Garrison and Adrienne, Tuesday Afternoon

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

Adrienne, 1. Garrison, 5.  Awkwardness, 84,000. Frustration, 0. Anger, 0. Understanding, 2. And the final buzzer sounds!

Garrison and Adrienne discuss the new lead in Vanessa's case.


Coffee. That was what he needed, Kane thought, bleary-eyed. Even though Kane's preternatural endurance meant that he only needed a few hours sleep a night at most, the last forty hours had been spent re-calibrating the Danger Room following a new upgrade by Hank. It was a long, exhustive process that had left him almost blind from the monitors and stumbling upstairs to get something to drink. Fortunately, the kitchen was largely deserted; late-afternoon was slow and quiet.

It was largely deserted, yes, aside from Adrienne making a sandwich at one of the counters. When she heard someone enter the kitchen she turned to see who it was, and then turned back quickly when she saw it was Garrison. "Bishop briefed me this morning about the lead you found," she told him, hoping he hadn't already turned and fled. She stared down at the hummus she was attempting to make, "about Prague. For Vanessa. Christ, that was good to hear. That you found the lead, I mean. I mean, I had faith that Bishop and Warren and Jean and the others were going to find her, but knowing you're involved in finding her, what with you being the person I trust most, I may just get some sleep tonight." Funny how knowing someone hated you gave you a lot more freedom to just say what you felt.

The reaction she probably wasn't expecting was Kane's weary look and a slight 'blurgh?' noise from the Canadian. He reached for the coffee pot and poured himself a large mug before trying to make sense of her words. "Prague? I don't-" He sat down stupidly, taking a sip from the mug.

"Bishop said you were the one who found out that Vanessa'd been put on a plane going to Prague," Adrienne clarified, now slightly confused. "Did I... hear that wrong? Maybe I just wanted it to be you so I could believe she was as good as found..." she mused, half to herself.

"Bishop's already on his way?" He wiped his face tiredly. "Good. That's... good." He tried to will his tired mind to work properly. "Look, Adri, the lead to Prague is months old. Even if they didn't immediately make another connection, the chances of her still being there exist somewhere between slim and none. I don't want you to get your hopes up that Bishop and the team with him are going to come back with her. If we're lucky, they'll be able to trace the next link in where she was taken and follow it a little further."

"Theyre leaving first thing in the morning, apparently," Adrienne answered, leaning back against the counter so she could face him. It was nice, talking to him without either one of them raising their voices. At least for now. "I... guess that means you're not going with them." Her spirits fell a little, and his comment about getting her hopes up had her exhaling disappointedly. She hadn't known that the lead was months old.

"An FBI agent in the mix would draw the wrong sort of attention right now. Eastern European police forces have notorious issues with corruption, and if they saw my name on a flight list, it might spook the locals. Bishop was smart not to ask me." He didn't need to add that if he had, all of those logical reasons might not have stopped him going anyways.

Adrienne nodded in acknowledgment of the logical point he'd made. She was still focusing on what he'd told her about not getting her hopes up, though. "I know it's not a sure thing," she amended quietly after a moment, "but believing they're gonna find another link, something that leads to getting her back, is all that's keeping me going right now. Because the good guys have to save the day, y'know? Like they did when you and Dani and Jay and Pete were missing. I have to hold on to that hope, or I'm gonna lose my mind."

"I know. A lead is something. Maybe it only leads to another lead, but that one might be newer; fresher. Right now, it's about making up the time between Vanessa being taken and now." He said. "They'll find something."

"I believe you," she answered with a nod. Wow, look at that. They still weren't raising their voices. "I still wish you were going with them, but I know Bishop's a good detective. He'll find a lead. When we checked out the motel where she was taken, he explained to me the difference between picking up a lead and finding one. He's going to find one."

"I'm the wrong person to send after her. Too personal. I'd end up compromising things, Bishop can do a better job than I could right now."

Adrienne wiped her hands on a towel and picked up the crocheted goat she'd been carrying around with her for the day, squeezing it against her chest for a moment and then holding on to it with both hands. It was stupid, but holding on to it made her feel better. "I get that," she assured him. And yet she found it odd that he kept reiterating to her that he wasn't the man for the job. "Bishop's a good detective. And a good man. But so are you. And I hope you're not selling yourself short because you're trying to get me to stop believing in you," she said quietly.

Garrison bit back his immediate comment and stared into his coffee mug. "It's been made pretty clear that I owe you an apology, Adrienne. I've been... blaming you for my own issues, and that's not fair. So I apologize."

"I... what?" Here she'd been anticipating a fight and she was getting an apology? What had just happened? Had she sliced an artery while making hummus and was now bleeding out and hallucinating? "You... whaa? I mean, thank you." The goat was now being wrung between her hands nervously. "I... I know your issue-or, one of them, I don't know- but I know you think I didn't trust you. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like that. I do, you know. Trust you. You're the first person I ever trusted completely, and getting to that point was no small feat, so it can't be easily destroyed." He was right, it was his own issue if he didn't believe it, but she had nothing to lose to make sure he knew.

"I appreciate it, but let's not try and fix everything all at once." Kane held up his hand. "I just - I've been good at blaming you for every thing and that made it easy for me to not consider anything else. And break some stonework like a child."

"Let's... huh?" She blinked a few times, stunned. Try and fix everything. Was that really what he'd said? He wanted to try and fix everything? That was what that meant, wasn't it? "I... uhh... hummus?" Holy crap, what? Horrified, she spun back to the counter, and the hummus, so she didn't have to look at him sitting there all distracting-like and talking about fixing things. Hummus, seriously? Adrienne hit herself in the side of the head with a hand, which still had the crocheted coat at the end of it. "Ow! Damnit, Flapjacks!"

Wait, had she just cursed out a crocheted goat? Christ, she'd lost her mind. "So, um, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Okay. No more blame for everything. No more broken stonework. Good. Good stuff. That's nice. Excellent."

"Um..." So obviously Adri had been driven insane in the last year as she sputtered and flung her goat around. "Hey, look... the World Series is going to be in a couple of weeks. I was thinking of inviting some people to Harry's to watch it. Do you want to come?"

Adrienne continued to mash chick peas up with a fork for her hummus, which was what she'd been doing when Garrison had come in. The mashing helped clear her addled mind. "Sure. I'd like that. Thanks for the invite. And if the Brewers win I'll even buy you a beer when Marcum pitches. Hey, do you know what tahini is? I'm supposed to use it for this hummus but I don't know what it is. I was just going to use tartar sauce since they sound kinda similar."

"Tahini and tater sauce aren't even close." Kane said, finally giving her a smile. "And you know that."

His smile was contagious, as she gave him a crooked, playful one in return. "Yeah, but only because I do my own grocery shopping now. Until about two weeks ago that was my exact thought process about it. I mean, it sounds like a tropical island. How did something with a name like that become the name for a paste made of ground sesame seeds?"
"Doing your own grocery shopping? Wow, that's a big step." His voice was mock serious, teasing her a little bit. "You know that they sell it pre-made at the store, right?"

"I do know that, but I'm being creative!" she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him. "I also know that they sell tongues there. And feet. It's a madhouse."

"Hey, if you want to eat tongue and feet, that's your choice. I'll stick with a good steak, eh."

"Oh, I just meant, you can get anything there you can imagine," she grinned, knowing better than to express the fact she thought eating steak was just about as gross as eating feet or tongue. "I always thought you had to go to a butcher shop for things like tongue. Just like going to the drug store for tampons." That word always enlisted a fun reaction from guys. "But apparently you can buy those at the supermarket too. It's super. It's chaotic, but it's super."

"It occurs to me that we have lived very different lives." Kane said wryly, and stood up. "I need to go and get some sleep. Good luck with that tarter sauce."

"And yet we ended up in the same place," she mused, going back to her chickpea mashing. "Hey, thanks. It'll turn out fantastic, I'm sure. Yes, you go sleep. I'm jealous." There was no way she was going to get any sleep until Bishop and the others got to Prague- she was far too wired on worry and anticipation. She supposed cops forced themselves to get used to the waiting.