Author's Note: This one's for my Sister-Wife, who hypes me up even when my writing is shit, haha!

Metz stood from the couch as the knocking came again. Eddie's face paled then snapped into full terror when he remembered Metz was standing right next to him. He pressed a finger to his mouth when Metz made to speak and he ushered them quickly into his bedroom. "Don't come out. Not for anything in the world, you hear me?" he hissed at them and before Metz could argue, he closed the door.

On the other side, Metz gritted their teeth, digging into the pocket of the hoodie looking for their cell while simultaneously looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. At least they'd have the advantage of surprise. Metz heard the front door open and they tensed, stepping closer to the door and pressing their ear against it. The voice speaking to Eddie didn't sound threatening. Not in the serial killer sense, anyway. It had the weight of authority behind it. They listened for a minute before closing their eyes, a relieved expression over their features as their suspicion was confirmed.

Cop.

Breathing out, Metz opened the door to find Eddie being stared down – or, well, up, really – by what Metz assumed was a high ranking detective. The man didn't even bother sparring Metz a glance as he continued questioning Eddie, a finger pointed at his chest. "How come, every time, you seem to be at the center of these, and then miraculously you know nothing about it?" Metz bristled at the insinuation. Eddie was a freelance journalist, for fuck's sake. It made sense he would be end up in the middle of things like these. It didn't make him guilty of anything.

"Nice to know it's a universal law for cops to be shitty, no matter where I go," Metz said as they went to stand beside Eddie, crossing their arms over their chest and glaring at the intruder. Their eyes swept for any sort of identification and noticed the badge clipped to his belt. They barely made out the name Mulligan.

"When you say, um, the reports coming out of San Quentin, they're bananas… What do you mean they're bananas?"Eddie asked, ignoring Metz.

Mulligan ignored Metz as well, walking around the apartment now, making a beeline for Eddie's work desk. "Remember when I asked you a similar question? At your interview?" he asked Eddie, picking up the recorder and studying it carefully before replying. "Information is currency. You of all people should know that."

"Come on," Eddie said in a whisper, his face ragged now. Metz had never seen him look this defeated, not even after he found out about Anne's engagement.

The cop turned the recorder in his hand before stepping towards Eddie. Metz tensed only to breathe out softly when Mulligan pushed the device against Eddie's chest. "I thought he'd come to try to find the man that nearly got him executed, but I guess not," Mulligan said.

"Enough!" Metz said sharply, stepping in front of Eddie and glaring at the cop. It was the first time Mulligan seemed to fully register their presence but it was quickly dismissed.

"I'd lay low if I was you. I'll see myself out," Mulligan said, walking backwards before turning and heading to the door. The cop's exit did nothing for the atmosphere in the apartment, Eddie stalking to the window and peeking through the shades with furtive eyes before pivoting back to the room and running a shaking hand through his hair.

"Okay," Metz exhaled, running a hand through their own hair. "Okay, so. We leave the city until Kasady is caught. I have enough money to get out of town, so you don't have to go alone," they started.

Eddie moved to the desk and sat down, muttering to himself before slamming his fists onto the desk. He turned on the recorder afterwards to play the last interview with Kasady. Metz turned to him, watching him shift through papers as Kasady's voice filled the room and caused a cold shiver to travel down Metz's spine. Eddie was still muttering to himself, shifting from a paper to a postcard. "St. Estes," he said aloud and Metz knew what was happening.

"No. Eddie, no," Metz said and stalked across the room, grabbing Eddie's shoulder to force him to look at them. "You are not going into this mess, you hear me? You said yourself, Kasady is dangerous! We need to just pack and go. No one will know where we disappeared to."

"Mulligan was right. This is my mess, Metz. I caused this," Eddie said. "People are dying because of me. And there's still people here who know me, who could be hurt." Metz realized he was thinking of Anne, but something told Metz there was also more to it, and their heart sank as the realization came to mind. "I can't do it again. I can't avoid taking responsibility for yet another death, much less dozens."

There it was. Atonement. Metz figured everything Eddie did was a form of penitence, a continual punishment. How he could think himself selfish or self-absorbed was beyond them. Not when he was willing to risk his own life to make things "right", whatever the cost.

"Alright. Alright," Metz said, rubbing their palms over their face. "What's the plan?"

Even as Metz spoke, Eddie was already shaking his head. "I said this is my mess, Metz. Not yours or anyone else's." They frowned and made to argue, but Eddie stood and clasped their shoulders. "Listen, I will not allow yourself to put yourself in harm's way for a stranger you've just met."

"What do you mean 'stranger? You're not just a 'stranger' to me, Eddie," Metz said, their voice rising now. "I thought we were both pretty clear on that."

"Kasady doesn't know about you," Eddie forged on, his grip on their shoulders tightening. "That means you're safe, okay? I'd rather you go to Mrs. Chen, but you can stay in your apartment, too. Away from me. He'd never know you were involved. You'd be safe. That's all I care about."

"So basically, I can easily be erased from your life," Metz said in a flat tone. "Right?"

"That's not it at all," Eddie sighed in frustration. "I just want to keep you alive. If I lose you, Metz," he halted mid-sentence, struggling with himself now.

"But losing you is no big thing? That would be easy for me?" Metz shot back, their anger still simmering just under the surface. "You really think that of me, Eddie?"

Eddie stiffened. He was a journalist, Metz had that right. He knew exactly how to push people's buttons. He'd done it for so many decades, not just at work, but in his personal life, too. Anne could attest to that. And Metz had set it up so perfectly. The idea of breaking their trust hurt more than he could begin to fathom. But, he'd rather the two of them hurt now than risk even a hair on Metz's head. He could grovel at their feet later, beg for forgiveness. And even if he never got it, it was better than the alternative. Eddie squared his shoulders, his eyes set on Metz's challenging glare. "I do think that, Metz," he replied calmly. "I think you've shown to be able to move on quickly just fine."

Metz took a step back, eyes wide. They had expected Eddie to fight back, yes. What they hadn't expected was for him to be vicious about it. He had said it himself, though, hadn't he? He wasn't a nice guy. Their body shook with rage, lips pressed in a hard line and eyes stinging. They wouldn't cry again, though. Never again in front of Eddie.

Without a single word, Metz marched out of the apartment, slamming the door behind them. Eddie watched long after they were gone, staring at the closed door until his eyes burned and tears threatened to form. He finally turned back to his desk and got to work.