Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and am only writing these stories for my own enjoyment.
Ben knocked gently on Adam's office door. He knew that his boss was inside; glints of light seeped out under the doorway. He also knew that the older man likely wasn't in the mood for company, and braced himself for a gruff reception.
But there was none. In fact, there was no answer at all.
So Ben walked in, finding Adam right where he expected him to be – at his desk, with a glass of Scotch. There was nothing to suggest that he was doing anything else, and Ben suspected that the drink hadn't been his first. Given the day's events, he couldn't exactly blame Adam for that.
Adam looked up, acknowledging his presence.
"Coming to check on me?" he asked.
Ben nodded, not quite knowing what to say. "I know it wasn't easy. If it had been my friend, I'm not sure what I would have done."
"Maybe I was wrong to go after him. You should have seen him, Ben. He looked so pathetic. I asked the officers to bring him around the back stairs, so the media would leave him alone."
Ben shook his head. "He ordered a murder, Adam."
Adam downed the last of the Scotch. "Dwight Corcoran was my friend for four decades. I thought I knew him, but it turned out that I didn't know him at all. It makes me wonder if I can trust anyone."
The older man's pain was palpable, and Ben wished there was something that he could do to make things better. It was difficult seeing Adam this way – the man was the closest thing to a father he'd ever had.
"You can trust me," Ben said.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished that he'd thought of something better to say. But what he wanted to say – that he loved Adam, and would never let him down like Corcoran did – would only make things awkward.
Adam smiled weakly. "I know, my boy. And I do."
finis