So, going back over the episode, I realized that the Pursuit Curve explanation referenced in the last chapter doesn't take place until much later than I thought it did. I'm not bothering to change it though, since it doesn't make any difference to the story. We'll just call it artistic license. And, if anyone was wondering, Manfred von Richtofen was a German WWI ace fighter pilot, more famously known as the Red Baron. I put the reference to him in because his iconic Fokker triplane appears in the footage used for the show (and I'm an aviation nerd).
Also, thank you for the lovely reviews. Nice to know people are enjoying this.
Two days after his arrival in L.A., Agent Edgerton was getting decidedly restless. He didn't often suffer from an itchy trigger finger (What a horrible quality that would be in a sniper), but sitting and waiting while his fugitives moved further and further ahead of them was taking a toll that even the excellent coffee Eppes made in the morning couldn't quell his need to get back into the field.
Reeves and Edgerton had briefed the rest of the team on their analysis of the latest crime scene, the murder of car salesman Pierce Brenner, on whom she had requested a thorough background check. It would take at least a few more hours to get the initial report, and probably another day or two to get the full details.
Until then, they were stuck with what they knew. The carjacking was consistent with the duo's previous MO; they would switch vehicles every few days to try to throw the authorities off their trail. Still, something about it just didn't fit. Like the fact that they had apparently targeted Brenner for a specific reason.
Ian had invested considerable time in developing his extraordinary proficiency in both of his fields, sniping and hunting, and his greatest skill had always served him well in both. Learning to understand his targets on such a fundamental level that he could predict their actions before they knew they were going to take them.
But even with all his expertise at tracking fugitives, the seemingly random shifts in Winters's and Hoyle's behavior had him so frustrated that he had abandoned his usual cup of coffee in favor of his rifle and gone down to the shooting range to unwind.
Ian always felt most comfortable hugging a rifle to his shoulder, feeling the weight of the barrel in his arms and the cool metal against his hands. His mind calmed as his finger tensed, ever so gently, against the trigger, the miasma of thoughts from his every day concerns giving way to a sense of zen-like clarity.
His sharp eyes focused on the target; his breathing settled into a pattern so familiar it was almost autonomic. His senses shut off all the distractions of the world beyond him and his target, a more intimate relationship than any lover he had ever known, until the only sound he consciously registered was the beat of his own heart, strong and steady, not the slightest tic.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump. Crack!
The sniper watched through his scope as the bullet impacted on the target, dead center. It didn't offer the challenge a human target would, but it still delivered the catharsis he so needed after the standstill this case had come to. Woah, what was that, Edgerton? Thinking of your targets as human beings? Not a good sign.
Ian's time in the FBI had slightly thinned the impenetrable layer of ice and steel he kept between his emotions and the surface of his being. His current job was certainly dangerous, and presented no shortage of dark imagery, but it would never compare to the absolutely numbing, dehumanizing effects of warfare. People think I'm a cold-hearted bastard now? They should've seen me in Afghanistan. Not that many people there had seen him for who he really was either; they only saw the legend. Except for- No, don't think about her.
He automatically pulled the bolt to eject the cartridge from the chamber, and then lined up the rifle for another shot. He was just settling back into sniper mode when a familiar voice spoke up from behind him.
"Fifth best shot in the country and you still hang out at the rifle range?"
"Can't let myself get too rusty," Ian replied, turning to face Don Eppes. He regarded the man before him silently for a moment. The warm eyes, the friendly smile, the air of confidence about him. He was definitely a leader, the type of man who was meant to always have people around him, whose psyche depended on having a team, a family. He'd been one of the best in the business when he worked Fugitive Recovery, but Ian could tell that he had suffered for it in some way as well.
Still, the understanding between them was something Edgerton appreciated more than he cared to admit. Most agents gave him a wide berth; they were more than grateful for his assistance in the field, and they respected him for his skills, but they certainly didn't invite him out for a beer or let him crash on their couch after a long day.
Don Eppes was different. He treated Ian the same way he treated anyone else. And even though it sometimes unnerved him, Ian had to acknowledge that he thought of Don as more than a colleague. He smirked at the realization that he felt almost the same way about his brother. What is it with these Eppes guys? Don acts like I'd make the perfect third musketeer for Sinclair and Granger. And the Professor... that guy is either too stubborn for his own good or has more balls than anyone gives him credit for. Hell, maybe both.
"We got something on Hoyle," Eppes said without further preamble. He smiled when Ian's eyes met his with a spark in them that may as well have screamed: "Finally!" He was not the type to actually voice his excitement, but he was grateful for Eppes's perceptiveness.
Sensing that Eppes hadn't come down here just to chat, the sniper quickly packed up his rifle and the two of them headed for the parking lot and their respective vehicles.
"The phone dump on the bar in Wyoming turned up a call to a number here in L.A.," the other agent continued as they exited the range. "Lydia Campos. Got a rap sheet that goes all the way back to '91."
Ian raised an eyebrow, knowing Eppes would understand his unspoken question.
"Mostly offenses related to drug possession, including a bust for selling cocaine in March of '92. Guess who was picked up with her." Eppes gave him a meaningful look that told Ian they finally had a lead on why Hoyle had come to L.A. "I called the judge for a rush warrant on a wire tap. David's headed over there now to set up, and Colby's standing by for a location. If Crystal tries to contact her again, we'll be ready."
"Nice work, Eppes." A small part of him was wondering why he hadn't been contacted when that information came through, but he was inclined to let it slide, given the circumstances. His concern had always been getting the job done. Politics and bureaucracy and regulations be damned.
Still, he wondered if Don was having trouble adjusting their professional relationship on this case. In the past, he had always consulted Ian for help when one of his cases could benefit from his input. It was different this time, this was his hunt, and Edgerton felt the need to broach the subject before it caused any problems. "Should have called me in when you got that one, Eppes. I would've liked to be involved with the setup."
To his credit, Don didn't take the subtle admonition personally. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's just... they're my team, ya know?"
"Sure, Eppes. No problem."
Edgerton apparently wasn't the only agent who was eager to get back into the field. Colby Granger nearly crashed right into Don and Ian as they stepped off the elevator leading into the bullpen.
"Hey," the young agent greeted them breathlessly. "We got a hit! Crystal just called her friend Lydia from a payphone at Washington and Broadway. Should I call SWAT?"
The question was directed at Eppes, but Ian decided to cut in and provide the voice of experience. "I doubt she's still in the area. She isn't stupid enough to lead a chase across half the country and then get busted at a payphone."
He didn't particularly enjoy putting a damper on Granger's enthusiasm - it was a trait Ian secretly admired in him – but it had to be done. Believe me, Granger. No one's more eager than me to bring this bitch into custody. But this is gonna be a job for the crime techs. SWAT has better things to do.
"You two go check it out. Let me know if you need any backup," Don suggested, a bit more gently. Ian held back a grin. Ever the leader, Eppes.
Granger nodded at his boss, and then gave Ian a look that was a mix of anticipation at getting a possible break in the case and apprehension at the realization that he would be going into the field with the legendary Ian Edgerton for the first time. Dammit, Eppes.
As they briskly made their way to the garage, Ian was extremely grateful to see the junior agent's excitement abate as it was replaced by the professionalism he would expect from a former soldier. Can't have any other shit on your mind going into battle. Tends to get people killed. Or worse.
It was only a few minutes' drive to the payphone location, but Granger was apparently one of those agents who liked to make small talk on the way to a scene. "So, why did you join the FBI?" Granger asked amicably, though Ian could sense that the man was wary of crossing a line with the question. Okay... I suppose I had that coming.
"Not much else I could do with twelve years of experience as a sniper," Ian answered in a tone that was definitely sardonic, but not at all unfriendly. Colby chuckled.
"Yeah, I guess the job market is pretty thin in that area, huh?" Granger looked over at the older agent in a way that made Ian grateful he was wearing dark-tinted sunglasses. The sniper was laughing too, even if it was only apparent in his eyes. At least he's more relaxed than he was yesterday. I just hope that doesn't mean he's going to start asking for autographs.
"So how does tracking play into it? I mean, obviously you probably spent a lot of time out in the sticks as a sniper, but still." At Ian's inscrutable expression, Colby added, "Not that it's not a great skill set, obviously, but it seems like an odd thing to choose."
This time, Ian did laugh. "I didn't choose it, Colby. It chose me."
Granger smiled. The younger man liked making friends, and he seemed to consider getting the big bad sniper to open up to him, if only the slightest bit, to be quite the accomplishment. Though he still seemed surprised that Ian had answered his questions at all.
It was a common misconception that Ian didn't like to talk; he could, in fact, be quite a charming conversationalist. It just wasn't in his nature to initiate such things. He didn't even necessarily mind when people wanted to get to know him. But it was pretty rare that someone actually tried. Rarer still that they succeeded.
Ian would have to say that, in his entire life, there had only been one person who had truly understood him. He was a little proud that it had taken a mind just as brilliant as the Professor's to do it too. But he was sure it was the pure willfulness, the stubborn refusal to be rebuffed by his brusque demeanor, which really deserved the credit. Ian closed his eyes for a second, willing his mind not to bring forth the hauntingly beautiful memories that those thoughts had stirred.
"Still working on those decryptions the Colonel asked for?" Ian wondered how well she would read between the lines. Despite trying his hardest to keep her out of his head, she was far too skilled at understanding people (and far too damn stubborn) to be scared off by the harsh emotional barriers in which he usually kept himself securely wrapped.
"No. I finished those this afternoon. I'm just translating some messages intercepted this morning." Guess that explains the headset on the table. She probably only had to listen to it once, with that eidetic memory of hers. Wonder what language she's working in this time. "Farsi." How the hell does she do that? "And yes, I'd love to join you for dinner."
In spite of himself, Ian couldn't help but smile at her. He had known the 24-year-old intelligence specialist for months now, and she still always managed to impress him, even if he would never admit it. There were a lot of things he couldn't admit to her. As cliche as it was, he knew he'd started falling for her the moment they'd met. There was something about her, some intangible quality that had made the taciturn sniper feel irresistibly drawn to her.
Ian felt a now-familiar warmth spread through him as she returned his smile. She rarely smiled; like him, she was guarded with her emotions. Being on the receiving end of one of her rare expressions of joy stirred something in him that he couldn't quite put a label on. Relax, Edgerton. She may be a genius, and beautiful, and you always seem to lose yourself in her eyes, and God what you wouldn't give to feel those lips against yours- But she's still your best friend.
"Why do I get the feeling you were waiting for me to show up and ask that?" Ian hoped it was more than just wishful thinking on his part. He couldn't say they had ever been on a date, but he frequently found excuses to spend time with her. That time had done a great deal to keep him grounded through all the horrors he saw - and committed - every day in combat.
"Because, contrary to all appearances, you know you're actually quite fun to be around." Ian's heart warmed a little more at that. "And because you're well aware of the ratio of horny men to pretty girls on this base and that all of them are scared to death of you." Ian imagined that she had a great appreciation for gallows humor even before she became a soldier. He knew that making light of the very serious experiences she'd had in that area was what prevented her from giving in to the anxiety and paranoia that came with being threatened by the people she was supposed to be able to count on.
Ian chuckled softly. "I always knew you were just using me."
"Not that you mind it."
"You know me so well."
"And that may well be the most terrifying thing the Great Master Sergeant Ian Edgerton has ever faced." You have no idea. Who the hell am I kidding? Of course she does. She probably knew before I did. I'd love to know what kind of damn voodoo she uses to read people like books. Especially people like me.
"I'm glad you're on our side, that's for sure." If there was anything the sniper legend Ian Edgerton loved hearing more than the sound of his rifle, it was the sound of her laugh.
"Ian?" Granger's soft voice pulled him back to the present. Just in time, too. "You okay, man?"
"Yeah," Ian replied, forcing his mind to focus on the case, as he turned onto a side street leading into the lot. "I get lost in my thoughts sometimes."
Colby gave a small nod of understanding as Ian pulled to a stop in front of the payphone Hoyle had used to contact Lydia Campos. As he had predicted, the killers were nowhere in sight. The two agents climbed out of the vehicle and checked the phone, still hanging off the receiver, before moving to the Porsche parked a few feet away.
"Blood on the bumper," Colby noted. Body in the trunk. There's a shock.
Ian felt a small sense of satisfaction as he smashed through the driver side window to unlock the doors. There was nothing quite like breaking something to release pent up frustrations, except perhaps a good practice session with his guns.
"Two cars, two dead bodies. No robbery, no poem." Ian's agitation was quickly returning with the realization that this lead had brought them no closer to finding Hoyle and Winters, instead only further throwing into doubt his understanding of their actions. "Reeves is right. Something's changing."
As Granger called in the description of the couple's new vehicle, Ian's eyes once again drifted across the scene, looking for answers he could scarcely hope to find.
I wish you were here to help me with this one. Even the Professor's crazy math voodoo doesn't hold a candle to your creepy mind reading voodoo.
Don't worry. This isn't going to turn into a love story. But I thought it would be good to show a little bit of Ian's past relationships (in terms of friendship and romance) to better flesh out his character and show that he has a softer side. Even if the whole Emotionally Distant Badass Falling for a Pretty Girl thing is a bit cliche.
Edit: I was hoping to avoid 3rd person flashbacks, because showing Ian's thoughts is a pain with the italics. Just doesn't look right. But since I ended up doing it anyway, I wanted to rework this so it fits better and gives more background.