A Problem Shared

1

Back pain.

That's how it started.

He'd felt the odd twinge here and there but passed it off as little more than an occupational hazard. He had spent years in the field, chasing down art thieves and the like so he was bound to suffer a little as he got older. Or so he'd let himself believe. There weren't really any symptoms in the beginning.

You were a cancer survivor. 3 years in remission after having your gallbladder removed. You'd been lucky. They had removed the organ and given you a course of chemo.

You had lost your hair. Something your colleagues at the office had found particularly shocking at first as you'd chosen not to wear a wig or cover your bald head. You had chosen to be proud of your journey and 3 years on your hair had grown back and the cancer was nowhere to be seen.

Marcus had been the only person not to walk on eggshells around you, but if you were being honest. You don't think he'd ever noticed you.

He was a busy man, you didn't hold it against him but you'd held a candle for the man from the moment he'd arrived. Shame you were invisible to him.

The pain in his back got worse as the months went on. You started to notice that he was looking thinner. Wavering on his feet when he stood.

You'd been called into a department meeting the afternoon he learned the truth. A presentation was projected onto the smartboard in the meeting room you occupied, listing the ongoing investigations within the squad and Marcus asked each of his lead agents for updates. Everything had seemed normal.

"Sanders?" He enquired as his eyes trailed over to your boss "Where are we on the Monet fakes?"

"We've hit a dead end." The agent replied somberly "These guys are good. The paintings themselves are so believable that so far, we've found two in a British Museum, they had had them tested and everything."

"What are you working on currently to try and track them down?" He asked and your boss' mouth fell open as he stumbled for an answer.

"We're working on a potential sting. Myself and agent Symes will pose as rich buyers of classic art. We've been making some noise on the dark web about tracking down the Monet suppliers, hopefully, we'll get a nibble." You answered for him and shivered when Marcus's eyes fixed on you.

"Good work," Pike answered and you gave him a small smile and nod as you tried, fiercely, to stop your face flushing.

"Smith." Marcus started again "What abouuuu-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before he collapsed. The room all sat in shock as he hit the ground like a sack of rocks.

You were the one to leap to his side, rolling him into the recovery position as you gently tried to rouse him.

"Agent Pike?" You said softly "Pike can you hear me?" You asked and he nodded weakly.

He looked unwell. Very, unwell.

"Someone call an ambulance." You ordered, noting his skin burned hot "You're okay sir." You assured him "We're gonna get you some help."

"'M'mm fine." He mumbled but he was too exhausted to push any further.

"No, you're not." You stated firmly "Stay there for me okay?"

All he could do was nod.

The ambulance crew arrived a few minutes later and Marcus was swiftly loaded onto a gurney and whisked away. You wouldn't see him again for a week.

He had sent you a meeting invite that following Monday. Calling it nothing more than 'catch up' and you'd been shocked and confused by it. Never before had you received any correspondence from him?