He found Trist sitting in the corner of his bedroom, tucked between the wall and the dresser, wrapped in the old quilt Val used as a bedspread. Val crossed the room to stand above where Trist was obviously hiding. The only reaction he was given was to see Trist pull himself deeper into the corner.

“What’s going on?” Val asked, gently, and he knelt down to be closer to Trist’s eye level.

“Nothing, nothing is going on.” The words tumbled out.

“Trist.” Even Val could hear the forced lie.

“I’m sorry, Val.”

“What for this time?” He smiled to take the sting from the reply.

“It’s not safe for me to stay here but I can’t go anywhere else. I’m sorry.”

“Of course it’s safe for you to stay here.”

“I’m not being paranoid!” Trist snapped back. As soon as the words escaped he clapped his hands over his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just, tell me what’s going on. Why didn’t you tell them it was the same people that shot Gavan?” He figured they were going to be here for a while so he sat down on the floor.

“They’re cops, Val.”

“Yes, the same people you were telling me to leave Violet’s investigation to, the good guys.”

“Not them, the ones that shot Gavan.” Trist answered sharply.

Val sat and tried to shift out whether or not Trist was being paranoid. “Are you sure?”

“No, if I was fucking sure do you think I’d be sitting here on my ass like a sitting duck? They might not have been cops but they were slick like cops. They were trying to snag me, Val. When Gavan went away for the weekend they were going to take me then but you showed up in the picture and they couldn’t. They didn’t know who you were. When Gavan dragged me out to get new jeans and I left the store without him, they were going to take the chance. Only, Gav came out early, worried about me. He yelled at them to let me go, came running over and they shot him, Val, they fucking shot him.”

“I thought you didn’t remember.”

“I don’t!”

“But…”

“Fuck! Look, they were there, in my office, I saw it from them. I can’t remember shit but I saw them. I freaked out when Gavan got shot, pushed them away, started screaming so they let me go. I don’t even remember them trying to snatch me. They would have grabbed me from the hospital but you came before they could and then they watched until you left the building. Val, if I hadn’t come down here they would have gotten me. You’d have come back and I’d have been gone and no one would know.” He was shaking now, frightened and desperate to get Val to take this seriously. “They know where I am now, they’ll come for me, find me, take me.”

“Trist, no one is going to take you anywhere, I won’t let them.”

“They’re fucking cops Val, they’ve got guns. They’ve already tried to kill Gavan, they’ll kill you too.” There was no need to clutch at Val, his words did that for him.

“You’re certain they’re cops?”

“No, not certain but they feel like cops. I’m scared Val, I can deal with whatever they do to me but I can’t stand them hurting you.”

“You speak like it’s going to happen for certain.”

“I’m not certain, I can’t see anything. I…” his eyes scanned wildly, searching for something only he could see. “There’s nothing. That scares me more.”

“Well, they won’t be coming in here again. Security on the service entrance will be tightened and you’re not leaving my sight. They won’t come after you here, not a second time and so long as we’re smart, everything will be okay.”

“You believe me, then?”

Trist looked so hopeful, so hungry for someone to have faith in him that Val felt himself smiling. “Yes, now, my ass is falling asleep. Come out to the kitchen and get some tea?”

Trist nodded but it was more to make Val happy than to make him fell better. Tea wasn’t going to fix things or find answers or make him safe, but tea would make Val feel better and that was all the reason he needed. He surrendered the quilt unhappily, it was both warm and smelled of Val, and followed out to the living room.

Before Val could get to far away, Trist slid a hand across Val’s ass. “Wouldn’t want something so nice to fall asleep.” The hissed intake of breath at Val’s shock.

It wasn’t until a mug of tea, steaming hot, was pressed into his hands that Trist was able to think clear enough to remember why he’d been freaking out enough to be cleaning. “How’d your cloak and dagger thingy go?” He sipped at the hot brew and was pleasantly surprised at the gentle green tea taste.

“It was odd.” Val had wanted to tell Trist all about it but now found himself pausing. He didn’t want to stress the already strained man further. Beyond that, he was unsure how to express the fear he’d felt that had driven him home.

“How odd?”

He shrugged.

“Like, odd like me or odd like a fish with fur?”

“They said Navef was mixed up with some terrorist group and that to investigate their deaths too hard would tip off the group.”

“He wasn’t a terrorist.” Trist almost laughed at the idea.

“I know that.”

“But you didn’t tell them that you doubted their story?”

Val raised an eyebrow. “I’m not stupid. Navef was a pacifist, he didn’t believe in war, let alone terrorism. I can’t figure out why they would bother to lie to me. Why bother to answer my questions at all? Even with a lie?”

“Why?” Trist set his mug down. “Sweatheart, it’s to get you to stop asking questions. They feed you a line, you bite and shut up because suddenly it’s the patriotic thing to do.”

“I never thought of that.” The idea froze him, chilled him and made Val wish his life would go back to the dull, boring reality of a few weeks ago.

“Of course you didn’t, you aren’t devious like me.”

“Why would they shut me up? What’re they hiding that someone like me could even begin to threaten?”

“That’s the million dollar question.” It was easier to not worry about strangers with guns, break ins and the dull paranoia of being sought after when he could focus on the worried stress Val carried. “Let’s find out.”

Val just shook his head. “How? The police won’t give me the time of day. A private investigator isn’t going to get anywhere. Besides, right now, we should worry about keeping you safe and secure, that’s the most important thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “You really are dense. It’s two birds with the same stone Val. I can either sit here and obsess or I can do something. I’ll figure out what happened, it’s what I do. Let’s do it, let’s figure out why this is so important.” He could feel her, the little girl with wide, dark eyes, that kept begging him to get her Uncle Val to listen. There was something in the solemn steadiness of her patients that upset him.

Val wanted to accept, the need to figure out just what had happened to his sister had grown to one of the most important things in his life. The trouble was, something, someone, else had grown more important.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Val!”

“No, Trist, it’s too big of a risk. We’re supposed to be trying to keep you stable until Gavan is better, not provoke things. I won’t risk it.” He couldn’t meet those odd eyes. “I won’t risk you.”

The words were so shyly tender that Trist felt the smile tugging at his face. Anyone else would have happily and fully exploited his odd skills, only Gavan had ever cared more for him than what he could do.

“That’s sweet, love, but it’s not going to matter. I could sit in your bedroom and not come out for the next couple of weeks and I’ll still fall apart. It’s just how I’m made, some days are good, some bad and what I do has little sway over which day will turn out good.” Val was studying the tea in the mug he was holding and Trist couldn’t see into his eyes but he could feel the conflict that rolled off the other man in waves. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

He struggled with himself, torn between the conflicting desire to accept and maybe learn what he couldn’t otherwise or refuse and protect what he had. “If I refuse, you’ll try on your own anyway, won’t you?”

Trist shrugged. “Damn straight.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I know.”

Val sighed and gave in. “Okay, what do we have to do?”

“Can you take me to where they were killed?”

“No, they went off a bridge into the water.” Just saying that made his stomach knot up.

“Okay, what about their house? I mean we both know the kids were killed in the house.” He glanced up in time to see the look of pain cross Val’s face. “Sorry.”

He waved it off. “Maybe, but it’s been sold. The family that’s in there now won’t want to let us snoop about.” Besides that, Val wasn’t sure he wanted Trist trying to do this out in public. He wasn’t sure he could settle the man down in a controlled location, let alone someone else’s home.

“How about their autopsy reports?” He tried not to sound like a ghoul but he had to find a way to bring himself closer to the time of their death.

“Trist,”

“I might not get anything, will you let me try?” He tried to sound calm but inside he was wound up and itchy. That was a sure sign that he was on the right track, now if he could only get Val to follow through before that pressing sense got too strong.

“I don’t like this.” He protested but he pulled the file from the drawer he stashed it in. He held the file back, teetering on refusal, before sliding it across toward Trist.

Very carefully, Trist set his mug of tea down and pushed it out of reach. The file lay in front of him, sealed up and innocent looking but he could feel the weight it carried. It wasn’t a question of if he could pick something from the file, the question was whether it would be the process of the autopsy or the events that led to the need for one. He sat for a moment, slowing his thoughts and breath down, deepening both as he focused on what he was looking for. For how much he struggled every day to stay shut down, to let go and open up was absurdly easy.

Trist took another long, slow, breath before letting his fingertips brush the folder. Val wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe the instant reaction that he’d witnessed to his mother’s engagement ring, but the stillness surprised him. Long moments passed with Trist sitting rigidly still, breathing steadily, eyes lightly shut and with none of the drama that had accompanied earlier visions Val had been present for.

Until everything changed. Like someone wandering, seeking, Trist remained steady until he found what he’d been looking for. His eyes went from gently shut to squinted shut, drawing his eyebrows together in twisted up pain. The steady breath that had been moving so easily grew short and rough. Trist whimpered a little, from the back of his throat and his face grew pale.

There was no warning beyond that, Trist just started screaming. Val had heard people screaming before, screaming in rage or pain or sheer anger but there was something horrible to the sounds Trist was making. It was the sharp pain the screams drove into his heart as much as the worry that a neighbor would call the police, that moved him around the counter to clamp a hand over Trist’s mouth. The slender man flinched from the touch, pulled away, bucked like a wild thing but Val got a hold of him and didn’t let go.

The back of Trist’s head slammed into Val’s face and he saw stars but he didn’t let go. He kept his hand over Trist’s mouth, muffling the keening wails that the man was making and kept his arms wrapped around the twitching body. Trist’s body grew clammy, damp with a chilled sweat that made his skin slick and difficult to hold on to. This time, breaking Trist’s contact with the item that had triggered his vision didn’t work to sever him from it and Val held on and prayed for it to end.

When it did end, Val almost hated the sudden silence as much as the pain filled screams. Trist went limp, like a man unconscious but the soft keening moans that escaped with every handful of ragged breaths betrayed his wakefulness. Val held on, and slowly uncovered the mouth he’d muffled. With his hand now freed, he soothed it over the sweat damp head and cradled the weakened body close to his own.

“You okay?” He knew it was a lame question to ask because it was pretty obvious that Trist was not okay.

Trist managed to shake his head weakly. “I’m going to… I…” he struggled weakly to move away from Val before he puked.

Val understood and he hurried the pair of them into the bathroom. He barely had the toilet seat up before Trist collapsed, his stomach turning inside out. He knelt there, body shaking harder from the stress, retching, while Val stroked a shoulder and held his fraying braid back out of the way.

It took a long time for his brain to learn that his stomach was empty and stop trying to turn it inside out. When the heaving ended, Trist collapsed more than crawled away from the toilet, tears in his eyes, trembling. He lay there, on the cool tile floor, slowly recovering enough to sob. Behind him he heard Val put the toilet seat down, flush it and move to the sink to run water on a wash cloth but when the cool cloth wiped his face, Trist was too exhausted to even open his eyes.

Tears slid down his face and he choked on sobs that didn’t quite make it from his throat. “God, Val, she loved you so much.” He forced out with a voice that sounded strained, a twisted version of the screams that had ripped him apart before. “She died to protect you.”

The soothing hand Val had been rubbing over Trist’s back stalled. “What do you mean?”

Trist just wrapped his arms tightly about his chest and folded over his knees. “They were dead, they were all dead. She knew it didn’t matter, they’d kill her too but she didn’t want them to kill you. Oh, fucking mercy they broke her hands and she still refused to talk.” He could hear his voice breaking but it sounded distant. “Why?” He keened. “Why would she be so stubborn?”

“That was Violet.” Val sighed softly and the obvious torment Trist was in drew him back to soothing comfort. He brushed the loose hair back from Trist’s down cast face. “If she dug her heels in, nothing could move her. What did you see?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, not really.

Trist shook his head. “She came home, there were men there. I can’t see them. Navef was dead, a bag over his head. The kids were laid out in the bathroom like dead fish, drowned. They wanted something. They thought Navef had it, the hurt the kids trying to get him to cooperate but he didn’t have God damned clue. They knew it was her, fuck, Val, it’s too much. If it had been for her kids, she would have done anything but she couldn’t fucking let them hurt you too! Oh God, Val, it’s too fucking much!” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes but he could have gouged them out and he’d still be able to see the lifeless, soaked bodies of the children, the agony of a hammer smashing into slender, elegant hands.

Val pulled Trist up from where he was curling up and tucked him against his body. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay now. What’s this about me? Why would she be protecting me?”

It took a moment for the change in position to register but once it did Trist reached out and clung to Val’s chest. “Shit, I don’t know. Something about the mice, the mice know everything. That doesn’t make any fucking sense.” He giggled uneasily. “I’ve lost my mind haven’t I? I keep seeing mice running across a field that’s being plowed up.”

Val’s blood froze. “You aren’t crazy. I, oh, she wouldn’t?”

The startled tone shook Trist a little. “What? Did that make any sense to you?”

“Maybe, come with me? I want to check something.”

Trist sniffled and wiped at his face but he helped as much as he could when Val hauled him to his feet. “Where’re going?” Everything instantly started to tremble and he wanted to collapse back down onto the cool tile.

Val just shook his head and got a steadying arm around the weakened body. He moved them easily back out into the main room where he nearly dropped Trist onto the sofa before he hurried to the bookcases. The order was too new for him to instantly find the book he was looking for but he did find it.

“Val?”

“The Complete Works and Songs of Robert Burns.” He read the title as if it explained everything.

“Big fucking deal.”

“Trist, I loaned her this book. She got it back to me a couple of days before they were killed! This was one of our uncle’s books.”

“So?”

“To a Mouse? The best laid plans of mice and men? It’s a Burns poem. He wrote it after he ploughed up a mouse’s nest.” Val opened the book and started flipping across the pages.

Trist just shook his head. “Oh.”

There was nothing tucked inside the book. Val flipped to the poem and again, there was nothing there. No notes, no underlined letters, no code or instruction and Val frowned over it. “I don’t understand.”

Trist heaved a deep and exhausted sigh but pushed himself to his feet anyway. He snatched the book from Val’s hands and walked with a swaying gait to the kitchen. The moment he touched the book’s cover he knew what they were looking for but he was too tired to explain.

“What?”

He shook his head, dropped the book on the counter and pulled a knife from the drawer. The book was old, it had been passed from hand to hand. Occasionally it had been loved by an owner but too often it was misunderstood. Trist liked the book but he had a feeling that the poems inside were too deep, too much, for his rather straight forward mind to grasp.

Only, it wasn’t the meaning of poems he was seeking. He flipped to the back cover and the lovely swirled oil and ink print page glued to the back cover. His first instinct was to just cut the paper away but some part of Trist was alert enough to know that such blatant destruction of a book would piss Val off. Instead, he ran the sharp edge of the blade under the paper and peeled it up.

“What’re you doing!” Val snapped as the glue crackled and gave way.

“It’s here.” Trist muttered out and slid the concealing layer of cardboard out.

“What’s here? Be careful with that!”

It took shaking the book a couple of times but after a few quick jerks a small, three inch, cd-rom fell out and clattered on the counter top. “That.”

Val’s mouth fell open. “Oh, my God.”

“That’s what they were killed for.”