Never Again (& Other Lies We Tell Ourselves), Chapter 15
Behold, the next chapter!!
I hope I didn't mess it up too bad. I enjoyed writing it :D
Never again (& other lies we tell ourselves), chapter 15
Title: Never Again (& Other Lies We Tell Ourselves), Chapter 15 ("To Sleep Perchance to Dream")
Author: calypsobard
Rating: PG-13
Summary/Author's Note: Eleanor does what she does best. Stan draws conclusions. Mary and Marshall take advantage of a well deserved rest.
And Bobby D is all Bobby D. (and dammit, my story ended up going in an entirely different direction then what conclusion was in my head)
Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14
“I don’t think you knew at first,” Stan said. “I honestly don’t think you realized who you were investigating until Brandi showed up in Miami. And maybe, just maybe, you were unaware of the cartel’s plans for Olivera when you offered favors to the ADA’s office after getting wind of his deal. But as of right here and right now, until you prove otherwise, I’m holding you personally responsible for every piece of flesh lodged into every nook and cranny of this office.”
O’Connor towered over McQueen. He often used his height to his advantage. It was the law of nature, the bigger one had the most power. Most people would have the audacity to flinch. McQueen kept his feet firmly planted and his hands nonchalantly in his pockets. The smaller man had power of his own.
O’Conner sneered. “By the time I am through, I will be responsible and the indictments won’t bear my name, inspector.” He pointed a finger to the filing cabinet and one of his men moved to it. “Key.”
“Eleanor,” Stan yelled through the door of his office.
“I lost that thing weeks ago,” she replied.
O’Conner rolled his eyes. “Really. You couldn’t do better than that?”
Eleanor held up her finger and pointed to the phone at her ear. “Yes sir. Oh I will certainly send something for her birthday. It is not often one celebrates an 85th birthday. Thank you sir. I’ll connect you to O’Connor now.” Eleanor held out the phone in O’Connor’s direction. “It’s for you.”
O’Connor scowled but took the phone.
Stan kept his expression neutral but delighted in the fact that O’Connor’s back stiffened when he heard the voice on the other end. He could not wait to hear Eleanor’s explanation for this one.
“Sir, I have probable cause to believe that this office represents a security risk on a national level… No sir. There is no need to raise the threat level. No sir. Yes sir. Of course.” O’Connor pressed the end button and stared at the phone for a moment before hurling it across the room where it hit a wall then fell to the floor in a couple hundred pieces.
“And now you’re adding destruction of government property to your list of problems.”
“This is NOT over McQueen,” O’Connor seethed.
“I shudder to think of how boring and mundane my life would become if it were,” Stan replied, baring his teeth in a warning.
“Let’s go,” O’Connor growled to his men. With one last glare for Eleanor, he stalked out, slamming the door as he went through it.
Once the office was cleared of undesired personnel, Stan sighed with relief and looked at Eleanor who was sitting casually at her desk as if it was just another day at the office. “You… you are something else,” he told her.
“As you often remind me,” she said with a charming smile.
The corners of Stan’s mouth twitched. Usually, he uttered those words to her under much more intimate circumstances. When this was over, he would show her just how amazing he could be. “How much time does this buy us?”
“A day at the most,” she replied. “O’Connor is rogue. He barely skirts what is legal and according to my sources at the FBI, he has arranged his assignment so he has no oversight.”
“He’s in over his head,” Stan concluded.
“I believe so,” Eleanor agreed.
Stan swore colorfully and creatively. “That makes him even more dangerous. He inadvertently played one side against the other, putting Marshall and Mary right in the middle, the bastard. Jesus H. Christ. “ Stan scrubbed his face with his hands and sat down at Mary’s desk. He stared at the names and tried to make sense of them all as they swam in front of his eyes. Damn, he was tired.
He looked up when a coffee cup was placed in front of him. Somehow, Eleanor knew exactly what he needed. What he needed most was her and sleep, neither of which were attainable until Mary and Marshall were safe. “This the connection,” he said pointing at the list of names. He picked up a sharpie and added one more. Brandi Shannon. “We need the names of
Jalisciense’s confirmed and suspected victims. One of them had connections and O’Connor tipped them off… or vice versa, setting this whole thing in motion,” Stan muttered.
“And O’Connor used all of this to get to the Shannons,” Eleanor concluded.
Stan shrugged. “It’s my working theory. I want to talk to Brandi Shannon yesterday. She talked to someone.”
“I’ll track down a number for her in Miami,” Eleanor said returning to her desk to do what she did best.
“Eleanor, who did you call.”
“The Attorney General,” she replied nonchalantly as her fingers began dancing across the keyboard.
Stan shook his head and began doing his own research.
O’Connor kept his temper in check until he slammed the door of the SUV. “Who the Fuck is that woman?” he demanded. Oh, he had looked into her but all of his answers were the same.. She was an Office Manager once assigned to the FBI, now assigned to WitSec. “An office manager is not on personal terms with the god damn Attorney General of the United States.”
The other men in car wisely kept their mouths shut.
“We find a way around this. I want Marshals Shannon and Mann FOUND. This is their foul. For good measure, I want Jinx Shannon, Brandi Shannon, and that Don Juan Shannon was into.”
“Anything else?” One of the men asked.
“And find out more about that Eleanor woman.”
“Should I paint the moon while I’m at it sir?”
“Don’t fuck with me, West,” O’Connor warned.
Fox wisely said nothing else. Instead, he weighed his career versus his life. O’Connor was growing too dangerous.
With his eyes closed, his breathing slowed. Mary watched him for a while. To assure herself he was still breathing. He looked more peaceful than he had in the past few days. She reached over and pushed his damp hair away from his forehead. He needed rest more than anything else.
At the moment, she didn’t think she could sleep if she tried. Adrenaline was still surging through her veins. She got up and walked back to the window. They were located right in the middle of suburbia. They were surrounded by houses that very likely contained families enjoying the evening… or arguing with their children about homework. They had no idea what danger they were in if God forbid, their location was discovered.
For some reason, she trusted Bobby. She had to. Her life, Marshall’s life, and the lives of his sister’s neighbors depended on it.
She felt Bobby’s presence as he came to stand at the window beside her. “It’s a nice neighborhood,” he said conversationally. “Janie is a teacher. It’s the annual season trip. She took her husband and children along this year.”
“Jesus. Kids these days are spoiled. I never got further than the zoo or the Balloon festival.”
“Girl, you know I think your fine but I have to be honest with you. You are ripe.”
Under any other circumstances, Mary would have hit him or at the very least, been flattered. God, she could smell herself and there was nothing flattering about that. “Keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty while I clean up?”
“I’d rather…”
Mary glared at Bobby daring him to finish that statement. Despite her injury and utter exhaustion, she would hurt him.
Bobby ended it with a chuckle. “Down the hall, second door on the left.”
“Now was that so hard?”
“You’re about Janie’s size. Find something that doesn’t smell and we’ll burn what you’re wearing. Need help?”
“Fuck off, Dershowitz”
He laughed. “Don’t tease me, Shannon.” He watched her move down the hall and then sat on the couch. No sooner was he situated then a colorful calico jumped on his lap and rubbed her head on his hand. He idly scratched the feline while he turned on ESPN. As promised, he kept one eye on the game and the other on Marshal Marshall Mann to assure that he was still breathing comfortably. Marshall did not even respond when another of Janie’s cats jumped his lap.
She had been in worse situations, Mary tried to tell herself as she attempted to strip with her one good hand. Jesus, she looked like hell, she thought as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. It would end soon. It had too.
She turned the water on in the giant bath tub and thought that at hat moment, Heaven was hot water with jets.
It was some time later when Marshall stirred again. The cat that had curled up to sleep on his lap opened one green eye then settled down again. “There’s a cat on my lap,” Marshall noted. His voice was hoarse and foreign to himself.
“That there is,” Dershowitz confirmed. “I think that one is Rose.”
Marshall’s eyes darted around and immediately noticed the one thing that was missing. “Where’s Mary?”
“Bath.”
“Who’s winning?”
“Not the D’Backs.”
“OK Rose, naptime Is over,” Marshall said as he dislodged the now very irate cat. It took longer than it should have but he made it to his feet. To his delight, he remained standing.
“You doing all right, man?” Bobby asked.
Marshall rolled his shoulders experimentally. “I’ll manage,” he replied. His entire body was now achy and stiff. When this was over, he was going to sleep for a week… ok sleep and read.
He walked down the hall toward the bathroom. The walls of the hall were lined with pictures of what he guess was ordinary civilian life. Most of the pictures were of mother, father, and two smiling children. Occasionally, there were cats.
He hoped Aldous was making his way. Cats were smart.
Marshall knocked on the door of the bathroom. There was no answer but he figured it was that his light knock was not heard over the jets. “Mare?” he said as he cracked the door. Still no answer. He looked in and found her sound asleep in the tub, her head resting on the bath pillow. Her hair was contained shampoo bubbles in what was her feeble attempt to wash her hair.
She had never looked more beautiful.
(greenstuff take it from here! Enjoy!)
I hope I didn't mess it up too bad. I enjoyed writing it :D
Never again (& other lies we tell ourselves), chapter 15
Title: Never Again (& Other Lies We Tell Ourselves), Chapter 15 ("To Sleep Perchance to Dream")
Author: calypsobard
Rating: PG-13
Summary/Author's Note: Eleanor does what she does best. Stan draws conclusions. Mary and Marshall take advantage of a well deserved rest.
And Bobby D is all Bobby D. (and dammit, my story ended up going in an entirely different direction then what conclusion was in my head)
Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14
“I don’t think you knew at first,” Stan said. “I honestly don’t think you realized who you were investigating until Brandi showed up in Miami. And maybe, just maybe, you were unaware of the cartel’s plans for Olivera when you offered favors to the ADA’s office after getting wind of his deal. But as of right here and right now, until you prove otherwise, I’m holding you personally responsible for every piece of flesh lodged into every nook and cranny of this office.”
O’Connor towered over McQueen. He often used his height to his advantage. It was the law of nature, the bigger one had the most power. Most people would have the audacity to flinch. McQueen kept his feet firmly planted and his hands nonchalantly in his pockets. The smaller man had power of his own.
O’Conner sneered. “By the time I am through, I will be responsible and the indictments won’t bear my name, inspector.” He pointed a finger to the filing cabinet and one of his men moved to it. “Key.”
“Eleanor,” Stan yelled through the door of his office.
“I lost that thing weeks ago,” she replied.
O’Conner rolled his eyes. “Really. You couldn’t do better than that?”
Eleanor held up her finger and pointed to the phone at her ear. “Yes sir. Oh I will certainly send something for her birthday. It is not often one celebrates an 85th birthday. Thank you sir. I’ll connect you to O’Connor now.” Eleanor held out the phone in O’Connor’s direction. “It’s for you.”
O’Connor scowled but took the phone.
Stan kept his expression neutral but delighted in the fact that O’Connor’s back stiffened when he heard the voice on the other end. He could not wait to hear Eleanor’s explanation for this one.
“Sir, I have probable cause to believe that this office represents a security risk on a national level… No sir. There is no need to raise the threat level. No sir. Yes sir. Of course.” O’Connor pressed the end button and stared at the phone for a moment before hurling it across the room where it hit a wall then fell to the floor in a couple hundred pieces.
“And now you’re adding destruction of government property to your list of problems.”
“This is NOT over McQueen,” O’Connor seethed.
“I shudder to think of how boring and mundane my life would become if it were,” Stan replied, baring his teeth in a warning.
“Let’s go,” O’Connor growled to his men. With one last glare for Eleanor, he stalked out, slamming the door as he went through it.
Once the office was cleared of undesired personnel, Stan sighed with relief and looked at Eleanor who was sitting casually at her desk as if it was just another day at the office. “You… you are something else,” he told her.
“As you often remind me,” she said with a charming smile.
The corners of Stan’s mouth twitched. Usually, he uttered those words to her under much more intimate circumstances. When this was over, he would show her just how amazing he could be. “How much time does this buy us?”
“A day at the most,” she replied. “O’Connor is rogue. He barely skirts what is legal and according to my sources at the FBI, he has arranged his assignment so he has no oversight.”
“He’s in over his head,” Stan concluded.
“I believe so,” Eleanor agreed.
Stan swore colorfully and creatively. “That makes him even more dangerous. He inadvertently played one side against the other, putting Marshall and Mary right in the middle, the bastard. Jesus H. Christ. “ Stan scrubbed his face with his hands and sat down at Mary’s desk. He stared at the names and tried to make sense of them all as they swam in front of his eyes. Damn, he was tired.
He looked up when a coffee cup was placed in front of him. Somehow, Eleanor knew exactly what he needed. What he needed most was her and sleep, neither of which were attainable until Mary and Marshall were safe. “This the connection,” he said pointing at the list of names. He picked up a sharpie and added one more. Brandi Shannon. “We need the names of
Jalisciense’s confirmed and suspected victims. One of them had connections and O’Connor tipped them off… or vice versa, setting this whole thing in motion,” Stan muttered.
“And O’Connor used all of this to get to the Shannons,” Eleanor concluded.
Stan shrugged. “It’s my working theory. I want to talk to Brandi Shannon yesterday. She talked to someone.”
“I’ll track down a number for her in Miami,” Eleanor said returning to her desk to do what she did best.
“Eleanor, who did you call.”
“The Attorney General,” she replied nonchalantly as her fingers began dancing across the keyboard.
Stan shook his head and began doing his own research.
O’Connor kept his temper in check until he slammed the door of the SUV. “Who the Fuck is that woman?” he demanded. Oh, he had looked into her but all of his answers were the same.. She was an Office Manager once assigned to the FBI, now assigned to WitSec. “An office manager is not on personal terms with the god damn Attorney General of the United States.”
The other men in car wisely kept their mouths shut.
“We find a way around this. I want Marshals Shannon and Mann FOUND. This is their foul. For good measure, I want Jinx Shannon, Brandi Shannon, and that Don Juan Shannon was into.”
“Anything else?” One of the men asked.
“And find out more about that Eleanor woman.”
“Should I paint the moon while I’m at it sir?”
“Don’t fuck with me, West,” O’Connor warned.
Fox wisely said nothing else. Instead, he weighed his career versus his life. O’Connor was growing too dangerous.
With his eyes closed, his breathing slowed. Mary watched him for a while. To assure herself he was still breathing. He looked more peaceful than he had in the past few days. She reached over and pushed his damp hair away from his forehead. He needed rest more than anything else.
At the moment, she didn’t think she could sleep if she tried. Adrenaline was still surging through her veins. She got up and walked back to the window. They were located right in the middle of suburbia. They were surrounded by houses that very likely contained families enjoying the evening… or arguing with their children about homework. They had no idea what danger they were in if God forbid, their location was discovered.
For some reason, she trusted Bobby. She had to. Her life, Marshall’s life, and the lives of his sister’s neighbors depended on it.
She felt Bobby’s presence as he came to stand at the window beside her. “It’s a nice neighborhood,” he said conversationally. “Janie is a teacher. It’s the annual season trip. She took her husband and children along this year.”
“Jesus. Kids these days are spoiled. I never got further than the zoo or the Balloon festival.”
“Girl, you know I think your fine but I have to be honest with you. You are ripe.”
Under any other circumstances, Mary would have hit him or at the very least, been flattered. God, she could smell herself and there was nothing flattering about that. “Keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty while I clean up?”
“I’d rather…”
Mary glared at Bobby daring him to finish that statement. Despite her injury and utter exhaustion, she would hurt him.
Bobby ended it with a chuckle. “Down the hall, second door on the left.”
“Now was that so hard?”
“You’re about Janie’s size. Find something that doesn’t smell and we’ll burn what you’re wearing. Need help?”
“Fuck off, Dershowitz”
He laughed. “Don’t tease me, Shannon.” He watched her move down the hall and then sat on the couch. No sooner was he situated then a colorful calico jumped on his lap and rubbed her head on his hand. He idly scratched the feline while he turned on ESPN. As promised, he kept one eye on the game and the other on Marshal Marshall Mann to assure that he was still breathing comfortably. Marshall did not even respond when another of Janie’s cats jumped his lap.
She had been in worse situations, Mary tried to tell herself as she attempted to strip with her one good hand. Jesus, she looked like hell, she thought as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. It would end soon. It had too.
She turned the water on in the giant bath tub and thought that at hat moment, Heaven was hot water with jets.
It was some time later when Marshall stirred again. The cat that had curled up to sleep on his lap opened one green eye then settled down again. “There’s a cat on my lap,” Marshall noted. His voice was hoarse and foreign to himself.
“That there is,” Dershowitz confirmed. “I think that one is Rose.”
Marshall’s eyes darted around and immediately noticed the one thing that was missing. “Where’s Mary?”
“Bath.”
“Who’s winning?”
“Not the D’Backs.”
“OK Rose, naptime Is over,” Marshall said as he dislodged the now very irate cat. It took longer than it should have but he made it to his feet. To his delight, he remained standing.
“You doing all right, man?” Bobby asked.
Marshall rolled his shoulders experimentally. “I’ll manage,” he replied. His entire body was now achy and stiff. When this was over, he was going to sleep for a week… ok sleep and read.
He walked down the hall toward the bathroom. The walls of the hall were lined with pictures of what he guess was ordinary civilian life. Most of the pictures were of mother, father, and two smiling children. Occasionally, there were cats.
He hoped Aldous was making his way. Cats were smart.
Marshall knocked on the door of the bathroom. There was no answer but he figured it was that his light knock was not heard over the jets. “Mare?” he said as he cracked the door. Still no answer. He looked in and found her sound asleep in the tub, her head resting on the bath pillow. Her hair was contained shampoo bubbles in what was her feeble attempt to wash her hair.
She had never looked more beautiful.
(greenstuff take it from here! Enjoy!)