Happy Wega Wednesday! Getting into the first case of the fic now.
"Agents Wylie," Cho said immediately as the couple exited the elevator. "Glad you're here."
"You have something for us, boss?" Vega asked.
"Well, I did let my entire team have yesterday off."
Vega groaned. "Paperwork?"
"No."
He handed her a folder, and Wylie peered over her shoulder as she opened it, both of them still walking briskly to their desks. "Leigh Roy Brown?"
"Who is he?" Wylie asked Cho. "I mean, other than the baddest man in the whole damn town."
"Remember when you had to explain why people call him the coyote?" Vega asked Cho.
"Yes," he said, looking unamused. "He's missing. Vanished from his job at a dock in Houston last night."
"Do we think he got smuggled across the border to be used for ransom?"
"Jane and Lisbon are interviewing his co-workers," Cho said, "but yes, we think he's part of the ploy devised to hold Americans as bargaining chips so local law enforcement will allow the drug trade to slip under the radar. He is apparently some favorite nephew of the police chief."
"What do you need us to do?" Wylie asked.
"For now, run background checks on his co-workers, keep in touch with Jane and Lisbon, and let me know if you find anything."
"What are you going to be doing?"
Cho sighed. "Well, initially this was one of Jane's days off, but I had to call him in."
Wylie cocked his head. "So…"
A door slammed somewhere, and moments later a little girl appeared at a dead run, charging toward them. "Uncle Cho! You said we could ride the fast elevator!"
Vega disguised her laugh with a cough, and Mimi stopped, turning toward her, a big grin coming over her face. "Auntie Shell! Uncle Cho isn't letting me ride the fast elevator."
"What?" she said, looking incredulous. "How could he?"
"Oh for the love of…" Cho shook his head at Vega and hunkered down by the little girl. "We can go, but you can't run or shout, okay? We're working here."
"Mommy and Daddy are working, you're socialing."
"Oh snap," Wylie said under his breath. Vega 'coughed' again.
"Come on," Cho said, holding out his hand and straightening up. Mimi grinned, grabbed it, and followed him down the hall, skipping rapidly to keep up.
"So, background checks," Wylie said. "You want to start at opposite ends of the alphabet?"
"I guess so," Vega said, settling down in her desk chair. "Oh, Lisbon's already texted me names. Perfect."
"I have a text from Jane," Wylie said as he sat down. Then he froze. "Did Cho call us Agents Wylie?"
"He's called us that since we got married." Vega was staring at her computer screen, furiously scribbling something on her notepad. "Well, almost since then. Since I left Humble and came back to work here. I mean, you know no one actually calls me Michelle Bonaventura."
"Yeah," Wylie said, "that's the worst kept secret in the FBI."
"So since we're both Agent Wylie, he calls us Agents Wylie."
"Why not Agent Wylies?"
"You know," she said, a small smirk on her face, "you can ask him that, I'm sure it's a conversation he would love to have while we have a missing person. Hey!" she said as an eraser whizzed by her head. She rolled her chair back and leaned over to retrieve it, not looking at her husband's grinning face. "You are such a child."
He grinned, but his grin shrunk when he saw her make a face and shift her weight. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just that periodic discomfort the doctor told me about."
Wylie bit his lip. It had been five years since Vega had nearly died in a shooting – the team had actually believed she hadn't made it for a full month after it happened – and she'd never gone six months without being in a hospital since. It seemed there was always something – a bullet fragment dislodging, pneumonia, problems with her liver or kidneys – all related to her shooting. A couple months back she'd had to have part of her liver removed, an emotionally traumatizing experience for a woman who had lost her father to liver cancer. For some odd reason, the past month or so had seen her getting nauseated when she exerted herself too much. A more recent minor surgery left her slightly uncomfortable due to scar tissue, especially on days when she didn't move around too much. The previous day with Madeline, Wylie had done most of the running around.
None of this was really affecting Vega's ability to be a good agent – though her time in the field had never gotten back to what it had been at the time of her injury – but Wylie hated to see her like this, and having to wonder if the shooting would ultimately cause her death. Just a few years back, Wylie read about a Vietnam Veteran who had died…forty five years after he'd returned to the United States, but due to complications from injuries he'd had while in the war. The doctors had told them after the last hospital visit that they believed she had finally crossed the threshold and very likely could live a normal lifespan, but every little twinge she experienced terrified him.
"Wylie," she said, and he jumped, clearing his throat and looking over at her. "I'm okay." She smiled. "I just didn't do my exercises yesterday. They said I'm good. Totally good." She cocked her head. "You know I was okay the other night."
Wylie nodded, still looking forlorn.
"Hey," she said, standing up and walking over to him, hopping up on his desk and putting a hand on the side of his face. "We're done with hospitals. I'm better now. Finally." She smirked. "Unless Cho tries to kill us when he finds out we haven't started working."
Wylie gave a little laugh. "Okay. Okay."
