"I still feel he needs more-"

"He's fine," Shaw says, waving a hand at Macy. She doesn't say anything I know she's irritated, even while holding a neutral expression. "His report came back, passing at standard levels. I'm sure more than well enough to work." Shaw sighs, dropping the file on his desk and leaning back in his chair.

"But his psych eval is a few points lower than his usual performance," Macy says. I don't say anything, standing still with my hands resting behind me.

"It's still in the passing marks," he points out.

"Yes, but Agent Way has always had high points and now he's-"

"Still above average," Shaw cuts in. "What do you expect from him mentally? Whatever he's missing, he doesn't need it to be able to shoot straight and fight."

"Symptoms of PTSD-"

"Over a sticker," Shaw says. He glances at me. "Are you afraid of a sticker?"

"Um-" I glance between him and Macy. "No, Director. Just the sound triggered a memory but nothing much."

"You know," he says, standing up in his chair, and walking around his desk toward me and Macy, "maybe if you listen to a few more sticker-or better yet, get some actual duct tape-we'd be able to recall a bit more from your time with Kelcer."

He stands in front of me. "With all due respect, I don't believe that'd be a productive idea other than desensitizing me to the sound. There's very little I can provide on the event."

Shaw chuckles at me. "I was joking, Agent. You're fine and able to work. However, your E.O. thinks otherwise." I glance at Macy and she gives me a worried look. "I'll leave it up to her to decide."

"Thank you, Director," I say, stepping out of the room with her. "You're going to make me take more leave, aren't you?" I ask, once the door shuts and we make it over to the squad room.

"No," she says.

"Wait, you aren't?" I ask, looking at her surprised.

She shakes her head. "You have met the standards to return, even if it means your performance is still lower than usual for you. But regardless, you're able to be here. However, you're going to take it easy until your eval is at least closer to what it used to be for you."

"There's no way I can get it to match again, you know that, right?" I say as we reach the desks.

"I know, but 23 points is a lot," she says. "Close it in to 10. I'm having Dr. Frey see you again today."

"Like the 3-day difference will be that drastic," I say, walking over to my desk. Slightly dusty but everything is as I left it.

"It'll show us something," Macy says. "You'll meet with her 1730. And she asks you to eat something on your lunch break this time."

"I'll think about it," I mutter. I glance over and see the empty desk still. "Where's Brendon? Haven't seen him yet."

"He will be back," a voice calls out.

I glance over and smile. "Hey, wheels." Akari rolls over toward me, slowing down at my desk. "Where's he at?"

"He should be getting back from an investigation shortly," Akari says. "He took the weekend to follow up on his leads in Austria."

"Who's he with?" I ask.

Akari shakes their head. "He went by himself, said it could not wait. But he is going to be back today, should be here already."

"He went alone?" I mutter. That's against protocol. Well, so lying on the eval but this is different. "Catch me up to speed."

Akari narrows their eyes at me. "As if Brendon has not been filling you in," they mutter lowly.

"Not the details, just the scope of the case," I reply.

Akari smiles and gestures for me to follow over to their desk.

The two of us review several files. We know the Russians have moved their base of operation from Austria to the U.S., presumably D.C. However, it's still unknown how close they are to the attack and their course of action. A lot of the files provide more information about the virus but nothing that will help us stop the attack.

"Way," Macy calls out from her desk.

"Hold on," I say.

"Way, I-where are you?"

"He is on the floor," Akari says from their wheelchair at their computer.

Macy stands up, seeing me surrounded in files on the floor. "It's nearly 1400, you haven't-"

"I will, I will, just let me finish. I'm almost done."

"Gerard, you said almost a couple hours ago at noon when she had asked."

"Well, now it's almost-almost, very close-hey," I whine.

Akari takes the file from me and closes the file, placing it on their desk. "No one is taking it away from you."

"You just did," I mutter, standing up. And my legs are asleep now. I stumble forward.

"Low blood sugar now," Akari says, giving an analytical sigh.

I spin around, glancing at them. "It's not what you think," I say with a smile.

"Way, go get lunch or you'll work yourself to death," Macy says. "And not something from the vending machine."

"I didn't even say-"

"She did not have to," Akari says while typing.

"Go out and get food. That's an order."

I grab my work bag off the floor as I pass my desk, through the shoulder strap over me. "You know, you were never like this before!" I call out as I head to the elevator.

"Your health wasn't a concern before!" she calls back without glancing up from her desk.

I head out, grabbing a decent meal but eating it rather quickly. Lunch breaks were rarely taken. They were more of a friendly suggestion. The first day I get back, it's all suddenly different. But it is a really nice day. Warm, sunny, bright and clear skies, radiant sun. Streets and sidewalks busy with people, gentle wind. The ideal day. I start making my way back to the office when I see Brendon coming up to me in the corner of my eye.

"Finally back," he says with a smile.

"Hey, man, yeah," I say, extending my hand. Brendon ignores me and pulls me in for a hug. "How's it been?"

"Ugh, boring I must say," he says, stepping back and the two of us continue walking.

"Heard you've been out," I say. He becomes stern, tensing up. "What was it?"

"Not in the open," he mutters.

I nod. "That serious, huh?" I ask. He doesn't say anything. "Couldn't wait a few more days for me?"

"First of all, no, it was urgent," he says lowly, "and second, even if I did wait, you wouldn't have come. I'm sure Macy has already given you a hard time."

"Oh, yeah, but all with good intentions."

"Tough love," he says. "Was it your physical?"

"The eval actually," I say.

"Really?" he asks, turning toward me.

"Yeah, I was surprised too. But the...it's doing what it's supposed to, so my hands were fine," I say. "It's also normal training so, you know."

"You know it's staged so you're able to focus better, ease your nerves," Brendon says nodding along. "What got you on the eval?"

"The PTSD probably had something to do with it," I say. "And the whole nerve thing."

"Ah, yeah, I can get that. So you lied then," he says. "You tell anyone else? And by anyone else, I mean Frank."

"Eh, he worries enough about me."

Brendon sighs, tilting his head back and staring upward. "So he's here now."

"Yeah, it's nice but...off-putting," I say. "I'm glad he's here but what are the odds of a coincidence? I feel something is set up. And I can't really ask him about it without seeming suspicious."

"You are suspicious," Brendon comments.

"Well, duh, but he doesn't need to know that. And I also don't want to come off as doubting his skill. He really is good but the whole thing doesn't seem right."

"You can either keep an eye on him and protect him or keep your distance to keep him safe."

I sigh. "Say someone is setting this up. By now, it's too late so keeping my distance wouldn't do any good."

"Fair point," Brendon sighs. "When do you see him again?"

"Actually, tonight," I smile, "He's coming by after work."

Brendon nods. "He's only staying in a hotel now?" he asks.

"Yeah, for now. But I visited him. It's not bad living. The company is rather generous, giving him no deadline." Brendon smirks, glancing at me. "What?" I ask waiting for it. "I don't like that look, no good thoughts come to you with that look."

"Since he needs a place to stay, why don't you-"

"I don't like where this is going already," I say.

"Like you haven't thought of him moving in with you," Brendon says. We turn around the corner and are no longer walking in the shade. The sun is rather hot now, especially as we're both wearing dark suits.

"I don't think Frank would want to. It hasn't been that long for us."

"Uh, do you even know Frank? If it has to do with you, it's the best idea in the world to him." I laugh to myself. "You know I'm not wrong." Gunfire breaks out abruptly and Brendon groans, collapsing backward and falling on the ground hard.

"Brendon!" I scream, reflexively ducking down and reaching for him. I try crawling toward him but the gun fire continues, rapid bullets spraying the brick building next to us. Fragments of the brick siding ricochet off the wall and shoot like needles at my face. "GOD!" I scramble down, backing up behind a parked car next to the sidewalk for cover. Brendon lays on the ground out in the open. "Brendon!" I scream, leaning forward but frozen in my place. He's not moving. I can't get to him. Gunfire continues and pedestrians scream as they run away from the scene.

I raise my head and peek through the car window, spotting the shooter across the street. Male, dark clothing, mid-30s, tall and stocky build, approximately 5'10, light color hair. He's going to pay for that. He's going to die.

I pull my gun out and quickly start returning fire. He ducks down, shooting back and starts moving away. My heart rate has increased drastically and that changes everything. The medicine only does so much, my hands start shaking again and now my vision is slowly doubling but I keep shooting. He's going to die for that.

I hold down the trigger, straining to shoot straight, aiming at the middle blurred silhouette. The gun clicks as it empties but I nail him in the shoulder on the last round. His body slams into a parked car, the alarm going off and blaring. I quickly get up from my position, storming across the street while reloading. The shooter hasn't moved, leaning against the car and heavily breathing. The next clip clicks and locks into place in as I step onto the sidewalk. Even with a shaking hand and pulsing vision, I can't miss while standing over him at point blank. I see his face, the fear for half a second before I shoot him three more times. Two to the heart. One to the head. As it always should be.

His gun falls from his hand and his body slumps to the ground. The car alarm is still blaring in intervals and police sirens are approaching fast. The anger leaves me and all that's left is panic. Brendon.

I put my gun away, running back across the street to him. He hasn't moved. He didn't move. He's not moving. I dive down to his side, grabbing his arm and turning him. "Hey, hey," I whimper. His eyes are closed. "Hey, please, come on." I shake him.

Brendon weakly groans, tilting his head up and opening his eyes. "Ow," he moans, weakly coughing out. I glance at his chest, the bullet holes ripped open the front of his suit. I frantically start padding down his front but something doesn't feel right. "You know," he wheezes, "when I was heading out..." He starts coughing, his head rolling back. I slide my fingers under the opening of his shirt and rip it open. The bullets are all embedded in the navy padding. He's wearing a vest. "Gah-hey!" he chokes.

The weight of the world falls off my shoulders and I take a breath, trembling with relief. "Oh, thank god," I whimper, falling back against the side of the building and closing my eyes. Hot tears start pouring down my face.

"You just ripped my shirt," Brendon coughs. I look at him, the tears continuously streaming. He groans as he sits himself up. "Had you let me finish, I would have said this morning I put on a vest, thinking I was being a little paranoid."

"Well, thank god for paranoia." I rest my head against the rough brick wall, all the tension leaving me.

"Ugh, I guess. But you didn't have to rip my shirt."

"Technically speaking, the bullets ripped it first," I laugh, wiping my eyes with the side of my thumb.

"Well, yeah, but you didn't have to make it worse," he groans, leaning his head forward and stretching his neck.

"You were taking too long," I sigh.

"I just got shot in the lungs," he says, "forgive me for being out of breath."

"I was panicking."

"Yeah, and I was shot." Brendon takes a rapid breath as he sits up next to me. He straightens his torso out, taking a deep breath in segments to stretch his diaphragm. He turns his head, staring across the street where there are police officers now just arriving. His face falls and he becomes solemn. "That was...you killed him."

"He shot you. He was going to die," I say.

Brendon sighs and chuckles nervously. "Glad you have my back. But now we can't question him."

"Oh, please, like we can't put two and two together why there was a hit on you."

"But still, that was extreme. Especially for you, Gee." He turns to look at me but I don't say anything.

"As I said, he shot you. He was going to die." I sigh, getting off the ground and dusting myself off. The fabric of my pants wore thin from skidding but I don't care. Brendon looks up at me but sighs. What's done is done. I hold my hand out and Brendon puts on a smile and takes it. I pull him up to his feet and steady him as he teeters back. "You good?"

"Ugh, yeah," he winces, holding his chest and trying to stretch. He glances down at the brass embedded into his vest, running his finger over it. "Man, that'll be sore for my wedding." I shake my head, laughing under my breath. Brendon looks back up at me, the sunlight catching in his dark irises. He smiles, laughing too. The two of us just stare at each other for a moment, smiling and laughing in relief. "I mean, really," he says, "how am I supposed to dance with my bride if-"

A single gunshot cracks through the air, louder and lower than the other ones. All I see is a red haze explode before I close my eyes. A hot mist sprays my face and I violently turning my head and body away. I lose balance, stepping off the curb and tumbling in the street, my arms bracing me for the fall. The echo dissolves in the atmosphere, leaving the world disorientated. The palms of my hands burn with a stinging sensation from scraping against the rough asphalt. My fingers lose feeling as they start tingling again. Slowly, I open my eyes, fixating on the ground, my vision pulsating heavily in sync with my heavy heart. I just focus at the ground. Frozen. The fading grey asphalt of the street, the loose pebbles collected at the edge of the white, cement curb.

My face is warm. And wet. And sticky. I slowly raise a shaking hand, the heel of my palm torn up with slivers of skin peeling off and curling. I drag my fingers across my face. I've lost feeling in my fingertips so I don't feel anything. But I feel my fingertips glide, gliding too easily against my forehead. I pull away and stare down. Streaks of red smudge on my fingers, glistening and outline my fingerprints. That's when I smell it. And taste it. Metallic. My stomach lurches forward. It's in my mouth. My eyes start watering and my insides liquify. It's in my mouth.

The world drowns out and everything around screams on mute. My neck rigidly starts tilting my head up against my will. I don't want to look. I don't want to see. But I do. Brendon vacantly stares up at the sky, his body crumpled on the sidewalk. A bullet hole through his forehead and his skull blown out, splattering the walls and sidewalk. A dark crimson pools around what remains as the back of his head.