The work was progressing slowly. Painfully slowly. Ryan Stone pinched the bridge of his nose and stood from his seat, stretching his back. They had been pouring through Andre Martin’s files for 3 days now and there was no end in sight. There had been no sign of Martin and the fugitive task force was spinning its wheels. The only lead at the moment were in the ‘files’ that he had retrieved from Martin’s house. Of course, that was being generous; ‘files’ implied some sort of order, ‘boxes of crap’ would be a more apt description. Ryan had long ago come to the conclusion that the man must have kept every bloody scrap of paper he ever touched. They were crammed in shoeboxes, file folders, milk crates; it was an unholy mess. Worst of all, there was absolutely nothing there. No leads, no clues to his whereabouts or to who might have put him up to this. The only thing in these boxes were bad memories. It was nearly unbearable. He needed a break. Needed to get his mind on something else. Ryan cast his eyes around Hawkins’ office, looking for a distraction. Over in the corner, behind the bookcase, he spotted a box of files, almost hidden from sight. Wondering how it could have made its way over there, he stepped over and bent to retrieve it. As he did, he knocked the lid off to the side, and he realized that these were not Martin’s papers. This box was carefully organized, and the files inside were contained in NIA folders. These were official case records.

“Don’t touch that,” Hawkins snapped, looking up from her papers.

“What is this, Hawkins? What are they doing here?”

“Nothing, just some old case files. They aren’t relevant. Just leave the box there.”

Ryan reached to replace the lid, and as he did, he saw the label scrawled on the side of the box in black, permanent marker: Parabellum. Just the sight of the name made him suck his breath in through his teeth.

“Why do you have files from the Parabellum case? This case hasn’t been active in years.”

“I told you it was an old case,” Hawkins shrugged. “You recognize it?”

“Do I recognize it? Hawkins, everyone here knows the Parabellum case. Hard to forget about a serial killer that targets your agency. Even if it has been several years since they were last active. But what are you doing with files on a case that cold?”

“But it isn’t really cold, though, is it?” Hawkins replied. “Maybe he hasn’t been active in some time, but that has always been part of his MO. Parabellum has surfaced sporadically for decades, killing in brief bursts, then going silent for years. That fact that it has been some time since his last kill could just mean we are due for another.”

Ryan preferred not to think about that. He had lived through a Parabellum incident before, and he didn’t want to go through that again. The deaths, the atmosphere of paranoia… it had been a nightmare. The only comfort was that he probably didn’t need to worry about being targeted, Parabellum was very specific in who he selected. He called out only the agents with the most impressive reputations. He only wanted to play his game with the best. Ryan knew he was much too… middling to attract his attention. It was something of a relief, because Parabellum’s attention was not something anyone wanted. The chosen few invariably ended up dead. Four separate times he had resurfaced, over the course of decades, and four times he had gotten away clean.

“After all this time, he could already be dead, for all we know,” Ryan knew that was likely wishful thinking on his part. “Hopefully we never hear from him again.”

“Hopefully. But I am not counting on it.”

“Is that why you keep these?”

“Of course, it is a case that never should have gone cold. He needs to be caught, before he strikes again. You know that his total body count to date is believed to be 29 people? And he has never failed. Never. His targets always break, and then they die. And make no mistake, these were each some of the toughest, most brilliant agents NIA ever had. That is what he wants, to prove he is better than the best. He destroyed them all utterly, without ever even coming close to being detected. I can’t rest easy, knowing someone like that is out there. So, I am simply taking his advice.”

“What advice?”

“The name, Parabellum, it comes from a Latin phrase: si vis pacem, para bellum. If you want peace, prepare for war.”

“So, this is preparation?”

“Yeah, something like that. But we are getting distracted. We already have a case to work on, without dredging up the past, so let’s focus on that, and not my side project, shall we?”

Ryan sighed and pushed the box back into the corner.

“If we have to.”

Hawkins checked the time, it was already nearing noon, and there was no sign of Stone. She hadn’t seen him since he stormed out last night. At the time, she hadn’t been too concerned. He clearly didn’t enjoy the work they were currently doing, and he been distracted and irritable for days, and with each hour they spent going through the files, it had only gotten worse. Hawkins had no idea what was eating at him, and she hadn’t asked. As far as she was concerned, his business was his own, as long as it didn’t disrupt their work, but lately he was treading perilously close to that line. Yesterday, he’d simply stood up, put down his papers and left the office without a word to her. At the time, she’d thought he was just as frustrated as she was with the reading and sorting; it was boring as hell, so she couldn’t blame him, much. But now it seemed like there had been something more to it, because he hadn’t come back. As much as she liked to work alone, with something like this, an extra pair of eyes was useful, and his absence irritated her. Picking up another file full of mostly worthless junk, Hawkins threw it back down again in disgust. She closed her eyes, trying to think. She was still missing something important. Something essential. Sometimes, she could feel it, tickling the edge of her subconscious, it was almost there, but she couldn’t quite get to it. It was infuriating. Hawkins was still lost in thought when the door opened and her partner staggered in. Stone looked terrible; he was obviously hung over, eyes bloodshot and face ghostly pale. His rumpled clothes looked like he’d slept in them, and he reeked of alcohol. He collapsed into a chair and buried his head in his arms with a groan. Hawkins checked her watch; it was 12:30pm.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” she muttered. “Late night?”

“I’m not in the mood, Hawkins,” his voice was muffled by his arms.

“Can’t imagine why,” she replied sarcastically.

He ignored her and grabbed a paper off the top of the pile next to him. Hawkins watched his face as he began to read; he was in bad shape, but there was something else. He looked genuinely upset about something. Ryan threw the paper he was holding aside with an expression of disgust and sunk his head into his hands again. Hawkins hesitated. She didn’t really want to get involved in this. She wasn’t the touchy-feely type and, they were only work colleagues, this was not her business. But he certainly wasn’t going to be much help to her like this, and with all they still had to go though, she could really use him. So, she finally sighed and asked,

“What the hell is the matter with you?” tact had never been her strong suit.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he didn’t look up.

“You don’t have to be a detective to know that isn’t true. So, let’s not play games.”

“How about this then: I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What, you think I do want to talk about it? I don’t. It just seems necessary.”

“Well, it isn’t, so leave me alone. Let’s just get back to work.”

Hawkins eyed him carefully, then the stack of papers next to her. She sighed, picked up another folder and tried to focus. It wasn’t easy, Stone shuffled the papers around loudly and she could see him making a half-hearted attempt to read them, but it obviously wasn’t working. He kept stopping, his eyes wandering away from the page; his mind on something else entirely. Hawkins tried, once again, to ignore him. Half an hour passed, and in that time, she had learned that Martin paid too much for cat food, liked halibut and had seen that Transformers movie 3 times in theatres, several years ago. She wondered absently if there was anything he didn’t keep. He hoarded receipts like he worked for the IRS. Hawkins was beginning to get the feeling that they were looking for a needle in a haystack composed of fast-food receipts and bank statements. Then she heard a chair screech and looked up to see Stone heading out the door.

“I am going to go get some coffee,” he grumbled.

As he slammed the door behind him, Hawkins sighed. Hopefully, he would get his head together. Too many hours had been wasted already. Time ticked away and she continued to sort through her pile. Stopping to rub her eyes, she noticed that it had been about 20 minutes since Stone had left. What is taking him so long? she wondered. Perhaps she should make sure that he was alright. He may be Collins’ pet, but he didn’t seem like such a bad guy, really. She checked her watch. It was probably time to rest her eyes anyways, so she got up and went to look for her absent partner. She found him in the break room, leaning against a wall, sipping from a coffee cup. When he noticed her coming, he flinched and quickly put the cup down behind him.

“Why didn’t you just bring that back to the office?” Hawkins asked.

“I just needed a minute,” he replied evasively.

He picked up his cup again and took a quick sip. Hawkins watched him for a long moment, something was off. She, of all people, knew the signs. She leaned closer, and she could smell the whiskey immediately. This wasn’t a good path for anyone to go down. She grabbed it from his hand,

“Are you drinking?” she held his eyes. “Right now?”

“Look, I just need something to take the edge off. A little hair of the dog, it’s no big deal.”

“We don’t have time for this. There is a lot we need to do.”

“I don’t think I can look at any more of that crap,” he said, morosely. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

“You can’t do it anymore?” Hawkins immediately regretted bothering with him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You are the one who found it, who brought it back; now you’re just going to give up?”

“No, I just…” he trailed off.

“You just what? What, Stone?” Hawkins threw the cup into the sink, splattering the remaining contents across the counter.

Stone dropped his eyes to the floor and said nothing.

“Ok, you need a break, let’s take a break. I could use one too,” there was a surprisingly dangerous undertone to her voice. She sat down across from him, staring him down. “We will both take a nice break here together.”

“I think I am just going to go home,” he muttered. “I’m not feeling well. I’ll be back tomorrow, alright?”

“No, it’s not alright,” Hawkins snapped.

“What the hell do you want from me?”

Hawkins was pissed off now,

“You confronted me the other day, angry that I lied to you, kept things from you. You said that wasn’t what partners do. So, what the fuck is this? Was that all just talk? Were you just playing me?”

“This is different. It isn’t work, it’s personal. Besides, like you said, you don’t trust me. Why the hell should I trust you?”

“I trusted you the other night,” she replied coldly. “And that was personal. Apparently, it was also a mistake.”

It was a dig, she wanted it to make him feel guilty. But she also meant it. Perhaps she was letting herself get too close. This was only temporary, after all. Soon, he would be reassigned, and they could both forget this ever happened. Stone closed his eyes and turned away from her.

“You know what, forget I brought it up,” Hawkins turned to walk away. It had been a mistake to get even this invested. But, as she reached the door, she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Wait,” he stopped her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I have been having a rough time of it, the last few days, and I do owe you an explanation. It’s just… easier to say than to do.”

“Well,” Hawkins returned to the table. “We’ve got a moment, take your time.”