[4 weeks and 3 days after the attack on Ben, Sara, and Sophia]
The city was back to normalcy for the most part. The LAPD still had a mountain of work leftover, investigating lootings and other disaster-related crimes following the Earthquakes - but at SWAT, they were back at their usual workload. Helping federal agencies during raids, hunting fugitives, responding to emergencies…
Detective Ben Weiss was in his office finishing the paperwork on another online harassment case he closed before sending it to the ADA when he received a phone call from an unknown number.
"Weiss," he answered and closed his eyes to concentrate.
He was beginning to get headaches now that his sleep deprivation continued and his girlfriend and daughter were still overseas. Thankfully, Sara was due to come back today at night. Ben had high hopes that he had all the tools needed to resolve their issues. The long talk with Doctor Wendy helped clear it up well for him.
"*You turned off your burner,*" a rough voice said in an accusing tone on the other end of the line.
"I sent you the new number before breaking the SIM, didn't I?"
"*You didn't,*" the other voice replied curtly.
Ben furrowed his brows. He was sure he did, but then again, he might have forgotten due to his mental state at the time. Or the message simply didn't go through?
Either case was worrying.
"I'll look into it," Ben promised with a weary sigh. "Anything you can tell me on this line?"
"*No,*" the man denied. "*Send the new number to hub two.*"
Ben looked at his phone as the call dropped and took out another phone from his bag. It was mirrored to the real burner phone somewhere hidden far away. Through clever settings, a call from this phone would go via the internet through an app all the way to the burner phone at a cell tower nowhere near him on a barebones application coded by him personally.
Typing a cryptic message through the burner hidden on the other end of California, Ben received a call in minutes.
"*At least you work quick.*"
"Sorry Reacher, wiped the other phone to jailbreak a new IMEI and antenna ID on it. Can't look into why the message wasn't sent. I am sure I typed it," Ben answered.
"*Sounds like you're at least thorough,*" the burly man on the other end of the line answered with a small, amused huff. "*Can we talk?*"
"Go for it."
"*Clive Murray is dead. It wasn't me,*" Reacher revealed in as short a sentence as he could.
Ben pinched the crease between his brows and leaned forward to rest his elbow on the table.
"How did the governor's son die?"
"*I broke into the ME's office last night. Toxicology says overdose. The FBI agent I knocked out had a report on his phone that read, 'EMT reports DOA, two prostitutes were with him'. The report did not have the names of those two women. My guess is the governor has them if there was foul-play.*"
"The FBI immediately investigated? Why? Was the Secret Service present?"
"*They weren't as far as I can tell. But local PD was never called. My next stop is the bodyguard, Greg Stine. He should know more. Just wanted to let you know asap,*" Reacher answered.
"Thanks," Ben muttered and pressed his hand to the side of his face, dragging it down slowly. "Need me to reactivate the Jasmin Featherly alias to catfish Stine again?"
He didn't have the capacity or the desire to worry about the Texas Governor that Reacher was tasked with taking out. But he also wouldn't just leave the ex-MP hanging without explanation.
"*No,*" Reacher denied. "*Anything that I need to know?*"
"This number will remain active for longer and I'll switch to one digit higher once I am done with it. Got lucky with the intermediary. Other than that, there were no movements on our side with Senator Brayden," Ben explained. "Tell me if there is anything I can do."
"*Got it.*"
Ben packed up the second phone he just used and leaned back in his chair.
After taking some time to center himself, he decided to take a small break reading the news. More specifically, stories about unexplained deaths, missings persons and other crimes that at least seemed to have more to them than the story would let on.
"Family gone missing on a camping trip in Montana," Ben read out loud with furrowed brows. Something about the man in the family picture screamed federal agent to him. The story hit the news because the oldest son was a hopeful for the next Olympics.
Archery.
Some small digging later, Ben found nothing that stood out, but he still noted it down in his notebook.
He desperately needed a distraction.
Just then, a sweaty Chris walked into his office without knocking and fell into the chair behind his desk.
"The no-knock-warrant-serve was a success?"
"Always is," Chris huffed and leaned forward to read over his shoulder. "Los Angeles too boring for you? Why are you reading about a shooting at a mall in Arkansas?"
Ben leaned back in his chair, pressing a thumb near his eye just below the eyebrow.
"Just reading the news, Chris. But that shooting sounds kinda fucky. Six dead, five from one family from out of town visiting family and some hillbilly?"
"Want me to fold you a tinfoil hat buddy?" Chris mockingly asked. "This shit happens…"
The detective shook his head, unable to argue. He still put it on a map he decided to make in his free time.
Seeing him not answer, Chris asked, "Sara still mad? Look, I'll talk to her-"
"That's not necessary. I mean, sure, you can. You're an adult, we're all adults. You can do what you want," Ben denied and reassured before explaining, "But I think I got it figured out."
Chris looked at his profile, noticed the deep bag under his eyes and the weary frown he tried to hide. But she also didn't want to press. She messed up just as much as he did. She should have never proposed putting on that play for her uncles.
"In any case, Deacon asked for you. He's in the infirmary," Chris said after standing up and slapping his arm.
"Is he alright?" Ben instinctively asked before anything else.
"Don't you think I would have told you if it was serious?" Chris huffed, shaking her head. "It's just a scratch. That lunatic smuggler we apprehended tried to domesticate a hyena. We only learned about it when it was already on Deac."
"Hyenas are cowards - it wouldn't just attack," Ben said as he stood up and put on a windbreaker. Despite the summer, he was feeling kind of chilly.
"It was a mistreated wild animal. Starved, chained. It was just lashing out. Animal control got it - Luca choked it into unconsciousness but it's already up."
Ben nodded. Choking animals that were biting someone was standard procedure. Prying open jaws wasn't always easy, especially with predators with the bite strength of a literal hyena. Pulling them off was even worse of an option. A carnivore's teeth were no joke if pressed into flesh.
Outside his office, Chris watched Ben walk to the infirmary with worry in her eyes.
"He looks like garbage," Tan said as he walked up behind Chris.
"Yeah, I'm worried, too," Chris agreed without having to look back. "First Street, now this… I wish I could help, you know."
After Ben reached the infirmary, he just looked on as the medic patched up the nasty bite mark on Deacon's elbow. Though, thankfully, the bite only went skin-deep. The animal responsible was barely hanging on at that point.
"So?" Ben asked after the medic finished the bandaging and left the room.
Deacon looked at the arm in worry for a short while before sighing deeply. He didn't meet Ben's gaze at all.
Trying to bend his arm, Deacon hissed in pain. The frown on his face grew, first into one of defiance and then into one of resignation.
"I have no right to ask for this," Deacon mumbled under his breath. "The man who saved my wife's life… and paid for it."
"How much do you need?" Ben simply asked to cut down the embarrassment his friend must surely be feeling.
"Not much, and I'll pay you back as soon as I can," Deacon deflected as he kept staring at his wounded arm. "Hondo's got a night-gig lined up for me, security. I already know the guy, I'll make it a regular thing."
"You could. But your wife needs you. Don't neglect her or your family in the midst of trying to make ends meet," Ben softly interjected, his weary eyes looking at his friend with empathy.
He knew how hard it was for Deacon to speak out. The man could have turned to a less reputable place for the money to spare himself the conversation. He could have taken the money somewhere along the line of duty, from a stash house raid or seizure.
It meant a lot to Ben that despite being colleagues for less than a year that the man was willing to ask him instead.
Ben got out his phone, opened one of his banking apps and threw it to Deacon at the page for transactions.
"Put it in, don't look too hard at the numbers you're seeing, and pay me back when you can. In return, you're going to talk to Annie about making me one of her peach cobblers," Ben explained and Deacon didn't quite know what to do with himself.
As if an afterthought, Ben added, "Uh, also, never ask me to join you on one of those side gigs. I don't sleep enough as it is."
Deacon finally looked up from the phone, studied Ben's face for a moment, and said, "You do look like shit."
In fake bashfulness, Ben clutched his heart and asked, "Aww, do you mean it?"
-----
Deacon broke his promise, he called Ben to one of his side gigs later that week.
"Look Ben, I wouldn't do this if it wasn't serious," his grey-haired colleague said with a forced smile as Ben turned off his touring bike on the paved driveway of a luxurious Hollywood Hills mansion.
"I'm not mad, Deac," Ben said as he took off the helmet. "I'm just disappointed."
Deacon, sharply dressed and ready for action, scratched the back of his head, saying, "That makes it so much worse."
The off-duty detective took out a computer bag from one of the boxes on the back of his bike and turned around. One of the other guys working security stopped him, so Ben lifted his arms and allowed the man to pat him down.
Though, Ben did give Deacon a flat glare the entire time.
Deacon decided to turn his head away and whistle.
"Look, it isn't my company," the SWAT sergeant whispered as they walked to the house. "I vouched for you, of course, but the father is concerned. He wouldn't listen."
"Just tell me what I'm doing here," Ben requested with a sigh. "Sara didn't say it - but she was pissed. It was date night."
"It's important. The company has IT guys, but they can't hold a candle compared to you."
"Did you know the saying comes from the mid-to-late middle ages? An apprentice too stupid to hold a candle so the master can work in a dimly-lit space?"
Deacon side-eyed Ben, hoping the detective would continue to explain why he would bother bringing it up.
Just as they reached the modern mansion, Deacon finally asked, "Okay, how is that helping?"
"It isn't," Ben said with a shrug. "You interrupted Sara and I watching a documentary about the origin of common sayings."
"Oh wow, I feel a lot less guilty now," Deacon joked with a laugh. "Ben, you're barely 30. Why is date night with your gorgeous girlfriend watching trivia contest preparation material?"
"Don't kinkshame me, old man," Ben scoffed. "I get turned on when a hot girl says something incredibly smart."
The two heard a cough and looked to the source.
"This is the man you want to trust the survival of my child with!?"
"Mister Tangretti, Detective Weiss is a savant with the computer. He'll find out who is blackmailing your daughter with that sex tape in no time."
Ben looked at Deacon for a short moment and swallowed a mocking reply. It wouldn't do to scold the man paying his friend. Instead, he looked at the man and said, "The only reason you're not waiting in line at the local police station and get told by one of our colleagues that these things take time, is that Deacon asked for a favor."
"The police takes its time - as much as you don't want to hear it, your daughter's matter wouldn't be a priority. PIs are either expensive or lacking unless you already have one you trust implicitly. Ben is your best option, sir," Deacon added solemnly.
The wizened millionaire glared at the both of them until he nodded and invited them inside.
"Show us what you can do then," Mister Tangretty gruffly demanded.
Ben already knew he wouldn't like the man.
-----
[6 weeks and 5 days after the attack on Ben, Sara, and Sophia]
"You look well," Sara said with a satisfied smile as she held Ben's face as she hugged him from behind.
The two stood in Ben's bathroom facing the large mirror.
"It was just a shave, you know," Ben quipped.
Sara shook her head, saying, "You look like you actually slept."
"Well, there was someone who demanded all of my energy last night," Ben said with a thoughtful grin. "You might know her. Red hair as beautiful as the sky at sunset, smile as refreshing as dawn. An ass as-"
Sara forcefully turned his head and silenced him with a short kiss.
"Shut up and remember to get ready. We leave in an hour," Sara reminded and dropped the bathrobe she was wearing. "And no joining me in the shower. I have to shave and I'm late already."
"Didn't you have a waxing appointment two days ago? Where do you need to shave?" Ben asked as he continued his shaving ritual.
"I'm not going to answer that question, Ben," Sara shouted back, incredulous.
"You know where I had my mouth last night - which part of your body is a secret to me, Sara?"
The woman threw a towel at Ben and remained quiet.
After almost an hour, Ben was busy fixing the cufflinks his mom had given him in front of the mirror.
"Wow, you clean up better than I thought," Sara complimented as she walked into the room with her make-up done but still only dressed in her underwear.
"You said to wear the dark-green suit. Are you sure I won't stand out like a sore thumb? It's a modern cut, but I don't want people to whisper behind your back saying you came with a 70s stereotype of a pimp."
Sara got closer, fixed his tie with a gentle smile and kissed Ben just as softly.
"You look amazing," she complimented and walked into the huge Pritchett Closet to get her dress.
Moments later, she called out, "Can you help me with the zipper?"
Ben didn't say anything and simply walked to her, doing as she requested. Standing behind her as she fixed the way the green dress she wore fell, Ben whispered, "Wow."
"What are you, Owen Wilson?"
Ben smiled, kissed her bare shoulder and simply said, "You look absolutely wonderful."
Sara watched him walk out of the room through the mirror before she looked back at herself.
"Can't even argue with him anymore," she commented in a small voice, though her smile turned more and more blinding.
Dressed and ready to go, Ben was downstairs at the entrance with his phone in one hand and a long red box the size of a glasses case. Hearing his girlfriend come downstairs, he looked up, smiling at her.
"Stop it, I'm blushing," she bashfully waved away when she saw the way he looked at her.
"And it would only compliment your beautiful hair."
Sara playfully rolled her eyes, asking, "Can you help me find my heels?"
"Which ones?"
"Gold and bronze, closed front," Sara explained. "Uh, should be in the laundry room?"
Ben handed over the box in his hand, gently kissed her behind the ear to not mess up the make-up and walked over to get her shoes.
When he came back, he heard Sara gasp.
"Is this for me?" She asked with wide-eyes.
"It matches your heels, no?" Ben asked with a playfully cocky grin.
"Help me put it on!"
Ben did just that after walking forward and placing the heels he had gotten on the floor.
"Is there an occasion for the gift?"
"It's our two months, two weeks, two days anniversary?" Ben asked after managing to loop the hook, allowing the thin bracelet to gently fall into place on Sara's slender arm.
"Fine, keep your secrets," she said with a huff, watching the golden chain on her wrist with an adoring look.
Ben shrugged, explaining, "It was an impulse buy. You know, men sometimes don't understand what we did wrong. So we, as emotionally unavailable creatures, try to throw money at the problem."
"Our talk when I came back from England suggests you're lying," Sara countered with narrowed eyes. "You fully understood and you are far from emotionally unavailable…"
"I bought it before I gained enlightenment. But if you don't like it, maybe I will return it after tonight? Just don't lose it…"
Sara studied his expression for a moment before looking at the case the bracelet was in. There was a name imprinted on the inside's cushioning.
"You can't return it. Palazzi closed two years ago after the owner bit the dust and the children tore it to pieces after a nasty inheritance war," she commented in suspicion.
"Damn, I didn't know that," Ben mumbled with furrowed brows. Sara's job insuring expensive items made her intimately familiar with all the high-end shops in the city. She had to be knowledgeable for all of her rich clients to take her seriously.
"Well?" Sara asked again, stepping into her heels with her arms thrown around Ben's neck so he couldn't run away, greatly limiting his options to either trying to deflect or changing the subject.
Or, well, tell the truth.
"I saw the shoes you brought the day I picked you up at the airport and found this piece among my mom's jewelry. I already knew you planned to wear them today," Ben said, looking at the bracelet just next to his face with an unreadable expression. "It matched the shoes, so, uh, sorry. I'm regifting. I got this for my mom for mother's day when I was 13."
"And you really want to part with it?" Sara asked with a complicated expression.
"My mom scolded me for months. 'You are too irresponsible with your money!' or 'I can't believe you would buy this for your mother when you have a crush on that girl at the tennis club!' or 'I'm going to kill your dad for driving you to a store that expensive and waste all that money!'"
"She was right, you know?"
"No, she wasn't and I never got the chance to explain it to her. I helped Palazzi set up his computers and printers after my dad picked up a Valentine's Day gift there. I was 13 and while I might have had a crush, there was no way I was going to gift something like that to a girl," Ben explained and gently took the hand with the bracelet on. Holding up the lone emerald set in a rose on two small chain threads for her to look at, he continued, "See here? The stone has a break. Palazzi explained to me that the setting put too much tension on the stone and there must have been an imperfection. He said having the stone exchanged was too much work so I could have it as payment. He said that it made the piece unique, but it still wouldn't sell well."
Sara stared at the stone until she heard Ben scoff, "To teenage me, that sounded deep." He continued with a gentle smile, "My mother got the chance to wear it three times when my dad took her to galas at the hospital he worked at. She wore it without fault."
"And you don't want to give something with so much sentimental value to Anna someday?"
Ben softly shook his head, explaining, "My dad was a sad excuse of a husband. He was constantly late, stood her up on a weekly basis to do just one more surgery, review just one more case. He blew thousands upon thousands of dollars on jewelry as apology tokens. Anna could never wear it all once I gift half of it to her."
"Half?" Sara asked with a lifted brow.
"My mom only left me half of it. The rest was to be auctioned off at charity events," Ben explained and took out a box from his pants pockets. "I'm planning to have this auctioned in her name later tonight."
Ben opened the ring box to show a gaudy rose gold ring with an impossibly large yellow-green gemstone set into it, framed with small white diamonds.
"Six carat opal and a total of twenty diamonds," Ben said with a small sigh. "My mom hated this ring."
"It's certainly a… choice," Sara diplomatically commented, an amused smirk threatening to break out on her face. "What did it cost originally?"
"1993, New York Doyle Auction House. My dad paid $26k because he missed my first day at pre-K to stay at a conference just one day longer," Ben explained, before he turned a little awkward. "I don't just randomly remember it. My mom explained it in a note she tucked into it."
Sara looked at Ben for a short while before she looked back at the bracelet and gave Ben another deep kiss.
The bracelet was very meaningful. Giving it to her meant she was meaningful, too.
After all, Sara long noticed that while he was torn about his father, Ben had adored his mother. He put her on some kind of pedestal - and it made sense since she was gone so abruptly.
-----
The festivities and the auction had just ended, a ring donated by the Miss Vanessa Weiss Foundation brought in one-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars. Ben was naturally in a good mood because of it since he was able to get rid of the ugly trinket and made very good money for a good cause doing it.
As he was dancing in the ballroom with Sara - one of the few couples that took advantage of the space - someone tapped Ben's shoulder.
"Excuse me, may I ask for dance with this beautiful woman?" A man with a heavy accent asked as they stopped blending out everything around them.
Ben gave Sara a brief look, quickly understanding that it wasn't just a rude gentleman trying to woo his girlfriend. Seeing her accepting, Ben handed over her hand with a somewhat forced smile and retreated, "I'm going to get us some drinks."
The Saudi Prince began to try and copy Ben's movements from before, but the off-duty detective quickly saw that he couldn't convincingly show his talent as a dancer. Instead the two just swayed as they talked business. After all, the prince had more than earned this audience with the insurance manager after buying the hideous opal ring from Ben.
"Hey, a soda on the rocks and a martini, please," Ben ordered as he reached the seemingly deserted bar.
Most of the guests simply enjoyed the wine and champagne handed out as they mingled and networked with the other rich guests. Something Ben didn't plan on doing.
'Serial killer on the loose in Iowa-Minnesota-Wisconsin tri-state area. Ten families killed by the Silence-Killer,' Ben read with narrowed eyes as he waited for his drink.
Some maniac killed twenty-eight people in three states by breaking into homes and cutting out tongues while the families were sleeping. All ten families died in the span of a ridiculously fast four day period.
Ben even opened the official reports on his work phone to get a better understanding right around the time the drinks arrived.
"That's a rather depressing topic to read about in such a festive setting," a man jovially cut in from next to Ben after he took a sip from the soda.
Ben looked up and narrowed his eyes.
"Neal Caffrey. Am I right to assume you're here for something stupid, criminal, or plain annoying?"
Neal raised a hand, complaining, "I haven't done anything to you, did I?"
"You're saying your friend Mozzie decided all on his own to leave New York and stalk my family?"
A disarming smile spread on Neal's face as he shrugged and admitted, "You got me there."
"And let's not forget you trying to steal private photos and travel tips from my good friend at the cafe," Ben added, unimpressed with the methods of the man in front of him.
Something must have happened, because Neal's smile turned stiff as he remained unresponsive. Ben leaned to look at Neal from the side. An earpiece.
So Neal was here on official business and he was getting scolded by his handlers?
Ben was okay with that.
"Since you're here, wired up and all - can I assume bullets are about to fly as you and your friends at the FBI apprehend an art forger in the flashiest way possible?"
Neal's smile turned even more wooden, but he quickly caught himself and snatched the martini on the counter.
"Not to worry, Sara and I need to put on a little play and then we're out of your hair," Neal coaxed with a sweet grin that Ben just wanted to punch.
"Give me the card," Ben demanded and held out his hand.
Neal didn't need to think long and handed over a business card.
Ben dialed the number on it as he stared Neal down, implying the man shouldn't try walking away.
"*Special Agent Diana Berrigan,*" a woman answered.
"This is Detective Benjamin Weiss. Since Neal found me in a crowded room in an even more crowded event, I will assume you know who I am after you listened in on our talk?"
"*We do.*"
"Good, spares us the time of you looking up my badge number and everything," Ben said into the phone. "Is Mister Caffrey's plan absolutely contingent on the involvement of Sara Ellis? Will she be in any danger?"
"*The suspect is not known to be violent and has left behind no bodies from what we investigated.*"
"That answers one question," Ben pointed out.
There it was again, the small headache just above his eyes. The one he thought he left behind a week ago.
"*Neal is many things and certainly a criminal. But he did his time and paid his debt to society,*" a new voice cut in, this one male. "*And he would never risk Sara's life, you have my word.*"
"Your word means nothing to me," Ben answered evenly. "I don't know you since you didn't bother introducing yourself and the FBI has certainly not earned any good will from me as a private citizen."
Instead of watching Neal's reaction, Ben took a worried look in Sara's direction. The redhead was still busy politely discussing something with the prince in the middle of the dancefloor.
Though, admittedly, this entire interaction felt wrong to Ben already. There he was pretending to be lovers with two colleagues and he was getting jealous in the middle of a gala. That and he hardly had a right to disallow his girlfriend of barely two months who to talk to and what to do - especially if it turned out she could help apprehend a criminal.
"You can trust Peter," Neal cut in, now sporting a frown of his own. "I would put my life in his hands."
Ben wanted to immediately and snarkily comment that Neal's life was worth nothing to him, but he reigned his jealous emotions in.
"*Peter Burke, Special Agent in Charge of the White Collar Division in New York,*" the man on the other end of the call identified himself.
Ben hung up the phone without continuing the conversation and looked at Neal. Saying nothing for a moment, he eventually demanded, "You will allow her to finish her business with the Saudi Prince, the deal is important to her career. And then you will ask for permission before simply dragging her into it, whatever it is. She is a fine actor and certainly won't break in a high-stakes situation. And finally, if there comes a point where the arrest might get dicey, you and the men behind you will tell me. You have my number now. Tell me and I will guard her with my life while you do what you need to do."
Neal stared at Ben with an unreadable frown before he solemnly nodded and said, "Good answer."