#getting ready for a long night of doing paperwork together in companionable silence <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

Smoke & Mirrors - part 4

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4: Save me

(see chapter 3, 2, 1)

summary: what’s gonna happen if we lock them together for some time...?

warnings: some violence, language and other explicit things, 18+

author’s note: 4,8k words, just because I thought I needed to add more plot to it because you wanted 2 shorter chapters instead of a longer one. Who’s laughing now?

Reading this may cause a slight whiplash. Sorry, not sorry.

song for this chapter: Aimee Mann - Save me

Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think, please?

----

The Protagonist’s eyes darted at Ives.

“And what did she say?”

“Short answer? Nunya,” Ives shrugged, closing the door behind him.

Wheeler giggled and TP looked at her in confusion.

“Long answer,” continued Ives, joining the other two by the coffee machine, “is that as long as they're doing their job, it doesn’t matter who they are fucking in their free time.”

“And are they?”

“What, fucking? I thought we’ve already--”

“No, doing their job,” TP pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I have a mission for them, but it requires locking them together for a significant amount of time.”

Wheeler took a sip from her cup. “If they don’t bond, they’ll bone, and I’d say it’s better than killing each other.”

Ives snorted, clearly amused, but TP hid his face in his palms and groaned lightly.

“Was that your plan all along?”

Wheeler gave them an innocent smile. “Wasn’t yours?” she asked, and as she caught the exchange of looks, her eyes lit up. “You’re welcome.”

-----

You found the car parked near the front door and you had to admit - that grey-ish sedan was the dullest, most ordinary vehicle you’d seen in a while. And that’s why it was perfect.

Neil tossed you the keys and proceeded to load your bags into the trunk. You went to check the GPS setting. The total route was calculated for a little over 5 hours, which gave you enough time to go over the details of the assignment at least once on the way there.

As your mission partner took the passenger seat, you handed him the tablet with all the documents loaded up and ready to go. He nodded, fortunately sparing you the small talk and unnecessary comments, and started reading through them out loud as you followed the GPS directions to your destination.

What you didn’t expect was an almost insultingly short length of reports from the previous stakeout teams, and even a slightly more detailed operation brief was not enough to keep you occupied for too long. Exhausting all the work-related topics, you tensed, suddenly uncomfortable in the silence between the two of you. Especially since you caught Neil’s stare, because if his furrowed brows could be any indication, you had a feeling he might start asking way too many questions any minute now.

As the radio crackled again, you groaned in frustration. There were still two hours left of traveling through the middle of nowhere, and you’d appreciate any distraction that wouldn’t make you want to drive into the nearest tree. Unlike talking to your partner.

Neil opened the glove compartment and searched through its contents. He found a thick CD case and started flipping through pages curiously. With the corner of your eye, you saw a grin lighting his face when he finally picked one.

As you heard the familiar piano notes, your knuckles on the steering wheel turned white. Oh, fuck no.

You glared at Neil, who was gently swaying his head, eyes closed, fighting himself to keep a straight face. When the lyrics started, he pressed his palms to his chest right over his heart and looked at you as he mouthed the words.

//When I was young

I never needed anyone

And making love was just for fun

Those days are gone//

You gritted your teeth and focused back on the road, trying to keep in check the rising anger already boiling the blood in your veins, as Neil was clearly feeling the song more and more with every line.

Well, at least this time he wasn’t--...

And then just as the chorus was about to hit, Neil mimicked the opening drum sequence and spread his arms wide, singing along:

//All by myself

Don't wanna be

All by myself

Anymore//

“If you don’t change that fucking song in the next 10 seconds, be ready to walk all the way to the city--...”

“Come on, it’s a classic!” he complained, the biggest smile not leaving his face even for a moment.

You smacked your tongue, finding your most casual voice, “...and I’m not gonna be bothered with pulling over.”

Neil turned down the volume so the music was barely audible, and while it was not what you’d asked him to do, he didn’t give you a chance to scold him.

“I bet you’ve spent at least one evening listening to that song with a big box of ice cream on your lap,” he smirked, closely watching your reaction to his words.

You could feel your ears burning. Fucking hell, you really hated his guts.

“No,” you scoffed, but even you were not convinced by the sound of that. Judging by Neil’s expression, neither was he. You winced and groaned, ”...shut up!”

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” - he shrugged - “been there, done that.”

“Of course you have,” you couldn’t help but snicker at the image planted in your head.

The blue eyes studied you for a while longer before focusing back at the view outside the window. Meanwhile, the song ended, getting replaced by an instrumental track. You turned the volume up and for the next minute or two, you drove in silence.

When you heard a light chuckle, you glanced at Neil again. There was something peculiar in the look on his face, a soft gaze in contrast to a knowing grin.

You sighed.

“Do I wanna know what you’re grinning about now?”

Neil raised a brow and his lips parted in an even wider smile.

“Probably not.”

You shook your head, drawing a long breath, wondering how you were going to survive the next forty-something hours together. You could just hope that being at the actual location and starting the real work was going to make it easier.

Grounding yourself, you stared into the darkness stepping back under the car’s headlights as dusk slowly turned into night. You noticed a faint glow of city lights reflecting in the clouds over the horizon and you relaxed slowly, tuning out anything other than the road ahead.

Just as the CD player jumped back to the first song again and you switched to a local radio station, now clear of static, you realized your companion had been unusually quiet for the last half an hour. You looked at the passenger seat only to find Neil deep in his sleep and your heart started beating a little faster. Suddenly, everything about the sight seemed endearing - the peaceful face under the ruffled blonde hair, the slightly open mouth almost hidden behind the turned-up collar of the dark navy jacket, the way he wrapped his arms around himself in a little self-hug…

Your lips curled into a fond smile and as your chest clenched painfully, you turned the radio down, wishing you could do the same thing to your feelings just as easily.

-----------

The second you pulled over in the alley at the back of the abandoned hotel, two figures emerged from the door and rushed in your direction. You recognized the fellow agents and jumped out of the car to make the exchange as smooth as possible.

“Ten-minute window until the patrol comes back,” you said to a short brunette, taking your bags out of the trunk and passing her the car keys.

“Got it,” she nodded, handing you the room key in return. “Our report should be ready before we reach HQ, I will send it to you ASAP.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that the lack of an easy escape plan is intentional,” said Neil as he grabbed one of the bags and looked around.

“But it is,” you shrugged, walking into the building and heading to the nearest staircase. “No loose ends. You’re either good enough to make it out undiscovered and alive, or you get revealed and --...”

“...and then even having the cavalry on call is not going to make a difference, I get it,’ he sighed, matching your two-steps-at-once pace up the stairs, “Can’t say I like it, though.”

“So let’s try not to do anything stupid so we don’t get caught, shall we?”

A corner of your lips twitched as you heard him scoff at your remark, but to your surprise, he didn’t take the bait. Huh.

When you reached the room, you turned the lock and looked around, taking mental note of the location of every piece of equipment left by the previous team - two cameras, night vision binoculars, and a parabolic microphone placed by the windows. Some parts of the blinds on the windows were broken, others were missing, but the remaining parts still provided a decent cover from the curious eyes peeking up from street level. Other than that, the room was exactly what you would expect from a stakeout location - peeled-off wallpapers of an undefined color, a small table with an electric kettle, a couple of chairs, a mini-fridge, and a mattress.

As you went to check the last few minutes registered by the camera, Neil started unpacking the supplies. Seeing nothing interesting on the feed, you grabbed one of the water bottles he’d just put on the table and took a seat by the window, your usual first-hour-of-stakeout enthusiasm fending off the tiredness you felt after the long drive.

Neil took a laptop and sat on a chair at the other window, alternating glancing outside and typing in a message to TP with a quick update on your situation.

Your main objective was to observe the building on the other side of the street, especially one loft that was suspected to be a meeting place for one of the smuggling cells’ bosses. Snapping photos of the vehicles pulling over, of the visitors, and reporting any odd activity straight ahead. The usual. But it was past midnight already and your targets were having a pretty quiet night, apparently.

As Neil finished filing in the paperwork, he stretched his arms and groaned.

“Tea?”

You rubbed your eyes, a sudden wave of sleepiness flooded your brain as soon as you lost focus on the mission.

“Yes, please, there should be a box with a green one somewhere.”

“Ah, pity, I don’t know how well it’s gonna mix with the biscuits,” said Neil in a ridiculous posh accent, making you facepalm in response.

Partially, to hide an amused smile.

You really were that tired, huh?

“I take my tea with no sugar, no biscuits, and no snarky comments, thanks,” you huffed as your eyes followed him to the table.

“I, too, don’t like talking over a cuppa.”

“What did I just say--” you groaned, smacking your thigh in frustration.

Neil giggled and rolled his eyes, now lit by a playful twinkle. “All right, one ‘green tea no bullshit’ coming right up.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, glancing up to the ceiling as if it was supposed to help with the alarming level of annoyance in your system.

Less than two hours on-site and you already wanted to strangle him.

Among other things.

And before you could stop your tired brain, it brought up a memory of that karaoke night.

His hands roaming through your body. The sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor. Your frantic gasp when you felt him inside you. His firm grip on your hips. The heart racing in your chest. Your longing body pressing itself into him even further. His uneven breath on your neck. The quickening pace of his thrusts. Your eyes squeezing shut. His muffled moan when you tugged at his hair. The cold wall against your cheek. Your fingers interlocked. His arm wrapped around you tightly. The things whispered into your ear---

“Your tea.”

“Hmm?” you mumbled, blinking rapidly and focusing your gaze on a thermal cup in front of your face. “Oh, thanks.”

Neil studied your expression curiously, a sly grin hiding in the corner of his mouth.

“Pleasant daydream?”

“Maybe,” you sent him a smug smile and raised a brow.

His lips parted slightly at the implication. Drinking his tea, he schooled his features and sat back on the chair.

You spent the next moments enjoying the hot beverages, the silence becoming more comfortable with every sip you took. But as the time went by and you ran out of tea, the peacefulness turned into boredom.

Finally, Neil shuffled in his seat and turned your way.

"We should play a game."

Even though it sounded tempting, you didn’t trust those roguish sparks in his eyes.

“We already had a chance to play ‘yellow car’,” - you shrugged - “not my fault you chose a nap instead.”

His puzzled face gave you a hint he didn’t get the reference. Pity.

“I was thinking about some sort of...questions game,” he said and cleared his throat, shifting in his chair again. "To get to know each other better."

"Why?" you stared at him with your mouth open, suddenly taken aback.

He gave you a half-smile. "Don't you think it's weird that the only thing I know about you is all the ways to turn you on and piss you off?"

"Wouldn't be so confident about that ‘all’ part…" you huffed and lost a train of thought as you spotted the familiar flare in his gaze.

"You’re sure you wanna challenge me like that right now?"

A cold shiver ran down your spine at the way his voice got lower. You gritted your teeth as your mind started racing to find a way out of the dangerous waters.

"Aren't you a master of multitasking?" you teased, batting your eyelashes.

"And aren't you scared of having an actual conversation?" Neil narrowed his eyes and grimaced slightly.

"Fine!” you fumed as you tossed your hands in the air in defeat. “Why don’t you get straight to the point because I have a weird feeling you have a very specific question in mind."

A silence that dropped after your words was heavy and you realized you’d made a mistake.

"Actually, I do,” he said, tilting his head and locking his gaze on you. “What's up with you and kissing?"

...shit, walked right into that one, huh?

You pulled one leg up on the chair, glancing outside the window to avoid the blue eyes boring into you. "It's nothing."

“Didn’t look like nothing to me.”

Sighing, you rested the chin on your knee and wrapped your arms around it, as if that little bit of comfort was enough to make the conversation easier. Your ears were burning, your heart pounded heavily in the clenched chest, and it all was only adding to your frustration. Because it really was nothing. Or maybe it should have been, and that was the issue.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it--”

Your eyes darted at Neil only to meet his soft look. A shadow of concern on his face wasn’t helping, but you were grateful that he was willing to give you a way out.

Although at that moment, you felt you owed him an explanation.

“No, it’s just that it’s a bit silly,” you said, wincing. “I’m gonna tell you, but if you laugh, I will murder you in your sleep.”

Neil smiled lightly in encouragement.

“Got it.”

So you took a deep breath and squeezed the first word past the lump in your throat.

“It’s just that kissing to me was always something… special,” you cringed, fully aware that you sounded like a flustered teenager. “Like it really meant something. Do you know where I’m going with this?”

Neil’s brows knitted together.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Good,” you sighed, forcing yourself to breathe again. “And some time ago, I made a mistake and opened up too soon, burning myself. Fuck, it’s pathetic, I know, I just…” you hesitated and looked away, feeling the rising panic. You were exposing yourself, again. “...maybe I’m just wired that way and we should leave it at that. And never talk about it again,” your voice was hollow, the result of your brain’s desperate attempts to keep your emotions bottled up, just to keep you safe.

And after what felt like forever--

“Okay.”

You shot him a thankful look, too overwhelmed to say anything.

Neil got up, moving his shoulders in small circles to get rid of the stiffness. As he walked by you on his way to the bathroom, he patted your arm lightly. Reassuringly. The tip of your nose tingled and you bit the inside of your cheek, cursing a sudden wave of softness clouding your mind.

A few minutes passed and Neil was back. He fell on the chair heavily, slowly massaging his temples with the tips of his fingers. Catching a question in your stare, he shook his head and grinned.

“What?” you asked, squinting suspiciously.

Neil chuckled, leaning back and spreading his legs. “Trying to figure you out is giving me a headache.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, focusing on the view outside the window.

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things, you know.”

“So it’s all an act?”

You looked back at him, suddenly perplexed. “What is?”

“This,” he gestured vaguely in your direction and shrugged. “Or rather your usual behavior.”

You snorted. “Oh, I am a real ray of sunshine, but somehow being around you makes my inner bitch jump out,” you teased, meeting his amused gaze. A corner of your lips curled and you exhaled slowly. “I don’t know, after some time you learn life is easier that way, and at one point the line blurs,” you stopped for a second and frowned, wondering what had gotten into you tonight. “Does it make any sense to you?”

Something new tainted Neil’s features as he looked away, smiling sadly.

“You have no idea.”

Just as you opened your mouth to ask what was wrong, the blue eyes darted back at you.

“I’ll take the first shift, already had my nap after all,” the little laugh escaping his mouth felt forced. “You must be exhausted. Try to get some sleep.”

Oh you were exhausted, all right. But all of the sudden it felt as if he wanted to get rid of you and you couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt by that. There was something in his presence that gave you a hint that it wasn’t the best idea to pressure him about it now, and you slumped your shoulders, nodding.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, getting up. All that held-back fatigue was going to hit you in full force any minute now, and you really wanted to be laid down by then.

A few moments in the bathroom and you were back in the room again in more comfortable clothes. You rolled out a sleeping bag on the mattress and slipped into it, covering your mouth as you let out a small yawn.

“Wake me up if anything happens or you need me to take over, will you?”

Neil shot you a quick look from his chair.

“Sure thing,” he gave you a weak smile. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumbled.

You curled up and closed your eyes, hoping the heaviness you felt in your chest would be gone by the morning.

--------

It took your still half-asleep brain a moment to remember where you were and what was going on. You looked around as much as you could without moving your body to avoid revealing that you were no longer asleep. Oh right, the stakeout.

You noticed Neil sitting on the floor by the only floor-to-ceiling window near the corner of the room, looking outside. The early morning light seeping through the blinds was reflecting in the disheveled blonde hair, a fitting addition to his overall tired appearance. It seemed like he’d spent most of the night working through whatever bothered him after your last talk, but he seemed more at peace now. You studied him in a little moment of sleep-deprived self-indulgence, musing over the dark quarter zip pullover, those absurdly long legs in khaki pants--...

Okay, enough. You sat up, rubbing your face.

“How’s the mattress?”

Hearing Neil’s raspy voice made you quite tempted to invite him over to check for himself.

“Passable,” you replied instead, stretching your arms and wriggling out of your sleeping bag. You nodded at the cameras. “Anything?”

“Not really. One visitor, already on the list,” he said as his eyes followed you around the room.

“All right,” you sighed, flipping the switch on the kettle. “I need coffee, you want some?”

“No, thank you, but if you could pass me a bottle of water--”

You grabbed one and tossed it to him, heading to the bathroom.

When you finally looked and felt like a decent human being again, you went back to finish making coffee. As you walked to the windows with the thermal cup in your hands, you caught Neil’s resigned stare. You sat down on the floor in front of him, leaning your shoulder against the wall. A glimpse of internal battle clouded his features and you tilted your head, waiting for him to speak up first.

“I didn’t want this,” he blurted out, and when nothing else followed the statement, you cleared your throat.

“You have to be more specific, I’m afraid.”

Neil clenched his jaw. You noticed a hint of frustration in his eyes, but then his shoulders dropped and he let out a nervous chuckle, fastening his gaze on the view outside the window.

“I wanted to do things by the book. When TP recruited me… I thought I’d be just another field agent and I was okay with that,” he sighed and grimaced. “But he insisted on fast-tracking me, even when I told him it wasn’t fair to the rest of you.” Neil shook his head slowly and a corner of his lips twitched. “He promised me one of his best agents’ help on the way though. Imagine my surprise when the agent in question kept snarling at me and shoving me around instead.”

When Neil looked back at you, you realized the meaning behind his words and your mind went blank. You stared into the blue eyes with your mouth open, trying to process everything you’d just heard and its implications.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you breathed out, feeling light-headed.

“Why?”

“Nobody told you…?” you asked, but his confused expression was his only answer. And you simply couldn’t believe that he hadn’t known all this time. “I’d been working my ass off for that position,” you huffed, studying his reaction to your words closely. “And then you showed up.”

Neil’s face dropped as he finally connected all the dots. “Fuck...I had no idea, I’m sorry.”

Seeing his sincere look, you sighed, raking fingers through your hair. Fucking hell, what a mess. The impossible mix of emotions swirled inside you and you giggled hysterically, suddenly finding the whole situation absolutely hilarious.

“And I had no idea I was supposed to babysit you,” you said as you stretched your legs, positioning them alongside Neil’s.

“Thought we were having a moment here,” he scoffed, smiling lightly.

You smirked and tapped his thigh with your foot.

“Think again.”

Neil tapped you back, stifling a chuckle. “You’re insufferable.”

“Too bad you can’t do anything about that now, huh,” you teased, wiggling your brows as you nibbled at your bottom lip.

The blue eyes lit up. “Just you wait till we finish the job,” he said slowly and placed a hand on your ankle.

But before you could respond, you heard a phone alert and Neil jumped at his feet.

He read the message quickly.

“Seems like we are about to see some action after all,” he said, pressing the phone to his ear. You downed your coffee and joined Neil by the table.

“Hold on, I’m gonna put you on speaker… okay, now”

“Hope you two are rested,” TP’s voice filled the room. “We intercepted a phone call. Our target is expecting a delivery in the next hour or so. Significant enough that from this moment on, the mission objective changes.” You exchanged looks with Neil, knowing well what was coming next. You walked back to the windows to keep an eye on the street. “We have a chance to prevent this shipment from spreading to different sellers. I’m sending the cavalry your way. But you’ll need to assess the situation as it progresses.”

“Means we might have to engage early, got it.”

“It’s your call, Neil. And as we have enough intel now… no loose ends. Good luck.” said TP and hung up.

Neil tossed the phone on the table and dashed to the bags to prep the equipment. You noticed movement in the loft across the street and snapped a few pictures before looking back at your partner.

“Are you good to go? You haven’t slept tonight.”

He glanced at you and gave you a smug smile.

“How nice of you to worry about me.”

You could feel the usual annoyance mixed with a new emotion, but maybe you were just glad to be back on familiar waters.

“Nah, I’m worried about the mission,” you snorted. “Especially if we may end up going in there alone.”

“I’m okay. How does it look out there?”

You looked outside again and tensed as a van appeared at the end of the street. “We’ve got company.”

Neil changed you by the window and you rushed to get ready.

-------

After clearing the back entrance, you found yourselves in the underground garage.

Splitting up, you took down the guards one by one without raising any alarms.

Neil checked the van and then you both made your way upstairs. You knew there were at least five more people in the loft, but you had to rely on the element of surprise because the cavalry was still on their way.

As you got to the door, you cocked your pistol and met Neil’s determined stare. You nodded.

Bursting through the door, your instincts kicked in, allowing you to put a bullet into two men before they had a chance to realize what was going on. In the next second all hell broke loose. You knew one thing - you somehow underestimated the numbers. And just as you thought that maybe you got lucky and got every last of them, someone grabbed you from behind and you felt something cold and sharp pressed against your neck. Fuck.

You dug your fingers into the arm wrapped around your shoulders, but a stinging pain made you stop any further attempts at breaking free. The blood pounded in your ears and everything seemed to slow down.

You noticed Neil standing in front of you with a gun pointed right next to your head.

He secured a grip on his pistol and the man holding you yelled something at him, but you didn’t listen, focusing completely on the blue eyes, now filled with a silent question, looking straight into yours.

You let out a shaky breath and blinked slowly.

A gunshot echoed through the room.

The pressure on your neck lowered and you heard a thud of a body fitting the floor behind you.

Neil lowered his gun.

You stared at each other for what seemed like forever.

“Nice shot,” you said, composing yourself first.

He gave you a weak smile, and just as he opened his mouth to say something, your comms filled with a familiar voice.

“We’ve missed all the fun, eh?”

------

Neither of you said anything on the way back to the HQ, not counting the short answers to the questions asked by Ives, but even he gave up after a while seeing you weren’t in the mood for talking.

You got your duffel bag out of the trunk and looked around. Neil was standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the building, talking on the phone. You walked up to him slowly, waiting for him to finish the conversation.

“Do they need us to get in to file a report?”

“No, I convinced TP to give us the rest of the day off,” he said, hiding the phone in the pocket of his jacket. “We can do that first thing tomorrow, I’m just gonna drop the equipment now.”

“Great, thanks.”

You couldn’t wait to get back to your apartment. You tossed the bag on your arm and smiled at the thought of a long hot shower and crashing in your own bed.

There was just one thing you needed to do first.

Neil took a step towards the building and without thinking too much about it, you reached out for his hand.

“Neil…?”

He stopped and turned around, puzzled. His eyes dropped to your joined hands and slowly moved up to your face.

You gave him a nervous smile.

“Thank you.”

His features softened and he squeezed your hand gently.

“Don’t mention it.”

And then he smirked.

...of course.

“Guess that makes us even.”

(next chapter->)

#neil tenet x reader #neil tenet #neil tenet fanfiction #tenet #robert pattinson #tenet fanfiction #the protagonist tenet #ives tenet #wheeler tenet #neil tenet imagine #neil x reader #smoke & mirrors #tags hate me

115 notes · View notes

wheregayeldhidsthewips · 4 years

Text

Descendants of Madness

Disclaimer: Nobody belongs to me. Which really sucks.

Spoilers: TS - S2 (try to contain your shock); S&H – Bloodbath, Sweet Revenge

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Don’t run with scissors.

Descendants of Madness

By Gayle Smith

May 30, 1998

Vacaville, CA

“Si-mon.”

Chanting filled the air as a shadowy figure stepped out of the prison transport and raised his shackled hands before him in triumph. “I dreamed this day and it has come to pass. I dreamed that my children would come for me, so that I might walk, unfettered once more, through the unclean cities of the fallen ones and gather the chosen before me.”

His hand drifted down to touch the head of the supplicant kneeling before him, blank eyes reaching up to meet his. “I dreamed you’d come.”

The young man, his guard’s uniform covered in the blood of a man he’d once called friend, dropped down to press a kiss to manacled foot in front of him. “Si-mon. Si-mon. Si-mon. Si-mon.”

* * *

The harsh jangle of the phone disturbed the peaceful silence of the room, bringing a weary sigh from the lone occupant of the bed and seconds later a hand fumbled across the night stand until its fumbling fingers closed around the handset before disappearing beneath the blankets again.

“‘lo?” A sleep-tinged voice answered, “‘s’it? Yeah. What?” The curly-haired figured shot up in bed, throwing back the covers and reaching for the crumbled pair of jeans on the floor. “How the hell did that happen? Damn it. When? Has anyone told Hutch? No, I’ll call him, then I’ll meet you down at the precinct. And I wanna see everything you’ve got on this. Everything.”

* * *

June 3, 1989

Boston, MA

Laughter followed Debbie Foster as she crossed her office and called out to her companion. “Just give me five minutes to print that file and I’ll meet you in the board room.”

Stepping across the room, she leaned over her computer and quickly brought up the document in question, sending it to the printer. Eyes still on the printer, she reached over idly to pick up the ringing phone and bring it to her ear, “Hello?”

“Darkness falls, Simon calls.” A sibilant voice whispered in her ear.

Papers drifted to the floor, falling from fingers gone slack. Every trace of emotion was wiped from her face.

“Si-mon.”

“The time of ascension draws near. Are you ready my child?”

“Yes, father.”

* * *

June 10, 1998

Somewhere in California

“Pick up the phone. Please, Gail, pick up the phone.” She clung desperately to the phone, her gaze moving nervously between it and the door. “Please, please.” A sigh of relief escaped her lips as the connection was made, “Gail, thank God I...”

... awfully busy, but if you leave a number, I’ll be sure to get back to you as soon as I return.” A light, breezy voice informed her.

“Gail, oh please, you have to get this message. It’s very important. Simon is free. He’s coming for the children, you have to warn...”

“I dreamed you’d betray me.”

The soft voice froze the blood in her veins and she turned toward it in mute denial, shaking her head as she stumbled backward.

“Yes, my child, I dreamed of this.” Simon Marcus reached out to touch her face, cupping it lovingly between his palms. “All of this. And then, I dreamed your death.”

“No! Please, Simon, please, no.” She fell to her knees in front of him. “Please, I wasn’t betraying you. I swear. I was just trying to find him for you. I swear.”

“There is no need for untruths between us.” He bent down before her, brushing her hair away from her face. “Simon knows the truth. He dreamed it.” With one swift motion, Simon snapped her neck, watching serenely as she fell bonelessly to the floor. “I dreamed your death.”

* * *

June 13, 1989

Cascade, WA

“Get a move on, Chief.” Detective James Ellison bellowed at his partner as he checked his watch again. “Sandburg, what the hell’s taking so long?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Blair mumbled around the leather tie in his mouth as he smoothed his hair back into a ponytail, “Geez, Jim, what’s the hurry? Simon’s not expecting us to be at the station for another hour.”

“I know, but I want to try and get some of the paperwork cleared off my desk before those bozos from the Federal Task force arrive.” Jim motioned toward the open door. “Which I’m not going to do if you don’t get the lead out.”

“Get the lead out of what?” A cheery voice and the scent of sage brushed past Jim as Naomi Sandburg swept through the open doorway. “Blair, darling.” She enfolded her son in an embrace.

“Mom? What are you doing here?” Blair’s arms tightened around her as he returned the hug. “When did you get here?”

“I came straight from the airport, sweetie.” Naomi held Blair at arms length and ran a mother’s eye over him. “You look tired, are you getting enough rest?”

“I’m fine, Naomi.” Blair smiled indulgently at her, “And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

“Oh, that’s quite simple, I’ve come to kidnap you,” Naomi responded brightly.

“Kidnap?” Blair backed away warily. “Mom, what are you up to?”

“Just trying to spend some quality time with my favorite son.” Naomi linked her arm though Blair’s and led him to the couch. “I thought it might be nice if we spent a little time together. I know the semester is over and I’m sure that Jim can spare you for a few days. Isn’t that right, Jim?” Naomi turned and fixed her bewitching gaze on Jim. “What do you say?”

“I... ah...” Jim looked between the two figures on the couch, from Naomi’s steady gaze to Blair’s beseeching one. Noticing the slight shake of his partner’s head, a grin crept across his features. “You know, Naomi, I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Our little Blair’s been burning the candle at both ends trying to get through finals and help me out at the station. I think some time away to relax is just what the doctor ordered.”

“But, Jim, man, don’t you need me down at the station?” Blair’s voice held a barely checked note of desperation. “What about that meeting with the Feds? Simon was expecting both of us for that.”

“I’m sure Simon will understand, Chief,” Jim replied with a good-natured grin. “He knows how much extra time you’ve been putting in. Go on, go with your mom. Commune with nature, eat granola, meditate. I’ll be sure to save you all of the really exciting paperwork.”

“Gee, thanks, man.” Blair frowned across the space at his roommate. “No, really, man, I mean that. Sincerely.”

“Oh, come on, honey, is it really going to be so bad spending a few days alone with your mother?” Naomi reached out a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from his face.

“No, mom, of course not.” Blair reached up to capture her hand and held it. “All right, I surrender. What should I pack?”

“A little of everything,” Naomi replied mysteriously.

Stopped in the doorway to take a final jab at his friend, Jim thought he saw something akin to relief cross Naomi’s face at Blair’s capitulation. He opened his mouth for a moment, intending to ask her if something was wrong just as she turned to him with a graceful smile and quietly waved him out the door.

* * *

“Ellison!”

Jim winced as hot coffee splashed across his hand and turned to face his commanding officer. “Yes, sir?”

“Where’s Sandburg?” Simon’s gaze traveled anxiously over Jim’s shoulder to the space usually occupied by his partner.

“Probably still back at the loft, why?” Jim’s focus shifted to the two men waiting in Simon’s office. Both in their mid-50’s, neither had the look Jim had come to typically expect of Feds. The slight arrogance that seemed to surround most of their brethren was missing and both wore an air of weariness that Jim associated with cops who had spent too many years on the streets.

“What do you mean ‘back at the loft’?” Simon snapped. “I told you both to be in my office at 8:00 to meet with the representatives from the task force.”

“I know, sir, but Naomi turned up just as we were leaving.” Jim’s attention shifted back to Simon, a faint alarm going off in the back of his head over his captain’s reaction. Simon had said nothing to indicate that Blair’s presence was required at the meeting. “She wants spend a few days with Sandburg and with the way the kid’s been running himself ragged between school and working at the station, I figured he could use the down time. Why? Simon, what’s going on?”

“Jim, you’d better come in here.” Simon motioned for Jim to join him in his office, closing his door on the curious glances of their co-workers.

* * *

“Blair, sweetie, you don’t have to pack everything you own,” Naomi chastised lovingly from the doorway of his room.

“I’m not packing everything, I’m just... You know, this would be a lot easier if you told me where we were going.”

“And ruin the surprise?” Naomi’s bright laughter filled the room. “Where’s that sense of adventure I always loved about you, my darling?”

“Probably somewhere in this bag.” Blair gestured to the large duffel covering half his futon. “But if you tell me what the emergency is and why you’re in such a hurry to get me out of here, maybe I’ll be able to drag it out.” Shoving the duffel aside and plopping down on the bed, Blair reached a hand out to his mother and pulled her closer. “Naomi, what’s wrong? What are you running from?”

“Nothing, sweetie, nothing at all.” Naomi drew him into her arms. “I’ve got everything I could ever need right here.”

“Mom, please, I can tell you’re upset about something.” Blair rubbed soothing circles across his mother’s back as she clung to him. “What is it? Please, tell me. You’re not...” Naomi saw the sudden fear shining in Blair’s eyes. “Are you sick?”

“No. No, Blair, love, I’m not sick. It’s nothing, nothing important.” Naomi stood and brushed away the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes. “Let’s just take what you have and go, Blair. We can get whatever we need when we get there. Please.”

“Okay, mom,” Blair hefted the bag over his shoulder, “but when we get there I expect you tell me what’s going on. Everything.”

“Anything you want, Blair, just hurry.” Naomi started for the door, her eyes widening fearfully as the phone began to ring. “NO! Blair, leave it.”

“Mom, it could be Jim.” Blair dropped the bag and reached for the phone.

“Sweetie, no!” Naomi’s hand closed over Blair’s. “Jim knows we’re leaving, and I know you, if that’s one of your friends from the University we could be here all day. Just let the machine get it. Please. For me.”

“All right,” Blair shouldered the bag again and followed Naomi out the door. “But you’re going to tell me what’s going on, mom.”

“Of course, sweetie. Of course.”

* * *

Jim paid little attention to the phone ringing in his ear, instead fixing his attention on the files scattered across Simon's desk and the worried frowns surrounding him. The topmost folder was open, revealing bloody crime scene photos of a man in prison guard's uniform with half his face blown away and the inside of a prison transport drenched in blood.

Fixated on the dark red patterns and the tension radiating off the other men in the room, Jim nearly jumped out of his skin as his own voice greeted him from inside the phone. 'Shit. Answering machine.' Jim silently berated himself and took a deep breath, trying to push aside his feeling of impending doom. "Sandburg, are you there? Chief, if you're there pick up the phone. Okay, listen, I want you to call me as soon as you get this. If you come back to the loft don't leave before you call me, got that?"

Hanging up the phone, he looked up to find three pairs of eyes watching him. "He must've left with Naomi already."

"Who's Naomi?" One of the Feds, the angry looking blond one Simon had called Hutchinson, barked at Jim.

"His mother. What the hell is it to you?" Jim returned the man's icy glare. "And what do you want with my partner?"

"Hutch, calm down." The second man, his short, dark curls just beginning to turn gray, reached out and placed a calming hand on his partner's arm before fixing his gazing on Jim. "Do you have any idea where they went?"

"No. Naomi just that said she wanted Blair to come away with her for a few days." Anxiety crept through Jim's gut again. There was something seriously wrong with this situation. Why the hell were these people so damn anxious to find his partner?

"Simon, what the hell's going on here? Who are they?" Jim jabbed an angry finger in the direction of the visiting Feds. "And what the hell do they want with Sandburg? Is Blair in some kind of trouble?"

"Jim, I think you'd better have a seat." Simon motioned to the table behind them and started gathering the files off his desk.

"I don't want to have a seat, Sir." Jim replied coldly, his jaw tensing. "I want to know what the hell is going on."

"Jim, please..."

"Captain Banks," the dark-haired one cleared his throat uncomfortably, "I think you'd better get an APB out on Sandburg."

"You think I don't know that?" Simon snapped at the man before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Captain Starsky, please, just take the files and wait with your partner at the table. Give me a minute to make that call and have a word with my detective."

"We're wasting time here." Hutch hissed toward his partner. "I told you that we should've just headed straight to the apartment and picked up the kid."

"Hutch, drop it." Starsky curled a hand around Hutch’s forearm and directed him to the table. “These people know what they’re doing, let’s give them a chance to do it.”

“All right, I just...” a weary sigh escaped him and Hutch closed his eyes.

“I know, babe, I know.” Starsky turned back and scooped the files off of Simon’s desk, meeting Jim’s hard stare. “While your captain’s taking care of that, there’s somethin’ I think you should see.”

Jim studied the man closely, once again gaining the impression that he and his partner were something more or less than the harried Federal agents he’d been expecting. “Unless it’s going to tell me why you’re so interested in my partner, I don’t care.”

“It is. Please.” He gestured toward the table. “All I’m askin’ for is five minutes, detective. Just listen to what we’ve gotta tell you and then decide from there.”

Jim sat stiffly across from them, suddenly not sure if he wanted to know what those bloody pictures had to do with his friend. As he watched, Starsky reached to pull the second file from the pile and flipped it open in front of him. Inside, a man of approximately 30 stared up at Jim, his guard’s uniform neatly pressed, his warm brown eyes holding a glint of humor.

“Joseph Spinelli, a prison guard for the last 8 years. He and his partner and another guard were transferring a felon from Folsom prison to San Quentin thirteen days ago.” Jim tried to place the note in Starsky’s voice as he recited this information. Sadness? Regret? “Their prison transport was found abandoned at the side of the road, their prisoner gone and both Spinelli’s partner and the other guard murdered. No sign of Spinelli.”

“What do a dirty guard and a prison break in California have to do with my...”

“Debbie Foster,” Hutchinson intoned as he tossed the next folder down in front of Jim, “twenty-eight year-old investment banker in New York. Walked into her office ten days ago to get a file and hasn’t been seen since.” He sorted through the files, “Jennifer Santo, disappeared from her home, leaving her five month old daughter behind, that same day. George Murphy, disappeared off a construction site. Tyler Parker. David Rhodes. Kathy Wilder.” His voice rising as he slapped each file down, until a hand land softly on top of his, stilling it.

“What the hell have any of these people have to do with Sandburg?” Jim snapped, what little patience he had wearing thin. “Damn it, Simon, what’s going on?”

“Twenty-two years ago,” Starsky leaned back in his chair, his voice so low that Jim had nudge his hearing up to catch it. “Hutch and I were part of the investigation that brought down Simon Marcus...”

“Simon Marcus? The cult leader?” Jim found himself straining forward, vague memories of news stories flashing through his memory.

The knot in Starsky’s stomach tightened as he remembered the horrors they’d found. “We were the arresting officers...” his voice faltered and he exchanged a glance with his friend that bespoke shared pain. “God, I can’t even begin to tell you what we found there. After all this time, everything we’ve seen as cops, none of it, not one other unholy terror compares to what they were doing. We managed to arrest Marcus and most of the cult’s hierarchy, or so we thought. It took eight months to bring Marcus to trial and convict him of the nine murders we could pin on him.”

A sudden spike in Hutchinson’s pulse drew Jim’s attention. The man was reaching for a glass of water with a hand that trembled so slightly that even with his senses Jim could almost believe it was his imagination.

“Hutch?” Somehow, Starsky had picked up on his partner’s discomfort as well, reaching out to gently touch Hutch’s back. The move was so intimate and familiar that for a moment Jim found himself leaning into the comforting hand that was always there when he needed it, turning to catch the smile that always offered support and encouragement, only to find it missing. A chill worked its way down his spine as he turned back to the two men.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” The blond man waved off his friend’s concern and turned to Jim. “At the sentencing hearing, they got into the court house somehow and...” there it was again, that telltale spike in his pulse, a slight increase in respiration, “they kidnapped Starsky. Right from under our noses, right from under my nose.”

“Hutch.” This time the warm voice held a note that was at once both supportive and concerned. “Don’t.”

“Yeah, I know,” in a tone that clearly said he didn’t agree, “it wasn’t my fault.” Brushing a hand across his face, he looked up at Jim and continued, “When we found Starsky, the remaining cult leaders were holding him at an old, closed down city zoo. But that wasn’t all we found. God, if we’d had any idea...” his voice cracked, “they were holding children there. Thirteen children. Jesus Christ, you’d think that someone, some parent, grandparent, teacher, someone would’ve reported at least one of those children missing. The things they did to those children...”

Starsky reached to pull Joseph Spinelli’s folder out and dropped it on top again. When he finished flipping through the first few pages, Jim found himself looking down at a picture a thin, young boy. Hunched in the corner of what appeared to be a cave, he was covered in filth, welts and bruises showing through the torn clothes he wore.

“Damn,” Jim swore softly, his heart breaking for the scared little boy in the pictures, “Spinelli was one of the kids?” The implication suddenly hitting him as he looked sharply at the two shrewd pairs of eyes studying him. “All of them?”

“Yes.” Hutchinson turned the pages in the next file. “It took over a week for anyone to make the connection between the disappearances and Marcus’ escape.”

Feeling the cold dread that had started in the pit of his stomach spreading outward, Jim looked to Simon for support, afraid to ask the next question, not wanting to hear the answer he already knew. The brief flash of pain in Simon’s eyes before he turned away only confirmed Jim’s fear. Taking a deep breath, he asked. “Blair?”

No words were spoken as another file was pushed in front of him. Worn, the edges tattered with age and use, the precise letters, written in neat block, everything about the file seemed to mock Jim, daring him to open it. In that moment, he found he couldn’t. Couldn’t open it. Couldn’t look at the words, the pictures. Couldn’t know that once, somewhere, someone had hurt Blair and that he’d been unable to stop it, hadn’t even known about it.

But he had to look, didn’t he? Had to know if he was going to help, going to stop this from happening again. And so, slowly, so slowly that no one could tell it contained the same slight tremble that Hutchinson’s had just moments before, Jim’s hand reached out and touched the file. He ran his finger across the faded letters: Sandburg, Blair, as though it that could somehow change them. Then, with an almost too casual flick of his wrist, he opened it.

Jim slammed his eyes shut at the sight that greeted him, as if those thin tissues of flesh could block out the image that was now seared into his brain. The sight of that achingly tiny boy, curled into a corner, his small body covered in bruises, painfully thin ribs straining against flesh that seemed stretched to the breaking point. And then there were the eyes, eyes that Jim recognized despite the intervening years and the changes they’d brought, eyes that should be full of joy and wonder, but only held fear.

“Simon, I...” Jim closed his eyes against a flood of emotion, anger and fear warring with pain and regret. “I can’t look at this.”

“Jim, I’m sorry.” The compassion in Simon’s eyes almost undid him. “I should’ve warned you. But...” he shook his head and turned away, whispering softly. “But how do you prepare someone for that.”

A hand gripped his arm, squeezing briefly before pulling away. “Me too. I should’ve taken the pictures out. You didn’t need to see that, no one does.” Starsky shuffled through the file, removing a handful of photographs before handing it back to Jim. “Just the reports, if you think...” He left the thought unfinished, shrugging apologetically.

Trying hard to check his emotions, Jim opened the file again, running a professional eye over the reports, ignoring the pang in his heart at what each methodically catalogued injury had meant to the little boy who was now his best friend. Closing it again, Jim pushed aside the nagging voice in the back of his head proclaimed there was something missing and focused his attention on Starsky and Hutchinson.

“Why?”

The question, spoken coldly, startled the two visitors and they exchanged a quick glance before Hutch asked. “Why what?”

“Why help him? After everything Marcus and his followers did to these kids, why would Spinelli help him escape?” Catching the silent, almost imperceptible signals that flew between them, Jim knew there was still more they hadn’t told him. “And why kidnap the other children? What could they possibly want from them after all this time”

Hutchinson’s pulse spike again and Jim turned a laser fine glare on him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“They weren’t kidnapped, at least not that we can prove.” Hutch slumped back in his chair, rubbing his face. “At least one we know wasn’t. Kristine Anderson was in protective custody in Portland, three days ago she answered the phone and then hit the officer guarding her over the head with a lamp and disappeared.”

“So, she was in on it, went voluntarily?”

“No, she was... From every report, the girl was terrified when the Portland PD picked her up and told her what was going on. She didn’t remember a lot of what happened, but enough to be scared. She went into protective custody willingly, gladly.” Hutch shifted uncomfortably, making eye contact once more. “Until she got that phone call, a phone call that shouldn’t have gotten through to her at the safe house, she was fine. Afterward... the officer said that she just went blank, like there was no one there.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Jim’s heart raced at the implications. “Are you saying that they got to her? With just a phone call?”

“We’re not sure what happened, but...” Starsky heaved a sigh, once again breaking eye contact. “Given the sudden circumstances behind each disappearance, the out-of-character nature of them... We know that the cult was usin’ brainwashing techniques back in the 70s and the docs figure that maybe the kids are reacting to some kind of post-hypnotic suggestion that was planted in ‘em before they were rescued. Now all they gotta do is call the kids and activate it.”

“Naomi.” Jim suddenly sat upright in his chair. “I knew something was wrong with her. She was too desperate to get Blair out there this morning. She has to know that something’s wrong.”

“You think she’s trying to protect Sandburg?” Simon asked dubiously.

“If she is, it’s about time.” Jim’s eyes narrowed angrily as they drifted over the folder bearing Blair’s name. “How the hell could she let this happen, Simon? I know she wasn’t the most attentive mother, but for Christ’s sake, how the hell could she let something like this happen to her own child?”

“I don’t know, Jim.” Pain shone in Simon’s eyes as he thought of his own son. “I can’t even begin to imagine.”

“Wait a second.” Hutch snapped his fingers and reached across the table for the file. “Who did you say this Naomi person was?”

“Blair’s mother.” Jim replied, scorn coloring his tone.

“Not according to this.” Hutch flipped quickly through the pages, pointing insistently at the relevant line.

“What are you talking about?” Jim snatched the file back, quickly scanning the page.

Name: Blair Alonso Sandburg

DOB: 12/27/69 Age: 7

Father: Unknown

Mother: Deceased

* * *

“Blair, honey, you’re not eating.” Naomi reproved gently, cupping a hand over her son’s. “What’s wrong?”

“Besides the fact that you won’t tell me what’s going on?” Blair turned his hand over to grasp hers. “Mom, I know there’s something more going on here than just your wanting to spend time with me. What is it?”

“Yes, sweetie, you’re right, there is.” Extracting her hand, she reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear before patting his cheek. “But I’ve already promised to tell you all about it once we get to the cabin. I’m talking about whatever else is bothering you. Blair, sweetie, I can tell just by looking at you that something is wrong. You’re too pale, too thin. What’s wrong?”

Blair looked at his mother for a long moment, as if weighing his choices, before shrugging and pulling away. “There was an accident, a few weeks ago. I guess I’m still recovering.”

“Accident?” Naomi’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at her son’s pallid features. “What kind of accident? Does this have something to do with your work with Jim?”

“Yes, no... Not exactly. It’s a long story, Mom. And I don’t think I’m really ready to talk about it yet.” He shifted uncomfortably and recaptured her hand. “The short version is Jim and I kind of had a falling out and we both said and did somethings we shouldn’t have and we’re still trying to put the friendship back together.”

“Oh, sweetie, I know how much Jim means to you,” Naomi squeezed the hand holding hers and sighed. “My timing couldn’t have been worse, could it?”

“Actually, Mom,” Blair laughed gently. “It could’ve been a lot worse considering. Besides, maybe some time apart will do us good. It seems like lately we’re either trying too hard to act normal or sniping at each other.” He shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn their conversation had taken, and pushed his plate away. “What do you say we get this circus on the road again?”

“You’re right,” she sighed, gathering her belongs. “We still have a long drive in front of us. I’m just going to freshen up.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you at the car.” Blair dropped some money on the table and started to slip his wallet in his back pocket before catching sight of a payphone across the restaurant. Pulling out his calling card, he walked over and quickly dialed.

* * *

“Major Crime.”

“Hey, Henri, is Jim around?”

“Hairboy, is that you?” Henri swiveled around in his chair, grinning gleefully at the sight of Jim shut away in Captain Banks’ office with the two federal task force agents. “Man, Simon was not happy to find out you’d skipped on this morning’s meeting.”

“Damn. I was afraid that would happen. How loud was he?”

“Loud,” Henri confirmed. “Just about took Ellison’s head off.”

“Maybe I should head back...”

“Where are you?”

“A restaurant outside of Yelm.”

“What’re you doing all the way out there?” Henri asked, rifling around in his top desk drawer.

“That’s a good question.”

“What?”

“Going... somewhere with my mom. She showed up on our doorstep this morning to whisk me away for a long weekend of family bonding.”

Henri burst into laughter. “I’ve seen your mother, Hairboy, I’d take a weekend in the mountains with her over a meeting between Jim and the Feds any day.”

“Henri, man, she’s my mom. Cut that out. Listen, can you tell Jim I called? I’ll let him know where we’re headed as soon as I know.”

“You got it Sandburg, later man.”

* * *

Jim stepped out of Simon’s office, pale and grim, making his way, woodenly, over to his desk and sat down heavily.

God damn, he needed a drink. Jim couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed a drink to numb the horrors his job brought to him everyday, probably the night Lila died, but he’d just about sell his soul for one right now. For anything to help dim the memory of that thin, battered little boy and eyes that should only know joy filled with terror.

“Jim? Man, are you all right?” Henri stood next to his desk, brow furled in concern. “I called you a couple times.”

“Sorry, H. Yeah, I’m fine, just...” He waved a hand in the direction of Simon’s office. “This case is...” He trailed off, staring back through the blinds at Starsky and Hutchinson sorting through the files.

“Ugly, huh?” When Jim nodded, Henri just shook his head. “Sorry, man. Listen, I just wanted to pass on a message from Sandburg. He wanted you to know—”

“Sandburg?” Jim’s head whipped around audibly and he glared up at Brown. “When did you talk to Sandburg?”

“About twenty minutes ago,” Henri replied, puzzled by the sudden change in Ellison’s attitude. “You were in with Captain Banks and the Feds.”

“And you didn’t call me?” Jim snapped, rising angrily to his feet.

“I told you, you were in with Simon and—”

“I don’t give a damn who the hell I was in with, you should’ve called me.” Jim’s voice rose with every word.

“Ellison.” Simon stood in the doorway of his office, glaring at his detective. “What’s the problem?”

“Brown talked to Sandburg,” Jim ground out, pointing an accusatory finger at the other detective.

“You what? When?” Simon demanded, the two Feds crowding in behind him.

“I talked to Hairboy on the phone. What’s going on, Captain?” Henri asked, concerned. “Why the big deal about my talking to Sandburg?”

“Did he say where he was?” Starsky pushed in between Jim and Simon.

“Yeah, he said he was in a restaurant outside of Yelm.” Henri answered. “Simon, is Sandburg in some kind of trouble?”

“We think he might be. Did he give you any idea where he was headed?”

“No.” Henri shook his head in disgust. “He only said to let Jim know he called and that he’d try and call back when he knew where they were going. Jim, man, I’m sorry. If I’d had any idea that Sandburg was in some kind of trouble, I’d’ve got you right away.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have come down on you like that,” Jim admitted apologetically. “I’m just worried.”

“Yeah, I hear you, man.”

“Okay, listen up people, I don’t want to have to repeat myself.” Simon stood in the middle of the bullpen, making sure he had everyone’s attention before continuing. “If anyone here takes a call from Sandburg, you find Detective Ellison or myself right away. Do not let him off the line. Is everyone clear on that?” A round of affirmations followed.

“Captain Banks, this Yelm, where is it?” Hutch asked, following his partner and Jim back into the captain’s office.

“It’s a small town about thirty, thirty-five miles South of here.” Simon pulled a map out of his filing cabinet and spread it out on the conference table. “Here.” He pointed to the spot on the map.

“Is there anywhere around there that you think they could be going?” Starsky traced the line of freeways leading to the small dot on the map.

“Nothing I can remember Sandburg bringing up,” Jim replied thoughtfully. “And from there they could be headed to any number of out of the way places. Up into the mountains to one of the National Parks or Forests, back over to I-5 and down into Oregon. Damn it, I should’ve stuck around and found out where Naomi was taking him.”

“She probably wouldn’t have told you the truth anyway,” Hutch pointed out, turning to his partner. “What now?”

“That’s up to Captain Banks.” Starsky watched him expectantly. “We’d like to stick around here, with your permission. Sandburg’s the last kid on the list, and the hardest to track down. I think if we’re going to have any hope of findin’ the others or Marcus it’s gonna be through him.”

“We’d appreciate any support you’d be willing to lend us.” Simon replied, glancing significantly at his detective. “Have you checked into your hotel yet?”

“No, we were kind of hoping we wouldn’t be staying that long,” Hutch sighed, rubbing long fingers across his forehead. “We should probably check in with the task force, too, let Franks know what’s going down.”

“Ellison, forward your calls to your cell and tell Brown I want to see him in here. I want him to get started calling all of the contacts listed for Naomi in Sandburg’s personnel file. Then make sure Captains Starsky and Hutchinson get settled in their hotels,” Simon directed. “When you get back we’ll see what Brown’s come up with and see if you can come up with anyone else Sandburg’s mentioned.”

“Contact list?” Hutchinson questioned. “You don’t just have a number you can call?”

“For Naomi?” Simon snorted softly. “Not hardly. Ms. Sandburg travels quite frequently, usually to some of the more exotic locations. It makes it hard to find her when she isn’t trying to get lost.”

“Makes her hard to find when her son needs her,” Jim muttered angrily.

“Jim,” Simon warned softly.

“Whatever,” Jim replied curtly. “I’m going to go transfer my calls, let me know when you’re ready.”

“Mind if I ask what that was about?” Starsky motioned toward the closed door.

“We’ve had a hard time getting a hold of Ms. Sandburg after Blair was injured on a couple of cases,” Simon explained. “Detective Ellison is a bit... protective of his partner, he tends to take things like that a little more personally than Sandburg does.”

“I can understand that,” Hutch said softly, exchanging a knowing glance with his partner.

* * *

Jim leaned against the wall outside of the hotel room Starsky and Hutchinson had just checked into, carefully extending his hearing to pick up on their conversation.

“What do you think of Ellison?”

“Seems like a good cop to me. Really seems to care about the kid.”

“You don’t think it’s a little strange that a former army ranger just happened to lose his partner at a time like this?”

“Hey, you lost me once in a crowded court house.”

“That’s not funny, Starsk!”

“I know, Babe, but it’s true. I think Ellison’s a good cop who got caught in somethin’ none of us are prepared to deal with and I think you’re takin’ too much responsibility for this on yourself.”

* * *

Hutch jumped from the car, not even taking time to turn off the ignition, and scrambled around the front, his long legs eating up the distance between him and the horrifying tableau in front of him. With each hurried, pounding step, he could hear the sounds in front of him, the low fervent chanting of the cult members, grow louder, “Si-mon. Si-mon. Si-mon,” filling his ears.

But it wasn’t the black robed figured that transfixed him, driving a cold spike of terror through his chest. It was a tiny slip of girl, red hair flowing across her simple white gown, and the knife she held above her head, poised to strike. It was the sight of his partner, his best friend, helpless before her, his hands tethered over his head.

Even as he ran, legs pumping, lungs straining, he knew he was going to be too late. Too late. Too late. And then, there it was, the flash of morning sun against the blade as it moved in an inexorable arc, down, down, until the only sounds he heard were the soft sickening squelch of the blade sinking into vulnerable flesh and Starsky’s cry of pain.

“NO!” The cry was torn from his throat as Starsky lifted eyes already fogged with pain to meet his. A brief second of recognition passed between them before those eyes slid silently, permanently, shut. “NO! STARSKY! NOOOOOOOOO!”

"Hutch! Hutch!" Strong arms wrapped around the sobbing man, holding him close, "Hutch, come on, babe, wake up. It's just a nightmare, that's all," Starsky soothed, rocking his partner gently as he held him tight, "Just a nightmare. I'm right here."

“Starsk?” Hutch clutched weakly

Sentinel, Too – part 1: May 20 1998

New Moon – May 25th, 1998/June 24th, 1998/July 23rd,1998

Full Moon – June 10th, 1998/July 9th, 1998

Bloodbath - Judge Arlen B. Yager

#wip it good #the sentinel #starsky & hutch #crossover #au

2 notes · View notes

zell-dincht · 7 years

Text

It's High-namura Noon

Chapter 3 Words: 2786 Warnings: More of the same ol' nothin Summary: Crammed in a jail cell alone with McCree all night, Hanzo finally starts to open up to the other man. Notes: The comments are still way more entertaining than my crappy writing. (Seriously, check it all out on AO3)

---------

Hanzo could practically feel his heart drop into his gut as the officers roughly shoved him into the back of a patrol car along with Jesse. The cowboy didn't seem bothered by this new development, and maybe even looked a little bit amused as he made himself comfortable in the back seat. Hanzo, however, couldn't afford to be so lax about this situation. He had never been arrested in his entire life. Even with his family’s shady business dealings, they had so much money, the law never touched them.

Yet here he was, on his first trip to America, getting stuffed in a squad car with a common thief! His father could probably get him out of this, but Hanzo didn't dare consider asking for aid. If he could help it, his father would never find out what had happened this night.

“You look tense,” Jesse spoke as the sheriff drove to the station.

“You might be comfortable in handcuffs, but I, however, have my family name to uphold,” Hanzo replied through clenched teeth.

“Yeah what family is that?”

“Shimada. I am the eldest son, and it is therefore my duty to take over responsibility for the family business once my father is ready to step down.”

“Never heard of ‘em,” Jesse shrugged. “So is that what this is? A business trip? Kinda weird for a ninja-businessman to hitch a ride on a bus.”

“I am not a ninja. I practice the art, but actual ninja no longer exist,” Hanzo firmly corrected.

“Ninja, kung-fu, same diff.”

“Kung-fu is Chinese, and it is not the same--”

Hanzo slumped in his seat with a huff, trying his best to sit comfortably with his arms wedged behind his back. Jesse easily lounged in the back, knees comfortably spread apart and taking up a bit too much space for Hanzo’s liking.

Thankfully, this was a small town, and it didn't take very long to get to the station. Hanzo dreaded what might happen once they realized he wasn't an American citizen, but the sheriff marched them right past the desks and removed their cuffs before shoving the two men together in a cell.

“What's going on?” Hanzo asked once they were left alone. “They aren't going to take our information?”

“In small town New Mexico? Nah, not for this,” Jesse answered, already getting comfy on the frayed and faded cot. “They're probably more worried ‘bout finding a donut shop still open, instead of fillin’ out all our paperwork.”

Hanzo sighed as he remained standing, resting his forehead against the cold metal bars. “I was looking forward to sleeping in a bed tonight.”

“Hey, we can share,” Jesse offered and scooted as close to the wall as he could, but there was still barely any room on the small cot. “I don't mind, any.”

“No, thank you,” Hanzo firmly replied.

There was a moment of silence where Hanzo breathed slowly, trying to find some peace in this awful place, but of course the cowboy had to disrupt the quiet.

“So what's your deal, anyway?” Jesse asked as he sat up on the bed, leaning forward in interest. “Not every day my gang runs into a guy who can single-handedly take us all out. What’re you even doing here?”

“That's none of your concern.”

Hanzo kept his back to the other man, looking straight forward, past the bars of their jail cell, but he could still easily hear Jesse’s clunky footsteps as the cowboy approached.

“Look, I think you and me got off on the wrong foot,” Jesse offered as he casually leaned against the bars.

“You robbed a bus,” Hanzo spoke through clenched teeth.

“Are we never gonna get past that? C’mon, let's start over. Name's McCree. Jesse McCree.” He offered up a handshake, which Hanzo pointedly ignored. “Never did catch your name.”

“You don't need it.”

Jesse awkwardly pulled his hand away and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Won't give me a name, what you’re doing, why you're here… Nothing. Well ain't you just a real man of mystery.”

“It’s of no consequence. We will be parting ways for good as soon as they release us.”

“Yeah? How's travelling alone been working out for ya?” Jesse pointed out.

Hanzo folded his arms and stubbornly turned away. “Why are you so adamant on travelling with me?”

“Road trips ain’t fun if you do ‘em alone, and truth is…” Jesse sighed, hesitating a moment before he continued. “Truth is, I've been real down on my luck lately. Things ain't been goin’ quite right, and I could use your help as much as you could use mine.”

While Jesse remained leaning against the bars, Hanzo claimed the cot for himself, curling up with his back to the cell.

“Oh that's real nice. Guess I'll just take the floor, then,” the cowboy grumbled. He leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor, wrapping his sarape snugly around himself as he tried to get comfy.

A silence fell between them once again, but after a while, Hanzo wasn't sure why, but he finally spoke one more word - “Hanzo.”

“Come again?”

“Shimada Hanzo. My name.”

“Oh, like Hattori Hanzo?”

He sat up from the cot, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You know the story of Hattori Hanzo?”

“Shit, yeah, everyone's seen Kill Bill,” Jesse replied with a grin.

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, shooting another glare before curling back up again.

“What? What’d I say wrong this time?!” Jesse huffed.

“Goodnight, McCree.” Hanzo made a point to use the man's last name. They weren't friends, nor did he ever intend for them to be.

The harder Hanzo tried to fall asleep, the more restless he felt. This cot was so uncomfortable, and the idea of being in jail was still so unsettling, even if they were only being held for the night. After a few hours of tossing and turning, exhaustion finally caught up with him and he managed to fall asleep.

Hours later, the loud clang of the metal door caused Hanzo to jolt awake. One of the deputies stood with the cell door open, eyeing the two men. “All right, boys, up and at ‘em. Don't lemme catch you brawlin’ again.”

“You have my deepest apologies,” Hanzo replied, standing to give the man a polite nod. “It was a misunderstanding, and I assure you, it will not happen again.”

“Yeah, whatever. Now get on outta here.” The deputy nodded to the door, urging them out.

Hanzo gladly left the station with Jesse right behind. The cowboy loudly yawned and stretched his arms over his head.

“Damn, my back is killin’ me,” he grumbled. “Hey, since you stole the bed, how ‘bout a little back rub?”

“Not a chance,” Hanzo replied as he continued out towards the road. He paused, looking around to try and take in his surroundings.

“What's wrong?” Jesse asked, moving beside him.

“The car is back at the restaurant.”

Jesse replied with a hearty chuckle and a pat on the back that nearly made Hanzo stumble forward. “Can't even find your car, and you think you'll make it to San Antonio all on your lonesome? Admit it, you need me.”

“I'll be fine,” Hanzo insisted as he started walking, trying to remember his way back to the bar. However, he reached the next block and paused, unsure where to go next.

Jesse didn't say a word. He quietly followed and leaned against a nearby lamppost as he watched Hanzo attempt to work this out for himself. Once the pause lasted a bit too long, the cowboy pointedly cleared his throat.

With an exasperated sigh, Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose and spoke up, “Very well, McCree. Take me to the car.”

“Thought you'd never ask,” he cheerfully agreed and waved a hand for Hanzo to follow him in the opposite direction they had been walking.

They walked a few blocks until Jesse finally came to a stop and nodded towards a nearby diner. “I'm starvin’. How ‘bout some breakfast?”

Hanzo knit his brows together as he weighed the decision. He originally had wanted to be rid of Jesse as soon as possible, but he couldn't deny the fact that he was both very hungry and very lost. With a brief nod, he followed the cowboy into the diner.

As soon as they slipped into a booth, a waitress approached with a couple menus and a pot of coffee. “Drinks?”

“Just some O.J. for the two of us,” Jesse replied before his new companion could say a word.

Hanzo shot him an annoyed glare, but once the waitress stepped out of earshot, the cowboy whispered, “The coffee here tastes like dirt.”

A moment later, the waitress returned with their juice and glared flatly at Jesse. “Sure you don’t want a cup o’ dirt to go with your meal?”

Jesse gave her a sheepish grin, but Hanzo felt mortified on behalf of the other man. He took the ceramic white cup on the table and turned it upright, handing it to the waitress. “Actually, I would like some coffee, please.”

With a satisfied little smirk, she poured the drink into Hanzo's cup. “Gimme a holler when you're ready to order,” she instructed as she left the two men alone once again.

Hanzo tentatively took a sip of his drink, trying his best not to make a disgusted face when he learned that the coffee was, in fact, quite bitter and flavorless.

“Thought you knew you could trust me by now,” Jesse said with an amused look on his face.

“I don't know what to make of you, Jesse McCree.” Hanzo set his cup aside and began looking over the menu.

“See? You're not the only one who can be mysterious,” he said with a grin.

Something about the way that cowboy smiled, Hanzo couldn't stand it. He didn't know why, but that grin made him feel unsettled. It was all charm and no sincerity. Something about it made Hanzo feel like he wanted to drop his guard, that everything would be fine. Of course, he knew better, yet the feeling still had him a little on edge.

“All right. Since you know so much, tell me,” Hanzo set his menu down on the table. “What should I order?”

“Leave it to me.” Jesse gave a wink and whistled for the waitress to come back.

For himself, the cowboy ordered chicken and waffles with a side of grits, which made Hanzo cringe, but for the other meal, he requested a simple order of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausage.

As they waited for the kitchen to prepare their meal, Hanzo thoughtfully studied the other man for a moment. “I've been wondering - how did you manage to reach this town? I left you on the side of the highway.”

“Whoa, now, you expect me to divulge my secrets, but you won't even tell me what you're goin’ to Texas for,” Jesse dodged.

After taking a slow breath, Hanzo finally confessed, “I am going to a place called Padre Island.”

The cowboy’s eyes widened in recognition and he responded with a hearty laugh. “Oh no, you can't be serious.”

“I don't understand.” Hanzo narrowed his eyes, watching the other man with a stone-faced expression. “What is so funny about Padre Island?”

“Oh, no, darlin’ that place ain't for you,” Jesse chuckled. “You're gonna stick out like a sore thumb.”

“It isn't for me,” Hanzo replied, getting annoyed. “I'm looking for my brother.”

“Now we're gettin’ somewhere! Brother's in college, I take it?”

Hanzo blinked in bewilderment. “How did you know?”

“This time o’ year, Padre’s like a Mecca for college kids,” Jesse explained. “Spring break.”

“Yes, he has a break from his classes this week, which is exactly why I was sent to retrieve him now.”

“‘Retrieve’?” Jesse frowned. “Like he's some kind of package?”

The waitress returned and set down the plates of food as the conversation went on. After making certain they had everything they needed, she left the table, and the two men continued as they ate.

“My brother is a graduate student at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology--” Hanzo began.

“No shit, M.I.T.?” Jesse interrupted. “Impressive.”

“Yes, at least it would be, if he only applied himself.” Seeing the cowboy tilt his head in interest, Hanzo continued, “His grades have been slipping. As a consequence, I must bring him home to Japan.”

“Aw, c’mon, let the kid live a little,” Jesse spoke around a mouthful of food. “It's spring break.”

“He has a duty to his family,” Hanzo insisted between bites.

“Says who?” The cowboy gave a casual shrug. “Hey, maybe he just wants to live his own life.”

“He has been away from Japan for too long. He must learn to run the family business, as I have.”

“Yeah, what about you? Do you even want to do any of this? Maybe you don't wanna run that business, either.”

Hanzo immediately tensed up, narrowing his eyes. “What I want doesn't matter.”

“You're in the land of the free, home of the brave.” Jesse gestured an arm towards the window. “This is America, darlin’. Your dad’s all the way in Japan. He's got no control over you, so live a little.”

“He can cut me off financially,” Hanzo pointed out.

“Could be worth the sacrifice.”

“I will not defy my father,” he firmly asserted.

“Fine, fine. Suit yourself.” Jesse waved him off and continued eating his breakfast. “So how's your food? Did I pick good for ya?”

Hanzo glanced between the cowboy and his plate of food. “It is acceptable, I suppose.”

The cowboy gave a satisfied nod and continued stuffing more of his own food into his mouth. Hanzo ate more politely, but had a smaller meal, so he didn't take much longer to finish his own breakfast.

As Hanzo picked at the remaining bites on his plate, Jesse stood up and made his way to the register. By the time he returned, Hanzo had finished eating.

“The bill?” he asked, glancing at the bit of receipt paper in the cowboy’s hand.

“Paid.” Jesse held up the paper and crumpled it up before tossing it beside his empty plate.

Hanzo frowned and glanced off to the side. “You didn't have to do that. I'm happy to pay my share.”

“I'm sure ya really don't mind spendin’ daddy’s money,” Jesse replied. “And before ya ask - No, none o’ that's robbery money. I won it fair and square, hustlin’ a game of pool.”

Hanzo followed as the cowboy made his way out of the restaurant, yet he still proceeded to pull his wallet from his pocket. “Allow me to pay for my meal, I insist.”

“No thanks.” Jesse dismissively waved a hand at the money. “I put you through hell. Treatin’ you to a nice, greasy breakfast is the least I can do.”

With a sigh of defeat, Hanzo put his money away. He couldn't argue against the logic, that after everything Jesse had done, he owed so much more than eggs and sausage.

As they approached the car, Jesse leaned against the driver door, blocking Hanzo from reaching it. He had a pleading look in his eyes as he attempted one last appeal. “Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for what happened on that bus. It never meant to get so outta control, and I hate that we've stooped to petty thievery. So c’mon, help me ease my conscience a little, and I'll help you get to Padre. On my honor.”

“Men like you have no honor. Step aside.” Hanzo tried to push his way to unlock the door, but Jesse continued to block his path.

“Hey, I'm being serious. Hanzo, c’mon.”

He paused and folded his arms over his chest as he thoughtfully looked over the cowboy. “Fine. But one strike, and I'll leave you on the side of the road again. You understand?”

“Crystal clear!” Jesse grinned that wide, irresistible grin and clapped his companion on the back before making his way to the passenger seat.

Hanzo was completely stunned with his own decision to allow this, but Jesse made a fair point. If he truly regretted his actions, didn't he deserve a chance at reclaiming his honor? And Hanzo was perfectly aware he would need help finding Genji, so maybe they could help one another after all. Hopefully, he wouldn't come to regret this decision.

#jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #mchanzo #overwatch #fanfiction #my writing

8 notes · View notes