Pigeon

Jared looked up quickly at Grace's voice, startled. She looked...pale. But she was alive and as well as could be. She was in one piece and it had been a terrible event but she was okay. The relief Jared felt was indescribable...and so was his guilt. 

Being hugged wasn't what he expected either. But nothing could stop his arms from wrapping around her. All he wanted to do was be able to stand on his own two feet to hold her...but he couldn't. So instead, he let her slide down into his lap. "I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered. "I was so worried." 

It was uncertain how long they'd sat there, but it wasn't too long before Rick showed up. And though he didn't want to interrupt them, he didn't want to be here all night either, so he convinced them to let him take them back to Lydia's where Grace could stay in peace for the night...


"Thank you." Justin nodded to Jamie, then glanced at Pete. A quiet moment followed, before he turned to aim back to the hall. "Goodnight." There was nothing more he could say. Nothing more he wanted to say. He felt...numb. And he'd rather feel that than the pain that was underneath it all. 

Going back to the spare room, he paused, just looking in at Beth's form. And his heart broke a little more. He wanted to go to his own room and crawl in his own bed and forget anyone else existed. But he couldn't. Not now. Not yet. So instead, he slipped off his shoes, came to the far side of the bed, crawled on top of the covers behind Beth and wrapped his arm around her tight. And that's all he could do. 


...Jared knew the late hour would catch up to them all tomorrow. But his mind was still reeling. After he and Grace had gotten here, his mother had, of course, made sure Grace really was okay before going to bed, then Jamie and Pete had decided who would take first watch at the other end of the house. But in the living room, Jared sat with Grace on the couch, with only a small lamp providing some dim light. 

Sitting next to her, his hand fiddled with hers while he sat rather stiffly. He'd been quiet up until now, with more tension in the air than anyone deserved, and he knew it was his fault. "I'm...sorry," he finally apologized quietly. His eyes remained on the floor. "Not just for what you've been through but...but for how I treated you the other day. I...said some mean things and... and I'm just sorry. You didn't deserve that. I was mad and I just took it out on you." 


It was the next morning at the Elite. Aaron paced the cell...as much as he could, anyway. He could only stay standing a few minutes at a time before he couldn't take the pain in his knee anymore. The weird thing was why they'd put him down here. He still hadn't figured that out. Something had happened - he'd heard the scuttlebutt. But what it was, he wasn't sure. Then there was this cell. He'd expected no more than a stark prison cell. But instead, the cot was decent, there were nicer necessities than he would have imagined, a small table and chair, and even a couple magazines. A change of clothes was there too, which boggled his mind even more. After being cuffed to a bed since getting here, this was quite a change. He really had thought as soon as his leg was stable, they'd ship him off to prison. Why were they keeping him here? And why wasn't he cuffed or shackled or anything? Why weren't they beating him to a pulp for Agency intel?

Wincing in pain, he finally half-sat, half-fell back onto the cot. There was a part of him that would have preferred remaining cuffed upstairs in the infirmary. At least then he caught glimpses of what was going on. Down here, there were no windows. No view to the open world at all. Every once in a while he heard something, and he had a pretty good idea that Garret was right next door. Of course, that traitor had free run of the place, which made Aaron sick. He'd lost track of the days, he'd lost the man he'd respected most, and his future was more uncertain than it had ever been before. He didn't know whether to prepare for a life behind bars, a life stuck here, or try and plan for escape back to the Agency where at least he was secure. He'd go for the last choice if it weren't for this blasted knee. He automatically scowled when thinking of Victoria. At the very least, he should be able to somehow get in contact with the Agency even if he couldn't physically leave. Then Victoria and Garret would both pay.


Reese would just as soon have taken today off. After getting home so late last night, all he'd wanted to do was stay in bed for at least two more hours, then just spend the day with Angelica. But this job wasn't something he, or she, could ignore, unfortunately. At least he always had her by his side, even when he'd come home at ungodly hours of the night. Right now though, he couldn't daydream about the love of his life. He had work to do, and it wasn't pleasant. "Are you aware that the second target died last night?"

Garret stood in Reese's office mid-morning, along with Nate. He'd heard from no one until being called upstairs. Hands clamped behind his back, he stood with feet apart, evidence of his past training when in the presence of the commanding officer. "I was not."

"It was a young woman." Reese leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. He'd included Nate in on this because of him being Garret's handler, and he also wanted a witness. And... he'd never say so out loud, but he wasn't so sure if confronting Garret alone was the wisest thing to do. "Sister of Justin's girlfriend."

Garret pursed his lips. Justin would be feeling that one, just like the Agency wanted. "That's too bad. I'm sure the Agency has had her as a possible target for longer than you think."

"That's a good possibility. Of course, we might know for sure, if we had a certain operative in our custody instead of in the morgue."

One of Garret's eyebrows rose. "I doubt you would have gotten any information from him."

"But you realize that's not your call to make."

"Sir?" Old habits died hard as his response mimicked that which always gave Medridge.

Reese fiddled with a pencil. "We have clear evidence that your earpiece was removed before your fight. That means you lied about what happened. So I'm giving you once chance right now to tell the truth."

Garret glanced at Nate before looking back to Reese. "It happened very fast." He wasn't about to reveal the truth - he couldn't. "Details tend to get lost in a situation like that."

"Not good enough." Reese shook his head. "Either you give me a satisfactory answer now, or your time here is over."

"Seriously? You've got one less Agency idiot to worry about and now you wanna get rid of me. You really don't make any sense, you know that?"

Reese looked to Nate. Somehow, Garret was going to have to learn. He'd told Nate earlier that he wanted to get to the truth, but it wasn't being made easy. "Garret, around here, killing is the last option no matter who it is. All I'm asking is the truth about why you took that man's life instead of bringing him in. If you can't even do that, then this is obviously not going to work."

Garret gritted his teeth as he could feel the Elite reins beginning to tighten. "So basically the fact that I advised the team, suggested the correct plan of attack, helped execute the rescue and assisted in bringing back the girl alive has no bearing whatsoever?"

"Not if you continue to lie." Reese was not willing to play this game. "I don't send thank you cards - we're a team and do what needs to be done. The truth. Now."

"And when will you start believing me? Or is this all because your little boy got squeamish around a dead body?"

Reese set aside his pencil and folded his hands. "Is this display of attitude due to the fact that we're questioning your honesty, or because you know we're not going to like the actual truth?"

Garret threw Nate a glare. So this is what he got for helping? Why had he even tried? "If any of you want to have a decent conversation, I'll be in my delightful little cell," he hissed.

As he spun on his heel, Reese called after him. "Stop right there." Garret kept walking. "Garret, I'm warning you!" But his words did no good, and Garret disappeared around the corner. "Dang it." Reese growled before running a hand over his face. "This has got to stop."

"Hey, um...sorry to interrupt."

Reese looked up quickly and withheld an expression of disdain. "Yes. Kirk. What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering if I could get a copy of the report from last night."

"As soon as it's written."

Kirk bit his lower lip and remained paused in the doorway. "I don't think I need to tell you the thing that will hurt the Elite most when it comes time for change is your stubbornness to keep that walking timebomb around."

"No...you don't need to tell me," Reese stated flatly.

"If I were you, I'd–"

"And what authority do you have?"

Kirk redirected his train of thought. "I guess I'm just considering what options you may have in the not so distant future, and I think it's only fair to warn you that your tolerance for rogue behavior may not go over so well."

Reese's eyes narrowed. "Thank you for your opinion, Agent Young. And how long did you say you were here for?"

"I didn't." Kirk moved to leave. "I'll be awaiting that report."

Once alone again, Reese let out a groan. "Nate, is it worth it? Is all this really worth it? Maybe we should just pack it in and let the police and FBI take on the Agency."

"Hey, Reese?"

"Now what?!" Reese looked to Gunner who had just poked his head around the corner. "Can I not be left alone for two minutes?"

Gunner quirked an eyebrow. "Fine by me, but your pigeon's flying the coop."

"What?" Reese was on his feet and came out to the main floor just in time to see Garret heading for the door.

Garret had his backpack slung over his shoulder and ballcap on just as he'd been the day he'd come. But this time he was going out instead of in.

"Garret!" Reese barked. "Where do you think you're going?"

Garret stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Even if I told you, you probably wouldn't believe me anyway." He kept walking.

"Garret, you stop right there or you will regret it."

Garret just kept walking.

Reese was halfway to he door himself now, and stopped, drawing his gun. "Stop! Or so help me, you won't be able to walk out of here. I cannot let you go free."

Garret's hand was already on the door handle and he turned slightly, looking at the handgun. The corner of his mouth turned up. "Really?" And without a second thought, he was gone.

Reese's jaw couldn't have been more tight as he returned his gun to his holster. Garret had known he couldn't fire...and he'd been right. Reese looked around at the pairs of eyes that had watched the scene. No one else had dared interfere - they all knew no one here was a match for Garret...and he'd just made a total fool out of their leader.

Reese spun on his heel and stalked back to his office, slamming the door after entering, which kept anyone from even trying to find out what to do next.

Outside, Garret's stride didn't break as he headed across the parking lot. He had no idea where he was going - it was the only time he could remember, ever, that he didn't have a plan. He just knew he couldn't stay here. He'd been wrong to think it could work.