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Chapter Text

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“You’ve arrived at Detroit Zoo,” the GPS’ self-satisfied voice trilled its default success melody.  “Would you like to purchase tickets online?  Or reserve a nearby hotel?  Family and group discounts are available for qualifying members.  Start your membership today and start making lifetime memories!  Purchase a gold membership at any participating location for only—

“For the love of,” Hank swore at the ad-spewing device and jabbed its power button.  “Shut the hell up.”

He felt a twinge of regret when the device deactivated with a depressing tone.  He shook his head.  “What will they think of next, eh Reed?” 

A slamming door was the only response he received.  In fact, it was the most reaction he’d had from his companion all morning. 

Reed had bailed to go stand in front of the car with his hands in his jacket pockets, scuffling his shoes in the parking lot gravel. 

Eight AM and he’s already in a mood. 

Hank rubbed his forehead and then fetched his coffee from its place in the center console.  He swirled the last of the morning coffee in its paper to-go cup covered in advertisements and company slogans.  The brown liquid sloshed against the unbleached, recycled paper that had become soggy, warning that in a few more minutes the whole thing would dissolve and create a mess in the already sticky cupholder.  Hank used a napkin to wipe out the cupholder, and then took a long swig of the lukewarm, drive-thru brew. 

There was no telling what had pissed Reed off this time.  The kid got more and more tetchy with every passing day.  And it wasn’t just that Ben was out of town again either.  Even with the influence of Ben’s presence, Reed’s attitude scarcely improved.  If anything, it’d worsened in the past year.  He ostracized his peers, and, any chance he could get away with it, he disrespected his superiors.  And his relationship with the public community?  Hopeless.  Absolutely hopeless. 

He's a smart kid, Hank had to admit, but there’s more to policework than just chasing down ‘bad guys’ and solving cases.  You got to know how to work with the public.  Even if they are idiots and morons more than half the time, you can’t just tell them it to their faces.

One day, he would have to find whatever recruiter had accepted Reed into the police academy and have a few words with them.  Reed was obviously not cut out for policework.  Hank suspected Reed’s dedication to the job was founded upon a grab for power.  No sense of the greater picture.  No real respect for the ideals represented by the badge. 

And the kid was always stepping into shoes that were too big for him, or that belonged to someone else.  Behavior that had endangered his life as well as the lives of others more than once—just so he could be the star of the show. 

Sorry buddy, Hank smirked, spotlight’s already taken.  As if you could ever actually compete with me, Hank scoffed at the thought of even considering competing with Reed for anything. 

Then again….he had applied for the sergeant’s exam only a few weeks ago.  Rumor said the application had been rejected on the basis of some technicality with the paperwork, but—

Oh.  Hank realized a potential origin of Reed’s foul mood.  That would ruin anyone’s year for sure. 

Though it was something of a relief to know that Reed wasn’t going to be wielding the authority of a detective-sergeant anytime soon. 

Still…it showed ambition at least.  And Hank couldn’t fault the kid for that.  In fact, he sort of admired the determination to succeed against the odds. 

If only he wasn’t so….

Hank saw Reed balance his foot on the car’s fender to tie his shoelaces.  Of all the—

He rapped the wheel’s center with his knuckles and ‘bleeped’ the horn, startling Reed and getting himself glared at.  Hank shooed him with an abrupt hand motion.  “Off,” he mouthed; he frowned for emphasis. 

Reed scowled, adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, and bowed his head to finish methodically tying the frayed laces.  Then, both feet on the ground, turned his back on Hank and crossed his arms.  Hank saw his shoulders rise and fall. 

What’s he got to sigh about?  Hank shook his head.  Doesn’t know how lucky he’s got things.  If I were in charge, he’d be out of the department in an instant.  Speaking of in charge….

Hank checked his phone for any messages on the chance that Jeffrey decided this case was a waste of resources after all.  Senior detectives didn’t need to investigate vandalism. 

Hank had his own cases to solve.  Most of them dealing with the rise of designer drugs among the city’s elite. 

No new messages except one from his wife asking if he would be picking up dinner for the evening.  Her not-so-subtle way of discovering when or if her husband planned on returning home at a timely hour.  He fired off a quick response that made no promises and returned the phone to his pocket. 

Thanks for nothing, Jeffrey. 

Hank finished off his coffee and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.  He sighed and leaned against the seat, closing his eyes.  He frowned at the sense of weariness in his bones.  It was a little depressing to feel so tired over nothing.  Hank Anderson wasn’t supposed to get tired.  He couldn’t afford to be tired.  Not when his promotion to lieutenant was around the corner.  So close, he could almost taste it. 

Just need one more good bust, then it’s going to be Lieutenant Hank Anderson. 

He opened his eyes and stared down into the empty coffee cup.  The dregs and bits of ground coffee provided no predictions for his future.  He looked up and saw Reed intently focused on his feet and shifting his weight side to side with little hops.

“Might as well get it over with,” he muttered. 

Reed was stretching his foot against the car’s tire, putting new creases into the old sneakers he insisted on wearing, but he bounced away when Hank exited the car. 

“We’re here to investigate vandalism and you scratch up my freakin’ car?”  Hank locked the doors and pocketed the keys.  He tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash bin.  “Can I arrest you and call it a day?”  He chuckled.

The flat and sullen response came from somewhere behind him: “Didn’t.” 

“Whatever.  Car’s old anyway.”  Hank turned around to face Reed.  “You ready?”

Hands still in his jacket pockets, Reed spread his elbows and closed them against his sides in an impatient flap.  “Waitin’ on you.”

Old man. 

Hank was certain he heard the impudent remark on the wavelengths of unspoken animosity and insubordination that more than half of Reed’s communication seemed to travel along. 

If there’s grey in my hair it’s because you put it there, you little sonuva—

“You’d get more respect if you wore better shoes.” 

Reed hunched his shoulders at the out-of-the-blue statement, but a loud screech from some exotic bird beyond the fencing drew his attention.  Instead of answering Hank, he pivoted and stood on tiptoe as he tried to see beyond the fencing. 

F—king birds.

“Put…put your badge in your pocket or your bag,” Hank ordered as he quickly strode past the distracted young man.  He ignored the cold sweat that trickled down the collar of his shirt.  “We’re trying to keep a low profile here.”  He found a gap on the sidewalk among the groups of family, friends, and school children and joined the general shuffle toward the zoo’s front gates. 

The temporary separation from Reed seemed to clear the air and loosen the tension that had annoyed Hank’s neck and back all morning.  Children were laughing and bouncing at their parents’ sides, straining against the hands that held them safe from the road and separation. 

Hank let his arms swing at his side and saw that it was, in fact, a rather pleasant day.  The early sun was warm and the scattered clouds promised shade, not rain. 

One day when I have kids, I’ll bring them here.  Hank smiled at the thought of his imaginary future family.  The thought helped chase away the memories and flashbacks of the ugly and destructive side of humanity that he saw almost every day. 

The zoo’s architecture funneled the crowds into five different entry gates.  Hank paused for a second to look around for Reed and accidently clipped him on the shoulder with an elbow. 

“What the hell!  How long you been there?” 

Standing outside the plastic chain barrier meant to keep the people in semi-straight lines, and crowded on all sides by people and noise, Reed looked small without the gold shield on his belt.  He scowled at Hank and nudged the colorful chain with a knee to make it swing. 

“I thought you were further back,” Hank grabbed Reed by the shoulder of his jacket and pulled him out of the way of another wave of people heading toward the VIP entrance.  “Get in line here.”  

Reed squirmed against the manhandling. 

“There.  No.  Step over the chain.  Over!  Behind me.”  Hank edged the obstinate and suddenly uncoordinated junior detective into the line behind him.  He turned around and tried to distract himself from the irritation by reading the posted notices and zoo policies covered in colorful cartoons depicting proper behavior on zoo property. 

Don’t feed the animals

Don’t throw anything into the habitats

Listen to zoo staff members

Use the provided facilities

No littering

Obey all posted warnings

Failure to comply will result in serious consequences

Respect our animals

Have fun!

Reed was muttering darkly and adjusting his jacket with short snaps of the lapels and front panels.  Hank turned to look at him. 

Reed stopped moving. 

“You saying something?”  Hank warned.

“No.”  Reed yanked the jacket zipper up to his throat and then down again.

“Sure?”

“Why y’wanna do this,” Reed waved a hand at the surroundings.  “Jus’ show’em—

Someone jostled Reed, making him stumble, and he lost his train of thought.  “Stupid standin’ line.”

“We could jump the line,” Hank said, finally realizing what Reed was getting at.  “But it makes more sense to review the actual security the perp would have to come through.”

Reed looked at Hank as if the man was speaking gibberish. 

“Forget it,” Hank turned away and moved forward with the line.

“Wouldn’t they jus’…just break in.”  Reed’s tone sat between question and statement. 

“I thought of that too,” Hank turned around to answer.  “But unless it’s an inside job, the easiest way into the zoo is through here.  Hah, poet don’t know it.”

The ‘what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about’ expression on Reed’s face deflated Hank’s cheer.

“Never mind.”

Reed suddenly whirled around and snarled at the person behind him.  “Try backin’ up would ya?!”

Some harsh words later, and many verbal appeasements from Hank on Reed’s behalf to the shaky and half-blind gentleman with a cane behind them—the confrontation ended only when Hank let the man, and his entire herd of grandchildren, go before them in line.

“Could you try to at least conduct yourself like an officer of the law?”  Hank kept his voice low as he delivered the scathing rebuke. 

“Wha’fer?”  Reed shrugged, not bothering to change the register of his own tone.  “Tol’ me not to wear it.”

“Wear what?  The badge?”  Hank said.  He shook his head in unsurprised disappointed.  “See that’s your problem.”  He turned around and tried to ignore Reed’s muttered response. 

It was finally their turn at the ticket counter. 

“How many?” 

“One adult and,” Hank looked at Reed who was balancing on the sides of his feet and looking forward into the zoo’s interior with interest.  “One child.”

An indignant scowl shot at him. 

“Kidding, it was a joke.  A joke, Reed.”  Turning back to the equally unamused teller, Hank said, “Two adults, please.”

Once they were through the gates, the crowd thinned out and began to clump around popular habitats and attractions.  Reed planted himself near a signpost in the middle of the central courtyard where a large, shapeless sculpture cast a deep shadow over half the area. 

Reed, oblivious to the world, was checking his phone.  He’d been glued to it almost the entire morning during the drive to the zoo. 

“Hey,” Hank elbowed him and the kid moved half a foot to the side.  Hank elbowed him again.    

“What?!”

“Did you get a map?”

“It’s on the phone.”  Reed scowled and showed Hank the colorful electronic map that filled his phone’s screen. 

“Oh,” Hank took out his own phone and stared at it.  “How’d you do that?”

“On the thing.”  Reed’s attention returned to the phone. 

“Thing?  What thing?  Reed.” 

The kid moved away before Hank could elbow him again.  “There.”

Hank gave up on Reed for the moment and looked around for clues about how to get the elusive app.  He saw a man wearing a bulging, extremely colorful, diaper-bag on his back, an infant strapped to his chest, and holding a toddler on a leash. 

At least he looked like he knew what he was doing. 

“Hey, excuse me,” Hank approached him.  “Do you have the map app?”

“Map app?”

“For the zoo?”

“Oh, that,” the man twisted his kid’s leash several more times around his wrist and pointed toward a large billboard above the sign and statue whose shade Reed was standing under.  “Just use your camera and scan it.  The app downloads to your phone.”

Hank’s smile felt as stiff as the plastic, animal shaped, child-filled strollers rattling around him.  “Thanks.”  He started downloading the app and then returned to Reed who glanced at him without looking up from his phone. 

“Got it,” Hank waved his phone at Reed. 

Movement of a particular sort caught his attention. 

He eyed the peacocks that strutted around the clearing, pecking at crumbs and empty food wrappers.  His heart leapt when one stared at him with its beady eyes and spread its huge tail.

Hank elbowed Reed and got growled at.  “You gonna stay on that all day or actually do some work and help me try to pick up some clues around here?”

“Was tryin’,” Reed cut himself off and stuffed his phone into his pocket along with his hands.  His lip was pinched between his teeth; a drop of pink blood welled up and was quickly licked away.  He turned left and then right.  He shrugged.  “Said y’were in charge.”

“No I—

Oh, yeah. 

He had said something like that to Reed this morning.  Reed had been acting like he was the senior officer—trying to plan out the entire day’s investigation without any deference to the actually superior officer—and Hank had sharply reminded him of his position as a junior detective. 

Didn’t realize he was actually listening.    

“How very polite of you to remember.” Hank wasn’t sure what he was trying to say with the sarcasm.  Judging by the muted stare from Reed, the kid wasn’t doing much better either at interpreting it. 

Hank sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “Let’s just survey the park, see what we see and then make a plan.”

Reed scowled, but didn’t protest.

“Penguins?”  Hank strode toward the large building and joined the dense crowd packing itself into the building.  “Sounds fun,” he muttered.  Off to the side, he saw Reed lunge at one of the free-roaming birds, startling it into spreading its tail and hissing at him.

“Reed!” 

The younger man darted away from the animal and skidded to a stop next to Hank.  His eyes were bright with mischief.  He glanced over his shoulder where the peacock was settling down in the shade and hiding its head under a wing. 

“Stop messing around,” Hank snapped.  “Come on, we have work to do.”

He didn’t catch whatever Reed was muttering about.  Another peacock was heading straight for them, probably an angry mate.  Hank strode quickly into the building without waiting for Reed. 

Maybe it’ll eat him.

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Chapter Text

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Hank admired the creativity of the exhibit’s design.  In one room, with hardly any lights other than a few in-set floor lights, there was a huge projection that recreated the experience of an artic exploration onboard a ship rising and falling in rough seas.  The audio track filled the room with the sounds of a storm at sea that made the speakers crackle.  Hank stared at the realistic visual, feeling slightly nauseous, while other people snapped pictures with their phones and pressed onward. 

“Woah, almost like being there, huh?” 

“Yeah.”  Reed barely looked at anything as people pressed around him.  His head was bowed and he gripped the railing as he followed it around the room, moving deeper into the exhibit. 

Hank shook his head and followed Reed into a clear tunnel that showed the penguins swimming in their tank.  “Funny little guys.  They’re more like fish than those other things, eh?”  He looked around and saw that he was alone except for the crowds. 

Reed was nowhere to be seen.  Maybe he’d moved on. 

Reed wasn’t in any of the other rooms.  Or the gift shop. 

Hank didn’t mind interviewing the staff without the distraction of Reed’s fidgeting, but he couldn’t help but be slightly annoyed at being abandoned without a word. 

“Little pest,” Hank muttered when he saw the familiar figure through the building’s large, clear exit doors.  Reed was leaning against a railing that fenced a decorative garden, out of the way of the crowds.

“Thought you got lost,” Hank said as he clapped a hand on Reed’s shoulder.  “Almost made an announcement at the lost child—hey, you okay?”  He saw bloody scratches covering the back of the hand that death-gripped the railing.  “What happened?  Who did that?”

“No one.”  Reed hunched his shoulders and drew away from Hank’s touch.  His head was bowed and his hair drooped from its usual tidiness to shadow his eyes, and his breathing was rapid and shallow. 

“You two okay?”  A zoo staff member’s ‘potential problem’ radar must’ve pinged. 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Hank waved her away.  “A little light-headed I think.”

“Do you need medical assistance?”  She looked pointedly at the blood on Reed’s hands.

“I think we’re okay,” Hank tried to catch Reed’s eyes, but they were closed.  Hank noted and filed the observation of the purple ringing the young man’s eyes—evidence of chronic exhaustion. 

“Reed, you got to talk to me.  Here, sit down.”

“Stop.”  Reed shrugged away, pressing himself against the railing until its bolts rattled.  His lip bled where he’d bitten through the soft skin. 

Hank’s brain finally clicked in a burst of insight.  He had forgotten that Reed had drowned a few months ago during a flood event.  He’d been trapped in debris and unresponsive when they finally pulled him from the water.  It was nearly an hour before the EMTs revived him.  And even longer before he was released from the hospital.  

Hank swore at his ‘out-of-sight-out-of-mind’ attitude toward Reed.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize…I thought you were better….”

“Am.”

“EMT?”  The staff member tried again. 

“No.”  Hank knew it wasn’t a bad idea, but all the attention would likely just get Reed further agitated.  He’d seen Ben talk the kid down once or twice.  He could handle this.  “Got a little overwhelmed in there.  We’re gonna go back to the car for a bit.”

“Okay…”

Hank gripped Reed’s shoulders, ignoring the tension in the bunched muscles under his hands.  “This way.  Walk.”  He kept his voice low, but made sure there was no room for argument.  Reed was stubborn and restless, but he would listen to authority when he didn’t have a choice…most of the time.  Hank hoped this was one of those ‘most of the times.’  He didn’t want to deal with any of Reed’s nonsense in such a public location.  That was all the DPD needed.  “You want to end up on a headline?”  He hissed in Reed’s ear. 

Reed shook his head. 

“Do you?”

“No.”  The voice was quiet.  “No.” 

Hank felt some relief.  The second ‘no’ had been a little stronger and held a touch of irritation.  “That’s it, kid, come on back.  You’re alright.” 

Out of the way, near a closed exhibit, he sat Reed down on a bench in the shade.  Reed shrugged away from him, but Hank remained nearby.  “You okay?”

“’kay.”  Reed’s head was still bowed, but one shaky hand swept his hair from his face.  “Don’t want.  The car.”

“Yeah, I know.  We’re not going.  Where’s your phone?”

“But you said—

“I had to tell her something.”

“You lied?”  Reed spoke without lifting his head, both hands were in his hair, fingers tangling in the dark waves.

Hank narrowed his eyes at the accusation.  “Yeah.  Some people get lied to when it’s necessary.  Now, get your phone out.  Don’t act like you’ve never told a lie.”

Instead of answering, Reed wriggled his phone out of his pocket; his gel-sticky fingers closed tightly around it. 

“Good, great.  Check that silly app and tell me where we go next, right?  We still have work to do here.”

Reed worked the phone and got past the lock screen and into the app without too much trouble.  “Bats,” he finally said.  “Bats,” he added without adding any new information. 

Hank nodded, “Okay, great.” 

“There you are.”  The same staff member smiled when she approached with a zoo ‘special edition’ holographic water bottle in hand, water dripped from its sides and dotted the ground.  “Water?”  In her other hand, she held a first aid kit.  She handed both to Hank.  “Figured you weren’t really going to leave.”

“Yeah?”  Hank shook the water bottle at Reed until the kid took it.  “What gave us away?”  He opened the pouch and took out a few bandages for Reed’s bloody hands; dried blood had already crusted over the thin scratches. 

“The exit signs pointed the opposite direction you walked.”

“Ah.”  Hank grimaced.  “Very observant.”

“Yeah.  I’m a real detective,” she laughed. 

Reed looked sideways at her. 

“Not really,” she laughed again.  “I just feed the tigers and elephants.  Anyway, take care.”

“Thanks,” Hank said.  “She was nice,” he remarked once the young woman was gone.  “Don’t you think?”

Reed was tilting and rotating the water bottle to make its colors shift in the sunlight.  “Thought you wanted to see the bats.”

“Whole sentences now?”  Hank patted Reed’s slanting shoulder.  “That’s great.  And I don’t want to see bats, but we need to survey the area.  You know, get the feel for things.  Maybe help us figure out how our perp thinks.  I know you don’t want to, but you probably should drink something.”

“What’d’ya know’bou’t.”

“I know it sucks having to face something that freaks you out.  But you still gotta drink.”

Reed turned the bottle around in his hands again.  He leaned over, and Hank thought the kid was going to be sick, but Reed just pressed the bottle against his forehead and sat motionless.  “Y’were there.  That time then.”

Hank was floundering, trying to decide how to react to the sudden vulnerability.  It was the most open Reed had been about the whole drowning thing. 

I’m not a f—king therapist.  What am I supposed to say to that?  He settled for a basic: “Yeah.  Lucky for you, huh?”

“Not thirsty.” 

Hank had tried to make Reed listen as far as food was concerned and Ben had made it extremely clear that he was never ever again to bully Reed into eating—or else.  So, with a shrug, Hank decided to back off for now.  He kept a smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he watched Reed stand and dust himself off and straighten his jacket and run a hand through his hair.  “You should at least get that blood off your hands.  Use the water—

Reed had already rubbed his hands against the sides of his legs, tearing loose the clotted blood and smearing fresh redness over his skin and clothes.

“Give me that.  Hold out your hands.  Still.”  Hank poured the water over the tiny cuts.  “I said, hold still.  Let me stick these band-aids on.  There.  Good as new.”

Reed itched at the synthetic fabric that hid and protected the wounds.  He ignored the offered water bottle Hank held out to him. 

“Take this,” Hank said.  “I don’t want it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Put it in your backpack, then.”  Hank shook the bottle at him.  “Reed—

Reed snatched it from Hank’s hands and threw the bottle at the nearest trash bin; it bounced off the rim and rolled past a fence with a sign that said: NO VISITORS BEYOND THIS POINT.  Reed crossed his arms and stalked toward the bat habitat. 

And just like that: Reed was back to being Reed.  Closed-off and sullen.

The flamingos behind the fence threaded their long necks through the fencing to bite at the foreign object; it rolled away into the walkway and nearly tripped a toddler who was chastised by her babysitter for being clumsy.  A small litter-bot with the acronym RALPH printed on its head trolled up to the bottle and used its crane-like arms to retrieve the garbage and add it to its little collection bin mounted on its back. 

Hank rubbed his face and then hurried after Reed who was standing before the bat building reading, or maybe just staring at, one of the information billboards. 

RALPH trilled to itself and continued its search for more items it deemed ‘trash’ according to its algorithm. 

“You going to be okay in here?”  Hank asked Reed, still determined to be sensitive.  The billboard didn’t look too interesting to him.  Probably just looking for a distraction.

“Why wouldn’t I?”  Reed scowled at a man who bumped into him and stepped further into the way of the next person who tried to edge past him, forcing them to enter by the other door.

“I just thought—

Reed tilted a hand toward the door in a mock ‘after-you’ gesture and then dodged inside without waiting. 

Hank grumbled and followed the impatient young man into the building.  Reed seemed to have made a complete recovery. 

He’s good at that.  But those ‘complete recoveries’ are going to be the death of him…or someone else.’

RALPH ‘beeped’ at a wild bird that was pecking at a loose piece of string from an unraveling banner.  The bird chirped back.  RALPH ‘beeped’ again and tried to take the string; the bird surrendered its find.  RALPH succeeded in unraveling half the banner, trilling happily the entire time, before someone reported the malfunction and the little robot was taken away for maintenance. 

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Chapter Text

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Hank could smoothly interrogate any individual accused of even the most horrendous crimes without breaking a sweat.  But faced with a dark room and a tank full of bats flapping around in dim red light, his clammy skin prickled and his lungs felt like lead bellows trapped under his ribs.  He knew the alarming lighting was for the sake of the animals, but that didn’t make the effect any less uncanny or uncomfortable.  He rubbed his hands over his arms, trying to glean some warmth from the friction. 

Nasty little things. 

He glared at the small mammals fluttering on tissue-thin wings and brushed his arms more forcefully as if the bats could touch and crawl on him through the glass. 

Who ever even came up with the crazy idea of putting these things on display?  Who even gets excited about bats? 

It was nothing to endure a little personal discomfort, and he knew he could maintain his composure as long as necessary—he was Hank Anderson after all—but Reed had taken the notion into his head to linger before the bat display—of all places.  His dark silhouette was haloed by the ghoulish light as he stood a few paces in front of Hank, watching the bats flap seemingly aimlessly from one end of the huge tank to the other.  

Wouldn’t put it past him to be doing this on purpose.  He’s practically run through every other exhibit.  That or he’s just completely zoned out. 

Hank crossed his arms and pressed them tight against his chest.  If Reed was screwing around with him on purpose, the kid was going to find that Hank was not so easily defeated by a few bats and red light.  No sir, it takes more than that to—

Something brushed against Hank’s arm, and only years of training kept him from reacting to the startle that reverberated through his bones, compelling him to obey the primal instinct to fight his enemy. 

“Excuse me.”  Hearing his own sarcastic voice helped ground Hank in reality, but it also made him painfully aware of his dry mouth.  He swallowed several times, but it didn’t help.  He almost choked. 

And still the bats fluttered. 

“Hey, gimme the water.”  He reached out for Reed’s shoulder, only an arm’s length away, but his tunneling vision stretched the distance.  The sounds of the crowd faded into a single loud murmur; the bat tank loomed large with its flapping shadows.  He made a desperate grab at Reed’s hood, caught a handful of the material—

Reed jolted forward against the backward pull, nearly throwing Hank off his feet.  “Phck’ff!”  He spun around, one hand pressed to his neck, the other cocked in an impulsive fist, but he lowered his voice and fist when he realized it was Hank. 

Some of the people nearest the two detectives looked curious at the semi-aggressive interaction; the ones with children hurried away.  Hank smiled artificially and made his voice casual despite its roughness.  “Ah…hahaha, sorry kiddo.  Jumpy, eh?”  He clapped a hand on Reed’s shoulder and gave it a friendly shake as he threw an arm around him to drape over his other shoulder.  He felt Reed’s entire form go taut under the close contact. 

He tightened his arm around Reed’s neck, more for support than from friendliness; his balance was still recovering from whatever he’d tripped over seconds before. 

Reed’s youth and Hank’s trustworthy appearance—who wouldn’t trust a bright smile and tidy blond hair?—finished the split-second illusion of friendship Hank had created.  And seeing there would be no actual fight, the crowd’s interest abandoned the two strangers in exchange for more interesting sights. 

“The hell’s wrong w’ya?”  Reed unfroze and escaped Hank’s loose grip.  He flipped his hood several times with jerky gestures without straightening the garment at all. 

The bats continued to flutter around the glass tank, crawling on the ground to eat soft fruit, or hanging by their feet from the ceiling, near the red lights. 

“Water?”  Hank demanded in a voice harsh with dryness.  He cleared his throat.  “The water from before?  The lady gave you?” 

Reed crossed his arms and fought back a sudden yawn; he snapped his jaw shut and shook his head.

“Water?”  Hank tried again.  Maybe Reed just wasn’t understanding the question. 

Reed elbowed someone who bumped him against the edge of an information display.  “I said no!”  He raised his voice over the increasingly loud volume of the crowd.  “Threw it away.”  He made a loose, circular gesture at his own head.  “Remember?”  He squinted at Hank; the question in his expression was only partially formed before the next wave of zoo patrons forced them to move along until the building sent them out into the daylight again. 

Hank went directly toward a water fountain and gulped down the cool liquid.  Cupping his hands, he caught some of the water and splashed it over his face and neck. 

“Now,” he said, flicking water from his fingers at Reed who was staring at him from a few feet away, “where to next?”

Reed skipped backward, blinked compulsively, and shook his head with abrupt and irritated movements, though the water hadn’t even touched him.  “There,” he unfolded his crossed arms and pointed to the next building.  “That’s the next one.  Interpretive gallery, butterfly garden, free flight aviary.”

Hank shook his head.  “Naw, let’s check the reptile building first.”

Reed furrowed his brow.  He mouthed ‘first’ and looked at his phone and then at the free flight aviary building.  “But—

“Reptiles first.”  Hank walked rapidly away from the central building that Reed seemed rooted in front of.  “Come on.  I’m in charge, remember?”

--

Hank was definitely looking for clues about the vandalism as he peered over the railing into the crocodile den.  “Big fella, huh?”

No answer. 

“Not again.  Where’d you go this time?”  Hank stepped back, allowing a group of school kids to take his place at the rail.  He walked around the building, going from one section of glass tanks to another.  No luck.  Reed was nowhere to be found. 

Frustrated, Hank glared at the drowsy Komodo dragon.  “Well, have you seen him?  Kinda short?  Black…no…brown hair?  Dressed like a thrift store’s poster child?”

The Komodo flicked its purple tongue. 

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Hank muttered.  He was just taking out his phone to send a text when he saw Reed sitting like a misshaped pretzel on a bench, elbow on knee, chin in hand, looking at his phone.  One foot swung down, teasing with the loose laces another small litter-bot.  The little robot rolled forward and backward, determined to catch the swinging laces. 

“Hey.”  Hank sat next to him, but Reed stood, nearly tripping over the RALPH-bot that issued a shrill beep of alarm at the sudden proximity. 

“I was waitin’,” Reed defended himself.  “G’way,” he muttered to the litter-bot that was making good progress stealing his shoelaces. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Hank stretched out his legs.  It was good to be off his feet.  “Find anything interesting?”

Rescuing his laces with an abrupt yank that sent both human and robot falling a half step backward, Reed turned the robot around and sent it away with a light push from his foot. 

RALPH trilled and made a tidy U-turn; both its ‘arms’ outstretched, it tried to come at Reed’s feet from another angle. 

Reed stepped onto the bench; his dirty shoe left a streak of zoo mud on the side of Hank’s pantleg. 

“Watch it!”  Hank brushed off his clothes and looked up at Reed.  “What the hell are you standing up there for?”

Reed stared down at him.  Hank met his stare evenly.  “Sit and tell me if you found anything related to the case.”  He patted the bench and made his voice mockingly sweet.  “Don’t worry, I won’t let the big bad robot eat you.”

Reed tucked his tongue into his cheek, thinking, hesitating, challenging. 

A running child tripped over her own feet and her handful of sticky candy went flying.  RALPH quickly rolled to the brightly colored mess. 

In a single fluid motion, Reed sat down cross-legged, narrowly avoiding side-swiping Hank’s clothes with his muddy feet again. 

“So,” Hank refused to make more room on the bench.  He knew about the extra space on the other end of the bench that Reed was refusing to use.  True, Hank too had extra space on his side, but that wasn’t really the point now was it?

“So.  What?”  Reed muttered as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and stared at the moving crowds of people as if they were the ones behind glass for observation.  The foot nearest Hank flexed so it rhythmically came within inches of touching him before moving away again. 

Hank deliberately ignored it.  There’d be hell to pay if Reed touched him again with that disgusting shoe after he told him not to.  “Did you find anything?  Did you see that Komodo-thing?”

“Yeah.”  Foot comes close.  “No.”  Foot moves away.  Foot moves close—stops.  “Modo-co-what?” 

“Komodo.  It’s a dragon lizard.”

Reed shot a quick side-eye at Hank then looked away. 

“I’m not making it up,” Hank said. 

“Yeah.” 

The foot began its rhythmic motion again.

Hank sighed.  “So?”

“Dragons ain’t real.”

“Not about that,” Hank laughed.  “I meant about the case.”

Reed made an impatient gesture with his hand, raising it and dropping it again to rest on his bent knee.  He licked his chapped lips that had started bleeding again.  “Some of these tanks open into maintenance an’ into the building itself and some of the open areas like the gators—

“Crocodiles,” Hank corrected.  “Sorry,” He waved his hand.  “Keep going.  What were you sayin’?  An’ slow it down, will you?  We’re not exactly on a time limit here.”

“Someone could get into the buildin' through the tanks.”

“Yeah, if they wanted to get eaten,” Hank chuckled darkly.    

“Al’ey do is sleep,” Reed snapped and jumped down from his perch.  “Or hide under rocks.  Anyone could get pas’em.”

“A little vandalism isn’t worth running a gauntlet of teeth and poison,” Hank maintained his conviction, but when he saw the slight lowering of Reed’s shoulders, he added, “Good idea though.  Keep it in mind.  C’mon,” Hank stood.  “I’ll show ya.”

“What?  You got a theory?”

“I always have a theory,” Hank quipped as he strode away.  “But no.  I want to show you the Komodo.”

The displeased sound behind him was a cross between a growl and a sigh.

--

After a long day of examining the exhibits—the sites of the vandalism—and battling the crowds of people, and losing track of Reed every other second, Hank was more than ready to write a report detailing exactly why the case did not require the presence of a senior officer, and that a certain surly junior detective was more than capable of conducting the investigation unsupervised. 

“Reed!  Leave the freaking robot alone.” 

“It ain’t me!”

Since their conversation at the reptile building, Reed seemed to have grown bored of the investigation and spent more time teasing the various litter-bots that roamed the grounds and buildings.

Once, Hank realized Reed wasn’t nearby; he looked back, and saw Reed gingerly touching the head of one of the zoo’s life-sized plastic animal sculptures: a sleeping tiger.

Hank snapped a picture and pocketed his phone before Reed could notice. 

If Reed had seemed interested in the stupid bats, he was absolutely entranced by the zoo’s felines.  It was the only time Hank had seen him use his phone to take a picture of something that wasn’t evidence or case related. 

“Ocelot,” Reed pronounced the name quietly to himself as he read the information plaque attached to the large habitat where the small feline napped under a bush, curled up like a furry doughnut. 

“That’s cute,” Hank agreed.  “Did you see that guy?”  He pointed to the enclosed walkway just above their heads that allowed a leopard to prowl between its two enclosures on either side of the visitor’s pathway.  It moved soundlessly except for the tremble in the metal frame. 

Reed stepped backward; his mouth circled with a silent ‘whoa.’  He watched the animal until it faded away into the shadows of the trees that filled its enclosure. 

Hank didn’t find the big cats too interesting.

And he was upset that all the crocodiles did was sleep?  At least they were interesting to look at.  These are just overgrown cats. 

But he pretended to be interested in the information posters that he’d already re-read a dozen times while the younger detective watched, wide-eyed, the Bengal tiger wake and stretch after its nap and then lap from its artificial waterfall before taking a swim.   

Hank shook his head.  I don’t get the appeal.

--

After examining the big-cat habitats, Hank caught Reed before the single-minded kid led the way to the gorillas.  “Hey,” he dropped his hand before Reed could shrug it off.  “Hey, want to stop for lunch?”

“Not hungry.”  Reed’s voice was flat.  He curled his fingers so they disappeared into his jacket sleeves.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.  Ben said to feed you french-fries.”

“Said what?”

“French-fries.”

“Why?”  Reed followed Hank into a quiet café that claimed to serve ‘homemade lemonade’ and decent sandwiches. 

“Hell if I know.”  Hank smiled at the person behind the counter.  “Hey, there, can we get some lunch?  A sandwich and coffee and…uh…do you have fries?”

“No,” the young person drawled as they looked at the menu posted on the countertop.  “But we do have chips?  They’re sorta the same?”

Hank elbowed Reed who was spinning the display rack that held the snack-sized bags of potato chips.  “Stop that.  You want chips?”

Hand to his side as if Hank had wounded him with the light jab to his ribs, Reed scowled and gave the rack another spin.  “No.”

“Well, I do.” Hank made the order then chose a booth near the window. 

Reed removed his backpack, pushing it up against the window like a pillow, and sat all askew in the confined space of the bench, trying to look out the window without turning his back on the room. 

Hank popped open the chip bag and pushed it across to Reed.  “Here, it’s food.”

Reed clenched his jaw, and Hank saw his fingers dig into the side of his leg. 

“You don’t have to eat it,” Hank said, keeping his voice quiet.  “It’s there if you want it.”

“’kay.”                                                                            

Hank shook his head and bit into his sandwich.  “So,” he spoke with his mouth full, “do you know when Ben’s gettin’ back?”

“Y’think he tells me?”

Ouch.  Hank internally winced at the waspish reply.  Someone’s taking something personally.

“Like I care anyhow,” Reed muttered and flung a careless hand as if trying to erase his previous reaction.  “He can stay gone f’r’ver that’s what’s he’s wants.”  He itched a hangnail until it bled and then hid his hand away in his jacket pocket as he leaned back in the seat and pulled up one knee to rest his chin on it. 

“Alrighty.”  Hank bit into his sandwich. 

“So?”

Hank was enjoying his food, trying to ignore the drama-fest across from him, but he paused mid-chew at the sudden question.  “Pardon?”

“Dunno.  We’ve been al’over the grounds and not found any real evidence.  Nobody knows nothin’ ‘bout anythin’.”  Reed rubbed his forehead against his knee and Hank heard a small sigh. 

“The day’s not over yet,” Hank said, pointing with his sandwich at the world outside the window.  “If there’s evidence or a witness out there, we’ll find ‘em.  Don’t worry about it.  Just take a break and refuel.”

“Not.”  Reed rubbed his eye against his knee and then rested his temple against it and closed his eyes before blinking into full wakefulness and glaring at Hank. 

“Not my fault you stay out late.”  Hank shrugged.  “Don’t blame me if you can’t stay awake.  Get some lemonade.  Sugar’ll do you good.”

“Didn’t.  Not sleepin’,” Reed muttered as he dropped his legs to where they belonged under the table and folded his arms.

“Then eat.” Hank edged the bag of chips nearer to the young man who looked out the window instead of responding.  “Whatever.  Have it your way.” Hank crunched one of the chips. 

Reed glanced at him before turning his attention away again. 

Hank finished his lunch and then found a food booth selling French-fries.  “Here,” he budged a distracted Reed in the side of the arm with the small packet of freshly made fries.  It left a small grease stain on the jacket.  Reed stared at the stain and then at Hank. 

“Yours.”  Hank clarified.  It was an invitation, not a command.

Reed took the packet more from surprise than acceptance.  His fingers danced against the thin paper as the hot grease seeped through and burned his fingers.  Hank handed him a napkin which Reed quickly wrapped around the packet. 

That taken care of, Hank led the way to the gorilla pen, Reed licking salt from the fries and feeding every other one to whatever small birds were along the way.  Hank walked faster to keep a distance between himself and Reed.

Several meters behind, a RALPH followed, taking fries from the birds. 

-- 

Chapter Text

--

The sky was turning a remorseless grey and the streetlights flickered as the sensors attempted to determine their role in the ambient twilight.  A miniature army of RALPHs rolled to their separate recharge stations, powering down for the evening.  A few park employees inconspicuously used large push brooms to usher a few uncooperative bots—still attempting to collect bits of paper and trash—into the tiny ‘garages’ where they received a wash and software updates or repairs.

Hank sauntered toward the zoo’s exit far behind the stragglers of the dispersing crowds, many of whom were on their phones, texting for rides, arranging dates, calling loved ones, or just chatting with friends.

“What a day,” Hank grumbled and stretched his arms.  There was a twinge in his lower back.  “Can’t wait to get a hot shower and some pizza—

His arm collided with the side of Reed’s head.  The kid was walking in his blind spot. 

Again. 

He was more than tired of Reed’s company.  His dashing and darting and sneaking about without any rhyme or reason was nerve-wracking. 

A snap of irritation from overstrained nerves.   

“Could you maybe try walking like a f—kin’ normal person for once?!”  He grabbed Reed’s arm—

Reed writhed like a trapped snake and twisted loose from the rough hold.  The abrupt motion and the literal digging-in-of-heels nearly threw Hank into the dirt. 

A train’s worth of mental curses railroaded Hank’s vision of a calm evening as he backed away, holding his throbbing wrist.  Gratitude and shame simultaneously washed over him with the realization that they were alone and no one had seen the interaction. 

“Sorry.  I shouldn’t….I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Please….please….don’t make an issue out of it. 

Reed seemed ready to bolt but also seemed nailed to the spot.  His lean chest heaved and his voice came with a sullen mutter.  “You said.”

Hank found functional words and syntax in the mess of curses and self-recrimination whirling through his brain.  “In relation to?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d accidently overstepped Reed’s tolerance levels. 

No. 

Levels have nothing to do with it. 

I shouldn’t have grabbed him….anyone like that.  Not in anger. 

He could let others slide with their personal failings and mistakes.  It was understandable for them to screw up.  He didn’t need to ruin someone’s life over some dumb choices or an addiction they couldn’t fight.  They were stupid.  They were weak.  And as long as nobody really got hurt anyhow.  Besides there were bigger fish to fry.  The other people who made others hurt. 

I’m supposed to be better than them. 

And accident or not, misunderstanding or not, Hank would accept the consequences of his actions. 

He knew the importance of professional boundaries and he knew that, if Reed chose to, the volatile junior detective could stall or permanently damage Hank’s career.  And he wouldn’t put it past Reed to take advantage of his superior officer’s mistake the same way he took advantage of others’.

Even one accusation and the resulting Internal Affairs investigation would mar Hank’s record with the hint of a scandal and throw suspicion on the rest of his life.  Even Jeffrey had warned him more than once to watch himself. 

//

‘You’re popular and successful, Hank,’ Jeffrey cautioned one night after working a case together that ended with a glorious press conference and criminals off the street and on their way to trial.  ‘The higher you go, the more people are going to be looking for ways to knock you down.’

‘Now who would want to do a thing like that to me?’  Hank grinned over his shot glass before throwing back his head and downing it; he slammed it onto the table and reached for his next one.  ‘I’m a nice guy.  Just trying to keep our wild and wonderful world safe for the good guys.’

Jeffrey watched Hank down another shot.  ‘You know what your problem is?’

‘Do tell.’  Hank leaned back and settled into his seat with an exaggerated wriggle, like a child ready for a story, but with his arms crossed over his chest.

‘You have too much faith and trust.’

Hank roared with laughter, closing his eyes from the force of it.  He leaned forward on both forearms, curling his fingers around his friend’s untouched shot.  ‘Are you hearing yourself?  Me?  Faith and trust?  I’m the most cynical guy on the force!  In case you didn’t notice, it’s part of my job to be suspicious and think the worst about people.’  He leaned back and rolled the glass’ cool rim over his lips.  ‘I’m Sergeant Anderson, remember?’

‘Just…don’t mistake friendliness for friendship.’

Hank shook his head.  ‘You need to drink more.  Not everyone is a cold-blooded killer, money launderer, drug selling, addict—

‘Addicts aren’t bad people,’ Jeffrey corrected. 

‘Didn’t say they were,’ Hank shrugged.  ‘Just my point is that we see a bad side of people, but there’s good people too.  Sometimes even the bad guys can be good.  Stop trying to make me paranoid.’

‘I’m trying to make you cautious.’

‘Well, stop.  You’re ruining my fun here,’ Hank laughed.  He lifted his next shot.  ‘Cheers to a bright future.’ 

// 

Reed wiped blood from his mouth; he’d ripped a scab from his torn lips with a broken fingernail.  “Said.”  He gestured, keeping most of his arm close to his body, and turned simultaneously without taking his eyes from Hank.  “Said, we’d come back here.”

“Here?”

“There.”  Reed belatedly pointed at the building Hank wished didn’t exist. 

“What now?”  

The responding frustration from Reed was almost tangible.  His eyes darkened and he clawed the back of his neck, dragging his fingernails around to his throat, leaving thin red scratches across his skin, and throwing his hands out—the bandages from that morning had not lasted long, discarded somewhere for the litter-bots.  “This morning,” he snapped.  “You said.”  He pointed at the ground.  “Right here.  In the morning.  I said.  This place’s next.  An’…and you says…said.  No.  Reptiles first.  Come back later.  ‘kay, fine, so.  We go.  Now.  It’s later!”  He gestured with both hands at the sky, hidden by buildings, where the sun was disappearing. 

“No I didn’t.  Don’t worry about it.”  Hank started walking away.  He wanted to leave this whole situation behind.  “Anyway.  We have enough information to put together a casefile.  Take care of it later.”

I’ll get Jeffrey to assign him as lead to this stupid case.  If he wants to keep at it, he’s more than welcome to have it—

That would be a good apology for grabbing him like that, right?

“You did.”  Reed’s voice came from much closer than Hank was expecting and the older man jumped when he discovered him so close. 

Again?  Didn’t he just learn anything at all?!

“Don’t sneak up on me!” 

Reed leapt backward and crossed his arms.  The challenge was in the stubborn set of his mouth and the hardness in his eyes. 

He was right and he knew that Hank knew he was. 

Knows he can hold this over my head for the rest of my life.  Advantage of a lifetime.  No.  Got to keep control.  I can’t leave him in charge here.  He’s not ready for any sort of power.  It’d go straight to his head. 

Hank had seen too many hotheads given the reins too soon.  Out of a sense of friendship or obligation or even fear.  People got hurt when that happened.  And Hank wasn’t going to let that happen to his department.  It needed him to stay in control.

But that f—king building. 

“You know what.” Hank waved a careless hand.  “You go on ahead.  I’ll let the managers know we’re staying past closing time.”

“Really?”  The storm vanished from Reed’s eyes—replaced by surprise. 

“Yeah.”  Hank waved Reed away again.  “Go.  I’ll catch up.”

Reed disappeared into the building without another word.

Two birds.  One stone.

--

Hank took his time locating the zoo manager and even longer to explain that he and his partner were investigating the grounds in regards to the current vandalism spree. 

//

‘Yes, we’re real police detectives.’

‘Yes, we’re carrying guns.’

‘No, we aren’t planning on shooting anyone.’

‘Yes, this is about the vandalism complaints from two weeks ago.’

‘No, I can’t say why there was a delay.’

‘Because I don’t know.’

‘Yes, I’m very sorry about the misunderstanding.  We’re going to take care of everything as quickly as possible without disturbing your patrons.  You will certainly receive prior notice of our presence next time.  Is this the number I call when we’re ready to leave the property?  Yes?  Thank you very much for your cooperation in this matter.  Have a nice evening.’

//

All things considered, management took it all rather well. 

Hank took his time returning to the aviary.  The zoo was more than a little eerie at night with the deep shadows created by pockets of lighting.  It’d been at least fifteen minutes since he left Reed to his own devices.  Even if Reed were being thorough, he should have finished by now.  He’d grab Reed and then they’d leave and make their reports. 

Quick.  Easy. 

No sign of Reed.

Figures. 

Hank glared at the building that loomed over him.    

Can’t just leave him on his own.  No telling what trouble the kid’ll find. 

His hand was on the door when it swung open, nearly striking him in the face, and Reed darted out, his feet slid in the dirt as he halted a short distance from Hank, skipping back a few more paces and tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“Find anything?”  Hank asked, hiding his surprise.

Reed shook his head and then shrugged.  “Yes.”

“I’m getting mixed signals here.” Hank hid exasperation in gruffness. 

Just a little longer.  Then no more Reed for at least twelve hours.    

“I said ‘yeah.’”  Reed yanked his hands from his pockets and held the aviary's door open, swinging it back and forth.  “C’mon.”

“Close the door,” Hank barked the command in a tone unlike any he’d used all day.  It wasn’t aggressive.  Not like before, but his calm drawl was entirely absent.

Reed took his hand from the door as if it were made of molten steel.  It slammed shut.  He stared at Hank.  Simultaneously cowed and defiant. 

Hank tried to swallow but his mouth was dry again.  “The sign says.”  He pointed at the poster that covered the door. 

Reed half-turned to stare at it. 

“Says to keep the door closed,” Hank explained his harshness.  “Because of the birds.”

“’kay,” Reed elongated the vowel.  “So…you comin’?”  His hand was on the door again, but he didn’t open it. 

“Anything worth seeing?”  Hank fought for an unconcerned and nonchalant air as he shrugged his shoulders. 

An angry flush darkened Reed’s skin under his tan.  “Yeah…yes.”

What’s he offended for now? 

“Like what?”  Hank challenged, still stalling.  He coveted every second remaining to him before entering that hellhole.

Reed pulled the door open again, but Hank slammed a hand against it.  Inadvertently trapping Reed between himself and the door.  “Just.  Tell me,” He demanded.  He moved his hand and stepped back, giving Reed more room, but Reed held his ground by the door. 

“Saw somethin’ one of the cages.” Reed’s hand moved toward his mouth but he thrust it into his pocket again.  “Could be a dead drop.”

A potential connection to illicit drugs sparked Hank’s interest and his morning visions of promotion returned to him full force.  The turmoil of ambition and fear was almost painful.  Maybe there was a way to gain the one without dealing with the other. 

Hank squelched the even deeper inward criticism of using a junior detective as a means of avoiding his own fears. 

I’m not doing anything wrong.  Not like I’m the one selling drugs or stashing them in a zoo.

“Is it?”

Reed shrugged with his whole body.  “Meb—could be.”

“You gonna check it out?”

“You gonna come?”

“You don’t need—

“Need a witness.”

“What?”

Reed crossed his arms.  “Ain’t messing with a possible dead drop by m’self.”

“The f—k you going on about?”  Hank couldn’t believe that Mr. Independent was choosing now of all times to—

“No.  Have to be two.”  The words were quieter but no less firm.  Reed’s fingers tapped against his folded arms. 

“You’re an officer,” Hank almost stammered.  “I trust…you.”  His voice dipped on the last statement, and he hoped Reed hadn’t noticed the hesitation. 

Reed didn’t budge.  His stare was empty and completely closed off to any persuasion to surrender.

“Fine,” Hank glared.  “Fine,” he shouldered past Reed, who avoided the contact without moving his feet, almost tripping Hank.  “You always have to make everything so damn difficult for everyone.” 

Hank entered the building, not bothering to hold the door, but Reed stole through the narrowing gap without any trouble. 

--

The ambient warmth and the combination of odors, the smell of stale food and the stringent ammonia from bird feces, almost choked Hank.  The air vents must’ve been closed for the night to protect the exotic birds and butterflies from any sudden drafts in case of mechanical failure of the atmospheric systems. 

Hank covered his nose and mouth with a sleeve, almost smothering himself.  He lowered his arm and found himself gasping for air. 

Get in, get out. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

The animals, having gone to sleep, were sleepily shifting about in the dim lighting that created weird shadows between the various plants and fences.  Hank shuddered at the sound of feathered wings rustling in the darkness. 

Just an animal. 

Just an animal. 

Isn’t dangerous. 

Though the many high fences that separated some of those things from others seemed to challenge that belief.  A large, hulking shadow high above stretched its massive wings and long neck.  Hank swore that it actually looked at him as a feather the size of his hand drifted down through the thick air to land at his feet.

Reed edged past and then darted ahead.  “Over here,” he called from the deeper shadows. 

“Shut the hell up,” Hank hissed as he started walking again, uncertain of when he’d halted.  “You want to wake these f—king things up?”

Reed was leaning over a large concrete pit heavily decorated with live greenery.  One foot set against the lower railing while his hands gripped the top.  “See?”  He looked over his shoulder. 

“Yeah.  Yeah,” Hank muttered and came to stand next to Reed who edged away. 

“Where?”

“’ang on, ‘ang on.  There.”  Reed used the light on his phone to show where a small metal box was bolted to the side of the pit.  “See’t?”  He leaned further, but Hank stretched out a warning arm. 

“Get back.  Yeah.  I think you’re right.  I’ll get the…someone to come get it.  C’mon.  Let’s go.”

“I can get it.”  Reed edged further along the railing, away from Hank.    

“You can’t reach it.”  Hank almost pulled Reed’s hood to get him off the railing he was clinging to, hands and feet, but Hank held back.  “Besides,” he added.  “I thought you didn’t want to deal with it on your own.”

“Well, you’re here.”  Reed, perched on the railing and keeping his balance with one hand, peered down into the darkness. 

Hank shook his head.  “Well, I can’t reach it.”

“No I’ll get it.”  Reed sounded impatient as he quit his hold on the railing to tap himself on the chest.  “Jus’old the light,” he pocketed his phone, leaving them in the dim lighting. 

Hank turned on his phone’s light. 

Reed interpreted permission and hopped down from the railing to stand on the inner ledge of the pit before Hank could stop him.

“Reed, no,” Hank hissed louder and grabbed the kid’s backpack.  Reed jerked away and Hank’s finger slipped on the phone and accidently turned on the strobe feature.  A flock of birds, startled, swooped down, and Hank jolted, dropping his phone and throwing Reed off the ledge, into the pit. 

--

Please be okay.  Please be okay. 

“Reed!”

The human body was so fragile.  A broken neck. 

Broken spine. 

It didn’t take much. 

Not Reed. 

He was too alive to be killed. 

If he’s dead.  He can’t bring charges against me.  Hank almost physically recoiled at the insidious thought that merged with the others. 

He’s not dead!

Hank shouted over the sounds of flapping and screeching birds.  “Dammit Reed!  Answer me!”

“Yeesh?”

Hank collapsed to one knee against the railing, gasping, his hands gripping the mud caked metal where Reed had perched only seconds ago in what seemed like a distant age.  “Are you okay?  Can you….come back?”

“Yeh…ey, there’s one’f those lil bots down ‘ere.  Must’ve fellin’ in too.”

“Seriously?”  Hank muttered as he tried to stand on ground that still felt like it was made of soft foam.  His knees almost buckled because of the unreliable ground.  “Stop screwing around and get back up here.” 

“Gotta get the phckin’ phone don’ I?” 

Hank caught a glimpse of the kid covered in filth and grime as he picked up the phone and brushed gunk off it with the back of his hand and then rubbed it on his sleeve.  The flashing lights were disturbing everything in the building.  As Reed turned the phone in his hands, the light reflected off the information plaque next to Hank. 

Hank saw the picture and the warning on the information plaque.  He controlled his voice, but it was tight with urgency.  “F—k.  Reed, get out of there.” 

“Not like’s lions ’r dragons ’r anythin’.” Reed’s voice drifted upward.  “Not scared some dumb birds.”  

The strobe light shut off leaving them all in the dim lighting of the closed exhibit. 

“Dammit Reed.  Now.  That’s the cassowary cage.”

“Am, keep yer tie-dye on...’s a what?”

Hank unholstered his gun.  “F—king big bird.  Hurry up.”

“Pfft.  Big bird.  So skeery.”

A bass rumbling growl came from across the pit.  The sound vibrated within Hank’s chest even at that distance.  In the gloom, he saw the five-foot bird stalk from the shadows, agitated by the commotion caused by the intruder.  Its dagger-like claws stabbed into the thick dirt of its enclosure. 

“Oh.  Y’mean like a phckin’ dinosir kinda bigbird.”

--

Chapter Text

--

“Don’t do anything,” Hank ordered.  He reached for his phone. 

Get someone who has a key to maintenance; they can open the door and get Reed out.  Should’ve done in the first place.  Why didn’t I stop him?  Why didn’t he listen?

His hand clutched the empty belt clip.  His phone was with Reed.  There were emergency call boxes outside the building, but he couldn’t leave Reed alone. 

“Sh—t.”  He gripped his holstered sidearm, but abandoned that idea.  “Can you get back up here?”

A breathy whisper: “Yeh.”

Reed slid one foot backward; the bird ruffled its feathers, increasing its size.  Reed halted.

“You’re doing fine,” Hank said.  “Just move slow, okay?”

The cassowary stalked forward and flapped its wings as Reed backed toward the wall and felt for a handhold.

Hank unsnapped his gun with a flick of his fingers and drew it, leaning over the railing and placing the bird in his gunsights.  He gently encouraged Reed who’d stopped moving when the bird became more agitated.  “You can do this—

“Would ya phckin’ jus’ shutup?!”

The cassowary lunged. 

Hank fired.

--

--

Waiting in a hospital to receive updates on a rookie’s medical condition was not one of Hank’s favorite aspects of his job.  He hated the fact that someone was hurt.  But at least being present as a support gave him a sense of purpose in a situation that forced him into the uncomfortable position of being powerless to help anyone. 

Reed wasn’t exactly a rookie, though. 

He should’ve known better. 

Why can’t he just listen to what he’s told?

Hank paced another lap around the waiting room.  The borrowed shirt from one of his officers clung uncomfortably.

--

--

“If you aren’t on the approved list, I can’t let you see him.”

Hank smiled at the dutiful nurse.  “I respect that, but could you tell me if he’s awake?”

“I wouldn’t know that.”

“Could you find out for me?  Please?  And ask if it’s alright if I visit?”

Won over by charm and blue eyes, the nurse shook her head.  “Okay.  But if he says ‘no,’ that’s the end of it.”

“Of course, of course, it’s great that you protect your patients.”  Hank nodded.  “Thanks.”  He strode around the waiting room, stopping to look at the various magazines for the hundredth time and listening to the television’s news reports.  There was nothing on the evening news about the little mishap at the zoo.  Seems there was more interest about a drug related crash on Ambassador Bridge. 

Two cars in the water. 

All dead.  No survivors.

Tragic.

Feel sad.

Who to blame?

Hank’s heart clenched at the thought of the drugs being poured into or even manufactured in his city.  He needed to bring it all to an end before even more innocent lives were ruined.  

Taskforce.  That’s what I need.  I could have this city sorted out within a year if I had the resources.

“Okay, you can see him, but only for ten minutes.”

Hank turned and saw the nurse.  He returned her smile with one of his own.  “Thanks a million.”

He entered the small recovery room. 

Reed was sitting up, weaving the IV cables and tubing around the plastic hospital bracelet on his wrist.  Instead of the expected hospital gown, he was wearing an old, but clean, dark orange sweatshirt torn near the neck and shoulder seam.  Small, black pawprints were embroidered into one sleeve.  Hank had never seen Reed wearing anything but his usual dark clothes and that grungy hooded jacket. 

Strange how clothing could make someone seem more human.  Or the reverse.  Without the usual attire and without the hair product to keep his hair off his face, Reed almost looked like a completely different person. 

“Hey.  Thanks for seeing me,” Hank said. 

Reed looked at him without halting his activity.  Blood loss had left his skin a sickly hue against which the purple circles under his eyes were even darker.  A butterfly stich held together the edges of a small gash on his cheekbone.

Hank frowned at the old, ragged facial scar that he rarely noticed; it only seemed apparent whenever Reed was under hospital observation. 

Maybe it’s the lighting.  Makes everything seem worse. 

Hank put the oddity out of his mind and tried on a small smile, no teeth, just a friendly smile and nod to hide the discomfort rising in his chest.  Seeing Reed again forced him to confront the consequences of his behavior. 

The bleak sterility and structured methodology of the hospital room clashed with Hank’s memories of Reed bleeding out in the cassowary pit. 

//

Hank scrambled to his feet and stumbled past the dying bird to where he could just make out Reed’s shadow.

‘Reed!  You hurt?  Where at?’ 

His foot kicked against a small object—his phone.  He dropped to his knee and snatched it up, wiping the screen clear of dirt and…something wet and slick.  The screen responded to his touch and Hank, ignoring the smears of red, activated the flashlight. 

The phone’s light showed Reed half-collapsed near the wall, two hands clamped around a bloody six-inch gash in his thigh.  His green eyes were dark and wide under the phone’s sudden glare. 

//

“Nurse Cassidy almost didn’t let me in,” Hank plopped into the guest chair near the bedside.  The small chair creaked under his weight.  “Thanks for letting me see you.”

He wanted to get this over with, but somehow the words ‘no hard feelings’ would not form.

“Cassidy?”

No hard feelings?  Call it all a terrible accident?

“That’s her name.  Didn’t you notice?  Name tag?  Thought you were a detective.”

Hank wasn’t even sure what he was saying aloud. 

Tell him you’re sorry!  Idiot!

“Am.”  Reed murmured as he splayed his uninjured hand over the sling that held his other arm as if he were trying to hid the fact that he was injured.  The scratches that covered the back of his hand seemed insignificant compared to the bulky IV catheter stabbed under the surface of the thin skin.  A bruise was forming around the injection site.  Several smaller pinpricks around the location were further evidence of the nurse’s struggle to find a vein.

It wasn’t my fault!

“You okay there?”  Hank nodded at the hand.  “Looks painful.”

No hard feelings.  All a terrible accident.

Reed shook his head.  “Issn’t.  Doesn’t hurt.”  Without lifting his hand, he pointed with one finger at the plastic IV bags hanging near the bed.  “Drugs.”

“Yeah,” Hank nodded.  One of those bags was filled with blood.  “Probably got you on some good stuff.”

“Didja find ‘em?”

“Uh?  Who?  Did you need the nurse?  Doctor?”  Hank half-stood, ready to get whatever help the young man needed. 

Reed swatted impatiently with enough force to nearly tear the IV from his hand.  He winced and brought it to his mouth, nipping at the thin tubing and peeling tape with his canines. 

“Hey, leave that alone.”  Hank reached over and pressed Reed’s hand down to his lap.  “Did you need someone?”

Reed jerked his hand away.  “Don’t need it.  Not them, not you, not ‘im.  Never.”  He folded his arms, putting his hand out of reach under the sling and pulling the IV line taut so the aluminum stand almost toppled sideways on its narrow feet. 

“Look, you’re about to make a disaster here.”  Hank moved the IV stand nearer to the bed to create more slack.  “How’s that?  Better?”

“You a nurse now ‘r what’s what that?”  Reed scowled half-heartedly whether at the painfully plain shirt Hank was wearing or just the fact that it was a different shirt, Hank didn’t know.  Reed rarely made any sense and even less now that he was on pain medication.

//

Shock.  He was going into the first stages of shock. 

Hank gently removed the backpack from Reed’s shoulders; he was carefully working Reed’s arm through the strap when a cry of pain alerted him to a wound on the kid’s arm.  It wasn’t bleeding too much, though, so Hank ignored it for now.

He pulled off his own jacket and wrapped it firmly around Reed, lifting him slightly from the ground to get it around his narrow shoulders. 

‘I’m going to put pressure on your leg, alright?  Gotta stop that bleed, okay?  Try an’ be still.’  Hank took his shirt off over his head and folded it into a thick pad.  Without waiting, he pressed the colorful makeshift bandage against the wound.

Reed writhed and twisted; his fingers clenched the loose dirt and he dug his heels into the ground, trying to leverage himself away from the pain, but Hank’s weight held him firmly in place.  ‘C’mon, kid,’ Hank’s voice held a touch of kindness that he always reserved for the strangers he helped.  ‘Tryin’ save your life here.’ 

Reed convulsed and began choking wetly.  Hank abandoned his first priority.  ‘On your side,’ he commanded, helping Reed twist onto his side and clear his airway.  ‘Stay like that; stay still now.’

Hank swore as he lost his grip on the slick fabric twice before he could reestablish the pressure.  He snarled away the cold panic that attempted to distract him as more and more hot blood seeped through the saturated bandage and covered his fingers and hands. 

// 

“How many stitches they give you?”  Hank changed the subject.  “Bet it’s a record.”

Reed shook his head.  His raised a hand toward his face but changed trajectory to itch his jaw and neck.  “Not so many,” he murmured.  “Bird dead?”

“Yeah.  There was no other way.  Don’t worry.  It didn’t suffer.”

//

A low gurgling sounded at Hank’s back.  His spine crawled at the idea of the dangerous animal at his back, but he was a good shot.  He intentionally blocked Reed’s view of the dying bird and kept talking to cover the sounds of the distressed animal. 

In another moment, he didn’t hear it anymore.

All that filled his ears now was the sounds of his own pounding heartbeat and Reed’s ragged breathing.

//

“Dead drop?”

“Huh?”

“Drugs.”  Reed’s tone took on an exasperated edge that didn’t mesh with the drowsy softness created by the amount of pain medications being pumped into him.  The most he managed was to sound petulant.  He lifted his hand and dropped it again in the rumpled hospital blanket bunched against his side. 

Hank recognized the weaker version of the kid’s usual impatient gesture.  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Phck.” 

Reed had gotten himself tangled in the IV tubing. 

“Hang on,” Hank reached over to disentangle him, but Reed jerked away with enough force to bring the IV stand down on his own head.  And it would have if Hank had not caught it before it could strike him.  “Take it easy,” Hank chided as he set the stand back on its feet and then set a stern look on the glowering young man who refused to look at him. 

Quiet stalling!  You owe him some honesty!

Reed rolled over, putting his back to Hank.

I saved his life.  I don’t owe him anything.

On the dresser, near where Reed’s backpack was stuffed into a plastic bag and pushed out of the way, his cell phone screen flashed a notification of an incoming call.

“Want me to get that?”  Hank offered and took a preliminary step toward the dresser.  He stopped at the sight of Reed’s sneakers—stained with blood—also tucked away in a plastic bag. 

Reed spoke without moving.  “No.”

“You sure?  It might be someone—

“Leave it.”

“Okay.  Alright.”  Hank sat back down in the chair. 

//

Hank could hear the sirens in the distance.  ‘Not longer now,’ he said to the motionless young man under his hands.  The bleeding had finally slowed, but the loss of so much blood had left Reed semi-conscious.  ‘Hey, you still with me?’

‘Gotta feed ‘em.’  The slurred statement barely made its way past Reed’s lips. 

‘Feed who?’

‘Catchem.’

‘Catchem?  What’s Catchem?’  Hank wasn’t paying attention.  He was listening for the sounds of help. 

‘Catchem’s Catchem.  Catchem…..cat.’

‘You got a cat?  At Ben’s house?’  Hank raised his voice, ‘C’mon kiddo.  Tell me about this cat.’

‘’jammin’…….’

‘Ben got you a cat?  That was nice of him.’

‘Wassn’t….wants….g’way…..’

‘Reed?  Hey!  Stay with me!’

//

“I fed Catchem.”

Reed flipped over to glare at Hank as if he’d just confessed to a heinous crime.  “What?”

“Your cat.”

“Who told ya?”

Hank kept his face serious.  “You did.”

“Didn’t.”

“You got a little delirious.  Asked me to feed your cat.  So I did.”

The suspicion never wavered in Reed’s eyes.  “Don’t have a cat.”

“Then you’ve got a stranger living at your house.”

“Not my house.”

“Oh, so we’re on the contradiction train now?”  Hank leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.  This was familiar and comfortable ground.  “You must be feeling better.”

“No.”

“You don’t feel better?”

Reed narrowed his eyes, winced, and closed them.  “Don’t feel nothin’.”

Worried by the darkened mood swing, Hank leaned forward, genuine concern coloring his usually careless tone, “Sorry I teased you.  I just didn’t want you to worry about your pet.  Do you want to be left alone now?”

Reed rubbed his face on the blanket, the fabric catching on the rough patches and the butterfly stich.  He brushed a hand over his face.  “Wasn’t.  Wasn’t worried ‘bout nothin’.”

//

A commotion at the small door into the bird’s habitat rattled and swung open as it was unlocked and several first responders followed the zoo staff into the pit along with several uniformed police officers. 

The rest of the time was controlled chaos as everyone tried to do their job at once.  Hank gave a brief outline of the wounds and his first aid to the EMTs and then got out of their way.  He stood to the side, feeling Reed’s rapidly cooling blood turning sticky and crusty by turns. 

‘Sir?  I’ll need your statement?’  A slightly embarrassed DPD officer gave a smile that was more of a grimace. 

‘Of course, of course,’ Hank nodded, trying to see past the EMTs who were working with quiet efficiency, giving Reed a quick evaluation before deciding to transport him immediately. 

‘Wait…wait,’ Reed’s feeble protest caught Hank’s ear. 

‘Yeah?  What?’

‘The dead drop?’

‘Don’t worry about it—

‘Ev’dence…custody—

‘I’ll take care of it,’ Hank snapped.  ‘Let them take care of you.’ 

‘But—

‘I said, I’ll take care of it.’

‘Now.’

‘Get him outta here,’ Hank barked at the EMTs who were of the same mind anyway and already starting to carry Reed out on the stretcher. 

The birds were still flying around and Hank’s nerves were strained to their limit between the birds and Reed’s obstinacy.  He was talking but he couldn’t hear his own voice over the pounding of his heart in his head and the tightness in his chest.  He took a deep breath.  And then began to handle the situation with all the charisma he could muster while his nerves felt like they’d been shredded.

'And somebody get me a shirt!'

//

Except for the usual hospital sounds, beeping machines, feet in the outside corridor, loudspeaker announcements, barely muffled by the room’s heavy door, the room itself was silent.

Neither spoke.

Hank wasn’t even sure Reed was still awake.  He could see the slight rise and fall of the kid’s thin shoulders under the blanket, but he was scrunched down into the mattress, pillow, and blanket so he was mostly hidden from sight.  His arm was curled near his head, half-hiding his face.  Dark hair spilled over his forehead and lay in messy waves over his skin and the fabric gathered around his face.

Probably asleep.

Shouldn’t bother him now.

I’ll just go.

Hank stood.  The chair creaked.  Reed shifted and moved his arm in a sweep that cleared the hair from his eyes.  He was only half-awake judging by the bleariness and open questions that crossed through the uncharacteristically unguarded expression that was rapidly closing itself off as more awareness fought through the drug and sleep induced mind haze.

“I’m going now,” Hank said in a soft voice to try and keep Reed in whatever dreamworld he’d been resting in.  He wanted to say more, but the longer he lingered and the more words he threw out, the quicker Reed would become agitated.  “Bye.”

He was at the door.

“Issn’t been ten.”

Hank turned.  “What?”

“Nothin’.”  Reed blinked heavily and didn’t open his eyes again.  His arm curled around his throat and he hid his face under it.

“I’ll be downstairs.  I’ll give you a ride when they let you out.” 

Hank left before Reed could acknowledge or reject the offer. 

--

Chapter Text

--

“No.  I told you.  I’m stuck at the hospital with one of my officers.  He got hurt.  Yes.  That’s what I said last night….right.  This morning.  Whatever.  Well, I’m sorry I woke you!  Yeah.  Yeah.  Naw, you don’t know him.  Young, obnoxious.  Ben’s partner.  Cute smile?  I don’t know?  Gray?  Okay.  Green whatever.  You’re probably thinking about George.  You know, George Winters?  I brought him over for dinner that one time.  Anyway, doesn’t matter.  Yeah.  Okay.   Sure.  Talk to you later.  Hey?  I’ll buy dinner this time.  Okay.  Love you, bye.”

After ending the call with his wife, Hank barely had time for a short sigh before his phone vibrated with another call.  He swore under his breath when he saw the name glowing on his phone’s screen.  Ignoring the warning stare from the nurse keeping guard behind the nurses’ station, he answered but lowered his voice.

“Hey, Ben.  He’s doing fine.”  Hank resumed his pace around the waiting room.  “I saw him, uh…last night?  This morning.  It was late…or early.  Yeah.  They kept him for observation.  I think there was a problem with the bloodwork—

He held the phone away from his ear and turned down the volume.  “It isn’t anything serious.  I’m sure.  Probably just an infection they wanted to monitor.”  He frowned at the person who’d been sitting in the waiting room since before Hank had arrived.  He didn’t recognize them as anyone he knew—either from personal encounters or the wanted lists that came through his work email every Monday, but they seemed far too invested in his private conversation. 

Maybe they’re just bored.  He knew what it was like trying to find anything to occupy his mind when there wasn’t enough stimulus.  Sometimes, only the intensity of his favorite heavy metal albums could provide his mind with a sense of calm by overpowering every frenzied thought with the force and energy of its complex riffs and solos. 

Ben’s slightly irritated voice recalled Hank from his reverie of times-gone when he’d be in the family garage with his friends improvising new songs on second-hand guitars, thinking they were going to change the world as soon as they came up with the perfect sound. 

But still.  It is weird. 

Hank lowered his voice further and shielded his mouth with a hand as he tried to placate Ben’s worry.  “I don’t know why he isn’t answering your calls.  Maybe you pissed him off?”  He flinched as soon as he’d spoken. 

“Sorry.  I said ‘sorry.’  You’re under a lot of stress right now.  You got to take care of yourself and your family.  I get that.  If Reed doesn’t understand then—well, hell, I’m not surprised.  No.  Don’t make excuses for him.  I don’t care.  It’s family first, okay?  Yeah….no he didn’t say anything….what?  Yeah.  Antibiotics.  Yeah.  I’ll make sure he follows the whole course.  I promise.  Yes, I’ll watch him.” 

From the corner of his eye, Hank saw a peevish Reed, wearing loose-fitting sweats, limp into the waiting room, looking rumpled with bedhead and with one arm in a sling.  A small brace had been added since Hank last saw him—Reed’s medical file was probably full of readmissions and the doctor had been inspired to invest in preventative treatment.  

But for all the storm-cloud vibes radiating from him, Reed seemed weighed down by the backpack on his shoulder and even the hand that dangled the sneakers by their laces was motionless. 

“Gotta go now,” Hank said and ended the call.  He smiled at Reed.  “How’d it go?”

“Walkin’ ain’t I?”

Great.  This should be fun. 

A night and day in the hospital had not done anything for Reed’s mood, and a mandatory brace certainly wasn’t going to improve it.  At least there was more of his usual color to his skin thanks to the life-saving blood transfusion. 

“Reminds me,” Hank muttered.  “Need to organize a blood drive at the station.  If we’re using it all up, least we could do is give some back, eh?”  He nudged Reed with his elbow and nearly threw the kid off the chair arm where he’d perched to put on his shoes. 

Reed caught his balance, but landed his weight on the wrong leg; his face contorted and he yelped more from surprise than pain.  “Phck.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hank grabbed Reed’s elbow to steady him.  “Forgot.  Forgot.”

“Get off.”  Reed moved away from Hank, putting several chairs between them, and resumed his fight with the footwear.

Hank sheepishly approached him.  “You got that or do you need—

He put his hands up when Reed snarled at the mere suggestion that he might need help.  “Okay never mind.  You got it.  I know.  Leaving you alone.” 

Shoes finally on, Reed tied the laces singlehandedly and tucked in the ends.  He bowed his head for a second and drew a shallow breath, probably gathering his energy, before standing and scowling at Hank. 

“C’mon,” Hank said.  He noted the way Reed’s foot was reluctant to touch the ground.  Drugs or no, that leg injury was going to be painful while it healed.  “Car’s waiting.”

They waited by the elevator in silence—except for the nearby display that showed singing and dancing superheroes promoting world peace and various vaccinations. 

“Oh, by the way,” Hank spoke offhandedly.  Reed seemed more interested in the PSA than in actual conversation.  “Ben called—

“So.”  Reed snapped the monosyllable without taking his eyes from the PSA’s flamboyant visual effects. 

“Hey,” Hank pointed a finger at him.  “Don’t bite my head off.  Ever hear of pleasant conversation?”

Reed scoffed and then smothered a yawn and shook his head. 

Fine.  Whatever. 

Hank wasn’t going to get involved in the drama between Reed and Ben.  He had enough to manage in his personal and in his professional life without worrying about those two.  If Ben wanted to mentor an ungrateful little gremlin, that was his business. 

Mentoring was for old—older—officers with too much time on their hands.  The only reason Hank had bothered with mentorships in previous years was because it looked good on his record. 

I already did my time.  This is just a favor to Ben.  How do I even get myself involved with other people’s problems?  Oh.  Right.  Policeman.  Hank laughed at himself and got both a glare and a scowl from Reed. 

The elevator finally dinged.  Hank had to admit it was strange to see Reed moving at a normal pace.  Before, he’d have darted inside the elevator and probably would have tried to get the doors to shut before Hank could join him.  Now, he seemed more intent on walking without limping than being the first one everywhere. 

Reed slouched against the elevator’s far wall and leaned there, supported by the handrail, with his arms crossed as best he could and closed his eyes to a narrow slit.  A complete picture of exhausted irritation. 

Hank watched the panel count down the floors with a flash of light and a quiet ‘ding’ for each one passed.  “You need to stop anywhere after we get outta here?”

No answer.

“Tell me something.  Are there like…keywords that tune you into a conversation or are you just always pretending to not pay attention to anyone?”  Hank was talking more to hear the sound of his own voice than to actually try and engage Reed in conversation. 

“I listen.” 

The statement held too much sulk to be definitive.

“Never mind.  Let’s just pick up your meds and then go—

“Don’t wan’t’go t’house.  Don’t,” Reed yawned again.  “Don’t wan’ no more drugs.”  He waved a hand toward his head, but didn’t explain further. 

“Don’t interrupt.  And don’t you want to stop for a change of clothes before we go to work and sort out the mess?”

“Work?”  Reed opened one eye and then the other.  “The station?”

“Yeah.  That’s what I was saying: we need to go to work.  Or you good with parading around Central Station in sweats?”

Reed looked down at himself and frowned.  “No…I’ll change….”

They had left the hospital and were just crossing the street when Reed stopped in the middle of the crosswalk leading from the hospital to the guest parking.  “What mess?  I told y’ta follow the chain of custody protocol!”

“I did.  I was talking about the zoo missing one of their…birds.  Don’t get yourself run over there.”

“Not missing.  ‘s dead.  Pro’lly inna'cinterator now.  Stupid ball’fphckin’disease…what’s the mess?”  Reed stopped again to stare at Hank.  “Wasn’t m’fault.”

“I didn’t say it was.”  Hank kept walking. 

“’kay…good.”

Interesting that he only shows concern for anything while he’s under the influence of drugs.  Wonder if all that animosity isn’t really part of him.  Hard to imagine anyone starting life as a contrary little bas—

“So what mess?”  Reed had caught up, but this time Hank heard the slightly off-balance steps.  He tilted his head as he tried to interpret Hank’s meaning through his face.

“I shot a rare and exotic animal—

“So?”

“Could you not interrupt for five seconds?”  Hank unlocked the car doors and glared at Reed over the top of the car.  Reed crossed his good arm over the sling. 

“And…

I got you hurt.

“And you got hurt.”  Hank watched Reed twitch and drum his fingers on the car’s roof.  “And someone has to take the blame for the mess.”  Reed rested his forehead against the car and didn’t say anything.  After a moment of silence, he looked up again.  Hank sighed and then nodded.

“Didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”

Hank rolled his eyes.  “You’re impossible.  C’mon.  Get in.”

“But—

“Just get in.  I’m tired and I wanna get this over with.”

“But—

“I will leave you here.”

“Fine.”  Reed stepped back and crossed his arms as best he could with the sling, though he lost the impression he wanted to give because he spent too much time trying to find a comfortable place to set his hand—under or over the sling.  He decided on what looked like a one-armed self-hug.  “Go.”

“No.  I need you at the station for paperwork.  Get in.”

Reed scowled and crossed his arm the other way over his chest.  “Make up yer mind.”

“Get in.”

They drove in silence.  Silence except for Reed constantly fussing with the sling.  Everything about it seemed to bother him.  Currently he was futilely trying to force the velcro on the strap that crossed behind his neck to lie flat, but the cheap material continued to twist upon itself.    

“Yeah.  I hate those things too,” Hank said. 

Reed paused, one hand on his neck holding the strap flat like he wanted.  “Hate what?”

“Those cheap slings.  I had one when I was a kid.”  Hank tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he turned into Ben’s neighborhood.  “Fell off the monkey bars.”

“When?”

“Told you, when I was a kid.”  Hank softened his voice toward the end, realizing that Reed wasn’t being belligerent with the question.  He probably just wasn’t paying attention. 

“No,” Reed’s foot twitched and he snapped an elastic strap on the sling, wincing at the vibration it sent through his injured arm.  “When?  When you were a kid?”

Hank navigated a turn in the road.  Maybe Reed was being difficult on purpose just to shut down the conversation.  At least I tried.

“I meant,” Reed’s voice was low and his words came slowly like he was ashamed of making the clarification.  “How old?  When you broke yer…your arm?”

“Oh.  That,” Hank hummed to himself, waving another driver through the four-way stop.  “Maybe six?  Learned my lesson about gravity and never forgot it.  High place are bad places.  What about you?  What’s the first time you busted yourself?”

Reed’s head was down as he pulled at the stitching in the sling’s thick seams.  “Dun…don’t know…they said I jumped off a landin’ an’ hit a vase ‘r somethin’.”

“Ouch.  Sounds like it probably hurt.”

“Dunno.  Don’t remember it anyway.”

“Yeah.  Probably for the best, huh?  Well, here we are!”

Hank waited in the car while Reed disappeared into Ben’s house for a change of clothes.  Hank frowned at the number of newspapers scattered around the lawn.  He should know better.  The mailbox was probably stuffed full too.

It took a little while, but soon enough Reed was limping back to the car.  His face was tight with pain and Hank wondered if the kid had knocked his wound while rushing to change clothes.  Speaking of which, the change hadn’t really helped the illusion of a professional appearance.  Apparently, Reed’s spare wardrobe was no better than…anything else he ever wore.  At least the black hoodie wasn’t faded and there were no holes in the pants except for the torn cuff hems that were half an inch too long for the kid.   

“You okay?”  Hank asked as Reed slid into the car.

A grumble was the only answer.  Reed tucked his hand inside the sleeve and poked a finger through a hole near the wrist. 

“What?”

“Said, thanks fer feedin’ cat.”

“Oh.  Sure.  Anytime.”

--

Chapter Text

--

Reed blinked awake and stretched with a soundless yawn.  The car wasn’t moving.  The engine wasn’t running.  Half-awake, he fumbled for the door.

“Take it easy,” Hank warned when he saw the young man’s frenzied, half-conscious movements.  “At least wait until you’re awake before you throw yourself out of a vehicle.”

Reed stopped chipping his nails in his struggle against the slick surface of the door’s manual lock.  The bulky sling and brace slowed him, but he turned in his seat and leveled a glare at Hank who was sitting with one foot propped against the dashboard, reading news on his phone. 

“Still nothing about the zoo,” Hank muttered to himself as he dragged a languid finger down the phone’s screen.  “That’s just irresponsible reporting.”

“Yer jus’ sittin’ere?”

Reed sounded a little breathless with pain or irritation; Hank didn’t care to differentiate.  He had other matters on his mind.  He shrugged.  “What’s your hurry?  Besides I didn’t want to…wake you up.”

Why rush to the execution? 

“Wasn’t sleepin’!” 

Reed wasn’t the only one who was tired.  Hank hadn’t exactly had a good night’s sleep either.  Or a hot meal.  Or a decent cup of coffee.  Difference was, Hank wasn’t using drugs to dull his pain and he didn’t have a generous and warmhearted officer to do him the kindness of driving him around while he took naps at every opportunity. 

In response to the catalyst of Reed’s ill-temper and the complete unfairness of the universe, Hank’s blood pressure shot to a whole new level.  He’d expected Reed would be a little more friendly after the whole ‘I saved your life and fed your cat’ thing. 

But no.

Reed was never going to change.

And it was time to reestablish a few basic boundaries.

“Hey.”  Hank dropped his foot from the dash and set a firm stare on Reed who matched it with a flat glare.  “Don’t shout at me.  I’ve been the king of nice for the past week but I’m getting sick of you and your—

“What?  Jus’ now?  Alla’sudden?”  Reed sneered as he yanked the lock out of its socket and kicked open the door.  “’bout time ya dropped the act.  Knew ya were fakin’ the whole time.”  He slammed the door with enough force to rattle the glass in the window.

Fake?  Hank’s thoughts stuttered around the word.  The broken lock seemed to fill his entire sight, but he didn’t care about the damage to his car.  I spend all that time and effort trying to watch out for him and he just throws it into my face like that?  Accuses me of being fake?  Fake?!

Hank could barely see or think through the cloud of indignation that permeated his thoughts and vision.  He jumped out of the car and chased after Reed who’d somehow already disappeared.  That was alright.  He knew the quickest way to the station. 

He had never been considered light on his feet, and his pounding footsteps thundered throughout the parking garage.

He caught up to the delinquent at the exit that led to one of the DPD’s side entrances reserved for its officers.  Reed was delayed at the door’s security panel trying to scan and authorize his badge.  By the sound of the reject beep and red flashing light, he wasn’t having much luck. 

Hank raised his hand to grab Reed’s shoulder.  “Don’t you ever dare talk to me like that, you—

Reed pivoted with a hiss before Hank could touch him.  “Smile.  You’re on camera.”  The warning was venomous, and Hank was reminded of a small, vicious creature—the sort that lurks in dark places with violence as its first defense.  “And they’re real.”  His hand clenched into a white fist.

And if viciousness ran in Hank’s blood, he would have cared more about Reed’s paranoia and petty gloating over imaginary victories.  As it was, Hank couldn’t care less about being seen on camera giving a mouthy junior detective a long overdue lecture. 

“I don’t care what you think about me personally, but while I’m wearing this,” he unclipped his badge and shoved it in Reed’s face.  Reed threw out a defensive hand and Hank snatched Reed’s badge out of his hand, “and while you’re wearing that,” he held it up before throwing it back—surprised that Reed had enough wherewithal to catch it, “You.  Will.  Respect.  Me.”  Hank clenched the badge in his fist. 

“Or what?  Huh?  Gonna throw me to dino-birds t’eat?”

Reed’s stare dropped when he spoke, but the blunt accusation stung Hank deep in his core, but he ignored the wound.  He couldn’t show weakness now.  He had to put Reed in his place or they’d be right back where they started when Reed was still a newcomer and searching for a fight with anyone who crossed his path.  “Don’t act like you’re the innocent victim here.  This whole mess is—

My fault.

Hank choked on his own principles.  But he couldn’t admit fault to Reed.  Not now.  Not when he was already gloating, thinking he’d won because he riled up the officer. 

Reed didn’t know—or maybe he did—but he’d won the moment Hank panicked in the aviary and pushed him over the ledge and almost got him killed.  The reports and statements were already in, the meeting with Fowler was a mere formality.  It was only a matter of time before the story hit the headlines and his whole life came crashing down. 

But still…couldn’t Reed give him just a few more minutes to enjoy the remnants of his old dreams of promotion and glory?  Was the kid really that vindictive?

Anger and fear for the future fueled his rage-laden confrontation.  He didn’t have a purpose anymore.  He didn’t care about Reed.  He just needed a release for the frustration.

Somewhere deep inside, he knew he was ranting in a parking garage.  His echoing voice played again and again in his own ears, a soundtrack of mockery to the loss of control. 

But he couldn’t help it.  He couldn’t stop himself. 

And he hated himself for it. 

And he hated Reed for making him behave like an out-of-control, raving drunk.

“No!  Don’t put that on me!  If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!  I’m the superior officer.  I’m in charge!  You were the one who wouldn’t obey!  And,” he tacked it onto his outraged list, “If I want to spend an extra ten minutes sitting in my damn car then so be it.  And if I say you were sleeping, then you were!  Stop trying to deny every f—king thing every f—king chance you get!”

He half-wished Reed would shout back, but the kid was entirely unaffected by the tirade that had exploded in his face.

An urge to force Reed to react seized Hank.  He wanted some acknowledgment of his outburst.  Some sign that he wasn’t alone in the whirlwind. 

The squeal of brakes and shattering glass recalled Hank to dull reality.  A traffic accident on the busy roads outside.  Reed edged away from Hank, leaving behind the safety of the security cameras to peer over the edge of the parking garage’s barrier. 

Young voice and elderly screaming accusations and insults over damages.

The answering sirens of a squad car.

“They survived so now they’re gonna try to kill each other,” Reed muttered.

“Then homicide will deal with it.”

Hank held his badge against the panel and it beeped red at him. 

“Doesn’t work.”  Reed spoke from directly behind him.

Hank noisily spat on the panel’s scanner and wiped his sleeve over it.  He slapped his badge against the scanner and held it there.  The panel flashed green and the door’s locks slid back.  “You just don’t have the magic.”

Reed’s muttering was amplified by the enclosed space of the narrow corridor as he trailed after Hank, his limp more pronounced than before.  “So even ‘is spit’s magic?”

--

Hank led the way into Fowler’s office.  Anger and shame had left his skin blotchy and red.  His fellow officers knew the signs, so they stayed out of his way. 

“Here,” he announced with a cheerful grin, throwing out his arms.  “Alive and well!  Happy to see me?” 

A scowling Reed ducked under Hank’s outspread arms, and crept to the chair nearest the wall.

“Sit, both of you.”  Fowler didn’t look up until he finished typing a line of text on his computer terminal.  From the strained expression on his face, it wasn’t good news for the recipient. 

“That about me?”  Hank joked.  He clenched his fists.  Saw Reed looking at him and deliberately let his hands swing loose at his sides.

Reed set his backpack next to the chair before dropping into the furniture.  He slouched and propped his feet against the bottom of the desk, the tips of his shoes fit neatly into the gouges in the trimming.  He pressed his hand against his leg where the stitches held his skin together.

Hank remembered applying pressure, trying to keep the kid from bleeding out.

Why did the universe want to punish him—one of the few decent people and a good cop who could change the world—when selfish and cruel people like Reed could survive?

It isn’t fair.

“Either of you care to amend your reports?”

Reed chewed a hangnail and shook his head. 

Hank stood at attention with his hands folded behind his back.  He knew when his old friend wasn’t playing games.  Time to face the music. 

“I stand by what I wrote.” 

The one thought that had kept him going for the past day since the whole incident was the chance that Jeffrey would cover for him one more time.  He’d accept whatever the consequences were, he was honest in his report after all.  But Jeffrey was a fair man.  He would see that there was room for leniency.   

“And you Reed?”

Nod.

“Sit, Hank.  And stop acting like a martyr.”

A sound from Reed’s corner sounded suspiciously like a sneeze crossbred to a snicker.  But his head was downward and his attention on the stubborn hangnail, so there was no reliable evidence.

Fowler continued.  “Let me make sure I got this straight.  You were both investigating vandalism in the zoo.  Saw nothing of interest until Reed locates what appears to be a dead drop.  Reed, you say you found it alone while Hank was speaking with zoo management.  That you climbed down and slipped trying to retrieve it.  Hank arrived in time to stop a giant dinosaur bird from murdering you?”

Hank stared.

Reed nodded.  “Like a phckin’ superhero,” he muttered around the now bloody hangnail. 

“And Hank?  You say that you pushed him.”

Reed froze.  His eyes locked on the empty surface of the desk’s panel. 

“Accidently,” Hank murmured the correction, his only defense, half-heartedly.

“Accidently pushed him,” Fowler confirmed without changing his impassive tone.

“Yes.”

“Reed?”

Reed was pale, even paler than when he’d been in the hospital.  A hectic flush of red swept over his cheeks.  Droplets of blood spread over his hand from tiny crescent-shaped marks.  “I slipped.  He ‘ad nothin’….nothing to do w’it….with it.”  He jumped up and slammed his hand on the desk, almost falling flat on his face without the support of the other.  “’e wasn’t even there!”

Hank hadn’t expected the idiot to try to cover for him.  That wasn’t…

That wasn’t what he’d expected.  It wasn’t like Reed to be selfless.  It was always someone else’s fault.  Reed was always trying to shift blame. 

Why not now?

Was this Reed’s clumsy way of trying to force a favor from Hank?  The idea of a subordinate trying so blatantly to establish some sort of quid-pro-quo…it made Hank feel sick. 

What sort of person does he think I am? 

It wouldn’t be the first time Reed overreached trying to move up the ladder using less than ethical stratagems. 

Fowler shook his head.  “Sit.”

Reed sat.  He held his slung arm tightly against his chest, trying to hide the erratic pulse that revealed itself in his unsteady breathing.

Fowler continued again, “I don’t like this.  I don’t like officers giving contradictory statements.  Know why?  Because it means someone’s lying and it’s probably you, Reed—

“I’m not!”  The indignation was so real Hank almost bought it even though he knew it was a lie because the truth was that he was the one who pushed Reed over that edge.  Why would Reed try to cover that up when he had so much more to gain by throwing the blame on Hank. 

What’s his angle here?

“Hank?  Hank?”

Hank blinked out of his inner turmoil.  “He’s not lying.  Not really.  He…I….well….it’s like…..I wanted to be finished with the case.  Reed could have reached the dead drop and retrieve it, but I didn’t want to deal with it that night.  So I grabbed him and he lost his balance.”

“So it is your fault.”  Fowler glared at Hank.  “And yours.”  He transferred the glare to Reed.  “I don’t know why I expected anything different from you two.  Pair of troublemakers.  Go.  Rewrite these reports with a little more mutual truth.  Then come back.  You have ten minutes.”

--

“Reed, a word?”  Hank corned Reed in the breakroom while the kid was trying to get a cup of coffee. 

Apparently, a ten-minute deadline didn’t trouble the junior detective nearly as much as it should have.

“’bout what.”  Reed poured the coffee pot’s cold dregs down the breakroom sink.  The dark brown liquid splashed out over the rim and speckled the countertop.  Reed brushed them away with his sleeve. 

Hank stood near and kept his voice low.  “You won’t get any favors from me.”

“Great.”  Reed over-emphasized the consonants as he watched the water rise to the fill line and a little beyond.  “Don’t need ‘em.” 

The blasé response conveyed the most honesty Hank had ever heard from Reed.  He watched the kid pour the water into the machine, thrust the pot under the drip and jab a few buttons, seemingly at random, and spinning knobs for the hell of it. 

Insight struck late again. 

Oh.

It was all a misunderstanding, wasn’t it? 

Hank would need a wall of whiteboards and a team of codebreakers to find out exactly where the miscommunication started, but somewhere along the line of their interactions and arguments, he and Reed had stopped having the same conversation.  Hank couldn’t unsee the painfully obvious truth now. 

The statements and reports had been filed hours ago.  Reed had always planned to take the blame.  Just like I had. 

But it wasn’t because he was looking to get favors out of it or knock Hank from his pedestal.  Reed was a clumsy detective, seeming to fall into evidence more often than actually discovering it, but he did understand the value of solid evidence.  He wouldn’t have made a power play on something as weak as hearsay.  He’d have known it would be his word against Hank’s. 

No.  When…if Reed ever made a move against Hank, it would be with something much definitive than ‘he pushed me and I got hurt.’    

But that endgame didn’t explain why Reed would try to take the fall for this incident. 

Unless I’ve been completely wrong about him.  But that can’t be!  I know him!  He’s selfish and ambitious and he’ll do anything to advance his career—

“Anything.  Else?”  Reed’s impatience snapped Hank’s line of thought. 

“You forgot to put the grounds in.”

“What?”

“Filter.  Coffee grounds.  Unless you just want to drink hot water?”

Reed half-turned, suspicious, and lifted the coffee machine’s lid.  Scowling, he slammed it shut and stormed out of the room as best he could with a limp.  Hank saw him collapse into his chair and start up the terminal to begin amending his report. 

Hank didn’t want coffee anyway either.

--

The two detectives handed in their amended reports.  Hank’s was about a page in length; Reed’s barely stretched to the middle of the page.  Fowler glanced over them and added the documents to his inbox.  He typed into the computer.  “Exercise more caution in the future.”  He continued to work at the computer.  “Reed.  Next time, listen to your officers when they’re speaking to you.  And cassowary is spelt with a ‘C’.”

Silence. 

Hank looked at Reed but the kid had slouched down until his hood folded up against his neck and his head lolled against the makeshift shoulder pillow of his rumpled clothing.  Hank frowned.  “That it?  Can I go find some real work to do now?” 

“Not quite.  The zoo wishes to thank you for the sizable donation to its cassowary conservation fund.  They’re inviting you to name its newest rescue.”

“Sizable….what the f—k?  And they want me to name it?  How about f—king bird?”

“How about, I-can’t-believe-I-ruined-my-career-by-shooting-a-f—king-oversized-pigeon.”

Hank grimaced and sighed.  He looked at Reed.  “What’s his name again?”

“Reed?”

“What?”  Reed muttered and sat up straighter. 

“Hey,” Hank said and kicked the chair’s legs, jolting Reed into full wakefulness.  “What’s your name again?”

“Reed?”  The kid’s eyes narrowed. 

“First name you twerp.”

“Gavin.”

“Yeah.  Thought so.  That’s it.  Call it Gavin.”

“M’name’s Reed.”

Hank ignored the junior detective and nodded at Fowler.  “C’mon, Jeff it’ll be funny.”

“What’re you talkin’bout?”  Gavin stood and looked from Hank to the captain. 

“Sit down,” Fowler said.  Gavin sat, looking irritated.  “The replacement bird at the zoo needs a name.”

Gavin glared at Hank.  “And you gonna call it my name?  You shot it!   Call it your freakin’ name!”

“I’m not getting a bird named after me.  I hate them.”

“Ain’t getting’ my name.”  Gavin crossed his arms.  He scowled at his feet pressed against the desk. 

“You both stay here until you’ve come up with a good name.”  Fowler walked out of the office. 

Gavin glared at his feet while Hank stared at the wall. 

It’s always a rollercoaster with him.  One minute everything’s fine.  The next….I have no idea what he’s thinking….

“You know,” Hank said.

Gavin looked up and followed Hank’s line of sight to the wall decorated with Fowler’s achievements and medals.

The day lasted too long, or maybe not long enough.  And it was time to be done until the next day.  Hank saw Gavin sitting on a bench at the bus stop, his head resting on the top of the backpack on his lap.  His phone held loose in his hand.  Hank had never seen him use public transport.  If he didn’t have a ride with Ben, he was usually running the streets on his own two feet.

“C’mon,” Hank said.  “I’ll drop you off.”  He winced at the choice of words, but Gavin didn’t seem to notice.  He didn’t even raise his head, and Hank wondered if the kid was actually sleeping out here on the streets.  “Reed?  Gavin?”

Gavin startled upright, catching his balance against the bench with one hand.  His phone dropped and clattered on the sidewalk, spinning away out of sight under the bench.  “You.”  The mumble was so indistinct Hank couldn’t figure out the intonation, but he powered forward with his plan.

“You don’t want to get on that germ transporter do you?”  Instead of waiting for the inevitable ‘what,’ he added, “I’m offering you a ride.  You take the bus you might catch infection.”  While Gavin worked out a response, Hank dropped to a crouch and fished under the bench for the fallen phone.  “Here, sorry about that.”  He held it out. 

Gavin accepted it, careful not to come into contact with Hank’s fingers.  “’kay.”

--

Hank drove up to the curb in front of Ben’s house.  “Sure has changed,” he mused.  The curtained windows, overgrown weeds, and total absence of light from the dark house negated the effect of the small, wilting perennials that Ben tried to maintain in little hanging planters around the front door.  “Whole front yard used to be crawling with garden ornaments.”

Gavin spat out the damp backpack strap he’d been holding between his teeth and opened the door, its broken lock hung limp from its socket; he inched out of the vehicle while Hank was reminiscing. 

“Sure you don’t want to spend the night at my place?”  Hank offered.  “The wife won’t mind, I’m sure.”

Safe on the curb, Gavin shook his head and gingerly shouldered his backpack.  “’s’okay.”  He’d been subdued the entire drive.  Not sulking.  Just tired.  And a little thoughtful.

“I’ll come get you in the morning?”

Gavin hid a yawn in his shoulder.  “Naw,” he picked at the weave of the backpack’s strap.   

“You sure?”

Gavin nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Okay.  Don’t forget to take your meds.”  Hank felt better on this ground.  It felt sort of…neutral.  He didn’t like being the angry, authoritarian superior officer.  And he didn’t like being the disappointed mentor.   That was Ben’s job.

“Yeah.”

“Ben will be back soon”

“Sure.”  Gavin slammed the door. 

Hank watched Gavin swat the mailbox latch with an open palm and pull out a wad of envelops and advertisements, holding the bundle to his chest, he closed the mailbox with his shoulder and headed up the driveway to the house.

--

Chapter Text

--

“Phck.” 

Gavin slammed the door and leaned against the cold faux wood paneling; he closed his eyes and let his backpack slide from his shoulder to the floor.  He barely felt the weight leave his tired shoulders.  Didn’t even hear it hit the floor.  He dropped the bundle of mail. 

Finally.

He exhaled, quietly emptying his lungs, and pressed his fingers against his closed eyes until lights exploded behind his lids. 

The zoo, Anderson, Fowler, the car, the parking garage.  Places and things.  It all rang in his head.  A loudspeaker with too much static.  All melded into a shifting cacophony that took on a new face and a different voice every second until nothing was recognizable.  It all crowded upon him, demanding recognition, categorization, understanding.

He wanted to run.  To feel the pavement under his feet, to test himself against the impersonal challenge of the emotionless city.  Feel the smoothness of metal and glass sliding away under his palms.  The crisp night air and the wild thrill of empty black space and death-below as he flung himself off roofs and walls and railings.  No thinking ahead, no planning.  Just act and react.  Simple, sheer existence. 

But no.

He glared at his arm trapped in its brace and sling. 

He couldn’t.

He’d nearly broken his neck when he’d jumped down that level in the parking garage to get away from Anderson.

Not that it did any good.  Stupid busted door lock. 

He banged the back of his head against the door.

The noise faded into a background hum—like the ringing phones at the DPD on a busy Sunday afternoon as he tried to finish overdue reports on boring cases.  If it was a clear day, the afternoon sun would cover his desk in comfortable warmth that counteracted the freezing AC that was always blowing on him.

He drew in a deep breath.   

The stale air carried the taste of a fruit-sweet perfume that hung on the walls and carpet like a familiar ghost, but Gavin frowned at the intruding musk of Hank’s cologne. 

“Phck.”  He sneezed and rubbed a sleeve over his face.  “Wha’the?”  He swore and held his arm out from himself.  He smelt like Anderson.  Anderson’s car more likely.  Or Anderson’s car stank like Anderson and now it was on him and it was gonna get on him permanently—

He struggled out of his hoodie and flung it to the ground.  His chest heaved with frantic, shallow gasps. 

The pile of mail spread over the carpet. 

“Dammit.”  Gavin snapped the door bolt into place and picked up the mail.  He hated moving slowly.  Such a waste of time.  He grabbed the mail and threw it onto the sideboard on top of the pile of everything he’d collected from the mailbox ever since Ben had left.

‘Stay out of trouble and bring in the mail while I’m gone, okay?’  That’s all Ben had said.  And then he was gone without any explanation. 

Not that Gavin wanted any explanation.  Don’t need ‘em; don’t want ‘em.  He stared blankly at the assortment of mail:

Unwieldly sales flyers: DAILY DEALS EVERYDAY!

Car ads: BUY NOW PAY LATER!

Political postcards accusing one another of one-liner crimes in overdramatic fonts.

Pamphlets: GRAND OPENING!

FINAL SALE!

bills, letters,

wrong addresses,

invitations to neighborhood BBQs,

children’s and home & garden magazines.

Gavin tapped a finger against his lip where it had split again. 

Ben had a lot of stuff.  But he liked to keep things neat. 

Gavin tried to push the eclectic pile of different textured and sized postal correspondence into a better pile, but he bumped it with the sling and the enormous heap avalanched and half the pile fell in a cascade behind the sideboard. 

Mouth set in a line with his tongue poking from the corner, Gavin pushed what remained of the pile with his fingertips until it disappeared behind the furniture with a prolonged ‘shliiiiffp.’ 

Shrugging at the now neat tabletop, he eased himself onto the carpet to pet the meowing cat begging for his attention.  “Good kit-cat,” he murmured as he ran his hand over the soft fur.  His touch was gentle but his eyes still burned with the irritation at having to endure the smell of Anderson’s cologne.  He glared at the hoodie on the carpet. 

“How’s that sh—t even legal?”  He muttered as he bad-temperedly kicked the offending garment out of sight under the side table.  He misjudged the second kick and accidently struck the solid wood frame.  The force of it sent pain surging through the still raw wound in his leg, doubly sore from the numerous stitches. 

He hissed and bit his lip.  Pain was nothing.  He could handle it. 

But it didn’t stop.  He let himself crumple to the floor and slouched against the door.  Nobody was here to see him fail again anyway.  Not Ben.  Not Anderson.  No one. 

A howl raged inside his brain, heating all his thoughts to a feverish pitch.

He stared at the wall. 

There were no doors he could slam inside his own head.  Nothing he could lock as effectively as he locked himself inside Ben’s house.  None of it did any good anyway.  It was all useless. 

He dropped his forehead against his knees, not caring that he was pulling the stitches to their breaking point.  It didn’t matter.  His slung arm ached as he put pressure on it.  Just a hairline fracture.  Hardly worth the brace, but the doctor hadn’t listened to him.  Said if he didn’t wear it, the insurance wouldn’t cover the treatment. 

The quiet alarm on his phone reminded him to take the next dose of pills. 

It didn’t matter. 

Whether he took the pills or not.  Maybe they’d work.  Maybe they wouldn’t.  There was always more pain in the future. 

It didn’t matter. 

You can’t keep up with Anderson if you don’t take your meds.  You’ll be left behind like a pathetic failure.

Gavin itched the dry skin on his face and then rubbed his hand up through his hair and gripped it in a fist. 

Anderson had let him investigate the bird place on his own.  The officer had actually trusted him to do something important for the case on his own.  It was just that stupid dead drop that ruined everything.  If Anderson had just let him grab it—

It would have been something good, a success.  He would’ve done something right.  Could’ve shown Anderson that he wasn’t just some ugly idiot always making a mess.  He could’ve proved that he was a smart detective too.  That everything else wrong with him didn’t matter.  He sighed and drooped his head, but anger surged again. 

Stupid Anderson.  Thinks he’s so great. 

Gavin dragged his hand down his face and pulled at the tight skin around the scar. 

A vague feeling of hatred for Anderson welled around the inexplicable, almost sickening, need to impress him, eating away at it like waves at an eroding shore. 

Don’t need to impress anyone.  They’re all just in the way.

Gavin yelped and startled out of his bitter thoughts when Catchem’s claws pricked his leg and pulled at the fabric.  “Okay, okay, gettin’ yer food now.”  He gently unhooked the sharp claws and patted the cat again.  “Whatcha wanna bite me fer, huh?”

Catchem meowed petulantly. 

“Alright, jus’ a sec.” 

He shut off the reminder on his phone and then dug into his backpack for the package that held his prescription pain meds.  Violently twisting the cap until it popped off with the cheap sound of breaking plastic, he shoved two of the large pills down his throat.  He gagged and shook his head.  There.  That’s done. 

Licking the chalk taste away, he jammed the lid onto the bottle and threw it into his backpack.  Sighing, he let himself fall flat on the carpet, his spare arm flung out to the side. 

His cat sat on his chest and impatiently kneaded the soft place just below his throat.  Gavin smoothed his hand over the small white ears.  As much as he wanted to lie on the floor and sleep, he forced himself to move.  “’kay…’kay…c’mon kitty.  Think there’s some chicken still.  Off, off, get off.  I can’t carry you right now.  See?”  He lifted his backpack to his shoulder.  “All busted up.”

He used the wall for support to stand.  The pain in his leg was abating, but it was only a matter of time before it turned to agony again. 

He continued chatting to the cat as he entered the kitchen; he threw his backpack on the table and then searched through the nearly empty fridge for another container of leftovers.  He pushed aside a few that looked like they were full of fuzz and slime. 

“How’s this?”  He cracked open the lid of a glass container.  “Yeah.  Looks alright.”  He stared up at the cupboards above his head.  Normally, no trouble to get to.  Now, they seemed miles away. 

Don’t be pathetic. 

Lip between his teeth, he climbed onto the counter to retrieve his cat’s food bowl from the top cupboard where he kept his things safe from anyone who might try to take them away.  He snatched a small bag of cheetos from his hidden stash.  He tossed the chips over his shoulder to the table and polished the food bowl on his shirt. 

He climbed down, stumbling lightly, off-balance from the sling and the leg wound.  He threw too much weight at the wrong time and he hissed with pain when the stitches pulled the inflamed skin. 

That was okay.  He could afford to lose a few stitches.  No big deal.

Pain radiated through the deep wound and he leaned heavily against the counter, tapping his knuckles against it, until the wave of dizziness passed.  The pain faded and he continued preparing the cat’s dinner.  He tried to occupy his whole mind with the simple task.

“Foods, foods,” he murmured as he placed some meat into the bowl and stroked the cat’s back as it tried to eat and purr simultaneously.  Content that his cat was content, Gavin grabbed a mouthful of chicken for himself. 

The texture of overcooked chicken in his dry mouth overwhelmed him.  He heaved and spat the mouthful into the sink, rising it away before he could be sick again.  “Phck.”  He leaned his head against the arching faucet, enjoying the feel of the cool metal against his skin. 

Getting himself a glass of water, he returned to the table and sat in his chair, the one with the broken rung.  Hooking his foot around the loose rung, he upturned his backpack on the kitchen table. 

The broken RALPH unit from the cassowary pit tumbled out. 

Gavin chewed the side of his hand as he stared at the damaged robot.  He’d grabbed it on impulse, but now—

Technically…it’s garbage.  And it was okay to take garbage, wasn’t it?  Nobody cared about trash.

He rested his head on his slung arm and wiggled the limp crane appendage.  The ‘arm’ rattled and swung loose on its base, catching on a bent frame and clump of tangled wires. 

Might just screw it up worse…like always. 

He brushed a hand over his face.  The meds were already starting to blur his mind and make it difficult to focus.  “Not so hard,” he murmured as he wove his fingers into the mess of wires and began idly untangling them, separating the damaged from the intact.  Many of them were only disconnected—the bird had probably yanked on the wires out of curiosity. 

Maybe if he could just…Ben kept a soldering kit in the garage.

Pushing aside the drowsiness from the drugs, Gavin went into the garage.  Climbing around all the boxes Ben kept was a bit difficult with only one working arm, but at least when he fell it was only a few feet.  He ignored the sticky warmth seeping from his leg. 

He could afford to break a few stiches.  There were enough in there anyway. 

Hours later, Gavin, sore and bruised, was still working to repair the little robot, tools and bits of mechanical junk strewn over the table and the floor.  Machine grease and oil streaked his clothes and face.  His cat curled on his lap for warmth, the container of leftover chicken going rancid on the counter where it’d been forgotten. 

--

A loud knock startled Gavin from a restless sleep.  His arm knocked a pile of bolts and tiny screws to the floor.  They scattered across the floor.  His eyes snapped open and the morning light blinded him.  He swore and covered his eyes with a hand. 

The knocking continued. 

“G’way,” he rasped to the room. 

Knocking.  Knocking.  Incessant knocking. 

Sighing he sat up and, stumbling across the kitchen, he clambered onto the kitchen counter, wincing at the throbbing in his leg, he peeked out the high window that looked out onto the driveway.  He frowned and tapped his fingers against the dusty sill. 

Anderson, wearing a garish short sleeved zebra-stripe shirt, was leaning against the wall of the porch, one leg propped against the wall, watching a young woman walk her dog across the street.  He waved when she glanced at him.  “How are ya?”  The officer called out in his over-friendly, booming-pay-attention-to-me voice. 

“Ben’s outta town!”  The neighbor of somewhere called over her shoulder. 

“Thanks!  I know!”  Anderson cupped his hands around his mouth.  “Just checkin’ on someone!”

Checkin’ on someone?......Gavin groaned and rested his forehead against the sill. 

“Alright!  Have a nice day!”

“You too!”

Gavin kneaded his fist against his temple. 

That neighbor was always coming around with some excuse or another to ‘talk.’  She didn’t have to walk her stupid dog this way.  It wasn’t even her block.  It was all just an act.  A cover for some affair.  And walking the dog was just to deflect suspicion.  Stopping by Ben’s house was a means of establishing an alibi. 

Sunlight reflected off a passing car and seared his eyes like a laser.  A sharp ethereal clap announced the headache seconds before it stabbed his brain.  Half-blind, Gavin stumbled off the counter and fumbled for his backpack for…something….anything to make the pain stop.  His hand closed around the prescription pain medication and the foil packaging of the antibiotics.  No…where was…

Something crashed into the table’s leg.  Gavin looked up and saw the RALPH until chasing after the tiny screws that had rolled from the table and were scattered all over the floor, some of them still rolling into impossible hiding places. 

“How did….when…”

He didn’t remember finishing the repairs.  In fact, he was certain he’d only broken the robot worse in his attempts to fix it.  But there it was cleaning everything in its path. 

Another painful clench from his headache disrupted his attempt to remember the previous night.  He yanked out a small bottle of OTC…something.  He recognized the label from…some other time….

He pulled off the lid with his teeth and shook out a few.  No, no, no, too many.  Whatever it was, that was just too many.  Just one.  Two. 

He swallowed the pills and leaned back with his head against the counter. 

More knocking. 

He still had the prescription meds in his hand.  He read label slowly, “Take one…twelve hours…as necessary….no more than two in twenty-four…” It said ‘as necessary.’ 

It’s definitely necessary if’m gonna deal with Anderson.

“Hey!  Reed?!  You die in there?  Don’t think I won’t kick in this door.”

“Alright!”  Gavin shouted and flinched.  He pulled himself upright with the counter and stumbled to the front door. 

Stupid meds never work.  What’s the point? 

“’ey stoppit,” he warned the RALPH that was obsessively cleaning a stain in the front hall carpet.  “Go,” he gestured toward the living room.  “Go look fer crumbs.”  Making sure the small robot was out of sight, he opened the door. 

“What do you want?”  Gavin stuck his hand in his pocket. 

“Wanted to check in on you,” Anderson said with a bright smile.  “You look like sh—t.  You sleep alright?  Can I get you anything?  Can I come in?”

“No.”  Keep your stink outside.  Gavin pushed the RALPH back with his foot.  He stepped outside and closed the door, leaning against it and keeping one hand on the lever in case he needed a quick escape.  “I’m fine.”  The sunlight hurt his eyes and he wished he’d grabbed his sunglasses.  He shaded his eyes with his hand. 

“That’s good.  That’s good.”  Anderson nodded more to himself than to the young man before him.  “Yeah.  So…day off, huh?”  He leaned against the wall. 

I don’t want to talk.  Gavin hid his weakness.  “Captain said so.”

“Yeah.  Me too.  It’s like he just woke up and decided to punish us some more, huh?”

Gavin shrugged. 

“I uh….got you something.”

Why can’t he just leave me alone? 

Gavin opened his eyes that had drifted shut at some point during the conversation.  He couldn’t hold back the irritated scowl.  “I don’t need—

“I know, but I wanted to….I thought…..” Anderson handed over a package wrapped in a cloth shopping bag. 

“But I…”  Gavin trailed off as Anderson unwrapped the package and revealed a dark green hoodie with an even darker green leafy camouflage pattern.  A cartoon ocelot slept under the words ‘EASILY DISTRACTED BY.’ 

“It’s a rule.  Don’t leave the zoo without a souvenir.”

“But—

“And a fractured arm and over fifty stitches don’t count,” Anderson added with a somewhat weaker smile that didn’t reach his clouded blue eyes.  “Do you like it?”

“I don’t need…don’t wanna a gift.”  Gavin’s voice started out uncertain but by the end it was firm.  “How’d ya know fifty?”

“Guessed.  Averaged it out.  Last time I had stitches it was like twenty,” Anderson traced a finger across his bicep, “…never mind that.  Here,” he wriggled his fingers.  “You have money?”

“What?  Yeah.  Of course.  Why wouldn’t I?”  Gavin shot a suspicious glare at the inquisitive officer. 

“It cost eighty.  If you don’t want it for a gift, then here’s the receipt.  Pay me for it.”

Gavin hesitated.  Caught in a riptide of confusion, he didn’t know how to respond.  He knew it was bribe of some sort.  But it wasn’t like Anderson to do that.  Anderson didn’t need to use bribes to get what he wanted.  Thought he was different…

“Or whatever.  Never mind.  I’ll just return it.  Forgot it.  See you around.  Sorry to bother you.”  Anderson re-wrapped the garment and strode away down the driveway.

Relieved at the sudden conclusion, Gavin went inside, but he’d no sooner shut the door then the familiar pounding knock rattled the door again.  He yanked open the door.  “What do you—

“Me first.”  Anderson stopped him with an upraised hand. 

Silence. 

Gavin watched the neighbor across the street back their expensive car out of their driveway and roar down the street toward the stop sign. 

“I’m proud of you.”

The car ran the stop, forcing an oncoming van to slam on its breaks. 

Proud of you. 

Gavin’s attention returned in a snap.  “What?”

“Gonna make me say it twice, eh?”  Anderson smirked and shook his head.  “Really enjoying this, aren’t you?  Little sh—t is what you are.  I’m saying that I know it isn’t easy to keep up with me.”  The smirk grew.  “I’m surprised you haven’t asked Fowler to set you up with someone else yet.  But you’ve stuck it out even when I sorta almost got you killed and you were willing to lie for me—

“I didn’t—

Anderson held up a hand to stop Gavin from interrupting.  “I’ve only ever seen you lie for yourself.  This time you acted for someone else.  And I appreciate that.”

Gavin had almost pulled the sling to pieces by now, a piece of loose string was wrapped around his fingers so tightly they were turning purple and the pale scars stood out in a disastrously confused crisscross.  “’kay.”

“Great.  Good talk,” Anderson grinned and clapped his hands together.  “So.  Have a good day?”

“Sure.”  Gavin turned but felt Hank pluck at the fabric of his sleeve.  He brushed the hand away but it was already gone.  “What?”  He turned. 

Much of the flamboyant fun was gone from Anderson’s expression.  “There’s one more thing,” he said.

Gavin stared past Anderson’s shoulder.  “What.”

“Listen,” Anderson swept a hand over his hair pulling out a few blond strands that he dropped onto the patio.  “I’m sorry.  I’m just really sorry.  If I’d been more careful then—

“It’s fine.  Doesn’t matter.  Reports filed.  We done here?”

“Are you listening to me?  I said I was sorry—

“I heard you.”

“Doesn’t it matter to you?”

“Why would it?”

“Finally getting me to admit I was wrong.  To say I’m sorry.”

“You say it to everyone.  What’s the big deal?”

Anderson reached out spontaneously but jerked his hand back.  “Look,” he clenched his fist.  “I—

A series of loud beeps interrupted them.  RALPH zipped out the door and snatched up one of the neglected newspapers on the lawn and zoomed back into the house, holding the paper aloft like a relay champion with a baton, bumping noisily over Gavin’s feet and the doorstep. 

Gavin slammed the door and put his back to it.

“It was broken nobody cared ‘bout it nobody wanted it nobody wants trash they throw ‘em away alla time they were jus’ gonna throw ‘im away!”

Anderson laughed out loud and waved a hand when he saw the flash of suspicion in Gavin’s eyes.  “You’re something else, kid.”  He grinned after another small laugh, “Don’t worry.  I didn’t see a thing.  Your secret’s safe with me.”  He chuckled the entire way down the driveway and into his car.  “Take care of yourself.  I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

Gavin stood and watched Anderson drive away, the top down on his car and the wind ruffling through his blond hair, a heavy metal album screeching out its lyrics and guitar solos into the broad daylight. 

That lady was coming back around the block.  She waved to Anderson as he drove past. 

Something crashed and clattered inside the house. 

Gavin hurried inside to see RALPH pulling down the curtains over the backdoor.  “Hey!  Stoppit.  Frickin’ robot!”

--

--

Gavin bolted from Fowler’s office after another lecture about how to conduct himself as a professional when speaking with the FBI agent on assignment in Detroit.

He vaulted the railing, one hand barely touching its surface, and launched himself into the bullpen; he rolled over an unoccupied desk, scattering the knickknacks, and slid to a stop at his own desk, nearly tipping over his chair as he threw himself into it.  The chair spun twice with the momentum; coming to a stop facing the desk, Gavin set his hands to the virtual keyboard. 

“Nah-ah-ah,” Hank said as he came over as Gavin logged into the terminal. 

Gavin glared up at him.  “Now what?”

“We have to pick up your med refill from the pharmacy.” 

Gavin slunk into his chair and didn’t stir until Hank shook the back of the chair, irritating the younger man into vacating the seat.  “Don’t need ‘em.  Stitches ‘r out.  Arm’s fine.”

“Antibiotics and infection run on their own schedule,” Hank reminded him of the main points of the lecture he’d grown tired of repeating and Gavin of hearing.  “I promised Ben.”  He led the way to the exit and the parking garage.  “We’ll come back later.  And you can work then.” 

“Fine,” Gavin muttered.  He slouched along a few paces behind Hank, soundless, but Hank could see the lanky shadow gliding along in his peripheral vison. 

“What did Jeff—Fowler say in his lecture this time?”

Gavin shrugged.  “Same ol’ sh—t.”

“You’d think the FBI would learn to stop sending that officious little prick Perkins to Detroit.  It never ends well for him.  Though it was pretty hilarious to see his face when you came around the corner with his ‘uncatchable’ suspect in cuffs.”

Hank was almost certain the flat scowl was actually Gavin’s real smile.  Not that murder-inducing gloat that almost made Agent Perkins strike him.  Gavin didn’t react well to others fighting his battles, but Hank did not tolerate anyone threatening someone under his protection. 

And Perkins did not like his authority being publicly undermined.

The whole interdepartmental ruckus only ended with Fowler practicing diplomacy more than he enjoyed. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if we land another ‘punishment’ case though.  Probably end up chasing giant crocodiles in the sewer.”

The scowl turned into a frown. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Hank added.  “I’m kidding.”  He almost patted Gavin’s shoulder, but restrained the habitual gesture.  “I’m sure Perkins has had worse experiences than getting shown up by a,” he made quote fingers, “scrawny child.”

Gavin shrugged and the scowl remained a frown.  Hank left the conversation alone.  The kid was done with it, or thinking thoughts and opinions that he didn’t want to share. 

As they approached the parking garage Hank saw a fleet of pigeons prowling around his car.  He clenched his jaw and grit his teeth.

Gavin sprinted past Hank in a one-person race to the car, and the pigeons flew away in a noisy flurry of color and feathers.  Gavin darted after them to the edge of the parking garage’s concrete barrier where it overlooked the city.  Hank started forward; he knew with all his honed instincts that Gavin was about to jump.

“Reed!”  He snapped. 

The kid stood stalk still on the ledge.

“Get down, now.  Immediately!”

Gavin remained where he was. 

“Thought I was gonna jump?”

“Down,” Hank pointed at the floor.  “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

“Y’know I didn’t get hurt when I fell.”  Gavin turned around with a hop and stared down at Hank.  “That time with the,” he stood on tiptoe and held up his hands above his head in the shape of a bird’s beak opening and closing, “the thing.”

“I appreciate that.  Now.  Down.”

“They’re back!”  Gavin sprinted past Hank and darted at another flock of pigeons that had gathered around Hank’s car again.

“Reed!  You maniac!”  Hank flailed his arms at the birds that flew toward him.  The backs of his knees struck the concrete barrier and he felt himself tipping backward over the void and certain death. 

A strong grip caught the front of his coat and yanked him from the edge.  Hank caught the hands holding his coat, his large warm hands completely encircling the cool thin wrists.

When his vision returned, he was sitting with his back to the short barrier and Reed was sitting cross-legged on the wall, tapping on his phone’s screen.  He brushed a green and grey feather against his throat while he looked at the phone.

“Would you…” Hank cleared his throat, “Would you get down?  Ben’s getting back tomorrow and I don’t want to return him a pancake for a partner.”

Gavin tossed a careless glance over his shoulder at the traffic below.  “At this height?”

“You know what I mean,” Hank curled a finger.  “Off.”

Grumbling, the young man hopped down and pocketed his phone.  He spread his hands in a ‘see’ motion. 

“Get rid of that disease magnet and c’mon.”

With a sideway cast, Gavin tossed the feather over the edge.  He watched it fall toward the traffic like a miniature missile.

“Reed!”

Breaking into a sprint, Gavin cut in front of Hank’s slower but longer strides, forcing Hank to trip over his own feet to avoid a collision. 

“Dammit Reed!  You’re gonna kill someone one of these days!”

A warm updraft caught the feather and spun it out of sight into the blue-gray sky. 

--

End