The Things They Carried
Summary: The agents of Graceland are masters of keeping secrets. But sometimes, secrets have a way of coming back to haunt you.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; Graceland belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA.
A/n: I am SOO sorry for leaving you guys hanging this long! I've had some computer issues that prevented me from writing for a while, which are thankfully finally resolved. Oh, and I got a brand new operating system for my computer yesterday, which is REALLY cool but has a little bit of a learning curve built into it. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter now that I can actually write it!
Mike couldn't help being nervous as the plane started to land; he hadn't really told anyone in the house he was coming back from Arizona earlier than planned, and he wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived. Honestly, he wasn't really sure how he was getting from the airport back to Graceland; he would just have to figure things out as he went along.
"Not a fan of flying, huh?" Mike glanced at the woman sitting next to him, forcing a smile.
"No, not really," Mike lied. The last thing he really wanted was a bunch of questions.
"You'll get used to it." Mike nodded, closing his eyes as the plane's back wheels touched down on the runway. He couldn't help staring out the window as the plane taxied to the gate, turning on his phone and sighing when it almost immediately indicated he had a voicemail. He knew it wasn't a good thing before he even pressed the button listen to it.
"I swear to God, Mike… I just got a phone call saying you'd left treatment. This isn't okay… call me when you get this." Mike closed his eyes at the sound of Paige's voice on the recording, sighing. He didn't even really get a chance to do anything before his phone was ringing again, this time telling him that Paige was trying to call him at that exact moment.
"Paige…"
"Where the hell are you, Mike? Why haven't you returned my call?"
"I was just about to call you… we just landed."
"Where?"
"I'm coming back to the house…" Mike began.
"No, you're not… you're going to get another ticket and go straight back to Arizona."
"I can't. I got the call this morning… I'm in this, whether we like it or not."
"Clarke can't do that…"
"He can do whatever the hell he wants, Paige… I'm stuck."
"You could go above his head…"
"Look, Paige, I'm still on the plane… we'll talk when I get back to the house, okay? We're about to pull up to the gate, and I need to get moving."
"How are you getting here?"
"I don't know… Clarke just told me he'd arranged everything."
"And you trust him?"
"What choice do I have here, Paige?" Mike watched as the rest of the passengers started to get their belongings together and exit the plane. "Look… I really have to go. But I'll talk to you as soon as I get back to the house, okay?"
"This conversation isn't over, Mike."
"I know." Mike hung up the phone, getting up and grabbing his backpack and suitcase before joining the line to get off the plane.
By the time Mike made it to baggage claim, he was starting to wonder if Clarke really had figured everything out for him. He didn't see any familiar faces waiting for him, and he didn't have any other messages letting him know what the plan was. Mike was just about to suck it up and go for a rental car when he noticed Juan standing by the door, clearly waiting for him.
"I really don't appreciate the Bureau forcing me to cut my leave short…"
"I don't have any control over this either, Mike. I'm just following orders, same as you," Juan replied. Mike sighed, following him out towards the parking garage and putting his bags in the back seat.
"I'm assuming you aren't taking me back to the house."
"Someone else will be taking you to Graceland later. For now, we're going to headquarters so that you can be briefed on what we know and start your investigation into Briggs' disappearance." Mike sighed.
"I need to eat…"
"We'll figure something out."
"Juan… I'm still underweight. I'm not in control of this…" Mike began. "Look, the only reason I even came back for this is because you told me it would be the end of my career if I didn't."
"Where are your priorities, Mike?" Juan asked. Mike rolled his eyes.
"Are you seriously asking me that question, Juan? Do you know anything about eating disorders?" Mike turned to stare out the window, not sure he really wanted to hear the man's answer. "So are you even going to bother telling me what you know about Briggs' disappearance, or do I have to get my information in bits and pieces like the other Briggs investigation I'm supposed to be working on?"
"We'll talk about the investigation once we get to headquarters."
The rest of the ride was silent, until they pulled into the parking lot of the FBI building. Mike got out of the car, grabbing his stuff and heading up the stairs without waiting for Juan.
"Mike? What the hell are you doing here?" Mike turned around at the sound of Johnny's voice. The Hispanic man clearly wasn't happy to see him, but Mike did his best to ignore the evident anger. "You're supposed to be in Arizona… when the hell did you get back?"
"About an hour ago." Mike shifted uncomfortably as Johnny stared at him.
"This ain't cool, man… you shouldn't be here."
"Yeah, I know. Try telling that to the higher ups," Mike replied. He sighed as Juan finally caught up with him, shaking his head. "I've got to go, Johnny. We'll talk later, when I get back to the house." Mike followed Juan into the building, into a conference room that didn't have any windows and only had one door.
"Go ahead and have a seat. Agent Clarke won't be long." Mike took off his backpack, setting it down in an empty chair.
"Can I at least get something to eat from the vending machine while I wait?" Mike asked. He knew it wasn't the best option, but it seemed as though that was all he had. And after everything that had happened, the last thing Mike needed was to miss a meal completely.
"He'll be here before you could get back…"
"I have to eat, Juan."
"You need to be briefed on Paul Briggs' disappearance…"
"What does the Bureau have that I don't already know? He was intoxicated and pissed off the night before he disappeared. The last time anyone spotted him, he was getting gas an hour north of Graceland. He's been missing a week now."
"You still need to talk to Clarke about what the plan is going forward. If he has any additional information, I'm sure he'll give it to you." Mike closed his eyes, sighing as Juan started to leave the room.
"You know, I thought you actually gave a shit, Juan." Mike couldn't help himself; once the words started coming, he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to stop them. But he was so upset with the whole situation, he just didn't care. "You did such a good job of acting like I was more than just some pawn in this ridiculous game to catch Briggs doing something illegal. Like I actually meant something to the Bureau. But now you're just ignoring the fact that I'm too sick to be doing this…"
"It isn't about you, Mike. I wasn't the one who made the decision to pull you back into the field early… I have no control over any of this!"
"Then be honest with me here. Why am I the only person who can do this assignment? I haven't been able to find anything on Paul Briggs thus far, so why do they think that I'm the only one who can find him?" Mike asked.
"Because Paul Briggs trusts you."
"Briggs doesn't trust anyone," Mike replied, shaking his head. "He may like me… we may get along as roommates. But that doesn't mean he trusts me."
"Then how about the fact that we know you know Briggs was high the night before he left Graceland?" Mike couldn't stop his shoulders from stiffening at the sound of Clarke's voice coming from the doorway.
"If you know he was high, why are we looking for him? His career would be over if you had any proof that he was using illegal drugs," Mike replied, turning to face the man.
"Because we can't prove it. No one saw him shoot up, and thanks to his caseload he would have reason to purchase small amounts while being followed without arousing suspicion. But the last buy he made was never logged into evidence to be disposed of properly… and we can't prove whether he took it or whether he disappeared before he had a chance to properly hand it over." Mike sighed, shaking his head.
"What does this have to do with me, Agent Clarke?"
"You can prove what happened, one way or another."
"It's been a week… any evidence would be gone by now. And even if I manage to find Briggs, he wouldn't tell me if he was high that night instead of drunk. He may not know that I'm investigating him, but I guarantee you he doesn't trust me enough to tell me he's doing anything against the rules," Mike replied.
"He breaks the rules all the time, Agent Warren. You know that as well as I do," Clarke replied.
"He gets results… and he doesn't break rules that actually matter. His methods are less than ideal, but Paul Briggs always has a plan and he knows what he's doing." Mike watched as Clarke walked over to the table, dropping a handful of case files in front of an empty chair.
"Agent Warren, you have no idea what Paul Briggs has done."
