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note: this chapter is dedicated to nasaurie . i know you've been aching for an update; i hope you enjoy this one. x

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: ᴍᴀᴍᴀ

❝ ᴡᴇ sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ ʜᴀʀᴍʟᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴀïᴠᴇ. ❞

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"FIVE P.M. PERFECT. THANK YOU."

The telephonic conversation now over, Brendon clicked off the phone and placed it on the table. From across the way, you and The Hounds gazed at the brooding agent expectantly.

Straightening his posture, he gave a small nod. "Hotel's booked. They're expecting us – in all of our lovebird glory – at five tomorrow afternoon."

"The plan's set, then," you said, pushing yourself off of the wall you'd been leaning against, "Perfect. Who's hungry?"

A chorus of 'me!'s' echoed around the conference room, courtesy of The Hounds, and you beckoned them to follow you as you shuffled to the kitchen. Brendon hung back, despite the pang of hunger he'd felt in his stomach, and pulled out one of the desk chairs.

There were a million and one things on his mind, each more of a problem than the next, and he needed a couple of minutes to himself to decompress. He folded his arms on the tabletop and with a heavy sigh, let his head drop onto them.

The situation regarding his mother was bothering him more than he'd let on, and he was stuck in a tug-of-war between the two sides of himself; one half wanted to see her, but the other wanted to stay as far away as possible.

Brendon sat there – mind racing and thoughts spiralling – until he physically could not bear it any longer, then pushed himself away from the table and sprang to his feet.

Mumbling a "fuck it", he ran a hand through his hair and headed for the door.

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Fifteen minutes later. The kitchen.

"Okay, okay, okay, I got one!"

Holding both hands up, Ambrose swallowed the food in his mouth before proceeding with his offering to the game. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he pointed between you, Rollins and Reigns.

"Give up music or give up sex?"

The three of you answered without hesitation and in unison.

"Music."

"Music."

"Sex."

All three agents immediately turned to stare at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, clearly not in favor of your answer. Looking up from your sandwich, your eyes darted between the three men.

"What?"

Reaching out one hand, Rollins touched the back of his calloused fingers to your forehead, seemingly checking for a fever. Clicking your tongue, you swatted the Architect's hand away and rolled your eyes.

"You can't be serious," Ambrose laughed in disbelief, blue eyes wide, "You'd really give up ever getting laid again just for a couple tunes?"

You raised one brow.

"Jesus," the Hound mumbled, shaking his head as he flicked around the remainder of his sandwich, "You've obviously never been in bed with me."

Reigns and Rollins tossed their friend an unimpressed glare. He simply wiggled his eyebrows and held out his hands.

"Y'all know it's true."

A soft chuckle slipped past your lips at the juvenile antics of your company, followed by a small smile as you thought about how grateful you were to have met them. You missed your old friends dearly, and having The Hounds around made you feel slightly less depressed over the fact that your days of socialising were a thing of the past.

"But seriously, though..." Ambrose leaned in across the table, face as serious as can be as he posed his question, "Is Urie that bad?"

Heavily amused, you opened your mouth to respond but you were interrupted by the chime sounding from your phone. Seeing that it was a text from Brendon, you frowned.

"Speak of the devil."

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Two minutes later. The garage.

"Hey," you called as you approached Brendon, who was leaning against the bonnet of the SUV. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you waved it around. "What's with the summoning texts? We're in the same house; you literally could've just walked to the kitchen."

"Didn't feel like The Hounds' questions," he answered simply.

"Okay," you nodded, "So let me ask one: What's going on?"

Stepping to the side, he reached over and opened the passenger door for you. "I wanna take you somewhere."

Slowly, you made your way into the seat. "Okay... may I ask where?"

"It's a surprise."

Tilting your head to the side, you gave him a condescending look. "Last time you said that, I ended up falling off of a cliff."

"Did you die, though?" He didn't give you a chance to reply, instead shutting the car door before you could get a syllable out. "Exactly."

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Twenty minutes later. Oakey Boulevard, Las Vegas.

"Wait... you're serious?" You glanced between Brendon and the building ahead apprehensively, trailing slightly behind the agent as he started up the path to the entrance. "You're actually doing this?"

"Yes."

There was the usual coldness to his tone, as well as to his expression, but you knew him well enough to know that the minute creasing of his forehead and the ever-so-slight twitching of his fingers meant that he wasn't entirely confident about his decision.

Frowing to yourself, you put a skip in your step and rushed forward to catch up to him.

"And you... want me to come with you?"

"Yes."

Brendon took a couple more steps before coming to an adrupt halt. You nearly bumped into him, but stopped yourself just in time and tossed him a confused look.

He turned his head to look at you, and a hint of unsurety flashed across his chocolate eyes.

"That okay?" he asked, realising then that he probably should've taken the initiative to gauge your willingness to participate in his little errand beforehand, instead of simply assuming that you'd want to go along with it.

Fortunately for him, you'd be willing to follow him anywhere.

"More than," you said softly, slipping your hand into his and squeezing.

The agent squeezed back, then gave a small nod and continued forward. Following suit, you trudged up the rest of the cobblestone path and toward the high, spiked front gate.

A security guard was perched in a hut to the right of the gate and when he caught sight of the two of you, nodded in greeting before stepping out and extending a register form.

Brendon took the clipboard and began filling out the required information, while you stood back and took a moment to survey the building properly. Stuffing your hands in your back pockets, you peered through the openings in the gate.

The place looked nice enough – slightly modern, but with a certain charm that made it evident that quite a few years had passed since its construction. The plaque fixed to the fencing-wall confirmed your suspicions; it listed the year of establishment as 2004.

There was a low hum as the gate swung open, and you walked behind Brendon as he led the way through the now-open space. The light scratching of your shoes against the stone ground was the only sound between the two of you, joined soon after by the creak of the wooden front door as it opened.

Most reception areas followed the same blueprint, and this one was no different. There was a seating area to your left, centered by a coffee table and a potted plant. And to your right, a semi-circular desk behind which the receptionist sat, gaze cast downward and voice hushed as she spoke into the reciever held to her ear.

Brendon's bulky frame cast a slight shadow over the top of the desk, catching the receptionist's attention and prompting her to look up. Acknowledging the both of you with a small smile, she held up one finger as if to say 'one moment'.

"Just a second, Mrs Brown." After excusing herself from her telephonic conversation for a beat, she pressed the reciever to her chest and raised her brows as she addressed you. "Here for visitation?"

"We are," Brendon confirmed.

"You can head on through," she smiled, handing over two vistor badges before extending a hand down the hall to direct you, "The courtyard is where you want to be. Down the hall to the end, last right and then the last left."

You and Brendon started down the hall as the receptionist resumed her call, and you scoffed at her nonchalance.

"You'd think they'd have a better first line of defense," you chided, shaking your head.

"We probably don't seem like too much of a threat," Brendon said coolly, peering down each turn the two of you passed by, "Young couple in Vegas... we scream harmless and naïve."

"Which is what we're going for, right?"

The agent glanced at you briefly. "Exactly."

Coming to a halt in front of an antique oak and glass door, the both of you bent down to peer through at the outside. There was a large expanse of green grass and tall trees, surrounding a quaint courtyard area in which the building's occupants were currently enjoying some downtime with their visitors.

You gave Brendon's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You ready?"

He exhaled heavily. "As I'll ever be."

With one solid push, Brendon opened the door, allowing you to exit first and following closely behind. The bright sunrays blinded you momentarily, and you lifted a hand to shield your eyes from the harsh light.

Brendon seemed unaffected – the only show of discomfort on his part was the slight narrowing of his eyes, but even that was more due to the fact that he was avidly scanning the garden in search of that one familiar face amongst a sea of strangers.

His gaze stalled on a figure at the far end of the lawn, sitting on a bench underneath a flowering Jacaranda tree, and his body tensed up instantaneously. They were too far away to see their face, but there wasn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind that it was who he was looking for.

"There she is."

Attention now fully on Brendon, you followed his gaze, letting your mouth fall open into a small 'o' once you spotted her. Without saying a word, the two of you fell into stride next to each other as you started towards her.

As you walked, you couldn't help but let out a short, almost inaudible chuckle at the situation. Never in a million years would you have envisioned that you would be in Las Vegas, with Brendon, seconds away from meeting his mother. In fact, if someone had told you a couple months ago that this would be the case, you'd have laughed in their face and called them crazy.

And yet, here you were.

There was a slight tremor in your hands, and you quickly hid them in your pockets so that Brendon couldn't see. He was noticeably (and understandably) on edge; the last thing you wanted was for him to be focused on you and your emotions.

Accompanying the agent on such a precarious outing, you felt somewhat out of place. Not nervous or anxious, exactly – more like you shouldn't be there. This was the height of 'familial business', and you were afraid that being there with him during his first encounter with his mother in almost ten years would seem intrusive.

But... he wanted you there. He asked for you to come.

He needed you there.

And if he needed you, then that was the only thing that mattered. To hell with feelings and circumstance. This wasn't about you, in any case.

Ten feet away from her now, you drew in a deep breath in an effort to steady yourself. Although steady was the last thing you were a moment later, when a middle-aged woman in staff attire accidently bumped into you. She had been carrying a bundle of seat cushions in her hands, and the impact caused them to go sprawling across the grass.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie," she smiled apologetically, already half-way to the ground to start picking up the scattered items, "Damn sun's been blinding me all day, already."

"No worries," you assured her, immediately reaching down to help with the collection of the cushions.

Brendon hadn't even noticed the ordeal; his focus and attention was solely on his mother. He continued forward as you stayed back to help, taking purposeful yet cautious steps in her direction.

Once he was close enough to touch her, he reached out and with a shaky breath, lightly touched her shoulder.

"Mom?"

His voice was soft, timid. A striking opposite to the icy hardness it usually held. It flittered through the air slowly; once it reached Grace's ears, she perked up.

"Mason?"

Brendon felt a pang in his chest – partly due to the fact that it was the first time in nine years that he was hearing his mother's voice, and partly because the first thing that came out of her mouth had been his name.

The brooding agent's eyebrows knitted together as he frowned, wondering why the hell his mother had uttered his brother's name. He couldn't think of a single reason why she would have.

"No," he started, shaking his head lightly, "it's-"

She had turned around then, coming face-to-face with her youngest for the first time after what had felt like an eternity, and finished his sentence for him.

"Brendon," she said, his name coming out as a breathy gasp as she struggled to contain her emotion.

Getting to her feet, she covered her mouth with a shaky hand as the tears started forming, before throwing her arms around his towering frame as they began cascading down her cheeks.

Ever so slowly, Brendon wrapped his arms around her too, causing her to tighten her hold and keep him even closer. Turning her head, she gave him a tear-filled kiss on the cheek, then once again buried herself in his embrace.

"Oh, my boy," she whispered, more to herself than to him; she couldn't believe that he was there with her, "My sweet boy."

After another little while, the two of them pulled back from one another. But Grace still kept her grip on him, holding her hands to his cheeks.

"Look at you," she laughed, eyes still watery, "You're so... big."

"Yeah," the agent wheezed.

You approached them, tentatively sidling up next to Brendon with a soft smile. His tense body language softened with your prescence, and you saw him exhale in relief.

"Mom, this is (Y/N)," he introduced, tilting his head in your direction a tiny bit.

She looked at him in surprise, but that surprise turned to glee a second later, and she pinched his cheek ever so slightly. Looking to you, she gave a warm smile, her eyes crinkling as she did so. She was beautiful; Brendon looked just like her.

"It's lovely to meet you, Mrs Urie," you said politely.

"Call me Grace. Please," she rectified, giving another wide smile.

"Grace," you repeated.

"Come sit, both of you."

Waving you over to a white, stone picnic bench, she slid into one end as you and Brendon took a seat on the other side.

"I can't tell you how unbelievably happy I am to see you," Grace gushed, still staring at her son as if she were expecting him to vanish into air at any moment.

Sucking on his teeth, Brendon nodded. "Yeah, it's...been a while."

"Nine long years," she specified, and you caught a flash of sadness in her eyes; but it was quickly replaced by the sparkle that accompanied her smile, "What do you do? Are you in the military? I remember you were so intent on enlisting..."

"I, uh... I was. For a little bit. But then I got this job offer that I... well, I couldn't refuse." He scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

Grace nodded, listening intently to each and every word that slipped past her son's lips, as if each syllable would help close the void that had developed since he'd left.

"He's phenomenal at his work," you reported, earning a big grin from the woman seated across from you. Brendon gave you a look, too, but it was the exact opposite of his mother's. "The best, actually."

"I don't doubt it," she murmured, looking from you to him and then back again.

For the next half an hour or so, the conversation flowed steadily. There was still apprehensiveness on Brendon's part, but he was trying, and made a concerted effort to answer any and all questions tossed his way.

Now and then you'd reach under the table to give his hand a squeeze, just out of reassurance; you thought you had been subtle enough that Grace wouldn't notice, but she did. She was thoughtful enough to not point it out, instead smiling to herself each time she caught it.

The sharp sound of your ringtone cut through the air, prompting you to hastily fish your phone out of your pocket. Reigns' name flashed across the screen, and you swung your legs off of the bench, starting to get up.

"Excuse me, I have to get this," you excused yourself from the conversation, then scurried off in search of some privacy, just in case the call was mission-related.

Grace watched you fondly, turning back to her son once you were out of her direct line of sight.

"She's lovely."

Tossing a brief look at you, Brendon nodded. "She is."

"I want to give you something."

The agent's forehead creased at his mother's words, perplexion deepening as she unclipped the necklace around her neck. The pendant-like piece had been hidden underneath her blouse, and once Brendon saw it, his jaw tensed.

Reaching for his hand, Grace held it in her own as she gently lowered the piece of jewellery into his grasp. Closing his grip with her other hand, she held on tightly.

"For when the time's right."

Mustering up a weak smile, Brendon nodded once and gripped her hand tighter. He pulled back soon after, depositing the necklace into his pocket and frowning as a bothersome thought re-entered his mind.

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"When I first called out to you... you thought I was Mason." He looked at her with a blank expression. "What made you think that it could be him?"

Grace stared at him, genuinely perplexed. "You mean... you don't know?"

Brendon frowned. "Know what?"

"Mason's back home, too."

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Thank you for reading x