>THE SAFEHOUSE
>7.6.2019
>0230HRS...///

Ava leant away from her laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of her, resting her back against the couch behind her. She took her glasses off so she could rub at her dry eyes for a moment, then lowered her hands so she could squint at the time in the corner of her screen. The numbers coolly told her it was almost three in the morning. She had woken up nearly two hours ago from a fitful sleep and being one of those people that could not go back to sleep once awakened, she opted to get some work done instead. 

She quietly grabbed her laptop and left the bunkroom so she wouldn’t wake up Agent Bhaat, taking her pillow with her. From there she sat herself down in the living room, using the pillow as a cushion to sit on the floor and the coffee table as a makeshift desk. 

The rest of the cabin was quiet, leading her to believe she was the only one awake so she hadn’t bothered to change out of her pajamas. It also looked like the others weren’t back yet with the witness. That worried her, especially knowing that they had some kind of encounter when they went to extract their asset, though exactly what happened she didn’t know. Foster didn’t elaborate when he told them and she hadn’t received another update since that initial call, so she hoped they were alright.

She put her glasses back on her face and looked at the front door. That was another reason she didn’t want to go back to sleep. 

Ava let out a heavy breath through her nose and picked up her wireless headphones, sitting next to her on the table. She put them on over her ears, gently running her fingers over the designs of pressed flowers engraved into the red and gold surface of the ear pads. She turned on the music app on her phone, playing a soothing instrumental track of violins and a piano. 

Pushing the coffee table gently away, she stood up, stretched and headed for the kitchen to make herself another cup of coffee.

The door to the garage opened and then closed, a weary Dave entering the cabin in jeans and a wife-beater. He'd vanished into the garage the moment his team returned from town, grinning like a child with a new toy as he unpacked bags of fertilizer, lengths of pipe, and various chemicals. He spent the hours since setting up his lab; jugs of acetone, bleach, and ammonia were stacked against the wall, bags of fertilizer on the opposite side, and the small workbench had been covered in a scattering of odds and ends of pipes and tools. He had gone through the electrical kit he purchased, laying out bits of wire and connectors, and labeled things as appropriate. The biggest addition was a hand-drawn sign, [i]NO SMOKING[/i], that he had duct-taped to the door. Things were sure to get interesting when Donnelley saw that. 

With the lab set up and fatigue setting in, Dave entered the house in search of caffeine. He didn’t necessarily need to start building anything right now; he still hadn’t talked to Foster about getting phones to use as detonators, and he hadn’t hit up a Radio Shack to buy the fixings for any other means of detonation short of using an old-school fuse. Still, he didn’t want to sleep. Not right now, with his mind churning over the interview, the dead girl, and the thing he’d seen just a couple of days before. 

He walked towards the kitchen, pulling up short as he came upon Ava, her coffee mug in her hand. He noted the headphones and took a few steps into her field of view, waving a hand. 

“Hey, you ain’t in bed yet?” He asked, leaning against the counter. “Ain’t your parents gonna get pissed if they catch you sneakin’ a snack?” 

The sudden motion out of the corner of her eye gave Ava a start. She quickly turned to face the movement while pulling the headphones off her ears. “Oh, Dave, you surprised me.” She said with a relieved sigh as she settled her headphones around her neck, her hair fluffing up and out against the band of her headphones. 

She smiled slightly at his joke and wrapped her other hand around her mug. “I was asleep, but I woke up a couple hours ago.” She explained, glancing down at her coffee, which was a rich golden brown from the creamer she added and gave off the faint heavenly scent of vanilla. The tiny sounds of violins and piano drifted into the air from her headphones as she took a tentative sip of the hot coffee. 

“What are you doing up?” She asked, lifting her deep blue eyes back up to him. “I didn't wake you, did I?” She asked, a crease appeared between her furrowed eyebrows as a hint of worry entered her tone.

“Nah, I ain’t been to bed. After that shit on the mountain…” He shrugged. Being trapped in a cabin by a monster the size of a Ford and seeing his team torn apart was the kind of experience to keep a man up at night. Then there was Clif, and that fucking trap… He shook his head and gestured towards the door. “Been out there, gettin’ my stuff laid out. I don’t know what we’ll be needin’ so I don’t want to go mix up HME and then leave it layin’ around.” 

“Oh, yeah, that seems like a smart idea.” She glanced back down at her coffee, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the ceramic while trying to think of the right thing to say. Dave was clearly haunted about what happened to him and she wanted to do...something to help him. He seemed like a nice man, despite his unnerving knowledge of homemade explosives, and seeing the thousand yard stare in his eyes whenever it was brought up…

“Uh,” She raised her eyes up and bit her lip for a moment. “I’m not...great at advice, but if you want to talk about what happened, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.” She offered, giving a small but uncertain smile.

He drummed his fingers on the countertop, debating with himself. Talking about things would probably help. Still, he wasn’t even sure what he’d seen himself; he’d never had a look at the creature, and while he hadn’t mentioned it to the crew, some of the parts immediately before he’d kissed that fender were a bit hazy. 

“We can talk about it, sometime,” he said slowly. “But uh...Maybe by the light of day, yeah?” He gave her a grin. “You already can’t sleep. I don’t wanna make it worse by giving you nightmares when you finally do nod off.” 

He walked around to the coffee pot, taking down a mug and pouring himself a cup. “So what you been up to, since you ain’t sleeping? Workin’ on that virus of yours?” 

She moved out of his way and leaned back against the island in the middle of the kitchen, watching him pour his coffee. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of his muscles flexing as he reached for the mug, they were more defined than she had originally estimated. She took a long pull from her cup, shutting her eyes and enjoying the smell and taste of perfectly sweetened coffee. 

Ava opened her eyes when Dave spoke again and lowered her mug down. “Oh, no, I finished that before I went to bed.” She answered. “Right now I’m putting together a new identity for the witness and I have a program running that’s compiling information on local hospitals.” She frowned, tapping her finger against her mug. “I wish I knew how extensive this new identity has to be though. If he has family in another part of the state I don’t want them to think he’s dead.”

“Shit, man,” Dave muttered. “I don’t even like tryin’ to buy ammo online, and you’re inventing people and creepin’ through hospital records. You’re kind of a scary gal.” He raised his coffee mug in a brief toast. 

Ava flushed at the idea of her being considered ‘scary’ especially by a mountain man like Dave. She snorted as she looked down at herself in her pastel NASA t-shirt and pink plaid pajama pants. Not to mention her hair was a puff ball of red tangles after being in a braid all day, especially since it had been wet. “Only when you put me in front of a computer.” She responded, lifting her mug up in response to his with a smile twitching up the corner of her lips. 

A thought popped into her head and she straightened slightly. “Oh! Shoot, I forgot, did you happen to find a bag of seeds with all of your, um, stuff?”

“Yeah, I found some seeds.” He grinned. “Plannin’ to throw ‘em off our trail, huh?” 

She shrugged awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of her neck. “It seemed like it made sense at the time. Like it’d look less weird, you know?” She smiled crookedly and shrugged again. “Besides, my neighbor loves gardening and she’ll be needing fall vegetables soon so I thought I’d help her out.”

“Not a bad plan,” Dave nodded seriously. “Gotta keep the Feds on their toes.” He took a sip of coffee, biting back a chuckle. He’d bought nearly 250 pounds of fertilizer. The seeds she’d purchased wouldn’t have been nearly enough to make use of it. It was like buying twelve cartons of butter and a single potato. “I’m sure your friend will appreciate the gesture, too. I probably oughta take a look around town, see if there’s anything souvenir-like that I can pick up for my boy. He’s already gonna be upset I took off on a new [i]job[/i] without warnin’.”  

Ava perked up at that little tidbit and a more relaxed smile spread across her lips. “You have a son?” She asked curiously, tilting her head to the side. “How old is he?”

“Fourteen.” Dave smiled and rolled his eyes. “Teenagers, lemme tell ya. Nobody in the world is moodier than a teenager. I’m in for it when I get home.” 

“Ah,” She nodded in understanding, a soft chuckle bubbling up from her chest. “Sounds like you’re going to have to get him something really nice as a peace offering.” She leaned back against the island again, her eyes studying his hands briefly for a sign of a wedding ring or even a tan line of one. There was nothing though. 

“I’ve got a pretty moody cat, he’ll probably ignore me for a couple of days when I get back home. Bribery doesn’t work as well on cats though.” She said with a roll of her eyes.

In the quiet of night and the stillness of the house it was easy to hear the crunch of gravel under tires. The opening and shutting of car doors and Donnelley’s muffled voice, [i]’Get him searched, no cellphones.’[/i]

The sound of a key rasping into a lock came and the door opened to reveal Donnelley with a cigarette dangling from his lip. He sauntered inside with a tiredness in his eyes and a slur to his voice from the lack of sleep. “Get that man a chair,” Donnelley thrust a thumb back at Frank just entering, and then pointed the thumb to his own chest, “And get this man a drink.”

He chuckled at his own cheesy antics and went for the door to the garage, the sound of his lighter flicking audible to Ava and Dave before they heard Donnelley stop in his tracks at the door and the sign on it. A few beats of silence before, “The fuck’s this?” He came back into view from the hallway, cigarette tucked behind his ear, “Who went’n wrote that?”

"Me," Dave said, glancing at him. "I got chemicals set out all over the place. You smoke in the wrong place you're gonna blow us all up." He jerked a head at the door. "Pain in the ass, I know, but you want me bein' the demo guy, I'm runnin' my shop my way."  

Donnelley gave a nod and looked back at the door and then to Dave, “Alright.”

Instead of smoking in the garage he did what he usually did and lit up right where he stood. He drew in the smoke with closed eyes and let it out slow, nodding. He opened his eyes and gave a small smirk as he sat at the island table, “I love smokin’ indoors.” He gestured to Dave and Ava, “What have my two delightful rascals been up to at this hour? Swappin’ gossip?”
 
Ava straightened up and pushed away from the island as Donnelley sat down, relieved to see everyone back and in one piece. She shot a reassuring smile over to the man she was assumed was their witness, Frank while ignoring the mild embarrassment she felt from being in her pajamas. 

“We were waiting for you to come back.” She said, doing her best to try and sound like a disappointed mother but was unable to keep the small smile off her face. “It’s past your curfew.”

Donnelley winked at Ava, “I’m a bad kid.”

Laine entered the cabin, her high heels replaced with Converse sneakers by this time. She gestured for Frank to sit in the living room in one of the comfortable stuffed chairs. Once he was settled she looked over at Ava, smiling at the sight of the young computer whiz looking like a kid who was trying to stay awake during a sleepover. 

Her gaze flicked to Dave and he certainly did not look like any kid. His wife beater had its effect and her eyes lingered on his arms until she shook her head slightly, noticing Donnelley lighting up. 

Laine rolled her eyes then said in a tired voice that was more raspy than usual, edged with a playful dryness, "He just likes doing what he shouldn't."

Laine dumped her purse and her blazer on the couch before heading into the kitchen, looking at the coffee maker, a silent debate going on within to try and stay up or go pass out. Laine snorted softly, ten years ago she would have hardly needed the coffee to stay awake, now she was dragging. She picked up two Keurig cups and started making them. 

She  brought a cup of coffee to Donnelley, then glanced at Frank in the living room. She spoke quietly,  "Should he talk to him now or let him sleep?" 

Donnelley took the offered cup and smiled to Laine, mouthing a thanks. He looked back at Frank on the couch, clutching his bag and looking forlorn at the way his life had been going this far. “Frank.”

The man looked up from his reverie and nodded at Donnelley, “Yeah?”

“You want to talk about Blackriver tonight or?” Donnelley cocked a brow.

Frank bit his lip and looked away, thoughts playing out on his face before he looked back to Donnelley, “I’ll talk.”

Donnelley nodded, looking to Jason who was sitting on the couch next to Frank’s, “Where’s his phone?”

Jason waved it in his hand, Donnelley placed his cigarette in his mouth and held his hand out. Jason tossed the phone over and Donnelley snatched it out of the air, the entire time, Frank watched in curiosity. “Frank, you have the contact information for any of the other Park Rangers you work with?”

“Um, yeah.” Frank said, his tone curious.

“Okay.” He went to work getting the SIM card out of the phone and tossing it to Ava before cracking the phone in half on the corner of the counter.

Ava quickly moved her cup of coffee off to the side as she reached out to catch the small plastic and metal chip with her free hand. She grimaced at the shattering of the smartphone against the counter, but didn’t say anything, having a good idea why it had to be done. 

Frank jumped from his seat but didn’t come any closer to Donnelley and the others, “That was my phone. My parents!” He rose his voice, “If they call-“

“I don’t give a shit!” Donnelley snapped at Frank, “I got people makin’ threats on every life in this room because [i]you[/i] know somethin’!”

Donnelley stood from his seat and sucked in smoke as he took a few steps into the living room, “You’re under my protection. They track your phone and it’ll lead right to you- to [i]us[/i]. I just cut that little trail of breadcrumbs.” He placed his hands on the couch in front of him and leaned towards Frank, “You’re welcome.”

He turned for the kitchen again and sat down at his seat, “Just answer our questions. We’ll get you a burner in the morning and you can make a call to mommy and daddy, unless you don’t know their numbers by heart?” Donnelley’s brow ticked up, “You’re a good son, though. A good man. Good men answer questions.”

“Fuck, man…” Frank ran a hand over his face, “Yeah, okay. Sure. Makes sense, I’ll answer your questions, sure.”

Donnelley gave his tight smile, “Thank you, Franklin.”

“Francis.”

“Uh huh.” Donnelley loudly sipped his coffee for a few long seconds.

Laine crossed her arms over her chest, holding a cup of coffee close. She glanced over at Ava, "Do you mind putting on another cup, I think our friend here will need one."

Turning back to Frank, she asked, "How was the mood at the station since we talked? Any other visitors?"

Frank shook his head, “No. I wasn’t around to see them if there was. I packed my bags and left pretty soon after we talked.”

He looked away from Laine and then to Donnelley before he spoke again, “That guy. I’ve seen him before.”

"The guy in the Challenger?" she asked, "Please, go on. Where have you seen him? Do you know who he is?"

Frank nodded, “He used to meet with the station chief in his office. Used to show up in a suit to look official. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe he is but…” he sighed, shrugging, “All I know is I’ve seen him before a few times.”

“Well, he said he’s a friend of yours back at the motel.” Donnelley chimed in, coffee mug halfway to his lips.

“He isn’t. I don’t even know his name.” Frank shook his head.

“You know the name of your supervisor?” Donnelley asked.

“Hoffman. Phil.” Frank frowned, his voice was hollow and reedy when he spoke again, “He’s… he’s the one who told me to shut the fuck up about that missing hiker and his wife.”

Dave watched the activity with equal parts interest and confusion. He had pieced together that Frank was the Ranger they'd discussed previously, but this talk of Challengers and motels was new. He glanced at Donnelley and Laine, reading the tension in their postures, and then quietly returned to the garage.

He returned a few moments later with his plate carrier strapped on over his beater and his SLR hanging from its sling. He'd kept his Sig in arm's reach while in the garage, but now it rode strapped to his thigh, his duty belt buckled around his waist. He gave Ava a reassuring wink as he walked over to lean against a nearby wall and fished out his Cope, snapping it a few times and then shoving a generous portion into his lip. 

Ava gave a ghost of a smile at Dave’s wink, hoping that they wouldn’t be having a shoot out any time soon. She had palmed the SIM card into her pocket while she brewed up a cup of coffee for Frank. She processed the bits of information with a thoughtful frown as the Keurig finished and she took the coffee over to Frank. She handed him the mug with a slight smile, trying to help put him at ease. “Here you go, if you want creamer we have that too.” She told him before looking up to Donnelley and Dr. Laine with curious eyes. “What happened exactly? You were discovered?”

Laine inhaled the aroma of the French roast and sighed deeply, listening to Frank. At Ava's inquiry, she glanced at her, "He was watching Frank at the motel and he made sure we knew he was there.  We managed to lose his tail in Charleston, hid out at another motel to make sure. We never saw the Dodge Challenger he drove or anyone else acting suspicious again. Then we came back here."

She clocked Dave's sudden appearance, nodding slightly at him and his weapon. Right now there was no need to take chances. Turning back to Frank, she asked, "Tell us about the hikers, what you told me. And add the details you held back, please."

“The dude was fucking terrified. We found him in one of the old mines they never boarded up out in the mountains.” Frank eyed Dave and all his armor and weaponry before turning back to Laine, “His wife… she, uh…”

“She was like that girl. The one I found…” Frank’s hands were restless, going between folded together to splayed out so he could look at them and back and forth, “My partner was with me, Billy, we called it in and Phil told us to mark it down on our map and we got back to the station and that guy was there.”

“They had a talk, him and Phil, and Phil told me to stop talking about the hikers and that guy would handle it from there.” Frank shrugged, “I just did what I was told. I was new, I’ve never seen anything like that, okay?”

“So,” Donnelley got up from his seat and sipped at his coffee again before he spoke, “Foster said you called him before you called the Sheriff. That’s why I’m here, Frank. You said you saw a shimmer in the air that led you to the girl you found. She wasn’t the first one you found like that?”

“No.” Frank shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

“How did you know to call Foster? Who gave you his information?” Donnelley asked.

“Billy. He wasn’t new like me.” Frank frowned, “Billy was on leave and, um, he was in town one night. Charleston police said he got robbed at gunpoint and killed.”

Donnelley nodded, making for the stairs and taking them two at a time, albeit slowly with his bum leg, “Wait up!”

Once he came back down he had his tactical gear and his Honey Badger in his arms, which he dumped on the couch, “Dave over there makin’ me nervous.” He smiled back at the man in question. Out of his pocket he produced a small recorder and pressed record, “Joseph Donnelley and Doctor Heather Laine interviewin’ Park Ranger Frank Wilkins. July Sixth, 2019, West Virginia, Blackriver County.”

Donnelley pointed to Frank, “Go ahead and tell us everything again.” Donnelley slipped his carrier over his head, “From the start, please.”

Frank did as he was told, running through everything he’d said thus far with Donnelley nodding along, “So, guy’s a regular at your station and only Phil Hoffman knows him. Billy…”

“Britt.” Frank filled in.

“Billy Britt is Foster’s asset and after the incident with the lost hikers, he goes on leave to Charleston and somebody decides to rob him?” Donnelley raised his brows.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded.

“Well, if that ain’t the most beautiful scent of conspiracy I ever heard, I don’t know what the fuck is.” Donnelley looked to Laine and back to Frank. “Phil Hoffman know the Sheriff?”

“Um-“

A car horn blared from outside and Donnelley sat ramrod straight at the sound. He looked to Laine, then to the others. Jason wasted no time in jumping up and going upstairs for the rest of his gear. All the while, Donnelley paused the recorder and tipped one of the blinds up with a finger. At this hour, all he saw was headlights.

“Fucking Christ.” Donnelley kept his eyes out the window and gestured behind him, “Frank, get the hell upstairs. Dave, there’s a light machine gun in the garage, set up at this window and lay some hate into this fucker if you hear him bein’ rude to me.”

He stepped back from the window, “Anybody doesn’t want to shoot back with me, get to your rooms and stay on the ground. I’m goin’ to have a friendly conversation.”

Ava jumped at the sound of the car horn and glanced with wide eyes toward the front door. She felt a cold sweat break out over her body as she stood frozen to her spot. Her eyes flicked between Donnelley and Dave armed to the teeth, readying for a fight. She glanced back to the door, the thought flicking across her mind if these walls could stop bullets. She supposed that depended on the caliber…

She finally nodded at Donnelley’s orders, not trusting herself to talk over the tightening of her throat and forced her legs to move. She grabbed her laptop off the coffee table and shut it, hugging it against her chest to hide the fact that her hands were shaking. 

"Shit," Laine hissed when the horn blared, the hot coffee sloshing over her hand and onto her sweater as she startled. Setting down the mug, she wiped her hand as she hustled over to the couch, pulling her Glock from the holster and the extra magazine from her purse, tucking it into her waistband.

"Ava, go to our room, stay down and away from the windows. Wake Pari up," she said, moving towards the window, peering through the blinds without moving them. There was not much to see, only the blinding headlights. "I'll be right there."

“Yep, I seen it.” Dave headed for the garage, returning a moment later with the weapon, a typical SAW-style with attached ammunition box. He carried it to the window, sitting down and opening the feed tray. 

“Go on now, get out of here sugar,” he said, glancing at Ava as he pulled the belt across the feed tray and closed the top cover with a snap. He racked it back and engaged the safety, settling it into his shoulder. “We got this. Keep yourself low to the ground, y’hear?” 

Ava looked at all three of them and swallowed thickly before nodding again. “Okay...Okay. Be careful.” She said quietly and then forced her legs to move to the women’s bunkroom. She opened the door and ducked inside, shutting the door with a little more energy than she meant to because of her nerves. 

She rested her shoulder on the door and thumped her head against it, still clutching her laptop and trying to catch her breath. She was bracing for the sound of gunfire at any moment, the anxiety brought on by the building tension feeling like it had a vice grip on her chest. It felt like the calm before the storm.

[i]Keep it together, just keep your head down and it’ll be okay.[/i] She tried to tell herself as she lifted her head and glanced over to Pari’s bunk.

The Agent was already awake, primed and ready behind the door that, apparently, Ava pushed open. She breathed a sigh of relief as she made out the redhead. 

She had been sleeping when she was woken by the sound of Donnelly entering - and for a while, she had forgotten even falling asleep in the first place. Her notebook had been beside her on the pillow, and she hadn’t even washed the cat-eye liner from her lids. It wasn’t like her to drift off like that, but she’d attributed it to the trials of the day. It didn’t take long for her to sense a surge in the tension, and so she’d snuck out from her bed to meet the others…

In her nightwear, she looked a world away from the professional FBI agent of the day, there she was in matte silk turquoise harem pants that cinched at the ankles - fastened with a bow on each. The turquoise colour was sophisticated, and the pyjamas were by her own admission, expensive. Her feet were bare, toes painted in a similar hue that stood out upon her rich olive skin. Pari’s hair too, was different, flowing to the middle of her back in loose mahogany curls.

“Ava,” she said quietly, holding out a hand, two fingers held together and facing upwards. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? I’m sorry I drifted off to sleep…” Pari’s apology more of a confused muttering in the direction of the woman in front of her. 

Much like her bottoms, her shirt billowed around her curvaceous frame - obscuring it in the blanket of light comfort.

Ava looked up at the Agent and shook her head, her eyes terrified and mouth set in a grim line as she reached out to grab her hand. “No, no. We have to get to cover. The others came back with the witness but they were followed or tracked somehow and there’s a strange car outside and…” She trailed off as she realized she was starting to ramble and took in a deep breath. “They’re gearing up for a fight.”

"It's alright, that's right - first things first, breathe," Pari said calmly, dropping down into a squat until she set one knee on the ground. She made sure her head was lower than the windows. She then took deep breaths of her own in time with Ava - it helped nobody if either of them got into a panic over this. "There are more of us than them," she added, not knowing that for certain, but wanting to make Ava at least feel better. Pari brought the two fingers she had held out closer to her chest, reciting quietly under her breath; [i]"om namah shivaay, om namo bhagwate rudraay…"[/i]

Ava followed her example, dropping down onto her knees and ducking her head low while still clutching her laptop. She focused on Pari and tried to follow the timing of her breathing, her hackles raised as she waited for the quiet to be shattered with gunfire. 

She listened to Pari recite what sounded like a mantra or prayer of some kind and reached up to grasp where her Saint Michael’s pendant was tucked underneath her shirt. She had never been a particularly religious person, but it wasn’t like a prayer would hurt and maybe saying a mantra of her own would keep her calm. She started muttering under her breath, in Latin, [i]“Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio.”[/i]

[hr]

>LIVING ROOM...///

“Remember,” Donnelley grunted as he worked at buckling his helmet’s chin strap, “You hear yellin’, you squeeze that trigger.”

Donnelley winked at Laine, “Let’s see if he stands a chance against my Southern charm.” He chuckled, clenching and unclenching his hands in hopes nobody would notice they were trembling. He roughly grabbed the door handle and opened it, closing it behind him. He had his eyes closed, half-expecting the shooting to start now they had him in the open. None came, and he used that tiny bit of relief to fuel his cocky fucking smirk. He used his left hand to shield his eyes, the other was on his Badger’s grip. “Howdy!”

[hr]

Laine could not return his wink, her face tense and knuckles white as she gripped her gun. She might as well be crouched naked for all her slacks and sweater would protect. She held her breath, her finger slipping to the trigger as she peered through the slats of the blinds, making out Donnelley's silhouette as he stepped out. 

She glanced at Dave with the machine gun, her eyes betraying her nervousness. It had been years since she had pulled her weapon in a situation like this. Her mind second guessed her position crouched by the window. Why hadn't she brought her tactical gear, she had rushed up from the lecture unprepared and now was in a goddamn [I] situation [/I] that might get her killed. 

Licking her dry lips, she looked out at the brightly lit parking lot, hearing the voices going back and forth.

Dave steadied his breathing, letting the pounding of his heart energize rather than debilitate him. While he wasn't an expert with the machine gun, he understood the basics and had fired plenty of them in his younger days. He held it securely against his shoulder, his weight bracing the weapon on its bipod as he trained the sights on the vehicle outside. He kept both eyes open, cheek resting the stock, visually scanning the treeline. 

By now he was no stranger to killing. His body count wasn't high, but it was sufficient for him to overcome any mental resistance to the act of taking a human life. In the moment, anyway. He knew that if it came to shooting he could perform. There would be time for moralizing afterwards, provided he lived through the next few minutes. 

[hr]

Nothing at first, then a window rolled down on the vehicle and he heard the familiar voice, “I told you you were scared!” The other voice laughed, slapping the outside of his door as he howled, “Got the vest and [i]everything![/i]”

“Nah,” Donnelley patted the hard plate in his carrier, “I use it like a weight vest, I like doin’ calisthenics, you know? Keeps me in shape so I don’t lose my breath [i]pipin’ your sister.[/i]”

“Oh, funny, partner. You’re a comedian. How many guns you got on me?” The voice asked, a menacing smile in the tone, headlights still blaring into Donnelley’s eyes.

“Just this’n.” Donnelley jiggled his Badger. “The rest are on your friends in the treeline.”

Donnelley didn’t actually know if there were any others in the trees, but if he was going to assault anywhere, he’d make sure it was as much of an unfair fight in his favor as he could. The voice chuckled a bit, “Alright. It was good talking to you, partner. How’s Frank?”

“Real talkative.” Donnelley’s smirk widened.

“Oh? I don’t think he’ll be in the mood to talk after this.” Donnelley’s smirk disappeared as he dove to the ground, throwing open the front door and scrambling on his belly inside just as the thunderous report from a hail of gunfire went up. He couldn’t tell where or how many, but he knew it was automatic fire that lasted a good ten seconds. Ballets slapped into the timber of the walls and stitched along the wallpaper and tables. Stuffing from the couches exploded upwards and floated back down around them.

As quick as it had come, it had gone. His earpro shielded his ears from most of the damage and he rolled onto his back, his Badger pointed out of the doorway and finger on the trigger. “NODs!” He said, reaching up and flipping his down, “Cut those fuckin’ lights and get your NODs! Roll call! Dave, Laine, Frank, how’re we doin’?”

“I’m, um,” He heard Frank’s voice as he shuffled on the ground, “I’m okay!”

Donnelley stood and slapped his hands over the lights, cutting them off, before he crawled to where Dave and Laine were crouching. He whispered to Dave, “You good?”

As the night erupted in gunfire Dave responded in kind. A surge of aggression rolled through him and he clicked off his safety as the window shattered in the incoming firestorm. He felt something solid slap at his shoulder, the fingers tingling, but he squeezed his trigger and cut a long burst into the front of the truck. 

His rounds stitched their way up the grille and hood, shattering the windshield as the vehicle began peeling back in reverse. He put a second, more controlled burst into the retreating truck and then switched his focus as muzzle flashes in the treeline caught his attention. 

He heard Donnelley call for NODs and ignored him; he could see the enemy's starbursts well enough to engage. Besides, damned fool that he was he had left both his helmet and his NODs in the garage. 

The lights died and then Donnelley appeared by his side. 

"I'm fine," Dave grunted in response to his enquiry. "Ain't dead yet." He sent another chattering burst towards the trees as a particularly long string of muzzle flashes caught his eye. 

“Need me to get your NODs? I can swing by the garage after checking on everybody.” Donnelley shifted to see where Dave was firing, sure enough he saw them beyond the treeline, moving in pairs. “Fire at any of that fucking movement,” Donnelley paused as he heard the cracks of disciplined fire coming from the others upstairs, “I’ll take the others out the back and see if we can’t repay these guys in kind.”

"Get 'em if you can, don't take any chances. I can just keep shootin' at their muzzles." Dave punctuated the statement with a quick burst. 

The gunfire was sudden and deafening, especially once Dave started firing. Laine ducked down as the glass shattered above her and the blinds shook wildly like a cat was tangled in them.  Once it stopped, she could see through the twisted slats as the truck pulled out and the muzzle flashes flared in the darkness. Laine fired a few rounds in the direction of one then dropped back down. 

She saw Donnelley with Dave, vaguely outlined in the darkness and she belly crawled over, her heart pounding against her chest so hard she swore it beat a rhythm on the floorboards. 

In a low voice, she asked, "Our fucking friend from the motel. Where do you want me?"

“Yeah, we’re gettin’ real friendly now. Stay with Tom. He’s switching with Dave on the SAW, watch his six while I take Dave with me outside.” Donnelley nodded, “Are you okay?”

"Got it," Laine moved up to a crouch. She looked at Donnelley's face, his expression blocked by the goggles. "I'm good. Didn't get hit. Just..."

Her hands were trembling but she managed a breathy sound between a laugh and sob, "I'll be fine, go do your thing." 

[hr]

The crack of gunfire ripped through the still air and Ava jerked in shock. She must have twisted her back too suddenly because there was a sharp pain in the side of her stomach, like someone had just punched her, but she ignored it as she threw herself down onto the floor. She let go of her laptop to wrap her trembling arms over her head in a vain attempt to protect it from the onslaught of bullets. Tears stung her eyes and her heart hammered in her chest as she screamed inside of her head, mentally begging for the shooting to stop.

Pari was flat to the floor. Her palms held still, and when the immediate sound subsided, she pushed herself up, into a plank to assess what had happened. She had not been hit, that much she knew - but the breeze that whistled through bullet holes alerted her that even though she might not have been, Ava might have - that was before she could even think about the rest of the team. “Ai ghalya,” she cursed, steeling herself to move across the floor to Ava, who was also on the floor. The white of her pyjamas was turning red around her abdomen.

In some absolute irony, it was Pari who was alone with Ava in the room, bullet wound and all. She’d had some kind of deep obsession with gunshot wounds ever since… The reading, the researching, the watching, the reading again, and again, and [i]again…[/i] But even she knew that was all theory, and nothing but a fixation set in the wells of grief. She never thought she’d ever have to use that information, certainly not alone - while still under fire. She wasn’t a trauma medic until tonight when she had to slip into those shoes, for the sake of her colleague. “Ava,” she called out, still remaining as close to the ground as she could. “You’re going to be okay, hands on your stomach, I’ve got you. Okay? I’ve got you.” 

Pari needed to find something to seal the wound - a cloth, or dressing or-- [i]there![/i], hanging over the railings of the bunk was a fresh towel she’d taken from the laundry cupboard. She moved to it and pinched the corner between her thumb and forefinger, yanking it free as she arrived at Ava’s side. She folded it into a rectangle with precision, “lie back, we can do this, me and you. Okay?”

The shooting stopped, though the sounds of closer gunfire made her flinch, she told herself that it was probably the other’s shooting back. This was what they did right? They would be able to handle this in no time. [i]Please let it be over soon.[/i]

Her side was really starting to hurt now, a steady burning pain that was cutting through the fog of adrenaline and panic. She looked up at Agent Bhaat as she started talking, relieved to see the other woman alright, but why was she saying…

Ava tried to move her arm to touch her stomach and cried out in pain as the movement of the muscles shot agony like electricity all up her right side. She rolled onto her other side, her breathing becoming fast and heavy as she looked down and saw bright red blossoming across the white of her shirt. 

“Ah!” She screamed and frantically pressed her hands to the bullet wound, bright red blood smearing on her hands. Her blood. “What happened!? What happened!?” She found herself asking, not really understanding why those words tumbled out of her mouth. She knew what had happened, but maybe by asking it, Agent Bhaat would tell her she had not just been shot. 

“Ava, Ava,” Pari began, meeting her eyes with her own. “We took some fire, and you’re going to be alright - but I need you to slow down if you can, deep breaths, nice and easy,” she said as calmly as she could before pressing the towel onto the wound, gently moving Ava from her side to her back, if anything, the dark towel would obscure the wound from Ava’s line of sight. The blood had been coming fast.

She had in her suitcase an actual first aid kit, packed with nitrile gloves and adherent dressings, better ways to manage this - but it was on the other side of the room and Ava was not yet calm enough to be left for even the twenty seconds it would take Pari to retrieve it. “I’m sorry that this hurts, I’m really sorry,” she said, her composure as cool as it could be, hopefully it would rub off on the girl. Pari then moved her knee to Ava’s stomach, letting that be the pressure. She took her now free hand and grabbed Ava’s, holding tightly to her. “Breathe with me, one… two… three….” She squeezed Ava’s hand in the intervals of her breaths, hoping it would help ground her and bring her from panic long enough so that she could make it to her kit.

Ava squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling down her temples from the corner of her eyes as she let out another yelp of pain from the added pressure on the wound. “It hurts! It hurts!” She gasped out, squeezing tightly onto Agent Bhaat’s hand. She tried to focus on the sound of the other woman’s voice. She was calm, her voice was soothing and she said she would be okay. She didn’t know what the Agent’s medical background was, but she didn’t care. She needed to hear that right now.

She forced her eyes open, her vision blurry from the tears but she focused on Agent Bhaat’s composed face. She started taking in shaking breaths in time with the squeezes of her hand, trying not to move her stomach too much as she breathed. 

“That’s it, good girl,” she said reassuringly, nodding down at Ava. Pari internally chided herself for calling her a ‘girl’. But in this state, it was easy to see Ava as simply a young girl, but the reality was that she was an accomplished young woman, just like Pari was, just like Laine was. “You’re doing great - I know it hurts, I know it does but that’s your body fighting back.” She forced a smile, and squeezed her hand again. “It’s because you’re made of tough stuff, the toughest in fact, alright?”

Ava squeezed her hand back and didn’t trust herself to reply verbally so she just nodded, her lips trembling as she tried to breathe through the pain burrowing into her stomach. 

“Okay, Ava,” Pari began, “my first aid kit is in my suitcase. I need to get it so we can properly dress your wound and so that we can move you.” She stopped talking and smiled, squeezing down again on Ava’s hand. “You’re going to have to be tough for me for a little bit, I’m going to move to it alright - and I need you to hold this down. Do you think you can do that?” Even if she sounded confident in her voice, inside she was wondering whether doing that would leave the girl worse off. She needed a second pair of free hands.

[hr]

“Jason, on me!” Donnelley called out to the house, cracks of semi-automatic fire and Dave’s long strings of bangs ringing out into the night to offer rebuttals at the bursts of incoming fire.

Jason appeared from upstairs and nodded at Donnelley, he had his full gear on and looked ready to gunfight, “Where do you need me?”

“Go check on the girls. If none of them need patching, get outside with me and Dave.” Donnelley clapped Jason’s shoulder.

“Roger.” Jason disappeared upstairs, taking them two at a time.

Donnelley and Jason moved upstairs, opening the door to the men’s bunkroom to see Tom and Justin returning fire at whatever movement they saw in the moonlight. Justin ducked and swore as a bullet threw up dust on the windowsill he was at. He rushed to another position. Donnelley addressed the two of them, “Justin, watch the east side of the cabin from here. Dave and I are taking the west and Tom’s getting the SAW watching the North. Alright, boys, let’s go!”

Donnelley and Jason rushed downstairs, Donnelley himself going for the garage and retrieving Dave’s comms and NODs. He set the equipment down next to Dave, “Comms and NODs are right here. Switch with Tom. You’re with me, hoss.” Donnelley smirked in as good humor as he could manage.

Laine held her position, a few feet behind Dave to watch his back.  Her voice caught in her throat, her hands gripping the Glock, feeling the sweat prickling the back of her neck. She watched them in their gear, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. "Donnelley," she said suddenly, as he was turning away. "Be careful, all of you."

“My middle name.” Donnelley grinned before he pushed off his back foot and he and Dave were gone to the backdoor.

[hr]

Ava swallowed back a sob as she nodded to Agent Bhaat, squeezing the other woman’s hand tightly. “Please, don’t leave me alone.” She said, her voice shaking as much as her hands. “I’m scared.” She slowly moved her other hand to the towel and pressed it against the wound. She cried in pain again, but managed to keep the pressure on. 

“I’m not going to leave you, you don’t need to be scared, I’m right with you. Talk to me, tell me something - tell me anything. Just keep talking…” Pari first scanned the room, to absolutely determine where her suitcase was, it was in the corner by the desk, about seven steps away. She kept her knee against the towel, which had a heavier feel to it now - it had to be changed. It would be soon. The woman kept a firm hold of Ava’s hand until she had moved one foot far enough away. Ava had it now, she dashed - keeping low as she moved.

Ava reluctantly let go of her hand and moved it to help keep the towel in place. She could feel the blood seeping through the towel and sticking to her skin; her shirt and pants starting to feel heavier as the blood soaked in. She could smell it in the air now, the sharp metallic tang as she shut her eyes and tried to breathe through the panic. “I-I bought seeds today!” She blurted out in keeping with Agent Bhaat’s instructions to talk to her. It was the first mundane thing to pop into her head and she needed to think about something other than the blood oozing out her.

“Seeds, huh?” Pari responded as the handle came into her grip. She pulled it, the wheel stuck and made it awkward – that damned gravel, still she had it, and she made her way back to Ava’s side. “Tell me about the seeds, are you growing flowers?” she asked as she reached for the zips.
Ava breathed sharply through her nose and opened her eyes when felt Pari move back to her side. “J-Just poppy seeds for flowers.” She answered, keeping her hands pressed tightly to her side. “The rest are vegetables for fall, like pumpkin and squash.”

“Those are nice vegetables, my mother makes pumpkin sabji in the fall…” Pari commented, the first aid kit now in hand, open atop the rest of her belongings on the sprung suitcase. She reached first for a pair of gloves, blue – slipping her hand into them with a snap. She pushed her knee back against the towel and peeled open the top of a hemostatic dressing, it was about the only trauma item in the damn thing. She wasn’t her parents – she was no surgeon, she just needed to stop the bleeding until they could find one. “Maybe if she ever tells me her secret,” she continued, lessening the pressure of her knee on the wound so she could slide the towel away, “I can make it for you, for everyone… I’m no cook b—"

The door squeaked open to reveal Jason’s large form. He eyed the two women, one of them on the ground with a bloodied towel and the other applying pressure. It didn’t take much of an analytical mind to piece together what happened. He frowned slightly at Ava, feeling something for her. She probably had never been in a firefight, let alone shot. “You got this?” Jason asked, eyes on Pari.

He knew what she was working at, and from the looks of it, she knew her way around a bullet wound. If he was going to provide cover for the others outside then he’d best get to another room. He didn’t want to draw more fire to the women’s bunk lest Pari join Ava on the floor.

Jason in the doorframe was a welcome sight, and Pari did her best to smile through her nerves to nod up at him. The reminder that they weren’t alone hit her hard, she hadn’t thought of everyone else since she’d been treating Ava. It was a strange pull back to the reality of it that only allowed her confidence to flourish all of a sudden. “We do, we do,” she said – repeating herself with another nod while her fingers worked to apply the dressing to Ava’s wound. She moved as quickly with it as she could – packing an open bullet wound was bound to hurt. But Ava was strong, “Mr Jimenez here would like that pumpkin sabji too I’ll bet—so we’re going to make sure you and your green thumbs are fit as a fiddle.”
Ava gritted her teeth, barely registering the familiar rumble of Jason’s voice through the pain as Pari worked on her wound. Through her pain she felt relief. He was a medic right? That meant he was here to help didn't it? She glanced over at his blurred figure in the doorway, to see what he was doing and to keep from looking down. She didn't know what the woman was doing and she didn't want to look. It was probably best she didn't. 
She didn't trust herself to speak without crying more so she nodded again; bloody hands gripping tightly to her already ruined shirt. 

Pari’s observations alerted her to the fact there was no exit wound, and she placed two fingers under Ava to check for any blood-- none. That meant the bullet was still in there, as she had suspected - meaning that while not worthless, her work was simply a finger in the dam - extra time, until they could get Ava to someone with the necessary skills to finish the treatment. “Mama was right, I should have been a doctor…” Pari sighed, thoughts of home drifting lazily against her already crowded thoughts like clouds. She began opening another dressing from the kit.
[hr]

At Donnelley's command Dave slapped on his helmet and flipped down his NOD's, the world leaping into green-tinted clarity. For values of clarity, anyway. They cast things in the usual fuzzy emerald, obscuring distance detail in favor of contrast and movement. 

He turned the machine gun over to Tom without a word, snatching up his SLR and clipping it to his 1-point. A brass-check confirmed he was ready to rock, and he paused just long enough to dig his Cope out of his back pocket and freshen up his dip. 

"Let's kill these cock-suckers," he growled, following Donnelley to the door.  

“How many does anybody see outside?” Donnelley spoke into his headset.

“I clock three on the northeast.” Justin’s voice came from the other end.

“Four to the south, two to the southwest.” Jason’s voice.

“Thank you kindly.” Donnelley spoke. He gave a quick check on his Badger and ensured his .40 was in the holster before he placed his hand on the doorknob outside. He turned to Dave for a quick moment, smirk on his face, “Get our slay on.”

Donnelley pushed the door open and he and Dave were off at a dead sprint for the trees, dust kicking up behind them and an accompanying series of pops and bangs. Donnelley dove into the dirt behind a tree, leaning out the slightest bit to see the telltale signs of the last muzzle flashes from the enemy’s position. He knew where to shoot. “At our 12, cover me, I’ll move up and cover you.” He spoke to Dave, before he spoke into his comms, “Tom, Justin, keep their heads down.”

“Roger.” And then the fireworks went up. At the sound of Tom and Justin firing, Donnelley rose his Badger and squeezed off a few rounds before sprinting to the next nearest tree. He was close enough now to see their figures distinctly, perhaps thirty meters between him and two black-clad shapes in the darkness. One ducked as Dave’s rounds slapped into the tree and dirt in front of him.

The other stood and aimed his weapon but before he could squeeze his trigger, Donnelley’s IR laser touched his chest and he squeezed off three rounds of his own, stock jolting against his shoulder and the satisfaction of seeing the man crumple, dead. The elation was short-lived as he ducked back, yelling as bits of bark stung his face before he was on his back. His friend had clocked him quickly after. Target acquisition that good meant they too might have had NODs.

Dave waited until Donnelley was set, squeezing off controlled triplets on semi. Movement drew his eye and he hammered five quick shots, two smacking the tree before the rest dropped the target. Then he flipped the switch to auto and rattled out a sustained burst, revelling in the throaty chop of the Kalashnikov before sprinting ahead, passing Donnelley. He threw himself against a stout tree, heart pounding, and drained his mag on another covering burst before quickly knocking it loose and seating another. 

"You're good!" He roared back at Donnely, racking the rifle with the distinctive [i]klak-klak[/i] and leaning out to begin covering the man with controlled singles. 

Donnelley burst forward again, fully aware of the wound in his thigh now. The lack of traction his choice of footwear gave him plus another target aiming his way meant he took a tumble into the nearest tree and slammed himself into it with a loud grunt, “Fuck!” He barked, before taking it all in stride and raising his Badger to bear, trying to sight up with his red dot and IR laser through the thumping of his own aching shoulder.

He ignored the cracks of gunfire and the thunk-thunk of bullets into his cover as he squeezed off another series of three rounds. He watched another body drop before ducking back behind his tree and hearing a louder series of automatic fire punch into his cover and sweep wide to his right, puffs of dirt jumping at him in his squatting position. “Multiple at our 12 o’clock!”

He felt the hard rain of more bark cascade over him as he took fire from somewhere at their 6 o’clock. Hopefully Dave would sight up on them. “Get back to the cabin, we did good enough!” He flinched again as puffs of dirt gently peppered his slacks, “Fuck you!”

He took off at a dead sprint, pain tearing into his right leg and by the time he got to the wall he had to lean against it. His leg was throbbing and burning like he’d sprinted a mile and threatened to buckle under him if he wasn’t leaning his weight into the wood of the Safehouse. “Fuck,” he gasped through gritted teeth, clutching his leg, “me…”

A string of bullets thunked into the wall beside him as he let himself fall, unable to determine still where the shooters were and settling for crawling for a nearby tangle of roots.

Dave heard the order and followed Donnelley, falling back towards the Safehouse. The whickering snap of bullets told him he had incoming and he let himself drop, skidding on his side and bare arm as another burst cut the air above him. He caught sight of muzzle flashes, a steady sustained burst, and began a frantic low-crawl to the nearest tree. 

"Donnelley, at our eight!" He called, then swore fluidly as another series of rounds hammered his tree and kicked up detritus to either side of him. 

Dave waited for another burst. When it came he took a breath, flipped to auto, then leaned around the tree and cut loose with three long bursts, emptying the weapon before pulling back to reload.

[Hr]

Laine covered one ear with her left hand, her other hand still holding her Glock.  What little it would do to hamper the deafening roar of the SAW as it barked out bursts towards the treeline. She turned to see Frank, the young ranger huddled between the overturned coffee table and the sofa. 

Glancing at Tom then towards the garage she made a decision. Giving him a wave to let him know she was moving away, Laine crawled to where Frank Wilkins crouched. His fear was palpable and no wonder, those bullets were especially for him. 

"Come on," Laine thought she spoke quietly but in reality it was almost a shout. Her ears were ringing and the sounds around her were muffled, as if she hearing through cotton. "Follow me, it's not safe here."

She gestured to the shattered windows, anyone could come right up to the dangling blinds and look right at Ranger Wilkins. Not taking chances, she pushed him forward. 

"Go, crawl that way, once you're in hallway go in the bathroom, first door on the left," Laine instructed, rising  into a crouch while she waited for him to get moving before she kept low, holding her gun at her side. 

Escorting him to the bathroom, she swiveled on the balls of her feet to keep an eye on the compromised window and then back at Tom on the machine gun. 

Once Frank was inside, she went to position herself at the door and glanced towards the woman's bedroom across the hall. The door was closed but she knew Ava and Pari where there. Another burst of gunfire from the outside made her pause then glance over her shoulder at Frank. 

"Not a nice way to be popular. How are you holding up?" 

“Fuck…” Frank breathed, his hands now noticeably trembling, “We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

Laine tried to smile then nodded, "Donnelley and the boys know their business. And there is a big fuck off machine gun in the living room. We'll be alright."

She paused then met his eyes, changing the subject to hopefully get him focused on something else, "You said the woman hiker was found like the other victim. What was her name?"

“You want to talk about this right now?” Frank questioned, his eyes betraying his incredulity at the woman asking him questions in the middle of a firefight. He laughed nervously, “Bethany. Her name was fucking Bethany Miller. Daniel and fucking Bethany Miller, are you happy?”

Laine nodded, thinking over their names and tucking them back in her memory, "Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it, the name was part of our deal. Speaking of, you'll need to talk to Ava once this is over. She's making your new iden-" 

Her words were cut off as another staccato burst of gunfire sounded outside. The choppy sound of the AK and then the chattering Honey Badger and the  counter argument from the enemy. It sounded closer and she tightened her grip on her gun, her attention shifting towards the hallway. 

A muffled voice, unclear made Laine tilt her head, reaching up to rub her ear the clogged feeling not going away. "What did you say, Frank? Speak up."

“I said, can we talk later? Jesus Christ, I’ve never done this before.” He reached up to cover his ears, leaning his back against the bathtub and making great pains to take in deep breaths.

"Distraction not working for you?" Laine said louder than she meant to, "I'm sorry, yes we can talk later once this is over. Just sit tight, we'll be fine."

Her own nervousness was masked for his sake, it would do worse to remind him this wasn't something she did on a regular basis and how she made sure to get the names just in case somehow Frank Wilkins caught a stray bullet. 

She caught sight of movement rather than the sound of heavy footsteps and turned to see Jason heading towards them. 

Jason nodded at Frank, still not in the frame of the doorway like Laine, “He alright?”

Laine looked up at him, then nodded, "He's doing good, as best as can be expected. We'll hold up here, put more walls between us and the bullets flying. How's everything going?"

“All things considered,” He glanced in no real direction as another burst of AK fire punctuated by the pops of another rifle rang out, “Alright so far. I gotta go, call me if you need me.” And he was gone at a jog upstairs.

[hr]

It almost seemed like any time Donnelley even thought about moving from cover and firing back they would sense it in the air and send a few shots his way. When he heard Dave’s AK ring out and Jason or Justin’s fire from above him he decided the time was right, “I’m moving!”

He burst out from behind cover and unceremoniously pitched onto his stomach in the dirt, about fifteen meters from where he’d been. “Jason, suppress those fuckers on our 8 so me and Dave can get the fuck back inside.”

“Ahead of you.” Jason said, apparently switching to full auto and letting loose a spray from his rifle.

“Dave, move!” Donnelley spoke into his comms.

Dave moved, scrabbling to his feet and pounding for the Safehouse. Jason's suppressing fire kept the guns off him long enough to reach the Safehouse door, which he barged open with as little ceremony as possible. He stumbled inside, a victim of his own momentum, and leaned against the inside wall for a moment as he caught his breath. 

"How many of these fuckers do they got?" He muttered, checking himself over briefly. He heard the enemy fire start up again and swore. Donnelley was going to need cover. 

Dave steeled himself, raised his rifle, and stepped out around the doorway. As he sighted in a series of rounds impacted along the wall, throwing up chips of wood and paint. Then a hammer struck Dave in the chest and he pitched backwards, rebounding off the wall up land hard on his back.

His breath left him in a rush. He coughed, trying to pull air, cursing God and his own luck. He'd been hit. Dead center. It echoed in his head as he fought for breath, pushing himself to a seated position, his head swimming and his chest numb. 

"Donnelley," he gasped, triggering his comms. His voice was hoarse. "Donnelley, I'm hit, if you're movin' do it now!"

Then, bracing himself with one hand and raising his rifle with the other, he began sending shots downrange at random, determined to die fighting.  

Donnelley’s eyes widened when he heard Dave say he was hit. An instinctive urge to make sure Dave wouldn’t be lost snapped his muscles into motion as he pushed off his stomach and took off as best he could. Heroics and adrenaline or no, his leg was beginning to get to him. By the time he made it to the door, beads of sweat were forming on his brow and he let go of pained breaths with each step his bum leg took. “One comin’ in!” He roared through gritted teeth and pain as he flopped inside the back door onto his shoulder, another impact to it as hard as the tree. 

“They’re pullin’ back.” Justin’s voice over the comms.

“Watch ‘em go, keep shootin’. Jason, get the fuck down here.” Donnelley said, wasting no time in crawling towards Dave. He pushed himself up to a knee, injured leg shaking and refusing to support his weight. “Where were you hit, friendo?” He asked, eyes scanning for any spots of wetness on his person. “Shoulder?”

"Chest," Dave grunted. His rifle clicked on empty and he lay down, reloading on his back.  "Dunno if it stopped it… Can't breathe." 

“Oh shit…” Donnelley breathed. They didn’t have the equipment to deal with a bullet to the lung. “I’m reachin’ under, alright?”

He did as he said and wiggled his fingers under Dave’s plate carrier after he loosened it a tad, feeling for wetness. There was none such and even when he did think he was onto something he frowned to realize it was probably just sweat. He continued on before he felt it, a grin forming and he let go a chuckle at the newly formed lump in Dave’s plate, “Ain’t went through. Let’s go, brother.” Donnelley stood and offered his hand.

Dave reached up, hauling himself upright. It hurt like hell; he'd probably cracked a few ribs, if not broken them outright. Still, it was gratifying to hear that he wasn't bleeding to death. Not yet, at least.

He took a few deep breaths, wincing but nodding with satisfaction. 

"Okay," he growled. "What's the plan?"  

Donnelley shook his head, the relief he felt at not finding a bloody hole in Dave’s chest seeping away to be replaced with concern, “They’re pullin’ back. I don’t know if they’re regroupin’, but I want us to get out of here soon as daylight comes.” Donnelley frowned deeper, “They were here for Frank and they know we ain’t givin’ him up easy. They’ll wait to get our guards down or try again just when we think they got bored of us. It’s what I’d do.”

"Yeah, okay." Dave flipped up his NOD's, checking his rifle and taking a quick inventory. "Six mags left." As he looked over his gear he became aware of a somewhat disconcerting amount of red smeared across his vest and rifle. The source proved to be his left arm; blood streaked the limb, courtesy of a neat hole drilled through the meat of his shoulder. The previously numb injury immediately began throbbing, as though it had been waiting for him to notice it.

"Well...Shit," he said. He flexed his fingers. "Fuckers shot me twice!"  

“I got shot twice once too.” Donnelley smirked at Dave’s dismay of almost meeting his end twice in one night, and three times within one week as well. Even his most hellish rotations in Afghanistan as a Ranger didn’t hold that many wounds for him. He guessed the Program just had a way of doing that. “Gets the heart rate up, tell you what.”

“I think that wound needs some alcohol sometime,” Donnelley rapped his knuckles on Dave’s plate, “Lucky.”

Dave snorted. "Yeah, if you say so." He shivered, the reality of things starting to sink in. 

With a conscious effort he forced the thoughts of his own mortality away. His death in some backwater shit hole, his son left fatherless, Kaliah trying to explain to a heartbroken Mal why his fool of a dad had gotten himself killed without even telling them he  was going into danger… He balled it up, shoved it into a closet at the back of his brain, and locked the door tight. Then he got angry.

He let the anger in, tightening his hands into fists, gripping his rifle. "So I'm gonna go to the garage, and fill a few fresh mags while we're figurin' out our next move."  

“Have Jason look at that shoulder, tough guy.” Donnelley wagged a finger at Dave, before lightening up, “You did good. I’m glad to have you.”

Dave grinned despite his anger, shrugging his uninjured shoulder. 

“Just doin’ my part, man,” he said. He suddenly frowned, glancing around. “Speakin’ of, where’s Foster? We need to find his ass, he might be hit.” 

“We need to ask his ass why he’s so damn keen to not sling lead when lead needs slingin’.” Donnelley looked like he’d tasted something bitter. “Keep workin’ on that terrorist shit. We won’t be around to do it soon, can’t really do that in Charleston.”

"Yeah, alright," Dave said. "But we're gonna need some real ordinance soon." He shook his head and sighed mournfully, "Most I can do on short notice is a few pipe bombs…"

With that he turned and trudged into the garage, a forlorn look on his bruised and dirt-streaked face. 

[Hr]

Laine watched Jason vanish around the corner and glanced to the closed bedroom door. The wall of that room faced the parking lot and would have caught the gunfire. Maybe it would be better if they came into the bathroom with Frank. 

She stepped across the hall and opened up the bedroom door, her voice still unnaturally loud, "Hey Pari, Ava- oh shit!"

Her eyes widened with shock at the small red haired woman on the floor, with a blood stained towel and smears on the pastel pajamas. Laine shot a look at Pari, her mind racing. Jason left Ava like this, she must have it under control. And she dare not move her even across the hallway. 

Glancing over at Pari she asked, "Need any help? I've got Frank stowed in the bathroom."

Keeping her tone calm she asked, "Ava? You need anything?"

Ava started when she heard Laine shout, squeezing her eyes shut as the small jerk of her body created another wave of pain. She almost didn’t hear Laine ask her question over the blood rushing in her ears and the distant, though not as frequent gunfire. 

“S-something for the pain!” She gasped out.

"Right, I can do that," Laine said, concern etched on her face. "Just hold tight. Pari, I'll be right back."

Ducking out of the room, gun still in hand, she looked at Frank. "Sit tight, alright?"

Moving quickly, Laine bounded up the stairs where Jason had gone and poked her head in the men's bedroom to see if he was there. He was and she nearly ran right into him as he was walking out.

Laine stepped quickly back to keep from headbutting him in the chin. She shot a look up into his green eyes, her own gaze sharp with fear and focus on her task, "I need something for Ava's pain, do you have one of those lollis you gave Donnelley?"

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, turning on his heel and going for his bag of tricks. He pulled free one and handed it to Laine, “Is she doing okay? Pari’s got it?”

"For now," Laine said, taking the narcotic candy. "Pari seems to have the bleeding under control but Ava needs a hospital. How's it look outside?" 

Jason nodded, some amount of relief filtering through him as he walked next to Laine, “They’re withdrawing. Regrouping or going home, I don’t know. It’ll be quiet for now.”

She joined him going back down the stairs, almost forgetting the vice like grip she had on her Glock. Once at the bottom of the stairs, Laine made a quick turn into the hallway, her sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor.

Pari felt Laine’s return in her footsteps against the floorboards. With the dressing in place, she’d taken the blanket from the kit and applied it to Ava. She wish she could have taken the girls bloodied clothes away, but this was an emergency and what would do would do. Her hand reached out to the bunk and she pulled a pillow free, placing it atop her now-closed suitcase to slide it under the woman’s feet. 

That was as much as she could do. She placed a hand on Ava’s shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze, despite everything that had happened, Pari’s eyes held all the warmth of a hearth fire. Just as well too, everything else around them seemed so harsh, cold, and synthetic. Bullets scattered across the ground, smoke lingering in the air. She could smell blood, discharged weapons and burning - and now the chemical smells so associated with sterile equipment. “See, told you we’d be alright,” she said after a pregnant pause. Finally taking a look at her own clothing - the knees of her silk bottoms were red, and the sleeves of the shirt had not gone without stains either. That vision of turquoise and crimson ticked the hand of the clock that was the gravity of the situation, a tense string held in silence until it broke for Pari. [i]Not yet, not yet...[/i] She thought to herself.

Ava let out a hard breath as she felt Pari move her hands away, her side still burning with pain but now there wasn’t the sporadic stabbing of agony from Pari tending to the wound. She opened her eyes from the tough on her shoulder and took in deep breaths without moving her stomach too much. She looked up at Pari with tears still in her bright blue eyes, but she tried to force a smile on her face. 

“Y-Yeah, you did. Thank you Agent Bhaat, I...you...Just, thank you.” She said shakily, her throat feeling like it was burning from both her screaming and trying not to scream. She coughed and let her head drop back against the hard floor, the sound of gunfire no longer reaching her ears. “Is it over?” She asked tentatively, the hint of hope in her voice tainted by an edge of fear that bullets would start flying again.

Laine entered the room, holding up the lollipop and spun the stick between two fingers. She set her gum down on the dresser and stepped over to Ava laying on the floor. Pari had done well to get her stabilized and one look told her sacrifice of the designer silk pajamas. 

Tearing open the package, Laine looked down at Ava, speaking up, "I brought you a goody, this will help with the pain. Just suck on it, like you would a piece of candy. Twirl it, switch sides, just don't bite it."

Her face froze and her mouth contorted a moment with another bout of ill timed humor. Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she offered the opiate laced sucker, raspberry flavored by the smell. 

Ava nodded and reached up for the pain killer, her hand crusted over with spots of dried blood. She stared at her hand for a moment, her face growing pale as the reality of what happened started to set in. Oddly, the pain had been a convenient distraction from the fact that she had been shot and if the bullet had been a few inches higher, she’d be dead instead of in pain.

She snatched up the lollipop and stuck it into her mouth, willing the magic of painkillers to get to work so she could have a few moments of relief from the pain and the fear.

"If you start feeling nauseous or very sleepy, stop using it," Laine said, knowing enough about basic opiate effects to figure the lollipop wouldn't be much different than oxys or morphine. She put a light hand on her forehead, Ava felt slightly cool but not clammy and to cover her concern she gently stroked the wild curls back. "You're doing good and it sounds like it's winding down out there."

She glanced up at Pari, her eyes concerned and tired. "Do you need anything?"

Pari had to tear her eyes away from Ava before she registered Laine's voice. She knew what that was in Ava's mouth, she knew all too well -- and while it didn't bother her, while she didn't crave it, it was a jarring sight. It had been a strange night where so many echoes of her own past fired through to her now. As if that same eerie vibe that had shuddered through her upon arrival had stuck around inside, like a magnet for ghosts. 

“Actually, a glass of water would be nice,” she said finally, letting her lips curl upwards with a small smile as she worked the stained gloves free from her hands.

Laine watched Pari  hesitate as she looked at Ava but the humming ring in her ears kept her from hearing anything clearly other than "glass of "and "nice". 

"Don't give her anything to drink," Laine said loudly, then made the drink motion with her cupped hand, shaking her head. 

“Oh no, no-” Pari said with a shake of her head, her smile widening as she let out a dry chuckle. She motioned with her hand to herself, Laine’s hearing had blown from the noise. Truthfully, Pari’s own ears were ringing too, but perhaps Laine had been closer to the action - weren’t they all? Where had their assailants come from? She held an invisible glass in her own hand and lifted it to her lips, with a point of her own finger to her chest. It didn’t matter, they’d be moving out of the room before long, the humour of the moment was more than enough.

Despite all that had happened, Ava found herself smiling around the opiate lollipop in her mouth. Perhaps it was the absurdity of an unexpected game of charades mixed with the relief of surviving her first gun fight, but she had to smother a laugh to keep from jostling her injury. Or maybe it was the drugs starting to take effect. Either way, she snorted back a giggle and just continued to watch with a small smile.

Laine nodded at the gestures then rubbed her fingers in her ears, "Damn machine gun, I feel like I have cotton stuffed in my ears. Hopefully that goes away soon."

She shook her head, her short black hair flying back and forth. "And the ringing. Alright, water for you and ..."

Laine glanced at the goofy smile forming on Ava's face, then raised her brow, "Looks like the candy is kicking in. I'll check on the guys, too."

She left the bedroom, pausing only to pick up her gun and made her way to the kitchen. She still took precautions, staying low and away from the windows. Laine picked up her shoulder holster and once she was in the more sheltered kitchen she buckled it on. Putting her Glock in the holster, she began to feel a little more comfortable.

Other than Tom still manning the SAW and keeping a watch,  the living room and the kitchen were empty. Laine took out two bottles of water from the refrigerator and glanced around, unsure if it was so quiet or it was her muffled hearing. Her gaze caught the hand written 'no smoking' sign on the door that lead to the garage. That was new. 

With the water tucked under her arm, she knocked a few times then turned the knob to test if it was locked. The door swung open and she spotted Dave surrounded by an ATF agent's wet dream. 

She looked him over, he was dirt streaked and blood stained, looking worse for wear but at least up on his feet. On his arm was a red mechanic's shop rag, stained with something not as dark as engine grease

"Hey Dave, is it all over?" Laine asked, trying not to be so loud even if she couldn't hear herself very well. 

Dave was busily packing HME into a length of pipe when the garage door opened. He glanced over, reaching for the Sig that sat on the table in easy reach. 

“What, the gunfightin’?” He shrugged, giving Laine a crooked grin. “I dunno, I guess. Hey, you believe they didn’t put a single round through the garage?” 

He waved a hand around the room. It was miraculously untouched; probably for the best, given its contents. “Motherfuckers can’t hit a goddamn [i]garage[/i], but I get shot twice in one night. You believe that shit?” 

Laine could not help but return his smile, shaking her head slightly, "I guess you're lucky."

Her gaze raked over him, a quick study of the numerous bruises and scrapes on his exposed skin but other than the bloody bicep she saw no other wound. "At least you're still standing. Where else did you get hit?"

He bent, picking up his vest. He’d removed it after the bullets had stopped flying. It was a risk, but his chest was killing him, and besides; if they took contact now, the garage would probably go up and leave him in enough pieces that a vest wouldn’t matter anyway. 

The vest met the worktable with a hefty thud, and he pointed out a small hole in the dead center of it, right above the heart. 

“Somebody’s lookin’ out for me, huh?” He grinned. “Shit hurts like hell.”

Dave grabbed the hem of his beater and raised it; the center of his chest was a livid bruise, swollen and red, already beginning to darken to purple at the edges. 

Her eyes ticked up as she saw the damage on the vest but when he raised his shirt, her lips parted with shock. "Jesus fuck..." His form as well as the contusion was a sight to behold. "That's a damn rainbow of bruise."

Laine looked at it for a beat then flicked her eyes down the washboard stomach, before dragging her gaze away with a sharp shake of her head. "You are damn lucky, dude. I think we all need vests, Ava was hit, a bullet through the wall got her in the abdomen. Jason checked on her and Pari's stabilized her, she's stopped the bleeding and treated for shock. We got her a nice dose of fentanyl for the pain but she needs to go to a hospital as soon as possible."

She paused to rub at her ear, the muffled feeling seemed to be getting better but it still felt clogged like it needed to pop. 

"She's resting in the bedroom right now," Laine added, tilting her head slightly at the door.

“They hit Ava?” The small smirk of amusement that had appeared when he caught her shifting gaze vanished, replaced by a hard glare. He headed for the door, snatching up his Sig and shoving it into his holster. 

“God dammit, she ain’t ever hurt anybody, she didn’t deserve this,” he said. He felt a surge of rage, the same righteous fury he felt when he thought about the other innocent people who’d been hurt in all of this. “I swear, we didn’t kill nearly enough of them fuckers.” 

He skirted around Laine, heading for the bedroom with mingled fear and hate in his blue eyes. 

"Don't go in there full of righteous fury, she needs to stay calm," Laine said as he brushed past her and she followed him a few steps behind, stopping to get the water.

[hr]
DAVE/PARI/AVA

Dave strode quickly through the house, passing Tom on the machine gun without a glance. He slowed as he neared the women’s bedroom, taking a breath and pushing his anger down. Laine was right, they didn’t need to see him all worked up. It wouldn’t help. 

He forced a smile and then went inside, taking in the scene for a moment before kneeling beside Ava and Pari. 

“Hey, sugar, how you doin’?” He patted Ava’s shoulder gently. The sight of the small woman lying there, bloody and scared, set his heart to thudding again. He ignored it, forcing his fisted hands to relax. “Doc here gettin’ you all patched up?” 

Ava turned her head to the door as it opened and she smiled around the lollipop as Dave walked in. Her blue irises seemed brighter set against the red puffiness of her eyes and her skin a shade paler than normal. “Hi Dave, I’m glad you’re okay.” She greeted, her voice soft and slow, likely thanks to the drugs taking affect in her body. “I’m alright, Pari said so.” She looked over to the woman with a curious expression to her glazing eyes. “Can I call you Pari now? Or do you like Agent Bhaat better?”

“Pari is fine,” she grinned in response, running her hand over Ava’s shoulder comfortingly, “or hey-- now that we’ve been through the ringer, you could call me Paz if you’d like.” Her eyes flicked up to meet Dave who’d swung in to see that Ava was alright, and Pari gave him a look over, mostly at the raggy cloth he’d used as a bandage. She shuddered at the thought of it. “How are you holding up Dave?” She narrowed her gaze at his shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind taking a look at you there, even just to clean it off and dress it before we can get you to Mr Jiminez…”

“I don’t mind you lookin’,” Dave snorted. “But it ain’t that bad. I only got shot a little. Mostly it’s just scratches from hittin’ the dirt in a tanktop like a damn fool, and not wearin’ a proper shirt.” He prodded his chest and winced. “Vest stopped the bad one.” 

“Bad one?” Ava repeated, looking over to Dave with a concerned expression. “What happened?” She asked worriedly, her eyes dropping down to him poking at his chest.

Pari raised a brow and a smirk played on her lips, “and people can get sepsis from a papercut. I know that Ava and I will definitely feel better if you take that….” she waved a hand over at his makeshift bandage “thing off and get a sterile bandage on it.” She could see he was playing macho, brushing off his own injuries - they probably weren’t as bad as Ava’s and he was more concerned about her than himself. “Oh, and you’re not a fool,” she said softly, “what you did tonight was very brave.”

“I got shot a little, sugar,” Dave said, giving Ava’s shoulder another squeeze. “They hit my vest, it didn’t go through. Don’t worry ‘bout me.” 

He nodded at Pari. “Thanks...Just doin’ what had to be done. We can take a look at my shoulder, if you wanna.” 

She smiled in relief, relaxing back against the floor underneath the blanket Pari had laid over her. “That’s good. Is everyone else okay? I’ve only seen Dr. Laine and the last time I saw Jason there was still shooting going on.”

“Everybody else is fine,” Dave said. He smiled at her. “You’re the only one layin’ down on the job.” 

Satisfied that Ava was alright for the time being, Pari stood up and moved around to Dave’s side, taking with her a fresh pair of nitriles and some wound wipes. She decided her silence to allow them time to talk was more valuable than anything else she could add to the conversation. The woman came back down to her knees beside him as unobtrusively as she could and untied the knot in the rag before putting on her gloves. 

Thoughts were rolling through Pari’s mind like waves, pooling at a shore before retreating to the emptiness again, she occupied herself by thinking of music - a soft and melancholic guitar melody. Pari was as gentle as she could be in her touch, and somewhat methodical in the way she wiped away at the dry blood, doing her best not to disturb Dave and Ava both.

“Everyone is okay?” She repeated and shut her eyes with a relieved sigh, moving her arms out from under the blanket to rest them on her chest. “Oh good, maybe he did hear me.” She opened her eyes to look down toward her stomach, hidden beneath the blanket. “Could have done without this though.” She added, dropping her head back down.

“Yeah, everyone is okay,” Dave said. “We got a little scratched up, but I’m the only other fool who got himself shot. Twice, can you believe that? Startin’ to think maybe I’m as tough as my boy thinks I am. Or as dumb as his mother says. Maybe a bit of both, huh?” 

Ava smiled up at him and started to chuckle but quickly stopped herself as she felt the bandages pull with the movement of her stomach. “I don’t think I should laugh yet.” She said, but she shot him another small smile. 

“So...what happens now?” She asked with a furrowing of her eyebrows. “I have to go to a hospital, don’t I?”

“Most likely,” Pari interjected finally, peeling free another dressing from it’s packaging. “Gunshot to the abdomen should be fully checked out by a real doctor in a sterile environment.” She focussed on Dave’s wound for a moment, letting her words hang in the air. “It’s not as easy for us right now, but we’ll get you someone.” As she carefully placed the dressing onto Dave’s arm, she cast a glance to Ava with a smile - looking her in the eye, she could tell that the drugs had kicked in - Ava’s eyes were glassy and her pupils were dilating.

“Yeah, we’ll get you where you need to go,” Dave said. His tone was still light but there was a hard edge to it. He fully intended to see that Ava got some real medical attention. The idea of the only one of them who got hurt being the one who was the least threat rankled with him. “Get you poked at by some guy in scrubs, and maybe loot the candy bowl for ya.” 

“Score me anything cherry flavored.” She smiled up at them, making a conscious effort not to laugh. “Even if the lollipops aren’t laced with opiates.”

“I like cherry too,” Pari said with a smile, tying off the dressing in a neat knot with a decorative bow on top. “Alright Dave, would you like a lollipop too?” she asked with another smirk. “Or even a gold star? You’ve been good, hasn’t he Ava?”

Ava grinned and nodded as best she could. “Definitely gold star. I’m not sharing this lollipop, even if the flavor is kind of gross.”

Dave grinned and flexed his arm, checking his range of motion. “I’ll take the star,” he said. “Gotta pass on the lollipop, though. Need to be sober for now. But Christ, I’d kill for a beer.” 

He shook his head and glanced over at Pari. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For patchin’ me up.” 

“Just doing what had to be done.” Pari replied.

[hr]

Donnelley was busy holding a bag of ice to his leg, sitting on the chair he’d used last. The remains of his coffee and its mug were spilled over the island table and he sighed. His leg was throbbing, pulsating like a knife in and out of his thigh. He heard somebody enter the kitchen, turning to see Laine. “Howdy.” He hardly looked up from the ice on his leg, except to light the cigarette between his lips, “How’s everyone?”

Laine turned at Donnelley's greeting, the fact she had heard him dimly registering in the back of her mind. She looked him over, a faint line of concern forming between her brows. She moved over to him, opening one of the bottles of water and handing it to him. Laine grabbed some paper towels and began wiping up the mess, glancing over at him. 

"Howdy, yourself," she said, turning the mug up right. "How is everything, did they all leave? Shit...you didn't get hit too, did you?"

Her gaze dropped to his thigh, it had been the one wounded not 48 hours ago. His dark slacks made it hard to tell if he might have been bleeding. Laine sighed, her green eyes flickering sympathetically up to his face,  "Your leg must hurt like hell, I hope those stitches held up."

“Me too.” Donnelley chuckled. He shrugged his broad shoulders and shook his head. He lifted the bag of ice from his leg to reveal there was no bleeding hole. “Part of me thinks I’m stupid for runnin’ out there with Dave. Shouldn’t be on this [i]fuckin…[/i]”

He bit his lip, complaining and getting angry at his own choices wouldn’t endear him to many people. He knew Laine well enough that it probably wouldn’t for her. He gave a small smirk to her, “How much of you thinks I’m stupid for that?”

Laine tilted her head slightly, looking away from him to the figure of Tom at the gun and the ruined blinds beyond where she had been when the guns opened up on the Safehouse. When she looked back at him, her lips settled into a half smile. 

Laine rested her hand on her hip, leaning the other on the back of the chair beside her. "Just a little but there's a fine line between stupidity and bravery. You did what you had to do, though walking out there in full view did have me wondering if I should get you on the couch," she said with a hint of a wink, maybe it was just a twitch of her tired eyes. 

“You tried that before, remember?” He smirked, and then maybe his mind went to other places than therapy. Places they’d almost gone together before and he gave a mischievous chuckle. “You did good too. Shot back with us, I wasn’t expectin’ that.”

She dragged the chair out and plopped down in it, leaning back but her eyes remained on his. Laine nodded, huffing a short laugh. "Well, I am an FBI agent, and though it's been some time since I've been in the field I still have to pass my firearm qualification. But I don't think I hit anything except maybe one of the rental cars."

"More importantly Ava was hit, bullet through the wall. Jason thinks she's alright to leave her in Pari's care, she has her bleeding under control and treating for shock and pain." Laine rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply, "But dude, Ava's shot in the abdomen, she is going to need a hospital. We can't keep her here for long, too much can go wrong. And honestly you need your leg x-rayed and Dave should get checked out."

Opening her eyes, she leaned forward, her dark hair sweeping over her shoulders to frame her face as she looked at him, "What do we do now?"

“Goddamn it.” He rubbed his hand over his face and leaned back in his chair, the urge to have a drink now growing stronger than his reminders to himself to stay sober. “We have to go. They know where our Safehouse is now, we gotta get to Charleston or somewhere public. They’ll think twice then, and Frank will be safer.”

He snorted, “We all will too.” He looked in the direction of the women’s bunks, shaking his head, “She’s so goddamn young.”

If Ava became a casualty it’d be the third kid he’d let die under his care on this Op. If that happened, Laine would have him on a couch for sure. “I’m gonna…” He gritted his teeth and got to his feet, or foot, and nodded towards the door, “I’m gonna get some fresh air. Come with me?”

"Charleston or hell, even Clarksburg. It's crawling with federal agents. But I suppose it might be better to be able to reach out to the State Police," Laine pressed her lips together, then sighed, looking at him. 

Donnelley would carry this heavy, as he did with the deaths of Laurie and Gwen. She nodded, "Ava is young but she's not a kid, she's strong. She's holding up right now, Dave went to see her and Pari."

When he asked her to come with him outside, she  stood up and took a few steps to where she had left her blazer and fetched her Djarums and lighter. Laine paused at the door, looking over at Donnelley, a hint of nervousness in her eyes as she turned the knob. "They cleared out, right?"

“Justin,” Donnelley spoke into his comms headset, “They cleared out?”

“Yeah, I don’t see shit. I think we scared ‘em off good.” He heard Justin’s chuckle and gave him one back.

“Thanks, partner.” Donnelley slipped off the headset, placing it on the island table and joining Laine.

He placed his hand on the door and pushed it open, holding it there until Laine stepped out with him. He looked out at the cars in the driveway. If Laine was right about her marksmanship and only hit the cars he had no way of telling. They were filled with holes. He hoped they would still run, because he hadn’t worked on an engine in a damn long time. He pushed that to the wayside and grunted into his rocking chair. “Your call. We either go to Charleston and get Roy’s boys to keep an eye out, or we get cozy with your Fed friends in Clarksburg.”

Laine stepped outside, the night air still scented with odor of the firefight. The very air seemed to hum with the residual energy of the explosion of violence. Or maybe it was the ringing in her ears. It had started to fade and she could hear better but it was still noticeable. 

She flipped the black box open and drew out clove cigarette, lighting it up. Laine kept an eye on Donnelley, his hobbling pronounced as was the relief from getting the weight off his leg once he sat down. Taking a deep drag she thought over his question then blew a stream of smoke into the deep dark of the early morning. 

"Well, now that I think about it, the feds that are in Clarksburg are a bunch of nerds working at the CJIS staring at fibers and fingerprints," she said, a hint of a self effacing grin flickering on her face. "More comfortable with forensics than firearms. You know the type. No, I think your instincts are right, we should go to Charleston. Roy has proven to be a friend and dedicated to this case and she's our best bet. Plus there's more places to hide and hold up, more hospitals and an airport."

She put the cigarette to her lips then paused, adding, "I'd rather not have to explain this to someone else. She'll understand, I think. Roy knows that Blackriver is a festering boil."

Donnelley inhaled sharply, letting out the smoke as he replied to Laine, “Yeah, but I don’t think she was expectin’ a war here.” He frowned, the events of the night weighing down on him the less adrenaline he had coursing through him, “I fuckin’ wasn’t. If these guys are serious, we need to put Frank up with Roy in the Station.”

“And we don’t need him weighin’ us down,” he said, his voice quieter as he looked at Laine, “I want to know who that guy was. Everythin’. If we’re goin’ to move forward with this case, he needs to be taken out of the picture.”

"If? I think these guys are pretty fucking serious, man.  For all they know, they attacked a cabin full of FBI agents with murderous intent. Whacking a witness right in our midst, and probably killing everyone else," she replied, flicking the black cigarette, a tiny flurry of embers popping in the darkness.

"They're worried, which means we're on the right path. There is still so much more we need to do here, though," Laine said, "There is Dulane and the mines and I want to track down Daniel Miller, his wife was the hiker killed like our Jane Doe. But you're right, Frank needs more protection and we have enough to occupy our attention."

She looked at Donnelley, the glow of the cigarette lighting his face and the care and worry rested as heavily on his features as did the burn scar. 

“Charleston it is then.” He sucked in smoke and blew out a stream of it before opening his mouth to speak-

“Help!” A cry in the darkness, “Help, I need a medic!”

Donnelley’s brow rose as he finished off his cigarette in a series of puffs before flicking it off the deck. It came again, “Medic!”

He didn’t recognize the voice. He stood, arms doing most of the work to get him up on his feet again. He limped towards the cries for help, drawing his .40 the closer they got. “Med-“ he quit his bleating when he saw Donnelley and Laine. “Hey… look, I’m-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Donnelley kept his handgun at low ready, limping closer to the man and kicking his rifle away from him, “I’d like you to meet some friends of mine. It’ll be fun. Trust me.”

“Come on- gugh!” Cut off by Donnelley’s oxford to the temple hard enough for Donnelley to feel an ache in his foot afterwards.

Laine kept silent as they approached the wounded man left behind in the retreat. That in itself was telling about the damage done by Donnelley and the tactical team and about how their attackers  were organized. Maybe the boys had killed their leader and the organization of the team crumbled or he wasn't as concerned about leaving his men behind.

When Donnelley spoke, Laine frowned, her first instinct being to read the man his rights and worry about keeping the questioning clear of anything that would get it thrown out of court. 

The kick sounded like he had hit a ripe watermelon. It reminded her that Donnelley was Donnelley and not Agent Davidson, he had told her that he was not in the business of making arrests. 

Laine looked down at the now unconscious man and said quietly, "He needs medical attention if we're going to question him. What are you going to do?"

“Keep him alive… enough.” Donnelley snorted something at spit it on the man’s chest. “Let’s get Jason. We’re gonna find out if this guy knows anythin’.”

[hider=Mmm, some rolls]ROLLS - 
Dave DEX - 13
Dave Machinegun - 15 - Die-motherfucker-die, get some!
Dave Long Gun - 15 (again; at least he's enthusiastic) 
Awareness - 14 (I see you, motherfuckers)
Dex - 8 (You see me, motherfuckers)
Long gun - 8 (fucking hell, git gud Dave)
Dex 13

Justin long gun (sub roll) - 16? 

Laine Dex 19, handgun 7

Donnelley - DEX = 21, He is Neo
Marksmanship, Long Guns = 21, Moon is out to Play, Goons are out to Slay
Long Guns 2, Electric Boogaloo = 26(I hope I used my own system right), Joseph Wick
DEX = 24, I’m up - they see me - I’m down

Ava DEX - 6, ouchie
Ava Will power - 18, success?

Jason big dick energy, long guns Nat 20+4 =24 

Pari’s Yoga and Shiva dex energy - 19
Pari's sensual healing - 21[/hider]