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At the safehouse, he realized with a start. It had been the best sleep he’d ever had – at least when it hadn’t been interrupted by Tahnee crawling on top of him and waking him up, insatiable and demanding more – and ever since the two of them had fought, his thoughts had been alternating between going around in circles trying to find a solution to the problem he’d created, and very deliberately trying to avoid thinking about it at all.
Apparently his silence was answer enough, because Callan nodded decisively. “You’re done for the day. My orders.”
Robb stared at him in disbelief. His orders?!
“No, I’m not. I have work to –”
As if he hadn’t spoken, Callan went on, “If I can be honest? You look like shit.”
Robb was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open at this point, his brain a giant TV screen filled with static. Not even Rhys or Hector or Trent at their worst would have ever even dreamed of talking to him like this – and now, mild-mannered Callan was just insulting him without a care in the world? And he was just taking it?
Finding his voice, he managed to get out, “Are you fucking serious?”
It wasn’t his finest moment, but he wasn’t sure if there was really any other way to express how he felt right now. Even the dingo was stunned into silence at the sheer gall it took for an agent to address their superior officer in that way.
Callan grinned.
“What happens in Melbourne, stays in Melbourne. You don’t tell the others that I told you to go home and take a nap, and I won’t tell them that you swore for the first time in your life.”
Robb wanted to argue. He wanted to stay here and drag every last piece of information out of these Hargreaves operatives, by force if necessary. He wanted to never sleep again until he knew that Tahnee was safe.
But he also knew that Callan was right. He couldn’t operate at peak efficiency if he was this sleep deprived, and he could admit that his interrogations had been deteriorating in effectiveness. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help him to find the missing pieces that would allow him to put this whole puzzle together.
“I know you know I’m right,” Callan said.
“Fine,” Robb said with a sigh. “Fine.”
“That’s the spirit,” Callan said cheerfully as they both stood up, and Robb had to admit that his legs felt like lead. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally.
“I leave for a few days, and it all goes to shit,” he grumbled as they headed towards the stairs. “If I can’t trust you to be the polite one, then who do I have left?”
“You don’t need us to be polite right now,” Callan said. “You need us to tell you the truth, and give you a kick up the arse when you need it. Like you’ve always been willing to do for us.”
Robb couldn’t really argue with that.
“Hey,” Callan said, stopping for a moment and putting his hand on Robb’s arm. “You know you can always talk to any of us, right?”
Robb paused. Callan’s expression was completely earnest, and Robb felt a guilty twinge at how he’d tried to fob him off. He was obviously trying to help, and Robb knew that it was pretty hypocritical of him to hide anything from his agents, when he’d gotten cranky at them in the past for withholding information from him.
Still, he wasn’t quite at the point of telling them everything just yet. Soon, maybe, but not yet. He still needed time to get his thoughts together and work out how this was going to affect his ability to lead his team – and if he and Tahnee couldn’t get their relationship problems sorted out, then he didn’t want to bring it up at all.
“I know,” he said gruffly, and apparently that was enough to appease Callan, because he continued on down the stairs and out the front door.
Robb exited the building, still feeling somewhat reluctant about the whole thing, but knowing that it was the right decision.
“And stay out!” Callan said with a laugh. “See you tomorrow, no earlier than eight.”
“Sure, no worries,” Robb muttered as the doors closed, locking behind him with a clank.
He stood there for a moment, blinking as the cool evening air dusted away some of the cobwebs from his brain. As much as he hated to admit it, Callan had been right – he really did need to get away from work for a bit, and get some rest.
We will still write him up for insubordination when we get back, the dingo huffed.
Maybe, Robb thought noncommittally. He didn’t think he actually would, although he’d need to make sure that this kind of behavior didn’t become a common occurrence. Give some people on his team an inch, and they’d probably take ten miles. He didn’t think Callan was the type, but then again, he hadn’t thought that Callan was the type to tell him he looked like shit, either.
Later, he told himself. He could deal with all of this later. Supposing that his team hadn’t destroyed the Sydney headquarters by the time he got back, anyway.
Walking down the street, he tried in vain to wipe off the last of the Barbecue Shapes dust from his fingers, while a nervous feeling that he wasn’t at all used to churned in his stomach.
