#yall a few days ago: i dont trust tom hes sus.

[whumpacabra]

22. Strangers

Referenced blood and torture, referenced past captivity, law enforcement mention, military mention, firearm mention, fictional politics

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Thomas was fine - really, just swell. First day on the job without the Sheriff in town and not only do two strangers show up, they’re half a step from the grave and terrified beyond belief, barging into the gas station while his baby sister is at the register. It didn’t help that they had nearly crashed a (stolen?) humvee into Dan’s mailbox.

The old medic had left on foot to get some supplies for Merrill - her partner would drive him back over soon. In the meantime, Tom was talking himself down from a panic attack while waiting for the Trautmire’s towtruck.

Just looking at the blood soaked passenger seat made him queasy. He redirected his gaze to between the seats, catching sight of the duffel Harrison had mentioned - something about a hard drive.

Evidence.

Tom would be lying if he told the man he took his word for it when he started spouting off about being tortured by American soldiers. But he didn’t exactly have evidence to the contrary, and his gut wasn’t being cooperative with this fact. He blamed it on the blood and excitement of the last few hours, that the fact that entertaining the stranger’s story made him feel hollowed out.

Sheriff Clifford couldn’t get back soon enough.

He fished the duffel from the seats, surprised by its weight as he hefted it out of the vehicle and onto Dan’s driveway. A preliminary glance at the contents made his heart hammer. Certainly military grade firearms nestle among handfuls of cartridges, clips, and loose ammunition. Closer inspection revealed folded up clothes, water bottles, a crushed sleeve of saltines and -

A manila folder?

It wasn’t the hard drive Harrison had begged him to bring inside, but if he was being honest, Thomas wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. But a pale folded among the dark guns and clothes stood out like a sore thumb.

The bold red ‘confidential’ and ‘top secret’ stamps were a bit eye catching as well.

Half of him wanted to laugh it off as a prank (it wasn’t, not the way Harrison’s eyes shone with terror and grief and exhaustion). The other half was wary that this was some hostile operation, as ridiculous a target as a town of less than fifty people was.

The third half (Thomas didn’t pride himself on his maths) was curious to the point of trepidation - if it was all true, what did that mean? What legal recourse did these men have? He couldn’t begin to imagine the proceedings.

But he could pick up the folder.

It was thicker than he anticipated, dozens of papers with their clips and staples crammed into the sleeve. The tab simply read “The Wolf.”

He could see that man’s face clearly in his mind’s eye, the desperate, angry, terrified expression wrapped in bloody gauze looking up at him like Thomas was a walking nightmare. Any offense he took at that notion was tempered by the sight of his scarred, brutalized torso.

The fact that Merrill asked him to leave when she was treating his injuries below the belt made him shudder to imagine what this folder held.

Before he could crack it open, Lucy’s 64 impala came screeching to the curb. Dan hopped out, bag of supplies in hand. He nodded to the deputy, eyeing the duffel bag with a raised brown before continuing inside.

Lucy took her time, stepping over the dried splashes of blood on the driveway. She paused at the tilted mailbox, righting it only for it to lean lopsided once more. With a huff she marched up to Thomas, fluffy white hair freshly permed.

“Steph sounded pretty shook up when she called for Mer.” The old woman’s eyes were soft behind her thick glasses. “How you holding up kiddo?”

The manila folder was held in shaking hands.

“Sheriff didn’t answer on the radio. Might have to call over to Derby - these boys are in a bad way.”

“Trouble follow them?”

“Not that I know of.” Not yet.

Dan poked his head out the door, a short whistle catching their attention. He gestured, beckoning them inside. They must have finished taking care of the strangers. For now.

—

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Thomas shuddered, head in his hands as he sat at Dan’s kitchen table. The report from the two medics was…well, the coffee in his mug was certainly going untouched until his stomach settled.

“I’ve seen refugees and prisoner’s of war in better shape than those two.” Merrill’s face was etched in stone, a sharp contrast to Lucy’s tearful expression. “Multiple people were involved in this. For a very long time - at least a few years for Wolf, given his scarring.”

“The eight months Harrison reported to you would be consistent with his condition.” Dan’s eyes were bright, rage simmering in them as he rubbed a thumb over his newly acquired bruises. “I’m inclined to believe his story. What abridged version we have.”

“You seemed doubtful, Thomas.” Merrill nodded to him, hands clasped around her mug of tea. “What did you find in the duffel?”

He bit his lip, sliding the manila folder to the table’s center.

“Lots of ammunition, guns, and general bug-out-bag supplies. Supposedly there’s a hard drive someone were in there too. This…I haven’t opened this yet.”

Marrill shared a glance with Dan before pulling the file toward her side of the table, running her fingers over the stamps and label. She opened it slowly, steady as a familiar face peaked from the first piece of paper.

The Wolf stared dead eyed at the camera, far healthier than he was sleeping in the guest room but somehow far less alive. The burn scars down the left side of his neck were still pink, no silver luster from age.

She carefully detached the image from its paper clipped files and pushed it to the others to look at as she scanned the first document. It was heavily redacted - names, dates, locations blotted out.

Merrill scoffed; she had worked with redacted documents before. It wouldn’t be easily or quick, but she could figure out the finer details. What she could read wasn’t particularly insightful - not with what she had already seen written in that man’s broken body and desperate eyes.

The titles of the redacted lines pricked at her long retired journalist instincts. Date admitted. Project milestones. Handler. Overseer. The box labeled ‘Date Liquidated’ was empty.

“I can get the redacted information out of these with some time.” She wasn’t sure Thomas wanted her to, the way his face had sallowed to a shade of green. “But these are official documents.” She held the folder out, pointing to the stamp in the corner. “CIA.”

“So what do we…do about that?” Lucy had been quiet, squeezing Merrill’s hand under the table. She hadn’t seen war the way her partner and Dan had, but she understood the dire situation these two men found themselves in nonetheless.

“Keep it quiet. Keep it low. Give it time - maybe get some of the Trautmire’s to help demo that humvee before someone comes looking for it.”

“But - ” Thomas scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm, anger burning in his throat. “They can’t get away with this - we can’t just, just keep these boys locked up here for the rest of their lives.”

“Whistleblowers don’t live long, kid.” Dan’s eyes were dark, a tight frown on his lips. “If Harrison wants to bring that hard drive to light, that’s on him.”

“We can’t just - just pretend nothing’s happened.”

“Never said that. But unless you want your murder made a suicide in print, we need to be smart about this.”

“We - the FBI? NSA? Couldn’t they help?”

“Doubt it.” Merrill was flipping through the files, jaw tight. “Looks like Wolf worked with the NSA. Something here about a Project Sandbox.”

“Harrison mentioned being in a bunker, out in the desert. Sounds like a sandbox to me.” Dan shot Thomas a sympathetic look, the younger man seething with impotent rage. “Son, Sheriff’ll have a better bead on what we do next. Until he gets back, we watch their backs and each others. Get the Carlisle boys to do a sweep on the outskirts - better safe than sorry.”

“Should we call a town meeting?” Lucy’s eyes were sharp behind her glasses.

“Nah, not yet.” Merrill closed the folder with a sigh, slipping the photograph into the file. “Don’t want folks panicking. And the less that know about these boys, the less they can let spill to any strangers who come knocking.”

“Mind if I get Steph home then?” Thomas gave the older folk at the table a sheepish glance. “She - Lucy you said she wasn’t sounding too well when she called ya. She’ll want to know…everything’s alright.”

“Go on, tell Carl she wasn’t feeling well. Get her home safe, then get on with gettin’ the Carlisles on some rounds. I’ll call the Trauts and ask ‘em about breaking down that truck.” Dan nodded to the deputy as he stood, pressing his hat back onto his head. “Relax, kid. If they got this far without a tail, chances are those fuckers ain’t got a clue where to start sniffing. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Time before they were, inevitably, tracked down. Thomas wasn’t sure what he would do then, but that was a problem for the (hopefully) distant future.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds

#whump #referenced captivity #referenced torture #blood #law enforcement #military mention #firearm mention #freelancers au #yall a few days ago: i dont trust tom hes sus. #me. having written this from his pov weeks ago: woe. tommy pov be upon ye. #i have Plans tm for this lad dont yall worry none about him #idk why but this chapter has been stressing me out to post lmao #literally took it outta my queue this morning bc my brain is mean #but I can’t be assed to rewrite it so. take this serviceable chapter so we can move on to more fun stuff #AAAAA I KEEP SAVING THIS AND STARING AT IT IM POSTING IT FEEL FREE TO LOOK AWAY I CANT STAND THIS CHAPTER ANYMORE