I can talk about," Coulson tells him. "That's all classified." Pest snorts. "But these… they break the pattern. And we're very, very concerned about this incident and the likelihood of a repeat episode."
"Brewis said they was like moths," Moses says slowly. "Like insects. Not smart."
"Well, we're working on determining their exact taxonomy and the nature of their environmental awareness," Coulson deflects. "Obviously that work could continue for decades but that's not your concern."
"Get off it," Pest scoffs. "No, we only killed a couple dozen of them and watched two of our best mates get eaten. That's no concern of ours."
"Twenty-seven," Coulson says idly, and when they both stare at him, he clarifies, "You killed twenty-seven. Over thirty landed. Several others were killed by local authorities but between your initial contact with the female and the explosion you engineered that killed most of the rest of the colony… twenty-seven."
Pest digests that and offers Moses his fist and a slow, sly grin. "Hear that? Twenty-seven, bruv. Came to the wrong fucking block, you get me? But we showed them alien motherfuckers, trust."
Moses manages a smile and bumps his fist against Pest's.
"So, what?" Pest is saying. "Is there a reward or something? Key to the city?" At Coulson's look, he says, "Well, we're heroes, innit? Saviors of London!"
Coulson chuckles and folds his hands. "You just dodged about a dozen fairly serious criminal charges. That's your reward."
Pest thinks this is bullshit and says so. Moses just holds his hand – he has no more fight left in him for this. "We'll sell our story to the guardian then," he threatens, and Coulson shrugs.
"I can't stop you. But I can tell you that gaining a reputation for indiscretion in these matters might have a serious effect on your future."
"Oh, is that it?" Pest's eyes gleam with righteous anger. "What, you own us now? Gonna keep watch to make sure we don't squeal? Microphones in the wall sockets, that sort of thing? Fuck off."
"No, that's not what I mean." Agent Coulson reaches into his pocket and produces two cardstock rectangles, glossy white with silver embossing. He gives one to Moses and one to Pest, who eyes it with clear suspicion. "You boys found yourselves in an incredible situation last night. One none of you could have predicted. This threat was… beyond your experience. Beyond your knowledge." He spread his hands. "But I think you handled it well. You kept your heads and you used them. You did everything in your power to protect the people around you. You demonstrated great leadership, I thought," he said, speaking to Moses now while Pest fails to conceal his pride. "And a strong sense of social responsibility. Efficient use of resources combatting an unknown threat, I could go on. My point is… I know your records," he said with a faint smirk. "All of you. I know the trouble you've been in. I have your school transcripts. I see a lot of potential there that isn't being actualized."
Pest makes a derisive sound. "Get off it."
Coulson glances at Moses. Moses is listening. He goes on.
"That's my business card. Keep your noses clean. Graduate on time. Stay away from the press. You do that… you can give me a call. Maybe the next time aliens come calling… you'll be ready."
"Che!" Pest pitches back against his pillows and makes a derisive gesture. Moses just flips the card idly between his fingers. Coulson sees him looking. He stands.
"I'll be back when you're feeling better to get your statement but I think we have most of what we need. Moses… I hope I'll hear from you. I think you've got a lot to offer. I think you always have," he muses. "Just, sometimes it takes an extraordinary situation to make other people see it."
He leaves. Moses puts the card in his pocket. Pest flips his at the trash can.
"Fucking Feds," he complains and Moses shakes his head.
"Don't go telling no papers," he says, and Pest heaves a put-upon sigh. "The Guardian or some shit. Leave it out."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Bruv…."
"I won't! Swear!" The protest seems to exhaust him and he curls up in his pillows to sulk. Silence lingers, and then Pest flicks a sidelong glance in Moses' direction. "Do you think that shiz was real? Fightin' aliens for the government?"
"They're real." Moses spent hours in a small room with Agent Coulson. He believes, at the very least, in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s existence.
"What, you gonna take it? Gonna be a big bad Fed in a shit suit? Riight." Pest laughs, but his laughter dies at the look on Moses' face. "Bruv, for real?"
"You heard what he said." Moses locks eyes with him, wills Pest to understand. "There's more of them things. Different ones. Who knows if it'll happen again. They'll kill people if they come. Not just rich boys or bangers… they came to The Block. They'll be back."
"So you're gonna be the Fed's boy now? What the world is coming to," Pest says. He sounds disgusted, but Moses knows he's thinking underneath. "Keep your nose clean. You already skivved off half the year. How you gonna get your A Levels?" Moses just stares at him until Pest relents. "Fine. I'll catch you up. It's no big deal. I'm laid up till my leg heals anyway. You'll owe me for this."
Moses nods.
When Pest's grandma gets back, he leaves. Sam comes and takes him home.