Chapter Text
Goodbye to Three Rock
Three Rock, 22nd July
The heat hit Bode first.
It rose off the dirt yard in visible waves, the kind that pressed down on the shoulders and made even standing still feel like labour. Three Rock always smelled sharper in the afternoon; sun-warmed dust, smoke residue ground into boots, the faint chemical tang of fire-retardant clinging to everything no matter how often it was scrubbed. He paused just inside the perimeter gate, duffel slung over one shoulder, and let the place register one last time.
Three days.
Three days since he’d walked out without looking back, the evidence already encrypted and transmitted. Manny’s name on the way to be cleared in bureaucratic language that didn’t begin to touch what the man had endured. Three days since he’d begun to sleep in a real bed, woken without the clang of metal or the constant calculation of who was watching.
Three days of Charlie leaving the bedroom door open so Coco’s cold wet nose could snuffle under the covers for licks. An alarm Bode couldn’t hit snooze on.
Three days; and still, his body hadn’t quite caught up.
He was dressed like himself again. Jeans worn soft at the knees, boots scuffed from actual ground instead of concrete, a plain tee under a flannel that hung open and easy. His hair had been washed properly, trimmed but not tamed, still curling at the nape. The beard was neat now, deliberate. Civilian. Recognisable.
Unarmoured.
Walking back into the dorm felt stranger than leaving it.
The building exhaled stale air as he stepped inside. Floor wax and sweat, old fabric and acrid smoke. The bunks stood in their familiar rows; metal frames bolted into place like the idea of permanence itself. His had already been stripped; mattress bare, locker emptied except for the outline where his life had briefly existed.
His personal belongings safe in the captain’s office.
As Bode had hoped, Freddy was sitting on his own bunk, boots planted wide, elbows braced on his knees. He looked up at the sound of the door and froze.
It wasn’t subtle. The change noticeable to anyone who knew Freddy as Bode did.
He watched as Freddys eyes widened, posture shifted, breath caught just enough to be obvious. His gaze tracked Bode from boots to shoulders to face, then back again, like he was trying to reconcile two images that refused to align.
“Well, damn,” Freddy said finally, the word rougher than usual. “Either I’m hallucinating, or prison issues had a hell of a glow-up I didn’t know about.”
Bode managed a small smile. “Hey, Freddy.”
The sound of his name; unstrained, unguarded. It seemed to throw Freddy more than the clothes. He stood slowly, wary now, humour retreating behind something sharper.
“You leave for three days,” Freddy said, voice light but eyes not, “and you come back looking like you’re about to teach a yoga class in Marin. What’s this? Early release? Witness protection? Or did I miss visiting day, and your rich aunt finally bailed you out?”
Bode shifted his weight where he stood. He wasn’t sure where to start, only knew that he had to.
“I should’ve come back sooner,” he said. “I know that.”
Freddy snorted, a flash of old energy breaking through. “Yeah, no kidding. Manny’s gone, the new Captain sprung a surprise audit and the next thing I know you were holed up in the captain’s office all night. Then poof! You were out of here.”
At the mention of Manny, something softened, just a fraction. Some good news he could deliver.
“He’s cleared,” Bode said. “Taskforce signed off. Once the admin has processed his back to work order, he’ll be back on rotation.”
The prisoner stilled for a heartbeat.
Freddy’s face cracked open into something unguarded and bright then. Joy flared so sudden it was almost painful to see. He laughed once, sharp and incredulous, then shook his head.
“For real?” he breathed. “You’re not messing with me?”
“No,” Bode said quietly. “For real.”
Freddy slapped his hands together and paced like he didn’t know where to put the energy. “Man. Manny. I gotta tell Cookie, she’s been praying for that man like he’s family.” He stopped short, the momentum died as his eyes drifted back to Bode’s flannel, the civilian ease of him.
The light dimmed.
“Hold up,” Freddy said. “If Manny’s back…, why aren’t you?”
The question sat between them, heavy and unavoidable.
Bode took a breath. He’d rehearsed versions of this conversation in his head, but none of them accounted for the way Freddy was looking at him now, not angry yet, but wounded. That was worse.
“I wasn’t supposed to stay,” Bode said.
Freddy’s jaw tightened. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Bode said carefully, “that I wasn’t an inmate.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Freddy stared at him, eyes flicked to the empty bunk, then back. “That’s not funny.”
“I know.”
“You don’t joke about that.”
“I’m not.”
Freddy laughed then, but there was no humour in it. “So, what, you some kind of snitch? Confidential informant? That why you always knew which way the wind was blowing?”
Bode shook his head. “Specialist III. Cal Fire Law Enforcement. State taskforce.”
The words felt obscene in the dorm, too clean for the grime embedded in the walls.
Freddy’s face went slack. Not fury – yet. Just a quiet, devastated understanding settling into place.
“A plant,” he said softly.
“No,” Bode said at once as he stepped closer. “I was never here to watch you. Or Manny. Or anyone.”
Freddy lifted a hand. “Don’t.”
The hurt finally surfaced, sharp and bright. “You vanished without a word. After everything. You let me think…” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “I told you things, man. About Cookie. About my case. You let me trust you.”
“I did trust you,” Bode said. “That part wasn’t a lie.”
Freddy laughed again, brittle. “Yeah? Funny how that works.”
Bode forced himself to hold his ground. “I was here for the app. The IGS data. That was it. It was the only way to get access without tipping Irongate off.”
“So, I was collateral,” Freddy said flatly.
“No.” Bode shook his head, emotion thickened his voice. “You kept me real. Someone I could talk to, who had my back.”
Freddy’s expression flickered, memory warring with anger.
“You don’t get to rewrite it,” Freddy said. “You don’t get to tell me I mattered after you walked.”
“I’m telling you because it’s true,” Bode said. “And because I owed you the truth before I left for good.”
“For good,” Freddy echoed.
Bode nodded. “Yeah.”
The word hung there, heavy and final.
Freddy dragged a hand down his face, the old charisma dimmed but not gone. “So, all those nights, all that talk… you weren’t snitching?”
“No,” Bode said firmly. “I never reported on inmates. Or guards. I wouldn’t do that. I’m not built that way.”
“Then what the hell were you doing?”
“Simply watching the data as it lied to everyone,” Bode said. “Waiting for the breakthrough so I could get the evidence to prove it.”
Freddy scoffed. “Guess Manny was lucky you were here.”
“Yeah,” Bode said as he calmly looked in Freddy’s eyes. “He was.”
Freddy nodded slowly. “Eve wasn’t bad, you know. Not Manny, but she held her own.”
“I know, she’s a real good fire-fighter.”
Silence settled again, different now. Less volatile. Still raw.
“So,” Freddy said at last. “You got what you came for. You heading back to the real world.”
Bode hesitated. “I am.”
“And me?”
Bode didn’t answer immediately. He wouldn’t lie, not about this.
Freddy exhaled, understanding more than he let on. “Figures.”
“I believe you’re innocent,” Bode said quietly. “I always have.”
Freddy smiled sadly. “Belief doesn’t get you out, brother.”
“No,” Bode agreed. “But it matters.”
Freddy studied him for a long moment, then snorted. “You always were too earnest for your own good.”
Bode smiled faintly. “You’re coming around.”
“Don’t push it.”
They stood there, two men who’d shared danger without choice, now negotiating what was left.
“I’ll come back,” Bode said. “Visiting days. I won’t disappear again.”
Freddy arched a brow. “You better not.”
“I’ll bring snacks.”
That earned a grudging grin. “Lays. Yellow bag.”
“And Coke,” Bode added.
“The real stuff,” Freddy said firmly. “None of that diet nonsense.”
“Deal.”
They shook hands then, firm, deliberate. Not inmate and specialist. Not cover and consequence.
“When you get out,” Bode said, voice low, “first rounds on me. No prison hooch.”
Freddy laughed, real this time. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Bode straightened, the finality of it settling deep. As he turned toward the door, something tightened in his chest. He couldn’t promise what he didn’t control. But he knew the system now. Knew where it cracked.
He would ask questions.
At the threshold, he looked back.
Freddy sat on his bunk, posture already folding back into the rhythms of survival. He lifted a hand, thumb up.
Bode returned it, then stepped out into the blinding Northern Californian light.
Free, but not untouched.
The Post-Mission Debrief
Edgewater Division HQ / Remote Link
24 July – 10:00 a.m.
The hum of the air conditioning in Sharon’s private conference room was a low, steady drone, a stark contrast to the sharp, combative voices emanating from the large monitor on the wall.
Bode sat at the polished mahogany table, dressed in a clean navy polo shirt. He looked refreshed, the five-day mandated wind-down period having finally scrubbed the "Three Rock" grit from his skin.
His sleep had returned in shallow, uneven waves. His appetite too. The constant alertness had faded but not vanished; it hovered just behind his eyes, waiting to be needed again. Charlie understood. He’d given Bode space without distance, grounding him with quiet domestic rituals: coffee in the morning, shared meals, the steady presence of another human who knew exactly who he was.
Beside him now sat Sharon Leone, Northern California Division Chief. Her posture was impeccable; her eyes fixed on the screen with the calculating stillness of a woman who had already won the battle and was simply waiting for the other side to realise it.
The Zoom grid was a battleground. Helen Metcalf, the Taskforce lead, looked like she hadn’t slept since the Irongate raid. Beside her sat Suzy Chun and Arty Kgas.
Brian, the Battalion Chief from San Diego and Bode’s former direct supervisor, filled the final window. He looked faintly irritated, leaning so close to his camera that he dominated the frame.
"I’m not hearing a compelling argument, Helen," Brian barked. "The undercover phase is over. Bode’s secondment was a favour to Suzy for a specific task. You’ve got the logs. You’ve got the servers. Now you want to keep one of my brightest Intelligence officers to do what? Cross-reference timestamps? That’s grunt work."
"This isn't just grunt work, Brian," Helen countered. "This is a criminal conspiracy. We’re building a case for Unjust Enrichment and Wire Fraud."
"Then use the people you spent six months paying to find 'Organized Crime'!" Brian retorted, a savage grin touching his lips. "It was Suzy and Arty who caught the scent of this before the Taskforce even had a name. They noticed the audit trail anomalies when everyone else was looking for the Mafia. My man solved your mystery because he has the domain expertise you lacked. I want him back in San Diego."
"He isn't going back to San Diego, Brian," Sharon intervened. Her voice was calm, but it possessed the weight of a falling axe.
The screen went quiet. Brian shifted his gaze to the woman sitting next to Bode. He knew the hierarchy; Sharon was a Division Chief. Seniority was not up for debate.
"Sharon. I know he’s your son, but –"
"This isn't about him being my son," Sharon said, leaning forward. "This is about operational continuity. To place Bode at Three Rock, he was officially transferred to the Northern California division. Furthermore, his husband, Charlie, has moved his entire business and studio to Edgewater specifically to facilitate this operation. If you want to move Bode back, the State will have to compensate a world-renowned artist for the relocation of a specialised business. It’s an expensive conversation, Brian. One the Department doesn't want to have."
Brian groaned, rubbing his temples. He knew he was outmanoeuvred.
"I have a compromise," Bode said, sensing the heat was reaching a flashpoint. He looked at Suzy and Arty, acknowledging the debt he owed them for spotting the "glitch" that had allowed him to clear Manny’s name. "I’m staying in Edgewater. My home and my heart are with CalFire, but I’m not leaving this case unfinished."
Bode leaned into the microphone. "Helen, I have a Tier-4 secure home office. I can handle the database forensics remotely. I’ll map out the 'Scienter' – the trail of who at Irongate knew about the cache-sync errors and chose to ignore them. I’ll lead the technical interviews with their developers, because your team won't know if they’re being lied to about .dll files or SQL indexing."
He then looked at Brian. "And for CalFire, I stay on the active roster for the Northern Division. I’ll handle predictive analytics for Chief Leone and remain available for field deployment. I’ve got an active Red Card, I passed my arduous pack test in April, and I’m current on my RT-130. I can pull hose on the line and run data in the truck."
Brian looked grumpy, the expression of a man who had lost his best asset but gained a powerful ally. "So, you're going to be a part-time fed and a part-time analyst for your mother?"
"I’m a Specialist, Brian," Bode said with a faint, respectful smile. "I go where the problem is."
Suzy nodded, relief clear in her eyes. "It works for us. Bode is the only one who can translate this mess for a jury. We need him as our expert witness."
"Fine," Brian huffed. "But Sharon, if he’s in the field, I want his data reports shared with San Diego. If I can't have the man, I at least want the brain."
"Agreed," Sharon said, a small, triumphant light dancing in her eyes.
As the call disconnected, the room fell into a comfortable silence. Bode leaned back, feeling the tension of the last two months finally ebb away. He wasn't a "con" anymore. He wasn't a secret. He was Bode Donovan, Specialist III.
Sharon turned to him, the "Chief" persona dropping as she reached over to squeeze his hand. "You really want to stay? It’s not just for the case?"
"It’s for me, Mom," Bode said truthfully. "And for Charlie. We like it here. And... I’d like to be around for the Sunday dinners. Even if Jake is still being a pain."
Sharon smiled, her face softening with a relief she couldn't hide. "Vince is going to be thrilled. He’s already talking about getting you and Charlie out fishing, like you used to do as kids. "
Bode laughed, a genuine, warm sound. "Tell him I’m ready whenever he is. But he’d better be ready for me to tell him he’s upwind of the best fishing spot."
Sharon stood up, her eyes bright. "Come on. Let’s go find your father. I think it’s time we celebrated having our specialist home for good."
“At least you can change back to Leone now,” Sharon said smiling at her son.
“What do you mean?” Bode replied, a look of confusion on his face as he stared at his mother.
Now Sharon’s face mirrored her son’s. “Erm… because you are no longer undercover,” Sharon began tentatively. “You can return to your real name now.”
Understanding flashed over Bode’s face before laughing. “Mom, Charlie’s last name is Donovan, it’s my married name.”
“Oh!”
It was an unusual sight for Bode to see his mother’s face blushed.
“It’s okay Mom, an easy mistake to make,” Bode soothed his mother. “Erm… will dad be okay with the name change?” His Adam’s apple jumped as he swallowed as Bode waited for Sharon’s response.
Sharon slung her arm over her tall son’s shoulders and pulled him into a quick hug. “Don’t worry Bode. Your dad won’t mind; I’ll make sure of it.”
Together they exited the conference room to go meet up with their respective spouses. To let them know the results of that day’s meeting and Bode’s compromise.
Bode watched his mother as she made plans for the future, he was ready for whatever came next.