Supernatural/Numb3rs fic - Take a Long Line 3b/3
Same crossover fic. Still PG. Still gen. Finally, completely complete.
It's not five minutes walk to the break room, but Alan stretches it out to ten. This conversation is going to be a minefield. Discussing these sorts of issues with Don always has been and even after decades of experience, it never really gets any easier.
When he arrives in the break room, Don is brusquely filling the coffee machine. Probably not an unusual sight to someone who knows him casually, but Alan can see the uncharacteristic fixation with the task, rather than the more going-through-the-motions way he would do it, if getting coffee were the only thing on his mind. And Alan knows that his highly observant elder son was aware of his presence the moment that he stepped through the doorway, probably even anticipated it before he arrived, but Don still feigns mild surprise when he turns to see his father standing in the room.
"Wanna cup, Dad? Had to start another pot. We've been hitting the caffeine pretty hard today."
"Looks like it's not the only thing that's been hit hard."
"Oh, yeah?" Don's expression turns wary and Alan knows that he's already stepped on landmine number one. He can't just lift his foot off without triggering the explosion anyway, so instead he carefully stands his ground.
"Is it possible that you might be taking this case a bit too personally, do you think?"
Don rolls his eyes and shakes his head, exasperation and denial in equal measure, and even if it wasn't totally convincing, it would have fended off most people - but not his father. Alan stares his son into a verbal response.
"Okay, I screwed up, Dad." Don turns away and starts pacing, the coffee apparently forgotten. "And maybe I'm taking it personally because I made mistakes and maybe because of them, there's a serial killer out there on the loose when he should be in custody."
"And maybe there isn't. Charlie and Megan don't seem to think so." Alan says it mildly, but it cuts to the heart of the issue and Don's step catches. He stares hard at his father before looking away.
"Yeah, looks that way, doesn't it?"
"But for some reason, you don't know whether or not you want to believe it, believe them."
Don's gaze swings back. Alan can virtually see him summoning up a focus of anger to work with and, knowing that it's a gamble, he brings out the big guns to pre-empt Don's next salvo. "I think you saw something of yourself in that kid, didn't you?"
Don stares in disbelief for half a second, and then snorts. "Dad, two days ago, I would have put a bullet in his brain as soon as look at him."
"I know," Alan mutters, and he does know. He's seen Don with that level of anger, that close to the edge, once before when one of his team was threatened. This time it was his brother. Alan has no doubt at all that Don would have shot first and asked questions later.
Don's jaw tightens, but the defiance bleeds out of his eyes, leaving only the pain behind and Alan has to fight down a sigh. Contrary to what his son might think, he doesn't blame him for that reaction. He worries for him. And it's hard to know what to say, in these situations. Hard to know what will actually penetrate through the defensive barriers without deepening the wounds or causing new ones.
Alan takes a few steps in an arbitrary direction as he considers his next words. It's more to show Don that he's pondering, than anything else, because Don needs to know that the words have been well considered, not just thrown out as part of a father's blind attempts to console.
"Donny, you know that you don't give your trust easily. People have to really earn it." Don opens his mouth immediately, but Alan lifts a hand to forestall the response for a few moments more. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It means that earning your trust is something that people value highly and they'll work hard to earn and keep it. Just look at your team. That's partially because you don't just give it on a whim."
Don swallows and studies his hands for a moment before looking back at his father.
"And your point is?"
"You don't trust easily and I'm sure this Dean Winchester kid never asked for your trust. But what I think is that there must have been a moment, at least, where you thought you knew what he was thinking. I'm going to take a bit of a longshot here, but I'm guessing that it had something to do with having a younger brother to look out for, to protect - and then he used that against you, by threatening Charlie."
Don turns away to check the coffee machine, but his shoulders slump slightly and Alan thinks he might actually have made a breakthrough. However, when Don speaks again, his words are not what his father expects.
"I used it against him first."
"What? How so?"
This time Don allows himself a sigh, as he turns back again. "I more or less offered him the chance to save his brother by taking all the blame himself."
"And did he?"
"No, but I'm pretty sure he was going to."
"How do you know?"
"Well, obviously, I don't!" And that outburst has all the hallmarks of Don lashing out because he feels as if he's being backed into a corner.
Alan doesn't exactly pull back because he knows that will get him nowhere, but he pitches his tone somewhere between coaxing and chiding. One word is all it takes.
"Donny."
Don tries to maintain his hard stare, but soon his gaze softens. He knows that his bluff has been called.
"Yeah, I know Charlie and Megan are making a lot of sense. They always do, right?"
"Well, nearly always," Alan allows and waits for Don to continue because this is only half the message.
"So, that kid." Don injects the word with derision, but Alan can see that the mockery is directed inwards, towards himself. "He would have handed us his own head on a plate, if he thought it would save his brother. Told us exactly what he thought we wanted to hear. And now it looks like the crimes - the atrocities - that he would have been taking the blame for and which would have earned him the death penalty several times over - it looks like the Winchesters might even have been the ones that put a stop to them."
This is the crisis point. Now that the admission is out there, Alan has to say something in response, but there's no easy way for an FBI agent's civilian father to suggest to him that he might need to turn his approach to the investigation completely on its head.
"So, losing prisoners never looks good for an agent, but maybe instead of dangerous felons, there are a couple of crazy but idealistic kids out there, trying in their own way to save lives and make the world a better place?"
Don's eyes harden again and Alan knows that he's made a wrong move before he finishes speaking, and yet Don waits for him to stop before giving full reign to his derision.
"Or perhaps what we've got out there are a couple of vigilantes with no respect at all for the law and who probably now think that there's nothing they can't get away with - and who could go off the rails at any time! Yeah, maybe they want to do the right thing and they're definitely cocky enough to think they'd know what's right no matter what anyone else wants to tell them. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Dad. There's just so much crap out there. Not just crime. Not just danger. But true evil!"
"Donny." Alan tries the same tone again, but this time Don is having none of it.
"No, Dad! They say that if you fight evil head to head for long enough, you run the risk of starting to become just like what you're fighting. It's the way things are. The evil keeps pushing you and you have to keep pushing back. I don't know any other way - but at least I've got Bureau procedure and my team and now, God help me, even a shrink to stop me from crossing the line. Those kids out there have no back up. They answer to no one - no one at all. And just one mistake, just one bad call could be all it takes."
The silence is abrupt when Don finishes this tirade. It's a volatile silence. Don stares at his father, demanding a response, and Alan stares back at his son, fully aware that the wrong response could set the whole minefield off and end any chance he has of reaching Don over this issue. When he breaks the silence, his voice is quiet, but not at all tentative. He needs to convey this gently, but with conviction because Don needs to know that he himself believes it.
"And maybe one really good call by someone like you - that might be all that it takes too."
"What?" Don blinks and looks at his father like he's crazy, but he's really listening now, hoping against hope for an answer he can believe in.
"You're right that those boys have no respect for the law, but that's probably because they don't trust the law at all. And do the have any reason to trust in the law? It sounds like that for the past two years every agent of the law they've encountered has hunted them down like they're the scum of the earth."
"Actually, there's one cop in Baltimore..."
"What? A cop that doesn't think they're guilty? Why do I get the feeling that no one is listening to what this guy has to say?"
Don sighs. "It's what she's got to say, actually. She says the Winchesters saved her life. It seems to involve some police corruption scandal in the department and she ended up shooting her own partner. Self-defence, she says and IA is still investigating, but it looks like the partner was already under suspicion. So her story will probably stand up, but the whole thing is not making her very popular in her own department."
"And what do you think of her and her story?"
"Well, I don't know the details of the IA investigation, but being the whistleblower in any department takes guts. Most cops know that no one will thank you for it. But that doesn't mean she can't be wrong about the Winchesters - or maybe she's just finally gone over the edge herself."
Don looks like he's about to start pacing again and Alan once more resorts to the low coaxing tone. "Gut feeling, Donny?"
Don snorts. "My gut feeling had me and half my team running around like rats in a maze two days ago."
Alan just continues to stare at him and Don caves.
"It all fits in with what Charlie and Megan have been saying. In fact, Megan has been trying to get that Baltimore detective on the phone, but hasn't managed to get a hold of her yet."
"So Charlie's math, Megan's new psych profile and your gut feeling all..."
"All that doesn't just make the Winchesters' files just disappear, Dad. The Bureau has accumulated a lot of evidence against them and they aren't going to just do a complete about face on the case because of the theories and gut feelings of one team in LA and a civilian consultant!"
"But Don, someone's got to take a stand. This isn't just a wild hunch from a bunch of crackpot amateurs. These are well-reasoned theories from highly competent professionals, with considerable experience and reputations. Are you trying to tell me that no one would listen to you? To any of you? C'mon, Donny, I find that hard to believe."
Don finally throws up his hands in frustration.
"Dad! It's not like we haven't already tried!"
The silence is heavy, as Alan blinks and tries to overcome his astonishment enough to ask, "What?" But Don's previous words permeate the silence.
We already tried.
We tried.
Alan now knows that he walked into this lacking a vital piece of information. Don's apparent resistance to Charlie and Megan's theories doesn't stem from any unwillingness to back them, to go into battle for them. He's already gone into battle and taken a beating. He's needed to reassess where he himself stands and the arguments he's been running are probably partial echoes of what others in the FBI hierarchy have already used against him. Alan feels like the entire geography of the dispute has been rearranged around him. This is a completely different battlefield; not to convince Don to consider a new perspective, but to help him keep hold of the one that he feels slipping away.
Before either of them find their voice again, Megan suddenly appears in the doorway, with a "Hey, guys!" that's chirpy enough to make both Don and Alan slowly turn to look at her with matching looks of perplexed inquiry. But she just smirks as she says, "You gotta come see this!" and turns back the way she came without waiting for a reply.
Whatever new development has occurred, she is clearly enjoying it too much to reveal all just yet and there's no question that they'll follow. In fact, by the time they get back, Don has strode about five paces ahead of Megan and Alan.
"Okay, what's up then?" Don's tone clearly declares that the man in charge is back.
Charlie and Colby are both working intently at separate computer terminals and David is engaged in a quiet, but vigorous, phone conversation. Charlie briefly glances up and hands his cell phone to his brother before turning his attention back to his computer screen. "Someone sent me a text message."
Don snorts. "Well, it obviously works better than leaving you a voice mail."
Alan steps up beside him, as Don lifts the phone to look at the display. The screen contains only two numbers, separated by a comma. Alan realises what they are at the same time Don says, "Longitude and latitude?"
Charlie grins. "The co-ordinates for San Huberto, California. Population approximately four thousand two hundred with seasonal fluctuations due to the tourist trade. About seventy miles south of San Francisco."
"And is there something happening in San Huberto?" Alan asks.
It's Colby who answers him. "Well, just over an hour ago, there was a fire in their local museum, destroying its most famous exhibit."
"What exhibit would that be?" Don uses his dry, sceptical tone, but can't hide the fact that he's intrigued.
"Part of the bow of the schooner Robert McKellar which was the only wreckage that has been recovered since it sunk off the coast of San Huberto in 1849. It had left San Francisco and the rumour was that gold from the early gold rush was part of its undeclared cargo. Apparently there's no real evidence to support that rumour, but it didn't stop numerous fortune hunters over the years trying to recover the wreck. More than half of them have died in the attempt even though the waters where the wreck is believed to be are usually considered not particularly treacherous. In fact, the wreck of the Robert McKellar is San Huberto's local ghost story. Stories of mysterious apparitions, even ghosts threatening vengeance on anyone trying to steal their gold..."
Don's eyebrows have been steadily climbing and he finally cuts his agent off. "And where did you get this from?"
Colby clears his throat self-consciously before he says. "Supernaturalcalifornia dot com."
David Sinclair is clearly a hair's breadth from sniggering, but he still backs up his partner. "The local sheriff mentioned those stories too, and the local fire department says that the fire was apparently very well contained, only took out the room where the Robert McKellar exhibit was. The security guard was knocked unconscious and left a safe distance outside the building. And I just tracked down the name of the owner of the phone that the text was sent to Charlie from. It belongs to one Bud Chiari who has registered it as his work phone at the San Huberto Museum."
"The unconscious security guard?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me! Who vandalises a museum, knocks out the guard and then steals his phone and texts their co-ordinates to a mathematician who's known to be a consultant with the FBI?" Don endures the silent stares for less than half a second. "Oh, c'mon. No way!"
"Why not?" Charlie is openly grinning now, but the grin is wiped off his face when Don hits back.
"I gotta better question for you, Charlie. Why? Why would they do something like that?" He's almost in his brother's face now.
"Maybe an even better important question is what are they doing?" Alan is amazed when they both turn to look at him. He almost never manages to get through to his sons when they are arguing with each other that intensely. He glances around to see that Megan, David and Colby are also looking at him. "What?"
Megan smiles at him. "Maybe Charlie's not the only member of Don's family who should be an official consultant to the Bureau. You're absolutely right. You'd have to know what they are doing before you can figure out why they're doing it." She picks up the volume of Milton prose and taps it against her chin.
"The best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words." David ponders the highlighted passage aloud, then adds, "But arson isn't exactly an 'honest deed' - even if it was clearly done in way that made sure no one was hurt in the fire."
"Maybe owning up to it is the honest deed." Megan shrugs. "Maybe there's more to this arson than meets the eye. Maybe that's why they sent a message to Charlie, they want him - or perhaps want us to look into it." She stops for a moment, dawning realisation clear on her face. "That's amazing."
"What exactly about it is amazing?" All trace of belligerence is gone from Don's tone. He's just clarifying the facts of the case now.
"Well, to essentially flag their position to the FBI like that, it's a hell of a risk. Or maybe it's some sort of show of trust?"
"What do you mean?"
"They sent it to Charlie. They'd know he'd pass it on to us for sure. It's like they're saying they trust us to look into it further - that we'll 'do the right thing' with the information. And while I'm sure that if we put an APB out on them in San Huberto, they'll already be long gone, it's still a hell of a risk. For them to agree to take that kind of risk on our response is really an amazing gesture of trust, given these guys' background."
"Wait a minute. Why does it have to be that they both agreed to it? It only takes one person to send a text message."
Megan shakes her head emphatically. "Not with the way these guys trust each other."
"How so?"
"That stunt they pulled here a couple of days ago was too complex, too outrageous for them not to trust each other completely on every level. I'm pretty sure they got the idea from meeting Millie French at the Chiyoda Restaurant and if that's the case, they had only a day or two to plan it and they put everything on the line. To pull something like that off, they have to have total faith in each other's abilities and loyalty. Each has to know that the other one will come through in exactly the way he expects. Dean getting himself arrested. Sam getting Charlie to call. Sam getting back here in time. Both getting the access that they wanted - or it would have all been for nothing. To put that much on the line with everything so finely balanced, the trust has to be total. And sending that text message? There's no way either would open them both up to that kind of vulnerability without complete consent from the other. It would break the trust in a way these guys just aren't capable of."
There's no dispute when she finishes. In fact, there's a sense of agreement, almost like the rekindling of lost camaraderie, in the few seconds of silence that follow, before Charlie breaks the moment with the question, "So, are we going to hand this over to Henricksen?"
Alan feels once again blindsided by the new twist in the conversation.
"Hand it over? Who's Henricksen?"
"A complete asshole," Colby Granger says definitively. David Sinclair raises his eyebrows at that, but he's grinning. As is Megan. Charlie gestures towards Colby with his hand to indicate his complete agreement with the assessment. Only Don offers his father any sort of clarification.
"Special Agent Victor Henricksen is the Bureau's agent officially in charge of the Winchester case." Don looks like he's willing to stop at that, but Alan raises his eyebrows a little further and Don releases an almost-sigh before continuing. "He turned up here this morning, demanded all the work we'd done be turned over to him and basically told us our further involvement was not required."
"After which, Don all but told him he was a complete moron," Megan adds.
Don gives his father a shrug that could pass for sheepish, but it's clear that he still stands by that assessment. "Nevertheless, he's still the agent in charge of the case."
Charlie laughs, undeterred and brightly cheerful. "But Don, we've got absolutely no proof that the text even came from the Winchesters. That's just our supposition. So, is there really sufficient reason for us to hand any of this information over?"
Megan raises her eyebrows. "He's got a point. And why would Henricksen believe anything we say anyway? Charlie proved that it was practically impossible for the Winchesters to have committed all but three of the murders that Henricksen wants to pin on them and you had to appeal to further up the chain of command to get him to even look at that evidence. I think Charlie's right - maybe we could run this one ourselves... "
Alan walks into the centre of the group and starts waving his hands around. "Wait! Wait just a minute! Are you telling me that since this morning all of you have been officially off this case and yet you are all still here working on it well into a Saturday night?"
They all look at each other silently and then look at him. This time, it's Charlie that shrugs sheepishly.
"I don't believe this!" Actually, that's a lie. Alan fully believes that all of them are so committed to this, that they won't be able to let it go. But there's no point in dragging it out here and now, and clearly someone has to get that through to them. "For God's sake, this case - which isn't even officially yours anymore - isn't going anywhere tonight." Don opens his mouth to interject, but Alan cuts him off. "And even if there is going to be another development, you'll probably get a text message - from the suspects themselves. No, you people need to sleep. And eat for that matter." He puts his hands on his hips and is quietly pleased to see Megan - and also now, David - both trying to hide a smirk behind their hands. "Dinner," Alan insists. "Now. I'm buying."
Colby sits up straighter. "Where?"
"Well, I know that steakhouse three blocks down from here is still open, but really I don't care as long as there's plenty of good food. And alcohol."
Colby is on his feet by now, and Don has also quietly reached for his jacket. He fishes in the pocket and tosses keys to his brother. "Charlie, you're driving."
Charlie fumbles, but only slightly, before he catches them. "Hey! What? Why?"
Don grins. "Wouldn't want too much alcohol destroying any of those valuable brain cells."
Charlie snorts. "Whatever. At least I have brain cells that I can spare. And actually, I don't mind. It's quite funny being the only one sober when you guys have had a few. You really don't know what you’re saying and you never remember half the things you've let slip."
"Yeah, right," Don says dismissively. He's already halfway to the door, instinctively taking the lead and expecting the rest of them will follow - as they always do. "Tell yourself what you need to, Charlie. We all know which of us can handle our liquor and which of us can't."
"No, you only think you know!"
David and Colby both turn back for a moment to grin at Alan before following the bickering brothers through the door. Megan has already snagged his elbow and murmurs, "Honest deeds set against dishonest words," only loud enough for him to hear, as she escorts him along.
Alan smiles. "And truth springs from argument amongst friends."
To his chagrin, neither of his sons has ever been particularly interested in literature or philosophy. It's one thing that he and Margaret failed to give them. Don thinks that actions speak louder than words and Charlie believes that there is more truth in numbers. But one of the many reasons that Alan values Megan and Larry Fleinhart, both in his life and the lives of his sons, is they truly appreciate the beauty found in thought and word.
Sure enough, Megan throws him a megawatt grin. "Hey, I like that. Milton?"
Alan shakes his head. "Eighteenth century Scottish philosopher named David Hume." The faintest of sighs escapes him and Megan squeezes his arm slightly - an unasked for, but genuinely appreciated assurance that things will be okay. He's not even sure why he suddenly feels rather melancholy. Don and Charlie are off arguing in a way that, for once, their father can just sit back and enjoy watching his sons argue. They're about to sit down to a good, well-earned meal in the company of friends that they trust with their lives. If truth can't be found in that, then Alan doesn't know where it can be found. Then again, he's often thought that the point of the truth was to continually seek it, even if you don't always find it.
But anyway, what matters now is that, three blocks away, there's a steak dinner with his name on it.
--------
Take a long line
Take a long line
Take a long, long, long, long line
Reel him in
--------
And, what the heck, here's Doc and the boys performing the song.
It's not five minutes walk to the break room, but Alan stretches it out to ten. This conversation is going to be a minefield. Discussing these sorts of issues with Don always has been and even after decades of experience, it never really gets any easier.
When he arrives in the break room, Don is brusquely filling the coffee machine. Probably not an unusual sight to someone who knows him casually, but Alan can see the uncharacteristic fixation with the task, rather than the more going-through-the-motions way he would do it, if getting coffee were the only thing on his mind. And Alan knows that his highly observant elder son was aware of his presence the moment that he stepped through the doorway, probably even anticipated it before he arrived, but Don still feigns mild surprise when he turns to see his father standing in the room.
"Wanna cup, Dad? Had to start another pot. We've been hitting the caffeine pretty hard today."
"Looks like it's not the only thing that's been hit hard."
"Oh, yeah?" Don's expression turns wary and Alan knows that he's already stepped on landmine number one. He can't just lift his foot off without triggering the explosion anyway, so instead he carefully stands his ground.
"Is it possible that you might be taking this case a bit too personally, do you think?"
Don rolls his eyes and shakes his head, exasperation and denial in equal measure, and even if it wasn't totally convincing, it would have fended off most people - but not his father. Alan stares his son into a verbal response.
"Okay, I screwed up, Dad." Don turns away and starts pacing, the coffee apparently forgotten. "And maybe I'm taking it personally because I made mistakes and maybe because of them, there's a serial killer out there on the loose when he should be in custody."
"And maybe there isn't. Charlie and Megan don't seem to think so." Alan says it mildly, but it cuts to the heart of the issue and Don's step catches. He stares hard at his father before looking away.
"Yeah, looks that way, doesn't it?"
"But for some reason, you don't know whether or not you want to believe it, believe them."
Don's gaze swings back. Alan can virtually see him summoning up a focus of anger to work with and, knowing that it's a gamble, he brings out the big guns to pre-empt Don's next salvo. "I think you saw something of yourself in that kid, didn't you?"
Don stares in disbelief for half a second, and then snorts. "Dad, two days ago, I would have put a bullet in his brain as soon as look at him."
"I know," Alan mutters, and he does know. He's seen Don with that level of anger, that close to the edge, once before when one of his team was threatened. This time it was his brother. Alan has no doubt at all that Don would have shot first and asked questions later.
Don's jaw tightens, but the defiance bleeds out of his eyes, leaving only the pain behind and Alan has to fight down a sigh. Contrary to what his son might think, he doesn't blame him for that reaction. He worries for him. And it's hard to know what to say, in these situations. Hard to know what will actually penetrate through the defensive barriers without deepening the wounds or causing new ones.
Alan takes a few steps in an arbitrary direction as he considers his next words. It's more to show Don that he's pondering, than anything else, because Don needs to know that the words have been well considered, not just thrown out as part of a father's blind attempts to console.
"Donny, you know that you don't give your trust easily. People have to really earn it." Don opens his mouth immediately, but Alan lifts a hand to forestall the response for a few moments more. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It means that earning your trust is something that people value highly and they'll work hard to earn and keep it. Just look at your team. That's partially because you don't just give it on a whim."
Don swallows and studies his hands for a moment before looking back at his father.
"And your point is?"
"You don't trust easily and I'm sure this Dean Winchester kid never asked for your trust. But what I think is that there must have been a moment, at least, where you thought you knew what he was thinking. I'm going to take a bit of a longshot here, but I'm guessing that it had something to do with having a younger brother to look out for, to protect - and then he used that against you, by threatening Charlie."
Don turns away to check the coffee machine, but his shoulders slump slightly and Alan thinks he might actually have made a breakthrough. However, when Don speaks again, his words are not what his father expects.
"I used it against him first."
"What? How so?"
This time Don allows himself a sigh, as he turns back again. "I more or less offered him the chance to save his brother by taking all the blame himself."
"And did he?"
"No, but I'm pretty sure he was going to."
"How do you know?"
"Well, obviously, I don't!" And that outburst has all the hallmarks of Don lashing out because he feels as if he's being backed into a corner.
Alan doesn't exactly pull back because he knows that will get him nowhere, but he pitches his tone somewhere between coaxing and chiding. One word is all it takes.
"Donny."
Don tries to maintain his hard stare, but soon his gaze softens. He knows that his bluff has been called.
"Yeah, I know Charlie and Megan are making a lot of sense. They always do, right?"
"Well, nearly always," Alan allows and waits for Don to continue because this is only half the message.
"So, that kid." Don injects the word with derision, but Alan can see that the mockery is directed inwards, towards himself. "He would have handed us his own head on a plate, if he thought it would save his brother. Told us exactly what he thought we wanted to hear. And now it looks like the crimes - the atrocities - that he would have been taking the blame for and which would have earned him the death penalty several times over - it looks like the Winchesters might even have been the ones that put a stop to them."
This is the crisis point. Now that the admission is out there, Alan has to say something in response, but there's no easy way for an FBI agent's civilian father to suggest to him that he might need to turn his approach to the investigation completely on its head.
"So, losing prisoners never looks good for an agent, but maybe instead of dangerous felons, there are a couple of crazy but idealistic kids out there, trying in their own way to save lives and make the world a better place?"
Don's eyes harden again and Alan knows that he's made a wrong move before he finishes speaking, and yet Don waits for him to stop before giving full reign to his derision.
"Or perhaps what we've got out there are a couple of vigilantes with no respect at all for the law and who probably now think that there's nothing they can't get away with - and who could go off the rails at any time! Yeah, maybe they want to do the right thing and they're definitely cocky enough to think they'd know what's right no matter what anyone else wants to tell them. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Dad. There's just so much crap out there. Not just crime. Not just danger. But true evil!"
"Donny." Alan tries the same tone again, but this time Don is having none of it.
"No, Dad! They say that if you fight evil head to head for long enough, you run the risk of starting to become just like what you're fighting. It's the way things are. The evil keeps pushing you and you have to keep pushing back. I don't know any other way - but at least I've got Bureau procedure and my team and now, God help me, even a shrink to stop me from crossing the line. Those kids out there have no back up. They answer to no one - no one at all. And just one mistake, just one bad call could be all it takes."
The silence is abrupt when Don finishes this tirade. It's a volatile silence. Don stares at his father, demanding a response, and Alan stares back at his son, fully aware that the wrong response could set the whole minefield off and end any chance he has of reaching Don over this issue. When he breaks the silence, his voice is quiet, but not at all tentative. He needs to convey this gently, but with conviction because Don needs to know that he himself believes it.
"And maybe one really good call by someone like you - that might be all that it takes too."
"What?" Don blinks and looks at his father like he's crazy, but he's really listening now, hoping against hope for an answer he can believe in.
"You're right that those boys have no respect for the law, but that's probably because they don't trust the law at all. And do the have any reason to trust in the law? It sounds like that for the past two years every agent of the law they've encountered has hunted them down like they're the scum of the earth."
"Actually, there's one cop in Baltimore..."
"What? A cop that doesn't think they're guilty? Why do I get the feeling that no one is listening to what this guy has to say?"
Don sighs. "It's what she's got to say, actually. She says the Winchesters saved her life. It seems to involve some police corruption scandal in the department and she ended up shooting her own partner. Self-defence, she says and IA is still investigating, but it looks like the partner was already under suspicion. So her story will probably stand up, but the whole thing is not making her very popular in her own department."
"And what do you think of her and her story?"
"Well, I don't know the details of the IA investigation, but being the whistleblower in any department takes guts. Most cops know that no one will thank you for it. But that doesn't mean she can't be wrong about the Winchesters - or maybe she's just finally gone over the edge herself."
Don looks like he's about to start pacing again and Alan once more resorts to the low coaxing tone. "Gut feeling, Donny?"
Don snorts. "My gut feeling had me and half my team running around like rats in a maze two days ago."
Alan just continues to stare at him and Don caves.
"It all fits in with what Charlie and Megan have been saying. In fact, Megan has been trying to get that Baltimore detective on the phone, but hasn't managed to get a hold of her yet."
"So Charlie's math, Megan's new psych profile and your gut feeling all..."
"All that doesn't just make the Winchesters' files just disappear, Dad. The Bureau has accumulated a lot of evidence against them and they aren't going to just do a complete about face on the case because of the theories and gut feelings of one team in LA and a civilian consultant!"
"But Don, someone's got to take a stand. This isn't just a wild hunch from a bunch of crackpot amateurs. These are well-reasoned theories from highly competent professionals, with considerable experience and reputations. Are you trying to tell me that no one would listen to you? To any of you? C'mon, Donny, I find that hard to believe."
Don finally throws up his hands in frustration.
"Dad! It's not like we haven't already tried!"
The silence is heavy, as Alan blinks and tries to overcome his astonishment enough to ask, "What?" But Don's previous words permeate the silence.
We already tried.
We tried.
Alan now knows that he walked into this lacking a vital piece of information. Don's apparent resistance to Charlie and Megan's theories doesn't stem from any unwillingness to back them, to go into battle for them. He's already gone into battle and taken a beating. He's needed to reassess where he himself stands and the arguments he's been running are probably partial echoes of what others in the FBI hierarchy have already used against him. Alan feels like the entire geography of the dispute has been rearranged around him. This is a completely different battlefield; not to convince Don to consider a new perspective, but to help him keep hold of the one that he feels slipping away.
Before either of them find their voice again, Megan suddenly appears in the doorway, with a "Hey, guys!" that's chirpy enough to make both Don and Alan slowly turn to look at her with matching looks of perplexed inquiry. But she just smirks as she says, "You gotta come see this!" and turns back the way she came without waiting for a reply.
Whatever new development has occurred, she is clearly enjoying it too much to reveal all just yet and there's no question that they'll follow. In fact, by the time they get back, Don has strode about five paces ahead of Megan and Alan.
"Okay, what's up then?" Don's tone clearly declares that the man in charge is back.
Charlie and Colby are both working intently at separate computer terminals and David is engaged in a quiet, but vigorous, phone conversation. Charlie briefly glances up and hands his cell phone to his brother before turning his attention back to his computer screen. "Someone sent me a text message."
Don snorts. "Well, it obviously works better than leaving you a voice mail."
Alan steps up beside him, as Don lifts the phone to look at the display. The screen contains only two numbers, separated by a comma. Alan realises what they are at the same time Don says, "Longitude and latitude?"
Charlie grins. "The co-ordinates for San Huberto, California. Population approximately four thousand two hundred with seasonal fluctuations due to the tourist trade. About seventy miles south of San Francisco."
"And is there something happening in San Huberto?" Alan asks.
It's Colby who answers him. "Well, just over an hour ago, there was a fire in their local museum, destroying its most famous exhibit."
"What exhibit would that be?" Don uses his dry, sceptical tone, but can't hide the fact that he's intrigued.
"Part of the bow of the schooner Robert McKellar which was the only wreckage that has been recovered since it sunk off the coast of San Huberto in 1849. It had left San Francisco and the rumour was that gold from the early gold rush was part of its undeclared cargo. Apparently there's no real evidence to support that rumour, but it didn't stop numerous fortune hunters over the years trying to recover the wreck. More than half of them have died in the attempt even though the waters where the wreck is believed to be are usually considered not particularly treacherous. In fact, the wreck of the Robert McKellar is San Huberto's local ghost story. Stories of mysterious apparitions, even ghosts threatening vengeance on anyone trying to steal their gold..."
Don's eyebrows have been steadily climbing and he finally cuts his agent off. "And where did you get this from?"
Colby clears his throat self-consciously before he says. "Supernaturalcalifornia dot com."
David Sinclair is clearly a hair's breadth from sniggering, but he still backs up his partner. "The local sheriff mentioned those stories too, and the local fire department says that the fire was apparently very well contained, only took out the room where the Robert McKellar exhibit was. The security guard was knocked unconscious and left a safe distance outside the building. And I just tracked down the name of the owner of the phone that the text was sent to Charlie from. It belongs to one Bud Chiari who has registered it as his work phone at the San Huberto Museum."
"The unconscious security guard?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me! Who vandalises a museum, knocks out the guard and then steals his phone and texts their co-ordinates to a mathematician who's known to be a consultant with the FBI?" Don endures the silent stares for less than half a second. "Oh, c'mon. No way!"
"Why not?" Charlie is openly grinning now, but the grin is wiped off his face when Don hits back.
"I gotta better question for you, Charlie. Why? Why would they do something like that?" He's almost in his brother's face now.
"Maybe an even better important question is what are they doing?" Alan is amazed when they both turn to look at him. He almost never manages to get through to his sons when they are arguing with each other that intensely. He glances around to see that Megan, David and Colby are also looking at him. "What?"
Megan smiles at him. "Maybe Charlie's not the only member of Don's family who should be an official consultant to the Bureau. You're absolutely right. You'd have to know what they are doing before you can figure out why they're doing it." She picks up the volume of Milton prose and taps it against her chin.
"The best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words." David ponders the highlighted passage aloud, then adds, "But arson isn't exactly an 'honest deed' - even if it was clearly done in way that made sure no one was hurt in the fire."
"Maybe owning up to it is the honest deed." Megan shrugs. "Maybe there's more to this arson than meets the eye. Maybe that's why they sent a message to Charlie, they want him - or perhaps want us to look into it." She stops for a moment, dawning realisation clear on her face. "That's amazing."
"What exactly about it is amazing?" All trace of belligerence is gone from Don's tone. He's just clarifying the facts of the case now.
"Well, to essentially flag their position to the FBI like that, it's a hell of a risk. Or maybe it's some sort of show of trust?"
"What do you mean?"
"They sent it to Charlie. They'd know he'd pass it on to us for sure. It's like they're saying they trust us to look into it further - that we'll 'do the right thing' with the information. And while I'm sure that if we put an APB out on them in San Huberto, they'll already be long gone, it's still a hell of a risk. For them to agree to take that kind of risk on our response is really an amazing gesture of trust, given these guys' background."
"Wait a minute. Why does it have to be that they both agreed to it? It only takes one person to send a text message."
Megan shakes her head emphatically. "Not with the way these guys trust each other."
"How so?"
"That stunt they pulled here a couple of days ago was too complex, too outrageous for them not to trust each other completely on every level. I'm pretty sure they got the idea from meeting Millie French at the Chiyoda Restaurant and if that's the case, they had only a day or two to plan it and they put everything on the line. To pull something like that off, they have to have total faith in each other's abilities and loyalty. Each has to know that the other one will come through in exactly the way he expects. Dean getting himself arrested. Sam getting Charlie to call. Sam getting back here in time. Both getting the access that they wanted - or it would have all been for nothing. To put that much on the line with everything so finely balanced, the trust has to be total. And sending that text message? There's no way either would open them both up to that kind of vulnerability without complete consent from the other. It would break the trust in a way these guys just aren't capable of."
There's no dispute when she finishes. In fact, there's a sense of agreement, almost like the rekindling of lost camaraderie, in the few seconds of silence that follow, before Charlie breaks the moment with the question, "So, are we going to hand this over to Henricksen?"
Alan feels once again blindsided by the new twist in the conversation.
"Hand it over? Who's Henricksen?"
"A complete asshole," Colby Granger says definitively. David Sinclair raises his eyebrows at that, but he's grinning. As is Megan. Charlie gestures towards Colby with his hand to indicate his complete agreement with the assessment. Only Don offers his father any sort of clarification.
"Special Agent Victor Henricksen is the Bureau's agent officially in charge of the Winchester case." Don looks like he's willing to stop at that, but Alan raises his eyebrows a little further and Don releases an almost-sigh before continuing. "He turned up here this morning, demanded all the work we'd done be turned over to him and basically told us our further involvement was not required."
"After which, Don all but told him he was a complete moron," Megan adds.
Don gives his father a shrug that could pass for sheepish, but it's clear that he still stands by that assessment. "Nevertheless, he's still the agent in charge of the case."
Charlie laughs, undeterred and brightly cheerful. "But Don, we've got absolutely no proof that the text even came from the Winchesters. That's just our supposition. So, is there really sufficient reason for us to hand any of this information over?"
Megan raises her eyebrows. "He's got a point. And why would Henricksen believe anything we say anyway? Charlie proved that it was practically impossible for the Winchesters to have committed all but three of the murders that Henricksen wants to pin on them and you had to appeal to further up the chain of command to get him to even look at that evidence. I think Charlie's right - maybe we could run this one ourselves... "
Alan walks into the centre of the group and starts waving his hands around. "Wait! Wait just a minute! Are you telling me that since this morning all of you have been officially off this case and yet you are all still here working on it well into a Saturday night?"
They all look at each other silently and then look at him. This time, it's Charlie that shrugs sheepishly.
"I don't believe this!" Actually, that's a lie. Alan fully believes that all of them are so committed to this, that they won't be able to let it go. But there's no point in dragging it out here and now, and clearly someone has to get that through to them. "For God's sake, this case - which isn't even officially yours anymore - isn't going anywhere tonight." Don opens his mouth to interject, but Alan cuts him off. "And even if there is going to be another development, you'll probably get a text message - from the suspects themselves. No, you people need to sleep. And eat for that matter." He puts his hands on his hips and is quietly pleased to see Megan - and also now, David - both trying to hide a smirk behind their hands. "Dinner," Alan insists. "Now. I'm buying."
Colby sits up straighter. "Where?"
"Well, I know that steakhouse three blocks down from here is still open, but really I don't care as long as there's plenty of good food. And alcohol."
Colby is on his feet by now, and Don has also quietly reached for his jacket. He fishes in the pocket and tosses keys to his brother. "Charlie, you're driving."
Charlie fumbles, but only slightly, before he catches them. "Hey! What? Why?"
Don grins. "Wouldn't want too much alcohol destroying any of those valuable brain cells."
Charlie snorts. "Whatever. At least I have brain cells that I can spare. And actually, I don't mind. It's quite funny being the only one sober when you guys have had a few. You really don't know what you’re saying and you never remember half the things you've let slip."
"Yeah, right," Don says dismissively. He's already halfway to the door, instinctively taking the lead and expecting the rest of them will follow - as they always do. "Tell yourself what you need to, Charlie. We all know which of us can handle our liquor and which of us can't."
"No, you only think you know!"
David and Colby both turn back for a moment to grin at Alan before following the bickering brothers through the door. Megan has already snagged his elbow and murmurs, "Honest deeds set against dishonest words," only loud enough for him to hear, as she escorts him along.
Alan smiles. "And truth springs from argument amongst friends."
To his chagrin, neither of his sons has ever been particularly interested in literature or philosophy. It's one thing that he and Margaret failed to give them. Don thinks that actions speak louder than words and Charlie believes that there is more truth in numbers. But one of the many reasons that Alan values Megan and Larry Fleinhart, both in his life and the lives of his sons, is they truly appreciate the beauty found in thought and word.
Sure enough, Megan throws him a megawatt grin. "Hey, I like that. Milton?"
Alan shakes his head. "Eighteenth century Scottish philosopher named David Hume." The faintest of sighs escapes him and Megan squeezes his arm slightly - an unasked for, but genuinely appreciated assurance that things will be okay. He's not even sure why he suddenly feels rather melancholy. Don and Charlie are off arguing in a way that, for once, their father can just sit back and enjoy watching his sons argue. They're about to sit down to a good, well-earned meal in the company of friends that they trust with their lives. If truth can't be found in that, then Alan doesn't know where it can be found. Then again, he's often thought that the point of the truth was to continually seek it, even if you don't always find it.
But anyway, what matters now is that, three blocks away, there's a steak dinner with his name on it.
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Take a long line
Take a long line
Take a long, long, long, long line
Reel him in
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And, what the heck, here's Doc and the boys performing the song.
Click to view