C. Adams: Version 2.0

“No way. Brian wouldn’t let that thing out of his sight. It was like his baby. He had a special spot in the back seat for it, and everything. You saw that case. He didn’t just leave that computer somewhere.”

“Okay, okay, I believe ya,” he said in a calming voice. “We don’t have a scene to process, though. We’ll have to do a search based solely on the computer possibly having been stolen.”

“Right.”

“Did he have Lo-Jack, or something like that?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to look into it. I’ll have to go through his records and see if he’s got the documentation stored. I’ll need the serial number… we can put it through the database; notify pawn shops. Actually, maybe we should be checking the pawn shops already?”

“I’ll make those calls, Birdie. Just text me the info; every detail you can remember about what it looked like, make and model, and the numbers you get from the company. I can take it from there.”

“What, you think I can’t handle calling shop owners?” she raised a brow.

“You know that’s not it, Farran,” he countered. “You’re emotionally involved; too close to this. I’m covering your ass, here. Both of ours, actually. Let me take care of the grunt work so you’re not risking getting kicked off the case that you’re not even officially on, anyway.”

Birdie wiped a hand down over her mouth and dropped her hand to her collarbone, where she absentmindedly scratched at it; something she did when she was stressed or nervous. “Okay,” she conceded. “But you let me know what’s going on, Sinese. Even if it’s nothing. Don’t leave me sitting here wondering.”

“You know I wouldn’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, ya do. Now go… drink some tea or do some yoga. Whatever it is you do when you need to relax.”

She let out a small laugh, “Neither of those things.”

“Oh right, I forgot. You don’t relax,” he said, lightheartedly.

“That’s not true,” she defended.

“I’ve never witnessed you relaxing. Pictures, or it didn’t happen.”

“I like how you assume you’d be so lucky as to witness me relaxing,” she retorted.

“Ha!” he laughed. “Touché, Farran. Touché.”

“Get back to work, Sin,” she playfully bantered.

Ashton’s heart lifted a bit at the use of her nickname for him, which he hadn’t heard since before Brian’s death. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m still the Senior Agent in this partnership. Don’t make me pull rank.”

“I think you just did. Fine, fine… Back to work. I’ll call you later.”

Birdie smiled and ended the call.

Weeks went by with no result on where the computer was. Even with Birdie’s relentless personal investigating, she found nothing. The frustration, renewing the intensity of the loss of her brother, threw her into a state of self-loathing. Even being back at work wasn’t helping.

“Hey, Farran,” Ashton approached Birdie’s desk, and sat on the edge of it beside her chair. She looked up at him from her empty stare at the computer screen perched on her desk. “You okay?”

She shrugged. “Guess so.”

“You don’t seem okay.”

“Oh really?” she replied, in an indignant tone. “I’ve been doing my best to be okay for months now. You telling me I failed at that, too?”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” he furrowed his brows.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know,” she retorted, turning her gaze back to the screen.

Sinese glanced around the room, noticing other agents glancing at them eavesdropping on the conversation that had become louder than he’d meant for it to be. He glanced back down at Birdie and grabbed her arm as he pushed up from the desk.

“Hey!” she tried to pull out of his grasp.

“Come on,” he sternly replied. “We’re gonna talk. Preferably, someplace where it’s between us , and not the whole building.” She struggled the entire trip up the hallway, trying her hardest not to make a scene in front of the agents they passed by.

Once he got her into an empty office and closed the door behind him, Birdie ripped her arm out of his grasp. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sinese?” she growled.

“I could ask you that question,” he retorted, standing his ground in front of the door.

“There’s nothing wrong with me! You just dragged me down here, in front of everyone!”

“Listen to yourself!” he stepped close to her face, intimidating her with his glare. She couldn’t even explain the feeling that came over her that caused her to clam up. “There’s clearly somethin’ going on with you. I know you don’t like to talk about stuff, but now it’s affecting your job. You need to start talkin’, and I mean now.”

Her eyes darted back and forth between his as she absorbed the seriousness in his tone; a seriousness he usually reserved for the most intense of interrogations with criminals. “I can’t,” is the first thing that escaped her lips.

“You can’t what?” his lowered his tone a bit.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do the job,” she confessed, her eyes shifting somewhere beside him before meeting his again.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he shook his head, confused by her words, but his face softened.

“How can I?” she continued. “How can anyone expect me to enforce a law against something that I couldn’t even save my own baby brother from?”

“Farran—”

“I’m serious, Sin. It’s a joke for me to stay here.”

“No one thinks that,” he laid a hand on her arm, but she shook it off out of frustration.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks,” she countered. “It’s not about them. It’s about me, and I know I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to.” Birdie looked him in the eye as if awaiting some kind of approval or blessing.

Ashton’s brows furrowed, almost meeting in the middle. His face was a mix of emotions that perhaps even he couldn’t pinpoint. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, not really knowing how to respond for a while. “Maybe you could transfer to a different department if you really feel that way.”

Birdie’s lips curled up a bit at the corners of her mouth, and she looked at him with slightly sad eyes. “I need to get out of here,” she shook her head. “I need to leave this place; this city. Staying here… it’s done nothing but remind me.”

Ashton looked hurt. “Is this for real?”

After looking at him for a long moment, Birdie nodded…

2013…

“Artie, stop!” Birdie shouted as she rounded the corner of the warehouse, gaining ground on him. Her voice was commanding; feminine yet not high-pitched at all. And from the chase, it was slightly gruff. It was she who had to stop, as her eyes focused on Artie standing maybe a few yards away aiming a pistol at her. She put her hands up, showing him that he wasn’t in any danger, and also trying to give him some sense of calm. “Artie, listen to me,” she said, catching her breath. “You don’t have to do this.” Something wet hit her hand, and she realized it had started to rain. Sometime between the beginning of the chase, the sky had begun to gray with clouds.

“Shut up!” he shouted as his eye and jaw twitched. “I’m not gonna be locked up, you hear me? This ain’t even the city! No way I’m being taken in by you !”