"He okay up there?" Alex turns from his spot on the couch as the stairs creak under Scott's weight.

Scott holds out his hands as he plops down on the same couch.

"Okay enough." Scott shakes his head. "He's still trying to get use to all this." Scott brings a hand up to his face, deeply rubbing his temples as he leans back.

"And you?" Scott's hand falls away at his partner's question.

"What about me?"

Alex looks down, his lips folding into a hard line as he chooses his words.

"Avi called me. About what happened in interrogation today."

Scott huffs with a groan as he throws his hand up and lets it fall against his thigh.

"He wanted me to keep an eye on you two."

"For what?" Scott spits, though he already knows the answer, and so does Alex.

"I see why you like him," Alex looks down at his folded hands. "But our job is to protect him."

Scott bites the inside of his lip with a shake of his head.

"You think I don't know that?" Scott suddenly stands, throwing a hand towards Alex.

"I know exactly what Shelton and Vine will do to him if we don't keep him safe. I watched them to it to my mother." Scott's voice carries through the house and up the stairs, concealing the creak of weight from both of them.

"And you and Avi really think I'm going to risk that for, what?" Scott spits, his fingers points to the bedroom above them. "Just so I can get laid?" The volume in Scott's voice breaks, but the venom remains.

"That's not what I meant." Alex's jaw locks, his voice firm.

Scott takes a deep breath, knowing Alex would never insinuate something like that, but he's too worked up to care.

"I've given my entire life to this case." Scott rubs a hand down his face, trying to find his composure. "The only thing he means to me is putting away Shelton and Vine. I'm not going to risk anything for that. Vine and Shelton are finally going to pay."

-/::\-

My face is white hot.

All I had wanted was a cup of tea, but I had gotten so much more.

My thoughts are swarming.

I watched them to it to my mother.

Just so I can get laid?

The only thing he means to me is putting away Shelton and Vine.

I felt hurt and stupid. I wanted to hate him for what he said but my heart also broke for him.

Everything made sense; his crazy obsession with this case. Shelton hadn't just killed Scott's mother–he made him watch, probably forcing him to relive it for years.

Hot tears stream down my face and shaky hands clasp my mouth, keeping my gasps quiet.

Scott's heavy footsteps pace through the living room and my breath catches in my throat. My lungs shut off and my heart throbs against my chest.

I need air. Now.

With shaking legs I take the steps as quickly and quietly as I can, Scott and Alex too preoccupied to hear me scurry down the hall to the back door. I throw the deadbolt open and the cold swarms me as I race outside, not caring about shoes or a jacket.

I needed out and I needed to be alone.

My once warm tears sting my cheeks as I wrap my arms around my body, giving me some warmth as me feet brush over the dead grass.

There may have been a warm spell last week, but tonight, it was gone.

I hurry to the shed across the yard, the only unwatched spot on the entire property where I could actually be alone.

The door is unlocked and I pull the rotting wood open and step inside, the bite of the cold instantly gone, fought off by the four walls that surrounded me.

There's a milk crate besides a work bench and I plop myself down. I bury my knees up to my chest and bow my head down, finally releasing the sobs that had been grappling for air.

My nails dig into my pants as pain courses through me.

I was nothing but a pawn and Scott was nothing more than a boy trying to avenge his mother.

And I wasn't stupid; I knew nothing was going to happen between me and Scott. He was my handler, it was his job to take care and watch out for me. But sometimes there was a flash in his eyes that made me think there was....that there could be more.

How stupid I was to think he'd want anything to do with me outside of this case.

I was here for one thing only–to sit in a witness box and tell a judge and jury how I heard a man plead for his life before a shot rang through the parking garage, and then, how Vine appeared with a gun in his hand before opening fire on me.

Would that be enough to convict him? I had no idea how Scott's search went today, though it obviously went well enough to arrest him.

I shake my head vehemently, needing a break from all things Scott Hoying.

I straighten up in my makeshift seat; there's a rotting work bench scattered with rusted tools on top. A lawn mower–one I would have to push–sits collecting dust across from the door, the untrimmed yard enough of a testament that no one took the time to groom the landscape.

It's just your normal, clutter-filled, decrepit shed.

Just like the house, it was completely ordinary. An unassuming shack being used for something greater, yet somehow untouched by the extraordinariness that buzzes around it. It may be just a house, and just a yard, and just a shed, but it was the FBI's trusted property, used to protect those the FBI deemed important. But at the end of the day, it was just a house that no one would give a second glance.

And I'm just some guy, needed by the FBI, but still nothing more than a software analyst whom no one would ever look twice at.

-/::\-

My fingers start to go numb and my anger and hurt that had been warming me for so long have grown bitter in the March night. I try to keep my teeth from rattling, but the moment I relax, my entire mouth begins to vibrate.

"Mitch!" A deep voice rings out. It sounds so far away, muffled by the buildings between me.

"Mitch!" My name is hollered into the night with more clarity.

I wonder how long I've been out here, how long it took them to notice my absence, how long they've been looking for me.

Despite the biting night air, I don't want to go inside. I don't want to be reminded how I was just being used to meet their ends.

"Mitch!" The urgency in the voice is crystal clear, and I'm positive if I don't appear in the next twenty seconds, the calvary's going to be called in.

I push myself off the crate, my bones creaking and limbs tingling with my first movements in who knows how long.

I quietly open the shed door and wade through the frozen grass to the back door.

With a soft turn of the frost-bitten knob, my body is enveloped in the warmth of the house. I step inside and close the door behind me, making enough noise to garner someone's attention.

I grab the tea kettle next to the stove and place it on the burner, igniting the fire beneath.

"She's in the kitchen!" Alex's voice rings out behind me.

I don't look at him, just continue my mission of finding a tea bag and mug.

The front door slams shut and I'm sure I can feel the reverberation in my stark white toes.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Scott roars behind me.

I'm not sure if the cold has frozen my ability to care, or perhaps I've cried it all out, but I slowly turn away from the stove and face Scott with a blank expression.

His entire body is wound up, from his calves to his fingers, every part of him is rigid. His eyes are fuming and the tips of his ears are red. His chest is heaving and I'm not sure if it's from the rage or his search for me.

Alex stands behind him in the doorway, his head ducked like he's bracing for impact.

"I stepped out for some air." I say calmly, my voice far too balanced.

His jaw slacks for a moment and I watch as my words play over his lips.
"You what?" He snaps, taking a step, his head cocked towards me as if he heard me wrong.

"You stepped out for air?" He repeats when you refuse to answer his question.

His blue eyes bore into me like I've gone mad.

Maybe I had.

"Are you out of your god damn mind!" Scott explodes, his hands flying out from his sides.

"Scott." Alex takes a step in with a warning tone, but Scott continues as if he never heard him.

"You do remember that there's a whole group of people out there who want you dead?" Scott points out the door as his anger is laced with condescendence.

"That there are looking for any opportunity to kill you?"

I run my tongue over my teeth as my heart rate rises.

"And you figured you'd just what?" Scott's voice begins to rise again. "Take a fucking stroll?" His voice roars as the tea kettle screams.

I turn my back on Scott and face the stove, letting his words linger through the kitchen.

I pick up the steaming kettle and pour the boiled water over my tea bag and into the awaiting mug.

I pick up the ceramic handle and blow on the hot water before facing Scott again.

"Like I said," my voice holds its tone, but there's an underlying bite that could rival the winter's wind.

"I needed some air."

Scott's face falls and his eyes run over my face.

"But thank you for reminding me that I have a target on my back. Between the hospitality and excellent chauffeur service, I almost forgot I wasn't on vacation." I slap my hand over my forehead. "I was actually going to complain about the turndown service, but now I remember that I'm not at some hipster B and B, but am actually in the FBI's protective custody. And last time I checked, this is a safe house, and no one knows we're here." I lean back on the counter and wrap my hands around the mug.

Scott's eyes fall to my hands and his lips part open.

"How long were you out there?" His eyebrows scrunch as his eyes check me over, landing on my toes.

I take a sip of my tea, biting back a cry as the water scalds my taste buds.

I push off the counter and brush by Scott, ignoring his question.

Alex's gaze finds mine before I walk into the hallway and turn back towards Scott.

"Don't worry," I smile tightly. "I'm not going to risk anything that would hurt your case."

Scott's shoulders drop and his head falls. I don't miss the fuck he hisses under his breath either.

"Goodnight." I turn away from them and start up the steps calmly.

Once I'm in the safety of my room, I discard my tea cup–having no intent to drink it–and climb into bed, pulling the covers tight on my shivering body.

-/::\-

"Fuck." Scott's head falls to his chest as Mitch throws his words back at him. He had no clue Mitch was listening.

A hand pats his shoulder and Scott glances behind him to a tight-lipped Alex.

"How about I take the first shift tonight," Alex suggests, though there's an assertion in his voice that Scott won't argue with.

"Get some rest."

Scott turns and smiles tiredly at his friend.

"Thanks, Alex." Scott's voice is hoarse from yelling and his partner gives him a firm nod before he heads for his room.

He pauses at the top of the stairs and looks at Mitch's closed door.

He briefly wonders if he should knock on Mitch's door, but he figures at this point, Mitch needs his space.

Without creaking the wood, Scott makes his way across the landing to his room.

He kicks off his shoes before climbing on top of the covers; not bothering to go under their warmth in case he's needed at a moment's notice.

He stretches out in bed, reaching out to his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. Before he tosses it onto the night stand, he flips it open, two pairs of faded blue eyes starring back at him.

His mother's arms are wrapped around him as they smile at his father, taking the picture. The photo didn't show past their chests, but Connie had been pregnant with Kirstin. Even after twenty-seven years of wear-and-tear, you could still see Connie's glow and Scott's youthful happiness. So quickly snuffed out only a few years later.

"Night, mom." Scott carefully closes his wallet and tosses it on his nightstand.

His ankles cross and his arms fold over his chest as he settles in before closing his eyes.

-/::\-

A soft knock on the door has Scott shooting up, his hand reaching for the gun stashed under his pillow.

His eyes adjust to the darkness and he remembers where he is.

He runs a hand down his face as he lays the gun next to his wallet. The clock on the bedside reads 4:03AM. He scrunches his eyes at the number before swinging his long legs over the side of the bed and striding across the room to open the door.

"Alex?" Scott rubs his eyes as he looks down at his partner. "You should've gotten me hours ago."

Alex just shrugs.

"Figured you could use the extra sleep."
Scott wasn't going to argue with that. He felt like he'd been running on nothing but coffee fumes and the thought of seeing Vine behind bars once and for all.

"Thanks, buddy." Scott pushes past him with a pat on the back. "Go get some shut eye."

Alex wanders across the hall as Scott heads downstairs to make a cup of coffee.

The house is totally silent, nothing but the hissing coffee machine disturbing the peace.

The floor above him groans and Scott glances towards the ceiling before cocking his head towards the stairs at the sound of footsteps.

"I thought you were headed to bed, man." The final drops of coffee splash into the pot and Scott lifts it from the burner and reaches for a mug.

The footsteps stop and Scott glances over his shoulder.

"Mitch." Scott straightens up, not expecting him to be standing in the doorway in blue sweats and an oversized hoodie.

"Thought you were Alex." Scott chuckles, throwing a smirk on his face as he tries to nonchalantly lean back on the counter.

"Yeah, me too." Mitch answers quietly. Scott frowns as Mitch's eyes search the kitchen.

"I thought he usually takes the second shift." Mitch pads into the kitchen, careful not to step too close to Scott as he grabs a mug from the cabinet. He avoids Scott's watch as he silently pours himself a cup of coffee.

Once his mug is full, he rests it on the table and reaches into the fridge for milk.

"We changed it up tonight." Scott breaks the silence as he remains against the counter, though his eyes follow Mitch's every move.

Mitch nods his head as the milk swirls in the black liquid, continuing to pour until the coffee becomes a steaming caramel.

Scott watches as he caps the milk and returns it to the fridge while Scott takes his first sip.

He continues to wander through the room, grabbing a spoon to mix the coffee before tapping it against the rim of the mug and dropping it in the sink.
He doesn't say a word as he walks out of the kitchen and into the dining room, his footsteps silent, but Scott assumes he's headed into the living room while he remains glued to the counter.

He knows he should apologize, him labeling Mitch a pawn in his game of revenge, but he had no idea how long Mitch had been listening. He had to assume Mitch also heard Alex's comment that ignited the whole argument–though the insults were probably more prominent in Mitch's mind than the possibility of Scott being distracted by Mitch.

And Scott didn't need Avi or Alex to remind him why he couldn't get sidetracked, but that didn't stop his mind from wandering to the shocking bravery Mitch found in the lineup today or the way he lit up when he talks about his family. His mind instantly snaps to the hungry look in Mitch's eyes when he arrived to the house tonight. How his brown gaze wandered Scott's body. He would have made a move right then and there, remembering the glistening curves of Mitch's body from his accidental peek the few days before. If it wasn't for Alex, hell, he would have been compromised in a heartbeat.

But when he found Mitch's bedroom empty, with Mitch nowhere in sight, the panic snapped him back to the reality of the situation. All it could take is one second to lose his focus, and Mitch could be dead. Probably tortured first, for putting Shelton through all this trouble, and Scott had to ensure that would never happen.

It didn't mean he shouldn't apologize, though.

With a heavy breath, Scott follows Mitch's steps into the dark living room. He hadn't turned any lights on and he's sitting on the end of the couch, knee tucked up to his chest, coffee mug in one hand while his chin rests on his bent knee. He's staring out the window, and Scott isn't sure if he hadn't heard him enter the room, or if he's ignoring him.

Scott makes his footsteps heavier; his head turns for just a second without actually looking, but his gaze remains out the window.

Scott lowers himself down onto the same couch, not right next to Mitch, but not as far away as he could be.

"I'm sorry about earlier." Scott's voice is quiet, not wanting to disturb the early morning.

"Sorry you said it or sorry I heard you?" Mitch asks, his words muffled as his lips brush against his knee.

Scott smiles with a soft laugh. Not an even an apology would be easy with Mitch. Not that he deserved an easy apology, but Mitch just had an uninterred ability to call him out that seemed to never stop.

"If I'm being honest," Scott reaches out to the coffee table and places his mug down. "Sorry you heard." This finally gets Mitch's attention and he turns his head, his tired eyes finding Scott's before he rolls them.

"Though I am sorry how I said it." Scott offers Mitch a small smile. He just stares blankly at him before finding the window again.

"This case," Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze finding the same window. "It's more than just a case to me." Scott glances quickly to Mitch, seeing his body tense. "Though you probably heard that, too."

Scott folds his hands in his lap and looks down. He never actually told this story to anyone. A few people knew what had happened, but the only person whom he ever actually spoke to about it was the therapist his dad made him see after it happened.

He couldn't tell his dad, not with him reeling from Connie's death. That would have just upset him even more. And Kirstie still never got the full story, not from Scott anyways.

"My mom. My mom was amazing. She was a cop, and the only woman in her prescient. I use to tell the kids at school that my mom was a superhero, and I uh, wanted to be just like her when I grew up." Scott smiles, remembering holding Connie's badge as she would tell him stories from work.

"When I was eight years old, my mother was tucking me into bed. She had tried to read me The Little Prince since it was one of her favorites, but I told her I was too old for a bedtime story. She had smiled at me and told me that if she wasn't too old, then neither was I. But I was being stubborn and she finally conceded. She had just given me a kiss when we heard someone in the hallway. I figured it was my dad, but I could tell something was wrong when I looked at my mom. Like she somehow knew it wasn't him." Scott's thumbs tap against one another and his eyes glaze over.

"She had gotten up to look in the hallway when a man appeared. I had never seen him before. I was going to ask my mom who he was, but before I could, he held up a gun." Scott swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry. "I remember yelling to her as she ran at him and tried knocking the gun away. I felt like I was in a comic book. Just watching my mom fight the bad guys like she did every day at work. I wanted to help her, but I didn't know how. But then Vine knocked her over and she fell into my doorway. She didn't say anything. Didn't plead or beg. Just stared up at him with this icy glare." Scott blinks hard and licks his lips.

"I think that's what he wanted, and she knew that." He rubs his hands hard against each other. "He didn't say anything when he shot her three times." Scott's lips part open as his gaze falls to the tattered wood floor.

The story gets caught in his throat as his head lolls a bit.

"I yelled out for her, and Vine looked right at me with those grey-looking eyes." Scott shakes his head. "I thought he was going to kill me too. But he just stared for a second before stepping over her body and disappearing."

"As soon as he was gone, I ran over to her." There's a strange calm washing over Scott's words. "She was still alive and I didn't want to leave her, but she always taught me if someone was hurt, the first thing you needed to do was call 9-1-1. So I did. As soon as I told them where I lived, I ran back to her. Her eyes were closed, but she held my hand the whole time." Scott's throat hurts as a shiver runs down his body.

"I don't know why they killed her, but after that day, if I couldn't help her then, I was going to make it all right by doing whatever I can to put them away once and for all."

Scott finally looks at Mitch, his eyes immediately finding Mitch's. He leans back when he sees the tears shimmering in Mitch's eyes. He blinks, causing one to fall, and he quickly swipes at it.

"That's why your case is so important to me." Mitch's looking down at his toes, but Scott doesn't stop staring at him as his elbows lean against his thighs.

"I've been trying to put them away since the first day I joined the bureau, but your case is the first real chance I have to do that." There must be something in Scott's voice when he says this as it finally grabs Mitch's attention, his damp, brown eyes boring into his.

"Thank you for telling me," Mitch whispers, the words visibly catching in his throat before he can get them out.

Mitch's words have him straightening up in his seat as he shakes away the chill that's come over him.

"I just thought, after everything," Scott clears his throat. "The least I could do was explain why I've been such a jackass."

Mitch's dimple pops as he smiles tightly, his wet eyelashes batting at the dampness beneath them.

"Not that that's an excuse." His eyes still glisten, but his voice has found its strength again and Scott smiles softly with him.

"No, not an excuse." He rubs his hands together. "Hell, if my mom were here, she'd probably smack me six ways to Sunday for saying what I said." Scott chuckles dryly.

Scott shakes his head then looks at Mitch. His smile had spread a bit, and his shoulders relax, but Scott can see how exhausted he is; the thin purple circles under his eyes, the slouch in his shoulders, the glaze in his sight as his mind wanders, attempting to keep focused on the little things.

"When's the last time you had a good night's sleep?" Scott stares at Mitch with concern.

Mitch laughs, dry and sarcastic, clearly nothing funny in Scott's question, but his body reacting nevertheless.

"Who even knows." He brings his mug up to his lips and takes a sip, his gaze wandering back towards the windows.

"I'm going to keep you safe. I promise you that." Scott leans towards Mitch, a stern conviction in his voice.

"I never doubted that." He says quietly, turning his whole body towards him, and locking his eyes with Scott's.

It's been a while since anyone's believed in him like that. Put their faith entirely in him.

Growing up, Kirstin always use to call Scott his hero, but now Kirstin was a grown woman, with a boyfriend, rent-controlled apartment, and a law degree. Kirstin hadn't needed Scott in a long time. And nowadays, there wasn't anything too inspirational about a workaholic who couldn't seem to move on in life.

"Thank you." Scott nods to Mitch, never needing his trust, but warmed knowing he has it. Even after everything.

"Now if you'll just promise to be less of a jackass, I think we'll be good." Mitch smirks over the rim of his mug, the sun rising into the windows behind him, his brown shining in the early light, his shadow elongated over him.

Scott smirks.

"I can't promise that," Mitch rolls his eyes, his smile still glowing. Scott turns his body towards him. "But I can definitely promise I can try."

Mitch rolls his head from side to side, considering his words.

"I suppose I can accept that." He finally responds after a beat, causing Scott's smile to widen and his eyes to crinkle.

Scott leans towards the coffee table, picking up his discarded mug and now probably luke-warm coffee.

"To being less of a jackass." He raises his glass towards Mitch. He reaches out and clink the ceramic mugs together.

"I'll drink to that." Mitch laughs, taking a gulp of his coffee, not noticing as Scott's eyes watch his lips rest on the rim, his eyes fluttering close as his lifts the mug high enough to get a large sip. Mitch's entire body sighs deeply as be swallows and he leans back into the couch, his shining eyes finding Scott's.

And in that moment, Scott could forget that they were in an FBI safe house, that he is Mitch's handler, charged with his protection, and that, outside of those doors, was a world doing everything in its power to hurt him. For one moment, Mitch was just a guy, enjoying a cup of coffee, up far too early for either of their liking and Scott was just a guy watching him.