Tolerance Book III

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Essence of Time

Homeland Security Headquarters

After a briefing for the whole investigation  team in the Conference Room Fielding stood with Voight at the front of the room as the men and women filed out.  The Chicago man had updated the Acting Assistant Director on the new information furnished by the IT Specialist.  The tall man had pursed his lips in a grimace as the full implications of the young Detectives' plan were revealed.  He hadn't had an opportunity there and then to discuss the matter with the Sergeant however as the room started to fill up for the briefing.  Now, as the door closed behind the last Agent, the Califirnian turned to the other man.

"Halstead didn't share his full plan with you?"
"No," Voight wasn't going to lie.
"Your people in the habit of being insubordinate?"
"Not on a regular basis.  If they feel it's important they will do what they consider to be the right thing."
"So why didn't Halstead tell you his real plan?" Fielding asked although he had a pretty good idea of the answer.
"He knew I wouldn't have approved it."
"Seems to me you've got a damn good Detective doing all he can to stop a Killer," the Acting AD opined then added knowingly, "might be an idea to curb your anger.   Save that for Billings."
"Oh I'll have plenty of anger for him," the gruff Sergeant assured, the implied promise that the green eyed man wasn't off the hook was clear.
"You'll get the chance to chastise Halstead," Fielding assured knowing it was worry that fed the mans' anger before smiling, "besides I can't have a bad result on my first investigation.  Wouldn't look good on my resume."
"Yeah right!" Voight knew full well his companion was not really worried about the optics and his career prospects.

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Cafeteria

It had been brewing since the breakfast revelation by the IT Technician.  Adam felt a plethora of conflicting emotions.  Anger, dismay, worry and betrayal being amongst the foremost battling for supremacy.  He had waited for an opportunity to talk to Mouse on his own and now sat opposite him in the half full cafeteria unsure how to begin.

"He told me because he's my Lieutenant ....," Mouse began, he wasn't a fool he understood the man across from him felt betrayed.
"Former Lieutenant," the disgruntled Detective corrected.
"He'll always be my LT," the former Ranger shrugged as he took a tentative sip of his steaming cup of coffee.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why tell you? Just because you were in Afghanistan together?"
"He knew I wouldn't disobey him," Mouse offered.
"You're his Servant now?"
"I'm going to let that go," the former Ranger spoke with a rare hint of steel infusing his tone giving a rare insight into another side of the normally nervous looking man, "because I know you're worried.  I am too."
"Did you even try to talk him out of it?"
"I did but you know Jay once ....,"
"...... he sets his mind on doing something he does it," the Detective concluded unhappily.
"If you think about it he really didn't leave much out of what he told the rest of you."
"Except for the part where he lets himself get hurt."
"Well .... yeah .... but Jay he ....,"
"What?"
"He can .... handle .... pain."
"We all know that but offering himself up on a platter to someone as cold blooded as Billings is going to involve a hell of a lot of it."
"I know," Mouse conceded softly.
"But why tell you or anyone at all?" Adam pressed, it wouldn't change the outcome.
"Think if things went south he wanted us to know he understood what he was getting into and it was on him," Mouse surmised reluctantly.

There were generally no absolutes in their line of work but both men knew without a doubt their friend was going to suffer.

Loft

It seemed to Jay that Billings really ought to be getting tired.  After all he had been exerting himself playing with his Captive.  The broken ribs and swollen right eye attested to that not to mention the colourful array of bruising now decorating his torso and arms.  The older man had stripped off the Detectives' jacket and shirt ages ago, eager to see the results of his efforts.    For good measure he had ripped off the dressing on his back to scrutinise the bullet groove.  The would on his arm was healed enough to go without a protective barrier but the young man knew it was only a matter of time before the sadistic man turned to that also.