The winter outside the apartment was a pure white curtain that fell without respite. It had been coming down for almost an hour and John had been pacing for about forty-five minutes of it. The blizzard had hit and even though Matt had promised to be home before it did, there was no sign of him and he wasn’t answering his phone. Knowing how much trouble the kid attracted, John was not happy at being unable to reach him. He’d even called Freddie and a couple of Matt’s other hacker buddies, but he wasn’t with any of them.
When his phone rang two hours after the snow started falling, John grabbed it from the coffee table and saw an unfamiliar number on the Caller ID. He answered sharply, “McClane.”
“Detective McClane, this is Agent Darryl Haskins at the FBI. We have Matt Farrell in protective custody right now and he insists that you be brought in.”
Tensing further, John demanded, “Protective custody from who?”
“I can’t give you details over the phone, sir, may I send a car?”
“No. I’ll come down. Which branch are you at?”
“Midtown.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour. Do not move him,” John ordered, hanging up. As he pulled on a sweater, holstered his gun and badge, and found his boots, he muttered to himself, “Can’t even go a day without getting into trouble. Protective custody my ass. He better not have created any whatevers for strangers again or I’ll make sure he can’t sit for a week.”
He was out in the snow five minutes after getting the call, breath stolen by the bitter cold and coughing as his lungs adjusted. There was already half a foot on the ground and traffic had thinned out to an amazing degree. He jogged to the nearest subway stop and shivered violently at the second change in temperature to the warmer underground. It was twenty minutes and two trains later that he climbed the stairs to the midtown stop and coughed again.
Shaking his head at the absurdity of being out in a blizzard, John took stock of where he was and turned to where he knew the FBI building should be. It was nearly impossible to see in the white-out, but he walked doggedly, determined to get to wherever they had Matt. John needed to make sure he was all right before strangling the kid for getting into trouble again. This was probably going to revoke his parole. John would have to call in a lot of favors to keep him out of jail, but there was no other option. While he hadn’t actually said the words, he loved the little bastard and would do whatever it took to protect him.
He found the building more by memory than sight and stomped off the snow in the lobby. The security area was manned even in this weather and John signed in, relinquishing his weapon and badge to walk through the metal detector. They were returned on the other side and he got directions to Haskins’ office.
Up the elevator and five doors down a hallway later, he spotted Matt sitting in a conference room. The kid was pale and looked as shaken as when John had first met him, just after his apartment had blown up. All John’s protective instincts came out in full force and he entered the conference room first, without even looking for Haskins.
Matt’s head came up and he jumped to his feet to run across the room and throw his arms around John. Staggering under the impact, John braced them and then put an arm about Matt’s waist, holding him tight, and cupping the back of his head with his free hand. “You’re okay, Matty, I’ve got you now.”
“God, John, I can’t believe it,” Matt whispered, holding tighter. “I can’t…it’s so awful.”
John knew, then, that Matt really was in protective custody. There wasn’t much that shook him this badly anymore. Pulling back, he kissed Matt lightly and then asked, “What happened?”
Keeping hold of John’s hand, Matt let out an explosive breath and answered, “I ah, I saw a murder. Um, multiple murders, actually. Execution.”
John’s eyes widened in shock. “What the fuck?”
“We’re ready to take his formal statement now,” Haskins’s voice said from behind. “He refused to give it until you were here.”
Matt nodded, his hand squeezing John’s. “Okay. Right. I’m ready.”
John looked Haskins over and found him to be a big black man with a steady gaze. The suit looked tailor made and the shoes were polished, which said a lot considering the weather. A good looking blond woman walked in behind him, also dressed in a dark suit, though it didn’t look nearly as expensive.
Haskins introduced, “Detective McClane, this is my partner, Special Agent Chloe Zell.”
John gave her a nod and said, “Good to meet you.”
She nodded and smiled in return. “And you, Detective. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
They took seats around the table and Haskins turns on the recording device before saying, “This is Special Agent Darryl Haskins taking the witness statement of Mathew Farrell regarding Case Number four eight three nine seven nine five. Also in the room is Detective John McClane and Special Agent Chloe Zell. The time is four fifty eight p.m. on January seventeenth, two thousand and ten. Go ahead, Mr. Farrell. In your own time.”
Matt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. So. I was heading home, like I always do after work. It was around, uh, three? Yeah, because I was trying to get the three fifteen train so John wouldn’t have a heart attack if I was late what with the snow coming and all. Anyhow, I stopped to get a coffee at the little café I always do, the Upsider, and I was in line when I saw these guys walk in. I’ve seen bad guys before and these guys were definitely bad guys, you know? I was going to just walk out, but they pulled out uzis or submachine guns or whatever and just let loose with them!
“I grabbed the girl in line next to me and dove for it. We made it behind a column while the bullets were flying. And that’s when I realized they were aiming right at the servers behind the counter. I mean, the people there were just riddled with bullets and the bad guys just kept firing and firing!”
John shifted his free hand to the back of Matt’s neck, squeezing lightly to calm him down. It was an awkward position, but got Matt to look at him and take a breath. He didn’t even have to say, ‘settle down,’ the gesture worked so well after almost a year together.
Matt took another breath and let it out slowly before nodding at John, who let him go. The younger man continued, “So, yeah. Anyhow. It was around then that they seemed to think about witnesses. Which, you know, was smart since they weren’t wearing any masks or anything.”
“So you could pick them out of a line up?” Zell questioned.
John wished he could tell Matt not to answer that, given the severity of the crime, but he didn’t do anything to influence the response, which was a sharp nod.
“Oh yeah. Not a problem,” Matt replied. “Well, um, that’s when they started shooting the customers who hadn’t ducked under cover, the ones still in shock. I saw we were right in line to get to the back door, so I shoved the girl towards it and then dragged her out the back. I should’ve, I don’t know, done something, you know? All those people. Maybe I could’ve…”
At that, John’s grip returned to Matt’s neck and he said firmly, “You got the girl out. She’s alive and you’re alive because you didn’t panic. You did good, Matty. There wasn’t anything you could’ve done against that kind of fire power.”
Matt looked back at him for a long moment, a forlorn expression in place. He ultimately nodded, though he didn’t look too convinced. He finished, “I got her out and called 911, but someone had already done it and I could hear the sirens getting closer. We stayed put. I didn’t know if they might come out the back to get away, so I made sure she didn’t move while we hid out behind the dumpster. And that’s it. The cops showed up, you guys showed up, and here we are.”
Haskins nodded and said, “Okay. I’ll get the statement drawn up for you to sign and then we’ll start going through mugshots.”
John asked, “Why are you even involved? As bad as it is, it’s not a federal matter.”
Haskin’s face tightened and he explained, “One of the cashiers was someone from this unit, undercover.”
And that’s when John knew they were completely screwed.
* * * *
The whole thing had felt like a dream from the moment Matt had turned and seen the guys walk in the front door of the café. Reflexes honed by Thomas Gabriel had kicked in with a vengeance and he’d reacted instinctively when the guns had come out. It had been over in minutes, but had felt like hours. He barely remembered getting the girl out of the café, but the faces behind the guns had been seared into his mind.
Not until John’s arms held him tight did Matt begin to feel safe. And his support through the interview and subsequent identifications had been perfect; enough to prompt him out of panicky fugues, but not enough to be smothering. That thing he did with his hand on the back of Matt’s neck…Matt had no idea how it worked, he was just grateful that it did.
All told, it was almost midnight by the time he’d identified the two guys who’d done the shooting; they both had rap sheets longer than Matt’s arm. Their mugshots were scarier than he remembered them being in person, but then, they’d seemed kinda like robots in person. They were in some hardcore gang that did gun running and kidnapping and drugs and pretty much any bad thing they wanted.
John had gone all tight-lipped on seeing them and then had some kind of conference with Haskins across the office where Matt couldn’t hear. As tired and wired as he was, Matt didn’t even care about the high-handed behavior, unable to get his leg to stop twitching from all the caffeine he’d snuck when John wasn’t looking. He wasn’t supposed to have caffeine after three in the afternoon since it kept him up all hours, but figured the occasion had called for it.
“You doing all right?” Chloe asked softly.
Matt jumped a little, not having heard her walk over. Offering a weak smile, he said, “Yeah, sure. So what’s going on over there?”
Chloe half-smiled and answered, “Your partner’s reading my partner the riot act about safe-houses and witness protection for the duration of the trial and probably after. Not that we wouldn’t have offered it anyhow, but I figure Haskins needs to come down a notch now and again.”
Matt blinked at her stupidly, feeling like he’d been up for days. “Witness protection?”
Sobering, Chloe nodded as she told him, “These are seriously bad men, Matt. They’ve got people all over the city who would kill you to stop you testifying. You can’t return to your old life.”
Something that hadn’t occurred to him, but should have.
A strong hand on his shoulder made him look up to find John’s grizzled face looking down at him. He looked tired as he ordered, “C’mon, Matty. The Feds’re putting us up at a nice hotel. You need to get some sleep.”
“I seriously don’t think sleep is on the menu,” Matt muttered.
John half-grinned at him and tugged him to his feet, lacing their hands together. “That’s because of those three cokes you’ve had in the last couple hours. Don’t think I didn’t see you, kid.”
The snow was still coming down when the SUV they were in left the federal building’s garage. It added to the surreal sensation of the whole afternoon and evening. The city was covered in white and there was no traffic on the roads other than plows. Matt heard the snow crunching until their wheels, the city was so silent. It took a good twenty minutes to go less than a mile to a really nice hotel that he’d never have been able to afford without illegal means and, since he didn’t do that anymore., meant he’d never have set foot in it otherwise.
Leaning on John, Matt whispered, “I’m sorry.”
John kissed the top of his head. “Don’t be. It’s what makes you that guy, remember?”
Warmed through by the sentiment, Matt sighed and stayed quiet as they drove into the hotel’s underground garage. The vehicle parked illegally and they were in an elevator a few seconds later, John’s hand resting on Matt’s back protectively. They bypassed check-in, which was a first for Matt, and stopped on the eighth floor. He saw that there were already other agents in place and shifted closer to John, feeling way more exposed than if they’d just gone home to their crappy, one bedroom apartment in Queens.
The hotel room was luxurious and, as the agents made sure it was clear, he cracked, “Good thing I don’t pay taxes for this kinda thing or I’d be ticked.”
Haskins frowned at him and John said hastily, “He’s kidding. Trust me. I made sure he was all caught up last year.”
“Killjoy,” Matt muttered, walking over to the bathroom.
He shut the door behind him and leaned on the sink. His arms shook from the combination of too much caffeine, too little food, and adrenaline letdown. Looking in the mirror showed a haggard reflection and he grimaced at himself before splashing some warm water on his face. A soft knock at the door startled him enough to curse under his breath and take a breath before saying, “It’s unlocked, John.”
The door opened and John walked up behind him, putting a hand on each shoulder and squeezing lightly. “You okay?”
“Oh sure. I just witnessed a mass execution, I’m peachy,” Matt retorted, sarcasm like a reflex.
John’s hands squeezed and he repeated, catching Matt’s gaze in the mirror, “Are you okay?”
Everything hit at once and Matt jerked his head in a no, unable to speak.
John turned him around and held him tightly as he promised, “It’s going to be okay, Matty, I promise. No one’s going to hurt you, not with me around.”
Matt held onto the other man’s strength, glad that his lover was built like a rock and taking comfort in the fact that he could outfight guys half his age. Not to mention he was a great shot with the gun he never let far from his side. If someone did get by the feds, they really would have to go through John first to get to him and that just wouldn’t happen.
“C’mon, let’s calm you down a little,” John murmured.
‘Calming down’ encompassed a long, hot shower with John massaging him in a comforting, almost fatherly way. Their relationship was odd by most standards, he knew, but they were happy in their self-determined roles and that was all that mattered. From the first date where he’d wound up in John’s bed calling out ‘daddy’ by accident to the weekend before when John had blistered his ass for ‘it’s not really illegal unless you’re part of the establishment’ downloads, Matt had never felt more grounded and centered in his life.
Once he was lying down in the large bed, with John wrapped around him from behind, Matt said quietly, “I’m scared, John.”
“I know, baby,” John replied. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”
Taking the promise as words etched in steel, Matt let out a long, slow breath and let himself fall asleep.
The office was quiet, so early
in the morning, which was why
Eleanor was first in after him, as always, and gave him a warm smile on her way to her desk. He easily tuned her out as she hummed under her breath while making coffee. On the one hand, he was glad that she and Stan had worked out whatever their problems had been but, on the other, he was still a little disconcerted to think of Stan as an active, sexual human being. It seemed to go against nature or something.
Silently chiding himself for
such uncharitable thoughts,
Detective John McClane’s jacket was something else altogether. A certifiable hero four times over, Marshall was a little worried that he would find ‘retired’ life too boring to settle down. It was one thing to say you were in love and move across country with someone and take up a new identity, but another thing entirely to give up the kind of heroics that McClane seemed to attract without even trying. Even just the life of being a detective would be hard to give up, since it seemed that McClane had been married to the job before hooking up with Farrell. He couldn’t count the number of times a new couple dissolved under the strain until the non-witness part of the partnership wanted out.
“You look troubled,” Eleanor observed. “Everything okay?”
Stan came in just then and looked between them suspiciously. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,”
Eleanor countered, “
“I’m not…”
“Why? What for?”
“Seems they’re just a little larger than life.”
“Would you…I am not wor…”
Stan nodded sagely as he interrupted, “Makes sense. He’s the quiet type.”
“Exactly. And these are big time witnesses,” Eleanor agreed.
Mary completed the chorus when she arrived and asked, “Who’re big time witnesses?”
When
“Yes, please,” he replied, not lifting his head.
Sitting at her desk, Mary asked, “Think you can handle them?”
“He’s a little worried,” Stan answered for him. “What about you? You on deck to help out?”
“When am I not?”
Grimacing, she amended, “Assuming no one in my family is in jail, I haven’t had a major fight with Raph, the FBI, or Dershowitz, when am I not?”
Stan snorted and went into his office.
Leaning her elbows on her desk, Mary offered, “You want me to take them? You do look kinda spooked for some reason. It’s the guy thing, isn’t it? Territorial and all that. You always do better with women.”
They both paused at that and she grinned, but only said, “When are they coming in?”
Since she’d let that one pass
without comment, a feat for Mary he knew,
Eleanor returned with coffee just then and informed him, “Make it about one. The elevator just kicked on.”
Farrell’s picture didn’t do him justice. The scruffy college kid in ripped jeans and longish hair had transformed into a man with a haunted gaze in ripped jeans and longish hair. He was…cute…for lack of a better word. Hyper, too, from the rapid beat of his fingers against a thigh and the way he bounced on the balls of his feet.
At first glance, McClane was nothing special. He was balder than Stan,
grizzled on the jaw, not too tall, and dressed casually in jeans, light jacket,
and sneakers. The clothes hid any muscles he might have and his posture was the
only thing that said he’d been a cop. It wasn’t until the man actually met his
gaze and
“
Jumping a little at Mary’s
sharp call of his name,
“You want to sign, or should I just take your word for it when my boss asks?” Jack questioned.
Shaking his head at his own
idiocy,
Smirking a little, Jack replied, “Have fun, now.”
Sam rolled his eyes at his partner’s mocking and just nodded at Marshall and Mary before releasing the elevator door.
Turning,
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” she replied, grinning. “Oh wait, where’s your ID?”
Eleanor had already led Farrell
and McClane to the conference room and set them at
ease in her inimitable fashion. Which was probably what gave
Mary the leeway to take
“What? No. I’m fine,”
Shaking her head, Mary said,
“You’re just…weirder than usual on this one. Let me take them,
Not to say she wasn’t right, given his string of bad luck with a few of his more recent witnesses, but he hated to admit to any kind of weakness.
“Tell you what,” she temporized, “be Jinx’s date for the nuptial dinner and we’ll call it even.”
She flashed him a grin. “You may be right. C’mon. Let’s go give them The Talk.”
The Rules and Regulations Talk where they went through every single page in the very, very thick WitSec regulations binder. It usually made for a really long conversation, which was why they tried to schedule the briefings in the morning.
In the conference room, Mary introduced, “I’m Marshall Mary Shannon, your friendly neighborhood Agent, and this is Marshall Marshall Mann, my partner and your backup.”
Farrell laughed and then cleared his throat and offered his hand. “Sorry, man, didn’t mean to laugh.”
“No, I’ve heard it before,”
McClane reached out to him with a simple, “John McClane.”
Farrell chuckled and said, “Another fan. Can’t get away from them, huh, John?”
McClane put a hand on Farrell’s shoulder and pushed him lightly towards the table. “What can I say? It’s my sparkling personality.”
The silent look Farrell and McClane exchanged was impossible to miss, although
Farrell promised, “It won’t.”
Mary gave them both an approving nod and said, “Good. Let’s go over this and start the two of you in your new life.”