Baywatch/Animal Kingdom: Extenuating Circumstances (6/6)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
-o-
When Brody’s paperwork is finally resolved, Stephanie drives them home. Mitch sits in the front seat with Brody tucked against Summer in the back. CJ and Ronnie have already gone ahead to unlock the place and make sure things were in order. There’s food and drink, and they have a quiet meal before the others start off with well wishes and promises to follow up in the morning.
Mitch is grateful they are there, but he’s even more grateful that they’re leaving. It’s nice to have support on hand, but it’s even better to have people who know when the thing you need most is a little time and space.
It doesn’t really occur to Mitch until he waves at them from the driveway that they’re worried with good reason. Kidnapping isn’t a small thing. A hostage situation is a bigger thing. Shootouts, near death experiences, bargaining for your life -- that’s the kind of shit of trauma. He makes a note to himself to watch Brody for signs of PTSD.
He realizes as the others disappear down the street that they’re watching him for that, too.
He’s never thought about trauma as applying to him. It’s all part of the job, and he’s well trained to cope. But, as Brody has already pointed out, this wasn’t just part of the job. This wasn’t something he had an active part in. This was something where he was a passive participant. He may have gone with Deran voluntarily, but that was the last decision he’d made of his own free will.
He’d called Brody a victim earlier.
It’s only now that he thinks of himself as one, too.
Back inside, the understanding seems to leave him exhausted, and he goes to tell Brody that he’s calling it an early night.
In Brody’s room, however, the younger man is already asleep. He never made it under the covers, though his shoes are at least off. He’s passed out with his legs hanging off the edge, and Mitch stands over him for a moment, making sure his breathing is steady and even.
Mitch listens and he watches, but there’s no sign that anything is amiss. There’s a bruise darkening along Brody’s hairline where the bandage covers the head wound, but the doctor assure them both that sleeping was not any particular concern. The breathing, though still a little strained, sound significantly improved, and Mitch can think of no reason to worry.
Brody’s here, Brody’s home, Brody’s safe.
Mitch is pretty sure today was a messed up day, but he’s gotten that much right.
As he shuffles off to his own bed, he finds that he cannot ask for more.
-o-
Mitch is almost in bed, changed into his pajamas, when he hears a scuffle at the back door. At first, he thinks maybe Brody has gotten up and is looking for something to eat. Concerned, he goes back out, surprised to see Brody’s door still closed. There’s another scuffle, and then, unmistakably a knock.
Glancing around the house, Mitch assesses that it’s still dark and empy like he left it. The noise isn’t coming from the front door. No, as he inches forward, it’s clear that sound is coming from the back.
On edge, Mitch edges forward, ready for any sign of danger. His neighborhood has always been safe, but Mitch isn’t an idiot when it comes to home security or self defense. If someone has come to rob him, they’ve sure as hell picked the wrong day to do it.
But when he gets in the kitchen, the figures at the back door doesn’t rally his concern. In fact, as he recognizes the figures, his fists unfurl. Hurriedly, he rushes across the kitchen and unlocks the door. The first figure stumbles in, supporting the other. They’re both breathing heavy and one of them is barefoot.
“Shit,” Mitch says. “Deran? Adrian?”
Deran, holding a sagging Adrian upright, looks up at Mitch. Adrian, winded as he is, can’t quite lift his head.
“I know this probably isn’t a good time,” Deran says in a rush. “But I was hoping you might help us out.”
Mitch blinks. Deran’s not holding a gun this time, but his request is just as unyielding.
Deran swallows and visibly suppress his urge to shudder. “Again.”
It’s an audacious request.
It’s probably a dangerous and misguided one, too.
“Come on,” Mitch says, closing the door behind them because this is their second, their third chance. Mitch isn’t sure; it doesn’t matter. The answer is still the same. “Let’s get you inside.”
-o-
With help, Deran guides Adrian into the house. Mitch leads them through the kitchen. He’s going for the living room couch, but he catches a glimpse of just how pale Adrian is and he reconsiders. He directs the duo into his bedroom instead.
Adrian winces as they lay him down, and his face contorts in obvious pain as they lay him down. His breathing is far worse than Brody as he settles, and his face shines with a sheen of sweat. Adrian keens for a moment before Deran kneels down, taking his hand and shushing him. With one hand, he smooths Adrian’s damp hair out of his face, and Mitch can see that Adrian is still in a hospital gown with an oversized black jacket draped over him.
Mitch holds his tongue until Adrian is asleep and Deran gets back to his feet.
They stand a moment like that, watching Adrian. Finally, Mitch can’t tolerate the silence. If he’s going to give these two another chance, then he’s sure as hell got to know what he’s laying it on the line for.
“He shouldn’t be out of the hospital,” Mitch says, leaving the statement pointed but open. It’s not an accusation necessarily. But it’s also a sign that Mitch isn’t going to accept bullshit right now.
Deran isn’t quite as pale as Adrian, but he’s pretty damn close. He’s no worse for wear after their ordeal today, but the stress seems to have aged him years. “They just took out the chest tube,” he says. “His ribs are bound, and his stitches are fresh. I knew if I waited any longer, I’d never get him out.”
Mitch is already shaking his head. “You shouldn’t mess around with this shit,” he says. “He’s got to be on antibiotics, he should probably be on fluids. At this point, he’s got an elevated risk of infection, and all this moving with broken ribs? Do you really want more internal injuries?”
Deran’s face is pinched. “They said he didn’t need surgery. They said he was lucky.”
It’s a blind sort of hope, a desperate insistence. It’s not the kind of thing he would expect from Deran, not when Deran is so used to being in control. But this isn’t Deran in control. This isn’t Deran with a plan. This is Deran making it up as he goes, and he’s got nothing but a few medical platitudes and his love for Adrian propelling him onward right now.
Mitch sighs, softening his stance. “Just because he doesn’t need surgery doesn’t mean this isn’t a serious injury.”
Shaking his head, Deran’s eyes are like flint. “I know that, okay?” he says, voice low and hard. The look he gives Adrian’s sleeping form is telling. “I know that.”
Mitch feels for him, he does. But Deran’s rash decision making hasn’t turned out so well for any of them. Mitch can’t let that slide. Not with Brody still recovering in the other room, anyway. “Do you?” Mitch asks. “Because dragging him around like this -- if his ribs shift? He could do worse than puncture a lung. What about the heart? Do you want him to bleed out?”
Mitch may or may not be making shit up at this point, but it sounds valid, and his point is the same, with or without the relevant details. Deran is being reckless in this move, and Mitch had hoped that recklessness was over after today’s events.
For as convincing as Mitch knows he is, Deran is utterly unswayed. He steps forward, even more insistent. “And if we stayed there, in that hospital, with my mother’s contacts and my mother’s money and my mother’s aliases -- we’d never be able to leave,” he says. “Her paperwork got us in there and probably saved Adrian’s life, but staying there would be a death sentence for both of us. Not today or tomorrow. But eventually. That’s how it is in my family. I knew once Adrian was out of ICU, the family goons would be all over us. So before we could be transferred out, I cut and run. I did what I had to do, and I’m not going back.”
“You snuck him out AMA?” Mitch clarifies, looking again at Adrian’s still form. His rasping breaths are still somewhat staggered and his face looks pained, even in sleep. “You’re on the run?”
“Hell, yeah,” Deran says. “I drained my bank account, burned all my contacts and got the hell out. If my mom’s in the picture, then Adrian’s always going to be a bargaining chip. Our only hope -- Adrian’s only hope -- is a clean start.”
That’s the right answer, the one Mitch has been trying to get Deran and Adrian to accept since their first meeting several months ago. But the timing is shit. Mitch scoffs lightly. “And this is your first stop? Here?”
“I can’t contact anyone from my old life,” Deran says. “No family, no friends, no associates.”
“I get that, but I’m an associate,” Mitch reminds him. “Your mother knows about me, and she doesn’t strike me as the type to let that acquaintance to unexplored.”
“She’s not,” Deran agrees. “She’s going to track you, on and off, and when she finds out I’ve gone AWOL, I don’t doubt she’ll check here. But that won’t be her first stop, no way. I’ve got other contacts, more likely contacts.”
The explanation is all well and good, but Mitch takes issue with it. “So, what, I’m going to lie to her if she shows up?”
“You don’t have to lie,” Deran says. “I don’t intend on telling you anything about where I’m going. She knows where I’ve been.”
“And you think she’ll believe me?” Mitch asks, growing incredulous now. He gestures to the wall. “I’ve got my own people to think about.”
“She’s not going to kill you,” Deran says.
“I kind of think she might,” Mitch admits.
“Then go to the police when I’m gone, get protection,” Deran suggests. He shrugs, somewhat wild. “Maybe they’ll even catch the bitch.”
Mitch exhales. “I don’t want any part of this shit, Deran,” he says. “I told you that.”
Deran slumps, his explanations faltering. “I know, I know, I just--” he cuts off, not sure what to say. He looks helpless. He is helpless, Mitch realizes. “I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t make it far, not with Adrian like this. We just need to crash here, just for tonight, and we’ll be gone. Forever.”
It’s the right sentiment, but it’s happening in all the wrong ways. He doesn’t want to give Deran and Adrian a second chance at the expense of Brody’s chances. That’s not a trade he’s willing to make. “So you get your freedom and I get what?” he asks. “I told you, I didn’t want any part of this.”
“But neither do I!” Deran says, his voice rising precariously. On the bed, Adrian snuffles, but he doesn’t rouse. Deran, guilt stricken, hems himself back in. He’s the one who looks pained. “I don’t know what else to do. What else am I supposed to do?”
That’s the question, then. Because they all have to make the best choices they can with their circumstances. That’s exactly what Mitch told him. And that’s exactly what Deran’s doing.
And if that puts other people in jeopardy?
Well, Mitch hates to admit it, but that’s in his job description. Sure, usually he’s dealing with riptides and boat crashes, but he’s always had a flexible notion of what duty means at Baywatch. Sometimes it’s drug deal and real estate fraud. Sometimes it’s gunshot wounds and kidnapping.
The point is, you pick the victim first.
That’s what Brody would do.
Mitch sure as hell better follow.
“Okay,” he says finally, allowing himself to sigh. “You can stay the night.”
“I really am sorry about this,” Deran says, quietly now. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean for this.”
“I know,” Mitch says. “But you’re trying to do the right thing now.”
Deran’s smile is wry. “And you think that’s going to make a difference?”
“I do,” Mitch assures him. “Because I think you’ve tried everything else.”
Deran nods, his gaze drifting away. “And if it’s not enough?”
“Well,” Mitch concedes, because he’s a realist, too. He understands that sometimes the right decision doesn’t always play out. He knows that sometimes bad things happen even when you do good things. He knows that failure isn’t always your fault, but it always ends up as your burden. “Then you can at least take solace knowing you did the best you could for once.”
-o-
For all that they’ve been through together, Mitch doesn’t actually know Deran very well at all. He offers to help make sure Adrian is comfortable because between the two of them, Mitch is the only one with any first aid training. Deran agrees to the offer because when you show up with your bleeding boyfriend on the doorstep of a stranger you kidnapped the previous morning, you really are at the end of anything resembling pride.
Mitch is relieved to find that, despite the day’s events and Deran’s furtive escape, Adrian does seem to be doing better. He rouses enough to answer a few simple questions, confirming his coherency, and though his breathing is strained, it no longer appears to be compromised. When Mitch leans down to listen to his lungs, they sound significantly better than they had on the boat. He’s badly bruised -- face and torso -- but there is no sign of fresh bleeding.
In short, Adrian probably should be in the hospital, but Mitch has no reason to be immediately concerned that he’s going to die while lying in Mitch’s bed.
With his makeshift exam over, Mitch declares that there’s nothing more they can do for tonight and suggests they get some sleep. Deran looks skeptical.
“The couch is comfortable enough,” Mitch says.
“I’m staying with him,” Deran says.
“I get the feeling,” Mitch says. “But you shouldn’t be sharing a bed tonight.”
Deran makes a face. “I’m not going to do anything like that--”
“Just even in case you jostle him in your sleep, roll over,” Mitch says. “Let him have his space.”
“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,” Deran returns.
Mitch has half a mind to keep arguing. For all that Adrian looks bad, Deran doesn’t exactly look much better. He hasn’t been roughed up like Adrian, but the emotional toll is clearly visible in his countenance. He clearly needs to sleep, especially if he’s going to plan the escape of a lifetime in the morning.
But there’s something to be said for picking your battles. All logic aside, there’s no way Deran’s leaving this room unless Adrian comes with him.
Resigned, Mitch walks over to the closet, pulling out a spare blanket and nabbing a throw pillow. “Here,” he says, holding them out to Deran.
Deran hesitates, clearly not sure what to do with these items.
Mitch nods to the floor. “If you’re staying, you still need to sleep,” he says.
Deran still looks ready to protest.
Mitch purses his lips. “Adrenaline only gets you so far, trust me, I know,” he says. He holds out the items one last time. “If you’re going to get him to safety, you need to sleep.”
That’s the appeal that works. Not for Deran, but for Adrian.
Deran takes the bedding and nods a little at Mitch, not quite sheepish but definitely not confident. “What about you?”
“I told you, the couch isn’t bad,” Mitch says.
“And um, I can trust you,” Deran hedges, voice uncharacteristically small. “I can trust you, right?”
“You think I’m going to call your mom? The cops?”
Deran lifts one shoulder in a meager shrug.
“You’re the one who came here, man,” Mitch says. “I’m just trying to keep my own safe. You make your choices, and I’m going to make mine. All we can hope is that they’re compatible this time.”
It’s not a promise, but it’s better. It’s the truth.
And it’s finally a truth Deran can understand.
He nods, and Mitch looks one more time at Adrian before making his way out into the living room.
-o-
In the living room, Mitch knows he’s done his best today. He knows he’s done his best since the very start -- he glances at the clock and mutters a curse -- to the very end. It was the right thing to help Deran find Adrian. It was the right thing to make sure Adrian got back alive. It was the right thing to give Deran and Adrian refuge.
That doesn’t mean that any of it is easy -- much less resolved.
In fact, the more he does the right thing, the less right things feel. Right now, he’s got a man signed out AMA with a companion whose murderous mother will stop at nothing to find him sleeping it off in his bedroom. In his bed. Brody’s asleep right next, no idea that he’s Mitch has gone ahead and put him in danger.
Again.
Second chances, third chances -- and Mitch blows through them all.
With a huff, he crashes heavily onto the couch.
He gets so frustrated that everyone around him makes the same mistakes, and here he is.
Making the same mistakes.
He flops back and closes his eyes.
Time will only tell if he’ll suffer the same consequences again.
-o-
Mitch is usually the first one up. After all, Brody is his roommate. For all that Brody has become a better person in the last year, he’s still Brody. And he’s most definitely not a morning person.
Sure, Mitch gives Brody a hard time about it, chiding him for having to be reminded to get up and for sleeping through his alarm, but he actually prefers it to some extent. Because Mitch is a morning person, and he likes to have some quiet time to himself before the day starts. He likes to have his morning tasks done and be reading the newspaper by the time Brody rolls out of bed. It suits their dynamic quite nicely.
All of that is only to say that that’s not how things go the next morning.
In fact, Mitch is still passed out cold when he becomes slowly aware of a presence above him. It takes him longer than he cares to admit to drag himself out of the dredges of sleep, and when he finally opens his eyes, he finds Brody standing above him, looking concerned.
His concern is moderately ironic, all things considered. Brody looks like hell this morning. The bruising has spread across his temple, blacking around his eye. The bandage on his head is mottled with red; it clearly needs to be changed. He looks pale and a little off kilter, but he’s staring at Mitch with a barely restrained terror that something is amiss.
“Why are you sleeping on the couch?” Brody asks.
Stifling a groan, Mitch can’t keep the pain from twisting his expression as he sits up slowly. His whole body feels like it’s creaking, and his back badly protests both his lack of sleep and the lumpy surface on which he chose to sleep. Apparently, the couch is not as comfortable as he remembered. “Uh, long story,” he says for the lack of something better to say. For a moment, he entertains the notion that Brody doesn’t have to know that Mitch has waited less than a day to let Adrian and Deran back into both their lives. That he’s waited less than a day to put them both in jeopardy again.
Brody does not seem to buy his answer.
Go figure; Mitch is avoiding the truth. That never goes well. That’s what he tells Brody, and for good reason. Avoiding the truth simply never goes well.
“You look like shit,” Brody ventures instead, and it’s a roundabout way of saying that Mitch is full of shit and Brody knows it.
Sighing, Mitch rolls his shoulders. He takes some comfort in the fact that it’s probably the stress of the hostage situation and the gunfights and explosions yesterday. Those factors are bound to catch up with him, explaining why he’s so sore and tired. “Yeah, well,” he quips. “Have you looked in a mirror?”
Brody will not be deflected. “Seriously, though,” he says, because for as well as Mitch knows Brody, it’s a two way street. Brody knows Mitch well, too, and he knows that Mitch is responsible, predictable and practical. He would never fall asleep on the couch when a perfectly good bed lay ten feet on the other side of the bedroom door. “What’s up?”
In the scheme of things, allowing Adrian and Deran to stay is not the worst thing Mitch has done to Brody. It’s not even the worst thing Mitch has done in the last 24 hours. Still, when the comparison involves kidnapping, explosions and CPR, Mitch knows the bar is unreasonably low.
He also knows that he owes Brody the truth.
Especially since he’s going to find out sooner rather than later. “We had some visitors after you fell asleep,” he explains.
For all that Brody’s figured out that Mitch is hiding something, he’s still Brody. He frowns, head cocked. “And they spent the night?” he asks, clearly confused. “Summer or…?”
Mitch shakes his head wearily. “Not Summer.”
This seems to dumbfound Brody even further. Summer is the only other houseguest they’ve had, and she’s always slept exclusively in Brody’s room. It’s Brody best guess, but it’s not good enough. “Well, Stephanie? Or CJ?”
“Yeah, it’s no one from Baywatch,” Mitch tells him. He takes a moment to get to his feet, suppressing yet another groan from his aching body.
Brody take a step back, following as Mitch trudges his way into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. “I don’t get it.”
That’s probably reasonable. The natural assumption is that Mitch doesn’t have their kidnappers turned fellow hostages in the master bedroom. This sounds worse and worse the more Mitch chases it around his head. Shaking his head, he gives into the inevitable. “It’s Deran and Adrian.”
Mitch is studiously starting the coffee while Brody stares at him, utterly blank. With the pot started, he turns back toward Brody, finding the younger man almost bracing himself. He opens his mouth, and then he closes it. After several more false starts, he says, “I’m sorry. What?”
“Deran and Adrian,” Mitch repeats, just as plaintively as before. “They showed up after you went to sleep, needed a place to crash. They’re in my room.”
Mitch says this like it’s a total reasonable thing.
They both know it’s nothing resembling reasonable. Brody, at least, doesn’t seem to dwell on how ridiculous this notion is. Instead, he seems to take a different tact. “But they left us behind,” he says. “Like, on the boat. They left us behind and we swam to shore.”
That’s not a point to gloss over, Mitch will admit. He doesn’t fault Deran for making that choice, not given Adrian’s condition at the time, but he knows it doesn’t exactly engender goodwill. They’re not friends of his, Deran and Adrian. This isn’t an act of mutual goodwill.
Honestly, at this point, Mitch isn’t sure what it is. “I know,” he says instead, too tired to attempt anything other than the raw, naked truth. “But you can’t blame them. Deran had to get Adrian to the hospital.”
“I know,” Brody says. “But then, you know. Why aren’t they still at the hospital?”
It’s another entirely valid question. In all, Brody is taking this far more calmly than Mitch might have expected, and his rational response exceeds expectations. The problem is, of course, that Mitch’s answers to those reasonable questions sound increasingly less reasonable as the conversation progresses. “Well, you met Deran’s mother,” Mitch says. “Why do you think they’re not still in the hospital?”
Brody’s mind visibly works on this scenario while the coffee pot splutters and steams behind them. Finally, Brody exhales with a heavy gust of disbelief. “They’re escaping?”
Mitch shrugs for the lack of something more definitive to do. “They decided it was time to get away from Deran’s mother, that whole family, all of it, once and for all.”
That’s the reasonable part of the explanation.
Brody hones in on the lone but quite important caveat. “And so they came here?”
Mitch resists the urge to wince. There was a time when he’d not felt the need to apologize for making the right decision. There was a time when he’d always been confident that he knew what the right decision was. Those were times from before he met Brody. It’s easy to put everything on the line when you have nothing to lose. When you’ve got something you care about, however, it changes your perspective. It forces you to make choices. Priorities.
“It’s just a stopping point, that’s all,” Mitch says. “They know they can’t stay, but they also didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Brody’s incredulity reaches its breaking point. “Shit. You’re serious.”
Mitch nods in a perfunctory fashion. “Yeah. I’m serious.”
“So they’re really in there,” Brody says, nodding toward the master bedroom. “Our kidnappers are in there. The ones who nearly got us killed, like, a dozen times yesterday.”
“It was like three times,” Mitch argues.
“Sure, and that makes it better,” Brody says.
Mitch huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, but he doesn’t actually have an argument against that.
“I mean, they’re on the run. They’re hiding out?” he asks. “From his mother? The crazy lady with all the guns who wanted to kill us?”
Mitch had had the same reservations -- he really had -- but the fact that he’d chosen to ignore them seems a bit farcical in the baldness of the morning. “They’re just trying to get out,” he offers, because it’s the only solace there is. “That’s what we wanted them to do, remember?”
Brody nods, because of course he remembers. Brody’s been shot, blown up and drowned on account of these two people, and he’d still held no ill-will last night. He’s entitled to his doubts this morning -- about the fortitude of their choice and the possibility of it happening without a hitch.
“I think that’s great, I really do,” Brody says. “But this isn’t smart. I mean, the crazy lady, she’ll be able to find us. And she will, won’t she? She was willing to kill for her son yesterday, so I’m pretty sure she’ll track down two lifeguards if she has to. And then who knows what.”
“Sure, but they’ll be gone by the time she figures it out,” Mitch says, but his own voice sounds less confident than he’s used to hearing it. “I told you, they’re not staying. They know better than we do that this isn’t safe.”
“So, what? They’ll go and leave us here again?” Brody asks. “And you think that’s going to go over well when she shows up?”
Mitch sighs with more finality than before. “What do you want me to do?” he asks. “Did you want me to turn them away? Adrian was barely upright last night. Deran took a real risk in breaking him out, but he thought that was better than the risk of staying where his mother could find them.”
That’s the bottom line, when Mitch got right to it. He’s to weary for anything else, and he resigns himself to whatever objections Brody rightfully has.
Brody’s objections, however, catch him by surprise. “I want you to start using your head,” he says, looking moderately offended. “I mean, if we’re harboring these guys, then we’ve got to be a bit more careful.”
Mitch wonders for a moment if he’s misheard. It sounds like Brody is not objecting to the choice but the means. Which means….
Mitch tilts his head. “What?”
“Look, I get it. Yesterday was a long day for both of us,” Brody says. “But are you just going to let them sleep all day? You have to have a plan for this shit, Mitch. You don’t even have a plan.”
That’s true, of course. And yet, Mitch isn’t sure what to do with it. He’s contemplating what plan he could possibly come up with when the realization hits him. Brody’s bruised and sore and he drowned less than 24 hours ago. And yet, he’s standing here, apoplectic because of all the wrong reasons. “You’re worried about me?”
He asks it as a question because he’s still struggling to make it parse. All this time Mitch works to save Brody’s life, and apparently, that’s a two-way street, too. Brody’s not worried about what happens to him at this point. He’s worried about what happens to Mitch. “Of course I am,” Brody says, and he sounds offended. “You’re not on your game, man. Not at all.”
Wrinkling his nose, Mitch shakes his head. “But you’re the one who got hurt.”
Brody actually rolls his eyes, like this is a non-issue. “Oh, okay, whatever.”
Mitch is losing the plot here, and he’s losing it badly. Suddenly, the whole landscape seems surreal, and he feels like he probably should still be asleep. “What are you saying exactly?”
Brody is increasingly coherent and sensible. “I’m saying we need a better than just to let them sleep and hope for the best,” he says. “I mean, do we have clothes for them to change into? How are we going to dispose of any evidence that they were here? Shouldn’t we text Summer and the others and let them know we need a little time to ourselves? What about Ellerbee? Isn’t he going to show up this morning to take my statement? Shouldn’t we not have to people in connection with criminal activity sleeping in the master bedroom when that happens?”
At this point, all Mitch can do is blink. Those are all excellent points. Those are exactly the points he should be making, he should have made last night.
That’s his job. That’s what he does. That’s how he leads.
And he’s got nothing.
You could argue that’s what having Brody around has done to him.
Or you could argue that’s why Mitch is so damn lucky to have Brody around, to do this for him.
Because, these days, Mitch may have more to lose, but he also doesn’t have to do it all on his own. He doesn’t always have to have the answers. He doesn’t always have to take the lead. Mitch may be in charge of Baywatch, with all the responsibility that entails, but with Brody? Well, that’s a partnership.
They’re equals.
When Brody goes off and gets himself shot, Mitch will pull him out.
When Mitch agrees to get them kidnapped, Brody will make sure that the mark stays safe.
When Brody up and drowns, Mitch will revive him.
When Mitch makes a short sighted decision that puts them in peril, Brody will come up with the problems that Mitch didn’t think about in advance.
Because Mitch has made a choice.
And so has Brody.
The mutuality of that is the best thing Mitch knows.
So, when he admits the truth, there’s no shame involved. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Brody nods emphatically. “Well, we need to. Now,” he says. “I mean, we’ve got a day, max. That’s how long we can keep them here before people start thinking something is off.”
“That’s about as long as it will take for the mother to track us down, too,” Mitch agrees.
“So we have to start by keeping people out of the house,” Brody continues.
“And work on rapidly expediting their journey out,” Mitch adds on, because the plan is starting to come together for him, too.
“So, look,” Brody says, all business now. The rasp in his voice is hardly recognizable, and he seems to have completely forgotten that he has a bandage that needs to be changed. “I’ll call Summer, tell her I want to get out. We’ll do breakfast, maybe meet up with CJ and Ronnie or something. Once they see that I’m fine, I’ll have Summer take me over to the police station before Ellerbee has the chance to come out.”
“He might stop here before his shift,” Mitch warns.
“So text him, tell him what my plans are,” he says. “He can’t stop by if I’m not here, right? You already gave your statement.”
Mitch continues to nod along, feeling his energy and sense of purpose return. “That would work,” he says. “That should keep you busy until lunch at least.”
“And maybe I can head to HQ, talk it up,” Brody says. “If one of us doesn’t make an appearance, people are going to start getting restless. They’ll stop by.”
“It is my day off anyway, which helps,” Mitch says. “But we should throw them a bone.”
“Exactly,” Brody says, totally in synch with Mitch now. “Which frees you up around here.”
Mitch picks up the train of thought seamlessly. “I’ll let them sleep a little longer, make a breakfast, and prep some things. We probably want them to leave in the afternoon rush.”
“Of course, easier for them to blend in,” Brody says. “Warm day like this, no one is going to notice two more people on the beach.”
“It’s a short shot from here to the bus station or the marina, whichever they prefer,” Mitch says. “And we’ve got that leftover shit from lost and found, the stuff you were supposed to wash.”
“Laundry is seriously overrated, dude,” Brody says. “Especially when it’s not our stuff.”
“It’s starting to stink,” Mitch counters.
“So I don’t know why we don’t get rid of it,” Brody argues.
“Because it’s not ours.”
“So we’re going to give it away now?”
They’re bantering. They’re going back and forth like some kind of old married couple, and it’s so wildly inappropriate at a time like this, with this much at stake, but damn, it feels really good.
It’s the best, actually. Shootings, kidnappings, hostage situations, CPR: they can still com back to this. It’s why the other choices will never matter as long as they choose each other first.
“These are extenuating circumstances,” Mitch says. “People will notice if Adrian’s still wearing a hospital gown.”
Brody concedes that point. “Lost and found shit won’t be traced to us.”
“I get them fed, cleaned up and dressed, and they’re out of here, for our sake and theirs, no later than two,” Mitch says.
Brody nods his approval. “Now that’s a plan.”
Mitch is all but grinning now. He’s still tired and achy, and he’s still on edge because Brody nearly died yesterday, but this is what it’s about. This is what they do.
And it’s a hell of a thing, having someone who will follow your plans. It’s another thing entirely to have someone you trust so much that you’d follow their plans without question.
But someone who will make those plans with you?
Someone who is so perfectly in tune with you that your plans always end up the same anyway?
Well, that’s how Mitch knows that choosing Brody is by far the best choice he’s ever made.
“Good,” he says, more definitively now. “Thanks, man. For helping me finish what I started.”
To his surprise, Brody scoffs. “Whatever, dude,” he says. “I started this.”
“What?” Mitch asks. “I was the one who put us both on that boat yesterday.”
“Uh, yeah, because I was the one who insisted on rescuing Adrian three months ago,” Brody says. “Gunshot, remember? That was me. All me.”
Mitch shakes his head with a low laugh. “I guess it’s both of us, then.”
That’s how this all started, after all.
So that’s how it might as well end, too.
-o-
Mitch is all on board with the plan -- he really is, there’s no issue for him following Brody’s lead -- but he has to admit, he finds it to be a rather slow plan. Reasonably, Mitch knows that the plan is supposed to last no more than a day, which makes it a rather to the point plan, but since his part involves waiting for other people to wake up, it’s slow for him.
Also, he’s tired. Sleeping on the couch is well and good, but the plan is slow enough to make him want to do nothing but sleep. He tidies a few things, rummages through the lost and found items that are clean and slated for return to HQ, makes more coffee and proceeds to nearly fall asleep in the kitchen chair.
Several texts from Brody keep him from doing more than doze off, and he tries to take some solace in knowing that Brody’s got this part under control. Summer suspects nothing; the rest of the team is well in hand. All Brody has to do is finish his statement with Ellerbee and he’ll be back this afternoon. He just wants to be sure that things are going well on Mitch’s end.
Suppressing a yawn and rolling his shoulders, Mitch allows himself to grimace since Brody can’t see. Then he types his reply: Totally according to plan.
It’s not a lie, not in any sense, and Mitch decides the fact that he’s worn thin and worn out is only tangentially related to the point.
He’s about to fall asleep again when he finally decides to get up and make lunch. This is natural as it is lunch time, but Mitch doesn’t think about it like that. He thinks about it more pragmatically. If he doesn’t get up and do something, he will fall asleep, and while sleeping is not explicitly not a part of the plan, it also doesn’t fit very well into the whole notion of being on top of a potentially dangerous situation involving two runaways, one of whom is injured, and their deadly pursuers, who may or may not show up at any given moment.
So lunch.
Mitch is about to turn on the oven to cook some frozen fish when he hears a sound from the living room. When he looks around, he sees Adrian shuffling into the kitchen.
It’s difficult to really assess how Adrian looks. On the one hand, Adrian looks terrible. The bruising on his face is extensive, and it has continued to spread over the course of the night. One eye barely opens, and the split lip looks raw and painful in the daylight. His nose is swollen, and there’s not much of his features that are still recognizable as the young, attractive surfer that Mitch knows he is.
That’s not even the worst of it. Adrian, though standing, looks barely upright. He’s hunched and he’s guarding his ribs while he shuffle steps into the office. The hospital gown obscures the worst of the damage, but Mitch can see the bulky bandages that are wrapped around his chest and midsection. There’s an abandoned IV port still in the back of his hand where Deran clearly cut and run without medical supervision.
The walk from the bedroom to kitchen is short, but Adrian looks completely winded. Beneath the bruises, his complexion is still sallow, and he looks positively sickly. In any other circumstance, Mitch would insist that Adrian go back to bed -- or better, to a hospital for proper treatment -- but that’s not part of the plan.
“Hey,” Mitch says, and he manages a smile. All that’s happened, and he doesn’t blame Adrian. He doesn’t resent him for this, and he won’t begrudge him some comfort. “You should sit down.”
Adrian doesn’t need to be asked again. He almost falls into the closest chair, face barely composed while he does so. The movement seems to drain him, and it takes him several moments before he’s able to speak. “Um,” he says, clearing his throat as he rasps. “Where am I?”
Mitch sighs. “You probably don’t remember much about last night, do you?”
Adrian winces as he looks around. “I remember Deran,” he says. “I remember him telling me we had to go. And I remember how much it hurt to walk, but I sort of -- lost track of stuff after that.”
He’s breathless when he speaks, likely because he’s still got a healing punctured lung. The fact that his pain meds have probably worn off can’t be helping matters any. “Deran busted you out of the hospital before his mother could send her goons,” Mitch explains. “It was the only way to get you out.”
Adrian nods as he processes that. “We’re going to make a clean start of it,” he says. “He told me that last night. He told me that it was worth the risk.”
Mitch has to nod his agreement. Disagree though he may with many things, there’s no arguing that. You can’t fault people for finally taking full advantage of a second chance. “I get it now, why it was so hard for you both to break away,” he says in commiseration. “What Deran did is very brave. And he did it for you”
Weakly, Adrian smiles. But he looks sheepish up at Mitch, almost shy now. “We shouldn’t have come here.”
“What? You needed a place,” Mitch says.
“But this is your place, isn’t it?” Adrian concludes. “Yesterday, he kidnapped you at gunpoint. Today, we’re hiding out in your home while his mother tries to hunt us down.”
“All for good reasons,” Mitch assures him.
“That put too much on you,” Adrian says, and he sounds apologetic now. “You don’t deserve any of this.”
“Helping you two is the right thing to do,” Mitch says, because he and Brody have been around this enough times to find confidence in it. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
“But she’ll come for you,” Adrian says, and his voice is still weak but hard like stone. There’s a flicker of fear in his eyes. “She won’t ask nicely.”
Mitch bobs his head in concession. “I know,” he says, because that’s another thing that he’s come to terms with this morning. “But she would have checked here whether Deran brought you here or not. We’re on her radar now. There’s no getting around it.”
“But if you lie to her--”
“We’ll figure that out--”
“No,” Adrian says, finding a surprising amount of force to inflect in his voice. “You can’t just take this as it comes, not with this family. You need a plan.”
That’s ironic, really. All this talk of plans, and now everyone is making them except Mitch. He cocks his head because there’s no time or energy left for pride. “Well, we were going to get you out of here as quickly and quietly as possible and then plead ignorance,” he says. “She’s got no way to prove anything about you being here.”
Adrian snorts, and the noise is rough like gravel. “You think that will save you?”
“I can’t imagine she’ll off two lifeguards just because,” Mitch reasons. “Especially not when she realizes how well connected we are. If anything happens to us, they won’t stop hunting her down.”
But Adrian is still shaking his head. “That won’t be enough; she won’t care. You see what she’s willing to do, what she’ll do to her own son.”
That’s a point Mitch has chosen not to consider, one that Deran’s pleading face hadn’t left much room to consider the night before. His confidence falters a little. He shrugs. “Well, I’m open to ideas.”
Adrian, for as weak and tired as he is, has clearly given this more thought. “Go to the police,” he encourages. “Tell them we came here, forced you to help us. Say it was a kidnapping again, say Deran had a gun, whatever you have to do. File a report; let it stand.”
Mitch starts to frown a little.
Adrian pushes on, rallying his strength. “If you’re on the record before she can get here, it’ll slow her down. She’ll see the report, and given Deran’s actions yesterday, she’ll buy it. Once she knows you’re not friends, she’ll read your statement in the report and probably leave it at that.”
“I’ll have to provide information about where you’re going,” Mitch says.
“And what we’re wearing, but those are easy enough to throw off,” Adrian says. “You have to tell the truth: that we showed up uninvited and that you had no choice but to help us.”
Brody’s plan had been good.
This plan, however, is better.
Turns out, sometimes Mitch and Brody can do with following other people’s plans too. As long as they’re doing it together.
Or, maybe, Mitch and Brody have afforded enough chances to Adrian and Deran.
Maybe it’s their turn to take one in exchange.
He has to nod. “That could work,” he admits.
Adrian looks relieved, slumping a little as his adrenaline clearly wanes again. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve thought a lot about it. How to get away from her.”
The way he says this leaves no room for doubt. This has been on Adrian’s mind ever since their last encounter; maybe earlier. “So why didn’t you?” Mitch asks quietly. He thinks he deserves to know why it took all this to finally get here.
“You know why,” Adrian says, and it is the most obvious answer in the world. He can only shrug because he has no defense. “Sometimes you’re just following someone else.”
“And if that person leads you into danger?” Mitch presses, though he knows this answer even better than the last.
This time, when Adrian smiles, it’s the truest version Mitch has seen yet. “When it’s the right person, that’s all that matters,” he says. “I chosen Deran. Over myself. I choose him.”
Mitch’s throat feels inexplicably tight. “And this time, Deran chose you too.”
The tension unfurls slightly. The day ahead is still going to be long, and Mitch can only imagine what the weeks and months ahead might hold. This may be the end for Mitch -- God help him, he hopes it is -- but it’s the beginning for Deran and Adrian.
Adrian, under the bruises and the contusion, blushes. “I don’t know how to say thank you.”
Mitch pats him gently on the arm across the table. “No need,” he says. “Just take your chance while you’ve got it. Make the most of it.”
It doesn’t matter if Adrian is tired and sore. It doesn’t matter if he’s still struggling to breathe and on the road. What matters for Adrian is that he’s got someone to go with him, to be strong when he is weak, to follow when he leads, to make the road ahead easier and harder all at once.
It’s a hell of a thing to have.
Mitch, after all, would know.
-o-
For all the fuss and drama of the last day and a half, Adrian and Deran make their final escape quietly and without much fanfare. Using grocery sacks, they load up their dirty clothes, changing into the most nondescript items from the Baywatch Lost and Found. They clean up and eat some food before confirming with Mitch to wait until Brody gets home to make the police report. They all agreed that there’s no need for aliases anymore. In fact, Deran and Adrian want this on the record. They want Deran’s mother to understand that they’re serious about leaving -- as much as they want to ensure that Mitch and Brody are not suspected as complicit.
The fact that Mitch is accusing them of a serious crime is not important. Mitch is confident that he can make the crime both convincing and yet not perilous. Still, Mitch reminds them, “It will be up to you now to make your escape. I can’t help you.”
“You are helping us,” Deran tells him. “You’ve helped us more than you should have.”
“That’s my job,” Mitch says, almost by reflex.
“No,” Adrian says knowingly. “It’s not.”
Kidnapping and false police reports?
Okay, so that one’s a stretch.
“I’d say see you around,” Deran quips.
Mitch laughs. “I really, really hope not,” he says. “For your sake and mine.”
As he watches them escape in broad daylight, he wonders if they’ll make it. He wonders if they really have a chance, if they have the fortitude that it takes to follow someone when things get tough. He wonders if the world is conspiring against them, if Deran’s mother will catch up with them, if the danger will be enough to break them or bring them closer together.
He may never know is the truth.
If he had to bet, however, he’d let his money ride.
-o-
It’s no more than an hour later when Brody finally gets back. Summer drops him off in the driveway without coming in, and although Brody is smiling at the door when he waves her goodbye, Mitch can see just how tired he is when the door closes.
“Long statement,” Mitch observes.
“They had question,” Brody says, sounding weary now as he pads gingerly to the living room. He sits down on the couch with an oof. “Ellerbee had to get major crimes involved. I had to look at these pictures and identify people, and they kept wanting me to go over my story again and again…”
His voice trails off with a sigh.
“They’re going to ask you to come back in,” Brody tells him. “I think I put them off until tomorrow, though.”
“Not unexpected,” Mitch says, sitting down in the chair adjacent to the couch.
Brody looks around the living room again. “Are they still here?”
“Uh, no,” Mitch says. “Took off not long ago.”
“Oh, really?” Brody asks. He sounds surprised.
“Well, that was your plan,” Mitch reminds him.
“I know,” Brody says. “I just. I don’t know. It feels like it’s not over.”
“Well, it’s not,” Mitch says. “The plan changed while you were gone.”
Brody looks momentarily horrified.
Mitch chuckles softly. “To protect us,” he says. “Apparently, while you were out this morning, I got a visit from our kidnappers.”
Brody simply looks confused.
“I’m going to tell Ellerbee that Deran showed up and held a gun on me until I let him and Adrian inside,” Mitch explains. “Under duress, I provided them clothing and food and sent them on their way.”
It’s obvious that Brody’s not sure what’s the truth and what’s the lie.
“It’s an exaggeration of the truth with modified timeline,” Mitch says. “Your story doesn’t change.”
Brow furrowing, Brody shakes his head. “But why?”
“Because if it was a crime, then there’s no reason for Deran’s mother to come after us,” he says.
“But isn’t filing a false report a crime?” Brody asks.
Mitch arches his brows. “And you didn’t falsify your report by neglecting to mention the fact that Deran and Adrian, who are wanted in association with this case, were here?”
This has clearly not occurred to Brody. “I was trying to do the right thing.”
“And you did,” Mitch says. “And so am I. Sometimes circumstances are extenuating.”
Brody considers this. “It’s a risk.”
“Maybe,” Mitch says, shrugging a little. “But to protect you? I’ll tell a lie or two.”
This is an answer that Brody understands, at least. It’s one that he knows, implicitly. One that he probably knows better than anything else, actually. After a moment, Brody exhales heavily. He seems resolved on that point, and looks at Mitch to ask another question. “Do you think they’ll make it?”
Because it’s a moot point about their own well being. As long as they’re doing this shit together, neither of them have room for doubt. But it’s still worth pausing to know if the second chance that started it will be enough.
That’s a luxury Mitch has with Brody, one he’s never fully realized before. Some might think it’s a burden, having Brody live with him, train under him and generally be his mini-me. Not that it’s easy, Mitch won’t say that, but it’s more of a privilege than people acknowledge. Mitch has the good fortune with Brody to see him him grow and chance. He has the ability to see those second chances play out -- and for the better.
With Deran and Adrian, the only success can come without knowing.
Of course, silence could mean total failure, too.
There’s no way to know.
For Ellerbee, Mitch will use a few careful and innocuous lies.
For Brody, however, Mitch settles for the truth. “I don’t know, honestly,” he says. “At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see them again.”
“I’m not sure that’s really for the best,” Brody ventures. “I mean, these encounters keep getting worse. Next time, I’ll probably end up dead.”
Mitch scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes. “I was fine both times,” he says. “You’re just too accident prone.”
Brody gapes at him. “I was blown up.”
“So was I!”
“And kidnapped!”
“Me, too!”
“And shot!” Brody says, ire starting to rise.
“Oh, boo hoo,” Mitch says. “When Leeds shot me, I stabbed myself with a death urchin and still saved your ass.”
Brody has to close his mouth. “I cannot believe you are trying to blame me for this.”
“I’m just saying,” Mitch says. “If you weren’t so prone to disaster--”
“No, no, okay?” Brody says, more animatedly now. He gestures with his finger. “I go along with your plans and you’re so big that your bad luck deflects off onto me. It’s your bad luck, though.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Mitch singsongs.
“I’m just saying,” Brody continues. “I’m not sure these guys have a lot more chances after today. At least not from us.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know,” Mitch says, and he sobers somewhat. “I think you and I have burned through a few chances ourselves on this one. I’d like to think we all could use a few more.”
Brody sighs again, resting a little easier in the cushions of the couch. “It is funny, though,” he says, sounding reflective now.
Mitch is tired, and it’s starting to show. He makes a face. “What?”
“Well, we do keep saving their lives,” Brody says.
Mitch waits for more, but when more doesn’t come, he shrugs. “So?”
“So,” Brody says, utterly matter of fact. “In return, they keep trying to get us killed. It’s not exactly your typical thank-you.”
Mitch quirks his lips into a smile at that. “True,” he says. He wrinkles his nose. “But maybe it’s better.”
Brody looks at him, curious. “How do you figure?”
“Well, they’re trying to change,” Mitch reasons. “That’s the biggest thing anyone could give us. It shows us that our efforts to save their lives, despite the peril to ours, isn’t in vain. That’s the best kind of thank-you.”
It’s a convincing type of argument. Brody makes a face as if to concede the point. “Still,” he says. “A gift certificate would be nice.”
Mitch grunts at him. “We can’t take gifts, jackass.”
Brody looks at him seriously. “A fruit basket.”
“Seriously, man--”
“A hug, even.”
Mitch knows Brody is messing with him. It’s a testament to their relationship that Mitch is willing to let him. “That’s not why we do it,” he protests, more than he has to, just because that’s how this works. That’s how they work. And Mitch has no intention of taking that for granted.
The smile that lights up Brody’s face suggests that he feels the same. “I know,” he says, comfortably and easy once again. “I know.”
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
-o-
When Brody’s paperwork is finally resolved, Stephanie drives them home. Mitch sits in the front seat with Brody tucked against Summer in the back. CJ and Ronnie have already gone ahead to unlock the place and make sure things were in order. There’s food and drink, and they have a quiet meal before the others start off with well wishes and promises to follow up in the morning.
Mitch is grateful they are there, but he’s even more grateful that they’re leaving. It’s nice to have support on hand, but it’s even better to have people who know when the thing you need most is a little time and space.
It doesn’t really occur to Mitch until he waves at them from the driveway that they’re worried with good reason. Kidnapping isn’t a small thing. A hostage situation is a bigger thing. Shootouts, near death experiences, bargaining for your life -- that’s the kind of shit of trauma. He makes a note to himself to watch Brody for signs of PTSD.
He realizes as the others disappear down the street that they’re watching him for that, too.
He’s never thought about trauma as applying to him. It’s all part of the job, and he’s well trained to cope. But, as Brody has already pointed out, this wasn’t just part of the job. This wasn’t something he had an active part in. This was something where he was a passive participant. He may have gone with Deran voluntarily, but that was the last decision he’d made of his own free will.
He’d called Brody a victim earlier.
It’s only now that he thinks of himself as one, too.
Back inside, the understanding seems to leave him exhausted, and he goes to tell Brody that he’s calling it an early night.
In Brody’s room, however, the younger man is already asleep. He never made it under the covers, though his shoes are at least off. He’s passed out with his legs hanging off the edge, and Mitch stands over him for a moment, making sure his breathing is steady and even.
Mitch listens and he watches, but there’s no sign that anything is amiss. There’s a bruise darkening along Brody’s hairline where the bandage covers the head wound, but the doctor assure them both that sleeping was not any particular concern. The breathing, though still a little strained, sound significantly improved, and Mitch can think of no reason to worry.
Brody’s here, Brody’s home, Brody’s safe.
Mitch is pretty sure today was a messed up day, but he’s gotten that much right.
As he shuffles off to his own bed, he finds that he cannot ask for more.
-o-
Mitch is almost in bed, changed into his pajamas, when he hears a scuffle at the back door. At first, he thinks maybe Brody has gotten up and is looking for something to eat. Concerned, he goes back out, surprised to see Brody’s door still closed. There’s another scuffle, and then, unmistakably a knock.
Glancing around the house, Mitch assesses that it’s still dark and empy like he left it. The noise isn’t coming from the front door. No, as he inches forward, it’s clear that sound is coming from the back.
On edge, Mitch edges forward, ready for any sign of danger. His neighborhood has always been safe, but Mitch isn’t an idiot when it comes to home security or self defense. If someone has come to rob him, they’ve sure as hell picked the wrong day to do it.
But when he gets in the kitchen, the figures at the back door doesn’t rally his concern. In fact, as he recognizes the figures, his fists unfurl. Hurriedly, he rushes across the kitchen and unlocks the door. The first figure stumbles in, supporting the other. They’re both breathing heavy and one of them is barefoot.
“Shit,” Mitch says. “Deran? Adrian?”
Deran, holding a sagging Adrian upright, looks up at Mitch. Adrian, winded as he is, can’t quite lift his head.
“I know this probably isn’t a good time,” Deran says in a rush. “But I was hoping you might help us out.”
Mitch blinks. Deran’s not holding a gun this time, but his request is just as unyielding.
Deran swallows and visibly suppress his urge to shudder. “Again.”
It’s an audacious request.
It’s probably a dangerous and misguided one, too.
“Come on,” Mitch says, closing the door behind them because this is their second, their third chance. Mitch isn’t sure; it doesn’t matter. The answer is still the same. “Let’s get you inside.”
-o-
With help, Deran guides Adrian into the house. Mitch leads them through the kitchen. He’s going for the living room couch, but he catches a glimpse of just how pale Adrian is and he reconsiders. He directs the duo into his bedroom instead.
Adrian winces as they lay him down, and his face contorts in obvious pain as they lay him down. His breathing is far worse than Brody as he settles, and his face shines with a sheen of sweat. Adrian keens for a moment before Deran kneels down, taking his hand and shushing him. With one hand, he smooths Adrian’s damp hair out of his face, and Mitch can see that Adrian is still in a hospital gown with an oversized black jacket draped over him.
Mitch holds his tongue until Adrian is asleep and Deran gets back to his feet.
They stand a moment like that, watching Adrian. Finally, Mitch can’t tolerate the silence. If he’s going to give these two another chance, then he’s sure as hell got to know what he’s laying it on the line for.
“He shouldn’t be out of the hospital,” Mitch says, leaving the statement pointed but open. It’s not an accusation necessarily. But it’s also a sign that Mitch isn’t going to accept bullshit right now.
Deran isn’t quite as pale as Adrian, but he’s pretty damn close. He’s no worse for wear after their ordeal today, but the stress seems to have aged him years. “They just took out the chest tube,” he says. “His ribs are bound, and his stitches are fresh. I knew if I waited any longer, I’d never get him out.”
Mitch is already shaking his head. “You shouldn’t mess around with this shit,” he says. “He’s got to be on antibiotics, he should probably be on fluids. At this point, he’s got an elevated risk of infection, and all this moving with broken ribs? Do you really want more internal injuries?”
Deran’s face is pinched. “They said he didn’t need surgery. They said he was lucky.”
It’s a blind sort of hope, a desperate insistence. It’s not the kind of thing he would expect from Deran, not when Deran is so used to being in control. But this isn’t Deran in control. This isn’t Deran with a plan. This is Deran making it up as he goes, and he’s got nothing but a few medical platitudes and his love for Adrian propelling him onward right now.
Mitch sighs, softening his stance. “Just because he doesn’t need surgery doesn’t mean this isn’t a serious injury.”
Shaking his head, Deran’s eyes are like flint. “I know that, okay?” he says, voice low and hard. The look he gives Adrian’s sleeping form is telling. “I know that.”
Mitch feels for him, he does. But Deran’s rash decision making hasn’t turned out so well for any of them. Mitch can’t let that slide. Not with Brody still recovering in the other room, anyway. “Do you?” Mitch asks. “Because dragging him around like this -- if his ribs shift? He could do worse than puncture a lung. What about the heart? Do you want him to bleed out?”
Mitch may or may not be making shit up at this point, but it sounds valid, and his point is the same, with or without the relevant details. Deran is being reckless in this move, and Mitch had hoped that recklessness was over after today’s events.
For as convincing as Mitch knows he is, Deran is utterly unswayed. He steps forward, even more insistent. “And if we stayed there, in that hospital, with my mother’s contacts and my mother’s money and my mother’s aliases -- we’d never be able to leave,” he says. “Her paperwork got us in there and probably saved Adrian’s life, but staying there would be a death sentence for both of us. Not today or tomorrow. But eventually. That’s how it is in my family. I knew once Adrian was out of ICU, the family goons would be all over us. So before we could be transferred out, I cut and run. I did what I had to do, and I’m not going back.”
“You snuck him out AMA?” Mitch clarifies, looking again at Adrian’s still form. His rasping breaths are still somewhat staggered and his face looks pained, even in sleep. “You’re on the run?”
“Hell, yeah,” Deran says. “I drained my bank account, burned all my contacts and got the hell out. If my mom’s in the picture, then Adrian’s always going to be a bargaining chip. Our only hope -- Adrian’s only hope -- is a clean start.”
That’s the right answer, the one Mitch has been trying to get Deran and Adrian to accept since their first meeting several months ago. But the timing is shit. Mitch scoffs lightly. “And this is your first stop? Here?”
“I can’t contact anyone from my old life,” Deran says. “No family, no friends, no associates.”
“I get that, but I’m an associate,” Mitch reminds him. “Your mother knows about me, and she doesn’t strike me as the type to let that acquaintance to unexplored.”
“She’s not,” Deran agrees. “She’s going to track you, on and off, and when she finds out I’ve gone AWOL, I don’t doubt she’ll check here. But that won’t be her first stop, no way. I’ve got other contacts, more likely contacts.”
The explanation is all well and good, but Mitch takes issue with it. “So, what, I’m going to lie to her if she shows up?”
“You don’t have to lie,” Deran says. “I don’t intend on telling you anything about where I’m going. She knows where I’ve been.”
“And you think she’ll believe me?” Mitch asks, growing incredulous now. He gestures to the wall. “I’ve got my own people to think about.”
“She’s not going to kill you,” Deran says.
“I kind of think she might,” Mitch admits.
“Then go to the police when I’m gone, get protection,” Deran suggests. He shrugs, somewhat wild. “Maybe they’ll even catch the bitch.”
Mitch exhales. “I don’t want any part of this shit, Deran,” he says. “I told you that.”
Deran slumps, his explanations faltering. “I know, I know, I just--” he cuts off, not sure what to say. He looks helpless. He is helpless, Mitch realizes. “I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t make it far, not with Adrian like this. We just need to crash here, just for tonight, and we’ll be gone. Forever.”
It’s the right sentiment, but it’s happening in all the wrong ways. He doesn’t want to give Deran and Adrian a second chance at the expense of Brody’s chances. That’s not a trade he’s willing to make. “So you get your freedom and I get what?” he asks. “I told you, I didn’t want any part of this.”
“But neither do I!” Deran says, his voice rising precariously. On the bed, Adrian snuffles, but he doesn’t rouse. Deran, guilt stricken, hems himself back in. He’s the one who looks pained. “I don’t know what else to do. What else am I supposed to do?”
That’s the question, then. Because they all have to make the best choices they can with their circumstances. That’s exactly what Mitch told him. And that’s exactly what Deran’s doing.
And if that puts other people in jeopardy?
Well, Mitch hates to admit it, but that’s in his job description. Sure, usually he’s dealing with riptides and boat crashes, but he’s always had a flexible notion of what duty means at Baywatch. Sometimes it’s drug deal and real estate fraud. Sometimes it’s gunshot wounds and kidnapping.
The point is, you pick the victim first.
That’s what Brody would do.
Mitch sure as hell better follow.
“Okay,” he says finally, allowing himself to sigh. “You can stay the night.”
“I really am sorry about this,” Deran says, quietly now. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean for this.”
“I know,” Mitch says. “But you’re trying to do the right thing now.”
Deran’s smile is wry. “And you think that’s going to make a difference?”
“I do,” Mitch assures him. “Because I think you’ve tried everything else.”
Deran nods, his gaze drifting away. “And if it’s not enough?”
“Well,” Mitch concedes, because he’s a realist, too. He understands that sometimes the right decision doesn’t always play out. He knows that sometimes bad things happen even when you do good things. He knows that failure isn’t always your fault, but it always ends up as your burden. “Then you can at least take solace knowing you did the best you could for once.”
-o-
For all that they’ve been through together, Mitch doesn’t actually know Deran very well at all. He offers to help make sure Adrian is comfortable because between the two of them, Mitch is the only one with any first aid training. Deran agrees to the offer because when you show up with your bleeding boyfriend on the doorstep of a stranger you kidnapped the previous morning, you really are at the end of anything resembling pride.
Mitch is relieved to find that, despite the day’s events and Deran’s furtive escape, Adrian does seem to be doing better. He rouses enough to answer a few simple questions, confirming his coherency, and though his breathing is strained, it no longer appears to be compromised. When Mitch leans down to listen to his lungs, they sound significantly better than they had on the boat. He’s badly bruised -- face and torso -- but there is no sign of fresh bleeding.
In short, Adrian probably should be in the hospital, but Mitch has no reason to be immediately concerned that he’s going to die while lying in Mitch’s bed.
With his makeshift exam over, Mitch declares that there’s nothing more they can do for tonight and suggests they get some sleep. Deran looks skeptical.
“The couch is comfortable enough,” Mitch says.
“I’m staying with him,” Deran says.
“I get the feeling,” Mitch says. “But you shouldn’t be sharing a bed tonight.”
Deran makes a face. “I’m not going to do anything like that--”
“Just even in case you jostle him in your sleep, roll over,” Mitch says. “Let him have his space.”
“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,” Deran returns.
Mitch has half a mind to keep arguing. For all that Adrian looks bad, Deran doesn’t exactly look much better. He hasn’t been roughed up like Adrian, but the emotional toll is clearly visible in his countenance. He clearly needs to sleep, especially if he’s going to plan the escape of a lifetime in the morning.
But there’s something to be said for picking your battles. All logic aside, there’s no way Deran’s leaving this room unless Adrian comes with him.
Resigned, Mitch walks over to the closet, pulling out a spare blanket and nabbing a throw pillow. “Here,” he says, holding them out to Deran.
Deran hesitates, clearly not sure what to do with these items.
Mitch nods to the floor. “If you’re staying, you still need to sleep,” he says.
Deran still looks ready to protest.
Mitch purses his lips. “Adrenaline only gets you so far, trust me, I know,” he says. He holds out the items one last time. “If you’re going to get him to safety, you need to sleep.”
That’s the appeal that works. Not for Deran, but for Adrian.
Deran takes the bedding and nods a little at Mitch, not quite sheepish but definitely not confident. “What about you?”
“I told you, the couch isn’t bad,” Mitch says.
“And um, I can trust you,” Deran hedges, voice uncharacteristically small. “I can trust you, right?”
“You think I’m going to call your mom? The cops?”
Deran lifts one shoulder in a meager shrug.
“You’re the one who came here, man,” Mitch says. “I’m just trying to keep my own safe. You make your choices, and I’m going to make mine. All we can hope is that they’re compatible this time.”
It’s not a promise, but it’s better. It’s the truth.
And it’s finally a truth Deran can understand.
He nods, and Mitch looks one more time at Adrian before making his way out into the living room.
-o-
In the living room, Mitch knows he’s done his best today. He knows he’s done his best since the very start -- he glances at the clock and mutters a curse -- to the very end. It was the right thing to help Deran find Adrian. It was the right thing to make sure Adrian got back alive. It was the right thing to give Deran and Adrian refuge.
That doesn’t mean that any of it is easy -- much less resolved.
In fact, the more he does the right thing, the less right things feel. Right now, he’s got a man signed out AMA with a companion whose murderous mother will stop at nothing to find him sleeping it off in his bedroom. In his bed. Brody’s asleep right next, no idea that he’s Mitch has gone ahead and put him in danger.
Again.
Second chances, third chances -- and Mitch blows through them all.
With a huff, he crashes heavily onto the couch.
He gets so frustrated that everyone around him makes the same mistakes, and here he is.
Making the same mistakes.
He flops back and closes his eyes.
Time will only tell if he’ll suffer the same consequences again.
-o-
Mitch is usually the first one up. After all, Brody is his roommate. For all that Brody has become a better person in the last year, he’s still Brody. And he’s most definitely not a morning person.
Sure, Mitch gives Brody a hard time about it, chiding him for having to be reminded to get up and for sleeping through his alarm, but he actually prefers it to some extent. Because Mitch is a morning person, and he likes to have some quiet time to himself before the day starts. He likes to have his morning tasks done and be reading the newspaper by the time Brody rolls out of bed. It suits their dynamic quite nicely.
All of that is only to say that that’s not how things go the next morning.
In fact, Mitch is still passed out cold when he becomes slowly aware of a presence above him. It takes him longer than he cares to admit to drag himself out of the dredges of sleep, and when he finally opens his eyes, he finds Brody standing above him, looking concerned.
His concern is moderately ironic, all things considered. Brody looks like hell this morning. The bruising has spread across his temple, blacking around his eye. The bandage on his head is mottled with red; it clearly needs to be changed. He looks pale and a little off kilter, but he’s staring at Mitch with a barely restrained terror that something is amiss.
“Why are you sleeping on the couch?” Brody asks.
Stifling a groan, Mitch can’t keep the pain from twisting his expression as he sits up slowly. His whole body feels like it’s creaking, and his back badly protests both his lack of sleep and the lumpy surface on which he chose to sleep. Apparently, the couch is not as comfortable as he remembered. “Uh, long story,” he says for the lack of something better to say. For a moment, he entertains the notion that Brody doesn’t have to know that Mitch has waited less than a day to let Adrian and Deran back into both their lives. That he’s waited less than a day to put them both in jeopardy again.
Brody does not seem to buy his answer.
Go figure; Mitch is avoiding the truth. That never goes well. That’s what he tells Brody, and for good reason. Avoiding the truth simply never goes well.
“You look like shit,” Brody ventures instead, and it’s a roundabout way of saying that Mitch is full of shit and Brody knows it.
Sighing, Mitch rolls his shoulders. He takes some comfort in the fact that it’s probably the stress of the hostage situation and the gunfights and explosions yesterday. Those factors are bound to catch up with him, explaining why he’s so sore and tired. “Yeah, well,” he quips. “Have you looked in a mirror?”
Brody will not be deflected. “Seriously, though,” he says, because for as well as Mitch knows Brody, it’s a two way street. Brody knows Mitch well, too, and he knows that Mitch is responsible, predictable and practical. He would never fall asleep on the couch when a perfectly good bed lay ten feet on the other side of the bedroom door. “What’s up?”
In the scheme of things, allowing Adrian and Deran to stay is not the worst thing Mitch has done to Brody. It’s not even the worst thing Mitch has done in the last 24 hours. Still, when the comparison involves kidnapping, explosions and CPR, Mitch knows the bar is unreasonably low.
He also knows that he owes Brody the truth.
Especially since he’s going to find out sooner rather than later. “We had some visitors after you fell asleep,” he explains.
For all that Brody’s figured out that Mitch is hiding something, he’s still Brody. He frowns, head cocked. “And they spent the night?” he asks, clearly confused. “Summer or…?”
Mitch shakes his head wearily. “Not Summer.”
This seems to dumbfound Brody even further. Summer is the only other houseguest they’ve had, and she’s always slept exclusively in Brody’s room. It’s Brody best guess, but it’s not good enough. “Well, Stephanie? Or CJ?”
“Yeah, it’s no one from Baywatch,” Mitch tells him. He takes a moment to get to his feet, suppressing yet another groan from his aching body.
Brody take a step back, following as Mitch trudges his way into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. “I don’t get it.”
That’s probably reasonable. The natural assumption is that Mitch doesn’t have their kidnappers turned fellow hostages in the master bedroom. This sounds worse and worse the more Mitch chases it around his head. Shaking his head, he gives into the inevitable. “It’s Deran and Adrian.”
Mitch is studiously starting the coffee while Brody stares at him, utterly blank. With the pot started, he turns back toward Brody, finding the younger man almost bracing himself. He opens his mouth, and then he closes it. After several more false starts, he says, “I’m sorry. What?”
“Deran and Adrian,” Mitch repeats, just as plaintively as before. “They showed up after you went to sleep, needed a place to crash. They’re in my room.”
Mitch says this like it’s a total reasonable thing.
They both know it’s nothing resembling reasonable. Brody, at least, doesn’t seem to dwell on how ridiculous this notion is. Instead, he seems to take a different tact. “But they left us behind,” he says. “Like, on the boat. They left us behind and we swam to shore.”
That’s not a point to gloss over, Mitch will admit. He doesn’t fault Deran for making that choice, not given Adrian’s condition at the time, but he knows it doesn’t exactly engender goodwill. They’re not friends of his, Deran and Adrian. This isn’t an act of mutual goodwill.
Honestly, at this point, Mitch isn’t sure what it is. “I know,” he says instead, too tired to attempt anything other than the raw, naked truth. “But you can’t blame them. Deran had to get Adrian to the hospital.”
“I know,” Brody says. “But then, you know. Why aren’t they still at the hospital?”
It’s another entirely valid question. In all, Brody is taking this far more calmly than Mitch might have expected, and his rational response exceeds expectations. The problem is, of course, that Mitch’s answers to those reasonable questions sound increasingly less reasonable as the conversation progresses. “Well, you met Deran’s mother,” Mitch says. “Why do you think they’re not still in the hospital?”
Brody’s mind visibly works on this scenario while the coffee pot splutters and steams behind them. Finally, Brody exhales with a heavy gust of disbelief. “They’re escaping?”
Mitch shrugs for the lack of something more definitive to do. “They decided it was time to get away from Deran’s mother, that whole family, all of it, once and for all.”
That’s the reasonable part of the explanation.
Brody hones in on the lone but quite important caveat. “And so they came here?”
Mitch resists the urge to wince. There was a time when he’d not felt the need to apologize for making the right decision. There was a time when he’d always been confident that he knew what the right decision was. Those were times from before he met Brody. It’s easy to put everything on the line when you have nothing to lose. When you’ve got something you care about, however, it changes your perspective. It forces you to make choices. Priorities.
“It’s just a stopping point, that’s all,” Mitch says. “They know they can’t stay, but they also didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Brody’s incredulity reaches its breaking point. “Shit. You’re serious.”
Mitch nods in a perfunctory fashion. “Yeah. I’m serious.”
“So they’re really in there,” Brody says, nodding toward the master bedroom. “Our kidnappers are in there. The ones who nearly got us killed, like, a dozen times yesterday.”
“It was like three times,” Mitch argues.
“Sure, and that makes it better,” Brody says.
Mitch huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, but he doesn’t actually have an argument against that.
“I mean, they’re on the run. They’re hiding out?” he asks. “From his mother? The crazy lady with all the guns who wanted to kill us?”
Mitch had had the same reservations -- he really had -- but the fact that he’d chosen to ignore them seems a bit farcical in the baldness of the morning. “They’re just trying to get out,” he offers, because it’s the only solace there is. “That’s what we wanted them to do, remember?”
Brody nods, because of course he remembers. Brody’s been shot, blown up and drowned on account of these two people, and he’d still held no ill-will last night. He’s entitled to his doubts this morning -- about the fortitude of their choice and the possibility of it happening without a hitch.
“I think that’s great, I really do,” Brody says. “But this isn’t smart. I mean, the crazy lady, she’ll be able to find us. And she will, won’t she? She was willing to kill for her son yesterday, so I’m pretty sure she’ll track down two lifeguards if she has to. And then who knows what.”
“Sure, but they’ll be gone by the time she figures it out,” Mitch says, but his own voice sounds less confident than he’s used to hearing it. “I told you, they’re not staying. They know better than we do that this isn’t safe.”
“So, what? They’ll go and leave us here again?” Brody asks. “And you think that’s going to go over well when she shows up?”
Mitch sighs with more finality than before. “What do you want me to do?” he asks. “Did you want me to turn them away? Adrian was barely upright last night. Deran took a real risk in breaking him out, but he thought that was better than the risk of staying where his mother could find them.”
That’s the bottom line, when Mitch got right to it. He’s to weary for anything else, and he resigns himself to whatever objections Brody rightfully has.
Brody’s objections, however, catch him by surprise. “I want you to start using your head,” he says, looking moderately offended. “I mean, if we’re harboring these guys, then we’ve got to be a bit more careful.”
Mitch wonders for a moment if he’s misheard. It sounds like Brody is not objecting to the choice but the means. Which means….
Mitch tilts his head. “What?”
“Look, I get it. Yesterday was a long day for both of us,” Brody says. “But are you just going to let them sleep all day? You have to have a plan for this shit, Mitch. You don’t even have a plan.”
That’s true, of course. And yet, Mitch isn’t sure what to do with it. He’s contemplating what plan he could possibly come up with when the realization hits him. Brody’s bruised and sore and he drowned less than 24 hours ago. And yet, he’s standing here, apoplectic because of all the wrong reasons. “You’re worried about me?”
He asks it as a question because he’s still struggling to make it parse. All this time Mitch works to save Brody’s life, and apparently, that’s a two-way street, too. Brody’s not worried about what happens to him at this point. He’s worried about what happens to Mitch. “Of course I am,” Brody says, and he sounds offended. “You’re not on your game, man. Not at all.”
Wrinkling his nose, Mitch shakes his head. “But you’re the one who got hurt.”
Brody actually rolls his eyes, like this is a non-issue. “Oh, okay, whatever.”
Mitch is losing the plot here, and he’s losing it badly. Suddenly, the whole landscape seems surreal, and he feels like he probably should still be asleep. “What are you saying exactly?”
Brody is increasingly coherent and sensible. “I’m saying we need a better than just to let them sleep and hope for the best,” he says. “I mean, do we have clothes for them to change into? How are we going to dispose of any evidence that they were here? Shouldn’t we text Summer and the others and let them know we need a little time to ourselves? What about Ellerbee? Isn’t he going to show up this morning to take my statement? Shouldn’t we not have to people in connection with criminal activity sleeping in the master bedroom when that happens?”
At this point, all Mitch can do is blink. Those are all excellent points. Those are exactly the points he should be making, he should have made last night.
That’s his job. That’s what he does. That’s how he leads.
And he’s got nothing.
You could argue that’s what having Brody around has done to him.
Or you could argue that’s why Mitch is so damn lucky to have Brody around, to do this for him.
Because, these days, Mitch may have more to lose, but he also doesn’t have to do it all on his own. He doesn’t always have to have the answers. He doesn’t always have to take the lead. Mitch may be in charge of Baywatch, with all the responsibility that entails, but with Brody? Well, that’s a partnership.
They’re equals.
When Brody goes off and gets himself shot, Mitch will pull him out.
When Mitch agrees to get them kidnapped, Brody will make sure that the mark stays safe.
When Brody up and drowns, Mitch will revive him.
When Mitch makes a short sighted decision that puts them in peril, Brody will come up with the problems that Mitch didn’t think about in advance.
Because Mitch has made a choice.
And so has Brody.
The mutuality of that is the best thing Mitch knows.
So, when he admits the truth, there’s no shame involved. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Brody nods emphatically. “Well, we need to. Now,” he says. “I mean, we’ve got a day, max. That’s how long we can keep them here before people start thinking something is off.”
“That’s about as long as it will take for the mother to track us down, too,” Mitch agrees.
“So we have to start by keeping people out of the house,” Brody continues.
“And work on rapidly expediting their journey out,” Mitch adds on, because the plan is starting to come together for him, too.
“So, look,” Brody says, all business now. The rasp in his voice is hardly recognizable, and he seems to have completely forgotten that he has a bandage that needs to be changed. “I’ll call Summer, tell her I want to get out. We’ll do breakfast, maybe meet up with CJ and Ronnie or something. Once they see that I’m fine, I’ll have Summer take me over to the police station before Ellerbee has the chance to come out.”
“He might stop here before his shift,” Mitch warns.
“So text him, tell him what my plans are,” he says. “He can’t stop by if I’m not here, right? You already gave your statement.”
Mitch continues to nod along, feeling his energy and sense of purpose return. “That would work,” he says. “That should keep you busy until lunch at least.”
“And maybe I can head to HQ, talk it up,” Brody says. “If one of us doesn’t make an appearance, people are going to start getting restless. They’ll stop by.”
“It is my day off anyway, which helps,” Mitch says. “But we should throw them a bone.”
“Exactly,” Brody says, totally in synch with Mitch now. “Which frees you up around here.”
Mitch picks up the train of thought seamlessly. “I’ll let them sleep a little longer, make a breakfast, and prep some things. We probably want them to leave in the afternoon rush.”
“Of course, easier for them to blend in,” Brody says. “Warm day like this, no one is going to notice two more people on the beach.”
“It’s a short shot from here to the bus station or the marina, whichever they prefer,” Mitch says. “And we’ve got that leftover shit from lost and found, the stuff you were supposed to wash.”
“Laundry is seriously overrated, dude,” Brody says. “Especially when it’s not our stuff.”
“It’s starting to stink,” Mitch counters.
“So I don’t know why we don’t get rid of it,” Brody argues.
“Because it’s not ours.”
“So we’re going to give it away now?”
They’re bantering. They’re going back and forth like some kind of old married couple, and it’s so wildly inappropriate at a time like this, with this much at stake, but damn, it feels really good.
It’s the best, actually. Shootings, kidnappings, hostage situations, CPR: they can still com back to this. It’s why the other choices will never matter as long as they choose each other first.
“These are extenuating circumstances,” Mitch says. “People will notice if Adrian’s still wearing a hospital gown.”
Brody concedes that point. “Lost and found shit won’t be traced to us.”
“I get them fed, cleaned up and dressed, and they’re out of here, for our sake and theirs, no later than two,” Mitch says.
Brody nods his approval. “Now that’s a plan.”
Mitch is all but grinning now. He’s still tired and achy, and he’s still on edge because Brody nearly died yesterday, but this is what it’s about. This is what they do.
And it’s a hell of a thing, having someone who will follow your plans. It’s another thing entirely to have someone you trust so much that you’d follow their plans without question.
But someone who will make those plans with you?
Someone who is so perfectly in tune with you that your plans always end up the same anyway?
Well, that’s how Mitch knows that choosing Brody is by far the best choice he’s ever made.
“Good,” he says, more definitively now. “Thanks, man. For helping me finish what I started.”
To his surprise, Brody scoffs. “Whatever, dude,” he says. “I started this.”
“What?” Mitch asks. “I was the one who put us both on that boat yesterday.”
“Uh, yeah, because I was the one who insisted on rescuing Adrian three months ago,” Brody says. “Gunshot, remember? That was me. All me.”
Mitch shakes his head with a low laugh. “I guess it’s both of us, then.”
That’s how this all started, after all.
So that’s how it might as well end, too.
-o-
Mitch is all on board with the plan -- he really is, there’s no issue for him following Brody’s lead -- but he has to admit, he finds it to be a rather slow plan. Reasonably, Mitch knows that the plan is supposed to last no more than a day, which makes it a rather to the point plan, but since his part involves waiting for other people to wake up, it’s slow for him.
Also, he’s tired. Sleeping on the couch is well and good, but the plan is slow enough to make him want to do nothing but sleep. He tidies a few things, rummages through the lost and found items that are clean and slated for return to HQ, makes more coffee and proceeds to nearly fall asleep in the kitchen chair.
Several texts from Brody keep him from doing more than doze off, and he tries to take some solace in knowing that Brody’s got this part under control. Summer suspects nothing; the rest of the team is well in hand. All Brody has to do is finish his statement with Ellerbee and he’ll be back this afternoon. He just wants to be sure that things are going well on Mitch’s end.
Suppressing a yawn and rolling his shoulders, Mitch allows himself to grimace since Brody can’t see. Then he types his reply: Totally according to plan.
It’s not a lie, not in any sense, and Mitch decides the fact that he’s worn thin and worn out is only tangentially related to the point.
He’s about to fall asleep again when he finally decides to get up and make lunch. This is natural as it is lunch time, but Mitch doesn’t think about it like that. He thinks about it more pragmatically. If he doesn’t get up and do something, he will fall asleep, and while sleeping is not explicitly not a part of the plan, it also doesn’t fit very well into the whole notion of being on top of a potentially dangerous situation involving two runaways, one of whom is injured, and their deadly pursuers, who may or may not show up at any given moment.
So lunch.
Mitch is about to turn on the oven to cook some frozen fish when he hears a sound from the living room. When he looks around, he sees Adrian shuffling into the kitchen.
It’s difficult to really assess how Adrian looks. On the one hand, Adrian looks terrible. The bruising on his face is extensive, and it has continued to spread over the course of the night. One eye barely opens, and the split lip looks raw and painful in the daylight. His nose is swollen, and there’s not much of his features that are still recognizable as the young, attractive surfer that Mitch knows he is.
That’s not even the worst of it. Adrian, though standing, looks barely upright. He’s hunched and he’s guarding his ribs while he shuffle steps into the office. The hospital gown obscures the worst of the damage, but Mitch can see the bulky bandages that are wrapped around his chest and midsection. There’s an abandoned IV port still in the back of his hand where Deran clearly cut and run without medical supervision.
The walk from the bedroom to kitchen is short, but Adrian looks completely winded. Beneath the bruises, his complexion is still sallow, and he looks positively sickly. In any other circumstance, Mitch would insist that Adrian go back to bed -- or better, to a hospital for proper treatment -- but that’s not part of the plan.
“Hey,” Mitch says, and he manages a smile. All that’s happened, and he doesn’t blame Adrian. He doesn’t resent him for this, and he won’t begrudge him some comfort. “You should sit down.”
Adrian doesn’t need to be asked again. He almost falls into the closest chair, face barely composed while he does so. The movement seems to drain him, and it takes him several moments before he’s able to speak. “Um,” he says, clearing his throat as he rasps. “Where am I?”
Mitch sighs. “You probably don’t remember much about last night, do you?”
Adrian winces as he looks around. “I remember Deran,” he says. “I remember him telling me we had to go. And I remember how much it hurt to walk, but I sort of -- lost track of stuff after that.”
He’s breathless when he speaks, likely because he’s still got a healing punctured lung. The fact that his pain meds have probably worn off can’t be helping matters any. “Deran busted you out of the hospital before his mother could send her goons,” Mitch explains. “It was the only way to get you out.”
Adrian nods as he processes that. “We’re going to make a clean start of it,” he says. “He told me that last night. He told me that it was worth the risk.”
Mitch has to nod his agreement. Disagree though he may with many things, there’s no arguing that. You can’t fault people for finally taking full advantage of a second chance. “I get it now, why it was so hard for you both to break away,” he says in commiseration. “What Deran did is very brave. And he did it for you”
Weakly, Adrian smiles. But he looks sheepish up at Mitch, almost shy now. “We shouldn’t have come here.”
“What? You needed a place,” Mitch says.
“But this is your place, isn’t it?” Adrian concludes. “Yesterday, he kidnapped you at gunpoint. Today, we’re hiding out in your home while his mother tries to hunt us down.”
“All for good reasons,” Mitch assures him.
“That put too much on you,” Adrian says, and he sounds apologetic now. “You don’t deserve any of this.”
“Helping you two is the right thing to do,” Mitch says, because he and Brody have been around this enough times to find confidence in it. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
“But she’ll come for you,” Adrian says, and his voice is still weak but hard like stone. There’s a flicker of fear in his eyes. “She won’t ask nicely.”
Mitch bobs his head in concession. “I know,” he says, because that’s another thing that he’s come to terms with this morning. “But she would have checked here whether Deran brought you here or not. We’re on her radar now. There’s no getting around it.”
“But if you lie to her--”
“We’ll figure that out--”
“No,” Adrian says, finding a surprising amount of force to inflect in his voice. “You can’t just take this as it comes, not with this family. You need a plan.”
That’s ironic, really. All this talk of plans, and now everyone is making them except Mitch. He cocks his head because there’s no time or energy left for pride. “Well, we were going to get you out of here as quickly and quietly as possible and then plead ignorance,” he says. “She’s got no way to prove anything about you being here.”
Adrian snorts, and the noise is rough like gravel. “You think that will save you?”
“I can’t imagine she’ll off two lifeguards just because,” Mitch reasons. “Especially not when she realizes how well connected we are. If anything happens to us, they won’t stop hunting her down.”
But Adrian is still shaking his head. “That won’t be enough; she won’t care. You see what she’s willing to do, what she’ll do to her own son.”
That’s a point Mitch has chosen not to consider, one that Deran’s pleading face hadn’t left much room to consider the night before. His confidence falters a little. He shrugs. “Well, I’m open to ideas.”
Adrian, for as weak and tired as he is, has clearly given this more thought. “Go to the police,” he encourages. “Tell them we came here, forced you to help us. Say it was a kidnapping again, say Deran had a gun, whatever you have to do. File a report; let it stand.”
Mitch starts to frown a little.
Adrian pushes on, rallying his strength. “If you’re on the record before she can get here, it’ll slow her down. She’ll see the report, and given Deran’s actions yesterday, she’ll buy it. Once she knows you’re not friends, she’ll read your statement in the report and probably leave it at that.”
“I’ll have to provide information about where you’re going,” Mitch says.
“And what we’re wearing, but those are easy enough to throw off,” Adrian says. “You have to tell the truth: that we showed up uninvited and that you had no choice but to help us.”
Brody’s plan had been good.
This plan, however, is better.
Turns out, sometimes Mitch and Brody can do with following other people’s plans too. As long as they’re doing it together.
Or, maybe, Mitch and Brody have afforded enough chances to Adrian and Deran.
Maybe it’s their turn to take one in exchange.
He has to nod. “That could work,” he admits.
Adrian looks relieved, slumping a little as his adrenaline clearly wanes again. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve thought a lot about it. How to get away from her.”
The way he says this leaves no room for doubt. This has been on Adrian’s mind ever since their last encounter; maybe earlier. “So why didn’t you?” Mitch asks quietly. He thinks he deserves to know why it took all this to finally get here.
“You know why,” Adrian says, and it is the most obvious answer in the world. He can only shrug because he has no defense. “Sometimes you’re just following someone else.”
“And if that person leads you into danger?” Mitch presses, though he knows this answer even better than the last.
This time, when Adrian smiles, it’s the truest version Mitch has seen yet. “When it’s the right person, that’s all that matters,” he says. “I chosen Deran. Over myself. I choose him.”
Mitch’s throat feels inexplicably tight. “And this time, Deran chose you too.”
The tension unfurls slightly. The day ahead is still going to be long, and Mitch can only imagine what the weeks and months ahead might hold. This may be the end for Mitch -- God help him, he hopes it is -- but it’s the beginning for Deran and Adrian.
Adrian, under the bruises and the contusion, blushes. “I don’t know how to say thank you.”
Mitch pats him gently on the arm across the table. “No need,” he says. “Just take your chance while you’ve got it. Make the most of it.”
It doesn’t matter if Adrian is tired and sore. It doesn’t matter if he’s still struggling to breathe and on the road. What matters for Adrian is that he’s got someone to go with him, to be strong when he is weak, to follow when he leads, to make the road ahead easier and harder all at once.
It’s a hell of a thing to have.
Mitch, after all, would know.
-o-
For all the fuss and drama of the last day and a half, Adrian and Deran make their final escape quietly and without much fanfare. Using grocery sacks, they load up their dirty clothes, changing into the most nondescript items from the Baywatch Lost and Found. They clean up and eat some food before confirming with Mitch to wait until Brody gets home to make the police report. They all agreed that there’s no need for aliases anymore. In fact, Deran and Adrian want this on the record. They want Deran’s mother to understand that they’re serious about leaving -- as much as they want to ensure that Mitch and Brody are not suspected as complicit.
The fact that Mitch is accusing them of a serious crime is not important. Mitch is confident that he can make the crime both convincing and yet not perilous. Still, Mitch reminds them, “It will be up to you now to make your escape. I can’t help you.”
“You are helping us,” Deran tells him. “You’ve helped us more than you should have.”
“That’s my job,” Mitch says, almost by reflex.
“No,” Adrian says knowingly. “It’s not.”
Kidnapping and false police reports?
Okay, so that one’s a stretch.
“I’d say see you around,” Deran quips.
Mitch laughs. “I really, really hope not,” he says. “For your sake and mine.”
As he watches them escape in broad daylight, he wonders if they’ll make it. He wonders if they really have a chance, if they have the fortitude that it takes to follow someone when things get tough. He wonders if the world is conspiring against them, if Deran’s mother will catch up with them, if the danger will be enough to break them or bring them closer together.
He may never know is the truth.
If he had to bet, however, he’d let his money ride.
-o-
It’s no more than an hour later when Brody finally gets back. Summer drops him off in the driveway without coming in, and although Brody is smiling at the door when he waves her goodbye, Mitch can see just how tired he is when the door closes.
“Long statement,” Mitch observes.
“They had question,” Brody says, sounding weary now as he pads gingerly to the living room. He sits down on the couch with an oof. “Ellerbee had to get major crimes involved. I had to look at these pictures and identify people, and they kept wanting me to go over my story again and again…”
His voice trails off with a sigh.
“They’re going to ask you to come back in,” Brody tells him. “I think I put them off until tomorrow, though.”
“Not unexpected,” Mitch says, sitting down in the chair adjacent to the couch.
Brody looks around the living room again. “Are they still here?”
“Uh, no,” Mitch says. “Took off not long ago.”
“Oh, really?” Brody asks. He sounds surprised.
“Well, that was your plan,” Mitch reminds him.
“I know,” Brody says. “I just. I don’t know. It feels like it’s not over.”
“Well, it’s not,” Mitch says. “The plan changed while you were gone.”
Brody looks momentarily horrified.
Mitch chuckles softly. “To protect us,” he says. “Apparently, while you were out this morning, I got a visit from our kidnappers.”
Brody simply looks confused.
“I’m going to tell Ellerbee that Deran showed up and held a gun on me until I let him and Adrian inside,” Mitch explains. “Under duress, I provided them clothing and food and sent them on their way.”
It’s obvious that Brody’s not sure what’s the truth and what’s the lie.
“It’s an exaggeration of the truth with modified timeline,” Mitch says. “Your story doesn’t change.”
Brow furrowing, Brody shakes his head. “But why?”
“Because if it was a crime, then there’s no reason for Deran’s mother to come after us,” he says.
“But isn’t filing a false report a crime?” Brody asks.
Mitch arches his brows. “And you didn’t falsify your report by neglecting to mention the fact that Deran and Adrian, who are wanted in association with this case, were here?”
This has clearly not occurred to Brody. “I was trying to do the right thing.”
“And you did,” Mitch says. “And so am I. Sometimes circumstances are extenuating.”
Brody considers this. “It’s a risk.”
“Maybe,” Mitch says, shrugging a little. “But to protect you? I’ll tell a lie or two.”
This is an answer that Brody understands, at least. It’s one that he knows, implicitly. One that he probably knows better than anything else, actually. After a moment, Brody exhales heavily. He seems resolved on that point, and looks at Mitch to ask another question. “Do you think they’ll make it?”
Because it’s a moot point about their own well being. As long as they’re doing this shit together, neither of them have room for doubt. But it’s still worth pausing to know if the second chance that started it will be enough.
That’s a luxury Mitch has with Brody, one he’s never fully realized before. Some might think it’s a burden, having Brody live with him, train under him and generally be his mini-me. Not that it’s easy, Mitch won’t say that, but it’s more of a privilege than people acknowledge. Mitch has the good fortune with Brody to see him him grow and chance. He has the ability to see those second chances play out -- and for the better.
With Deran and Adrian, the only success can come without knowing.
Of course, silence could mean total failure, too.
There’s no way to know.
For Ellerbee, Mitch will use a few careful and innocuous lies.
For Brody, however, Mitch settles for the truth. “I don’t know, honestly,” he says. “At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see them again.”
“I’m not sure that’s really for the best,” Brody ventures. “I mean, these encounters keep getting worse. Next time, I’ll probably end up dead.”
Mitch scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes. “I was fine both times,” he says. “You’re just too accident prone.”
Brody gapes at him. “I was blown up.”
“So was I!”
“And kidnapped!”
“Me, too!”
“And shot!” Brody says, ire starting to rise.
“Oh, boo hoo,” Mitch says. “When Leeds shot me, I stabbed myself with a death urchin and still saved your ass.”
Brody has to close his mouth. “I cannot believe you are trying to blame me for this.”
“I’m just saying,” Mitch says. “If you weren’t so prone to disaster--”
“No, no, okay?” Brody says, more animatedly now. He gestures with his finger. “I go along with your plans and you’re so big that your bad luck deflects off onto me. It’s your bad luck, though.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Mitch singsongs.
“I’m just saying,” Brody continues. “I’m not sure these guys have a lot more chances after today. At least not from us.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know,” Mitch says, and he sobers somewhat. “I think you and I have burned through a few chances ourselves on this one. I’d like to think we all could use a few more.”
Brody sighs again, resting a little easier in the cushions of the couch. “It is funny, though,” he says, sounding reflective now.
Mitch is tired, and it’s starting to show. He makes a face. “What?”
“Well, we do keep saving their lives,” Brody says.
Mitch waits for more, but when more doesn’t come, he shrugs. “So?”
“So,” Brody says, utterly matter of fact. “In return, they keep trying to get us killed. It’s not exactly your typical thank-you.”
Mitch quirks his lips into a smile at that. “True,” he says. He wrinkles his nose. “But maybe it’s better.”
Brody looks at him, curious. “How do you figure?”
“Well, they’re trying to change,” Mitch reasons. “That’s the biggest thing anyone could give us. It shows us that our efforts to save their lives, despite the peril to ours, isn’t in vain. That’s the best kind of thank-you.”
It’s a convincing type of argument. Brody makes a face as if to concede the point. “Still,” he says. “A gift certificate would be nice.”
Mitch grunts at him. “We can’t take gifts, jackass.”
Brody looks at him seriously. “A fruit basket.”
“Seriously, man--”
“A hug, even.”
Mitch knows Brody is messing with him. It’s a testament to their relationship that Mitch is willing to let him. “That’s not why we do it,” he protests, more than he has to, just because that’s how this works. That’s how they work. And Mitch has no intention of taking that for granted.
The smile that lights up Brody’s face suggests that he feels the same. “I know,” he says, comfortably and easy once again. “I know.”