Man on the Inside

30

The bad feeling starts when they pull into the station. It's the feeling of being watched, and maybe it's just knowing where the cameras are, knowing now that Artemy Volkov is sitting beside him in the car.

"I'm just emptying out my locker," Art says. Watching him turn into Nimm like a shapeshifter changing faces was somewhat terrifying, but it makes it easier to see him under there, now that Neil knows what to look for. "Shouldn't take long. I left my Nimm phone in there, just in case my mum was somehow tracking it through the SIM card instead of the phone itself, and I've got to turn in my badge and gun."

Neil's about to question how Art was ever able to hold the gun, but he realises he never saw Nimm take it out of the holster- and she always held it strangely, in a way he blamed on nails. He taps his fingers against the wheel anxiously, looking out around the parking lot, like he's going to find someone waiting for him. He asks a more relevant question. "How did she find Nimm's phone to track in the first place?"

"It was just my old phone, so it was my own laziness." Art sighs. "Sometimes I do just make careless mistakes, believe it or not. I just can't know how it could possibly be a mistake until I've encountered the consequences."

They climb out of the car, and everything about this moment is so distinctly familiar. Neil keeps his eyes on Art, tries to remind himself not just that this isn't Nimm, but that Nimm never existed. It's easier to think that when he hears Art's voice, and not Nimm's- which, now that he knows them both, aren't that far apart. But watching Art's retreating back, he still can't quite wrap his mind around the fact that it was always, always Art he was looking at, when he sees Nimm forging on ahead as she always, always has.

Neil sighs and turns around, eyes casting over the parking lot for someone who's going to call them out. He doesn't see a soul, and yet, every moving shadow has him jumpy, and he can't figure out why.

Their lockers aren't far from one another, but Neil also has to clean out his desk. "I'm going to go do the office first," he tells Nimm. Art. It's always been Art. "I'll see you on the other side."

Art nods sharply as he turns down that hallway, and Neil almost makes it to his office without incident.

"Hey, Brontë. Haven't seen you around in a few days, what's up?"

Neil knew other people would be here, but at the same time, he hoped everyone would mind their own business. It was always an unrealistic hope, to want to disappear off the face of the earth as far as anyone other than his direct supervisor was concerned. But he was hoping.

Of course Greggs would never consider minding his own business.

Neil turns with the world's fakest smile, the exact same one Greggs has always been getting. "Good morning," he begins, trying to think of how to make Greggs leave him alone as fast as possible. If he was ignoring the invisible strings completely, he'd just tell Greggs to fuck off.

"There's been rumours around the office that you're leaving," Greggs says, lowering his voice like it's a scandalous, sexy secret. "Especially since, some people are saying, you and Nimm quit at the same time. Did something happen out in the field?"

Before Neil can even think about a real answer, or how to politely say fuck off, Greggs is continuing. He's wiggling his eyebrows, still speaking just slightly too loud. "Some people were saying that right before you quit, something happened between the two of you in the break room."

Neil narrows his eyes. "Fuck off."

He takes a mental snapshot of the shocked blinking, the look on Greggs' face, the way his dumbass smile is wiped completely away, and Neil grins that fake grin again as he turns and makes it to his office, closes the door behind him.