Chapter 6: This is What it Sounds Like - Facing the Music

Mitch's imminent death in Rio forces him to face his demons, including the guilt about Clementine. Jamie discovers Ben's true colors, and faces an ugly truth about herself in the aftermath.

This will be the first time I split the installment between the two of them. There's just too much going on during both storylines not to address everything. Still, we'll start in medias res.

Mitch under his breath cursed for the third time. Chloe's little plot to buy them time - and thus buy Abraham time - was risky and foolish. Still, it had led him to the wonderful idea of building an oscillator out of what basically amounted to discarded parts from an electronic store. He soldered the last piece together and carefully clipped the cover shut just as Silva burst through the door.

"Your time is up, veterinário." Mitch stood and carefully angled his body between the man with the gun and Chloe.

"Look," Mitch held his hands up as meekly as possible, "if I had more time, better equipment, I could make something that would keep the bats away for...a long time." He was hesitant to say forever. He wasn't even sure if the thing would work at all. He definitely wasn't going to say that.

Silva laughed coldly. "As I said, you do not have more time. We will see if your device works. If it does, you will be free to go as soon as you instruct my men on its construction. If it doesn't…" He smiled and shrugged. "Either way you will not have to worry about the bats anymore, huh?"

Silva's thugs scooped up the mess of equipment from the table, ignoring Mitch's protest to be careful. They stomped out, leaving Mitch and Chloe with their single guard once more. Chloe sank back down in her chair as Mitch did the same.

"If your machine doesn't work, he's gonna kill us."

Mitch scowled out of the corner of his eye. "Full disclosure," he returned quietly, "I'm not exactly hopeful that my awesome oscillator's gonna do anything but fizzle." It had been a while since his electrical engineering classes, which had been more a distraction from his intense vet studies than anything else. Still, he was relatively certain he'd built it correctly despite the joke that Silva had deemed his "supplies."

"Why do you do that?" Chloe tilted her head curiously.

He knew what she meant. He had a bad habit of being brutally honest at the best of times. At the worst, it was the only way he knew how to cope with the anger, frustration, and fear. Still, he couldn't help it. "Because it's the truth," he told her evenly.

"It's not the truth," she shook her head, leaning in and pressing her point. "It's what you choose to believe because it's easier than having hope." He snorted derisively. Hope. He'd long since given up on the concept, abandoned the pretense that things could get better when the cold hard truth was so much easier to face. He liked knowing the truth, liked hearing and processing it. Then he could deal with it. Then he could plan. Hope was useless.

Chloe didn't seem to sense his derision, or chose to ignore it. "You hide behind logic," she professed. "You think emotions are for the weak. But it's all a defense; please don't pretend that it's not."

She seemed to be waiting for something, for him, and after a few seconds of silence he relented. "You know, a long time ago there was a point in time I was...I was kind of a big deal. But ego is like having a hot girlfriend; a lot of maintenance." He sighed, mostly to dispel the mocking tone he'd adopted. "I published a study that wasn't fully cooked yet, and I got my ass kicked." It had been a last ditch effort to draw attention to the disease that threatened to snuff out Clem's light. It hadn't worked. "So the truth is, I've been dead for three years. Today's just gonna make it official."

He wanted to tell her about Jamie, about how the plucky journalist had sifted through the dismal ashes of his life and stoked the fire in him again. About how he regretted - now, more than ever - not spending those last two hours doing something other than watching her sleep. But it seemed too personal, too raw. And so when Chloe mentioned his daughter he ran with it, venting the frustration he felt at being absolutely useless. He was smart; smarter than the average bear, his mother had always said. But all of his intelligence and connections and grit didn't matter. Clem was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"You know, there's an expression in French that says, 'Nothing weighs more than a secret.' I think you should talk to her." Mitch knew she meant Clem, that he should reach out and reconnect with his daughter before it was too late. Still, he couldn't help but prescribe a different meaning to her words. He thought of Jamie again, and suddenly he wished he could talk to her. If this was going to be his last day, he'd like it to end by hearing her voice one more time.

A phone rang in the silence, and Mitch turned as their guard answered. "Sí," he spoke loudly. "Okay," he nodded and hung up. He turned toward them and Mitch's heart began pounding in his chest. For a brief moment he thought about rushing forward. Perhaps he could grab the gun before the other man could shoot him. At the very least, Chloe would have a shot at escape during the tussle.

"Silva wants to see you."

Mitch's muscles relaxed in confusion. "What? It actually worked?"

"Mitch," Chloe nudged him from behind. "He's not killing us, is he?"

"Not yet," he whispered back. "Maybe Silva just wants to do it himself."

"Come on," the guard urged them out the door but didn't follow. This was enough to let Mitch breathe a little easier.

"We need to find Abraham," Chloe said immediately. Around them erupted a chorus of howls and barks that made both of them stop and look around. "Why are the dogs howling?"

Mitch let out a huff of relieved laughter. "They're reacting to the ultrasound frequency of the oscillator," he explained. "It worked," he added with a just a note of surprise. "I mean, I want to think it worked anyway."

"Come on," Chloe started walking again, eager to get away from the favelas and back to Abraham. Mitch followed with a lighter step. Maybe there was something to that hope thing after all.

Atmore, Alabama

Jamie sighed as the hot spray hit her aching muscles. She hadn't been in a car accident since she was in college, and that one hadn't been nearly as bad as this one. Every part of her ached and it didn't matter how many stretches she did. She winced as the cuts on her face were exposed to the water, washing away the last of the dirt and grime left over from the crash. Jackson had retreated downstairs to get drinks and to plan their next move. They needed to reunite with the others and discuss where to go from here. Now that they had the Mother Cell, things were looking a little brighter.

Jamie smiled as she thought about the precious treasure she'd hidden away. It was the her grail, the undeniable proof that Reiden Global was knowingly tampering with things they weren't supposed to. They would answer for everything, and Jamie felt a thrum of vindication course through her. It wasn't unlike the moment Mitch had discovered the change in the lion behavior at the zoo.

Thoughts of Mitch led her easily to the night before they'd left for Rio. Memory of the kisses they'd shared sent a different tendril of energy through her, and she closed her eyes as she remembered the softness of his lips on hers and the warmth of him as he'd held her. Her shower lasted a little longer than she'd planned, and as she stepped out onto the thin bath mat she heard someone knocking at her door.

Thinking it was Jackson, she wrapped a towel around her quickly and answered. She faltered for a moment as Ben Schaffer's gaze took her in.

"Oh," she managed. "Hey."

"Hey," he returned, making at least an effort to keep his eyes on hers. "Where's Jackson?" he asked glancing over her shoulder as though expecting to see the other man inside.

"Oh, uh, he's down in the coffee shop," she told him.

"What, no celebrating?" Ben's tone was cocky now, the triumphant FBI agent who had finally closed out his case.

"Well," she shrugged, "there are mitigating factors." She felt more than a little vulnerable standing there in only a towel, but she refused to let him see it.

"Oh, come on," Ben smiled easily. "You have the evidence to take down Reiden, right?"

"I guess it seems like it?" She wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this. She wished he would leave her alone so she could at least dress before they continued.

"So," he continued, either unaware or unsympathetic to her discomfort, "unless I'm missing something, it seems like your bad day turned out great." His eyes dropped again but darted up just as quickly. The suggestion was not lost on Jamie. "So ask me, you should be doing something about that."

He was flirting with her. If she wasn't standing almost naked in the hallway of a hotel, she might have laughed. Mitch's text came back to her and she stifled a smile. "You're just saying that because I'm wearing a towel." It was meant to be a dismissal, a subtle hint to let him know she needed to put some clothes on. He didn't get it.

"I'm not gonna lie; you are an excellent towel wearer." His smile turned into a leer as he leaned in slightly. "Among your other fine qualities." He leaned further and Jamie realized he was going to kiss her. Her hand came up between them and pressed against his chest. He stopped and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, "I'm just...sort of with someone."

"Jackson?" Schaffer guessed, and Jamie laughed.

"No," she shook her head. "Listen, I am flattered. But…"

"Not gonna happen," he shrugged one shoulder. "I get it." There was something there, though, just on the periphery. Jamie couldn't identify it, but she guessed it was something like disappointment.

Suddenly the tension between them evaporated and she laughed. "Come on in," she stepped back. "I'll get dressed and we'll go find Jackson."

"Sure." She left him standing in the small space between the door and the room proper as she retreated into the bathroom to dress. Once finished she stepped back out. He was still there and she slipped by him to find her shoes and her purse. Her cell rang as she was checking the time and she answered with a smile as she saw the name on the screen.

"Jackson, hey."

"Jamie, listen to me," he was frantic and Jamie's smile faded. "Ben killed the optometrist." Her heart began pounding hard at his words. Something had irked her when Ben had ushered them quickly out of the office, but she'd been so caught up in the moment that she hadn't analyzed it. The agent's presence behind her became looming and dangerous even though he remained on the other side of the room.

"Okay?" she tried not to sound fearful. She knew Ben was listening.

"He didn't call it into the field office," Jackson kept going, oblivious to her predicament. "He killed him."

Knowing her friend would likely take too long to catch her clues, she decided for something that sounded nonchalant. "I'm with Ben right now, actually." Then, because she realized that sounded bad, she added, "Uh, maybe we could all meet up later for dinner or -" Her phone was snatched from her hand and she gasped.

"You are a terrible liar," he whispered menacingly. She turned toward him and tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go. "Look, Jamie, I don't want to hurt you. Just give me the Mother Cell." He pressed forward and Jamie's fear ratcheted up to terror. "Now."

His arm shot out and gripped her fiercely, turning her toward the bed. For a moment a stab of cold dread hit her, and she couldn't help the soft sob that escaped as he pushed her face down onto the comforter. His body was heavy and oppressive over her as he leaned over. "I'm not going to hurt you," he confirmed, "just tell me where it is." She pressed her lips together, unwilling to give him the one thing that would finally lay her demons to rest. He sighed heavily and reached for the lamp on the nightstand. He used the cord to tie her up, her arms and legs bent at odd angles behind her back in a humiliating hogtie. She screamed at him as he stepped back, hoping maybe someone would hear, but when he carefully laid his hand against his holstered sidearm she shut up.

It didn't take him long to find the Mother Cell; the hotel room wasn't that large. He left her with a whispered apology, and the moment he was gone she began squirming and wriggling to free herself.

"Son of a bitch," she heard Jackson's faint voice. He'd obviously come to check on her and caught Ben leaving. She heard the race of footsteps as he chased the agent, and Jamie silently cheered. Jackson wouldn't let Ben escape with their only hope of figuring out what his father had been doing. She just hoped Ben wasn't dumb enough to draw his gun in the hotel, or use it to hurt Jackson. He was still an agent even if he was a crooked one. The muffled sound of a gunshot told her she'd been wrong; Ben didn't care about the consequences anymore.

She managed to get free and dashed out of her room, praying that Jackson was still okay. The only thing at the end of the hall was the stairwell, and she crashed through door as she heard the sounds of a scuffle a few flights down. At the next landing she saw Jackson lying under Ben, his face bloodied from a beating.

"Reiden paid you off didn't they?" Jackson growled.

"Get off him you son of a bitch." Jamie froze as Ben looked up at her and laughed. Jamie felt her blood boil at it, fury filling her at the easy way he dismissed her. Her eyes darted around frantically, finding his gun discarded halfway down the flight of stairs.

Jamie lunged for it a split second before Ben did, but it was enough. Jackson had rolled over, and when Jamie lifted the gun and fired Ben stumbled down the stairs and back into the wall. Anger and the sting of his betrayal kept her finger on the trigger, squeezing off five shots before the bile rose in the back of her throat. Her ears rang from the deafening sound of gunfire in a small area, and through the haze of anger she found Jackson's eyes.

He rose slowly, as though it hurt him to do so, and climbed the stairs to stand at her side. He reached out and took the gun from her and Jamie let him. Panic replaced the anger as she realized she'd just killed an FBI agent.

"Oh my god," she breathed. Jackson's hand was warm at her back, and she slammed her eyes closed as the nausea swept over her.

"We have to go," he whispered, ushering her back up the stairs. He tucked the gun into his waistband and quickly pulled her through the door into the hallway. "Get your things together; we need to leave now."

Jamie nodded mutely and dashed for her hotel room. Once inside, she lurched for the bathroom and emptied her stomach. Jackson's rapid knock came just a few moments later, and she let him in as she zipped her suitcase closed. Curious patrons had emerged in the halls, and Jamie could hear the insistent shouting coming from the stairs. Jackson, at least, seemed to have most of his wits around him. He craned his neck above the crowd and tried his best to sound unaware.

"What's going on?" he asked.

An older lady with dyed hair and far too much make up turned around with a wide-eyed expression. "They said someone's dead," she whispered conspiratorially. "They won't let anyone in the stairwell. There were gunshots earlier; didn't you hear?"

"My girlfriend and I were in our room," he gestured back where Jamie was trying her best not to catch anyone's eye. "Someone's dead?"

"That's what they said," the woman confirmed. She turned back around in the direction of the stairs and Jackson quietly stepped away.

"Come on," he jabbed the down button on the wall and pushed Jamie into the elevator when the doors opened. "We'll go to a coffee shop or something. Hopefully Chloe will call soon."

Soon turned out to be a few hours later, and by that time a full manhunt had shut the hotel down. It would take the police a while to piece things together, but Jamie knew it would only be a matter of time before they identified Ben's killer. Jackson and Jamie caught a bus to Mobile, where Chloe had arranged tickets for them to D.C. The team would reunite there and then head for their next destination, wherever that may be. The panic lessened only slightly as the jet lifted off the runway, and Jackson put his larger hand over hers when he caught them shaking.

"You okay?" he leaned over from the aisle seat with a worried frown. She cut her eyes over to him for a second then returned them to the shrinking landscape. Unable to find her voice, she merely nodded. He let her go and straightened, obviously responding to her body language. She felt bad for ignoring him, but there were too many thoughts swirling in her head for her to deal with any sort of personal interaction.

She managed to doze against the hard plastic of the plane's wall. Her head bounced hard it as they jolted on the runway at Dulles, and Jamie winced at the lingering soreness. She felt a little better for the rest, and she managed a ghost of a smile when Jackson asked his question again.

"I'm alright," she told him. "Just...ready to get this whole thing over with."

He nodded in agreement and shuffled down the narrow aisle as the passengers disembarked. She followed him up the jetway and into the airport proper. Chloe had texted Jackson and told them she, Abe, and Mitch had already landed and were waiting in the lounge. Mitch hadn't texted her since he'd landed in Rio two days ago, but she really didn't blame him. They had probably had their hands full with the bats, and she had been preoccupied with her own piece of the puzzle. By the time things had slowed down enough, she'd been in a car crash, they had the Mother Cell, and Ben was dead by her hand. None of it was appropriate to talk about over text.

Her steps carried her ahead of Jackson as they neared the lounge. Her jitters at the events of the day had morphed into an inexplicable need to see Mitch again, to listen to his steady drawl reassure her that it was all going to be okay. She rounded the corner to the lounge and breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar outline of him against the gray chair. Her feet carried her around him and to the empty seat next to his.

Mitch sat up straighter as Jamie sank into the chair, his eyes cataloging the tiny cuts on her face and the slight bruising that colored her cheek. Abraham had risen to meet Jackson and voiced the question that had stuck in Mitch's throat.

"Who did this to you?"

Mitch tore his eyes away from Jamie long enough to see that Jackson actually looked worse. A healing cut on his lip and the bruising around his eye spoke of a fight. Jackson glanced at Jamie for just a split second, but it was enough to set Mitch's hackles up. Something bad had happened.

"It's a long story," Jackson dismissed his friend's concern. "I'll tell you later."

"Chloe," Jamie spoke quietly, drawing the team's attention as she reached into her bag. She lifted a small canister into her hand, keeping it hidden within the fabric of the bag.

"What is it?" Chloe questioned.

"They call it the Mother Cell." The way Jamie said it made it sound important, but Mitch had no idea what she was talking about. Judging from Chloe and Abraham's expressions, he wasn't the only one.

"What the hell is a mother cell?" he asked.

"It's something Reiden used to genetically modify just about everything they make. It's what Evan Lee Hartley was after. We think this is the key to it all." Jamie's voice wasn't anything like the normal exuberance she usually displayed when speaking about Reiden, and there was a hesitancy when she spoke Hartley's name. But the magnitude of the bombshell she dropped on them warred for dominance in his brain.

"So this mother cell is a vector?" he guessed.

"Yeah," Jackson nodded. "Leo Butler said that it allows them to make things faster and cheaper than their competitors. Said they discovered it about a dozen years ago." He took a breath and lowered his voice. "He also said that they did some preliminary testing and -"

"Wait," Chloe held up her hand to stop him and glanced around furtively. "We should not discuss this here. Delavane has secured us rooms at the hotel just a few blocks from here," she said, reading the recent text from her phone.

"Then we should get some rest," Abe stood and grabbed his small duffel. The others followed, though only Mitch noticed the wince Jamie tried to hide as she got to her feet. He reached out and took her bag, shouldering it along with his own. She shot him a grateful smile and fell into step beside him as Chloe led the way out of the airport and hailed a cab.

Ten minutes later they were gathered in Jackson and Abe's room. The canister holding the Mother Cell sat in the center of the bed as Jackson explained everything Leo Butler had told them about it. Jamie kept quiet, only offering input when Jackson didn't seem to remember the specifics. He told them about finding Leo, about he and Jamie going after the Mother Cell. When he mentioned the crash and Hartley's involvement, everyone's eyes flew from Jackson to Jamie.

"I'm fine," she told them. "Banged up, but fine." She shrugged one shoulder, grimacing as her muscles protested the movement. Mitch studied her a bit longer as Jackson returned to the story, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. There was something else she wasn't saying, something more than a car crash that had stolen the spirit from her eyes.

"There's more," Jackson continued. "Ben Schaffer -"

That was as far as he got before Jamie shot out her chair and made her way to the door. She wrenched it open and dashed across the hall to the room she and Chloe were sharing. Jackson sighed and met his friends' curious stares.

"He's dead."

"Dead?" Abe questioned. "Were he and Jamie...close?" He asked the second with a nervous glance at Mitch. Jackson seemed to miss it, but Chloe didn't. The scientist gave nothing away, but inside his heart was hammering away. He'd sent her the text about not falling for Schaffer in jest; a note meant to lighten the mood and to subtly let her know that he was invested in whatever it was they had begun in Alabama. The thought that she might have grown closer to the FBI agent snarled something in him. He didn't want to peer too closely at the reasons, though he was beginning to suspect what he was feeling for the journalist went beyond casual interest and attraction.

"No," Jackson frowned and closed his eyes. When he opened them again there was a depth of sadness that hadn't been there before. "She killed him."

A chorus of incredulity met the confession, and Mitch actually came to his feet. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He tried to take the Mother Cell from her," Jackson explained. "He tied her up in her hotel room and stole it. I caught up with him in the stairwell. We fought and Jamie must have gotten herself free because I look up and she's there. Ben's the one who gave me this," Jackson indicated the purpling bruise on his cheek. "In the fight his gun fell on the stairs, and he and Jamie lunged for it at the same time. She got there first, but he didn't stop coming at her. It was self-defense."

Chloe breathed a curse in French under her breath, and Abe stared stoically at his oldest friend. Almost as one, the three of them turned to Mitch expectantly. He had planned on visiting her after their meeting broke up anyway; that they all clearly wanted him to do it now just got him out of there faster. He sighed and stood, stopping just as he reached the door to turn and as Chloe called his name softly. She padded over to him and slipped her keycard into his hand. Mitch stared at it for a moment, then nodded his thanks.

He came to a stop just outside Jamie's door. He leaned in to listen for any clue as to what he might find on the other side, but there was only silence. It took a few tries for the keycard to work, and finally it buzzed green and let him in. The room was dark, almost pitch black for the heavy curtains that hung on the window. The light from the hall disappeared as the door closed behind him, and he shuffled forward calling Jamie's name softly.

She didn't answer, but the sniffles coming from the direction of the closest bed told him where she was. He stepped out of his shoes and sat on the edge, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. She was curled in on herself, her back to the door and to him. Mitch was suddenly at a loss, unsure what to say that could possibly make her feel better. So he said nothing, choosing instead to let his actions speak. He laid down on the bed, stretching out on his side behind her to let her know that she wasn't alone. Her sniffles became strangled sobs, and when he settled a hand on her waist she rolled over and buried her head into his chest.

For the second time in as many weeks he held onto her as she wept. One arm was under her, holding her against him as the other ran over her head, down her back and up again. Still he said nothing, waiting out the storm until she finally ran out of tears. He kept holding her her breathing evened out, and he chanced a few lingering kisses into her hair.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked finally, unable to keep the question from spilling out in curiosity. She shook her head softly but didn't say anything. Her left arm snaked around his waist and pulled him closer, and he felt her shudder against him. "It was self-defense, Jamie."

"Doesn't change the fact that I killed him," she returned. "And it's not going to take them long to figure out it was me. Hotels have cameras everywhere." She'd pulled back a little and laid her head on the pillow, though her arm remained resting over his hip. She breathed a sigh that drifted across his skin. "Maybe I should just turn myself in."

He couldn't put a name to it, but something in him told him that was wrong. He frowned and tried to catch her eyes, but she was steadfastly staring at his shirt. "No," he shook his head. "Look, Schaffer was obviously on Reiden's payroll, right? So at the least, he was a crooked cop. I'm willing to bet he wasn't even a real agent." She didn't say anything, and he began to flounder for anything that would get her to talk to him. "Turning yourself in won't help us," he told her. "You can't get justice for your mother from inside of a jail."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"How dare you!" Jamie hissed, pushing away from him. "You don't think I feel guilty enough already? That ever since Senator Vaughn showed me the door I haven't felt like a colossal failure? I thought maybe this was something, that we were finally getting somewhere." He didn't know if she was talking about their mission or their blossoming relationship, but she didn't clarify. Her hair was curtained around her face as she stared at the floor, and he knew without hearing her that she was crying again.

Not knowing what else to do, he slid off the end of the bed and found his shoes. Maybe Chloe could talk to her. She didn't move as he shuffled toward the door, but something made him stop before grabbing the handle. The conversation he'd had with Chloe yesterday replayed in his head, sticking on one particular phrase above others.

Nothing weighs more than a secret.

He glanced back at her, finding her silhouette easily in the darkened room. She had hunched herself over her knees, burdened and broken, and Mitch couldn't leave.

His approach was slow and careful, like he used at the zoo when dealing with a wounded animal. She didn't flinch when he stopped next to her, nor when he crouched down in front of her. His hands sought hers, squeezing her fingers as he spoke.

"Tell me."

She shook her head, pulling one hand away to wipe her eyes. Deciding that she might feel more comfortable if he shared first, he rose to his feet and moved to sit next to her. He kept a hold of one hand, interlacing their fingers before setting them on top of his thigh.

"I have a daughter," he told her. "Clementine. She's ten. Her mom and I...well, we both thought it best if we didn't stay together just for her. Honestly," he told her with a wince, "I haven't really talked to her in two years. Not until today, anyway." Jamie didn't say anything, and Mitch suddenly felt the urge to fill the silence. "She got sick three years ago - Glazier's Syndrome. It's incurable. And terminal." At that he felt Jamie's hand tighten around his own. "I did everything I could - called in favors, traveled all over the country to find anyone who would help her. But Audra said it was too much, that I was being selfish. Nothing I was doing could help her, and all I was doing was making her life harder. So I stopped." He took a shuddering breath and Jamie shifted next to him. Her leg pressed against his as her thumb stroked the back of his hand.

"Where does she live?"

"Boston," he answered. "Her mom remarried when she was two. He's a...good guy. And he loves Clem." The conversation fell flat then, neither knowing what else to say. The silence stretched on for several long minutes, and Mitch had almost resolved to leave her alone and let her rest when she began speaking.

"I shot him," she admitted quietly. She wasn't looking at him now, but staring down at her free hand twiddling in her lap. "Jackson probably made it sound like there was this split second where it was either him or me, but it wasn't like that." She breathed a sound that reminded Mitch of one of his own derisive scoffs. He didn't like it on her. "I had the higher ground. I could have shot him in the leg, but I didn't. And then -" her breath hitched once, then twice as she fought to regain control of her emotions. He held on to her hand like a vice, anchoring her through whatever turbulent storm was raging in her. She looked anywhere but him, lifting her head to cast her eyes at the curtained window. "I kept shooting. He was down, and I just kept pulling the trigger. I was so angry at him. He'd used us - used me - to get the Mother Cell for Reiden. From that first moment at the prison he was playing us and I hated him." Then, in the smallest of whispers, she finished her thought. "I wanted him dead."

Mitch wanted to crack wise - let her know that he hadn't been terribly fond of the guy either - but it wasn't the time. Instead he offered her his steadfast support. "We're going to figure this out, Jamie. You, me, the others...it's coming together now. We have the Mother Cell. That's a big step toward figuring out what's going on." He stood up and pulled her with him, releasing her hand in favor of wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "As for the rest of it, you can always come talk to me if you need to."

Her shoulders shook with silent amusement as she turned her head to lay her cheek against his chest. "You know, for someone who reportedly doesn't like people, you have a knack for knowing exactly what to say to make me feel better."

"I told you," he matched her light tone, "you're the exception." She laughed with him, just a soft sound that didn't quite convince. But it was a start. He held her for a moment longer then relaxed his hold. She stepped back and wiped her eyes again. "You should get some rest," he told her. "We'll work it out tomorrow." He took a step back, clearly intending to leave her alone to sort through her thoughts, but her hand shot out and gripped his arm.

"Stay," she whispered. Her face was uncertain but her hold on his arm was firm. She was at war with herself and he found he didn't really want to leave her alone after all. Slowly he stepped around her, peeling back the covers on the bed so she could crawl in. Her shoes had been lost long ago, kicked off and forgotten in the corner. The slacks and blouse she wore weren't as comfortable as pajamas, but they would suffice for the time being. Once she was buried under blankets, Mitch moved quickly to swing the latch on the door. He set the alarm on his phone for six and shot a quick text to Chloe that they would meet the rest downstairs for dinner. Her reply was simple, and Mitch silently thanked her for not prying further.

Jamie was already dozing when he returned, and he quickly toed his shoes off and laid on top of the covers. His body fit snugly around hers as he spooned up behind her, tucking her against him with one arm as the other propped his head up. Unable to resist, he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her cheek, smiling at the contented hum she emitted at his touch.

Jet lag and emotional exhaustion finally caught up to him, and he laid his head against the pillow to nap with her. A million thoughts raged in him, but as Jamie's body relaxed against his they quieted to nothing. Everything else could wait.