The Next Day

And there are some who say there are so many things I need

So I run or I fight and I crawl or I scream

And I bleed

          I checked myself in my bedroom mirror: black pants and a button-down midnight blue silk shirt, with a tank top underneath if, God forbid, I should get into a brawl. My gun holster hung normally and unoccupied on my waist, and I reached onto the bed for my SigArm and slipped it inside. The pocket attached behind my holster, farther back on my waist, held two clips of ammunition: one standard and one carbon-tipped, again a nod to the unpredictable. I reached behind me again and grabbed my suit jacket, wearing it under my leather jacket today. If things did close and I ended up recalled to Division, I'd have to look the part. My watch was still keeping time, and the only accoutrements I bothered to deal with were the bracelet Chris had given me and my Watcher necklace. I wasn't risking any property damage in any fallout that might occur. But I was ready to go.

          Turning away from the mirror, I grabbed my attache case from the bed. It contained all of my paperwork on everything I'd been doing, and I slung it over one shoulder. My cell phone was inside an interior pocket of my leather jacket made for just that purpose (at least it had a little tag with a picture of a phone), and typical to police procedure, my handcuffs were more to the rear of me than to the side. God knew if I'd need them but I liked to carry them when the possibility of an arrest increased. I started for the bedroom door, only to turn back to grab a pair of lockpicks issued to me from CTU and slide them up my sleeves. Lex told me that there was nothing these things couldn't do. Armed, dressed and prepared, finally, I took a long breath and walked out.

And there are so many reasons I could give you why I should be down
There's not enough money or time and my love you're not around

          Leticia was in the kitchen making a light breakfast she'd actually have time to eat, and Derek and Detective Smith were standing by the couch working on orange juice and bagels. I snagged one Leticia had left waiting for me, noticing they were all looking at me. I knew Derek hadn't told, but it was a distinct possibility that either or both of the other two people could have overheard. I swallowed and made my first move to speak.

          "I'm going to go in this morning and wrap this case up, hopefully. Derek, I need you to call your team together and get them briefed, because we'll start training as soon as I get home tonight. Leticia should be here to let you in if I'm not for some reason. Call my partner back at CTU and he'll make arrangements for you to move to a hotel closer to here. He should be able to arrange transportation for you to pick up your stuff and your rental car. I'll be at the Homicide Division for the day, unless circumstances change and then I'll be at Division, so everybody try my cell phone first. And Tisha I need you to find Weiss and make sure that he calls me today."

          Pause.

          "What?"

          "Are you okay?" Leticia asked me.

          "Yeah."

          "You sure?" This from Derek.

But it's a lie, it's a lie – don't you believe it

If you're fine, then you're fine – it's all how you see it

You're alive, you're alive – how else could you hear me?

You are fine, you are fine – there's nothing worth fearing

          I nodded. "I'm not perfect, but I'm all right. Everybody clear on their responsibilities?" I hate calling them orders. Ordering people about seems a bit condescending especially when they're my partners, not my subordinates. Even though, as Leticia points out, I'm CTU's third highest ranking officer behind Jack and Tony and therefore do have a lot of subordinates. Everybody assented, so I exhaled. "All right. If everything goes according to plan, we should be in the game by the end of play." I looked to Detective Smith. "Are we ready to go?"

          "Yeah, anytime."

          "Let's go." I checked my watch, then hugged everyone goodbye on instinct. "I'll see you all here tonight. Wish me luck."

          "Good luck," Derek said, smirking because I think he still didn't know what had taken me over, but he really wanted to. I used to be that inquisitive once. Circumstances kind of forced me into a more conservative point of view. However I thought he'd never lose that out of himself, which was more points for him that I hadn't gotten. I started for the door. Michael was the last thought on my mind; I had used an old psychological warfare defense and deleted him from my short-term memory. I wasn't going to think about him anymore, not if it would become a liability.

          When love had become a liability you knew things were all up in the air.

'Cause I've tried and I've tried and I really can't see it

Said I was yours, you were mine, but I didn't really mean it

And I lied, and I lied

And I wish you hadn't seen it

'Cause I'm trapped inside my conspiracy of happiness

          I locked the door behind me on instinct and caught Detective Smith's look. "What?"

          "What happened to you?"

          "I'm a field leader, so I probably should be leading." I paused, then decided to can the rhetoric. "It's a long story. Ask me again tonight. If things go well, I might actually be ready to say it."

          Sergeant Friday was already at his desk when we arrived. I thought he must be more than human, but then again the man is a living legend. Everybody who's even remotely involved with Los Angeles crime and punishment has heard of Joe Friday, except for maybe Sergeant Friday himself.

          "I see you two are getting along," was his comment.

          "Yeah, we haven't killed each other yet," I quipped. "But after tonight you may not need to worry about me. Here's hoping."

          "You caught a break?"

          "A phone call, last night," his partner explained. "One of her superiors at CTU found the guy that they used to execute the hit on Chris Fisher. If they can prove it, and especially if they can link it to the higher-up, it's case closed."

          Sergeant Friday nodded. "But I want him in custody. No internal investigation crap."

          I didn't blame him; the internal investigation after the Palmer-Drazen affair had been botched by Division, which was part of the reason why a position like mine now existed. I nodded. "I'll see what I can do about that once we're sure we have him. I can give you his profile folder now, though, the declassified portions." I produced the faxed copy Lex had sent over last night. "Teddy Hanlin's a CTU sniper. He caused some problems for my boss during the Palmer situation so his animosity toward CTU is probably how they turned him, like he would've needed much help."

          "And it would explain the sniper shot at the back of your head," he replied as he accepted the folder from me. "Although killing someone and then almost killing you seems a backward way of testing your fidelity."

          "There are certain reactionary elements in CTU and the Agency," I said. "We attempted to eliminate some of them when Ryan Chappelle was killed, but obviously getting to them all is an incomplete and probably unattainable task. With the elevated state of world affairs, some of our agents are responding predictably." I sighed. "As the Admin Assistant, you wouldn't believe how much psychological training they've given me, so I've seen into their heads and I don't like it."

          "Well, neither does the city of Los Angeles."

          "I knew there was a reason I stayed here," I quipped, and we were actually laughing about it.

          My cell phone rang and I answered it briskly. According to schedule that should be the call I was waiting for. "Agent Frederick, go ahead."

          "We've got him."

          "We're on our way." I clapped my phone shut. "They're ready to make an arrest."

          Detective Smith smirked, ready for action. "Here we go."

          Not too long later, he pulled the police sedan, siren in the hood flashing, right up to the front of Division next to a car I recognized as George Mason's. As I climbed out of the backseat, leaving my leather jacket in the car, I scanned the parking lot to see if I saw Jack's Yukon, and spotted it down the row. If Lex had come, he would be with Jack. The team was all here. I nodded to Sergeant Friday to indicate as much, and the three of us advanced.

          I took the lead to get us into the building, swiping my keycard. Security normally didn't stop me, but the detectives had their warrant cards out and ready anyway, just to speed up the process. We passed through the entrance corridor onto the main Division floor and I scanned the massive building. Mason wouldn't sequester Hanlin in his office, so where they were was up in the air. Then I spotted Jack across the room and crossed to meet him. As usual, he was right there for me when I needed him.

          "What's the situation?" I asked when we met him outside a holding room, door closed.

          "He gave up Alberta as the op leader, probably because he thinks he's still deniable."

          "Is he?" Detective Smith asked.

          "Not anymore." Jack opened the door and let the three of us in, following.

          Teddy Hanlin was front-loaded and sitting in a chair on the opposite side of a metal table from the door. Mason was lurking off to his right in case of anything going down; he had probably been doing the interrogating, although Jack had probably been involved too. Lex was sitting in a corner, working the necessary electronics. I walked over to Mason as Detective Smith and Sergeant Friday leaned against the wall, deferring to my different vein of authority here.

          Leaning over, I said to Mason, "What have you done so far?"

          "Just enough."

          "Okay. Give me five minutes and we're through here." I stepped away from him to the table, resting my palms flat on it and leaning forward like I usually do to make a point. What I was going to say to the guy I hated before he tried to kill me was one thing, but considering that he was following orders, complicated thoughts raced through my mind. "So, you must be pretty pissed," I said nonchalantly after a moment, not even looking at Hanlin. "Missed fucking up my boss's operation, missed putting a bullet in my skull."

          Everyone kind of quirked since I usually kept my language pretty clean at the office, but I was trying to make a statement and it worked. Teddy glanced over at me. "Everyone makes mistakes. Besides, you have to die sometime."

          "Yeah, but that's when Peter Krause oversees my funeral after I stop a bullet." I finally shot daggers in his direction. "I don't even care. I hate you and you hate me and my friends hate you and you hate them. The thing that matters is that we exist as agents of an organization that would kill and try to kill in the interest of a higher security. We're supposed to be better than the people we prosecute!" I ended on an exhalation and shook my head; it was all useless. "We're done here," I said.

          Lex stepped over and handed me the evidence collected by Jack and Mason. I thanked all three as Detective Smith handcuffed Hanlin and read him his Miranda rights. As I was standing there with my back to the affair, Mason leaned over and looked into my eyes. "We're going to nail her for this."

          "Do what you can," I said, then I finally looked up. "Besides, there's always another battlefield, right?"

          He hesitated for a moment, then just nodded. Detective Smith and Sergeant Friday escorted Teddy to the door and I went with them, disappearing again. I'd become like a phantom in the last few days, and those close to me knew it.

          "Is she coming back?" Mason asked Jack in the silence.

          "Yeah." Jack spoke words he knew all too well. "A different person."