Chapter Two: Visitation

Bent over double, Britta is busy cleaning up a familiar but still fresh mess. Her cat Theodore, who is missing his right eye and has trouble keeping food down, has just finished expelling the contents of his dinner all over her couch and she is in the middle of her nearly nightly ritual of cleaning up the oddly sweet smelling vomit. Sitting on the couch's armrest staring at her passively, Theodore watches as best as he can as Britta gives him her own stink-eye. "I hope you realize what I do for you Theo" she says, tossing the last of the soiled paper towels into the garbage can she always keeps next the sofa, "because most other people wouldn't put up with all the stuff I take from you." He continues staring at her for a moment before settling onto his back and presenting his belly, front two paws outstretched towards her. Whatever little anger was there immediately vanishes as she practically jumps up onto the couch and rubs his stomach with her hands. Theo pulls one of her hands closer to his face with his two paws and begins to nuzzle up against it, purring loudly.

It's just then that she notices out of the corner of her eye her phone on the end table a few feet away go dark. "It must have lit up from a message" she thinks as she leans over and picks it up. Shifting Theo so he now sits on her lap, still rubbing up against her free hand, she unlocks her phone with one practiced swipe. "Let's see, several new e-mails, one from the Dean so I'm definitely not opening that, and a message from Jeff." A full minute passes as she reads the text, her hand that had been occupying Theo goes still as she concentrates on the words. It's not long, only two sentences, but the content is so out of character that it takes her a while to realize that she's not reading it wrong.

I need your help. Come soon.

~oOo~

Walking up to his door after a very nervous drive, nervous because she doesn't know what's going on with Jeff and nervous because her car is seriously on its last legs, she immediately sees something unusual, several cut cigars littering the floor around his apartment door. Bending down to pick one up and examine it she soon realizes that she doesn't know the first thing about cigars and lets it fall from her hand. It lands with a soft thud back on the floor as she steps up to his door and knocks on it four times in rapid succession. She hears his muffled voice from inside say "it's unlocked" which puts her even more on edge because Jeff never leaves his door unlocked. Nevertheless, she pushes the door open and is immediately greeted by the overwhelming stench of alcohol, causing her eyes to momentarily water as she instinctively plugs up her nose. Blinking the tears out of her eyes as she walks into his apartment she soon sees the source of the smell, a smashed bottle of liquor next to his upturned kitchen table.

Her tone one of worry, she calls out "Jeff where are you!?"

"I'm over here."

His voice comes from below and behind and far closer than she was expecting and she nearly jumps out of her skin as she wheels around and launches a kick in its direction. Smacking into the wall only a few inches from where Jeff had been sitting up against it her kick leaves a foot sized impression in the plaster and sends a shot of pain up her leg. "OW MOTHERFLIPPING HAMBURGER" she cries out.

"It's a good thing your aim is terrible" says Jeff as he examines the imprint in the wall, "and when did you start wearing Converse?"

"When I want to feel comfortable" she grunts out, now slightly limping as she turns to survey the rest of the room warily. "You mind telling me what the hell happened here Jeff?"

"It was Pierce, he-"

"-WHAT, Pierce attacked you-"

"-no he didn't, I-"

"-YOU ATTACKED PIERCE?-"

"-NOBODY ATTACKED ANYBODY" yells Jeff, cutting Britta off. After a moment he says "well, actually I did kinda attack him – but it was a mutual attacking!" Looking at the upturned table he quietly adds "well maybe it was kind of a one sided mutual attack."

"You still haven't answered my question" says Britta, arms crossed but still favoring her right leg. "I know Pierce can be an asshole sometimes but what the hell happened?"

"I thought Pierce was…" the next words are slow to come to him and he has to rub his forehead for a moment before they will. Britta, still reeling, is surprised to see the look of shame on his face as he says "I thought Pierce was trying to lie to me about finding my father… again."

"Oh" says Britta quietly before her eyes widen and she says with a knowing expression "OH, I think I'm starting to see."

"Don't 'oh' me" quips back Jeff, now rising to his feet. "And don't look at me with that 'knowing expression' about something you couldn't possibly understand."

Britta shakes her head and smiles despite the pain in her foot. "I've known you for two years Jeff, stuff like this I think I'm starting to understand."

"That sure makes me feel good" says Jeff as he flops down onto the couch, "that all my dark inner dealings can be sussed out by the nose of Detective Perry." He lies on his back, arms cradling his head as his eyes stare at the ceiling. Britta sits on the coffee table next to him, gaze intent and focused on him. "So why did you bring me over here" asks Britta, "I really hope it wasn't just to scare the crap out of me?" In response Jeff pulls a folded piece of paper out of his front pocket and hands it to her, not saying anything and not looking towards her. Brow scrunched in confusion Britta slowly takes it from him and opens it up.

She asks after examining it for several moments "a picture? Of… a man walking out of a restaurant, holding the door for his wife and kid, I assume. I mean, I don't want to be judgmental and say that every older man holding the door open for some younger woman is necessarily in a relationship but..." she trails off, looking once again at the picture. "You do realize that I don't know these people, right?"

Jeff turns his head and stares directly at her.

Taken aback, her eyes drift down to the picture and then back up to him. They snap down to the page and then back to him.

"Oh my God" she practically yells, jumping up from the coffee table and holding the photo out towards him, "this is your father isn't it!?" Jeff squirms in place, his face twisted up in emotion, as if he had been waiting for someone else to confirm it and now doesn't know what to do.

"We have to tell the others" says Britta excitedly as she whips out her phone and begins to pull up their group chat. Jeff's eyes flash open and he leaps up from the couch bellowing a loud "NO" as he attempts to snatch the phone from her hands. "What I, stop it" says Britta as she dances out of his reach. Jeff finally stops as Britta puts her phone back in her pocket, a look of pure bewilderment across her face.

Trying to regain his calm Jeff says "telling the others is the last thing I want to do. They'll freak out and try to, I don't know, but whatever it is I do not want to deal with it right now."

"Oh really" huffs Britta, "I think you have far too low an opinion of our group's ability to handle stuff like this." Jeff cocks his eyebrow and stares at her. After a moment of thinking Britta sighs and says "ok on second thought telling everyone may not be the best idea."

"Thank you" says Jeff, genuinely relieved.

"So…" asks Britta, trailing off and gesturing to herself.

"Why tell you?"

She nods and looks at him expectantly.

For a moment all the muscles seem to tense in his body and it looks as if he wants to yell again but, as if lifting the dike out of a dam, he suddenly relaxes and lets all the air blow out of his lungs in one almighty breath. Quietly, he says "because I don't have anyone else I can trust to help me with this."

Shoulders slumped, arms at his side, palms open towards her, he has the body language of desperation and hope. The vulnerability in his words and expression take her by surprise and she can't help but feel a deep swelling of emotion for the man. Something between pity and affection, balanced on a knifes edge of her knowledge of him and who he is. For some reason she can't quite meet his gaze. "I… Jeff I'll try but I don't know anything about helping you with" she holds up the picture again and looks at it with fresh eyes. They really do look so similar. "With whatever you plan to do about this."

"I don't have a plan either" says Jeff, the faintest hint of a smile upon his lips, the realization that he may not have to face this alone slowly warming his chest as he walks over to the coffee table to pick up the other pieces of paper that Pierce had tried to give to him just an hour earlier. Handing the papers over to her he says "but I do know this." She tries to take them from him but he doesn't release his grip. Looking up at him they lock eyes for several seconds before Jeff says.

"I want you to help me find him."