DISCLAIMER: You know the drill.
Emily was over at her Zoe's house this week, and there was no reason for Gillian to come over to his house tonight. Cal was safe and secure in the knowledge that he could get completely wasted without anybody knowing.
He was sitting on the couch, cradling a half-empty bottle of scotch in his left hand while he swirled its contents and thought.
Max wasn't dead. When he didn't come back, Cal had assumed the worst; everybody had. But now, over thirty years later, Max had shown up in his office to ask for his help. He didn't know what to do. He had last seen Max a few weeks before his fourteenth birthday. They had both been teenagers then. Now they were adults, and they'd had less time to learn to live with each other than to learn how to live without. Cal could count on one hand how many people knew he had a brother, and those were all people he had known before he'd left England. Not even Gillian knew about Max. But then, why should she? Up until today, Cal had assumed he was dead, and why should he bring up a dead brother?
Working on the case would be hell. He and Max were different people now than they had been all those years ago...they were practically strangers...but at the same time, they were brothers...
Heh. Some brother Max was. He had let his family and friends think he was dead...he had let his brother think he was dead. He had left Cal alone, to deal with their parents and poverty and their crappy life all on his own. And Cal didn't think he could ever forgive him for that. He wasn't sure that he exactly hated him...but there was no love lost.
Cal shook his head and set the scotch on the table as he went to turn on some music in an attempt to drown out his thoughts. It didn't really work. So he just took another swig of the scotch, and decided he would get dead drunk instead.
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Cal woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and a killer hangover. He groaned as he got out of bed, hating the fact that he had to get up and deal with work. Why couldn't he be hungover in peace? But no, he had to go in to work and solve other people's problems. So somebody killed somebody else. He didn't need to deal with it! Still grumbling, he picked his car keys off the kitchen counter and shuffled out the door, banging his shin along the way and letting out a stream of curses.
Things got a little better when he finally arrived at work. He yelled at Loker, got some coffee, and then yelled at Loker some more, all of which were very stress-relieving. He could tell Loker and Torres were keeping a secret from him, and something major by the expressions on their faces. At first he had assumed that they were keeping secret a new relationship between the two of them, and had treated it as such and had not thought about it any longer. Now, though, he wasn't so sure.
"Um, sir?" Heidi said, catching him in the hallway as he grumpily tried to find someone to yell at. He was tired, hungover, and pissed off for no reason at all, and not really in the mood for a conversation.
"What?" He barked out, annoyed at the world and willing to take it out on anyone who talked to him.
"Um, that man from yesterday stopped by a few minutes ago, and told me to tell you to call him." Cal couldn't stop his face from adopting a sour expression as he remembered why he was angry. He quickly put a somewhat neutral face on before Heidi could catch it, glad that it was Heidi he was talking to and not Torres, who would have caught the expression in an instant.
"Call him? I don't even know his phone number." He said as the realization donned on him. He felt slightly stupid, but at least he hadn't run to the phone or something before thinking off that. Heidi handed him a slip of paper with a number and the name "Max" written underneath it. She raised her eye a little bit at the fact that he was on a first name basis with a man he had supposedly only met yesterday, but decided not to comment, which was something Cal was grateful for.
He stalked over to his office and closed the door behind him, mentally preparing himself for what would probably be an exhausting argument. However much he wanted to call Max and say nothing but, "Screw you!", but he couldn't. This was a case, and nothing but a case. It just happened to involve his long-lost brother. He needed to be professional about this, and treat it like it was nothing special to him. He didn't want Foster, Loker, Torres, or Emily finding out that Max existed. He would rather have him just fade quietly in and out of his life. He wasn't thirteen anymore. He didn't need a brother, and he had built up a life without him.
Cal still wasn't sure how he felt about Max being alive. He was glad Max wasn't dead, even if they weren't exactly buddy-buddy at the moment. But that simply begged the question of why he didn't come back. Samuel was grieving, scared, and angry at the time of Grace's death, but Cal didn't think he would kill Max. It was only after Max ran away and never came back that Samuel began to slowly lose touch with reality.
Cal slowly dialed the number, hesitating only a moment as doubt filled his mind. Maybe he didn't want to do this. Sure, they were brothers, but that didn't mean Cal had to help him...no. He thought as he shook his head and began punching numbers in.
Max picked up on the fourth ring, sounding too happy for Cal's liking. He probably hadn't expected him to call.
"Hey, munchkin! You called!" He said excitedly, and Cal could hear the smile in his voice. It surprised him somewhat-Max had been depressed and angry when he had last spoken to him. It was as if someone had given him a personality transplant.
"What're ya so happy about? I called for business, not to chat. And don't call me munchkin. I'm a grown man now, and so are you. We're practically the same height now." Cal said grouchily. He heard Max laugh on the other end of the line.
"Whatever floats your boat, munchkin. And that's rubbish. We can chat and work on the case, you know. You could come over to my place for a beer, and we can catch up." What the hell? Did he think that Cal wanted to talk to him? Had he not been awful to him yesterday, and told him he didn't have a brother? What was going on in his screwed up head?
"Why on earth would I want to do that? Max, we need to get something straight. I am talking to you because I have to. Stop trying to be nice to me. I would rather hate you without you trying to make me feel guilty for it." Cal snapped out angrily. They weren't friends. They were brothers in blood only. They were two men who were thrust together by circumstance, and nothing more than that.
"...Come on, mate. That's bullocks. You don't hate me..." He said. Cal was getting tired of this, and decided to get to the point, and address the main reason that he had called.
"Screw you, Max. Come over to the Lightman Group at three so that we can..." He didn't want to say the word "interrogate" and frighten Max off, "...interview you." Max made a sound of surprise.
"Interview? What the hell are you talking about? You're going to question me? Why? Why me? I already told you that I didn't kill that man's daughter, and he has no right to blame me for it!" Max shouted in outrage. Cal couldn't help but notice with dismay the distancing in language. It was a sign of severe anger...normally the type that led to death. Max hadn't been lying when he had said that he didn't kill her, but it was this type of thing that led to the interrogation of suspects.
"What do you mean, why you? You killed her, even if it was an accident. Samuel hates you, mate, and by the sound of it the feeling is mutual. Unless you can bring Samuel in, you're the only person we can question. " He said evenly. It wasn't just in Samuel's eyes that the blame rested on Max, but it wasn't as if he could tell him that.
"...do you mean Grace, or Samuel's daughter?" Max said shakily. A sign of anxiety. Cal didn't answer.
"Just be here later. Oh, and something else. If you want my help, you have to pretend you don't know me. I call you Mr. Mason, you call me Dr. Lightman, and we don't give anyone any reason to suspect that we didn't meet just yesterday. Got it?" Cal said. Mr. Mason was what people called their father, and nobody wanted to be addressed formally by someone they knew well, so Cal figured Max wouldn't like it. But that didn't matter.
Max sighed. "Alright...but do I really have to go over there? So that you can interrogate me with questions and cameras and lie detection experts who are going to analyze everything I say, every little action. Can't you just accept that I'm telling the truth? Just trust me, okay Cal?"
Cal glared at the phone, and remembered the long list of reasons why this morning sucked. He was tired, hungover, and pissed off. And his long-lost brother, who had left him alone when he had needed him most, had decided to rear his ugly head. "Trust you? Max, I lost my trust in you after you lied to me. I ain't ever trustin' you again. Now bugger off for now, and be here at three." He said as he hung up, without listening to Max's complaints. He sighed, and started rubbing at his forehead. He had considered arranging for Max to come later, maybe tomorrow, or in a week. Or in a year. Or never.
How was he supposed to interrogate his own brother? He wouldn't be able to treat the case professionally. He briefly thought for a moment that maybe he should have Torres be assigned to the case instead-after all, she would probably be able to do the case better than he would considering who they were questioning-but he wouldn't. It was his brother, his family, his problem. It just didn't seem like the type of thing he should callously pass on to someone else, and pretend that it didn't matter to him that it was Max they were talking about. Well, pretend to himself. He'd be pretending to everyone else anyway.
He sighed again, and began putting together the case file.
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Gillian Foster hummed to herself as she began doing paperwork in her office. It was a bright, cheery day outside. Maybe that was the cause for her inexplicable happiness. Not even Cal's sour mood could bring her down today.
"Hello, Dr. Foster. How's your day been? Any sign of a new case? I think everyone is going stir crazy from boredom." Torres said, smiling as she walked into Foster's office. It was true, everyone had gone stir crazy. But she was interested to know if Lightman had said anything about a new case, particularly one regarding Max. Due to the way Lightman had been talking to Max yesterday, Torres assumed that they would begin working on it soon. Lightman would want to get it over with.
"No, not yet. I don't mind though, it's nice to have a time when we actually aren't doing something. I've been working on some paperwork, nothing to stressful." She said conversationally. Torres nodded, distracted. At that very moment, Cal rapped on the door and walked in without waiting for her to say anything.
"Oi, can you two ladies please meet me in my office? We have a new case. And do either of you know where Loker is?" They both shook their heads and followed him out of the office, catching Loker along the way. Foster saw Agent Reynalds hanging around, and started to wave him over to join them, but Cal shook his head at her. She didn't know why he would be trying to exclude Agent Reynalds, but she supposed that she would go along with it, seeing as how she didn't know what was going on.
They all walked into the office and Lightman closed the door behind him, turning to face them all with a serious face.
"Alright, we're taking on a new case. It involves a man called Max Mason," he didn't miss how Loker and Torres started a bit at the name, and decided to address that later, "and he has somebody after him because he thinks he murdered his daughter, a man named Samuel Dove. Mr. Mason didn't, however, and came to me for help, deciding to avoid the police because he was afraid that they might try and arrest him, seeing as how Samuel convinced the cops that Mr. Mason was responsible."
There were protests around the room, and Loker asked, "Doesn't that mean we're aiding and abetting a criminal? If he's a suspect, shouldn't we not be helping him, shouldn't we turn him over to the police? Can't we get arrested for this?" right around the same time that Foster said, " Samuel? You're on a first name basis with him?"
Lightman ignored Foster, but made sure to give out negative body language signals. He wanted her to ask any more about it, and he hoped she saw that. Instead, he decided to address Loker's question.
"Yes, we can be arrested, but no, we shouldn't and won't turn him over to the police." Cal said decisively, and nobody was brave enough to question him. Once Lightman had his mind made up, he rarely changed it. "Which is why we're not going to tell Ben about this unless we can't avoid it. He's part of the FBI. If he knew about this, his hands would be tied. He would have to tell the local authorities, or risk losing his job and being thrown in jail, even if he didn't directly do anything. Just knowing and not reporting can have some serious consequences." He made sure to catch everyone's eyes, holding Gillian's the longest.
"And what about my question? About you calling him by first name?" She asked evenly, maintaining their eye contact. He silently cursed himself. He had prepared and reminded himself to only call Max Mr. Mason, but he had forgotten about Samuel and Grace. It just felt natural to call them by first name.
"Slip of the tongue." He said, daring anyone to question him. Nobody did. "We have Mr. Mason waiting in the Cube right now. He's the only suspect," he hated calling Max that, "that we can get a hold of right now, so we will have to get as much information as possible."
Foster looked like she had more questions-why were they taking a case that could get them in trouble with the police, why was Mr. Mason the only suspect they could talk to when talking to Samuel Dove would be better, and why did Cal show a very, very brief flash of agony when he said "Mr. Mason"? She decided he would ask him later though, in private.
Loker and Torres didn't show any surprise at all. They knew what was coming. Lightman saw this, and made sure that he would talk about it to them later. They certainly knew something already about this case, and they had both been keeping a secret all week...
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Foster, Loker, and Torres watched as Lightman slowly entered the Cube, somewhat hesitant for the first time about interrogating a suspect. The suspect, Mr. Mason, sat idly in a chair, and appeared to be bored. Strangely enough, he didn't seem that nervous, not like most people were when they were about to be interrogated. While others stood ramrod straight and had a tendency to fidget and move aside their hair or tap their fingers, the man sat slumped over the chair with an arrogant slouch, his light brown hair flopping into his hazel eyes. If Foster were to guess, she would place him at around 50, although he didn't have any gray hairs and could easily be younger. He was dressed casually too, in jeans, a brown leather jacket and a black shirt, as if he were going to see a friend and not be interrogated as to why someone was trying to kill him. That was also unusual. He wasn't even fidgeting. Why wasn't he nervous?
"Hello Mr. Mason. You know how this goes, right? I ask some questions, you answer them. Some of the questions might be difficult, or hard to answer, but you're just gonna have to suck it up and answer anyway, okay?" Mr. Mason and Lightman shared a significant glance, and then he nodded. Gillian thought this was strange. Loker and Torres were watching with curiosity all over their faces, and that wasn't unusual. They were in the Cube, interrogating a suspect-that definitely wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the fact that they didn't really know very much about the case. They had just found out about it, but they were already interrogating somebody. It was as if Cal didn't want to give them time to wonder about it. Also unusual was the suspect's complete lack of nervousness...and the way Cal ran his hand through his hair as he sat down across from Mr. Mason. On anybody else, Gillian wouldn't have noticed...but that was a symptom of anxiety or frustration, and why would Cal be nervous about interrogating somebody when the person he was interrogating wasn't? And he was explaining something...Cal never explained anything. He liked to keep people on their toes so that they would be more likely to slip up. It was just weird, and unlike Cal.
"Alright then. Ask away." Mr. Mason said, and it was impossible not to notice his voice-more specifically, the London accent, and the way his voice seemed to have the same inflections that Cal's did. Maybe they grew up in the same area...maybe they knew each other, and that was why Cal was nervous? It would make sense.
"Did you murder Grace Dove?" He shot off suddenly. Max blinked rapidly...he hadn't realized that Samuel had named his daughter after Grace...
"No. I hadn't seen Samuel in years, why would I murder his daughter? She got shot in the head, but that doesn't mean she was shot by me." Straight answer, no deflection, added detail and steady pupils...he was telling the truth. His voice rose in pitch, but Cal figured it was simply outrage and surprise that he was asking this again, and not anything more than that.
"Well I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Cal said challengingly. Max looked down and away, and began rubbing at his forehead-shame. He looked up at Cal pleadingly, and Cal knew that Max didn't want him to ask these questions. Cal knew the answers, after all. But everyone else was watching...and well, even though Max was his brother Cal got the feeling he was hiding something...
Max sighed, and then looked around nervously. He knew that if anyone found out what he had done on his eighteenth birthday, he could be charged with manslaughter...he could go to jail for a very long time.
He sighed again, and Cal began tapping his foot. "Just spit it out, Max." He said under his breath, so that only Max could hear him. That must have given him the courage he needed, because he started to talk.
"He blames me for Grace's death...you know that...and he saw me running away from the scene of the crime. Nearly blew my head off." He said the last part very quickly, and with a little laugh at the end, showing that he was nervous after all. Cal's eyebrows shot up towards his forehead in shock and surprise-he didn't know that!
"Excuse me? You were at the scene of the crime? Did you see who killed her? Why didn't you call it in, or tell me?" He said, s was beginning to forget about the other people watching, who might be wondering why a suspect should come out and tell their interrogator everything before they were even questioned.
"If I saw who killed her, don't you think I would have told you?" Max said. No, no Max, don't be lying to me. Cal thought desperately. That was a classic deflection, a sign he was lying. And people only lied when they had something to hide...generally, something bad.
"Answer the question. Did you see who killed her?" He asked sharply. Max shifted in his seat, and his leg began jumping up and down. Those watching outside could tell he was nervous, and by the way he was hesitating, he was probably about to lie.
"No, I did not see who killed her. I didn't call it in because I didn't see who killed her. If I saw anyone about to be killed, I would try and defend them. And telling the police would be a form of defense, right? " Anyone could spot the lies in the first two sentences. Rigid repetition, followed by Max looking Cal straight in the eye, not moving his head at all, leg moving up and down the whole time. The next sentence though...it was completely true. He would try and defend them. But by the way he said "a form of defense" he could tell that Max was thinking of another way he could defend her. His pupils moved to the upper left corner of his eyes as they registered a memory. So he tried to defend her but didn't tell the police. And he saw the killer.
"That's rubbish! You saw who killed her! Tell me who!" He demanded hotly,pointing his finger at Max as he stepped forward in an accusing manner. Gillian could see that there was something about this man that made Cal a little less level-headed, and he would lose his cool soon.
Max stood up, pushing his chair back and knocking it over. "Trust me!" The words didn't mean the same thing to them as it would to someone else. Something else passed between the two men, and they both took the same aggressive stance towards each other. It was remarkable how similar they looked at certain moments. Gillian just assumed that even strangers could share some common traits. Although they weren't exactly acting like strangers...
"Trust you? Trust you? You're lying to me Max! It would save you a whole lot of trouble if you just told us the truth about what happened!" Cal yelled. Max shrugged his shoulder and stepped back a bit when Cal said that it would save him trouble with the police- he didn't believe a word of it.
"Alright, I was in London and I thought I would visit some of the places I hadn't been two since I- in a very long time. I went down down an alley by the bakery, Johnson's Rolls, you know, that place that had really good bread? I saw a man in a dark coat with a gun. I didn't know who he was. There was also a girl, about fourteen. She was around 5"6, with honey blonde hair. It looked like Sam's, I remember thinking." Unnecessary details. He was lying about the man, but telling the truth about the girl and the location. He was also beginning to look down at his hands, which were nervously fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. He was showing signs of guilt. Cal decided not to call him out on it right away. He needed to hear the rest of the story. He needed his brother to stop showing signs that he knew the man, and that he was guilty. Not when he was talking about a homicide. It was an implication that he may have...no. Cal didn't want to think about that possibility.
"Keep going. Don't leave anything out...don't forget that I'm a lie detection expert. I'll know."
Max nodded and continued talking quickly. "And then he pulled out the gun and said 'I have a message to send to your father...' and then she turned around and started running, but he shot her! In the back of the head, and there was blood and stuff everywhere! And what was I supposed to do? I tackled the guy, without saying anything to him. I did not see who he was. I didn't know him. We got into a fist fight-and jeez, could that guy throw a punch!-but then I, uh, tripped, and he uh, got away and I just couldn't uh, get to him. He got away." Max said quickly. The first part was the whole truth. As soon as he started talking about the man, he began to lie.
"You're lying to me, Max! I told you I would know! Didn't I? Someone's died! We need to find the killer, and soon! Who knows how long it will be until Samuel figures out where you are? He was always good at computers, he might find a way!" Cal could tell two things from Max's expression. One: he didn't know that Samuel was a good hacker. That made sense, he had left before household computers became common. The second thing was that he showed guilt, shame, and fear when Cal said that Samuel didn't know where he was...and Cal began to get angry.
"Max! Look at me! Look at me!" He yelled when Max continued looking down at his hands. Max looked at him sharply, guilt and fear and regret written on his face. "Samuel does not know where you are, right? And don't you dare lie to me!" Cal shouted as he began advancing towards Max, who was backing into a corner, hands out.
"Well...he does. I kind of told him when I was running away. I told him you could help, that you would beat him. And prove me innocent. And stuff. " Max let the words flow out guiltily with fear coloring his features. Cal exploded.
"You told him! You told him you were coming to me? You've just put us all in danger, Max! You bastard! I have a daughter! And now she's in danger and it's all. Your. Fault!" Lightman shouted. He punched Max in the nose, and there was a crunch and blood began to flow. He grabbed Max by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. Gillian gasped and tried to get into the Cube, but it was locked. He must have locked it when he went in, he did that out of habit sometimes.
Max shoved him away with a look of distaste, rubbing the blood away from his nose with a disgusted look. "All my fault? That's bollocks, and you know it! He kept asking me how I thought I could get away from him, now that he's found me. I said I would go to you, that you could protect me because you had contacts with the FBI and stuff, and that there was no way he could touch me while I was under your protection. Anybody would have said the same thing! Stop trying to blame for everything that goes wrong, you arsehole! It's not my fault!" Gillian gasped and redoubled her efforts to get inside. Loker and Torres were shouting at Cal, trying to reason with him to leave Max alone, but he wouldn't listen.
"Not your fault? Not your fault? Of course it's your bloody fault! You didn't have to tell him that! In fact, there were a lot of things you didn't have to do! Samuel went bonkers after you left-and didn't come back! He wouldn't have forgiven you, but he wouldn't be trying to kill you now if you had stayed like a man, instead of running away like the coward you are!" Max went up to Cal, and now the fire was in his eyes, and he was the one who was angry.
"I am not a coward! I had my own reasons for not coming back!" He said indignantly, shoving Cal angrily. Lightman tripped on the tipped over chair and fell to the ground. He scrambled up, rolling out of the way quickly in case Max decided that he would try and kick him.
Once he was on his feet again, he advanced towards Max, finger pointed menacingly, practically spitting out his words."Your own reasons, huh? You were too scared to go to jail, more like! You couldn't stand the fact that you would have to look Samuel in the eye, Samuel and Grace's family! Her little sister was devastated, and she was never the same! I dated her once, but she couldn't stop telling me how much I looked like her sister's murderer!" He screamed at Max. The last thing Cal saw was Max's fist heading blindingly fast towards his eye, and then he was out like a light.
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Foster, Loker, and Torres stopped trying to break into the room and simply stared. Loker and Torres had some idea of what was going on, but they had no idea Lightman and Mason would explode at each other like this. Foster was more confused than she had ever been before.
Max stood in the center of the Cube, looking down at the unconscious form of his younger brother. All the fight drained out of him, seeing his brother on the ground like that, with his eye all blackened up-something that was his doing. He and Cal had never gotten into a fight before, not a physical one-and Cal punching him yesterday didn't count, because he had deserved it.
He looked outside, to the three people pounding on the walls of the Cube, demanding to be let in. He could only assume that they were friends of his brother, or at least coworkers. He was so proud of Cal for founding his own business. It was a shame that he couldn't be there to congratulate him. Or that he wasn't there on his wedding day, or when his daughter was born. There were a lot of things he should have done but didn't, when it came to Cal.
He slowly walked to the door in a dream-like state, suddenly realizing how tired he was. And not just physically. There were a lot of things he was tired of. He unlocked the door.
"Why did you just punch Cal? What's going on?" Foster demanded immediately. She hated being lied to, or having secrets kept from her. Unfortunately, Cal tended to do a lot of this.
"Um, you just knocked my boss out. Not that I haven't wanted to do that before, but it's not cool when somebody else does it." Loker said casually. "You're not going to go crazy on any of us, are you? Because we've got an FBI agent waiting outside." Well, that wasn't completely true. Ben wasn't waiting, and for all he knew he could have gone somewhere else.
"Now are you going to step aside? Cal probably needs medical attention. I don't know what went on in there, but I know one thing. Please. Let us go in and check on him." Gillian said pleadingly. She didn't understand the situation, and she was taking a chance and hoping the man wasn't that dangerous...
Max adopted a hurt expression. "Er, yeah. Jeez, I didn't mean to knock him out. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment...and he was being a git, he shouldn't have mentioned Grace...gosh, I hope I didn't hurt him too bad..." He said. Foster gave him a strange look. Cal had been punched by many people in his life-he was the type of guy that always seemed to be asking for it-but this was the first time someone regretted it. It surprised her.
She shoved past him and checked his vital signs. He appeared to be okay.
"Er...Cal will probably be fine. This isn't the first time someone has, er, punched his lights out, so to speak. There was this one time he and Terry got into this big fight and, well. He woke up after about half an hour, although he had some amnesia for a full day after that. Kept forgetting who I was. Was a pain keeping it from our dad...er, he'll be fine. Er, I guess I should, I don't know, move him or something?" Max said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Glares came from all around.
"No, we should just leave him there." Torres said, uncharacteristically sarcastic. "Come on Loker, let's take Lightman up to his office. Foster, can you make sure that he doesn't leave?" Foster nodded, and she and Loker began carrying him out, trying to move quickly to avoid the stares of the other employees. Lightman being carried from the Cube unconscious wasn't a normal occasion, after all. The door closed shut behind them, and there was silence.
"So who are you? Really? You talked to Cal and about him as if you knew him. You must have known him at some point, if you could talk about him and Terry getting into a fight. What is going on?" Gillian asked. Max closed his eyes, and sighed. He didn't say anything for a while. When he did speak, it was softly, and the regret in his voice was almost tangible.
"I...have made many mistakes in my life. What I did to Cal...was one of the worst. He won't forgive me for it. He probably shouldn't." Max said slowly. Gillian looked at him.
"...'What you did to Cal'...what do you mean?" she asked, just as slowly. Max sighed once more, and wiped some of the blood away from his nose with his shirt. The once solid-black was now splattered with drops of red. She sighed and handed him a tissue.
"I'll start at the beginning. I'm Max, Max Mason. Cal's my little brother."
Foster could not contain her shock. She just stared. And stared. And stared. Until finally, all that came out was, "What?"
A/N: I'm so sorry! I've pretty much forgotten about Agent Reynalds! Gah, I feel like an idiot. I knew I was forgetting somebody. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. Please in your review, tell me if you think I made anyone OOC. And Unweaving the Rainbow, I decided to just go ahead and post this because I was in a bit of a rush to get this out. Sorry. And I'm happy, because I hit 6,000 words, which makes this the longest chapter I have ever written. Yay!
Until next time!
~mourningstar13, or a really beast pen name. I changed it because I was bored~
