number22 | (no subject)

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reid

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In a rather odd way, Philip has noticed that he hasn't seen much of Agent Reid lately. He's noted the absence and slowly come to the conclusion that it doesn't bother him exactly, but that he does want to do something to remedy it. It's not that he misses the man, not by any means, but his presence in Philip's life gives him a little bit of excitement it's difficult to find elsewhere and perhaps it's stupidly playing with fire, but after losing his job with Todd Chad, he's of the mind he needs a little bit of that.

It becomes clear with a little bit of investigation that Agent Reid has been injured in a car accident and instead of showing up with flowers or some other gift to indicate he hopes he gets well soon, he bides his time. Right now, Reid's husband will inevitably be hovering over him, getting him water or tea or something to eat, making sure his pillows are fluffed properly, making sure he has something to read or a television show to watch. Whatever he's doing, he'll be there far too much and Philip doesn't want to have to deal with that.

So he gives it a few weeks, then a little longer, then finds himself across the street from the bookstore one day. Reid isn't back to work yet, he'd made sure of that, but he seems to be in better shape than he had been those first few weeks. He's healthy enough that Philip's bearded doppelganger is comfortable kissing him goodbye and leaving the store in his capable hands.

Philip waits until he gets into his truck and drives away and once he's out of sight, he saunters across the street and opens the door to the very charming Graymark Books, a little bell tinkling overhead to let Agent Reid know someone has come inside.

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Phillip Lombard is honestly the last person Reid expects to walk through that door.

It's a slow day, but Luke hadn't let himself leave until the most recent customer had walked out with the door with their purchase, even upon Reid's insistence that everything would be just fine. He knows Luke knows that, knows his husband entrusts him with the store, but Reid understands where he's coming from. After everything that's happened, there's still a little bit of panic, a little rush of worry when they leave each other's sight. It's going to take some time before that really goes away, if it ever does. There's always been a certain level of concern for each other, of course, when Reid goes out into the field or Luke goes out to help the Lightwoods; but it's different now, like it'd been different after K.I.R.I.N.

At least he's walking without the cane now. The doctors had told him it would take six to eight weeks for his back to heal, and Reid had insisted on the six. Some days, he'd pushed himself harder than he should have, but even after coming home utterly exhausted, Reid knows it'd paid off. He still walks stiffly, there's still pain there but it's duller now. It doesn't affect him much unless he bends to pick something up without a second thought or turns too quickly or overestimates the speed with which he can walk up the stairs.

So it does affect him, okay, he can admit that. He can admit it to Luke, anyway. To anyone else, he's just fine.

When the bell at the door sounds, Reid glances up from where he's inspecting the inventory list behind the counter and doesn't bother to hide his surprise at the sight of Lombard standing in the entrance. "Mr. Lombard," he says, tilting his head curiously as he steps out from behind the counter. "Didn't think I'd ever catch you in here, you just missed my husband." The corner of his lips turn up into a somewhat wry smile. "What a coincidence."

"Imagine that," he says as he strolls through the store, really taking it in for the first time. He's seen the store from the outside, of course, and he's aware of the general layout of the place, but he's never actually been inside until now and with very good reason. While Agent Reid has proven over and over to be a fascinating fellow, he also knows more about Philip than nearly anyone else in Darrow, which means his husband knows, too. They don't seem the sort to keep secrets from one another and he's sure that any man who's married someone like Reid isn't going to want someone like Philip hanging around, not for any reason.

As far as he's concerned, the longer he can avoid running into his bearded twin, the better.

"What terrible timing on my part," he continues, finally turning his gaze toward Reid and giving him a smile. "Next time, perhaps, we'll finally be able to meet. I'm sure you and he are both looking forward to that interaction."

He's actually sure the exact opposite is true, that Reid and his husband both would prefer that meeting never occur. Or Reid would prefer that anyway, he doubts the husband spends all that must time thinking about him one way or the other. Perhaps that would change if he knew Philip was behind the stealing of his precious sword, which is truly not the sort of information he's about to share any time soon. Reid would find a way to put him in prison for that if he knew and Philip wouldn't even be able to blame him for it.

It does make him wonder, however, why Reid's husband is in possession of a magical sword in the first place.

"And how's your little one?" he asks. "Jack, is it?"

Truth be told, Reid does find the notion of Luke and Lombard having an encounter mildly amusing, if only because he can imagine what kind of look his husband would have on his face. There would be no attempt whatsoever to hide the severity of Luke's disdain for Lombard, and Reid supposes he can't blame him. He isn't sure what it is, why he never seems to be particularly bothered when he and Lombard run into each other when there's a laundry list of horrible things Reid knows about the man, but here they are and Reid isn't asking him to leave.

Lombard is an opportunist, he wouldn't hesitate to screw Reid over if the right situation were to arise, and that's an incredibly dangerous line to be walking. Still, it hasn't happened yet, and Reid can take at least a little bit of comfort in knowing that Lombard is very aware life could get difficult for him if Reid catches him stepping out of line. Granted, Reid isn't watching too closely, he often has too much else on his plate to worry about what kind of business Lombard's got going on, but there's a tension and animosity between them thinly veiled by a sense of amicability that, at the very least, tends to keep things interesting.

Reid, of course, doesn't say anything like that to Lombard. He's discussed it with Luke, and Luke may not like the idea of Lombard ever hanging around but he trusts Reid, nonetheless. If there were ever any sign of of a threat, Luke knows Reid wouldn't allow for it. So he offers an easy smile, resting a hand on the edge of the counter to take a bit of weight off his back, and nods.

"Jack, it is," he says, "and he's doing just fine." Better, anyway, now that the worst of Reid's injury is over. It'd broken his heart to see Jack so upset, so frightened and worried, but there haven't been any complications throughout the healing. Things are starting to get back to normal, aside from the theft of the Sword, which is still eating at him because it's yet another weight Luke has to carry on his shoulders, but he trusts it'll be handled. There's no acceptable alternative.

"So what brings you in?" Reid asks, his smile turning wry. "You need help find a book, or are you just here to enjoy my company?"

"I wanted to come and see how you were faring," he answers, which is more or less the truth. "I heard about your accident and assumed your husband might not appreciate if I were to show up with flowers and wishes for you to get well, so I gave it a little time before coming to visit. I decided to skip the flowers in the end."

And in his own odd way, he does care how Reid is doing, is he's healing properly. In Darrow there are so few truly interesting people and while it's true enough that he won't be able to get Reid into bed or drag him into some other part of his life, he's not quite prepared to write him off entirely. Intelligence of his level is rare and Philip doesn't pretend as if he's anywhere near as brilliant, but he has to admit that Reid makes for an interesting companion and conversationalist, no matter what it is they're speaking of.

It's rare for him to discover something like that. He's not willing to let that go quite so easily.

"And have you found out who caused the accident?" he asks. "Seems odd that they haven't been able to find the person driving the truck that hit you." These aren't details Philip should know. There had been a general call for information in the newspaper not long after the accident, asking for any witnesses to come forward, but nothing beyond that. Philip knows because he's dug around, because he's asked questions and even paid a little bit to discover what he could. Reid will likely find it odd, but he doubts he'll say much of anything. The knowledge they share, the things they know about each other, it explains a lot about both of them, he thinks, and when he comes out of the woodwork with information he shouldn't necessarily have, he doubts it comes as much of a surprise to Reid.

Reid studies Lombard for a moment, finding himself less disturbed when the other man keeps a steady hold on their shared gaze than maybe he should be, but he decides it's pointless to really ask questions. Lombard always knows more than he should, always has more information that he ought to have access to, but Reid can't prove that he goes about getting any of that in a way that's anything less than legal. Does he have his suspicions? Sure, of course he does. Has he looked into it at all? No. No, he hasn't, and Reid doesn't have an explanation for why but that's how it's worked out so far.

They're not friends. Reid reminds himself of that every time they end up in the same space. That's why it's worrisome that talking to Lombard has become so easy. In some ways, he's more open with Lombard than he is with some of the people he considers close.

"Nobody's found anything, no," Reid finally answers, and he's a little bit frustrated with himself for making his disappointment evident in his tone. "Whoever was driving that truck did a damn good job of making sure they wouldn't be found. I'd say it was a professional job but it's like something went wrong." If it'd been a hit, something coordinated by the unsub or hell, anyone Reid had played a part in putting away, he really doesn't think he'd still be standing here. He can't help but shake the feeling that whatever had happened, it hadn't been intended. The accident had really been just that, an accident.

The problem is, it's hard to let it go when he still has so many questions.

"I think it was someone I know," he admits, nose twitching as he bites down on his lip. "They called Luke right after it happened, they knew to call him, it wasn't random. He wasn't the last person I'd called, not even the last person I'd texted, but they knew." Reid's shared this theory with Luke, too, of course, but it hasn't gotten them very far. There are too many other possibilities, too many other explanations. With a sigh, he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I want to know what the hell happened but at the same time, a part of me wonders if maybe it's just better left a mystery. I'm alive, I can still walk. I should just be grateful for that."

"Perhaps a professional job that wasn't aimed at you," Philip suggests, although he truly doesn't know anything more than what Reid does. But from what he does know, he has a feeling Reid is right. Whoever was driving that truck knew how to keep themselves to the shadows, they knew how to be, more or less, a ghost, which is a talent Philip can admire. But if it was a hit, he doubts very much Reid and the officer in the car with him at the time were the targets.

Reports had made mention of another car fleeing the scene and Philip has wondered if perhaps Reid and the officer were chasing someone else. And if that person, assuming they were a criminal, could very well have been the target of some kind of professional hit. There are certain people in this city who don't take kindly to that kind of behaviour and might take it upon themselves to assist the police.

He's lucky he hasn't run into someone like that himself. Not yet.

"You can be grateful for your good fortune without losing that need to know," he answers with a shrug. "I would want to know. It's especially interesting that they called your husband first. I'd ask if you're friends with any of the superhero types around this place, but I feel like they'd sooner pick up a truck than drive one into you."

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