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"Is that her?"
Michelle glanced at the speaker, Paul Blanchard. The short, sharp-faced older man directed the museum they found themselves at now, and currently hurried along beside them, struggling to keep up with her and Toby's longer strides. Their footsteps echoed hollowly across the wide, stark space of the museum's interior loading bay.
"She doesn't look that dangerous," Blanchard went on doubtfully, eyes focused ahead on the little knot of security against the far wall, and the woman in their custody.
"Don't let that fool you," Michelle warned as they approached. "She's put six people in the hospital on previous heists, and killed two more."
She and Toby had come to discuss exactly this with Blanchard: the dangerous thief who'd been tracking a collection of Egyptian antiquities, one of which had recently arrived at this museum. They'd hoped to set a trap and catch her here before she could steal this artifact as well, with Blanchard's cooperation.
She'd made her move tonight, earlier than any of them had expected, setting off alarms in the middle of their discussion. Museum security had caught her here in the loading bay and had radioed up while they'd still been trying to figure out what was going on, bringing Michelle, Toby, and Blanchard running. Michelle had barely had time to wonder at the ease with which museum security had captured the thief, but she was wondering now.
Four security guards stood clustered around her now, including Victoria Barrett, the head of museum security, who they'd met right before they'd first spoken to Blanchard. The thief sat on the floor at the center of them, handcuffed, staring down at the concrete. Michelle supposed she could see what the museum director meant about the thief not looking so dangerous. She was petite, and couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old. Michelle, though, found her disquieting, with such an nonthreatening appearance to go along with her body count.
She glanced the other direction, to where Toby walked next to her. "I want to know what she's planning," she told him quietly, "This is too easy."
Toby cut her a quick look before focusing back on the thief. She could tell from the furrow of his brow, the worry on his face, that he didn't trust the situation any more than she did. "I'll see what I can get from her."
The thief looked up as they drew close, her eyes narrowed. Her gaze drifted across the three of them, dismissing first Toby and then Michelle, but fixing on Blanchard.
Toby's step faltered. His hand shot out, catching hold of Michelle's arm. "Wait," he said, an odd hitch in his voice.
She slowed, frowning at him. "What is it?" She'd long since learned to trust him when it came to spotting trouble.
He shook his head minutely, staring at the thief. "Get. . . get away," he grated, and took an unsteady step forward. "Get away from her!"
Michelle grabbed his shoulder, her heart rate kicking into high gear at his sudden urgency, and then everything happened.
The thief laughed, rising abruptly to her feet with uncanny grace.
The nearest two guards exclaimed, reaching to restrain her.
Toby stumbled forward another step, and his knees folded under him.
The thief wrenched her arms apart, snapping the chain of her handcuffs like it was made of tinsel and lashing out at the guards.
One of them went down under a blow too fast to follow.
Michelle reached for her gun, feeling as if she was moving in slow motion.
The thief darted forward, unbelievably quick.
Another guard went flying as he got in her way, flung effortlessly aside.
Michelle planted herself in front of Toby—was he hurt? Unconscious?—trying to get a clear shot at the thief.
The thief pounced on Blanchard from an impossible distance, crooking an arm around his throat and dragging him backward.
"Stop!" Michelle ordered harshly, syrupy-slow by comparison as she swung to follow the thief's movement.
The thief paused, seemingly oblivious to the way Blanchard was clawing at her arm. She might as well have been made of stone, for all the effect his struggles had. She stared at Michelle, and her eyes. . . her eyes burned, glowing from within. "You won't come after me, if you know what's good for you," she hissed.
Michelle twitched, her own eyes widening. The thief's voice was wrong, a deeper, more resonant tone than ever should have emerged from her mouth.
The thief flung out her free hand, and Michelle caught the briefest glimpse of some sort of gold jewelry. A wave of energy pulsed from it, making the air ripple as it burst outward. It caught Michelle, and it caught Barrett and the other security guard who was still upright, washing over them like a tidal wave.
The force of the shockwave knocked Michelle off her feet. Impact with the ground drove the breath from her, and for far too long all she could do was lay sprawled on the concrete floor, her whole back a knot of throbbing pain, and try to remember how to inhale. The back of her head smarted where it had clipped the floor, her elbow and knuckles burned where they'd impacted the concrete. Lights flickered and spat sparks, and she heard a distant sound of a door clanging shut.
Finally she managed to suck in a shallow breath, then another, each one an effort. At last, she was able to lift her head and struggle to her elbows to look around.
Two of the security guards and Barrett lay groaning on the floor. She saw the shape of the last guard, silent and still over by the wall.
Toby was curled on the floor next to her, unmoving. Her breath caught again and she clawed her way closer, pressing fingers to his neck. He was alive, but she couldn't tell right away if he was hurt, or how badly.
The thief, and Blanchard, were gone.
Toby woke to Michelle's voice calling his name, and to a suffocating sense of foreboding.
He sat up abruptly, making his head spin and his stomach churn. "Whoa, Toby, careful," Michelle said, her face swimming before his eyes as she reached out to grip his shoulder. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"Where is she?" he asked hoarsely, staring around unsteadily, trying to ignore the headache throbbing behind his eyes. "What happened? Where did she go?"
That horrible sense of foreboding was squeezing his throat, his lungs. The things he'd read from the thief without even wanting for it to happen filled his head like storm clouds.
He hadn't even reached out to read her. He'd only had to get close. Pure malice had rolled off her in waves, something he couldn't have stopped himself from sensing no matter how much control he had now. For a second he hadn't been able to tell if she was just planning to kill them all, or if she'd somehow already done it, and his own senses just hadn't caught up. Her thoughts had been so vivid, and so powerful. Her sheer presence had been heavy in a way he'd never encountered, crushing the breath out of him.
He squeezed his eyes shut. It was as if she'd filled the whole room, taking up all available space with a suffocating malevolence. Her thoughts had been a litany of rage, she'd been so unspeakably furious that she hadn't found what she'd been seeking here. It's not here, it was supposed to be here, where is it, turn everything to ash to find it—
He didn't remember anything after that. He was almost glad. Just remembering made his breath come short, his head throb sickeningly. . .
"Toby. Toby!"
Michelle was saying his name again, more urgently, and he made himself open his eyes. Her own eyes were wide and her lips pressed thin and pale, and he could see the tendons standing tense in her neck and jaw. "You need to lie back down," she told him forcefully, fingers digging into his shoulder. "There are paramedics on the way, alright?"
"No, I'm okay," he said. He had to be okay. He didn't know what was going on, just that it had to be stopped.
He lurched to his feet, ignoring the startled noise it drew from Michelle as she rose with him, still holding onto his arm and shoulder. That turned out to be a good thing, when he swayed for a moment, his knees wobbling.
"Toby-"
"I just need a minute," he muttered, taking a slow, deep breath and lifting his head to look around. He could see three security guards lying on the ground. One was moving sluggishly, and the second was speaking quietly to Barrett, who had a hand on her shoulder to keep her from sitting up. Barrett looked more or less alright, though even from here Toby could see an ugly-looking abrasion on her cheekbone.
The final guard of the four who'd been watching the thief lay by the wall, unmoving. One arm was flung bonelessly wide, hand limp against the floor, and Toby could see a gleam of light off an open, fixed eye.
He shuddered and stumbled away from Michelle and toward the nearest of the security guards, the one who was stirring but alone. "Hey, easy, don't move, okay?" He dropped heavily to his knees by the guard, searching for any obvious injuries. There was no blood, at least, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.
The security guard gave him a grimace and a thumbs up. "I'm okay, sir," he said faintly. "Barrett called for paramedics, I can hold out."
"Toby, you really should take it easy," Michelle insisted, close on his heels. "You collapsed. What did you-"
Toby barely heard the suggestion. He just continued his short examination of the guard, checking his eyes, his neck and head, murmuring automatic reassurances. The guard was breathing fine, but he had a broken arm. Toby could guess a few other bumps and bruises, too, from his wincing and careful movement. Nothing he could effectively treat here, without any sort of equipment, but not anything life-threatening, either. "Okay, just keep still until the paramedics can take a look at you, got it?" He waited for another thumbs up, then pushed himself back to his feet.
Michelle caught hold of his elbow, steering him away from everyone for a moment. Just then, he was too unsteady on his feet to resist. "Toby, what did you see? What happened?"
He stopped, swallowing, and tried to breathe steadily. Even thinking back to it made his heart race and his breath catch. "I don't. . . I'm not sure," he muttered after a long, silent minute. "But it was bad. She's going to hurt people, Michelle. She doesn't care how many she kills." He swallowed again, fighting down renewed nausea. "We've got to stop her."
He didn't know how to stop her. He didn't even know where she was or what had happened here. He didn't remember much of anything after her projected thoughts had flooded over him, and he couldn't sort out what was real from what he'd seen in her mind.
He pulled away from Michelle, trying to shake off the memories and the fear for long enough to check on the final guard, crumpled on the floor by the wall.
He was dead. His entire diaphragm was caved in.
How? What could have done that? It looked more like something he'd expect from a bad car accident, than from anything a single person could do on their own. What could have killed him this way?
He looked around abruptly, shutting his eyes for a moment against the way it made his head spin. "Are you alright?" he asked Michelle hoarsely, horrified he hadn't thought to ask before. She looked fine, but with the damage to everyone else. . .
"I'm fine," she assured him quietly. "Bit of a bump to the head, and I'll probably have some bruises, but nothing serious."
Whatever their unspoken agreement, he still reached out to read the most surface-level of her thoughts. If she was more badly hurt than she was saying. . .
She wasn't, as far as he could tell. His shoulders slumped, and he hunched down over the dead guard, numbly shocked. "What happened?" he asked, his voice sounding faraway even to himself.
Michelle crouched next to him, tense, her hands twisting together. "She was strong," she murmured to him, sounding dazed. "She snapped her handcuff chain like it was nothing, and then. . ." She glanced down at the dead guard, then sighed and rested a hand on Toby's arm, pulling him back. "The way she moved, the way she. . . It wasn't possible. It was like she was superhuman." She was quiet for a moment, then scoffed faintly. "A few years ago that would've seemed ridiculous, but now. . ."
Toby didn't need to read her mind to know that he was the 'but now'. "I don't think she was superhuman," he said, his voice unsteady. "I don't think she was human at all."
Michelle drew back slightly, frowning. "What do you-"
"Now what would make you think a thing like that?"
Michelle whipped around and straightened, hand twitching toward her gun again. Toby was slower to turn, resting a hand briefly on the dead guard's ruined chest before he rose to his feet next to Michelle.
Four people in plain gray-green fatigues stood a few steps behind them, a fifth museum security guard hovering uncertainly next to them. Their approach had gone unnoticed in the intensity of Toby and Michelle's conversation. One of them, a woman with short blonde hair, moved closer, her eyes on the fallen guard. "I have some medical training," she said, glancing up briefly, "I can try—"
"It's too late," Toby cut in, weary and confused. "He's gone."
The woman shifted her weight, her dismay clear in her expression, but after a moment she turned away. "Sir?" she asked, eyes moving to the other wounded guards.
Almost reflexively, despite his pounding headache, Toby reached for her thoughts.
Tension. Controlled urgency. Relief, that they hadn't found. . .
He shut his eyes for a moment against the memories flying through the woman's mind. Carnage. Destruction. Massacre. For a second he could smell burning and blood from. . . from he didn't even know how many battlefields, from times that she and her team had arrived too late, too late to save them, too late-
Michelle's hand on his arm snapped the present back into focus. He shot her a quick, grateful glance, struggling to push the vivid memories aside.
"Go," the oldest of the four, a dark-eyed man with graying hair poking out from beneath his plain baseball cap, was saying, "And Sam, let me know if anything's. . ." He lifted a hand, wiggling his fingers next to his head.
The blonde woman, Sam, only nodded and gazed around. "Nothing so far, sir," she said, and barely waited for another nod before jogging away toward the guard with the broken arm.
The man who'd spoken turned his gaze back to Michelle and Toby, eyes narrowed slightly, then tilted his head to address another of his team instead, a brown-haired man with glasses. "Daniel, see if you can find where they were keeping that staff artifact thingy. There's gotta be some kind of record around here."
Beside Toby, Michelle was radiating wariness and tension. "Who are you?" she asked cautiously as the man with the glasses turned away with a curious glance back at them.
The one in charge focused on her, head still tilted. "Go," he told Daniel again, then stepped forward and offered his hand. "Colonel Jack O'Niell. United States Airforce. That's Daniel, that's Sam, this is Teal'c." He gestured to each of his people in turn, finishing with the only one who remained at his side, a big man with a black beanie pulled low over his forehead. "You don't much look like museum security." He glanced them up and down. "Mind telling us what happened here?"
Michelle blinked, looking just as thrown as Toby felt. "I. . . Sergeant McCluskey, IIB," she introduced reflexively. "My partner, Toby Logan. I'm sorry, what is the US Airforce doing here? This is an active crime scene. You need to leave."
Toby watched the exchange silently, cautiously reaching out for the colonel's mind.
He was a knot of tension and frustration. Foremost on his mind was an intense urgency, and his thoughts flickered through possibilities and strategies. The images and phrases Toby caught were hard to follow, and he was missing important context for a lot of them.
There was a sense of hatred and dread that accompanied what he saw, tied to faces with glowing eyes and the same visions of violence and massacre he'd read off Sam.
It looked like what he'd seen in the thief's mind. What she'd wanted to do to them all.
He swallowed and suppressed a shiver, pulling sharply back from the colonel's mind, folding his arms tightly and closing clammy hands around folds of his jacket.
The colonel's frustration flared at Michelle's words, tinged with outright anger, and. . . fear. "Look," he said flatly, "McCluskey? I do not have time for this. I need to know what happened, and where Toller went, right now."
Michelle's eyes narrowed. "Toller. Is that the thief? How do you know her name? Nobody's been able to identify her before."
The colonel's jaw tightened, and he took a step forward. He was tall, tall enough to look down on Michelle, and not a lot of people were. "This is a matter of National security," he snapped.
Michelle folded her arms. "This is Canada. We're not in your nation."
"Then perhaps," cut in Teal'c, before either of them could speak again, "You will believe it is a matter of global safety."
Michelle's eyebrows arched. Toby just folded his arms more tightly, shifting his attention to Teal'c's thoughts.
This man's mind was. . . still, and orderly in a way he wasn't used to encountering. There wasn't much to read on the surface, but what Toby saw was as crystal-clear as anything he'd ever seen.
Teal'c was telling the absolute truth, and he had complete conviction in his words. He believed in this threat, and he believed it was that serious. There was no room for doubt.
"Yes," Toby blurted, before Michelle could respond to the claim. "We believe you."
Michelle looked at him sharply, startled. He took a shaky breath and nodded. "We believe them," he whispered, "We need to help them."
Her expression changed, her eyes widening even as a frown tugged at her lips, but after a moment she took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay," she said, with only a trace of reluctance, "We'll tell you what we can."
"-And when I could get up again, they were gone." Michelle finished explaining what she'd seen, arms folded around herself and eyes focused on the paramedics and cops now bustling throughout the loading bay.
A pair of ambulance and several police cars had arrived before they'd been able to finish recounting what they'd seen. Toby had welcomed it. It had given him a chance to pull his thoughts together as he'd broken off to speak to the paramedics, giving them what he knew of the assorted injuries.
And of the fourth guard's death.
They were loading him onto a stretcher now, hidden inside a body bag, and Toby tore his eyes away.
The colonel had waited with poorly-concealed impatience for a couple of minutes, and then had wrangled his team, Toby, and Michelle over to a far corner of the bay, as out of the way as possible so they could finish their conversation.
Such as it was. It felt more like an interrogation, but Toby found he didn't much care what it felt like. The sense of urgency and worry radiating from the team was getting to him, and he was as eager to stop the thief as they were, even if he didn't know exactly what was going on. The details didn't matter right now.
"I didn't see where they went," Michelle concluded, dragging him back to the moment. "I don't know how she moved so fast, especially with a hostage."
The colonel looked unimpressed. He pulled his baseball cap off and rubbed his forehead, then ruffled his hair and pulled the cap back on. "Okay, so. . . we're right where we started, then."
"Look," Michelle shot back with a scowl, "If you would tell us what's going on, maybe we could actually help you out more. Can you tell us anything about this Toller woman? If we know who she is, anything about her background, I could get my people looking into her. We might be able to figure out where she'd go, or what she wants with Blanchard. And I'd really like to know how the hell all of this is connected to. . . what, a global threat, you said?" She shot a dubious glance at Teal'c.
Toby followed her glance for a moment, then focused back on the colonel. His head still ached, throbbing powerfully enough to make him feel sick, but Michelle was right. They needed to know what this team knew if they wanted to be able to help.
A petite young woman with a cheerful smile in gray-green fatigues, the same emblem on her shoulder as the colonel and his team bear. Her embroidered name tag reads 'A. Toller'. A flickering blue light filling a concrete-walled room. Toller, no longer smiling in that eerie lighting, firing a gun into a man dressed in white and gold, with glowing eyes. Toller bending over him, and then reeling back, something long and slithering disappearing into her mouth. Toller turning, leveling the gun, her smile sadistic now instead of cheerful and her eyes glowing hotly—
"Toby," Michelle's voice made him start and look around.
His hands were shaking.
The colonel was watching him closely as well, head tilted like an inquisitive owl. "You alright there, son?" he asked, his tone as much suspicious as kind. "You're looking a little pale."
Toby swallowed, then swallowed again, glancing between Michelle and the colonel and the rest of his team. "What's going on here?" he asked, his voice a rasp. "You know her, don't you? What happened to her? She's. . ." He glanced at Michelle, shaking his head helplessly. "She's just a kid," he muttered, "She's just a kid, and something awful happened to her."
Silence. When he looked up, all four of the colonel's team were staring at him.
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Please. We can help, but we need to know what's going on. What happened to her? What does she want with Blanchard, and how do we find him before she hurts him?"
He wanted to help them. He believed them, believed in how important this was, and that scared him. There were so many pieces he and Michelle were both missing, though, and he wasn't sure how to help them yet.
"Jack," Daniel spoke up unexpectedly. He'd been mostly quiet up until now, observing more than speaking. "Maybe we should tell them, at least the. . . the broad strokes. This is their city, after all. We can't exactly search it block by block. We really could use their help."
The colonel fixed Daniel with a skeptical look. Whatever communication they had then took place entirely in posture and expression. Even Toby couldn't reliably follow it without reading them, and he didn't try. His head continued to pound, and he didn't especially want to overhear the colonel shoot down Daniel's suggestion.
Finally, though, to his surprise, Jack gave a frustrated sigh and gestured for Daniel to continue.
Daniel scratched the end of his nose with a fingertip, taking a small step forward. "Right. We can't tell you everything, but you're right. Toller works for the same people we do. She was. . . uh, compromised, though."
The word didn't seem to sit right in his mouth. When he looked, Toby saw a rapid-fire slideshow of faces, all twisted with cruelty, all with glowing eyes. A woman with a heart-shaped face and curly black hair, a young man with dark eyes, and a stream of others, Toller's face was prominent among them.
Not 'compromised'. Possessed. Infested.
"She's not in control of herself," Daniel went on, "And what she's looking for, it's. . . important. To a group of very dangerous, uh, people."
Goa'uld.
What was a goa'uld?
"If they get their hands on it, a lot of people will be in danger. Now that Toller's got it, we have to stop her before she has a chance to contact her. . . the people she's working with."
Toby blinked. "But she didn't get it."
Once again, all four turned to stare at him. Michelle did, too. "What do you mean?" Sam asked sharply.
Toby shut his eyes for a moment, not wanting to remember what he'd read from Toller, but thinking back anyway. "It wasn't here. She didn't find it, and she was. . . she was furious about it." He suppressed a shiver at the memory of the sheer, enraged presence of her.
Michelle drew a quick breath next to him, and he glanced over at her. "That must be why she took Blanchard," she said, eyes narrowed in thought, "He's bound to know where this thing is, whatever it is."
"If it wasn't here, then we need to find out where it's being stored," Sam said. "She'll have to get that information out of the director before she can do anything else. We might be able to beat her there, if we move fast."
"You really expect a museum director to stand up to a. . . someone like her?" Jack retorted. "Please. She's probably already there. Wherever 'there' is. Any insights into that little detail, Miracle Man?" He shot Toby a searching look, eyebrows raised.
Toby met his gaze for a moment, disquieted.
The pounding headache made it hard to focus, and the urgency and fear and confusion of the night made so many other things seem so much less important, but he'd given away a lot of himself to these people. He'd been playing fast and loose with his own secret, and none of them were stupid enough to miss that he wasn't exactly playing by the usual rules. They had to know he wasn't getting his information any normal way.
He'd been so careful for so long about hiding his gift, and now he was flaunting it as openly as he could without explaining outright what he was doing.
But everything he'd seen convinced him that finding Toller was more important now. And however this fell out when all was said and done, the colonel and his people seemed to feel the same. They weren't asking how he knew, just if he knew.
This time, though, he didn't. He shook his head wearily.
"Well, the museum director wouldn't be the only one to know about it, if the staff was being kept off-site," Daniel speculated, frowning thoughtfully, "Who's in charge of security for the museum? They'd know."
Michelle looked around, nodding toward where Barrett was sitting in a folding chair someone had wrangled, being looked over by one of the paramedics. "That's her. Victoria Barrett."
"Great," the colonel said, and turned to stride in that direction. "Victoria Barrett!"
The other three were already following. Toby and Michelle had to hurry to keep up.
Michelle shot Toby a sharp, questioning glance as they walked. What the hell is going on?
He gave his head a minute shake. They couldn't talk about it now, but he felt a twist of guilt. He was still missing a lot of information, but not nearly as much as she was. He was asking her to take a lot on faith here, and he didn't know that it wouldn't put them both in horrible danger.
She frowned at him, but turned toward the colonel and his people again.
Barrett looked over from where she sat, murmuring something to the paramedic before getting to her feet. A white bandage stood out starkly against her dark skin now, covering the broad abrasion on her cheekbone. "Can I help you?" she asked, tense and worried.
Jack glanced briefly at her name tag. "Where's the artifact thingy being kept?"
She frowned, glance sliding across the group of them. "What do you mean?"
"We know the antique dildo or whatever the thief was after isn't being kept here," Jack said with controlled patience, "So where is it?"
Behind him, Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose, wearing a long-suffering expression.
"What? It's not-" Barrett squared her shoulders. "I can't tell you that. Who even are you?"
The colonel opened his mouth again, but with a quick, questioning glance at Toby, Michelle cleared her throat before he could speak. "Ms. Barrett? Sergeant McCluskey, IIB. We met earlier?"
Barrett's posture eased slightly, though her expression tightened. "I remember. Are you going to catch this woman, Sergeant? She killed one of my men. She took Dr. Blanchard."
Michelle stiffened. Toby stepped up next to her, resting a hand on her shoulder briefly. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "We didn't understand how dangerous she was, but we do now. That's why we need to know where the artifact's being kept. We think she's going there, and if she's still got Blanchard with her, it's our best chance to get him back."
Barrett looked torn, glancing between them all, but at last she shook her head reluctantly. "I can't," she said, unhappy, "I can't just give you that information. Dr. Blanchard wouldn't want me to, for the artifact's security. Neither would the board. Secrecy is the best way to keep it safe."
But the location was clear in her mind.
Toby gave a tiny nod, knowing Michelle would be watching.
"Look, Barrett," the colonel began, visibly frustrated. "We need to know, and we need to know now. If you don't—"
"Colonel," Michelle cut in sharply, stepping up next to him. "She gave you her answer. Thank you, Ms. Barrett," she offered Barrett a curt nod, and Barrett hesitantly returned it before retreating, shooting one last black look at the colonel.
The colonel rounded on Michelle, expression hard. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped. "Without knowing—"
"We do know," Michelle interrupted, and glanced back at Toby.
Toby nodded. He felt uncomfortably exposed. There was no way he could have gotten the information he was about to give them, and there was no way in hell they could have missed that. If they didn't know more or less what he was capable of before, he felt like they'd certainly know now.
This wasn't a time for hesitation, though. Not with the danger Toller presented. "I know where we need to go," he told them hoarsely. "I know where the artifact is."
Michelle glanced in the rear-view mirror as she pulled into the small parking area for the address Toby had read from Barrett, her hands tight on the steering wheel.
Teal'c stared impassively back at her from the back seat.
The colonel and his team, to their credit, had only minimally questioned how and why Toby knew what he knew before determining that finding Toller was more urgent. They'd have to face the music about Toby's abilities later, she suspected, once this was done. No matter the urgency, the colonel and his team were suspicious.
Hence the babysitter in the back seat. Michelle would have argued against it when the colonel had insisted Teal'c ride with them, if Toby hadn't quietly told her to let it go.
She shifted her gaze to him, where he sat hunched in the passenger seat. His hands were in his pockets, but she could tell by the folds of the fabric that they were clenched tight, and his shoulders were rigid.
He was scared. He was scared enough to go along with how the colonel and his team wanted to handle this almost without question, and scared enough to let them get close to the truth about his abilities.
That scared her. She didn't have to know what was going on to be fully convinced that it was bad news, and that the urgency was very real. Any discussion of exactly what was happening here would have to wait.
The colonel and the other two of his team pulled into the parking area behind her. She watched as the three of them piled out before opening her own door. Teal'c waited until she'd left the car to get out himself, and Toby followed even more slowly, hands still stuffed deep in his pockets.
"This is it?" the colonel said, gazing up at the building before them, then lowering his eyes to squint at the steel door on one corner.
It was dented, and slightly ajar.
Toby gave a small nod. "Yeah, this is it," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the damaged door as well.
"Great," Jack shot Toby a narrow-eyed, speculative look. "Let's get going. Thanks for the help, we got it from here." He gathered the other three of his team with a gesture, and all four began loading up on weaponry from the back of their vehicle.
"No, hang on," Michelle said sharply. "We can help."
Jack raised his eyebrows, sliding an automatic rifle hooked to a strap over his head and shoulder. "You're civilians, or close enough to it in this case. No."
"We can help," Toby repeated, stepping up beside Michelle. "We have the training."
"Not for this you don't."
"Do you want to catch this woman or not?" Michelle demanded. "From the sound of it, she's pretty dangerous. Why the hell are you turning this down?"
"She may be right, O'Niell," Teal'c said unexpectedly. "And regardless, we must hurry."
The colonel eyed them for a moment, then scoffed and wheeled toward the warehouse. "Fine, but you both stay back, and follow our lead. Don't get in our way. Let's move!"
Jack and Sam both carried the rifles, but Teal'c and Daniel's weapons didn't look like anything Michelle had ever seen before, from the brief glance she got before they were moving. They were something sleek and gray and shaped sort of like a bulbous letter Z. Some sort of experimental weapon?
She gave her head a shake, drawing her own sidearm before she and Toby followed them inside.
They'd only made a couple of steps before Toby stiffened, eyes squinting almost shut, like it was too bright despite the gloom of the warehouse. "Toby?" Michelle whispered, worried.
He took a quick, shallow breath. "She's here," he murmured back, his voice cracking, and then took a deeper breath, catching her eye. "I'm okay, let's go."
She wasn't so sure she believed him. She trusted him in almost everything, except his own well-being. He'd already collapsed once today, and especially with the way this situation was getting to him, she wasn't sure protecting himself would be his first priority.
The warehouse was full of tall racks of half-filled shelves and cabinets. Emergency lighting above the door and spaced intermittently throughout lent the space a dim, dusty glow that only served to accentuate the looming shadows. The colonel and his team split off from one another up ahead, quiet even in their heavy boots, filtering between rows of shelves without a word to each other.
After a moment, a more open space between the shelves came into view, better-lit than the rest of the warehouse. A long trestle table spread across one portion of the open area by the wall, a pair of hot, bright desk lamps sending a stark glow scattering across the shelves and concrete floor.
A small figure sat silhouetted in front of the table, her back to them.
All four of the colonel's team tensed, weapons swinging toward her. Michelle tensed as well, her heart thudding against her ribs. It would be a long time before she forgot what Toller had done, back at the museum. She'd proved already she was willing and capable of killing with impunity, and there was no way of telling what she'd do with those capabilities if she was allowed to escape.
"Toller," the colonel said harshly as they drew close, his hands tense on his weapon. "Stand up and turn around, slowly. Get your hands where we can see them."
Toller moved, just a little. She shifted and made a faint, wordless sound, a sway of her head and twitch of her hands accompanying the noise.
Toby touched Michelle's elbow. She jumped badly, biting back a startled curse, and shot him a sharp look.
"It's not her," Toby whispered, confused.
She looked back toward the slumped shape. "What?"
"It's not. . . It's here, but it's not her." He gave his head a tiny shake, frowning.
Toller hadn't moved again, even as the colonel and his team drew closer, stepping out into the open area, their weapons all trained on her. "Toby, what are you talking about?"
"I don't. . ." He looked unsure of his own meaning, and then his eyes widened abruptly and he took a halting step forward, raising his voice sharply. "Wait, it's not her! She's bait, she's—"
Michelle's sense of rising dread struck her only a second before chaos descended, once again.
The colonel's entire team had moved into the open area by then, and Toby's warning didn't stop them quickly enough to avoid a powerful shockwave that burst from the left. It toppled shelves, and it sent the team—and Toller—flying.
The edge of it hit Michelle and Toby, and they went down in a tangle of limbs. The shelf above them rocked precariously, and Michelle clung to Toby's coat, knowing she'd never be able to tug him out of the way in time to avoid it if it fell.
The shelf settled after a moment, and Toby shifted. "It's going to kill them," he said hoarsely, struggling to his knees. Even only kneeling, he swayed unsteadily, and still had his eyes squinted almost shut, faced creased in what could only be pain.
Michelle pushed herself up as well. "What. . ." she muttered, and followed his gaze.
Standing in the middle of the open area, over the fallen forms of the colonel's team and Toller, was Blanchard. His eyes burned like white fire and he held one arm outstretched, fingers curled to claws around a gold-mounted orange glow nestled in his palm. Concentrated shockwaves of energy pulsed from it, dancing like heat haze through the air. He was focused on Teal'c, who seemed to be having the most success with struggling back to his feet against the barrage of energy pulses.
"Michelle," Toby croaked, a hand pressed to his temple and eyes shut completely now. "It's going to kill them."
She only distantly questioned his choice of pronoun. She steadied herself and lifted her gun. . . and hesitated. "We came here to save him," she said through gritted teeth, lowering the weapon again. "We're supposed to bring him back. I can't. . ." She looked over at Toby helplessly. She couldn't just shoot the man they'd come to help.
Blanchard reached Teal'c, and kicked him back to the floor with impossible strength, aiming the strange gem device in his palm downward at the now helpless form. His face twisted with a gleeful sort of malice as Teal'c made a pained choking sound.
Toby managed to get his eyes open, staring up at her with a torn, uncertain expression.
Teal'c gave a short, hoarse cry. One of the others—she wasn't sure which—called his name weakly.
Michelle sucked in a deep breath, aimed, and fired. She couldn't let Blanchard kill someone else right in front of her.
Blanchard didn't go down. He staggered and gave a furious shout, wheeling around to stare directly at her with those burning eyes.
She went rigid, heart racing faster than ever at that ugly, hateful look, and fired again, then again.
Blanchard stumbled back, arms pinwheeling for balance.
He never regained it. Teal'c was on his feet with unbelievable swiftness, and—
Michelle had seen death many times now. She had never seen someone break another person's neck right in front of her before. She didn't think she would forget the sound it made as long as she lived, or the sight of Blanchard's body sliding limply to the floor. She could only kneel there, stunned, mouth hanging open as she watched.
Beside her, Toby gasped and shuddered, lifting his head. He pushed himself hastily—if unsteadily—to his feet, and Michelle could manage only a token protest through her shock as he stumbled forward, toward the director's body. "You killed him," he said numbly.
"Yes," Teal'c agreed, his tone impassive.
"You killed it, too. The thing controlling him."
Teal'c gazed at Toby for a minute, then bowed his head in acknowledgement, still expressionless. "Yes."
This time it was Toby who was silent for a long minute, staring intently at Teal'c, but finally he took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he said gently.
Teal'c blinked, but his posture relaxed ever so slightly. "I am, as well."
The other three were stirring now too, pushing themselves up and back to their feet. Michelle gave herself a shake and rose as well, sliding her gun back into its holster. She made her way unsteadily over to Toby, her eyes skittering between him and Teal'c and Blanchard's body.
Toby turned to look at her as she stepped up next to him. "You okay?" he asked softly.
She took a deep breath, steadier than she'd feared. "Yeah," she said in a matching tone, before she could think about it too hard. "Yeah. Are you?"
He nodded. "Yeah," he said, the same too-quick answer she'd given. "I'm alright."
She watched him closely for a minute, only distantly aware of the similar check-ins the colonel and his team were exchanging. He was too pale, strained in a way that worried her.
She was betting she looked similar. Neither one of them was nearly as alright as they were claiming, but that was something they would have to work through later.
On the floor, over by another row of shelves, Toller moaned faintly.
Everyone turned to look almost as one, and Toby started toward her.
Jack flung out an arm, catching him across the chest. "Bad idea," he said sharply.
Toby stopped short, his eyes still on Toller. "She's hurt," he said urgently, and then more quietly, "She's scared." He glanced at Jack, for just a second. "It's just her, now. Please, I used to be a paramedic. I can help."
The colonel's eyes narrowed. "Sam?" he said expectantly, not looking away from Toby.
"He's right," Sam responded quietly, her eyes on Toby as well, a crease between her brows. "It's dead. No tricks, as far as I can tell."
Toby shoved the colonel's arm away and went to Toller, kneeling down next to her and reaching out to touch her shoulder gently. "Hey, easy," he murmured, "Try not to move just yet."
The colonel watched with a frown, shifting his weight restlessly, then nodded to Sam. She nodded back quickly, then hurried to crouch on Toller's other side, across from Toby. "Hey, Amy," she said gently, "You'll be okay, just let us look you over, okay?"
"Teal'c, make sure he's secure," Jack said, turning away from Toller and the other two and tipping his head toward Blanchard's body, "Daniel, find the artifact." He waited until both complied, then he turned back to Michelle. "You wanna tell me what's going on with your buddy there?" he asked, sounding casually curious. "He's awfully. . . intuitive."
She suspected he was much more interested than he was letting on. She narrowed her eyes, glancing around at the group of them. "Do you mind telling me what's going on with. . . everything? Toby's intuition is the least weird thing that's happening here."
Jack considered her response in silence for a moment, tapping a finger against the side of his rifle. "To be continued, when we're sure things are secure here. Don't go anywhere." he said at last, and turned away again to follow after Daniel, leaving her with her mouth hanging open in confusion and surprise.
Toby and Sam had gotten Toller sitting up by now. She was clutching one arm tight to her stomach, and tears streaked her face.
Michelle gave herself a mental shake, putting her questions aside for the moment and making her way over to crouch next to Toby, her eyes on Toller's face. Try as she might, she couldn't see anything of the hateful, murderous visage the thief had first worn on the scared girl in front of her. Toller looked so young, and so frightened, and very nearly like a different person entirely.
Michelle reached for her phone, sitting back on her heels and beginning to dial. "Hey," the colonel said sharply, from over by the shelves where he and Daniel were scanning labels, "Who're you calling?"
She looked up, frowning. He was awfully sharp-eyed, and awfully suspicious. "Emergency services," she said, matching his tone, "She needs a hospital."
"She's right," Toby said from the floor, his arm carefully around Toller's shoulders, "She's got a broken collarbone, and maybe more than that."
The colonel glanced at Sam, raising his eyebrows.
She gave a nod. "I think that would be best, Sir. There's not much we can do here."
Jack gave a curt nod of his own. "Fine, but take her out front, if you can. I don't want any more civilians in here. Stay with her, Major."
Michelle paused, her finger hovering over the call button. "They'll need to take Blanchard, too," she pointed out.
"Oh, no they won't," Jack replied with a scoff. "He's coming with us."
Michelle stared at him, her shoulders stiffening, "You can't do that," she said, a little stunned at the audacity. "I need to report this to my department. We'll need to document all of this, including the body. And he's probably got a family that will need to be informed about this."
"We'll take care of it, Sergeant," the colonel told her forcefully, "There will be no documentation, no report to your department. The things that happened here? They don't leave this room. Understood?"
"Michelle," Toby interjected wearily before she could launch into the furious response she wanted to give. "It's okay. He's right."
Her mouth snapped shut, and she stared at him. She was still willing to trust him, to trust what he'd seen and heard and learned, but this was asking a lot. She couldn't lie to Dev or Becker, the rest of their team, and they would be asking about this.
Toby didn't break eye contact as he and Sam steadied Toller, and as they began helping her slowly toward the front of the warehouse.
"Okay," she finally said coolly, rising to her feet and shooting the colonel a dark look before going back to her phone. She turned pointedly away from all of them as she lifted it to her ear.
The danger seemed to be over, but it had only left her with more questions than ever.
The colonel had called for backup.
For the past hour or so, a larger group of people dressed the same way as Jack and his team had been streaming in and out of the little warehouse. He'd spent a long time on the phone before that, and Toby hadn't even tried to read him to learn what sort of politicking he was doing to make sure his US military people had run of the scene. He hadn't tried to read the people who'd turned up, either.
He was more burned out than he had been in a long time. The headache wasn't as bad as before, but it was still the worst he'd suffered as a result of his gift in years. What he really wanted to do was go home and sleep and try to forget all of this, but he couldn't walk away. Not yet, not until they'd had a chance to talk. He just needed to know he and the people he cared about were safe. That this wouldn't come back to hurt them. He had to be sure of that, before he left this room.
Michelle stirred next to him. They'd gotten themselves out of the way when the colonel's follow-up team had arrived, and he'd long since sat down on the floor along an empty stretch of shelving. Michelle had stayed standing, shifting restlessly, making vaguely-worded calls to Becker to keep him from sending in the cavalry, calls to her husband to let him know she was safe, pacing back and forth in front of the shelves. Eventually she'd sat down beside Toby, radiating weariness.
Now, though, he could feel her eyes on him, even though his own were closed, and felt a gentle nudge against his shoulder. "Hey, you doing okay?" she asked him quietly.
"Mm," he murmured in response, "Headache."
He winced slightly as she projected alarm so strongly he couldn't have avoided feeling it if he'd tried. "Toby. . ."
"It's okay," he assured her, finally opening his eyes. "I'm okay. It's just been. . . a lot."
He really was okay, he was pretty sure, at least in terms of his physical well-being. The rest. . .
It was going to take some time to process.
"What. . . happened, here?" Michelle asked after a moment, very quietly, "What's actually going on?"
Toby stared into space for a minute, then gave his head a slow, unsteady shake. "I don't. . . I know what I saw. What I felt. But I don't know what it means. There's. . ." He swallowed, scraping both hands through his hair and shutting his eyes again. He didn't want to think about it, what it had felt like when he'd first read Toller—the thing inside Toller—and when he'd read it again in Blanchard. It had felt like being sand-blasted with pure malice and rage, and he still felt. . . raw. "Michelle, there was something in her," he went on hoarsely, "Something controlling her. And then it moved to Blanchard, somehow. It wasn't. . . human. I don't know what it was, I know that sounds crazy, but—"
"Toby," she interrupted quietly.
He let out a shuddering breath, opening his eyes to glance sideways at her, meeting her searching gaze.
"I believe you," she said, just as quiet as before. "It's just. . . it leaves a lot of questions."
The tension seeped out of him, and he bowed his head for a moment. "Yeah," he agreed distantly. "I don't know how many answers we're gonna get, though. And some of it. . . I don't think I want to know. Some of the things I read. . ." He was silent for a moment, then looked up and gazed across the room at the colonel. "But you're right. I think there's some questions we need to ask."
The colonel caught him looking and stared back for a minute, then turned to murmur something to Teal'c.
They were the only two left now. Sam had gone with Toller to the hospital, and Daniel had more recently departed with the second team, hovering over the sealed crate they had carted out of the warehouse.
As soon as he finished whatever brief conversation he was having with Teal'c, the two of them made their way smartly over. Toby and Michelle both rose quickly to their feet, Michelle dusting off her knees where she'd knelt on the cold floor.
"So," Jack said as he drew close, clasping his hands together, "I think we need to have a talk."
Toby held his breath for a moment, exchanging a glance with Michelle. Her worried expression had not changed, nor had the determined set of her jaw, but she gave him a tiny nod.
She was going to follow his lead here, though he knew knew she had to be almost crawling out of her skin with curiosity and suspicion.
He focused on the colonel again. There were too many questions rattling through his own mind, and it was hard to know where to start. Especially when Jack and his team had already made it clear that this was a matter of intense secrecy. There was a lot he was sure they wouldn't be willing to answer, at least not in any detail.
He could ask anyway. He could read them, and get the answers that way.
He didn't want to. He'd seen so much already today, so many horrible things. He didn't want to see and experience any more of what these people had seen and experienced, more of the kinds of monstrous violence he'd picked up from just glimpses of their thoughts before now. He knew that the things he'd seen already would haunt him.
He thought he knew what to ask first, though. Something safe, and something important.
"What's going to happen to her?" he asked, glancing toward the front of the building, "Toller. Is she going to be okay?"
His worries went so much further than that question. Could what had happened to her happen to others? Was it likely to? Was there any coming back from it, whatever it was?
Was that poor, scared girl ever going to be the same again?
The colonel's stiff expression gentled, and his shoulders relaxed. "She'll live," he replied firmly "Physically, she'll be alright. We've seen it before. Psychologically. . ." His paused, his jaw tightening. "That's a lot harder to say. But we've got people who can help. People who've been where she is."
Toby took a deep, slightly shaky breath. He was glad that there would be help for Toller, but that response also meant that this could happen to other people. That it had happened before.
It was a relief to know that there was at least a chance she'd be okay again, though. That people could come back from this. . . this possession. He couldn't imagine what she must have been going through during her experience, or what she was going through now in the aftermath.
But she wasn't the only one who'd suffered something terrible today, and they hadn't been able to save the other one.
"What about Blanchard?" he asked, very softly, "It wasn't him anymore, was it? That. . . whatever it was, it was inside him. Controlling him. Was there. . . Could we have saved him? Was there another way?"
Seeing Michelle shoot someone they'd been friendly with earlier that evening had been hard enough, especially knowing she'd done so at least partially on his word. He'd never forget the furious, enraged burst of hatred that had come from Blanchard, from the thing inside him, so powerful Toby hadn't been able to see or hear or feel anything else until it had cut off so abruptly, when Teal'c had snapped his neck. He was mostly convinced it had been the right thing to do, that Blanchard's possessor would have killed them all if it had gotten the chance, that it wanted to do far worse than that to them. He'd seen it, seen the violence and agony it wanted to inflict.
But he'd also never forget seeing Blanchard die that way, right in front of him, even if it hadn't been Blanchard in that moment. He'd been an innocent man, just trying to protect his museum. They should have been able to keep him safe, and they hadn't, and that, too, would haunt Toby.
Jack folded his arms, watching Toby speculatively for a moment, then glanced back at Teal'c.
Teal'c turned to Toby and met his eye. "Under the circumstances we were facing," he replied quietly, "No. There was not. He would have killed all of us." He turned to Michelle, inclining his head slightly. "It is likely you prevented that, with your actions."
Michelle straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin slightly, but her expression was troubled. "I shot a man we came to save," she said, and hesitated a moment before swallowing. "Is it true, what Toby said? That something was controlling them from inside?"
Jack frowned speculatively, glancing between the two of them as he folded his arms. "I'll level with you, Sergeant" he began evenly, "You two probably saved our asses today. This coulda gone a whole lot worse if you hadn't figured out where Toller was headed, or if you hadn't been as quick on your feet as you were back there. Don't think I'm not grateful."
He eyed them both for a moment, considering, then sighed. "The bottom line is, though, that I can't tell you any details. This is like, way beyond top secret." He narrowed his eyes, focusing on Toby in particular. "Which is why I am very interested in knowing exactly how you figured out some of the things you did. How did you know about this place? And about. . . y'know." He made a vague gesture toward his own head.
Toby shifted uncomfortably. That was a pretty unspecific indication of the possession Toby had sensed, but it was at least a sort of confirmation.
He trusted his gift. But this was so far beyond anything he'd come across before, that until this moment he hadn't been entirely convinced he wasn't losing his mind. Even that vague indication eased the doubts he'd been harboring. "So it is true," he said, almost to himself. "There was something controlling them."
He glanced at Michelle when she leaned forward a little, needing to know as much as he did.
Jack eyed them both, arms still folded, and for a long minute said nothing at all.
In the end, it was Teal'c who answered. "Indeed," he said, and only that, but it was enough. Michelle and Toby both relaxed, just a little.
"How the hell did you know that, though?" Jack demanded after a moment, "How did you know any of what you miraculously picked up? You some sort of mind reader, or something?"
It was said sarcastically, but Toby tensed and stared at the floor for a moment. He was used to people making that joke, used to brushing it off or playing along, but he just didn't have it in him right now. He couldn't bring himself to joke about any of this.
Jack caught the response, and Toby could feel him staring. Any average person would just chuckle and move on and forget they'd made the joke to begin with, at this point, but these were not average people.
"You gotta be kidding me," Jack groaned after a second, confirming that he was just as willing to believe the impossible as Toby had feared. "Seriously? A mind reader?"
Toby closed his hands to fists in his pockets. It wasn't like he hadn't been found out before, a couple of times, but he hadn't been caught up in the middle of a secret military operation based out of another country, on those occasions.
Michelle's hand rested on his shoulder. She'd defend him, he knew, if it came to that. She'd help him play this off as something other than what it was, but he didn't know what sort of lie they could tell. This wasn't a situation where claiming to read faces was going to fly.
When he chanced a glance up, though, Jack looked more exasperated than anything else. "A mind reader," he muttered again, shaking his head.
"We have encountered similar individuals before, O'Niell," Teal'c interjected placidly. "Is it truly so surprising?"
Toby straightened abruptly, feeling his eyes widen. "You've met others?"
"Ah," Jack cut in sharply, holding up both hands, pointer finger raised on each. "That beyond top secret thing? Still applies." He lowered his hands again, eyes narrowed. "Which means, I assume, that you're in a similar position here. If you people have a mind reader in your back pocket, god only knows what the hell else you might have stashed around here." For a second more he eyed them, then mimed drawing a zipper across his closed lips. "I get it. I'll keep your secrets if you keep ours, or however the saying goes."
Toby wasn't sure if Jack actually believed his mind reading was actually a government secret, or if he was just giving them an easy out.
He didn't care. He wasn't going to push it, if it meant they could all put this behind them.
"It's not that easy," Michelle said grimly, squeezing his shoulder once before gesturing around the warehouse. "People died today. We can't just ignore what happened here. My superiors are going to have questions. They already have questions. What am I supposed to tell them, that we're keeping secrets on behalf of a foreign government?"
Jack tilted his head, folding his arms again. "That does sound bad, doesn't it?" he said, more amused than anything else, and reached into a pocket. "Look, no guarantees, but here." He handed over a business card. "Have your boss call my boss, and how about we let them duke it out?"
Michelle took the card, staring down at it for a minute before glancing at Toby.
He only shrugged. He was too damn tired to worry about appeasing Becker or the people above him right now. As far as he was concerned, putting him in touch with Jack's superiors and letting someone else handle it sounded pretty good to him.
Michelle scoffed quietly, but nodded. "I'll pass that along."
"Great!" Jack clasped his hands together, then gestured toward the front of the building with a flourish. "Then I think we're done here."
"Wait," Toby said, before the colonel could dismiss them completely. "I have to. . . I need to know something."
Jack raised his eyebrows, but after a second gestured for him to continue.
Toby took a steadying breath, glancing at where Blanchard had fallen. "Are we safe?"
He didn't feel safe. Not after everything that had happened that day. Not after catching a glimpse of this aspect of the world.
Jack's expression turned serious, and he followed Toby's gaze with a sigh. "I can't promise that," he finally said simply. "I wish I could, but there's nothing safe about this, and it's a big universe out there." He focused back on Toby. "What I can promise, though, is that my team and our command work our asses off every day to make sure things like this don't happen, as much as possible." He cast a quick glance around the warehouse. "Over all, we're pretty good at our jobs. I swear this was an outlier."
Michelle snorted, and Toby gave a ghost of a smile, though it faded again quickly.
That. . . didn't exactly comfort him, not nearly as much as he'd hoped for, but in the end, what about their lives was safe? He and Michelle were in danger all the time. Was it so different because it was a new type of danger?
It was still going to take time to come to terms with all this, but at least he had his answer. He bowed his head and rubbed his hands over his face. "Okay," he said at last. "Okay. Thank you."
The colonel gave a formal nod. "Wish I could give you assurances."
"Since you can't, Colonel, here," Michelle took a step forward, pulling out a business card of her own and handing it over to him. "If something like this happens again, if this city's under some sort of threat of whatever kind it is you deal with, I want to hear about it." She hesitated a moment, then tilted her chin up. "We can help, if it comes to that."
The colonel took the card, looking it over carefully. "We'll keep that in mind. And. . ." he hesitated a second, then offered a hand to shake. "Thank you. This could've gone a different way, pretty damn easily."
Michelle shook his hand, and then Toby, when Jack offered it to him in turn. "All due respect, Colonel," he said quietly, "But while I agree with my partner, I really hope we never see each other again."
Jack smiled thinly. "Under these circumstances? Same." He drew his hand back, flicking them a casual salute.
Toby was happy to be functionally dismissed. All he wanted was to go home, take some advil, and fall into bed. Michelle fell into step with him as he turned toward the warehouse door, looking just as ready to be done with this as he was feeling. "Becker's not going to be happy," she commented as they made their way outside.
The sun was starting to rise, and Toby tilted his face up into the early light. The night felt like it had gone on forever. "I say we give him that business card, and let him get it all sorted out."
Michelle scoffed, then sobered, pulling her coat more tightly around herself. "Are you sure you're okay? I don't know what all happened, Toby, but it looked like you took some hits."
He glanced at her, burying his hands more deeply in his pockets. "I wasn't the only one."
She gave a weak, tired smile, staring down at the slush-covered pavement for a minute. "Maybe."
It was his turn to reach out and place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Come on," he said, tilting his head toward her car. "Let's get out of here. We can talk about it on the way."
He didn't know how much that would help. A lot of what had happened tonight scared him, and he regretted too much.
But they were alive, and unhurt, and they were as safe as they could be. Today, regardless of what came at them in the future, he would have to be content with that.