Brick/Inception: Après Moi, le Deluge
Title: Après Moi, le Deluge (14/24)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Brick/Inception fusion
Word count: 3,499
Pairing: later Brendan(Arthur)xEames, mentions of BrendanxEmily and BrendanxLaura
Rating: R
Warnings: currently violence, language, mentions of character death
Summary: Brendan should have known better than to tug on loose threads. He should have known that one loose thread was all it took to make everything unravel, but he’d been tired and just wanted things to be done. He should have known well enough that things were never done.
Special thanks to wadebramwilson for betaing! <3
FOURTEEN
Under normal circumstances, Brendan probably would have been apprehensive about eating something Laura prepared for him. His stomach wasn't going to allow him to be suspicious, however, so he scooped heaping mouthfuls of macaroni and cheese onto his fork and swallowed them in record time. Laura lit up a cigarette in the meantime, cradling it between her delicate fingers. Brendan couldn't help but remember how cold her fingers were, not like Eames's at all.
He almost choked, smacking his chest until the food went down properly, coughing a bit. He didn't know why he was thinking of Eames's hands of all things. To cover his embarrassment, he said, "I'm not really in the mood to mince words, so I'm just going to come out and ask. Do you know or associate with an Eames in your group?"
"Eames…?" Laura queried, raising an eyebrow.
"Young guy, ex-military, English."
"I've only been in London for a couple of weeks, but I've never met anyone named Eames. Johnny used to train military guys, but I'm sure you're already well aware of that. I can't say this Eames person doesn't know him."
"I would never work for that bastard!"
Eames had said that… Brendan had no doubt that they knew each other, but if Laura was being truthful, then it didn't seem likely that Eames was part of their group. Laura had no reason to lie (she may be a harpy, but she wouldn't lie unless it benefited her somehow), and Eames's anger over the suggestion seemed genuine.
"Well," Brendan said unsurely, "maybe he didn't go by Eames. He's got buzzed hair, dark blue eyes, uh… a prominent mouth."
He hoped she didn't notice his blush as he said it.
She shrugged. "Doesn't sound like anyone I know…" she trailed off as her brow furrowed. "Actually, I have seen someone kind of like that, but not at any of the places where Johnny meets up with the boys. I saw a picture on a computer… This guy working with Mal Miles against us. I'm assuming that's where you met this Eames, so it's probably him."
Eames's only loyalty was to Mal. Brendan wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.
"Yeah!" Laura said, smacking her fist onto her hand. "He was an ex-soldier gone forger in the mind crime community that got picked up by Miles and his daughter a couple of months ago. Apparently he was out for blood-Johnny's blood specifically. His friend died due to complications of the new experimental somnacin mixture, or something."
Brendan's brow furrowed. "Wh… what?" he asked, wondering if he'd misunderstood. "I was told they were trying to fight off mind crime, tear down the operation. What's this about experimental somnacin?"
Laura stubbed out her cigarette in the ash tray on the table, shaking her head. "Mal and a lot of her friends have been involved in mind crime off and on for a while now. Ever since it was outlawed to use the PASIV device, mind crime has run rampant, and while she may have done more jobs that were for the greater good, they were still illegal as any other. As far as I know, no one had any concern as to what Johnny was up to until his new somnacin mixture started getting around. It's the same stuff he used when he worked for the military, and it can cause some pretty nasty side effects depending on the person. That's what they're out to stop."
Brendan's fists clenched on his knees.
"I take it that they lied to you," Laura said.
"Yeah. They did."
"Maybe they thought that the less details you knew, the better. I would have thought you'd have made the connection though, considering the whole reason they went after you was because a stash of that somnacin went missing from the Pin's house on the night of the war. It didn't show up on any government or police records, so they didn't get their mitts on it, and considering you were the only one who got out of there alive, they figured it had to be you."
"So they put a bullet in my leg but they smuggle you away safely."
Laura sighed. "I didn't take the somnacin shipment. Believe what you want, but I didn't. This was a lot bigger than a brick, Brendan. There's no way I could have sneaked it by the Pin without his notice. I couldn't exactly hide a briefcase full of it in my purse. They checked me out and all over, I guarantee you. It wasn't me. I told them it wasn't you either, but they didn't believe me."
"So if I didn't take it, and you didn't take it, then who did?"
"I don't know. We're still trying to figure that out. Wells wants you taken down because you stole one of his PASIV devices, wants whoever is around to make sure you bleed and bring you in. Even though you didn't take it, they think you had something to do with it."
"So they want to dig in my head until they find whatever they can from me, and then they're going to toss me in a ditch and fill me with daylight, is that it?"
"Something like that. Dietrich might have gotten a little ahead of himself when he tried to off you, but he's always been on the lower rungs. He probably doesn't even know that Wells wants you in his hands alive, at least for a little while… That isn't to say he wouldn't be content if you were comatose."
Brendan scrubbed his hands over his face, exhaling. He really shouldn't have been surprised that they had lied, and he really wasn't… He'd just sort of… hoped…
"Why is this somnacin causing problems? Why are they trying to stop it from being produced?"
"Wells is the only one who knows the recipe," Laura said. "It produces some pretty incredible results. The dreams are as vivid as reality, and your control over the dreamscape is practically perfect. There's no need for militarization of the subconscious on this junk. You can trap projections in walled fortresses with a blink. They don't stand a chance against you… but of course it's one of those things that's too good to be true because it always is. There are some pretty intense side effects when it comes to dreaming that well, mainly that when you wake up you can't tell the difference. Soldiers were pulling the dutch act one after another after another, just dropping like flies, and those who didn't were desperate to go back under, to go deeper, to stay there longer and longer. It's a power trip. Some people like the chance to play god and don't exactly want to give it up when it's over. It's dangerous. I don't like it."
"Then why did you deliver it to them?"
"I didn't know what it was doing. If any of Johnny's boys had a job in the area, he'd send a shipment to the Pin, who'd have me take it to them. He has dealers all over the world to handle it so it's harder to track down. The Pin was one of those. I knew it was somnacin, but I didn't know it was a special brand, didn't know about the side effects. It wasn't until I came here that I realized just what was going on."
"And you want to stop it as much as Mal does."
"Contrary to popular belief, I do have some morals."
Brendan didn't think he could agree with that, but she'd made him dinner so the least he could do was not send a biting comment her way for once. He was too tired to argue semantics right now anyway.
It seemed to lay out before him fairly cleanly. Mal and her band of misfits had lied to him (though he didn't know why), but they were still on the side of the greater good, at least as far as Brendan could tell. Wells was an asshole with a lot of power that needed to be knocked down a few pegs if not off of his pedestal altogether. Who had stolen the somnacin from the Pin's house was unknown still, but Brendan was sure there'd be a show of hands before long. He still wasn't entirely convinced Laura had nothing to do with it. It didn't really mean that much to him to find out.
He had also come to realize that this was a lot bigger than himself now. If Wells refused to acknowledge that this somnacin mixture was killing people, or more likely refused to care, then he needed to be stopped. Brendan had never really been a justice-seeking type of guy unless it was his own personal justice, but maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop thinking only of himself.
Brain had reminded him that night after he'd found Laura on the security camera feed that lives and human connections all had value. The innocent subjects that Wells had tested his concoction on, the soldiers who had thrown themselves off of buildings or put bullets in their heads, all of the people who suffered the overwhelming loss when these people were gone… Someone needed to stand up for them. Brendan had found justice for Emily. The ones left behind in the wake of these deaths needed that feeling. They'd never be able to move forward otherwise.
…and Brendan was thinking he was finally about ready to move forward.
He wasn't looking forward to going back and apologizing to Eames for his hissy fit, but he wasn't too prideful to manage it.
"There won't be another train running until morning," Laura said, running her fingers through his hair. "Do you want to sleep here? I can get you some blankets."
Brendan had to fight not to lean into her touch. "I don't know if that's the best idea."
"You can't go back out there. You're sick."
"I'd rather be sick then wind up dead because I let my guard down around you."
"You ate food I cooked for you. Don't you think if I was going to kill you I'd have done it already?"
"Maybe it's not you I'm worried about."
She sighed, letting her fingers drift down the line of his jaw before she stood up. "I'll get you some blankets. You can choose to stay or choose to leave. I don't care."
Brendan adjusted his glasses, finished off the last of his dinner, and sat back. He didn't exactly have the money to rent out a hotel room, and going back out in the cold to wander until the trains started going again probably wasn't the best idea. He could probably ask Laura for money, but there was no guarantee those bills wouldn't be marked. He couldn't quite decide what to do.
It turned out that he didn't have to because a moment later Laura returned without the blankets, ashen. She made a hurried motion with her hand to tell him to come with her.
Brendan looked up at her. He said nothing but raised his eyebrows.
She nodded towards the window and mouthed the word Johnny.
He understood that instantly. Dropping to his knees, he crawled across the floor so that his head wouldn't make any appearances in the window. As soon as he was out of view, Laura grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet before pushing him hurriedly into the hall closet. "I don't know what the fuck he's doing here," she whispered, voice wobbling nervously. "I just saw the car pull up outside. Just… just stay here for a minute. I'll get them in the kitchen so no one can see or hear you from outside, and you make a clean sneak for my room and climb out the window. You can access the next building's roof from there. Get as far away as you can."
"I'm supposed to believe you didn't call them?"
She looked up at him, jaw set, and he could see it in her eyes.
Fear.
Brendan wasn't the only one in over his head with this guy.
He swallowed and nodded. "I'll… I'll do it. What you said. Just stay calm."
There was already someone pounding on the front door of her apartment. Apparently they had a key to the door in the lobby. It made sense, Brendan supposed, that they had given her this place to stay.
She shut the closet doors, scratched her hands through her hair to muss it up, and made it appear like she had been sleeping. He wondered if she'd picked up any acting techniques from Kara back in San Clemente.
He couldn't see what was going on, but he could hear the muffled sounds as she went to answer the door. Heavy feet moved into the apartment, deeper murmurs mingling with her own soft timbre.
Brendan tried to focus so he could hear what they were saying, but could only catch pieces.
"…is he?" Deep voice. English, maybe.
"Who?" Laura.
"You know who!"
"…ny… down…" A different male voice, slightly familiar.
Brendan could hear doors being slammed shut. He doubted Laura would be able to get them calmed down enough to take a seat and give him an opportunity to escape. He was a sitting duck.
"…Joh… stop, I don't… what you're talking…" Laura was saying. "…was asleep."
The voices grew closer as they moved closer to the hall, and Brendan felt the urge to shrink back behind the few clothes inside, even though they wouldn't hide him.
The deep voice said, "We saw him come in here, Laura. Stupidity and innocence doesn't suit you so why don't you just bring him out and save us the trouble?"
"Saw him? Saw… you've got guys watching my joint?"
"You've had a history for playing both sides of the board. You think we don't know about your relationship with Brendan Frye?"
"What relationship? We were never together!"
"Johnny, sir, it's… with all due respect, you don't have to blow up at her. J-just calm down and let her tell her side, yeah?"
Oh, Brendan thought as he realized who the other voice was. Charlie Figaro, that forger who had helped capture him back in San Clemente. It was entirely possible Monroe or Haji were there too. Brendan could tell from the sounds that there was at least one other person there.
"Sod off, Charlie. I don't recall asking for your opinion on the situation."
"I j… look, Johnny, I just don't understand why we're still chasing Frye down. I mean, Monroe and Haji and I searched his head already and didn't find anything. He didn't take the somnacin. He may have snagged that PASIV device, but we've got more of them, so I don't-"
"He's not fucking innocent. You're just bad at your jobs."
"And if he is innocent?" Laura asked. "This isn't about the somnacin at all. You took the theft of that PASIV personally-"
Brendan didn't see her hit the wall, but he heard her yelp when John hit her, felt the vibration through the door.
"Son of a bitch!" Laura hissed, seeming to be referring to the pain rather than the cause.
"Ah-ah-sir, I really think that was harsh!" Charlie stammered. His volume was likely louder than he realized.
"Just because you're sweet on her doesn't mean she wasn't out of line," Johnny spat.
There was a sound of a scuffle, and then someone banged up against the door Brendan was hiding behind. Brendan couldn't help but flinch as he heard the person roll out of the way with a moan. Charlie.
…and then he heard Laura choke.
"Listen, sweetheart," Johnny said, his voice mockingly sweet. "We know you've hidden him here, and we'll find him. It won't even be difficult. What I want to know is why he's come to you, and why you're protecting him? Is it because you love him? Hmm?"
Laura gagged, legs kicking uselessly against the wall.
It didn't matter what Laura had done to him at that point. Brendan wasn't going to stand there and do nothing. His conscience would never let him.
Besides, they would find him either way.
He threw the closet door open, taking in the room in one quick sweep. Charlie Figaro and his feathered hat were on the floor by Brendan's ankle. Laura was pinned against the wall by the throat, her tiny frame lifted an inch off the floor by a bulk of a man in a long leather coat-John Wells, Brendan assumed. He was a little shorter than Brendan expected, but a lot more muscular, white, with ginger hair and a ruddy, freckled complexion. Brendan could tell without blinking that he had been a military man practically all his life, and that was if Brendan had known absolutely nothing else about him. Behind him were two other men. One of them was Haji, while the other was a young black man that was as tall and thin as Charlie was and really didn't look like he wanted to be involved in all of this mess.
Brendan jerked his gaze immediately back to Wells. "Put her down," he said firmly, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed.
"Or what?" Wells asked.
"Look, I'm the one you want. She had nothing to do with this, all right? She didn't even know I was here. Now, put her down."
Wells nodded towards Haji and the other boy, and they proceeded to grab Brendan, holding him still. Wells let go of Laura's neck, and she slide to the floor, coughing and wheezing. She looked up at Brendan, her fingers tenderly touching the bruised skin of her neck, and he could read it in her eyes. What are you doing?
He looked away from her, instead glaring at Wells. "I hear you've got it out for me," Brendan said. "I had to fly clear across the pond to avoid your guns."
"Ah, and yet, here you are."
"Here I am," Brendan agreed. His expression was more of a show of teeth than a smile. "So. Are you going to choke me like you did her? I should warn you, blue really isn't my color."
Brendan received a rather prompt punch to the face for that, but it wasn't anything he hadn't dealt with before. His split lip started to bleed again, blood dribbling down his chin.
"I'd been warned about the mouth on you," John said. "I'm very curious as to what you'll say next."
"I do believe a certain kingpin once asked me the same question."
"Did he?"
"Same question, same answer. Maybe I'll just sit here and bleed at you."
Wells rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Take him down to the car, keep him restrained, put him in the boot. Laura, Charlie, get your arses off of the floor. You're coming along as well." He paused, then added, "In fact, restrain her too. Throw her in the boot with him."
"I didn't do anything!" Laura shouted as Haji reluctantly grabbed her. Brendan knew he could probably take down the man holding him without much issue, but it was doubtful he wouldn't be able to handle the impending damage from everyone else. He would put money on John Wells having a gun stashed on his person. It was safe to assume that the others did as well. Running from bullets hadn't worked out so well for Brendan last time, and he wasn't about to attempt it again unless he felt confident he could get away. He needed to think of something and fast.
"Taking me home, Johnny? You should at least buy me dinner first, don't you think?" Brendan asked. Sassing Johnny wasn't going to cool down any tempers, but it would at least stall for a little bit of time. It would be a hell of a lot easier to think if his head didn't feel heavy and stuffed with cobwebs from the fever.
Still, even if his head was clear and he was completely lucid, things didn't look good. They were being cuffed and tied up, gagged and blindfolded, the works, and all Brendan's sarcastic comment had done was make John's face redden with rage. John's face cracked into an unsettling smile, and he grabbed Brendan sharply by the jaw. "It's going to be a lot of fun to break you, mate," he assured.
Brendan was prepared to come up with another smart ass remark, but before he could, metal clanged against his head, blacking out his vision and ringing in his ears as pain blossomed through the fog in his head. He heard Laura call out his name in a panic, but her voice was far, far away.
Well, shit, he thought.
It was the last thing he recalled before sliding into the dark, dreamless unconsciousness he was starting to grow accustomed to.
also available on A03
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Brick/Inception fusion
Word count: 3,499
Pairing: later Brendan(Arthur)xEames, mentions of BrendanxEmily and BrendanxLaura
Rating: R
Warnings: currently violence, language, mentions of character death
Summary: Brendan should have known better than to tug on loose threads. He should have known that one loose thread was all it took to make everything unravel, but he’d been tired and just wanted things to be done. He should have known well enough that things were never done.
Special thanks to wadebramwilson for betaing! <3
FOURTEEN
Under normal circumstances, Brendan probably would have been apprehensive about eating something Laura prepared for him. His stomach wasn't going to allow him to be suspicious, however, so he scooped heaping mouthfuls of macaroni and cheese onto his fork and swallowed them in record time. Laura lit up a cigarette in the meantime, cradling it between her delicate fingers. Brendan couldn't help but remember how cold her fingers were, not like Eames's at all.
He almost choked, smacking his chest until the food went down properly, coughing a bit. He didn't know why he was thinking of Eames's hands of all things. To cover his embarrassment, he said, "I'm not really in the mood to mince words, so I'm just going to come out and ask. Do you know or associate with an Eames in your group?"
"Eames…?" Laura queried, raising an eyebrow.
"Young guy, ex-military, English."
"I've only been in London for a couple of weeks, but I've never met anyone named Eames. Johnny used to train military guys, but I'm sure you're already well aware of that. I can't say this Eames person doesn't know him."
"I would never work for that bastard!"
Eames had said that… Brendan had no doubt that they knew each other, but if Laura was being truthful, then it didn't seem likely that Eames was part of their group. Laura had no reason to lie (she may be a harpy, but she wouldn't lie unless it benefited her somehow), and Eames's anger over the suggestion seemed genuine.
"Well," Brendan said unsurely, "maybe he didn't go by Eames. He's got buzzed hair, dark blue eyes, uh… a prominent mouth."
He hoped she didn't notice his blush as he said it.
She shrugged. "Doesn't sound like anyone I know…" she trailed off as her brow furrowed. "Actually, I have seen someone kind of like that, but not at any of the places where Johnny meets up with the boys. I saw a picture on a computer… This guy working with Mal Miles against us. I'm assuming that's where you met this Eames, so it's probably him."
Eames's only loyalty was to Mal. Brendan wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.
"Yeah!" Laura said, smacking her fist onto her hand. "He was an ex-soldier gone forger in the mind crime community that got picked up by Miles and his daughter a couple of months ago. Apparently he was out for blood-Johnny's blood specifically. His friend died due to complications of the new experimental somnacin mixture, or something."
Brendan's brow furrowed. "Wh… what?" he asked, wondering if he'd misunderstood. "I was told they were trying to fight off mind crime, tear down the operation. What's this about experimental somnacin?"
Laura stubbed out her cigarette in the ash tray on the table, shaking her head. "Mal and a lot of her friends have been involved in mind crime off and on for a while now. Ever since it was outlawed to use the PASIV device, mind crime has run rampant, and while she may have done more jobs that were for the greater good, they were still illegal as any other. As far as I know, no one had any concern as to what Johnny was up to until his new somnacin mixture started getting around. It's the same stuff he used when he worked for the military, and it can cause some pretty nasty side effects depending on the person. That's what they're out to stop."
Brendan's fists clenched on his knees.
"I take it that they lied to you," Laura said.
"Yeah. They did."
"Maybe they thought that the less details you knew, the better. I would have thought you'd have made the connection though, considering the whole reason they went after you was because a stash of that somnacin went missing from the Pin's house on the night of the war. It didn't show up on any government or police records, so they didn't get their mitts on it, and considering you were the only one who got out of there alive, they figured it had to be you."
"So they put a bullet in my leg but they smuggle you away safely."
Laura sighed. "I didn't take the somnacin shipment. Believe what you want, but I didn't. This was a lot bigger than a brick, Brendan. There's no way I could have sneaked it by the Pin without his notice. I couldn't exactly hide a briefcase full of it in my purse. They checked me out and all over, I guarantee you. It wasn't me. I told them it wasn't you either, but they didn't believe me."
"So if I didn't take it, and you didn't take it, then who did?"
"I don't know. We're still trying to figure that out. Wells wants you taken down because you stole one of his PASIV devices, wants whoever is around to make sure you bleed and bring you in. Even though you didn't take it, they think you had something to do with it."
"So they want to dig in my head until they find whatever they can from me, and then they're going to toss me in a ditch and fill me with daylight, is that it?"
"Something like that. Dietrich might have gotten a little ahead of himself when he tried to off you, but he's always been on the lower rungs. He probably doesn't even know that Wells wants you in his hands alive, at least for a little while… That isn't to say he wouldn't be content if you were comatose."
Brendan scrubbed his hands over his face, exhaling. He really shouldn't have been surprised that they had lied, and he really wasn't… He'd just sort of… hoped…
"Why is this somnacin causing problems? Why are they trying to stop it from being produced?"
"Wells is the only one who knows the recipe," Laura said. "It produces some pretty incredible results. The dreams are as vivid as reality, and your control over the dreamscape is practically perfect. There's no need for militarization of the subconscious on this junk. You can trap projections in walled fortresses with a blink. They don't stand a chance against you… but of course it's one of those things that's too good to be true because it always is. There are some pretty intense side effects when it comes to dreaming that well, mainly that when you wake up you can't tell the difference. Soldiers were pulling the dutch act one after another after another, just dropping like flies, and those who didn't were desperate to go back under, to go deeper, to stay there longer and longer. It's a power trip. Some people like the chance to play god and don't exactly want to give it up when it's over. It's dangerous. I don't like it."
"Then why did you deliver it to them?"
"I didn't know what it was doing. If any of Johnny's boys had a job in the area, he'd send a shipment to the Pin, who'd have me take it to them. He has dealers all over the world to handle it so it's harder to track down. The Pin was one of those. I knew it was somnacin, but I didn't know it was a special brand, didn't know about the side effects. It wasn't until I came here that I realized just what was going on."
"And you want to stop it as much as Mal does."
"Contrary to popular belief, I do have some morals."
Brendan didn't think he could agree with that, but she'd made him dinner so the least he could do was not send a biting comment her way for once. He was too tired to argue semantics right now anyway.
It seemed to lay out before him fairly cleanly. Mal and her band of misfits had lied to him (though he didn't know why), but they were still on the side of the greater good, at least as far as Brendan could tell. Wells was an asshole with a lot of power that needed to be knocked down a few pegs if not off of his pedestal altogether. Who had stolen the somnacin from the Pin's house was unknown still, but Brendan was sure there'd be a show of hands before long. He still wasn't entirely convinced Laura had nothing to do with it. It didn't really mean that much to him to find out.
He had also come to realize that this was a lot bigger than himself now. If Wells refused to acknowledge that this somnacin mixture was killing people, or more likely refused to care, then he needed to be stopped. Brendan had never really been a justice-seeking type of guy unless it was his own personal justice, but maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop thinking only of himself.
Brain had reminded him that night after he'd found Laura on the security camera feed that lives and human connections all had value. The innocent subjects that Wells had tested his concoction on, the soldiers who had thrown themselves off of buildings or put bullets in their heads, all of the people who suffered the overwhelming loss when these people were gone… Someone needed to stand up for them. Brendan had found justice for Emily. The ones left behind in the wake of these deaths needed that feeling. They'd never be able to move forward otherwise.
…and Brendan was thinking he was finally about ready to move forward.
He wasn't looking forward to going back and apologizing to Eames for his hissy fit, but he wasn't too prideful to manage it.
"There won't be another train running until morning," Laura said, running her fingers through his hair. "Do you want to sleep here? I can get you some blankets."
Brendan had to fight not to lean into her touch. "I don't know if that's the best idea."
"You can't go back out there. You're sick."
"I'd rather be sick then wind up dead because I let my guard down around you."
"You ate food I cooked for you. Don't you think if I was going to kill you I'd have done it already?"
"Maybe it's not you I'm worried about."
She sighed, letting her fingers drift down the line of his jaw before she stood up. "I'll get you some blankets. You can choose to stay or choose to leave. I don't care."
Brendan adjusted his glasses, finished off the last of his dinner, and sat back. He didn't exactly have the money to rent out a hotel room, and going back out in the cold to wander until the trains started going again probably wasn't the best idea. He could probably ask Laura for money, but there was no guarantee those bills wouldn't be marked. He couldn't quite decide what to do.
It turned out that he didn't have to because a moment later Laura returned without the blankets, ashen. She made a hurried motion with her hand to tell him to come with her.
Brendan looked up at her. He said nothing but raised his eyebrows.
She nodded towards the window and mouthed the word Johnny.
He understood that instantly. Dropping to his knees, he crawled across the floor so that his head wouldn't make any appearances in the window. As soon as he was out of view, Laura grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet before pushing him hurriedly into the hall closet. "I don't know what the fuck he's doing here," she whispered, voice wobbling nervously. "I just saw the car pull up outside. Just… just stay here for a minute. I'll get them in the kitchen so no one can see or hear you from outside, and you make a clean sneak for my room and climb out the window. You can access the next building's roof from there. Get as far away as you can."
"I'm supposed to believe you didn't call them?"
She looked up at him, jaw set, and he could see it in her eyes.
Fear.
Brendan wasn't the only one in over his head with this guy.
He swallowed and nodded. "I'll… I'll do it. What you said. Just stay calm."
There was already someone pounding on the front door of her apartment. Apparently they had a key to the door in the lobby. It made sense, Brendan supposed, that they had given her this place to stay.
She shut the closet doors, scratched her hands through her hair to muss it up, and made it appear like she had been sleeping. He wondered if she'd picked up any acting techniques from Kara back in San Clemente.
He couldn't see what was going on, but he could hear the muffled sounds as she went to answer the door. Heavy feet moved into the apartment, deeper murmurs mingling with her own soft timbre.
Brendan tried to focus so he could hear what they were saying, but could only catch pieces.
"…is he?" Deep voice. English, maybe.
"Who?" Laura.
"You know who!"
"…ny… down…" A different male voice, slightly familiar.
Brendan could hear doors being slammed shut. He doubted Laura would be able to get them calmed down enough to take a seat and give him an opportunity to escape. He was a sitting duck.
"…Joh… stop, I don't… what you're talking…" Laura was saying. "…was asleep."
The voices grew closer as they moved closer to the hall, and Brendan felt the urge to shrink back behind the few clothes inside, even though they wouldn't hide him.
The deep voice said, "We saw him come in here, Laura. Stupidity and innocence doesn't suit you so why don't you just bring him out and save us the trouble?"
"Saw him? Saw… you've got guys watching my joint?"
"You've had a history for playing both sides of the board. You think we don't know about your relationship with Brendan Frye?"
"What relationship? We were never together!"
"Johnny, sir, it's… with all due respect, you don't have to blow up at her. J-just calm down and let her tell her side, yeah?"
Oh, Brendan thought as he realized who the other voice was. Charlie Figaro, that forger who had helped capture him back in San Clemente. It was entirely possible Monroe or Haji were there too. Brendan could tell from the sounds that there was at least one other person there.
"Sod off, Charlie. I don't recall asking for your opinion on the situation."
"I j… look, Johnny, I just don't understand why we're still chasing Frye down. I mean, Monroe and Haji and I searched his head already and didn't find anything. He didn't take the somnacin. He may have snagged that PASIV device, but we've got more of them, so I don't-"
"He's not fucking innocent. You're just bad at your jobs."
"And if he is innocent?" Laura asked. "This isn't about the somnacin at all. You took the theft of that PASIV personally-"
Brendan didn't see her hit the wall, but he heard her yelp when John hit her, felt the vibration through the door.
"Son of a bitch!" Laura hissed, seeming to be referring to the pain rather than the cause.
"Ah-ah-sir, I really think that was harsh!" Charlie stammered. His volume was likely louder than he realized.
"Just because you're sweet on her doesn't mean she wasn't out of line," Johnny spat.
There was a sound of a scuffle, and then someone banged up against the door Brendan was hiding behind. Brendan couldn't help but flinch as he heard the person roll out of the way with a moan. Charlie.
…and then he heard Laura choke.
"Listen, sweetheart," Johnny said, his voice mockingly sweet. "We know you've hidden him here, and we'll find him. It won't even be difficult. What I want to know is why he's come to you, and why you're protecting him? Is it because you love him? Hmm?"
Laura gagged, legs kicking uselessly against the wall.
It didn't matter what Laura had done to him at that point. Brendan wasn't going to stand there and do nothing. His conscience would never let him.
Besides, they would find him either way.
He threw the closet door open, taking in the room in one quick sweep. Charlie Figaro and his feathered hat were on the floor by Brendan's ankle. Laura was pinned against the wall by the throat, her tiny frame lifted an inch off the floor by a bulk of a man in a long leather coat-John Wells, Brendan assumed. He was a little shorter than Brendan expected, but a lot more muscular, white, with ginger hair and a ruddy, freckled complexion. Brendan could tell without blinking that he had been a military man practically all his life, and that was if Brendan had known absolutely nothing else about him. Behind him were two other men. One of them was Haji, while the other was a young black man that was as tall and thin as Charlie was and really didn't look like he wanted to be involved in all of this mess.
Brendan jerked his gaze immediately back to Wells. "Put her down," he said firmly, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed.
"Or what?" Wells asked.
"Look, I'm the one you want. She had nothing to do with this, all right? She didn't even know I was here. Now, put her down."
Wells nodded towards Haji and the other boy, and they proceeded to grab Brendan, holding him still. Wells let go of Laura's neck, and she slide to the floor, coughing and wheezing. She looked up at Brendan, her fingers tenderly touching the bruised skin of her neck, and he could read it in her eyes. What are you doing?
He looked away from her, instead glaring at Wells. "I hear you've got it out for me," Brendan said. "I had to fly clear across the pond to avoid your guns."
"Ah, and yet, here you are."
"Here I am," Brendan agreed. His expression was more of a show of teeth than a smile. "So. Are you going to choke me like you did her? I should warn you, blue really isn't my color."
Brendan received a rather prompt punch to the face for that, but it wasn't anything he hadn't dealt with before. His split lip started to bleed again, blood dribbling down his chin.
"I'd been warned about the mouth on you," John said. "I'm very curious as to what you'll say next."
"I do believe a certain kingpin once asked me the same question."
"Did he?"
"Same question, same answer. Maybe I'll just sit here and bleed at you."
Wells rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Take him down to the car, keep him restrained, put him in the boot. Laura, Charlie, get your arses off of the floor. You're coming along as well." He paused, then added, "In fact, restrain her too. Throw her in the boot with him."
"I didn't do anything!" Laura shouted as Haji reluctantly grabbed her. Brendan knew he could probably take down the man holding him without much issue, but it was doubtful he wouldn't be able to handle the impending damage from everyone else. He would put money on John Wells having a gun stashed on his person. It was safe to assume that the others did as well. Running from bullets hadn't worked out so well for Brendan last time, and he wasn't about to attempt it again unless he felt confident he could get away. He needed to think of something and fast.
"Taking me home, Johnny? You should at least buy me dinner first, don't you think?" Brendan asked. Sassing Johnny wasn't going to cool down any tempers, but it would at least stall for a little bit of time. It would be a hell of a lot easier to think if his head didn't feel heavy and stuffed with cobwebs from the fever.
Still, even if his head was clear and he was completely lucid, things didn't look good. They were being cuffed and tied up, gagged and blindfolded, the works, and all Brendan's sarcastic comment had done was make John's face redden with rage. John's face cracked into an unsettling smile, and he grabbed Brendan sharply by the jaw. "It's going to be a lot of fun to break you, mate," he assured.
Brendan was prepared to come up with another smart ass remark, but before he could, metal clanged against his head, blacking out his vision and ringing in his ears as pain blossomed through the fog in his head. He heard Laura call out his name in a panic, but her voice was far, far away.
Well, shit, he thought.
It was the last thing he recalled before sliding into the dark, dreamless unconsciousness he was starting to grow accustomed to.
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