Dust in the Wind

The morning of the third day dawns bright and cold as Fall's chilling fingers snake around the DC Area. It's Monday and the waiting area has been emptied by the constraints of jobs and school for her friends and family. She is quietly relieved.

It isn't that she's ungrateful for their support, but their constant presence was smothering to some extent and now she is allowed the freedom to take a step back and consider her situation objectively. To rest in the safe arms of reason and logic, which rarely fail her.

The only thing which is slightly unnerving to her is the continued delivery of his letters and flowers since his hospitalization. They mock her reason and logic, reminding her that she is in a situation with variables far beyond her ability to control. Today they are not roses, but daisies, and she has a sinking feeling that she knows what they will be tomorrow; on their tenth anniversary.

Perhaps, she tells herself as she turns today's envelope over and over in her hands, she should stop reading them until he wakes up. Even as the thoughts come, however, her fingers are tugging at the seal, unable to deny her the tenuous connection.

And so she will read. And she will write. And she will keep the faith that somehow he will find his way back to her.

Chapter 4: New Kid on the Block

On his first official night as a bartender he showed up early, was neatly dressed in the white uniform she'd provided him with, and was cleanly shaven, with a red and black checked golfer's tam on his head.

"What is that?" Bren asked pointedly.

"It's my new lid," he grinned broadly, tipping it at her.

"Your new 'lid' looks like something my grandfather would wear," she teased.

He frowned, "Hey, if I've gotta wear these dull duds every night, I need to have something fun on."

She rolled her eyes and inspected his outfit. She couldn't deny that he filled out the white dress shirt and crisp black pants very nicely and concluded aloud, "I like it."

"Yeah?" his eyes lit up like a young child's and his smile was bright.

"It shows you're a free-thinker," she returned the smile, "which is preferable to some of the mindless drones I've been forced to hire before."

"Well the last guy couldn't have been too bad," he commented, stepping behind the bar and inspecting the shelves full of liquor. "This place is well-stocked."

"He had superb instincts," she nodded. "When it comes to hard liquors I'm something of a novice, but we never once had a complaint during his tenure."

Mr. B nodded, "Thanks again for putting in a good word for me. I know it's nothing permanent, but it helps."

She waved him off, then began going over his basic responsibilities and the terms of his employment. It was agreed that since the job was merely temporary, he'd be paid weekly, in cash, and without benefits; which he assured her he didn't need. To her surprise, he also offered to help her in the search for his replacement and while she didn't agree right away, she didn't dismiss the offer either.

"Come on," she motioned for him to follow her out from behind the bar.

"Where are we going?" he wanted to know, keeping in step with her the entire time.

"To meet the rest of the team, of course," she led the way through a set of double doors and into the bowels of the nightclub.

...

"He seems like a decent guy," Angela said in Mr. B's defense as a small knot of employees paused to watch the new hire at work.

"Seems," resident author Jack Hodgins intoned, nursing his drink. "But do we really know who he is?"

"Perhaps he's a nefarious criminal who is hiding from the law," the club's spindly, English DJ spoke up.

Zach, Bren's personal assistant shook his head, "His posture would suggest a military or law enforcement background."

"I heard him say Cam is his brother's partner," Angela put in, pointing to the woman entering the front door, who was somewhat of a regular.

They watched the detective approach the bar and all four caught the surprised look and the recognition that crossed her face when she caught sight of Mr. B and they all strained forward to pick up the conversation. The two spoke in low enough tones to be drowned out by the bar, however, and they had to quickly look the other way before they were caught spying.

"Guess that part was true," Hodgins grunted.

"Hmmm," Angela watched the ease of interaction playing out in front of her. "She's more than just his brother's partner; or was," she amended.

"You believed they've had intercourse?" Zack asked, earning himself a glare from every eye in the group.

"Maybe he was a spook," suggested Hodgins.

"A what?" Nigel-Murray goggled at him, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

"A spook," Hodgins' eyes gleamed brightly. "You know, CIA. That would explain the military background Zack spotted. And why he won't tell Bren his real name. He might even be here to spy on us."

"There's nothing to spy on here," a droll voice sounded from behind them, causing Hodgins to jump in his seat slightly.

"Fisher, don't do that!" he whirled around, scolding the chef.

"Don't speak the truth?" Fisher arched one Spok-like brow.

Hodgins glared and Fisher glared back until Angela stepped in and served them both with a glare of her own, "Look, it doesn't matter who he is as long as he does his job and doesn't hurt Bren, agreed?"

Four heads bobbed around her and she gave a satisfied nod of her own before suggesting it was time for she, Zack, Fisher, and Vincent to get back to work. Still, working didn't stop her from keeping a close eye on her best friend's mystery man. And it didn't keep her from doing some subtle digging of her own.