FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"That can't be good." Reid muttered to himself, pulling to a stop in his truck in front of Vance's modest, suburban home. Vance's Supra was parked in the haphazard way not uncommonly seen amongst the habitually drunk. Half in the driveway, half in the road, the door open, the keys still in the ignition and the engine running.

Reid wet his lips and fixed his focus on the dead end of the street in front of him - somehow, he didn't know how - he knew what was going on. He'd seen it coming. Vance hadn't. He'd wanted to keep looking at Blaine through rose-colored glasses, just as he had been ever since she'd gotten pregnant.

He stopped his truck neatly in front of the house and got into the driver's seat of the Supra, putting it in gear and pulling up the driveway before turning it off and pocketing the keys. Like the car, the front door of the home was closed over, a good gap in the jamb allowing entry to anyone who fancied it, particularly Reid, who entered with caution; unsure of what he might see on the other side.

"Vance?"

No response. Reid shut the door gently behind him and turned to see the dog sitting on the couch, unmoving. He swore under his breath. Rushing around to the front of the couch, he stopped, watching while the pit bull stared catatonically ahead at the TV screen, nothing on it.

"Vance. Talk to me, buddy."

"She left." He said at last, shrugging slightly to accompany his tone of voice, aloof and uncaring. It had been a long time coming. He knew that. Instead, he figured that if he simply ignored the issue, it would work itself out. That was how everything had worked in the past. No longer.

Reid sighed and lifted his jeans a little before sitting down on the couch next to his friend, watching the imaginary TV show that was playing. He imagined that it was playing a lighthearted sitcom, something with a laugh track.

"Where's the baby?"

"In-laws." Vance got up and walked around the couch and into the kitchen. Reid followed him, watching the dog pull a wine cooler out of the refrigerator - he'd run out of beer in the time it took Reid to get from the shop to his house.

"Hey, I don't want to get preachy or anything, but don't go falling into that habit, okay? You know what happened to me..."

"Yeah? You know what happened to Lucy when _you_left?" Vance pointed, chugging away at the fizzy beverage.

Reid flushed, "What? How do you know about that?"

"She told me. She told me about it this morning. Wow dude, I mean...she's a totally different person now. Said she feels like it, even. She's got this glow about her today. I think she and Rigo had sex." He capped his sentence off with that and belched loudly. Reid waved a hand in front of his nose.

"Don't make this about me or Lucy. I know some bad shit just went down. You need to work through this..." He took the empty bottle out of the other canine's hand and looked at it, "...without alcohol. All I've been trying to do is look ahead, and it sounds like that's what Lucy's doing, too. And hey, Brody Callison's the real criminal here, by the way!"

Vance stared over the cattle dog's shoulder. Reid pinched the bridge of his muzzle between his eyes and shook his head.

"Listen, I'm going to be here for you. All right? You're my best friend, and I don't want to see you go down the same paths I did. Take today off. I've got your keys; I'm going to hang on to them for now. I'll bring them back tonight when you've sobered up. I have to get back to the shop, call me if you need anything, all right?"

"Yeah." The pit bull responded quietly.

"All right. Take care of yourself, okay?" Reid took a step forward and put his arms around his friend, pulling him into a tight hug and patting him on the back a couple of times.

"I'll see you tonight."

"Sure."

Reid disappeared through the front door, shutting it quietly behind him. Vance hobbled over to the counter where he'd placed Blaine's ring and stared at it. His face twisted in anguish, he swung a mighty hand and slapped it off the granite surface, sending it flying across the room where it bounced off the wall and landed under the kitchen table. With that, he collapsed to the floor a weeping, sobbing, blubbering mess of a man.

***

"I just want one normal day. Is that too much to ask? One?" Reid said as he stood at the entrance of the bay door, staring out at the track, "I think I'll take up smoking, you think I should take up smoking?"

Hector laughed, "Bro, look at you. This is_normal. Normal ain't just good, homes. It's bad, it's weird, it's crazy, it's whatever's...you know, _normal."

"That was oddly philosophical, coming from you."

"Oh, thanks."

"Any time. Oh! I think my delivery is here." Reid said, his ears pricking the moment he heard a diesel engine pulling up out front. Sure as he thought, a tow truck was pulling into the yard, guided by Chris as it brought around the Galaxie.

"Damn, Reid! Where'd you score that baby?"

"Storage unit." He responded with a shrug, keeping it enigmatic, "You can put it right here! On the lift, this one..." Reid called out, jogging over to the truck.

Indoors, Lucy sat in the break room eating lunch while Veronica re-filled her coffee mug.

"So, are you and Reid related?" The cheetah asked while stirring creamer into her coffee and watching the darkness disappear into a swirl of milky brown.

"Me and Reid? No, why?"

"I just thought I saw a little bit of resemblance between you two. I thought you might be his daughter, or something."

"Nope." Lucy said out of the corner of her mouth, full of salad, "I never knew my Dad."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. No, I only ask because you don't see many eighteen year-old girls working in auto shops like this."

"I'm not like other eighteen year-old girls." She winked. Veronica laughed a little.

"When I was eighteen, I was a total geek. I mean, you'd never know it these days," She said, unapologetically referring to her shapely, hourglass figure, "but I was hitting the books every day, applying to every college that had what I was looking for. I wound up getting acceptance letters from four different universities. Hardest part about the whole thing was choosing!"

Lucy furrowed her brow. She wasn't sure why the new bookkeeper was telling her about all this. Maybe she just wanted to fit in with everyone else that worked for one of the most prestigious tuner shops in the country by lauding her academic accomplishments over them. Most of the guys that worked there had never even been to college. Paul had never cared about special pieces of paper with a potential candidate's name in script. He believed that the best training one could get was on the job, a trait he'd passed onto Reid.

"So what about you, are you planning on going to school?"

"I don't see why I would."

"Why not? You know, I think higher education is something that a lot of people take for granted these days-"

"Wait, 'take for granted'?" Lucy cut her off, "You should know better than anyone else that college is anything but. With what you pay in this country to go to school, it's a wonder anyone does. We have one of the most jacked up, convoluted higher education systems in the world. Most developed countries in Europe have free college or at least with very low tuition. Believe me; I looked into it before I moved out here to LA. They place real value on education, not monetary value. Here in the states, it's a racket. 'Here, pay tens of thousands of dollars for a degree and oh, by the way, that'll be eighty to one-twenty per book, for four books, for however many semesters. It's bullshit."

She shoveled another bite of salad into her mouth and continued before the cheetah could get a word in edgewise, "And for what? For what, for a piece of paper that says you should get the job and not the guy with actual hands-on work experience?"

She swallowed, "I don't need to go to school. Not when I've got it made here at the shop. My boyfriend's a PA and he's going to medical school to become a cardiologist. Now there's something you need a degree for, sure. But for crunching numbers? Nah."

Veronica looked sour. She finally just shrugged and sipped at her coffee, "You're very...well-spoken for your age."

"For my age." Lucy scoffed, "People like to say that. The same kind of people who hear a child say something intelligent, and instead of praising them, they say 'oh, how cute, she thinks she knows what she's talking about!' like they're afraid of being shown up by someone younger than they are."

"That's...not what I said."

"No, I know, I'm not trying to imply that you did. Forgive me; I get caught up in the moment sometimes. Especially around here," she tossed her empty bowl into the trash can and wiped her mouth on a napkin, "you know I was never really happy until I started working here. Even if I never did know my Dad, I've got no complaints. I have a great man in my life, and a great job. I've got every reason in the world to be happy!" She giggled, splaying her arms out and walking confidently out of the break room, feeling good about showing up the new hottie.

Back in the garage, Reid and Hector were surveying the Galaxie.

"What are you thinking, a four-sixty?"

"Oh, hell no. I'm thinking of putting a three-ninety in it. I've got the Nova, it's a drag car through and through, I think I just want to cruise in this one."

"Right on. Hey, maybe you could take that old BMW engine and-"

"Fuck off!"

Hector laughed and squirmed while Reid punched him playfully, flabbergasted at the prospect of such a puny motor being installed into such an iconic car. He shook his head and returned to work, and Reid glanced up to see Lucy walking over.

"Whoa, whose is that?"

"Why, yours truly, of course." Reid responded coolly, leaning back against the front quarter panel of the car in his best James Dean impression.

"Nice. Looks like it's missing something." She pointed, gesturing to the engine bay. He turned around and looked, already knowing what he was (or wasn't) going to see under the hood.

"Yeah, I still need to order a heart for this little beauty queen."

"Speaking of beauty queens, your new bookkeeper seems like a real cooze."

"Oh, now give her a chance. She's not like us, but I think we can...assimilate her." He drummed his fingers against the edge of the fender, "You know, I was thinking this could be a fun little project for us to work on when we've got some downtime."

"Now when you say us, you mean you and her?"

"No, I mean you and me. What do you say; you want to be my partner in crime on this one?"

"As long as you don't want to chop the top and put whitewalls on it." She joked. Reid's jaw dropped.

"What do I look like? Hector?"

"I heard that!" The wolf called from across the bays.

"Hey, how's Vance holding up?" Lucy poked. Reid raised his eyebrows and blew out a sigh, shook his head slightly and placed his hands on his hips.

"Not well, so far. In his defense, no guy I know would be able to just brush off something like this. The rest of his life just walked out on him. He's a tough guy though. And he's still got his kid, so there's something." His phone began to ring, "Speak of the devil...hello?"

"Hey, Reid."

"What's up?"

"When you come over tonight, can you stop at the store and pick up some baby formula and some diapers? Hoyt and Darla are on their way over to drop off the baby."

_ _

_ _ "Uh, sure. I guess so." Reid furrowed his brow and resisted the temptation to make a joke about how the request made them sound like a married couple. Now wasn't the time, and it wouldn't be for a while. Veronica stuck her head in through the doors before Reid and Lucy could continue their conversation.

"Reid? There's someone here to see you."

Out front, a man in a navy blue work shirt not unlike the ones they wore stood in front of the counter. An unfamiliar, but official-looking patch was sewn on the left breast, right above the pocket, which contained a few pens and other pocket-sized accessories.

"Yes sir, what can I do for you?"

"Can you open your gate? My name's Bill Driscoll, I'm with the gas company, you guys have a line running underneath your track back there that I need to inspect. We've been having some issues a few miles to the east with leakages; I just need to take a look."

"Yeah, sure, just pull around to it and I'll get it from the other side."

"Thanks."

Once inside, Mr. Driscoll rolled down his window as Reid walked up to the truck.

"Is there any cause for concern with that stretch of pipeline?"

"Shouldn't be. You guys smell any natural gas lately?"

"No, can't say I have."

"All right. I'm just going to run down to where the pipeline is and mark it; I'll be out of your hair in a jiffy. You got a business card? We'll give you a call if the city decides we need to dig."

Reid nodded and produced a small, brown leather wallet from his pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to the man, who glanced at it.

"Right. We'll keep you updated then."

***

Saturday morning, Vance stumbled into work looking like what the cat dragged in. He gazed gloomily through glassy eyes, bloodshot and puffy, and his hair was a ratty, greasy mess. His clothes were wrinkled, and he looked as though he hadn't slept in a week. He hadn't been sleeping well indeed, and with his in-laws playing day care, he'd been forced to rise much earlier than usual. It was going to take more than coffee to wake him up.

"Jesus, Vance." Lucy whispered. Reid shot her a look. So much for pretending like the pit bull didn't look as bad as he did.

"Mrng."

"Vance." Reid started, pulling him aside, "Are you with us today, man? If you're not in the right place yet, just tell me, you can go home and rest. You really look like you need it."

"I can..." He trailed off, not wanting to look anyone in the eye. Reid closed his mouth, halting any further speech, just staring empathetically at the other dog, his reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Vance, you know we've got a show tonight out at the Five-O, right?" Lucy asked.

"What?" He finally looked up.

"Yeah, you know, that gig we've had booked for the last couple of months? We've rehearsed the set list twice now, are you going to be good to go for tonight?"

"Yeah, definitely." He tried to sound believable, but it was wasted on the wolfdog. Lucy sighed, unconvinced. Reid looked at her and shook his head.

"Dude, go home. Go to sleep."

"Alright. What time's the show start?" He turned to Lucy.

"Eight, but we need to be there by like seven so we can get everything set up," She looked at Reid and shrugged, "we're not big enough to have roadies yet."

Reid laughed, "All right. Vance, you okay to drive? I don't want you falling asleep at the wheel now."

"I'll be fine."

It was a wonder the pit bull made it home without crashing - the car or otherwise. He pulled up to the front of the garage and stopped, pinching the key between his thumb and forefinger before rolling his wrist back and listening to the engine die. His entry into the house was a trip down memory lane, reminding him of the days when he was a bachelor, bringing home new women every night he met at the clubs where he played lead guitar in his psychobilly band, The Four-Twenty-Sevens - aptly named for the big block Ford motor.

Vance stopped at the door of his music room - a spare bedroom he'd converted into a poor man's recording studio, monitors, amplifiers, a desk with an iMac computer, and several instruments packed tightly into the eleven-by-thirteen space. Blaine had insisted that all of the instruments and their cords and wires be moved out of sight, though they were never out of earshot. That had been the deal they'd worked out, but no longer would Vance need to compromise. He looked around at all of his equipment and decided that he would later move it into the living room.

Back at the shop, Reid sat at the computer, ordering products from his vendors - a process he found only marginally less boring than doing payroll, but Veronica seemed to be holding down the fort with the expected expertise of someone who had been doing it for over a decade. Reid pressed the order button and leaned back in the chair, watching while it processed a brand new crate motor for his Galaxie.

"So what was up with your other guy, the pit bull? What was his name, Vance?"

"Yeah. He's going through some tough times right now. Family issues, you know."

"Oh, I see." He fingers clicked away at the keyboard, "Death in the family?"

Reid wet his lips and paused, "No." He wondered if it was appropriate to discuss the matter with the new hire. He figured it couldn't hurt, "He's going through a divorce at the moment. We're all trying to give him a little breathing room about it, I wouldn't...y'know, bring it up or anything."

"Oh, sure. So he's single?"

He gaped at her in disbelief, "I suppose you could say that. Hey, you know, he's playing a show with his band out at the Five-O downtown tonight. Most of us are going; would you like to join me?"

She turned to look at him, pausing only for a moment as she smiled, "Sure, that'd be nice."

"Great! I'm going to be heading there straight from here as soon as we close tonight; you want to ride with me? It's a pain in the ass trying to find parking out there."

"That sounds like fun. I've wanted to go for a ride in that Mustang of yours ever since I first saw it!"

Reid grinned to himself, "If you want, I can show you what it can do right now."

Veronica wheeled about in her chair, her eyes wide. Reid jerked his head in the direction of the door and got up, an eager cheetah following him out the door to his car.

Thank God for racing harnesses, Reid thought to himself as he got precariously close to the feline while he helped her buckle in to the bucket racing seat, the large, red canister of the fire suppression system joining her supermodel legs in front of the seat. Reid jogged around to the other side of the car and strapped in, starting the beast up with a thunderous rumble that challenged the might of Zeus himself.

The next thing Veronica Gianotti knew, she was riding shotgun in a Mustang GT that was flying down the track at 160 miles per hour. They had long since passed the quarter-mile marker, and the cattle dog's hand rested on the shifter as he neared the turnaround, gently applying the brakes. Downshifting, he got the car sideways around the turn, much to Veronica's delight, who was squealing with glee from the experience. Reid felt cooler than Miles Davis while he deftly maneuvered the car around every turn of the track, quietly noting the large, orange line that the man from the gas company had spray-painted across the track, about halfway back to the garage. He capped off their little soiree with some donuts in the staging area, surrounding them with a cloud of thick, white smoke before peeling out of it and stopping the Mustang just in front of the bays, where Hector, Chris, and Lucy applauded sarcastically. What a showoff.

"Wow..."

"Yeah, what can I say? She's rode hard and put away wet." Reid chuckled, waggled the stick back and forth in neutral and released the clutch, pulling the parking brake up while the engine rumbled in front of them. The heeler turned to face the cheetah and gazed at her coolly, his elbow rested on the center console.

"So tell me. Why did you really want to work here?"

Veronica blushed under her fur and brushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her cheek, then giggled cutely and shrugged. Reid decided to make it easy for her.

"I mean, it's obvious you've got a passion for this. Why don't you sell that Infiniti and we'll get you set up with something a little bit more your style, huh?"

She laughed, "I just bought it, actually. But you make a very convincing argument."

Inside the bay, the guys were more amused than impressed.

"Look at that." Chris said to Hector, nudging him and pointing out the bay door to where Veronica and Reid were conversing and laughing inside the Mustang, "You think he didn't prime that shit from the start?"

"Of course he did. But if something's going on in there, I'm not one to stop it. Hey, when the boss man is happy, so is everyone else, am I right?"

"Can't argue with that. Coffee done?"

"Yeah, I imagine."

***

Vance awoke with a start to the sound of his phone ringing, vibrating across the nightstand next to his bed, now feeling rather empty without his wife. He was too tired to even check who it was, so he slid the bar across the screen and brought it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Vance! Where the fuck are you? The show starts in fifteen minutes!" Lucy hissed into the phone at the Five-O Club, leaning forward and peering out onto the stage where the opening act was busy tearing it up for the uproarious crowd.

"Oh, oh shit. Sorry. I fell asleep and forgot to set my alarm. I'll be right there."

He hung up and sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes, still half-drunk. Normally, he would have been all in a tizzy, running around like crazy, throwing on clothes and grabbing his keys on the way out the door. But that was only when he overslept for work, the thing that actually paid his bills. So instead of that, he took his sweet time getting dressed and loading his guitar and amplifier into his car.

Back at the club, Lucy was doing her best to stall the show, breaking the bank to buy them time. A crowd of over a hundred was there to see them, packed into a small venue, and it looked as though they were getting impatient.

"Can you guys do a couple more songs? Just maybe like two? I'm still waiting on my guitarist and vocalist." She pleaded with the opening act as they prepared to exit, and to her relief, they agreed to do an encore for the crowd. Behind her, someone was denying someone entry into the backstage area. She turned around to see Reid standing there with Veronica, and they waved to one another.

"It's cool, he's with me." She said, and the bouncer stepped aside, allowing the heeler entry. Lucy gave him a hug.

"Have you heard from Vance?"

"Yeah, he shot me a text. He's running a little late but he's on his way, he should be here...oh!"

"Sorry." Vance pushed past his friend, guitar case in one hand, amplifier in the other. He set the big, heavy tweed box down on the ground and plopped the guitar case on top of it in a huff, popping the latches one by one and pulling out his Gretsch 6120.

"Okay, so I got them to play one more song to buy us some time."

"Cool." Vance said, sounding like he didn't even want to be there while he tuned the guitar. Lucy eyed his suspiciously.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Hey, Reid, can you get me a shot? Jack."

"Yeah?" The bassist asked. Vance looked at him, annoyed.

"Is your last name Daniels?"

"No?"

"Then shut up." He sneered. Jack's ears drooped a little and he went back to tuning his upright bass. The opening act finished their last song, and Lucy shot a thumbs-up to the lead singer. Behind her, the pit bull pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket and tipped two small tablets out into his hand; pain medication Blaine's doctor - her real doctor - had prescribed to her post-partum. As on edge as he was, he could only assume they would help him calm down. Reid reluctantly handed him the shot, and he downed the pills with it, shuddering from the burn of hard liquor. Out on stage, the roadie was joining the crowd in giving a hand to the opening act.

"All right guys, we've got the show you've been waiting for, they hail from right here in Los Angeles, they are The Four-Twenty-Sevens!"

"Makes you feel good, doesn't it?" Lucy winked, turning to Vance and immediately frowning when she made eye contact with him. He was not with it at all. She looked at Reid, who just shrugged sheepishly, unsure of what to say. The crowd went wild as they walked out onto the stage, waving to the crowd. Lucy took a seat at her drum set and pumped the kick drum pedal a couple of times. Jack got situated behind his upright bass, and Vance took his position up at the microphone.

"How's it going tonight?" He slurred into the mic. The audience cheered in joyous reply. "Sounds good..." He mumbled smiling, eliciting some laughter here and there. "All right."

Vance rolled the volume knob on his guitar up to full blast, and the concert began with a fast-tempo instrumental number that seemed to get everyone in the crowd amped up. It was a song from their newest album, and those who knew it were clapping along with the beat, waiting for the lyrics to start. But the pit bull didn't seem to be in the mood to sing at that moment. Lucy and Jack stared oddly at him as he continued playing instrumentally for a few more bars. The audience didn't seem to mind until Vance's fingers decided they wanted to get in the way of each other and miss notes here and there. Behind him on the drums, the wolfdog cringed, rolling on the snare again to give him a cue to start the lyrics.

Sweating, the dog looked up at the microphone as if he hadn't known it was there. He stepped up to it and mashed the end of his muzzle up to it. He began to sing a little too late, getting off beat and forcing the others to catch up to him, the song stuttering slightly as drums and bass found their mark. Lucy and Jack exchanged glances as Vance skipped an entire verse and went back into the chorus. By this time, the audience was starting to catch on. Some were impressed and amused by the pit bull's obvious inebriation, others were disappointed in the quality of the show they were receiving for their money.

Vance ripped into the solo one extra chorus and a forgotten verse later, and that was when things went from bad to worse. Jack had laid his upright bass down on its side and was sitting on it, playing it in a style reminiscent of how one might play a regular electric bass. Vance placed one foot in the cutout on the side and pushed himself up so that he was standing on top of it, sawing away at his guitar strings with the pick and smiling at the crowd as they cheered him on. Alas, the instrument was too high a perch for him in his lowly state, and he fumbled more and more notes as he fought to keep his balance, eventually stopping altogether and collapsing, taking a hard fall to the stage while the people in the front row cajoled and applauded. Amidst the mixed reactions from the crowd, Lucy threw her sticks down and rushed to his aid, and Jack and Reid pulled him off the stage while the audience booed them.

***

"Well, at least the opening act was good." Veronica mused as Reid drove them back to the shop where her car was parked. Lucy was not far behind them in her BMW, where riding shotgun was an unconscious Vance, with whom she was tasked to return home.

"That's really unlike him, he normally plays so well. He's an excellent guitarist and a master showman, but I think the issues he's been having are just taking their toll on him. It's going to take him a little while to bounce back."

"Yeah."

"You ever been married?"

"Once." She said wistfully, staring out the window.

"Yeah? Me too. Once..." He added as a show of solidarity, keeping his eyes on the road and waiting for the exit to come up. "You have to look at it in a positive light though. As a learning experience. Me, I learned not to ever do it again." He finished, his voice dry and cutting. Veronica smirked a little at the corner of her mouth.

"Well, I'm sure whoever let you go is regretting it now."

Reid chuckled, "Yeah. Yeah, I bet so."

For a while, they sat in silence while Reid took the highway exit, riding along the access road for a moment before pulling into the parking lot of the Doghouse. He put it in neutral and sat there with the brake on for a second before turning to the cheetah and smiling at her.

"I'm glad you came out with me tonight. I'm sorry it wasn't a better show, but there'll be more."

She nodded, "Thanks Reid. I had a good time." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, "I'll see you on Monday, all right?"

"Sure. Seeya."

He watched while Veronica got into her luxury car and started it up, pulling out of the parking lot and heading down the access road to her home. He sighed. She was way out of his league, so far that he decided, ultimately, that he wouldn't even try to pursue a romantic relationship with her. Not in the workplace. It just wasn't worth it. He moved to put his car into first gear, but before he could, the cold steel of a gun barrel was shoved up against the side of his head.

"Out of the car." Ordered a man, his identity unknown. Reid cautiously stepped out of his vehicle, his hands raised to about chest-level.

"Hey, just take it, man. It's all yours."

"I don't want your car, you dumb shit." The man responded and pistol-whipped the heeler upside the head, knocking the canine to the ground, "I think you know who I'm here for. Now where is he?"

"I don't know who you're talking about!" Reid shouted back, only to be kicked in the ribs by the heavy leather of a motorcycle boot when he tried to get up.

"Don't waste my time, now!"

"What do you want?" The dog coughed, and suddenly, there was a series of sounds that preceded the assailant's fall. There was a short hum like that of an insect whizzing by, followed by an audible thump, not unlike the sound made when someone gets punched. Before the heeler's attacker even hit the ground, a thunderclap-like sound split the warm, night air around him. Then, it was quiet, save for the rumble of the Mustang's engine.

Red taillights illuminated the body, under which a pool of blood was beginning to form, seeping outward from underneath the now soulless bag of meat and bones. Frightened beyond belief, the dog scooted away from the corpse on his haunches, reaching for his cell phone to dial 911 while traffic whizzed by. Within minutes, the cops were on their way. Reid sat shaking in the driver's seat of his car, trying to understand what just happened, and almost as if on cue, the phone began to ring. He looked at the screen. It was Paul.

"Paul!"

"What did I tell you? Huh? Always be vigilant. Situational awareness."

"What are you talking...what are...you, did you...?"

"Yes."

"Jesus, Paul!"

"Listen. Show them the security footage from the parking lot cameras. You were on the ground and your hands were in full view when I shot him. You're not going to be charged with anything. Just keep your eyes peeled and your ears open, got it? I'll have your back."

"Paul."

"Yeah?"

"When am I going to see you again?"

"Maybe on the news. Maybe in the funny papers, I don't know."

"This isn't funny, Paul!"

"Oh, I thought it was. Did you see the way that guy just fell on his face? Like a sack of rocks, man. Reminds me of this one kill I got in 'Nam. 1970. Two Viet Cong officers sitting face-to-face. Shot one in the back, round went clean through and killed the one in front of him. Guy with his back to me falls forward and his head lands right in the other one's lap. Looked like he was blowing him."

"Okay, that is pretty funny." Reid admitted. Classic Paul.

"Take care of yourself, Reid. I'll do my best to have your back and Vance's, but I can't be everywhere at once. Tell him I'm sorry about Blaine. I'll contact you when it's the right time."

Reid nodded.

"Paul out."

Click.