A/N: I thought I would do one last update before the end of 2017! I have to say, this fic just keeps on growing more and more into what I want it to be, and I'm glad that others seem to enjoy it, as well! It's been over a year since I started it (in the fall of 2016), and I can't wait to see it continue to grow and evolve into the next year! A continued thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, and faves-thank you all so much for all of your support!


Chapter Ten: Connection


Mulder: Scully, you're making this personal.

Dana Scully: Because it is personal, Mulder. Because without the FBI personal interest is all that I have. And if you take that away than there is no reason for me to continue.


31

"I don't know of any other conspiracy group around here—or hell, even across the country—that fits that M.O.," said Pidge, pushing their glasses up their nose and not pausing to stop typing, even as they spoke. "I'll double-check the databases I have access to, but this seems like it's something new."

"Sort of like how this shady unknown government agency is something new," said Lance, gesturing casually with his hand as he leaned against the counter.

Pidge let out a sibilant laugh, and Keith silently shook his head. Hunk stepped forward. "McClain, these sort of covert organizations aren't really new news to us." He fiddled with his hands. "They actually are a central idea of most conspiracy theories."

Lance held up his hands in defense, so Hunk Laid off. Keith now took the opportunity to speak up.

"The point is, this new group seems to know about what's going on here and—if what they told Lance is true—they're watching our progress." He crossed his arms across his chest. "Though we do know, from the documents from before, that they have intercepted the meteors before—even had run-ins with the government agents."

"Which leads me to wonder why we hadn't met them before this," said Lance. "I mean, we've been investigating the same thing, and if we are at odds with the government agents…"

"I think that's precisely why they dropped back to watch," said Keith. "Plus, we're technically government agents, too. But they wouldn't have just fallen back if they thought we would work in any way contrary to what they wanted."

"They just kept watching all of us until they could determine whether or not we would be dangerous to their own operations," said Hunk. Then, he nervously added: "Whatever their operations are."

"But we still have to figure out what the connections are," said Lance. "Between the Kerberos mission, the files we found in the basement warehouse, the meteors, and this new group."

Keith uncrossed his arms so that he could slam his fist into the wall behind him. "Damn it," he said. "We need to decode those files."

"It's no code I've ever seen," said Hunk, shrugging. "And if it's as secret as it is, we know that the codes are going to be at least double-safe."

"That's what I've been working on," said Pidge, cracking their fingers. "Now, behold the work of the amazing Doctor Gunderson."

They leaned back in their office chair in order to allow the others to see what they had produced on the screen. The website open looked to be a standard conspiracy theory website: a dark background with relatively unformatted text in a simple layout. At the top of the page were the words "CODE TALKERS" in all caps.

"What is this?" asked Lance, squinting at the screen.

"Code talkers are a very specific type of agent used by the U.S. military in the World Wars, mostly to convey messages by radio in extremely complex code." Pidge looked to the astrophysicist through their large lenses. "These codes were largely unbreakable, because to everyone else, they seemed to be gibberish."

"Well, we already know it's in code," said Lance, "so it only makes sense that some sort of a 'code talker' wrote the code."

"No, Lance, you don't get it," said his partner, nodding along with what Pidge had said. "If what Pidge is saying is correct, then we're facing a much more complicated code than we could have even conceived of before."

"What do you mean?" asked Lance, getting frustrated. "You're being more cryptic than the code is."

"Listen, McClain," said Pidge, "back during the World Wars, Native Americans who could speak their cultures' languages were recruited to be code talkers for the United States military, mostly the Marines. Because many of the languages never had a written form, it was next to impossible to write a dictionary, guide, or codex. This allowed a ton of secret military shit to happen, and because of the nature of these languages, many of the codes were never broken."

"So where does that leave us?" asked Lance. "I don't speak any native languages!"

"None of us do," said Keith. "That's the point."

"So what do we do now?" asked Lance. "We know what kind of a code it is, yeah, but we still have no idea how to break it."

Keith stepped forward. "Pidge, do you know what language specifically this is in?"

"I've been trying to narrow it down," said Pidge. "Even though these languages were usually not written down they were often coded through the NATO phonetic alphabet for clearer transmissions. I've been cross-referencing the code we found with the tribal websites a lot of Native American tribes have these days, and I think I've begun to narrow it down." They swiveled around and punched a few more things into the keyboard. "The trouble is that I think it's coded again. Like, the message is in another code other than the native language."

"Okay, and it's a long shot, but…" Hunk fidgeted with his hands for a moment before continuing. "There's this girl I… I went to college with, and we've been keeping in contact lately, and…"

"Spit it out," said Keith. Both Lance and Pidge shot him a glare.

"A-anyway, Shay is Navajo, and her grandma is a part of the tribe's historical efforts. So…"

"Do you think she'd help us?" asked Pidge.

"Of course," said Hunk. "I—that is, she'll be more than happy to help. That's just the type of person she is."

"Well then," said Lance, rubbing his hands together. "Let's call her."

32

A little while later, the two FBI agents found themselves relegated to the guest room, which was clearly never meant to accommodate guests. Hunk had moved a few old CPUs out of the way, as well as more than a couple books and rolled-up maps. This room, though it did hold an extra bed, seemed to be more of a large storage closet than an actual guest room.

Clearing enough stuff to the side of the room to facilitate Hunk's air mattress he usually brought camping had taken a lot of maneuvering, but Hunk hadn't let them help him at all. According to him, they were guests in his house and should be treated as such. Lance had tried to remind him that they were the ones who were actually imposing on him and Pidge, but Hunk would hear none of it.

They had called Shay, who had been more than willing to take on the project. They scanned and sent her a copy of the code with the promise that she would show it to her grandma the next day. She would report back to them. Hunk had brought the phone to the next room to say a bit more to his "friend from college," but Lance didn't butt in there.

It would be very soon that they would know the contents of the file—of Keith's file. Once they did, it would hopefully clear up one of the biggest questions in their investigation: what part does the government have in this whole ordeal? This wouldn't explain the meteors or the mysterious third party, but it would put them closer to discovering those things.

However, that wasn't what Lance had a hard time purging from his thoughts. What he couldn't escape was the nagging wonder at how this was all affecting Keith. Obviously he must have been excited to know that this theories of government conspiracy were at least partially founded, but this was offset by the fact that his name was implicated. He was somehow involved.

As much as Lance tried to run though the facts in his head again and again, they always led back to that nagging concern for his partner's mental well-being.

Finally, after lying on his back on the air mattress for what felt like hours but probably wasn't, he sighed. Then, he opened his mouth to speak.

No sound came out, so he closed it again. He paused for a moment, listening to his partner's breathing, and once he had used that steady rhythm to steel himself, he tried to speak again.

"Kog—Keith?"

The bed rustled next to him. His partner readjusted himself, and Lance could hear the faint hm? of a positive reply. Lance took a deep breath and continued.

"Whatever we find out, Keith, you…" He trailed off, but then he found his strength again. "You know I've got your back, right?" He paused again, and then: "No matter what happens."

He let that hang there, in the space between them. The air felt stale, all of a sudden, and it wasn't just the residual heat of the desert trapped in the seldom-used room. He found that though he couldn't' see his partner in the dark—not that Lance was looking for Keith; his eyes were just facing upward, toward the ceiling—he could hear very well. Perhaps his senses had adjusted to the darkness and his non-sight senses had become more acute. Maybe, in a contradictory theory, he was just wildly overthinking things. He could hear the faint rustle of sheets against skin as Keith made even the slightest of movements, the gentle breaths he took in the dark, and the unbearable and seemingly-audible silence between them.

"Thank you," came the short reply, after a stretch of silence that seemed to be hours long for Lance. After this, Keith's bed was silent for a moment more before the rustling began again, and Keith spoke up.

"I've—I've always been somewhat of a loner," said Keith. "Sometimes by choice, sometimes not. But I've figured out how to live my life pretty well on my own."

Lance opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it again.

"I wasn't exactly keen to get a new partner when you were assigned to me," said Keith. "And not just because I knew you were just here to spy on me for Ross. I—I never really have played well with others, I guess, and I just…" He broke off.

"Keith," said Lance, "I wasn't sure about any of this, but after working with you over the short amount of time that I have, I…" He found it hard to find his words again, and his eyes trained on the black expanse of the dark ceiling. "I am not saying that I believe in everything you say, or all of your theories, but…" His voice grew steadily lower as he spoke, down to the point where he was speaking just above a whisper. "I've seen your conviction, and… well, I believe in you."

After that, there was no immediate response from his partner. Lance was himself taken aback by his own emotional vulnerability. He actually hadn't expected his partner to open up to him the way he had. They lay there in silence together, and although both of their minds were doubtless running over the words they had just shared with each other, the silence was comfortable. The two of them felt the warmth of that emotional space between them, and it was in that place were they each eventually found their way to a much more restful sleep than they had expected.

33

Lance was able to sneak away from Keith mid-morning, leaving him to work on something with Pidge—Lance hadn't even really seen what they were doing, but it involved long strings of words Lance understood, though not necessarily in the ways they were using them.

Lance made his way—walking with his jacket left behind at Hunk and Pidge's house, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows—to the outskirts of town, where he found himself facing a nondescript home. Shirogane's home.

It took him a moment to get up the courage to knock, but he finally did, and it was just a moment before the door was opened, after a few locks were slid open.

"Lance?" asked Shirogane, opening the door wider as he did. His eyes were wide with surprise. "Er—Agent McClain, sorry—"

"Lance is fine," said Lance.

"—what are you doing here?"

"I, uh…" said Lance. What was he doing here? The las time they'd spoken, he'd insulted the man and left quickly. He and Takashi were not exactly on the best of terms. He sighed. "I wanted to apologize. And…" He trailed off. He'd get to the second reason for his visit later; first things first, he had to get past the things he'd done to Shirogane.

"Mind if I come in?" asked Lance, and after the briefest hesitation, Shirogane stepped aside to let him in. Moments later, they were both sitting at the same kitchen table they had sat around just a few days ago. The silence was thick, and Lance understood that it was his job to break it.

"Takashi, I'm—I'm sorry about the way I acted the other day." He paused, then continued, very aware of Shirogane's unerring ability to maintain meaningful eye contact. "I didn't believe your abduction, and so I went in with a bad attitude, and you don't… I shouldn't have disrespected you like that. I'm sorry."

He paused, and Shirogane kept the eye contact. He wasn't angry, but Lance could see something else behind his eyes. He took a moment before he spoke.

"Thank you, Agent McClain—Lance." He smiled a thin smile. "I know it took a lot of courage to come out here." He shifted in his chair, his hand resting lightly over his prosthetic on the table in front of him. "And I accept your apology. I know you didn't—you know what? I've heard far worse about what I've said."

"Thank you," said Lance.

"But I do have a question for you," said Shirogane. "And please, don't feel awkward or anything; I just want to know."

"Okay."

"Do you believe me now?"

Lance wasn't sure what he had expected as a question from Shirogane, but that wasn't it. He tried not to let his surprise show on his face, but he was sure that Shirogane had seen at least a glimpse of his initial reaction.

"I… I don't know," said Lance. He looked down, away, anywhere but into Shiro's eyes, which were striving to meet his, to encourage him to continue. "I mean; I don't know that I can accept everything that you've said."

"Neither can I," said Shirogane, sighing. His hand traced over his prosthetic again, and he seemed to be lost. "But I don't have a choice."

"We found something, Takashi."

"Call me Shiro."

"Shiro."

Shiro nodded.

"I can't say I believe in everything you've said, but that doesn't mean I think you're a liar," said Lance, choosing his words carefully. "I don't mean that to offend you, it's just that…"

Shiro's expression softened. "I know," he said. "The story is a little far-fetched. And I'm not sure I would believe it, were I in your shoes."

"But I think there's something to it. Like the government hushing you up so quickly." He paused, bringing his eyes up to meet Shiro's again. "Yeah, they might just not have wanted the bad publicity in the wake of a failed mission. Or…" He trailed off, and Shiro nodded to him to continue. "Or, it could be that there was something more that they were hiding, and you were getting a little too close to what that really was."

"What did you find?" asked Shiro. His voice was even, practiced, but it was clear by the slight uptick in the tone of his voice at the end of the sentence that he was very interested in what Lance was telling him. He was hungry for more information.

"We found proof that there is something more that there seems to be in the Kerberos mission," said Lance. "And that they're suppressing more than just what you had to say."

"What are they hiding, Lance?" asked Shiro. Lance glanced down to the table, and Shiro's hand and prosthetic were both pressed against the surface of the table, hard. His arms were tense.

"We found files—so many files. All of them encrypted, and we're working on that now, but they definitely didn't want these to be found."

"Which means what?"

"Which means that this case got a hell of a lot more complicated," said Lance. "And I just wanted to apologize to you in the wake of this… this new information."

Shiro let his arms relax a little, and crossed them across his chest as he sat back in his chair. "That wasn't the only reason you came here," he said. "What's eating at you?"

He was more perceptive than Lance was ready for, and he sighed. "It's Keith."

Shiro stiffened a bit, but said nothing.

"There were… names, in every one of the files we found. One of those names was Keith's, and that means that he is somehow involved in all of this, and I'm not sure how he's going to be able to move forward, being so personally involved in the case like this. And I don't want to…"

"You don't want to smother him?" asked Shiro.

"Yes!" said Lance, exasperated. Shiro had put it into words. "We're not as close as seasoned partners—this is our first case together, and we barely know each other, but I'm worried about him. How this is affecting him."

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "You know, I've known Agent Kogane for a long while."

"I figured that you both hadn't met when we got to town," said Lance.

"But we didn't just meet on a conspiracy theory forum or some other crack science site you might think we did," said Shiro. "We met a long time before that."

"What do you mean?" asked Lance.

"What do you know about your partner's life before the bureau?" asked Shiro. Lance thought back on it. Now that he remembered, he realized that all he knew about his partner beyond the conspiracies and his badge was that he had once eaten some crab legs while working violent crimes.

"Not enough," said Lance.

"Then you know about as much about his parents as he does," said Shiro. "And about as much about my parents as I do. We were in the same foster home for a while, though, which I think was fortuitous for the both of us."

They were orphans. That explained some of Keith's loner attitude, or at least where it might have come from. Lance nodded and allowed Shiro to continue.

"He's always been something of a recluse, you know, and he hasn't worked well with others." He hesitated, and Lance could tell there was something that Shiro wasn't telling him.

"What do you mean?" asked Lance, pushing him on.

"It's not for me to say," said Shiro. He held up his hands defensively. "It's not that I don't want to talk to you, it's just—it's Keith's story, not mine. It's not mine to give you."

Lance felt annoyed at first, but after a moment, he realized that Shiro was right. It wasn't Shiro's place to reveal things about Keith that Keith didn't want to talk about. He wouldn't push there.

"What can I do for him, then?" asked Lance. "He's been acting all weird since we found his name—and I expect that, but…" He sighed. "I don't know what else I can do for him, and I don't want him to feel like he's left all alone to deal with this. Because… well, it's a lot."

Shiro shifted in his seat, and another slight smile played on his lips—this one a bit more serious than the one Lance had gotten earlier. "If you're coming to ask me this, I think you're already on the right track," said Shiro. He leaned forward. "Let him know that you're there for him, but don't force it. He's been on his own a long time—most of his life, really—and he doesn't like other people telling him what to do, how to do things. He's headstrong. But if you give him the opening, he'll come to you."

Lance felt something rising inside him, as if he was getting choked up, but it wasn't sadness. He could feel that lump in his throat. "Th-thanks," he said. "Thank you, Shiro."

"You're welcome, Lance," said Shiro, crossing his arms. "And… keep me updated, okay? I know that he's a loner, and he'll probably be more likely to reach out to you because you're there, but Keith? He's like a little brother to me. We may have grown apart a bit, but I want to make sure… I want to be sure he's okay."

"Will do," said Lance, standing from the table. "Thank you again, Shiro." As he stood, Lance could feel a huge weight coming off of his shoulders. He had, in one conversation, somehow repaired what he'd done to Shiro and gotten at least a bit of a clearer picture of how to work with his partner. He shook hands with Shiro and allowed himself to be led from the house, beginning his trek back toward Hunk and Pidge's house.

Keith was a loner, and he's try to do things on his own—Lance could deal with that. He wasn't a very emotionally open person. But Lance was his partner, and he was going to help him through it. He'd opened up to him last night, and that was a start. As soon as they had the translation, that would put them closer to where they needed to be. They would know what Keith's connection was and how this all had to do with Kerberos and the meteors.

Lance was so caught in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the black car that trundled past him on the highway once he'd rejoined it, headed out into the desert. He also almost didn't notice the glint of something flashing in the sky above. He did notice, though, and it was only after he'd put two and two together that he was rushing, at a full-on sprint, down the side of the road. There were more meteors. During the day. And if they were big enough to be seen brightly during the day…

They needed to get there, and they needed to get there fast.


Agent Karen E. Kosseff: Is it your partner? Is there a problem with trust?

Scully: No. I trust him as much as anyone. I trust him with my life.