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Dornvald was dead; the report was typed up; Victor Fitzgerald had finally left Jack’s office; Paige Hobson was on her way back into FBI custody. It was a nearly perfect end to a bad case. It should have been better. Nuru shouldn’t have escaped, but Jack knew he couldn’t get everything in this case. It hurt more than usual because one of his men had paid the price, and it was only luck that neither one of them had died.
Jack made his way to Martin’s hospital room about two hours after Victor had left his office. He almost didn’t expect to still see the man, but when he wasn’t far from Martin’s room, he heard raised voices.
“You have no right to be here! I told you to stay away from him!”
Jack recognized Victor Fitzgerald’s voice, but not the tone. Jack had seen the man riled up; he’d angered the man himself, purposely or not, but he’d never heard the man raise his voice or that particular hiss.
“He’s an adult.”
Jack could see them now. Facing off against Victor were two men, one dressed in somber colors and not backing away an inch from the irate deputy director. Behind him, a few steps to his left like a bodyguard or a man backing up his partner, was a shorter brunette dressed in a tailored suit that screamed money and seemed at odds with his partner’s more regular clothing.
“I want to see him.”
“What’s going on here?” Jack demanded, walking over to the standoff.
Victor clenched his teeth. The other man and his partner turned to look at him, studying Jack like people who were used to taking a closer look at the people they met. None of them looked willing to explain themselves, and just as Jack was about to insist again, Martin’s door opened and his mother came out.
“Victor, let them in. They were friends after all.”
Victor sneered, but he stepped back. The taller, blonde man didn’t hesitate to enter the room, giving Martin’s mother a short, polite nod.
“Thank you, Mrs. Fitzgerald. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” his partner said.
She blinked tiredly and nodded.
“Mr. Standish, correct?”
“Absolutely correct, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”
To Jack, she said:
“Agent Malone, thanks for coming.”
“Victor said that Martin was coming around,” Jack replied.
She nodded. “He hasn’t woken up yet, but hopefully tomorrow. He will recover.”
Jack nodded. “That’s good to hear.”
“I need some coffee now, so if you will excuse me.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Victor offered tersely. “I need one as well.”
Jack thought that he looked as if he’d prefer a stiff drink. Victor shot Standish a dark look which the other man answered with a chilling smile, then followed his wife.
Standish peaked into Martin’s room, but he didn’t go in. Instead, he turned back to the hallway without moving from his post in front of the door. With his watchful green eyes taking in his surroundings he looked liked an overpriced bodyguard.
Seeing that Jack wasn’t going for some coffee as well, he turned to him.
“Mr. Larabee would appreciate it if you gave him a moment.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. His cell rang, and Standish pointedly looked amusedly at a crossed out sign banning cell phones in the ER as Jack answered it. Hobson had arrived back at HQ.
Danny ditched his lunch break to visit Martin. He figured it was for a good cause, and hospitals had vending machines, too. Sucky ones, though, which was why he used the FBI’s, which usually rated at least two of five stars, and took his prize with him to the hospital.
Martin had been moved to ICU, and although he had his own room, he apparently hadn’t warranted a closed door yet. Hospital policies, in Danny’s opinion and limited experience, were strange and varied wildly.
Martin wasn’t alone though, and as soon as Danny realized that, he stopped outside the half-closed door. There was a man sitting on the edge of his bed, and the way he leant into Martin and Martin was looking at him in turn looked intimate.
“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us. I’m sorry I left,” Martin was saying.
The other man sighed. “Me too. You should have talked to me.”
“He was going to ruin your career, Chris-”
“Fuck my career!”
Martin didn’t flinch at the outburst and just gave him a stubborn look.
“Well I cared! I didn’t want you to fuck it up!”
Chris reached up to Martin’s face.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Danny flinched at the unexpectedly close voice, and he swung around reaching for his gun. The gun that he’d left at the office, which he should probably feel grateful for because otherwise he would have done something stupid.
The man, a couple of inches shorter than Danny and dressed in a fitted suit that probably cost at least as much as Danny’s monthly paycheck, gave him a cool look.
“Agent Taylor, correct?”
Danny raised a challenging eyebrow. “And you are?”
The other man smirked. “An old acquaintance of Mister Fitzgerald.”
His southern accent was thick, perhaps deliberately so.
“I don’t remember being introduced to you,” Danny shot back. How did the guy know his name?
“Don’t make a mess, boys, and come in,” Martin called out.
Danny gave the southerner another look, then entered Martin’s room. His visitor, Chris, was sitting on the chair next to the bed now, and there was a perfectly respectable distance between him and Martin.
“Chris, Ezra, this is Danny Taylor, a friend and colleague of mine at the Missing Persons Unit of the FBI. Danny, this is Chris Larabee and Ezra Standish from the ATF out in Denver.”
Chris just nodded at him, while Standish gave him a casual two-finger salute which should have looked out of place but didn’t on him.
“Denver? That’s a long way,” Danny remarked.
“Mister Fitzgerald’s misfortune caught the eye of the media,” Ezra said. “We felt obligated to inquire about our former teammate’s personal health personally.”
“So you worked in Denver for the ATF, Martin?”
“Yeah. Two years.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, well.” Martin fingered his blanket. “My father doesn’t like to be reminded.”
Larabee’s expression darkened, and Standish didn’t look like he had any good memories associated with Victor Fitzgerald either.
“So how long will you be staying?” Danny asked politely.
“Sunday,” Chris replied. “The rest of the team are coming in Friday night.” To Martin he explained: “They had to finish some things up.”
Martin nodded and smiled. “It will be nice to see everyone again.”
His hand twitched, and it looked as if he wanted to reach out to Chris. But in the end, he didn’t, and Chris didn’t do anything but look at him either. Danny recognized that look, and he had only ever seen it between people who had been in a relationship.
They were short-staffed for six weeks until Martin and Viv returned to the office, and although their supervisors tried to lighten their case load, Danny breathed a sigh of relief when his two colleagues came back. It was good to see them, and especially with Jack’s recent over-protectiveness, he felt like he was on more even ground. It took them about a month to find their way back into what passed for a routine in law enforcement.
“Any plans for the weekend?”
Martin nodded. “I’m flying to Denver tonight. I took Monday off for a long weekend.”
“Good for you. Visiting your friends?”
Martin nodded again. Danny wondered. He hadn’t asked about what he’d seen at the hospital so far, but it had stayed with him. Martin hadn’t said anything either, never even asked whether Danny had been eavesdropping outside his door that day until Standish had interrupted.
“What?” Martin demanded, apparently considering Danny’s look too intense.
“Chris Larabee. Who was he to you?”
Martin gathered the files lying on his desk. “He was my team leader.”
Danny settled down at the corner of Martin’s desk, ignoring Martin’s frown. Danny didn’t say anything, just kept watching and Martin broke down quickly, but he was more irritated than Danny had counted on.
“You can look at me all you want, there’s nothing else you need to know!”
“Of course I don’t need to know,” Danny backtracked. “But you’re my friend, you know. And if you wanted to say something-“
“I don’t,” Martin said, and his tone indicated that he really didn’t want to talk about it and that Danny should consider the subject closed.
Danny usually knew when it was better to back off. He raised his hands.
“Okay.”
He left him alone for the rest of the day. At the end of it, they were the last to pack up to leave, and Martin held the elevator door for him. They rode in silence until, somewhere between the sixth and fifth floor, Martin said:
“I’m sorry for snapping earlier.”
Danny only laughed. “Jeez, Fitz, snapping is a whole lot more rude than you were.”
Martin accepted that. After another while, he commented:
“You know, ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ isn’t just a military thing.”
Danny had kind of been expecting that after seeing Martin with Larabee, so he didn’t react outwardly. He’d been hoping for a more direct and complete statement though.
He could take some guesses: Chris Larabee had been a whole lot more to Martin than just his team leader. Victor hadn’t been happy, either in general that Martin was bi – or gay - or that he’d acted on it, or Victor had been specifically against Chris Larabee. Danny thought that it was probably the first option. Victor had the power to ruin an ATF agent’s career. It wouldn’t even have taken much considering that Larabee had been Martin’s team leader. But Martin had given in to his father’s demands: he’d left Denver and the ATF.
“I understand,” Danny replied. “I wasn’t prying for shits and giggles. If you wanna talk, I’m here. And I’m not telling it around.”
Martin gave a stiff nod. “I appreciate it.”
He still looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. They parted ways in the subway station. Danny clasped Martin on the shoulder.
“If he doesn’t take good care of you-“ He held up a warning finger.
Martin laughed a bit, but it still sounded subdued. “He does. If I let him.”
“Then you should let him. Have a good trip.”
“Thanks.”