Thanks to everyone who's been reading so far. It's been fun! In this chapter: People lose their shirts.

CHAPTER 18: BACK PROBLEMS

TIME AND LOCATION: 19:51, Greenvale Sheriff's department
WEATHER REPORT: Cloudy, chance of thunder
FORTUNE: "Someone you know may be affected by aches and pains resulting from poor posture."

"You want us to show you our what?"

Emily is very close to expressing the outrage she'd sworn never to display in Agent York's presence, but everything he does seems like part of a deliberate attempt to provoke it. So much for keeping her cool, then. "Is this related to the case at all?"

"By showing me your backs, it'll alleviate all concerns I might have regarding your innocence in this case," York says calmly, lighting another cigarette. He looks around at them all, head cocked slightly as if he's wondering whether to have fries or salad with his hamburger. "As an outsider to the case, I'm obliged to treat all citizens of this town as potential suspects. That includes you three, unfortunately. That tattoo is the key to uncovering our prime suspect, so it's in your best interests to clear yourselves as quickly as possible."

"I don't care if you're from the FBI or even if you're the president himself!" George says furiously. "You're methods are rude, insulting, and out of the question. And Emily is a female officer! This is harassment, and you, Agent Morgan, are out of line."

"I'm not forcing anyone to do anything. But if you want to earn my trust, this is a necessary first step in the procedure."

Nobody is looking directly at her, but Emily feels their attention like tiny lasers centered on her body. She knows if anyone is going to make a decision, it will have to be her, and the others will defer to it. The pressure weighs on her, like her father's strong hand on her shoulder whenever he wanted to talk to her about something. She had always dreaded those conversations, so indicative of the widening distance between them... But this dread is different, the dread of knowing her choice is not only personal, but a political maneuver.

George turns to her, looking determined. "Listen, Emily, whatever he says, don't feel like you have to do anything you don't want to. Thomas and I can handle it; you can just-"

"George... It's okay. " Emily feels almost as surprised as George looks. A hot ball of anger is growing in her stomach, and she's not sure whether it's because of York, or her boss. "Let's just show him and get it over with."

"Emily! Are you crazy?"

She throws up her hands in exasperation. "Look, I'll be fine. We flash some skin and he won't have any more excuses not to cooperate with us any more. Isn't that right, Agent York?"

She turns and shoots him a look that she hopes will throw him off track, but York just shifts his shoulders inside his suit and continues gazing at them from behind a thin curtain of cigarette smoke. Thomas is wringing his hands nervously, but Emily knows he won't make any objections. She heads towards the door without looking back to see if anyone is following her.

"Come on then, let's do this."

Just as York predicted, there is no one in the locker room, but Thomas locks the door behind them anyway. The smell of York's cigarette mingles unpleasantly with the sweaty odor lingering in the small space as the four of them cluster together between rows of lockers, avoiding each other's gazes. George gets up close to York, hat pulled low over his eyes.

"I'll have you know, Agent Morgan, that I intend to be fully present for your little inspection. There won't be any funny business so long as I'm around, you hear?"

York's voice is cold as he replies, "If you're implying anything beyond strict professional necessity on my part, then I'd advise you to keep it to yourself. Emily, would you like us to move while you get ready?"

Emily shakes her head, wondering why she feels so humiliated when nothing has even happened yet. Besides, it was her decision in the first place. "No. Let's just do it here."

And, taking a deep breath, she unbuttons her police uniform and pulls it off, turning to the wall with her back to the others. Her ears are ringing, every sense alert, and she thinks she hears someone exhaling through their nose, but that's it. She counts to five in her head, one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, just like her mother taught her when she was a little girl... And then it's over. She turns back as she's doing up the last button on her top, relieved that her heart rate is so steady, that she isn't blushing or anything that might make her seem vulnerable. And why should she be? It had all been as clinical as a trip to the doctor's office... At least, she wants to believe that it was.

"Are you satisfied now?" she says, forcing herself to meet Agent York's eyes as Thomas moves to take her place.

"Yes. My apologies." He looks at her directly but briefly before turning his attention to Thomas, betraying neither satisfaction nor disappointment. His demeanor at this moment, so serious and without his usual abrasiveness, is affecting. Emily wonders if her embarrassment is really that she'd thought York might have had something on his mind other than the investigation when he'd made his request; now it's plain to see that, regardless of previous examples to the contrary, York's transparency this time is genuine. Beside her, George shifts his weight uncomfortably, and she feels an odd protectiveness towards her boss that hadn't been there before.

"Thank you, Thomas. George?"

Thomas is pulling his shirt back on, Emily too preoccupied to notice if anything had been amiss. Obviously he's in the clear, because George is stepping up, grumbling like a kid being sent to the corner for scribbling on the wall.

"Yeah, yeah. I can't refuse now, can I?" He points a finger at York, who is in the process of lighting another cigarette, and adds dangerously, "But don't expect to get your way all the time, Agent Morgan. Once we've all proven our innocence, you can start treating us as peers instead of subordinates."

He takes off his hat and lays it on a bench, then his jacket. Emily is considering not looking- it's none of her business, after all- but then she hears York's sharp intake of air and curiosity overtakes her in an instant.

"George!"

She can't help herself from saying it out loud. Pale red lines, drawn long ago, criss-cross each other like the marks on the scratching post her parents had bought for the pet cat when she was in grade three. They cover George's back from the base of his spine to his shoulder blades, the muscles hard and bulky beneath the mangled skin. There is hardly a patch of flesh that hasn't been touched by the scars, and Emily feels York's shock almost as clearly as her own.

"George," York says carefully. "Where did you get-"

"Just like your Mr. Zach," George says over his shoulder, dark eyes glittering. "It's something... private. None of your business, is it, Morgan?"

York stands still, cigarette smoldering between his fingers, eyes wide and staring. He doesn't appear to be looking at George's back any longer, but rather at some distant object millions of miles from this room that nobody else can see.

"No... Of course. A private matter, just like Zach." He shakes his head slowly, as if in a trance.

"Just like Zach..."

Reviews would be... outstanding!