« Blender ? »

I hadn't realized I had stopped in the middle of the courtyard.

My fists are clenched hard enough to hurt. And people are nervously glancing my way. Donal had walked close to me, his hand now raised up as if wondering wether touching me is a good or a bad move.

That is part of the things he doesn't have a clue about. What I had been doing during that blurred year between the moment I had stepped back on the continent's floor after the war and the moment I had climbed the stairway to the police station with him. I force myself to breathe in, consciously unclenching muscle after muscle as I start walking again, nodding to Mac in what I hope to be a reassuring gesture.

Nick isn't looking my way.

He had stopped a little farther from us. His eyes are set on the building too.

And God, I can tell how much more he hate the thing just by the look in his eyes.

« Fucking Richards. » he mutters before raising his voice : « When you're done having your episode we can maybe move on ? The faster we get in there, the faster we get back. I don't want to stink of blood money for days. »

I brush away his reference to my « episode », knowing all too well that it is his way of acknowledging my past and my troubles. We both know if I really had been having an episode, neither Donal nor he would have left me to deal with it on my own. They'd seen me loosing my shit twice already, caught by kind of flashes, for lack of a better word for those moment when I had lost touch with reality.

I don't want to think about it. 

But I do. So instead of fighting it I try to focus on what's important. Nick and Donal's presence. They didn't have a clue what had triggered me, I wasn't sure myself, but they had been there for me anyway.

They'd pulled me out of it. They'd covered me. And they'd been the ones convincing me not to report it. Convincing me that I could fight and better up. Maybe heal. Having Nick dismissing what had just happened now almost feel like he is telling me « you're okay, see ? Now move. ».

I find myself breathing a little more easily, knowing that despite everything, these two will stand with me no matter what, and I wave for Donal as we start walking again.

It doesn't seem to bother Nick that eyes are darting on us. Not just on me. On him as well. A black man here, I realize, is maybe just as weird and obvious as an orphan at a father's day reunion. I thought I had it hard sometimes, being from the sewers, being war-torn, but at least that isn't written on my skin for everyone to see.

I catch Nick's shoulder with my hand and squeeze lightly.

« You'd rather stink of drunkard's puke ? » I reply to his last statement about smelling like blood money.

His eyes steadily tracks me even if his head remain in place, which always creeps the hell out of me. No smile touches his lips now set in a thin line and yeah if I didn't know him, I could have believed he wanted to gut me. Nick is our special creepy serious face. The one I send ahead when I want to make someone nervous before interrogating them. I don't have that effect on people. I look way too nice and Donal, despite his size, can't help fumbling with everything when he gets under pressure. Nick is by far the most scary of us with his ability to stand still as a statue.

But I know him well enough now. If Nick had wanted to harm me, even here, in the middle of every branches of the justice's legal system, he'd have done it. He narrowes his eyes.

« Are you really referring to what I think you are ? » he says as if he doesn't believe it.

I shrugg.

« The guy who puked all over us twice and got both us and the car stinking for days ? Yep. I'm referring to that. »

Behind me, Donal snorts, listening. He hadn't been with us then. While Nick and I had been on duty on Valentine's Day, Donal had pulled a golden ticket on us : he'd been having a date. Usually that wasn't enough to be off duty. Especially during big events like that.

Valentine's Night was like a chocolate box. Many, many cases to choose from. You picked one that seemed pretty harmless, popped it into your mouth and you ended up with either salt, blood, iron, arsenic, you name it, anything but sweet. It was Love's Celebration night for most people. For statistics, it was the night filled with the higher rates of sexual assault, obsessive crimes, domestic violence and suicide. Not in that order though.

For us, it was quite a dark and bitter night to go through and, when morning came, we all needed quite a few drink to try to forget what people could do in the fucking name of Love. I'd been only through a handful of these, and I already dreaded the day. That was why very few of us were allowed the night off. We needed as many people as possible to handle the night. Donal's claim should never have been allowed. But... I was the one signing for permissions on my team and I had, very early on, installed the golden ticket rule. It was Donal's very first date. Probably his very first crush too. He'd been courting her for a while now, in his very old fashioned way. And it had worked. Andrea had said yes. I had signed.

I try not to think of Andrea. Of the last talk we had.

I know I scared her too.

If I ever had a sister, it'd be her. A scary big sis working as a forensic who swore she'd have my guts on her table if anything ever happened to me or Donal.

I swallow.

Right now, of the three of us, Donal is the only one with quite a successful social life and an ongoing romantic relationship.

Nick's eyes had widened at my last words and then rolled around.

« I can't believe it... » he mutters. « You do know you have zero survival instinct right ? »

I can't help but grin, for I know I have won. Nick is relaxing.

« Still, I had enough instinct to get out of the way. I'm not the one who got showered. »

Nick grimaces at the memory, looking away from me, running a hand over the back of his neck.

« I'm pretty sure you did it on purpose. You're the one who picked the call. You knew what the problem was and you said nothing. You could have warned me. I'll get back at you for that, one day.»

« I helped you clean ! » I protests. I indeed had. But only because the smell was way too horrible. We'd been patrolling with all windows opened for days afterward. Whatever the guy had drunk that night, it was close to nuclear.

And yeah... Somehow, I had knowingly picked that call hoping to get some fun out of it. To try to forget what we'd just seen before.

I take my hand off Nick's shoulder.

« Well, enough of that, and back to work. » I say before he can retort something about my views of cleaning. « Let's see what all this fuss is about. »

Nick nods and I take the lead again.

We get clearance everywhere we go, simply walking through rows of security tapes. It still feels weird to me. Walking straight in without addressing anybody at all. Without talking to anybody at all. I occasionally nod at people I recognize, people I have worked with or people who stare at me for too long, but that's all.

The tape of light is all that is needed. No guards. Nobody to keep an eye out. Either we passed it, either we didn't. If we passed, it meant clearance and we were free to walk through, which we did, climbing the huge stairs up where lied the epicenter of that gigantic colorful anthill.

The closer we get, the less it looks like a crime scene. Too many UBI and DCA jacket roam around us now and I almost expect to start seing chunks of blowed stone, broken glass and torn alloy bathed in the heavy smell of smoke and powder due to an explosive.

What the hell is happening ?

We make it to the entrance of the building, those huge glass doors beneath lighted arches and angels statues, and by then, both Nick and Donal are searching for my eyes in between two glances around. They can't help but wonder what are we doing here and it isn't like I can light it up for them because I don't have a single clue either. I don't even understand why so many people have been called up here when there obviously are no visible damages and no piles of corpses. Victims could be hidden inside I suppose, but then I would have seen a whole squad of ambulances waiting outside.

« This really doesn't smell good... » Nick says.

I don't answer as my eye finally catch the O point. The origin of all that fucking mess. The reason why we'd been urgently called with no explanation, with half of the legal system's agent available, is a small wooden box.

I tap Nick and Donal, nodding to the box sitting on the ground, inside the building, beyond the glass doors.

The techies are already working their magic on it, flying drones and scans and sensors all around its edges, showering it with different lights and filters from a good two to three meters of safe distance.

Donal's face loose all colors and Nick's mouth gets reduced to a thin line again as they both stop, eyes intently staring at the box surrounded by agents.

« What was the code again ? » Nick asks.

« There was no code. » I say through a tightened throat, already certain Donal won't answer.

« There is a code for that sort of things. » Nick insists in a low voice.

I know what he is thinking. What everyone is thinking, actually, including me. We didn't have a serious terrorist attack in... decades ? My memory is failing me as I try to recall when has the last artisanal explosive made victims. Here, on the continent, I realize I have no clue. My knowledge in history is quite lacking but considering everyone's reaction, it has been a very long time, if ever, since they have seen such a thing.

I know for certain neither of my colleagues have been into such a situation.

For me, it has been around 6 years since I have seen one in action. I feel the sweat in my back and my hairs rise on my skin. I breathe slowly, forcing myself to think through the fear I feel rising.

It doesn't make any sense to call us up here if it is a bomb. It doesn't make sense to call so many people up here with no fucking mine-clearing suits available. Even if it has been decades seen they've seen one, they still know what a bomb is and what it does. They still have procedures for it. And for fuck's sake if they have grown so naive as to forget it, someone has to drive the point home before it blows everyone.

I just can't help but wish it hadn't been me.

« If it was a bomb, there's a code for it. And there's a whole procedure. But just in case, you two stay back. I'll check out with the watcher. »

Donal's arm comes across my chest almost at once.

« You can't be serious ! Benji once you get in there... »

« I'll be considered contaminated in case it's bacterial, my clearances will be revoked and I'll be stuck inside, whatever happens. I know. That's why you two stay here. »

« I thought we'd settled for no hero bullshit. » Nick adds.

« First, I never agred to anything. » I retort, as calm as I can be, given the situation. « Second, if we all get inside we're all stuck and no one's available anymore to investigate and find a solution in case we'd need one. You got a Andrea. » I tell Donal. « And you got your daughter. » I tell Nick. « I'm as single as it gets. And I'm your fucking Boss. I'm going in. »

Nick crosses his arms on his chest, wiping his face repeatedly with his hand while Donal throws his arms up, brushing his hair back and clasping his hands behind his head in visible distress.

They know I'm right.

I hang onto my smile, keeping my body in check for any outside sign of stress.

Of course my heart is picking up the pace, my throat is getting tight and I have this little cold weight inside my stomach but none of it breaks through my mask. I have to play it cool. For Don. For Nick. I don't want them any more stressed than they already are.

And I need to move before one of them gets an awkward idea like asking me about where to spread my ashes if it comes to that. Or simply what they think I need to hear before... getting blast.

I look up at the impressive marble arch above the door. Two angels are standing on bot of its sides, wings folded down, spreading their arms up toward the sky. I can't see their faces from here, but their position makes me think of the Fallens. Those longing for the paradise that was lost. I can't help but shudder and think it can't be a good sign.

Why would anyone put such statues at the entrance of a building ?

The wind blows my face and I wonder how can it still reach us here, beneath all these constructions ? I don't want to think about it. I don't want to hear Yves' voice in my head now, but I do.

You feel that soldier ? You can feel the wind ? You can see the sun ? Either way, that means you must keep going.

Fuck those angels. I can't stay here longing for better can I ?

I tap Donal's shoulder and walk straight to the huge glass doors leading inside the building, into the great sparkly hall with it's reflective marble floor where sits the small box that could, or couldn't, blow the whole fucking place to dust.