Story [L&O:OC/FBI] The Ghost of You (Jet, Maggie, Hana, Malachi)

Title: The Ghost of You

Author: Tarsier

Fandoms: Law & Order: Organized Crime, FBI, FBI: Most Wanted.

Characters: Detective Jet Slootmaekers [L&O: OC], Special Agent Maggie Bell [FBI], Special Agent Hana Gibson [FBI: Most Wanted], Adam “Malachi” Mintock [L&O: OC]

Summary: Jet has been arrested. Maggie is called in to interrogate her...

Timeframe: AU - the ship is sweet here, not spicy.

Begins approximately after L&O: OC Season 2, Episode 12; during FBI Season 4; and FBI:MW Season 3

Background: You do not need to be familiar with the source material to read this story. In fact, I strongly recommend avoiding the trainwreck that is L&O: OC Season 2. I'm so unhappy with where the show ended up, I'm strongly inclined to destroy all evidence that I ever wrote for this fandom.... But for now, I guess I'll leave my own trainwreck here.

Other stories with these characters:
Things You Said
Shaded Purple (Drabbles)

The Ghost of You​

Her first thought was that the Organized Crime Control Bureau was not very organized. Special Agent Maggie Bell glanced to her partner, Special Agent O.A. Zidan, and lifted her eyebrows. O.A. shrugged.

“Hello? I’m Agent Bell. I was called in by Lieutenant Brewster.”

No one in the bustling office seemed to pay much attention, but after a few minutes a stocky man approached Maggie and O.A.

“Who’s this?” he gestured to O.A. “I requested only one agent.”

“He’s my partner,” Maggie explained. “We work together.”

“I don’t need two feds in here. It’s a simple confession, you can handle it on your own. I told your boss this.”

O.A. opened his mouth to object, but Maggie got the first word in. “Ok, fine. O.A. just go on back to work. Doesn’t sound like I’ll be long. Tell Jubal I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

O.A. didn’t look very happy, but nodded his consent. “Call me if you need anything.” He took a careful look around the frantic work area before leaving.

The stocky man shoved a file into Maggie’s hands. “That’s all you should need. Pretty straight forward case. Too young of a detective, seduced by a charming perp and easy money. Take five to review, then I’ll take you to the suspect.”

Maggie found an empty chair and opened the file.

Maggie had done some of her own research before coming in, although she hadn’t been able to find much information on the suspect. She pieced together the story to be this:

• The Organized Crime division had been investigating some severe cyberattacks that had threatened to cripple the city, especially the financial sector.
• The division had a dedicated technical expert, Jet Slootmaekers, the current suspect, and had also brought in a criminal consultant, Adam Mintock, also known by the hacker alias Malachi.
• The party responsible for the attacks was an issue of some debate within the division.
• As Jet and Malachi had traced the cyberattacks, it was believed they had added a bit of their own code, siphoning off a small percentage of the stolen money being investigated.
• After collecting several thousand dollars, Jet and Malachi had tried to take the money and run.
• He’d been shot in the head and she’d been shot in the arm, presumably by the gangsters they were siphoning the money from.

The main question in Maggie’s mind was why she was called in. It wasn’t that unusual to call in the FBI to take over internal investigations within the police force, but this was not that. They wanted her for this single interrogation. They were giving her only minimal access and had dismissed her partner. She didn’t like the situation, but didn’t see a lot of options. Jubal had approved it, so she better just get this done so she could get back to the FBI.

She went to find the man who had handed her the file—Lieutenant Brewster, she assumed—and found him in a heated discussion with another detective.

“I’ve had enough of Detective Unstabler and his conspiracy theories. I found you a young pretty female fed to take the confession. That’s as much of a compromise as you’re going to get. Now no one can claim she was intimidated. We got her dead to rights anyway, the confession is just a formality.”

Maggie cleared her throat. Brewster looked over at her with a scowl. “This way.” He gestured for her to follow as he walked off, apparently indifferent to her having overheard him.

Outside the interrogation room, Maggie paused to gather her thoughts.

Young, pretty, female. That’s why she was here. A young, pretty, female agent called in so as not to intimidate the young, pretty, female suspect.

For a moment Maggie considered coming in with teeth. Screaming and pounding the table to get her confession. Show how intimidating she could be. But no, the expectations were clear. There was nothing to be gained by making waves. She would do her job.

She opened the door. It was an interrogation room like any other, with a table in the middle and a chair on either side. Jet was uncuffed, right arm in a sling, sitting at the table with her head lowered.

“Hello, detective. I’m Special Agent Maggie Bell, here to talk to you.”

Jet didn’t look up.

“Detective Slootmaekers? Am I pronouncing that right? Can I call you Jet? You can call me Maggie.”

No response.

“I see you’re a computer whiz. That’s amazing. I barely know how to check my email.” Maggie realized how stupid it sounded as she said it. Of course she could check her email. It was condescending to suggest otherwise.

Jet didn’t look up, not even to roll her eyes.

“You were key in bringing down the Kosta organization, that’s impressive. And then you were working on unravelling the recent cyberattacks across the city. That’s when you met Adam? Or should I call him Malachi?”

Still nothing. The mention of her lover should have triggered something. At least she should have an opinion on what he should be called. Plus, Maggie was pretty sure that wasn’t when she’d first met him. Jet seemed the type to have an itch to set the record straight.

“You know you don’t have to talk to me, Jet, but I’m just here to get your side of the story. Maybe it’s embarrassing, maybe there was a lapse in judgement. We’ve all been there. Just tell me the truth and we’ll work it out.”

Finally, Jet looked up. Big eyes and porcelain skin, she did look young. And scared.

“Can we talk about Adam? Seems like you two had a lot in common. Both hackers extraordinaire. Spent a lot of time together, working the computers. Maybe spent some time together after work too? The rest of you team reports there was definite chemistry. You know it’s not unusual—it’s just human—to develop feelings when you work closely with someone. Even if you know better, the chemicals can take over. You can make one bad decision, and get wrapped up in something bigger, and you can think it’s too late. But it’s never too late to admit a mistake and make amends.”

Heavy silence. Give her time, Maggie thought. She’ll come around. The guilt must be killing her.

Finally, Jet spoke. So soft Maggie could hardly make out the words. They were not a confession, not what she expected at all.

“Define chemistry.”

Maggie had to replay her own words to pinpoint what Jet was referring to. Glancing at the file in front of her, although it held no answers, Maggie explained. “Your team said there was flirtation between you and Adam. They thought you were—” Maggie bit her tongue before the word cute could come out. She would spare Jet that indignity at least. “They thought you looked good together. You would make a nice couple.”

Jet looked up with a scowl, just as Maggie realized her replacement words were hardly any better.

“He was a criminal consultant. I’m a police detective.”

“I know,” Maggie began, “I didn’t say that very well—”

“You? You don’t know anything. If they said—he was hitting on me. All the time. He was harmless, so, I let it go. I worked around it. He was good. He was brilliant. But I didn’t need him. I could have done it by myself. I wanted to do it by myself, but they insisted. They made me find him, they made me work with him. Forced contact—is that what they call chemistry?”

Maggie was taken aback. She looked to the mirror. Maybe the story she had wasn’t quite accurate. Or at least not complete. “Um…”

****​

Confess. Confess, confess, confess! The voice in her head was nearly overwhelming. Since she’d been released from the hospital—released into custody!—it had been with her. It was his voice, and it said the things he would say. Sometimes she thought that he was there, just out of sight, but that was even crazier. She’d been shot in the arm, but maybe she’d hit her head on the way down. Maybe they’d given her meds at the hospital. Maybe it was a psychotic break. She didn’t know, but she didn’t want anyone else to know either. She wasn’t crazy, she wasn’t lovesick, she wasn’t a dirty cop. She wouldn’t let anyone believe she was.

Look, okay, I didn’t know! I came on too strong! I’m a jerk. But you have to confess. Blame me! Blame it all on me! I seduced you, I manipulated you! Just confess!

Why would I confess to something I didn’t do?! Jet’s mind had been churning since it all went down, but that was the first time she’d thought at the voice.

You can hear me! Then why aren’t you listening?! Confess or you’ll die.

What? No, I’m not—

He’ll kill you. Don’t you understand? Prison is the safest place for you. He doesn’t have anyone in there. At least I don’t think so—not in the women’s side. You gotta let it cool down. He might forget about you. But not now. Now he’s angry.

“Jet? Are you ok? You look…” Maggie trailed off.

Was she going to say like I saw a ghost?

Who cares! Confess, confess, confess!

Jet tried to will the voice to shut up, so she could think at least. How could she sort out if the voice was real, if it wouldn’t give her a moment to think? Kriff, did it sound like him though. Who would have thought being dead would make him ten times more annoying?

“I did it,” the words were out before Jet even realized she was saying them.

Maggie blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “You did what?”

“All of it. I stole the money, I was running away…”

Did I just say that? Is he controlling what I say? He can’t—he’s dead. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I should be committed.

The door burst open and people poured in. Jet lowered her head and put her good arm behind her back. They couldn’t cuff her with her injured arm, so they just led her away with a firm grip on her left bicep.

Distantly, she heard Maggie. “Wait, what are you…? That wasn’t… She didn’t…that’s it?”

 

With that it was over almost as soon as it began. Maggie got the confession. The suspect was being taken away. So why did it feel like everything was wrong?

Maggie searched for the exit to the precinct, deciding she would take a few moments outside to clear her head before calling O.A. That’s when a bald man with an ugly goatee stepped in front of her.

“You proud of yourself? Sending a good cop to prison for nothing?”

His eyes were wild and Maggie took a step back, her hand naturally going to the gun on her belt.

“Knock it off, Stabler.” The detective that Brewster had been yelling at earlier, a dark-skinned woman, stepped between Stabler and Maggie.

“She confessed,” Maggie replied.

“She’s in shock! She doesn’t know what she’s saying! You don’t know how to deal with victims. This is why I wanted Olivia—”

“Let her go.” The other detective eased Stabler away and gave Maggie a sympathetic smile.

Stabler continued his tirade, but it was no longer directed at Maggie and she started to slip away. “Is she getting a protective detail at least? What about Adam? It should be round the clock! I’m telling you, they’re going to finish the job.”

Curiosity piqued, Maggie turned back and asked, “Malachi? I thought he was killed.”

“Might as well be,” the other detective replied. “From what I’ve heard he’s brain-dead. They’re looking for next of kin so they can pull the plug.”

“That’s a bit premature, don’t you think?” a new voice entered the conversation. “Special Agent Hana Gibson with the Fugitive Task Force.” She offered her hand.

“Who called you?” Stabler asked, clearly not pleased to see another fed.

“No one. I saw the bulletin saying you were looking for volunteers to keep watch over Malachi. I’m in.”

“You know what, me too.” Maggie was eager to get back to her regular job, but she also knew it was hard to get an overworked police force to volunteer for protective details under any circumstances, and it didn't seem like Malachi was likely to generate much sympathy. And there was something about the way Jet looked at her as she was being led away...Maggie felt maybe she owed the case a little more time.

****​

“So that’s him, huh?” Hana eagerly walked up to Malachi’s hospital bed. “Wow, he looks…exactly like his avatar, without the clown make-up.”

“Do you know him?” Maggie asked.

“Well, I’ve never met him, obviously, but I’ve heard of him. Malachi—he took down half the servers at Quantico when I was there.”

“I think I did hear about that.” Maggie looked from the man laying unconscious on the hospital bed, then back to Hana. “Are you a…fan of his?”

“No. I mean, just an observer. When I was younger, I tried to get into a few of the competitions. I was good but not that good.”

“So you’re a hacker too.”

“…Kind of? I mean, not at this level.”

“Do you know Jet Slootmaekers as well?”

“Slootma…you mean Sloot? Oh my gosh, yes. She’s sort of my hero. Why? I was so shocked when I found out she was a cop! Perks of the FBI, right? And she works in New York. I couldn’t believe it. Never quite found out exactly where though.”

“So…you don’t know anything about this case, do you?”

“No, not much. Word is he was shot by a mobster he was stealing from. Honestly kinda thought he was smarter than that. But he’s pretty famous for his arrogance, I guess it isn’t that big of a surprise. What do you know? Oh, man, is Sloot involved?”

Maggie wondered how much she should tell Hana. The details of the case could be assumed to be confidential, but Hana was an agent. And technically, being here meant she was on the case in some capacity.

“Yeah, so Malachi was actually working with the police, with Jet, to investigate some cyberattacks. She must have fallen for him, because the two of them started skimming money and tried to run. They both got shot. Jet just confessed.”

“What? No way! Sloot’s way too smart for that. Malachi’s got a bit of a rep as a ladies man—or thinking he is—but Sloot would never fall for that. There’s something else going on here.”

“You…might be right about that.”

Two people wearing scrubs entered the room. After verifying their hospital IDs, Maggie and Hana moved to the door, out of the way. They watched as the doctors checked charts and machines, easily overhearing their conversation.

“How’s it going on finding next of kin?”

“Nothing yet. This guy’s a ghost. No family at all.”

“Second cousin twice removed? Significant other? Best friend?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

“Well, keep looking. Things are not good and I’d like to have this room for patients with a chance.”

As the doctors were leaving, Hana approached. “It’s not that dire, is it? People come out of comas all the time.”

“Not this kind.” The doctor handed Hana a chart. “No brainstem activity. He’s not with us.”

“O-o-o-kay….” As Hana looked at the chart, her eyes narrowed. “Thanks.”

The doctors left.

“You okay?” Maggie asked.

“Um, yeah...it’s just…the results I saw were much different. When exactly was he brought in?”

“Results? When did you see results?”

“Well, it wasn’t official…just, this message board…said Malachi was hospitalized from a gunshot…looking for more info. Hackers stick together, you know? Sometimes. But anyway there were medical records posted—I know, I know, major HIPAA violation, don’t tell my boss I looked—but it appeared the bullet ricocheted off the skull with minimal damage. That chart just now showed the bullet lodged in the parietal lobe.”

“Are you saying you believe this dark net hacker over a hospital?”

“No, I’m not saying that. Just that it’s strange.”

“Those could have been anyone’s records. Just a prank, right?”

“Sure, yeah, you’re probably right.”

****​

C’mon, just touch her.

You’re insane. And gross.

It’ll be better, trust me. I’ve done my time.

Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough.

You won’t have another opportunity like this. I’m telling you, you have to move when you can.

No—

Jet felt her hand move. Not a lot, just enough to brush up against the backside of the prisoner in front of her as they filed towards their cells. It was enough though, as the large woman turned on Jet in an instant. She didn’t even see the fist coming, she just felt the sensation of falling. Then blackness.

****​

“They said they were looking for a significant other, right? Well, Jet just confessed to being involved with him.” Maggie and Hana sat on the floor in the doorway to Malachi’s room, each with their back against opposite walls and legs bent in front. Maggie felt a little bit like she was staying up late talking to her roommate in a college dorm. It wasn’t a feeling she’d had since joining the FBI. She didn’t want to admit she kinda liked the feeling, especially since Hana had been a lot quieter since the doctors had been in.

“You think we could get her in here?” Hana perked up a bit. Maggie wasn’t sure if it was because she might be able to meet her hero Sloot, or the idea of delaying Malachi’s inevitable demise just a little longer.

“Hmm.” Maggie pursed her lips. “Something just occurred to me. I think Jet thinks Malachi is dead. She referred to him in the past tense. She seemed pretty dissociated.”

“Well, then, we have good news for her.”

“Not great news. He’s still not going to survive much longer.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s too late now. I’ll make some calls in the morning.” Maggie stretched her back against the wall. They weren’t likely to get any relief any time soon.

“Get some rest,” Hana said as she pulled her laptop out of her bag. “I’m not going to get any sleep tonight anyway.”

****​

Jet awoke in what she assumed must be the prison infirmary. Her face throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the pain shooting up from her broken arm. She gasped and realized tears were streaming down her face.

“Sorry,” the nurse holding her arm said without much apology. “Needs to be reset. Not a good idea to fall on an already broken arm.”

Jet closed her eyes and laid back into the hospital bed.

“The pain meds should kick in soon. Try to get some sleep.” The nurse walked away.

Jet tried her best to ignore the pain. No easy feat—what she wouldn’t have given for the distraction of a laptop, or even a cell phone, right now.

Her face hurt, her arm hurt, but her soul was crushed. She thought the worst thing that could ever happen to her was losing her job. But now she was in prison, and may never leave. That thought was almost too much to bear.

Things had taken a bad turn a few days ago, but she’d never imagined they would lead her here. She supposed that's what she got for choosing to follow Malachi.

To be fair, it was Stabler’s idea. When she sensed Malachi was about to bolt, she warned the detective she trusted most. (Why she trusted Stabler at all was a neurosis to be explored later.) Stabler told her to follow Malachi, which she didn’t want to do, but which became very easy when Malachi insisted on dragging her along. Stabler thought he would lead them to mob boss Wheatley. Jet thought she would learn what deserted island Malachi deemed most obscure. Malachi was moving swiftly, she close on his heels, through an alley toward what was likely to be a stolen car, when the gunfire erupted. Jet didn’t know what happened after that as instinct and self-preservation took over. She was still hiding behind a dumpster when the medics arrived, barely aware that she’d been shot as she watched them load his body on a stretcher.

That wasn’t how it was supposed to end for Malachi.

Jet felt her head getting heavy and noticed the pain had substantially lessened. The pain meds must be working. The silence seemed to echo in the infirmary and she thought she might be able to drift to sleep when a thought struck her.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

His voice was gone. She no longer heard Malachi rambling in her head, giving her terrible advice, and generally preventing her from thinking straight.

How could he be gone? she found herself wondering. Even though she knew he had never been here. Still, the loss was cutting, in a way she never expected.

She could feel the tears coming again. The last few days were just too much and she let them flow.

 

“Great, thank you.” Maggie ended the call and opened the door to Malachi’s room slowly, so as not to trip over Hana, who had fallen asleep on her laptop in the early morning hours.

Hana was awake now, sitting at the small table tapping at her computer.

“Good news,” Maggie announced. “Jet should be here any minute.”

Hana looked up. “Wow, that’s fast. You sure know how to get things done.”

“Actually, she was on her way already. Apparently she got in some sort of altercation last night and they need to look at her broken arm again.”

“A prison altercation? Man, that kid’s had a bad few days.”

“Well, she spent the night in the infirmary. Apparently never even made it to a cell, so maybe it’s not all bad.”

****​

Don’t you dare, don’t you dare, don’t you dare!

Jet clenched her teeth, trying her best not to feel any emotion in response to the voice returning. An officer was once again leading her by her good arm, but this one had a much lighter grip than most. His radio crackled. “Fifth floor, room five-oh-eight.”

That was strange; she’d gotten her first set of x-rays on the second floor. Where were they taking her now?

Don’t you dare, don’t you dare, don’t you dare!

She realized the voice was likely to keep repeating the same words until she acknowledged them, and she didn’t even know what they meant.

Don’t I dare what?

Oh thank Musk! You can still hear me. Just don’t do it. Please! I’m begging you.

As she was led off the elevator, Jet was surprised to see the FBI agent who had taken her confession.

“I’ll take her from here. You can go,” Maggie dismissed the officer.

I’m begging you, Sloot! Begging you!

“I don’t know what you were told,” Maggie said as she led Jet down the hallway and stopped at a closed door. “Malachi was shot in the head and is currently in a coma. They don’t expect he’ll wake up.”

Don’t you dare pull that plug!

Jet looked at Maggie without words, then pushed through the door.

He was there, unconscious and unthreatening. She almost reached out to touch him, then quickly thought better of it.

“He’s going to die,” she said flatly and was somewhat surprised to be answered by a voice not in her head.

“Maybe.” There was someone else in the room, Jet hadn’t noticed as she entered. “I think we should get a second opinion.”

“Hana has doubts, but the doctors say he’s well past the point of any hope, he’s just consuming resources." Maggie let her words sink in for a minute before continuing softly, "They say letting him go would be a kindness."

“He wouldn’t be worried about that,” Jet replied, looking at Maggie for the first time. “Having resources expended on him, sticking around for too long—Not a concern for him.”

“Do you know of any family?” Hana asked.

“No,” Jet said. “I don’t think he had anyone.”

I wouldn’t say that…

“Well, I know he had a cat.”

Thanks, that makes me sound like much less of a loser.

“But you’re his girlfriend, right?” Hana spoke quickly. “Fiancée, even? Practically married?” Hana grabbed Jet by her right shoulder and she winced in pain, rather than responding. A doctor had entered and Hana led Jet up to him.

Just go with it! For all that’s holy, it won’t kill you!

“Oh!” The doctor turned to regard Jet. “We found a fiancée? That’s great. Good enough. You can sign the papers.”

Slooooooooooooooooooot!

“I don’t want to stop life support.”

The doctor grimaced as he pretended to study the chart in his hands. “I see. And I see there’s no insurance…Under police lockdown…” The doctor peered dramatically over his glasses at Jet. “We’ll have a grief and loss counselor come by a little later to talk to you.” The doctor turned and walked briskly out the door.

“We’re police protection, not custody!” Hana called after the doctor.

Thank you, thankyou, thankyou thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.

“We may have bought a little time, but I’m guessing it won't be long before the hospital decides a fiancée can’t make an end-of-life call after all.”

Now there’s two things I never thought I’d have—a bullet in the head and a fiancée. Turning state’s witness is proving to be quite the ride.

“Shut up.” Jet muttered beneath her breath.

Maggie tilted her head. “Sorry?”

“I’m not feeling that well. I need to get…I need to use the restroom.” Jet wasn’t lying—she’d never felt worse in her life. Hana’s shoulder squeeze had sent a wave of nausea through her system and she just wanted to get out.

“I’ll take her,” Hana agreed just a little too quickly. “Maggie, you stay with Malachi.”

****​

“That was really good,” Hana said softly to Jet. “I didn’t think you were getting my signals.”

Jet looked at her, but Hana had not yet figured out how to parse Jet's expressions. Perhaps they were on the same page, or maybe Jet was overwhelmed and bewildered, or maybe she really did just need the bathroom. It didn’t really matter—except that if it was the latter Jet was going to have to hold it.

Late last night, after Maggie fell asleep, and after reviewing the records she’d found online of Malachi’s head wound for the seventeenth time, and seeing no indication that they had been faked, Hana had decided to press the issue a little further. She asked every nurse and doctor she could find if she could review Malachi’s chart. They all said no. Maybe that was to be expected, but the one doctor had let her take a brief look earlier. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about that chart had seemed off. Without seeing it again, she couldn’t say what it was, but she’d learned to trust her gut. And her gut was telling her there was something funky going on here.

That’s where things got a little bit murky. She wasn’t on company time and it was her own personal laptop. She hated to do in the hospital, but she couldn’t very well have left, so she’d just had to trust that her encryption protocol was solid.

It hadn’t taken her long to find blueprints of the hospital online. Conveniently, there was a server room at the end of the long hallway on the current floor. If they could hardline into the servers, it shouldn’t be that hard to pull records. She could probably do it herself; Jet could surely do it in no time, and maybe even be able to trace changes to individual records.

Hana had wanted to tell Maggie. Maggie seemed cool, she probably wouldn’t have tried to stop here. But Maggie wouldn’t be much help, and it was much better for her if she didn’t know. Hana could get in a lot of trouble but was willing to risk it. Jet was already in a lot of trouble. Maggie was clear, so far.

As they reached the end of the hall, Hana casually palmed the keycard in her pocket. That was where things had gotten really sticky—it had taken her most of the night, walking the halls until she found an unattended janitor’s cart and slipping the card into her pocket.

She sure hoped she’d gotten the right one.

****​

I hate the real world, Jet thought. Every part of her body hurt and the mental fog was so thick she wasn’t sure she could see. She could swear they’d passed at least two bathrooms, yet Hana led on.

What Jet wouldn’t give to settle behind a screen and let the misery of the physical world fade away. Numbers and letters, pixels and code, that was what made sense. That was where she wanted to be.

Finally reaching the end of the hall, Hana looked around suspiciously then put a hand in her pocket. Jet felt a twinge of panic, it suddenly occurring to her that she had no particular reason to trust Hana.

Relax. You’re finally gonna get to do some actual work. You wish it, I make it happen.

****​

Hana released her breath as the keypad gave a positive beep. She opened the door and walked through, swinging her bag off her shoulder and removing the laptop before Jet was even in. She handed Jet the laptop and an ethernet cord, then quickly closed the door behind her.

“Find Malachi’s records. I think they’ve been tampered with.”

****​

It didn’t take long. It was immediately obvious that someone had replaced Malachi’s brain scans, they hadn’t even bothered to cover their tracks. Jet glanced only briefly at the hacker’s code, finding out who wasn’t the priority, only figuring out the extend of what they’d done. Still, something about the code made her do a double take. At the end of each line, an extra letter. A signature. The idea stolen from Constantine, but Constantine used random letters. There was only one letter here, repeated on every line—W.

W, as in Wheatley.

The signature could hardly be less subtle, but the plan had finesse. Don’t send goons into Malachi’s room, guns blazing. Instead, convince the doctors he was hopeless and let them do the dirty work.

“What’s up?” Hana asked.

Jet looked up. “Wheatley. He’s finishing the job. Or trying to.”

Just then Hana’s phone rang. Seeing it was Maggie, she answered it.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay? You’ve been gone a long time.”

Before Hana could respond, the sound of gunfire erupted from the phone. Hana and Jet simultaneously charged for the door. As they sprinted down the hall, they heard more shots echo down the hallway.

****​

Maggie’s hands were still shaking when O.A. arrived. “I’m fine,” she said, before he could ask. “They were so intent on Malachi they didn’t see me.”

The bodies had already been taken to the morgue. Jet was perched on the edge of Malachi’s bed, Hana in a chair beside her.

"I guess Wheatley thought the doctors were taking too long and got nervous. Sent his goons in anyway."

“I thought you might be interested in this.” O.A. handed Maggie a report, which she skimmed. “A guard at Bayview killed a prison nurse before he was taken out by the other guards. They aren’t releasing much info, but rumor has it he was mob connected.”

O.A. looked at Jet. “It’s a good thing you brought her here. I pulled the logs—incident happened forty minutes after Jet was checked out.”

“You’re kidding.” Maggie regarded her partner. “Well, they have to believe she’s in danger now.”

“In danger, yeah. You rip off the mob, you get what’s coming to you. Doesn’t make her innocent.”

“Yeah, but this does.” Hana approached and handed Maggie a technical report.

“What’s this?”

“It’s pretty technical to explain, just trust me that it shows Wheatley wrote the skimming code himself. He was setting them up.”

Maggie looked up at Hana. “That’s great. How’s Malachi?”

“Well, now that they have his actual brain scans—they ran all new ones, just to be sure—”

“At taxpayer expense?”

“Of course, I’m sure he wouldn’t have it any other way—he’s got a really good chance of recovering. And now they can actually give him an appropriate treatment, he could regain consciousness in a few days.”

****​

“Wheatley’s been arrested, Malachi’s got round-the-clock guards, I say it’s time to relax.” Hana glanced at her phone. “Happy hour, anyone?”

“I’m going home.” Jet stared at the floor, her left hand in her jacket pocket, and took a few steps.

Maggie took a step into Jet’s path. “Wait a minute. Did you ever get your arm re-x-rayed?”

Jet glanced around without responding.

“No way we’re leaving you alone tonight,” Hana declared. “First x-rays, then dinner.”

****​

The doctors had insisted Jet stay overnight for observation. Maggie thought that was an excellent idea. And after promises to procure pizza, soda, and a tablet, Jet had come around too.

Ultimately is was mostly unnecessary because after half a slice of pizza, a sip of soda, and five minutes of screen time, Jet passed out and was sleeping hard. Maggie was happy to do her part to make sure the pizza didn’t go to waste, but she didn’t relish another night sleeping on a hospital floor.

Perhaps sensing her demeanor, Hana said, “You can go. I’ll stay with her.”

“Thanks. I’ll check on Malachi on my way out.”

****​

Refreshed after a night in her own bed, Maggie got up early and procured enough coffee and donuts to feed Malachi’s guards and Jet and Hana.

Jet was working on her third donut before Maggie realized she had perhaps not eaten for days and she wished she’d brought something more substantial.

Hana’s phone buzzed. As she picked it up she got that look Maggie knew all to well—duty called.

“I gotta—”

“It’s fine, I’m taking the day off, I’ll be around for a while.”

“Here’s my card. Let’s keep in touch. I like knowing some other ladies in law enforcement.”

Hana left. Jet was staring into the middle distance and suddenly Maggie felt very awkward.

“You can go,” Jet said. “I’m fine.”

“No, I’ll stay.”

Maggie sipped her coffee as the silence stretched.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Jet shook her head.

“Good news.” A nurse walked in the room. “Everything looks great, you’re being released. Just need to do the checkout paperwork.” The nurse handed Jet a clipboard.

“Well, maybe I will…” Maggie stood up. She smiled at Jet, then started toward the door.

“Wait.”

Maggie stopped.

“Um, here.” Jet ripped the bottom off one of the forms and handed it to Maggie. It had a hand-written phone number on it. “In case you need help with your email or something.”

Jet immediately returned to filling out the forms, avoiding all eye contact.

“Thanks.” Maggie dropped her card on the table, on top of Hana’s, as she left.

****​

Days after being released, Jet returned to the hospital. Passing the guards stationed outside, she entered Malachi’s room.

She sat in the chair and for a while she just stared at him.

“What gives?” She finally said out loud. “Haunt me ‘til I save your life, then silence?”

No answer, not that she expected one. She probably had a concussion. The last few days were pretty fuzzy. Obviously Malachi had been here, and that meant he hadn’t been with her.

“All that annoying whispering in my ear while I’m trying to work. It finally got to me. My subconscious has captured your voice perfectly.”

No response, not that there could possibly have been one. Jet glanced at the door to make sure it was closed and hoped the guards couldn’t hear through it.

“Now you’ve gotten me shot in the arm, sent to prison, punched in the face, and nearly cost me my job. Is that enough for you? Are you going to leave me alone now?”

Jet glared at Malachi’s unconscious form. “Because maybe…maybe I don’t hate the company. And maybe you did save my life. And maybe after all this, I’m afraid to go back to work. Not because of Wheatley, not because of being punched or shot. But because you won’t be there. Because I know you’re here. And I really just wish you’d wake up, so I can remember how annoying you are.”

Silence, except for the steady beep of the monitors.

 

Author Note: Those who have read my other stories may know I am fond of multiple endings. I kinda feel like the above is where the story should end. But it may not be very satisfying. And I never know when to end. So....here's more!

---

Interlude​

Jet’s quest was interrupted for the fourth time in a row. Hard enough to play one-handed without constant interruptions.

It was Hana, all five times. Jet was afraid if she didn’t acknowledge her, Hana might call the precinct. Maybe it was important… but for some reason Jet had given Hana and Maggie her private number. Official business didn’t happen on this line. Had Hana not heard of texting?

Reluctantly, Jet answered the call.

“Jet speaking.”

“Hey, Jet! How’s it going?”

“Fine.”

“Oh, good. Did I interrupt something? You aren’t on a case are you?”

“No. They won’t let me go back until the sling is off.”

“Ouch. Still in a lot of pain? How’s your black eye?”

“I’m fine.”

“Ok, well, I heard Malachi’s still out. I wanted to make sure you’re doing ok.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m gonna be in New York this weekend. I’d love to take you out to dinner.”

“No. I’ve got plans.”

“Oh. Well… I guess I’ll let you go then. Call me any time!”

Jet ended the call and tried to get back into the game. But her concentration was broken. She suddenly noticed how tired her hand was. She dropped her phone on the bed and laid back.

Awkward conversations were a specialty of Jet’s, so much so that she didn’t even notice them most of the time. But now that the call was over, Jet sort of wished she hadn’t been so abrupt with Hana. Jet hadn’t seen another human in days. Not normally an issue, but typing with one hand and squinting at the screen with one eye was laborious.

Her apartment was too quiet and her thoughts were too rampant.

Jet couldn’t take it. She picked up her phone and dialed Maggie.

****​

Maggie was alone, contemplating her options in the fridge, when her phone rang. She was shocked to see it was Jet. She feared something terrible must have happened.

“Jet, are you ok?”

“Texting is hard with one hand.”

“Umm…ok?”

“I don’t like to talk on the phone. But my hand is too tired to text.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear from you and I’m happy to talk on the phone.”

Jet was quiet and Maggie feared she’d hung up.

“I…might be crazy.”

“What do you mean?”

“…After…the incident…I thought…I thought I could hear his voice, in my head.”

“Oh…?”

“And now I don’t. And I don’t know why. That’s why I’m crazy. Because I miss it.”

“You’re not crazy. You went through something really traumatic—”

“I didn’t call you for platitudes.”

“…Why did you call me?”

“…I don’t know.”

“…It’s not crazy to miss someone. Even if they’re irritating, or hard to work with.”

“It doesn’t mean…?”

“That you’re madly in love with him? No.”

“Does the silence ever get to you?”

“Yeah, sometimes…I’m sure it gets to everyone.”

“What do you do?”

“Well…sometimes I call a friend.”

“And if you don’t have any?”

“I…call someone else. Like a colleague. Someone I know and who cares about me.”

“And how do they help you?”

“They…fill the silence. They make me laugh. They make me feel like I matter.”

Quiet, again.

“Well, I didn’t set myself up very well there. I don’t know that I can make you laugh. But I do care about you. And you do matter. To me, and a lot of people.”

“…Malachi?”

“Yeah, I think you matter a whole lot to Malachi.”

“Then…then why don’t I hear him anymore?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“I didn’t think you could.”

Silence, but only briefly. “So…do you need help with your email?”

Maggie’s expression broke, somewhere between a grin and a grimace. “Actually…I’ve got the email covered, but I have been wondering about TikTok? It recently came up in a case and I don’t really get it, can you help?”

 

Epilogue​

Six months later…

Maggie only half-expected Jet to show. But she enjoyed Hana’s company and was glad to have a non-work reason to leave the house. So she was surprised to see Jet had arrived first. She was not surprised to see her tucked in a corner table, tapping at a laptop.

As she made her way over, Maggie was pleased to note Jet was using both hands and seemed much brighter than she remembered. So much that Maggie only now realized just how glassy-eyed she’d been for essentially all of their previous encounter.

“Hey,” Maggie said, sliding into the booth across from Jet. Jet was intense on the screen and did not look up.

“I made it!” Hana declared, taking a seat beside Maggie.

Appearing slightly startled, Jet looked up. She nodded and her eyes drifted back to the screen.

“You look great,” Hana said. “Arm all healed? Face looks perfect.” Hana looked at Maggie. “That came out weird. I mean you look perfectly healed.”

Jet nodded without looking up. “Mm-hmm.”

“And you look great as well,” Hana said to Maggie.

“Thanks. And same to you,” Maggie replied.

“Okay, now that that’s done,” Hana pushed Jet’s laptop closed. “Malachi. Spill.”

Jet blinked and looked around the table as though she wasn’t certain where she was. Finally, she looked up toward Hana.

“He woke up.”

Hana nodded, pursing her lips as she looked at Maggie. “Yes, I heard that, that’s great. So, how is he? And you? And both of you?”

“The bureau released him, so I don’t see him at work. We still talk sometimes. Chat mostly,” Jet’s eyes darted to laptop. “We’re not together, if that’s what you think. We were never—”

“Were you talking, sorry chatting, with him just now?”

“No, I was… it’s pretty complicated,” Jet looked to Maggie, “You wouldn’t want me to explain.”

“You all made it!” a boisterous voice interrupted. “Perfect! My girls, all together.”

Maggie turned around and was surprised to see Malachi, in the flesh. He had a rather different vibe outside of a hospital bed.

“Are you tracking my phone again?” Jet asked.

“What?” Malachi looked at the agents. “I never—”

“Why are you here?” Jet interrupted.

Malachi turned to Jet with a big smile. “I’m so glad you asked!” He turned to the agents. “I came here to thank you guys. I understand you saved my life. And Sloot’s. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. We were just doing our jobs,” Maggie replied.

“And really we’d have been nowhere without Jet. So you should be mostly thanking her.” Hana winked.

“Don’t encourage him,” Jet mumbled.

“Um, hi. Is everything okay here? Is this guy bothering you?” A very familiar voice startled Maggie. She looked over her shoulder to see not just O.A., but also Hana’s partner, Kenny, had arrived.

“Are you guys following us?” Maggie asked.

“No,” O.A. stood up a little straighter, “I was invited. By her, I believe.” O.A. gestured to Jet. “Jet, correct?”

Jet’s eyes widened and she looked to Malachi. “You hacked my email?”

“Look, it’s not my fault if your encryption is lacking.” Malachi slid into the booth beside Jet. “Just because you’ve never had a pet, don’t think I don’t see the patterns in how you name your D&D dragons.”

“So…you didn’t invite us?” Kenny looked a bit sheepish.

“We’ll, um…” O.A. hooked his thumb toward the front of the restaurant.

“No, no, stay. The girls can scooch. C’mon scooch,” Malachi pushed into Jet and she reluctantly moved to the end of the booth, taking care to tuck her laptop beside her.

O.A. hesitated, but took a seat beside Malachi. Kenny shrugged and sat down as Maggie and Hana shifted to make room.

“So what’s good here?” Malachi looked from Maggie to O.A. They were the most local, after all.

“What’s going on, Malachi? What do you want?” Jet pushed Malachi’s elbow out of her space.

“References!” Malachi declared. “From two honored FBI agents, who also happen to be veterans, which I hear gives major bonus points, thankyouforyourservice. The darn cops won’t return my calls, just because I have no formal work history and spent a little time in jail—jail, not prison! …They don’t even care that I almost died working for the cops, and by the way, pretty sure I’m still owed a paycheck—”

“Umm, we don’t know you,” O.A. responded.

“Seriously,” Hana added, “Why would you ask them and not us?”

“Remember the veteran thing? Did you serve your time?”

“No, I didn’t, and I’m guessing neither did you?” Hana replied.

“Of course I didn’t. I’m not an idiot. I have a brain, I don’t need to be on the front lines.”

Everybody at the table stared in shock at Malachi. Kenny shifted in his seat with a small growl.

“That came out wrong, obviously,” Malachi said. “I’m sure you guys are brilliant, in addition to be being hulking. And I would never want to upset someone so brilliant. And hulking. And also a veteran, which is, obviously, awesome of you.”

“I don’t know him either,” Jet muttered, turning her face to the wall.

“Don’t lie, Sloot. I mean, not when it’s that obvious. They know you know me. If you didn't know me, they wouldn't be here.”

Jet put a hand over her eyes.

“How about we think about it and get back to you?” O.A. stood up. “We’ll leave you ladies to it.” He nodded to Maggie and Hana.

Kenny stood as well. “I really didn’t…any of this,” he said apologetically, gesturing around with his hands.

O.A. cleared his throat. “I said we’ll leave the ladies to their brunch.” He stared down at Malachi.

“Right.” Malachi scrambled out of the booth. “We should hang out, just the boys! You don’t know me, that’s why you can’t give me a reference. So get to know me.” He walked out between the two other guys, pausing to give Jet a thumbs up, which resulted in another warning growl from Kenny.

Once the boys were finally gone, Hana turned back to the table. “Anyway…whatever that was…”

Maggie bobbed her head. “Malachi…he’s…he’s a lot.”

Jet continued to stare at the table, mortified.

“Let’s get some food.” Hana waved over her shoulder. “Waiter!”

****​

Jet lie in bed that night, on the brink of sleep, when his voice startled her.

“C’mon you gotta give me something. Reaction?”

Jet sat up and looked around. There was no one in the room. Her eye was drawn to a glow coming from her side table. Her phone screen was on. She flopped back in bed.

“You hacked my phone?”

“To be fair, you left it on right there on the table. It was in plain view. That's a police term. But that’s neither here nor there. You ignore me on chat, you don’t leave me many options. Reaction?”

“To you announcing you want to be a cop in the most absurd way possible? Hard pass.”

“C’mon, don’t you miss working together? The best have to work with the best, or else they aren’t pushing themselves.”

Jet closed her eyes and said nothing.

“Look, you said you couldn’t date me because I was a criminal. If I’m a cop, that can’t be your excuse.”

“That’s why you’re doing this?”

“Obviously.”

“So you don’t actually want to be a cop?”

“It’s not my preference, no. But you are, so…”

“You shouldn’t make career decisions based on wanting to get in someone’s pants.”

The silence stretched long enough that Jet opened her eyes to check that the screen was still glowing.

When it came, Malachi’s answer was subdued. “Is that really all you think of me?”

Jet considered. “I honestly don’t know what to think. I don’t know what you want.”

“You, Jet. Since I first laid eyes on you. It’s been about you. Wait, that sounds creepy. I don’t want your body. I want you. Your mind. Your company. I want to talk to you and hang out with you. I want to be your friend. I’ve never really felt that way about anyone.”

“You’ve never had a friend?”

“Not really, no. I’m strange. Off-putting. People don’t get me and I’ve never been interested in getting them. Until I met you. You’re strange too, and so different from literally everyone else, but in the best way. In every way I’m not. And I don’t think other people get you, and that’s tragic for them. But I do. Or I could. I want to. I want to get you. I want to know you. I thought maybe, somehow, some day, you could feel the same way about me. Am I wrong?”

Jet stared at the glowing screen for a long time.

“Jet? Are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“…So?”

“I’m not going anywhere. But I am buying a new phone tomorrow.”

“No need. I already got you a replacement. It’ll be on your doorstep in the morning.”

“Great. With all the latest tracking software pre-installed?”

“No. Factory-sealed, I swear.”

“I suppose you’ll want the new number.”

“Not necessarily. If you keep this phone, I don’t need to know the new one.”

“So…you can just randomly start talking in my apartment at any time?”

“Yeah. It’ll be like we live together, but without having to actually look at each other.”

“You were right about some things. You are strange.”

“And off-putting?”

“And…so am I. Strange that is. I…might keep this phone. I…might even turn it on once in a while.”

“I’m gonna call that a win.”

“I’m turning off the phone now—”

“Hey, Sloot?”

“Yeah?”

“In case you didn’t know, I like you.”

“I know.”

“Ok. Just wanted to be sure. You can never be certain, in this age of digital communication.”

“Good night, Malachi.”

 

What an intriguing combination of personalities