A knock on the door pulled him out of his misery.
For a moment, he wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. Then the knocking continued, accompanied by an unfamiliar "Agent Zidan."
Why wouldn't they just leave him alone ? He contemplated ignoring her. He didn't owe his company to anyone right now. But the knocking continued, so he put on a new shirt and cleaned himself up best he could, and told whoever it was that he would be out shortly .
He hadn't expected Valerie Dupont.
"I thought our appointment was tomorrow," he said flatly .
She offered a sheepish smile. "I apologize for dropping by unannounced," she said, studying his face. "I got worried when I heard what happened, and I wanted to check in on you, hear how you're doing.."
"I'm-" not fine. He dropped his shoulders. Obviously , he wasn't fine. "I don't know." He brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose: This wasn't the right time to talk. He was a mess. "Did Isobel send you to-? "
"No," she said, then cleared her throat once she realized she'd interrupted him. "No. This is all off-the-record if that's what you're worried about."
"Okay." He sighed. That wasn't really something he cared about. "Uhm, I have… no need for our appointment tomorrow." He lowered his hand. "Any chance you won't tell Isobel?"
She tilted her head. "Why?"
"Why not tell Isobel?"
"No, why don't you want an appointment?"
"It won't bring Mag-" He inhaled sharply . "It won't bring her back."
"No, it won't," she agreed. "But losing a partner is traumatic." Valerie stepped inside, closing the door behind her to create a resemblance of privacy . "Especially when you were the one to find her."
He closed his eyes, failing to stop the memories, a few more tears escaping him. "Yeah," he whispered.
"I've counseled agents who've lost their partners before," she continued. "Do you know what emotion they all have in common?"
"Grief?"
"Guilt."
He opened his eyes again but didn't meet her prying gaze.
"Guilt is a dangerous emotion, Agent Zidan." That he believed." Especially when misplaced. There's nothing more powerful than it." She sighed. "Do you have any guilt?"
He shrugged. Yes, but it wasn't misplaced.
"From what I have heard about Agent Bell, I'm sure she wouldn't want you to feel any guilt."
Probably not, but she wasn't here to tell him otherwise.
"I promised her she'd be fine."
She shifted her stance. "Was she awake?"
He nodded.
"Oh," she crossed her arms. "That must've been… hard."
Would've been hard anyway. "Mhm."
She inhaled slowly , thinking. "Did she tell you anything?"
It was an odd detail to focus on. Maybe it was the horror of it all that had shaken her. It must've been a painful death to be awake for. Being unconscious would at least have offered Maggie some solace from the pain and fear. Or maybe it was just Valerie's job, trying to pick apart his memories to understand him. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.
"I did most of the talking."
"I see."
She stayed quiet after that, looking at him. A psychological play to push him into talking.
It worked.
"She said she was cold."
Valerie lowered her shoulders, satisfied with the answer. "Did you say anything back? Or do anything?"
"I gave her my jacket."
"And did she say anything after that?"
He shook his head. Not really .
Valerie smiled. "Then you helped her the way she needed you to. You gave her comfort at the end." So, that's why she asked. It didn't make him like her."That makes you a good partner, Agent Zidan."
Keeping her safe would have made him a good partner, but he didn't want to go down that rabbit hole with her. Not today, at least.
"Look, I am tired." He looked at the door. "Is there anything else?"
"I am required to ask if you have any intention of harming yourself."
He shook his head.
"Good. Then I got all I need for now," she smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Mhm."
She forced a business card into his hand. "Call me if you need anything before then," she said, waiting for his nod before she finally left, leaving him in his own miserable company once again .
The next morning didn't feel like the next morning. He felt like a walking cliche, burdened with nightmares that kept him from seeking refuge in sleep . As such, this felt more like a continuation of yesterday.
Judging by the man staring back at him in the mirror, he looked as awful as he felt, with his disheveled hair and puffy eyes . He sniffled, brushing away the stray tears and snot.
"Pull it together," he told his reflection, gripping onto his sink for stability as he did the breathing exercises he'd used after Iraq . Breathe out. Pause. Breathe in. Hold your breath. Repeat.
It helped a little. As did a face wash with cold water. Changing into a suit and combing his hair helped a little, too. A few drops of normalcy did wonders.
He should get back to the JOC, he realized. Just to get some routine back. Just to escape this suffocating apartment stained with grief. He needed the distraction.
Despite being nearly 9:30 am, the office was quiet when he arrived. The usual buzzing was non-existent. Jubal wasn't there to hand out instructions. Tiff and Scola sat in silent shared grief in the conference room. Maggie's desk was... Empty.
He looked away, meeting Isobel's eyes.
"Your appointment with Dupont isn't until 11." So what are you doing here? It wasn't an accusation, but a concern. Somehow, that felt worse. "I thought you were taking the day off."
"I changed my mind," technically speaking, he hadn't agreed to take today off in the first place. "I want to help." Before she could protest, he supplied: "Not with… the case, but with something else. Anything else."
"Not until you've spoken with Dupont."
"I spoke to her yesterday," for less than five minutes, but he was still truthful.
She raised her eyebrows. "You did?"
Did she ever let up with the questions? "She stopped by to check on me."
She clenched her jaw. "And what did you talk about?"
What did she think they spoke about? The weather? "My partner dying in my arms."
Isobel didn't pry further.
"So, we spoke. Can I get to work now?"
"Not until Dupont clears you," she clarified. "I can't let you work on anything whilst you're dealing with trauma."
"I am fine." He just needed a distraction. Maggie had been back to work a few days after Jason died.
"No, you're not," again with the soft tones. Not an attack, but pity and guilt, as if she was somehow responsible for his trauma. "Take the week off. Work will always be here," she continued. "And I promise you'll feel better next week," despite her certain tone, he doubted that. "Just take the time off."
He sighed. So much for having a distraction.
"I will follow you up to Dupont's office." So, that was the end of the conversation. No distractions, no relief. "Come on."
As he trailed behind her, all he thought was that he wished she'd be right. That somehow, everything would magically feel better in a week.