The continuing adventures of L. J. Tibbs...oh wait, wrong show. Ahem. The continuing adventures of G. Sanders in Hallelujah 2. I'd read Hallelujah first so you know who the principal players are in our little dance. Much more angst in this one. Also I stole a line from NCIS.
Greg slipped quietly through the halls of PD, hoping against hope that he could leave without someone giving him more work. He made it all the way to the locker room without seeing anyone, but stepping into the room he was greeted by the entire team, including Catherine. Greg sighed dejectedly, waiting for her to say something, but she shook her head, raising her arms in a non-threatening gesture.
"Nothing for you, kiddo," she smiled. "Go home to your lady, Greg."
"Still together, huh?"
Greg turned his head and gave the speaker a dark glare. "Still jealous, huh Hodges?" he snapped back.
The team coughed into their hands, grinning at the exchange that had been almost a daily constant since the night Greg had finally asked Viviane out. They'd been together for a year now, but Hodges didn't seem to be forgiving or forgetting anything.
When Greg got home he was greeted to one of his favourite sights. Viviane sat curled up on his couch, talking animatedly to someone in what he guessed was Finnish. She caught sight of him and grinned, then held up a finger. Greg smiled back and shrugged his jacket off, stepping into the kitchen to check his mail. As he flipped open one of the envelopes he heard the flow of chatter stop and a word he recognized — 'bye'.
Arms snaked around his waist and a familiar chin burrowed into his shoulder.
"Good morning, miss." Greg cocked his head to the side and gave Viviane a kiss on the cheek. "Ready for the anniversary of your dreams?"
"We're going to make love in a sugar shack?"
Greg stopped, mid-kiss, and shook his head ruefully. It may well sound like a joke, but they very rarely were with her.
"Maybe next year?" he chuckled. "Or...twenty years? I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of pressure."
He gave her a final kiss. "Who was that on the phone?"
Viviane smiled brightly. "Your favourite ATF agent. I invited him to join us for Christmas dinner."
"I don't know if I'd call him my favourite..."
Viviane let out a silvery peal of laughter. "When we were at that party with that guy from what's-it-called, you were gushing about how cool Glenn was and all the cool stuff he taught you. You were fawning, Greg."
Greg frowned. He couldn't deny it, so he huffed adorably and turned away. Viviane laughed in delight and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the couch. "How was work?"
"Not as good as your morning's going to be," muttered Greg as he caught her by the waist and pinned her down on the couch. He growled seductively.
"But we're going to miss our reservation!" she cried, laughing as he tickled her neck. "It's our breakfast-aversary!"
Waking up the next day, Greg had an instant flashback to the Christmases of his childhood. Delicious smells wafted through the apartment, and the space on one side of the bed told him Viviane was up already. He rolled out of bed and dressed quickly. She'd been preparing for the past two days for their Christmas dinner, and her apartment smelled enticingly of cinnamon (Zimsterne for Glenn, as per their tradition) and the briney sharp smell of gravlaks curing. Greg smiled as he walked into the kitchen — since Viviane had entered his life his own kitchen was no longer pristine and rarely used. They were in her apartment today, though, since Greg had nothing resembling a dining table, let alone fancy china.
"I'm going to get chunky if you keep this up," joked Greg when he came up behind her at the counter and surveyed the heaping platters set out.
She grinned at him, winking. "Glenn will be here in ten minutes."
"Did he drive all night or something?" Greg fished knives out of a drawer.
"I guess so. He said he had to work a hot case right 'til the last minute so he could only get off tonight."
"It'll be good to see him again."
Greg finished setting the table, then went to open the door as a knock signaled Glenn's arrival. He looked tired and more tense than Greg had ever seen him.
"Come in, Glenn."
Glenn nodded his thanks, stepping into the apartment and holding out a paper bag. Greg took it carefully and shook out a bottle of French wine.
"Glenn!" Viviane grabbed their arms and pulled them along to the laden table. "Come sit down."
Greg uncorked the wine as Glenn and Viviane sat down. "You look tired, Glenn," remarked Viviane as she accepted a glass of wine from Greg. "Long day?"
Glenn smiled tightly and raised his own glass towards them. "Happy anniversary, guys."
"And Merry Christmas," added Viviane.
Greg smiled around at them, finishing the circle with his own glass before settling down to eat.
"Ugh...I think that last piece did me in," Greg sighed contentedly, finally pushing his plate away.
"It was amazing as always, Viv," Glenn said with a nod. Greg glanced at him in concern. He'd been unusually somber this evening.
"How's work, Glenn?" asked Greg tentatively.
"Have you been named director yet?" grinned Viviane.
Glenn made a face. "Director of a federal agency? I don't even think he wants the job. I'm not cut out for all the politics."
"What do they say?" laughed Viviane. "'Ass kissing on the hill is a skill?'"
"Working on anything in particular?" asked Greg cheerfully.
Glenn became serious, his smile falling away to reveal a deep weariness.
Greg exchanged a frightened glance with Viviane, who'd begun clearing plates. She put them down slowly, frowning. "What's wrong?"
"There's a mole in ATF," said Glenn.
"Who?" Viviane's face betrayed her shock.
Glenn opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly. "It's better if you don't know, Viv," he said finally.
Viviane's eyes flashed with indignation, but he raised his hand to silence her. His voice was firm.
"I haven't gotten to the bottom of it, and so far I only have suspicions. This goes deeper than just ATF, Viv. CIA, NSA, FBI are all in on it. I've been keeping my distance so we don't make any mistakes." Glenn looked around sternly. "The alphabet soup is converging, so I know I don't have to tell you two to keep quiet about this."
He looked up for their acquiescence, which Greg gave with an uncertain nod. He wasn't sure why Glenn was telling them all this — surely he and Viviane wouldn't be allowed in the loop on such classified info? Despite their respect, Glenn had always been a mysterious figure, not prone to talking about his work with Viviane, let alone Greg. That he was telling them now — warning them? — didn't sit well with Greg.
"You think it's the same person who kept leaking all my leads to Ruiz," said Viviane with a frown.
Glenn cocked his head. "Maybe."
Viviane resumed clearing plates in silence, eyes speculative. Greg stood up to help her. They entered the kitchen and Greg caught Glenn's expression as he followed their movements. It was grim and slightly worried, which filled Greg with unease.
That night, as they lay curled up, quietly listening to each other breathe, Greg stroked Viviane's arm gently. "Are you okay, Viv?"
She twisted her body towards him and buried her cheek into the crook of his neck. "I am," she said after a minute. "I'm just so fucking scared, Greg. I feel like...something could happen any minute. Something that'll take everyone away from me."
Greg squeezed her tightly. "I'm afraid of that, too, Viv."
They stayed that way for a long while, until Greg was almost asleep. A quiet voice piped up. "I love you, Greg. No matter what happens. I love you."
Her tone of voice was strangely disconcerting, but Greg squeezed her body against his tightly and murmured back. "I love you too, Viv."