>CLARKSBURG, WEST VIRGINIA
>INDUSTRIAL PARK SAFEHOUSE
>JUL.18.2019
>0615...///

The sound of a car horn blaring jerked Ava out of her sleep. She tamped down the immediate sense of panic as she cracked open an eye to look at the low early morning sunlight finding its way in through the window. There was a set of shades covering the window, but even through the slits of white plastic, she could make out the black bars on the window. It was like a prison window, a fitting comparison considering the spartan state of the room the ladies would be sharing. 

Ava pushed herself up on the twin bed, blinking her blurry eyes around the room while sleepily still clutching her large plushie to her chest. Her eyes swept over the empty bed in the right corner and then glanced to the other bed where she could see Laine still there. Or she assumed it was Laine, it just looked like a white lump to her poor eyesight.

Her eyes traveled around the grey walls to the lone nightstand with a slim lamp on it next to her bed, where she had left her glasses and phone. That was all that was offered for decoration, it was technically more than what the cabin had but she hadn’t noticed since it had also been a cabin. It was it’s own decoration, here everything just felt empty and depressing. They needed some flowers or something to brighten up this room.

She yawned and moved her cat pillow behind her head before letting herself fall back on the mattress again. She scrubbed her hands over her face for a moment, then reached over and picked up her glasses. Fixing them on her face she sluggishly got out of bed and headed for the door, her mind singularly on the quest for coffee.

The sound of whistling and the Keurig spitting out coffee into a mug greeted Ava. Donnelley had been up since before the sun rose, unable to sleep even with his medication. A cigarette dangled from his lip and wiggled as he spoke, turning to see Ava with his tired eyes, “Mornin’, you.” He went for the door, shamelessly shirtless again in a pair of grey sweatpants. “This place is quaint, ain’t it.”

He left the front door open as he stepped outside, lighting the end of his cigarette and relishing the nutritious breakfast of military men the world over- caffeine and nicotine. “I was ‘bout to make us some eggs, how’s that sound?”

"That sounds great," Laine answered, strolling barefoot out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. Her hair was only finger combed and the remnants of her mascara left smudges around her eyes. 

"Good morning," she said to Ava as she headed towards the coffee. Yawning, she leaned up to stretch, the old Depeche Mode shirt and jogging shorts she slept in as sleep tousled as her hair. 

Her attention was drawn towards Donnelley at the door, flicking a quick but intent gaze over his naked torso and the sweatpants he wore. "And good morning to you, too."

He noticed her staring and he made a show of stretching his arms out to the side, clenching his abs tight, and winking, “It is now,” he clucked his tongue and returned her gaze, his eyes tracing down her legs and back up to her face as he smiled, “That you two are up. Y’all sleep good?”

Ava mumbled something unintelligible that sounded vaguely like a ‘good morning’ as she walked by, hardly paying the two of them attention with her groggy eyes fixed on the Keurig. Her hair was somehow flatter on one side than the other, which was puffed a few solid inches. She looked about as awake and put together as the cranky owl on her shirt.

She picked up a waiting mug of coffee and after dumping some French vanilla creamer into the black coffee, she started chugging it down. 

“What idiot is blaring his car horn this early?” She grumbled in answer to Donnelley's question. There was a sleepy glare on her face as she exited the kitchen and sat herself down on the second hand Lazy-Boy in the living room, her mug in hand.

Laine admired the display Donnelley put on surreptitiously as she prepared a cup of coffee, sliding one mug over towards Ava who seemed to need it more than she did. "I slept alright, in those beds they gave us. I think they might have got them at a convent garage sale, though. This one was tossing and turning all night."

She tipped her chin towards Ava sitting in the oversized chair. Coffee in hand, Laine went over, leaning her hip against the recliner, "Did that stuffed cat help?"

Ava frowned down at the mug, the wheels of thought visibly starting to crank into motion playing across her freckled face. “I think it did,” She answered, pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “I remember waking up a couple of times and then going back to sleep pretty quickly because it's basically like hugging a marshmallow.” 

Donnelley didn’t mention how comfortable his bed was. Not that he’d spent much time in it anyway, simply sitting on the edge of it and going through circles of Russians, Blackriver, and Iraq. He ended up taking a few more pills from his bottle of whiskey than he needed to by the end of it. The train of thought was a bumpy one, and it did not lend itself to good thoughts for lulling him to bed. “What’s the first order of business today, my friends?” Donnelley leaned on his shoulder in the doorway, “I know there’s some eggs and toast need cookin’. Gotta check in with Foster about things and brief you up, but that can wait.”

He shrugged, “Unless you want it straight right now?”

Laine went to the refrigerator, taking out eggs and a small tub of margarine, making a face. "First order of business is telling Avery to get real butter next time."

No bacon was found but a bag of sandwich ham was there and fried up would make a good side to the eggs. Laine turned to Donnelley, "It's all yours, Chef."

“After I finish.” Donnelley punctuated that with a loud drag of his cigarette, half-gone.

“I'm fine with waiting until after breakfast to have a briefing.” Ava said, folding her legs up on the chair and slumping back into it. “Maybe my brain will be booted up by then.” 

[hr]

Donnelley set down his fork and smiled at Laine and Ava. There it was, he thought, that same feeling he’d had at Ava’s. It wasn’t the pent up sexual energy of spending time alone with Laine, it was something different. Fulfillment. Contentment. Like he didn’t have to look over his shoulder. “This ain’t a test of my culinary abilities, but how was it?” He asked, “Can’t beat the classics.”

"It was good, just what I needed," Laine replied before sipping her coffee, looking at Donnelley above the rim of the mug. "Maybe we'll test your abilities next time, before everything, you know. Before we get back into the grind."

The reminder of the looming black cloud that was the case passed over her and she picked up a piece of toast. There was an urgency that drove her, that kept her pushing through her break and now even in the peace of the morning, "So what's on the agenda for today?"

Ava smiled at Donnelley, looking more awake and less grumpy now that she had some coffee and food. “It was good, thank you. I bet it was easier to cook without Thor underfoot.” 

She shifted her gaze over to Laine, frowning as they got back to business. “I can take care of the dishes while you guys figure that out.” She offered, standing up from her seat to collect the empty plates. 

“Thank you.” Donnelley smiled, taking another cigarette from the pack in his sweats. “I figure we get each other caught up. There’s been some pretty good intel I want to try to verify when we can.”

"Thanks," Laine said as she handed her plate over. "There's a lot to go over, I have the identities of the other victims and I want to see if there are any other connections to Carlisle and those Russians. And, if we get extremely lucky, whoever might have taken them, if it was a John and not a kidnapping off the street."

She shifted her gaze to Donnelley, "Since we can't talk to him, did you get anything off his computer?"

Ava stopped in her tracks for a moment, furrowing her brow at Laine at the mention of not being able to talk to Carlisle. She glanced over to Donnelley for a beat before continuing on her way to the kitchen with the dishes.

“We had to vacate quick. There wasn’t any time.” Donnelley sighed, not looking at Laine. He shook his head, getting up from the table, “I’m gonna smoke and then we can get the day started.”

Laine set mug down, "That's unfortunate, then the Bureau must have picked it up. I think it might be worth trying to get it, what about you?"

She glanced at Donnelley as he headed towards the door then at Ava at the sink.

Ava glanced over her shoulder at Laine and nodded. “Definitely, if not the hard drive itself then at least a copy of the contents.” She turned more to face Laine better, giving her a curious look. “Do you think you'll be able to get it? Even though you aren't part of the case?”

Laine stood up and smiled slightly at Ava, "I have my ways."

She left the kitchen to shower and get focused for the phone call she would need to make. Garcia already had his suspicion but right now he was probably more concerned with his own ass on the line for letting Carlisle get snatched under his nose.

Once Laine was out of the kitchen and he heard the door shut, Donnelley leaned his head into the house, watching Ava scrub at the dishes. To think someone like her would be thrust into the field would’ve been unthinkable to Donnelley. Already she’d gotten shot and she still came back when the call sounded. A small smile turned his lips up, he could respect that. There was no way not to. “Hey, I’m sorry if I’ve asked you this but,” he shrugged, “I hope you’re alright. You know, your new scar.”

Ava glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Donnelley's voice from the doorway. “Oh, I'm alright.” She said, offering a little smile. “It hardly hurts anymore, except for the occasional twinge. Thank you for asking” She set the last plate to dry on the rack by the sink and dried off her hands on a dish towel.

She crossed over the small living room to join him at the door. She gave a quick look around outside before looking back up at him, her head tilting to the side as she took in the darker than normal circles around his eyes. “How about you?” She asked, a concerned frown on her lips. “Are you feeling alright?”

Donnelley smiled, giving a little chuckle that puffed smoke from his mouth and nostrils. After a moment, he nodded, “Yeah.” He nodded again, “That’s good though, I’m glad you’re feelin’ alright. I respect that, good for the job after such a hell of a first week.” He laughed.

“Yeah.” She chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck and brushing some of the copper colored curls from her face. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right?” She said with a shrug of her small shoulders. 

Donnelley laughed, dragging off his cigarette and nodding, “I must be damn invincible by now.”

Ava dropped her eyes down to the scars dotting his muscular torso. “I’m inclined to believe you.” She said, meeting his gaze again with a smile. “And, the shooting aside, I am glad to be part of this team now.” She said, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back against the door jamb. “Finding Jay’s email and all of that information that can help us stop these people...It just felt like something clicked. Like I found my own way to fight the darkness,” She flushed as she realized how clumsy that sounded and smiled white a bit more uncertainty. “You know?” She finished with another shrug, her hand reaching up to fiddle with the pendant of her necklace.

Donnelley’s face turned a bit more serious as he nodded slow, “I do.” He said, “I know. You hold onto that no matter what.”

He tapped his chest, “In here,” and then his head, “and in here. It’s all that matters. This right here, us. And those who ain’t with us.”

He knew what he meant, and Ava too, just maybe. Jason, Dave, Pari, Foster. And Laurie and Gwen, Peake, Guzman. Not here yet, and those not here anymore. “That’s good you found a purpose in it.” He smiled, looking away from Ava as he took another drag, “Another sunrise.”

[hr]

Laine sat on her bunk, her hair still damp and half dressed as she scrolled through her phone. Garcia's contact information came to a rest under her thumb, she hoped it was going to be worth stirring the pot about Carlisle again.

"This is Garcia," a tired voice sounded on the other end. 

"Agent Garcia, this is Dr Laine, BAU," she said, pausing then continued, "Just checking up on you, Miguel."

"I didn't realize the Behavioral Science crew made welfare checks, Doc," he replied. "I could use some Prozac."

"Sorry, I'm just a psychologist we don't get script pads, just a cool degree to hang on the wall," Laine said and she could hear a sigh of a chuckle on the other end. 

Laine continued, "I thought I'd check in to see how you're doing with Carlisle's abduction."

"Stuck between Jack and shit," Garcia said, then yawned,  "About as well as you expect an abduction by professionals to go. Forensics is taking forever to get back with results."

"I'm sure it'll come soon, you know how these things are," Laine said, "Listen, maybe I could lend a hand."

"No offense, Dr Laine but this isn't some psycho strangling whores and dumping them it the river. These were professionals, they probably work for Sinaloa or some other group interested in the wares he's peddling."

Laine bit her tongue, his flippant reference to the sex workers and kidnapped girls needled her but she needed Garcia's favor. "I understand, but what else do you have? I'm still working on my missing persons cases, I could kill two birds with one stone. I just need information." 

Silence filled the line. Finally, Garcia asked, "What kind of information?"

"Carlisle's hard drive, anything from his cell phones, whatever," Laine replied, shifting her on the bed, tucking one leg under herself. 

"Shit, I don't know. The hard drive is at the lab in Quantico, same with his phones. Maybe they'll let you in," Garcia said. 

"I'm in Clarksburg, I need them brought here," Laine replied. "I can see about pushing your forensics, I know some people."

"Dr Laine, they still haven't got the phones open, Apple is being a real piece of shit about it. I'll see about the hard drive, but I want good information back," Garcia replied, "I'm not hanging myself to just help you."

"I'll do my best to get you something, I owe you one," Laine said, leaning forward with intent as the line went quiet. 

Garcia cleared his throat, "What do you have going on, Doc?"

Laine stiffened, feeling a coldness seize her. What she had going on was that she was fucking the very man her colleagues were looking for, the one who killed two cops and took Carlisle. For the greater good, she reminded herself, for another damn sunrise. But she was FBI still and yet she wasn't, it was a strange and disconcerting realization. One that had not really sunk in yet, until now. It was clear where her loyalties would lie. 

"Agent Laine?" 

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked what you had going on," Garcia said again, hesitating before clarifying, "I mean, like you said you owe me one. Maybe we could get some drinks, I'm divorced now, I swear."

She breathed sharply, then smiled with genuine relief that he was going to push the mysterious  and flimsy reasons she gave to hide her true intent, "You know, maybe next time I'm in New York."

"Maybe you know a good place in Clarksburg," he replied, a lighter sound in his voice. "Look, I'll call you when I got the hard drive's traveling papers."

"Thanks, I appreciate it, Agent Garcia," Laine said, "Talk to you later."

Once the call ended, she tossed the phone aside on the bed and silently congratulated herself before she finished getting dressed. 

Laine wore snug black jeans and a London After Midnight t-shirt. She planned on a trip to a few stores so she laced up the sneakers she had worn the previous day before. Laine tucked the black pack of Djarums in her pocket and the lighter in the other before stepping out of the room. 

She flashed a smile at Ava and Donnelley, her green eyes bright with victory. Laine would have the computer and Ava could mine it for all it was worth. 

Clapping her hands together, she said, "I got a package coming soon."

“You doin’ Amazon?” Donnelley smiled over his shoulder from his seat at the steps, now a bit more modest with a Misfits tank.

Ava turned as well from where she sat next to Donnelley on the front steps, changed out of her pajamas while Laine had been showering. She traded in her sleep wear for a plain shirt that was light blue at the shoulders and faded to a pale pink at the chest, a pair of jean shorts and her sneakers. 

“Wait, we can have packages delivered here?” She asked, perking up with interest at the possibility. 

Laine stepped out, standing on the porch behind them, "Not Amazon, but FBI special delivery. I managed to get Garcia to fetch us Carlisle's hard drive."

“Aww, what a nice man. Tell Garcia the US Government thanks him.” Donnelley chuckled, flicking his latest cigarette towards the street and getting up. His knees popped as he stood and strolled into the living room, finding a much more comfortable seat on one of the couches. “What favor do we owe?”

Laine held the door for him and Ava, closing it behind them. "Don't worry, I got it covered," Laine said casually, "Just a few drinks and a blow job, you know how it goes."

She winked at Ava, trying to hide the teasing smile as Donnelley settled into one of the couches, shooting a humorless glance at her. If he hadn’t gotten that and more already, he’d probably be in a mood, “You should take up comedy.”

Ava started and blinked at Laine rapidly. “Well...that escalated quickly.” She said, her pale freckled cheeks flushing as she sat herself down on the recliner again. “When do you think we’ll get our hands on the hard drive?” She asked Laine.

Laine grinned at him, then shrugged, "He said he'd call me back with an ETA. It's at Quantico and he's in New York so I doubt he'll be driving it down, drinks or no. Probably a courier. I said I'd work on some type of lead, using the BAU but that's not our usual gig. He must be really at his rope end to take that offer."

Her gaze fell on Donnelley then flicked away, looking out at the curtained window as the sound of a vehicle pulled up. The chainlink gate jingled open after few seconds and Avery’s voice came from the doorway, “Uh, Shadow!”

“Get in here.” Donnelley rolled his eyes as Avery waddled in, carrying several large bags of groceries.

“Good morning, guys!” He beamed at the three of them in the room, “I got stuff for you. There’s a chair for the porch in the back of my Jeep, I’ll go get it.”

He set down the bags on the kitchen floor, “What, uh, what kinda coffee do you guys like? There’s a Starbucks near here.” He looked at Laine, “Let me guess, black?”

He chuckled, but it guttered out when Laine didn’t return the humor in full. “Yeah, black, for me.” Donnelley smiled at Avery and his blunder. He liked the kid. “And one of those brownies.”

“Good morning Avery.” Ava greeted with a smile at Avery as he walked in, getting up from her seat to join him in the kitchen. “Here, let me help.” She said, picking up one of the bags and set it on the counter to start helping put groceries away. “I like the S’more Frappuccinos and the brownies are pretty good.”

Laine looked coolly at him and said dryly, "Yes, black. And a chocolate croissant for me, [I]dark[/I] chocolate."

She moved to the table and began picking through the groceries. "Thanks for getting these groceries, but next time can you get some real butter, if you don't mind."

Laine smiled, then looked at the cellophane wrapped steaks critically. It was a good cut, just enough marbling for flavor and she commented as much.

“Yeah, I didn’t really know what to get you guys. I picked some up too, though.” Avery smiled, “I’m going to get that chair and get us some Starbucks!”

With that, he was off out the door, almost too excited to be running errands like an intern. Donnelley smiled after Avery, a part of him reminded of Queen and his swaggering antics. “Good kid.”

[hr]

[I]Escitalopram. Adderall. Hydroxyzine.[/I] 
Jason eyed the prescription bottles lining the dash of his rental. A fleeting thought of hesitation for the SSRI crossed his mind, but only because he knew he couldn’t take any more amphetamines while on it. That meant no Molly, Sally, or Dexedrine. [I]What a junky thought[/I]. He opened each bottle and collected the pills in a small pile in the palm of his meaty hand. They promised a semblance of normalcy, but what the hell was normal anymore? Admittedly, the pills did help. He wasn’t spiralling after Jordan and Syria, wasn’t balls deep in some pretty, coked up regret he’d inevitably want to call back later to ease the pain. Maybe that was it, that he didn’t know what that pain was. It was amorphous, cloudlike. Whatever sunshine it was blocking he didn’t care for anyway. The sooner he got to the safehouse the sooner he didn’t have to be alone in his head. Jason swallowed the pills and chased it with his cream heavy, sugary coffee. Just like abuela used to make it.

 He wasn’t far from the safehouse, just a few blocks from where he picked up the coffee. The tires crunched up gravel as he rolled to a stop, and he announced himself with a series of car doors opening and closing. A moment later his wide frame filling the frame of the front door. 

“Hey next time we can just get a double wide,” he said as he walked in. Stubble darkened his face, but he was all warm smile and bright eyes. Black duffel bags hung from his shoulders and the contour of his thick arms protruded from his tight, sleeveless Alice in Chains shirt. [I]Back at it again[/I].

Avery’s suspicious face fell away and his hands stopped with the task of reaching for his handgun when Donnelley slapped a hand on his shoulder, his face beaming, “Ho-lee shit,” Donnelley chuckled, “I’d offer you a beer, but we don’t have any. Yet.”

The feeling of camaraderie at the sight of the man who helped fight off an AB hit squad and patched up his leg, a fellow intelligence officer, came flooding back as Donnelley stepped in front of Avery, offering his hand out for a shake with the muscles in his own arms flexing in his muscle tank. The neighbors could probably smell the testosterone from outside, “How are you, partner?”

Jason took his hand in a loud slap, dropped one bag to the ground, and wrapped him up in a brotherly half-hug. He squeezed tight, genuinely happy to see the grizzled team lead. “Dying every day.”

He let Donnelley go, looking him up and down. “How you doin’, killer?”

“Rootin’. Tootin’.” Donnelley stepped back from Jason and headed for the kitchen, grabbing the steaks from the fridge and putting them on the island table for Jason, “But not enough shootin’. Just waitin’ for Dave and the others ‘fore we get back to the good fight. Some steaks here if you’re hungry, man.”

“Hell yeah,” Jason said. “I’ll never say no to some more protein.”

“Oh, yeah, that spry dog over there is Avery.” Donnelley nodded over at the other man, who waved and offered his hand out. Jason took Avery’s hand and gave it a testing squeeze.

“What’s up, man,” he said.

The sound of a car doors and voices brought Laine from the bedroom, following them to wherever in the small house they were at. A head of dark hair and the broad shoulders she recognized immediately. 

"Jason!" Laine called out, a genuine smile flickering over her face. She looked back over her shoulder, "Ava, Jason's here."

She left the doorway, sauntering over to Jason and put her hands on her hips, "Welcome to our humble abode, how've you been?"

From her claimed bed, Ava looked up from her laptop at Laine announcing the arrival of another member of their team. She smiled slightly at the mention of the first member of UMBRA she had met and set her laptop to the side, hoping off the bed. She followed Laine to the door and hung back near the hallway that lead to the trio of bedrooms, letting the others say their hello’s before butting in to greet the giant medic.

Jason couldn’t help but have his gaze linger over Laine, not realizing his eyes were drinking her up before they met her gaze. His innocent smile faded into something resembling a boyish embarrassment. 

“Oh you know, getting shot at and seeing shit I can’t explain.” He chuckled. “So not much different from the last time I saw you.”

"All in a day's work," she replied, her own gaze lingering from his arms up to his face. 

Jason leaned over to spot Ava. “There’s our little nerd, come here!” He threw down his other bag, flashed Laine a playful wink, and walked around her to scoop up Ava in a bear hug. He expected her to be light, but the ease in which she left the ground almost threw the burly man off balance. “How’s the wound?”

“Hi Jaso-whoa!” Ava squeaked as his iron like arms wrapped around her and lifted her off her feet. She grabbed onto him out of instinct to keep from falling, a surprised laugh bubbling out of her. “Better now, thank you for asking.” She answered, smiling at him. She looked around them with Jason still holding her and giggled. “So, this is what it’s like to be tall.”

He turned around to face Laine with Ava still in his arms, mouthing a silent ‘what the hell’ at Laine while he flicked his glance down Ava’s back. Why the hell did everyone in this team need to be so damn attractive? He finally set Ava down and gave her a once over, nodding affirmingly. “Good,” he said. “Let’s not make it a next time.”

“Hey boss,” Jason called out to Donnelley. “Who we missin’? When’s go time?”

Laine stepped aside when he went to Ava and stood back, shrugging in response to his silent question. As the conversation shifted back over to Donnelley, Laine went over to Avery. 

"Before the coffee, pick up a twel...no an eighteen pack of Dos Equis and a bag of limes," she said, "Bottles not cans. Thanks."

“Best make that twenty four,” Jason chimed in. “Who are we kidding. I’ll throw some cash at it."

Laine dug in her back pocket for the flat metal cigarette case she used as a wallet and popped it open, taking out two twenty dollar bills. "Get a bag of ice, too. We should have a proper hood cookout, what do you say, Donnelley?"

She looked over at him, a playful smile crossing her elegant features. “Fuckin’ hell yeah.” Donnelley whistled, producing his wallet and some cash, sapping it on the counter and sending it towards Avery. He turned his attention back to the others, “We’re missin’ Dave, Pari, Justin, and Tom. They’ll be here come tomorrow, probably, if they ain’t ‘round tonight.”

Donnelley’s eyes went back to Jason’s arms, before they ripped back up to his eyes and he folded his own thick arms, a grin and a shake of his head at the little voice in the back of it and the happiness to see another friend, “You get bigger every time I see you, you sumbitch.” He clucked his tongue, “What kinda routine the DIA got you on, hoss?”

Jason tensed an arm, his bicep swelling in a flex. “Half of Jordan’s lambs and too much protein powder,” he said, and chuckled at himself.

Ava went to the lady’s bedroom and then came back a moment later with some cash in her own hands. She smiled at Avery as she handed him the money. “If you could get some cherry 7-Up too, that’d be great.”

Ava looked over to Donnelley at the mention of Dave and beamed. “Dave texted me that he is on his way, but he has a long drive so it might be awhile.”

"Cherry 7-up? Damn, I wish I had some vodka," Laine said wistfully. "Hey, Avery do we have a grill?"

“Um,” Avery shrugged and scratched at his stubble, “We could get one, I guess.”

"Good!" Laine clapped her hands together, "We'll make it more like home. Keeping up normalcy, it's July, everyone grills."

“You know what we really need?” Ava asked Laine with a small grin. “Potato salad.”

"Let's make this poor boy a list," Laine suggested, pulling open drawers to look for something to write on. Inside one drawer she found a notepad with a homespun cartoon inchworm going up a flower stalk, "Inch by Inch, life's a cinch!" printed down the side. There was a pen, the Ohio Valley Bank printed on the plastic. It made her wonder suddenly exactly how and from whom the Safehouse had been procured. 

Jotting down the list of grocery demands, she checked for what they did have. "Corn on the cob?" Laine suggested, then wrote down [I] real butter [/I].

[hr]

This time, Pari drove to the safehouse. Some cheap rental car. A Prius. It had been a task and a half to squeeze her bags into it - and she took a glance in the rear view to see the failed tetris attempt in real time, wincing at it. “They’re gonna laugh me out of the safehouse in this Grandma car…” she mused, thinking of her teammates and their fondness for the bigger vehicles - the 4x4 and the SUV. Then here she was about to roll up in a tiny Toyota Prius, still it had a pretty sexy lick of teal paint on it, and that was something she admired. They just weren’t going off-roading in this any time soon. She told herself that the Prius was to save from the Safehouse driveway looking too suspicious. Nobody would suspect the enviro-friendly Prius...

As she pulled up, the address having been sent to her previously, she sat for a moment or two in the driver's seat, her music still played while she toyed with her hair. A trendy suggestion from her streaming account, a sunny and wholly Californian selection of hip hop. It always felt strange to see her hair straightened, as opposed to seeing her curls fighting their way out of bobby-pins and hair ties. Stranger still that there was a hot pink streak through it, a nice souvenir from a vacation. A gift from a new friend. She smiled at it, her lipstick matched. No red today, just colour.

The door popped and a pair of dusty rose jutti met the gravel. “Ahh, that feels the same…” she muttered to herself with a wry smirk as she headed to the trunk. If it had been hard to get everything in, it was about to be harder to get it all out. She’d packed completely out of her style - and by that, she had [i]not[/i]travelled light. She tugged on the handle, it was wedged and heavy. A deadly combination. [i]”Chhaiyla…”[/i] she hissed out, before promptly giving up on it. One of the boys would help. Instead, she reached for a smaller tote bag - sat much more neatly on the backseat and giggled at the contents. There was a warmth in the air, and she was grateful for her choice of clothing. A simple cotton sundress in a similar hue to that of her shoes. It was cinched at her waist, and buttoned across the chest, with frilled shoulder straps. The woman mad her way in the direction of the door, which unlike the last time, was open already - at least she wasn’t the first to arrive then…

“Namaste!” she called out, a friendly, albeit nervous chirp in her voice.

“Pari!” Donnelley raised his bottle to the newly arrived woman, “You’re back!”

“Paris?” Avery said, looking up from his task of putting the groceries away in the fridge and cabinet, looking around at them all in the room with a quizzical expression before settling on the newcomer, “Are we just not using the passwords anymore?”

Donnelley stepped in front of Pari with his arms out to his sides, the look in his eye might’ve clued Pari in that it wasn’t just beer in his veins, “I missed you in all your mystic, spiritual glory.”

“Oh,” Pari uttered, slightly surprised by Donnelley’s choice of words but she appreciated them all the same, “Well that’s a nice welcome back, I missed you too,” she settled on with a smile, before stepping towards him for the unexpected hug. She caught the scent of alcohol on him in the close proximity. [i]”ah”[/i] 

Pari narrowed her eyes in the direction of Avery curiously. “Newcomer?” she mouthed back to their team lead, slightly amused at his misunderstanding. “Newcomer,” she mouthed again with a nod. “Just another agent, [i]Parinaaz[/i], but Pari is fine,” she said in the direction of the man with a nonchalant wave of her hand, as if it was not a big deal. “It’s nice to meet you….?”

“I’m Avery!” He said, jumping up to attention almost out of habit. At least he didn’t salute. “Avery Morales, I’m the Safehouse Handler.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Avery!” Pari replied. “That’s a great name by the way - [i]Elf King[/i],” she added with a wink. 

Ava leant her head out of the kitchen and smiled when she saw Pari. “Hi Pari!” She greeted, lowering the heat of the stove before stepping away from the chocolate she was melting. She walked up to the woman and gave her a friendly hug, a bit of chocolate staining one corner of her mouth as she looked up at her with a smile. “How are you?” She asked, stepping back, her bright blue eyes noticing the streak of color in her hair. “I like the pink Rogue streak.”

That made her chuckle, and Pari held Ava a little longer than she had Donnelley. She had a soft spot for her younger teammate - especially since they’d had such a terrifying experience. Thoughts of Ava’s blood pooling around her crept into her mind, but seeing her again sent it back. It was good to see her so happy and carefree today. “I’m well, actually. How are you?” she asked with a smile. “And thanks, it was errr…” she curled a finger around the aforementioned streak, “my friend did this. Takes me back to being sixteen if I’m honest. Did you have a good break?”

“I did,” She said, putting her hands in the pocket of her jean shorts and a small smile. “Did a little gardening with my friend.”

Pari glanced at Ava with slight mischief in her eyes, “pumpkins?” she asked with a smirk.

Ava chuckled and nodded. “Pumpkins and poppies.”

Laine heard Ava greet Pari but she was wrist deep in marinating steaks so she glanced over her shoulder and tipped her chin, "Hey, Pari, welcome back."

She wiped the pepper garlic off her fingers on a paper towel as she turned around. Laine's cool green gaze moved over the woman and she gave her a crooked smile. "Cute dress, but we already have a Stepford Wife. Have you met Avery?"

“Laine! Hi,” Pari responded, bright eyed in the direction of her fellow FBI Agent, she gave a quick chuckle at her quip, “I know, it’s not my usual style,” her fingers plucked at the hem of the skirt before she gave Avery a sidelong glance, “Stepford Wife?” she said, in a faux coy tone as her gaze flicked back to Ava, “Are you building robots now? Your skills impress me more and more...”

Ava smiled sheepishly. “Well, I did bring a couple of drones I built.” She said with a small shrug then pointed over her shoulder. “I should get back to making dessert.” She said before stepping away to return to the kitchen.

Laine merely raised her eyebrows slightly, then turned to cover the Tupperware the steaks rested in. "We're having an impromptu grill, steaks and corn on the cob, grilled zucchini, potato salad. The works. Beer."

She picked up her half empty bottle, a lime wedge floating in the remaining beer. "You want one?"

Pari eyed the bottle and shook her head, stepping across to the kitchen behind Ava, “No thank you, sober Sally here,” she said, “but I’ll take a glass of water.” The woman placed her bag down on the empty table beside the kitchen counters, and watched Laine and Ava at work, “I can help with anything… Although I don’t think you’d want my cooking, so maybe I’ll just clean up. What can I do?”

"Suit yourself, there are bottles of water in the fridge and some Cherry 7-Up," Laine said, taking a bowl down from cupboard. "What's wrong with your cooking? Look, I might be some California white girl but I can handle spicy.”

She poured some olive oil in the bowl, reaching for a small plastic jar of chili powder to make her point, dumping a healthy teaspoon into the oil. 

Pari had made her way to the sink, already filling the basin with water. “Well, Laine, let’s just say there have been occasions when I have burnt pasta…” She felt marginally embarrassed to admit it but gave a light-hearted shrug. “Cooking is not really a skill in my repertoire,” she laughed.

"It's a skill like any other, you can learn if you want. My mom wasn't that great a cook," Laine said, drawing the chef's knife from the block. "I taught myself in college, made friends with some culinary students in my dorm. YouTube is a gold mine."

She bundled the cilantro tightly and began methodically chopping it fine. "But having a clean up crew is most appreciated.

Pari was running a sponge over the dishes in the sink, listening to Laine. “Now there you go, that’s my skill - [i]Michelin star[/i] cleaning efforts,” she chuckled. “I can put a shine on anything.” She placed the now glistening plate on the drying rack, moving on to the next thing in the sink. “But you’re right -- I could stand to learn how to cook, it would make my mother happy if I learned some of her recipes,” she sighed ruefully.

"Unless you can afford DoorDash every night, it's a good idea," Laine agreed, then took a long drink of the Mexican beer, the tang of lime and the scent of cilantro lingering on her fingers. She chunked it in the trash before grabbing another and popping the top off against the counter. "That I learned in college too, pretty cool."

Laine squeezed some lime juice into the cold beer them the rest into the dressing. "It might be nice to have some authentic Indian food, anyway. By the way, how do you like your steak. I think Donnelley will be manning the grill. You know how guys are, give them raw meat and open fire and suddenly they're hunter-gathers again."

She blinked then chuckled, "Sorry, I get chatty when I drink."

“No apologies needed. Chatty is good,” Pari remarked before nodding, still washing and putting away dishes and cutlery. 

“I’ll watch some YouTube and give it a go,” she replied confidently with a smile, making that promise to herself as well. “And, well… As well as being a sober Sally, I’m one of those annoying vegetarians,” she said, almost apologetically, at least self-aware enough to know that it was often a nuisance. “But,” she continued, “I haven’t gone gluten, dairy, and GM free yet. So, that just means more steak for our hunter-gatherers to fight over, and there’s no chance of a veggie being wasted when I’m around.” 

"Gross," Laine said flatly then grinned a little, taking another swig of beer. "It's not a big deal, you should have said something. We could have got some veggie burgers or portabella. There's plenty of meatless sides anyway."

She set aside the bowl, covering it in Saran wrap. 

“Oh, don’t worry I had a big breakfast at the airport, the sides and Ava’s dessert will be more than enough.” Pari placed the last of the washing up on the rack, pulling the plug from the sink to let the water drain with a loud gurgle. “You had a good break I hope?”

Laine looked at the label on her beer, picking at the corner, "I worked most of the time, got the forensics back on the skeletal remains found at the Vasquez scene and their identities. A few other things too, but we'll go over everything in the briefing. And I saw a pretty good punk show."

She smiled, her gaze still locked on the peeling label before finally looking up. "You?"

Pari observed the flicker of a smile on Laine’s lips and raised a brow curiously but said nothing of it, instead taking a towel to dry off her hands. “I took a trip with my mother, we went to London, she had a conference…” Pari shrugged with a smile. “Speaking of the case,” she interrupted herself, keen to shift away from talking about the trip. Her eyes widened as she paced the floor to her handbag, “I had some luck with my own research too after our conversation -- oh, and I brought some books with me too that we might find useful. I’m interested in those forensic reports though.”

“You had luck?” Donnelley perked up, his eyes still hazy, but his face serious as ever, “What kind of luck?”

Ava looked up from the chocolate she was pouring over a bed of crushed graham crackers. “That’s good! What did you find?” She asked curiously, eyes brightening with interest at the prospect of more information to help them with this case.

Pari turned to grab her suitcase, realising it was still in the back of the Prius so she brought her hands together as her lips quirked into a slight smile, "I prepared a binder - but it's still in the car." The smile faltered to a grimace as she readied herself to have to ask for help, and the ribbing that would follow. "If I could be cheeky and ask for some help to lift my case, I'll tell you all about it…" 

[Hr]

Dave cruised with his window down, elbow out, Hank Jr. wailing about love and loss and outlaw shit as he piloted his truck through the rundown neighborhood. He scanned the street through a pair of gas station sunglasses, a Texas Tech hat pulled low over his eyes. He was a Razorbacks fan, but the stolen plates on his ride were from Texas and he wanted to sell the illusion, but couldn't bring himself to wear a Longhorns cap. That was too close to blasphemy. 

As he drove he checked the GPS he'd dropped in the cup holder of the Ford; it was a hunting model, sturdy and simple to use. Dave rarely brought it into the mountains himself, but he had bought it so Mal could find his way to civilization in the event of an emergency. His son wasn't quite up to snuff on his land-nav yet.

Dave pulled to a stop in front of the battered house, eyeing it suspiciously. Since his last adventure with UMBRA he expected gunfire at every turn. Finally he took a breath and pulled a subcompact Sig from the console, a twin to the one he'd left on the mountain the last time he was in West Virginia. 

With another breath to steel himself he climbed out of the truck, holding the pistol low and behind his thigh. He'd dressed in a green flannel shirt and a pair of Wranglers; not the most tactical of outfits, but one that wouldn't draw attention given the country nature of his surroundings. 

Dave took a few steps to put himself behind the engine block of his truck, a piece of wisdom from his monster of a father. [I]A car door won't stop a bullet, boy. A motor will.[/i] 

"Hey! Y'all in there?" He called, clicking the safety off his pistol and readying himself to duck and fire.  

There was a beat of silence before the door opened and the familiar head of fiery red hair poked out. Ava smiled brightly as her eyes landed on Dave’s face, recognizable even under the sunglasses and hat. “Dave! Hi!” She said, raising a hand to wave to him before looking back into the house. “Guys! Dave is here!” 

That bit of information passed on, she stepped out of the house and hopped down the steps to greet Dave.

Dave beamed and stepped around the truck, tucking his Sig into his appendix holster before pulling her into a tight hug. 

"Hey there, sugar! How's it goin'?" 

Laine followed Ava outside, a beer in each hand, shouldering the door left ajar open. She called back over her shoulder, "Dave's here."

Walking out, she smiled as Ava hugged Dave and once again was surprised by how pretty the mountain man was. She stopped just behind the cloud of red curls and held a beer up for him once the hug was over. 

"Welcome back, dude," Laine said, her voice lighter than normal.

Ava grinned as she pulled away from the hug, catching the scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of the outdoors just before she stepped away. “It’s going well, glad you made it in time for the cookout.” 

"Thanks, dude," Dave grinned as he took the beer. "Y'all are havin' a cookout? Shit, guess I brought the right present along." He took a long pull of his beer and reached into the truck, hooking an arm under the strap of the duffel bag that contained his flak, helmet, pistol, and his rifle, as well as a number of other tactical accoutrements. Once it was settled on his shoulder he picked up a plastic bag and a milk jug full of clear liquid. 

"Got us some of that [i]authentic[/i] Boone County fire water," he said proudly. "None of that West Virginia 'make ya go blind' swill."

He offered the plastic bag to Ava. "Got a couple'a cokes in there for you and Pari. I remember y'all not drinkin'." He winked at her. "So where's the rest of everybody at?"  

"Real moonshine? Well, I'm sold," Laine said, "We have steaks for the grill, I think the guys are out back getting it set up."

Ava took the bag and opened it to peer inside, grinning at the sight of a few cherry Cokes among the regular ones. “Thanks Dave,” She looked up at him, a little mirthful glint in her eye. “I got you something too.”

"Oh yeah?" He cocked his head. "Well you didn't hafta do that. Thank you."  

"That's very thoughtful," Laine commented, looking over Ava's head at him, a hint of a smile on her lips. 

Ava shrugged as she continued to smile, though it turned a little more shy. “I saw it when I was buying hiking boots and thought you might get a kick out of it.” She said, pointing over her shoulder to the house. “I’m going to put these in the fridge and go get it.” She added, giving one last smile before turning to trott back into the house with the Cokes in hand.

Dave watched her walk away before turning his attention to Laine. 

"So, I miss anything? You have a good break?" He asked, grinning at Laine.  

Laine watched him watching Ava and bit her lip to keep from smiling at the obvious direction his gaze was following. She shrugged, then took a sip of her beer, "Just food prep. Jason and Donnelley are here, and if you couldn't guess by the teal Prius, Pari is here as well. We're still waiting on Justin and Tom."

She glanced at Dave, looking him over briefly and smiled slightly, "Yeah, it was a good break. Mostly work but worth it. By the way, you look much better without the mask of bruises."

"Heh, yeah. I got some weird looks around home until they cleared up," he said. He hiked his bag a little higher on his shoulder. "Welp, might as well get settled, I guess. See how the rest of the team is."

He nodded at Laine and pushed the door of his truck closed with his hip, then headed for the house, smiling as he went. He was looking forward to seeing the rest of the group; even though they'd only known each other briefly, he had found himself curiously lonesome up on his mountain. 

“Did I hear what I thought I heard?” Donnelley stood in the doorway of the house, staring down from his place a few steps higher than Dave. A cigarette dangled from his lips and his lighter made shadows enough for Dave to make out a devilish grin on Donnelley’s bearded face, “I see your sense of fashion has climbed a few rungs since we last met, partner. Texas?”

Dave grinned at the sight of Donnelley. They'd bonded in the gunfight and during the long drive to Arkansas, and he was happy to reunite with a fellow country boy, even if the other man had musical tastes that didn't quite jive with his own.

"Matches the plates," he said, jerking his head towards his pickup and its stolen accessories. He hefted the milk jug in his right hand. "Got a present for ya. Told you I'd hook you up for the ride."  

Donnelley whistled at the size of that ordinance and his brows rose with it, “One good thing my pa taught me is a man’s only good as his word,” Donnelley smiled a wicked grin, “You are good, friendo. You need help with your bags, I’ll carry summin’ in?”

"Nah, I just brought this." He hefted his duffel bag, haphazardly packed with weapons and clothing. "My day pack is in the truck, but it ain't got nothin' important in it. You wanna get us some shot glasses though, we can get this barbecue goin'." 

“Now that I can help with.” Donnelley nodded, pushing past the door and leaving it open for the man behind him. As he turned for the kitchen, he pointed at Avery on the couch, nursing a beer bottle, “That’s Avery, he’s our Safehouse Handler. Security and Errand-Boy, wrapped in one.”

Avery held a good-natured middle finger and a smirk over his shoulder at Donnelley before turning from the TV to Dave and waving. Donnelley grabbed a few shot glasses for everyone in the house and set them on the island table, “I think Jason is still grillin’ in the back.”

Dave gave Avery a friendly nod. "Glad to have another gun in the fight, in case somethin' pops off."

He dropped his bag and began pouring the shots, the potent scent of the liquor filling the air. "Speakin' of guns, where's Justin an' that other guy? Tom? They comin' in?" 

Laine watched Dave walk inside for no doubt a warm welcome. Alone outside, she fished out the pack of Djarums from her pocket and took one out, flicking the lighter open, flame dancing in the breeze. She took a seat on the porch, rocking in the aluminum chair as she smoked and nursed her beer.

The sound of Donnelley's voice drew her attention, the excitement over the moonshine and guns. Punk ass cowboy, she thought warmly then snubbed out the half smoked clove. 

As Laine entered the house in time to see shots being poured. "You're not leaving me out of this," she said, approaching the group of men, "I've never tried real moonshine."

Jason emerged from the backyard wafting the aroma of lighter fluid and charcoal inside as the door plunked shut behind him. He saw Donelley pouring shots and his teeth flashed in a grin. He approached the countertop, saw Dave and extended a fist in greeting.“What’s up, man,” he said enthusiastically. Jason still knew little about the man, had barely interacted with him at all, but the way Donnelley was around him gave Jason enough of an impression for the veneer of friendship to settle. “What the hell are we drinking here?”

"Hey, bud!" Dave grinned, giving the big man a friendly nod. He capped the milk jug and set it aside, bumping Jason's fist with his own before passing the shots around. "Here, Avery. Got one for you too. Now this here is real, no-shit Boone County moonshine. West Virginia just thinks they're whiskey makers."

“My man!” Jason exclaimed, then eyed Laine. “Partaking too, huh?” 

She reached for a shot then raised a brow at Jason, "You're damn right. I'll be doctor tomorrow."

Ava exited out of the hallway with a hand behind her back, eyes alighting on the group around the kitchen island about to do shots. She smiled at the warm, relaxed energy buzzing in the air as she approached, walking around the large group to Dave and tapping him on the shoulder. “Here, I hope you like it.” She said, moving her hand forward to show him a brown baseball hat with a dark blue bill with the image of a copy of the hat embroidered on it.

Dave studied the hat for a moment, then gave a bark of laughter. He took off his Texas Tech hat and replaced it with his new gift. 

"Thanks, sugar, I love it," he grinned. He tossed his old hat at Donnelley. "Here. You're a Texas boy, you can wear this abomination."  

“I wear it better anyway,” Donnelley took it and placed it on his head, wearing it backwards, “Thanks for the gifts, partner.”

"Happy to." Dave raised his glass to Donnelley and the others. "Bottoms up." 

He tossed back the shot, bit down a grimace at the harsh burn, and slammed the glass down on the counter with a thump. "So? Tom and Justin?" 

Donnelley threw back the shot and, even to his seasoned palate, had to suppress a choke. He clacked the shot glass back on the counter and took a deep, burning breath, “Oh, that’s delicious, thank you.” He wheezed and wiped his mouth, “No word yet. Figure they maybe get here tomorrow.”

Ava beamed, happy to see that Dave enjoyed his gift. She watched the others slam their shots and out of curiosity, picked up the empty one Dave had used and gave it a sniff. The smell burned the inside of her nostrils like she had just sniffed rubbing alcohol and she snorted, setting the shot glass down with a firm shake of her head. “I wasn’t aware you could drink gasoline.”

Laine knocked back the moonshine and hissed, shivering violently as the harsh liquor fired through her body. Goosebumps pricked her arms and she whistled softly, "I said god[I]damn[/I]."

She breathed a soft laugh at Ava, "Usually it's huffed, but this isn't gasoline. It's jet fuel."

Dave grinned. "Toldja it's the good stuff. Arkansas does it right."  

Having put her case in the women's bedroom and having reorganised her bed - Pari walked back through to the lounge, the sounds of chatter definitely louder now, it reminded her immediately of one of her own family get togethers. She watched, impressed, as the ringing of the shot glasses signalled a real kick off to their welcome back and smiled in Dave's direction. 

"Welcome back Dave," Pari beamed at him, before her gaze flitted to Jason. "And hello Jason." She could smell the moonshine, even from several feet away and it was enough to have her coyly raise a brow, "Holy cabooses -" she sighed with a laugh. "Are we going to have hangovers tomorrow?" 

Jason turned his head to a side and blew the fumes of potent shot from his mouth. “Good to see you,” he said to Pari, his throat still airing the liquor in a hoarse tone. “It’d take that whole bottle to give me a hangover.”

"Hey, Pari," Dave gave her a wave. "Good to see ya. I think we'll be fine, ain't got anything goin' on tomorrow, far as I know."  

Laine looked at her glass and at Pari, "Sorry Sally, I think we'll be alright. We're well practiced."

“Fuckin’ master.” Donnelley said, raising his beer bottle to his lips and taking a few long pulls from it. 

"Well I volunteer to do a drive thru run in the morning, anyway," Pari replied coolly with a nod. "Nice to see you too Dave."

"Doing Avery's job for him, too? Poor guy," Laine chuckled, looking over at the young man among the rest of UMBRA, "But he already knows how I like my coffee."

“Black!” Avery perked up, “Just like the big guy over there.”

Donnelley and Avery both pointed a finger-gun at each other. Avery’s demeanor had quickly endeared him to the man, who was reminded of a loyal puppy whenever he saw him. Like a younger, more chipper Donnelley of times past. “It ain’t a party if I don’t wake up half-dead.” Donnelley grinned, “I’ll do one more shot and keep Jason company while he grills.”

He pursed his lips and quirked a brow at his team, “What say y’all?”

“Amen to that,” Jason said.

“I’ll do one.” Avery chimed in.

“That’s my boy.” Donnelley winked, giving a grin.

Dave began to pour, the harsh antiseptic smell of the raw liquor once more filling the air. 
 
"Gotta love a taste of home," he said, passing them around. He raised his glass briefly in salute, then pounded the shot back. He hissed and shuddered. "So what we grillin'?" 

“Steaks, feta melt on top,” Jason answered. “What else we got?”

 "I'll have another," Laine said, shaking her head and smiling crookedly at the two. She looked over at Dave, "Make it a double, Mountain Man. And I have some corn on the cob and zucchini for the grill."

Ava gave another shake of her head when Dave uncorked the moonshine and the smell filled the kitchen. “Ya’ll are going to burn a hole in your stomach.” She chuckled.

She blinked and then rolled her eyes with a good natured smile. “I just said ‘ya’ll’, I’ve been hanging out too much with Donnelley and Dave.” 

Holding the glass out Laine shrugged slightly, "I'm going to line my stomach with steak, I'll be good. Besides, I already have everything arranged for the briefing tomorrow. The doctor will be in. Tonight, it'll be Heather getting drunk off this hillbilly shine."

"Nothin' wrong with expandin' your vocabulary, sugar," Dave grinned as he poured another round. He capped the milk jug and gave Laine a faux-admonishing look. "An' please, doc. We're mountain folk. Hillbillies are out east, makin' their shine in cast iron and not copper like good, god fearin' Americans do." 

Grabbing her soda from the fridge, Pari gave Dave a nod of appreciation and cracked it open, "Actually, actually…" she began, waving a hand. "I brought you all some gifts too from my trip, I'll be back!" She said with a quiet giggle, leaving the can on the counter as she went to fetch her bag from the bedroom. 

Ava furrowed her eyebrows curiously as she watched Pari disappear down the hallway. Looked like she would need to add another gift to her Amazon cart.  “Wonder what she got us.” She mused aloud, folding her arms on the counter and leaning on them.

"My apologies, Dave," Laine said, "I'm no cultural anthropologist, but I will certainly be sure to call you a mountain man instead. Actually, I really wouldn't mind learning the differences between West Virginia hill folk and Ozark mountain folk. The devils in the details."

Her eyes twinkled with alcohol and mischief as he poured her the moonshine. She pulled her gaze from Dave when Pari announced her gifts. A smile twitched her lips quirking into a tight smirk of curiosity.

"Well for one, our liquor's better," Dave said emphatically. "Football too. And the weather… Shit, West Virginia ain't got much goin' for it 'cept the company, once I think about it." 

"I don't know shit about football but the music is pretty interesting," Laine said, wincing as she drank the shot down, "Jesus, that's strong but not any rougher than tequila. I got some authentic mountain music and bluegrass from the library. Those fiddles are hella Celtic. Do the Ozarks have a music tradition?"

“Oh sure,” Dave said, taking his appendix holster out and setting it on the counter. He walked to his bag and began taking out his gear. “It’s pretty similar. I mean, my name’s MacCready. We’re all Scots and Irish, or both.” As he spoke he pulled his AK from his bag, clicked a magazine into place, and then switched on the red-dot before setting it aside. “Banjos, fiddles, some steel guitar...Some of them ol’ fellas way up in the mountains can play a mean mandolin. Pickin’ it with all five fingers.” 

"The mandolin, that's the one. Higher pitched, I like it," Laine said, nodding and watching him take out his guns. "Maybe you can give me a few bands to look up sometime. We don't have music like this in LA. Does your...uh, folks have stories passed down, a strong oral tradition?"

A drunk giggle rose in her throat and she choked it down, drowning it with the rest of the moonshine from her glass.

Ava looked over at Laine in confusion as the psychologist giggled before realization clicked in her eyes. She snorted and rolled her eyes with a small smile. “Go home Laine, you’re drunk.” She teased the other woman.

Laine laughed aloud and put a hand on her hip, "Almost there."

“Ava, you silly woman. This here’s not a Safehouse, it’s a Safe[i]home[/i].” Donnelley looked into his shot glass and smiled around, “Oh, shit,” he chuckled and swayed in place, looking over to Laine with something in his eye that was a little more than friendly, “I think I beat you there, sugar.”

“To Dave,” Donnelley rose his glass and hazily smiled at the mountain man, “For showin’ me this fine nectar of the Ozarks and becomin’ my new best friend.”

Laine smiled and said, "Right behind you, sir."

She raised her  empty glass, the temptation to ask for another tempered by the certainty that the shine would burn as much coming up as going down. 

"To Dave, keeping us safe even if we're a buncha Feds," she said, giving the man a warm smile then held out her glass. "I'll nurse this shot, I swear."

“You’d better,” Donnelley let a mischievous grin out, though he kept his eyes on his glass save for a glance at the woman, “Make the Team Lead put his foot down.”

He figured he might as well go for a save, “Goes for all y’all. I don’t need anyone shootin’ at the moon in the backyard.” He chuckled.

“There go my plans.” Ava grinned over at Donnelley. She looked over at Dave, even now getting himself ready for a fight and protect them should Hell come knocking on their door. Her smile warmed a little and she rose up an imaginary glass. “To Dave, a good man.”

Dave grinned at the toasts, beaming as he dug his full size Sig and drop-holster out of his bag and began buckling them on, along with a three-mag spare pouch. They were relaxing now, but violence was always moments away. He'd learned that lesson. Now, hearing that his friends considered him a protector, he felt both a swelling of pride and a new sense of responsibility. 

“Okay,” came the smooth voice of Pari as she rounded the corner again, bags in tow. “So these are just little things really – had nothing left to do on my last day, and of course I thought of you all.” She reached a hand into the bag, first taking out a packaged USB drive in the shape of Big Ben, which she handed to Ava. “My friend tells me this is kitsch…” she laughed, leaving it in front of the redhead. “For Laine…” she added as she reached in and pulled out a book – [i]Jack the Ripper: The Tour[/i]. “I was a touch unwell, and didn’t get to do the tour myself and this is a bit… Well, it’s not the most detailed thing, “ she remarked nervously. “But it has some old timey maps, replicas of his letters… I don’t know, I thought you might get a kick from it.
“For Dave,” she said next, meeting his eyes with a devious sparkle in her own – taking out a faux bearskin hat. “A nice little number, since you’re the guard of us three [i]lovely[/i] Queens. I thought you’d look [i]rather dashing[/i] in this…” she laughed, adding an English accent to her words. “Donnelley… I was a bit stuck on you… But I also went for a hat—” she brought out a flat cap with a girlish giggle and a smirk. “This is the one those rascal Peaky Blinders wear…” 

“Oh, you know a ruffian like me so well.” Donnelley beamed, taking the flat cap and trading the Texas Tech hat for it, stuffing the latter in his back pocket, “What they call it? Ragamuffin?”

“Regular rapscallions,” Pari chirped back, admiring the man in his new hat. “The Peaky Blinders actually took to stitching disposable razor blades in the peaks of those caps -- take of that information as you will…” she added quietly. 

“Men after my own Irish heart.” He made a show of straightening the hat on his head.

The impish drunken grin on Laine's face died away as Pari came back, laden with gifts. Laine took the book, looking at it as she explained and a slow, enigmatic smile appeared as she shook her head in wonderment, "Thanks, another unsolved murder case, I'll treasure it," Laine said, looking intently at the cover, as she started off back to the kitchen. She needed another beer.

Jason watched the gifts getting passed around with a fading smirk. Without a word, he turned and walked into the kitchen for a beer. [I]All of them[/I], she had said. He thought of how some things never change, and wondered if he should even care, knowing he would all the same. Two bottle necks were laced in his fingers, and he departed to the backyard, the door smacking on his way out. 

Ava's smile dimmed slightly as she was handed the flash drive. “Ah, thanks. It's cute and practical.” She said looking back up and trying to plaster the excitement back on her face. She waved it slightly. “I'll go put it with my laptop, thank you Pari.” She said before leaving the room and disappearing down the hallway. 

Dave accepted his hat with a baffled smile . "Thanks, Pari," he said, looking it over appreciatively and smiling at her explanation. "I'm glad y'all feel that way. I'm gonna do my best for all y'all." He watched Ava walk out of the room, then returned to the counter and poured himself another shot. This one he sipped at, wincing a little but enjoying the familiar burn.  

"And that was my gift shop tour," Pari said, taking the bag back and rolling the top over. She took a seat, feeling slightly awkward about it, wondering if she was now too similar to her Aunt Amita, who at birthdays and events always seemed to bring the lamest of all gifts - and not in an endearing way. Shaking the thought loose, she grabbed her coke and sipped at it quietly.

***

Laine took her open beer and the Ripper book and made a quick turn from the kitchen to the hallway, pausing only long enough to give a bewildered look at the British guard hat Dave held in his hand. She bit her tongue, turning to continue on to the bedroom she shared. 

Ava was still there and Laine nodded at her, setting the Dos Equis beer on the dresser. She looked at the tour book and waved it, "Nice of Pari to like think of us while on vacation. Maybe I oughta give her something in exchange."

A dark look flickered in her green glassy eyes as she opened her bag and pulled the library book out, showing it to Ava. [i]Backwoods Witchcraft of Appalachia[/i] "I mean if I give it as a gift, you think she'd actually read it this time?"

Laine cackled at her own acidic joke and put both books away. She brushed her hair back out of her face and peered at Ava. "Well, at least yours can be fit into your pocket. Dave's hat looks like you have to feed it and take it out for walks."

Ava was sitting on her bed, pillow supporting her back as she leaned against the wall and the plushie Laine had gotten her in her lap. Her phone was on top of it as she scrolled her finger on the screen but her eyes looked a little distant.

“Mmhm, very nice of Pari to think of us.” She said distractedly, the blue screen of her phone faintly reflected in her glasses.

Laine looked over at her, then moved to sit on the end of Ava's bed. "Tired of hanging out with us drunks?" She asked, testing the waters. "I think Dave will wear your hat, I doubt that guard hat will fit in the pick up truck."

Ava blinked and looked up at her. “Oh, no, I'm sorry. I was just checking something.” She said and picked up her phone to wave it a little. “And, just thinking if I should get something for Pari to pay her back for her...gift.” She said, glancing over at the flash drive sitting on the nightstand by her bed. “But I don't know her that well so I don't know what to get her.” She pressed her lips together and shrugged. “Maybe a Starbucks gift card that says ‘thank you’?”
 
Laine huffed a breath and laid back, "This is why I don't like Christmas."

She turned her head, reaching over to tug the ear of the stuffed cat. "You don't owe anyone anything. If you want to get someone a gift, then that's it. I'm going against thousands of years of gift etiquette here, but....uh, yeah. Starbucks card is always good."

Ava gave Laine a curious look, smiling a bit as the woman played with one of the cat’s ears. “Well I hope you don't mind but I did get you something because I love my plushie so much.” She waved her phone over Laine's face. “And it already shipped.” 

"You sneak," Laine chuckled, then pushed herself up on her elbow. "You didn't have to, but thanks. As long as you like the plushy and it helps you for comfort."

“It does, thank you.” Ava smiled, moving the phone away so Laine didn't bump her head on it. “And I thought you might like this, so I was happy to order it.” She said and tapped at her phone for a moment before turning to show Laine a picture of a black and white death’s head moth enamel pin. “What do you think?”

Laine peered at the phone then grinned, "That's cool, I like it. I got an old denim jacket that'll go perfect on."

Ava smiled happily. “Good! I'm glad you like it, it'll be waiting at my house when we finish up here.” She said, putting her phone down. “And if you forget tonight, now I know you like it and it'll still be a surprise.” She added with a light laugh, her blue eyes dancing merrily behind her glasses.

Laine rolled off Ava's bed, laughing at herself, "I might forget, that moonshine is no joke. I think I like it too much."

She picked herself up and grabbed the beer off the dresser. "So you're alright?" Laine asked, her eyes focusing on Ava as her expression sobered slightly. 

“Oh, yes, I feel better now.” Ava said with a small smile. “Thank you, Laine.”

"You want to know something?" Laine asked, leaning in conspiratorially. "My first name is Heather. I hate it but you can call me that. Just not in front of people."

Ava grinned at her. “I like Laine better too. Plus, if you do end up forgetting this conversation I don't want to risk your wrath calling you something you don't like.” She said with a chuckle. “You might put a spell on me with that black magic book, turn all my clothes black and goth.”

Laine rolled her eyes, sighing, "I would never. I don't believe in magic and that bullshit. Well... I'm still skeptical but uh, there is things lately. Crazy weird shit... you know. Anyway, you looked a little bummed so I thought I'd check up on you."

“Thanks.” Ava sighed and dropped her head back against the wall, frowning up at the ceiling. “It was stupid, I was being an ungrateful brat.” She said, pushing her glasses up on her forehead to rub her hands over her face. “I’m fine now though.”

"What do you mean?" Laine asked, sipping her beer and she plopped down onto her own bed. 

“Just,” Ava frowned and sighed again, sitting up straight with a grimace on her face. “Something about Pari’s gift to me and then what she gave everyone else...It reminded me of the ‘gifts’,” She rolled her eyes distastefully. “My grandparents on my dad’s side got me when I was a kid. Cheap little things like keychains and postcards because it’d be rude not to get me anything, but they also don’t like me so they didn’t put effort into them; like I was just an afterthought. Then all my cousins have these big extravagant or thoughtful gifts…”

She trailed off and scowled at herself with a shake of her head. “But of course, Pari is nothing like them. It’s stupid, she was kind enough to think of me and get me something she thought I would like while she was on vacation and I’m sulking about it.”

Laine leaned forward, elbows resting on her thighs as Ava spoke. Her eyes had the sheen of intoxication but remained focused as Ava revealed the old wound. "I'm pretty sure that it was well intentioned on Pari's end, but I can see how your experience with your grandparents would cause those old feelings to emerge. Sometimes it's hard to separate those old hurts from the innocent actions of another when they seem similar. Though... that fucking hat. That's a little too much."

Laine sipped her beer, looking at it for a moment, "I think she might have been trying to impress him, Dave is pretty cute. So, y'know. I don't know how giving the descendent of Scotsmen and an anti government one at that a symbol of English monarchist military oppression is supposed to work but...I could be overthinking it."

“I just...I don’t know, I always felt like an afterthought growing up...unwanted or unworthy outside of being smart.” She shrugged again, this time more stiffly as she looked down at her plushie. “So when Pari said that her friend liked the flash drive and gave it to me...Just that old feeling came bubbling up again.”

She shook her head again. “Like I said, I was being a brat.” Ava frowned, looking down at the cat plushie in her lap and giving an ear a wiggle. “I should go apologize to her and thank her for the gift again.” She said, looking over at the Big Ben flash drive. “At least it’s not a key chain and it’s related to something I like.”

"I don't think you're being a brat, I think it was just a reaction to something that triggered a painful memory. You know, that happens. It's not her fault or yours, but do what helps you feel better," Laine said, taking another drink.

Ava pressed her lips together. “I don’t want her thinking I’m ungrateful though...Maybe that Starbucks card can double as my apology? Let her know I do appreciate her thinking of me and she doesn’t need to know about...this.” Her eyes suddenly brightened suddenly. “Oh! You know, Starbucks is always selling those pretty mugs, maybe I could get her one of those too! I might get one for myself as well, the mugs here are so dull. What do you think?” She asked Laine, watching her take another swig of her drink. “You guys will probably need all the coffee you can get tomorrow morning.” She added with a chuckle.

Laine sat up and held her hands out, keeping the green beer bottle gripped between her thumb and palm. "There you go," she said, "You figured it out. I'm pretty sure that'll be a welcome gift. I like to tease Avery about being the houseboy because I think Donnelley is going to spoil him but I doubt he'll be any condition to make an early coffee run. So yes, we'll appreciate it."

She took a sip and made a face, "I need some fucking food, my belly is sloshing around."

Ava grinned at her and moved her plushie to the side to get off her bed. “Maybe the steaks are done?” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh crap! I have to toast the marshmallows for the top of the dessert!” She said before quickly leaving the room to head for the kitchen.

Laine let her run off before pushing up from the bed, glancing down at the bag that held the books. It would keep until tomorrow, the briefing that would push them all back into the world of dead girls and Russians and trigger happy rednecks. The corn needed to be put on the grill, steak to be eaten and to tighten those bonds that would help them see through the darkness until the dawn. 

She shut the light off and swayed slightly as she went out the door to go back to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, in the lounge area, Pari was in the corner, trying to set up a bluetooth speaker. She thumbed through her iPod, looking for something worth playing that wouldn’t offend everyone’s tastes. Her dance mix probably wasn’t going to jive with the UMBRA crew, and so she settled on some chilled RnB. A beat in the background that wasn’t going to take over the atmosphere. As she squatted down on her haunches, she felt the dress squeezing her uncomfortably. “[i]Fodricchya[/i] this is why I wear pants,” she complained to nobody in particular - halfway between a hiss and a mumble. It would be the last time she’d try something out of her usual style.

“Feel free to pick songs from my iPod everyone,” Pari said to the room, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t… Don’t judge my playlists,” she chuckled.

Laine wandered out of the bedroom and recoiled at the music, shaking her head before going to the refrigerator and started taking out the green husk covered corn and piled them onto a plastic tray. Walking past the living room, she called out, "Too late, I'm judging the hell out of them. We should put some mountain music, bluegrass country. Or folk gospel. For West Virginia, you know. Anything but fuckin R&B."

Her voice faded as she shouldered her way outside, pushing the door open and stepped into the soft slanted dimming light of the evening. "Make way for corn," she announced.

“Perfect,” Jason said, funnelling the rest of his first beer down his throat and grabbing the tin foil to prep the corn.

“We already got corn!” Dave waved his milk jug vigorously enough that had the contents not already been appreciably diminished, it would have sloshed out the top. A full-size glass sat in front of him, with several shots worth of the harsh liquor poured into it. He grinned and set the jug aside, then picked up a coke and filled his glass the rest of the way. “Hey, y’all think there’s any Hank on that iPod? Senior, Junior, or the Third is fine.” 

“Third?” Jason asked. “Yikes.”

Laine got closer to Dave and his moonshine and laughed, "Hit me!"

She opened her mouth playfully, tilting her head back as her hands were still full with the tray.

Dave obliged, uncapping the jug and pouring a small measure into Laine's mouth. 

"Don't inhale, shit burns if it hits the wrong tube," he laughed. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Jason added. 

Holding her breath, Laine swallowed the harsh liquor, trying not to sputter and cough it out. The lessons of the University of California at Irvine still paid off. 

"Whew, that's some strong stuff," Laine wobbled a little when she looked down, her head spinning. 

"Strong as you can make it," Dave confirmed proudly. "My pops makes it. Old man lives even deeper in the sticks than I do, an' he's been makin' shine since he could walk, seems like."  

"That's why it's so fiery," she gave him a little crooked smile. "Got that authenticity."

Laine set the tray beside the grill on an overturned 5 gallon bucket that made a handy stool. She looked up at Jason, his handsome brooding features seemed darker. "How's the steak coming?" she asked, her gaze remaining on his face.

Jason immediately began husking the corn, much of his attention on the food and anything to keep his inner thoughts from boiling with false conclusions. He slathered the ears with butter and threw an array of spices on them before wrapping each in a casing of tin foil. They immediately went on the grill. A bowl of broccoli stalks peppered with minced garlic rested on a table next to the grill waiting to be singed by the heat.

“Marinating. I don’t want to dry them out,” he said, opening his beer and extending a cheers to both Dave and Laine. “How you two been? You know, outside of all of this?”

Laine watched with a moment of shock as he tore the husks off the corn. Her father had always left them in their green leaves to steam naturally so she had always done so but she said nothing, eyeing the spices he was putting on the ears of corn. 

"Working," Laine said simply, "No rest for the wicked. I have some zucchini slices, but they cook fast, I'll bring them out later. You really got this grilling down, I put my own marinade on those steaks I hope you like it."

She looked him over, the awkward scene inside the house had still followed them outside like a bad smell but Laine left it alone. "There is a lot of new information to get into for this case. Tomorrow. Tonight we're going to investigate the Ozark cultural contribution of their backwoods distilleries."

“A few more shots and I’ll talk about ‘work,’” Jason replied, looking over the food before deciding to leave it be. No more busy work to be had. He gave Laine a half hearted smirk, something tired and sad. “You always call out country folk, or are you poking the bear over there?” he asked, nodding at Dave.

"Nah, ain't no callin' out," Dave said lightly. There was a looseness to his stance, a relaxed air about him, but otherwise he held himself like a professional moonshine drinker. 

He walked a little closer and extended a hand to Jason. 
 
"On a serious note, I never thanked ya for that overwatch. Shit got hairy, an' I'm pretty sure me an' Donnelley woulda been dead in them woods without you. So thanks for that." 

Jason took Dave’s hand and curled the handshake towards their chests, his other hand slapping Dave’s back a brotherly half hug. “Any time, brother,” he said. “That’s what we’re here for. Feels good to do something other than pushing pencils these days.”

The bulky man gave a nod towards the moonshine at their feet, and said, “But if you want to repay me with some fine Ozark Mountain Dew that will uh, do.” He laughed, the previous negativity washed away, and he looked over at Laine, “Feeling dangerous? What another round?”

Laine was already feeling the numbness in her face, she bit her lip and felt the ticklish tingling from the alcohol. It was strong drink, harsher than tequila or whiskey, she knew she should slow down, be more moderate. But the crawling anxiety of being officially back in West Virginia even as far from Blackriver as they were had been shadowing her since they stepped into the safe house. The weight of the unknown and her self doubt about the killer's possible involvement in the weird that she had a hard time accepting let alone being close to understanding it.

But at Jason's challenge the thought of pushing it off into a drunken haze a little bit longer was tempting and she met his dark eyes and smiled slightly, "You're on, let's get a little dangerous."

"Dangerous it is." Dave grinned. "Y'all give me a minute, I'll run in for the shot glasses. Gonna do it right."  

Donnelley stepped aside to let Dave through the sliding glass doorway. If anything, Donnelley looked to be a little sobered up, despite the tired eyes and loose-lipped smile he had when he stepped through the back door, “What y’all up to now?”

Laine turned away from the big man at the sound of Donnelley's voice. A coy smile tugged her lips up at the corners and she said, "We're living dangerous."

Her green eyes were unfocused and she looked past their team leader to the darkening dusk sky. "That's what we do, live dangerously," she slurred the words softly as if voicing a thought rather than speaking directly. 

[hr]

>JUL.19.2019
>1000...///

Live dangerous, Donnelley scoffed in his own head. The only living he’d be doing is with his face and hands surgically attached to a toilet bowl at this point. He hiccuped, screwing his eyes shut and pressing a fist to his mouth to fight down a surge of nausea. “Sir-“

“Shut,” Donnelley groaned and placed the fist right against his lips again before holding a hand out to Avery, “Shut up. Just everyone shut up and I can be done with this shit, okay?”

He regained himself, placing his hands back on his hips, “So, Gregory Carlisle was the main source of information we got our hands on. It turns out that he was turned by the Russians somewhat recently.”

“We’ve got the names of two main suspects,” he said, tapping a photo of Nikolai Gorochev thumb-tacked to a corkboard, “First one, this here is Nikolai Gorochev. He is a high-ranking member of Tadjbegskye Bratva, a Russian crime syndicate focused around human traffickin’ .”

“An elusive bunch of fuckers, but Nikolai seems particularly so. His daughter is said to be travelin’ here to West Virginia with her husband, Viktor.” Donnelley crossed his arms and stood silent for a bit, risking a small burp, “Viktor and Natalya Ivanov are in Blackriver, in a place called the River Valleys Retreat. Apparently, this place is a big get-together of rich assholes.”

Donnelley rubbed at his face, muttering a curse and shaking his head slowly, “Fuck…” he cleared his throat, the throbbing headache still there even after the couple Advil. “Here’s a familiar face.”

He pointed to Jay’s picture, a mugshot, “Remember this asshole? Jay Mitterick, big guy with the Aryan Brotherhood. While the Bratva kidnaps and trafficks girls, these Aryan sons run guns. Formerly, they were doin’ it for the Sinaloa, for a man they call El Muñecero, the Doll-Maker.” 

“I want to identify these HVTs and take them into custody. Jay and Nikolai know where weapons caches are. Nikolai knows where he stages the girls before they move them.” Donnelley frowned, “By the time we’re done in Blackriver, we’re gonna wipe this fuckin’ place clean of all this shit.”

Dave listened intently, his usual relaxed smile in place. He had grown up drinking his pops's moonshine, and knew his limits. In stark contrast to the other partiers, he felt pretty grand; he'd slept well, woken early, and his third cup of coffee steamed in the new mug Ava had gotten him. His other hand held a half eaten bagel; his rife and flak sat at his feet. 

As he watched Donnelley bite back another wave of nausea he couldn't help but grin. His pops would be pleased to know that his brew had leveled another batch of moonshine amateurs. 

Laine slumped into the corner of the sofa, one foot tucked under her butt and the other foot on the floor. Large dark sunglasses hid her eyes against the room light, the spike of pain light caused reminding her of the moonshine. She tried to focus on Donnelley but it the drums of the deep still pounded in her skull. Dressed in black leggings and an old Cure t-shirt cut into a tank top she did not look much like a professional agent and felt it even less. Her short hair was still disheveled though Laine reached to smooth it into place as Donnelley spoke. 

Her cup of coffee was firmly grasped in both hands, the shiny black mug with the sardonic skeleton dancing across it was still full of dark roast and Laine wondered if Alka Seltzer could be dissolved in coffee. Her stomach churned and she quickly dismissed the thought. 

An hour prior Jason had woke, the lingering haze of moonshine blurring the world and brewing something caustic and temperamental in his gut. Before making it to the kitchen he had pulled an IV from his bag of tricks and after a failed needle insertion he had begun to rehydrate his body as best he could. It wouldn’t be the first time, but the effects weren’t quite the same. There was the cool current of saline running up his veins, but the immediacy of the relief wasn’t as potent as before. Dave’s moonshine was something else.

Now he sat with the team and listened, steaming cup of coffee in hand and waterbottle close by. It felt good to know he wasn’t the only one suffering, but they were all in pain; all but Dave. if Jason had less sense, or if he was still too drunk, he would have blamed the man in his nonchalant ease, but that’s how things went. Some people knew their brew and knew how to handle it. The team, as versed as they were, were still comparatively novice when it came to Ozark Mountain Dew. It was just another lesson. 

Ava half listened to Donnelley speak as she worked on hooking up the television sitting on the simple wooden entertainment center to her laptop, waiting on a chair she had pulled from the kitchen. Despite the fact that she hadn’t had a single sip of alcohol the night before, her stomach was curling with its own brand of queasiness. 

It was a brand of nausea born of anxiety as the mundane day of comradery and relaxation gave way to a return to business. Perhaps as a way to prolong the sense of normalcy and levity, she had found herself redonning her ‘Shell Yeah’ turtle shirt when she left early that morning for a bagel and mug oriented Target run. Though even the fun of picking out personal and unique mugs for everyone had been dampened by the shadow of the case looming over her.

She finished her fiddling with the back of the flat screen and removed herself, being careful not to bump the entertainment system and knocking over her coffee. She picked up her laptop and sat in the chair, taking a few moments to pull up the map on her laptop before she turned on the TV. 

The map she had created with all it’s different colored dots and paths appeared on the large screen without an issue. She grinned before looking over to Donnelley and clearing her throat to get his attention.

“This is a map of the area of Blackriver, these dots here represent different points of interest. The rural areas away from White Tree and Mercy are dead drop coordinates the Russians and AB are using.” Donnelley spoke before sipping from the mug Ava had gotten him, “There’s a chance we could find weapons or more girls at any of these locations. I don’t know if they know that they’re compromised, but we have to move on these sites if we’re goin’ to get to them before they do.”

“The red dots are the dead drop sites, the blue are places of interest like the mines and where Maria’s body was found as well as known sightings of the strange shimmers.” Ava added, leaning back into the chair and looking at the television screen. “The two black are roughly where the attacks by that [i]thing[/i] in the woods took place and that one white dot is a meeting hot spot between Jay and his Russian contacts. I also put together as detailed a map as I could of the network of paths and roads, both public and private, in the rural areas for us to use.”

She reached over and took up her mug, a white metal number with a peach painted on it containing the words ‘Feelin’ Peachy’. “I have an inventory list of the weapon caches at the dead drops, which I can pass out to the boys when we finish up the briefing.” 

She took a sip of her coffee and continued as she set the mug back down, “I found all of this out by hacking into Jay’s ‘business’ email, which he and his contacts have been using to communicate without sending or receiving any emails so they wouldn’t leave an electronic trail.” She explained with a professional timber to her normally soft spoken voice. “I only touched it that one time though, so hopefully they have no idea that they’ve been compromised. Along with the coordinates and weapons list I found a few other interesting bits of information. Particularly there are repeated mentions of a man named Renko that Jay and the Russians seem to hate as much as us. No mention as to why, just that he’s a thorn in their side. There were also repeated mentions of London, perhaps a bigger base of operations?”

Ava paused for a moment, taking in a breath through her nose before delving into this next piece of information. “There was also talk of using something called “The Hound” by the Russians for taking care of troublesome enemies. It’s how they were able to seize complete control of the East Coast from the cartels and establish an operation here in West Virginia. So, um, we’ll need to be careful of that once we start kicking their hive.”

She frowned in thought as she mentally sifted through what else she had learned. “Oh, and I might have found Jay’s home address in Benwood, West Virginia.”

Dave straightened, his smile fading and his gentle eyes taking on an iron cast. He tightened a fist.

"So you found the sumbitch?" He glanced at Donnelley. Jay had tried to kill them. He'd gotten Dave himself shot, and more importantly had hurt one of Dave's friends. That wouldn't stand. "When we gonna get him?"
 
“Soon as we can. I’m gonna call up some friends and we’ll all have us a time in Benwood.” Donnelley said, taking a few sips of his coffee.

"Benwood," Dave said, nodding. "Alright then. Lookin' forward to Benwood." 

Laine leaned forward, scooping up her file from the arm of the sofa. Pushing her sunglasses up, her green eyes were bloodshot but still sharp as she looked over the team. She turned to look at Ava as she stood up, "Good work, that map is going to be invaluable. I've been thinking about sites. Other possible dump sites. We found a total of 8 victims at the first site but the time span covers between 1959 until now. That's an incredible amount of time for this to be occurring and for there only to be eight, well nine because Bethany Miller is another victim that seems to be an outlier but the Blackriver Sheriff department took her body and any evidence."

Laine paused, rubbing her mouth, "I guess I'll get into my briefing of what I've found since we were last together."

She stepped up, turning to face the living room. Laine breathed out then said, "First, let me briefly explain what it is I do with the BAU. I profile 'unsubs', unidentified subjects and this is not a hard science like forensics. It is basically like what a sketch artist might do but with information gleaned from the victimology and the psychology behind those that kill this way."

Tapping the edge of the folder against her palm, Laine then continued, "That being said, I believe the man we are looking for is local, white male. The age is troublesome but I'll explain why in a moment. He's from Blackriver county, he's comfortable there. He has protection and there is a good chance that he is from a socially or politically powerful family, he may even have some wealth or the family does.  He is most likely someone who is an underachiever, perhaps never married or has had trouble with relationships with women. He's graduated high school and likely has some college, he's at least average intelligence but does not have many close friends outside family. He would have a history of violence, especially towards animals. I expect he's an avid hunter and known to skin his own kills and perhaps even have an interest in taxidermy. He might have some medical or vet training, but it's not necessary. He has had practice killing, what he did to Maria was not the work of an amateur but someone that is escalating his technique."

Flipping open her folder, she glanced at it. "All of the victims were non or mixed Caucasian. I was able to get the identifications and CJIS examined the skeletal remains. The oldest dates back to 1959 at time of death. You see this is where it gets murky, either our unsub is really old or there are two, a killer apprentice relationship. Now, without getting too technical the osteoprofiles show all victims between the midteens to early twenties, non-white, and not local. The first four were Hispanic and disappeared in Texas before arriving in Blackriver where they were killed. The remains were in fairly good shape but no cause of death could be determined, likely because it was soft tissue damage such as strangulation. The last four, including Maria, show significantly more damage to the bones. Two have fractured arms and broken wrists, but the most noticeable was the trauma to the pelvis. In all four there is significant fracturing to the pelvic bones, more than could be explained by natural decomp. And Maria...the cause of death was ruled massive internal bleeding caused by a foreign object being shoved inside her so hard and deep that it penetrated her uterus and abdominal wall into her vital organs."
 
Laine paused, looking at her team then at Dave, who had not been there when she did the original autopsy briefing. "It takes a lot of anger and hate to do something like that, it is an unusually brutal way to kill someone, especially a defenseless person unable to move. Our unsub is a sadistic man, likely a paraphiliac with trouble keeping an erection without extreme violence. We found no semen inside Maria but he took care to remove her tongue and eyes and skin...while she was alive. I can tell you, that is unusual, even some of the worst cases I've seen most amputation is done postmortem. It's just easier and they tend to be product killers. Our unsub... he's certainly interested in the product as we found no trace of what he removed. But the process is precise so he's into the killing. He's highly organized, very sadistic and he's being protected. He's smart and he's learned and improved his technique. And he has a ritual."

She paused looking over her notes, taking a deep breath and rubbed her mouth before continuing, "I wish I could give you more, age is not something I can pin down. If he's the only one, he's at least in his late 80s, if he's not, then he's in late 40s to 50s and he learned from the elder. He's local, he's a hunter and from a prominent or wealthy family but likely a black sheep. He's insecure and hates women, he might have a violent criminal record and a history of being abused himself but likely that's all been swept under the rug. He's been flying under the radar and I think he's frustrated, he's not getting attention and now his family's prominence isn't enough, he wants [I]his[/I] name known. Something brought Frank Wilkins to see Maria. Someone or something wanted us to see her, she was left out for a reason. All the other bodies had been buried, but not her. Why? It drew attention right down on the Russians and their local connections, not just the murder."

Laine glanced at Ava, "I'm very interested in those other shimmer sites now."

Ava nodded to show she had heard Laine, her gaze somewhat distant as she processed and organized the new information Laine had presented to them. 60 years and at least nine known victims…

Pushing that to the side her blue eyes finally focused back on Laine’s bloodshot green. “How can I help?” She asked, glancing over at her map up on the TV.

Laine stepped over to the wall mounted screen and looked at the various dots. "I don't know for certain but my instinct says there are other dump sites. They might not be in the park but it's possible, and if one site was associated with a shimmer then maybe the others are? But either way I would like to get some eyes in the sky, maybe look for disturbance in vegetation. It'll be tough with all the forest but it's something. I figured you might be using your drone to get a peek at the Russians and Jay, maybe you could cruise over the shimmer sites and around the mines and main trails. I doubt he was hiking very far with a body, so we can restrict it to trails that are accessible to vehicles."

“Oh, that’s a good idea, I can definitely do that.” Ava nodded with a small smile. 

"Thanks," Laine said, then looked at Donnelley, "That's pretty much what I have, at least in a nutshell. Whether the unsub is related to what you are looking into, we'll find out but he definitely got the drugs used on Maria from someone with a connection like Jay."

She glanced over at the team, "If anyone wants more details just talk to me."

Laine moved to go sit back down, pushing her sunglasses into place and took a gulp of the tepid coffee.

As the others gave their briefing, Pari listened intently - her own notepad in her hand where she took a running bullet point list of points of interest. She was on the second page now, nodding intermittently and glancing up to make eye contact with whomever was speaking. At her side was her own binder, several coloured tags sticking out at the edge like tongues.

It seemed there was a divide in the group between who was feeling rough, and those who were feeling better than. She was glad to be one of the latter. She sat cool and patient for her turn to speak in her high waisted black sweatpants. On top, simply an old looking Boston Celtics Jersey. Perhaps something of a political choice, she thought to herself before donning it for the morning. For the most part it was covered with an amass of thick and unruly curls. As punishment for having straightened it the day prior, it was as if it was acting out in an absolute rebellion today. She had struggled to even clip half of it back and get it to be presentable.

She was twirling a section of her hair around a finger, to work it back behind her ear as she observed Laine and Ava discussing the shimmers, and her eyes moved between them and the map. "I'm interested too, in the shimmers that is-- visiting one, in person if that would be in anyway possible," she said at last, her last words mumbled as she bit her lip. Simply breathing out her own thoughts. Brow furrowed as she continued over her notes.

Pari cocked her head to the side and raised her hand halfway, the tip of her pen pointing up to the ceiling. "While we're talking about the profiling..." She added, looking down at her notes. "What you said about the apprenticeship, Laine," Pari said - her gaze flitting to meet her eyes.  "I got to thinking about Elmer Wayne Henley Jr and his relationship with Dean Corrl. If... If we are looking at a mentor-apprentice profile here, do you think that our apprentice be desperately vying for the attention of his mentor? There's something very..." Pari paused, narrowing her eyes in deep thought again. "Something very hauntingly intimate in that kind of relationship."

Laine sat up, "I had thought about that, Corrl and Henley, Malvo and his young apprentice Muhammad, Lake and Ng, there is usually a dominant and submissive partner, usually younger. If that's the case it explains the long time period and change in violence level, at least from what we can see in just skeletal remains. My assumption is that if it is this relationship then the junior partner is more than likely trying to outdo his mentor. Get his own attention, to have his moment. His mentor would be quite elderly if he's still alive, and he was looking for outside attention. That... whatever it was that beckoned Frank Wilkins wanted to show off but I don't know if it's for his mentor."

Laine shifted on the couch, suddenly uncomfortable where the conversation was going. "If...if there is any connection between something like Dulane's madness and the shimmer that Wilkins said he saw when he heard the voice. Well...I don't know, there is something strange about the mountains. And very dangerous."

She picked up her mug and hid behind it as she gulped the black coffee. 

“No, you’re right that does make sense… He’s trying to [i]outdo[/i] the mentor?” Pari asked, not particularly directed at anyone, more a question for herself. She added to her notes. “Thank you Dr. Laine,” she added with as much of a smile that could be found, considering the heavy topic.

"Sure thing," Laine replied, eyeing Pari then asked, "That's what we did on our summer vacation. Not as fun as yours I'm sure. Did you get any reading done?"

“I did,” Pari replied quickly, reaching down to pick up the binder. “I did -- I looked into Irish myth…” she muttered before standing, gingerly making her way to the front of the room.

“When last we were here, I couldn’t answer the [i]why[/i] of these killings. The evidence that we had, and those that we spoke to, seemed to want to circle it back to cartel violence and the sex slave rings. They’re both true, but... Not necessarily the whole picture.” Pari explained. “There are too many other, [i]elements[/i] to these killings that are associated with ritual killings.” The woman flipped the cover open, and was immediately confronted with an image that she’d taken from the book. An old, wisened man with a staff, sat atop a throne of rocks. She turned it towards the group.

“This is a depiction of Crom Cruach.” She said, peering over the folder to look at him too. “He’s one of the Old Gods of Ireland, an ancient fertility God -- a Sun God. His name can be translated into a few meanings, it’s debatable but for the most part he is the “Crooked One.” Pari turned the page of the folder, revealing yet another image - this time of Crom as stone, surrounded by a circle of twelve further stones. “He is regarded in his myths as being a very powerful being. He offered to his followers good harvests through giving of milk and grain in exchange for their first born children…” Pari swallowed, and cleared her throat. Pointing a finger at the stones around his effigy in the drawing.

“This particular depiction shows ritual-behaviour taking place, at Magh Slecht. Later, in the stories of St Patrick -- we can learn that it was the Saint himself who drew an end to Crom Cruach’s prominence by raising a great crozier during a ritual.” As Pari spoke, she raised her own hand in a fist, as if she herself was holding it. “When he did this, the stone fell over and the surrounding stones sunk into the earth, and a demon appeared - whom St Patrick banished to hell with a curse…” Her hand was brought back down to her side, before she held the folder again. “[i]Blood custom stopped when old Crom Cruach's chin. Received the forceful gist of Christian discipline[/i].”

“More worryingly, there are accounts through stories that describe Crom Cruach after the event with Saint Patrick, as either a demonic creature, or simply possessing the ability to take the form of a giant snake, or wyrm.” Pari couldn’t help but think once again of whatever had happened in the woods, the allusions to something non-human that had been whispered and written on the etched foreheads of those who had encountered it. Just mumblings, it was all in the unsaid… She sighed, and cleared her throat again. “In his essence, he is a great figure who set about a period of the sacrifice of children - frightening those who followed him into believing that the blood and bones of their progeny would fertilise the fields. Even without success of harvest, they continued the practice; [i]a self-sustaining death automaton, a parent driven children death machine.[/i]”

She lifted her ebony eyes from the picture on the page, and glanced around to the group, blinking slowly. “Given the influence of Irish culture, and of the Irish families here and their relevant status… And our mysterious [i]Sleeper[/i], my theory so-far is that we’re looking at human sacrifice to summon, to gain, to sow disruption, and to appease this very, very ancient malevolent figure.”

Laine pushed up her sunglasses to look at the image, listening to the explanation. It was like many pagan gods people put faith in as some attempt to control the uncontrollable. Like the Aztec, like the Norse, and so many over the years required blood and this was the Irish version. "That's not a bad start, Celtic roots are deep in these mountains and old habits, superstitions die hard. And you said it's a fertility god. If the unsub is as I suspect a local belonging to one of these Irish families then he might be fixated on something like this. Believing making these offerings to this 'God'  might give him some sort of power. That might explain part of the reason for certain injuries. The horrific trauma to the reproductive organs might be symbolic because of the fertility aspect. Maybe a violent ritual sexual union. I still think he has a deep anger towards women, this unsub, no matter what [I]reason[/I] he's doing it. The older remains didn't have those injuries. I've seen cult related murders before, no matter what reason they say it's for. For God, for Satan, for the love of Jodie Foster. There is always a practical, very mundane reason they kill."

From the centre of the room, Pari nodded along with Laine. “You’re exactly right,” she said. “To show such… Vehement violence to a woman’s most intimate area in the worshipping of a supposed giant snake… The serpent is phallic imagery, throughout time. Eve succumbed to it… And in Persian mythology, the serpent is no more than the evil spirit Ahriman himself. Of course, our serpents also represent great wisdom, healing, giving.” Pari glanced down to her side, trying to ascertain the meaning behind worship of this God in their modern time was a question too. “Maybe our unsub sees Crom the serpent as the absolute bastion of true masculinity. Does he want virility and masculine power?”

Ava sat back in her chair, her laptop balanced on her knees as she sipped her coffee and listened to her colleagues speak of the possible religious motivations. She snorted into her mug when the conversation turned to phallic iconography. There was certainly no shortage of that in history and archaeology, or so she had learned from her mother. 

“Why is it always about the dicks?” She muttered, shaking her head as she drank the rest of her coffee. 

Laine snorted a chuckle and forced herself not to look at Donnelley, instead focusing on her mug in hand. Her expression sobered as she warmed to the subject, "Sex is a powerful force. And the desire to have sexual satisfaction in a mind already warped by mental illness or trauma can be twisted into some very cruel and heinous acts. If the unsub is struggling with impotence, he'll have that extra rage. Taking out the humiliation he feels on his victims in such a manner, using a foreign object is usually an indication of either inability to perform or fear of being mocked. And sometimes it's just to cause the most damage."

She looked up at Pari, tipping her mug in a gesture of sending the subject back to her, "Let's say he is killing to avenge himself of past humiliation or prevent further. He's not just raping them to death, he skinned Maria, he took her eyes, her tongue and larynx. He completely dehumanized her short of dismembering, he took who she was. Her eyes can't see his failure, her voice can't mock him and he destroyed her utterly and stole her identity, her beauty." 

Laine closed her eyes for a moment, rubbing her thumb and forefinger on either side of the bridge of her nose and then said, "I don't know if he did as much to the others or if this is another escalation but he certainly made a show of it. Demonstration of his ultimate power over his victim and those who would see her. He couldn't wait for someone to accidentally find her, he or... something showed Wilkins. I need Bethany Miller's files, to see if he was doing the same only to be covered up by the Sheriff. I need to talk to her husband, he was left alive and he might be the best thing to a witness we have."

Pari brought her hand to her chin thoughtfully, running a finger over her lip as she scoured through what she could remember off the top of her head. “I found no reference to skinning and the taking of sensory organs in my readings. I’d like to take a look at your library books, Dr. Laine, and cross reference anything that is local to the wider findings, and as an aside, I’d like a look over the files of our other women who were dumped too. That… That will be the best use of my time for now.” Pari said with one last nod, before taking a sip from her gifted mug too - taking that opportunity to smile appreciatively again, at Ava before she took her seat.

“Maybe he’s throwin’ a fit.” Donnelley looked at the others in the room, brow quirked, “Nobody wants attention on Blackriver and that means no attention on him.”

Laine nodded at Donnelley, "That's what I mean, he's reaching out for attention. Dennis Radar aka BTK, he actually was caught because of his desire for attention. Along with making up his own nickname and demanding the newspapers publish his shitty poetry, Radar was so upset by someone taking credit for one of his murders through false confession he basically sent police evidence to prove it wasn't that person. I won't be surprised if our unsub is risking discovery just to get attention he's desperately craving." 

Jason sighed, head rolling back and forth. “Even if we account for narcissism the logistics can’t be handled by the main man. This is networked, and that means mutual benefit. We find out what the outside players are gaining, we get closer to this fuck’s ultimate goal.” 

Laine turned to look at Jason, and nodded, "That's another thing, if they are networking and it's a good chance they are, then what is the trade? My instincts are simple, the unsub gets access to girls and drugs like Midazolam and Propofol, which aren't exactly easy to come by. The ABs and Russians...if this was a regular case I'd say the land, the cover-up point to the unsub having connections with the Blackriver powers that be at least. But now we have the weird. Dulane said that death wakes the Sleeper, if this Sleeper is connected to the weird shit the Russians have been associated with...then we have to consider what connection those two have."

She rubbed her chin, and said, "We need more information, that's it "

“True that,” Jason replied, his eyes tracing the patterns of the floor, ”but why here?”

He looked around at the team, inviting speculation. “This area isn’t a logistic hub, it’s too out of the way to be inconspicuous, and the profiles of victims and outside players are so peculiar. Something is more important than discretion here, enough for the risk.” He looked at Laine, eyes gleaming with concern. “But what?” he added. 

"The patterns are still too obscure, the victimology is scant and personally, the idea of the supernatural involvement changes things that I have always been confident in," Laine admitted, leaning back into the couch. "That's the rub, isn't it? Why draw attention now? Ego is my first thought, either attention for himself that he feels he is not getting. Recognize his power...or to bring trouble to those that he once worked with."

She sighed deeply, reaching to find her pack of Djarums and clasped it between her hands. 

“Uh,” Ava said as the conversation entered into a brief lull, the mention of the Sleeper having reminded her of a new bit of information she learned the night before. “Sorry, not to drag the topic back a bit, but speaking of the Sleeper,” She cleared her throat, pushing aside the lingering memory of the fingers of uneasy recognition curling the back of her mind at the mention of the entity. “I had asked my former supervisor to help get us access to a deep dive into the Program database for information that might help us. He put in a request and it was accepted for us to visit the BLACKBOX site in Alaska.” 

She shifted in her chair slightly, trying to find a comfortable position in the wooden chair. “But, we have time to take them up on that little field trip since we’re currently busy.” 

“First things first,” Donnelley sighed, pushing himself from the wall he was leaning against, “We’re gonna meet our muscle for the Dulane field trip. As far as Alaska goes, we’ve got a couple weeks still before they have to transfer custody of Dulane over to us.”

Donnelley clucked his tongue, holding a cigarette in front of his lips, “Family vacation.”

Dave had been listening to the discussion intently, doing his best to keep up. Criminal theory, profiling, neither of these were things he understood except at the most Hollywood of levels. Accordingly, he was taking scrupulous notes, squinting at his pad and writing carefully, his tongue between his teeth. 

At the mention of Alaska, however, he brightened visibly. 

"I ain't been to Alaska," he said, a note of excitement thickening his drawl. "We gonna be roughin' it?" 

Ava made a face of dread at the idea of roughing it in the Alaskan wilderness. “I hope not.” She said to herself with a small shake of her head. 

Focusing her attention back on Donnelley she frowned curiously at their team lead. “Muscle huh? Who else is joining us?”

“Some old friends.” Donnelley shrugged, heading for the door. He left it open as he lit up on the porch outside. “Hopefully they play nice.”