Chapter Thirteen

Ben's hunched in his desk chair, the only light in the office the blue glow of his computer screen, a cup of overcooked, so-strong-he-nearly-has-to-chew-it coffee sitting cold and forgotten at his elbow. He's been researching his coworkers, digging into their lives to an obsessive, stalker-ish level for nearly two weeks now and he's exhausted. He's defeated.

He's found nothing.

Not literally nothing, of course. He now knows that Maria was having a fling with some EMT that turned a lot more serious three weeks ago when her doctor confirmed a positive pregnancy test. He knows that Gary goes to the children's hospital every Saturday to put on long and ridiculously involved sock puppet performances. And he knows that Cara spends an unhealthy amount of time on bondage porn sites and has a sex toy collection that rivals the catalog at Adam & Eve's.

But he's got no clue who is selling Nathaniel out. There's no new influx of money into anyone's bank account and there's no sign that anyone is being blackmailed.

Maybe Reid was wrong. Maybe there is no mole.

Ben clicks the red X in the corner of the screen, slides back in his chair and closes his tired, burning eyes for a moment. It's 9:36 PM, and if he goes home now it'll be the shortest work day he's had since he got back. Maybe Janie will even heat up food for him, put on some lingerie and distract him from this crap for an hour or two.

He sighs, clicks on his desk lamp and starts packing up to go home. He's wrangling the fat Angelev file into his briefcase when he freezes, hearing faint footsteps down the hall.

And they're growing louder.

Ben had been sure he was the only one working late. His back immediately straightens, his hand going for the gun in his desk drawer.

A short shadow rounds the corner, steps into the circle of light around Ben's desk.

"Hello, Ben."

Ben sags, relieved. "Jared, hey. I didn't realize you were still here."

"Tying up a few odds and ends, you know." Jared leans over, his bald spot shining in the lamplight as he takes a peek at Ben's now-blank computer screen. "What about you? How's my favorite jolly pale giant doing without his little lima bean?"

Ben frowns, never particularly fond of the nicknames Jared has chosen for himself and Reid. "I'm fine. Just catching up on some paperwork."

Jared stares at him for a long moment, his small, dark eyes seeming even more calculating than usual. And then he blinks and plasters on a smile that is so fake it's insulting. He straightens to the extent of his short stature, tugging his cuffs back into place on his wrists. "Yes, well. I'll just leave you to it, then."

But Ben stops him; he's seen something that makes him actually want to talk to Jared for the first time in years.

"Nice watch. Is that new?"

Jared twitches at his cuff again, a flash of gold peeking around the edge. "Ah, yes. It's a fake, of course - picked it up on Canal Street when I was in New York last week. Talked the odorous man carrying it around in his coat down to $20." He pushes the watch down on his wrist, looks at the face with another of his greasy, private smiles. "It'll probably stop ticking in another week or two, but I'm hoping it will help me with the ladies until then."

Ben stares at the watch face, noting the flawless Rolex logo and the perfectly smooth sweep of the second hand. He doesn't know a whole lot about absurdly expensive timepieces, but he's pretty sure that's no fake.

He keeps his expression carefully blank as he looks back up.

"Yeah, man. It looks good. Have fun."

Jared's answering smile is better than the ones that preceded it, though it still doesn't quite reach his eyes. And then he's gone in that way he always is - without a sound, like he can disappear at will.

Ben waits what feels like an eternity to hear the front door close behind Jared before he scrambles for his phone, punching in the number by heart.

It rings three and a half times before there's an answer, Andy's voice gruff and slurred - with sleep or whiskey, Ben's not sure.

"H'lo?"

"Andy, it's me." Ben has to clench his hand tighter around the phone; he's shaking so hard that he nearly dropped it. "I think I've got a lead."

*******

Reid and Nathaniel stand with a couple dozen tourists in the early September chill and stare at a hole in the ground.

And wait.

And then they wait some more.

And just when Reid is more done with this than he has ever been with anything in his entire life, the hole - or, more accurately, the Old Faithful geyser - sputters to life, water spurting in ever-higher blasts until it's shooting 150 feet in the air, the spray blasting back on Reid and Nate's smiling faces.

It's beautiful and completely foreign - stunning, incredible, nothing like anything either of them has ever seen - and over way too quickly, the ground still soaking and and rumbling when Nate turns to Reid with a hungry expression.

"Another one. I want to see another."

So they get back in the car and drive on, winding around Yellowstone until they reach some tiny side road that promises more "thermal activity." They park, walking the short distance to a row of wooden benches, not another person in sight.

This ground is more interesting - full of multicolored pools of steaming water, the sulfuric fog rolling on the wind toward them.

"The sign said this one's unpredictable, Nate. It could be a while before it blows."

Nate raises an eyebrow but doesn't turn, staring out at the geyser's center and the wilderness beyond.

"Do we really have anywhere else to be?"

So Reid trudges back to the car to retrieve foil packages of Pop-Tarts and the now-soggy sandwiches that they made that morning, and they make a half-assed picnic in the setting sun.

"So what do you think of it so far, Nate? Is Yellowstone all you wanted it to be?"

Nate cracks a Pop-Tart in half and pops a piece into his mouth, licking the strawberry filling from his finger before moving it in reply. "Yes, thank you, Reid. The science behind the geysers is fascinating. Did you know that the whole park is essentially a huge volcano that hasn't erupted in 70,000 years and will most likely decimate most of North America should it erupt again?"

Reid stops chewing his peanut butter sandwich, the bread sticking to the roof of his mouth. "Geez, Nate, way to ruin it for me. Like worrying about the mob wasn't enough, now I've gotta be concerned about fucking supervolcanoes and shit." He swallows, thickly, and pouts at the rest of his sandwich.

"Don't be worried. We're directly on top of the caldera right now - should it explode, you wouldn't be alive long enough to feel any pain."

Reid looks up from his hands to his face, finding Nate totally serious and intently focused on chewing his Pop-Tart.

And something about that, about how fucking absurd it is, how absurd their whole lives have become, strikes Reid as hilarious. He starts laughing, hard enough that he doubles over and his eyes begin to water.

Nate's hands thrust into the space between Reid's knees, signing curiously.

"I don't understand what's funny about death by boiling lava."

That sets Reid howling, slinging an arm around Nate's shoulders and pulling him in close against his side. He's gasping for air and crying, his laughter so contagious that Nate can't help but begin to smile through his confusion.

"Damn, Nate. You really know how to comfort a guy." And then he's laughing again, Nate starting to silently chuckle along, his shoulders shaking under Reid's arm.

*******

A beat-up RV pulls into the parking lot, a mother exhausted with her hyperactive twin boys. She'd been hoping to park them in front of the geyser and entertain them for a bit, but she thinks twice when she looks over to the benches. There's a happy couple picnicking, their arms wrapped around each other as they laugh at some inside joke.

They're beautiful - a strikingly gorgeous pair lit by the orange light of the setting sun, the steam rolling off the geyser's pool framing them against the mountains in the distance. She can't help but smile, her chest warming. And she knows she can't ruin their private moment.

Sighing, she puts the RV back in drive and moves on, calling over her shoulder, "Who wants ice cream?"

The kids cheer long after Reid and Nate disappear from her rear-view mirror.

*******

Nate shivers, just a bit as the daylight wanes, and Reid automatically shrugs out of the leather jacket he picked up at Goodwill last week. He slings it over Nate's shoulders with a wink, his hands trailing over the tight muscles and his bare neck for a moment too long. And then he sits back and stares, feeling like a teenager on his first date who's all puffed out with pride to see his crush wearing his clothes.

Well, he feels that way for about two seconds, until the wind gusts and he realizes that he's in motherfucking Wyoming and it's too damn cold to be sitting outside without a coat.

But Nate is smiling and has sort of curled into the leather, still warm with Reid's body heat, so Reid fights the chatter in his teeth and the gooseflesh popping up on his arms.

And when the geyser finally blows, dramatic and dancing in the final rays of sunlight, enough to light up Nate's face for the entire drive back to their campsite as his hands fly, babbling about the wonders of nature with Reid's jacket still wrapped tightly around him, Reid has to admit that it was worth it.

That everything he's going through for Nate is worth it.