A/N: Following the return of Hellboy's team from the defeat of the Golden Army, the F.B.I. can't leave well enough, alone. (Hope you enjoy, and I love reviews!)
...
In the semi-darkness of their room, Liz stirred awake to intrusive, grinding noises interrupting the late night quiet. Roused fully alert to listen, she raised her face from her pillow and detected the source – clicks and revolving mechanisms from within their vault door. She bent down to peer closely at Hellboy by the subdued flickering light of one soundless television screen. His peaceful, slow breathing satisfied her that he hadn't been disturbed. He needed this deep, restorative sleep after his huge expenditure of battle energy.
She crept out of bed to investigate, staring steadily at the door while she approached with wary steps. Nearing the wall mounted intercom, she startled as it buzzed to demand answer. Should there have been a possible, improbable summons for them to go to work, it wouldn't have come this way. That part of their life currently hovered in limbo. Hastening to slap down the microphone key before the auxiliary device again signalled by the bed, Liz whispered hopefully into the grid cover, "Abe, are you there?"
There came instead, the harsh sounds of a man very distinctly clearing his throat. Liz held her breath as the voice of Tom Manning formally addressed her.
"Miss Sherman, rest assured that Mr. Sapien is well," he said, crisply. "Now, be informed that you, and uh - I'm sure Hellboy hears me by now - are both being detained under house arrest."
A string of snarling profanities suddenly exploded from the vicinity of the bed. Liz turned dismayed, wide eyes toward her mate, who came bounding across the room like a crazed bull, to challenge the Director.
"You're arresting me?!" Hellboy thundered into the speaker. "Manning! Get your lame ass over here, and say it to my face!"
And the next Manning heard at his end, were deafening deep-chested roars and bashing blows against multilayered steel as Hellboy attacked his vault door, and Liz, shrilly crying out.
Throwing her slight form on Red, Liz did her utmost to weigh down his stone arm as he pulled back his fist to lay on another jarring smash.
"No, Red! Stop!" she pleaded. He halted instantly, letting her trap that rigid limb to his side within her desperate tight hug about his waist. Far from calmed, he willed his rage-ridden eyes to soften into a gaze of affection upon her flushed, upturned face. His body again jolted with agitation in the circle of her arms, as they heard Manning's following transmission cut across their emotional turmoil.
"You, you 'special beings' are confined to quarters. Should harsher methods become necessary – be warned, they will be implemented. The disciplinary committee will be convening within the week. I'm in charge here, and don't forget it!"
Hellboy gave his death stare to the intercom. He claimed the self-controlled satisfaction of a fist shot through its face, and mauled the circuits dead.
A chill coiled around her like a vise of foreboding, and Liz tightened her embrace, crushing her cheek against his chest. His flesh hand cradled her head, and he quietly told her, "I'll be good. I promise."
He promised silently, too – whatever he did from now on, his protection of Liz and their unborn children, would come first. And he blamed himself for being too complacent in their situation. Manning had let them have a part of their night as guests. Now, they were his prisoners, triple-locked inside their subterranean quarters. When he'd had no answer from Abe on his second attempt at contact, he should have suspected that something was up. No excuse, that he'd been too tired and too blindsided by his woman's sweet news, to see it for what it was. If he really needed to, Hellboy could escape from here. He'd do it at any cost to himself, if he were on his own. But now, he had so much more than his alpha male rebellion to think of. If they were going to ride the roller coaster, it might as well happen in New Jersey.
The couple returned to the refuge of their bed to digest the impact of this bureaucratic trap. Red immediately took the TV remote and turned up the audio, to static up any possible listening devices covertly planted during their absence. He'd sweep the whole place for bugs and hidden spy-cams, first thing in the morning.
"Confined, detained, arrested.." Hellboy whispered bitterly. "This is what he had planned, all along!"
Liz pursed her lips. "Moot point, but maybe you're giving him too much credit." She nudged him to sit up, and shifted close against his side, folding her legs beneath her. "Here's something strange, under the circumstances." The soft breaths of her whispering at his ear, and her soothing rubs along his right shoulder, stilled him. "I checked our accounts earlier, and we're not frozen out. Our paychecks have been deposited, as usual." Feeling his anger melt away under the kneading motions of her hands, she too, was lulled into the peace of resting her cheek at his temple. She sank onto his chest as his arms slid around to hold her.
But too soon, Red opened his eyes and raised his face from hers, to throw another glance at the door's battered titanium skin. All quiet. Returning his attention to her, he made an unexpected request. "Okay, show me how to look on the bright side."
"Mm - we have our own room, and all of our stuff." Liz tried to sound upbeat. "And they'll have to feed us -"
Red joined the vibe. His lip hitched into a trace smile. "And we're together."
They bedded down and covered up to shut out the world. But since leaving Ireland, practical worst case complications of a big life change had collected in Red's mind, and he'd stored them away to deal with, later. Now, Tom Manning's warrant triggered one more, an immediate, actual worst case - nothing like the others that he and Liz would face. He had to get their future sorted out, but finding a place to live, and working out how to exist, was on hold. Getting so amped up didn't blunt his exhaustion for long. But while his body surrendered, his subconscious wandered out and formed into settings, shapes and events, and Hellboy watched them painfully, from afar...
They were free and footloose in the green promised land. Now, he was figuring out how to provide for his pregnant ladylove. Like their next meal...he found a flock of sheep and chased down one big ewe, stole it and carried it alive and kicking, back to her. That scene faded into him hunting wild rabbits, splattering the poor little critters into smithereens with the Samaritan. Yee-uck! Then they were raiding some Irish farmer's vegetable patch, and running away like thieves. He saw himself diving the ocean with Abe and Johann, catching fish by hand. And what about some kind of temporary place to get Liz out of the wind and rain? The goblin blacksmith was still their local best friend, and he let them all in through the Giant's door for the second time. They stayed away from the crib where the Angel of Death might show up, didn't need to see the army's chamber anymore, either. And soon enough, they got themselves into a hot mess with about a hundred elven Sons of the Earth, who were pissed all to hell that their prince and princess were dead. The fight was on again...
Hellboy gasped and shook his head awake. He made relieved rediscovery of the familiar sights of his room, and checked quickly to his side to find Liz sleeping there. His dream, bizarre to the max, left him hanging. What did it mean to tell him?
...
BPRD Agent Parrish was in a foul mood after his early morning summons to Tom Manning's office, and there, hearing himself assigned as head over three other senior agents to the new Hellboy security squad.
"I don't care how well you think you know him!" Manning told Parrish, "You'll do as you're told!"
Parrish looked with open disgust at the restraining device half covering the surface of Manning's desk, a monster of a super-duty belt with customized double wrist manacles rivetted at center front. Manning flicked his finger over the belt, an order for Parrish to take it. With effort, the agent turned the inflexible canvas over by its wide harness of crossed shoulder straps, and studied the back height, with its double fastening of padlocks. Parrish dropped the apparatus, the steel cuffs clashing as it again met the desk.
"This relic?" he laughed. "I saw it ripped in half on a mission, eight years ago." He poked at a line of industrial strength staples and bolts. "Was it worth the patchwork fix?"
Agents Sutton and Elder smirked, and Manning swivelled in his chair to glower at them.
"First, Director," Parrish snorted, "this is as degrading as shit! Second, you know nothing like this will ever hold Red!"
All the men were agreed on that, Manning judged by their glumly set, askance expressions.
"Watch your mouth, Mister!" he yelled, abruptly standing to slam his desk with the flat of both hands. "You'll follow procedure! And make sure to have the log filled out!"
Manning dropped back into his chair and dismissed them with a jerk of his chin, hiding his stinging fingers in his lap.
With Weller and Sutton carrying the apparatus between them, the team made off to an obscure property vault and stashed the abomination behind some other sizeable exhibits. Parrish dropped to seat himself on a sturdy box within the cool mustiness of the concrete walls. His face went slack as he yanked to loosen the knot of his tie, then crumpled into a twist at the distaste of his assignment.
"I won't do it," Parrish declared. "I'm not making Red go to his hearing in cuffs!"
"What jackpot of overtime is worth that?" Agent Weller mused, checking his watch. "But next stop is no sweat, picking up the breakfast carts."
Parrish grabbed a clipboard hooked to a shelf, and pulled a blank form from the sheaf of papers. He clicked open his ballpoint pen, frowned, and began to write.
"As you were, ladies," he muttered, intent on his scribbling. "We've got thirty minutes before we face the wrath of Red."
...
Hellboy and Liz waited on their couch, holding hands and watching the door. It was about time for the breakfast to show up, but they had to expect that nothing would be the same as before.
They heard the outside clunk of the key being inserted, setting phase one into motion. Release of second and third phase mechanisms allowed the ponderous door to disengage and swing outward to open wide, and the couple stood up to discover a kind of deliverance.
"Parrish!" Red exclaimed with jovial surprise, "About time we saw a friendly face."
"We're getting some, now," Liz welcomed, peering behind the new arrival.
The agent pushed one food cart through and waved for the second to be brought. Parrish flashed Red a tense grin as the rest of the agents joined him.
"What's going on?" the demon asked, acknowledging each familiar man with a brief nod of greeting.
Parrish beckoned him to come close, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I heard, cameras, zip. Bugs, five."
"Bugs, junk," answered Hellboy, in the same hushed tone. "and nothing incoming."
"Manning's been keeping you in the dark." Parrish made room for Liz to join. "But when the day comes, we'll all be taking you to the committee."
"Huh?" Red looked like he might laugh, but murmured, "What am I, some dangerous freak?"
"The FBI wouldn't spring for their own Washington goons, so we're your low budget escort."
"Glad it's you guys, then," Red approved. "Anything else?"
"We're ready to accept some deep shit for this, but it'll blow over."
Red cocked his head with open interest at the cryptic statement, and his tail flipped in short, subtle arcs.
"Just two things to ask, Red," Parrish went on, "Play along with us. Stay cool." He produced some folded papers from his inside pocket, and handed them to Red. "Don't let this freak you out. Got no time to chew it over."
Red leaned in, his head more lowered. "See you at next delivery, then."
Parrish nodded and turned to the door with his team. Short signals of goodbye saw them off, to attend to re-locking.
Ignoring the food, Red walked back to the couch, unfolded the papers and scanned through. Liz read over his shoulder, respecting by her silence, the efforts of their colleague.
He wrote, Got the following orders of operation: One. With every entry to your place, we're to back you both off at gunpoint and guard until we leave. Manning reasons that you won't risk Liz getting hurt.
Two. We're not allowed to talk to you. Silence absolute.
Red huffed with disdain and pointed along an especially offensive piece of intelligence. Liz read it with an eye flare, Three. Manning dug up and slated the gorilla belt (crazy, huh?) for your perp walks. But it got lost on my watch. Baldy won't know until day one. Fireworks to come. Been there!
"That old piece of junk," Red chuckled softly, as he flipped the page. "I'm gonna owe, big time."
Liz pictured with an aggravated shiver, the Bureau's design to humiliate her man. But Red, Parrish and the team, wouldn't let it happen. Together, the couple finished reading the rest – scheduling and route details, any names Parrish could furnish. Red's easy grin as he handed her the pages, told her that this scheming between friends, was just what he'd needed.
"Get rid of these, Babe?"
Liz carried them to the kitchen sink, and hoping for the possibility of a lesser ordeal, set a little fire.
...
Abe Sapien kicked with a smooth motion to rise to the surface of his library swimming tank. It was open only to limited view, and covered over with a locked metal grid, since he'd been seized under Tom Manning's orders.
Listless and sick at heart, Abe had given up battering his body against the immoveable screen. Two complete days and nights of eyes-on suicide watch had convinced him to swear to the authorities that he had no intention of killing himself. And oddly enough to him, that was sufficient for removal of the personal guards who had been instructed to sit by the wall of his tank, and furnish him with no information.
Still under camera surveillance, he made the best he could of his request for solitude, away from agents who were not Red and Liz. He must cope alone with his loss. No one else could know why this pain consumed him. Told he could ask for the diversions of his music and books, the sensitive merman found no inclination. The lilting strains of his favourite, Vivaldi, would only serve to remind him of Nuala's airy grace. And he needed no volume of poetry to be plunged deeper into mourning. Should the day come that he could again bear to pronounce the lyrical phrases they had recited together, he would dedicate each one to her dear memory.
"Achent Sapien. Abraham!"
Abe flinched in surprise, and swirled his lithe form in a vertical circle, searching to all sides.
"Abraham, do not stir ze vater," returned the disembodied voice. "I am in combination vith ze molecules, und cannot stay long."
Abraham obediently froze in his buoyant position, and whispered with heartened recognition, "Johann?"
"Jah," affirmed the spirit. "Bitte, listen! You, Hellboy und Liz must stand before ze FBI disciplinary hearings, very soon. Zey, too are locked into zeir home. Zis is vat you must do! Nefer admit zat you gave up ze crown piece! No matter vhat you are asked!"
"But -" Abe could find no instant response.
"No martyr!" Johann continued. "Vhat vill happen to you all? For Liz, for Hellboy - no von else needs to know zat von detail. All must testify to ze same truth. Ze only truth – ve stole a plane for good cause. Ve defeated und rendered useless ze Golden Army. Ze royals zen died by zeir own hand."
"Red and Liz?" the merman hastened to ask.
"Unharmed," Johann replied, "und now, no more time. Remember!"
"Johann," Abe assented, "I cannot do less." Then quietly motionless, Abe stared after the formless white wisps that were Johann, watched him glide swiftly across the library floor, and seep to invisibility beneath the golden doors.
Johann returned undetected to his own quarters and re-entered his containment suit. He needed a short respite to regain some lost substance. It was seldom that he mingled so intimately within the friction of hydrogen and oxygen molecules. One more visit, and soon...
...
Hellboy, reclined on his press bench, thought he'd caught sight of something strange overhead, then stared up until the wispy swirl at the ceiling vent gained shape.
"Liz!" Red jumped to his feet and pointed her gaze upward, as she neared him.
"Are we on fire?" she whispered. "No, it's-"
Wordlessly, they watched Johann's nebulous form spread thinly along the walls and sweep wraith-like, through their quarters. He returned to them, shaping himself into a column.
"Ve are safe to speak."
"Thanks for the fast double check." Hellboy smiled at the pointy end of the faceless shape.
Her face bright with welcome, Liz couldn't wait.
"Johann! Tell us what's going on?"
"Your confidence flatters me," Johann replied, humbly pleased. "But to use our time vell - I haf seen Abraham, locked down to vait, as you are. No interrogations haf been attempted on any of you."
"Nothing," answered Hellboy. "Strange. And you know because..."
"I am seen only vhen I allow it. My confinement is less strict, und so now, hear me carefully."
To his rapt listeners, Johann continued, "My concern vith Abraham is zat he may feel compelled through guilt, or by effects of depression, to make admissions zat will adversely affect his freedom, his life. Vat vill you say on ze subject of ze crown piece?"
"Never found," replied Hellboy.
"That's right. Poor Abe," Liz sighed, "all alone."
"Zis, I haf impressed upon him. Und – I must varn zat I haf seen Dr. Manning instruct four achents -" Johann stopped short, seeing Hellboy smirk.
"Johann," he chuckled, "You get the fly on the wall prize! The team's been here, and we're doing it our way."
"Zen, ve are ready," Johann pronounced. "Make your best professional impression on ze adjudicators. Now, I must go."
Hellboy and Liz saw the spirit off with thanks as they watched him waft upwards into the reaches of the ventilation shaft, and knew that Johann had brought them not only his wisdom and skill, but his loyalty.