+18 eps. 17-21 - After a hard case that takes the team to DC in order to catch a blackhat and prevent a bombing, all hell breaks loose on their return to Boston , when the ghost of the Libra killer comes back to torture Brock seven years after the m...
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**picture: Washington DC traffic
On their way back to the Hoover Building, Gillian asked Kurt to link the SUV radio to the frequencies the rest of the team was using. She wanted to hear how they were doing in real time. And force Brock to chew and swallow any scold he had in store for her.
But he knew it was no use, so he didn't even mention it. He just kept his stormy scowl on DC's jammed traffic and sulked in silence, but without bothering to make a secret of it.
She couldn't care less—actually she did, but she'd be damned if she was about to admit it, so. She leaned forward when Hank warned Aldana.
"Heads up! Incoming!"
Their target was off to his college classes and his father was at the door, receiving the package. Aldana was halfway in through the target's window when his mother walked in. She could only dive in, roll behind a loveseat and stay low, while the woman moved around picking up snack bags, empty beer cans, candy wraps. Then the woman took the paper bin and walked out. She'd be back in a moment, so Aldana slipped the device into one of the desk's drawers and jumped out the window.
"I'm in," said Kurt a moment later.
Gillian lowered her head with a heartfelt sigh.
By her side, Brock hoped she'd notice he didn't even glance at her and kept driving without a word.
Fred almost got busted as well. His target had his cave in the attic of his house. Fred climbed a tree, reached the roof, moved along its edge up to the attic's only window. He'd just sneaked in when Ron said, "Get out, Fred!"
At the front door, the agent said, "No need to fetch your ID, sir... Sir...?"
So Fred hid the device under the cushions of a rickety recliner and sneaked back out, just a split second before the target walked in.
By nine a.m. the three devices were online, and Kurt had the targets' computer screens on his. Russell checked in by nine-thirty: Norfolk's techs were already monitoring the local target. Cooper called ten minutes later to report Portland's target was also being watched. The rest of the bugged packages were delivered over the morning.
Gillian refused to distract a single tech from the Hive. Tanya informed they were working on the clock, taking turns for a ten-minute break to eat and go to the restroom or a thirty-minute shut-eye. The mirror was coming up, but they still had a lot to do to have it ready for next morning.
"But we need to keep track of the packages!" Cassidy argued over the radio.
"We got it, sir," Gillian replied.
"Don't we need techs for that?"
"To watch a screen?" Ron asked. "C'mon, sir!"
At his office, Cassidy threw up his hands, sighing. Over the radio, the team translated correctly the meaning of his silence.
"Get us the equipment we need and leave the rest to us, sir," said Aldana.
"Save the it's-over beers," said Fred. "With all due respect, sir, those are on you."
They all agreed. Brock set his jaw at the following row of teases. He didn't pay much attention when Gillian turned the radio off and shifted in her seat to face him.
"Sir, I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I was about to do," she said.
Both her words and her soft, low tone caught his attention. He glanced at her. Gillian apologizing for being the reckless rogue she always was? Did they need to stop by a hospital and have her head checked for concussions?
She kept looking at him when he turned his eyes back to the street. His scowl didn't hinder her. What hindered her was finding it sweet, because she knew what he was mad about. Maybe she was in urgent need of a shrink, considering her adjective of choice.
"I should've told you, but I was afraid you would try to stop me because it was dangerous."
"Well, isn't it what teamwork's about? Watching each other's back? Kind of hard to do, if you keep me in the dark."
Had he just say that aloud? A glance at her surprised face confirmed he had.
Gillian didn't answer right away, fighting her impulse to take his hand from the wheel and keep it between hers. Jeez, the stupid caring man got to her every damn time he went protective over her. And now she couldn't help admitting it: she could play annoyed all she wanted, but the plain truth was that she loved it.
Because her friends, her team, everybody around her, they were used to her taking risks and always making it through alright. Not that they didn't care. They were just used to her being strong and determined, and took for granted that if she volunteered or decided to do something, it was because she was positive she could do it. While Brock was the only one who thought that maybe she needed a little protection, because no matter how strong and determined she might be, she was also frail. Yeah, it was only because he was past old school, plain cave man, and she was a woman. And his cave-man prejudices couldn't stand allowing a woman to take the front line. But no matter his reasons, she couldn't help appreciating deeply how he insisted in caring about her.
Brock stopped at a red light and turned to her, wondering if he needed to worry about her silence. She was looking down with a serious frown, hands deep into the hoodie pockets.
But she sensed his questioning look and met his eyes, lips pressed together in a tight line. "You're right, sir. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
He narrowed his eyes. She wasn't mocking him. She actually meant it. And she tried a quick, tight smile at his stare. Years of driving on those streets told him the light was about to change and he turned to look ahead again in silence. Basically because she'd just left him speechless.
