A/N: This turned into another super long chapter (partly because of all the time spent in Ian's head), but I really wanted to wrap up Two Daughters and move on. Enjoy.
By morning, there was no trace left in Agent Ian Edgerton of the harrowing day and torturous night he'd had. After what felt like an eternity just lying in bed, unable to even consider sleep after his horrific nightmare and the painful emotions it had stirred, Ian had abandoned the effort entirely and taken one of the longest showers of his life. Letting the warm water envelope him and rinse him clean of the physical manifestations of the day's exertions had been an exceptionally cathartic experience. It also had the benefit of loosening muscles that had grown tense and sore from a combination of stress and agitation.
But more importantly, it had served to clear his mind. Not only of the ghosts of his nightmares, but also the gnawing sense of remorse that had seeped through his emotional barriers and into his thoughts during this case. The impact of Reeves's abduction, and everything that came after it, had taken a concerning level of effort to hide from the rest of the team.
Edgerton was an expert at keeping a cool head in a crisis; he knew better than most that letting desperation cloud his judgment, as Eppes undeniably had, would serve only to distract him. As soon as the danger had passed, however, all of the horrifying potential outcomes of the day's events - and what he had done to prevent them - had hit him full force. If she'd been killed by my fugitive...
Ian consciously pulled his attention firmly back to the present, paying more attention to the road in front of him and banishing the Could-Have-Been's from his mind. Left unchecked, those feelings were a hindrance, even a danger. Rather than becoming distracted by them, he let his guilt spur him to continue the hunt. The sooner Hoyle was dealt with - in whatever meaning of the phrase should come to pass - the fewer people would get caught in the path of her deadly search for the child she had given up at birth.
As he continued his drive to the FBI office, Ian mulled over what Granger had told him about Crystal Hoyle's motives; she had come to Los Angeles not just for revenge against the people who had hurt her, but also, in her mind, to reclaim something that had been stolen from her. Parenthood was a foreign concept to Ian Edgerton, but the indescribable agony of having the most beloved thing in the world ripped away was all too familiar.
In a moment that reminded him so painfully of his own lost love, Ian found himself looking in on his own mind, his own psyche, and realizing that he was finally beginning to understand the strange dichotomy of his emotional attachment to this case. Though he'd only vaguely acknowledged it, the similarity of Eppes's position to his own past had been obvious. But now he wondered if some part of his subconscious mind had identified a sort of connection between himself and Hoyle as well.
After losing Evelyn, he had run away from himself. Not only in his mind - where he had locked away every emotion, every memory that he even tentatively associated with her – but in his life as well. He'd abandoned his laudable career in the Army and joined the FBI, hoping for a fresh start with a clean slate. Or at least as clean as one could get after seeing so much war.
No one ever questioned why he'd instantly been drawn to Fugitive Recovery, with his background and personality, but Ian had never denied to himself the almost narcotic way that maintaining the greatest possible distance from society had helped to quell his pain and guilt and every other psychological scar he'd accumulated in his troubled life. And, if pressed, he couldn't honestly be sure how far he would be willing to go for revenge if someone wronged him.
Ian could recall many times when he'd watched the woman he loved stay for hours in one spot, unmoving, staring into the distance while she wandered inside her own head. Being a sniper, Ian didn't find that nearly as peculiar as most people would, but he had often wondered how she didn't drive herself crazy analyzing and evaluating all the things she had seen and done in her life. There was plenty about her past that she refused to acknowledge, but she never seemed to completely bury it the way he did. Now he found himself taking a few tentative steps along that same path, for the sake of better understanding one of the most dangerous fugitives he had ever hunted.
First I start to pick up on the Professor's math, now I'm using Ev's mind reading voodoo. Next I'll be talking in space metaphors like that Fleinhardt guy.
Deciding that it would be best to save any more introspection for a later time, Ian shifted his thoughts to his hunting strategies. They would be much more effective now that he had a solid understanding of Hoyle's actual goal. There were only so many ways she could seek information about her daughter, and they had already eliminated the biggest one by arresting Rivers. Unfortunately, that also meant that he could no longer be used as bait.
They had yet to get any additional information from Rivers, who was hiding behind his scumbag attorney and spouting threats of lawsuits. And, without any further leads, they were still attempting to fully answer all of the questions that had been raised by the previous day's revelations. One question in particular nagged at Ian: If Hoyle knew that the FBI wouldn't release Buck, why had she bothered with abducting Reeves? If anything, it seemed an unusually foolish move for a fugitive who had, thus far, been particularly smart about eluding her pursuers.
Particularly smart... and particularly lucky. Edgerton was more than ready to see Hoyle's luck finally run out.
Ian wasn't surprised to see Eppes pull in to the FBI's parking garage right behind him, despite the fact that it was well past the time the team leader was supposed to be at the office. He probably got even less sleep than I did. That was one of his favorite aspects of fugitive hunting: he didn't have to adhere to a monotonous daily schedule. Edgerton valued routine – an unmistakable indication of his military background - and held to a few personal habits that were strict, even compulsive, by most people's standards. But just the thought of taking the same commute to the same office at the same time with the same cup of coffee in hand every day made him bristle.
Well... except the coffee. And damn could I go for some right now. As he sauntered over to Eppes's SUV to join up with him, Ian made a mental note to head straight for the break room once they were inside.
"Morning," Eppes greeted him tersely. Ian simply nodded, and the two of them began the short walk from the garage to the office. "Looks like more rain today."
Ian glanced up at the overcast grey clouds above them, for once thankful that he wasn't out in the wilderness holed up in a tent. The rain may be a minor nuisance in L.A., insane drivers notwithstanding, but it was a major hindrance when hiking and tracking. Reduced to chatting about the weather. Not exactly reassuring, Eppes.
The short car ride back to the office the previous evening had been filled with a long, noticeably tense silence. Normally, Ian would find that rather comfortable, but Eppes had never been the type to simply let Ian enjoy the quiet. They always found something to talk about, no matter how mundane. Ian often wondered if Don had been one of those agents who couldn't handle the loss of contact with human civilization that came with working Fugitive Recovery, and their strange friendship was his way of helping the lone wolf sniper to stay grounded.
Glancing over at Eppes, it was clear that there was still a bit of tension between them. This case had hit the two senior agents particularly hard, and he hoped that things would go back to normal once it was over. Not that "normal" is really the right word for this team. But hell, maybe that really is why I like them so much.
"Don't suppose your brother pulled another soap bubble out of his hat?" Ian inquired, with his trademark sardonic smirk. After yesterday's events, he was vastly relieved to be feeling like his usual self again. At least for the most part.
"Tch, even Charlie's not that good. Looks like we're on our own as far as tracking Hoyle's concerned."
Ian, ever observant, cocked an eyebrow at the trace of venom with which Eppes spoke their target's name. Not that I blame him. The accusation his subconscious mind had generated through her in his nightmare had been pretty damn accurate. The FBI's hushed perception of Edgerton as having a violent streak wasn't entirely unfounded; he strongly believed in payback. And lethal injection was just too humane an end for Hoyle's ongoing killing spree.
"Be easier if we knew where to start."
"You think she's taken off?" Don asked, a bit worriedly.
Ian had considered that a strong possibility after losing her trail at the motel, but Granger's phone call had quickly changed his mind. "She gave up a lot to get here, to find a long lost daughter. My instinct says no."
And while the Professor might have some smartass comment for that, his brother sure as hell knows better.
"Well, you know what. You should talk to Megan," Eppes suggested innocently. "See what kinda insight she got on Hoyle."
Ian gave him a brief sideways glance, trying not to show his discomfort with that idea. "I have all the insight I need."
"What, you don't ever get tunnel vision being on a manhunt this long? I did. Messed me up. Changed me. I had to give up that game."
"Well that's the difference. Hunting didn't change me. It chose me."
Don didn't comment on that, instead focusing on Colby, who had just left the office to meet them outside.
"Guys," Granger said urgently. "Got the phone dump back on the motel. Two calls to the Washington, D.C. office of the National Criminal Information Center."
"NCIC?" Ian asked, his sharp mind already piecing the situation together as Don picked up on the reason for Colby's slight distress.
"Wait, Hoyle had Megan's purse. So that's her contacts, her ID badge..."
"Accessing a federal database is a much better reason to grab a Fed than some crackpot hostage switch." Well, that answers that question.
"These calls went out around 9 a.m.," Colby continued, "before the APB traveled that far. She was looking for information on Billy Rivers. And his attorney of record."
"Adam Benton... All right, you on that?"
"Yeah," Granger immediately responded, already heading off toward the garage.
"All right. Call me if you get anything." Ian briefly considered going with Granger, but Don's light touch on his arm quickly made the decision for him. He followed him inside and up to the ward room, where Eppes pulled the files they'd collected on Rivers and Benton. Ian knew that nothing in them would give them a new lead, but that didn't deter Eppes.
The tracker felt a bit of his usual impatience with working in the office returning, chafing at being left out of the action. But he somehow sensed that Don needed him around at that moment. Whether it was because of the strange understanding between them, the shared responsibility for what had happened to Buck Winters, Edgerton's preference for avoiding talking about things, or some combination of the three, Ian didn't know. But he did know that when he informed Don that he was going to get coffee and would be right back, the man had looked almost distressed.
"Ah, hell!" Eppes exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat and running a hand over his face. Ian glanced up from the file he'd been scanning through, tensing slightly at the unmistakable sign that they'd just hit what had to be their hundredth snag on this damn case.
"Yeah. Keep me posted," Don finished, before slamming the phone down on the table and finally meeting Edgerton's questioning eyes. "Benton's dead. Looks like she got the information she wanted before she killed him too."
"Shit."
Don apparently thought that was a pretty appropriate response to the news, because he said nothing as he immediately headed to the break room to fetch them more coffee. Ian knew it was out of a need to work off some of his mounting irritation, rather than courtesy, but the sniper was perfectly fine with that. Eppes knew how to sweeten his coffee just the way he liked it. While he waited, Ian formulated his response to the question he knew Don would ask the moment he returned to the ward room.
He held back from offering it as the steaming cup was placed in front of him, knowing it bothered people when he answered their questions before they posed them. Although Don may well be used to it, having the Professor as a brother.
"All right, so what do we do now that our only lead is dead and Hoyle's another step ahead of us?"
Ian was just about to give his carefully considered reply when a voice behind him beat him to it.
"We get ahead of her. Find her daughter before she does."
Ian gave Reeves the friendliest grin he could manage under the circumstances; as grateful as he was that she had not been killed, he still hated when people interrupted him. She looked back at him warily, as if she had again failed to notice he was in the room until he forced her to acknowledge his presence.
Eppes seemed oblivious to their nonverbal exchange. "Megan? What do you...? Aren't you still supposed to be in the hospital?"
"Don, I can't just sit and do nothing while Crystal destroys this poor girl's life!" Ian noted that she sounded even more attached to this case than she had before they'd apprehended Buck, but didn't comment on it this time. It was understandable, and he and Don certainly hadn't done any better at keeping Hoyle out of their heads. "We have to find her before it's too late."
"We've been looking for her," Ian told Reeves tersely. As if we couldn't figure that out for ourselves? "Not exactly easy to track down a child sold on the black market, even when it was done recently."
"No, it isn't," Reeves responded in a decidedly unfriendly tone. "But if a couple was desperate enough to buy a baby off the street, then psychologically they would probably be obsessive about covering it up. They would do everything they could to emulate a normal family. Including registering a social security number."
She turned to Don, uncrossing her arms from her chest as her defensiveness subsided. "When David called to check up on me and told me what was going on, I had Larry spring me. He's working with Charlie now, and they should be able to get us a list of numbers assigned in L.A. around when Crystal gave birth."
"All right. Good." Don rose from his seat to put a hand on her shoulder, either to comfort her or to reassure himself that she was alright. He also seized on the opportunity for a break from the tedious file surfing. "Come on, I'll buy you lunch. I'm sure you need it after that hospital food, huh?"
He gave Edgerton a brief nod as the two of them left, and Ian shuddered slightly at how Don's protectiveness reminded him of himself in a past life. Through the glass walls of the ward room, he could see Reeves casting another wary look behind her, and Ian wondered if David had also told her about his callous response to her injuries.
When the two of them had spoken briefly earlier that morning, he got the impression that Granger had talked Sinclair into understanding Ian's actions. Even if he didn't respect or agree with them.
And as he once again found himself utterly alone, Ian sipped his coffee and wondered just why the hell any of it concerned him.
Edgerton made an imposing picture, standing in the small utility room with his arms crossed over his chest. He was always like this when he was nearing the end of a hunt: like a predator coiling its muscles and getting ready to pounce.
After the Professor's voodoo had yielded them the name and address of her long lost daughter, Hoyle had finally slipped up; she had let her emotions overrule her judgment, let her attachments become a weakness she could not afford without compromising her efforts to escape. Though Ian strongly suspected that escape was no longer her goal.
No. She's reached the end of her rope; now she wants to end it.
"Buck's about to make the call," Eppes reported.
When Hoyle had contacted Reeves and suggested that they could track her down through a final contact with her lover, the team had fiercely debated the possibility that she was luring them into a trap. Ian had stayed silent; he'd learned that this team, and particularly Don Eppes, always did things their way. It grated at him, but this was their case now.
He'd trusted them to come to the same conclusion he had. This was their only shot at stopping Hoyle, which, not surprisingly, seemed to be an even deeper obsession for Eppes than it had been before Reeves was abducted. The team had made plans to cut her off with a roadblock and take her into custody.
Again Ian remained silent. He said nothing of how Hoyle's request to talk to Buck made it clear to him that she intended to die. She was smart enough to know how the standoff would end. In her mind, she had failed in her only remaining purpose for living, and now she was expecting to go down in a classic suicide-by-cop.
As Ian listened to the conversation between the two lovers, he felt oddly unsettled by the idea of granting Hoyle's request. It certainly wasn't that he was getting squeamish at the thought of blowing her brains out. That is my job after all. And hell, yesterday I couldn't wait for the chance. But the personal tone this case had taken with him, with all of them, moved it beyond the relative simplicity of killing the bad guy before he could kill one of them.
And, he had to admit, spending so much time inside Hoyle's head that she had manifested in his nightmares had been a disturbing reminder of the dangers of letting himself feel the burden of her crimes. And I was worried about Reeves letting Hoyle get to her. Should've taken my own advice.
He hadn't escaped the heightened emotions that had gripped all of them during Reeves's abduction either, and the parallel his subconscious mind had drawn between her ordeal and Evelyn's death - and the roles he had played in both - would be haunting him for quite some time.
Ian had been eager to put a quick end to this case, despite the likelihood of it culminating in a lethal confrontation with Hoyle. And he'd known in his gut that he would be the one to take her down. Though he had eventually acknowledged the team's jurisdiction on this case, the fugitive killer was his prey, and his devotion to bringing her to justice – even in the form she would no doubt force them to deliver – went far beyond a sense of professional pride.
Now, on the threshold of making that undertaking a reality, he simply felt drained. This case, and the plethora of emotional difficulties it had stirred in all of them, had exhausted him in a way he hadn't experienced since his last tour in Afghanistan. And, in spite of his somewhat mixed feelings, he was still eager to end it and move on.
Don cast a sideways glance at Edgerton as the trace on Hoyle's phone recorded the two closest cell towers to her position. One more and they would be able to triangulate her exact location and track her movements. He reached for the phone as a third green circle appeared on the technician's screen, overlapping the other two, and a bright red dot was displayed in the small area connecting all three.
"This is Eppes. We need a helicopter and a roadblock." He looked to Ian again, who nodded his grim agreement. With no idea how many of those grenades the killer still had at her disposal, it would be better to have the cavalry on hand and not take any chances.
Hoyle said her final goodbye to Buck, and Ian wrestled his mild unease back into the fathomless pit that stored his emotions. He removed his headset and pointed at the screen.
"The signal's moving south," he informed Eppes. "She's running for Mexico."
"Right. She's got nothing left to lose."
"Anything in front of her's fair game."
They joined the rest of the team, plus several SWAT agents and highway patrol officers, in the locker room, briefing them as they gathered their gear. Eppes chose an isolated spot along Hoyle's path, just after a bend surrounded by large hills. She wouldn't see the roadblock until she drove into it, but the agents would easily be able to station a recon team north of their position to give advanced warning of her approach, which might make all the difference with the amount of ordnance they could be dealing with. Ian had seen the aftermath of a kamikaze strike with a vehicle full of explosives, and did not have any intention of dying that way.
One of the traits that made Edgerton such a remarkable sniper was his natural penchant for operating free of anything more than a trace of emotional influence. The moment Ian reached into the back of his truck and pulled his rifle out of its case, any lingering doubt or discomfort vanished. There'll be time to sort my head out later.
He slipped his bulletproof tactical vest seamlessly over his tight black T-shirt, stocking the pockets with extra ammunition. He'd never needed more than one bullet per target to get the job done, but it never hurt to be prepared. He didn't bother to transfer his pistol to a thigh holster for easier access. They would already be screwed by the time Hoyle got close enough for him to use it.
The team was just settling into their positions when the recon unit reported a silver sedan approaching. Ian did one final check of his weapon, a habit he'd developed in combat to relieve the effects of any excess adrenaline in his system, and noticed Eppes doing the same. He was vaguely familiar with all of the team's weapons qualifications; Don was a decent shot, but he was no expert marksman, which meant he had no reason to be using a marksman's rifle. Especially with the FBI's best sniper on the scene.
He didn't have time to say anything before Hoyle's sedan came into view, gradually slowing as police cars blocked her in. Ian suspected that would only serve to heighten her aggression, as it did with most cornered animals.
At Don's signal, Reeves dialed Hoyle's cell phone to offer her a final chance to turn herself in. He could tell from the instantly disappointed look on the other agent's face that his prediction about Hoyle's motives had, for once, proven correct.
"She's coming," Reeves warned them, raising her rifle awkwardly against the vehicle she was using for cover. Ian wondered again what the hell Eppes was thinking, letting her handle a rifle in the current situation when she could barely handle one on the training range. But it was only a passing thought as he settled himself into position and took careful aim at the target's forehead.
His breathing and heart rate slowed into the calm rhythm that came automatically to him whenever the butt of his rifle met his shoulder.
As if from a distance, he heard the screeching of tires, accompanied by David shouting, "She's gonna try to run us!"
All of the sounds echoing off the hills around them were instinctively filtered into some distant, not quite conscious part of the sniper's awareness as his finger tensed over the trigger.
It was only after he saw the hole appear in the windshield and the blood spatter over the inside of the vehicle that Ian realized that one of those sounds had been the distinctive crack of a rifle being fired.
Against every bit of training he'd ever received, he pulled back from his scope and looked over to Eppes. Ian gaped in stunned silence as the man ejected the casing from the smoking barrel of the gun. He turned his attention back toward the target, to confirm Eppes's kill, and noticed David break from cover. Colby grabbed his partner's arm and pulled him back, yelling at him to wait.
Which was what they all did for a few long, tense seconds, until the car exploded. Ian ducked back as a piece of flaming debris was cast onto a trajectory that came a little too close to his direction. He noticed David looking slightly pale at the realization that Hoyle had pulled the pin from a grenade before charging at them, which she had reflexively dropped when Eppes's bullet found its mark.
Eppes allowed Reeves to lead Granger and Sinclair toward the burning wreckage to clear the scene, while he stored his weapon in the back of his SUV. Ian saw him stiffen when he noticed the sniper making his way toward him, and halted a few steps away.
"Nice shot, Eppes," Ian offered thoughtfully. Don said nothing, refusing to even meet Ian's eyes as he closed the trunk and headed for the driver's side door.
Ian Edgerton never said goodbye. He didn't see the point. It only prolonged his inevitable departure from wherever he happened to be and delayed his arrival at wherever he happened to be going. That was how he liked to live, moving seamlessly from one hunt to the next. Bureaucracy occasionally interfered with that, but, for the most part, the sniper/tracker agent was allowed to come and go as he chose. Not many people ever get to enjoy that kind of freedom. And it's not as if anyone's going to miss me.
This time, however, he had left something undone. And Ian Edgerton disliked loose ends even more than he disliked goodbyes. He'd never had any reason to visit Don's apartment, but it was easy enough to get the address from the FBI's records. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting in his truck, parked in front of the building, deliberating what to say.
Dammit, why am I doing this? It's not like I didn't warn him. No one knew that he'd witnessed Don's confrontation with Colby. The junior agent had been the only one to stay after the team leader had dismissed them all to go home for the evening, apparently intending to finally talk to Don about what had happened with Buck Winters and Crystal Hoyle.
His insistence didn't surprise Ian at all. One thing he'd learned about Agent Colby Granger these past few days: he was exceptionally compassionate, giving the same consideration to the difficulties of others as he would to his own. Hell, he was even concerned for my feelings. Most people wouldn't bother to consider that I have any. He'd only known one other person who rivaled Granger in that respect.
Don's reaction hadn't surprised him either; he was desperate not to acknowledge to his team his feelings about everything that had transpired during Reeves's abduction. Ian didn't get the impression that he intended to acknowledge them in front of his family either, judging by the guilt-ridden look he'd shared with his brother after threatening Benton.
So now, Ian Edgerton found himself taking responsibility for ensuring that the man's – that his friend's - state of mind remained balanced. Whatever his own feelings on the incident may have been, Ian and Don had made this bed together. And Don needed to know that he wouldn't have to lie in it alone. Heh, there's an awkward mental image.
Figuring the words would come to him when he needed them, Ian finally got out of his truck and took the stairs to the fourth floor. His eyes scanned over the numbers on the doors until he found the one he wanted. He took a slow breath, steadying himself for what was to come; Don's reaction to Colby's "prying," as he had called it, had been defensive to say the least.
He noticed a woman down the hall giving him short, suspicious glances as he knocked on the door. It wasn't unusual; as uncomfortable as other agents were around him, civilians were even worse. He couldn't really blame them. He did take a certain measure of pride in his predatory appearance, and his tendency to dress in almost all black only enhanced his imposing presence. Once or twice, a passerby had even called the police on him after noticing the distinctive bulge of his weapon under his jacket. That's always fun to explain.
When the door opened, the first thing Ian's sharp senses picked up on was the unmistakable smell of alcohol. Not overpowering, but enough to tell him that Eppes had been drinking something stronger than his usual bottle of beer.
"Ian," he greeted, a bit too suspiciously for his comfort. "Figured you'd be headed out of town by now." Don't I wish...
"Just wanted to stop by and thank you again for your help. I don't think either of us had this in mind when I thanked you the first time."
Eppes gave a soft snort, opening the door further and reluctantly stepping aside as an invitation. Ian had expected something akin to the stereotypical "bachelor pad," but the term wasn't quite applicable to what he found in Don's apartment. "Barren" would be a better description. Aside from a few papers scattered on the table, the place barely even looked as if it had been lived in. He had to give Eppes credit; for something to be considered spartan even by Ian Edgerton's meticulous standards was quite an accomplishment.
Don dropped back onto the small couch that occupied most of the living area, picking up the glass of whiskey he'd been drinking. He didn't invite Ian to join him, which was just as well since the sniper always felt more at ease standing on the periphery of a conflict.
"You give your report to the AD yet?" Ian asked cautiously.
"What? On Hoyle? Nah, I'm waiting for the final forensics to be processed. Turn it all in at once and be done with it."
"I was actually referring to Buck."
He didn't miss the sidelong glance Eppes shot him before he took a long swig of his drink. "It'll be in the report," he answered shortly.
Ian had been expecting that – neither of them was the type to cover up their questionable decisions, even with something as severe as beating information out of a prisoner – but the hard edge to Don's voice made it clear that his feelings about the matter were still rather... chaotic.
"You're gonna catch a lot of heat for that, ya know." No shit, Eppes. But at least I'm not denying to myself that it happened.
"Not the first time I've resorted to that," Ian said darkly. "But I'm not sure how easy it'll be for you to justify it to the guys in charge." Because let's not forget who made that call.
He knew Eppes hated answering to the powers that be, but he didn't expect the look of betrayal he received. "Yeah, guess it's a lot easier when you can just walk away."
For a brief moment, Ian was stunned at the unprovoked outburst, but he quickly felt his temper flare at the casual dismissal in Eppes's tone. "I thought you were grateful for me being here. Or was that just because it saved you from having to do your own dirty work?"
Eppes shook his head and downed the rest of the whiskey, refusing to comment on Ian's sarcastic - but not insincere - accusation. No damn wonder Granger looked so furious when he stormed out earlier. What the hell is going on with him? Ian was never one to give up, but he was just about to deem the conversation a lost cause when Eppes turned back to him.
"You think it was worth it?" His voice was soft, carefully controlled, but Ian could still hear the antagonism in it. He wasn't sure what answer Don was looking for, whether he wanted Ian to vindicate their actions or condemn him for making the decision. Guess I'll take a page from Evelyn's book. Tell the simple truth.
"Winters is in custody, Hoyle's gone, and we got Reeves back. I'd say we came out ahead in all the ways that matter."
"We got Reeves back?" Don snapped, slamming his glass down on the table. "I don't remember you being very helpful when she was bleeding to death, Ian."
Edgerton gave him the patented cold, hard stare he usually reserved for the interrogation room. "Aside from actually securing the scene and pursuing an armed and dangerous fugitive?" He paused for just a second, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. "Or at least trying to."
"Yeah, exactly!" Don was shouting now, getting up from the couch to meet Ian's unflinching gaze. "You didn't give a damn about Megan! All you cared about was getting even with Hoyle for wounding your oh so important pride."
"I'd say you're the one who wanted to get even with her, Eppes. That really was some nice shooting, especially since I know you're not a qualified marksman."
"I was doing my damn job! Protecting my team! If that means I have to be the one to take the shot, then so be it."
"That's just it, Eppes. You don't have to be the one taking the shots. You just always have to be the one calling them! And I hate to break this to you, but that means taking some actual responsibility for the decisions you make. Not just beating yourself up out of guilt!" God... get out of my head, Ev.
Don recoiled at the harsh resentment in Ian's voice; he'd never known the man to be anything but cool and collected, aside from a few particularly frustrating moments in this case. His own anger momentarily gave way to confusion at Ian's stinging rebuke.
Ian, whose fury was quickly subsiding into the back of his mind, didn't miss the shocked and somewhat lost look that flashed in Don's eyes as he turned away. In an unexpected moment of compassion - which seemed not quite so unexpected with this team – Ian placed a hand on Don's shoulder, just as he'd done after his confrontation with Benton. But this time he offered a soft-spoken piece of advice before he left.
"You can't hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, Don."
At least... not alone.
Don and Ian generally are not emotional characters, so writing them as such, especially both of them together, is a challenge to say the least. But hey, who doesn't like a good challenge? And if anyone's confused by the seeming reversal in Don's attitude toward Ian (wanting him around and then being pissed at him) it's because taking the shot on Hoyle was his breaking point, which will be touched upon further in the coming chapters.