We're in the home stretch now. Xenagog means "tour guide," make of that what you will.

You can go back to A here. 

Brody hadn’t even had time to shout a warning, which was fine because apparently Libby hadn’t needed one. He’d stumbled back, and gone down out of shock. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot, but it still took a second to push through the pain and focus on doing anything.
 
By the time he got there the bastard that’d shot him was on the ground too, blood leaking from a cut on his temple, bits of lamp scattered around him.
 
“Detective Hussein?” Libby yelled.
 
Brody watched her kick the gun under the couch, before she grabbed one of his shirts off the top of his duffel and came over by him.
 
“Shut the door,” he managed, clamping a hand over the hole in his side. It felt like it’d gone straight through, like it was just a flesh wound. Which didn’t make it hurt any less, but he’d probably be okay if he could slow the bleeding down.
 
Libby knelt down, pushing his hand out of the way and applying pressure for him. The pain, of her actually doing it right, whited everything out for a second, and when he could breathe again there were voices in the hallway.
 
“I need backup at the safehouse, we’ve got a breach and—” Dagny appeared in the door, gun drawn, and froze. “And I need an ambulance.” She hung up and kicked the officer over less than gently. “Given he’s been incapacitated with a lamp I’m going to guess he’s our attacker.”
 
“He knocked on the door and said you had something for us,” Libby answered. “I’m not sure he’s knocked out so much as stunned.”
 
Dagny pulled a pair of zip-ties out and made quick work of him. “Are you hurt, Libby?”
 
“No, Brody answered the door.” She looked at his face. “Are you being quite because you’re in shock, or because you’re hurt worse than I think you are?”
 
He worked to loosen his jaw. “Mostly just pain. It’s not serious.”  He struggled, trying to get his feet under him, and both of them helped him up.
 
“Any hole that’s not supposed to be there is serious,” Dagny muttered. “Ambulance will be here soon. When he wakes up we’ll have some questions.”
 
Brody sat on the coffee table, and clamped his arm against the dressing. “The other officer?”
 
“Zip tied to a chair, doesn’t look to be hurt.” Dagny checked her comm unit. “They’re downstairs, and coming up. King says they’ve arrested everyone, but I’m not sure I trust that.”
 
Brody laughed, wincing with it. “Well, presumably he was actually one of yours. Lay odd he was bribed into taking care of things for them.”
 
“I’d like to think none of my men would take money to kill a civilian.” Dagny sighed. “But they’re not all mine, I don’t get to pick who all the new hires are.” The ambulance crew came up then, and Dagny met them in the hall.
 
Libby was standing next to him, watching the guy she’d bashed over the head with a lamp.
 
“Are you okay?”
 
She blinked at him, but didn’t take her eyes off the one on the floor for more than a second. “You’re the one who got shot.”
 
“I am.” Brody winced. “I remember. Hey, you may not be much of a damsel in distress but you’re a convincing hero.”
 
Dagny came back in with an EMT, and went back to controlling her former colleague.
 
Libby sat down across from him. “I brained him with a lamp.”
 
Brody shifted, pulling his blood soaked shirt up so they could get to his wound.
 
“We’re just going to stop the bleeding for now, you’ll need to go to the hospital to have it cleaned and closed up.”
 
“I can transport him,” Dagny offered. “I’m sending this one in custody, so the ambulance will be full.”
 
Libby went and washed her hands, before she came back over and sat on the couch while they taped him up with probably three rolls more than they needed. She seemed…uneasy. Strange? He didn’t have a guidebook, there was no map for where her head was going at the moment and normally he might have asked—as normal as they managed to be, off of a few days of being stuck around each other and way too many high-stakes experiences.
 
Dagny assigned other people to guard their attacker—and made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t a cop, he was the bad guy—and then escorted them out of the building and to a waiting cruiser.
 
“We riding in style?” Brody tried to joke.
 
Dagny huffed. “You’re out of commission, I’m not letting her out of my sight until I’m sure things are clear.”
 
“I didn’t imagine you’d risk losing a witness.”
 
She held the door open for him. “Right. It’s because she’s a witness, and not because between you and her boss I’d never get another night’s sleep if I let something happen to her.”
 
Brody leaned back in the car and closed his eyes, trying not to tense up and make everything hurt worse. “I’d let you sleep.”
 
Dagny scoffed, and the other door opened and Libby slipped in. “Libby, if he starts to pass out, or seems like I need to be rushing, tell me.”
 
“I will.” She fastened his seatbelt, pulling it low so it didn’t hit where he was injured. “Hospital’s not far though, is it?”
 
“Nope.”
 
Brody laid his head back and tried not to focus on the throbbing in his side. “Don’t get a speeding ticket.”

The short definition I've got for Wiffy is "eccentric or erratically weird" and I'm not sure if that's supposed to be in reference to the story, or to me. Call it a two for one.

You can go back to A here. 

​Libby found an actual book under the coffee table, and she’d happily settled in to spend the afternoon reading it—it wouldn’t get her more than about a day, but after the doctor had come the day before there’d been noises that they were planning some sort of elaborate action, and they probably wouldn’t be sitting tight in the safe-house for more than another day.
 
It wasn’t a great book, something pulpy about Nazis and cryogenics, but it was better than staring at the wall.
 
The flaw with that idea became apparent the fourth time Brody started rearranging the food. He’d adjusted everything, and unpacked and repacked the kitchen. He’d paced the entire apartment, and taken a shower, and finished whatever he was trying to draw about the guy he’d seen on the street.
 
They still had an hour until lunch.
 
“You don’t spend a lot of time doing stakeouts, do you?”
 
Brody froze, about to head back into the kitchen, and dropped into a chair across from her. “Am I driving you nuts?”
 
Libby put her finger between the pages of her book. “Are you driving yourself insane?”
 
He smiled, shrugging. “A little. It’s not that I want to be somewhere else, or…it’s not…”
 
“It’s not that I’m boring?” Libby offered.
 
He nodded. “I just feel a little like I’m climbing the walls.”
 
She sat her book down. “Do they have a deck of cards or something?”
 
“In the kitchen. I’m not much for solitaire.”
 
Libby rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to tell you to play solitaire, I know a variation on go fish that’ll kill a couple of hours.”
 
Brody hauled himself out of the chair and into the kitchen. She heard a couple of shifting noises, and then he was back with the cards. He handed her the deck and sat down across from her. “How complicated is this game?”
 
“I’m sure you’ll pick it up fine. Basically, you make pairs or books, and they score differently.” She shuffled the cards, smiling when they slid perfectly, like they’d done hours and hours of this. She dealt, and put the draw cards in the middle of the table. “You go first.”
 
Brody looked at his cards, and sighed. “Do you have any two’s?”
 
“Go fish.” Libby sat down a pair of eights. “Threes?”
 
“Fish.” Brody sighed. “If I ask what happened in Karadeniz are you going to deflect? Fives?”
 
Libby wrinkled her nose. “Fish. I don’t know, if I ask about what you actually did in the military are you?”
 
He took his card. “Well, I mean clearance is a thing. It’s easier to just not answer than it is to pick through.”
 
She watched him for a second, the way his shoulders were loose. He wasn’t upset, or avoiding. “Jacks?”
 
He cursed softly and handed over a pair of jacks.
 
“Well, it’s not a security discussion, but it’s basically the same thing.” She shrugged slightly. “It wasn’t…it sounds much more exciting than it was, mostly. We got out pretty quickly once things went bad.”
 
Brody frowned. “I never worked that corner, I don’t really know what it was. Twos?”
 
“Still fish.” Libby sighed. “It was a mess? I mean whatever legitimate complaints people had, before the whole Summer Revolution, it turned into a bloody gang war pretty fast.” She looked at her cards, a pile of singles. “Eight?”
 
“Fish.” He put down his own pair then, while she drew her card. “Is that why Matt panics?”
 
“He panicked before, but it maybe got a little more advanced after that.” Libby wrinkled her nose. “Our corporate numbers aren’t bad, but there’s a reason they make us sit de-escalation training. There’s a certain amount of it that winds up poking at people even if you don’t mean to.”
 
“Do you have any queens?” Brody asked.
 
“Nope. Go fish.”
 
“So how did you wind up doing survey? I saw your file, you graduated Counselling, not even Civil Service. Sevens?”
 
Libby handed over her one seven. “The same way you wound up doing an interview for search and rescue. One of my professors had a friend who was looking for survey workers, and there are a lot of shared skills. They paid better than counselling did, pay better than counselling does.”
 
Brody blinked at her. “Do you get paid extra for the tough ones?”
 
Libby shook her head. “No, you get a completion bonus if it finishes on time, double if you manage not to burn through your entire budget.”
 
“What happens if it’s like Karadeniz, and you have to evacuate?”
 
“First of all,” Libby sighed. “Fives?”
 
“Go Fish.”
 
She pulled her card, slotting it in with the others.
 
“First of all?”
 
“That’s super rare. I’ve done…lots of long term jobs and that’s the only one I’ve ever had end messy.” She shrugged. “And if you aim for your bonuses you’ll skew your survey and that’s pretty unforgivable. I don’t aim to finish on time for my bonus, most of the time there’s some thing that’s supposed to happen after we finish, a vote or a redistricting, or whatever. If the survey run is late, that’ll be late too, and that starts to impact people’s lives.”
 
Brody put down another set of his cards, smiling. “Does Matt worry you’re going to jump ship on him and go back to counselling?”
 
“No, at this point I’ve been doing this long enough I’d have to retrain to do that.” Libby huffed. “And I don’t know that I’ll do it like this forever, the floating with the wind is starting to get a little old.”
 
“Yeah.” Brody nodded. “I’m definitely ready to try to put down roots. Some days I feel like I’ve been living out of a duffel for twenty years.”
 
A knock fell on the door. “Captain Halliday? Inspector Hussein sent some things…” the younger officer called through. Libby didn’t remember his name, he’d been in the tunnel with them and rotated on at breakfast.
 
Brody sat his cards down. “No cheating,” he teased.
 
“You’re hilarious,” Libby answered. “Do we need to tell her there are only two of us and there’s a limit to what we can eat?”
 
He chuckled, and opened the door. “Well—”
 
BANG!
 
Libby jumped to her feet, watching as Brody crumbled before the door, clutching his side with a quiet huff. The office stood inside the door, and seemed to be deciding if he needed to shoot Brody again. Libby moved, and the gun pointed at her.
There was a noise in the hallway, and the officer turned to look, and Libby took her chance.
 
The look of surprise on his face, when the heavy ceramic lamp off the side table crashed over his head, was almost as satisfying as the sound of his gun hitting the floor. Libby kicked it away as he crumpled to the floor, too.

And we're caught back up! 

Today's word is vagary, and that may be more about how I feel like an edit would cull this scene, and probably a couple of others. 

​You can go back to A here.

Special Agent King seemed to think they’d managed to stitch up the man Brody had seen on the corner, and all of his associates, in another day or two. They were just supposed to sit still in the safehouse until that was done.
 
King had said that like he’d clearly expected Brody to balk. Since he was a soldier he’d want to be out there on the street helping them track people down. Brody had followed him out into the hallway.
 
“I appreciate you sitting tight, Captain.”
 
Brody smiled blandly. “I’m only here for her.” He glanced back at the apartment. “I had someone start looking for who was getting into the systems.”
 
King smiled. “We’ve already asked Mr. Todd to keep us informed of anything he finds. We didn’t tell him not to tell you, I’m sure I can  trust one or both of you to share anything he finds.”
 
“Of course.”
 
King started to walk away, and stopped. “A word of advice, Captain?”
 
Brody folded his arms over his chest and waited.
 
“While I have every faith in our ability to capture the cell active here on PacIC…” he died off.
 
“That’s not all of them,” Brody finished.
 
“It is not.” He smiled sadly. “If you are attached to Ms. Wade, and this isn’t just a job, I suspect it will be a long time before she is what you or I would deem safe.”
 
“I can’t exactly put her in my pocket.” Brody huffed. “But yes, I’d realized that.”
 
King nodded, and turned and headed toward the stairs at the end of the hallway. “I wasn’t sure you’d admitted it out loud yet.”
 
Brody was still standing by the door when Dagny stepped out, shutting the door behind her. “He’s interesting.”
 
“He’s certainly something.” Brody glanced at her. “Are you rotating off?”
 
She shrugged. “I’m going to take a shift in the watch post and catch up on some documentation. I’ll be here if you decide you need me for something. Does she need to go back to sleep?”
 
“The doc’ll be here in a couple of hours, I suspect she won’t unless he tells her to.” Brody sighed. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’ll wind up climbing the walls.”
 
“Well, as long as you’re not too acrobatic about it we’ll be fine.” Dagny settled her jacket. “We got a secure pass-through so she could call her boss and check in.”
 
“Got tired of fielding it?” Brody joked.
 
She grumbled. “Apparently the hotel informed them about the fire and he’s been calling me, and my boss, and the switchboard, and everybody else every twenty freaking minutes looking for updates. He promised to stop if she checked in.” She nudged him. “You should be a fly on the wall though. I’m curious about how they work.”
 
He watched Dagny walk to the other unit, give the knock and be let in, before he went back inside the safe-house unit and locked the door.
 
“They said you were hurt,” Matt echoed through the room.
 
Libby sat the secure device they’d given her on the table. “You’re on speaker, Matt, but it’s just me and Captain Halliday.”
 
“Bully for Captain Halliday. They said you were hurt.”
 
“They used some gas to try to knock me out before they set the place on fire and it was unpleasant, but I’m fine.” Libby rubbed her face. “And I’m not telling you what’s going on because you’ll worry yourself and it won’t help anything.”
 
“Do they know what’s going on?” Matt asked, voice dark.
 
Libby looked up at him, and cocked a brow, asking for help.
 
“They know who they’re looking for, and why.” Brody lowered himself into the chair across from her. “We’re just sitting tight until they catch them.”  
 
“Is there anything you think I could be doing to help, Captain Halliday?”
 
“Brody, please.” He sighed. “No, I don’t think so, but if I think of something I’ll be sure to let you know.”
 
“Can we hold the survey for a few more days?” Libby asked.
 
Matt scoffed. “They want you, they’ll wait until you’re available. I didn’t say why they were waiting, just that there were travel hiccups and you’ll report as soon as you can but at this point we think it’ll be late next week.”
 
“Thanks, Matt.”
 
“You don’t have to thank me, but if you get in trouble again I’m showing up because this voice only stuff isn’t enough for me to tell what you need.”
 
“Captain Halliday’s already trying to cram me in his pocket, I think that’s probably more than enough.” She sighed. “And stop harassing Inspector Hussein. She’s doing her best.”
 
“I never said I thought she wasn’t. I just wanted answers. Call me again tomorrow.”
 
“As long as they say it’s clear, sure,” Libby answered.
 
“Captain Halliday…Brody. I’m trusting you to keep her in one piece. That means if she stops being cooperative you let me know.”

Brody grinned at Libby. “I will do that, Sir.”
 
The call disconnected, and Libby muttered.
 
“Does he assume I’m going to need him to guilt you into listening?”
 
“Probably.” She collapsed back on the couch. “What did King want?”
 
Brody shrugged. “General saber rattling, making sure I knew where I fit in all this.” It wasn’t necessarily untrue, and Libby seemed to accept that. “Dagny asked me if you needed to take a nap.”
 
“Dagny?”
 
“I generally call people what they ask me to, she said to call her Dagny while we were sitting in the ambulance. Do you need to take a nap?”
 
Libby leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Do I need to? Probably. Do I want to?”
 
Brody stood up and pulled her gently to her feet. “Come on, I could call the doctor and get an order, but we both know if you still feel tired you should still be sleeping.”
 
She grumbled, and shuffled her way to the bedroom. “Just for an hour, though. You better wake me up.”
 
“Soldier’s honor,” Brody insisted. “I’ll make us a morning snack and wake you up for it. Promise.”
 
Libby hugged him, sudden but soft. “Thanks, Brody.”
 
He squeezed her, and breathed through it. He wasn’t sure he could tell her he’d do it anytime without giving away more than he needed to.

Today's word just gets a Wikipedia page link, because there's no way I'm going to summarize it that doesn't turn into kind of a train wreck. 

You can go back to A here.

Libby convinced herself to stop after two pastries. She could have eaten the entire box, but she felt like she’d definitely have thrown them up again later. Her stomach was empty, and upset about that fact. No one appreciated feeling weak, and she already did feel a great deal like a damsel in distress. Spending the morning worshiping the porcelain goddess wouldn’t make that feel better.
 
So she ate a couple of breakfast pastries and had a glass of water and called that good for at least the next half-hour. She’d had just enough time to do that, when there was a soft tap on the door and Inspector Hussein’s voice came from the other side.
 
“I’m here, but it’s not just me.” Inspector Hussein sighed. “You’re clear to open the door though.”
 
Brody moved to the door and turned the knob easily, opening it. “Good morning, Inspector.”
 
She gave him a dark look. “You’re not funny.” Inspector Hussein looked at Libby, and smiled. “Well, it’s good to see you up and moving.”
 
“Were you here yesterday?”
 
“I was.” She brought a couple of bags in with her, sitting them on the counter. “I went and got groceries because I’ve got no way to tell how long you’re going to be here.” She started unpacking canned soup, and ramen, and sandwich fixings.
 
Brody glanced in the hallway. “I thought you said it wasn’t just you?”
 
“He’s coming, he was looking at the security post.” She rolled her eyes. “We’ve got news, and I think we might have some kind of handle on where this is coming from now, but I’ll let him explain it because what I know is spotty at best.” She shot Brody a dark look.
 
He didn’t look pleased, and there was some undercurrent between him and Inspector Hussein that Libby didn’t understand. If the other guy hadn’t appeared in the door then she might have asked about it. Their new visitor dressed almost exactly like the rest of the people she’d seen from EMR. His suit was a little better cut, a little less worn around the edges. He rubbed his hands together and looked around their little hiding place, before nodding in approval. He had tanned skin and silver hair, and carried himself like he was a cowboy. Libby glanced down and realized there were cowboy boots sticking out of the bottom of his suit pants.
 
“Captain Halliday,” he reached a hand out for Brody to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Special Agent John King.”
 
“Agent King. Special Agent means you’re a district head, doesn’t it?”
 
“It does.” King smiled, impressed, before he looked at Libby standing next to Inspector Hussein in the kitchen. “And Ms. Elizabeth Wade.” He walked over and held his hand out to her as well.
 
Libby accepted the handshake, his grip was cool and so light it made her feel like she was overcompensating if she squeezed as hard as she normally would have. But Special Agent King had the kind of intelligence behind his eyes that said that was intentional, that he was gauging how she handled him making her uncomfortable.
 
She had an entire career of people trying to put her off, trying to gauge her responses before she gauged theirs, so she returned his light handshake and gave him the sort of bland smile she normally would. “We haven’t heard that there was anything going on that would draw the attention of the Emergency Management and Response district head.”
 
He smiled at her, wider than he had before, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Now that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about today, Ms. Wade. If we could have a seat?”
 
Libby glanced at Brody, and he nodded her toward one of the armchairs. Part of her wanted to bring one of the cans of soup with her, just so she’d have something to do with her hands. She swallowed it, and walked over and sat in the chair. Brody took the other one, and King took the middle of the couch, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
 
“You don’t need me for this, so I’m going to put the food away,” Inspector Hussein said, voice overly chipper.
 
King nodded, to say that he’d heard, before he pulled a projection cube out of his pocket and sat it on the coffee table, so it bounced off the door. “Inspector Hussein tells me you saw a gentleman standing in the street before your hotel was burned, Captain Halliday.”
 
“I did. I only noticed him because he had the light refractors on his face.”
 
A picture popped up on the door. “I don’t suppose either of you know this gentleman?”
 
He was a fairly nondescript looking white guy with brown hair and brown eyes. He looked trim and proper, but there didn’t seem to be anything special about it. Libby shook her head no, and so did Brody.
 
King pushed a button on his controller. “How about this one?”
 
Brody cursed. “That’s him. That’s the guy I saw on the street corner. Do you know who he is?”
 
“He has a great many names, generally. And as for what exactly he does…well, Ms. Wade is a civilian and so are you now.” King smiled blandly. “I can tell you that he contracts out to…groups that are less than pleased with the technological advances our society has chosen.”
 
Libby frowned. “Would those be like the Silver Glade Militia?”
 
King nodded. “You were almost contracted to run a survey in their area.”
 
“Not me personally, we were up for the contract, and if we’d gotten it I’d probably have taken the commission.” She stared at the face on the screen. “It never eventuated.”
 
King clicked his teeth, shaking his head. “I’m sure that was the line you were told.”
 
Brody cocked his head to the side. “Do you know differently?”
 
King locked eyes with Libby, and waited. And she genuinely thought about stalling, or claiming not to know what was going on. But she didn’t know what was going on, and being uncooperative probably wasn’t going to convince King to share. “Matt lost the bid on purpose.”
 
“Why?” Brody asked, blinking at her.
 
Libby shrugged. “They told him he had to bid for it. He didn’t tell me why he didn’t want it.”
 
King cleared his throat. “You volunteered for the contract in Karadeniz.”
 
Libby flinched. Most people outside the area just called it Black Sea City. The technical name was the Turkish, and she’d always appreciated the difference. It hadn’t been a good job, even before it abruptly ended with the institution of martial law. “I’m not sure volunteered is the word I’d pick.”
 
“But you went willingly.” King shifted his projector to a court document. “And then when it was all over you testified against the rebels.”
 
Libby rubbed her face. “They stopped being rebels when they started dragging people out of their homes and trying to force them into service. Are you implying there’s a connection?”
 
“When certain people heard GIG was bidding for the survey in their backyard is when this man showed up in Boston.” The projector flashed, and James was on the screen.
 
Except when she’d known James he’d always looked like a banker, like a city boy. James in the picture was wearing a wool lined jacket and carrying a riffle.
 
“Because the last thing they wanted was you in their backyard, even if all you were doing was your job.”

It's late, so I think this'll be the last of today's catch up. Tomorrow we'll do U and V and then we'll be back where we're supposed to be. 

Sometimes I have the startling realization that these things are a bad idea. 

​You can go back to A here.

​Libby had slept straight through the next day.
 
Protective Custody was a tiny little apartment with taupe walls and appliances that might have been older than he was. They were probably original to the city build. There was a bedroom almost big enough for the bed, and a pullout couch which was Brody’s home for the foreseeable future took up most of the main area.
 
They had security, a two man team in the next apartment, and every shift rotation someone knocked on the door to check, and brought them food. Brody had done some of his own searching, and mostly just sat around and tried not to make enough noise to wake her up. Morning shift had come on and knocked on the door, this time they’d brought coffee and a box of pastries and a fruit basket. A doctor was supposed to come do a check-up in the afternoon, and Inspector Hussein thought she’d be there before the doctor was.
 
Brody hated safe-house work, but he was suddenly intensely understanding over every target that’d ever been a pain in the ass. It was incredibly boring and yet still sort of terrifying. If he said he’d slept well the last two nights he’d have been lying.
 
Todd had sent him a coded message. Found some breadcrumbs, checking for the toast. Saw what happened, hope you’re okay. Do you need a safe place to stay?
 
Much as around Todd felt slightly more secure than at the whims of PacIC CID—which they were, no matter how high his opinion of Dagny was—it also felt like it was likely to be much less safe for Todd’s family.
 
He’s sent back his own message; We’re safe, but thanks for the offer.
 
There was a soft scuff behind him, and he turned to see Libby cracking a giant yawn as she shuffled out of the bedroom. She walked across the tiny apartment and sat down on the couch next to him. “It’s morning.”
 
Brody laughed, pressing their shoulders together. “You lost a day, sunshine. How are you feeling?”
 
She shrugged, clearly taking stock. “I’m breathing.”
 
He nodded. “There’s a doc coming to check up on you, and Dagny sent a message with shift change that she’d be by this afternoon.”
 
Libby reached out and grabbed the sketch pad he’d been doodling on for the last day. “Is this a person?”
 
“The building blocks of one. I wasn’t trying to draw his face so much as remember what kind of features he had.” He wasn’t sure how useful it would prove to be, but it was the best option he had.
 
“How did you know it was him?”
 
“He has the light diffuser on his face, I caught it in the sun.” Brody sighed. “And I probably could have caught him.”
 
“But?”
 
He looked at her, and smiled sadly. “The alarm went off, and he clearly knew who I was. I couldn’t catch him and get you.”
 
Libby sighed, and put the pad down. “I keep thinking at some point I’ll be done needing rescued.”
He scoffed. “Well, the last one isn’t on you at all, they pumped gas into your room.”
 
She watched him. “The one before that?”
 
“The original one, or the close escape the other night?”
 
“The close escape the other night was you saving all our butts.” She smiled dryly. “The original one.”
 
“You saved yourself.” Brody squeezed her shoulder gently. “I just finished the job.”
 
Libby smiled dryly. “Are you saying I’m a bad damsel in distress?”
 
“I’m not sure ‘damsel’ is the first adjective I’d pick,” he answered. “And I don’t doubt in the slightest that in the normal run of things you’d be just fine.”
 
“This isn’t normal.” She sighed. “And I know that, and obviously I appreciate your help.”
 
“You’re allowed to feel a little off kilter. Even without the rest of it the last couple of days has been a little much.”
 
There was a knock at the door, and they both jumped.
 
“Captain Halliday?” The officer who’d done morning change-over called through the door. “Inspector Hussein wanted us to tell you there’s been a change of plans and she’s on her way now.”
 
“Okay. Thank you,” Brody called back.
 
“That was cryptic,” Libby muttered.
 
“She probably didn’t tell him.” He smiled sadly. “You should have some breakfast. I tried to get some food in you yesterday but you weren’t really cooperative.”
 
“I remember.” She rubbed her face. “Remind me to ask Inspector Hussein about whether I should try to do my check in with Matt, or if I should have her do it or something.”
 
She probably could do it, and it might make her feel a little more normal. If she didn’t tell him anything specific, just let him know that she was still breathing, it would probably be okay. He hadn’t said anything to Todd about where they were because…because three people could only keep a secret if two of them were dead. Half of CID knew where they were, and he absolutely didn’t like that but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
 
There was a distinct difference between that and telling civilians where they were hiding.

Solivagant is a term for solitary rambling. 

Today it might apply more to me than to the story.

​You can go back to A here.

Libby stared at the exquisite crystal chandelier hanging over her head. Something was wrong. She wasn't supposed to be in the ballroom. They weren't meeting in the ballroom. They were meeting behind the stables. Why was she in the ballroom?
 
Everything was lit up and perfect, and the candles sparkled perfectly against the glass panes in the windows. There were chairs against the wall, and she could see the corner of the punch table, the servants had done an amazing job putting things together at the last minute.
 
But she wasn't going to the ball. She wasn't supposed to be there. She was supposed to be...
 
"Libby!"
 
There was a loud bang, and something sprinkled against her. She looked up at the chandelier, concerned it was starting to drip wax. "It's warm in here, we should open the windows."
 
There was another bang, and a splintering sound, and she felt a rush of air. The heat intensified, and she coughed. Blue eyes appeared to her, and her heart skipped a beat. "Brody..."
 
He smiled at her, gently brushing something off her shoulders and her face. "Is anything broken?"
 
"The chandelier is..." Libby's brain caught up then, and she realized that wasn't candlelight on the windows. It was fire. Her room was on fire. There'd been a weird smell, and she'd gone to check on it and then...
 
"Did you take another knock to the head?"
 
"No." Libby coughed, struggling to sit up. "Gas. Knocked me out."
 
"Good." Brody hauled her up off the floor, and grabbed a towel off the floor, putting it over her head and shoulders. "Let's get out of here."
 
It wasn't just her room that was on fire. She could hear people yelling, and the sound of emergency crews coming. Her lungs were still burning, and everything swam around wrong and loose. She started to lose her balance and he pulled her closer under his arm. "Stay with me."
 
"Dizzy, can't breathe," Libby managed.
 
"And we'll worry about that in a minute," Brody said, shouldering open the door to the stairs. They were filled with smoke, but there didn't seem to be any fire yet. "But I need to get us out of the burning building first."
 
They went down the dark stairs, and Libby was sure she'd never have made it through them if Brody hadn't been doing most of the work. She stumbled along with him and before she'd even realized what they were doing they were back into the lobby. The fire prevention systems were going, there was a fine film of foam over everything and she slipped and slid across the tiles until Brody gave up and lifted her up.
 
"Injured at the corner," the manager yelled in the doorway. "If you're not injured please join the receptionist across the street so we can be sure everyone is accounted for!"
 
Brody made a beeline for the flashing lights of an ambulance. "Still with me?"
 
Libby coughed, her lungs burning, but managed a quiet "Yes."
 
"Bring her right here," someone called. Libby saw the gleaming white of an ambulance, and Brody stepped right into the back of it and sat her on the gurney.
 
"She's got smoke inhalation, but I think she was dosed with some kind of gas before the fire." Brody met her eyes. "Can you tell me what it smelled like, Libby?"
 
"Plastic."
 
They put an oxygen mask on her, and she laid her head back. She still felt like they were moving, like the world was rolling around her.
 
Brody frowned. "Are you dizzy?"
 
She nodded, and about threw up.
 
"Don't nod," the paramedic muttered. "That might be general lack of oxygen. But her bp is a little high, and her temp seems to be going up."
 
Brody checked her arms. "You're sure there wasn't anyone in the room with you?"
 
"Yes," she managed, despite the elephant sitting on her chest.
 
"Do you feel like you can't breathe because you want to cough, or because your lungs aren't working?"
 
"Something on my chest."
 
The paramedic frowned. "That sounds like an opiate reaction."
 
"Fentanyl gas." Brody cursed. "Treat it like a fentanyl overdose."
 
"I can do that," the paramedic said. He pulled out a syringe and gave her an injection, while he set up some fluids. "But you stay right there and watch her because she's clearly having an adverse reaction and I can't be sure what that's going to do until it does it."
 
"I'm not going anywhere," Brody said, watching her. "Relax and let them work, we're okay."
 
Libby felt something warm crawling through her system, and her chest started to ease. Her head stopped swimming, and she realized she was just laying there watching the drip.
 
"Should we be going to the hospital?" Brody asked softly.
 
"We're blocked in. If it was an emergency we could, but she's got what she needs, we might as well just sit here."
 
"I'm looking for Captain Brody Halliday," Inspector Hussein shouted, over the din outside.
 
"I'm in here," Brody shouted, and Libby could see him stepping out of the back of the ambulance.
 
Inspector Hussein grabbed him in a full body hug, nearly lifting him of the ground. "Scared me half to death, Brody. How hurt is she?"
 
"She's fine, I'll take her off everything here in about ten minutes when this IV bag is done," the paramedic said. "She'll need to rest someplace quiet. And I won't give you the drug abuse lecture because if she'd done that to her self she'd have died the first time."
 
Inspector Hussein crawled into the ambulance and squeezed Libby's arm. "I'm setting up protective custody. You rest and focus on breathing and we'll take care of the rest."
 
"I didn't see anybody," Libby said, she had to swallow twice, her voice kept cracking.
 
"This time?" Inspector Hussein asked.
 
"Any time."
 
Brody scoffed. "I'm not sure they care anymore, Lib." He looked at Inspector Hussein. "I saw someone though."

We're a couple of days behind right now because while RavenCon was buckets of fun, it wasn't particularly willing to give me time to write. And then I spent Monday in a puddle pretending I wasn't a person anymore. 

And I'm about to post R, S, T and U all at once here. But then for the rest of the month we should be back on schedule. So there's that. And I'll post a breakdown of how RavenCon went and what I thought of things after we've done all that. Or maybe on Sunday. 

​If you'd like to go back and start at the beginning, you can find A here.

Brody decided halfway up the emergency escape hatch he was done just keeping an eye on Libby and waiting for the people who should be figuring the situation out to get on it. Inspector Hussein was doing the best she could, with the resources she had, but nobody else seemed to be putting enough effort in.
 
The fact someone had been watching closely enough that the instant they all tried to go visit the scene—or as close to the scene as they could get—they convinced the safety systems the tunnel needed to be purged meant whatever the overall plan was, it obviously wasn’t done yet.
 
They’d gone back to their digs the night before and Libby seemed…fine. Her only bit of worry had been whether the agents that’d gone through the door before them had been swept out to sea. He’d stayed with her until they got word that everyone who’d gone in the tunnel with them was accounted for and fine. Brody hadn’t been surprised by that. EMR wouldn’t be much use at either management or response if they didn’t know how to evacuate an unstable situation.
 
Brody’d shown up at her room with breakfast, just to check in, and then convinced her to stay in her room while he went and…ran some errands.
 
Todd’s Electronics was shoved half under the mag-lev track in one of the…less developed parts of the city. It advertised all sorts of old, useless ‘novelty’ tech in shoe polish on the windows and the reinforced glass door. The large display window was completely taken up by an old monster cathode ray tube television that played a constant loop of classic cartoons. A couple of neighborhood kids sat on the curb and watched, passing a bag of candy around. They looked like the kind of kids that always tried to slip through the cracks, and they braced like they were going to take off when he walked up.
 
Brody knew when the school hours were, and when school was in session. “Relax, I’m not doing anything official.”
 
They settled in and went back to their show, and Brody opened the door to Todd’s. An old Asian woman sat on a stool behind the front counter, and she looked about as friendly and welcoming as a thunderstorm. “We don’t want trouble.” She looked him over. “Nobody here to join up.”
 
Brody smiled, stepping up to the counter. “I’m not recruiting. Is Seiji here today?”
 
“No. No Seiji here.”
Brody was trying to come up with a way to say he knew different. He didn’t want to push hard, because he had the distinct impression this was going to turn out to be Todd’s mom and telling her who he was wasn’t necessarily going to make anything better. The door behind the long counter opened, and someone pushed through carrying a box.
 
She started muttering darkly in Japanese and slipped off to stool, grabbing her slipper.
 
Todd turned, box in his arms, clearly not sure what her issue was, when he spotted Brody. “Captain!” He slid the box on the counter and beamed.
 
“It’s just Brody now,” he corrected, offering a hand to shake. “I retired last week. How ya been, Seiji?”
 
She was still muttering at them, and advancing on Seiji with her slipper.
 
“Mom, stop.” Todd sighed. “This is Captain Halliday, Brody.”
 
“No more military! You promised!”
 
“Mom, Brody did his twenty years just like I did.” He frowned at Brody. “Didn’t you?”
 
“I did.” Brody shoved his hands in his pockets. “I might need a favor, but it’s not the official kind.”
 
Seiji opened the pass through for the counter and waved him through. “Come on, I’ve got a space back here. Are you in trouble already?”
 
“Not me.” He followed Seiji back into the dark interior of the store, through a storeroom and into the sort of high tech office any self-respecting person would never expect to find in a seedy second-hand shop. “I hope I’m not getting you in trouble.”
 
Todd puffed out a breath. “Mom wasn’t a fan of the military before I joined.” He shrugged. “But if you stay long enough you’ll get invited to dinner and force-adopted, just like everybody else.”
 
Brody chuckled. “Well, I’ve got somewhere to be this afternoon, but tell her thanks for me.”
 
Todd fired up his screens. “What do you need?”
 
“I need to know who’s sticking their fingers in the PacIC system that shouldn’t be.”
 
“Who…” Todd reached back and shut the door behind them. “That sounds like the kind of thing that should be official.”
 
“If I wasn’t retired it would be. EMR doesn’t feel like they’re whiffing it on purpose, but I suppose I could be wrong about that.”
 
“So I need to stay off the radar.”
 
He nodded. “If you run afoul of PD you could probably ask for Detective Hussein and tell her I set you on it and it might keep you out of trouble. Otherwise…”
 
“Alright. I’ll see what I can find. But you said you weren’t in trouble and this sounds personal.”
 
Brody reached past and typed in Libby’s information, and it popped right up, along with a whole bunch of shit that normally didn’t pop up. He wasn’t surprised her file was much more detailed on the interior system, and he suddenly wondered if it always would have pulled up here.
 
“You’ve been out a week and you’re already—”
 
“She was in the dock explosion. She’s not involved, but they definitely tried to make her look like she was. And last night someone—my gut says whoever tried to make her look like a terrorist—tried to drown us, and half a dozen PDO, and five guys from EMR in the maintenance tubing before we could get a look at what was left.”
 
Seiji blinked at him. “So whoever it is has to have known not only how to do that, but that you were going to be in the tubes.”
 
“Or that someone was going to be in the tubes. There was a lot of radio chatter, between PD and EMR while we were doing it so I’m not sure how hard it is to figure out we’re there.”
 
“Alright.” Seiji nodded. “I owe you, I’ll see what I can find.”
 
Brody slapped him on the back. “You’re the best. Do I need to give you my contact?”
 
“Nah.” Seiji smiled. “But if it gets bad I may make you come to dinner just to convince my gran I’ve got friends.”
 
Brody zipped his jacket, shaking his head. “Dude, I’ll be here for a while, even if it doesn’t get bad I’ll come meet your gran.”
 
Seiji watched him, eyes narrowed. “Okay, so which part was the job?”
 
Brody frowned, cocking his head. “What?”
 
“The guys…we could never figure out which Brody was the job and which Brody was Brody,” Seiji explained. “You were always equal parts awesome and hard-ass and we sort of figured one of them had to be a front.”
 
Brody glanced at Libby’s picture on the screen, and thought about it for a second. “They’re both me, but they weren’t paying me to be anybody’s friend and the hard-ass generally got better results.” He snorted. “I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who had to keep some of myself.”
 
Seiji flushed. The fact was all Seiji’s military records had said was S. Todd and when people had pushed that, to know what his first name was, he’d pretty consistently lied. He’d had them all, even in the unit, convinced his name was Steve for nearly five years. And if someone else had been his commanding officer that might not have worked, but Brody understood. If his first name was Steve then the ‘Asian tech genius’ crap didn’t start until people actually met Seiji.
 
“Yeah. Don’t mention that to my family, they wouldn’t understand.”
 
Brody nodded. “Ten-four. Let me know when you find anything.” He started to leave, and then stopped. “When I walk out should I pour on the charm with your mom or just scuttle by?”
 
Seiji laughed. “Try the charm, just be ready to run when it doesn’t work.”
 
Brody tracked his way back through the shop. Seiji’s mom was with a customer, and she glared at him but she didn’t break off so he slipped out onto the street. The kids were still watching the movie, and they braced to run when the door opened. When it was him they sat back down and ignored him.
 
He took the transport system back to their corner of the city, people bustling around him. The clouds couldn’t decide if they wanted to rain, or disperse. It was gray and windy one minute, and then next there’d be a bright shaft of sunlight.
 
Brody was on the last block before their building, about to the corner, when the sun cut through the clouds and something on the corner flashed. Brody walked past a man on the corner, in a non-descript brown jacket and jeans, just watching. He was staring at their building, and it took Brody a second to realize what had caught his eye.
 
When the sun flashed, the light scattered off his face. To the naked eye it didn’t look like more than a sparkle, like he was wearing old fashioned glitter. Brody took a step back onto the curb. The man looked at him, color-correcting contacts in his eyes, and smiled.
 
A loud bang echoed around them, and the hotel emergency alarms shrieked. The man saluted at Brody, and turned on his heel before he fled up the street. They both knew Brody wasn’t going to chase him.

... The place where you are your most authentic self.

It is currently 5:30 in the morning and I have a full day of programming at RavenCon ahead of me. But hey, at least we're closer to caught up.

You can find A here.

​Brody grabbed her wrist, the water splashing around their ankles already. Inspector Hussein and the others were back at the bulkhead, trying to get the door to open. There was a constant buzz of excited chatter over their communications.
 
“It won’t open,” Brody yelled, heading further into the tunnel. He stopped before the doors and looked up.
 
Libby blinked, there was some kind of shaft that led up from the ceiling there, with ladder rungs along it. “What is that?”
 
“The emergency tunnel escape. It’s got a bulkhead, but it’s manual.” He made a stirrup out of his hands. “Ladies first.”
 
Her stomach rolled. It wasn’t that she had a problem with the climb, and the steadily increasing water was an issue, but Brody… There was no way he was going to get himself on that ladder until everyone else was up. “Not until you do.”
 
His eyes narrowed, and he looked like he really wanted to argue with her.
 
Inspector Hussein pulled her men over then, apparently convincing them they actually weren’t going to manage to get the security door open right now—either from the door or from the control room, not until the flooding indicator stopped. Brody boosted the first one, and he stepped on someone’s shoulder and pulled himself up the ladder. Inspector Hussein went next, and then the other man from PD.
 
Brody held his hands up for her again. “Step on my shoulder if you need to.”
 
The water pulled at her waist, and sucked at her. She planted her foot in his hands, and stood up. She just managed to get her fingers around the ladder rung, and had to step on Brody’s shoulder to boost herself enough to get up it. She climbed high enough to be out of his way, but didn’t go further. She could hear the others opening the hatch above her.
 
Brody sprung up, and managed to get his hand on the ladder. The other joined it, and he pulled himself up another rung, and another, and Libby felt like the water was almost at the edge of the shaft now.
 
“Go,” he grunted. “I’m coming.”
 
Libby started climbing, looking up. It was further up than she’d thought it was, and Inspector Hussein was just lifting herself through the hatch. She glanced back down to check on Brody, he’d almost caught up with her. But the water was in the tunnel and it was rising fast.
 
“How much water can come through this before it locks this down too?” Inspector Hussein yelled down.
 
“Not a lot,” Brody called back, right below her. “But as long as we still close the hatch we’ll be okay.”
 
She climbed faster, almost there, and once she was within reach someone above grabbed her by the back of her shirt and someone else grabbed her arm and they’d hauled her up through the hatch and slid her across the floor like a fish pulled out of a frozen lake. She turned, and started back for Brody when his hand fastened on the side of the hatch. They pulled, and he pushed off of the ladder, and then he was slamming the hatch shut and locking it, water just starting to spray out the sides as it closed.
 
“Well that was close,” one of the cops muttered.
 
Brody huffed, and stood up slowly. He glanced around, they’d come up into one of the storage pods. He stood, and walked over and hauled Libby up off the floor. His arms crushed around her and he hugged her tight, just for a minute, before he took possession of her wrist again and headed for the door. “We probably don’t want to stay here, they don’t use those hatches anymore because sometimes they fail.”
 
“This is storage, that door is probably locked,” one of the cops grumbled.
 
Inspector Hussein rolled her eyes at him, and spoke into her communicator. “I need a triangulation on where I am.”
 
“We have you,” came the immediate answer.
 
“Open the door to this storage pod.”
 
There was a clicking noise, and a beep, and Brody pushed the door open.
 
“Is there any chatter from EMR?” Inspector Hussein asked, shutting the storage bay once we were all out. “Relock it.”
 
“No, Ma’am. Systems is draining the tunnels now, and Search and Rescue is on it’s way.”
 
Brody led them straight to the lift system, holding the door open with the hand that wasn’t holding Libby until everyone else was on.
 
“Good,” Inspector Hussein sighed. “Call Tech, I want to know what triggered that.”
 
“The system says—”
 
“Call them,” she interrupted. “Whatever the system says.”
 
“Yes, Ma’am.”
 
Inspector Hussein stepped on the elevator, Brody pulling her in last, and the inspector hit the button to take them back to the surface. “I suspect you two want to go back and change your clothes.”
 
“Do you need us for something?” Brody asked.
 
His fingers were still warm and firm around her wrist, and she almost wanted to lean into that. She was getting colder by the second, in wet clothes. Probably not helped by the back side of the adrenaline surge. She was going to have nightmares about water racing up that tunnel after them.
 
“I’ll need a statement, but it can wait,” Inspector Hussein glanced at Libby, and gave her a supportive smile. “Tomorrow morning. If I need something before then I’ll let you know.”
 
The lift doors opened, and Brody gave the inspector and her men a jaunty salute, before dragging her toward the nearest door. They were out of the building and on the street and he was expertly dodging people as he pulled her along. He walked with purpose, and there was a tension in him she hadn’t seen, and Libby was about ready to dig her heels in when he ducked between two of the buildings and stopped. He seemed like he had to force himself to let go of her wrist, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “Libby…”
 
She folded her arms over her chest, the breeze making her pants feel freezing cold and stuck to her. “What?”
He watched her for a second, and suddenly he was hugging her again, close and tight. “There’s no point in me telling you to go next time, is there?”
 
Libby pressed her face to his shoulder, and shuddered. “No.”
 
He sighed, and rubbed her arms as he pulled back. “Okay. Let’s go get you warmed up.” 

Tonight, on Thirty Days of Obscure Connections...

Penumbra is most easily defined as the shadowy edge around an eclipse. And from my perspective that sort of makes sense to this scene, but it's probably more of a stretch than I'd like it to be. 

Also, the next couple of days are going to be rocky because I officially don't really know where this is going, plot wise, but I'm trying to keep it from languishing until I figure it out. 

​If you'd like to go back to the beginning, when I had a direction, you can find A here.

​If going back to the ‘scene of the crime’ had been Libby’s idea, Brody would have vetoed it. Hard. Logically he knew it wasn’t a problem. They were going to go see what was left of the dock—nothing, nothing was left of the dock—and see what Libby could tell them about the things they’d retrieved after the explosion.
 
He didn’t doubt in the slightest she was capable. He didn’t doubt she could come up with something, some connection, they hadn’t found already.
 
If he’d had a valid reason to say no, he might have tried it with Inspector Hussein. She seemed to respect him, and she’d certainly generally listen when he had an objection. She wasn’t willing to cut off an area of inquiry because of a feeling in his gut. He didn't expect her to, but he was going to have to keep reminding himself of that every couple of minutes. They'd barely stepped onto the connecting section, the area that was closed until the reconstruction was completed of what was left of the section that used to be the dock, and he'd already considered grabbing Libby and leaving three times.
 
"Why are you so tense," Libby whispered, standing next to him while they cleared another section of walkway.
 
Each one took a few minutes, while they reprogrammed the security bulkhead. They were already closer than where he'd found her, just coming at the scene from a different direction than where she'd run. These were maintenance tunnels, with open pipes on the walls and a metal drain grating running down the center.
 
Brody shrugged, he didn't have a valid answer to give. They'd had robotic workers through since the explosion. PacIC needed its private craft dock back. They'd stabilized the region almost immediately after the evacuation, but Inspector Hussein had put off finishing the clean-up and any more rebuild work than ensuring the structure was going to hold together.
 
He might have answered if it'd just been himself and Libby, or just the two of them and Inspector Hussein. EMR had a team with them, rumbling between each other on their communication systems and banding together in a little clutch of dark suits. City Systems had sent a team with them too. There were three uniformed officers from PD following along behind them.
 
Which was about twice as many people as an operation like this could ever possibly need.
 
"Your bad feeling about this is infectious," Inspector Hussein grumbled, walking along on Libby's other side.
 
Brody shot her a look, dropping behind Libby just a bit. Much as he might have liked to tell her verbally--in his experience bad feelings were only contagious if they were valid--the last thing he wanted to do was make Libby feel like she was in danger. At least not before he was absolutely sure she was in danger.
 
Inspector Hussein wrinkled her nose, her shoulders shifting. Clearly, she'd gotten the message.
 
Libby sighed. "Well, it's not like it's going to—"
 
"Don't finish that," he and Inspector Hussein insisted at the same time.
 
Libby blinked at them.
 
"Just...don't." Inspector Hussein sighed. "Seriously. As soon as you say something insane like 'at least it's not going to blow up again' it will and I don't have the overtime clearance to deal with us all winding up at the hospital tonight."
 
They crossed over into the more damaged area of the tunnel then, and one of the EMR men walking in front of them called Inspector Hussein up to them. She waved them to a stop, and Brody moved Libby to the side of the tunnel by habit.
 
"Is that your problem, too?"
 
"No." He took a sip of water from the canteen he'd brought, shifting the weight of the rescue pack they all thought he was stupid to be hauling around.
 
Inspector Hussein was having a hissed argument with the EMR guys, and he could tell by their body language and the way they all kept looking back, that particular issue was about them. It was sort of even odds whether they didn't want Libby having access to the crime scene, or if the fact it wasn’t just Libby was the problem.
 
Libby cleared her throat softly, and he turned to find her watching him with her arms folded over her chest.
 
"It's not...If I had anything actionable you wouldn't be here."
 
She watched him for a minute, and her head cocked to the side. "But you would?"
 
Inspector Hussein stomped over, grumbling. "They're going through first, we're waiting here with PD until they decide it's...safe."
 
Brody cocked a brow at her. They weren't looking to see if it was safe, they were trying to keep control of the scene. Given the look on her face, Inspector Hussein knew that.
 
"If I could override them, I would."
 
Libby dropped back against the wall, next to him, and folded her arms behind her. "I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here anyway."
 
The inspector frowned. "Like I said, you—”
 
"Might remember something new," Libby finished. "You did, and they seemed to jump on that and I'm not stupid enough to dig my heels in just for giggles." She sighed. "But we're not going to make it to anything that looks like what I was in before it blew up, so it's not really the scene, and therefore probably not particularly useful."
 
"But you came anyway?" Inspector Hussein asked.
 
Libby shrugged. "You might have taken 'no, I don't think it'll work' for an answer. They clearly weren't going to." She frowned. "And given the fact one minute they seem to think I'm making things up, and the next I'm still a suspect playing along might not be my best idea..."
 
Inspector Hussein huffed softly. "Well, your boss has friends in high places, and he's clearly attached to you. You're not a good candidate for a government stitch-up."
 
"Would Matt make noise?" Brody asked, glancing at Libby. He didn't have a good bead on her boss. The only time he'd seen him was when he'd answered questions for records.
 
"Matt," Inspector Hussein said, voice dry, "has called me every day for an update and some sort of assurance that Ms. Wade is reasonably safe and not in need of assistance or protection."
 
Libby rubbed her face. "I've told him twice to stop. He worries."
 
"Well, I see his point. I made it pretty clear if Captain Halliday wasn't sticking around I'd be much more concerned about it."
 
The inspector's radio crackled then, and the sound echoed around them. "We've got a problem, the—”
 
An alarm klaxon sounded, sudden and grating, and the emergency lights flashed and turned the whole area red and yellow. The emergency bulkhead slammed down over the last door they'd cleared, and water started to rise through the grating in the center.  

Dictionary.com defines Orenda as "a supernatural force believed by the Iroquois Indians to be present, in varying degrees, in all objects or persons, and to be the spiritual force by which human accomplishment is attained or accounted for." And now that I've identified the Native American source of Midichlorians... Does anybody else have serious doubts about any word supposedly of Native American origin? I feel this way about place names, too. Like I kind of want to find someone from that group of people  and ask how many of those names actually mean "idiot white dude doesn't know the word for river."

You can find A here.

​They’d found James in just under forty-nine minutes. She had to give Brody credit, he didn’t crow, or jump up and down. He didn’t ask for a time check once, the entire time they looked. It wasn’t a game, even if he’d made a bet with her.
 
They’d found James, and he’d called Inspector Hussein immediately, and then glanced at the time with a self-satisfied smile.
 
“You found him.” Detective Hussein leaned close to the monitor, eyes narrowing. “What’s he doing with his face?”
 
More accurately, they’d found James’ jacket and shirt. His face was a weird clutch of sparkles on the screen. Which wouldn’t seem like enough, but what was the possibility that more than one man walked into that particular building, on that day, wearing a blue suit and a purple shirt, and had a reason to hide his face.
 
“Light diffusion.” Brody leaned back in his chair, sighing. “Whoever James is, he has connections.”
 
The inspector cocked a brow at them. “Oh?”
 
“It’s not cheap. It’s not rare, he could get it almost anywhere on the black market. But you have to pay. A lot.” He rubbed his face. “Like a lot a lot.”
 
“More than some kid pretending to work at a bank should have?” Inspector Hussein asked.
 
“Especially because this was the business function he introduced himself at,” Libby said, sighing. “Doesn’t that sort of mean he did it all the time?”
 
“Probably all the time he was with you,” Brody answered.
 
Inspector Hussein grinned. “Still, good job you two.”
 
Libby cocked a brow at her. “How is this good?”
 
“It’s a direction I didn’t have before,” Inspector Hussein said brightly. “I’ll call Seattle and ask if they know who he might have bought it from.” She slapped Libby on the shoulder. “The more we know the closer we get.”
 
“I was just going to see about checking any other times, if Libby could remember what he was wearing.” Brody leaned back and stretched his arms. “Do the same thing again.”
 
“What about the Tamerlane?” Libby asked. “I mean it wasn’t on the audio logs but shouldn’t there have been video of the docks?”
 
Brody at Inspector Hussein both stared at her, wearing equally incredulous looks.
 
“What?”
 
Inspector Hussein huffed, and rubbed her face. “We never asked you what the name of the transport was.”
 
She frowned. “I thought I said it when I was at the hospital.”
 
“Nope.” Brody turned back to the computer. “Alright. Was it printed on the side of the ship?”
 
“No. I think it had been, he said it was being redecorated.” Libby snorted. “It was on the inside inspection ticket and I recognized the word.”
 
Inspector Hussein grinned, excitement building. “He never told you it was named the Tamerlane.”
 
Libby shook her head no. “He didn’t say anything about it.”
 
Brody typed into the system, and they had a return almost instantly. “Tamerlane, coastal class, reported stolen six months ago from repair dock in San Francisco.”
 
Inspector Hussein made a happy noise. “What’s its case number?”
 
“T-23498J4,” Brody read off. “The case is still listed as active.”
 
She scribbled something on her personal device, looking over their shoulders. “I could kiss you both,” Inspector Hussein said seriously. “Finally, a lead.” She clapped them both on the shoulder and practically spun out of the room.
 
“It’s almost like she wants to solve this thing,” Brody muttered wryly, stretching his back.
 
Libby nearly reached out and rubbed his shoulders for him. He’d been hunched over the system for more than an hour, and he was starting to shift like he was uncomfortable. He smelled the same he had last night, when he’d opened the door to his room and the scent had practically smacked her in the face. It wasn’t as strong now, and she thought it must have been his soap. She’d probably caught him right after his shower.
 
Libby cleared her throat, and tried to focus. “Is a stolen boat that much of a lead?”
 
“Criminals are a weird lot, there’s not always a lot of honor amongst thieves.” He went back to the search they’d been doing before, but added the not-face portion of their previous return in. “Never know what you’ll find until you start kicking over rocks. Now. Give me another date and place and an outfit you remember.”
 
It got easier as the afternoon went along, and by the end of it they’d stacked up four different shots of James, going into buildings or areas where he’d met her ‘by accident’ with light diffusing stuff on his face.
 
“The light diffusion is less helpful if he’s carrying it around with him,” Libby muttered.
 
Brody sighed. “Well, maybe, but he’s using a lot of it. If he’s buying it in large quantities I promise someone else is already curious about why. Even if it’s only so they can get in on the action.”
 
“What action is does blowing up a city dock get them? There aren’t enough casualties, and it’s not impacting the city and—”
 
“Trial run.” Brody sighed, and dropped his face down in his hands. “It buys them a trial run.”
 
Libby stared at the sparkle-faced man on the screen and felt like someone walked over her grave. “Because if I was dead the trail was cold.”
 
Brody reached back and grabbed her hand, standing. “Come on.”
 
Libby let herself be pulled along behind him, until they were walking into the office of a very happy Detective Hussein.
 
“Hey, SF is sending over their file, and…” She died off as Brody shut her office door. “You’re going to spoil my good mood, aren’t you?”
 
Brody sighed. “Yep.”
 
“How spoiled?”
 
“Libby made half a connection for me. She asked what blowing up a dock gets them. There aren’t enough casualties, and it doesn’t impact the city enough, it doesn’t gain them anything, and given the amount someone spent on light-diffusing tech for at least one persons face—”
 
“They have an end game.” Inspector Hussein finished, voice soft, face drawing in horror.
 
Brody nodded sadly. “So the most likely thing they’re getting out of blowing up the dock…”
 
“Is a dry run,” the inspector finished softly.