NOTES: I consider NTAC and the government dismissing the rights of the Gary Navarro for their own purposes a foreshadowing of the events of The Fifth Page and Mommy's Bosses. I loved how vexed yet helpless our heroic agents were at the end. That final crane shot, with Diana so small and alone on the edge of the loading zone...it said so much without saying a word.

SPOILERS: through Voices Carry

DISCLAIMER: The 4400 and all things associated with it belong to other people.


TWELVE STEPS

STEP 2: LISTENING

He was brushing his teeth when he heard his phone. Only one person called him on his cell so late at night. Hastily rinsing his mouth, he answered by the third ring.

"Hey, Diana." Some part of him was pleased he could sound casual when he'd just been so rushed. He had learned early on that being casual with her often drew out more than inquisitiveness did; it allowed her the freedom to come to her thoughts in her own time, without any pressure.

"Hey, Marco." Her voice was taut. "Got a minute?" Normally she would never ask such a thing. After all, there weren't many who could follow her thinking when she came up with ideas like applying the concepts of disease vectors and gravity wells to humans, so she always assumed permission and interest. If she felt the need to ask, something must have happened to shake her confidence.

"Sure thing."

"Did you hear what they did with Navarro?"

Her cryptic tone made his stomach clench as he sat on his bed. "Other than stick a transmitter in him and send him to The Center?"

"Yeah."

He resisted the urge to ask about it directly. "No."

The ensuing silence was much longer than any natural, conversational pause. People didn't call to not talk, and that went double for the straightforward Diana. Contemplating what might have happened to evoke such a reaction in her caused his pulse to pick up a notch. What had they done to that poor ballplayer? A dozen different ideas came to mind, any of which would cause Diana distress. She had a strong sense of justice, right and wrong, responsibility; that's why she agonized over parental decisions. While she might have insecurities regarding motherhood, adopting Maia had been voluntary, new territory, personal. Gary Navarro was all about work. Marco knew that at NTAC and the DHS, she'd felt in control; the right decisions had always been clear to her. That sense of doing the right thing was one of the factors of the job that was so appealing to most agents--inspiring the will to work long hours, risk their lives, give their all--but it meant more to her. It was a central aspect of her character, her identity. She and Tom had felt bad enough about sending Gary to The Center to spy on Collier. Despite the potential danger, Marco had been under the impression things had gone well enough. So whatever had happened to make her like this, it had to involve NTAC, not The Center.

He was about to pull his phone from his ear to check for signal when she spoke again. "They Shanghaied him." She said it heatedly yet hushed, a vocal expression of her internal conflict, and his heart sank, both for Diana and for Gary.

Again, he held back, though all the obvious questions were on the tip of his tongue--Who? When? Why? How could they? What could be done about it? Oddly, the words that fell from his mouth were, "I'm sorry." He certainly felt sorry, but saying so hardly offered her the empathy and encouragement he'd wanted to express.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Maybe, if I'd known..."

"Then you'd have done what?" There was more than a hint of accusation. Gary had been her responsibility. If she'd thought she'd needed Marco's help, she would have asked. To indirectly suggest otherwise cast doubt on her abilities. "Would you have gone against the federal government, spirited him away, made him a fugitive, driven him nuts being separated from his drugs? You're just one person. What could you have done?"

Closing his eyes, he let the sting of her words pass through him. He knew she wasn't really mad at him; she might as well have been asking herself those questions. Being helpless, unempowered, betrayed by authority--these were not scenarios she handled well. He remembered how she'd reacted when he'd asked about Tom's son after the Highland Beach incident that had landed Tom behind a desk for a year. All her feelings about agents abducting Tom's son, then shooting him, then sticking him in a box to examine him like a bug, then losing Tom as her partner had been channeled into anger, which was the primary reason she'd lost her second partner so quickly. With Gary's loss so fresh, Marco was as likely a target as anyone. She was just misplacing her anger...better him than Maia.

"I probably couldn't have done anything," he answered honestly, stepping out of his role as her neutral sounding board and letting the depth of his feelings into his voice. "But...I just wish I could have done something."

Apparently his tone had some impact; her next words were calmer, more subdued. "So do I."

"We all have bad days..."

There was a derisive snort. "I think this goes beyond a 'bad day.'"

"You're NTAC's top agent and get the toughest jobs," he continued. "You risk more, so it's only natural your bad days would be worse than anyone else's."

"You almost make it sound like it's okay, just par for the course."

"It's not. But like you said, what could anyone have done?" There was a pause, as if she were weighing what to say next. Perhaps she needed more time to talk this through. "I could come over..."

"I probably woke you up as it is."

Refusing to let her feel guilty about anything on his account, he asked lightly, "Did it sound like you woke me up?"

"No...I guess not." Her tone was thoughtful. He could imagine the hint of a smile on her lips.

"It would be no trouble."

"I..." Suddenly she was uncomfortable. "I have company."

At such a late hour? In the middle of the week? While his rational self was confident there was a reasonable explanation, his emotional self was hurt. Some of that must have leaked through his monosyllabic response. "Oh."

"It's my sister." She sounded mollifying and embarrassed all at once.

Why would she be embarrassed?

"Oh." The possibility that she didn't want him thinking the wrong thing pleased him. "We could always meet at that cafe on the corner."

"The last thing I need right now is coffee." She laughed awkwardly. The place served decaf drinks, but he knew it was her way of saying she wasn't interested.

"Maybe next time, then."

"Yeah." There was a quiet, meditative quality to the word.

In the pause that followed, he could tell from the change in background noises that she'd gotten off the freeway. She was probably close to home, so he broke the silence for her with a potential end to their conversation.

"Well, I...guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah...thanks." She almost sounded back to normal.

"Any time."

"Good night, Marco."

"Good night, Diana."

He sat, staring at his disconnected cell phone for a few minutes, reviewing their conversation. Had she meant it? Had she, even for a moment, seriously considered breaking with the will of the government to do what was right? Then again, when you were as logical and just as Diana, how did you rationalize working for an entity that no longer reflected the ideals that had drawn you to it in the first place? Worse, what if it was working in direct conflict with those ideals? The DHS was supposed to safeguard the lives and freedoms of its citizens, NTAC to protect and serve the 4400, but the government had done nothing short of abduct Gary. If they were willing to press one 4400 into service, what was there to say they wouldn't do the same with others? Had Diana considered what might happen if they learned Maia was still having visions? If she had been willing to hack into her superior's computer, drug a military guard and run from the authorities for Tom's kid, what might she do for her own? More importantly, what was he willing to do for her? It frustrated him to be unable to help. Then again, he was the one she'd called to talk to about this, and she'd seemed to be in a better mood when they'd hung up. He might not have been able to do anything for Gary, but perhaps he had managed to be useful to Diana, if only in a small way.

There was too much to think about and no hope of getting to bed any time soon. Checking the time on his cell, it was quarter to eleven. His building's gym closed at midnight. Opening his closet, he grabbed his sweatpants off the floor and pulled the T-shirt he'd worn that day out of the top of his laundry basket. If his body was tired enough, his brain might follow it into sleep. It was a tactic that worked about half the time, so it was always worth a shot.

He snagged an antacid and bottle of water from the kitchen then clipped on his iPod and the spare door key with the gym access sensor attached. Slipping in his earbuds, he started playing his instrumental jazz selection before he'd even walked out the door. It was soothing yet still encouraged exercise, but best of all, there were no words. It wasn't often he got to say good night to Diana, least of all so close to actually falling asleep. The hopeful romantic in him insisted those be the last words he say, that her bidding him good night be the last words he hear that night. It was only right some small good came of the day.