Disclaimer: Mutant X and its associated characters, locales, etc. are the property of Tribune Entertainment et alia (though big tongue-sticking-out-at Fireworks Entertainment for deciding to drop the show. Though it does make sound business sense. Curse that business sense). No copyright infringement of any kind is intended, and I am not profiting from the writing of this story beyond some writing experience and basking in the warm glow of nice reviews. Non-canonical characters are my own and I would prefer if I were consulted before someone used them.

Author's Note: No big long rambles this time, promise. Just a huge thanks to those who have kept reviewing and encouraging me, and an apology for the delay in updates. Who among us has not known the plague of writer's block?

Details note – for the details of the Hickman & Wrightson heist, I watched it carefully a few times. I took the date as a day after the original air date of October 1, as in the episode it's the second day shown. The clocks you see in passing at the H&W aren't perfectly consistent (of course) but it looks to be roughly 4:10 when they come in, and close to 4:15 on their way out.

Crisis of Faith – Chapter 6

By Deichtine

"Tilt your head down a bit, please," said the man behind the camera, sounding every bit as bored as Brennan was impatient. The booking procedures seemed interminable. Brennan had never been blessed with the virtue of patience, and today what little he had was being stretched to the limit. He bit back the smart remarks that kept leaping to mind every time the officers spoke to him, and tried to will himself to relax. Why be impatient anyway? Where was he in such a hurry to go?

After the mug shots had been taken and his fingerprints had been scanned came the obligatory questions.

"Name?"

"Brennan Mulwray. No middle name. M-U-L-W-R-A-Y."

"Date of birth."

Brennan told him.

"Current address."

Brennan hesitated. He couldn't very well say "a secret fortress beneath Stormking Mountain" – though he was tempted to, out of sheer pig-headedness – but Sanctuary wasn't really his home anymore anyway. He thought of his old apartment, but it would soon be apparent, should anyone investigate, that he hadn't lived there for some time. He shrugged. "No fixed address. I stay in motels, mostly. Hostels, shelters, whatever." It was only then that it really hit him – it was true: he really was homeless now, alone in a way he had never been before, not since he was a boy and his mother had just died. Even in the worst of his foster homes he had had friends; when he was out on the street he'd always had Mike. Now, since Mutant X had rejected him, and Mike wanted nothing more to do with him, he had no one.

As if to drive the point home, the booking officer chose that moment to look up from his form and ask, "Next of kin, or emergency contact?"

-----

Even as Brennan was being brought from booking to an interview room for questioning, Adam, Jesse, Shalimar, and Emma were meeting in Sanctuary.

Emma was pale with worry, and Shalimar was sitting uncharacteristically still, cross-legged, on a reddish table/holographic display panel which protruded from the wall, her expression a mixture of anger, impatience, and unhappy introspection. Jesse was standing, arms folded, behind Shalimar, and Adam faced them with heavy heart. How could he start? He knew they were all feeling much the same way he was himself: confused, unwilling to believe they could have been so wrong about the tall Elemental, unsure if they should accept the situation as it appeared.

Adam was spared the difficulty of having to figure out how to break the silence, however; Emma did it for him.

"We have to get Brennan out of there. What are we waiting for?"

"I agree, Emma," Adam said carefully, "but we have to think about the best way to do it, formulate a plan."

"I'm not so sure I see why we have to get him out," Shalimar said quietly, her voice level, controlled. "If he's been lying to us all this time, why shouldn't we just let him sit in jail?" Her brown eyes burned, at the very edge of being overcome by the gold sign of her feral nature.

Jesse nodded, his blue eyes cold. "I'm inclined to agree with Shal on that one," he said.

Emma shook her head, her hurt confusion plain on her face. "No, you guys, Brennan's changed. I've felt it." But even to herself, her protestation sounded weak.

"Emma," Adam said gently, "I know you try not to sense your friends, but what have you been picking up from Brennan the most in the past few weeks?"

Emma opened her mouth, closed it again, let her breath out through her nose. "Okay, guilt, mostly. And that he's hiding something. But –"

Adam cut her off. "I know that all of you wanted to believe in Brennan, wanted things to work out – God knows I did too. But no matter how hurt or confused we are, we can't let him stay in jail. Things just aren't that simple for Mutant X."

"He's a sitting duck for the GSA," Shalimar realized. She sighed, and her manner softened – slightly. "Okay, I'm with Emma. I want to punch Brennan in the face, kick him the length of Sanctuary and back, sure, but I wouldn't wish that on him."

"Not to mention that Brennan knows the location of Sanctuary and every New Mutant we've helped into the underground since he came," Jesse pointed out.

"Exactly," Adam said, pointing at the younger man.

"So what do we do, then?" Emma asked.

Adam pursed his lips, thinking. "It's easy enough to get Brennan out physically. You three are more than capable of that even without his cooperation. The real challenge here is going to be covering our tracks. We have to do this as quietly – which means as legally – as we can; that means no brawls or mysterious vanishings. When this is all over, it has to be settled as far as the police are concerned. Getting Brennan out just to have his face on a wanted poster on every street corner isn't going to help matters.

"So Jesse, I need you to trace Brennan's steps for me as far as you can. Find this Mike Azarello character, find out what he knows, what he and Brennan were up to. Shalimar, you and I are going to go in to the police and DA records systems, find out what evidence they have against him, and if we can discredit it."

"What do I do?" Emma asked.

Adam raised an eyebrow and handed her a palm computer from his jacket pocket. "Study law. You're Brennan's new public defense attorney."

-----

The interview room looked just like they always did on TV – dingy grey walls, heavy door, shaded one-way window. Brennan fidgeted as he waited, tapping the edge of the steel handcuffs rhythmically on the tabletop in front of him. What were they doing out there?

Finally the door opened, and the detective who had arrested him, Lewis, entered, carrying a thick manila file. He settled himself in a chair across from Brennan.

"Mr. Mulwray. Just for the record, I'm going to ask you, are you aware of your right to legal counsel, and that counsel can be provided to you at your request?"

Brennan nodded. "Yeah. I watch Law and Order. I know the process."

The detective wrote something down on a pad in front of him. "Do you wish to request counsel?"

Brennan shook his head. "Nah. I don't need a lawyer. I don't imagine there's going to be a lot to argue about. Pretty open and shut, don't you think?"

Lewis leaned back. "I wouldn't be so self-assured, Mr. Mulwray. You may think you have an airtight alibi – which I'd be interested to hear, by the way – but I have to warn you, the evidence against you is very strong at this point."

"Strong enough for an arrest warrant, anyway," Brennan said with a wry smile. "Well, that's not really what I meant, but it doesn't matter, I guess." He deliberately looked away from the man to squint up at the ceiling lights. The man irked him, for a reason he couldn't identify, and he couldn't help trying to annoy him.

"So tell me, Mr. Mulwray, what do you have to say for yourself? Where were you at approximately 4:10 on the afternoon of October 2 of last year?"

Brennan furrowed his brow, as if thinking hard. "Well, you certainly are specific. That was a long time ago; it's hard to remember. OH, right, the second. I ran some errands. Went to the bank, as I recall."

The man was now visibly irritated, but he was doing a fine job of controlling it. "Do you recall which bank, Mr. Mulwray? We haven't been able to find evidence of any bank account in your name in the country."

Brennan shrugged. "I don't have one. I don't trust their security systems. But yeah, it was the Hickman and Wrightson."

The man stared at him, and Brennan smiled blandly, knowing that by oh-so-casually confessing to the crime he would confuse the heck out of the detective. He had decided from the very beginning not to fight the charge; it was true, after all, and he had already confessed it to God. He couldn't very well deny it now to this little man, nor did he feel any impulse to do so. But he also figured, if he was going to sign the next several years of his life away to federal prison, he might as well confess with style. He'd never been much for authority figures.

"And what, pray tell, were you doing at the Hickman and Wrightson that day, if you don't hold an account there?"

"You might call it a professional visit. Purely business."

"And that business would be?"

Brennan figured he'd had enough fun. "Theft. Burglary, Larceny, Stealing, Robbery, whatever you want to call it. Specifically, I was there to withdraw the contents of a particular security deposit box against the wishes of the bank's management. And I did a damn fine job of it, too."

Detective Lewis, taken off guard, flicked a glance at the one-way glass and the colleagues he knew were watching. "Well, that's straightforward enough," he said finally. "Are you willing to sign a statement to that effect?" he asked.

Brennan nodded casually, lounging back in his chair and stretching his long legs out to the side. "Sure thing. Though if you don't mind, I write a lot better without the handcuffs. I mean, if I'd wanted to fight you guys on this, you'd never have gotten them on me in the first place."

Lewis shook his head as he stood up. "You can't begin to know how much that inspires me to trust you. Sorry, the cuffs stay on till we get you back to holding. I'm going to go get the paperwork, and the sooner we get that done, the sooner you can go make yourself at home in your cell." He turned towards the door and knocked on it.

"Hey, Lewis," Brennan called out. "Like I said, pretty open and shut." Outwardly, Brennan knew he was the very picture of cool, but inwardly, the magnitude of what he'd just done was beginning to hit him. He couldn't take it back now. It was done.

Oh, God. I sure hope you're still with me here, 'cause I really think I'm gonna need someone before this is all over.

End Chapter 6.

What do we call those things, anyway?