Q is for Quidnuncs
Part Two of the Obsessed Trilogy
Quidnunc: KWID-nuhngk: noun:
One who is curious to know everything that passes; a gossip; a busybody.
From Latin quid nunc? "What now?"
By Jelsemium
For the 2006 Summer Alphabet Challenge
Disclaimer: U is for Used without permission or intent to make a profit.
Author's Note: This was written between Season Two and Season Three, so it doesn't exactly fit canon anymore.
They studied the target's apartment building from their inconspicuous sedan. At least, they hoped it was inconspicuous, because if their target even suspected their presence, they were in deep, deep trouble.
"You're obsessed, man," the black man said.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," the white man replied.
"We're gonna die," David Sinclair predicted grimly. He scanned the street with his binoculars. The ones he bought with his very own money, because he didn't want to use his government issued pair for this.
"You wanna back out now, ya wuss?" Colby Granger challenged.
David sighed. "No. I'm in all the way, Granger. I just wanted to go on record as saying that I think this plan is reckless and foolhardy."
"Those are synonyms, man," Colby pointed out.
"Yeah, and so are rash, injudicious and downright suicidal," David returned.
"You've been reading the Reader's Digest "Increase Your Word Power," haven't you?" Colby accused.
David rolled his eyes. "Remind me why we're trying to get pictures of Megan on her date?" he asked.
"Blackmail purposes, man," Colby said, eyes sparkling the way Charlie's did when the mad mathematician was explaining one of his monstrous formulas.
David looked at him incredulously. "Blackmail? Are you kidding?"
Butter wouldn't have melted in Colby's mouth. "Kidding? Why would I be kidding? You'd think we were about to violate the federal blackmail statute, P.L. 103-322, 108 Stat. 2147."
"No, it's just that in order to blackmail Megan, you would have to threaten to expose her secret," David said.
"Right, that's the idea, to get her to do something for us, specifically to write our reports, so we don't expose her sordid affair with the FBI's consulting mathematician." Colby swept the street with his personal binoculars.
A Prius that looked like Charlie's swept by and they ducked. However, the car kept going. They snorted and sat back up.
"Yeah, that part I knew. The question is who is our threat?"
Colby lowered his binoculars and looked at David in bewilderment. "Huh? Man, that sentence wasn't even in English."
"Yes, it was."
"Well, it was non-standard English, then," Colby complained.
"That's not answering my question," David said in exasperation. "What is the point of this?"
"What are you getting at, Sinclair? C'mon, spit it out!" Colby demanded.
"Well, if we threaten to reveal Megan's secret, then we need somebody to reveal it too!"
Colby blinked a couple of times. "Well, yeah."
"So, who?"
Colby frowned and scratched the nearly invisible stubble along his jaw. "Well, who would Megan least want to know that she's dating Charlie?"
David gave him a sardonic look. "That would be us, you idiot!" He rubbed his hand over his bald pate. "And speaking of non-standard English sentences…"
Colby opened his mouth, closed it, and then repeated a few more times. "Oh," he finally said.
"I mean, how can we threaten to expose her to us, if it's us that're threatening to expose her?"
"David, you have got to stop trying to think logically," Colby complained. "If you get too good at it, then you'll ruin all our fun."
"We're having fun?" David inquired. "When did that happen? 'Cause, man, I have had fun, and this definitely doesn't qualify."
Colby didn't answer because just then, a jaunty jalopy from the distant past pulled up in front of Megan's apartment building.
"Shit, get down," he barked. He grabbed David's head and shoved it below the window.
"Ow, what?"
"That's her, man!" Colby hissed. "Only she's not with Charlie, she's with Larry Fleinhardt!"
"No!" David tried to wiggle free.
"Stay down or they'll see you," Colby hissed.
David stopped squirming.
"What's she wearing?" he demanded.
"A blue dress, some sort of clinging material," Colby reported.
"Ooo," David said. "What are they doing?"
"They're carrying something up to the door. Looks like maybe they brought leftovers from dinner."
"Could be their dessert," David speculated.
"Maybe," Colby said. "Okay, they're inside the building. Let's go."
Armed with Colby's personal digital video camera, a tripod and a diagram of the building, they scurried across the street to the shadowed alcove that they'd determined earlier would give them the best view of Megan's living room.
When they got there, they set up their equipment and waited. And waited. And waited.
The living room was empty.
"Where are they?" muttered Colby.
"Don't look at me," David snapped. "I came with you." A horrible thought occurred. "Wait, you suppose they went straight for the bedroom?"
Colby's eyes went wide, but a few minutes later, Fleinhardt appeared in the living room carrying a bottle of wine and a corkscrew.
"Megan must be slipping into something 'more comfortable'," Colby decided.
They exchanged nervous grins as they realized they may be getting in deeper than they had originally anticipated.
"New rule," David said. "If Megan's outfit was too comfortable, we're out of here."
"We're too young and too pretty to die," Colby said.
The next five minutes or so were spent trying very hard not to laugh out loud as Fleinhardt made a big production of trying to open the wine bottle.
"Man, you'd think a man his age would have learned that trick by now," Colby.
"You'd think a lot of things, Granger," a familiar voice rasped from behind them. "Like men your age would be too old to go sneakin' around in the bushes."
Colby and David whipped around in dismay.
Megan Reeves stood there in her 'clingy' dress, hands behind her back, and a smirk on her face.
"How'd you know we were here?" Colby blurted.
"We saw you as we drove up," Megan said. "Honestly, I'd think two trained federal agents would be able to stake out a place without advertising your presence."
"Um," Colby said.
"We are so dead," David moaned.
"I won't kill you, Sinclair," Megan said. "However, it would be perfectly in my rights to file a complaint against you."
Both men's eyes went wide.
"Now, Megan, we were just messin' with you," Colby said, holding his hands out in a placating manner.
"Um, yeah, right," David said. "No harm, no foul, right?"
Megan studied them and her smirk widened. "No harm, yet," she said. She whipped her hands out from behind her and slammed the two paper plates loaded with whipped cream into their startled faces.
"Now there's harm," she said with satisfaction. She brushed her hands together and chuckled.
Colby and David wiped the whipped cream from their faces. When they got their eyes cleared, they saw that Megan had confiscated Colby's camera.
"Crud," Colby said as Megan took several shots.
"We square now?" David said.
"No," Megan said. "You'll want to volunteer to write the reports for the next two weeks, right, boys?"
Two sighs.
"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Megan said. "See you two tomorrow."
"Can I have my camera back?" Colby asked. He grabbed the camera, but Megan refused to let it go. Colby sighed again, let go and stepped back.
"Tomorrow, Granger," Megan promised. Then she headed back to her apartment.
As soon as she was gone, David shoved Colby.
"Hey, what was that for?" Colby demanded.
"I told you this was a dumb idea," David snarled.
"And yet, you went along with it," Colby said philosophically.
David scraped a chunk of whipped cream off his face. "So, what exactly did we get out of this, aside from the whipped cream?"
Colby held up the memory card from his camera. "Well, I got the pictures of us back," he said.
David grinned.
"And I got a really good shot of Megan in that dress, too."
David laughed. "C'mon, man. Let's get cleaned up and go spy on Charlie. See if he had a date tonight."
Colby grinned. "I've got a better idea, seeing as how we're already dead."
"What?"
"Let's go spy on Don."