Chapter Text
By the time the three of them walk through the front door, Johnny has a week's work of chores that says Briggs is going to kill her, and Jakes has another two riding on Charlie getting there first. They're definitely grumpy now because whereas Paige is full of nervous energy, this is the second manhunt of the night for the others, and now they're mostly just tired.
In the kitchen, Paul wraps an arm around her shoulders and gives her a little shake, careful not to press on anything too bruised. Paige nods at him, before untangling herself and slowly approaching Charlie, who's slouched over a cup of coffee and not looking at her.
"Charlie?"
"You conned me," Charlie says blankly. "You knew I'd do everything I could to keep you from leaving, so you conned me into going to pick up Mike."
Briggs reaches to put a hand on her shoulder, but Charlie jerks away. "Chuck…"
"No! Don't 'Chuck' me! Where the hell did everyone in this house get the idea that they have to do everything by themselves? Paige looks like she was hit be a freakin' truck, and Mike's off on a mission to bash some skulls in-"
"One skull," Johnny corrects quietly.
"- and I'm just sitting here, waiting for the rest of you reckless idiots to come home, wondering when we all stopped trusting each other!"
That's completely unfair, considering Charlie has been on the reckless idiot side herself plenty of times, but before she can say anything about it, Enos's cloned cell phone chirps from her pocket.
"What is it?" Paul asks.
"Enos. He's calling in his entire manufacturing operation tonight, and I just got the address."
Charlie tilts the screen so she can see too and frowns. "What? How?"
"I went in as a rival drug dealer and blackmailed him for more than he had on hand."
Silence.
Jakes snorts. "Right. You know, like people do."
"Okay," Charlie sighs. Elbows on the counter and hands laced behind her head, she takes a few deep breaths that blow her hair away from her face, giving them short glimpses of where her eyes are squeezed into thin, tired lines. "Okay." She stands. "Put this out of your head. We'll hunt Mike down, and he'll be here when you get back. Go. Go get your collar."
She should do it. She really should. After everything she's put into this case, she should be the one that gets to finally see the organization crumble out from underneath Luis Enos and watch him hit rock bottom, hopefully collecting a few bruises of his own on the way down.
Paige shakes her head. "I'd rather go get my idiot."
It's not the answer Charlie was expecting, and it reads all over her face. She looks at her oddly, like she's looking for the missing piece that will make this all seem less out of the blue, until Paige looks down at her cast, fiddling with the edge of the hardened plaster so she won't have to see her face when she figures it out. Finally, Charlie nods. "Yeah. I know that feeling."
"So you'll go? Keep an eye on things for me, make sure it gets done right?" And because it seems important all of a sudden, like Charlie might not know, she tacks on, "I want someone I trust there."
Maybe that's exactly what Charlie needed to hear from her because once it's said, she looks like she's back on even footing. Admittedly, she still looks a little unhinged, but they all probably do at this point, and Charlie unhinged is better than plenty of people at their best.
"We'll go," Charlie says, nodding to where Jakes is standing at her side. Jakes look perturbed to be volunteered for another unplanned, late night excursion, but he almost always looks like that, so Paige doesn't feel too badly for him. "You three, go find Mikey. And Paul?"
"Everything short of cuffing her to me," he promises. "She's only got the one arm, you know."
So much for trust.
Finding Mike had sounded easier when they weren't at the point in the plan where they actually had to do something about it. The property holdings from her desk drawer are gone, but Paige had saved the addresses on her phone a while ago, so if they can narrow them down, they'll at least know where to go. Because this whole thing is presumably just Mike, pushed an inch too far and out for blood, they can assume he's trying to track down Enos to make him pay for his sins.
Of the five buildings, one's already been seized by the DEA, and Charlie and Dale are headed to another to catch the manufacturers in the act, so they really only have three to worry about. They could probably each take one and knock the whole thing out in half an hour if Briggs wasn't taking his supervisory role so seriously at the moment. Johnny technically could have struck out on his own, but secretly Paige suspects he isn't all that determined to stop Mike before he gets to do some damage to Enos's face.
So they'll hit them one at a time, driving in uncomfortable silence that's only broken by the crackling of the police scanner installed in the dashboard in place of a CD player. Out of the corner of her eye, Paige sees Paul eyeing her cast before he looks back at the road and tightens his fists around the steering wheel.
"I'm not sorry," she says firmly, trying to cross her arms comfortably over her chest and wincing when the plaster scratches roughly across her collarbone.
"No," Paul sighs. "Course you're not. Who knows, maybe you shouldn't be."
She falters. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he chuckles, sounding like he's ashamed of himself for meaning it. "I'm the last one that gets to have a problem with someone doing something a little unorthodox to get the job done. I might even be impressed."
"Turn here," Paige orders, staring out the window and lowering her eyes when she accidentally gets a glimpse of his reflection in the glass. "Thanks, Paul."
In the backseat, Johnny clears his throat and waves for her attention. "So like, are we gonna have a heart to heart or something? Just seems like everyone else…"
"Floor's yours, Johnny," she groans through a laugh. "Comments? Questions? Concerns?"
"You and Mike are gonna rip each other to shreds," he says without looking at her. "Someone's gonna get hurt, and someone's gonna leave."
Oh.
That's…
"No, we're not," Paige says awkwardly. "And no one's leaving, at least not because of…us."
Johnny shrugs. "Fine by me. Hey, isn't that the club your boy likes?"
It takes her a second to switch gears and figure out what he's talking about, which turns out to be the police scanner reporting on an armed man with a hostage outside a club.
"Yeah," Paige confirms. "That's the place you, me, and…no," she says when she sees the way they're looking at her. "It's not him."
Briggs changes directions anyway.
"It's not him," Paige repeats.
Of course it's him.
LAPD is already on the scene by the time they get there, and Paige has to take the well-meaning officer attempting a negotiation by the back of the shirt and yank him out of her way. Johnny, off all people, slips in to smooth things over, flashing his shield until the first responders yield to the feds and give them some room. She can see Mike now, wild-eyed and more than a little scraped up, but otherwise fine. But before she steps into his view, Briggs snags her by the upper arm and puts his mouth too close to her ear.
"Right now, I can probably spin this so Mike ends up on top," he says lowly, eyes on the police cruisers behind her. "But if Enos ends up dead, I'm not sure I can make that go away."
Something that might be a laugh builds in her throat and she releases it in a long huff. "He wouldn't want you to anyway."
Mike is stooped low, hissing something at Enos, who is mostly on the ground at this point, with his arm wrapped firmly around his throat. Paige winces and coughs, waiting until his head swings towards her to force a smile.
"Hi," she croaks, throat suddenly shriveling until it feels like it's almost closed.
Laughing like he can't quite believe she's really there, Mike nods, resigned. "Hi."
"That's a nice shiner," she says, holding back the teasing voice that says hers is nicer, which she thinks she would have said if they were back at the house, lounging in her bed like they should be. "Let me guess, I should see the other guy?"
She hears Mike snort as she turns her attention to where Enos is half-kneeling. "Hi, Luis. How've you been?"
"Fucking whore!" he spits.
"Charming," she sighs, wrinkling her nose while Mike's arm around his neck tightens until he sputters for slack. He's a little off-color when Mike finally relaxes, and Paige smiles, for real this time.
"So what's the plan, here? Rough him up a little? Make him apologize?" She leans against the dumpster, going to for casual to suck some of the tension out of the alley. "I'm pretty set on being the one to put the cuffs on him, but I'll let you bang his head off the squad car a couple times."
Mike shakes his head, dead serious. "I'm going to kill him."'
Paige nods patiently.
Okay.
For the first time, her eyes catch on the weapon that she'd known was there but was trying not focus on. Frowning, she tilts her head to get a better look.
"Is that my gun?" she asks fondly, thinking of the DEA issued weapon she left in her locked desk drawer.
He nods, and she can see his shoulders start to loosen. "I wasn't trying to frame you or anything. It just seemed…"
"Poetic," Paige agrees. "Romantic, even." Then, laughing, "You big sap, you were going to kill him with my gun."
Enos makes a strangled choking sound that Paige takes as disgust and not actual choking, and she glares him into silence. When she looks back up, Mike is looking at her tightly, eyes strained and opened too widely, lips pursed against his teeth. She knows that look.
Shit, he's going to do it. The reckless idiot is actually going to do it.
"Mike-"
"I have to, Paige," he says desperately. "He told me…everything, and I just…"
The moment he says it, she can picture it clearly. Enos cornered in the alley, stupid enough to play mind games with the guy who has a gun on him. He would have tried to gain the upper hand, tried to throw Mike off balance by telling him how it felt to hear her ribs snap against the restaurant sink. Or how she looked after the botched drink spike, on the floor mopping up spilt wine with her jaw swelling and turning colors. That night at the bar, and finding Mike's mark on her neck…
She swallows.
"I'm not going to tell you why you can't do this because you already know," Paige says carefully. "Mike, you already know. You're just not thinking clearly."
"What makes you think I'm not thinking just as clearly as you are?"
"First of all, aim higher," she laughs, a little frantically. "And second, you're not you right now. Because you're hurting. Because you think I'm hurting."
"Think? Have you seen your face lately?"
Paige smiles. "You don't get it. He doesn't have that kind of power over me. I've been smacked around on the job so many times that it doesn't even register anymore. Yeah, he left some nasty bruises, and this eye's going to be a bitch to cover up until it heals, but he can't hurt me."
Sirens sound from a distance, and she almost swears. Hopefully, Johnny and Briggs managed to keep the LAPD officers from calling in back up, but even so, there's a good chance those are for them. Mike hears them too and stiffens, so she starts to talk faster.
"You can hurt me, Mike," she says firmly. "You kill him and get yourself locked up, that's going to hurt me. And I'm begging you…I can't right now…I just…"
He must be able to hear the strain in her voice because he tucks her gun in his waistband and his now empty hand absently waves towards her, like it's trying to comfort her on its own accord. Paige slumps against the dumpster and smiles, chuckling when Mike releases Enos and he collapses into the dirt.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, Mike is grinning warily at her, so focused on her that he doesn't notice Enos grabbing for the gun until it's already been yanked from his waistband.
But Paige does.
Her head is in Charlie's lap and her feet are buried in the sand, too close to the base of the fire. Just the way she likes it.
Johnny takes an exaggerated leap over her legs as he passes out the next round of s'mores, balanced four high on his palm, napkins serving as plates separating the layers. Charlie accepts hers and caps the marker she'd been using to doodle sprawling spiral patterns on Paige's cast so she can use both hands.
"Remember the rule," she says sternly. "No one looks at each other."
They'd ruled long ago that there was no way to eat a s'more cleanly, and it was most humane to just ignore each other and their chocolate stained faces until they got a chance to clean up. Paige is fairing especially poorly this time around, with one hand out of commission. She feels a string of marshmallow sticking to her cheek and frowns, staring down at her napkin, which is already covered in chocolate.
"Here," Mike says, holding out his own clean napkin. Somehow, he's managed to finish his s'more without getting a speck on him, face clean and smirking at her.
"I hate you," she growls, without fire. She uses his napkin to clean her face and sits up further, leaning back against the rocks.
Jakes finishes his mouthful of beer and shakes his head. "Don't listen to her, Levi. She did shoot someone for you last night. She must like you some."
"No," Briggs corrects loudly. "Agent Arkin used lethal force when Luis Enos threatened her personal safety. It would be frowned upon if she shot a hostage going after his attacker."
Frowning, Johnny shakes his head, somehow managing to look serious despite being unashamedly covered in chocolate. "Even if the 'attacker' was an undercover agent holding him for arrest until the feds got there? Or whatever bullshit you fed the bureau?"
Sighing, Paul takes a swig of his beer and rubs his eyes. "I don't know. Just don't ever make me do that much paperwork ever again."
"I don't know what you're complaining about. At least you didn't have to process the smoking remains of entire organization. Twelve arrests just for manufacturing, plus the equipment and product we seized," Paige complains.
"You loved it," Charlie snorts, bumping her shoulder against Paige's.
Her face flushes (from the fire, obviously) and she smiles.
She really did.
She meant to write her final report before turning in that night, but the warmth from the fire and Mike's hand on her waist mixes with the beer in her hand and the painkillers she shouldn't have taken before drinking that beer, and soon she's asleep in the sand.
When she wakes up, she's propped against Mike's side, but the others are gone. The fire is still going, but just barely, and they'll have to head in soon, before it gets too cool.
Mike must feel her shifting because his hand tightens around her knee and his thumb runs lines across her thigh.
"Were you going to wake me when you went in, or was I going to get carried away by the tide?"
He snorts and moves out from behind her so they're sitting side-by-side. "I have something for you."
From the pocket of his sweatshirt, he pulls out a crumpled paper and presses it into her hand. Paige looks down at Holly Preston's face and uses the tips of her fingers sticking out from her cast to smooth it flat. "How-?"
"I took it from his personal effects," he says awkwardly. "I figured you wouldn't want him to have it."
She nods, awed. "Thank you."
"We got him," she says softly, leaning forward on her heels to gently settle the picture into the fire. Time to let go.
Maybe she'd go looking for a picture of Holly from before Enos got to her. That would be nice to have.
Mike nods, but from the look on his face, she can tell he's thinking about something else.
Sighing, Paige leans back against the boulder and drops her head into her hands. "It feels like there's something we should talk about, but I'm not sure what it is."
"Like something's wrong, but you can't put a finger on what?" he confirms. She hums her agreement, and the conversation slows to a silence, but they can both tell it isn't over.
"I guess my thing is just…" Mike says finally. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Briggs was going to get me pulled off the case. I couldn't tell anyone."
His eyes roll back in his head, and while he's not looking, she kicks at the sand in frustration, childishly satisfied when some sails into the fire.
"Would that have been so terrible?" he asks.
"Yes!" she hisses, turning to look him in the eye. "It was my case, Mike! Just because no one else got why it was so important-"
"I didn't mean that," he defends. "I get it. I know it was important. But…it feels like you weren't willing to risk your case, but…because of the lying…"
"That I was willing to risk us?"
"Yeah."
That sits there for a minute because while she knows it's not true, she's not sure how to explain it.
"I guess," she says slowly, "It never felt like I was going to lose you. I knew it was going to cause problems, but I never thought…It just felt like we were stronger than that."
There it is.
The fire is low now, and she wishes her arms were covered by more than the thin straps of her tank top. The boulder behind her is cold against her skin and she leans forwards to hunch over her knees. Mike's warm hand cups her shoulder and pulls her against his chest.
"We are," he promises.
Paige smiles.
Later, when the fire's out completely, and they're sitting in the dark with a beach towel wrapped around them to take the chill off, she snorts to herself and says, "Johnny thinks we're going to rip each other to shreds."
"What do you think?" Mike asks, voice rumbling in his chest, sending goosebumps down her arm, starting from where her ear is pressed against his ribs.
She shrugs. "I don't know. He could be right. I think…you weren't yourself last night. With Enos. I've never seen you so out of control. That's not like you."
"True," he admits, shifting so they can look at each other. "I've never been that angry before, and it had a lot to do with…how I feel about you. But it all worked out. You talked me down."
"I guess so."
"So you'll keep being the one that can talk me down," he says hesitantly. "And maybe I can be the one you tell when you feel like you can't tell anyone else?"
There's a deep bruise on her leg from a date with Enos the week before, and for some reason, it stands out even more in the dark. It hurts, like everything is starting to now that her painkillers are wearing off, but before she can reach for it, Mike's fingers are already there, rubbing gently.
"Yeah," she whispers. "That sounds nice."