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: Sooo… new chapter, yay! I know I haven't been around much lately. I have a ton of stuff going on with school and work, and I should probably have been writing papers instead of writing fanfic and RP posts…
Mike looked up as he heard someone walking into his hospital room without knocking, expecting it to be Paige or Nikki. The last thing he was expecting was to see Agent Clarke standing near the doorway with his arms crossed.
"Agent Clarke…"
"Do you think this case is a joke, Agent Warren?" Mike closed his eyes, sighing.
"No, sir."
"And yet you're willing to risk losing Briggs completely by getting yourself stuck here for three days…"
"With all due respect, Agent Clarke, Paul Briggs was in the wind long before I knew anything about his disappearance. Choosing me for this investigation was a mistake, and I'm out." Mike waited a moment for the man to start yelling at him, opening his eyes when there was still silence a moment later. Clarke looked pissed, and Mike really wasn't sure if his silence was a good thing or not.
"You have been given orders, Agent Warren…"
"And if you make me continue to work on this case, Agent Clarke, you'll be giving me a death sentence. I'm not stable enough to work right now, which you would understand if you'd bothered to listen to Nikki…"
"She has no right to tell me how to do my job, Agent Warren."
"She knows what she's talking about. And she's supposed to be there to keep agents out of the field if they're a liability…" Mike began.
"I'm trying to do what's best for this case, and in my judgment that is having you working on it," Clarke replied.
"Right… because the best thing for your case is to have an emotionally unstable agent with a gun running around God only knows where looking for a man with ten times as much experience in the field. Meanwhile, you have agents from all over the country that could be called in to work this case, most of whom have far more experience than I do and who probably have a better idea of how Paul Briggs' mind works – including two who have lived and worked with him for much longer than I have."
"You're out of line, Agent Warren…" the man began.
"No, sir. I'm stating the facts of the case. And I will quit my job before I put anyone else at risk because of the situation you are attempting to force me into. I've nearly killed myself trying to please you and Juan, and either you let me go deal with these issues in a healthy way, or I walk and get a lawyer."
"Are you threatening me?"
"No, sir. I'm asserting my rights. You can't threaten my job over a mental illness…"
"Agent Warren, you have absolutely no idea what I can do."
Mike really didn't feel good about leaving the hospital after his conversation with Clarke earlier in the day. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone, mostly because he hadn't been able to get in touch with Nikki and he wasn't sure who else he could trust.
"I know you're against the idea of medication, but I'm going to go ahead and write a prescription for a low dose of Prozac, in case you change your mind…"
"I'm not going to," Mike replied, watching as the doctor passed a written prescription to Paige.
"I know you feel that way, but it's something I think you need to consider more seriously. These medications have been proven to help with depression and eating disorders, and I wouldn't suggest them if I didn't think they would help."
"We'll consider it." Mike closed his eyes as Paige spoke. "I can't force him to do anything, but I'll talk to him and see what I can do."
"Mike has to eat, too… unless he starts eating, he may not be well enough to make it back to treatment. He's too thin, too pale… too sick. At this point, there's no way to avoid serious damage if he doesn't start taking care of himself…"
"I know." Mike looked up. "Look, can I just go already? My sister is here, we've gone over all of the medical crap…"
"You just have to wait on someone to come up here with a wheelchair to take you downstairs. Hospital procedure."
"Right." Mike sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back in the bed to wait. He wasn't all that surprised to feel Paige take his hand once he heard the door to the hospital room close. "I won't take the damn pills."
"I'm not going to try to make you take them. But I'm going to hold onto the script, just in case you change your mind."
"I can't take them… I have to be clear-headed if I'm going to have any chance of keeping my job…"
"Whoa, slow down. You have a hell of a lot to think about before you start worrying about going back to work…" Mike looked up at Paige. "You can come off any kind of medication once things get back to normal. The most important thing is that you need to get healthy."
"Paige… it isn't going to work."
"How do you know?" Paige asked. Mike shook his head, closing his eyes again.
"Because I've never reacted well to medication… I always have weird side effects, or it doesn't do what it's supposed to for me. There's a chance that shit can increase the risk of attempting suicide, and I'm not willing to take it." Mike glanced up at the woman, watching her reaction.
"That's what I'm going to be there for…" Paige began.
"You can't watch me 24 hours a day, Paige. And even though I know that it's ridiculous to try to kill myself, I can't guarantee that I'll remember that a few days from now when those thoughts start up again… when the medication would have kicked in enough to make me actually think I could do that."
"I just want you to be okay."
"Then get rid of the fucking prescription. It isn't going to do me any good, and all it will do is give us something to argue about." Mike watched as Paige folded up the prescription, shoving it in her pocket. "Paige…"
"I'm not going to push you. I won't even talk to you about it if that's what you want. But I am not going to throw it away, if there's a chance it might help you. That you might want the prescription in a few days…"
"I won't."
"It won't hurt to have it available if you change your mind."
"Ready to go?" Mike looked up at the sound of a woman's voice from the doorway, nodding and forcing a smile for her benefit as she rounded the corner with a wheelchair.
"Of course… isn't everyone?" Mike watched as the woman smiled and shook her head. "I hate these beds…"
"I think just about everyone here would agree with you on that one," the nurse replied, as Mike started to get up. "Go ahead and have a seat, and we'll get you out of here."
The ride down to the hospital exit was fairly quick and uneventful, but it took Paige a few minutes to actually bring the car around to pick him up. "I could have walked from here…"
"Hospital policy… you have to wait for your ride here," the nurse replied. "Besides, you look like you could use the rest. You still look pretty sick, even if you are leaving the hospital today."
"I know. But that's something that rest won't cure…" Mike was relieved when Paige finally got back to the hospital's exit, getting up and getting into her car before she could even stop it and get out. "Let's get out of here."
"First we need to get you some lunch…"
"I just finished eating breakfast before you got here," Mike replied.
"You didn't finish, and it's lunchtime already." Mike closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the head rest. "You need to eat… and you need something real, not just fast food. Which is what you would get if it was anyone else in the house picking you up from the hospital today."
"What, are you going to cook for me?" Mike smiled.
"No… I'm going to take you somewhere decent to get a meal. I don't cook."
"And after what happened the last time you tried to make a real meal at the house, I'm pretty sure everyone is thankful you've made that decision." Mike winced as the woman smacked his arm. "Oww…"
"God… you really are nothing but skin and bones…" Mike watched as Paige shook her hand. "Seriously, you have to eat something and start putting on some weight. That should not hurt me, too."
"So now you want me to gain weight because it hurts when you hit me?" Mike couldn't help laughing at the idea.
"Well it would certainly be an added bonus."
Mike glanced down at his phone as it buzzed, sighing. "It's Charlie."
"So answer it." Mike hit the little green button, turning on the speakerphone option.
"Hey, Charlie…"
"They spring you yet, Mikey?"
"Yeah, about ten minutes ago. What's up?"
"You and Paige had better get over here, then. Agent Juan Badillo just showed up at the house, demanding to see you…" Mike closed his eyes.
"Charlie, tell Badillo I'm taking Mike to get something to eat. Whatever he wants can wait…"
"Paige… he's pissed."
"I'm not bringing Mike back to the house until Badillo is gone. He doesn't need that kind of stress on top of everything else…"
"I don't get a say in all of this?" Mike asked.
"Badillo is bad news, Mike. You don't need that… you have to make it three more days before you can get back to treatment, and I don't want to let him upset you…"
"It's my call. I'm the one that has to deal with the consequences of all of this, not you. And I'd rather face Badillo than a plate of food I don't want to eat right now."
"He isn't going to leave until he talks to Mike, Paige. You might as well bring him to the house now, and you can get him something to eat once we get rid of this asshole." Mike could hear someone talking in the background, but he couldn't quite make out what was being said. "Yeah, I'm talking about him like that while he's still in the fucking house. He's been doing everything in his power to fuck with Mike's head for the past few months, and I don't want him to do anything else to screw things up…"
"Still on the phone, Charlie," Mike replied.
"Sorry… DJ's in the phone room with me while Johnny tries to keep Badillo distracted downstairs. Look, Mike, this is up to you. But no matter what you guys do now, Badillo will still be here when you get home and you need to be prepared for that."
Mike glanced over at Paige. "Thanks for the heads up, Charlie." Mike hung up the phone, watching the woman as she drove. "We have to go back to Graceland."
"You need to eat first."
"Paige, I'd rather face Badillo and get it over with," Mike replied, closing his eyes. "I don't want whatever this is to get any worse… he's already pissed, and staying away isn't going to make him calm down. He's like a fucking Howler – the longer you wait, the worse it is."
"Did you seriously just make a Harry Potter reference?"