Ryan Stone rubbed his eyes wearily. The sun had set hours ago, and, in the darkness, the constant flashing of the emergency lights was beginning to give him a headache. The sickly aroma of burnt human flesh that hung over the area was not helping the situation any. Actually, Ryan reflected, the smell was somewhat reminiscent of barbeque; a burnt hunk of flesh was a burnt hunk of flesh, after all. That particular thought was almost enough to turn him vegetarian. Almost. He turned back to the warehouse. The fire caused by the explosion had been doused quickly; the mostly empty, cement structure contained little that would burn, but the nightmare was still long from over. The crime scene officers had flooded the scene the instant the paramedics were done, trying to find an explanation for the unmitigated disaster this simple task had suddenly become. They had carefully combed the scene, collecting the thousands of bomb fragments that were strewn everywhere. Hawkins had assisted with the recovery, personally. It would take time to finish the analysis, but even without all the evidence being in, everyone knew what had happened. Andre Martin’s last booby trap had been his deadliest. Cornered in his hideout, Martin had opted to go out in a blaze of glory and had blown himself, along with the Agents who came in after him, to smithereens. 6 hours ago, Ryan had watched one agent leave in an ambulance, barely alive, the paramedics had been working frantically. The other 2 agents and their suspect had left the scene in body bags. 3 dead, 1 who was as likely to join them as not. Hawkins’s warning had come too late for all but Agent Sam Connor. He had been closest to the door, covering the hall while the other 2 went in for Martin, so he had managed to just barely cleared the room before the bomb had exploded. The force of the blast had thrown him over the railing, and he had been found crumpled on the 1st floor of the warehouse. He was still alive, but the paramedics held out little hope that he would stay that way, his injuries had been severe. Agents Fielding and Kramer had not even been that lucky. They had been right on top of the blast when it occurred, by the time the paramedics got in, there had been nothing to do but recover as much as they could for burial. Martin had suffered the same fate. Ryan would like to think that there was some justice in that, but he couldn’t help but feel that it was more of an escape from justice. In the end, Martin had gotten away from them, permanently, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
As he looked around, it finally seemed that all the evidence had been collected and everything was beginning to wrap up. The frantic energy had dissipated, and the crews were packing up and moving out for the night, vacating the premises. With the activity dying down, and nothing more to be done, Ryan felt an intense lassitude spreading through him. The adrenaline that had been fuelling him since the explosion was seeping away and now, he was so exhausted he felt that he could collapse right then and there. Sitting down on the bumper of his car, Ryan rested for a moment, his head propped up on his hand. It was, he decided, high time to go home. Nothing more could be accomplished tonight, anyway. It seemed that pretty much everyone else had had the same idea, as the only other car left in the lot belonged to Collins, who had been feverishly doing damage control all evening; he had been on the phone with the media and the mayor for hours. Ryan cast his gaze around the area, looking for Collins, as he looked across the empty parking lot, he spotted Hawkins, standing in a pool of light from one of the streetlights; he was shocked her appearance. She looked drained and numb; utterly defeated. Her shoulders were slumped, head down, her face was ashen pale and even from that distance, her eyes looked hollow and expressionless. She stared blankly back at the building for a long time, and just as he was about to call out to her, she turned and walked off towards the street. Ryan rose to go after her, he was her ride, after all, but at that instant Collins appeared and flagged him down. The assistant director was clearly fuming, that little vein in his forehead was throbbing angrily, which was always a bad sign. The moment he was within earshot, he started screaming. Ryan was forced to endure over an hour of Collins berating him for his failure to prevent this incident, which Collins charmingly termed a ‘shit storm’. Mostly, Ryan just tuned him out. He was too tired for this. Finally, it appeared that Collins had grown bored of shouting. He fell silent for a moment and ran has hands through his thinning hair.
“Just close this case, Stone,” he sighed wearily. “Martin and Tompkins are dead, the Pauling kid is safe, it’s over. Resolve the details, write the report, close the case and all this will blow over. Understood?”
“What about the rest of the investigation? What about the third man?” Ryan protested automatically. He had explained Hawkins’ theory to the director before, but the senior man didn’t seem to want to hear it.
“Hear me well, Stone. I gave you this job partly so that you could rein in Agent Hawkins’ wild fantasies. She is a good agent, but she gets easily bored with ‘pedestrian’ cases and starts seeing things that aren’t there. It is obvious to everyone but her what happened here. And it would be obvious to you, if you had remained objective and kept your mind on your job,” Collins snarled, the vein on his forehead was pulsing dangerously now. “You were supposed to influence her, not the other way around. There is no third man, no great conspiracy, Agent Stone. If her focus had been on Martin and not on some phantom, this never would have happened. I told Agent Hawkins as much myself just a few moments ago.”
Ryan cringed. Whatever shit he’d just caught, Hawkins had certainly gotten it worse. Probably explained the look she’d had, when he’d seen her earlier.
“Now,” Collins continued. “I don’t want to hear anything more about that. If this drags on, it will only make us look worse in the media and to the public. I just want this thing over and I need you to make that happen, Stone. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Stone was too tired to argue. Collins was likely right anyways, there was no great mystery in what had happened here.
“Good,” Collins looked around. “Where has your partner gone, anyhow?”
“I think she headed back with one of the other groups of agents,” Ryan lied. “Probably headed home to get some sleep.”
The instant the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He wasn’t sure why he had just lied to his boss. There wasn’t even really a reason too, she had a right to go wherever she wanted. Maybe Hawkins really was a bad influence on him.
“Sounds like she had the right idea,” Collins muttered. “I am going to get some sleep myself. I’ll deal with this in the morning.”
With that, Collins turned and walked to his car. Ryan collapsed into his own driver’s seat. So that was it, the investigation was over, and what a depressing ending it was. He felt like an exposed nerve, raw and over-stimulated. He was just about to call it a night when something occurred to him. Where had Hawkins really gone? He had seen her walk off into the street and she hadn’t returned. He knew that if he went looking for her, it would probably only piss her off, but he also prided himself on his ability to read people, and something about the look he’d seen in her eyes, it bothered him. He realized that he was actually worried about her. He knew that she had never lost an agent before, never had a colleague die on her watch. That particular rite of passage was the toughest one an agent ever had to face, and no one should have to face it alone. After weighing his options, Ryan Stone decided to put off his return home and he headed back to the NIA to look for her.
Ryan pushed open the door to the bar on the waterfront. For a moment, he thought he must have the wrong place, but as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the interior, he saw Hawkins, sitting alone at the bar. As he slid into the seat next to her, she looked over,
“Stone. What’re you doing here?” her eyes were glassy, and she slurred her words as she spoke.
“You’re drunk,” Ryan noted incredulously.
“You figure that one out all by yourself, Sherlock?” Hawkins rolled her eyes and took a swig from her glass.
“Why?”
“Closed a case. Figured I’d celebrate.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. There is nothing to celebrate here.” “You think that matters to me?” she scoffed. “You know what people say. I’m an ice queen, a robot. I don’t give a damn about what happens to other people.”
“We both know that isn’t true,” Ryan retorted. “Seriously, are you alright?”
“Fantastic,” she drained her glass quickly and motioned for another drink. The bartender came over and refilled it with rum and coke, and then he turned to Ryan,
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks. I’m the DD.” Ryan jingled his keys.
The bartender nodded and walked away.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked softly.
“What part of ‘no’ was confusing to you?” she muttered. “I’m not looking for company so just piss off, ok?”
“With a traumatic event like this, it can often help if you…”
“Look, fuck the psychobabble, alright?” Hawkins interjected angrily. “I’m really not in the mood.”
She was taking this harder than he had expected.
“You’re going to have to talk about it eventually,” he insisted.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Seriously, don’t you have anything better to do tonight than bother me? I’ll be fine. Just leave me alone.”
“I can’t think of a single thing more important than the three people that died in front of us today,” Ryan replied.
A look of guilt and pain flashed across her face, the same look he had seen watching her outside the warehouse, then it was gone, hidden behind her mask. She reached for her drink again.
“It’s obvious that this is tough on you,” he said gently. “You’re not yourself right now.”
“Not myself, huh?” she laughed bitterly. “You don’t know me, Stone. Besides, being myself hasn’t really been working out today. I try so hard to stay in control all the time, to make sure that things like this don’t happen. But it didn’t matter; I fucked it up anyway. What’s the point of even trying, if it is just going to end up like this, whatever I do? Maybe I shouldn’t bother.”
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“And if I do?” she asked darkly. “This was my fault. What right do I have to…? You know what? Forget it. I already told you; we aren’t having this discussion. I don’t care if you can’t think of anything better to do, I can.”
She reached for her glass, but Ryan grabbed her wrist,
“I think you’ve had enough.”
“Don’t touch me,” she snarled.
The bartender looked over sharply,
“Everything alright, ma’am?” he gave Ryan a warning glance.
“I just want to be left alone.”
“Maybe you should let the lady be, sir.”
Ryan didn’t need trouble, but he wasn’t planning to leave either. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge.
“There’s no problem here, sir. We’re just having a little chat.”
The badge had its usual effect. The bartender nodded and went back about his business, not wanting to get involved.
Frustrated, Hawkins pulled her wrist free, tossed back half of her drink and got up from her barstool to leave, but she was unsteady on her feet and as she tried to turn, she stumbled. Ryan caught her, helping her back to her feet.
“Are you alright?”
“Oh, just fuck off, will you?” she pushed him away. “Why the hell are you even here? This has nothing to do with Collins, nothing to do with your job. Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Hawkins replied, exasperated.
“Because I’m your partner and I’m worried about you,” Ryan said earnestly, looking her straight in the eyes. “So, even if you won’t to talk to me, I’m not going to leave. This is a public place, and you can’t force me to.”
For a moment, she held his gaze defiantly, but then her head dropped, and her shoulders slumped,
“Do whatever the hell you want,” she mumbled, reaching for her glass.
Ryan pushed it away.
“Come on; let’s go sit somewhere more private. Talk a bit.”
He put some cash on the bar to cover her tab and helped her to a table in the back of the bar, where it was quieter. Sitting down across from her, looking at her face, it suddenly hit him just how young she really was. Normally, she carried herself with confidence and assurance, but now she looked so defeated and vulnerable that it made her youth painfully apparent.
“Alright, here we are then. What exactly did you want to talk about?”
“You’ve been an agent since you were a teenager, right? You know the risks we face. What is it about today that is getting to you like this?”
Hawkins hesitated again, but eventually she responded,
“I fucked up, Stone. I didn’t notice it until it was too late. I should never have missed something like that, something so important. Stupid.”
“Is that what this is about? You made a mistake?”
“Of course that’s what it’s about.”
Ryan couldn’t believe it. Had he been mistaken? Could this really all be just about her and her bruised ego? Could she really be so self-centered? But then he looked again and realized that she was crying.
“I made a mistake and 3 people are dead because of it. Those agents are dead because of something I should have anticipated and there is nothing I can do to fix that.”
She looked over at him, her eyes filled with tears and the guilt written plainly all over her face. Now that she’d started talking, it seemed that she couldn’t stop.
“I came here because I couldn’t go home, I couldn’t sleep. Fuck it, I can’t even close my eyes. I see the explosion, I see those agents, covered in blood and burns on the floor of that warehouse. I did that to them, because I didn’t see it, because I sent them in there after my suspect. Because I let him get away the first time. They died, and it should have been me. How do I live with that?”
She took a shaky breath,
“I know that it is always a risk. I know that. But I thought... Why do you think I always work alone? I never want to risk anyone’s life but my own. If there is a danger to anyone, it should be me. I should have been in there, not them.”
She choked back a sob, trying to compose herself, but failing.
“You can’t blame yourself for this, Hawkins,” Ryan said gently.
“Why the hell not? Collins certainly does,” she wiped her tears away with her sleeve. “My case, my suspect. I should know him, should know what he’s going to do. If I’d been smarter, if I’d been more focused, if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with looking for another man, who probably doesn’t even exist, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Is that what Collins said to you?” what a bastard, Stone thought. “Look, sometimes when people get pushed into a corner, they just snap. It’s not always something you can predict. I mean, no one else caught it. No one expected him to do what he did.”
He was trying to comfort her, but he could see that it wasn’t landing. Hawkins was a perfectionist, she expected too much from herself. She felt responsible for basically everything that happened around her, and he wasn’t going to change her personality with a pep talk.
“I don’t care about everyone else. I knew he would booby-trap the place, I knew it was dangerous. I should have found the evidence of him buying the materials to make a bomb. It had to have been there, and I must have missed it. In fact, if you really want to get down to it,” she continued, “none of this would have happened if I hadn’t let him get away from me the first time. If I had caught him back at the mansion, this could have all been over and they would have been alright.”
She dropped her head into her hands,
“I just don’t think I can do this.”
“What do you mean?” he asked sharply.
That statement caught him by surprise. It was obvious to him that being an agent was her life, if she doubted even that, then this was more serious then he’d thought.
“I can’t handle it. I can’t take the responsibility of having lives in my hands like that again and then losing them. I’m not good enough, I don’t deserve that trust.”
“So, you’re just going to quit then?” he asked.
“Why not?” she shrugged. “Do you know why I do this? It may not seem like it to most people, and I know it sounds corny, but I do this job so I can protect people, make the world a little bit better, you know?” she laughed weakly. “If I can’t even protect the people I work with, if I can’t stop this from happening, then what is the point? I just… can’t handle the guilt; I don’t know how to deal with it.”
Ryan hesitated for a moment; she was broken up over this and nothing he was saying was helping. It was obvious why, she didn’t care what he, or anyone, thought of her, she cared about the results. He decided to change tactics. There was only one thing he could think of, though it wasn’t without risk. Still, for her it might be best.
“You know, I never figured on you being so selfish,” he said it matter-of-factly.
“What?” she looked up at him, she sounded genuinely hurt.
“You heard me,” he continued callously. “You have such a big god-damned ego, you know that? Those agents still would have died if you weren’t there. Any other agent who led them into that warehouse would have done the same things you did. So, their deaths, they aren’t the real problem here, are they? What you’re actually saying, is that you don’t care who dies, as long as it’s not on your conscience, right? As long as you aren’t involved, it’s all fine?”
Hawkins just stared at him, tears still running down her cheeks. He almost relented in that moment, but he steeled his resolve and pushed on.
“3 people died today, but you know what? Sam Connor is still alive because of you. So is Alex Pauling. I don’t know another agent who could have done what you did for him. But you are willing to throw all that away, all the people’s lives you could save, because you can’t handle the occasional failure, a little bit of guilt?” he scoffed. “Every agent loses people. If they all quit because of it, there wouldn’t be anyone left. You aren’t a god, Hawkins, people don’t live or die by your hand, and you can’t control everything. So, if you want to walk away because of this, you go right ahead, what the hell do I care? But don’t pretend to be doing it to protect people, when you’re only doing it to protect yourself.”
“You’re a real son-of-bitch, you know that?” she frowned.
“It sucks getting a taste of your own medicine, doesn’t it?” Ryan said. “And beyond that, I thought you had a reason you had to stay, something you needed to do here. Are you ready to give up on that, too?”
He watched her face, and in that moment, she looked so broken, he wondered if maybe he had gone too far, pushed her more then she could handle. Ryan had thought that what she needed was a little bit of harsh reality to snap her out of her self-pity; he figured if anyone could handle it, it was her. But as she stared at him silently, he became sure he had been mistaken. He was about to cave, abandon the act and try to comfort her, but just then she shook her head, and expelled a breath of air in a humourless chuckle, and it was like a spell had been broken.
“Oh, fuck it, you’re actually right, aren’t you? Who would have figured?” she mumbled, shaking her head slowly as she spoke. “What the hell am I doing?”
“Being human,” Ryan sighed, relieved. “You just don’t have much practice, so it is hard for you to tell.”
This was what he had hoped for. As counterintuitive as it may seem, she was able to accept accusations easier than platitudes. She could see the truth in it, in a way she couldn’t in kindness. Go figure.
“I am such an idiot,” she sighed.
“No, you just have feelings,” he said softly. “That’s not a bad thing, Hawkins. I’d be more worried if you saw what you did today and felt nothing.”
Then, he continued seriously,
“I am sorry I was so hard on you. I know that this hurts. I’ve been there too; a lot of agents have had a colleague die. But you can’t let it destroy you, you have to push through it and keep going. The guys in there, they knew the risks they were taking, and they were as willing to take them as you are. As willing to risk their lives for others as you are. It’s the nature of the job.”
Hawkins nodded slowly.
“You’re right. I know that. It’s just… it’s so hard.”
“I know.”
“It won’t get any easier, will it?”
“No,” he admitted. “But you will get better at dealing with it. The first time is the worst.”
They sat in silence for a moment; Hawkins rubbed her face with her hands.
“So, what do you want to do now?” Ryan asked at last. “You want to stay here and kill some more brain cells, or do you want to go home, sober up and try again tomorrow?”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Hawkins replied, without hesitation. “We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”
“I knew you weren’t a quitter,” Ryan grinned.
“Perish the thought,” Hawkins slid out of the booth and tried to stand, but she had to grab the edge of the booth to steady herself. “I am wasted, though, aren’t I?”
“Oh yeah,” Ryan chuckled.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her up. She leaned heavily against him and rested her head on his shoulder. As they headed toward the door, she turned and looked up at him,
“You know,” she mumbled. “You’re really not such a bad guy.”
“Yeah, I know. Just don’t tell anyone. It would really ruin my reputation.”