#sean mitchell

He’s in the middle of a math test when the office aide sticks her head in the door. 

“I need Wesley Martin, Mrs. Livingston.” She says. 

His heart rate accelerates. 

The last time he’d been summoned to the office it was because his dad had been shot at work. 

He’d survived but the experience had been a rude awakening. 

That even though he’d finally found a father figure who wouldn’t toss him out with the trash, he could still end up alone. 

He shakes his head. 

His dad is fine.

He stands up slowly. 

“They said to bring your things.” The aide says and he shakily collects his books, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and walks toward the door. 

They reach the office and he freezes outside the door. 

That’s not his dad. 

Or Grant. 

Or Leyla. 

Those are the only three people who are supposed to be able to pick him up. 

Dean isn’t supposed to be within a hundred meters of him. 

“He… he’s not supposed to be here.” He stammers, reaching for his phone. 

His dad answers on the third ring. 

“Dean is at the school.” He says shakily. 

“He’s there to pick you up.” His dad says, sounding pained. “The judge restored custody.”

“W- what?” He stammers. 

“I wish I could be there, Wes.” His dad says. “But I can’t. The judge also granted a restraining order. I can’t come near you.”

“Dad.” He says, eyes filling with tears. 

“I’m not your dad anymore, kid.” The man says. “I’ll always love you but I can’t… I can’t be that for you.”

The call ends. 

The door to the office opens and Dean steps out. 

“When I call you, I expect you to come faster than this.” He says coldly. “Or you’ll pay the consequences.”

Wes glances to the office aide. 

Is she hearing this?

But she steps past him, returning to her desk inside the office. 

Dean grabs his arm, dragging him down the hall. 

“Let’s go boy.” He says. “You and I need to have a serious conversation.”

He pulls back but only trips over his own feet, falling hard to the ground. 

Hits the carpet with a thud and jerks upright.

The moon is shining through the window, illuminating the green comforter that he’d finally let his dad convince him to pick out. 

Just a dream. 

He drops back to lie on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. 

The door creaks open. 

“You okay, kiddo?” His dad asks quietly. 

“Did I wake you?” He answers. 

“Kind of been lying awake.” His dad admits, dropping to the floor to sit next to him. “Figured after today there’d be a good chance you’d have a nightmare.” 

Wes huffs a humorless laugh. 

He wonders what had tipped him off. 

The fact that he’d spent most of the evening in a dissociative state?

Or the fact that he’d barely managed a few bites of dinner?

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

“What for?” His dad asks. 

“I’m seventeen years old.” He says, tilting his head toward him. “I shouldn’t still be that scared of him.”

“Wes.” His dad says, reaching for his hand. “He broke your jaw when you were seven years old. I think you’re allowed to be scared of him.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore.” Wes protests, not unaware that he sounds like a little kid. 

“He’s still twice your size.” His dad reminds him. “And its hard to overcome the effect of childhood trauma.”

“So I’m just going to be afraid of him for the rest of my life?” he whines. 

“Probably, yeah.” his dad says bluntly. “But we can help control the way that you react to him.”

“Yeah?” Wes asks. 

“Sure.” his dad promises. “We’ll work on some hand to hand stuff specifically targetted toward helping you with someone who’s taller and bulkier than you. I think knowing that you have the tools in your kit to fight him off if you need him will help. And I bet your therapist has some stuff she can work through with you, give you some coping mechanisms to curtail that panic response.”

Wes grimaces. 

He’s starting to open up more to the idea of therapy but that doesn’t mean that he enjoys it. 

Still, if it helps him not completely freeze up the next time he comes face to face with Dean….

And he will. 

He knows the man better than anyone. 

He’s angry that a judge had taken away his favorite plaything. 

He’s going to violate the restraining order again. 

It’s only a matter of time. 

And it won’t be long because – much to his dad’s annoyance – the officers from today had chosen to only issue a warning for the violation. 

He’ll get arrested next time but today he’d walked off scot free. 

Thoughts of the restraining order remind him of his nightmare. 

“Hey dad?” he says quietly. 

“Yeah kiddo?”

“You would never let him get custody back, right?” he says, definitely feeling like a little kid now. 

His dad tilts his head, studying him for a moment. 

“You know that story you told me about when you were boosting cars and you almost got caught by that violent asshole?” he asks after a moment. 

“Yeah…” Wes says, not sure what this has to do with his question. 

“You got away by throwing dirt in his eyes.” his dad continues. “Told me that you don’t usually like fighting dirty but that you learned because you were always at a disadvantage and you never regretted doing it that night.”

An inkling of where he’s going with this sparks but Wes just nods. 

“If Dean ever got the chance to sue for custody again I would pull out every dirty trick in the book.” his dad tells him. “I would call in favors from every friend I have in the department, in DCFS, in the court systems, every lawyer I know and I would not stop until I got a judge to rule in my favor.”

Wes cracks a small smile. 

“And if in some loony tunes universe a judge actually ruled against me after all of that.” his dad says. “I would take you and make a run for Mexico before I let them hand you over to that asshole.”

“You promise?” he whispers. 

“Bud, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” his dad promises. “There is no way I am letting someone take you away from me. Especially not that piece of shit.”

He finally sits up, leaning against the bed next to his dad who throws an arm around his shoulders. 

“That bastard had the chance to be your dad.” his dad adds. “And he wasted it. I’m not doing that. You’re my son and I love you.”

He leans in. 

“I love you too, dad.”

They sit there for a long time, just enjoying being together even this late at night, and then his dad pulls his arm free and gently nudges him. 

“Alright.” he says quietly. “Time for bed, kiddo. You think you can sleep or do you want me to read to you for a bit?”

He’s pretty tired. 

There’s nothing quite so exhausting as a panic attack followed by a lengthy dissociation episode. 

And despite the buzz from the nightmare, he’s actually feeling pretty settled after their conversation. 

But he really does enjoy it when his dad reads to him. 

“Just one chapter?” he asks, ducking his head. 

His dad has to work in the morning and he’s already stayed up pretty late. 

“You got it.” the man says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and then helping him up. 

Not for the first time, he’s asleep before the end of the chapter. 

Cam is sitting in Wes’s office having just finished a video conference with some bureaucrat back in DC when her phone rings.

It’s got a California area code and she sighs.

When she’d told Wes she had no problem fulfilling relief supervisor obligations for two weeks so that he could check in on the half-sister he’d just learned he had, she hadn’t expected so many calls from the States.

“Special Agent Vo.”

“Agent Vo, I’m calling from the Los Angeles Field Office.” A chirpy woman who’s voice oozes receptionist says. “I’ve got a Sean Mitchell on the line for you.”

Wes’s dad?

“Uh, yeah.” She stumbles. “Put him through.”

“One moment please.”

She’s not sure she has a moment if Sean is calling but bites her tongue and patiently waits for the patch.

“Mr. Mitchell?” She greets. “Special Agent Vo, what can I do for you?”

“Have you heard from Wes?” He asks, sounding anxious.

“Not since he left.” She says. “But I wasn’t really expecting to so early on either. Is everything okay?”

“His flight landed almost twelve hours ago.” He says. “He was going to meet with Delila and her mom, maybe have lunch if the initial introduction went well and then head back to his hotel to get some sleep. He said he’d call me when he got there and let me know how things went but I haven’t heard from him. And his phone is going straight to voicemail.”

She frowns.

Wes isn’t the type of person to forget a phone call he’d promised to make, especially to the adopted father that he’s incredibly close with.

And he doesn’t turn his phone off.

“It’s possible that he forgot to charge it.” She says weakly.

“That’s not like him and you know it.” He says darkly.

She muses thoughtfully.

Amanda might be able to find out something.

Pull the gps data on his phone and figure out where it had gone dark.

Possibly check some cameras at the airport and the hotel.

Check his financials and reach out to taxi companies.

They could also potentially get an agent from the local field office to make a welfare check.

If this is nothing, Wes will be horribly embarrassed.

If it isn’t nothing….

“Do you know the name of the hotel he was staying at?” She asks.

“I’ve tried calling the room.” He says. “Nobody answers so he’s not there right now. But maybe you can convince the front desk to actually tell you if he’s checked in yet.”

She agrees and he gives her the name and phone number for the hotel as well as his direct line.

She pokes her head into the bullpen before calling.

“Hey Amanda.” She calls.

“What’s up?”

“Possible situation in Pittsburgh.” She offers. “Nothing concrete yet but Wes missed a scheduled check in with his dad and isn’t answering his phone. Can you ping it? And see if you can find a number for his sister’s mom?”

The analyst frowns, knowing as well as she does that this is unusual behavior, but nods, spinning back to her computer.

Cam steps back into the office, dialing the hotel.

It takes some talking to wear down the receptionist but she’s finally able to get the answer that he’d never checked in.

His bags had arrived, delivered straight from the airport, but there’d been no sign of him.

She makes a decision.

Wes’s service weapon is in that luggage and while she knows he would have multiple locks in place to secure it for an international flight, it’s still best not to leave the bags unattended.

She calls the Field Office.

In very short order, she and Andre are touching down in Pittsburgh.

An agent from the field office is waiting at security to meet them.

“We’ve found the cab company that he caught from the airport but there’s been a problem locating the driver.” The agent tells them.

“What kind of problem?” Andre asks.

“The cameras show him getting into a Red Wolf cab in the loading areas and his credit card payment processed in that name but they don’t have a cab matching the medallion number from the video.” She explains. “It’s something that gypsy cab drivers have been doing lately to avoid detection.”

“If the payment goes to the company they’re impersonating then how do they get paid?” Cam asks.

“Card skimmers.” The agent says darkly. “Typically they only steal enough to cover the cab fair but it’s spread out in multiple charges to nondescript services over several days. All small denomination payments to payees that seem like gas stations or vending machines and the like so the customer never thinks anything of it. We have financial crimes trying to identify them and hopefully the gypsy but it’s possible none of the charges have hit yet.”

Cam nods.

The gypsy cab driver might not even be related to Wes’s disappearance.

It could just be an unlucky coincidence that happens to be delaying their ability to confirm that he’d made it to the Jenkins’ house.

“What about Cassie and Delila Jenkins?” She asks.

“Cassandra is down at the field office right now.” The agent tells her. “We don’t really have anything to hold her on but she did agree to come in for an informal interview. But Delila wasn’t at the house and she won’t say where she is. She’s been homeschooled for the last year or so and it’s making it tricky to nail down the last time anyone saw her.”

Cam’s gut twists.

Wes and Delila both missing.

Delila’s mom cooperating but only on the surface.

Adding in the detail Amanda had provided just after landing.

Dean Bartlett had never boarded that flight to London.

Sean sits on the couch, watching the soccer game with one eye and his son sleep with the other. 

Wes had tried very hard to stay up to watch the game – one that Lili had picked specifically to watch with him – but eventually he’d given in to his still exhausted body and drifted off. 

Lili had carefully tucked the blankets back over him before turning down the volume and letting him sleep. 

“Mr. Mitchell?” She says quietly. 

“Yeah kiddo?” He questions gently. 

“Is apanev really okay?” She asks, glancing worriedly over at Wes. 

“Sepsis is pretty nasty.” He offers carefully. “A lot of his organs were starting to shut down by the time the doctors got the situation under control. He’ll be alright but his body needs a lot of rest.”

“Are you sure?” She asks. “What if something is wrong? Shouldn’t a doctor check him out?”

Sean takes a deep breath. 

He’s been there. 

Watching Wes fall asleep at the drop of a hat. 

Watching his usually so active son sleep so many hours during the day. 

It always makes him anxious. 

Makes him wonder if he’d brought him home too soon. 

He motions her over, pulling out his cellphone. 

She tilts her head but comes over to sit next to him as he opens his Google Health app. 

He has access to the data from Wes’s Fitbit, as long as it’s properly syncing to his son’s phone. 

Wes’s phone is safely on the arm of the recliner next to him so he’s good. 

“This is his heart rate.” He says, showing her a graph. “It’s faster than typical for him but it’s been holding steady since he fell asleep. And it was pretty steady for the two hours that he was awake before that.”

He looks over at his son – checking that he’s still asleep before adding - “I have it set to alert me if it drops below a certain number.”

She looks up at him shyly. 

“He really worries you, doesn’t he?” She says softly.

“All the time.” He admits. “That’s what being a parent is, I think, though it’s been suggested that my kid is a stronger danger magnet than most.”

She giggles and he switches the screen. 

“This is his pulse oxygen saturation.” He says. “It tells us how much oxygen is being circulated in his bloodstream. It shows whether or not his organs are getting enough oxygen.”

“Do you get an alert if that goes too low too?” She asks.

“I do.” He promises. 

“So you can keep an eye on him?” She says, looking pleased.

“I always want to keep an eye on him.” He admits. “He doesn’t always like it but it’s my job to worry about him.”

“He sure makes it easy.” She adds and he can’t help the snort that breaks free. 

Wes has been giving him an awful lot of shit this week about the librarian that Grant had revealed he’s been on a few dates with. 

Sean hasn’t really given as much back as he would normally because the kid has been so damn miserable. 

He’d gotten really lucky as far as what symptoms after sepsis can be but he’s dealt with overwhelming fatigue and a significant amount of musculoskeletal pain. 

He’s a good sport about it but it’s clear that he’s uncomfortable.

The hospital had coordinated with a doctor in Hungary to provide him with pain medication to help ease some of it but Wes prefers not to take it. 

The kid has never been a fan of taking pain medication when he probably should be. 

The excuses had run the gamut for the first couple of years. 

He wasn’t actually in pain – just ignore the clenching of his jaw and the sheen of sweat across his forehead. 

It made him nauseous. 

He’d even tried to play the allergy card once before Sean’s panic had been enough for him to immediately take it back. 

Finally, he’d just admitted that he doesn’t like the way they make him feel. 

That after all those years having to remain on the defense against his biological father, against shitty foster parents, against manipulative bastards who told him they were his friend, he didn’t like having his reflexes slowed. 

Every so often Sean can convince him that it’s safe enough to take them. 

Today was one of those days which is the only reason Wes is so deeply asleep that they can have this conversation right next to him without waking him. 

Prior to taking them, he’d been exhausted but in too much pain to fall asleep which really puts a damper on teasing him. 

But if Lili is prepared to give him shit about being a trouble magnet, Sean won’t discourage her. 

Wes will probably appreciate it. 

“He sure does.” He agrees. “But he’s worth it.”

He risks reaching out, brushing his fingers through his son’s hair. 

Wes shifts slightly in his sleep but doesn’t wake. 

Sean smiles, redirecting his attention to Lili. 

“I’m glad he has you and your mom now. I was worried for a minute there that he’d be alone.” He tells her. 

She smiles at him. 

“We’re lucky to have him too.” She says. “I promise we’ll do our best to take good care of him so you don’t have to worry as much.”

He grins. 

“Thanks kiddo.” He says. “That helps a lot.”

“But maybe still worry a little bit.” She says cheekily. “Because he attracts a lot of trouble.”

Sean chuckles. 

“I don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He says. “But between the two of us, I think we’ve got him covered.”

“I think so too.” She agrees.