Chapter 7:
*Don:It's not true, what you said before about not choosing sides. You do it all the time.
Robin: That had nothing to do with us-
Don: -I mean, I'll give you, you did mess me up pretty good.
Robin: Things get too close; I kind of got a habit of running…
Don: That's funny…I thought that was my MO.
Robin: Maybe that's why we worked for a while.
Don: All right, so, you know, what was it…ultimately?
Robin: You remember when I was sleeping over all the time, and you gave me that drawer?
Don: Yeah. The only thing you kept in it was a hair clip.
Robin: Well, I showed up for work one day and realized that I took the hair clip with me.
Season 4, Episode 14: Checkmate*
*Later That Night*
Breathe, Don told himself silently and not for the first time that night. Just breathe, he willed himself as he opened the large, heavy doors to the FBI building and made his way into the dully lit lobby.
"Evening Agent Eppes," The night security guard greeted Don cheerily as he dropped his gun, sunglasses and briefcase into the little plastic box on the conveyor belt for scanning, before swiping his security card and stepping through the imposing FBI grade metal detectors.
"Evening," He grumbled back, avoiding all eye contact as he put the sunglasses back on to cover his bloodshot and red rimmed eyes, before holstering his weapon and retrieving his heavy briefcase.
"Haven't seen you for a while," The guard noted slowly as Don made to step away, forcing him to turn back out of politeness.
"I've been away," Don lied smoothly, his face flat and devoid of expression.
"That right?" The guard chuckled, oblivious to Don's pale demeanour and wrinkled civvies. "Did you hear about the big to do at the courthouse?"
"Of course," Don nodded numbly, his right hand balling in his jeans pocket. It wasn't the security guard's fault. He wasn't being insensitive, he just didn't know. No one except for the immediate team knew. Nick had been nothing if not meticulous in keeping Robin's name out of the press…and Don had preferred it that way…until now. Although he supposed he'd only be suffering some other form of inane and mortifying conversation if the man knew…and he really wasn't ready to handle anyone's pity right now.
"Terrible thing," The guard shook his head disgustedly as he tipped his cap back and scratched idly at his thick forehead, "Just terrible!"
"Yes…terrible," Don bobbed his head in agreement before turning quickly away and making a hasty exit for the lifts around the corner. "Breathe," Don told himself, loudly this time, as he watched the lift doors slide slowly closed behind him in the reflection of the large mirror that had recently been mounted to the back wall of the small lift. "Just breathe…"
How long he stood in the enclosed safely of the lift, staring at the multiple buttons on the tall control panel before pressing the one for the nineteenth floor, Don didn't know; but he was willing to bet it was longer than he would be proud to admit. Not that he particularly cared right that minute…but still…
…It was just that it was the first time that he had stepped foot inside the FBI building since that fateful day and had Robin not all but forced him to leave, Don wouldn't be there at all. Somehow on the long car journey home an empty FBI building had seemed the more preferable option to an empty house. At least he could be of use here…getting some much needed filing done…anything just to be of use, to keep busy…
The light of the Bull Pen at the end of the room was almost blinding as he stepped out of the comfort of the small lift, and made his way through the many desks and partitioned offices towards the light, like a moth to a flame. No one was supposed to be here, he groaned internally, it was late and he had banked on being alone. He could only guess that there had been a break in a case and someone was holding an impromptu briefing…he didn't know if he was more afraid or curious…curious he supposed because even though his heart was beating fast enough to break out of his chest, his feet still carried him closer.
"I know it's late so I appreciate that you all made it back in so promptly. There have been certain developments in the last few hours that need to be addressed immediately so that we can continue to build on them tomorrow. Don't worry, I will try not to keep you longer than absolutely necessary," Logan's loud voice broke the awkward silence of the empty office around Don and rooted him to the spot. It wasn't just any old case or any old team, it was Robin's case and it was his team.
For the past week Don had kept himself in a kind of bubble, barely sparing a thought for the case or anyone else involved, Robin waking up and getting off of the ventilator had taken all his strength and the grief over the miscarriage, of a child he hadn't even known existed, had occupied almost all of his thoughts. Not entirely sure what he was doing or in control of his movements, Don found himself tip toeing closer and closer until he was pressed up against the wall, peeping in through the crack of the door, that had been left slightly ajar.
"How's Robin?" It was Colby's gravelly voice and Don couldn't stop his heart leaping to his throat at the mere mention of her name.
"She is awake and stable; they were talking surgery when I finally left. She's going to need an auto graft," Logan replied gruffly. Standing at the front of the room, facing the others, his was the only face that Don could see and wished he couldn't. Logan looked rough, worried, over worked and very tired…it was all just too much for Don, who had previously separated himself from these people, unable to see past his own fear and worry to bother with that of the people around him. Don felt ashamed, he'd only seen Logan a few hours prior when he'd come to take Robin's statement and Don had felt nothing but anger towards the man as he slowly watched Robin become more and more distressed. Or perhaps it was the fact that the harder Logan and Elliott pushed the more distant she became and the more distant she became the more she turned to Ian for support…
"An Auto graft?" A younger and unfamiliar male voice asked and Don couldn't help but wonder who the man was and what part he was playing in Robin's case. The back of his head certainly wasn't giving any clues.
"It's where they take some skin from another part of the body to cover the burn wound," Liz mumbled sadly. She was sat at a three quarter view to Don and he could make out the slightest slither of her face when she turned to look at the unknown agent. Even in the harsh lighting of the room she looked beautiful and Don noticed that Logan's face reflected that he thought as much also.
"Did her statement help?" Colby jumped in again, always the one to keep a briefing on point. Don noticed that his gruff voice was accompanied by the noise of many folders opening and pages turning. It was all very efficient and Don took some small comfort in that. His life might be falling apart but the case seemed solid and Don needed something to be solid in his life right now.
"She didn't remember anything," Logan sighed frustrated. It wasn't a mean sigh, just one of a man who had placed his final bet on a horse and had lost everything. "There is hope that she might remember more with time but for the most part she only remembers talking to the security guard…she wasn't entirely certain of why she was even in the courthouse in the first place. Kept mumbling that it was her day off and then she…well we left it there. It's not much but as you can see I have typed what I could get from her and she did her best to sign the bottom…she's not got much strength at the moment…physically that is…" Logan fumbled his words, his voice catching in his throat as Liz stood up and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze causing Colby's head to turn curiously. "I've left detective Hayes there for the moment, Ian is going to have a word, see if he can't get more now that she doesn't have the pressure of me and Elliott standing over her. He'll report back in the morning."
Don hadn't realised that Logan had asked Ian to try and get more, was that why she'd practically pushed him out of the door? She hadn't trusted him?
"In the meantime," Logan cut back in across Don's shattered thoughts, "Detective Morrison, you said you got a lead on Jane Doe?"
"Yes Sir," The unfamiliar man stood up and turned to address the room. He seemed young and Don couldn't help but be surprised that a veteran like Elliott could be partnered with someone so green. No wonder he's grumpy all of the time! "I tracked the ring down to the jeweller's and the owner gave me the fiancé's details. I will go and inform the family tomorrow and when identity is confirmed I will get her details to Matt Li and his team to do the necessary background checks."
"You might want this then," Claudia stood up, producing a wad of paper from the bag under her chair. Don hadn't noticed her sitting in the back corner of the room and wondered what was on the paper that she handed to Detective Morrison or the rest that she let Liz take over dishing out. "I got Tessa to do a facial reconstruction for Jane Doe and this is what she came up with."
"Wait Tessa as in my girlfriend Tessa?" Colby sat up straight, the half of the face that Don could see twisted in confusion.
"She's actually quite a talented artist," Claudia replied defensively. "The job came up and I thought of her from what I saw at her Gallery opening the other week. What did you think she was going to do? Pour coffee for the rest of her life? What do you guys even talk about?"
"Who says we talk?" Colby smirked back causing Claudia to squint back angrily, too riled up to see what Don could see, which was the way Colby's body had tensed up or, the ticking vein on his temple. She had bothered him by belittling his relationship, perhaps because there was a little truth there. His girlfriend had gotten a new job through a friend of his and not told him about it. Don knew his old friend well and knew that he'd be chewing on that one for a while.
Crossing his arms grumpily, Colby sat back, slouching in his chair as Charlie and Larry took to the floor. It must have been their turn for show and tell and what they had to show left Don speechless.
"As I mentioned to Liz earlier," Charlie mumbled uncertainly, his hand scratching self-consciously at his head, "It's not perfect but it's something…" It was more than something from what Don could see and the sudden change in atmosphere didn't escape him either. Pushing the door a crack wider, Don stared transfixed at the photo on the wall. It was a little blurry but there was no mistaking Robin, not to him and if he wasn't mistaken she was looking right at the bomber. Did she lie? Or did she really not remember him?
He was a tall, Caucasian male, wearing a waistcoat of explosives and was brandishing the remote proudly… and Don didn't know what to feel in that moment, shock was mostly taking over and shielding him from having to worry about it, which was probably for the best.
"You did it!" Colby laughed disbelievingly, his mood instantly forgotten as he got up for a closer look and the others joined him, including a woman who Don had worked with once, long ago when Don and Nick had worked an arson case together. She was a criminal profiler but more importantly she and Nick had had an affair, one Nick had promised Don was over...the only thing Don couldn't remember was her name…
"Yes, great work Charlie and Larry," Logan smiled a small smile of relief as Liz took his hand when no one was looking and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"You know," Claudia added, thinking aloud, "I could measure the leg and arm of the man from this photo and compare it to the thirteen men that died in the explosion…might give us our bomber?"
"I thought Elliott was convinced that the bomber isn't among the twenty?" Colby quipped back peevishly, his earlier mood apparently not that easily forgotten.
"El is," Detective Morrison replied confused as he looked the photo over again. "He's convinced that whoever that man is he isn't in our morgue…"
"No way he could survive that though," Nikki chimed in for the first time that night, she was usually one to sit back and point out the obvious when needed. "Charlie you're the maths guy, I bet you could tell us exactly how statistically unlikely it is that the man could have survived!"
"Perhaps I could interject," It was the woman whose name Don couldn't remember and she was digging in a carry on case for a yellow legal notepad that she had apparently scrawled some notes on. "I was looking over the folder whilst I was on the plane and have a few ideas about your bomber to keep you going."
"By all means Agent Cooper," Logan gestured for her to take the floor as they all took their seats again, Logan taking hers.
"Whenever we start a profile we are trained to ask two simple questions." She gestured with one finger like they were back in kindergarten, "Firstly, was he working in a group of alone? And secondly," She gestured with the second finger, "Was he trying to make a point? Or is there no point? From what I can tell your bomber is acting alone and from the evidence provided he's clearly making a statement against the government. He's of above average intelligence, with unknown and untapped destructive capabilities. Most likely he's socially inept and is doing it to feel important and powerful. He's driven by an ideology or a belief that is of great importance to him but mostly he is motivated by his ego and deep sense of self pride. I also wouldn't be surprised if he has a service background, police or military…most likely military."
"Which is basically what the LAPD profiler came up with," Detective Morrison cut in defensively as the woman crossed her arms under her ample breasts and frowned.
"That was just the prelim kid," She snapped back as she flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder and sneered down at the young detective. "Give me long enough and I'll be able to tell you the kind of milk he likes to pour over his cereals!"
"Don?" Nick whispered softly from behind, making Don jump out of his skin from the shock, his heart beating erratically once more as he spun hastily around to face his long-time friend and boss. "What are you doing here?"
"I…" Don tried to explain but his head was reeling and Nick seemed to pick up as much.
"Let's go to my office," Nick told him firmly as he took hold of Don's arm below the elbow and practically steered him away from the shimmering light of the Bull Pen to the remote darkness of the antechamber of Nick's office and switched on the small lamp on his secretary's desk. Sitting down, Don made himself comfortable on the rigid sofa used to make Nick's guests squirm before coming in and stupidly felt comforted by its stiff and itchy fabric. It helped for some reason to know that however much things changed some things never did. Which category did Robin and he fit into? He wondered and it pained him to even let himself consider that his world had changed that much.
"I'm going to make a hot coffee and then we'll talk, ok?" Nick told Don as if he was addressing a mentally unstable child and not his oldest friend.
"All I've had is coffee," Don mumbled tiredly as he finally removed the sunglasses and rubbed at his tired eyes. "I'd prefer something a little stronger if you have it."
Something in Don's haggard and defeated expression must have computed to Nick because he automatically switched direction and headed for his office instead of the canteen. When he returned he was holding an expensive scotch and two glasses.
"Why are you here?" Nick asked Don seriously, cutting across all the pointless small talk and getting right down to the nitty-gritty. It was what Don had always liked about him; it was what had always made Nick so good at his job. He short footed the perp into accidently revealing something he could later use to force a confession, the only difference was that Don was in no mood to play. Ignoring Nick, Don downed the finger of scotch in one and immediately poured himself another and downed that one too. "Don?" Nick prodded again as Don filled his glass once more and downed the lot in one mouthful.
"I work here," Don sneered, his face twisted somewhere between anger and unimaginable pain. "What's she doing here?" Don added, his skin prickling with heat as the scotch started to thaw the emptiness he'd been feeling inside, the emptiness that was fast becoming anger as he poured himself his fourth drink, not caring that he was already starting to feel a little light headed from not having eaten properly in days. He just wanted to forget the last few days, hell even just the last few hours…
"Who? Jules?" Nick asked patiently in that measured way that really made Don want to hit him right now.
"Yes!" Don spoke louder than he intended as he pointed to the door that lead back to the Bull Pen, her name finally coming back to him. "Agent Juliette Cooper, you promised you were done with her!"
"I am," Nick stood up stonily, never one to show his anger but Don could see it prickling at his friend. It seemed that Nick wanted to hit Don as much as Don wanted him to. Maybe that was why he was getting drunk and picking a fight…he needed to feel something, something real. "She was assigned, I had no say."
"You could have told her to fuck the hell off," Don told Nick heatedly as he poured his fifth scotch and drained what was left of the bottle, then Nick's glass for good measure.
"I promised it was over Don and it is. Just because she's here doesn't mean I'm automatically going to sleep with her. I do have some self-control you know!"
"I know you do," Don sighed regrettably as he lay down on the rough couch and curled himself into a small ball, all of his anger and all of his energy zapping away at once. "I'm sorry," He whispered sadly around a long yawn before his body finally gave in and he passed out, leaving a concerned and slightly pissed off Nick unsure of what to do next.
*Break*
"Applied mathematics, a little light reading?" Ian smiled at the girl behind the cash register as he pulled out his wallet and slid a five across the counter.
"I'm sorry?" The girl practically squeaked as she quickly slammed the textbook shut and did a quick scan of the hospital canteen to make sure no one else had seen.
"No I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump…or get you into trouble?" Ian whispered conspiritably as he leaned a little closer, before giving the room his own quick scan. No one was watching them.
"Not at all!" She whispered back as she took the money and busied herself with counting his change. "I've got a final coming up and…I'm not supposed to be reading…it's just that…"
"This time of night, only customers are the caffeine addicts like me," Ian grinned understandably. "Must be boring."
"Exactly and if I want to do enough to impress the administration board at Caltech I need to do better than good…I've got to be like Professor Eppes good!" The girl replied quietly, flushed with excitement.
"Wow that good eh?" Ian chuckled and took a quick sip of his coffee to hide the little knowing smile Charlie's name often brought to his lips. "Say…Beth," He added thoughtfully once he'd recovered, taking an extra moment to read her name tag; "You couldn't do me a favour could you?"
"Well…" She frowned hesitantly, probably sizing up the level of weirdo he might turn out to be. "It depends what it is I suppose."
"That's fair," Ian laughed at her wrinkled and thoughtful face. "I need you to take a coffee over to the man at that table," Ian pointed at Elliott who was deep in conversation with some leggy woman with a heart shaped face. "But I need you to write a message on it. Could you do that for me?" Opening his wallet once more, Ian produced a fifty and slid it across the counter. "Call it a donation to your college fund," He winked as her fingers twitched their way across the counter to the other end of the bill.
"Why?" She asked unsure, still a little suspicious.
"Well you see the woman?" Ian asked carefully, leaning in till they were inches apart. "She's a reporter and I need to get my partner there away without raising suspicion…I'd hate for him to get into trouble with our boss because he has a weakness for blonds…" Taking his FBI badge from his back pocket, Ian slid it across the counter next to the bill, still half in the girl's hand, and opened it for her to see the photo-ID.
"Oh…" She replied speechless, whatever she'd been expecting, the FBI badge clearly wasn't it. "Ok, well sure…what do you want it to say?"
"Outside," Ian, smiled as he took his badge back and pocketed it once more. "Good luck," He added, pointing at her abandoned textbook before picking up his coffee and walking away.
*Break*
Kneeling down beside his older brother, Charlie shook Don gently on the shoulder whilst wafting a steaming pot of hot coffee under his brother's nose. "Don?" He asked sadly as his brother pried one bloodshot eye open and then the other. "How are you feeling?" He asked Don gently as his brother slowly sat up and took the mug of coffee offered in his shaking hands.
"Where am I?" He grimaced as he took a large gulp of coffee before promptly spitting it back out into the mug. "Ergh," He winced unceremoniously. "Are you trying to kill me? God what is this?"
"Coffee," Charlie smiled back as Don poured the rest of his coffee into the plant pot next to the couch.
"Trust me, this isn't coffee," Don sighed as he rested his head back against the stiff back board of the couch. "You never did know how to make a decent cup of coffee Chuck," He growled as he proceeded to rub wearily at his eyes before scrubbing at his tired face.
"Ian's never complained," Charlie replied a little defensively as he stood up and rested on the back of Nick's Secretary's desk.
"That's because he's too polite by far. Have you ever seen him actually drink any?" Don bit back, but instantly regretted it when he saw his little brother's hurt expression. "Gee I'm sorry Charlie," Don sighed angrily as he buried his face in his hands once more and shook his head angrily.
"It's ok," Charlie swallowed back the lump in his throat. He didn't know why he had even brought Ian up; he really didn't want to go there with his brother right now. "Let me take you home."
"What about my car?" Don protested weakly, he really didn't want to go home right then but neither did he want to stay on Nick's couch.
"It's ok, and you are in no state to drive!" Charlie forced a smile, which neither Eppes brother believed, before holding out a hand to help Don stand. "Come back to mine. Stay in your old room tonight and then I'll drive you back to the hospital first thing in the morning. Let me and Dad look after you for a change," Charlie added when it looked like Don was going to protest. "You know dad," Charlie forced another big smile, "Told me not to take no for an answer."
"Ok," Don finally relented, in no mood to argue anyway. "Thanks Chuck," He forced his own smile as he took his brother's helping hand and stumbled into a standing position. "Now if you could just carry me to the car, that'd be grand!" Don added in a shocking British accent.
"God, how much did you have to drink?" Charlie frowned concernedly as he pulled his brother's arm over his shoulder and helped to half carry; half shuffle Don over to the lift.
"You know, not that much," Don grinned emptily back at Charlie, no humour behind the smile at all before stumbling and falling onto the floor of the lift as the door's slid slowly closed behind Charlie as he rushed to check on his brother who was sat with his back against the lift wall, face buried in his hands once more.
"Don…what's going on?" Charlie asked as he pulled the button to stop the lift before sliding down the doors opposite his still partially inebriated brother, "Talk to me."
"And say what?" Don spat back furiously, his large brown eyes filling with tears as he crossed his arms and crossed his outstretched legs angrily. "What do you want me to say Chuck? That my wife would rather be with your boyfriend right now than with me? Or that she doesn't trust me but she'll trust him. They have barely said more than five words to each other in the last year and yet she would rather lean on him than on me! Or…how about that ever since she woke up she's been pulling further and further away? Somewhere deep down, she blames me…for the baby, the accident…I can't give her what she needs right now…hell I don't even know what that is. She's my fiancée and I don't know how to help her…"
"Firstly, all I heard there was 'me me me'. She doesn't trust me, she's pulling away from me…she blames me. You need to understand that this isn't about you. She's leaning on Ian because she sees a kindred spirit in him. He's hurting right now and so is she…it's not about trust, she's protecting you…hell, protecting herself. You're the most important person in the world to her and I think rather than blaming you she's afraid thatshe's going to lose you!" Charlie shouted back, a little harsher than he had intended, shaking his head sadly before trying a softer approach. "Look, I know it's crazy and it makes no sense to us, but she's pushing you away to protect herself from the moment you realise this is all too much and leave."
"I'd never leave!" Don shouted back indignantly; spit flying as he gestured wildly at his brother, ignoring the steady stream of tears running down his rough stubbled jaw and neck. "I love her, this changes nothing!"
"Then prove it," Charlie replied sternly, though the words caught a little in his throat and his own eyes began to water ruining the effect. "Tell her and if she doesn't believe you tell her again. Tell her every morning and keep telling her until she doesn't need to hear it anymore."
"Are you crying Chuck?" Don teased gently, the anger suddenly gone as Don used the railing above his head to get into some sort of a standing position.
"You know me," Charlie smiled weakly through his tears as he also got up, "I've always been a sympathetic crier."
"You've always been a good brother too," Don replied with meaning as he placed a hand on his little brother's shoulder to steady himself before pulling Charlie in for a bear hug. "And he'll never tell you as much," Don added as he pulled back slightly to look meaningfully into his brother's eyes, "But your right Chuck. Ian does need you right now."
"What do you mean?" Charlie replied confused as he stepped reluctantly away.
"I found these in Ian's jacket earlier." Reaching inside his own jacket, Don pulled a wad of mail from the pocket.
"Wait, what were you doing searching Ian's jacket?" Charlie asked bemused and a little afraid.
"He put his jacket over me when I passed out earlier…I didn't mean to pry but I felt the lump and was curious…" Don rushed to explain before handing them over to Charlie.
"Letters?"
"From her…and they're all opened."
"But-"
"He's having nightmares too…"
"I know, but what can I do?" Charlie asked deflated. "You know Ian…the lone ranger. How do you get a guy like Ian to open up about his feelings?"
"I don't know," Don shook his head sadly. "But you'd better figure it out and fast," Reaching past his brother, Don lifted the switch to get the lift moving again, "Because if there's one thing I'd recognise right now…it's a man on the edge."
*Break*
"Outside? Really?" Elliott asked scornfully as he emerged from the hospital's large canteen to see Ian leaning nonchalantly against the wall opposite.
"I saw it on TV once," Ian smiled back as the glowering Elliott slowly approached, before falling into step and following Ian down the long hallway and away from the canteen.
"You own a TV?" Elliott mocked scornfully as Ian took a left turn away from the corridor leading to the Burn Unit. "Wait, isn't Robin the other way?"
"We're taking a different route," Ian smiled again as he took another left, even further away from Robin's hospital room before casually glancing back over his shoulder at the empty corridor behind.
"What are you doing?" Elliott asked impatiently as Ian held a finger to his mouth for silence, his eyes never leaving the corridor behind. "What is with the whole cloak and dagger routine anyway?" Elliott asked confused when Ian suddenly started walking away again. "I mean paranoid much?"
"When you're consorting with reporters…yeah I get a little paranoid." Ian frowned down at Elliott who wasn't much shorter than Ian and yet felt suddenly dwarfed by him. "Oh yeah and FYI, it's not paranoia when they really are out to get you."
"Just STOP ok," Elliott shouted angrily, his whole body going cold, then hot, then cold again. "What reporter?"
"The woman from the canteen," Ian replied in a low and guttural tone. "You really didn't know, did you?" Ian squinted thoughtfully before crossing his arms and resting back against the wall, his eyes never leaving Elliott's face.
"You know I wouldn't talk to the press," Elliott wanted to shout and stomp and throw his hands up with impatience but for the first time in weeks somehow managed to control his temper and settled himself against the opposite wall instead. "No I didn't know…how do you?"
"Because she is a foreign correspondent over in Afghanistan and she was at the trial in DC," Ian replied crossly, his face going dark at the memory.
"I don't understand, what is a foreign correspondent sniffing around a bombing on the west coast for?" Elliott tried desperately, he'd barely remembered bumping into Donna at the morgue and it was only now that Elliott was realising how stupid he was for not being suspicious of bumping into her again at the hospital. Worse was that he was suddenly seeing the obvious probing about his job and the cases he was working… "Are you sure you aren't mistaking her with someone else?" Elliott added weakly still reluctant to admit the blatant truth. He'd been played and the feeling didn't sit right with him, neither did the humiliation that it was Ian that had saved him. "I mean, how memorable is she really?"
"I'm gay El, not blind. Besides, I know her…you could almost say we were friends once," Ian sighed as he uncrossed his arms and dug his hands into his pockets.
"Almost?"
"I knew her brother when I was in the Special Forces. She found me after the trial in DC when I was at that bar…blowing off steam. We got into it and a couple of local soldiers stepped in," Ian looked away ashamed, it was the first real sliver of emotion that El had managed to get out of Ian since Brian's death.
"That's how the fight was started? I thought you said it was soldiers that were unhappy with the outcome of the trial?" El couldn't count the amount of times he'd wished that Ian would lower his guard like this and now that he had, Elliott wasn't too sure he liked it. He wanted to hate Ian right now, no correction…he needed to hate Ian right now.
"Actually I believe I told you it was nothing. It was Hunter that told Colby and apparently Colby told everyone else!" Ian snapped angrily before pushing himself back off the wall with his foot and stalking off back down the corridor, the way they should have gone in the first place.
"Hunter told Colby he'd sorted it," Elliott wheezed as he rushed to keep up with Ian's stride. "What he really meant was he sorted her didn't he!"
"He stopped her reporting the fight, if that's what you mean," Ian replied quietly, stopping almost as suddenly as he'd started.
"And how'd he manage that?" El frowned angrily as he read the flash of guilt that travelled behind Ian's eyes.
"I don't know," Ian whispered, frozen for a moment. "I never asked."
"More like didn't want to know!" Elliott huffed accusingly as he squared himself off against the man that had fuelled many of his own late night bar visits.
"He's Ex-CIA, damn straight I didn't want to know!" Ian shouted so loudly and furiously that it rolled and echoed down the corridor and made El take a frightened step back.
"Are you the reason she's here do you think? In LA?" Elliott whispered, unable to muster anything stronger.
"I don't know," Ian sighed frustrated, his whole body tense.
"That's why you sent over the coffee saying outside; why you made sure we weren't being followed…you didn't want her to see you!"
"On the off chance that she isn't here because of me…I didn't want her knowing that I'm involved just yet. I wanted to control the situation but I'm beginning to see that I can't."
"But you're not involved in the case…or are you!" Elliott replied suddenly, his eyes widening as realisation finally dawned. "Logan read you in didn't he?"
"He tried to, but you don't want me on the case so I turned him away," Ian shrugged like it was nothing before setting off again.
"And I'm to take your word on that?" Elliott laughed, but there was no humour in it as the pair finally made their way to the Burn unit's main reception desk.
"Look…I know that right now my word mean's nothing to you," Ian told Elliott earnestly. "And I've given you no reason to trust me but my word is everything to me and I don't go back on that. You don't want me on the case and I promised to stay off of it. Believe it or not, I'm only here for Robin."
"Detective Hayes?" A young nurse interrupted, making the pair jump and spin around fast. "This fax just came in. It's from Agent Pierce."
"Thank you," Elliott replied confused as he took the fax and looked at it before holding it out for Ian to see. "Did you talk to Robin again?"
"She really didn't remember anything about the explosion, I checked when Don left," Ian shook his head confused.
"This picture shows her looking right at the bomber," Elliott replied sternly before stuffing the picture inside his battered suit jacket. "I need to talk to her again."
"Let me," Ian held both hands up as he stepped in Elliott's way. "Trust me, if she's lying she's more likely to crack and tell me, not you and for what it's worth, I know I said I wouldn't get involved but I'm going to give you a number to call anyway."
"And which one of you Ex-CIA friends is that?" El asked scornfully as Ian held out a business card for him to take.
"Actually he's an ATF Agent and he knows his bombs like Charlie knows math," Ian replied expressionless as he still held the business card for El to take.
"Fine," El finally relented and took the card. "So I phone this ATF agent and he'll help?"
"No."
"But you said-"
"-I know what I said," Ian smiled infuriatingly. "The number isn't the ATF agent's. Agent Denam wouldn't take your call and he certainly wouldn't agree to just help. He's a prickly character but he's the best. So give this guy a call, fax him the photo and get him to show it to Agent Denam. The second he sees it, he'll help you."
"Seems like a lot of effort…" El admitted reluctantly as he looked at the card, it was one of Ian's with a number and the name 'Ollie' scrawled on the back. "Can't I just go see him myself?"
"He's in Virginia; it's up to you if you want to waste time flying there or asking my man there to do it for you."
"Ian."
"It's ok, no thanks needed."
"I wasn't going to thank you, look." Pointing over Ian's shoulder Ian turned to see where El was pointing and saw the reporter sneaking into the nurses' station, she must have decided to venture to the Burn Unit when she had gotten nothing from El.
"I'll sort it."
"But your whole cloak and dagger thing, I thought you didn't want her associating you with the case?" Elliott looked surprised and Ian realised for the first time, just how low El's opinion of him had sunk.
"Robin's family, none of that other crap matters now," Ian wanted to shout, but kept his voice low instead. "Anyway she's most likely already spotted me standing here with you…and besides, I told Don I'd look out for Robin while he's gone, and I don't go back on my word."
"Ok, sorry…what are you going to do with Donna?" El looked worried and for a moment Ian wanted to break his peaceful façade and hit El on the nose.
"I'm going to talk to her," Ian replied disgusted.
"And if that don't work?"
"Then, I'm Ex-CIA and you really don't want to know."
*Break*
"Hey Baby," Tessa greeted Colby happily as she entered her small flat and dropped her heavy work bag by the front door with relief. "How long have you been waiting?"
"Not long," Colby replied as Tessa made her way over to the couch and climbed on top of his lap so that she was straddling him. "Well I'm glad you did," She smiled seductively as she pulled her top over her head and dropped it onto the floor by their feet.
"Tessa…" Colby tried to speak but she was kissing him so passionately that he lost his train of thought.
"Colby," She moaned breathily against his mouth as his hands moved to her back and made quick work of unclasping her bra, which she dropped next to the t-shirt as his hands moved to cup her breasts. "Not here," She whispered throatily as his thumbs playfully teased her hardening nipples before taking them in his mouth.
"Yes, here," Colby grinned as he lifted her by her arse, turned around and dropped her back down on the couch so that he was on top. "Right here," He groaned as her fingers found the bottom of his shirt and worked it slowly up his washboard abs, teasing his chest the whole way before throwing it somewhere behind her head.
"But it's a new couch," She protested weakly as she angled her hips and legs so that he could pull her jeans off, taking her pants and socks with them so that she was lying naked beneath him.
"Then it's about time we christened it," Colby grinned as he took her small wrists in his big hands and held them down above her head before they could finish undoing the zip on his own jeans and looked down lustfully at her soft curves.
"Colby?" She laughed playfully as she wriggled her hips against his growing erection. "Don't stop."
"Oh, I'm not stopping," He whispered next to her ear, tickling the hair there as he transferred the hold of her wrists to one hand, freeing up the other to slowly tease its way down her body, around the fullness of her breast, across her stomach and between her legs.
"Mmm," She moaned happily as she arched her back allowing his fingers access.
"You're wet," He groaned throatily as he started a slow then faster, then slow again rhythm teasing her that little bit closer to orgasm.
"Oh God," She moaned happily as his mouth kissed a path from one breast to the other as his hand never gave up the rhythm. "Now," She practically shouted as the pleasure quickly mounted and the pace quickened also, his fingers reaching deeper inside of her. "I want you inside of me now."
"Almost there," He whispered again next to her ear as he released her hands to work at undoing his belt and trousers. Reaching out for him, Tessa pulled his jeans down his thighs, not letting him take them properly off before wrapping her legs around his bare hips and pulling his hard dick closer.
"Now," She smiled lustily before gasping at the solid feel of him inside of her. "Yes," She groaned as he thrust again and again resuming that same slow then faster, then slow again rhythm teasing her excruciatingly slowly closer to release.
"Tessa," He groaned her name again with every thrust as he quickened his pace, determined to get her there first.
"Mmm," She moaned throatily as she scrunched her eyes shut and lost herself in the rolls of pleasure and the glow of her orgasm until she felt him come inside of her and join her in sweet release.
"Tessa?" Colby whispered her name some time later, after their sweaty bodies had cooled and she had drifted off into sleep, naked and tangled in his arms on the couch. "Tess?"
"Yes Col?" She whispered back, her breath tickling the hairs on his chest as she slowly woke up.
"Why didn't you tell me about Claudia giving you a job at the morgue?"
"Seriously?" She asked indignantly as she propped herself up on her elbow to look him in the eye. "I would have if you hadn't jumped me on the couch," She smiled happily before kissing him passionately and awaking that need inside of him again. "Seriously," She whispered around a smile against his mouth when she felt that need pressing against her hip.
"I am serious," Colby replied as she untangled herself from his embrace, stood up and pulled his still tangled jeans down his legs, taking the boxers with them. "Why didn't you tell me when she first offered it to you?"
"I didn't think I needed to ask," She smiled as she slowly worked her way between his legs.
"You don't, I just…can't believe you didn't tell me," He gasped as she took hold of him in her hands and slowly began to stroke and tease her way up and down the length of him.
"Next time I will, God I didn't realise it'd bother you so much," She replied, miffed. "Do you want me to run anything else by you while we're on the subject?
"I didn't mean it like that," Colby tried to backtrack, seeing that she was clearly pissed. "It's just that I'd like to keep work and us separate, work relationships have never ended well for me in the past."
"Oh don't worry; I think I get what you mean."
"No, that didn't come out right," Colby groaned as she slowly stood, grabbing her t-shirt from the floor and pulling back on. "It's just that, the morgue? Really?"
"Why not the morgue? Or do you think I am only good enough to work in coffee shops?"
"Coffee shops? No, I just…I mean, can't you just paint normal things?"
"Normal things?" She asked heatedly.
"You know sunflowers or poppy fields?" Colby grasped inspiration from the framed prints lining her small living room.
"I think you should leave."
"Tess, please."
"I said get out," She shouted angrily as she picked up his jeans and boxers and moved over to the door.
"Tess don't!" He shouted angrily as he stumbled up from the couch, grabbed his t-shirt and boots and met her at the door. "Tess, baby, please don't be mad."
"Too late," She snapped furiously as she opened the front door and threw his clothes out into the hallway.
"Damn it Tess!" Colby shouted pissed as he ran after his jeans and boxers to hear her slam the door shut behind him. "Tess come on, open the door!"
"I've phoned the police!" An old frail voice called out to him from the crack of a door down the hall.
"Shit. Mam, no wait, I am the police," Colby called out as he held his shirt to protect his modesty.
"They'll be here any minute!" The old lady warned and sure enough, Colby could hear the sounds or sirens getting close.
"Shit," He shouted again as he grabbed his jeans and hastily pulled them on, cursing Claudia for his current predicament. He shouldn't have let her snide comment's get to him, but damn it they had and now, without wasting any more time, Colby was bolting semi-naked from his girlfriend's apartment complex. To say he'd had better nights would be an understatement!
*Break*
Reaching around her with lightening reflexes, Ian grabbed the fax and pulled it from the machine before it could properly finish printing.
"What the?" Donna Hart asked confused as she whipped herself around to see Ian towering imposingly over her, the half printed picture of the bomber in his hands.
"This doesn't belong to you," Ian told her quietly as he folded the fax in half and then half again, her eyes never shifting from the fax as she stuck her tongue between her teeth, clearly weighing out the correct response to give.
"Agent Edgerton…it's been…too long."
"Not long enough," He whispered back as he reached behind her and pressed the delete button to remove the fax from the machine's memory.
"Wait!" She shouted when she heard the gentle whirring of the machine, too late to stop him, "Damn it Edgerton!" She practically growled as Ian stepped away smiling his small wolfish smile.
"Like I said, this doesn't belong to you," Ian smirked as he held the photo out to her before whipping it away again when she tried to snatch it from his grasp. "What are you doing in LA Donna," Ian asked politely as he slid the folded up photo into the back pocket of his jeans. "Come to destroy the lives of any more soldiers?"
"Depends," She frowned beautifully as she crossed her arms and leaned back against the fax machine's small desk. "Beat anyone up lately?"
"Touché," Ian grinned unperturbed as he sat down on top of the nurse's tidy desk and put his feet up on the seat of the small uncomfortable plastic chair in front of him. "Seriously though, I thought you went back to Afghanistan after the trial."
"My editor wanted me to go back but I've had enough of warzones. People need educating on veteran's lives after service. After our run-in in DC, I decided to write a paper about PTSD and how enough isn't being done. The article is called 'A Purple Heart for PTSD'," Donna explained as she got up and moved over to Ian's left side and pulled his jumper and t-shirt down at the collar to reveal the white mark of a recent scar from the bullet wound he'd received from his last mission in Afghanistan before the whole mess with the Child Snatcher had happened. It felt like it had all happened so long ago, and the pain he had felt then was nothing compared to the pain he felt now. "They're awarded for visible wounds but what about the invisible ones?"
"You don't have to convince me, I whole heartedly agree with your article," Ian replied honestly as he pried her fingers away from his jumper and shirt so that they sprung back into place. "Doesn't explain what you're doing here though."
"I heard about your run in with the LA child snatcher," She whispered sadly as her hand drifted from his chest to his face and to the fresh pink scar that now split his left eyebrow and snaked its way painfully down his left cheek.
"So?" Ian replied stiffly, struggling to keep his mask of indifference in place as he caught her wrist in his hand and pulled her fingers away before they could touch it.
"So, I'm sorry Ian," She told him guiltily as she looked down at where his hand was still gripping her wrist tightly, "For everything."
"Don't be," He grimaced as he dropped her hand and shimmied himself off of the desk, ready to bolt. He hadn't wanted her pity back in DC and he certainly didn't want it now, but she didn't move and he ended up trapped against the desk, only inches separating them.
"Ian…"
"Why are you here?" He growled harsher than he had intended as he pushed her back so that he could slip past to the door.
"I was interviewing veterans in downtown LA when the bomb went off, my editor told me to write the story but there is no story without the identity of the mystery survivor." She replied quickly before he could leave.
"Then you have no story," Ian told her sternly as he turned back sharply. "She's under my protection and you aren't getting to her. Leave quietly or I'll call security and have you forcefully removed."
"Why is it we always end up here?" She asked him quizzically as she flicked her blond curls behind her ears nervously but not backing down.
"Here where?" He asked politely, though he didn't really care for the answer.
"Me doing my job and you threatening me not to," She laughed nervously but it was a hollow laugh, one with little humour behind it. "My editor won't post my article about PTSD if I don't get him the scoop here. I need this," She told him quietly pleading with him to help her. "My brother needs this."
"Sorry…no," Ian sighed before leaving the nurses' station and waited as she followed him out.
"No Ian, I'm sorry because I'm going to find out who she is and you can't stop me," Donna replied bravely, a lot braver than she felt.
"Actually I can," Ian smiled that knowing wolfish grin of his once more and was pleased to see the unsettled look that flittered behind her wide green eyes. "My friend Hunter made you go away once and I didn't ask him to. All I need to do is phone him and ask for whatever he has on you and he'll give it to me. If I see her name in print anywhere, I'll use whatever it is to end you. I may have owed your brother once, but that ended the day he gave me bad Intel in Afghanistan and half my men died." Ian informed her flatly, but she could feel the emotion rolling off him in waves and took a quick step backwards anyway.
"You know I apologised about that back in DC!" She replied with breathless indignation.
"And I hospitalised three men after," Ian replied calmly.
"Is that supposed to intimidate me?"
"No, just a fact. Stay away," Ian told her quietly as he motioned for the young rookie down the hall to join him. "Officer Woods, please escort Ms Hart from the building and make sure security knows not to let her back in." He told the young officer who nodded enthusiastically, probably bored and happy for something to do. "Goodbye Donna," Ian smiled sadly before making his way back to Robin's side. His regrets following him like a bad shadow he just couldn't shake.
*Break*
"Agent Oliver Burnett, of all the dive bars in Quantico, you just happen to walk in to mine? To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Agent Marc Denam smiled as he stubbed out his cigarette before gesturing to the barman for two more beers.
"I tried calling first," Ollie smiled as he slipped onto the barstool next to Marc as the bartender brought the beers over. "You know, you're not an easy man to get a hold of."
"That was you?" Marc frowned at his phone on the bar, "Thought it said my boss, marvellous thing caller ID. Out of interest, how did you find me? "
"Marvellous things mobiles, yours pinged off a nearby cell tower and then Agent Edgerton told me which bar was statistically the most likely, he has a friend who can do the math," Ollie replied smoothly as he picked up his beer and toasted Agent Denam before taking a swig, "Oh yeah and the fact that bar is across from your motel room was a bit of a giveaway."
"How'd he know where I'm staying?" It wasn't an accusation, more mild curiosity as Agent Denam busied himself with rolling his next cigarette.
"You used a matchbook with the motel's logo on it on the range a week ago." Ollie smiled as Marc broke a match off of the same matchbook before using it to light his cigarette.
"Ok, you have my attention," Marc frowned as he took a long drag from the cigarette before swivelling in his seat to face Ollie properly, "What does Edgerton want?"
"Actually I'm here on behalf of a Detective Hayes, a friend of Edgerton's, he needs your expertise," Ollie replied around the mouth of his beer before taking another swig. "Did you hear about the bombing in LA?"
"Hard not to hear about it," Marc shrugged as he tapped the butt of his cigarette to get rid of the ash. "The way I hear it, the LAPD isn't producing results fast enough."
"That's where you come in," Ollie smiled his best used car salesman smile making Marc laugh.
"Sorry kid, I can't help you," Marc told Ollie unapologetically as he flicked some more ash from the end of his dying cigarette.
"Why? You've finished your week at Quantico now."
"Because if you hadn't noticed I'm not exactly in the game anymore," Marc sighed as he took one last puff of his cigarette before stubbing it out. "I ride desks and push paper, you know important shit like that," Picking up his camouflaged cane from where he'd left it dangling on the back of the barstool, Marc slowly lowered himself off of the stool and onto his sore leg, grimacing as all of his weight went back on to it. "But don't worry, there are plenty of other ATF Agents you could be bothering right now." Throwing some money down on the counter next to his half-finished beer, Marc limped off leaving a panicked Ollie to catch up.
"What if Edgerton squared it with your boss?" Ollie tried desperately, it didn't take long to fall in to step with the old agent, he wasn't exactly going anywhere fast.
"Still can't help you."
"Can't or won't?"
"Fine, won't," Marc shouted angrily as he stopped in the entrance way outside of the bar, the red neon sign highlighting the strong contours of his jaw.
"Why?" Ollie asked confused.
"Because maybe I'm not interested in swapping my desk for one in Ian's offices, mine comes with a nice comfy swivel chair. I worked hard all year to break that thing in;" Marc replied sarcastically, "I only recently got the bum indent just right."
"Sure, maybe it's because of a swivel chair or maybe it's because you're scared," Ollie shot back miffed, not liking being made fun of.
"Scared," Marc laughed, causing Ollie to frown harder. "Trust me; a little bomb in LA doesn't scare me. You don't even know what scary is!"
"Fine, tell me. What is scary then?" Ollie challenged hotly, fed up with being laughed at.
"Scary is being trapped in a basement for two days with a piece of bomb stuck in your leg. Scary is being crushed under a ceiling that caved in from the explosion whilst your friends do their best to dig you out. Scary is watching your flesh burn and finding the smell pleasant," Marc growled back as he rubbed self-consciously at his right arm.
"Your right," Ollie whispered back unsure what to say to that. "I don't know what that feels like. But I know someone who does, or at least Agent Edgerton does. She was burned badly in the explosion at the courthouse."
"The mystery woman the press keep going on about," Marc nodded thoughtfully. "She's a friend of Ian's?"
"Technically she's his family, from what I understand she's engaged to Ian's boyfriend's brother," Ollie nodded as Marc pulled a pre-rolled cigarette from the packet and put it in his mouth unlit. "From what I hear the press keep hounding for her identity and that she's not handling it well."
"It's been a week, talk to her again in a year and then see how well she's 'handling' it," Marc growled, self-consciously rubbing at his right arm again. "Why don't they just tell the press her name?"
"Because she's Assistant US Attorney Robin Brooks and her fiancé is the SAIC of the team leading the investigation, imagine how much worse the press would be if they got something as juicy as that! You think the press hounding her now is bad!"
"I get it, they'd have a field day…how is she though, you said she isn't handling it well?" Marc asked quietly as he plucked the cigarette from the corner of his mouth and rolled it between his index finger and thumb.
"I don't know much, just the highlights that Edgerton gave me," Ollie replied earnestly as he leaned back against the wall, the neon light casting half of his face in shadow. "I know that she was pregnant and lost the baby on top of having to deal with surgery for third degree burns. Apparently she's having her first auto graft surgery tomorrow."
"Ok, ok," Marc finally relented, "I'll come and help but I'm doing this for her, not just as a favour to Edgerton."
"Huh."
"What?"
"I'm just surprised you caved," Ollie smiled as he pushed off of the wall and pulled a folded up piece of paper from the inside pocket of his coat. "Ian was sure this was the only thing that'd convince you," Ollie added as he handed the fax over and watched as Marc unfolded it awkwardly with one hand, the other gripping his cane tightly.
"He's right, you should have lead with this," Marc quipped back before giving Ollie a rough tap on the back of his ginger head.
"Really?"
"Yup," Marc grinned menacingly as he threw the photo back at Ollie before heading off across the bar's large parking lot towards the motel across from the bar. "We'd be on the plane already," Marc joked as the startled Ollie rushed to catch up.
"Wait, where are you going?" Ollie asked confused as he raced off after Agent Denam, who was going surprisingly fast now for a man so dependent upon a cane.
"To pack," Agent Denam grinned over his shoulder.
"…Because of a quick glance at a photo? I don't get it?" Ollie shouted really confused now.
"Yes, because of a quick glance at a photo," Marc replied cryptically as he reached his motel room and dashed inside. "I knew my instincts about Ian were right, who else would have known!"
"Known what?!"
"That the second I saw the photo that I'd see what the others didn't," Marc laughed, truly excited about something for the first time in a year. It may just be the adrenaline pumping but Marc finally felt alive again and not just some shadow or diluted version of himself. He was the badass ATF Agent again, the brave man who saved the British Consulate and the stupid one who volunteered to sit on a bomb and somehow survived.
"And what did Ian see that he knew only you would see?" Ollie puffed out as he flopped down exhaustedly on the motel's stiff couch, if he'd known he was going to have to run between blocks he would have stretched first.
"That it's a mobile phone not a remote," Marc ginned as Ollie scrambled in his coat for the picture and held it up against the room's bad neon lighting.
"Holy crap," Ollie swore as he finally saw it. "You mean…"
"Yup," Marc grinned at Ollie as he pulled a large duffle bag from the closet and started throwing clothes in. "The real bomber's still out there."