Inside Out - Chapter 2

By Titan5

Freya had to bite her lip to keep from saying anything as she watched Brendan's shaking hand try to get the key in the lock. She was two seconds from grabbing his hand to steady it when he finally managed to shove the thing in and open the door. Stumbling inside unsteadily, he veered sideways against the easy chair, grabbing the arm for support. He then seemed to use the furniture to propel himself forward and down the hall. She heard the bathroom door slam a few seconds later.

Closing the apartment door, Freya made her way down the hall, pausing outside the closed door. She heard the water running a few seconds later. Almost as soon as it stopped, the door opened and Brendan stepped partway through it, then leaned against the doorframe for support. She didn't know how, but he looked even more pale than before.

A stray memory of his father holding his young body upright as he puked over a toilet flitted through his mind and he rubbed his face vigorously until the picture faded away. Freya didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. He lurched forward finally, moving toward the bedroom, and she followed, watching as he plopped down to sit on the side of the bed.

"Did you take some Pepto?" she asked, watching him lean forward and put his face in his hands.

"No," came the muffled response. Got distracted and forgot.

"I'll get it." She returned a few minutes later with a small plastic cup containing thick, pink liquid and a half empty water bottle she'd found in the refrigerator. "Here, drink this," she commanded, handing him first the pink liquid and then the water. He washed down the medicine with a few drinks of water and then set the bottle on the nightstand.

"Thanks."

Freya stood awkwardly for a moment, worried at how quiet Brendan's mind seemed. "You want me to help you with anything?"

He looked up at her and then down at his feet. "Nah, I got it. Thanks." Leaning over, he clumsily removed his shoes and then began trying to pull his coat off. His arms didn't seem to want to cooperate, so Freya ignored his earlier statement and helped pull his coat off, followed by removing his tie. He didn't fight her on either action, so she figured he didn't care that she was helping. He even sat quietly and let her unbutton and remove his shirt, leaving him in his undershirt.

When she turned around from laying his shirt over a chair along with his tie, Brendan was pulling himself back on the bed and curling up in a tight ball. Approaching, she noticed he looked like he was sweating, but he was shivering as he groaned and clutched his stomach.

"Brendan, are you cold?" she asked, touching her hand to his forehead. His skin was cool and clammy, so at least he didn't have a fever.

A little.

Freya grabbed the blanket folded at the foot of the bed and shook it out, laying it across her partner's body.

"Thanks," he said quietly. You don't have to stay.

Freya resisted the urge to snort. As if she was leaving him alone like this. "Actually, I think I'll stay a while, maybe watch a little TV. Let me know if you need anything."

He shuddered, his mind focused on riding out a wave of pain. When it ended, she could see his body relax a bit against the mattress. She waited a few seconds, making sure he seemed okay before she returned to the living room and sat on the couch. She stared at the blank TV for a while before turning it on, trying to figure out what was wrong with her partner. She was getting worried.

She had the volume turned down so low she could barely hear the television, so she was aware of Brendan hitting the bathroom at a run less than half an hour later. Moving quickly down the hall, she noted that he hadn't had time to close the door, leaving it open for her to see him heaving into the toilet. The pink-tinted vomit let her know the Pepto wasn't doing him any good.

When he stood on shaky legs a few minutes later, she had a damp cloth ready for him to wipe his face. After rinsing his mouth, he lifted his head to look at her with heavy lidded eyes. This really sucks. Now my throat hurts.

Not only did he not protest when she grabbed him and wrapped her arm around his waist to help him back to bed, he even leaned against her. The images that played through his head this time were of his father picking him up from the bathroom floor and carrying him to bed because he was too weak to stand after a bout of vomiting. His mother hovered by the bed, waiting to tuck his tiny, frail body back in. The pain of worry he saw in his father's face as he lay on the bed looking up at him almost made Freya cry. She would never truly understand how his mother could have done that to her only son, and she knew Brendan struggled with that as well. How could you watch someone you love suffer like that and then make it happen all over again?

When she had him settled, she tucked the covers around him and gently ran her hand down the side of his face, skin still cool to the touch. The fever she expected just never seemed to materialize. Stomach virus maybe? "Brendan, I'm taking you to the doctor in the morning. You're going to get dehydrated like this."

His eyes were closed and his breathing even. He was already asleep. No matter. She wasn't arguing the point, she was hauling him to a doctor or an ER tomorrow before he collapsed.

She went to the hall closet and got out a blanket and pillow. She'd be sleeping on the couch tonight, in case he got worse. No way was she leaving him alone. She pulled out the small suitcase in the corner of the closet and closed the door, heading up front with her loot. They had not only given each other a key to their apartments a few weeks ago, but had started keeping a couple of changes of clothes and a toothbrush at the their partner's place. There were times when they ended up at one apartment and needed to hole up there for a while. Other times, they unexpectedly stayed with the other to help them out when they were sick or injured. At some point they had decided this arrangement would probably come in handy, as it was now.

Freya grinned as she snuggled under the blanket. They had elected not to tell anyone of their little deposits, knowing it would get the rumor mill running overtime with no one believing their explanation of it just being for the sake of convenience. Too many people wanted them to be more than partners. They were more than partners, just not in a sexual way. She didn't know if she wanted that to ever change or not. It had interesting prospects, but she also liked what they had right now. She didn't relish the idea of screwing that up and she didn't think Brendan did either. They were family for now and it would probably stay that way for the foreseeable future.

After a movie and some odd science fiction show, Freya let the yawn tell her it was time to sleep. She turned off the TV and checked on Brendan. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully and wasn't curled up in a tight ball any more. She hoped that meant he wasn't hurting any longer. Crawling back under her own blanket, she barely remembered getting settled before she was sound asleep herself.

oOo

"Hey, sleepyhead, time for breakfast." Freya opened her eyes, trying to figure out why someone was in her apartment so early in the morning. Brendan's pale, but smiling face hovering over her caught her off guard for a moment until she remembered she was on his couch. Before she was lucid enough to comment, he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving her slightly bewildered at his good mood.

"I'm pouring you some orange juice now and your eggs are getting cold," came the voice from the kitchen. Shaking her head, Freya stood up and staggered a bit to the kitchen entrance. The small table was set with two plates, one bearing a heaping mound of scrambled eggs and two slices of toast, the other with only one piece of toast. It was easy to figure out which plate belonged to whom. Brendan glanced over as he opened a fresh carton of orange juice. "Hey, you're up."

Yawning, Freya momentarily covered her mouth. "Yeah, I'm up. Be right back." She returned from the bathroom a few minutes later to find her partner sitting at the table, nibbling on his toast. "I hope this means you feel better," she said as she sat down.

"Much," he said enthusiastically. "I guess I just needed to sleep it off. Not even nauseous this morning."

Freya pointed to his toast with her fork. "That's not much of a breakfast for someone who feels so good."

Smiling sheepishly, he shrugged his shoulders. "Not taking any chances of overdoing it and going back to square one. I think that's what happened yesterday with the sandwich. I ate too much too fast. Besides," he said with a small grimace. "My stomach's kind of sore this morning."

"Wonder why?" Freya said with a snort.

Brendan paused long enough to cast her a scornful look before taking another small bite of toast. Be nice or I won't let you sleep so long next time, much less make you breakfast.

Swallowing her juice, Freya grinned as she set her glass down. "Thank you for the breakfast by the way. This is really good. Sure you don't want some?"

Scowling, Brendan shook his head. "No, eggs on my stomach when it's like this is not good."

"You have a headache too," she said, reading his pained wince when he moved his head. She was also noticing the way he squinted his eyes a little more than usual.

"Little one," he admitted. "I'd take a Tylenol, but I'm trying to be extra cautious with what I put in my stomach right now. I'll grab some later if things stay put for a while." Brendan took his empty plate over to the sink and rinsed it off.

Freya moved to join him with her own plate when she noticed he was dressed already. Obviously, she was holding him up. "I'll just grab a quick shower and then we can go. You could lie down for a few minutes and I'll give a yell when I'm ready to go."

"I'll just watch the news while you're getting ready. It's still only 6:30, so take your time."

"Okay," she said, watching him walk into the living room. She thought about bringing up the doctor again, but with his stomach settling for the moment, she knew it would be a battle. Sighing, she headed for her suitcase, deciding she'd just have to keep a close eye on him today and make sure he was really okay.

oOo

Brendan let the edge of the paper slide out of his fingers so he could bring his hand up to rub the side of his throbbing head.

"Headache still not any better?" asked Freya, eyeing him suspiciously. He knew she was worried about him and he hated that, but the low ache had built to a dull throb and then progressed to a stabbing pain behind his eyes. He could barely see the papers in the file in front of him.

"Not so much," he admitted, knowing full well she already knew the answer to her question. He jerked the top drawer on his right open and yanked out a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol, pouring out three pills.

"Hey, partner, I thought you were watching out for your stomach," Freya warned.

Brendan downed the pills with the remainder of the Coke on his desk, lukewarm from sitting out so long. "My stomach is fine," he snapped.

Recoiling, Freya frowned at him as she pushed her chair back a little. "Whoa, there fella, I was just checking."

Chewing his lip a second, Brendan sighed and closed the file on his desk. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. Guess I'm just getting frustrated."

Freya watched him and he could feel her eyes trying peel away the layers and see what was going on in his head. Sometimes keeping his thoughts to himself was a challenge, but with his aching body and throbbing head, it was just impossible. There it was, that worried look again.

"It's almost six. Why don't we quit for the night and start fresh tomorrow," she suggested. "To tell you the truth, I'm starting to see double myself." She set her file down on the corner of the desk and stifled a yawn. She really did look almost as tired as he felt.

"Okay, maybe you're right. I am kind of bushed."

"Great," she said with a big, relieved smile. "Come on and I'll buy you dinner."

"Still trying to feed me?" he quipped.

"Trying. Is it working?"

Brendan almost laughed at the hopeful look on her face. He rubbed his stomach, which felt decidedly empty. He'd had a few crackers from the break room for lunch along with the soda he'd just finished off. Although still sore with slightly unsteady moments, for the most part his stomach felt okay. "Okay, you're on. Let's go eat."

"Great!" she said as she popped up from her chair. This time Brendan did laugh, earning himself a scowl and a set of crossed arms.

"You are way too perky for this time of day," he complained as he pulled himself to his feet to join her in a walk for the elevator. As he drew up beside her, she punched him in the arm so hard it made his eyes water.

"And do not ever call me perky again."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, rubbing his throbbing bicep. He was really going to have to speak to her about her recent violent tendencies, especially when they were directed toward his arm.

oOo

Late the next morning, Freya thought they had finally caught a break. She arrived at the office a little before eight to find Brendan already knee deep in files. They had seven boxes of files from almost three years of trying to nail Greyson to go through and they'd barely made a dent. Brendan's mind had been quiet except for reading the files and mentally cross matching with other things he'd read or remembered and then trying to figure out how it could help them. But there were overtones of discomfort, waxing and waning as the morning wore on. He claimed to be all right, but he didn't look well. His complexion was pale and he shifted around almost constantly, like he couldn't find a comfortable position, alternately rubbing his stomach, then his head or his neck.

Shortly before eleven, he went rigid and then stood up, knocking papers off his desk as he read the one in his hand. "I think this is it," he breathed out, almost like he was afraid to verbalize the possibility. "We'll need a search warrant," he said as he hurried off to find Merriweather.

Freya sat back in relief, hopeful that this would be the lead they needed to nail Greyson once and for all. There would be no reason to have Brendan killed if there was enough physical evidence to convict him without the agent's testimony. Plus, maybe she could finally get Brendan to relax and take care of himself before he worked himself into the hospital again. She laughed at herself when she realized she had unwittingly crossed her fingers at some point.

Brendan returned a few minutes later and grabbed his coat. "Terri's working on getting the search warrant now. We're heading over there and Kunzel will meet us with the warrant and some backup ASAP."

Reaching for her coat, Freya frowned up at her partner. "And exactly where is it we're going again?"

Brendan grinned mischievously as he walked past her. "I thought you read minds."

"Not when they're going light speed in three different directions at once. Gives me a headache. So where are we going, oh great one?"

Stepping into the elevator, Brendan pulled his coat around him and punched the button. "Great one . . . I like that. Well, since you asked so nicely, we're going to an old house near the warehouse district that is rented by a company that is co-owned by a company that Greyson is a partner in."

"Right," Freya drawled.

"Let's just say that the company doesn't look exactly legit, although enough effort has been put into it that it doesn't immediately raise any red flags."

"Unless you're scrutinizing it because one of the owners has committed murder," added Freya as they stepped out of the elevator.

"Exactly!"

Freya had to admit that the excitement of possibly getting Greyson had put some color back into Brendan's face and added some energy to his steps. She crossed her fingers again that this would provide the evidence they needed.

oOo

The old white frame house at the end of the narrow street was in dire need of a coat of paint. Most of the other buildings in the area had been condemned or torn down, leaving the structure alone at the end of the road. Brendan and Freya sat in the car looking at the pitiful sight for over an hour before Kunzel drove up with three patrol cars.

"Stay here," Brendan said as he opened the door.

"You're joking, right?" she asked as she stepped out to join him.

"No, you stay here until we clear the place and then you can come in." He opened the trunk and threw in his jacket, replacing it with a Kevlar vest. Kunzel came over waving a piece of paper.

"Got the warrant. You ready?"

Brendan nodded and slammed the trunk shut. "Ready. Send four guys around to the back and have one at each side in case anyone goes out a window. The rest of us will go in the front door." Turning to Freya, he pointed at her, his expression rock hard. "You will wait in the car until I call for you, understand?" This is not negotiable.

Sighing heavily, Freya nodded, knowing there was no way he was backing down on this. "Fine, I'll wait safely in the car like a little girl."

"Thank you," he said with a smile before motioning toward Kunzel and heading for the house. She climbed into the car, watching him check her position before knocking on the front door.

When no one answered the locked door, Brendan and Kunzel kicked it in and entered, with two policemen going in right behind them. Freya watched, waiting not so patiently for them to come out and wave to her. It seemed like they had been in the house for a long time, when she finally saw movement. "About time," she murmured to herself.

Something was wrong. The policemen came running out the front door with Kunzel and Brendan just a few yards behind them. Everyone, including the men at the side of the house, was running away from the structure. Freya got out of the car and had barely taken a step when the house went up in a huge, fiery explosion that almost knocked her to the ground. Brendan and Kunzel both sailed through the air as if they'd been flung by some invisible alien force, skidding face down in the dirt and gravel driveway for several feet.

Freya took off running toward her partner and was quickly joined by the police. She was almost there when Brendan's left hand came up just far enough to pat Kunzel on the shoulder. It was then, as she knelt next to him, that she noticed a small tendril of smoke curling up toward the sky. Kunzel lifted his head to glance back over his shoulder.

"Damn . . . my best suit."

"You're welcome," Brendan said hoarsely before launching into a coughing fit. He pulled himself up to his elbows in order to breathe through the spell.

"Brendan, are you guys all right?" asked Freya, gently rubbing his back.

As soon as he stopped coughing, Brendan rolled over on his back and slowly sat up. "We're fine," he said, glancing over to Kunzel as if to check on the accuracy of his statement. Kunzel was shifting around to a sitting position as well.

Both men looked down at their shredded hands and torn sleeves, speckled with dirt, gravel, and little spots of blood. Even the knees of their pants were torn and a little bloody. Brendan had a cut on his right cheek that was oozing a trail of blood, while Kunzel had almost no skin left on his chin.

"You're bleeding," Kunzel said, pointing to Brendan's cheek. Brendan wiped the trail of blood away and then nodded to Kunzel.

"That's okay, you skinned your chin." Brendan suddenly chuckled. "Skinned your chin and your shin. I'm a poet and don't know-it."

"Your feet must be Longfellow's," quipped Kunzel with a sloppy grin.

The policeman who had walked up to stand behind the two men frowned down at Freya. "Are they okay?"

"I'm not sure at this point," she said seriously, regarding the two disheveled men sitting before her. "They seem to have been knocked silly."

Brendan looked up over his shoulder. "Did everyone get out okay?"

The policeman nodded. "Yes, sir, everyone is accounted for. You two were closest to the blast. The fire department and paramedics are on the way."

"I don't need a paramedic," said Brendan. He looked up at Kunzel. "Do you?"

Kunzel shook his head. "Nope. Could use about ten Tylenols though."

"At least," replied Brendan, rubbing the side of his head. "And I thought I had a headache before." He glanced back around at Freya. "You're okay, right?"

Freya sat back in the gravel and shook her head at him. "I'm fine, I was in the car, remember? What happened?"

Taking a deep sigh and looking forlornly up at the huge pile of burning rubble, Brendan let out a small moan. "It was booby-trapped. I should have expected that. I should have seen that coming a mile away." He clenched his right hand into a fist and pounded his already injured hand against the ground. I should have been more careful.

"Well, one of us should have thought of that for sure, but you can't take all the blame on this one, Dean," said Kunzel, looking about as angry with himself as Brendan was. "We must be having rookie mistake day or something."

"Yeah, something," Brendan muttered bitterly.

Freya followed their gaze to the flames that were close enough she could feel the heat radiating off the debris. "Was there anything in there?"

Brendan stared at the flames for a few seconds before turning his battered face to look at her. "Only the mother lode," he whispered.

TBC