"Dude, if you keep making that facial expression, you're gonna get stuck."

Oz snarked from the driver's seat of the ambulance, words mumbly due to the granola bar he was munching on. Toby's face did hold a screwed up expression, eyebrows knit together and mouth dragged into a deep frown, though it wasn't intentional. It was the end of a ten hour shift, the third that week, and coupled with the IIB responsibilities he had, it was no surprise he was making a face. His head was killing him.

Oz peered over again at his partner's non-response.

"Toby?" He questioned and the psychic took a deep inhale, stirred by his friend's genuine worry.

"I think that myth was debunked a long time ago, Oz." He kept his eyes shut and leaned his head back, massaging his neck gently. "Most eight year olds have it figured out." The rhythmic beat of the song on the radio bounced around in his brain. He fought another grimace.

"Hey, don't discount the intelligence of children. My step-cousin's daughter once beat me at a math minute." Oz took another bite of his granola bar. "I didn't live that down for a whole year."

"Mhmm." He responded, though not fully processing what his friend had said. The throbbing was getting worse––he practically feel his heartbeat against his eardrums.

"Toby." Oz urged once again. Toby didn't respond, instead gripping the arm of his seat to satiate some of the pain. The streetlights out the window whizzed by, each light seeping through his shut eyelids causing the migraine to get worse.

I should call Liv. Maybe she'll get on his case about getting more sleep. Oz's thoughts pushed past his boundary, which was beginning to crumble under his migraine.

"No, no Liv, please, can we just…" He struggled to force words out. "Let's head to the station. We're almost done anyway, right?" Toby forced his eyes open, finally getting a look at Oz. He was gripping the steering wheel hard.

His partner squinted. "Fine." If he weren't as pale as a sheet right now, I'd give him shit for reading me. The paramedic's thoughts continued to pierce his boundary against his will.

Oz's gaze slid over to Toby, catching his partner's stare. He rolled his eyes.

"C'mon man. You said you wouldn't." And immediately guilt washed over Toby's conscience and he shut his eyes once more, pressing his palms deep into his eye sockets to alleviate his headache. Oz was always quick to remind Toby to, politely, stay out of his head.

"Sorry, sorry. Its just…" He waved a limp hand by his temple. "This is making it worse. It's harder to concentrate."

"This?" Oz quoted.

"My head is killing me. Did I not mention that?"

"No, you didn't, but the fact that you look like you're about to keel over doesn't make it hard to guess." He paused. "Are you sure you don't want the hospital? Liv would be happy—"

"I'm sure." He interrupted, taking another deep inhale. "It'll uh…it won't be good…now. Too many people." Toby dropped his hands on his lap and clenched his teeth.

Shit, I didn't even think about that. Oz thought, and Toby resisted responding to it.

Oz sighed. "That's alright man. I get it. We'll be at the station in fifteen." Toby nodded and started taking regular deep breaths. It helped. A little.

But the universe had other plans in store and soon the dispatch radio crackled to life.

"University 21, respond." Carly's voice came over the radio. His eyes snapped open and he looked over at it.

Migraine or end of shift be damned, he wasn't going to avoid a call just cause he wasn't feeling up to it.

Toby, don't you dare. Oz warned from the driver's seat. But he was far behind Toby's determination, and the paramedic snatched the radio from the holder, turning the pop music off as he did.

"Uni 21, what's the report?" He responded back and Toby didn't miss Oz's grumbling in disapproval.

"Code 3, level 40, 4712 East Waterford street. Caller described massive head trauma, the patient was unconscious by the time of call."

"We're on our way." He said, switching off the radio.

"Toby…" Oz cautioned. He ignored his friend, instead leaning over and switching the sirens and lights on.

"I'll be fine, let's go." The adrenaline had pushed away some of his pain and he stared dead ahead at the street as Oz drove to their destination.


Oz pulled over to the side of the road in front of the house with their call. On approach, Toby's nerves began to rise as he saw copious amounts of cars parked along the road and filling the driveway. There was a sign out front that said "Happy birthday Hannah!", along with balloons adorning the entryway. Toby and Oz hopped out of the truck quickly, bags in hand.

The door was propped open and a woman with shaking hands stood by as they approached.

"Oh thank god, you're here." She spoke through tears. "He was carrying the presents up the stairs but he fell back and hit his head on the tile." She gestured just inside the door where Toby and Oz discovered the patient surrounded by a dozen or so worried patrons. Music played through unseen speakers, and Toby and Oz immediately knelt down by the older man.

"Pupils blown wide, pulse is steady at least." Oz spoke as Toby unwrapped the blood pressure strap and fixed it to his arm.

"Is he going to be okay?" One of the strangers asked.

"BP is 140 and dropping fast, something's bleeding we can't see. We gotta get him a CT now." Toby ignored the woman.

"Just let us do our jobs, ma'am." Oz spoke as he darted out the door to grab the stretcher. Toby began wrapping the head wound with gauze.

Oh god, this is all anyone is going to talk about now.

How did he even fall, he wasn't even carrying that much?

Not what I expected, but, I suppose that's that.

Toby inhaled sharply and clenched his teeth for a moment, desperately attempting to block out the voices. But it wasn't working.

Crap, I think he parked me in.

I hope he'll be okay, he's been doing so well since he started his meds.

Please be okay, please, please please.

That EMT guy is kinda hot.

There's still a few pieces of cake left.

Toby groaned slightly, attempting to keep a lid on both the searing pain which had returned ferociously and the overlapping voices, each of which felt like individual punches to the face. He maintained pressure on the gauze by the wound, angling his head in awkward positions as he worked to bring his barrier back.

Please, just be quiet! He thought to himself desperately, hoping his own thoughts would drown out the others.

Oz entered with the stretcher, collapsing it to the floor. He seemed to quickly catch onto Toby's state.

"Toby?" He prodded but Toby simply shook his head, eyes still shut.

"Too many people?" Oz quoted, and he managed a short nod.

Oz acted quickly. "Ladies and gentleman, please give me and my partner some space." He instructed and Toby heard a pattering of steps as the voices softened slightly. They were still there but the further proximity limited the frequency.

"Better?" Oz asked when he rejoined Toby on the ground.

"Yeah. Let's get this guy up. On three…" Toby counted down and they heaved the older gentleman onto the stretcher before raising it up.

"We can take one person, who's family or a close friend?" Oz asked as Toby began pushing the man through the door.

"I'm Hannah, he's my dad." The woman who greeted them spoke up, voice still hoarse from crying.

"Okay Hannah, you're coming with us." He guided the woman out the door, and Toby was glad to be leaving the large group of party-goers.

They loaded their patient into the truck, Toby in the back with Hannah, and Oz up front. Oz began heading to the hospital while Toby hooked the man up to the IV. His headache still thrummed behind his eyes.

Why did they ask me to come? What am I supposed to do but sit here and worry? Oh, god, Dad. Her thoughts ate away into the silence and, at Toby's inability to shut them out, he started talking to Hannah.

"Hannah, we need to know if your father has any pre-existing medical conditions or anything that may complicate his treatment." He spoke slowly, as he hooked the man up to a heart monitor.

"What? Oh…" She composed herself. "Uh, well he's been a smoker for 40 years. Uh…he's allergic to shellfish?" She laughed at her own statement as did Toby.

"I'll make sure to keep any oysters out of the operating room." He hesitated, thinking back to the stray thought about medications.

"Any medications?" He prodded.

"Oh right, he's been on an antipsychotic recently. He's…having some mental issues. The doctors say it's an early stage of Alzheimer's but he says he just feel like his mind isn't big enough for his thoughts." She explained and Toby nodded.

"Do you happen to know what it's called?"

"Donepezil. He takes it everyday."

Suddenly, the ambulance hit a serious bump that rattled all their equipment. It almost threw Toby out of his seat.

"Oz!"

"Sorry, sorry! Pothole! You good?" He questioned and Toby surveyed their surroundings.

"Yeah we're fine…" Which was true, except for one thing. Their patient's eyes were open.

"Sir? Sir can you hear me?" He leaned over and looked at the man, who's eyes were darting around as his mouth slowly opened in attempt to speak.

"Oh my god, Dad!" Hannah leaned over as well and grasped his hand.

"What's his name?"

"Pierce!" Hannah gasped between tears.

"Pierce, we're taking you to the hospital. Are you in any pain?" Toby asked, and again his ability to push away thoughts betrayed him.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Pain, pain, pain, pain. Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Help me!

The man was practically screaming in his brain; the force of it almost threw Toby back. He shut his eyes and moaned from pain as the man's thoughts kept repeating in his head.

Help me! Help me! Help me! Help me! Help me!

"Agh!" He grabbed his head and dug his fingers into his skull. It was so much force, he'd only felt this type of feeling once before. The only time he could recall…was when he was in the presence of another telepath. With Iris.

He snapped his eyes open and stared dead into this mans eyes. All he saw was glaze. But he still heard him, still felt his presence plateauing in his own mind. It was raw power, lashing out in agony and fear. And it was causing him pain.

The last time he'd been around another like him, he'd only attempted to speak to her once. But now, as his pain exponentiated and his desperation peaked, did he summon the will to try again. He stared at this stranger and pushed.

STOP.

And everything jerked sideways, so much so Toby actually fell from his seat. Their supplies tumbled from the shelves above and Hannah groaned as she clutched her shoulder. It took Toby a moment to realize the sudden shift was due to the ambulance braking very rapidly.

Oz whipped around in his chair.

"Jesus Toby, what's wrong?" He questioned, worry wrought across his face. They were stopped on the side of a busy road, lights still flashing but no sirens. Oz searched his expression for answers as Toby reeled slightly.

The man's voice was gone. As was his pain from earlier. All that was left was a hazy fog in his mind.

"Wha…why….why did we stop?" He asked dazedly and Oz looked at him like he had three heads.

"Why? Because you yelled at me to! Is he okay, what happened?" Oz questioned, unbuckling from the seat and joining them in the back.

"He uh…he woke up." Toby was trying to swim through the fog in his mind, as Oz checked on the vitals of their patient.

"Sir, can you hear me?" Oz asked the older man and was only met with the same glazed over eyes Toby saw.

"He's not processing, Toby, we need to get him to the hospital and see if he's bleeding internally." Oz pocketed his flashlight.

"Is he okay?" Hannah croaked up, still holding her shoulder.

"We don't know." Toby answered, still woozy.

"Then why did you say stop?" She asked, and finally, Toby had gained enough awareness to remember what had just happened.

"I…I didn't say anything." He voiced and she furrowed her brows.

"Uh, yeah you did, dude." Oz barked from the front seat as he shifted the truck into drive once more. Toby met his gaze in the rearview, speechless.

"Can you check on her shoulder?" Oz prompted and something finally snapped within him. His paramedic impulses returned and he moved to sit next to Hannah; he started flexing and moving her arm to check for injuries. Luckily, there appeared to be none.

"We're good here." He reported, the mental fog having lifted finally.

The rest of the ride was silent, save for the ambulance sirens. Toby regularly checked on the older man's vitals, grateful to not be hearing a lick of telepathic interference from him. And when he wasn't focused on being a paramedic, his mind raced to comprehend what had just occurred.

He hadn't said "stop". He'd thought "stop".

And they'd both heard it.


They were met in the trauma bay by a group of ER doctors ready to take the patient to a CT scan. Hannah was greeted by one of them, and she parted from Oz and Toby with barely a stray glance their direction.

Toby hung by the ambulance, arms crossed in deep contemplation. His foot tapped anxiously as Oz filled out the remaining paperwork inside.

They'd heard him. They'd heard him.

What the hell?!

Not a moment later did Oz exit the building, speed walking his direction.

"We are officially four minutes over shift, which means no more impromptu dispatch calls for you. pal. And while I drive us back to the station, you can tell me what the hell is going on." Toby opened his mouth but got cut off before he could even get a word out.

"And don't even try to say "I'm okay", you lie worse than a kid who opened their Christmas present a day early. Get in the truck." He demanded, ripping open the driver's seat door and slamming it behind him. Toby shuffled over to the other side, joining Oz in the truck.

His partner had his hands on the wheel, eyes staring daggers at the telepath as he entered.

Well Toby? I'm waiting? And Toby didn't need to look at Oz to tell he was doing that thing where he purposefully sent him sentences through his mind.

Oz wanted answers. Now.

"I thought you were going to drive us back to the station."

"I changed my mind. We're not leaving this parking spot until you tell me what happened back there." The leather squeezed under Oz's grip. "Please, Toby."

Toby cleared his throat, and figured to hell with it.

"I really didn't say anything, Oz."

"But—"

"I didn't." He sighed. "The guy, Hannah's dad? He was a telepath. Like Iris."

Oz's eyes widened. "Whoa. Really?"

"Yeah. He was in pain, he was scared. Hannah said he was on medication which was also probably messing with his powers. He was sending out just these waves of telepathic signals. That coupled with my headache, it was just…it was a lot."

Oz still looked confused. "Okay so, then…" He paused, waiting for an answer.

"I tried to push back. Mentally, I mean, I-I tried to silence what I was hearing, what he was saying. I'd never done anything like that before, but I was––I was desperate."

"And I looked at him. And I just thought…"stop"." He finished and Oz's mouth opened in confusion.

"You thought the word "stop"."

"Yes."

"But I heard…." He trailed off, face immediately falling into shock.

"Yeah. And so did Hannah."

Oz's expression shifted from shock into utter glee. "Toby. Holy shit Toby. You spoke in my mind."

"Oz––"

"No, dude, that is amazing! You like, you leveled up! That's what your headache was! Your freaky mind powers were getting stronger! You're full on Professor Xavier now!"

"Wha…isn't he bald?"

"Yes Toby. Yes he is." Oz's grin was wild and Toby wrapped his arms around himself.

"Can we just go to the station now?" He asked, hating the feeling of a spotlight on him. But Oz shook his head.

"No way dude, you're trying again." He insisted.

"What? No, Oz, I don't…I don't even know how I did that."

"It can't be that hard. Just do what you did before!" He urged, practically bouncing in his seat.

Toby looked him up and down. He really did want to head home and forget about this development for the night, but the curiosity was eating away at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine." He caved and Oz celebrated with a quick "Yes!". Toby shifted to look more at Oz.

"Okay, okay, just like, focus, on speaking in here. I'll try to be ready to receive you." He placed his fingertips on his temples and Toby huffed out a laugh.

"It definitely doesn't work like that." He explained, slowly starting to concentrate.

"You just said you don't know how you did it!" Oz defended.

"Alright, alright, just shhhh. Let me concentrate." He urged and Oz promptly stopped talking.

He reached out telepathically. The first thing he heard was his friend's thoughts, just like normal.

Okay just be ready Oz. Open your mind and beeeeee ready…

The feeling was a familiar reassurance that he wasn't completely in uncharted waters. He followed his friend's thoughts back to their source, allowing him to identify they were indeed coming from Oz himself. This was the point which he usually stopped reaching, when he pulled back into himself and brought up his barrier. But for now, he kept going.

He reached forward and eventually found something which felt extremely similar to his own barrier. A telepathic boundary from which Oz's thoughts were emanating from. They continued to chatter as Toby reached more and felt resistance. The boundary was strong, and so he switched from reaching to pushing.

It felt like pushing against a swinging door the wrong way. Swimming upstream against a strong river. Climbing up a mountain rather than riding the air currents down.

Where thoughts usually flowed readily outward, Toby was now pushing inwards. Something he'd never done because it was quite a lot of effort and it left him being bombarded with Oz's thoughts. As he pushed against his friend's barrier, more and more started hitting him. Not just Oz's current thoughts but flashes of things that Oz was subconsciously thinking about; the package he was waiting on, dinner plans with Sandy next Friday. The effort was giving him trouble and he had to block out all real world input and focus solely on this task.

He realized his jaw was clenched so hard his teeth were hurting, and he had to let some of that tension go to keep from injuring himself. With a few more moments of pushing, he felt like he just needed one final bit of momentum to propel him past the barrier. One last push to break through it.

And so he conjured one. And he pushed one last time.

Oz.

The release was euphoric and the effort subsided in an instant. Toby's entire body relaxed, all tension gone, and he exhaled deeply.

His friend, meanwhile, had practically jumped three feet in the air. "Whoa!" He called out from shock, hands flying to the arms of his chair.

"Whoa…whoa." Oz was breathing heavily, staring frightened at Toby. The telepath had a sly grin on his face.

"I guess it worked."

"You…your voice…" He continued to pant. "You were in my head." Oz stuck a shaky finger at his friend, who chuckled slightly.

Focusing again, he realized that intentionally pushing past Oz's boundary had left it open. The effort to push was almost negligible now and he could send another thought with the same amount of focus it took to read. Like he'd propped the door open with a door stop.

I thought you were getting ready! He said and Oz's eyes widened again.

"Haaa…that's…that's so weird. It sounds like you!" He hissed out his words.

"Because it is me."

"But it sounds like you…in my brain." He pointed at his own head. "I don't think I ever realized that my thoughts were in my voice until I heard someone else's voice in here." His words came out slightly shaky.

"Most people have their own voice, or at least a version of it." He explained. "But do you know what this means?" He questioned and Oz raised an eyebrow.

We can have entire conversations just in here now. Toby thought. Oz sucked in a sharp breath again, before the realization hit him.

Holy…who needs words anymore! Oz thought back and Toby grinned.

"Yeah, but if we don't want to look crazy in front of everyone, we should probably just stick to communicating the old fashioned way." He gestured slightly to the hoards of ER workers darting around their truck.

"Alrighty. Totes fair. Hoooo, that's still so weird." He shook his head and shifted the truck into gear.

"Yeah, well, welcome to my life. Let's head home." An idea came to him and he glanced at Oz for a minute.

And no speeding. He thought at his friend and Oz twitched violently.

"Gah! No, wait, you have to warn me before you do that!"


"And I was just driving along, when suddenly I just hear this guy absolutely bellow "Stop!". Totally out of character, so I slam on the breaks to see what's wrong. He's acting all weird, the patient is still out of it so I just turn straight back around and keep driving to the hospital. Right?" Oz was recounting their tale to Liv, who had come to visit the paramedics for a drink the following night. They'd experimented a little more with Toby's new ability, ultimately learning that, at the moment, he could only send words to Oz, not images or anything like Toby might read from other people.

They'd also decided to tell Liv. Well, Oz had declared they had to, and Toby had reluctantly agreed.

"Right, of course. But what's the kicker? You said there was a kicker." Liv asked, taking a sip from her wine glass.

Oz rose his eyebrows and tipsily gestured at Toby to explain. The psychic rolled his eyes.

Sure, leave me to explain it to her. He thought, and Oz stifled a laugh. During their practice, his friend had gotten over the initial weirdness with Toby's new ability to speak in his head, and they'd even managed to go a few hours without speaking out loud to really test the limits of his new capabilities.

No fatigue or any unsavory side effects to be found, which was always a plus. And he'd started to develop a habit of just speaking in his friends mind. Not that it was easier, but after a few hours of solely doing it, it came much more naturally.

Liv squinted at Oz, who had done a poor job of holding back his laugh. "What?"

Toby sighed. "I didn't actually say "stop" when Oz heard it. I thought it." He explained and Liv slowly sat back in her chair as she processed.

"You…"

"I telepathically transmitted it to him. And to the woman with us." He finished and Liv's face was stuck in contemplation.

"He spoke in my head!" Oz cried from next to her, which shook the doctor from her stupor. She wildly looked between the two of them.

"You…you can do that?" She asked desperately and Toby shrugged.

"I can now, I guess."

"Do her!" Oz cried, wagging a finger at Liv. Toby looked hesitant.

"No, I'm not gonna…no. I won't. Only if she wants me to." He reasoned and Oz pouted slightly.

"Aw, c'mon. Liv? Will you let him? Trust me, you get used to it. And its cool!" His inebriated state caused Toby to half-heartedly chuckle.

"I…I uhh…" Liv trailed off, slightly uncomfortable.

"I won't if you don't want me to. I promise." He calmed her nerves. She glanced once more at Oz, who was almost vibrating from excitement, downed the rest of her wine and dropped the glass on the coffee table.

"No. I want to try this. Especially if it's cool." She jabbed Oz in the ribs while he celebrated.

Toby sat up straighter. "Alright. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." She folded her arms and stared expectantly.

"Okay. It'll take me a minute to do it the first time but after that, I won't have any trouble doing it whenever. Are you okay with that?" He wanted to be completely transparent, and she merely tilted her head back and forth slightly

"You can already read me whenever. This doesn't seem that different." She reasoned. He nodded and shifted into a comfortable position to begin pushing.

He really is one of a kind. Liv's thoughts came to him when he started reaching, but he brushed them aside as he searched for her boundary. With the experience of Oz, he found it much quicker this time and began bracing to push against the barrier. Either hers was much thinner or he was simply learning how to do this, because he didn't need that much effort until he reached a point where he needed a final push. He stared intently at her and brought forth his words.

You look beautiful. The barrier flung open and Liv gasped, reaching to clasp Oz's hand from shock.

Toby? She squinted and he smiled softly.

Hi, Liv. He thought at her once more, which caused her to stand up quickly, still not letting Oz's hand go. He opened his mouth in mock pain from his arm being wrenched.

"Liv? You okay?" He stood to match her.

"That's…that's incredible." She voiced, finally letting the tipsy paramedic's hand drop.

"It's crazy, right?!" Oz called from his place on the couch. The two of them lowered back into their seats.

"I won't do it without you knowing, okay? I don't want to startle you or anything." He reassured, while she still examined him carefully.

She whipped her head towards Oz, contemplating. The paramedic looked confused by her demeanor.

"Can you do it between the three of us?" She asked, and Toby furrowed his brows.

"What?"

"If you can send your thoughts to me, and to Oz. And you can read both of ours. Can you send it to both of us at the same time? Create a space where all three of us can communicate?" Ever logical, she worked to test the limits of his powers.

"I…" He trailed off. "I mean…I could probably send the same thing to both of you. I don't see why not." Toby contemplated his own abilities as his friends watched.

"Try, real quick." She urged and Toby blinked quickly.

"Okay. Okay, I'll try." He mentally psyched himself up and watched both of them with concentration.

Shave and a haircut. He mentally duplicated the thought and sent it out, intending to breach both of their barriers. But he could feel that the technique faltered and instead Oz shuddered and readjusted, while Liv didn't move.

"Whoa…Toby…sheesh." He placed a hand on his temple.

"What? I didn't hear anything." Liv asked and Oz shook his hands and reopened his eyes.

"I got an overlapping jumble of something that sounded like "haircut". Little much."

"Sorry, Oz, you okay?" He reached forward but his friend blinked and smiled.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine now. Just…don't do that again." Toby looked at him with a hint of pity.

He inhaled and refocused his energy, trying once more.

Instead of duplicating the thought he was sending, he instead tried to massage the channel between his mind and their boundaries into one. He managed, after ten or so seconds of mental gymnastics, to get it into a state where he could realistically send one thought out that would be transmitted to both of them. He tried the same thing once more.

Shave and a haircut. The thought drifted slowly into their minds and both of his friends reacted this time. Liv smiled and Oz simply looked relieved.

Two bits. Two bits. The responses came back at the same time, which wasn't perfect, but was a proof of concept that it worked.

"Well, I guess I can do that." He felt proud of himself and Oz reached out for a high-five. Liv, meanwhile, frowned slightly.

"But I didn't hear Oz." She voiced and Toby looked confused.

"What?"

"I meant…like a mental space, where all three of us could hear each other." She explained.

"Oh." He blinked. "Liv, I don't think I can do that. That would mean you and Oz would have to read each other." His partner seemed shocked by the concept.

She seemed determined. "Is there a way you can make it so we can?" She queried and Toby almost wanted to scoff.

"I have…I have no idea."

"Well, try!" She pressured playfully, and Toby looked at her incredulously. "You'll never know unless you do."

He chewed his lip. "Fine. I guess I can try." He repositioned and centered himself to focus again.

Bringing back the channel which let him send thoughts to both of them, he realized he only needed to bridge the gap between their two boundaries. As long as he was in connection with them, he could push back the boundaries between the two of them and allow for full communication.

It took some effort. Toby's fingers dug into the couch cushion as he simultaneously attempted to open their barriers to each other. With one final push, he sent out a message to blow the doors wide open.

Testing, 1, 2, 3. He sent out and again, both of them visually reacted. He grinned.

Okay, now one of you try.

Liv looked over at Oz. Oz? She thought and for the second time in as many days, his friend's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

Yep, I heard that and it is still just as weird. Sup, Liv. He thought back and Liv similarly looked freaked.

This is actually crazy. It's like a telepathic FaceTime call! She compared and Toby chuckled.

"I guess that's one way to put it." He took a sip of his beer. "It will only work if I'm here to help. No mind reading while I'm not around, unfortunately."

They spent the rest of the night testing range and, once again, sending images. Oz could walk all the way down the block before Toby's connection severed and their three-way telepathic communication faltered. And Oz and Liv were only able to hear thoughts that were sent purposefully, rather than probing for anything they wanted like Toby could. But he still couldn't send or receive images from either of them.

The bottle of Chianti was empty by the time Oz passed out, in the middle of their game of mind-reading charades.

The next day he sat in the IIB office, tapping his pen against his desk, musing on the events of last night. He should probably tell Dev, Michelle and…and even Klein, right? They were his team, and if he had these new abilities, it'd be necessary for them to know so they could all do their job better. And it wasn't like he wanted to keep it from them it was just…

Klein had just learned what Toby could do. Their task force was barely a month into existence. And Toby barely knew the guy; the whole "looping him in on the mind-reading" aspect of their work was still new territory. So he felt a little bit…hesitant.

At that moment, Dev walked up with a coffee and a bagel stuck in his mouth as he flipped through a case file. Toby barely glanced over at his friend, before he was struck with a moment of respite; he definitely wanted to show off to him, and even more so Michelle. And if he was going to tell them, then Klein had a right to know to. They were a team. It was only fair.

Dev noticed his odd look and bit down on his bagel.

"Toby? You good?" He uttered through chewing.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Is Michelle here yet?"

"We were just in a meeting, she was talking to Klein last I saw."

"He's here today?" Toby asked, sheepish. Dev quirked an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah. Just like everyday." He scanned Toby up and down. "Why?"

"Nothing, it's just…" He rasped out words, desperately attempting to come up with a quick lie.

"You gonna try to come up with a sentence there, man?"

"I'm working on it, hold on!" He joked and Dev rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you wanna see Klein?" At the mention of the man, both he and Michelle walked up behind Dev. The hacker straightened quickly.

"Should my ears be burning Corporal?" The chief joked, taking a sly drink of his coffee. Dev cleared his throat.

"Oh, no, sir…" Dev similarly attempted to cover, but he trailed off and looked at Toby for help. The paramedic sighed and decided to just bite the bullet.

"Okay. I gotta show you guys something." He gestured with his head to the conference room, and the three of them followed.

"What's this about, Toby?" Michelle, ever curious, folded her arms. Toby leaned forward and planted his hands on the table.

"Look, it'll probably be easier to show you guys rather than explain it right out. But it means…I'm gonna have to read you very briefly. Are you all okay with that?" He explained. Dev shifted in his spot, but nodded almost immediately.

"Yeah, go ahead."

Michelle and Klein were less ready. Michelle gripped her forearms and lowered her head, avoiding eye contact. Klein's jaw worked, as he clenched his coffee cup and blinked rapidly.

"Oz and I figured out something…new I could do. I just wanted to show you." He bit back the giddy smile that was creeping across his face, his excitement over his new abilities not having worn off. Michelle cleared her throat.

"Okay. Sure." She nodded too. All three of them looked over at Klein.

He grumbled and set the styrofoam cup down. "Only briefly you said?"

"Yes sir."

"Fine." He didn't look 100% comfortable but Toby took it as a sign to just proceed.

"Alright. Just give me a few seconds to concentrate." He took a deep breath, just as he saw Michelle bite her cheek, clearly damping the urge to ask more questions. Toby shut his eyes.

Once again, he sent out a telepathic sweep to his colleagues. Their thoughts all bombarded him at the same time, jumbling the words together in an incomprehensible mess. He inhaled shakily and focused on Michelle to start.

Toby, you better not go digging. He chuckled softly at the statement and did the same process of breaking down her barrier. The effort was exponentially less than it was even with Liv––he was honing this skill fast. Before he knew it, he'd already opened her channel up in the same way as before. He held onto it and pivoted to both Dev and Klein, merging their thoughts into a unified stream. They didn't know it yet, but if they tried to speak with each other using their thoughts, they'd be able to. He opened his eyes.

"Okay. You ready?" He was met with all three of their confused faces once more.

"For what?" Dev asked and Toby couldn't help his sly smirk.

This. And immediately their expressions dropped, into shock and astonishment. He was glad both Dev and Klein had set their coffee cups down, sparing the carpet from a stain caused by slack-jawed awe. Toby was half-expecting a more violent reaction from any of them, but they all just seemed…frozen. Stuck in their own bewilderment.

"Are you guys okay?" He said, and Dev was the first to come out of his trance with a shaky finger.

"You…you were…you were in my head." He choked out. "Your voice was in my head."

"Told you I learned something new." He pressed his lips together in a shy grin.

"What is…you…you can…send your thoughts to us now?" Michelle's eyebrows were still far up her forehead, but she was managing to work out some of the logistics. Props to her.

"Yeah. I figured out how to communicate telepathically. And…"

You guys can send stuff too. He thought and Klein's hand raced up to his temple, gasping slightly.

"Holy, Logan, you gotta give us some warning." He managed words for the first time since he'd opened his channel.

Toby huffed. "Sorry sir."

"What do you mean we can "send" stuff?" Michelle demanded, as Dev and Klein's eyes remained fixated on Toby in shock.

I mean, think of it as a group FaceTime call. Where I can say stuff to all of you at once. And so can you. He finished and Dev's eyes managed to go wider.

"Wait…like…" He said before squinting deliberately, screwing his face in concentration.

Like this? He tried and Klein clutched his chest as he gasped.

"Clark! Jesus!" He stumbled back and Michelle's hand shot out reflexively, catching him on the back before he toppled over backwards. She barely seemed to register her own movement, pupils darting back and forth as she stared vacantly at the table.

"That's new." She uttered, monotonous and distant, as if her voice was disconnected from her body. Her gaze had fallen away from Toby's and she was still avoiding eye contact.

"Michelle." He rounded the table slightly to walk up to her. "I know it's freaky. Trust me, I know hearing me in your head just makes everything so much weirder—" He started, but she held up a hand to shush him.

"No, not that." She still stared at the table, flicking her fingers idly. "I just thought we knew everything about what you could do." Michelle's shoulders tightened and she finally managed to make eye contact again.

"So this is just…well I'm wrapping my head around the fact that we may never know everything. About this." She gestured softly to his head.

"You mean that you'll never know everything." Dev butt in and Michelle scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it." He said poignantly and Michelle's face dropped into slight horror. Toby quickly jumped in.

"No—he's joking, he can't read you. I'm still the only one who can do that. Only thing you will be able to do when I'm…facilitating is speak to each other." He shot Dev a quick "really" glare, and the man held his hands back in defense.

"Alright, well…this certainly adds a layer of…complexity. Thanks for telling us Logan." Klein, who had seemingly regained his calm and collected composure, smoothed over his tie as he spoke.

Toby nodded. "Of course, sir." Klein shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat.

So…is this thing still on? He thought and Dev beamed.

Heard you loud and clear, sir. Michelle? Dev looked her way and Michelle tightened her already crossed arms.

"I uh…how…how do I…" Her unsure demeanor was strange to see on the usually confident agent. Toby softened his gaze.

Just think a specific sentence. Like you're reading a paragraph in a book. He explained and Michelle nodded quickly.

Furrowing her eyebrows intently, she stared directly at Dev's forehead. Toby bit back a small laugh.

"You know you don't have to—"

Can you hear me? Her voice rung out along the shared connection and Klein finally managed not to flinch that time.

Dev smiled a toothy grin. This is gonna be so cool.


A few days later, Toby was twiddling his thumbs in the IIB office. Work was slow this week, but he was still expected to show up despite the team not needing a telepath at the moment. Their recent suspect broke under the normal amount of interrogation, leaving Klein to deal with setting up a trial, Dev and Michelle filling out paperwork, and Toby with squat to occupy himself with. He flipped through some case files to try and stave away the ennui, but his eyes were glazed over from all the reading. He leaned back in his chair, arching his body in a stretch.

As if the universe pitied his boredom, his phone buzzed on the desk. He picked up, catching Liv's name on the caller id.

"Hey Liv. How're you doing?" He greeted, a smile creeping across his face.

"Toby, hi." Her voice came through, but it was clear from her tone that she wasn't matching his mood.

A panicked alarm suddenly went off in his brain. "Liv? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine Toby, it's just…" She trailed off, the call going silent for a moment.

"The telepath guy, you asked me to check up on him when he woke up."

"Of course." It was true. Pierce Sullivan had been unconscious/unaware for Toby's entire interaction with him. But the notion of meeting another telepath, one who might be struggling with their abilities if his medication were any indication, meant Toby had wanted to speak to him as soon as he was able. He'd asked Liv to call him when the man was awake and ready to talk.

"I'm…I'm sorry Toby. He's dead." Liv's voice crackled through the speaker, and his heart sank. Another opportunity to find someone like him, connect with someone like him. Just gone. He lowered his head and pushed away his grief.

"Dammit." He whispered.

"There's something else, Toby. They're opening an investigation." Liv continued and Toby's head shot up.

"What?"

"They're saying it's an opioid overdose. I'm not his doctor so I don't know too many details but…I snuck a look at his tox sheet and it was morphine. Like someone turned his drip up."

"You're saying someone killed him?" He could barely believe what he was hearing.

"I'm saying that's what his doctor's think. I overheard the nurses talking about seeing the Chief of Surgery meeting with a cop. They're gonna audit the security department for the tapes next week." She explained and Toby drummed his fingers on his desk.

"Hm."

"Toby, I told you because he was…like you. Not because I wanted you to involve yourself with another murder mystery." She accused.

"Hey, involving myself in murder mysteries is my part-time job. And there's not much I can do, this isn't the IIB's case." He glanced around to see if anyone was listening. "But that's never really stopped me before."

Liv groaned. "Ugh, I knew this was coming. Just be careful, okay?"

"When am I not careful?"

"Don't make me answer that." She deadpanned before the call hung up, leaving Toby alone to chuckle at his own joke.

After lunch, he explained the situation to Dev and Michelle. Klein was still downtown dealing with legal proceedings, meaning he felt more comfortable posing a slight abuse of IIB power.

"I know it's not our case but I thought we could use some of our…resources to do a little digging." He pitched to his team.

"I can run a background check. And Toby, you and Michelle parse through some phone records, see if there's any repeat calls to and from his phone that are out of the ordinary." Dev was already typing on his tablet.

Michelle didn't look so convinced. "You're so ready to work this, huh Dev." She needled him, but the agent shrugged.

"When have we not done stuff like this? C'mon Michelle, one of four telepaths we know about was murdered. Don't you think it might be important to know why?" He argued, and Toby internally thanked the man for having his back.

Michelle rolled her eyes. "I guess you have a point. Dev, if you can give me some bank and phone records, we'll see what we can do."

By the end of the day, they'd narrowed down Pierce Sullivan's list of associates to two people of interest. Dev had gone mildly insane sorting through credit card records (something something "this bank needs to update their digital filing system!") while he and Michelle cross-referenced calls made in the last six months with any interesting details dug up through internet history and background check information.

"So, first thing tomorrow, I want to stop by this restaurant, uh, Wings 'n Stuff." Michelle grimaced at the name, but continued. "It's got a rep for being a popular drug deal spot, and Pierce made two purchases there within the past month. That, combined with Dev's search on this phone number he called…" She paused, tapping her finger on one of their many documents spread across the table.

"Which is a match for one we have on a list of numbers of suspicious individuals. This one in particular for a guy who's only alias is "Jeter". No other info other than that name and suspicion of possession." Michelle finished explaining, idly stacking and organizing some of the papers strewn about. Dev had his head resting on the table, hand gripping an open cup of coffee. He mumbled out a response.

"I would like to place a formal request to sue Liberty Bank for gross negligence of their online file maintenance" His words were barely audible, blocked by his crossed arms his head was resting behind. Toby snorted, as Michelle rolled her eyes.

"Request noted." She dryly remarked, as Toby leaned forward and pointed at the paper she had referred to.

"So we think Pierce was buying drugs from this guy?"

Michelle shrugged. "Could be buying, or maybe selling and Jeter was just a contact. At least we have the location, we'll see what we can get from them tomorrow morning."

"And the other guy?" Dev raised his head, squinting from the brightness of the lights.

"Lance Goyevski, he runs the Rustic, it's a casino out in Lambton Mill. Based on the background check, he's got prior associations with the Russian mob, a cartel down in Mexico and some gangs based stateside. He's clean now, supposedly, but Pierce has a lot of calls to the Rustic's public line within the past two months." Toby explained.

Dev leaned forward and skimmed the paper. "He hasn't checked in with his parole officer, according to this. I can use that as grounds for a stop-by at least, float the fact that a guy who ended up dead was trying to contact him like, two days ago."

Michelle frowned, crossing her arms. "Mmm, I wouldn't want you poking around his place alone. I'll sweat Goyevski, why don't you go with Toby to the…to Wings 'n Stuff," she shook her head, and Toby resisted snorting at his colleague again, "and see if you can ask some leading questions for a read."

Dev raised an eyebrow. "You sure you'll be okay alone with this guy?"

"You're really asking that?" Michelle challenged, a sly look in her eyes. Toby slapped the table victoriously.

"Loving the teamwork guys." He joked and both of them laughed softly.


Wings 'n Stuff was grimy and empty when Dev and Toby walked in a little after nine in the morning. A familiar pop song played out of the ceiling speakers, a tired cashier scrolled on her phone behind the counter, and the nauseating aroma of cheap fried chicken made Toby's empty stomach unhappy. He should've at least gotten a bagel before they stopped here.

What's the play here? Dev asked, shooting Toby a very odd and pointed look as he directed his thoughts towards him. He'd asked for Toby to "open a line" between them before they'd entered, in case Toby wanted to swerve the conversation in any particular direction based on the reads he got. Dev had gotten his giddiness at the new ability out in the car, but was still maintaining strange facial expressions whenever he sent a thought to Toby.

The telepath nudged him. Don't make that face, you look constipated. Dev frowned at the comment.

Just ask what you'd normally ask and I'll tell you if there's something specific to say. He finished, right as they walked up to the counter.

Dev cleared his throat, getting the cashier's attention. She dropped her phone and quickly plastered on an obviously fake smile.

"Hi, welcome in, what can I get started for ya?" She asked, too many teeth in her grin. Her name tag said "Kenzie", and she watched as Dev lifted his badge.

"We're with the IIB ma'am. We're investigating a possible suspicious individual at this location in relation to an," he cleared his throat. "Ongoing investigation." Dev's smile suddenly mirrored hers.

There was no "ongoing investigation", at the IIB at least. But she didn't need to know that.

Kenzie didn't seem worried or troubled, but she did drop her facade. "Oh. Okay. Whatever you need to know."

At that moment, Toby focused on her thoughts.

Christ, I can't get fired for talking to the cops, right? She thought, but nothing in her expression betrayed any indication of her worry.

"Do you recognize this man?" Dev held out his phone with Pierce Sullivan's ID photo. Kenzie shook her head.

"Never seen him before." And Toby verified her statement, as in the moment, she thought not that I remember much from my shifts, but if anyone with enough money for a polo like that stepped foot in here, we'd have been talking about it.

"Okay, well are you familiar with anyone named Jeter?" He asked, pocketing his phone. Kenzie raised an eyebrow.

"Jeter? Uh, no, sorry." She responded, glancing between the two of them. Toby hadn't said a word since they walked up, so he did his best to look nonchalant.

He was about to read her to verify her response, before she deadpanned both of them. "Wait, Jeter? Spelled with one t?"

Dev and Toby glanced at each other, both confused by the question. Toby nodded, and went to read her before she responded.

Oh god, I'm definitely getting fired if I point them to Derek. God, of course he's been doing something shady!

At her sudden mental panic, Toby pushed past more of her mental boundary and attempted to get an image of whoever "Derek" was. He was hit with a flash of a similar uniform to hers, indicating another employee, and the name tag said Derek. Except his tag had the word "Manager" above his name; before Toby could get a face, the image vanished.

"…thought I'd heard it, but I think I'm thinking of something else. Sorry." He tuned back in to catch the tail end of Kenzie's sentence. With a raised eyebrow, he sent a message to Dev.

Ask about her manager. His name's Derek. He instructed, and Dev flinched ever so slightly at the sudden appearance of Toby's words in his mind

"What about your manager? We have a name…Derek? Could we speak with him?" Dev made a show of checking his phone, pretending as if the name were written down. Kenzie blanched slightly but kept a lid on her external worrying.

"Uh, no I think he's off today. Freema is in the back, if you want to talk to her?" She jutted behind her with her thumb, still doing a surprisingly good job of hiding her concern. Toby read her once more.

That dumbass couldn't come up with a better alias than a freaking Yankees player? What's wrong with him?

Toby lifted a hand to hide his smile. Dev side-eyed him.

Do we need to interview this other manager or am I correct in assuming Derek is our guy? His colleague's thoughts pierced his mind.

You're correct, but we should probably still talk to her so Kenzie doesn't think we made her and spook our ballplayer too much.

Ballplayer?

You've never heard of Derek Jeter?

They did the usual routine with the other manager, but Toby verified she was telling the truth when she said she didn't have any idea about anyone named Jeter. On the drive back to the office, Toby spent the time reading out Derek Jeter's twenty year history on the New York Yankees.

Apparently the guy held the records for most career hits by a shortstop. Toby kept that one in his pocket for the next trivia night.

When they got back to IIB, Michelle was still out, presumably interrogating their other lead. Dev did a quick check on the employees at Wings 'n Stuff, and got a full name of their possible contact for Pierce. Derek Hastings, manager of his location for two years. At least they had a picture now.

"We don't have any valid reason to bring him in or even track him down and question him." Dev explained later, while they were eating lunch. Toby nodded, annoyed.

"Cause the only reason we singled him out was because of a read."

"Right. But if we can get close to him and maybe get a read to actually give us information on what he's doing? If he's actually dealing or supplying or something else, then we can use that as a basis for an actual investigation."

Turns out Derek "Jeter" Hastings was working that day, and Kenzie had either misread the schedule or purposefully deceived them. Before Michelle got back from her gambling outing, the two of them headed back to Wings 'n Stuff to try and catch the guy going in for work. They sat in the car, munching on"stakeout snacks", as Dev had put it, waiting for their suspect to arrive. The hope was, with Kenzie's tip about two IIB agents snooping, he'd make a call that Toby could eavesdrop on from afar.

And that's exactly what happened. Derek rolled up to work twenty minutes late, shuffled into the building, before running out a few moments later. He whipped his phone out and Dev began typing on his laptop to run a totally justified trace on it. Toby closed his eyes and focused on reading him from a distance.

Shit, shit, shit, I'm so screwed! He heard first, in a truly panicked voice. Eavesdropping on a call was always hard; he could see Derek speaking on the phone, but there was no guarantee his thoughts would match with his conversation. It was a weird version of here-say.

I didn't even think to mention that he'd stop showing up! Why am I supposed to keep track of all my buyers? Toby raised an eyebrow at the thought, and focused on trying to get an image.

The images which came to him were jumbled, likely due to the distance, but he could see an exchange of money, and hear muffled voices. There was a flash of an orange pill bottle, the rattle of medicine against plastic, and finally Toby's luck was on his side as the memory showed faces. It was Derek receiving the cash, and the man buying the drugs was their telepath. Toby's eyes flew open.

"Got it. I got Pierce." He exclaimed to Dev, who was furiously typing, and didn't respond for a few seconds.

"Sorry, I'm listening and typing at the same time. Go on." He said, eyes not moving from the laptop screen.

Toby scoffed slightly. "He was buying drugs off Derek. I don't know what, it looked like a prescription bottle but I…the memory went by too fast. I couldn't read it."

"Well, figure it out in the next ninety seconds, because if he hangs up before then, we don't get a trace on this signal and whatever you got will be our only lead." Dev spoke once again, eyes still glued to his computer. The telepath frowned at the pressure but rallied.

He closed his eyes and focused on Derek, who was pacing back and forth on the phone by now.

Do they think I'm an idiot? Of course I used my alias! He thought, and dammit, this was not useful information right now!

He squinted out at the man, as an idea came to him. It was reckless, but as Dev's fingers flew across his keyboard, he could tell they were running out of time.

Toby inhaled and gripped his thighs. He shut his eyes once more and blocked out all of his other senses. By now, he felt like he had the hang of his new power, but there were still some unknowns. Like, could he open a channel on someone who didn't know him or trust him? Someone who was this far away?

Only one way to find out.

Toby reached out, his telepathic sense flying across the street towards Derek. He impacted with his barrier, the one that thoughts and images seeped out of, and began to push just like before. As with his team at the IIB, the barrier fell much easier than he was expecting. Despite the distance and unfamiliarity, Toby had just as deftly created a two way channel with this random drug dealer as he did with Michelle a few days ago.

He grit his teeth, watching Derek angrily yell over the phone, and went for it

What drug? Was all he said. Keep the intrusive, unfamiliar voice to a minimum, hopefully enough so Derek would brush it off. The man stiffened and whirled around, like he'd thought the alien voice in his head was a person standing behind him. A good enough explanation for someone who wasn't considering telepathy.

Derek spun around quickly, lowering his phone as he searched. At that moment, Toby once again listened to his thoughts.

Jesus, I need to stop smoking before bed. Perphenazine, I knew that.

Derek's thoughts drifted back to his conversation, as Toby beamed. At the same moment, Dev fist pumped next to him, celebrating.

"Yes! I got an address for the cell he's talking to. Hopefully we can find an excuse to search this…shoe warehouse? Hm. Maybe it's where he gets his supply." Dev rambled on for a moment, before turning to Toby.

"Any luck?"

"Yeah." He paused, taking a moment to feel proud of himself. "I'm getting pretty good at this new thing." Toby tapped his temple as Dev's eyes widened.

"What? Wait, you mean…"

"He wasn't thinking about the drug, so, I went in and prompted him to." Toby forced down his own excitement. It felt good to be getting better at this.

Dev's jaw dropped. "Dude!"

"I know."

"But, dude."

"Trust me Dev, I know."


Toby was glued to his desk for the rest of the evening, making phone calls to Metro and explaining the intel they had. Dev started asking questions about their suspicious warehouse, and to their surprise, every cop they talked to instantly recognized it. Apparently, most departments knew something shady was going on there, but they'd been blocked from getting a warrant due to some red tape nonsense.

With the news there was actually probable cause and suspicion to search the premises, Dev and Toby had an abundance of people willing to join the raid team. It was scheduled for later that week.

He was finishing up some paperwork, resisting the urge to shut his eyes and take a quick nap, when Michelle stomped into the room and collapsed into her desk chair. Toby snapped awake, roused by her dramatics.

Toby wheeled his chair over next to her. "Michelle? You good?" He asked, a slight smile playing at his lips. The agent had her head lolled backwards and was grumbling softly.

"Mmmmm." She vocalized—that was her pissed off sound.

Dev peeked his head over the desk divider. "What happened?" He asked and, at that question, she groaned loudly.

"I hate pit bosses." She tipped forward and planted her face in her hands.

Toby squinted in confusion, and mouthed "pit bosses?" at Dev.

"Guy who manages the dealers at a casino. I take it Goyevski wasn't very hospitable?" He answered, walking his chair over to the two of them. Michelle huffed behind her palms.

"Actually, he was." She lifted her head, annoyance clear. "It just took him four hours to make the time to meet with me, and I couldn't leave to go occupy myself in the meantime because they had my car in the valet." Her fingers were clenched, a livid expression on her face. Toby attempted to push down his laugh, but failed when Dev snorted.

Michelle scoffed. "That is not funny!" She accused and Dev quickly composed himself.

"No of course it's not. It's serious, it's very serious." He nodded in emphasis and Toby tried not to laugh again.

"Dev!"

"Okay, okay, sorry. What did he tell you once you saw him?"

She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "Well, he seemed twitchy, but he was probably just nervous about being interviewed by an IIB agent. He gave me a whole tour of the facility and everything, even his law-abiding state-licensed backroom card games."

"Poker?" Toby clarified.

"Mmhmm. Everyone's got a hobby." She fiddled with a paperclip on her desk. "When I asked about Pierce, he didn't recognize the name immediately. But he had one of his guys look up the name in their records—apparently he was a regular at some of the tables. Blackjack was what he noted."

"Interesting of him to play a game where telepathy wouldn't benefit him at all." Dev pointed out.

Toby drummed his fingers. "Why all the calls though? Last time I was in Vegas, I wasn't reaching out to the hotel every other week." It was a weak joke but Dev chuckled at least—nice of him.

"Apparently there was a scuffle with another player one night. Things got heated, both of them were escorted out, and Pierce was calling to try to get a copy of the security tapes so he could file an assault charge." Michelle urged, and that info peaked Toby's interest.

"Cops needed them?"

"Supposedly. Goyevski said he and his staff would only give the tapes over to the police directly, and he just never got a call from them, so nothing ever happened. Pierce kept calling though."

Dev furrowed his brows. "So the cops wouldn't file an assault charge without the security tapes, but there was never a request for the tapes? It was just Pierce?" He worked out and yeah—

"Something's fishy here." Toby voiced and both of them nodded along.

"I had the same thought, so I asked to see the tapes. Goyevski was happy to comply with the proper authorities, as he put it." She scoffed and turned to her computer to pull up her email.

After a few moments, she downloaded a file and played it. The video was silent, but showed a clip of two men being walked through the floor of the casino, escorted by a few security guards each holding their shoulders and arms. Both of their faces were visible; the first man was Pierce himself, a deep scowl wrought across his mouth. And the second—

"I recognize him." He pointed aggressively as the men exited the frame. Michelle's swiveled abruptly.

"You do?"

"Yeah, yeah, he was…god, where do I know him from?" He racked his brain desperately as Dev took over control of the computer.

"Lemme run a facial check." He tapped away at the keys as Toby zoned out and attempted to recall why their new face was so familiar.

"Weird he wants tapes for an assault charge where the actual assault isn't even shown…" Michelle voiced, mostly to herself, before Dev interjected.

"Got it. Jamal Richardson. And…oh. Interesting." Dev backed away from the computer and gestured.

"Well, we got one confirmed lie from Goyevski. Pierce's scuffle was with an employee of the Rustic. Not a customer. Guy's been working at this place for three years." He read over the profile briefly. Toby was barely listening.

"Okay, so that might explain why Goyevski was hesitant to hand over the tapes directly to Pierce, and why he lied to me. But that doesn't explain—" Michelle's reasoning was interrupted by Dev's hearty laugh.

"Oh, this is good. Look what is job title is on his LinkedIn." He pointed aggressively to the screen and Toby leaned forward.

"Poker Dealer." He quoted, and he suddenly understood Dev's pleasure.

"Which means Pierce wasn't playing blackjack. He was playing poker."

"And he was probably very good at it, if he was, y'know. Like you." Michelle poked at him softly and Toby rolled his eyes.

"It's never that simple."

"Of course it isn't." She sighed. "Well, if he was…let's just say card counting," she nervously glanced around, "at these poker games, then that would explain why he got thrown out. And why he'd be motivated for an assault charge."

Toby squinted and shook his head. Stuff still wasn't adding up.

"But why wouldn't the police file a requisition of the tapes at Pierce's charge? Why would Goyevski say that he was playing blackjack instead of poker? And would him card counting at poker games really be enough cause for them to turn his drip up at the hospital?"

"Maybe he didn't actually try to file an assault charge?" Dev posited.

"Maybe Goyevski was trying to hide that Pierce got into it with his employee." Michelle folded her arms in thought.

Toby side eyed both of them, but continued. "And why, do I one hundred percent know this guy from…somewhere." His words trailed off as an idea pinged in his head.

"I don't have anything for that." Dev admitted defeat and began typing up on his computer. "We should talk to Jamal Richardson. Ask about the fight, if he had any contact with Pierce afterwards."

Michelle shook her head. "Lance thinks he threw us off. He lied to cover his employee's actions, so if we bring the guy in for questioning, he'll clam up immediately and know we're onto him."

"Then what do we do?" Dev asked, and at that moment, clarity struck Toby. He jumped out of his chair.

"I got it. He was at the party!" He waved a finger at the computer screen. Michelle questioned him with a look.

"Party?"

"The birthday party. Hannah's birthday party. The call Oz and I got, when Pierce first got injured. I saw him there!" He insisted and Dev's jaw dropped open.

"What?!"

"Yeah, he was…he was being shifty in the back of the room. But I definitely saw him." Toby began to think harder about that day, trying to remember specific details.

A lot of it wasn't coming to him. With the headache he had from his burgeoning new ability, his memory was, at best, a foggy recollection of some events.

"He wasn't talking with anyone I don't think? Just watching us work…" Something else, something else about him was there. Toby tried to remember, but all he could recall was the jumble of overlapping thoughts he'd heard.

Wait…

"Wait. I think I got a read off of him that day." He sat back in his chair, gaze not meeting either Dev or Michelle. He willed the thoughts he'd heard to come out of the depths of his memory.

"You did?!" That was Michelle this time.

"Yeah. He…." Toby paused, cycling through what he remembered hearing. In a flash, the words finally came to him.

Not what I expected, but, I suppose that's that.

"Oh my god. I think he was there to kill Pierce." He said to his astonished colleagues. "I think he tried to kill Pierce. He thought "Not what I expected, but, I suppose that's that"." He explained and Michelle's brows shot higher up her forehead.

"We gotta talk to this guy, see if we can work out if he was sent by Goyevski. We need something hard we can use." She contemplated, before looking back at Toby. "You could go in to one of the poker games. You did it before, on the Phil Cox case."

He shook his head. "I can't, he might recognize me from the accident." It was obvious once he'd said it but Michelle deflated.

"Dammit." She rubbed her mouth, before widening her eyes.

Dev caught her expression. His shoulders drooped.

"Oh god."

"C'mon Dev, you'll be fine!"

"I'm not even good at poker!"

"Good thing you get to log the money spent as department funding."

They had a meeting with Klein at the end of the day, where they briefed him on everything they'd figured out. Suspected murder attempt at the party, done by one of Goyevski's dealer's, who incidentally was also supposedly in a fight with the victim. A supposed attempt at filing an assault charge, no police request for security tapes, and even the plan to send Dev in to the casino to glean a bit more information. Klein was skeptical at the last idea, but relented when Michelle and Toby explained why it had to be him.

"Well, if you don't get anything out of your little excursion, you'll just have to bring him in and sweat him. If he is our killer, then we can work out how to nail Goyevski afterwards. God knows the second you bring his lackey in here…" Klein trailed off, waving away the rest of his sentence.

"He'll slip through the cracks." Toby finished and Klein nodded. He looked between Dev and him.

"So nothing of use from the other lead? What about…Jeter?" He peered down at the paper.

Dev tilted his hand back and forth. "Eh, kinda. Pierce was buying drugs from him—prescription specifically, an antipsychotic—we were able to use that connection to get a location for their supply. There's a raid being scheduled for later this week."

Klein looked confused. "Antipsychotic?"

Dev nodded. "Yeah. We think…" He started, before cutting himself off with a wild look. Michelle suddenly mirrored his expression.

Oh. Right.

They hadn't told Klein their vic' was a telepath yet. All he'd been informed of the initial case was a suspicious death connected to a call Toby had.

Michelle and Dev were staring at him. He cleared his throat. "Right. Sir. There's something we…we forgot to mention."

Klein raised and eyebrow as Toby inhaled shakily. God, this was still so new.

"Pierce was like me." He blurted out and Klein froze. "A telepath."

The man didn't move a single muscle. He just stayed paralyzed, eye contact not breaking with Toby, the air in the room suddenly feeling warm and thick. Then, after a few agonizing seconds, he took a deep inhale.

"I see. Is that why we're investigating this case?" He posed and all three of them nodded sheepishly.

Klein rubbed his brow. "And I take it this wasn't our case, but you three made it our problem because the victim was…" He cleared his throat, the word giving him pause.

Toby smirked slightly. "Well he was my patient, so. Who knows. Maybe I would've brought it up either way." Klein sent him a death glare.

"Right." He grumbled softly. "I'll talk with whoever's been assigned and say we moved it to this team. I know a Lieutenant at the 43rd who owes me, hopefully they can make this whole process easier."

This time, Klein sent all three of them death glares. "Next time, would you give me a bit of notice?" He deadpanned and Dev pressed his lips together to push away a smile.

"Yes sir." They each said, almost at the exact same time.

"And Clark?" Klein stood and adjusted his cuffs. "Try not to lose too much company money." He gathered the folder with their case information and exited the conference room without another word.

"I will try my best." Dev uttered to the swinging glass door, before sighing deeply. "This is gonna be a train wreck."

"Only with that attitude it will."


He invited Dev and Michelle, as well as Liv, over for beers the next evening. Oz was happy to host, cooking enough food to feed a congregation, and they played some games as the sun went down and their fridge slowly emptied of beer bottles.

About 8 pm, Michelle got a mischievous glint in her eye and pulled out a case of poker chips. Dev groaned, and the rest of the evening was spent playing poker and teaching their friend the ins and outs of the game. Michelle was the best player out of all of them (stuff she'd picked up from Adam) and she cleaned the pot most rounds. Toby lost a hundred bucks to her before he called it and simply watched for the rest of the games.

They were fading fast, all slightly tipsy, but Michelle was still trying to get Dev to understand the difference between a polarized range and a merged range. Liv had checked out, scrolling through social media on her phone, and Oz was falling asleep on his hand.

"Okay, if I have two cards, that's a pair."

"Only if they're the same rank."

"But you said I shouldn't fold if I have two cards that aren't the same rank."

"No, I said that you shouldn't fold if you have two cards that are consecutive."

"Why?"

"Because you could make a straight."

"I thought they needed to be the same suite for that."

"For a flush, yes. That's a different hand."

"So I would call if I had two consecutive cards of the same suite, because I could make a flush."

"No."

"What?"

"That would be the setup for a straight flush. It's a higher value hand, so if the connectors are high rank, you should probably raise."

"But how is that different from a flush?"

"Flush is just the suite."

"But…oh my god, what's a straight again?"

Michelle shut her eyes and dropped her head forward. "Dev."

"I'm sorry!"

Toby took a sip of beer. "That's five cards all in order."

Dev fiddled with the cards in front of him. "I wish I could have a cheat sheet for this exam."

"It's not an exam Dev, it's poker."

"Of course, Mrs. McCluskey."

He zoned out for a moment, staring at Dev. In his tipsy stupor, a thought occurred to him. He wondered…

Could he give Dev—the equivalent of, at least—a cheat sheet?

He'd still been unable to project images to his friends since his new ability developed. The few times he'd tried with Oz, all he managed to do was give himself a headache and confuse Oz when he got left hanging. He wondered, though, if he just pushed a little harder on that barrier, held the door open some more, if he could just send an image to him—

"Toby!" Someone called his name. He snapped back and sat up.

"What?" All his friends were watching him closely. Oz was squinting with suspicion.

"You were staring. Were you…" He raised his fingers and wiggled them by his temple.

Toby shot him a weary look. "No I was just zoning out…but…" He adjusted and sat up straighter.

"Dev, can I try something?" He asked, and Dev peered back in curiosity.

"Uh, sure. Try what?"

"Cheat sheet." Was all he said before he promptly tuned out the rest of his senses, the same way he would when he was opening channels. He pictured in his own head an image of a straight flush—five club cards, 5 through 10, sitting on a green velvet table. Holding onto that picture, he focused on Dev's barrier, and began to push towards it.

Whenever he tried to send words, there was almost no resistance. But here, it's like Toby could enter, but couldn't bring the image with him. He gritted his teeth slightly, tugging on the psychic rendering of the cards, trying to pull it into Dev's mind.

Toby, you good? Dev's thoughts rang out from inside his own head and he had to work to ignore the barrage. His grip on the image of cards began to waver, and he worried if he kept pushing like this, he'd hurt himself. So he began to back off the pressure, ready to give up.

But then something weird happened. Toby relented on pushing, letting go of the psychic image, but he didn't….go back. Like his psychic presence which had wormed it's way into Dev's head in attempt to communicate the picture just…stayed.

He panicked, for a moment, feeling trapped and stuck, before suddenly a new image appeared.

Himself. Sitting motionless across a coffee table.

The strangeness of it spooked him enough to put things back to normal. He snapped back to his own awareness and took a deep inhale, blinking rapidly. Liv rushed a hand to his shoulder.

"Toby, oh my god! Are you okay?" She searched him with fretful eyes as he stood up and tried to shake off the weird feeling.

"What the…" He muttered to himself, as his friends all stared him down, Liv rising off her chair in continued concern.

"Toby. What happened?" She demanded as he wrung his hands and stared at Dev.

"Something we-…something weird, man." He shuffled back into his seat, attempting to organize his thoughts. "I was like…in your head."

Oz gaped at him. "Dude. Aren't you normally in people's heads?"

He sighed in exasperation. "No, like I was in your head. Like mentally."

No one seemed to be getting him and he groaned dramatically. "God the english language is failing me." He cried to the heavens. "It's like I was…piggybacking. In your mind."

"You continue to clear up absolutely nothing with each sentence you say." Dev uttered and Oz choked on his beer. Liv hadn't said a word, her worried expression heating up the side of his face.

Toby grumbled. "Okay, just. When I read people. It's usually like…like I'm looking in through a window. Watching through the blinds to catch glimpses, right?" He attempted to explain, and Michelle nodded in understanding. Thank god for her.

"But I was just…just now, I was inside the house." He pointed at Dev. "I was in his mind."

Liv's expression barely changed. Oz did not seem to understand what he was saying, regarding him with a tired expression. Dev and Michelle just looked puzzled.

"Okay…but what does that mean?" Michelle questioned, her words getting interrupted when Oz suddenly yelled.

"Try it again!" He blurted out and gestured towards Dev. Toby shook his head slightly.

"No, I…I don't…." He was curious, of course, but god. The whole experience was just weird.

Oz leaned and sent him a look, the look his friend always gave him when he was sick of Toby's bullshit and waffling. "Do it. You won't know till you do." He almost singsonged.

Liv put a hand on his shoulder again. "He's got a point." Even with her added urging, Toby still wasn't convinced. He rarely had so many eyes on him when he was testing new psychic abilities, and, while his friends were all certainly used to his, ahem, quirks, that didn't mean he felt fully comfortable putting on a show like this.

If Toby was weirded out by what he could do, then there was no doubt his friends would be too. And he didn't feel like he should put them in that situation. He chewed on his lower lip, awkwardly avoiding Liv's piercing eyes.

Dev chimed in at his hesitance.

"I'm good with it. Try your…piggybacking thing again." Dev scrunched his nose in anticipation, adjusting himself like he was about to get his photo taken, back abnormally straight and head held high.

Toby sighed. Well, as long as he was offering…

"Okay. Okay, I'll try again." Encouraged by his friends, he resumed his stare at Dev, blocking out his other senses.

This time, he pushed passed the barrier with slight trepidation. The strangeness of this new ability continued to irk him, but he really should figure out the full extent of it. Oz would never let him live it down.

He wondered if the initial experience happened purely on accident, due to propping open Dev's mental barrier. Leaving the door to the house open was necessary for their telepathic FaceTime calls, but it was possible his prior actions were what allowed him to slip inside Dev's head with ease. Regardless of the reason, Toby now felt he was fully rooted within Dev's mind and began searching for something to read.

He once again seemed to almost…see through Dev's eyes. His friend was still looking directly at Toby, but he kept sending sideways glances to Michelle, who seemed entranced by Toby's body's frozen state. The visual was foggy and hard to concentrate on, and he strained slightly from the effort. He was about to leave when his instincts kicked in and he tried to read again. But not from Dev.

He looks so strange like that. Catatonic. Michelle's voice suddenly pierced his awareness. And not a second later, he was ejected from Dev's mind, vigorously thrown back into his own consciousness.

"Jeez!" Dev cried, a hand rushing to his temple. Toby similarly reeled, as the force of leaving Dev's mind almost sent him tipping backwards in his chair. Oz and Liv stabilized him from both sides.

"What the hell was that?!" The corporal cried, wildly looking at Toby.

"What, what happened?" Michelle interjected and Toby couldn't even form the words to speak.

"It's like…it's like I could feel him worming around in here." Dev exclaimed, incredulous. "At first, nothing, but all of a sudden I heard Michelle, and there was some presence in my own brain." He explained to a myriad of shocked faces.

"That's insane." Oz muttered but Michelle narrowed in on another detail.

"What do you mean heard me?" She asked.

He tapped his finger to his temple. "Like when we're doing our FaceTime call thing. I heard your voice. But then I felt, like this pressure of somethin—" Dev was cut off when Michelle interrupted him with an assertive statement.

"Dev, I didn't say anything." The room got so quiet, he could hear a pin drop. At the pause in conversation, Toby felt like he'd recovered enough to speak.

"You didn't. I read it off you." He explained, and Michelle looked slightly scandalized. "While I was in his head."

"Oh my god. So he heard it too." She finished Toby's statement, pointing at Dev, as he nodded in agreement.

Dev pointed a shaky finger. "You read her. And I heard it. Because you were in here." Toby snorted softly at the wording, but he nodded again, still clenching and unclenching his jaw as he recovered from the oddity.

"So I heard Michelle's thoughts?!"

"That's insane." Oz repeated, and Liv raised her eyebrows at the comment.

"And everything else he does isn't?"

"But this is even crazier. Man, that's like, full on astral projection." Dev explained, crazed eyes driving into Toby.

"He's right on the money with that X-men crap. Toby, when you did that, you, or…uh, your body I guess, went still. No motion, barely breathing. I don't even think blinked." Oz fidgeted slightly as he talked.

Toby didn't think about that. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It was weird. I wouldn't want to see you like that for long."

"Well, I don't think I can hold it for a while anyway, it was…a lot. I was about to get out of there when I read Michelle. And then…" He trailed off, recalling one last detail. "And then you kicked me out." He pointed at Dev, who mimicked the gesture and pointed at himself.

"I did what?"

"You like, ejected me out of your mind. That's why it took me a second to recover, it was very…mentally taxing." He frowned at the description. It didn't fully capture how he'd felt, but again. The english language wasn't built for describing psychic interactions.

"It's probably good to know that we can kick you out anytime you try to piggyback." Michelle folded her arms with a smug smile, the overall shock at this new development waning from the group.

"Yeah, no kidding. No body snatching from you mister!" Oz quipped as he rose from his chair to arch his back.

"Hey, I never said I could take over his mind."

"You didn't even know you could do this five minutes ago, what's to say tomorrow you won't wake up full on Charles Xavier, astral projecting your way into a bank vault." He rambled on as he grabbed the last beer from the fridge.

"If he did, I'd have to arrest him." Michelle added with a smile.

"But I could just control you to not do that, if Oz is right."

"You could try." She also stood and stretched slightly. "Why don't we pack up poker for the night? Watch an episode of Survivor or something."

"I'm game." Liv started clearing off the coffee table. During their whole exchange, Dev hadn't spoken a word. Toby had stood up, carrying away their charcuterie board, and he questioned his friend with a look.

"You good?" He asked and Dev nodded with a eager grin.

"I am so good Toby. Because with this new technique of yours, I just figured out how we're getting you into that poker game." He stood to meet him and patted him on the shoulder.

He raised a shocked eyebrow. "You're saying you want me to read our perp through you at the poker game?" He asked, and Michelle paused washing dishes to listen to their conversation.

"I give you full permission to pitch a tent and watch me lose all my money. And, of course, see what reads you can get off Jamal Richardson." Dev walked over to the recycling bin, tossing their empty beer bottles. Michelle planted her hands on her hips.

"It's not a bad plan, Toby."

He sighed. "Alright. Maybe. I'll have to practice some more."

"You got all day tomorrow."

"Hey, hey, resident IIB agents, no talking shop!" Oz scolded, as he sat back down on the couch and picked up the TV remote.

"We just spent the past two hours teaching Dev poker!" Michelle defended, wiping her hands off with a towel.

"Card games tangentially related to a case don't count. C'mon McCluskey, you know the rules."

Michelle just rolled her eyes.


It took all day, but with Dev's willing participation, Toby got a handle on his new ability. Just in time too––their infiltration of the Rustic was scheduled for that night. With Michelle's help as an uneasy yet willing guinea pig, Toby was able to read her thoughts through Dev's head. As suspected, he could only hold it for about a minute, maybe two, and he always warned Dev about the incoming headache if he was attempting the technique for a longer time.

He also discovered he could not psychically communicate while piggybacking. He attempted to speak to Michelle, and even Dev himself, asking either of them to poke his comatose-seeming body as an experiment. But that ability was apparently blocked while he inhabited Dev's mind. He slammed back to his physical self and explained the limitations. Michelle devised a system of mainly communicating with Dev through the FaceTime call, and only hop in to read their target when Dev asked him leading questions about Pierce.

With that system worked out, things were a go for their undercover poker game. Dev had resolved to not lose more than 500 dollars.

Toby was skeptical, but politely kept his mouth shut.

All dressed in a nice suit and expensive shoes, Dev mustered some confidence and waltzed into the Rustic. Michelle had instructed him to ask about the closed-doors poker games, rather than head to the casino floor tables, as that's where Jamal would be working. A fudged business card to show proof of some serious money was all Dev needed to be granted entrance to the back rooms, which he soon relayed to Toby and Michelle through their connection.

Walking in now. They took my phone but thankfully we got this. His voice rang out and Toby just knew the man was smiling to himself.

Hell of a mission for a test run. Michelle added, and Toby, sitting next to her in the car, looked mock offended.

"You don't have faith in my epic psychic powers?" He teased and Michelle rolled her eyes.

"You sound like Oz."

"Well maybe Oz is on to something."

Cashing in for some chips. I'm starting with fifteen-hundred, the minimum bet at Jamal's table is a thousand.

So you see him? Toby questioned

Right up front. Wanna take a peek? Dev invited and Michelle shrugged at him, as if to say "go for it".

Toby shut his eyes and clenched his fists. He used the connection he had with Dev for their FaceTime call as a beacon, giving him something to follow as he attempted to peer inside Dev's mind. It was strangely quick how soon he felt the odd sensation that came with piggybacking—he'd assumed with the longer distance there would be a delay but. Apparently not.

Settling in, he did the same trick of pushing towards Dev's subconscious. Doing this brought up current memories, basically allowing Toby to see whatever Dev was seeing. As always, the image was fleeting and blurry but with a moment of concentration, he could see the inside of a dimly-lit room, as Dev walked towards a card table. Their target, Jamal Richardson, stood at the head of it, and was flipping cards as Dev sat down in one of the chairs.

Toby backed out, breathing in a deep inhale as he was back in the car, Michelle's hand grasped on his shoulder.

"Good?" Her eyes studied him, like they always did, and her worry was obvious. He nodded, taking a few steading breaths.

"Yeah. I saw him, Dev's there."

Nice work Dev. He supplemented so the man himself could hear as well.

Don't congratulate me yet. I just got a jack of clubs and a seven of diamonds and I don't know if I should fold or call. Even with the telepathic communication, Toby felt he could sense the shake in his voice. Michelle snorted.

Wait to see what the other players do. If nobody raises, and two of them fold, you should call. Otherwise fold. Jack and a seven isn't a good starting hand.

Can you keep doing this for the whole night? He begged.

We can't communicate when Toby's piggybacking, so don't get your hopes up.

About a half and hour passed with Dev settling in at the poker table. Michelle kept giving him some tips on the game, as well as a few things to say verbatim. Sure, she was being controlling, and, as Toby quipped "backseat driving Dev's undercover mission", but the corporal was happy for the script.

It was just some phrases to make him seem knowledgeable about poker and flippant with the amount of money he was betting, as well as a couple of jokes to ease the tension at the table. Dev reported none of the other players were really talking, just silently playing, meaning he would have a harder time randomly striking up a conversation with the dealer. Toby had done a few reads, and none of his thoughts were of any use. So Dev needed to ask some leading questions that would give them the info they needed.

Dev got some chitchat going about the recent election, and even began winning some money after a few lucky hands. Michelle was insistent that it was all due to her coaching, reminding Dev of that when he felt partially proud of himself for clearing the pot, tripling his initial bet.

If I actually make money here, does that mean I get to keep it?

No. It's money you got while working, that's still IIB money.

But we don't have to…tell them about it, do we? Toby smirked at Michelle, and she glared right back.

Michelle, I'm not even in that car and I know you're scowling at him.

She seemed moderately off-put at his intuition.

Dev, you got that damn pop song stuck in my head. You were humming it when I was in there. He complained over their connection.

Wait, you could hear me humming in my own head? Could you tell what song it was?

Yeah, it's that one they won't stop playing on the radio. It's annoying.

Guys, can we focus, please? On a mission, if you recall. Michelle playfully glared at him.

Wait, two of the other players are talking about when they started coming here. Dev's voice was much more serious. Should I mention Pierce?

Yes, say he recommended you stop by, that you could make a lot of money if you played well. Toby instructed Dev before promptly soaring back into his mind to read Jamal while Dev asked the question.

When he peered through Dev's eyes, the dealer didn't seem to be sparing him and the other players a glance. But Toby read him anyway.

Oh god, not that asshole. The dealer's voice was deep and intimidating. Toby pushed a bit more and attempted trace the memory associated with that thought. He got an image of Pierce's face, and a punch flying through the air to hit him. But that was all he could get, so he returned back to the car.

"He definitely knew him. He was thinking how he was an asshole, and I saw a quick flash of him punching him in the face. I don't know if that was a memory of the assault or just how he feels about him." Toby rubbed his temples, soothing the dull ache that always came with the piggybacking. A police car hurtled past them, the sirens echoing in his mind, and he clenched his jaw to try and push away the extra stimuli.

"But nothing about an attempted murder?"

"Not yet."

Well? Anything? Neither of the guys I was talking to knew Pierce. Toby almost forgot Dev couldn't hear them when they talked like normal people.

Sorry, Dev. No, nothing other than confirmation that Jamal knew him. But we already had proof of that from the security tapes.

Try something else. Ask Jamal specifically about Pierce. If he knew him, if he's heard from him. Put up a front of a worried friend. Michelle insisted.

Uhhh. Dev uttered and Toby raised an eyebrow.

"Sure he can do that?"

"He's gonna have to." She said. You'll be fine, Dev. Remember, you're a smarmy, rich guy. Say he owes you money or something.

Fine. He caved, and Toby focused once more.

Jamal was now making eye contact with Dev. After a second, he began speaking, but Toby couldn't hear it. He never been able to conjure audio from Dev's mind, so he just fell back on his instincts and read the dealer.

Figures Pierce would owe some rando money, with how good he was at counting. I wonder how much Lance actually paid him, before he split.

Well, that was definitely something. He went looking for an image, and got a few of Pierce at the poker tables, cleaning up the pot. The scene shifted to him handing money to Lance Goyevski, as they shook hands. Toby was about to back out, but the memory changed once more to show Lance and Pierce in a loud shouting match, a cry of "I had no idea you were this crazy!" coming from Pierce.

That was about as much as Toby could handle. Coming back to his body was a bit more violent, as he had been holding the piggyback for longer than he should've. He massaged his head, and Michelle squeezed his shoulder again, grounding him.

Dev's annoyed voice pierced his mind. You didn't warn me that time, Toby! The toll of the piggyback was making it harder to hold their FaceTime call, and his friend's shrill thoughts weren't making it easier. He didn't respond, instead focusing on his breathing and pushing down the pain. Thankfully, Michelle caught on.

Give us a sec, Dev, you don't wanna lose the three-way call do you? She urged. There was a pause.

No, I do not. Jamal's giving me a stink-eye though. I don't know if I should stick around much longer.

Toby had gotten a handle on his pain, so he decided to chime in. You might not have to.

"What? What'd you get?" Michelle asked in-person. Toby tapped his temple to remind her, sitting up straight now that the sharp pain had dissipated.

I heard him talking about counting, and that Goyevski was paying Pierce to do it. Dev could always hear whenever Toby got spoken reads, but he never saw any memories or images. Toby nodded, but continued the conversation mentally.

I saw it. He was really good at it, no surprise, and was giving the money over to him.

So he was, quote-on-quote, counting at Goyevski's own games, and then handing the winnings over. Definitely violates the state license he was so proud to show me. Michelle added, rubbing her fingers over her lips in contemplation.

I also saw him and Pierce in a screaming match. He was wearing the same clothes we saw in the security tapes, so I can guess this argument may be the precursor to the assault.

What were they arguing about? Dev asked.

Pierce said "I had no idea you were this crazy!"

Maybe something about the counting? Goyevski could've been getting greedy, and asking for Pierce to take too many risks.

Or he found out something that was worth getting killed over.

What?

If Pierce was struggling enough with his mind reading that he supplemented his Alzheimer's meds with black market anti-psychotics, he must've been unable to walk around without overhearing stuff. Trust me, I know the feeling.

So Pierce reads something from Goyevski or someone else, it's bad enough that he chooses to stop counting for him, but wouldn't leave whatever he found out alone, so they killed him to stop the questions. Michelle theorized.

You don't think Pierce was pushing for an assault charge. He was calling to try and get information? Toby questioned her with a look.

Jamal may have assaulted him after the argument with Goyevski, but there's just no reason for Pierce himself to be calling about evidence for an assault. We'll find out tomorrow if there was any record of a file for an assault charge, but I seriously doubt it.

Guys, this means we don't even know why Pierce backed out of working with Goyevski. What he found out that was enough to kill him. Dev added, worried tone obvious even over the psychic connection

How much juice you got left Toby? She asked mentally, but stared him down in the car.

Probably enough for one more piggyback. He thought to himself for a moment, brainstorming the best leading thing for Dev to ask.

Dev, did Jamal say he knew Pierce when you asked him?

Yeah, he said he'd be pressed to forget the guy who cleared two tables in one night.

Ask if he was in his right mind last he saw him. If Pierce got his info from a read, and if he was really struggling so much, then he might've been acting…odd, lets just say.

It wasn't the best plan, but with Toby's strength quickly waning, it was the best he could come up with. Michelle's hand was still firmly grasping his arm, and he was grateful for the physical touch. A reminder his world wasn't bound to the inside of his head.

I'll see what I can get.

Toby clenched his teeth and steadied himself one last time for a piggyback. He blocked his senses out, ignoring the rumble of the car engine and shriek of more police sirens, Michelle's tight grip washing away as he entered Dev's mind once again. He saw Jamal, this time staring down at Dev with an incredibly suspicious look which instantly set Toby on edge. The guy knew something was up. This really was their last chance.

With some resolve, Toby went to read Jamal's mind.

How the hell does he know about the drugs? His tone was panicky and worried and Toby pressed further to try and see his memory. A few images flew past his consciousness, spreadsheets on laptops, stacks of money being counted and organized. Scraps of vague thoughts that were slowly forming a picture of something, something that Jamal was worried about, if the racing speed at which these memories surfaced was any indication.

Floorboards under carpet being lifted and replaced frequently, a dirty warehouse filled with nothing but blurry faces and foul smells, the fluorescent lights of the casino floor blinding him. A baggy hoodie and sweaty cargo pants adorning a stranger, the crack of something heavy thudding against hard tile, the rattle of pills in an orange bottle––

Wait a minute.

That last one. He knew that last memory, recognized it as soon as it flew by him. With one last rally, he peeled back the layers of Jamal's mind and zeroed in on that memory.

An orange pill bottle, blank, but filled with dull gray pills. Someone placed a label on the bottle, shook it experimentally, and handed it over to Jamal. The poker dealer turned it over in his hands and read the label.

Perphenazine.

"I got it. The casino is running the prescription drugs. I saw Jamal handling the same pills Jeter was thinking about." He managed to catch his breath quick enough to relay this information almost immediately, ceasing the piggyback before things got too painful. However he'd forgotten to include Dev.

Before Michelle could say a word, Toby practically yelled along their connection.

Dev, I got what we need, you should leave.

Way ahead of you. The second I asked that question, Jamal started interrogating me. I excused myself to the restroom, but I gotta get out of here before I get made as a cop. His colleague's worried voice strung through his mind and Michelle finally got a word in.

Just try to sneak out, don't draw attention to yourself. Meet us on the B2 level of the garage. She urged, switching the car to drive and speeding towards their pickup spot.

Copy that. He replied. Toby had his eyes clenched shut, softly massaging his temples. He was using the last of his strength to keep the FaceTime call up, ensuring Dev had an emergency line if he ran into trouble escaping the casino.

At the beat of silence, Michelle finally asked Toby, "What'd you get from Jamal?"

"A whole bunch of stuff, but definite confirmation that the Rustic is behind the drug business Jeter sells for. I think they're laundering the cash, I saw a bunch of stacks of money and spreadsheets."

"Once we're out of here, we'll start the process for a subpoena. It won't do anything until we have enough evidence to nail Goyevski, otherwise he'll just fudge his records, but those requests take weeks."

I'm at the elevator but I think there's a security guard tailing me. Dev interrupted. He just went into the stairwell.

Michelle's eyes widened, clenching the steering wheel. The car jerked as she pressed on the accelerator. Let me know the moment you're out. ETA thirty seconds.

She sped around a corner way too quickly, Toby almost getting propelled into the passenger-side door. "We're still missing something." He muttered and Michelle sent him a quick glance.

"What do you mean?"

"Pierce was buying drugs from Jeter, he already knew about the prescription drug op. He wouldn't have split with Goyevski over that. He would have already known." He drummed his fingers softly.

"Maybe he didn't like how they were selling. Or where they were getting their supply from." Toby raised an eyebrow questioningly, letting Michelle continue.

"Prescription drug rings aren't sourced locally. Their material is usually made by a gang in the states, and then shipped here for distribution. But those guys range from basically harmless to FBI's most wanted." She sighed, taking another sharp turn.

"If Pierce got some info on the drug op through a read, he could've found something he should've had no way of knowing."

"But what did he find?"

Michelle never got to answer that question because she was more preoccupied by screeching the car to a halt. She'd weaved through the parking lot, took one last corner, and almost slammed right into someone. Toby lurched forward, the seatbelt digging into his torso, but instantly recognized the person Michelle almost ran over.

Dev was sprinting across the road, looking a bit worse for wear with both his shoes clutched in his left hand. He hadn't not even noticing the car that'd almost plowed him over was driven by his friends. He stumbled slightly from the near accident, but continued running deeper into the garage.

Michelle and Toby both jumped out of the car, Michelle crying "Dev!" to get their colleague's attention. Toby, meanwhile, surveyed the direction that Dev was running from; two well-dressed guys slipped between the cars in hot pursuit. Toby's eyes widened.

"Michelle!" He called, but she was still chasing Dev. The bodyguards noticed Toby's wild look, and paused for a split second. One guy's eyes flicked between him and over his shoulder, as if parsing out the situation. Toby backed up slightly, planning to run towards Michelle—and her gun—but the other bodyguard seemed to notice his rigid stance, and scowled.

Without a word, he began heading straight for Toby. The other dude following in suit. He swore to himself and turned tail and ran, heading toward where Michelle had finally caught up to Dev.

He didn't even need to turn around to know—Toby would not outrun these guys. He willed his legs to move faster, get closer to Michelle, and he even yelled her name again as a cry for help. But the fast pace of steps got closer and closer, and even Michelle's quick reflexes wouldn't save him from a clock to the face or a broken bone. That he knew.

So Toby tried something else.

In a moment of pure instinct and impulse, Toby braked rapidly. Michelle had finally whirled over to look at him, hunched over Dev, who had collapsed against a car/ She took in Toby's alarm, as well as his beefy pursuers, but he turned around before he saw the rest of her reaction.

It was a strange reflex that overcame him, but as Toby spun 180 degrees to face the bodyguards, his arm rose. Fingers splayed and taut, his arm outstretched in front of him, he made eye contact with the two men chasing him. And with a millisecond of mental focus and a hurried bit of resolve, Toby conjured the sound of police sirens.

And he pushed it onto them.

The first guy instantly dropped to his knees. His hands flew to his temples as he cried out—in shock, pain, disorientation, Toby couldn't tell. He tipped over and assumed a lazy fetal position, as he continued to moan.

The second guy had a different reaction. He skidded to a stop and spun around in surprise, head shooting around the garage like he was looking for something. When that yielded nothing, his hands also rushed up to his head, but he chose to instead stick the tips of his fingers in his ears. He winced, before similarly falling to the ground like his companion.

Toby blinked. He blinked again, chest heaving from the adrenaline and unplanned exercise. He took a shaky step back.

What on Earth did he just do?!

His eyes were locked, frozen, studying the state of the two men in front of him, both expressing varying degrees of discomfort that Toby was responsible for. Somehow. He lifted his palm to stare at it, ruminating on the instincts that caused him to throw his hand out, like it did something, like it was anything more than a movie trope.

Except, clearly it did do something here, right? Right?!

"Toby, what…" Michelle's voice was thick, caught in her throat. He spun around, meeting her confused eyes with an even wilder expression. She was helping Dev off the ground, who was similarly staring at the two demobilized bodyguards.

"I…I don't…" He weakly pointed, not having a clue where to start his sentence. Michelle, the most functioning out of all of them, shoved Dev forward and began walking to the car with purpose.

"We gotta get out of here." She slid into the passenger seat. Dev began inching towards the car as well, and thankfully took a gentle hold of Toby's elbow to tug him along. Because without it, Toby probably wouldn't have moved the rest of the night.

Because he couldn't stop staring at the two men.

Before he knew it, they were back out on the main road, Toby stuck in his confusion so much so it almost made him nauseous. Dev was slipping his shoes back on. The car was trapped in a cramped silence.

Toby blinked. "Why did you take your shoes off?" He tested the waters with a mundane and unimportant question, resulting in equally baffled reactions from both Michelle and Dev (the first through the rearview, the second directly from Dev as he twisted around in his seat).

"Seriously? That's your question?"

Toby…blinked again. "I don't know man, I was wondering."

More silence. Toby wished Michelle would turn on the radio.

Dev raised an eyebrow. "I was panicking in the elevator, thinking they were gonna meet me at whatever floor I got off on. So I took my shoe off as a weapon. Then I felt stupid with just one shoe, so I took the other off, and it actually ended up being the right decision because if I was sprinting on that concrete in these slippery loafers, I would have been dead meat before you guys showed up." He rambled, using his hands to mime his situation. Toby was glad for the distraction.

"Oh." He said, though it wasn't a very convincing response. This time Dev blinked.

"How'd you knock out those two guards?"

Toby racked his brain, really trying to come up with an answer, something else other than "I don't know".

"Instincts?" Was all he managed. Michelle scoffed loudly.

"Toby. That is not an answer."

"I don't think I have a better one."

"You flung your hand out. Like a Jedi." Dev emphasized and Toby felt numb.

"Yeah, I don't know why I did that either."

"Oh, come on."

"What do you want me to say? I just focused for a split second and suddenly they were on the ground!"

There was another beat of silence, during which Michelle braked at a red light. She took the opportunity to fully turn around in her seat and stare at Toby.

"Toby. Think. What did you do?" She urged, her continuous curiosity bleeding into her demanding tone. In an hour, Toby might be glad for the interrogation, but in this very moment, he had to push down the urge to snap at her. The spotlight was back and he didn't like it.

He cleared his throat. "I…" And with Michelle's piercing gaze and Dev's puzzled expression, he actually took the time to reflect on the night's events.

Firstly, he threw his hand out. There was a part of him that wanted to justify that as a balancing tactic, that his arm was only hurled forward for the sake of not falling over. But, if he were being honest, that wasn't true. It was a reflex, one that corresponded with the second thing.

A moment of serious psychic focus.

The only other time he'd had such a narrow bit of telepathic resolve was when he pushed against Pierce. When the pressure and the pain was so great, his brain reacted like a muscle, spasming outwards. It pressed against the minds of those around him, Hannah and Oz, and broke down the barrier with ferocious intent. Not a window to be peered through. Not a door to be opened. A wrecking ball of energy careening directly into the house and bashing away the walls. Leaving nothing but Toby's thoughts in its wake.

He hadn't opened a channel for a FaceTime call, propped open the door for communication. He hadn't piggybacked, visited inside temporarily. He'd busted through the front like a hammer.

There was one last detail, and that seemed to be the most important. And that was the siren.

A police siren, something so innocuous, but recognizable enough to hover in his subconscious after he'd heard it earlier that night. Like he was keeping it in his back pocket for later.

And later had came. Because after he'd bulldozed the front foundation of the house, Toby had left a bomb. One that went off immediately.

"I sent them…sirens." He explained lamely. Michelle had to turn around to continue driving, but her eyes kept flicking towards in him in the rearview.

"Sirens?"

"Yeah, like…the ones we heard earlier. I sent them those."

Dev was still looking at him. He opened his mouth in confusion.

"But…but how does…" He attempted, but Toby cut off his poor excuse of a sentence.

"Like when we communicate. But rather than words, I sent them…very loud police sirens." He finished explaining and this beat of silence lasted much longer than any of the others.

"Sirens…which were enough to incapacitate them?" Michelle's voice was pitchy, as she tried to work out this brand new ability. Toby sighed.

"I don't think it's that simple."

"How, Toby?" Her voice was incessant and demanding, and he tried to not let it get to him.

"I don't know. This was different." He began chewing on the nail on his thumb. "It's weird…when I communicate with you guys, I have like, this door propped open. And that's how we can send thoughts back and forth. But with these guys…" He dropped his hand as he struggled to parse his feelings into words.

"I don't know. It was more violent. Like I broke in rather than opening the door."

His house metaphor was really doing some legwork. Dev raised an eyebrow.

"So breaking down the door combined with sending obnoxious loud sirens means…you can knock people out now?" Toby winced at the explanation, but nodded.

"I don't know. I guess. Maybe."

The rest of the car ride was filled with uncomfortable silence. The group dynamic was a far cry from Dev's enthusiasm or Michelle's fascination, the usual emotions present at their prior explorations of his telepathy. But something about what he'd done in the parking garage had felt different.

He'd never been scared of what he could do before.


He didn't have the energy to put any more thought into this new development. After they regrouped at the IIB building, Toby clocked out and left work without anything more than a few formalities exchanged with Dev and Michelle. He honestly couldn't stand the way they kept sneaking glances at him, and hated how his first idea was to read his friends to figure out why exactly they kept doing that. So he left. And face planted into bed the moment he got home.

He had a paramedic shift early in the morning, which he and Oz carpooled to. Toby wordlessly readied himself for work, zoning out by his locker as he buttoned his shirt. His mind drifted, reminding him of the two bodyguards, how they fell down so quickly, the way they groaned in pain—

"Logan! You go deaf in the last ten seconds?" Ryder startled him from his own thoughts and he met his boss's eyes, mustering a neutral expression.

"No sir. Just tired."

"Got a pileup on West Ave, they need extra units. Get a move on!" He yelled from the balcony and Toby shifted into gear, booking it towards the ambulance where Oz was similarly scrambling.

"Shit, shit, shit!" He yelped as he buckled his seatbelt and started the engine. "He scared me so bad with his yelling, I spilled my coffee all over my pants. Shit, that's hot!" His partner blew out his cheeks, backing the ambulance out of the bay. Toby leaned over and flipped the sirens on as they took off towards their call.

Oz was jamming out to pop music while Toby watched the trees and buildings whizz by out the passenger window. His phone dinged, and he pulled it out to read the text. It was from Michelle, and he clenched his jaw slightly, his gut doing a somersault. All he could think about was last night.

(Michelle): Warehouse raid went well this morning, they sent the docs over. Can you stop by later today so I can brief you on the info?

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He was hesitating.

"Who is it?" Oz could either read Toby's mind himself, or he was spending way too much time with his partner/roommate—the man could read his body language way too well. He clicked his phone off without responding.

"Michelle." His response was quick and slightly curt. Oz furrowed his brows.

"Something wrong?"

Toby grumbled internally. "No."

That was a lie.

"Not really."

Still a lie. Damn his conscience.

"We got some information on a raid. Place where they were making drugs." He chewed on his lip—technically, Oz wasn't allowed to know any of this, but when had that stopped him before.

"Pierce, the telepath. He was buying from them."

Oz was quiet for a second. "Oh. You think these guys might've killed him?"

"Maybe. We're not sure. I mean, I think I know who killed him, but we don't have proof or motive yet."

Oz dodged and weaved through a packed street, their sirens still ringing all-too-familiarly in Toby's ears. He really wished they could get to the call without them.

"What kinda drugs were they? Coke? Meth? Or was it just a little dope, cause you know my feelings on cops busting people for a little weed––"

Toby shut down his ramblings with an eye roll. "No, it was prescription. Perphenazine." Oz stiffened at the name.

"Isn't that for treating psychosis? People buy that as a street drug?"

"Controlled substances, Oz." He muttered, fingers tapping nervously on his phone screen.

"Something…" He started to confess, but the nervous feeling in his gut froze his words before he could get them out. He kept fidgeting.

"What?" Oz asked. Toby pocketed his phone and took a deep breath.

"Something happened last night. Something new." He wanted to bail out the door of the ambulance, avoid thinking about this. But if anyone would get it, Oz would.

"Oh yeah? What, you start spoon bending or something?"

"No. No, I…." He cleared his throat. "I knocked some guys out."

"For real? Man, those boxing lessons are coming in handy!"

"No, Oz, with my mind."

Again, Toby found himself sitting in uncomfortable silence. Though, this time, there was background noise to focus on, the pop music from the radio (that damn song again!) and the sirens from their ambulance. It was something, at least.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"How'd you do that?"

"Sirens."

"What?"

"Sirens!"

"Like the greek ones?"

"Huh?"

"You know, the mermaids that lured sailors to their deaths?"

"What are you talking about Oz?"

"What are you talking about? You said you knocked some dudes out using fish ladies!"

"I meant police sirens."

"Oh. That…well, I was gonna say that makes more sense, but I still have no idea what the hell you're getting at."

"I projected the sound of sirens into their minds and it was loud enough and overwhelming enough to incapacitate them."

More silence. Toby wanted to shove his fingers in his ears—the last thing he needed was this damn mystery song getting stuck in his head. Again.

"You should have lead with that."

"Why would I expect you to jump to greek mermaids?!"

"And you think I'd jump to your new ability being the psychic equivalent of a megaphone?!"

Toby couldn't help the smile that crawled across his face. He thudded his head against the head rest and cackled.

"Why are you laughing!?" Oz demanded.

"Because I needed this. Thanks." He responded, and Oz looked as if he were going to say something more, but shut his mouth at Toby's dour mood.

They sat in silence until the song on the radio changed. Toby bit the bullet once more.

"It freaked me out, Oz. All I did was think really hard, and these two dudes were on the ground. Clutching their heads in pain." It was refreshing to be honest about this. He lifted his phone and continued to fiddle with it.

"Yeah. That's admittedly spooky." Oz said. Toby clenched his jaw again, downtrodden. He stared out the window.

"But, screw being spooked by it, I think the headline should focus on the fact you can defend yourself." His friend's momentary somber tone was dashed away by his usual excitement.

"You can stare at a bad guy and take him down without even moving! To me, that's pretty awesome. Weird, but awesome." He explained and Toby let his ego build a bit––it was better that than fear.

"I guess. But I do have to move." He looked over at Oz, who glanced sideways in question.

"When I did it, it was all instincts. I turned around, threw my hand forward, and they both just collapsed." At his comment, Oz took his eyes fully off the road for way too long.

"Oz, road!" The ambulance swerved slightly. Oz's eyes were wider than ever.

"You threw your hand out?!" He cried and Toby laughed at his reaction.

"Yeah, I did."

"Like this?!" He mimed the motion, whipping his hand to the side, fingers out and flexed. Thankfully, he kept his eyes on the road.

"Yes."

"Dude. Jean Grey. Obi-wan. Hell, Matilda, does that. You're saying you did the superpower flourish?!"

He shrank in his seat. "Maybe."

"Toby Logan, have I mentioned how much I love being your best friend?" His smile was big and toothy and another laugh escaped Toby. It was comforting to know that Oz was always his biggest cheerleader.

"Once or twice."

"After this call, you gotta show me somehow."

"What, film myself next time I need to take down a bad guy?" He teased?

"Who said you had to wait for that? Just try it on Ryder!"

"Oz, I'm wigged out enough at the concept of psychically incapacitating someone, and your first thought is for me to test drive it on our boss?"

"Nowhere did you say this new power was reserved for criminals."

"Oz."

"Fine! Setup a camera the next time you need to fight a drug dealer, whatever, all I know is I gotta see these defenses!" He urged, turning onto West Ave. Rubble and destroyed car parts were scattered amongst the accident, and Oz slowed the vehicle to a stop. Toby jumped out, and ran around to the back to grab his bag.

"Defenses. That sounds way better than insidious mental domination."

"Is that the name you were workshopping? Thank god you talked to me!"

They loaded an injured driver into the truck and sped towards the hospital. His patient passed out from the morphine, which gave him a bit of a lull to text Michelle back.

(Toby): Meet me at Maiz for lunch?

(Michelle): Only if you're buying

A few hours into his shift, he excused himself for a lunch break, meeting Michelle at a taco shop a block away. She had already claimed a table inside, distracted on her phone, and Toby went up to the counter to order his food before joining her.

"Hey Michelle." He said softly as he sat down. She instantly stiffened, eyes observing him carefully.

"Hey Toby." He didn't read her mind, but the pity in her voice was clear. He sighed.

"Sorry for shutting down last night. I just…I got caught off guard. I needed some time to process."

"No, Toby, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pressured you to tell me what happened. You were reeling and I just made it worse."

"I don't blame you for asking. What happened was weird for me, I can only imagine…" He shivered against the chill that ran down his spine.

"Sure, but that's not an excuse for me to treat you like I did. I never wanted to make you feel like…" She bit her lips, hunching over slightly.

"Like what?"

"Like I thought you were a freak."

Toby's heart practically stuttered. Now, that was a word he hadn't heard in a while.

"You didn't."

"You don't have to lie to spare my feelings. I didn't treat you well. And I'm sorry."

Toby avoided her eye contact. When Michelle knew she screwed up, she tended to overcorrect. Straightforward and blunt was her specialty, and it came with pros and cons. Sometimes that meant limited tact in interviews. And sometimes that meant way too direct apologies.

But he was genuinely glad for it. He didn't realize how much it'd been nagging at him until he put off responding to her for a whole hour.

"Okay, Michelle. Thanks." He mustered a smile, though it might've looked more strained than he meant it to.

"Anyway. What's the update on the raid?"

The attempt at switching conversation topics made Michelle frown. She groaned.

"Ugh. Pros and cons, so don't get your hopes up that we got Goyevski." She leaned over and pulled a folder out of her purse.

"Like I thought, there wasn't any manufacturing at the warehouse. It was just packaging, guys putting the pills in bottles, labeling them enough to seem legit to unsuspecting buyers. They seized all the material that was there, nailed the few workers with traceable connections. But…" She was flipping through papers, Toby catching glimpses of various images taken inside of the warehouse as well as profiles of some guys.

She paused her rant as a server brought over a tray of tacos. Michelle nodded in thanks.

"But?" He asked as she laid a napkin over her lap.

"No connections to Goyevski or the Rustic. No phone calls from any of the employees, no common friends or enemies. The guys they have in lockup are slippery, they just keep saying they're a "small business"." She quoted, scowling. "They're not gonna rat on their boss, if they even know who he is."

"What about the drugs themselves?" He went looking for something helpful but Michelle's frown only deepened.

"Bags of unlabeled powder, stuffed into unlabeled boxes. No security tapes to show how it got there, no list of other similar distribution warehouses, not even a chemical analysis of the stuff had any leads on possible origins. The warehouse is just a–a transit station for this operation, it's got nothing for our case." She slammed the folder shut and took a large bite of food in frustration. Toby's own tacos were brought over a few moments later, and he let Michelle eat for a moment.

"What about the assault charge, did that come through?"

Michelle nodded. "Yeah, there wasn't any record of Pierce filing an assault charge. But that doesn't prove Goyevski lied about it, it just means we have no idea what Pierce was calling about."

"Okay, so what do we do then? Without any obvious connection to Goyevski, we don't have any way to nail him for the drug op. Or Pierce's murder." He mumbled through his food.

"We've got one lead left, and if I know drug dealers, it's about to be in the wind." Toby raised an eyebrow.

"Jeter?"

"He's a link between Pierce and the drugs, and right now, he might be our only option. We need to talk to him. Soon."

With Michelle's presence, he was able to talk to Ryder and worm his way out of the rest of his shift. Oz wished him luck on their next interrogation, still bugging him to figure out a way to get an example of his new…trick. Michelle snorted at the term.

A call from Dev lead them to Derek Hastings's shoddy apartment, and after four flights of stairs, they reached a door which was already propped open. Confused, Michelle knocked on the door frame, calling, "IIB!"

A thud and a crash sounded from inside the apartment. Michelle's hand flew to her gun.

The fast food manager rushed into view. His hair was stuck to his sweaty face and he was panting heavily.

"What? Oh. Hi."

"Derek Hastings?" Michelle glowered, taking a step into the apartment.

"Yeah that's me. What do you—…what do you want?" He crossed his arms over himself, drumming his fingers nervously.

"We had some questions to ask you about a warehouse. One that may be related to some drugs?" She squinted, turning the intimidation factor up to 100.

"Warehouse? Why-why would I know anything about a warehouse?" He prattled on, voice shaky and shoulders taut.

"May have something to do with that bottle of pills you got sitting on your counter." Toby teased, gesturing with his head to the same orange bottle he'd been seeing in his reads. Derek peered back at the counter, hesitated, before suddenly breaking into a sprint towards the window.

"Hey!" Michelle exclaimed as Derek threw the window open and climbed onto the fire escape. Thinking quickly, Toby turned tail and ran back out the door, jumping down the stairs two at a time. He burst through the exit and sprinted towards the alleyway.

Turning the corner, Derek almost ran directly into him. The dealer squeaked and fell down in surprise. He scrambled to get back up but was blocked by Michelle grabbing his wrist.

She wrenched his arm, pulling him up. "Why even bother?" She needled and Derek's head fell in defeat.

They had the guy in cuffs in one of the interrogation rooms less than an hour later, letting him sweat for a bit before starting their questioning. Toby was in the observation room, texting Oz about being home late, when Klein and Michelle entered.

"Metro seized the rest of the drugs this guy was keeping at his apartment, but it was already pretty empty by the time we got there." Michelle sat on the desk, peering through the window at their nervous suspect.

"Looks like he was in the process of clearing it out. Probably heard about the warehouse raid and was prepping to skip town." Klein took a sip of his coffee. Toby quirked an eyebrow and glanced up at the clock, which read 4 pm.

"That got caffeine in it, sir?" He joked and Klein looked slightly taken back.

"It's five o'clock somewhere." The chief hid a sly expression behind the coffee cup. Toby huffed out a small laugh.

"So we're hoping this guy knows the op he's dealing for is run by the casino?" Klein asked.

"That, or he may know someone that does. Right now, all we have on Goyevski is obstruction for not telling us Pierce got into a fight with his employee, and violating his gambling license. Nothing ties him to the drug ring, or Pierce's murder."

"You have a witness saying that Goyevski's employee was at the birthday party." Klein gestured to Toby himself.

"Yeah but there's no proof that him getting hurt was an attempted murder. All we have is my reads." He folded his arms and stared Derek down.

Klein sighed, finishing his coffee. "Well, that's what this interrogation is for." He glanced between the both of them. "Get to it."

Toby and Michelle entered the room silently, but were immediately met with Derek's worried ramblings.

"Look man, don't I get a phone call? Or a lawyer or something?" He begged, tugging on his handcuffs.

"Mr. Hastings, we already have you for possession and suspected distribution. We found pills in your apartment matching those seized during a raid this morning––"

"It was just a side hustle, alright? Don't I get a…a pity deal or something?" Michelle raised an eyebrow.

"You mean a plea bargain?"

"Yeah, that! C'mon, just give a guy a break, we all need some cash sometimes, right?"

Toby rolled his eyes. "Sure, but not all of us work for murderers." He retorted and Derek's jaw instantly dropped.

"What? Murderers? I don't have anything to do with that! I just sell the drugs man, I don't got any clue about anything else!" He leaned over the table in emphasis. "Please, just give me the possession charges, I'll do another two years, and I'll turn my life around!"

Michelle held out a placating hand. "Alright, alright, calm down. We just wanna know who's running this and where they get their material from." She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.

"I just told you, I don't know anything!" He yelled and Toby focused to verify his words.

Shit man, I am so dead if they don't believe me.

He glanced over at Michelle and nodded almost imperceptibly. She frowned in disappointment—they were really hoping to get another lead off this guy.

"Who delivers the powder to the warehouse?" Michelle urged and Derek threw his hands up.

"I dunno! I almost never go inside, they just hand me a box with the pills and I leave!"

Toby read him once more and saw flashes of the exact scene Derek had just described. The man handing over the pills was one of the guys already in custody, so that was no use. But suddenly, the image shifted to a truck pulling into the parking lot by the warehouse. Toby didn't get the driver's face but he did catch a logo plastered on the side of the vehicle.

Before he could even ask about it, Derek continued. "Oh, I did see a truck pulling in once. I don't know if it had the pills in it, but it had a logo. Like a bunch of boxes or something." He articulated and Toby once again nodded at Michelle to verify his statement.

"Okay. Fine. One last question: when did you start dealing for Pierce Sullivan?" She asked and Derek froze.

"You…you mean the old guy? The one who died and started this whole mess?"

Toby pulled up a picture and turned his phone around. "Yeah. Him."

"Dude, he contacted me asking for drugs over a year ago."

Something was wrong with that. He leaned over to whisper to Michelle. "There wasn't any record of Pierce at the casino before six months ago."

"So he started buying the drugs before he was working for Goyevski?"

He paused to think, before turning back and asking Derek, "Do you know the Rustic?"

Derek looked wildly confused. "Uh, yeah, that's the casino out in Lambton Mill. Why?"

"Pierce frequented that casino." He explained before Derek practically deflated.

"Oh. Yeah, well, he mentioned he was low on cash during a deal once, so I told him to try his luck at the Rustic. Why does it matter?"

All Toby could think was, that was how Pierce started "card counting"? Because this guy recommend he check it out?

"Cause they're the ones supplying you with the pills you've been selling." Toby declared, and immediately went to read Derek before he could even respond.

There's no way he's telling the truth. Misha would have told me.

"…would have known. One of my buddies worked there, that's why I told Pierce about it!"

"Did your friend know you were dealing?"

"Yeah, he dealt for them too years ago, but he got away from all this crap. He's clean!"

"Seems like a guy who's dealt and worked for the casino is the thing we need. What's his name, Derek?" Michelle clasped her hands and narrowed her eyes. Derek shrank into himself slightly.

"Look, I'm not just gonna give you my friend's name, you don't know—"

"You want that plea bargain, you're gonna tell us. Right now." She delivered her ultimatum and Derek hung his head.

"Fine. Misha." He said and Michelle lifted her pen to write it down.

"Last name?"

"Goyevski."

"He has a brother?!" Michelle exclaimed as she paced the conference room, hands on her hips. Dev laughed slightly.

"Three, actually, but only one is here in Toronto. Misha Goyevski, he's a whole fourteen years younger than Lance." Dev pulled up a photo of the man, who looked very similar to their suspect.

"Derek said he had no idea that Misha was connected to the casino through it's owner. All he knew is the guy was a security guard." Michelle relayed to Dev, as Klein massaged his brow.

"Alright, so Pierce starts buying drugs from him. He's strapped for cash and his dealer, of all people, recommends he start gambling at a casino his friend works at." He used his hands to delineate a timeline.

"Right." Toby fiddled with a pen as Klein continued.

"Pierce presumably starts winning way too much to fly under the radar, and instead of kicking him out, our friend Lance hires him to use his skills to rig games and win money for the casino."

"Yes." Dev pointed, leaning back in his chair.

"Then, one day, he gets a read from Lance or from someone else about something shady the Rustic is doing."

"Notably, not the pills. If Pierce was okay with buying from Derek, he wouldn't have gotten so worked up when he learned his boss runs the drugs." Toby interjected.

"Right, so something else we still don't know. Something that was big enough for him to quit using his abilities at the casino, and worrying enough for him to continuing…investigating, I guess."

"Correct. We think if we can figure out what Pierce knew, we can follow that to get enough evidence to nail Goyevski for everything. The drugs and the murder." Michelle finished, gesturing to their papers on the table.

"And we think Misha might be the key?"

"Derek said he worked as a pills dealer for years, before switching to security at the casino." Toby pointed at the TV with his photo up. "Probably helped his brother run the joint."

"No kidding."

"The most compelling thing about Misha is that he's no longer an employee of the Rustic. As far as we can tell he's unemployed, but, can you guess when he quit his job and moved to the middle of the woods?"

Klein smiled ironically. "I'm guessing around the same time Pierce stopped counting for Lance?"

"Bingo."

"So one would posit that he learned the same piece of information about Lance and the Rustic that Pierce did, and got the hell out of dodge?"

"One would posit that. In fact, we did." Dev joked back, grinning ear to ear.

"We're planning to head out to his cabin tomorrow to see if he'll tell us what Pierce knew." Michelle's smug look was mirrored on all their faces. They hadn't even confirmed their theory was right yet, but the confidence was contagious.

"Nice job. I'll comp the gas money if you can get me a suspect in cuffs by tomorrow night."

"High stakes, sir. You sure you're not a gambler?"

"Only when I've got a good hand to play."


After an hour of driving, they pulled off the highway onto a dirt road. It was early the next morning, Toby was fighting his drowsiness, and Michelle read up on their newest suspect in the passenger seat. He slowly pulled into a driveway, taking in the run down wooden cabin. They exited the vehicle, greeted by birds chirping unseen in the tall trees and Michelle knocked on the door while she checked her phone.

"The rest of the names Derek gave us haven't amounted to anything. Dev's still looking but I think it's a bust."

They'd attempted to get more info out of their drug dealer, particularly names of other dealers in the hope they'd have connections to the casino. But, it was mostly aliases, and evidently the ones that weren't hadn't gotten them anymore leads.

"What about the truck logo?"

"No luck yet. Even with your read, there's thousands of companies that could match it. And those are just the ones listed in the databases that Dev can search for." She explained. He tipped his head back.

"God, why does it feel like this case is fighting us?"

"Well, hopefully that's about to change." The door swung open to reveal Misha Goyevski, although he was much more unkempt than his photo. He eyed both of them suspiciously.

"What do you want?"

"Sir, I'm Sergeant McCluskey, this is Toby Logan. We're with the IIB. We need to ask you a few questions about your brother." No tact, no build up, just straight to the point. That was Michelle's specialty.

Misha tensed, gripping the door so hard his knuckles turned white. But he nodded and let them inside.

"Surprised you didn't show up sooner." Toby and Michelle sat in two chairs in the living room, while Misha wandered over to the kitchen and poured two glasses of water.

"We believe he is responsible for a drug ring—"

"Slow down Sergeant, I need to lay some rules first." Misha interrupted, placing the water glasses on the coffee table. Michelle glared but stayed silent.

"I'll tell you everything you want to know about my brother and his illicit activities on one condition: I don't testify."

Toby and Michelle met him with equally puzzled looks.

"What?"

"If this case goes to court, I'm not on the stand. I'll give witness accounts to an officer, spill any details you need behind closed doors, but I will not face my brother. No meetings. No proceedings. You take my info and leave my name out of it." He urged, expression stone cold and serious.

"Mr. Goyevski—"

"No exceptions. You do what you gotta do, but if someone comes asking for me to take the stand, I'm gone."

Curiosity fully piqued, Toby read his thoughts in that moment.

He ruined my future, it's only fair I get to ruin his.

Not much of anything useful, but with any luck, Toby would get answers to his questions soon enough.

Michelle straightened her back, thinking. Guaranteeing Misha his terms likely wouldn't go over great with their supervisors at the IIB, but this case was already sorely lacking in leads so. Hopefully they'd understand.

"Alright. Fine. Start talking then."

And talk Misha did. He started from the very beginning, recounting his entire childhood with Lance; how their parents had immigrated on a whim, how Lance and his older brothers spent more time raising him than being kids themselves. How Lance broke off with the family, gathering contacts with various mobs and gangs, sending money back to his siblings before they were adults. How Misha got his life together enough to study and try to get a degree, before things crashed and burned when he ran out of money and had to drop out.

"Lance pulled me out of a hole. Financially, at least, he hooked me up working books for the company that owns the Rustic, Fortune Ventures." He explained, having lit a cigarette at some point in his story.

"One job bled into another, and suddenly I was selling prescription drugs to teenagers on the street." Misha shut his eyes, frowning.

"Is that when you met Derek Hastings?" Misha opened his eyes and chuckled at Michelle's question.

"You guys know Jeter? Hah. Yeah. He was on the same beat as me, we hit it off and lived together till…" He cleared his throat. Michelle and Toby waited patiently.

"I was making noise about leaving. Going back to school, finishing my degree, putting my life together. I told Lance and he just…flipped out. Didn't want me to leave like Patrik and Niko did. So he made it so I couldn't." He took another drag of his cigarette and continued.

"He got me hooked. On the stuff they were selling. I'd tried it before, of course, but Lance started drugging me without telling me. Before I knew it, I was addicted to the poison, and lost every intention of ever leaving. I didn't find out until Derek and a few of my other friends sobered me up cold turkey and Lance's girlfriend at the time confessed to the drugging. Guess she felt bad." Misha ran his fingers through his hair, and Toby focused for a moment to read him

He got an image of a woman crying, apologizing, before the scene shifted and he saw Misha angrily emptying out his fridge.

"I was basically coming off a three year bender. I almost left right then and there, but I didn't have the money or the means to. I didn't want any more help from Lance, for obvious reasons, but he promised he'd be better and offered me a security job at the casino. I did that for just about a year, and was fixing to leave a few months back."

"And then you found out something." Toby finished, and Misha nodded.

"Lance, in his continuing conquest to be the freaking Kingpin of Toronto, devised a plan. The drugs, the prescription ones, they're shipped from down south." Michelle's eyes widened.

"Do you know by who?"

"No. He kept me out of the accounting for the drug side of things when I worked at the Rustic. All I ever saw was this symbol on some of the boxes." Misha leaned forward and picked up a pen and paper. He drew a figure eight and added devil horns to the edges, as well as stars within the ovals. Michelle took the drawing and snapped a picture, sending it to Dev to look into.

"Anyway. I overheard him talking with some of the other guys: they wanna cut ties with their supplier. Apparently he's been spending the past year building up his own local manufacturing scheme somewhere up north. If he owns the production, he doesn't have to cover shipping costs from whoever's making the stuff south of the border."

"So that was the final straw for you?" Toby asked.

"He wants to start a gang war, and all for his own greed. You think the border is gonna stop these crazies from retaliating when Lance shoots their boss in the head?"

His stomach dropped.

"Wait, what?!"

Evidently, Michelle had the same reaction.

"He's not just cutting ties. He's asserting himself as the new boss. His plans are to kill his contact next time he visits and declare all of Southern Ontario his turf." Michelle's eyes were bulging in worry.

"Hold on, when is this happening?"

"How should I know? I caught wind of this insane plan and made a run for it within the hour. No way was I getting mixed up in his nonsense."

Toby's head was spinning. If this guy was being honest with them, then the stakes were way higher than they'd thought.

In his panic, he jumped into Misha's mind. His thoughts were centered around Lance, meeting with some other people, some Toby recognized from Dev's outing at the casino, others he didn't. He heard the words "we gotta make it count" before backing out and sending a wild look of alarm at Michelle.

"We have to go, tell the IIB about this. Get anything we can to get a warrant to shut this lunacy down." She had stood from her seat and was gathering her coat as she explained. Toby also stood, but remained staring at Misha, who just looked ashamed.

"Thank you for your help. We'll do our best to make sure no one bothers you."

"Get that son of a bitch, and I won't give two shits about who comes knocking at my door." Michelle was already heading to the car. Toby gave him a nod of respect before exiting. He raced to the car, shuffling into the passenger seat as Michelle flung the vehicle into reverse.

He dialed Dev and put him on speaker.

"Guys, I think I found something—" He started but Michelle interrupted before he could finish.

"No time Dev, I need you to put a warrant out for Goyevski's arrest, and a search and seize one for the Rustic. Scrape together anything we have, we need to be in there now."

"Oh god, okay. I'll get Klein to rush it, but there's no guarantee we can get the paperwork before the end of the day."

"We're gonna need it, so whatever you can do." Toby insisted, heart racing at the very thought of what Goyevski might be starting.

"Why, what'd you guys find out?"

Toby didn't even know where to start. "A lot. Just tell them that we have a testimony that Goyevski has been running the drug trafficking op from the warehouse. And that he's ready to risk the whole city's safety to keep it. We'll tell you the rest when we get back."

"Jesus. Okay, I'll keep you guys updated."

"What were you going to tell us when we called?"

"Oh! Right, well, some good news I guess. I got a match for the symbol you sent over. Check your email, I sent a pdf."

Toby pulled up his inbox and opened the attachment from Dev.

"Solntsevskaya Brotherhood circa 1986." He read. "Wait a minute, is it Russian?"

"Yeah. It's an older symbol but it originated from a cell in Ukraine."

"So Lance Goyevski is about to start a gang war with the Russian mob." Michelle deadpanned.

"Gang war?!" Dev's voice shrieked through the speakers.

"Later, Dev!" Michelle insisted. "Where the hell is the Russian mob headquartered? We're gonna have to call up Interpol on this."

"We may not need to. The truck logo you drew Toby? From Derek? I narrowed my search to cities with a Russian criminal presence and I managed to get a hit on a company called…Korobka Shipping. They're based in Philly."

Toby sighed. "Lemme guess, Korobka is Russian?"

"For "box", yes. So. Guess we found our drug source."

By the time they'd gotten back to the IIB, Dev was ankle deep in paperwork and searches tracking down their Russian person-of-interest.

He arched his back when Toby and Michelle entered. "I got Klein to rush order the warrants, he said we mayyyy have then before the end of the day." He got straight to the point as Michelle folded her arms.

"May?!"

"He literally delivered them directly to the judge's office, I don't think there was much else he could do."

"Fine. We need to figure out who Goyevski's been dealing with and fast. If he's planning some wild coup, we need to stonewall his contact from entering the country at all." She sat down with determination and began sifting through some of the documents spread out across the table.

The next two hours were spent poring over every file Dev had scrounged up on the Russian mob in Philadelphia. They went through criminal profiles, listened to audio recordings of various confessions, read over transcripts from trials, but at the end of it, only had two suspects they were semi-confident were Goyevski's contact.

Most of the information on the mob was filtered through police bureaucratic nonsense, and figuring out if any of these guys had run prescription drugs in the past was difficult. One guy had gotten busted for heroin, got out 3 years early for good behavior, and already had two charges of aggravated assault on his record; he was top of their list for suspects. And the other was supposedly the CEO of Korobka Shipping, but that record was five years old, and there wasn't any guarantee he was involved with the dealing.

The hope was that, with a specific name for Goyevski's Russian supplier, they could have him detained locally and prevent their gang war before it ever started. But again, that was proving to be harder than anticipated.

Sometime after lunch, they were all driving themselves crazy with the files when someone knocked on the door to the conference room. The secretary from downstairs peaked her head in.

"Hey, I have someone here asking for you, Toby." He raised an eyebrow.

"Who?"

"She said her name was Hannah Sullivan."

His jaw dropped slightly and he looked at Michelle and Dev with alarm. He scrambled to stand up, following the woman out the door.

Hannah was standing at the edge of the hallway, toting a large banker's box. She recognized Toby instantly and smiled at him.

"Hey."

"Hi. We never formally met, but uhm…gosh, I don't know, thank you for helping my Dad, I guess?" She quipped awkwardly. "Sorry, that was a bit much. I'm Hannah."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm Toby, and it was just part of my job. I'm just surprised you tracked me down." He lead her over to his desk, where she sat across from him.

"Right, well, it wasn't just to say that." She tapped her fingers on the box on her lap, before bending over to place it on the ground.

"This is some of…some of my Dad's stuff." She paused, taking a deep swallow. "I, uh, well when he…when he passed, and the police started making noise about it being premeditated––god, I can't believe I just said that with a straight face." She threw her hands up in emphasis.

"Anyway. I checked in with the detective who interviewed me and he said the case had been elevated to a government agency. He gave me your…your boss's information I guess, I don't actually know who I talked to." She rambled but Toby quirked an eyebrow.

"Klein?"

"Yeah, him. And he said that…that one of the paramedics from the original accident moonlights as a cop and he had taken the case." She sent him a lopsided smile as Toby nodded in understanding.

"Right."

"You must be so busy."

Toby scoffed. "Sometimes. So did you have something to show me?" He gestured to the box and Hannah leaned down to remove the lid.

"I was going through his stuff after the funeral yesterday. He didn't have much, he wasn't a things person, y'know but…" She pulled out a stack of notebooks. Toby tilted forward to get a look in the box. There were more spiral bound notebooks, as well as a few binders filled with paper.

"We found these. There's tons of them, I mean most of them are filled with gibberish I can hardly understand." She tightened her hand around the notebook. "I know my dad was sick but I didn't think he was crazy. But this…" She trailed off, eyes flitting downwards to stare at the notebooks.

"Never mind. Most of them are gibberish, but these few are actually…well they seem like logs. Notes. Information he was recording. On some guy." She flipped open the top notebook and turned to a page.

"Yeah. It's like he was tracking his every move, writing his schedule down. I don't know if he was stalking him or what but…but some of the other books talk about…" Hannah got choked up once more.

"Talk about what?"

"They talk about this guy like he was dangerous, that he was thinking of doing horrible things, putting people in danger. And it's really specific, so I thought it was real, but then he goes off on tangents about how he spent all morning thinking about––"

Toby put a hand out to stop her. "Wait, thinking about? Like his thoughts?" He asked and Hannah looked utterly floored.

"Uh. Yeah. Like his personal thoughts. I thought he was writing like, a novel, something fictional where he was dictating everything the character was thinking. But then I googled the guy and…well, he is very real and works at a casino…"

Toby leapt from his seat and practically snatched the notebook from Hannah's hands. He probably looked insane but he couldn't help the instinct. Hannah didn't seem too startled by it.

The pages were filled with specific times, notes on what someone was doing, sentences in quotations to indicate when something was a verbatim thought. Pages upon pages of this stuff, going back months. He barely skimmed them before his eyes caught on the name Goyevski.

"Hannah, you may have just given us what we need to catch your Dad's killer."

Her eyes bulged out of her head. "I…I-I what?!"

"This man, Lance Goyevski. He's a very dangerous casino owner who runs a drug business. Your dad had been investigating him, and we believe that's why he was killed." He knew he was dumping a lot on her at once but she had a right to know.

"He's….he's actually dangerous? And he killed my…." While Hannah was reeling, Toby waved Dev and Michelle out of the conference room.

"Guys, these are some of Pierce's personal writings. They're logs of Goyevski's movements, habits…thoughts." He said that last part quieter. Michelle almost dropped her coffee cup. Thankfully, Hannah didn't seem to notice the phrase.

"The name of our Russian guy may be in here." He pointed and Dev dropped to the ground to lift the box.

"Let's get to work." He and Michelle shuffled back into the conference room while Toby sat back down across from Hannah, who had leaned over, head in her hands.

"I'm sorry to just drop all of this on you. I know it's a lot. But you've seriously helped us out here." He put a hand on her shoulder.

"I…the normal thing would be to say you're welcome." She was crying slightly now, voice thick from the tears. "But I don't think anything is normal right now." She admitted and Toby clenched his jaw.

"If the stuff about the guy is really real, then does that…does that…" She trailed off, staring daggers into Toby. He pressed his lips into a line.

Now was not the time for a telepathic onboarding.

"Look, all that matters is we're this much closer to nailing the guy. And that's because you had the thought to bring those notebooks into us." He saw Dev out of the corner of his eye wildly sweeping his arms around to get Toby's attention. He grimaced, and gestured for another agent to come over.

"I'm gonna have her take a quick statement from you. Just some formalities, and I also wanna get some contact info from you so we can call once this is all over." He rose from his chair as the other agent walked over. Hannah was still frozen in her seat. Toby bit his lip, but decided, screw it.

"Hannah, your dad wasn't crazy." He admitted and she looked up at him. "He was different. I gotta finish this case but. I'll tell you more once we're done." He said softly as she gawked at him with a strange kind of bewilderment, speechless. He sent her one more small grin before racing back into the conference room.

"What do we got?"

"Well, more information on Goyevski's life than I ever needed to know. Pierce was seriously thorough about all of this." Michelle remarked, the notebooks now spread out on top of their prior paperwork.

"The earliest date I can find is one day after Pierce got kicked out of the casino. So he'd been on this beat for two months, presumably the moment after he confronted Goyevski about the coup." Dev ran a finger over the writing in his book as he spoke.

"Well, lets go digging for any mention of our Russian suspects."

It didn't take long, which was a shock considering how much content there really was. They'd fallen into silence, one which Michelle broke by standing up so aggressively her chair rolled backwards into the glass wall.

"Got it. Got it, got it!" She held the book in her hand, beginning to recite the words verbatim. "He was on the phone with someone for a while, and I think there was a person in the room translating for him. I heard "This is why I broke with these morons a decade ago." and "Hot new story, Vasily Pobegailov wins the award for most bullheaded Russian to ever work in this industry.".

"Vasily Pobegailov, was that a name we considered?" Dev asked. He turned towards the computer.

"I recognize Pobegailov, hold on." Toby shuffled some of the notebooks out of the way, finding a single piece of paper.

"Yeah, Odest Pobegailov. He currently runs some toy manufacturing company just outside of Philly, something called Playtime Entertainment?"

"Known associates?" Michelle asked.

"He's got a nephew. Maybe one named Vasily?" He replied, and Dev slapped the table.

"Yahtzee! Guess what shipping business Playtime Entertainment owns and uses for their domestic distribution?"

"Korobka Shipping." Michelle finished with a giddy look on her face.

"Toby, call Klein and tell him we need Philadelphia police to put a lock down on Pobegailov, uncle or nephew. We keep him out of Toronto, we keep Goyevski from putting a bullet in his brain. Dev, see what details you can get about Vasily Pobegailov, if we know more about how he gets the drugs here, that's enough to fast track the warrant."

"On it." Dev reported, while Toby was already dialing Klein.

"Sir?" He said the moment the call answered.

"Toby? Any news?"

"We just got a break. Vasily Pobegailov, he's Goyevski's Russian contact and the supplier of his narcotics."

"Who do I need to call?"

"Chief of police in Philadelphia. Interpol if possible. All we need is every cop in the area watching for this guy."

"Done. I'll call you when I have an update." He replied quickly.

"Oh crap." Michelle uttered, having collapsed into her chair, eyes whizzing over the words in the journal.

"Thank you sir." He ended the call with Klein. "Michelle, what is it?"

"What's today's date?" She asked monotonously. Dev glanced down at his watch.

"The twenty-second."

"Which is two weeks after the eighth." Her tone was high strung and nervous.

"To the date." Dev blurted out. "What does it say?"

"Vasily's here. He's visiting Goyevski. Tonight." She looked up at them and closed the book gently.

"Today?!" Toby exclaimed in panic. Michelle nodded.

"Which means he's gonna die tonight." Dev's voice was almost shaking.

"No guys, c'mon, we have enough for probable cause. Let's organize a uni, move in on the Rustic—"

"Toby, our evidence is the ramblings of a man that looks very crazy. We go in there without a warrant, we're risking lawsuit, no matter what we find in the casino." She rationalized, throwing the notebook on the table and rubbing her hands along her face.

"And that's assuming that they're actually meeting at the casino." Dev added, which, yeah, fair point.

"Then lets figure out where they are. If it's not the casino, we can enter whatever building it is on suspicion. There's a Russian mob member in town, that should be enough, right?" He asked and Michelle winced.

"It's shaky. But good enough for me."

Their third round of silent reading commenced, and Toby made a note to invest in a speaker to fill the void with music next time around—if they did, maybe he'd actually learn the name of that god-forsaken pop song that was everywhere. At around 5 o'clock, when Toby was starting to lose hope they'd find something, itching to just go rogue and raid the casino himself, Dev practically screeched.

He quoted from the notebook. "Today he thought about his meeting with the bull again. It's gonna be at the packaging center on Redbrook. He was also thinking about breaking in his new Beretta for the occasion."

"Beretta's a pistol company, this is it!" She urged, racing over to read over Dev's shoulder.

"Packaging center on Redbrook, does he mean the abandoned storage facility?" Toby typed into the computer as she spoke.

"Owned by none other than Fortune Ventures Incorporated."

"As in the company who owns the Rustic?"

"Move. Now." Michelle instructed, grabbing her purse and coat as Dev and Toby scrambled to follow her.

They spent the whole ride anxious, Michelle driving a bit dangerously, Dev typing on his tablet as he did some last minute research.

"So what's the play here guys?" He chirped from the backseat.

"I've already contacted Metro for backup, they'll meet us there and were told be discreet." Dev gestured to his tablet as he spoke.

"You thinking ambush?"

"We don't know what we're walking into, how many guns, what kind of setup they'll have. We need to catch them off guard and, most importantly, we need to keep Vasily alive." Michelle urged. "If Goyevski was so sure killing him himself would start a gang war, I don't think the mob would be too happy to see him shot in a firefight while meeting his Canadian contact." She finished and Dev swiped the screen on his tablet.

"I'll add that as a priority to the message I sent Metro."

Toby's legs jittered from anticipation. They were walking into a gunfight with a handful of cops as backup, no information on how many people they'd be fighting, all while risking the safety of the city by having some Russian guy in the middle of it. To say things were stacked against them would be an understatement.

"Let me go in with you." He demanded and Michelle sent him the wildest look through the mirror.

"Toby, you're not getting a gun."

"No, not like that. I want…" He hesitated before puffing out his cheeks. "I wanna try my new thing." He admitted.

The car went silent again. He hated how it kept doing that.

"The thing with the sirens?" Michelle clarified.

"Yeah."

"Toby, I don't know…"

He rolled his eyes at her concern. "We brought the vests, I'll be fine. Look, I've got this new thing, and I'm too freaked out to try it on someone who doesn't deserve it. This seems like the best time as any to see how my defenses really work." He reasoned.

Michelle scrunched her nose in disapproval. "You stay behind me. And start a FaceTime call the second we get there, I need to know I can reach you if things go sideways." She stipulated.

"Copy that." Dev turned around slightly and held his hand out, fingers splayed. He mouthed "Jedi" and Toby scoffed.

Tonight was proving to be interesting.


They arrived as the sun was setting, illuminating the abandoned building in an eerie orange glow. Dev had instructed the cops to park two blocks down. They wanted to get a better sense of their destination, and after some quick surveillance, ended up leaving the cars for the sake of the ambush.

Their small group of Metro cops followed as Michelle lead the calvary through a back entrance. They'd managed to silently subdue the two beefy guys with machine guns standing guard, sneaking in without raising any alarms. As they entered and pressed against a wall for cover, Michelle and Toby peered around to get a better look.

Inside was similar to the photos of the shoe warehouse he'd seen, with boxes of powder, empty bottles and stations for loading the pill capsules with the drugs scattered around. At the center of the room was a group of about two dozen guys, split in two, staring each other down. The head of each group was Goyevski and Vasiliy respectively and Toby swore internally when he realized the total of guys outnumbered their group by about 2 to 1. This would not be easy.

He couldn't catch much of the conversation happening, but Michelle started directing the Metro cops to better places to hold for cover fire. Toby adjusted his bulletproof vest and stayed close to her as instructed. Dev split off with some of the cops.

With a readying breath, Michelle went for it. She shouted, "IIB, drop your weapons!" and the room suddenly turned to chaos. The men flanking Goyevski and Vasiliy did not listen to the demand, instead pulled their guns and began firing. Vasily took off towards a back exit almost instantly, while Goyevski attempted to follow but got clipped in the shoulder by a shot. He swore and dove for cover behind one of the boxes.

Gunfire was all he could hear, and he spotted two Metro cops absolutely dominating a fistfight with some of the casino guys that had paused to reload. Michelle was shooting her weapon like a robot, firing two shots at once, pivoting to a new target, and firing again. He pressed up agains the wall more as a shot whizzed by his side.

Suddenly, the door they'd entered through flew open and a dude with a shotgun scowled at Toby.

Michelle still had her back turned, occupied with the firefight. Whelp. Now or never.

As the man lifted his weapon, Toby purposefully put his hand out. Without the instincts to guide him, the motion felt clunky and awkward. But he did it regardless. He recalled the feeling of pushing, pressing outwards, shoving violently into a stranger's mind. As the man cocked his shotgun, Toby flexed his fingers and summoned the first sound he could think of.

Figures it would be the ever-present pop song. He couldn't escape it.

Regardless, he held the sound in his head and pushed. He crashed through the barrier aggressively, and, not a moment later, the man's clutched his head from pain and he collapsed to the ground.

Toby leapt forward to grab the shotgun and Michelle spun around at the sound. She took in the scene with trepidation, but Toby couldn't help his sly grin. Her eyes flicked down at the shotgun.

"Toby." She cautioned and he rolled his eyes, setting the shotgun down, out of reach of the intruder. Michelle turned her attention back to the gunfight.

"Sirens again?" She asked and Toby snorted.

"No. Top 40."

"Huh." She removed the clip from her gun, replacing it quickly. "Same song?"

"Yep."

"What's it called again?"

"No idea."

Their opponents were dwindling and Michelle took the small break in shots to advance, running to join Dev. Toby followed, staying close to the ground.

"Think there's three left. Vasily's in the wind, so is Goyevski. They went out that door." Dev pointed and Michelle didn't hesitate, immediately heading in the direction he had pointed. They got cover from the cops, but Toby still ducked down in case there were any shots coming towards them.

Michelle burst open the door to reveal another smaller firefight, shots instantly landing just shy of their heads. They dove behind a table, surprised to be joining Goyevski himself, also taking cover. His eyes widened.

"You?! Of course it's you." He mumbled, checking for how many rounds he had left.

"Yeah, me. Soon as this is over, you're under arrest." She informed him easily as he grumbled.

"Sure, Agent McCluskey. Just gotta do one more thing first." He winked before leaping from out behind the table to shoot at their opponents. Michelle yelled and went to grab his ankle, but he'd started running before she could manage it.

Toby jumped back to a standing position and threw his hand out again. Rather than pop music, he pictured a school bell ringing loudly and pushed it into Goyevski's mind. His hands flew to his ears, but, shockingly, he didn't drop like the others.

Shit.

"The hell?!" Goyevski ducked and searched the ceiling, as if looking for the source of the sound. Shots began firing from the other side of the room, so Toby crouched behind the table again as Goyevski found new cover behind some equipment.

"Well that didn't work." He bemused to Michelle.

"Great time to be learning there's a limit to these defenses of yours." She complained.

We got one guy left in here, he's about to be down. You guys get Vasily or Goyevski? Dev asked over their connection.

Working on it. Call Klein, we're gonna need some serious escort for these guys once we're done.

The chorus of shots from the Russians stopped. Toby stood up again, joined by Michelle as he looked for Goyevski. The man was mid stride, sprinting towards the boxes where the shots were coming from.

Toby tried again, flinging his hand out to focus his projection, conjuring the sound of an air raid siren. Again, Goyevski flinched wildly, but didn't collapse. He groaned, annoyed, as Michelle aimed at the guy.

"Performance issues." She quipped, but didn't get a chance to fire, as Goyevski suddenly spun around and shot at them. Even with one hand pressed against his ears, he was still a decent shot and Michelle yelped when a bullet grazed her shooting arm.

"Shit!" She planted a hand on her upper arm, blood flowing instantly, as she returned to the cover of the table.

He ducked down and squeezed the wound with his hands. "Karma for joking at my expense." He cracked and she hissed through her teeth.

"Prove me wrong then. I'm not firing anything else tonight so you gotta drop him before he gets his shot at Vasily." She cradled her arm and gestured with her chin. Toby psyched himself up.

"Alright. Be right back." Functioning on pure adrenaline, Toby dove forward, following Goyevski. The man was firing shot after shot into a cardboard box, presumably where Vasily was hiding. Toby took advantage of the lack of gunshots coming towards him and, once again, attempted his defensive trick again.

He planted his feet as his hand rose. He took a steadying breath and pictured in his head the sound of roaring water, a waterfall racing over a cliff. The sound was so clear in his mind, he could picture the image that matched it. He flexed his fingers and pushed once more.

Goyevski stopped shooting. Toby was expecting him to flinch, clutch his head in his hands from the overwhelming sound. But instead he…jumped backwards?

He practically flew three feet in the air, stumbling as he landed. He was staring at the ground, like he was looking for something, and Toby squinted in confusion.

Wait a minute.

Before Goyevski could regain his footing, he pictured in his head a fire. Crackling, blazing, loud, but also bright and intimidating. He could see the image in his mind, as clear as he could see reads, and, with that vision, he flung it forwards at Goyevski.

The man screamed, startling backwards again, as his head whipped around the space in pure shock. There had been no gunfire for a few moments, and Toby saw a head peak out from behind the cardboard box. He recognized the man as Vasily himself, and his face was one of both anger and…confusion.

Granted, that seemed a normal reaction to Goyevski dancing around the room, yelping like he was standing on something hot. He looked ridiculous. Only when he suddenly began to blow on his arm, waving at it in panic, did it really click for Toby.

He wasn't just hearing the fire. He was seeing it.

Finally, he'd managed a way to communicate images to people. Of course, it required violently decimating the entrance to their minds, but it certainly counted as progress to him. The illusion appeared to fade from Goyevski's view after a few more seconds, leaving the casino owner even more shocked.

However, now out of his trance, he caught Vasily watching him. Goyevski steeled himself and raised his gun.

With one last rally, Toby conjured a final image to put in Goyevski's mind. A grizzly bear, big and intimidating, staring directly at him. He pushed it into his mind, and waited.

A second later, Goyevski stopped. Rock solid, arm stick straight, he froze in place. His gun began trembling as he slowly lowered it.

Given that Toby only had pushed a singular image of the bear, he was curious as to what actually the man was seeing. He dropped his own hand and squinted, attempting to piggyback briefly.

It turned out that, through Goyevski's eyes, the bear was articulate. It was groaning and snorting at him, moving slightly. Actually, the strangest thing was how the bear was almost too big for the space it occupied, and its back right foot occasionally sort of…clipped into the cardboard box. It looked entirely real until he caught that detail, and now Toby couldn't unsee the fake-ness of it. He'd need to practice these illusions.

Coming out of the piggyback, Goyevski had taken several steps back. He was slow and cautious, eyes locked onto the invisible bear in front of him.

"What…the…" He started, before choosing to turn tail and run out the door he came through. He spun around quickly.

"Fu—" Toby clocked him in the face before he could finish his expletive. Goyevski thumped onto the ground, unconscious.

"Nice punch." Michelle piped up, leaning out behind the table. He didn't know how much she'd seen, but no doubt, it looked strange as hell to anyone watching from the outside.

Speaking of, Toby directed his attention back at Vasily. The Russian was staring bug-eyed at him. He waltzed over as Vasily scuttled backwards, expression morphing into fear.

"Satanna." He uttered and Toby got a good laugh out of that.

"No, actually. But that'd be pretty cool." He quipped, held his hand out, and sent him a swarm of bees to deal with. Vasily began slapping around himself at invisible insects, squirming wildly, before collapsing into a sniveling heap. He held the fetal position and Toby leaned down to pluck the gun from his hand.

With the action finished, he heard Michelle grunt as she pulled herself to standing position. He rushed over and got a good look at her wound, which was bleeding more than it should be for a graze.

"How bad does this hurt?" He asked, replacing the piece of cloth she'd been using to stop the bleeding.

"Mmmm, some, but I've definitely had worse. C'mon, I think I hear backup." She started hobbling towards the exit, the faint sounds of sirens echoing through the room.

When they exited the building, about a dozen more cop cars were pulling up. Some of their raid team were bringing out perps in handcuffs. Dev ran up to one of the newly arrived officers and started directing them. An ambulance was amongst the vehicles, and he nudged Michelle in that direction.

The other paramedic bandaged her up while Toby was on the phone with the head of the raid team for the Rustic. They'd managed to shut down operation and seize all the suspicious materials found in Goyevski's office. No actual drugs, but the officer reported that plenty of records of other locations were discovered, and they were organizing searches of those places. Warehouses, factories, run down office buildings, all presumably converted into spaces for Goyevski's planned drug empire.

Toby couldn't wait to watch it crumble.

Vasily was soon walked out of the building in cuffs, something he and Michelle watched happen as they sat on the ledge of the ambulance. The Russian caught Toby's gaze for a second, face going pale white, before the officer shoved his head down and shut the car door. Toby snorted.

"What is it?" Michelle asked, typing out a text with one hand.

"Nothing. Just kinda funny that a Russian mob heading a international drug smuggling ring is afraid of bees."

"Bees?"

"Well, maybe just the sudden apparition of a swarm of bees thanks to a psychically projected illusion. From yours truly, of course." He joked and Michelle squinted.

"Is that why Goyevski looked like a washed up breakdancer in there?"

"Another quirk of my brand new defenses: illusion creation."

"Like you made him see something that wasn't actually there."

"Yep." He answered, popping the "p". Michelle shook her head.

"You never cease to amaze me." Her eyes traveled up and down, studying him like she often did. He shouldered her slightly, and she hissed in pain.

"Oh, sorr—" He jumped to apologize before realizing, "Your wound is on the other arm." Her smile was smug and goofy, and she shrugged.

"Just reminding myself that you're still you. And even you can get fooled by an illusion of my own making."

He tensed slightly at the wording, looking down at the dirt. "Yeah, well. That's becoming more of a question these days." Vasily's "Satanna" comment may have been funny in the moment, but. He wasn't enjoying reflecting on it.

Michelle grasped his hand, working to catch his gaze even as he avoided it. "Hey. Toby. You're different, there's no question about that. But that doesn't make you any less like the rest of us when it comes to what matters." She squeezed and stared at him, insisting that he heard her.

"Yeah, I know."

"Just because you got a few new tricks up your sleeve, that doesn't change that. Okay?"

He took a deep inhale, watching as a few of the cop cars drove off.

"Okay." He rubbed his head awkwardly. "You might need to remind me of that a bit over the next few weeks. This was been way too many status quo changes in," he waved his hand by his temple, "this department."

She pitied him, that was obvious, and she rubbed her finger over his hand. "Of course, but I wouldn't put too much thought into it. Think of it like a new chapter. Building off stuff that's already happened, you're just…moving forward." She nodded, as if agreeing with her own statement.

"Moving forward. That would make a good toast." He mimed holding a drink and she chuckled.

She squinted at him and readjusted. "Read me."

Toby's eyebrows shot up. "What? Michelle—"

"It's my brain, I can give you complete permission to read me if I want. Trust me, Toby." She tapped her temple, as if to say "go on".

He cleared his throat. "Okay."

It barely took a moment for him to focus in on her thoughts. With the FaceTime call still open, reading the people involved was much easier for him. So it only took a moment before he heard…

To moving forward. And facing all the status quo changes that come with it. Her thoughts pierced his own and she smiled.

To moving forward. He replied and they clinked invisible glasses.

Even if that means getting called Satan every few cases.

"What?!" She exclaimed and Toby waved her off.

"Don't worry about it."

Hey, where'd you guys go? I'm wrapped up with the Chief, we're good to head back now. Dev's voice appeared on their connection.

Back of the ambulance at the front entrance. You're driving. Michelle replied, standing with a soft groan, as Toby held her arm steady.

As they walked towards Michelle's car, Goyevski was wheeled out of the building on a stretcher. His shoulder was bandaged, and his wrists were cuffed to the sides. He immediately noticed Michelle and Toby.

"Hey, how'd you find this place, huh?! Only people who knew about it were here, so who ratted to you guys?!" He yelled and Toby almost didn't want to dignify him with a response.

But Michelle was in a gloating mood. "None of them Lance. You can thank Pierce Sullivan for the next twenty years in prison." She blew him a kiss with her good arm as Lance fought against the cuffs.

"You ruined everything, you bitch!" He barked and Michelle waved to him without even turning around.

"I don't understand, where did the bear even come from?" Toby heard him ranting to the paramedics as they walked off, stifling a laugh. God, he couldn't wait to tell Oz about that.

They clambered into the car, Toby helping Michelle put her seatbelt on. "We're going to the hospital, by the way." He'd waited to drop that bombshell on her until she was literally strapped to her chair. She sent him a death glare.

"Toby, I'm fine."

"Sure, but you should still get that looked at by an actual doctor." The corporal interjected, starting the car.

"I'll call Liv, get you express service." He clicked his fingers as Michelle thumped her head on the seat.

"Where would I be without my babysitters?" She whined. Toby rolled his eyes, leaned forward and turned the radio on.

The same damn song came on. Toby drooped.

"Oh my god, I swear it's following me!" He complained and Michelle laughed..

"What, the song?"

"Yes! It's been everywhere, I can't stand it!" Dev's eyes widened at him.

"You don't like Carly Rae Jepsen?"

"Who?!"

"It's from her new album! I love it!" He reached for the knob and turned the volume up.

"No, Dev!"

"It's hard to look riiiiight. At you baeeeeby! But here's my number! So call me, maybe!" He began singing a the top of his lungs and Toby leaned back into his chair with a loud groan of disapproval.

Michelle started cackling as Dev continued. "Hey, I just met you! And this is crazy! But here's my number! So call me, maybe!"

"I do not approve of this method of torture!" Toby protested, but was ignored when Michelle joined in with Dev.

"And all the other boyssss, try to chase me! But here's my number! So call me, maybe!"

He pressed his fingers against his ears, jokingly vocalizing "la la la la" to block out their singing. Dev only responded by turning the volume up.

"Before you came into my life, I miss you sooo bad! I missed you so bad, I missed you so, so bad!"

"This is it. This is how we die. In a car crash caused by you two jamming out too hard to the worst song of the decade." He folded his arms in defeat.

"Oh come on Toby, it's not that bad!"

"Just let the music flow through you!" Dev yelled, waving a wild hand at Toby without taking his eyes off the road.

"I need you to know, I'm going to get my revenge. You just wait and see.

"Uh huh, hey Toby! Here's my number! So call me, maybe!"


Dev dropped Michelle and Toby at the hospital, agreeing to head back and wrap up the paperwork for the night. As promised, Michelle got a special look at her wound by Liv, who was happy to cash in a favor with Toby. She got the green light to leave, with a few bottle of pain meds, and he parted with her when Adam arrived to take her home. He found Oz playing video games on his phone, the man having hung around at the hospital at the end of the shift to give him a ride back.

Toby passed out in the car from exhaustion, and was unhappy to be roused when they arrived at his apartment. He didn't even brush his teeth, and before he knew it he was asleep in his bed.

He woke to the smell of pancakes and bacon, walking into the kitchen mid-morning. With all the excitement of last night, he hadn't bothered to set an alarm. Luckily, Klein had been kind enough to permit them to come in later in the day, given the circumstances. He entered to find Oz by the stove, flipping a pancake.

"Morning dude. You slept for like, twelve hours straight."

Toby scrubbed his hands over his face, attempting to wake himself up. "Yeah. Long night."

He zeroed in on the coffee pot, pouring himself a mug.

"You get the guy?"

Toby sat at their table, and took a deep inhale. He let his pride swell. "Yeah. We got the guy."

"Awesome, because I was gonna say these pancakes were celebratory pancakes, then I realized I didn't actually know if last night went well, but by then it was too late to un-make them so. Anyways. Celebratory pancakes!" He wagged the spatula back and forth excitedly.

"Thanks Oz."

"You wanna go out for drinks tonight? Get the whole crowd together for a group celebration?"

He opened his phone, which had a few unanswered messages. "Sure. You get Liv and Sandy on board, I'll tell Michelle to bring Adam." He typed out a response with his thumb as he took another sip.

"Cool, we gotta try that new bar downtown. It's next to that Korean shop we went to like, five times in a month last year? I've been meaning to check out, Carly was singing its praises at work yesterday." His friend rambled as he picked a piece of bacon off the plate and shoved it in his mouth.

Toby glanced at the rest of his messages, realizing something. "God, I gotta call Hannah, I told her yesterday she'd get an update when all of this was over." He took a long sip of coffee.

"You saw her yesterday?"

"She came into the office with a bunch of notebooks of Pierce's. It was the only reason we were able to catch the guys the way we did. She cracked the case for us. Or, well, I guess Pierce did."

Oz paused, the sizzling of pancakes filing the silence. "Was this a euhhh thing?" He made the noise as he gestured to the side of his head. Toby scoffed.

"Yes, it was a "euhhh" thing, as you put it." He chewed on his lip. "I kinda told her I'd explain that too."

"Oh wow. Quite the conversation for a girl you've talked to like, twice."

"She deserves to know the truth about her father. She'd already worked it out mostly, she just needs one last push to fully understand." He clinked his fingers against the ceramic cup. "Hopefully it'll be some closure."

"Well, I'm glad you guys were able to get some closure on this case. 'Sides, it came with some serious perks in terms of…god I already forgot the stupid noise I made."

"Euhhh." Toby reminded. "And well, about that…" He started, before nervously taking a sip from his coffee.

"Yeah?"

"You remember how when we were testing my first new ability, we tried to make it work with images and we couldn't?"

"Oh my god, you got it to work? That's awesome."

He tilted his hand back and forth. "Kinda. It's…it's more like an illusion than a mentally projected image."

Oz raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to understand the difference between those two things?"

He scoffed. "Maybe not. It was part of the defensive thing, I made a couple guys see what I wanted them to and it was enough of a distraction to y'know. Defeat the bad guys."

Oz poured some more oil in the pan. "God, I love you putting it like that. Okay so, we've got telepathic communication, astral projection, defensive sound projection and…mirages? That's quite the arsenal you got there Professor X."

"Tell me about it." He downed his coffee and stared at Oz. He hadn't gotten the chance to test his new ability yet.

"Can I try it on you?"

Oz was currently transferring a pancake to the plate, and at Toby's words, barely managed to not drop it on the floor. He gaped at him.

"Me?

"Yeah. I only tried it a few times but…" He recalled the way Vasily looked at him, before he curled into a frightened fetal position.

"Never mind, maybe it's not the best idea."

"No, hold on Toby. I was just…you said it was a defensive thing. So I just didn't…" He worded and Toby quickly understood his hesitance. He practically threw his chair back as he stood and held out a placating hand.

"Oz, I would never try to hurt you."

"Well, duh, it's just…you know, they never ask the guinea pigs how they feel."

"I'm sorry I asked."

"Hey, I didn't say no yet." Oz planted his hands on the counter.

Toby went rigid. "Seriously?"

"Why the hell not? I trust you not to break my brain too much." He wiped his hands on a dish towel, turning the burner off.

"Come on, hit me. Show me what you got." He beckoned, holding this hands out and flicking his fingers.

"You're 100% sure? Just so you know, you might get a headache." He cautioned and Oz rolled his eyes.

"Dude, I just said I trust you. Quit stalling!" He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and took a stance like he was waiting to catch a pitch. Toby laughed at his pose.

"Alright."

He leaned against the table and focused on Oz, picking out his thoughts easily. The door was still propped open, allowing for easy reads, and this time he tried to send the image through gently. Rather than busting through the front.

He smirked to himself as he pictured a small cat sitting on the table, pushing it into Oz's mind.

His friend's smile instantly dropped, as his eyes flicked over to the illusion.

"Whoa—what the hell?" He stumbled back slightly, losing his excited attitude. His eyes bugged out as he stared intently at the mirage.

"You see him?"

"Yeah, it's just…it's a little kitty! That's…" He weakly pointed at the invisible animal. "That's not real?!"

"I think it makes more sense for me to be able to plant a picture of an animal in your mind rather than will cats into existence."

"But it's moving! Meowing at me, what the––how'd you do that?" He approached the table cautiously.

"I'm not doing anything right now, I just put the image in there. Goyevski, our perp, the same thing happened with him. I only had a single picture, but his brain seemed to…animate it, I guess."

Oz squatted down and stared intently at the table, fingers balancing on the edge. Suddenly he flinched backwards.

"Gah, jesus!" He fell onto his butt. "It just swatted and hissed at me!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Just like my auntie's cat used to do!" His eyes whipped around. "It's gone!"

"Huh." Toby reflected on that development—his best guess was Oz's own memory was filling in the blanks of the illusion. Probably meant this technique was a bit of a wild card to use.

"Do it again!" Oz wiggled his finger at the spot where the cat just was.

"Same thing?"

"No, try something else." He squatted down by the table again.

Toby brainstormed for a few seconds, before trying something different.

"Holy…you're making it snow indoors?!" Oz cried, head craned back as he watched the invisible snow.

"No, I'm making you see snow indoors." He clarified. Oz held his hand out, like he was trying to catch snowflakes.

"Now that's weird. It melted in my hand but I didn't feel anything."

"That's what I wanted to see. I think your brain is filling in gaps when the illusion doesn't seem real, I wanted to know if that extended to your sense of touch as well." He explained as Oz kept his head held up, sidestepping around their furniture.

"I am reporting that I cannot feel these snowflakes one bit, my friend. Though," he paused, and breathed out deliberately. "I can see my breath. But I don't feel cold." He tapped his finger on his mouth. "Trippy."

"I'm gonna try one more thing Oz." He stated, but his friend barely seemed to register what he was saying.

He recalled the strangeness of the bear merging with its surroundings back at the storage facility. He tried to conjure something similar, this time imagining a man on stilts, standing so tall he wouldn't be able to fit through their door.

"Agh, sheesh Toby!" Oz clutched his chest as his eyes locked onto the illusion. "What's with the BFG here?" He pointed, ducking around slightly. He didn't quite know what Oz was seeing, so he looked a bit ridiculous.

"He definitely looks too tall to go through the door right?" He pointed where Oz was looking and his friend nodded.

"Uh yeah man, you put him in here. Shouldn't you know?"

"Right, I do, I just want to see…" He trailed off and exhaled slowly. So far, he wasn't in control of the illusions once he put them in people's minds. But, he figured he'd try, imagining the same man walking towards their exit.

"Okay, he's going, he's walking, he's…wait the door's closed this isn't gonna work––" Oz rambled before shutting his mouth with a click.

"What happened?"

"He uh…buddy just walked right through the door. Like it was a video game, he just walked through it as if it wasn't there! Toby, if I didn't know that was a mirage you'd thumbtacked to my brain, I would think I was going crazy right now."

"Maybe the world is the one going crazy."

"If this is what that looks like, then I'm game." He admitted and Toby raised an eyebrow. "What? Tobes, come on, this is so cool, even you have to recognize that!"

"Yeah. Maybe it's a little cool."

After that little training session, he had confirmed one last detail about his mirage ability: he could do it without causing pain. Oz didn't feel the slightest headache so when he wandered into work just after lunch and saw Dev and Michelle chatting in the conference room, he smirked to himself.

He imagined a small speaker sitting in the corner of the room, with no apparent on or off switch. And he also added the damn song playing out of it.

With that, he pushed the vision into his friends minds. He envisioned the volume first being quite low, almost as if the song was coming from another room. Dev seemed to notice, snapping his head up as soon as Toby sent the illusion. But Michelle didn't visibly react so he brushed it off.

Toby squinted and pictured the volume increasing a bit. This time Michelle whipped her head around. He read her lips, saying "Do you hear that?"

Dev stood and wandered over to the corner where he'd put the speaker. He quickly moved it to the other side of the room, the song traveling with it. Dev startled, and Michelle shot out of her chair.

He increased the volume of the song (not too loudly to cause any discomfort, but enough that they couldn't ignore it). His friends both walked over to the location of the speaker again, and Toby chuckled as Dev reached forward to touch the invisible speaker. Instead he almost tipped forward, unbalanced by the lack of an actual physical object. He yelped and Michelle's hands went to cover her mouth.

Now full on laughing, he moved the speaker once last time to the center of the table. This time both of his friends saw the illusion travel. Dev looked utterly mortified and Michelle's eyes searched beyond the room, like she was trying to find an explanation. She landed on Toby standing smugly outside.

"Toby!" Her muffled voice came from the glass room, and she pointed an angry finger at him. He dropped the illusion intentionally as his friends stomped out of the conference room.

"You scared the crap out of me!"

"I thought your illusions were for defending yourself, Toby!" Both of them stalked up to him, yelling over each other and he shushed them with a half-chuckle.

"Oz and I practiced this morning. Turns out they can be used for just about anything." He shoved his hands in his pockets, and just for emphasis, he pushed the song into their heads once more. No speaker this time, just the awareness that the music was playing…somewhere.

They both spun around at the new illusion.

"Where is that coming from now?!" Michelle demanded. He folded his arms.

"Everywhere."

"Oh my god, you're going to be insufferable about this."

"I told you. Revenge."


He was about to call it for the day. The half-day was definitely nice to have, but he was fading by 5 pm. He'd spent most of the day filling out case reports, sitting in on a video conference meetings with Interpol, the Philadelphia Chief of Police, and an assortment of government agencies, and listening in on their last few interrogations.

One of the guys they'd nailed at the storage facility was Pierce's killer, Jamal Richardson. With Goyevski in the hospital and unable to be interrogated for at least a few days, they figured he would be the only guy with the full story about the murder. Luckily for them, as soon as he was in custody, the poker dealer seemed very willing to talk.

He blabbed to Toby and Michelle about how Pierce confronted them about their plans with Vasily. As he told his story, the poker dealer still seemed confused as to how the man could've known anything about their Russian connections, and Michelle kept sending Toby discreet smug looks.

Goyevski had Pierce escorted out, but he kept getting found around the premises over the next few months. Pierce kept calling with various information on their plans, and it freaked Goyevski; they thought they had a security leak. Only when Pierce called a week before Vasily's visit, threatening to call the police, did Goyevski put out the order to kill him. At his own daughter's birthday party.

And when that didn't work, Jamal himself snuck into the hospital and made him overdose on morphine.

He didn't feel bad about putting these guys away. Not one bit.

After that interrogation, he's had a phone call with Hannah, as promised. Just the basic details about the end of the case, but she was pretty quiet for most of the call. He knew why, the pregnant pauses and long silences were her own reluctance and confusion. He checked his watch, and winced at the thought of having to stick around the office for any longer.

Biting his lip, he impulsively invited her to their outing. He'd already explained to Dev and Michelle Oz's idea for drinks, and both of his friends were on board. It was pretty much the norm after long cases like these anyway. But, when Hannah hesitantly agreed to join, he informed his friends they'd be having one more attendee.

Michelle had raised an eyebrow, but didn't fight him. The reason was obvious, even if he didn't fully explain it to her. Dev did not seem to care one way or the other. He'd sent a text to Oz and Liv just to give them a heads up.

Half an hour later, he was in the middle of a dart game against Dev and Adam when Hannah walked up behind him. He threw a dart as she sheepishly approached.

"Hi." She greeted and he spun around to meet her.

"Hey, Hannah." He shot a pointed look at Dev, pulling her aside to speak more privately. Adam seemed confused, gesturing at the dart game, but Dev managed to cover for him. Toby leaned against the bar table as Hannah seemed to work up the courage to speak.

"You know I almost didn't come. I was sitting in my car, trying to psych myself up to walk in here, hear you out. And a part of me really just wants to hear you say "I'm messing with you Hannah!" because that would mean all the craziness that was in his notebooks is nothing worth putting thought into." She sighed, clutching the strap of her purse.

"But you're not gonna say that, are you?"

Toby sent her a pitying look. "No, I'm…I'm not." She sighed and collapsed into one of the bar chairs.

"Okay so what are you gonna tell me?" She planted her arms on the table, demanding answers. He also slid into a chair.

"Look, it's…it's complicated. Your dad he was…" Toby struggled to find the right words.

"You said he was different." She filled in for him.

"Yeah, sure. He was different." He bit back a smile at the irony of the term.

"How different? What does that mean? Like he had a double life as a stalker? Like he was secretly really good at hacking cameras in professional establishments?" She stared at him with wild eyes.

"No. He could…he could read people." Toby's gut roiled from anticipation.

"Read what from people?"

He ripped the bandaid off. "He could read their minds."

Hannah's fingers clenched, and her head thudded onto the table. She took a few breaths and Toby just let her sit in that revelation for a moment.

"I was really hoping you weren't gonna say that. I was really really hoping you weren't gonna say that." She lifted her head, blowing some hair out of her face. "Cause I don't think I can believe you now that you have."

He rolled his eyes. "Hannah, you read his notebooks. He was dictating word for word what Goyevski was thinking, practically every day."

She shook a finger in his face. "No, my Dad was sick. He filled his notebooks with crazy nonsense, insane ramblings about a guy he was stalking, and in the end, it got him killed." She inhaled shakily. "He can't be a mind reader."

"Why not?" Toby challenged her.

"What?"

"Why can't he be a mind reader?"

She looked at him like he had two heads. "Because that's not possible."

"What if I told you it was?"

"Then I'd say you're as crazy as my Dad."

He grumbled and took a sip of his drink. "Okay, fair. But before you commit me to a psychiatric ward, let me do one thing." He rubbed his hands together, and Hannah waited silently.

"Think of a date."

She scoffed. "No way."

"Just do it. Humor me. Think of a date that's important to you. And if you still think I'm crazy, then you can walk out that door and never look back."

Her eyes hadn't left his gaze. She readjusted, but nodded.

October 26th. My anniversary with Phoebe.

"Anniversary. October 26th." He answered and Hannah threw her chair back in shock.

"Hannah, it's okay."

"No, not that's not…how did you…how'd you know that?" She stammered, a few other bar patrons having turned at the noise, including his friends. Oz and Liv sent quizzical looks, but he brushed them off. He held out a calming hand.

"It's alright, just…I know it because I read your mind." Toby kept his voice hushed as Hannah had all of her limbs locked, gawking at him.

"No you didn't."

"Hannah…"

"No. You didn't."

"I did. It's what I do." He insisted.

She inched forward slowly. "Do it again. With something you shouldn't have any way of knowing."

"Okay. Think about it then."

I keep a spare bottle of wine wrapped in a towel at the back of the linen closet. Nobody knows about it, not even my sponsor. I know I should throw it out but I'm not there yet.

Toby read her a bit more, and got an image of the closet. The wine was an aged red, the towel was a soft yellow, and Hannah was flipping a coin that said "8 months recovery" on it.

"You're 8 months sober. You keep a bottle of red wine in the back of your closet, wrapped in a yellow towel that no one in the house uses." The more he said, the wider her eyes got. "You should really tell your sponsor about that." Hannah's legs almost gave out.

"You're…you're really a mind reader." She slowly sat back in the chair.

"I am. So was your Dad." He picked at the label on his beer. "I've only ever met two other people like me and him, so, it was pretty surprising. I only wish I could have gotten to know him more."

"And…and he was… reading the mind of the man you guys caught?"

"Yes. He was worried about what he'd do, worried he was going to start something dangerous." He placed a hand on the table. "Hannah, without your dad's abilities we never would have prevented what we did. He did an amazing thing."

She zoned out for a moment, thinking. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess he did."

Hannah straightened her back and cleared her throat, mustering some confidence. "Wow. That's quite the bombshell to drop on me, Toby." She joked, the disbelief having worn off slightly.

"Yeah, I know." He shrank, feeling a bit awkward.

"But I'm glad you did." She quickly followed up. "It's…it's a relief to know he wasn't crazy. Even if the truth is so much more absurd.

He just laughed at that comment. No kidding.

Hannah fidgeted with a bracelet on her wrist. "Seriously. Thank you for telling me about him. And for everything else."

Toby smiled. "I'm just glad I could help."


With Pierce Sullivan's case now closed, Toby felt things were hitting a new stride. No more new powers decided to make an appearance, and the next time he was out on a call, he and Oz didn't happen across another injured telepath. That didn't stop him from thinking about the possibility, and he had to remind himself that his life was normal. Things were changed, sure. But…

To moving forward.

He finished up the uneventful shift mid morning, but for some reason he wasn't tired. He decided to stop by the hospital and talk with Liv. She'd cornered him after his conversation with Hannah and demanded he come to the hospital to get checked out—with all the changes to his powers, she wanted to be absolutely sure nothing bad was happening in his brain. He didn't even try to fight her on it, even though he felt fine. Her tone was absolute. No use trying to worm his way out of it.

He found her filling out some paperwork in her office. Toby knocked to enter.

"Hey, Toby. You ready for your checkup?" She stood up and gathered some of her things.

"With you? Always." He joked and she pushed him out the door.

In an empty exam room, Liv did her normal routine of checks on him. He stayed quiet, sitting on the exam table, letting her work and watching with a small smile.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" She asked as she pumped the blood pressure cuff.

"Just happy to see you." Liv arched her eyebrow.

"Just that?"

"Yeah. You're like the one constant thing in my life right now." He explained as she stuck a pulse oximeter on his pointer finger.

"Really? How so?"

"Well, this thing has been throwing me off balance the past week with its software updates," he tapped his temple as Liv tittered, "and you're the only one who hasn't spent at least a few minutes staring at me like you're just waiting for me to start floating or something." He explained. She paused, sighed, and promptly dropped her equipment.

"Toby." She needled but he shook his head.

"I'm not complaining about it, honest. Just. Oz thinks I'm some sort of superhero. Dev keeps asking me to try new illusions like I'm a lab rat. Klein still doesn't really know what to make of me, not that I really blame him. And Michelle hasn't stopped trying to figure me out, she keeps squinting at me like she'll learn something new every time she looks at me." She put a soft hand on her shoulder, pitying him. That really wasn't what he wanted, so he smiled to try and reassure her.

"I'm not annoyed or anything, I promise."

"You should still talk to them about it."

"I will if it starts bothering me. But it isn't. It's just part of how they cope." He bemused. Liv held up the blood pressure strap.

"But this isn't part of mine?" She joked and he rolled her eyes.

"No. In fact, I'd be worried if you hadn't dragged me in here to take a blood sample. Because it's normal for you. That's your status quo––worrying about and checking up on me." He pointed slightly.

"And you haven't changed that. So. Constant." He grinned, kicking his legs. She scoffed, pulling the device off his finger.

"I just wanna be sure you're okay Toby. You don't take care of yourself enough." Liv stuck her stethoscope in her ears and laid the chest piece on his back.

"Breathe deep for me." She instructed, and he complied. She checked a few places, and he enjoyed the momentary silence of the room. He studied her face as she focused on what she heard through her instrument.

God, she really was beautiful.

"You spend so much time in other people's heads, Toby. I think you forget you have your own thoughts to worry about sometimes. And you're too…you're too good of a person to go through that." She fidgeted with the stethoscope as she draped it back over her neck.

"No one should feel alone with their own emotions. No one, and especially not you." She worded, catching his eyes. Somewhere along the way, she'd gotten closer to him.

"And you were wondering why I was so happy you were checking up on me. It's cause you say sappy things like that." He quipped and she took a rushed step backward.

"Oh come on, let me care about you!"

"I'm not stopping you!"

"You're teasing me for it." She pulled a pen light from her coat pocket. "Hold still."

She dragged the light across his face, checking for pupil reactions. Toby slowed his breathing to comply, in the process realizing his heart was pounding rapidly, thumping against his eardrums.

"Sorry, that's just habit for me. I don't hear stuff like that often."

"What, basic empathy?" She joked as she pulled out a small rubber hammer. "Tell me if you can't feel any of these." She started thudding it on his legs.

He chuckled slightly as she traveled along his limbs with the hammer. "No. I'm just not used to someone paying this much attention to me"

"You make me sound overprotective."

"Not overprotective. Just thoughtful." He sighed. "It's nice knowing I'm always in your thoughts."

She deadpanned him with a tired look, leaning forward to thump the hammer on his shoulders.

"Not from a read, I swear!" Toby held his hands back. "Intuition. I don't always need to read you to know what you're thinking."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm. You're very expressive." He teased. Liv dropped the hammer on the table, folding her arms.

"Fine. Without reading me, right now, what am I thinking?" She challenged, her face only about a foot away from his.

Toby smirked.

Kiss me. He read her, and easily leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on her lips. A moment later, she pulled back with a shy smile drawn across her face.

"Is that what you were thinking?" He flirted. Liv blushed, struggling to form words.

"You're…you're so…sly." She thudded his chest in mock frustration and he tilted forward to kiss her again. They held this one for a few moments longer, as Toby drifted a hand down to her waist to pull her closer.

They broke apart, foreheads touching as they hung in silence. He pushed down a smile as he chose to confess.

"If I'm being honest, I did read you."

"I knew it."

"Does that change anything?"

"Not a bit." She leaned back and draped her arms around his neck.

"You seem healthy from what I can tell. Just don't push yourself with these new tricks." She warned. He pulled her closer.

"Roger that, doc." He went to kiss her again, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"One more thing. Try again."

"What?" He mumbled.

"Tell me what I'm thinking. Without reading me. For real this time." She insisted, pressing against his face with her finger. Toby slowly nodded.

"Okay. Do it." She dropped her hand and held still.

Toby looked at her. Studied the shape of her face, the way her irises darted around minutely while still holding eye contact with him. How her lips were pulled into a gentle grin, her jaw working to maintain it. How her face crinkled with tender appreciation, by her eyes, mouth. How her shoulders twitched ever so slightly, arms still resting on her shoulders, as her fingers danced along his neck.

He looked at her and felt his heart swell.

"I love you too."

This time Liv initiated the kiss. He grinned into it, following her lead. When they broke off, she pointed to her head, giving him silent permission to read her.

You're worth it, Toby Logan. Software updates and all.

He laughed out loud at her phrasing. "I'm glad to hear that."She lifted her hands off and began gathering her stuff.

"Wanna stop by for dinner tonight? Oz has been bothering me to demo my illusions to someone other than him." He jumped off the table, rolling the sleeves of his shirt down.

"Sure, I'll be off at 6. Make sure there's wine."

"Oh for you? Always." He held the door open, as she turned into the hallway back towards the elevator.

"I'll see you tonight." Toby called as she walked off with a wave. A thought occurred to him and he laughed to himself.

"Hey, Liv!" He had to yell for her to hear him down the hallway. She'd just pressed the elevator call button, and she turned at his shout.

He held his hand up to his ear, thumb and pinkie outstretched. "Call me, maybe!" He declared, and the elevator behind her dinged. She shook her head, baffled.

"What?"

He waved her off. "I'll tell you tonight."

And with that, Liv disappeared into the elevator. Toby hung still in the hallway for a moment, cradling the warm feeling in his chest. His mind raced with the thrill of their impulsive expression of love.

Maybe this mind reading thing wasn't so bad after all.