Page 90 of Under Cover
I Have a Plan!
THEY HADto put off the team meeting because Crosby slept for almost twenty hours after Harm left. He woke up to use the bathroom—awkward, with Garcia following him with the IV—and to eat, because Garcia was nagging him to. And then, after a few more intense conversations with Calix and some gentle touching on both their parts, he fell asleep again.
He finally woke up enough to shower and get dressed, but he waited until after Harm came to take the IV out and to check his dressing on the slice on his arm. Harm agreed to take the sling and shoot it into the ocean, per Crosby’s request, but he had lots of advice while he did that, including the admonition that running or heavy exercise of any form was still out of the question.
“Good,” he’d said, able to see without squinting, thanks to the anti-inflammatories running through his system. “I’ll just couch and eat starchy foods and plan world domination.”
“So youdounderstand how this works,” Harman had joked.
“Garcia’s been giving me pointers,” Crosby replied dryly. “Bad news is, I’ve only got three more days to master it.”
“You need more practice,” Harman said, sounding stern, but Crosby remembered how kind he’d been when they’d talked over the phone about the Brandeis case. Harman only got stern with people when they were ignoring medical advice.
“It’s important,” he said softly. “Harding knows it too.”
“Clint pushes everybody on his team as hard as he pushes himself,” Harman muttered darkly. “I’m not okay with this.”
“Aren’t you an ER doctorandan FBI profiler?” Crosby asked, proud that he had a secret weapon in this war.
“And I’d cut one of those jobs loose if my partner would back off the throttle for a damned minute,” Harm groused, rubbing something soothing over the back of Crosby’s hand to ease the burn from the IV needle.
Crosby raised his eyebrows. “Garcia tells me we might have two more recruits in the office. That should give him a little more downtime once I’m back.”
“Well, kid, it’s not often people like you or Garcia just drop into his lap.”
“I thought Harding stole him from ATF.”
Harman grunted. “But first he read the report in which Garcia went undercover for a month and then broke the caseaftergetting the mother and children who were being held hostage in the drug house out and into WITSEC without the dealer knowing they were even connected to the bust. Harding saw that and said, ‘He’s got Crosby potential.’”
Crosby groaned. “You know, my college professors were always surprised I was passing their classes. I don’t know where Harding got all this damned faith, yanno?” He paused. “But that’s pretty badass about Garcia.”
“Your college professors were stupid,” Harm said, and gave him a perceptive, studied gaze. “And you use that. The assumption that because you’re big and blond, it means you’re not bright. But I will tell you something. Harding does an IQ assessment the two of us worked out together years ago when he was first starting this unit. He wanted something that would show him the kind of person he needed—someone who could work fast, think on their feet, retain information, and not leave a wreckage path in their wake. Your work on the Brandeis case showed that you were quite good at that, in addition to having a solid moral center that he depends upon.”
The recitation was almost clinical, and Crosby squirmed. “Yeah, but I’m not a doctor by day and an FBI profiler by night,” he said uncomfortably.
Harman Blodgett snorted. “Don’t kid yourself, Crosby. The whole team is made up of superheroes. That includes you.”
Crosby remembered the video Garcia had sent him. Garcia had kept his phone recording the entire time, including that moment when the team emerged from the fog, every one of them from maternal Natalia to tiny, fey Gail responsible for a kill.
They’d been angry. And proud. And determined to keep Toby, Garcia, and Chadwick alive.
He smiled a little. “They really are sort of badass.”
“And so are you,” Harman said. “Just remember—even badasses need some help. Batman was better off in the Justice League, right?”
“Yeah, but I still can’t figure out what Green Lantern was doing there. I mean… that ring—that could do everything, right?”
“You’re missing the point, Crosby, and you’re not that dumb.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll be Batman.”
“Be Crosby,” Harman muttered, throwing his supplies into his black bag. “But be a live Crosby. You won’t just break Garcia’s heart if you don’t come back. You’ll breakeverybody’s, including Harding’s and Natalia’s. Just don’t take all my hard work keeping you alive and throw it away, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” Crosby said humbly. “Thank you.”
“Whatever. I need some sleep. I’m cranky. I’ll be here for your little confab tomorrow night. Get some rest between now and then.”
Crosby rolled his eyes. “I have to.Somebodytold me not to go running.”
