TW: violence, language, drug use
I met O'Malley in South Beach Park that afternoon. His orange curls fluttered in the ocean breeze like streamers as he unwrapped a burrito, offering me the other half. Karl was beginning to make his appearance as a thick sheet of condensation, but the Bay Bridge was still visible in the distance.
"Y'know, for someone who doesn't want to be seen as the 'teacher's pet', you sure have a funny way of showing it." His Bronx accent smacked, stirring up an unexpected wave of homesickness.
"Well after a few more weeks, that won't be a problem."
"That's right, you're at the halfway point." He nudged me good naturedly. "Have you given any thought to what Gil offered? You're going to have to have a little more training but..."
"I don't think my father cared for it too much."
"I bet." O'Malley snorted loudly. "I thought he was going to strangle me on the spot when I came to see you. Not that I can blame him - I more than deserve it."
"No you wouldn't. I'm fine, he knows it."
"In his eyes...like many of us, Red, you'll always be the little girl from the Falcon case. You may not be in the New York office anymore, but the people who know your story at HQ will try and shelter you." He chuckled to himself. "If you only knew the amount of flack I received from all sides, you would never have guessed this was a classified operation."
"News at ACME spreads like wildfire."
"Understatement." He wadded up the foil from his burrito into a ball. "But they're not wrong. I shouldn't have put you in that position so soon..."
"Sean, I promise you I'm okay. It happened a long time ago, I've had help working through it...and we've stopped others from experiencing the same thing. If I can spend my career doing that, then..." I trailed off, taking another bite.
My biological mother was married to the head of a now almost-defunct criminal organization called Falcon, who, among other things, had heavy dealings in human trafficking. It was said that after I was born, she began to have moral complications and wanted to leave him, but she knew too much so he refused. Driven to grief about our situation, she killed herself by throwing herself off a cliff and into the ocean. My biological father was not convinced that she was truly dead when they could not produce a body. He wanted a way to draw her out of hiding, and used me to do it, physically and sexually abusing me and circulating the evidence in ways that would reach her if she was still alive. The abuse worsened with time as he became more emboldened by her lack of response, but thankfully ACME intervened. I never dwelled on this experience if I could help it, but this past week, I found myself trying to place the memory of a certain Detective that picked me up off that basement floor.
O'Malley nodded. "Your case is also what got Gil into undercover. He never wanted another child to be hurt in that way if he could help it..."
"Seems like we have a lot in common then."
"It'd be a good match," he assented. "Even though I was hoping to keep you for myself."
"What do you need a partner for in the Academy?"
"I may or may not be returning to SpecOps full time." O'Malley answered slyly. "Anyway, enough about me. You said you had two things to talk about?"
I brought up the assignment, explaining to O'Malley my findings and my frustrations in not being able to push forward. At the end, he laughed heartily.
"What's so funny?" I demanded.
"You pushed this case further than it's been in years in a week's time. I will absolutely give you substantial credit for it. What more could you want?"
"To find him?"
"If he's still alive, and that's a big if, it doesn't seem if he would want to be found. It's a voluntary disappearance, not a kidnapping. In my opinion, he got spooked, was too afraid to turn to the law because of his shady dealings and took off. Whether or not whoever he was supplying caught up with him is the question...but it's a question for the next agent to answer."
"So that's it?" I asked, discouraged.
"Sometimes it has to be, Red. Sometimes we get lucky like your friend Paul and are able to tie things up with a nice little bow, but most times, we have to be content that we gave it our all and pass it on." He gave my kneecap a brief squeeze. "If it makes you feel any better, a lot of your classmates have little to nothing."
"Speaking of my classmates...I heard David hasn't been around?"
"His father isn't doing well so he's taken a leave of absence. I'll give you his number. I'm sure it'd mean a lot to hear from you."
"Why couldn't you just tell the others this?"
O'Malley smirked. "I would have if they had asked, but you know there's only room for one outspoken Agency brat each class."
"Good thing I'll be back on Monday."
"A very good thing." he said, the smirk growing wider, "It's been too quiet without you."
I called David from my father's office at home that evening, happy to hear his voice after what felt like forever.
"I don't mind that O'Malley told you, but please don't share this with anyone else but Paul."
"Of course. Maybe we can drive down to Monterey next weekend and visit?" When he didn't immediately answer, I added, "Or not? Sorry."
"I'm hoping I'll be back before then," he admitted. "I need to be. How are you feeling?"
"Great. I return on Monday."
"That's good news." I could feel the rays of his sunny grin through the phone. "I was afraid you weren't going to come back."
"Nah, I'm not the quitting type."
"Me either." he sighed. "I hate that I'm missing so much."
"I'll keep you posted, but the Academy will always be here. Take care of your family."
"I know." David replied. "And you take care of yourself, Red."
He hung up. I spun around in the chair lazily, it squeaking on every quarter turn. My father was entertaining some ACME brass in the living room, and I was in no mood to be charming. Instead I decided to head back to the dorms, in hopes that Paul would be around.
I found our dorm room empty.
Disappointed, I peeked into the common room where I found Liza and Felipe. Liza was in a tight black dress with a whisper of a strap holding it on her angular shoulders. Her heels stood next to her, dark with a narrow point, four inches tall. Felipe slid her the half finished bottle of vodka, and she took a swig, forgoing the shot glass in front of her. He was dressed in a very fitted light colored button down and tan colored pants, the shirt unbuttoned enough to show a hint of his well defined chest. When they both noticed me standing there I was greeted with a cacophony of joyous expressions and hugs. I realized then that I had missed them as well.
"We're going out to the Cat's Cradle." Felipe said. "You should come!"
"She's only fifteen." Liza half admonished.
"I have an id that says I'm not." I replied in a sing-song voice.
"Perfecto." Felipe laughed, pouring me a shot. "Let's do it!"
The Cat's Cradle was a low-key bar in The Castro, a nice departure from the places ACME usually frequented. I was highly entertained watching Felipe chat up an almost equally well built guy at the bar, his dimple appearing more and more frequently as the conversation went on. Liza was giggling with Banks nearby, both already very tispy. I sipped on my drink, nearly aspirating when I caught sight of a familiar slim frame pressed up against the wall in a shadowy corner.
"Paul Leung." I whispered to myself, making my way over through the crowd. "You're full of surprises."
"Red! A donde vas?"
I groaned, offering Felipe an innocuous smile.
"You seemed busy."
"Oh that?" he asked, motioning to his latest conquest with puckered lips. "That was just for fun, querida."
"Seems like both of you are playing the same game." I replied, noting that Mr. Dimple was already schmoozing with another guy.
"No me importa, muneca. We're all young and trying to have a good time, verdad?" He called over to the bartender. "Double whatever she's having, she's still sober."
"Felipe..." I was too buzzed for comfort, but I didn't want to be a killjoy.
He took me by both hands, already distracted. "Wepa! I love this song. Dance conmigo, Roja?"
I obliged him, much to the hilarity of Liza and Banks, who had come over to join us, swaying in time to the beat.
"We should go to Badlands next!" Banks suggested. The others agreed excitedly.
I got caught up in the fun for a while, until a lull in the music gave me time to excuse myself to the bathroom.
"We're gonna get our things." Liza told me. "Meet us over at the club."
"Sure thing." I replied, heading off. I had noticed that Paul slipped away to the restroom with his 'friend' at some point, and I was pretty sure I didn't miss him coming out.
"Paul?" I called, gingerly opening the door to the men's toilets. I heard a soft groan in reply. I entered, finding him sitting on the floor holding his head. His pants were wet from the runoff of an overflowing urinal and his face bloody.
"Red - what are you doing here - "
"Where is he?" I demanded. "How long ago did this happen?"
"Few minutes I think...he took my wallet... everything..."
"Fuck."
Paul shakily got to his feet, attempting to wash his face over the sink. I stopped him.
"Never mind that. Let's see if we can get that asshole."
"He's probably long gone by now." Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, slowing the bleeding. I noticed his right wrist was bare.
"Wait, he took your communicator too?"
"He must have thought it was a new kind of smartwatch."
Despite everything, we both began to laugh.
"Too easy." I said, pinging the device's location, which was only two blocks out. "I'm here with the others, I can have them block him off until we get -
"No."
"What? Why?"
"I-I don't want anyone to know."
I looked at him, waiting for further explanation but he only offered a shrug.
I took what I could get. "Okay. Just you and me."
Because of how Paul looked and smelled, we slipped through the back entrance, putting us in a narrow alley in-between the bar and a small brownstone. Our mark was on the move, now a block further away.
"You know, we all make mistakes...this would be a lot easier with the others..." I told him as we jogged to try and close the widening gap.
"No." Paul protested, in between breaths. "There he is."
It was a young male, with a mop of scraggly blond hair and the same lanky build as Paul. From our vantage point I could see his gaunt face, hollowed out by his eye sockets and sunken cheekbones. He caught sight of us, but I was quicker, dodging a passing truck full of rubbish as I crossed the street and tackling him before he could flee. We scrambled on the ground until I got the better of him, holding his body against the pavement with my weight on his back.
"Something's not right." Paul glanced at my wrist.
"Don't tell me that or I'm going to have to make a serious apology." I pushed our squirming thief deeper into the concrete despite his protests.
"My comms signal is still moving."
I turned my wrist over to look for myself at the display and swore.
"What'd you do with it?" I demanded, my mouth near his ear. "Huh?"
"I'd never tell you, fed."
I pressed my knee into his spine, and he yelped. The commotion was causing a curtains to shift in a few windows.
"Red!" Paul exclaimed, pulling me off of him. "You know better."
The young man turned over, breathing heavy, but still managing to look smug. I fought a fleeting urge to kick him, but instead hit his pockets. Paul's brown wallet was there, along with a few small bags of white, uncut powder.
"Look at this - we've gotta call it in."
"No!" Paul hissed.
The man on the ground guffawed, pulling himself to a seat.
"Why, Paul? You don't want your new friend to know about your recreational activities?"
"Shut your fucking mouth." I snapped, ready to lay him out. Paul stretched out his arm, catching me in my chest.
"Let him go." Paul's tone was even. "He has nothing."
I grumbled as the skeleton got to his feet and walked away. He looked over his shoulder with a taunting smile. I vindictively tossed the narcotics in a nearby garbage can, opening the small ziplock bags before I did so, the contents coating the inside of the bin.
"Red -
"No time to talk about that now," I interrupted, turning my wrist over. Whoever had the communicator now was several blocks out, and the gap was quickly widening, too fast to be on foot.
"He must have threw it onto that truck." I fumed. "We could follow it on scooter -"
Paul shook his head. "Even if we could stop it...to sort through all that trash discreetly..."
"We can worry about it when we get there." I walked down the block to where a few motor scooters were parked neatly in a row. "You coming?"