Pinewood Corner Kitchen Chapter 24
As soon as they got to headquarters, Bradley went straight back to the gray bedroom, closing the door behind him. That was a little unusual, but Gabriella realized that if his usual haunt in the back bedroom was locked, they’d be down a workspace and, even possibly more angry than she’d ever seen him, he was being practical. She wondered if someone should go talk to him, but when she asked James, he shook his head, still looking somewhat stunned. “No, give him some time,” he said. “I don’t have him on anything until tonight.”
That was fine until about fifteen minutes later when she realized she had left her research for the Bancroft case in the gray bedroom. And that was the case scheduled for tonight, so she couldn’t put it off, even after the usual reality-shaking events that kept piling up. James was in his office and she didn’t want to disturb him, so she was going in there unarmed and without backup.
Bracing herself, Gabriella knocked on the door. “What?” Bradley snapped.
She opened it and stepped inside, trying to just think of it as an ordinary room she’d spent plenty of time in over the past couple years. It was a room where something bad had happened, not a bad room.
Inside, Bradley was laying on the bed closest to the door, the one James had been in while he recovered, on his back with his bad leg propped on a cushion from the old couch they’d gotten rid of. Right, his surgery had been postponed. Indefinitely. And the way he was holding his leg looked painful.
“I need my materials for the Bancroft case,” she said.
He didn’t say anything as she went to the dresser and picked up the thick folder she’d left there earlier. She was about to head out and leave him alone, but stopped. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“If I tell you to fuck off, will you? Or will you keep trying to get slices of my brain to put under a microscope?”
She hadn’t actually said she wanted any of the things he kept claiming she did. “That was pretty messed up,” Gabriella said. “What happened at Casey’s.”
“Yeah.”
“It was real.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
That one surprised her. “I didn’t mention those details to anyone,” Bradley said. “Not McManus, not the clowns doing the ESP test, no one. The parts where I got details about Polly Grace going after your grandmother’s house, yeah. But it was a dream, just an ordinary, fucked-up dream. Not ordinary, I know-” he said before she could decide if she was going to interrupt. “I was dreaming about your grandmother’s house and why the fuck would I be doing that? Yeah, fine, it wasn’t just wires getting crossed, there was something there. But the details he knew, I didn’t tell anyone. That means that the Foundation indirectly accessed my fucking dreams. Not some kind of dream-entering monster or whatever, like a mischief or that hotel woman, where we expect entities to do that shit. My former boss entered my dream to give me information for work. And yeah, it was important. And yeah, he was dead. But Gabriella-” Bradley looked up at her. “My boss. Went into my dream.”
He was right. It hadn’t occurred to her exactly how violating that could feel. Because he was also right that it was important and that information might have saved her family’s lives. And did Robin have any other way of reaching them? Apparently not.
“You asked me what I was so afraid of? It’s that,” Bradley said, his hand glancing over his mouth as he looked at the ceiling. “McManus asked me the same thing. I am afraid that I’ll become nothing more than a tool that the Foundation can use. More than they already consider all of us to be. They do, you can’t deny it.”
“I was never going to deny it,” Gabriella said. “I see what happens around here. Graham was right about this place. And I know you’ve seen them starting to push James again.”
“I’m afraid that if…” Bradley shook his head. “Fine. Yeah. Apparently I’m psychic. Apparently I have psychic fucking powers. Happy?”
He paused as though he actually expected an answer as Gabriella stood here, holding her folder full of printouts. “It starts that way,” he said. “As an emergency situation. Just like how having someone here alone overnight was an emergency situation. Then it became the norm. And eventually I’m going to dream about someone following up on payroll and I’ll have no way to keep them out. And they’ll get access to whatever I’m dreaming about. Whatever secrets I’d rather not have the entire world know about, the Foundation will know.”
He was quiet for a second, looking around the room from where he was laying. Was he also remembering the week James was in here? “But it also saved your family,” Bradley said softly. “So how can I say it wasn’t worth it?”
She sat down on the side of the bed, aware that it was a risk. “It sucks,” she said.
It felt useless, but he just nodded. “Yeah.”
“And I don’t want to slice up your brain and look at it under a microscope.”
He looked up skeptically. “An MRI would work just fine,” Gabriella continued. “You can keep your brain in your head, I just want to look at it.”
He glared at her, then laughed. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned, covering his eyes with his arm. “You’re the worst.”
Again aware that maybe she was going too far, she put a hand on his good leg, the one closest to her. He lifted his arm and looked up at her. “I don’t think Robin is going to tell anybody at the Foundation,” she said. “And there were no comms there today. And there’s no reason to include it in the final report. Which I’m writing. The case ended when we updated Casey on it.”
Bradley groaned again. “They all know, though, don’t they?”
“Know what?”
“That you were all right and I’m fucking psychic.”
“What, like the team?” Gabriella said. “Yeah, we’ve all known for months.”
She shrugged. “Keep your other secrets,” she said. “They’re none of our business.”
“I have an old assault and battery conviction.”
Gabriella looked at him. “What?”
“That’s the shit I mentioned could keep me from getting a different job. I did drugs and got in fights in my early twenties and got popped for one of them. So did the other guy. It’s old, but still probably there. I said it wasn’t exciting.”
It was, just a little. “Don’t tell anyone, it’s embarrassing.”
He sat up and winced. “I have to get prepped for Bancroft,” he said.
“I’m working on the research now,” Gabriella said. “I’ll let you know when I have it.”
“Thanks.”
“Is it hurting?”
“It hurts all the time,” Bradley admitted, keeping his voice low. “But I’m not going to complain about it. What, am I going to tell Madelyn how bad it is, when mine will hopefully be fixed and hers won’t?”
“You’re still allowed to hurt.”
“Yeah, whatever. Besides, McManus would just start apologizing again. And if I got the chance to choose differently, I’d still do that too. So…”
Bradley stood up and walked out of the room, moving that same way Madelyn did when she didn’t want anyone to know it was a bad day. Gabriella stayed where she was, trying to rewrite her view of this room back into an ordinary space. She was almost there.
***
“Gabs, do you have a sec?”
The next morning, Gabriella was alone in the living room as James came out of his office. She stood up slowly, her bruised back protesting the movement. Not that James looked any better as he stood in his office doorway. He’d been in there for a little while now, on the phone with various people. That made sense. After all, their clients had died in a building collapse of their own making just days ago. Even if it was their fault and they’d tried to take half the team out with them, she imagined the paperwork James was facing was almost a bigger nightmare.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she walked into the office. “I finished my witness statement, but if there’s more I need to do, I’ll submit it.”
“No, it’s not that.”
He had the shades down over his office window like he normally did during meetings to cut out the glare on his computer screen. In fact, the whole office looked like it always had. Cluttered, comfortable, and completely normal.
James closed the door behind them, shifting uncomfortably in the yellow lamplight. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Instead of denying anything was wrong, James sighed and sat down on the couch. Gabriella sat down next to him. “Do you have any more pumpkin soup?” he asked.
That wasn’t quite the last thing she’d expected to hear from him, but she thought maybe she’d misheard. “Yeah,” she said. “The pumpkin bisque? I think there’s some in the freezer here, actually. Why?”
“Because Jolene said we might need to seriously consider whether I’m developing an eating disorder. And I really don’t want that.”
He looked shaken, fidgeting with his gloves as he avoided her eye. Gabriella couldn’t blame him, but she was also relieved that a professional had intervened. “It’s in the freezer,” she said. “And I’ll make some more.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
She kept her tone light and thankfully he laughed slightly. “I know it wasn’t food,” he said. “Like, intellectually, I know it wasn’t the food. And the fact that I can use soap and shit like that, but I’m still having trouble eating, makes no sense.”
Six months ago, James would never have talked to her like this. And now Gabriella was determined not to fuck it up. “Brains are weird,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just rattled, I guess?” he said. “I’m going to just try to get back on eating regularly. She said if I can make progress by the time they switch us to Dr. Hillard next month, she won’t pursue it.”
“Are you hungry now?” Gabriella asked.
James hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“Come on, I’ll heat it up.”
She heard him saying he could do it himself, but ignored him as she walked out of the office. Nobody else was in the living room as they got out there. She knew Graham was off. He’d originally been scheduled at Cleary House, but Madelyn said he’d relented and taken a sick day to recover more. Madelyn and Amelia had a case in a little while, so they were probably in the gym. And she could see Bradley working at his usual desk through the half-open back bedroom door. So everyone was accounted for and safe. For now, at least.
Gabriella pulled out the container of soup she’d frozen, along with one of the ancient, scratched-up soup pots from under the counter. A moment later she had the soup thawing on the stove. James had taken one of the old stools that were usually tucked underneath the small counter between the kitchen and the dining room, so she took out the other and sat down too.
“I told them we weren’t law enforcement,” James said after a moment of silence.
“I did too.”
“I don’t want to be in law enforcement,” he continued. “But I don’t know how we’re supposed to handle human situations. Monsters are one thing. But we’ve ended up with multiple people doing horrible shit, but we can’t really do anything about it. It’s like the only option is to either let them go or hope that they create a situation that kills them. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah.”
“Polly Grace might still be out there,” he said as he continued to play with the hem of one glove with his other hand. “Maybe she’s dead, maybe she’s not. She killed multiple people, but, like, are the magic police going to arrest her? All we can do is put out the fires she sets. Same with those Sixteen Roses guys. Or-” James swallowed hard as Gabriella went over to stir the still mostly-frozen soup. “Or Adele.”
Was this the first time he’d said her name to Gabriella? At least lucid. She’d heard him yelling her name multiple times when he’d been delirious during the antidote treatment.
“They all do this shit and get away,” he continued. “So why is it on us to fix everything? We can’t fix it, not without being fucking judge, jury, and executioner, you know?”
“Is the Foundation going in that direction?” Gabriella asked.
James shrugged, which made unease blossom inside of her. She had no interest in any of that. Yes, she’d defend herself and her team, but she hadn’t signed up for anything else.
“It doesn’t matter this time, I guess,” he said. “They’re dead.”
Gabriella stirred the soup, breaking apart the ice as James gazed out the back window.
