[ emma turns slowly on her heel, one hand on her hip, her other arm filled with stray clothes. ]
You sit back down.
[ sure, he could do it, but it would take him far longer than it will her, and she needs something to busy herself with. it's a way to avoid her exhaustion and eagerness to be home (and also faraday, just a touch). ]
If you try'n help, I'm just going to end up running right into you.
[ He scowls at her – and admittedly, it's a sort of petulant expression, but he's had a rough week.
(Well, so has Emma, he allows, though he doesn't know the extent of it. Doesn't know the ins and outs of it.
But a petty part of him also adds, She's not the one with a hole in her leg.)
He huffs out an exasperated breath and sits – but on the arm of the chair, rather than on the couch proper. Easier to stand from there. He pulls his crutches over, rests them against his shoulder between his legs. For a long moment, he just watches her, eyes narrowed and lips drawn into a solemn line. Then, ]
You doin' all that so you don't gotta talk to me?
[ Brightness in his voice, but his expression is solemn. ]
[ emma pauses in the middle of neatly folding the clothes (because faraday may not have folded his laundry, usually just tossing it into his suitcase carelessly, but she's going to make it look nice).
she doesn't look at him, but instead just shrugs. ]
If I truly didn't want to talk, I'd leave until the flight.
[ which is true enough. if she really wanted to avoid him, she just...would. she wouldn't stick around, would only be there in time for them to travel, and that would be that.
she doesn't want to have this discussion, but she also isn't actively running from it. ]
[ Though he wonders if she really would, considering the state of him. Not so useless that he couldn't fend for himself, but hindered enough that he still requires help, even if his pride may not allow it.
Still, it wasn't a refusal. It wasn't an invitation, either. It just was. He watches her in profile, or from the back, as she moves around, collecting their things. Watches thoughtfully, quietly, nudging the crutches back and forth to let the metal fall lightly against his shoulder.
Start with the easy questions, he supposes. Yes, no, maybe. Either, or. Chip at the ice until the whole frozen lake gives way. ]
Did you know about Bogue before you started workin' here?
[ the question makes it...easier to talk. it's not the simple expectation for her to spill every detail, and it gives her a place to start. ]
Yes. I dealt with him at my last assignment.
[ she'd transferred after everything with matthew, had uprooted her entire life to remove herself from it all, but that had been years ago now. she'd settled into her new job, her new home, and even a new partner, and by changing it all, she'd had a chance to move on. there had been no closure, which was probably the worst part about it, but she at least doesn't live with the reminders every day.
she doesn't offer up much more than that, instead continuing to fold clothes, gathering up the occasional essential to toss into their bags. ]
[ It's a small allowance, but Faraday admits he's surprised she even gives that much ground all the same. Even with her agreeing up, down, and sideways that they would talk about this, she had dodged or ignored him at every turn.
Faraday falls quiet for a second again – ostensibly to let her gather her thoughts; in reality, to formulate her next question. Then, ]
Does Bogue know you? [ A pause, and he clarifies, ] Seems you've got a deep history. Ain't sure if this is one of them "sworn enemy" things.
[ emma's lips twist in a humorless equivalent of a smile — part grimace, nearly a sneer. ]
He wouldn't know my face from a crowd, Faraday.
[ which is good, because otherwise, chisolm never would have let her on this case. catching sight of someone recognizable would obliterate their cover, and as much as she wants to take down bogue, she knows that kind of risk wouldn't have made it past the agency.
fortunately, bogue's never seen her face, as far as she knows.
her husband's, on the other hand... ]
In fact, I doubt very much he knows I exist.
[ she drops a few more clothes into her suitcase, not looking at faraday as she adds, ]
[ He freezes, staring at her, the word rolling around in his head.
Husband.
Hell.
He had heard the rumors, of course, about how Emma was married – is married? – though he never put much stock into them. It didn’t matter, really, whether or not she was hitched, so long as it didn’t affect her work. So long as he didn’t have to suffer through hearing one half of a telephone conversation during their downtime, filled with sweet-talk and pet names.
The two of them did well to keep their private lives and their professional lives discrete, though admittedly, Emma was far better at it than Faraday. Faraday tended to let things seep through, or didn’t seem to mind overly much when his vices reared their heads while they were ostensibly on the clock.
But this is a personal history he had no idea about.
He’s not sure if it’s impressive or infuriating. ]
[ it's the first she's ever mentioned matthew, of course.
she's never addressed the rumors, never cared what people might want to say about her, because it doesn't matter. she's there to work, and she's a good agent; she does her job, she brings in results, and her personal life and history are none of the others' concern. maybe it should have come up at one point or another with faraday, but the insistence she's always had to keep personal distance with the man made that far less realistic for her. ]
Because I haven't been for a long while now.
[ and it's all because of bogue.
she didn't need faraday to know about her dead husband, didn't need to share those incredibly sensitive details, but...here they are, talking about it anyway. ]
Faraday shifts in his seat. Fidgeting, really, though he’d never admit as much. ]
I— I’m sorry.
[ He watches as she busies herself, wrestling with the words that crowd on his tongue. He’s got so many fucking questions, now – and considering how many he had before, that’s saying a goddamn lot.
But no, stick to the easy stuff. Yes, no, either, or. Whatever story Emma has to tell, it’s certainly a difficult one, one she’s kept close to the chest. Better for them both to pick away at it than trying to dump it out all at once.
So the easy question. (The hard question.) ]
Did Bogue…
[ he frowns to himself, shifts the crutches to rest against his opposite shoulder. ]
[ emma just shrugs off his apology. she isn't looking for condolences, and his sympathy is clearly not the reason she's sharing this with him now. it's the fact that he deserves to know why she's so invested in this mission, why she'd let herself slip, and why this matters so damn much to her.
if her head is anywhere other than 100% focused on their objective, she owes it to him to tell him why.
talking about matthew just happens to be a part of that.
the next question...she's grateful he asks, but at the same time, she doesn't want to say it out loud. this is better than spilling her guts for him to scrutinize in one fell swoop, but it still brings along pangs in her chest, an old, sore wound being reopened.
her knuckles go momentarily white on a cord she's been coiling, before she forces herself to relax. ]
Yes.
[ short. to the point. not offering the specifics because as she stands there across the room, part of her is remembering exactly how matthew looked right before bogue fired that gun. ]
[ His eyes flick down to her hands, to the white-knuckled grip she has on that cord, to the tenseness of her posture as she answers. He winces a little, hissing in a soft, near inaudible breath. ]
Your husband was an agent, too?
[ That’s… not unheard of, considering how closely two agents worked together, how that level of trust usually amounted to something romantic, but certainly dangerous. Usually warranted reassignment, depending on how they worked together, once those sorts of things came to light.
Knowing what he knows about Emma, it must have worked. She could set aside her personal feelings – even those concerning Faraday – and get their assignments done, current events aside. He imagines it must have been the same with her husband.
The immediate question that forms isn’t simple, though he tries to wrangle it into an easier, bite-sized piece. It takes a few seconds, but at last he just— comes out with it. ]
[ by way of an answer, emma nods. she and matthew had been an incredible team, and even after their romantic involvement, they hadn't seen a slip in their work or their results. both of them could turn unbending focus on their missions, and once it became clear they'd been equally successful after months of keeping things under wraps, there'd been an allowance made on the premise that if things changed, they could easily face reassignment.
with how seamlessly emma and matthew worked together, it hadn't been a problem.
of course, that had been before everything with bogue, and while she'd taken it particularly hard because matthew was her husband, the truth is that most agents don't take well to the loss of a partner — especially not in the field.
ah, and— there it is.
she needs to sit for this one, she realizes, and she finds a place to settle, her hands in her lap and her gaze not quite on faraday — more over his shoulder, if anything. ]
It was supposed to be simple surveillance on a stock of drugs Bogue was plannin' to move. Get in, tag it all with trackers, get out again.
[ she runs a nervous hand back through her hair, steadying herself. ]
The plan was just that I'd be hangin' back and monitoring over cam, keeping an eye on the area with a few other agents. Make sure there were no surprises, you know? But— somethin' — someone — tipped Bogue off. He was there in the warehouse, and we were just...completely outnumbered.
[ fingers curl on her knees, voice a little tight. ]
Wasn't time for backup, and none of us coulda made it in there to extract Matthew.
[ but lord, she'd wanted to. she'd wanted to throw herself into that warehouse and fight with every damn thing she had.
[ He watches and listens in silence, face grim. Faraday wasn’t sure what he was expecting to hear – a job gone wrong, certainly, but for something to go that wrong, to be helpless to stop it—
And for a quick second, when he sees that tightness on her face, that strain, that closely contained hurt he wants to reach out, take her hand and provide an anchor to the present.
Just a quick second, though, because after that, he stomps it down, forces his gaze to flick up to the ceiling.
It’s quiet for a long while, Faraday still grappling with what he’s just learned and all things he wants to say or ask. He settles on this: ]
So, when we found Bogue. I— take it you wanna get even. Revenge, or something?
[ there's a flicker of confliction in emma's face. faraday's question is...important and one she's struggled with. she wants to see bogue dead, she knows that, but she also wants to see him suffer for everything he's done, and he can't keep suffering if he's buried six feet deep. ]
I reckon that's not practical.
[ as much as she wants...some sort of retribution.
she sighs, but finally turns to look at faraday proper, and there's something in her eyes that's a lot colder than anything she's ever had to set on her partner. ]
[ That look is dangerous, and Faraday finds himself narrowing his eyes, even as that look sends something unpleasant down his spine. He doesn’t like that glint in her eyes, doesn’t like how terribly dangerous it is.
(He wonders if that’s the look she wore as she shot out Bogue’s guards around him the other night.)
Her words earn a quiet, mirthless sort of laugh, and he tips his head a little to one side. ]
[ He spends another moment watching her, taking in that sadness mixing with her rage. He's never seen her like this, but that's not a surprise, considering how closely she's guarded she's kept her past.
Faraday is not a righteous man, but he has a sense of right and wrong – and on his off-time, he tends to ignore that boundary. Tends to give in to his vices, indulge in a touch of selfishness. So in that regard, at least, he understands wanting to exact revenge.
But that's not Emma's style. He wonders how she would feel, tipping over that edge, giving Bogue the type of thing he might deserve, but going off-script to do it. He's not sure if she'd like that, after the fact.
So at length, he shifts the crutches again to give his hands something to do. (He really wishes he had a cigarette to sooth his agitation.) ]
Oughta do this right. By the book.
[ Not Faraday's mode of operation, of course, but hers. He says it solemnly, without his usual touch of levity. ]
[ emma surprise at his response is belied by a touch of bruised pride, her jaw clenching in response. ]
I won't. I can promise you that.
[ she can't lose focus because it puts everything at risk, and she's perfectly aware of that reality. if she loses focus, their cover could be blown, she could get hurt, faraday could get hurt again.
getting to her feet, she resumes the packing, finally zipping up both of their bags. ]
Now can we go back to pretendin' we don't know a single damn thing about each other?
[ because that level of professional distance has kept her grounded. she doesn't breach it with anyone, and now that faraday knows this about her...she doesn't much care for the level of vulnerability she feels in that moment. ]
[ He huffs out a laugh at her question, bowing his head a little. ]
If that's what you want, sure.
[ Though Faraday knows this will be buzzing at the back of both of their heads, next time they track down Bogue. She'll be a coil of rage, and he'll be watching her with undisguised wariness, and they'll both feel terrible for it. But this was— not good to know, exactly, but certainly something he needed to know, all the same, if they were going to move forward with this, so— ]
Appreciate you tellin' me, though.
[ He says it softly, eyes cast down to the floor. He's not one for sincerity, but there it is – because he knows how difficult that admission must have been, considering her careful separation of work and personal life. ]
[ it's the genuine sincerity in his voice that really catches her off guard. it's not a tone she hears from him often (ever?), and over something like this, it almost...soothes a touch of the ache leftover from even saying all of this aloud.
she isn't by any means glad to have told him this (because, really, if it was up to her, she would have kept him just as much in the dark as before), but she knows it's important to their work that he be aware of the circumstances surrounding her and bogue.
she does, however, promise herself she's not going to let this affect any future dealings with that disgusting man.
by the book, that's how it's gotta be. ]
You deserved to know. I'm not the only one it's affectin' now.
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no subject
You sit back down.
[ sure, he could do it, but it would take him far longer than it will her, and she needs something to busy herself with. it's a way to avoid her exhaustion and eagerness to be home (and also faraday, just a touch). ]
If you try'n help, I'm just going to end up running right into you.
no subject
(Well, so has Emma, he allows, though he doesn't know the extent of it. Doesn't know the ins and outs of it.
But a petty part of him also adds, She's not the one with a hole in her leg.)
He huffs out an exasperated breath and sits – but on the arm of the chair, rather than on the couch proper. Easier to stand from there. He pulls his crutches over, rests them against his shoulder between his legs. For a long moment, he just watches her, eyes narrowed and lips drawn into a solemn line. Then, ]
You doin' all that so you don't gotta talk to me?
[ Brightness in his voice, but his expression is solemn. ]
no subject
she doesn't look at him, but instead just shrugs. ]
If I truly didn't want to talk, I'd leave until the flight.
[ which is true enough. if she really wanted to avoid him, she just...would. she wouldn't stick around, would only be there in time for them to travel, and that would be that.
she doesn't want to have this discussion, but she also isn't actively running from it. ]
no subject
[ Though he wonders if she really would, considering the state of him. Not so useless that he couldn't fend for himself, but hindered enough that he still requires help, even if his pride may not allow it.
Still, it wasn't a refusal. It wasn't an invitation, either. It just was. He watches her in profile, or from the back, as she moves around, collecting their things. Watches thoughtfully, quietly, nudging the crutches back and forth to let the metal fall lightly against his shoulder.
Start with the easy questions, he supposes. Yes, no, maybe. Either, or. Chip at the ice until the whole frozen lake gives way. ]
Did you know about Bogue before you started workin' here?
no subject
Yes. I dealt with him at my last assignment.
[ she'd transferred after everything with matthew, had uprooted her entire life to remove herself from it all, but that had been years ago now. she'd settled into her new job, her new home, and even a new partner, and by changing it all, she'd had a chance to move on. there had been no closure, which was probably the worst part about it, but she at least doesn't live with the reminders every day.
she doesn't offer up much more than that, instead continuing to fold clothes, gathering up the occasional essential to toss into their bags. ]
no subject
Faraday falls quiet for a second again – ostensibly to let her gather her thoughts; in reality, to formulate her next question. Then, ]
Does Bogue know you? [ A pause, and he clarifies, ] Seems you've got a deep history. Ain't sure if this is one of them "sworn enemy" things.
no subject
He wouldn't know my face from a crowd, Faraday.
[ which is good, because otherwise, chisolm never would have let her on this case. catching sight of someone recognizable would obliterate their cover, and as much as she wants to take down bogue, she knows that kind of risk wouldn't have made it past the agency.
fortunately, bogue's never seen her face, as far as she knows.
her husband's, on the other hand... ]
In fact, I doubt very much he knows I exist.
[ she drops a few more clothes into her suitcase, not looking at faraday as she adds, ]
It was my husband he encountered directly.
no subject
[ He freezes, staring at her, the word rolling around in his head.
Husband.
Hell.
He had heard the rumors, of course, about how Emma was married – is married? – though he never put much stock into them. It didn’t matter, really, whether or not she was hitched, so long as it didn’t affect her work. So long as he didn’t have to suffer through hearing one half of a telephone conversation during their downtime, filled with sweet-talk and pet names.
The two of them did well to keep their private lives and their professional lives discrete, though admittedly, Emma was far better at it than Faraday. Faraday tended to let things seep through, or didn’t seem to mind overly much when his vices reared their heads while they were ostensibly on the clock.
But this is a personal history he had no idea about.
He’s not sure if it’s impressive or infuriating. ]
I— didn’t know you were married.
no subject
she's never addressed the rumors, never cared what people might want to say about her, because it doesn't matter. she's there to work, and she's a good agent; she does her job, she brings in results, and her personal life and history are none of the others' concern. maybe it should have come up at one point or another with faraday, but the insistence she's always had to keep personal distance with the man made that far less realistic for her. ]
Because I haven't been for a long while now.
[ and it's all because of bogue.
she didn't need faraday to know about her dead husband, didn't need to share those incredibly sensitive details, but...here they are, talking about it anyway. ]
no subject
Faraday shifts in his seat. Fidgeting, really, though he’d never admit as much. ]
I— I’m sorry.
[ He watches as she busies herself, wrestling with the words that crowd on his tongue. He’s got so many fucking questions, now – and considering how many he had before, that’s saying a goddamn lot.
But no, stick to the easy stuff. Yes, no, either, or. Whatever story Emma has to tell, it’s certainly a difficult one, one she’s kept close to the chest. Better for them both to pick away at it than trying to dump it out all at once.
So the easy question. (The hard question.) ]
Did Bogue…
[ he frowns to himself, shifts the crutches to rest against his opposite shoulder. ]
He killed your husband?
no subject
if her head is anywhere other than 100% focused on their objective, she owes it to him to tell him why.
talking about matthew just happens to be a part of that.
the next question...she's grateful he asks, but at the same time, she doesn't want to say it out loud. this is better than spilling her guts for him to scrutinize in one fell swoop, but it still brings along pangs in her chest, an old, sore wound being reopened.
her knuckles go momentarily white on a cord she's been coiling, before she forces herself to relax. ]
Yes.
[ short. to the point. not offering the specifics because as she stands there across the room, part of her is remembering exactly how matthew looked right before bogue fired that gun. ]
Didn't have the time to stop him, either.
no subject
Your husband was an agent, too?
[ That’s… not unheard of, considering how closely two agents worked together, how that level of trust usually amounted to something romantic, but certainly dangerous. Usually warranted reassignment, depending on how they worked together, once those sorts of things came to light.
Knowing what he knows about Emma, it must have worked. She could set aside her personal feelings – even those concerning Faraday – and get their assignments done, current events aside. He imagines it must have been the same with her husband.
The immediate question that forms isn’t simple, though he tries to wrangle it into an easier, bite-sized piece. It takes a few seconds, but at last he just— comes out with it. ]
What happened?
no subject
with how seamlessly emma and matthew worked together, it hadn't been a problem.
of course, that had been before everything with bogue, and while she'd taken it particularly hard because matthew was her husband, the truth is that most agents don't take well to the loss of a partner — especially not in the field.
ah, and— there it is.
she needs to sit for this one, she realizes, and she finds a place to settle, her hands in her lap and her gaze not quite on faraday — more over his shoulder, if anything. ]
It was supposed to be simple surveillance on a stock of drugs Bogue was plannin' to move. Get in, tag it all with trackers, get out again.
[ she runs a nervous hand back through her hair, steadying herself. ]
The plan was just that I'd be hangin' back and monitoring over cam, keeping an eye on the area with a few other agents. Make sure there were no surprises, you know? But— somethin' — someone — tipped Bogue off. He was there in the warehouse, and we were just...completely outnumbered.
[ fingers curl on her knees, voice a little tight. ]
Wasn't time for backup, and none of us coulda made it in there to extract Matthew.
[ but lord, she'd wanted to. she'd wanted to throw herself into that warehouse and fight with every damn thing she had.
good thing they didn't let her. ]
no subject
And for a quick second, when he sees that tightness on her face, that strain, that closely contained hurt he wants to reach out, take her hand and provide an anchor to the present.
Just a quick second, though, because after that, he stomps it down, forces his gaze to flick up to the ceiling.
It’s quiet for a long while, Faraday still grappling with what he’s just learned and all things he wants to say or ask. He settles on this: ]
So, when we found Bogue. I— take it you wanna get even. Revenge, or something?
no subject
I reckon that's not practical.
[ as much as she wants...some sort of retribution.
she sighs, but finally turns to look at faraday proper, and there's something in her eyes that's a lot colder than anything she's ever had to set on her partner. ]
But I want him to pay.
no subject
(He wonders if that’s the look she wore as she shot out Bogue’s guards around him the other night.)
Her words earn a quiet, mirthless sort of laugh, and he tips his head a little to one side. ]
That sounds an awful lot like revenge to me.
no subject
[ it's a dismissive response, but she knows he isn't wrong, necessarily. ]
What I want most is righteousness, Faraday. The things he's done — not only to me and to my husband — calls for a whole mess of retribution.
[ the look she has now is softer, a hint of unusual sadness behind her withheld anger. ]
But in the face of that, I think I'll settle for a touch of revenge.
no subject
Faraday is not a righteous man, but he has a sense of right and wrong – and on his off-time, he tends to ignore that boundary. Tends to give in to his vices, indulge in a touch of selfishness. So in that regard, at least, he understands wanting to exact revenge.
But that's not Emma's style. He wonders how she would feel, tipping over that edge, giving Bogue the type of thing he might deserve, but going off-script to do it. He's not sure if she'd like that, after the fact.
So at length, he shifts the crutches again to give his hands something to do. (He really wishes he had a cigarette to sooth his agitation.) ]
Oughta do this right. By the book.
[ Not Faraday's mode of operation, of course, but hers. He says it solemnly, without his usual touch of levity. ]
You can't be losin' focus again.
no subject
I won't. I can promise you that.
[ she can't lose focus because it puts everything at risk, and she's perfectly aware of that reality. if she loses focus, their cover could be blown, she could get hurt, faraday could get hurt again.
getting to her feet, she resumes the packing, finally zipping up both of their bags. ]
Now can we go back to pretendin' we don't know a single damn thing about each other?
[ because that level of professional distance has kept her grounded. she doesn't breach it with anyone, and now that faraday knows this about her...she doesn't much care for the level of vulnerability she feels in that moment. ]
no subject
If that's what you want, sure.
[ Though Faraday knows this will be buzzing at the back of both of their heads, next time they track down Bogue. She'll be a coil of rage, and he'll be watching her with undisguised wariness, and they'll both feel terrible for it. But this was— not good to know, exactly, but certainly something he needed to know, all the same, if they were going to move forward with this, so— ]
Appreciate you tellin' me, though.
[ He says it softly, eyes cast down to the floor. He's not one for sincerity, but there it is – because he knows how difficult that admission must have been, considering her careful separation of work and personal life. ]
no subject
she isn't by any means glad to have told him this (because, really, if it was up to her, she would have kept him just as much in the dark as before), but she knows it's important to their work that he be aware of the circumstances surrounding her and bogue.
she does, however, promise herself she's not going to let this affect any future dealings with that disgusting man.
by the book, that's how it's gotta be. ]
You deserved to know. I'm not the only one it's affectin' now.