Glass Waltz: Chapter 84 (079. Argue.)
Title: Glass Waltz (84)
Fandoms: House/24/MI5
Characters/Pairing: Greg House/Brittany House, referenced Brittany House/Michael Colefield and one-sided Brittany House/Jacob Lindsay
Prompt: 079. Argue.
Word Count: 1766
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, and adult subject matter.
Spoilers: None for this part
Summary: A killer's dying wish brings his last victim to life.
Author's Notes: The eighty-fourth chapter of an ongoing novel. All chapter subtitles are from the song "30 Minutes" by TATU. Title for this chapter is from the song by Citizen Cope. You may want to read Chapter 82 again before reading this one, as it picks up from that point.
Eighty-Four.
Bullet and a Target.
please forgive me
June 12, 2011
6:00 P.M. BDT
London, England
Sitting in the passenger seat of what passes for a British SUV, rubbing at the bridge of her nose, Brittany House finds herself wishing for a simpler time, when she was just a kid agent at her father's knee. Jack Bauer, the man she's always looked up to as a father figure, would know what to do in this situation. But her father is forty-six, the rumors about his retirement from CTU are starting to circulate, and he's also in Los Angeles, a world away.
Not that he wouldn't get on a plane to come and help her, but he would never get here in time, and even if he could, she has some odd sense of obligation that says she started this and she ought to finish it.
"This makes no sense," Taylor O'Connell notes, sipping his coffee as he watches the traffic from their parking space.
"None of it makes any sense," she replies, lifting her head and looking over at him. "It's completely random. Not tied to either my past, your past..." A point of a finger in his direction, as if to assume the past events of the last week, "or the work I was doing for MI5." She ignores his arched eyebrow. "Yet the fact that they went after my husband and then called me suggests it's personal. So the question is, who have I pissed off in this country that I don't know about yet?"
His lips curve into a small, disbelieving smile. "I thought you said you were a basketball coach."
"I am, yes. Was, no. Only for, ah, five years now." She rolls her eyes. "But you're right. This makes absolutely no sense. Which makes it very difficult to figure out where to begin. It had to be somebody who knows me, or who's seen me with my husband, to be able to make the causal leap that they could use him to get to me."
"Well, that narrows it down."
"Doesn't it?" she replies. He must have been a very interesting DI in his past life. Unfortunately for her, a disgraced former Detective-Inspector is all she's got, and even that's pushing it. She closes her eyes and tries to think. "Greg didn't go with me to the courtroom bust, and neither of us were there when they arrested the real guy, so it couldn't have been tied to MI5, at all."
Taylor nods slightly. "Okay, so that definitely makes it personal. How many enemies you have?"
"How long have you got?" she asks jokingly, then tips her head back. "Five and Six aren't fond of me, but all they do is arrest me, they don't try to kill my husband. Five is running forensics on the body they found in Cardiff. The fact that it happened in Cardiff suggests a possible connection to the Lindsay case, but again, not buying that since you're the sole survivor. It would only be somebody who didn't want me to close the case, and you told me yourself that the three of you barely had time to talk about it amongst yourselves."
He looks pained, obviously not wanting to think about the murder of two people he considered friends. He can guess what she's going to say next, so he replies, "No, there aren't any homicidal relatives in their families, and I don't know who they ran with but I don't see them being able to pin their deaths on you that quickly. Besides, you didn't even pull the trigger, so how the hell would they know it was you they'd be after?"
"It's not that hard to infer." She purses her lips. "Many, many years ago, like, nine, I had ties to an organization called CIB. But I haven't seen any of them for at least seven years and it is completely implausible that they'd have anyone involved in this." She was not about to start thinking about Code Fives. CIB London had just let them walk, and she knew this wasn't paranormal. This was just absolutely insane.
Taylor looks out the window at the rain, then back at her. "You sure this isn't just random?"
"How could it be random?" she replies, giving him a confused look.
"You sure they didn't just jump him, find your phone number in his cell, draw the natural conclusion, and pin it on you?" he theorizes. It's about as good as anything else they've got. And there's no real reason to put this car in drive until they know where they're going, and they have no clue where they're going.
She thinks on that, then shakes their head. "No. Greg says they called him, saying Stephen had paperwork they needed me to sign and for him to go get it. So they know that I've got dealings with the law firm. He was very obviously bait."
"Leak in the law firm?"
"Doubt it. Cooper-Fozard doesn't associate with terrorists. The closest they got was they thought the senior partner might be involved in a drug firm scandal but that turned out to be utterly harmless. And nobody at the firm other than Stephen, Ashley Carter, and Serene Green knew I was there, and I trust all of them. I'm sure somebody could just as easily have seen me coming out or hacked into some computer somewhere."
There's a long pause in the vehicle. Brittany has her hands folded in her lap, staring at the thoroughly boring ceiling. Taylor finishes his coffee, sets the empty cup in the cupholder, and turns to look at her, brushing thin bangs off his forehead.
"How important is it to you to find this guy?" he asks. "What if this is it, there's one guy who blew his brains out and we're never gonna figure out what or why. How much do you need to know?"
That's an interesting question to ask. Brittany feels something turn in her stomach. She knows exactly why he's asking. She'd do the same, in his situation.
"I want to know."
"But do you need to?"
"I'm not sure." She pauses, shakes her head. "I just want to be assured of my family's safety. That's what's most important to me. If I knew that we had this guy, then I could say my family was safe." Not to mention, she's avoiding going back to New York, walking into an office somewhere, and telling her husband that she wants his badge. For good. Not as his former boss, but as his wife.
Taylor gives her a look. "Your family's in New York," he says quietly. "I think they're safe."
She doesn't say anything to that. She can see where she's right, and she can see where he's right. She wants her closure. She wants to put this all to rest, and there's a big glaring implausibility smack in the middle of it. But as a former agent, she knows that not all cases get closed. That sometimes, they stay open. She has a family home waiting for her, even if she's just going to go home to tell Greg she still hates herself, she still disagrees with him, and that it's either his badge or there's trouble.
But they're still family.
"One more day," she says softly. "Let's at least run it out."
"Okay." He nods. "Can I at least suggest we do it over sushi at Fulham Broadway, because you haven't eaten since I've seen you and I'm starving."
That almost gets her to smile. "Fine," she says. She doesn't notice that Michael's car is waiting in an alley a few blocks down, tailing them, and that he damn well knows he's found them.
June 12, 2011
8:10 P.M. BDT
London, England
"Just how long were you planning on running?" Michael says it so casually that when Brittany and Taylor step out of the sushi bar at the Fulham Broadway mall, it's like he's asking if they want to go see a movie later. Brittany knows that tone is the exact opposite in nature.
Taylor's expression darkens and his first instinct is to get between the two of them. She puts her hand on his chest and pushes him back. "Taylor, I think you may know Michael Colefield, my ex-husband," she explains. "It's all right. He's just looking for me. Why don't you go get the car?"
"You sure?" Taylor asks, looking between the two of them.
Brittany nods. "Yeah, I'm sure," she replies. She waits until the other man has headed down the escalator before she rounds on her ex, not really wanting to have this out in the middle of a mall but she's fairly sure they're going to. "Spare me the lecture about being off my head, I already know that," she tells him. "And I know why you're here, and you know why I'm here, so I think we really have very little to talk about."
"Little to...are you bloody kidding me?" Michael replies. "We have a whole team in New York looking for you. Your son's upset, your husband's a wreck, and you -- you are busy running like you always do when you panic!"
"Oh, you're one to talk, Mike." She rolls her eyes. "You lied to me and you left me. And then you left me again when I needed you. If you hadn't left, we'd still be married!"
That one stings, and he closes his eyes and realizes that was the wrong track to take with her, and that yes, she still holds it against him. He lets out a long breath. "Point taken," he says softly. "But you need to give this up and come home. Your family needs you. Your husband..."
"My husband's a liability. My husband's a wreck because his ego is bigger than his common sense. Why do you think I didn't just tell him all this years ago? His ego can't handle it." She runs a hand through her hair. "I'm giving it twenty-four hours, and then I promise you, if nothing pans out, you can escort me onto the damn plane. Until then, I can't in good conscience turn my back on this."
"I think you're pushing yourself too far," he warns.
She gives him a look. She's really done with going in circles.
"You can stay here and help me finish this," she tells him, looking dead in his eyes, "or you can fly back to New York and tell my husband if he doesn't quit while he's alive, then I want a divorce."
Fandoms: House/24/MI5
Characters/Pairing: Greg House/Brittany House, referenced Brittany House/Michael Colefield and one-sided Brittany House/Jacob Lindsay
Prompt: 079. Argue.
Word Count: 1766
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, and adult subject matter.
Spoilers: None for this part
Summary: A killer's dying wish brings his last victim to life.
Author's Notes: The eighty-fourth chapter of an ongoing novel. All chapter subtitles are from the song "30 Minutes" by TATU. Title for this chapter is from the song by Citizen Cope. You may want to read Chapter 82 again before reading this one, as it picks up from that point.
Eighty-Four.
Bullet and a Target.
please forgive me
June 12, 2011
6:00 P.M. BDT
London, England
Sitting in the passenger seat of what passes for a British SUV, rubbing at the bridge of her nose, Brittany House finds herself wishing for a simpler time, when she was just a kid agent at her father's knee. Jack Bauer, the man she's always looked up to as a father figure, would know what to do in this situation. But her father is forty-six, the rumors about his retirement from CTU are starting to circulate, and he's also in Los Angeles, a world away.
Not that he wouldn't get on a plane to come and help her, but he would never get here in time, and even if he could, she has some odd sense of obligation that says she started this and she ought to finish it.
"This makes no sense," Taylor O'Connell notes, sipping his coffee as he watches the traffic from their parking space.
"None of it makes any sense," she replies, lifting her head and looking over at him. "It's completely random. Not tied to either my past, your past..." A point of a finger in his direction, as if to assume the past events of the last week, "or the work I was doing for MI5." She ignores his arched eyebrow. "Yet the fact that they went after my husband and then called me suggests it's personal. So the question is, who have I pissed off in this country that I don't know about yet?"
His lips curve into a small, disbelieving smile. "I thought you said you were a basketball coach."
"I am, yes. Was, no. Only for, ah, five years now." She rolls her eyes. "But you're right. This makes absolutely no sense. Which makes it very difficult to figure out where to begin. It had to be somebody who knows me, or who's seen me with my husband, to be able to make the causal leap that they could use him to get to me."
"Well, that narrows it down."
"Doesn't it?" she replies. He must have been a very interesting DI in his past life. Unfortunately for her, a disgraced former Detective-Inspector is all she's got, and even that's pushing it. She closes her eyes and tries to think. "Greg didn't go with me to the courtroom bust, and neither of us were there when they arrested the real guy, so it couldn't have been tied to MI5, at all."
Taylor nods slightly. "Okay, so that definitely makes it personal. How many enemies you have?"
"How long have you got?" she asks jokingly, then tips her head back. "Five and Six aren't fond of me, but all they do is arrest me, they don't try to kill my husband. Five is running forensics on the body they found in Cardiff. The fact that it happened in Cardiff suggests a possible connection to the Lindsay case, but again, not buying that since you're the sole survivor. It would only be somebody who didn't want me to close the case, and you told me yourself that the three of you barely had time to talk about it amongst yourselves."
He looks pained, obviously not wanting to think about the murder of two people he considered friends. He can guess what she's going to say next, so he replies, "No, there aren't any homicidal relatives in their families, and I don't know who they ran with but I don't see them being able to pin their deaths on you that quickly. Besides, you didn't even pull the trigger, so how the hell would they know it was you they'd be after?"
"It's not that hard to infer." She purses her lips. "Many, many years ago, like, nine, I had ties to an organization called CIB. But I haven't seen any of them for at least seven years and it is completely implausible that they'd have anyone involved in this." She was not about to start thinking about Code Fives. CIB London had just let them walk, and she knew this wasn't paranormal. This was just absolutely insane.
Taylor looks out the window at the rain, then back at her. "You sure this isn't just random?"
"How could it be random?" she replies, giving him a confused look.
"You sure they didn't just jump him, find your phone number in his cell, draw the natural conclusion, and pin it on you?" he theorizes. It's about as good as anything else they've got. And there's no real reason to put this car in drive until they know where they're going, and they have no clue where they're going.
She thinks on that, then shakes their head. "No. Greg says they called him, saying Stephen had paperwork they needed me to sign and for him to go get it. So they know that I've got dealings with the law firm. He was very obviously bait."
"Leak in the law firm?"
"Doubt it. Cooper-Fozard doesn't associate with terrorists. The closest they got was they thought the senior partner might be involved in a drug firm scandal but that turned out to be utterly harmless. And nobody at the firm other than Stephen, Ashley Carter, and Serene Green knew I was there, and I trust all of them. I'm sure somebody could just as easily have seen me coming out or hacked into some computer somewhere."
There's a long pause in the vehicle. Brittany has her hands folded in her lap, staring at the thoroughly boring ceiling. Taylor finishes his coffee, sets the empty cup in the cupholder, and turns to look at her, brushing thin bangs off his forehead.
"How important is it to you to find this guy?" he asks. "What if this is it, there's one guy who blew his brains out and we're never gonna figure out what or why. How much do you need to know?"
That's an interesting question to ask. Brittany feels something turn in her stomach. She knows exactly why he's asking. She'd do the same, in his situation.
"I want to know."
"But do you need to?"
"I'm not sure." She pauses, shakes her head. "I just want to be assured of my family's safety. That's what's most important to me. If I knew that we had this guy, then I could say my family was safe." Not to mention, she's avoiding going back to New York, walking into an office somewhere, and telling her husband that she wants his badge. For good. Not as his former boss, but as his wife.
Taylor gives her a look. "Your family's in New York," he says quietly. "I think they're safe."
She doesn't say anything to that. She can see where she's right, and she can see where he's right. She wants her closure. She wants to put this all to rest, and there's a big glaring implausibility smack in the middle of it. But as a former agent, she knows that not all cases get closed. That sometimes, they stay open. She has a family home waiting for her, even if she's just going to go home to tell Greg she still hates herself, she still disagrees with him, and that it's either his badge or there's trouble.
But they're still family.
"One more day," she says softly. "Let's at least run it out."
"Okay." He nods. "Can I at least suggest we do it over sushi at Fulham Broadway, because you haven't eaten since I've seen you and I'm starving."
That almost gets her to smile. "Fine," she says. She doesn't notice that Michael's car is waiting in an alley a few blocks down, tailing them, and that he damn well knows he's found them.
June 12, 2011
8:10 P.M. BDT
London, England
"Just how long were you planning on running?" Michael says it so casually that when Brittany and Taylor step out of the sushi bar at the Fulham Broadway mall, it's like he's asking if they want to go see a movie later. Brittany knows that tone is the exact opposite in nature.
Taylor's expression darkens and his first instinct is to get between the two of them. She puts her hand on his chest and pushes him back. "Taylor, I think you may know Michael Colefield, my ex-husband," she explains. "It's all right. He's just looking for me. Why don't you go get the car?"
"You sure?" Taylor asks, looking between the two of them.
Brittany nods. "Yeah, I'm sure," she replies. She waits until the other man has headed down the escalator before she rounds on her ex, not really wanting to have this out in the middle of a mall but she's fairly sure they're going to. "Spare me the lecture about being off my head, I already know that," she tells him. "And I know why you're here, and you know why I'm here, so I think we really have very little to talk about."
"Little to...are you bloody kidding me?" Michael replies. "We have a whole team in New York looking for you. Your son's upset, your husband's a wreck, and you -- you are busy running like you always do when you panic!"
"Oh, you're one to talk, Mike." She rolls her eyes. "You lied to me and you left me. And then you left me again when I needed you. If you hadn't left, we'd still be married!"
That one stings, and he closes his eyes and realizes that was the wrong track to take with her, and that yes, she still holds it against him. He lets out a long breath. "Point taken," he says softly. "But you need to give this up and come home. Your family needs you. Your husband..."
"My husband's a liability. My husband's a wreck because his ego is bigger than his common sense. Why do you think I didn't just tell him all this years ago? His ego can't handle it." She runs a hand through her hair. "I'm giving it twenty-four hours, and then I promise you, if nothing pans out, you can escort me onto the damn plane. Until then, I can't in good conscience turn my back on this."
"I think you're pushing yourself too far," he warns.
She gives him a look. She's really done with going in circles.
"You can stay here and help me finish this," she tells him, looking dead in his eyes, "or you can fly back to New York and tell my husband if he doesn't quit while he's alive, then I want a divorce."