A/N: Thank you guests and Anaid for your reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.
"R" is for Rejection
Colby didn't know why this rejection hurt so much.
Maybe because it was so close to his mom's. Only he couldn't call her that anymore. Maybe because after the hospital, he thought Don had listened to him, thought things were going to change. He should've known better.
It was his fault.
His mom—the woman who would've rather aborted him than given birth to him at least—was right; Daniel was right. He was stupid.
It had all just been some joke, let's see how gullible Granger can be.
He should've seen it coming; he should've. So it was his own damn fault it cut to his marrow walking into the FBI building after hours and finding his team sequestered in a conference room while they talked and ate dinner. Nobody's fault but his own.
Don didn't actually say things would change now, that Colby had made amends for spying on the FBI, for spying on the team. No, that was on Colby. He misinterpreted the conversation. He took from it what he chose to.
What Don did say was that he'd order dinner for the whole team. Clearly that didn't include Colby. He wasn't sure why Don had even told him … unless he also thought Colby was stupid and wanted to make certain Colby received the message that while he was allowed back, he wasn't part of the team.
As if David's attitude wasn't clue enough.
Colby shook his head at his stupidity and tried not to crumble as the now familiar hollowness, the now familiar aching loss opened up inside of him as he watched his team—no; the team, Don's team, David's team, Megan's and even Liz's; not his, not ever again—laughed and ate behind closed doors.
They were happier without him. They were better off.
Colby turned and stumbled down the aisle, back to his desk, before anyone looked up, looked out the wall of windows and saw him standing there, before he couldn't hide what this rejection was doing to him, before he saw their laughter turned on him, their anger.
He wanted to take the painkillers the doctor had prescribed but the few other agents left on the sixth floor—not counting Don's team—congregated in the breakroom and Colby just couldn't face more rejection or hostility to grab a bottle or glass of water.
Give him a killer with a gun and he was fine; give him an agent with a dirty look and he turned tail and ran. His mom was right: he was a disgrace and a blight. And stupid because he couldn't remember not to call her that anymore.
Great. He could add all those to his résumé right alongside miserable coward. That was sure to garner him all sorts of second looks.
Colby eased himself carefully into his chair, trying to decide what he should do. He'd die for anyone on the team—even still—and they wanted him gone. He should give them what they wanted. Call the DC office tomorrow, find out if that position was still open. Hell, if any position was open.
He didn't want to go. Even now.
His family in Idaho didn't want him. The team he thought of as his LA family didn't want him. Maybe they were all right and he was the problem, not them. That made more sense, right? The majority ruled, and he was the one lacking in understanding. Not them. The majority said that what he did couldn't be forgiven, he had no right to even ask it, and he'd never atone for it. They didn't even want to hear what he had to say about it.
Which meant going to DC—or to any other field office—wouldn't change anything. He was at fault … the rejection and hatred would follow him wherever he went. No one would want him.
Should he leave the Bureau? But what else did he know? He didn't want to go back to the Army or into counterintelligence.
Which left him nowhere.
So Colby decided to stay where he was. If and when Don flat out told him to his face—in precise words—that they didn't want him, he'd leave. He didn't know where, but that was (hopefully) a problem for a different day. Until then, he'd stay; keep his head down and mouth shut and endure whatever he had to.
Colby deserved it. He must. He had to man up and take it. No matter how much it hurt.
Part of him rebelled at that but the sad fact was he had nothing else.
Besides, how good of an FBI agent was he really? He thought Don sincere in the SUV and at the hospital this afternoon. But Colby had read Don, read the situation completely wrong. No wonder they didn't want him.
Unless … had Don meant everything he said and implied, but it was Colby who somehow screwed it up? Had he done something else to infuriate Don so much he rescinded his compassion?
What could Colby possibly have done? He wasn't with Don all afternoon.
And then he knew. It was the only thing that made sense. Charlie must've been uncomfortable with Colby's visit to CalSci to seek his help in the Kaufman cold case and told Don. Don admitted he'd thought Colby called Charlie from the train to threaten him. And then finding out from Charlie that Colby had gone to him….
Colby should've gone to Don first, asked his permission to consult his brother. It was his fault; how he was treated was based on his actions. Colby knew it was too late to matter, but he'd apologize to Don for stepping out of line, ask him to pass his apologies onto the professor.
It was proof positive Don didn't trust him. Colby wondered why they even bothered to come after him on the freighter.
He could only think of two explanations: they owned him the way Dwayne had for saving his life, a life for them to do with as they pleased; and he was the sacrifice. When it came down to it, he'd be the one to draw fire, to give everything to keep the rest of them safe.
Made sense. He had nothing to lose, no one who cared what happened to him. And at least their rejection would yield something positive.
God. Colby shook his head, furiously blinking the tears away. He was tired, hungry, stiff, and in pain, leaving him vulnerable to his emotions. Get over it, Granger. You deserve it. He bent his head and started the paperwork for the incident that afternoon that had precipitated his trip to the hospital.
/1234567890/
ADIC Wright wasn't alone when his personal assistant showed Don into his private conference room. By that alone, Don knew his request had been granted. By the fact only one other agent shared his rank, and they were the most subordinate of everyone there, he knew it hadn't been lightly made and he probably wouldn't like what he saw.
For the first time, he wondered if this was such a good idea, though he was banking everything on it. He needed the team 100% behind Colby. Colby needed it. Don had been too distant, Liz felt caught between girlfriend and spy, Megan's head was still on her assignment for the DOJ, and David … well, David felt hurt and betrayed and angry—at himself and Colby. So not one of them had been there for Granger, and he keenly felt that rejection. Don didn't realize how much so until that day. He needed something to get their focus off themselves and on the man who actually deserved it; hell, Colby was dealing with the team's crap, the office's crap and loss and rejection on top of it. But Don thought if he could get the team behind Colby the office would follow; the team would make sure of it. And then Colby could finally be just a regular agent, which was all he wanted.
Don would give just about anything to give Colby that.
After an exhaustive interview, part of which included Megan, Harrison McDonagh, SAC of the DC team which had taken over Colby's case—including collecting evidence from the freighter (because Don's team was too emotionally involved, because the LA branch's deportment had been less than ideal over the whole incident, because whatever they chose to tell themselves to let them sleep at night)—solemnly and reluctantly handed over the videotape Lancer had made on the freighter. It was still in an evidence bag.
"This shows the worst moments of Agent Granger's life," he said gravely, "so is intensely personal. He doesn't need to feel more violated by people he doesn't know watching what happened. It stays within your team only."
Don took it, equally grave and disinclined. He nodded his understanding.
"Eppes," McDonagh said as Don made ready to escape the briefing. "He acquitted himself with honor and dignity. He did the Army, he did the Bureau—he did his country—proud. You make sure he knows that."
/1234567890/
"Unless a major crisis comes up, Wright's kicking us out of here at 2 o'clock tomorrow. You go immediately to Charlie's. No exceptions," Don reminded his team as he followed them out of the conference room. He'd given them scant details of what Friday would bring, not even Megan had a clear idea of what was going to happen, but they only had until Saturday morning to watch that tape. "Do not tell Colby."
"What's he supposed to think when the rest of us leave?" Liz demanded.
At the same time, David, ahead of them and nearest their area of the bullpen, said, "You just did, Don."
Don's heart sank. He wanted to keep this from Colby for so many reasons, not least of which so he wouldn't have to see that rejection twist through Colby's expression before he hid it again.
Son of a bitch! Colby couldn't catch a break. Even when trying to help him, Don still managed to screw him.
"Colby, what are you doing here?" Don tried—and failed—to keep the frustration out of his voice. Goddammit. It wasn't directed at him, but Granger didn't know that. "You were supposed to call."
Colby's countenance was guarded, carriage tense. He seemed to pull into himself, making himself a smaller target. Don wanted to throw up.
"I did."
"Who? I called the hospital. They said you'd left. I tried your cell—it went to voicemail." He reined in his agitation and anger. Colby had taken enough shit to last a lifetime, and Don wouldn't add more. "I thought you went home."
Colby kept his head up, face turned toward Don, but he couldn't fail to see Colby kept his eyes aimed somewhere over his shoulder and felt suddenly exhausted. Whatever progress Don had made with him this afternoon was gone.
"Megan's phone went straight to voicemail. I left a message on Liz's."
"I was at in-service training. I just got back a little while ago," Liz interrupted, though she looked guilty.
"Yeah. I remember. I thought you might check your messages when you were through, that's all."
"Oh God, Colby," Liz said, "I'm sorry. I forgot to turn it back on when I was done." She looked contrite as she retrieved the device, powering it back on.
Colby gave a slight shrug, winced. "It's fine, Liz."
God damn it.
"I tried explaining to David but … uh, the line … um, I dropped the call." The younger man looked toward each person as he spoke, though he met no one's eyes.
"Yeah, Megan was in a meeting this afternoon," Don murmured. He wanted to smack David. 'Dropped the call' his ass. Don would bet his life that David hung up on Colby as soon as he realized the call wasn't case related.
He fought the desire to hit something (David) and tried to dial down his frustration.
"What happened, Colb?" Don asked.
"Battery died." He turned his chair slightly, and Don saw the phone plugged into a charger behind him. "I told Liz it was dying."
Liz looked even guiltier.
Of course, so all calls would've gone to voicemail. It was just a stupid oversight that should've meant nothing. Instead, Colby wound up screwed.
"Doctor cleared me, so I called a taxi." He retrieved some forms on his desk, handed them to Don. He still wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Okay. Make sure you fill out an expense report, get reimbursed for the cab fare," Don said. Then, "You must be starving. There're leftovers in the breakroom—"
"No," David interrupted. "I gave them to Browne and Ross."
"Damn it, David."
"What? I didn't know he was going to show up."
He sounded defensive and not the least bit apologetic. Don wanted to throttle him.
"It's fine," Colby said again. "I'm okay."
"Uh-huh," Don said, eyeing the pill bottle on Colby's desk. "Have you taken any of those yet?"
Colby glanced at the breakroom, mouth tight, and ducked his head.
Don strode into the breakroom, eyes flaying Ross and Browne. It wasn't their fault David gave them the leftovers, but Don knew they were two of Colby's worst detractors. "Get out. I don't care what you're working on. Leave now."
Their smiles faded, and they glanced about nervously. "We're—"
"Now. You're lucky I'm letting you come back tomorrow."
Don showed them exactly how he was feeling—these clowns weren't Colby—and they hastily exited.
He trailed them to the breakroom door, made sure they boarded the elevator, and then filled a cup with water and took it back to Colby. He had his emotions tamped down again by the time he reached Granger's desk.
Colby looked at him, looked at the offered water, wariness and uncertainty clouding his features.
Don saw red.
Was somebody tampering with Colby's food and beverages? Because rejection wasn't enough, he had to deal with that crap too? Heads were going to roll.
Don made sure Colby was watching him as he brought the cup to his lips and drank. He handed the half-full glass to Colby, shook out two capsules and handed those over next.
Hesitantly, Colby took them and swallowed them with the water.
Don had told Dr. Bradford it was his team's job to trust him. As if he didn't have to earn it. Look at what his arrogance had wrought. He'd once told Colby what he feared most was letting his guys down. Looking at Colby now, Don knew he'd done it. He'd lost trust.
"Look, Colby, about tomorrow—"
"It's okay, Don," Colby cut him off. "I understand."
Don shook his head. "No, man, you really don't."
He knew immediately he said the wrong thing. Colby's shoulders sagged and his head dropped. "You're right. I'm sorry." The gravel in his voice was thick.
Don wanted to beat his head against a brick wall. He wanted this day over, to start again tomorrow, to not cause that rejection in Colby's eyes. Hell, to go back to the moment Colby came back to work so he could unstintingly support him from the beginning as he should've done.
"Colb—"
"I should've gone to you anyway," Colby said. "Can you pass my apologies to Charlie? I didn't mean to upset him. But I wasn't threatening him, Don. Then or now."
"What are you talking about?"
"When I went to CalSci … when I called…."
Don couldn't believe they were back to that damn train, that they hadn't moved passed it. Then again … if no one else let Colby forget, how could Don expect him to move on?
"You mean when you solved that cold case? You mean when you asked for help?" Don wanted to grab Colby's chin and make him meet his eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for. You hear me, Colb? Nothing."
David snorted. "Don't be so sure about that, Don."
All at once, anger kindled in Colby's eyes and he straightened abruptly, surging to his feet, clearly fed up and tired of just taking this crap. Good.
Don wanted to cheer. He felt relief at seeing Colby show something other than defeat and rejection, that he would stand up for himself, that perhaps everything that was broken could be fixed again. Besides, he was sure Colby wouldn't kill David, no matter how much he might deserve it. Megan, who had been awfully quiet—almost as quiet as Colby—all afternoon, watched the boys with a small smile from the top of the desk across from Granger's. Don made a placating gesture to Liz and backed out of it.
"What does that mean, David?"
There was no sign of rejection in Colby now. Don felt hope soar.