Chapter Text
The bullpen never stayed quiet for long.
Even after Lando had been taken home, even after the room had reset and the case resumed in quieter, more controlled tones, there was still something lingering under the surface.
Tension did not just disappear. It waited.
Carter stepped out to take the call. Did not go far. Just far enough.
Max was not trying to listen. Not at first.
He was leaning against the edge of a desk, half focused on the board, half tracking the room the way he always did, loose, alert, ready.
But Carter did not lower his voice.
“I am telling you, he is a liability,” Carter was saying. “Unstable. You saw it, everyone did.”
Max stilled.
Across the room, Oscar’s head lifted slightly. Charles’s pen paused.
“No,” Carter continued, pacing slightly now. “This is not just behaviour. He is a loose cannon. A danger to the team, to operations”
Max was moving before the sentence finished.
He crossed the distance in seconds.
Carter barely had time to turn before Max’s fist connected.
Clean. Direct.
The sound cracked through the bullpen.
Carter stumbled back, hitting the desk behind him, the phone clattering out of his hand.
“Say that again,” Max said.
Low. Dead serious.
Carter recovered just enough to shove him back.
“What the hell”
Max did not stop.
Another shove. Another hit, less clean this time, more force than precision.
“Say it again,” he repeated.
Carter swung back, missed, but it did not matter.
Because now it was not contained.
Agents were moving in. Hands grabbing. Voices rising.
“Hey, break it up”
Max struggled against them, still trying to get forward, still trying to land something, anything.
“Get off me”
“Max, enough”
It took three people to hold him.
Three, and he was still fighting it.
Carter was being pulled back the other way, blood already starting to show at his lip, one eye darkening.
The bullpen had stopped. Completely.
Because no one had expected that.
Oscar got there first.
“Max.”
Sharp. Grounded.
Max did not respond. Still straining forward.
Charles stepped in next, calmer, firmer, hands on Max’s shoulders, steady, not forceful but unyielding.
“Max,” he said again. “Stop.”
That cut through. Just enough.
Max stilled. Breathing hard. Still furious. But not fighting the hold anymore.
Oscar moved quickly, peeling the other agents off him.
“We have got him,” he said.
George was already gone, running. Because this needed shutting down properly.
Carter wiped at his lip, glaring.
“You are finished,” he snapped.
Max let out a short, humourless laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. “Try saying that again.”
Oscar shot him a look.
“Not helping.”
A minute later, Lewis and Toto walked in.
And the room shifted again.
Because now this was official.
“What happened,” Toto asked.
No one answered immediately. Because it was obvious.
Max did not wait.
“He ran his mouth,” he said.
Lewis’s gaze snapped to him.
“That does not justify”
“He called him a threat,” Max cut in.
A beat. Silence.
Because now that was out.
Toto’s expression hardened slightly. He looked at Carter. Then back at Max.
“This is not how we handle internal conflict,” he said.
Max did not back down.
“Maybe it should be,” he muttered.
That did not help.
They both got it. Not shouting. Not dramatic. But firm. Clear. Unavoidable.
Max took it. Did not argue. Did not apologise either.
Just stood there, jaw tight, eyes still burning.
At one point he glanced back at Carter. Took in the damage.
“Nice shiner,” he said.
Oscar choked. Actually choked.
Lewis closed his eyes briefly.
“Max.”
Warning. Late.
Lewis grabbed his arm then, steering him away before he could say anything else.
“That is enough,” he said.
Behind them, Oscar was still trying not to laugh.
“Worth it,” Max muttered under his breath.
Lewis did not respond. Because this was going to cost him.
Back in a quieter corridor, away from the bullpen, Lewis stopped.
“You crossed a line,” he said.
Max shrugged slightly.
“He crossed it first.”
“That does not matter.”
“It does to me.”
Lewis held his gaze.
“That is not how this works.”
A pause.
Max exhaled.
“Fine.”
Not agreeing. But accepting the consequence.
“You are on Lando duty for the flight,” Lewis said.
Max blinked.
“That is not a punishment.”
A beat.
“Kid is great.”
Lewis did not react.
“He has no access to electronics,” he added.
Max’s expression shifted.
“None.”
“None,” Lewis confirmed. “Not his. Not yours. Not anyone’s.”
A pause.
“For how long.”
Lewis met his eyes.
“Twenty seven hours.”
That landed. Harder than anything else had.
Max stared at him.
“You are kidding.”
“I am not.”
Another pause.
“That is cruel,” Max said.
Lewis did not even blink.
“Consequences.”
The same word. Again.
Max dragged a hand down his face.
“He is going to be unbearable.”
Lewis raised an eyebrow slightly.
“You chose this,” he said.
Max let out a long breath.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Worth it.”
A beat.
“Probably.”
Lewis did not respond. Just turned back toward the bullpen.
Because the case was not done. The tension was not gone.
And now they had more than one person pushing the line.
Which meant they were going to have to hold it. Even tighter.
For everyone involved. Not just Lando. Not anymore.
By the time Lewis got back to the house, it was late. Not the kind of late that came with noise or movement, but the kind that settled into the walls. The lights were low, the kitchen lamp still on. Seb was at the counter with his arms folded while Jenson sat at the table with a half finished cup of tea that had clearly gone cold. They both looked up when Lewis came in.
“How is he,” Lewis asked immediately.
Jenson exhaled softly. “Better,” he said. “But it took a while to get there.”
Lewis stepped further in, setting his bag down but not taking his eyes off them. “Walk me through it.”
Seb nodded once. “He came in quiet. Too quiet. Not shutdown, but close.”
Jenson picked up from there. “Would not let go of the blanket. Even when he sat down. Kept the ear defenders on longer than usual too.”
Lewis frowned slightly. “Still overloaded.”
“Yeah,” Jenson confirmed. “We did not push it.”
There was a pause before Seb added, “He did not want to talk about it at first. Kept saying he was fine. That he could have stayed. That he should not have been pulled.”
Lewis’s jaw tightened slightly. “Contract.”
“Yeah,” Seb replied. “That is where his head went first.”
Jenson nodded. “We had to walk him through it. Explain that being pulled is not punishment. That it does not mean he has failed anything.”
He paused. “He did not believe it straight away.”
Of course he did not. Lewis rubbed a hand over his face. “What got him there.”
“Consistency,” Jenson said, glancing toward the hallway. “Same thing you have been doing.”
Seb added, “Pressure helped. He asked for it again.”
That mattered. Lewis nodded slowly. “Anything else.”
Jenson hesitated before saying, “He got stuck on the case. Not the logic, the people.”
Lewis looked at him and Jenson continued. “He did not understand why the victims were acting the way they were. Kept trying to make it make sense like a system. Got frustrated when it did not.”
Seb nodded. “That is what tipped him. Not Carter. Not really. That just pushed it over.”
Lewis exhaled slowly. “He is missing context.”
“Yeah,” Jenson replied. “Whole chunks of it.”
They let that sit because it was not something that could be fixed quickly.
“He settled eventually,” Jenson added. “Ate something. Small, but it is something.”
Seb nodded. “Got him into clean clothes. Proper sleep this time.”
Lewis glanced toward the hallway. “He out.”
Jenson smiled faintly. “Gone.”
Lewis moved down the hall quietly and pushed the door open just enough to look in. Lando was asleep, properly this time, curled into the blankets with one arm tucked under his head and the other still loosely holding a fidget that had clearly been forgotten mid use. No tension. No restlessness. Just sleep.
Lewis stepped in, quieter now, crossing to the bed. He adjusted the blanket slightly where it had shifted, making sure it covered properly, then let his hand rest briefly in Lando’s hair. The kid did not stir. Lewis stayed there for a moment longer than necessary, then stepped back. For tonight, that was enough.
He turned the light off on his way out, closed the door softly behind him and finally let himself rest too.
Morning came easier. Not light or effortless, but steadier.
At the precinct, the atmosphere was still cautious but less sharp than the day before. The team gathered in the briefing room again, files already up, the case waiting for them to pick it back up. Lando stood just inside the door for a second before stepping in. Not hovering. Not shrinking. Just choosing it.
“I need to say something,” he said.
The room stilled. Lewis did not interrupt.
Lando looked at the team first. “I am sorry,” he said. Clear. Not rushed. “For yesterday. For the way I spoke. And everything else.”
Max nodded once. Oscar gave a small shrug as if it was not a big deal. Charles inclined his head slightly. George did not say anything, but the tension in his shoulders eased. It was accepted.
Then Lando turned and looked Carter directly in the eye. “Not you though.”
Max choked. Oscar turned away immediately, shoulders shaking. Charles pressed his lips together, very deliberately not reacting. George coughed into his hand. Lewis closed his eyes for half a second.
“We will work on phrasing,” he said.
Lando did not look away. “Seb said to say it.”
That did not help. At all. Max lost it completely. Oscar was not far behind. Even Charles’s composure cracked slightly. Carter looked furious.
Lewis stepped in quickly. “Enough,” he said, though there was the faintest edge of something else there now. Because that was progress. Messy, but real.
“Back to work,” Charles said, reclaiming the room. And this time it stuck.
The briefing moved forward, cleaner and more focused. Lando stayed in it, not leading or pushing, but contributing where it mattered. When something did not click, he asked. Short. Direct. Without snapping. That alone changed the rhythm.
By the time they wrapped, they had enough. A direction. A plan.
“Jet is ready,” George said.
Max stood, stretching slightly. “Round two.”
Oscar grabbed the bag, the bag now part of the routine, no questions and no hesitation. Lando hesitated for half a second, then picked it up himself. Not asked. Just did it.
Lewis noticed. Did not comment. But it mattered.
As they headed out, the mood was lighter. Not easy, but better. They had made it through something difficult and come out the other side still intact, still together, still moving forward. And that was what counted.
As they stepped onto the jet, Max glanced at Lewis. “This is going to be a long flight,” he muttered.
Lewis did not look at him. “Consequences.”
Max groaned.
Lando, just behind them, blinked. “What does that mean.”
Max turned slowly. “Nothing good.”
And just like that, they were moving again. Into the next part. Together.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
The jet felt smaller this time. Not physically, but in the way attention moved. Because now there was a plan in place. George stowed the bag in the overhead compartment within easy reach, Oscar double checked it without being asked, and Max dropped into his seat before immediately looking up.
“No.”
Lewis did not even glance at him. “Yes.”
Max leaned back and dragged a hand over his face. “You are kidding.”
“I am not.”
There was a pause. Max looked at the seat beside him, then at Lando, then back at Lewis. “I hate this.”
“You chose this,” Lewis replied.
Max muttered something under his breath and shifted over slightly. “Get in,” he said.
Lando hesitated in the aisle. “Where am I sitting.”
Lewis pointed. “Right there.”
Lando blinked. “With him.”
Max turned his head slowly. “Excuse me.”
Lando did not move. “I usually sit on my own.”
There it was. Not defiance. Just preference.
Lewis met his eyes. “Not today.”
“That is not fair.”
Max let out a quiet, pained noise. “Do not say that. You are making it worse.”
Lando shifted slightly, still standing there. “I did not even do anything this time.”
“That is debatable,” Lewis replied.
“It is not.”
George leaned slightly toward Charles. “This is new,” he whispered.
Charles nodded. “Yes. Very age appropriate.”
George’s mouth twitched. “I like it.”
Charles did not disagree.
Back in the aisle, Lando exhaled sharply. “Fine.”
He dropped into the seat beside Max with a quiet thud, arms folding immediately. “This is still unfair.”
Max glanced at him. “You hacked a federal agent.”
“Twice.”
“He deserved it.”
Max let his head fall back against the seat. “This is going to be a long flight.”
Lewis reached over and held out his hand. “Electronics.”
Lando froze. “Seriously.”
“Yes.”
“All of them.”
“Yes.”
Lando stared at him, then slowly reached into his bag. The laptop came out first. Then the console. Then his phone. Each one slower than the last.
“This is cruel,” he said.
Lewis took them without comment. “Consequences.”
Lando sank further into his seat. “I am being oppressed.”
Max let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Welcome to my world.”
Across the aisle, Carter watched and could not help himself. “Unbelievable. We are really entertaining this.”
Oscar did not even try to hide his reaction. “Oh, you are still here.”
Carter shot him a look. “This is not funny.”
Oscar shrugged. “I think it is.”
Max snorted. Lando did not look at Carter. Did not engage. Which, honestly, was progress.
The jet began to taxi, the low hum building beneath them. Lando shifted in his seat, then again, then again. Max noticed immediately.
“Do not start,” he said.
“I am not doing anything.”
“You are about to.”
“I am not.”
There was a pause. “I am bored.”
There it was.
Max closed his eyes. “Of course you are.”
A minute later, Lando leaned sideways slightly. “What do you do for twenty seven hours.”
Max opened one eye. “Suffer.”
“That is not helpful.”
“It is accurate.”
Lando huffed and dropped his head back against the seat. “This is the worst.”
Max glanced at him. “You said that yesterday.”
“Yeah, well this is worse.”
Across the aisle, George leaned slightly toward Charles again. “He is escalating,” he whispered.
Charles nodded. “But not destructively.”
He paused. “This is normal.”
George almost smiled. “He is acting like a teenager.”
“Yes.”
“Finally.”
Back in the row, Max shifted slightly and glanced sideways. Lando was still slumped in the seat, arms crossed, expression deeply unimpressed.
“You are going to be annoying, are you not.”
Lando turned his head slowly. “Yes.”
Max sighed. “Great.”
There was a beat, then he added under his breath, “I actually do not mind this.”
Lando blinked. “What.”
“Nothing.” Max looked away. “Just do not make it worse.”
The plane lifted, steady, and for a moment everything settled. Not perfect. Not quiet. But contained. Because even with the whining, the complaints, the boredom already setting in, Lando was still there. Still safe. Still within the boundaries they had set. And Max, grumbling and exasperated, was already adjusting to it, even if he would never admit that part out loud.
“Hey,” Lando said a few minutes later.
Max did not look at him. “What.”
“What if I just borrowed your phone.”
Max turned slowly. “Do not.”
Lando blinked. “Just asking.”
Max stared at him. “No you were not.”
There was a pause. Then, “This is going to be a very long flight.”
Oscar, a few rows back, was still laughing. And for once, even with Carter sitting there, still miserable and still disapproving, it did not touch them. Because the rest of the team had already decided exactly how this was going to go.
Together. All twenty-seven hours of it.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
Max lasted maybe fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of Lando shifting in his seat, tapping his fingers, bouncing his leg and sighing dramatically every few seconds like the entire situation was a personal attack.
“How much longer,” Lando asked.
Max did not even check. “Twenty-six hours and forty minutes.”
“That is not funny.”
“It was not a joke.”
Lando groaned and dropped his head back. “I am going to lose my mind.”
Max glanced sideways. “You already tried that yesterday.”
“That was different.”
“How.”
“I was not bored.”
Max let out a slow breath through his nose. Right. This was worse.
“Okay,” Max said finally, sitting forward slightly. “We need to fix this.”
Lando turned his head. “How.”
Max looked around briefly. No electronics, no distractions, nothing useful. Then he looked back at him. “I do not know yet.”
“That is reassuring.”
“Shut up.”
A few minutes passed. Max tried talking. That lasted about three minutes. He tried giving Lando random questions. That turned into Lando overanalysing them and then getting bored again. He tried ignoring him. That worked the least, because Lando simply leaned closer.
“Max.”
“No.”
“I did not say anything.”
“You were going to.”
A pause. “Yeah.”
Max dragged a hand down his face. “Okay, new plan.”
Lando looked at him. “What.”
Max did not answer. He just moved. One hand on Lando’s arm, the other at his side, and then he lifted him.
“Max,” Lando yelped, startled and indignant as he was pulled sideways and up before he could stop it. “Put me down.”
Max ignored him completely, shifting back into his seat and settling Lando across his lap like it was the most obvious solution in the world. “Relax.”
“I am not”
Lando tried to push up, but Max adjusted his hold, one arm firm across his back and the other steady at his side, keeping him in place without pinning him down.
“Stop fighting it,” Max said. “You are tired.”
“I am not”
“You are.”
Lando huffed and twisted slightly, then paused. The pressure was consistent and grounding. It was familiar in a way he did not expect from Max, but it worked. His movements slowed.
“This is weird,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Max said. “Get over it.”
Across the aisle, Lewis had already noticed. He stood without a word, reached into the overhead compartment and pulled the bag down. He took out the blanket and the chew, stepped over and draped the blanket across Lando without interrupting the position, then placed the chewable fidget into his hand.
“Use it,” he said quietly.
Lando did not argue. He brought it up automatically, settling it between his teeth as his shoulders dropped another fraction.
Max adjusted again, making sure Lando was actually comfortable, one hand coming up to the back of his head, not forcing, just steadying. “See,” he said. “Better.”
Lando did not respond immediately. He shifted closer almost unconsciously. “Do not make this a thing,” he muttered.
Max huffed. “Not planning to.”
A few minutes passed. The tension bled out. The restless energy faded. Lando’s breathing evened out slowly, the small movements disappearing as he settled fully into the hold, the blanket tucked around him, the pressure consistent enough to keep him grounded.
Then sleep. Fast. Like he had been on the edge of it the entire time.
Max blinked down at him. “Oh.” A pause. “That worked.”
Oscar leaned over the seat slightly, grinning. “Yeah. Who would have thought.”
Max shook his head. “Do not get used to this,” he muttered, but he did not move. He did not shift Lando away. He just adjusted the blanket slightly where it had slipped.
Lewis watched for a second longer, then sat back down. This was what they were aiming for. Not perfect behaviour. Not silence. Regulation. Support. And someone stepping in when it was needed, even if it looked like this.
Across the cabin, Carter did not comment. He did not scoff. He did not say a word. Because even he could see this was not indulgence. This was not weakness. This was working.
Max leaned his head back slightly and glanced down once more. Lando was fully out now. Safe. Still.
“Kid is ridiculous,” Max muttered quietly. But there was no real complaint in it. Just something softer. Something that had not been there before.
For the first time since the flight started, the noise stopped. Not completely, but enough. Enough for the team to breathe. Enough for Lando to rest. And enough for Max, grumbling and reluctant, to admit, even if only to himself, that he did not actually mind this part at all.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
For a while, the cabin settled into something close to quiet. Not silent, never silent, but softened. Conversations dropped to low murmurs, movements became more deliberate and the constant edge that usually followed them between cases eased just enough to breathe.
Max did not move. Not because he could not, but because he did not want to disturb it. Lando was properly out now, weight fully settled against him, one hand loosely gripping the front of Max’s shirt like he had anchored himself there without thinking. The blanket stayed tucked around him, the chew resting slack between his teeth, forgotten mid use.
“He does this a lot,” Max asked quietly.
Lewis glanced over. “More than he should have had to.”
That answer landed heavier than the question. Max nodded once. “Right.”
He adjusted slightly, just enough to make sure Lando’s neck was not at an awkward angle, one hand still resting steady at the back of his head.
Across the aisle, George had gone back to reviewing notes, though slower now, less urgent. Charles was doing the same, but every so often his gaze flicked up, checking, assessing, making sure everything still held. Oscar leaned back in his seat, watching the whole thing with an expression that sat somewhere between amused and quietly satisfied.
“You look very natural,” he said.
Max did not even look at him. “Do not start.”
“I am serious.”
“You should not be.”
A few rows back, Carter shifted in his seat. Still there. Still watching. But quieter than before. Not because he had changed his mind, but because there was nothing he could say that would land right now. Not against this.
Time passed slowly, measured in engine hum and the occasional shift of movement, in quiet conversations that stayed deliberately low, in the steady rhythm of Lando’s breathing evening out further as he slipped deeper into sleep.
At some point, he stirred. Just slightly. A small movement against Max’s chest, a faint sound like he was trying to orient himself without waking fully.
Max’s hand moved automatically. “Hey,” he murmured, soft, barely there.
Lando did not wake. He just settled again, shifting closer instead, like his body had decided it knew where it was safe and was not interested in questioning it.
“Yeah, alright,” Max muttered under his breath. He did not move him.
Lewis watched that moment carefully, because it mattered. Because it showed something. Not just that Lando could settle, but that he could do it with them. Not just one person. Not just one place.
George leaned slightly toward Charles again. “He is out cold.”
Charles nodded. “Yes. And he did not fight it this time.”
“Progress,” George said.
Charles allowed the smallest nod. “Significant.”
Oscar stretched slightly and glanced over again. “You are stuck like that for a while.”
Max sighed. “I know.”
A beat. “I am not moving.”
Oscar smirked. “Did not think you would.”
Max rolled his eyes slightly but did not argue. Because he would not. Not now. Not when it was working.
Lewis shifted in his seat and glanced once more across the cabin. Everything was holding. No escalation. No tension building. Just a team working around each other, supporting where needed, adapting the way they should have been all along.
He leaned back slightly, finally allowing himself to settle into the rhythm of the flight. For now, there was nothing to fix. Nothing to pull back from the edge. Nothing about to break. Just time. And a kid who, for once, was not being asked to carry anything through it.
Max glanced down one more time. “You are lucky you are asleep,” he muttered quietly. There was no bite in it. Just something softer. Something that had been building without him really noticing it.
Then he settled back again, not moving, not shifting, just staying exactly where he was. Because for once, that was exactly what was needed. And for once, they were all getting it right at the same time.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
For a while, it held. The quiet. The balance. The careful way the team had settled into the flight. Then Carter broke it.
“Still don’t understand how this is acceptable,” he said, not loud but loud enough.
Max didn’t look up. Oscar did.
“Do you ever get tired,” Oscar asked.
Carter ignored him. “The youngest agent in this organisation is twenty eight. Years of university. Training. Field experience.” He paused. “And we’ve got this.”
That word hung. Max’s hand stilled slightly where it rested against Lando’s back.
“Finish that sentence,” Max said.
Carter shrugged. “A kid. One who clearly can’t handle the environment.”
That did it. Max shifted forward slightly, careful not to disturb Lando, but enough that the intent was clear.
“He handled the case better than you,” Max said.
Carter scoffed. “Technically, maybe. But this isn’t just technical. This is behavioural. Psychological. You don’t just drop someone in without the foundation”
“He didn’t get the foundation,” Oscar cut in.
That changed the tone. Carter frowned. “That’s not an excuse.”
“No,” Oscar said. “It’s context.”
He paused. “He’s never been to a formal school. No structured education. No normal development. You think that doesn’t matter.”
Carter shook his head. “Then he shouldn’t be here.”
Charles finally looked up. “He is here. And he’s staying.”
George added, quieter but no less firm, “He’s part of the team.”
“For now,” Carter said.
Max’s jaw tightened. “No. Not for now.”
Carter raised an eyebrow. “He’s under review.”
Max didn’t blink. “You are.”
That landed. Not loudly. But enough.
Carter leaned back again, folding his arms. “He’s unstable. You all saw that.”
Max’s hand moved slightly again, steadying Lando without waking him. “He’s seventeen,” Max replied. “And you keep pushing him like he’s not.”
That was the closest Carter had come to silence. Not agreement, but pause.
The rest of the flight passed with that tension sitting lower in the cabin. Not gone, but contained. Because no one fed it anymore.
Hours later, the jet began its descent. Night outside. City lights scattered below like static. Inside, nothing had changed in Max’s seat. Lando was still asleep. Still settled. Still anchored.
“Alright,” Lewis said quietly, standing. “We move carefully.”
No one questioned it.
The transfer off the jet was slow and deliberate. Max stood carefully, adjusting his hold before lifting Lando properly, keeping the blanket wrapped around him and maintaining that same steady pressure so nothing shifted too fast. Lando stirred just slightly, then settled again. He didn’t wake.
Oscar grabbed the bag. George handled logistics. Charles cleared the path ahead. Lewis stayed close. And Carter stayed silent.
The ride to the hotel was quiet. No lights. No unnecessary noise. Just movement.
When they arrived, it wasn’t separate rooms this time. One suite. Large. Open. Connected. Because no one was leaving Lando alone. Not tonight.
Max carried him straight through to one of the bedrooms, setting him down carefully on the bed, not pulling away immediately, giving him time to settle into the new surface before easing the pressure. Lewis followed, adjusting the blanket properly, checking positioning, making sure nothing would wake him unnecessarily. Lando shifted once, then stilled. Still asleep.
“Leave him,” Lewis said quietly.
Max nodded. “Yeah.”
They stepped back out into the main space. The suite was quiet, dim lighting, enough room for all of them to stay without crowding. Oscar dropped the bag onto the table. George sank into a chair. Charles moved toward the kitchen area. Max lingered near the doorway for a second longer, then finally stepped away.
“He’s fine,” he said.
Lewis nodded. “I know.”
Across the room, Carter stood apart. Still there. Still watching. But not saying anything. Because even now, even after everything, the result was in front of him. Working. Not perfect. But working.
And for tonight, that was enough. The case would still be there in the morning. The tension would still exist. Carter would still be Carter. But Lando was asleep. Safe. And surrounded by people who weren’t going to let anything change that.
Not again.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
Morning had felt steady. That was the thing that would sit wrong with them later, how normal it had all been. Breakfast eaten, plan laid out, Lando quieter but cooperative, the bag packed without fuss. No signs, no warning, nothing to suggest the next hour was going to derail the way it did.
The new precinct was louder than the last. More officers, more movement, more overlapping conversations that never quite settled into a rhythm. It was the kind of place where unfamiliar faces were noticed but not immediately challenged. The team moved through it like they always did, controlled and purposeful. George was already speaking with a local detective, clarifying jurisdiction and access. Charles had the case file open, scanning ahead, building the structure of the briefing in his head. Oscar lingered just off to the side, taking in the room. Max stayed close to Lando, not obvious, but near enough to step in if needed.
For a few seconds, everything was fine.
Lando shifted slightly, adjusting his stance as he looked toward the board the local team had set up. The movement was small, barely noticeable, but it was enough to tug the fabric of his trousers up at the ankle. Just enough.
An officer across the room saw it. And reacted.
There was no hesitation. No question. He moved fast, too fast for anyone else to intercept, and grabbed Lando hard by the arm and shoulder. Before anyone could even process what was happening, he drove him forward.
The impact was violent.
Lando’s head struck the edge of the desk first, not a glancing hit, not something that could be shrugged off, but a sharp, cracking collision that snapped his body forward and down in the same motion. The sound alone was enough to turn the entire room. He didn’t get a chance to react. Didn’t get a chance to catch himself.
By the time the pain registered, he was already being forced down, one arm wrenched behind his back, his face turned sideways against the desk surface.
“Don’t move!”
The cuffs snapped shut around his wrists, tight, immediate, unforgiving.
The world tilted.
For a second, just a second, everything blurred. The impact rang through his skull, sharp and disorienting, a bright spike of pain that didn’t fade cleanly but lingered, pulsing, dragging everything slightly out of alignment. His vision didn’t black out, but it shifted, edges too bright, sound too loud and too far away all at once. Then his body tried to breathe and couldn’t.
“HEY!”
Max was moving before the echo of the impact had even faded, shoving past a chair as he closed the distance. Lewis was right behind him, faster than most people in the room had even registered what had happened. Oscar followed, already calculating space, angles, exits.
“What the hell are you doing,” Max snapped, voice sharp with something that sat just on the edge of losing control.
“No monitor,” the officer shot back without looking up. “He’s in breach.”
“He’s not—” Lewis started, but the words didn’t land anywhere that mattered yet.
Because Lando wasn’t hearing them.
The hit to his head had already knocked everything sideways, and the sudden restraint layered over it too quickly for him to catch up. His breathing came back wrong, too fast, too shallow, lungs pulling in air that didn’t feel like it reached anywhere useful. The position didn’t help. Pinned forward. Arms trapped. No space to move.
“I didn’t—” he tried, but the words fractured, catching somewhere between his chest and his throat.
The officer pressed him harder into the desk. “Stay down.”
The pressure, the disorientation, the lack of control. It tipped.
Lewis dropped immediately into his line of sight, crouching low enough to try and anchor him. “Hey. Look at me.”
Nothing.
Lando’s eyes didn’t focus. They flicked, unfixed, trying to orient in a space that wasn’t settling properly. His breathing was spiralling now, sharp and uneven, his body locked in place but still trying to move, small involuntary shifts that only tightened the cuffs further against his wrists.
“Lando,” Lewis tried again, voice lower, steadier.
Still nothing.
Max had gone very still beside them, every muscle tight, held back only by the fact that escalating this would make it worse. “Let him go,” he said, voice low and dangerous.
George was already moving, fingers flying across his tablet as he forced access through systems that should’ve already been updated. “Give me a second.”
Charles stepped in beside him, backing it up, pulling credentials, pushing authority into the space where confusion had taken over.
The officer holding Lando didn’t move. “He’s escaping.”
“He’s not escaping,” Oscar cut in, sharper now, stepping closer.
But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
Behind them, Lando’s breathing broke further, the rhythm collapsing completely under the combined weight of impact and restraint. His head still rang from the hit, a dull, pulsing ache building at the point of contact, making it harder to focus, harder to anchor to anything Lewis was saying.
George turned sharply, thrusting the tablet toward a senior officer who’d stepped closer. “Updated clearance. He’s authorised. The monitor was removed.”
The officer hesitated. Looked. Frowned.
“You should’ve said.”
“We didn’t get the chance,” Charles replied, voice tight.
The grip loosened slightly. But not enough. And the cuffs stayed.
“He needs to be released,” Lewis said, controlled but unyielding.
“He needs to be verified,” the officer countered.
George stepped in again, firmer this time. “It is verified.”
Another officer leaned in, checking properly now, scrolling through the documentation, cross‑referencing. The room had gone quiet. Watching.
Seconds passed. Too many.
Finally—“Get the key.”
The words came too late to undo anything, but enough to start fixing it.
The cuffs were removed a moment later.
Lando’s arms dropped forward, but he didn’t move properly. He stayed braced against the desk for a second longer than made sense, like his body hadn’t caught up to the fact that he was no longer being held down.
Lewis guided him upright slowly, one hand steady at the back of his neck. “Easy.”
Max stayed close, ready to catch if he needed to. Oscar shifted just behind, blocking the space from the rest of the room.
Lando swayed slightly as he straightened, the room still not fully stable around him. His breathing hadn’t settled yet, still uneven, still catching, and his head throbbed where it had hit, a dull ache that made him wince faintly when he moved too quickly.
“Break,” Lewis said immediately.
No hesitation. No discussion.
They moved him away from the centre of the bullpen, into a quieter corner. George grabbed the bag on instinct, already pulling it open. The blanket came first, draped around Lando’s shoulders. The ear defenders followed, muting the noise that still felt too loud, too sharp. The fidget was placed into his hand, something familiar, something to anchor to.
It took time. More than usual. Because this hadn’t just been overload. It had been impact. Disorientation. Loss of control.
Slowly, his breathing began to come back down—not steady, not fully controlled, but no longer spiralling.
Only then did Lewis see it properly. The way Lando winced when he shifted his head. The way he kept it slightly angled, like moving it fully hurt.
“Where did you hit,” Lewis asked quietly.
Lando blinked, slow, unfocused for a second, then muttered, “Head.”
Lewis’s jaw tightened.
Across the room, the officers had gone quieter. Less certain. Because now they could see the whole picture. Not just the takedown. But what it had done.
And the team closed in around Lando without needing to say it. Because there’d been no warning. No chance to stop it. Just a moment missed, and consequences that came down hard and fast.
The kind they were always the ones left to steady.
Again.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
At first, it didn’t register as anything more than disorientation. Lando blinked slowly, the room still not quite steady, his breathing uneven but improving under the weight of the blanket and the dampened noise from the ear defenders. Lewis had one hand steady at the back of his neck, keeping him upright without forcing it, giving him something consistent to orient around.
Then Lando’s hand slipped. It was small, subtle. The fidget dropped from his fingers.
Lewis noticed immediately. “Lando?”
There was no response. Lando’s gaze had gone unfocused again, but different this time. Not searching. Not overwhelmed. Empty.
His body stiffened. Not gradually. Not like tension building. All at once.
“Max,” Lewis said, already shifting.
And then it hit.
Lando’s entire body seized, muscles locking hard, his head snapping slightly back before his balance gave way entirely. Max caught him before he hit the floor.
“Got him.”
They lowered him down quickly, controlled, Lewis guiding his head carefully to the side as the seizure took hold fully, his body rigid, then jerking in sharp, uncontrollable movements.
The room froze for half a second. Then chaos threatened to follow until Lewis cut straight through it.
“Space.”
Sharp. Controlled.
Oscar was already moving, clearing the immediate area, pushing back anyone too close. Max stayed with Lando, holding him safely on his side, not restraining, just preventing him from hitting anything as the movements continued.
Lewis pulled his phone out one handed. “Oscar, Mark. Now.”
Oscar didn’t hesitate, already dialling as he dropped to one knee beside them, putting the call on speaker the second it connected.
“Mark, need you. Head impact, seizure.”
There was no pause on the other end. “Talk to me,” Mark Webber said immediately.
Lewis relayed quickly, what happened, how he hit, how long it had been.
Mark listened, then said, “Keep him on his side. Don’t restrain. Clear the area around his head. Time it.”
Oscar checked his watch. “Thirty seconds.”
“Good. Stay with him. It should pass.”
Lewis nodded, even though Mark couldn’t see it. “We’ve got him.”
There was a brief pause, then Mark said, “I’m on my way.”
Lewis frowned slightly. “You don’t need”
“I’m coming,” Mark repeated.
That was the end of it.
The seizure didn’t last long. Less than a minute. But it felt longer. Because every second was one too many.
Eventually, the rigidity eased. The jerking slowed. Then stopped.
Lando’s body went slack. His breathing came back in uneven pulls, deeper now but still disoriented, still not fully conscious.
“Hey,” Lewis said quietly, one hand steady against his shoulder.
No response. Just slow blinking. Coming back.
They gave him space. Time. Max stayed close but eased his hold, letting Lando settle properly against the floor with the blanket still around him. Oscar hovered just behind. George had already shut down any unnecessary attention from the rest of the room. Charles stood guard at the edges, making sure no one interfered again.
And Carter watched. Of course he did.
Lando shifted after a minute, groaning faintly as awareness returned in fragments. “What”
“Easy,” Lewis said.
Lando blinked up at him, confused, disoriented, then embarrassment hit. “I’m fine,” he said quickly, trying to push himself up.
Lewis stopped him immediately. “No.”
“I’m fine,” Lando repeated, more insistent this time. “I can”
“You just had a seizure.”
That slowed him. But didn’t stop him. “I’ve had worse,” he muttered.
Max stared at him. “That’s not reassuring.”
Lando pushed himself up anyway, slower this time but determined. “I’m not taking another day off.”
There it was. Back to the contract. Back to the fear.
“I’m staying.”
Lewis’s expression hardened slightly. “We’re not deciding that yet.”
“Yes we are,” Lando shot back. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I can work.”
Carter stepped in. Of course he did.
“He’s right about one thing,” he said. “He doesn’t get to just walk out.”
The room went tight again.
“His contract is clear,” Carter continued. “An injury during non compliance doesn’t entitle him to time off.”
Max took a step forward. “Don’t”
Lewis didn’t even look at Carter. “Stop.” Not loud. But final.
Lando swallowed, pushing himself upright fully now, still unsteady but forcing it. “I can still do the case,” he said, more focused now, grabbing onto something familiar.
He reached for the board. “They’re still moving through the same pattern,” he said, voice steadier now, pulling himself into it. “The contact points haven’t changed, they’re just shifting locations”
George blinked. “He’s right.”
Charles nodded slowly. “Yes.”
And just like that, Lando was back in it. Not fully steady. Not fully well. But working. Because that was what he knew how to do.
Lewis watched him for a long second. Then he made the call.
“You stay,” he said.
Lando looked at him, hope flashing too quickly.
“But,” Lewis continued.
That stopped it.
“You’re on extended breaks. More frequent. No arguments.” A pause. “Earlier curfew.” Another pause. “And you’re getting a full check from Mark.”
Lando opened his mouth.
“No,” Lewis said. Flat. “No negotiations.”
The tone had changed. Not his superior. His parent.
Lando hesitated. Then said, “Okay.” Quiet. Because he knew that tone.
Lewis nodded once. “Good.”
Across the room, Carter didn’t look pleased. But he didn’t argue. Because this had already gone too far.
And the team closed back in. Around the case. Around Lando. But different now. More careful. More aware.
Because they’d seen what one moment, one mistake, could do.
And they weren’t letting it happen again.
Not today.
Not if they could help it.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
The room didn’t fully return to normal. It moved like it had, but the undercurrent had shifted. Conversations were quieter and more deliberate. People gave the team space without being told to. Even the local officers who had nothing to do with what had happened seemed to understand, instinctively, that something had crossed a line.
Lando was back on his feet. That, in itself, was enough to fool most people.
He stood at the edge of the board with one hand braced lightly against the table and the other hovering near the files George had pulled up. His posture looked steady and his voice was even when he spoke, but Lewis could see the tells. There was a slight delay before he responded. His eyes lingered a fraction too long on moving text. His head stayed carefully still, like he was avoiding turning it too quickly.
“They’re not just relocating,” Lando said, focusing hard on the data in front of him. “They’re staggering the movement windows. Look.”
He pointed and George followed immediately.
“Yeah,” George said, leaning in. “That’s deliberate.”
Charles stepped closer, analysing the pattern. “It reduces overlap. Limits exposure.”
Max stayed just behind Lando’s shoulder. Close enough. Watching. Not interfering, but ready.
Oscar hovered on the other side with his arms folded, his gaze flicking between Lando and the room at large, quietly managing space the way he always did.
Lewis didn’t step in again. Not yet. Because Lando was working. And pulling him out too early would only reinforce the fear sitting underneath it all. But the boundaries were there. And everyone knew it.
“Five minutes,” Lewis said eventually.
Lando didn’t argue. That was the difference. He stepped back on his own this time, slower and more controlled, letting George take over the board without being asked.
Oscar handed him the bottle of water he’d already picked up. “Drink.”
Lando did. No complaint.
Max nudged the chair behind him lightly with his foot. “Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sit.”
Lando hesitated, then sat.
Progress.
Across the room, Carter lingered near the outer edge of the group with his arms folded, his expression still set somewhere between disapproval and calculation. He didn’t say anything, but the look remained. And Max noticed. Of course he did. He didn’t rise to it this time. Didn’t engage. But he didn’t look away either.
The case continued to move. Faster now. Cleaner. Because Lando had pushed it forward again, even in the state he was in. Addresses narrowed. Timelines tightened. Charles began outlining next steps. George coordinated with local units. Oscar and Max worked the physical side.
And Lando sat. Drinking water. Wrapped loosely in the edge of the blanket George had passed back to him without comment. Listening. Not pushing.
Ten minutes later, Lewis stepped in again.
“That’s enough,” he said.
Lando looked up. “I just”
“No.”
Not harsh. But firm.
“You take the break.”
There was a pause. “Okay.”
Max exhaled quietly. “He’s learning,” he muttered.
Oscar smirked slightly. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
Max shrugged. “I’m not. Just noticing.”
Across the room, Carter shifted again. Still watching. Still not speaking. Because now the argument didn’t hold the same weight. Not after what they’d seen. Not after what Lando had still managed to do.
Lewis stepped closer again, lowering his voice slightly. “You with me.”
Lando nodded. “Yeah.”
Lewis held his gaze for a second longer, checking. Then nodded once. “Good.”
Outside, the day carried on like nothing had happened. Inside, they adjusted. Again. Not perfectly. Not easily. But together. Because that was the only way this worked. And now they knew exactly how quickly it could fall apart. Which meant they were going to hold it tighter. For him. For all of them. Until they didn’t have to anymore.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
The rhythm of the room had steadied, but only on the surface. Underneath it, Lewis could feel it shifting again.
Lando hadn’t moved from his seat. That was the first sign. Normally, even after being told to take a break, he would hover at the edge of the conversation, leaning in, inserting himself back into the flow the second there was space. He hated missing things. He hated not being part of it. But now he was still. Not disengaged. Just slower.
Lewis watched the way his gaze tracked across the board, a fraction behind the conversation. The way he blinked, longer than usual, like the room was taking effort to stay in focus. The way his shoulders were pulled in slightly, tension sitting where it shouldn’t be anymore.
Max caught it too. The fidget hadn’t moved in his hands. Not even once.
Oscar saw it when Lando stopped following entirely for a second, eyes on the board but clearly not processing what he was looking at.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a collapse. It was quieter than that.
“Can I” Lando started.
The hesitation alone was enough to pull attention. He didn’t look up. He didn’t try to push through it.
“Can I take a break,” he asked.
It came out soft. Measured.
Then, after a beat, “Can someone come with me.”
That second part settled heavier in the room.
Max straightened immediately, already half moving. Oscar pushed off the desk.
Lewis answered first. “Yeah. Of course.”
Lando nodded slightly, like that had taken more out of him than it should have.
Then, quieter still, “Can I sleep.”
That changed things.
Lewis didn’t hesitate. “Let’s step out.”
They moved together. Not rushed, not frantic, but purposeful. Oscar grabbed the bag on instinct, already unzipping it as they walked. Max stayed close at Lando’s side, one hand hovering just behind his back in case he needed to catch him. Lewis walked just ahead, clearing space without making it obvious.
The hallway outside was noticeably quieter. Cooler.
Lando made it a few steps before slowing. His hand came up briefly to his temple, pressing lightly like he could steady whatever was shifting behind his eyes.
“Head’s weird,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Max said. “That tracks.”
There was no bite in it. Just acknowledgment.
They guided him to a bench along the wall. Lando sat, but didn’t stay upright for long. His balance wasn’t quite right, his body already leaning before he seemed to realise it himself.
Max caught it easily, shifting his position without thinking, one arm coming around to steady him.
“Seriously,” Max muttered as Lando tipped fully sideways.
But he adjusted anyway, pulling him across his lap with the same practiced ease from the jet, making sure his head was supported properly against his chest.
Lando didn’t resist. Didn’t argue. That alone said enough.
Oscar dropped down beside them, already pulling the blanket from the bag and wrapping it securely around Lando’s shoulders and torso, tucking it in so the pressure was even and grounding.
“Here,” he said quietly, placing the fidget into Lando’s hand.
Lando took it, but didn’t use it. His eyes were already slipping closed.
“Tired,” he murmured.
Lewis crouched in front of him, close enough to anchor but not crowd, one hand coming up lightly to the side of his face.
“I know,” he said softly.
Then, without looking away, “Oscar. Call Mark.”
Oscar had the phone out before the sentence finished. “Mark, we need guidance,” he said as soon as the call connected, putting it on speaker.
“What’s happened,” Mark Webber asked immediately.
Lewis spoke quickly and concisely, head impact, loss of orientation, seizure, current state.
“He’s asking to sleep,” Lewis finished.
There was a pause. “Is he responsive,” Mark asked.
“Yeah,” Oscar said. “Drowsy. Slower than baseline, but responding.”
“Any worsening confusion.”
Lewis shook his head slightly, then answered. “Stable. Not escalating.”
Another pause. Max adjusted his hold slightly, one hand steady at the back of Lando’s head, keeping him supported as his weight settled fully.
“Stay with us,” Max muttered quietly.
Lando made a faint sound in response, but didn’t open his eyes.
Oscar watched him carefully, then added, “Breathing’s even.”
Mark exhaled on the other end. “Alright. You can let him sleep, but only if he’s supervised.”
Lewis nodded immediately. “Understood.”
“Keep him on his side if he shifts,” Mark continued. “Wake him every fifteen to twenty minutes. Check orientation, name, place, basic responses.”
George’s voice came faintly through the doorway behind them. “I’ll set timers.”
“And I’m coming to you,” Mark added.
Lewis didn’t argue. “Alright.”
The call ended. And the decision settled with it.
Lando didn’t hear any of it. Didn’t need to. Because by then he was already asleep. Not drifting. Not hovering. Gone.
His breathing had evened out fully now, his body relaxed under the blanket, head resting securely against Max’s chest, one hand still loosely holding the fidget.
Max glanced down at him. “That was quick.”
Oscar huffed softly. “He was already there.”
Lewis stayed crouched for a moment longer, watching carefully, tracking breathing, checking subtle responses, making sure nothing shifted the wrong way. Then he stood.
“We’re not leaving him out here,” he said.
Max looked up. “Yeah.”
It wasn’t even a question. The hallway was quieter, but it wasn’t controlled. Too many unknowns. Too much movement. Inside, they had eyes. They had space. And more importantly, Lando felt safe there. Even unconscious.
“Let’s take him back in,” Lewis said.
Max adjusted his hold carefully, lifting Lando without waking him, keeping the blanket wrapped securely, one arm under his legs, the other supporting his back and head. Oscar grabbed the bag. George opened the door. Charles was already clearing space inside.
The room shifted the moment they stepped back in. Not disruptive, but aware. The team adjusted instantly, chairs moved, noise lowered, positions shifted to create a controlled space without breaking the flow of the case entirely.
Max settled back into a chair with Lando still in his lap, adjusting him slightly so he was properly supported. Oscar pulled the blanket back into place. George set a quiet timer. Charles dimmed the lights just enough.
Lewis stayed close. Watching. Always watching.
Because this was the balance now. Case and care. Work and protection. And right in the middle of it, Lando slept. Safe. Exactly where he needed to be. With all of them there to make sure he stayed that way.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
The timer went off quietly. George silenced it immediately. No one spoke.
Max looked down first. Lando hadn’t moved much, still curled into him, still wrapped in the blanket, but something had shifted. Not enough to wake fully, but enough that his breathing had changed slightly, a little less deep, a little less settled.
“Alright,” Lewis said quietly. “Let’s wake him.”
Max adjusted his hold slightly, one hand coming up to the side of Lando’s head. “Hey,” he murmured. “Come on.”
Lando didn’t respond straight away.
Lewis stepped closer, crouching slightly again, keeping his voice low and steady. “Lando.”
That did it. Slowly, Lando stirred. His brow furrowed first, then his head shifted slightly against Max’s chest, like the movement itself took more effort than it should have.
“Mm,” he managed.
His eyes opened, but didn’t focus properly. They moved, but not cleanly, like they were lagging behind what he was trying to look at.
Lewis watched closely. “Hey. Stay with me a second.”
Lando blinked. Too slow.
“Yeah,” he said. The word dragged slightly.
Max frowned. “That’s not great.”
Lewis didn’t comment on that. Instead he asked, “Can you tell me your name.”
There was a pause. Not long, but long enough.
“Lando,” he said eventually.
Correct, but delayed.
“Where are you.”
Lando blinked again, eyes drifting slightly before settling somewhere near Lewis. “Precinct,” he said. Another pause. “Case.”
Close enough.
“What day is it.”
That didn’t come. Lando frowned slightly, like he was trying to pull the answer from somewhere just out of reach. “Don’t know,” he admitted. Honest. And that mattered.
Lewis nodded once. “Okay.” No pressure. No correction.
Lando’s eyes were already starting to slip again, focus fading in and out. “Tired,” he murmured.
Max glanced at Lewis. “We letting him.”
Lewis didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
Lando didn’t need telling twice. His eyes closed again almost immediately, his body settling back into the same position, breathing evening out as quickly as before. Within seconds, he was gone again.
Max adjusted the blanket slightly, making sure it stayed secure. “He’s worse,” he said quietly. Not a question. A statement.
Lewis nodded. “Yeah.”
Oscar shifted slightly, glancing between them and the rest of the room. “We need to escalate,” he said.
George was already pulling his phone out. “Calling Toto.”
The room shifted again. Not chaotic, but serious.
The call connected quickly. “Report,” came Toto Wolff’s voice.
George didn’t waste time. “We’ve had an incident. Local officer used force on entry, unprovoked. Resulted in head injury and subsequent seizure.”
There was a pause. “Status.”
Lewis stepped in. “Agent is currently stable but concussed. Out of action.”
“Who,” Toto asked.
There was a beat. Then, “Lando.”
The silence on the other end shifted. Not absence. Weight.
“We’re looping in Director,” Toto said.
A click. Then a second voice joined. Fred Vasseur.
“Explain,” Fred said.
Lewis did. Concise. Precise. What happened. How it happened. What followed. No embellishment.
He finished, and the silence that followed was heavier than before.
Fred spoke first. “He’s stable.”
“For now,” Lewis said. “But not fit for duty.”
Another pause. Then Lewis added, “Permission to be unprofessional for a moment.”
That caught both of them. A beat.
“Granted,” Toto said.
Lewis didn’t hesitate. “I want us off this case. I want it transferred to another team. And I want us wheels up and heading home as soon as possible.”
No anger. No raised voice. Just decision.
There was silence again. Fred exhaled slowly. “We’ll review.”
Toto added, “You’ll have an answer shortly.”
A pause. “Until then,” Fred continued, “you stand down operationally.”
That landed. Because that wasn’t a suggestion.
“Lock down as a team,” Toto said. “You do not re engage with the case.”
Lewis nodded once. “Understood.”
“Focus on your agent,” Fred added. “And call immediately if anything changes.”
The line went dead.
The room stayed quiet for a second. Then Max exhaled slowly. “Good.”
Oscar nodded. “Yeah.”
George set another timer. Charles adjusted the space again, subtle and controlled, making sure nothing around them would interfere.
And in the middle of it, Lando slept. Unaware of the decisions being made around him. Unaware that, for once, the case wasn’t the priority anymore. He was.
Lewis stayed close. Not moving far. Because now they waited. For Mark. For Toto. For Fred. For whatever came next.
But until then, they held. Together. Exactly where they needed to be.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
The room stayed quiet after the call ended. Not idle, just waiting.
George reset the timer. Charles kept the space controlled. Max didn’t move.
Lando slept on, breathing steady but shallow, his head still angled slightly into Max’s chest, the blanket tucked around him like armour.
Oscar stepped away just enough to make the next call.
“Mark,” he said as soon as it connected. “Update.”
On the other end, Mark Webber didn’t waste time. “Go.”
Oscar relayed quickly, first wake, delayed responses, disorientation, unable to answer the date, drifted back to sleep almost immediately.
There was a pause.
“Right,” Mark said. “I want to be on call for the next wake up.”
Oscar nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Understood.”
“Wake him again on schedule,” Mark continued. “I’ll stay on the line this time. We assess live.”
Another beat.
“And be ready to move,” he added.
Oscar frowned slightly. “Move.”
“If his responses worsen, you’re not waiting for me,” Mark said. “You’re taking him straight to hospital. Paediatrics.”
That word landed. Not adult. Paediatrics.
“Tell them I’m inbound,” Mark continued. “They stabilise, monitor, I take over when I arrive.”
Oscar glanced back at Lewis. “ETA.”
“Forty five minutes,” Mark replied. “Traffic permitting.”
“Got it.”
The line stayed open.
They didn’t have to wait long for the next wake.
The timer went again. This time Oscar was already kneeling beside Max, phone on speaker.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “We’re live.”
Lewis nodded once. “Let’s wake him.”
Max shifted slightly, careful, one hand coming back to Lando’s shoulder. “Hey,” he murmured. “Come on, mate.”
Lando stirred slower this time. It took longer for his eyes to open. And when they did, they didn’t settle. They drifted, unfocused.
“Mm,” he managed, voice softer than before, more slurred at the edges.
Mark’s voice came through the phone. “Ask orientation.”
Lewis didn’t hesitate. “Name.”
There was a pause. Longer this time.
“Lando.”
Correct, but delayed.
“Where are you.”
Lando blinked slowly. “Room,” he said.
Not correct. Not even close.
Max’s jaw tightened.
Lewis stayed steady. “Look at me.”
Lando tried. His eyes moved, but didn’t quite lock.
“Tired,” he mumbled again.
Mark didn’t hesitate. “Go,” he said sharply. “You’re transporting. Now.”
That was it. No debate.
Everything moved at once. Max stood carefully, keeping Lando supported, not jostling his head. Oscar grabbed the bag. George was already on his phone coordinating transport. Charles cleared the path.
Lewis stayed right beside them, one hand steady at the back of Lando’s neck as they moved.
Carter stepped forward. “This is unnecessary. He’s already”
Lewis didn’t even look at him. “Stand down.”
Carter scoffed. “He’s under review, not exempt”
Lewis turned then. And that stopped him.
“Go back to the precinct,” Lewis said. Flat. Controlled. “Mind the evidence. Hold the case until we hear back.”
Carter opened his mouth, then closed it. Because this wasn’t an argument he was going to win.
They moved. Fast, but controlled.
The transfer to the vehicle was smooth, Lando barely stirring in Max’s hold, his head still too heavy, his responses too slow. Oscar stayed on the line with Mark the entire time, relaying updates as they went.
By the time they reached the hospital, the paediatrics unit was already expecting them. Doors opened. Staff moved.
“Head injury, post seizure,” Oscar said as they entered. “Seventeen, concussive symptoms worsening.”
They took him immediately. Transferred him onto the bed with practiced efficiency, monitors coming in, hands checking, voices overlapping but controlled.
Lewis stepped in where needed. “Lando Norris,” he said. “Seventeen.”
A nurse looked up. “Medical history.”
Lewis didn’t hesitate. “History of seizures. Previous sedation overdose. No known drug allergies. Neurological sensitivity post trauma.”
A pause. “Trauma,” the doctor asked.
Lewis’s jaw tightened slightly. “Prolonged physical neglect in early childhood. Head injuries not always treated.”
That changed the room. Subtle, but immediate.
“Understood,” the doctor said.
They worked quickly after that. Stabilising. Monitoring. Checking vitals.
Mark was still on the phone, listening, occasionally interjecting with direction until he arrived.
Within minutes, Lando was settled into a room. Lights low. Noise controlled. Monitors steady.
Max stepped back finally, flexing his arms slightly after holding him so long. Oscar set the bag down nearby. George handled the last of the paperwork. Charles stayed by the door.
Lewis remained at the bedside. Watching. Always watching.
Because now this wasn’t about the case. Not even a little. This was about making sure they hadn’t missed anything. And that this time nothing else was going to get through them first.
─ ·✶· ─ ·
The room had been prepared as best as it could be. The lights were dimmed, the noise reduced, the monitors quiet and steady. Everything was clinical and controlled.
None of that mattered the second Lando woke.
It wasn’t gradual. His body jerked as awareness hit too fast, his breath catching sharply in his chest as his eyes snapped open, and nothing made sense. The ceiling was wrong. The air felt wrong. The space felt too big and too empty. And he was alone.
That was what broke it.
His head turned too quickly, his vision lagging the movement, the concussion making everything smear and tilt. Pain flared sharply where he had hit it, but it didn’t ground him. It only made the disorientation worse.
“No,” he choked, his voice already cracking.
He pushed himself upright too fast, hands scrambling against the sheets like he needed something solid, anything.
“I don’t....where” he tried, the words slurring together, not forming properly.
A nurse was there instantly. “You’re okay”
But it didn’t register. His brain couldn’t connect it. The unfamiliar voice only made it worse.
Lando’s breathing spiked, sharp and uneven, his chest heaving too fast to catch a proper breath. His hands came up instinctively, but instead of grounding, they turned inward. He grabbed at his own arms, hard, fingers digging in, nails catching fabric and skin, like he was trying to anchor himself inside his own body.
“Hey, hey”
Another nurse stepped in, placing the chew in his hand. He dropped it. He didn’t even seem to register what it was.
The weighted blanket followed, carefully draped across him. He shoved at it. Not aggressively, but desperately. Too much. Too wrong.
Ear defenders were brought forward. He flinched away, shaking his head hard enough that it made him wince again, tears already spilling over now.
“I don’t,” he gasped, his voice breaking completely. “I don’t know”
And then he broke. Full. Uncontrolled.
The sobbing came all at once, sharp and loud, his body curling in on itself as the confusion and pain collided, his hands coming back up again, this time clawing at his sleeves and his own skin, pulling like he needed to feel something that made sense.
“Okay, okay”
The nurse tried again, softer and slower, hands hovering but not grabbing. “Breathe”
But he couldn’t. Not like that. Not here.
Across the room, Max felt it hit like a physical thing. “No,” he muttered. That wasn’t right.
Oscar had already stepped forward. “They need to move,” he said quietly.
The nurse held her ground. “Give us a moment”
“He doesn’t know you,” Oscar said, sharper now.
And that was the problem.
Lando’s sobbing only got worse, his breath catching in broken, uneven gasps, his hands still pulling at himself, fingers trembling as they tried to find something to hold onto and failed.
“Hey, hey”
Nothing landed. Nothing reached.
Max didn’t wait any longer. “We need to step in,” he said.
The doctor hesitated, looked at the monitors, looked at Lando, still escalating, still not responding.
“What works,” they asked quickly.
“Pressure,” Max said immediately. “And us.”
There was a beat. Then, “Do it.”
Max moved fast, but careful. “Hey,” he said, his voice dropping immediately as he approached the bed.
Lando’s head snapped toward him. And there it was. Recognition. Not clear. Not stable. But enough.
“Max,” he choked, his voice breaking again.
“I’ve got you,” Max said.
That was all it took.
Max climbed onto the bed carefully, positioning himself against the headboard with his legs crossed and steady. “Come here,” he said, softer now.
Lando didn’t hesitate. He moved immediately, almost collapsing into him, hands grabbing at Max’s shirt, still shaking, still crying as Max guided him down into position, his head settling into Max’s lap.
Max’s hand came up to the back of his head, steadying, the other pressing firmly across his upper back. Consistent. Grounding. Not restraining. Holding.
The change wasn’t instant. The sobbing didn’t stop. But it shifted. Less sharp. Less frantic. Lando’s hands still clutched at Max’s shirt instead of his own arms now, his breathing still broken but starting, slowly, to find something closer to rhythm.
“I’ve got you,” Max murmured again. “You’re alright.”
The chew was placed back into his hand. This time he kept it. He didn’t bring it up straight away, but he held it. Something familiar.
Lewis stepped closer, one hand resting lightly at Lando’s shoulder, not interrupting the contact, just reinforcing it. Oscar moved to the other side, keeping the space controlled, quiet, protected.
The nurses stepped back slightly. Watching. Learning. Because this was what worked. Not the tools alone. The people.
Lando’s crying didn’t stop completely, but it softened. From sharp sobs to quieter ones, to something that finally, slowly, started to ease. His body still trembled slightly where it rested against Max, but the tension had dropped, the frantic edge gone. His breathing, though uneven, was no longer spiralling. And his hands stayed where they were. Anchored. Safe.
Max didn’t move. Didn’t shift. He just stayed exactly where he was, one hand steady in Lando’s hair now, the other still firm against his back.
“There you go,” he murmured quietly.
And for the first time since he had woken, Lando started to come back. Not fully. Not clearly. But enough. Enough to feel where he was. And who he was with.
And that was what mattered most.
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