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The darkness of the forest was thick, pressing in on the edges of Casey’s consciousness as he lay on the cold ground, trying to make sense of what was going on and where he was.
The last thing he remembered was Wake’s voice crying out, the twisted form of something with Wake’s face bearing down on him, a fucked up monster cloud that Casey wished he could believe was just a nightmare, and then... everything going dark.
Now, a beam of harsh light cutting through the darkness of the forest made him wince, casting blurry figures into silhouette around him. The pain in his side throbbed, hot and wet under his hand as he held his other in front of his eyes, squinting against the glaring light.
Voices echoed through the haze, but one voice cut through, crisp and authoritative. "He’s conscious. Agent Casey, is it? Federal Bureau of Investigations?"
He blinked, focusing on the vauge shape of a woman leveling a gun at him, her face barely visible beyond the flashlight beams. "Yeah... that’s right. Alex Casey, FBI. Where’s... Anderson? My partner, she-"
The woman stepped closer, her hand resting near her holster as she slid her weapon into it, her expression guarded as she looked down at Casey. "Your case is now under the Federal Bureau of Control’s jurisdiction. We took Wake into custody and dismissed Anderson. We were looking for you, you'll be coming with us back to our base of operations at the Sheriff's station."
Great, the FBC. Just what Casey and Anderson needed, the cherry on top of this already disastrous sundae of a case.
Casey tried to push himself upright, but the forest spun around him, and pain flared up his side. He grimaced, pressing his hand harder against the wound under his ribs. He didn't even know what his injury was, just that that... thing had caused it. "I don’t need any help. I’m fine. I just need..."
What he needed was to go find Anderson, wherever she had gone off to.
"Sure you are," the agent replied, unimpressed, her voice laced with dry humor. She crouched beside him and grabbed his free arm, draping it over her shoulder before he could protest. She wrapped her other arm around his waist, supporting his weight in a practiced move - clearly not the first time she had done this. "I’m Agent Estevez, the Lead Agent of this unit. And you’re not going to be walking out of here on your own, and I would prefer not to have to carry you after you trip and give yourself a concussion."
Casey tried to argue, but the pain in his side made his voice falter. He grunted, leaning into her reluctantly as she helped him to his feet. "Fine. It's a pleasure, Agent Estevez. I’m sure this would be a lot more pleasant if we weren’t... well, wherever the hell this is."
He hated these damn forests. He'd be happy if he never set foot in Washington after this case was over, maybe even the Pacific Northwest as a whole.
Agent Estevez snorted, guiding him as they trudged forward. "You got that right. You and your partner did well, but this case is a mess. Now, stay with me, okay? You need to keep talking. You're not looking great."
Casey gritted his teeth as they stumbled through the woods, the other agents surrounding them with their flashlight beams cutting through the dark. He could feel the warmth of his blood leaking through his fingers, the ground shifting beneath his feet with each unsteady step. "Alright, let’s talk. What’s your story, Estevez? You got a family?"
"Work doesn’t exactly leave time for a normal life," she replied, her voice quieter now, as if the darkness was listening. "My ex-wife found that out the hard way. Thought she could handle the long nights, but... it’s different when you’re actually living it. And the not-knowing got to her the most. If you think the FBI is secretive, they've got nothing on the FBC."
Casey huffed a strained laugh, his breath catching from the pain in his ribs. "I know the feeling. My wife - well, my ex-wife, - she thought she could deal with it, too. Eventually that turned into her saying she didn’t want to worry every time the phone rang, didn’t want to wonder if I’d come back from working the latest case she wasn't allowed to hear anything about."
He couldn't say he blamed Miranda, of course - the job aside, it wasn't like he had been the perfect partner.
Not even close.
Estevez’s steps slowed slightly, her grip on him tightening as he stumbled again, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth. "Yeah. My ex thought she could handle it as well... until she couldn’t. She ended up leaving. She needed something safer, something steady. I... hope she found that somewhere."
Casey grimaced, shifting against her hold as they navigated a gnarled root. "Sounds familiar. My ex, she-" he cut off, his breath hitching with a jolt of pain. He tried to focus on their conversation, but the fog of exhaustion made his thoughts slippery. "Ah, she was always trying to keep herself busy... to forget what I was doing at work, I guess. Spent a lot of time fixing up the place, baking at all hours." Casey snorted, remembering all the times he had come home to find his half of the bed covered in half-finished projects and supplies that Miranda was using. At the end, he was sleeping on the couch more than not. "I think she fell in love with her hobbies as she fell out of love with me."
Estevez glanced at him, a flicker of something unreadable passing across her face. "Yeah... mine, too. She’d be up late, working on little projects, all sorts of crafts and stuff. And she’d bake, said it helped her feel... I don’t know, like things were normal. Like her wife wasn't risking her life every day."
Casey blinked, her words stirring something in the back of his mind.
"What? I like baking these, Alex," Miranda muttered as she stacked a third Tupperware of brownies into the fridge - the second batch this week, the fifth so far this month. The first batch was starting to go stale. "It makes me feel like I'm a normal wife that can expect her husband to come home in time for desert every night, instead of a wife with a husband that could be bleeding out in some alley every work night."
The memory of a moment years long past came with a sense of familiarity, creeping and uncomfortable, made his chest tighten. He pushed it aside, wincing as his legs buckled slightly, his side screaming in pain as he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. Estevez steadied him without missing a beat, guiding him forward through the cold night air.
"Funny," he muttered, trying to focus through the pain. "My ex used to say the same thing. She’d bake brownies and chocolate chip cookies in the middle of the night. Made the house smell like chocolate all the time. Drove me nuts, I couldn't escape the smell - even my work clothes started to smell like it."
"Is that..." Anderson sniffed as she passed Casey his morning coffee, his partner shaking her head as a soft smile played on her lips. "Is that chocolate, Casey? Trying out a new cologne?"
Estevez let out a short, humorless laugh. "Chocolate, huh? Yeah, mine had a thing for that too. She never could sleep properly, always up doing... something. Kept saying she wanted to move somewhere quiet, somewhere safer. She tried to convince me to go for a small-town sheriff position, because at least that would be safer than my work at the Bureau."
This was... so strangely familiar.
"What about Washington?" Miranda asked, draped across the couch and holding up her phone with a home listing site pulled up. "Or Oregon? We could live on the coast, in one of those small and cute seaside towns. I'm sure working as a detective there would be pretty calm compared to here!"
The tension between them thickened, the silence growing heavier with each step, the pain in his side growing with each moment. Casey’s breath came out in sharp, pained gasps, but he forced himself to keep going, to keep talking. "You ever wonder... if maybe they had a point? Wanting something normal?"
Estevez’s face twisted in a wry smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Maybe. Can't say I blame them for leaving, but normal doesn’t exactly come with the job description, does it?"
Casey gave a weak chuckle, his voice cracking. "No. No, it doesn’t."
If this case taught him anything, it was that he had taken normal for granted.
They walked in silence for a few more steps, the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant hoot of an owl the only sounds around them.
"Anyways, Miranda, my ex-wife, she was-" Estevez started, only to pause as Casey halted in his tracks. "You alright?"
"...Miranda?" He mouthed the name, a sense of disbelief settling over him. Casey’s mind spun, bits of conversation snapping together like puzzle pieces. "What..." Casey paused, shaking his head as if it would clear the fog that had persistently clung to his thoughts ever since that thing had attacked him. "Uh, sorry. Your wife, what was her last name?"
Estevez took in a sharp breath, her hand tightening on his waist as she connected the same dots he was. "She... she took my name when we married. But when I met her, her last name was-"
"Casey," he finished for her, a bitter, incredulous laugh escaping him despite the pain. "She was Miranda Casey, wasn't she?"
They stared at each other, the realization sinking in like the chill of the night air. Casey could see his own disbelief mirrored in Kiran's face, the shared shock of their connection catching them both off guard. A humorless chuckle escaped Kiran, and she shook her head slowly, a bemused smile tugging at her lips.
"No shit. Guess she really does have a type, huh?" she muttered, half to herself. "I can't believe this."
Casey managed a pained grin, the irony settling heavily between them as they started walking again. "Yeah. Apparently her type is federal agents who can’t seem to stay out of trouble. Guess she didn't have much luck with either of us either way," Casey muttered, shifting his weight as they started walking again.
The forest seemed quieter now, the shadows less oppressive as the welcome lights of the Sheriff's station lying just beyond the next few line of trees began to chase away the darkness. Or maybe the absurdity of the situation just dulled the edge of the darkness.
Casey had already gone through so much so far on this case, so sure - why the hell not? Miranda had apparently gotten with an FBC agent after divorcing him, that checked out. She did always like an agent in uniform.
"I don't know whether to laugh or cry," Kiran said with a rueful smile. “What are the odds?"
Casey glanced at her, feeling the last of his tension drain away. "Honestly? With the way my life's been going lately, Kiran? This is probably the most normal thing that's happened."
Kiran chuckled softly, her hold on him steadying as they pushed on toward the safety of the station.