He wondered how his mom was. He should have asked Manny if he could contact the other safe house. It was the first thing he would do when Manny surfaced.
Pouring himself a glass of water he investigated the contents of the fridge and the boxes. Most of the staples were there and in five minutes he had a sandwich filled with lettuce and pastrami and was determined to find his bedroom. He yawned as he passed the first internal door.
Imagining that was the one Manny had chosen, and with no real thought, he selected the next one. Pushing it shut behind him he looked around the room. Large closets to the left, an attached bathroom to the right, a huge queen-sized bed in the center with the headboard to the wall, and a spectacular view outside the large windows. Buying something like this would cost more than just a small amount. Setting his sandwich and drink on the bedside table he crossed to the window. He didn't imagine for one minute that a safe house like this would have windows people could see into and when he pressed a finger to the cool glass he could see it was treated. He had a wonderful view of the city below but he doubted anyone could see in.
He pulled the drapes closed and then made use of the bathroom. In just boxers and his tee he slumped onto the bed.
He'd just rest his eyes and then he'd sit up and eat the sandwich.
Just a few minutes.
His dreams were full of guns and running and leaping walls and being held prisoner at the end of a gun and in every minute of them he was safe. With Manny.
Small, intense, quirky, serious, angry Manny was his rescuer in every one.
Go figure.
"Up and at 'em," Manny's voice broke into his sleep.
He opened his eyes nose-to-nose with a sandwich and realized the room was darker than just the pretend-gloom afforded by the closed drapes. How long he had slept he couldn't be sure and he attempted to move his hand to check his watch. His wrist was caught in the sheets and he ineffectually attempted to pull himself free.
"Eight-thirty and we have a tug on the fishing line.
Get a shower, there's clothes in the closet, you should be able to find something. I'll put coffee on."
"Mpmph," was all Josh could manage. The thought of coffee was a motivating one and he wriggled free to sit up on the bed. He eyed the sandwich distastefully and poked at the now hardening bread. He supposed it had been a good idea at the time. The shower was heaven. Hot, stinging water and space for three meant he could stretch his six-foot frame as much as he wanted. For a few minutes he simply rested his arms on the glass side and offered his back to the water. The constant beat of it was therapeutic and gradually he felt the tension in his shoulders subside.
There were bottles of all kinds of things on the side, but he managed to find tea tree in amongst the supply and the scent of it was enough to spark him awake.
Shaved, clean, and dry he opened the closet door.
The interior was huge and crammed with everything from kids' clothes to jeans and tees that would fit a freaking giant.
He pulled out jeans that looked as if they would fit him and then rifled through tees until he located an off-white soft shirt with long sleeves. It seemed appropriate to wear such a cool color in such a white apartment.
Everything fitted well enough and glancing briefly at the full-length mirror he saw a guy who could face whatever Manny threw at him.
Apart from what was actually thrown at him as soon as he stepped out of the bedroom door.
"Over here," Manny called. Following the voice led him to another room that was like a wet dream. Banks of computers and screens and wires that ran from one thing to another in a crisscross of unparalleled chaos.
"Oh my God," he breathed. What he wouldn't give for just ten minutes with this equipment. Hell, he could probably track down who shot Kennedy using this kind of kit. Manny sat in the middle of it like some kind of conductor for an orchestra. Moving to touch screens and peer at lines of code he was muttering under his breath.
"What kind of contact?" he finally asked when Manny didn't say anything.
"Friend of an acquaintance of a friend says someone he knows is arming the Bullens with enough firepower to reassert authority. Don't know which Bullen. Could be Alastair looking to get support in before he goes through his trial. Could be the senator as he's the only one left."
Manny summarized this without taking his eyes off of the screens. Familiar words slid over Josh and he leaned in closer to the nearest screen. The picture was sketchy but he recalled the dialogue. Hell, he could recite most of it by rote.
"Do you have Star Trek on this?" He asked the question cautiously. Not everyone liked Star Trek, or even any one of the other hundreds of sci-fi programs he had watched over the years.
"Helps me think. Why? You have a problem with that? Everyone comes in and comments on my stuff,"
Manny muttered under his breath.
"But it's original Star Trek?" Josh asked.
Manny finally looked up at him with a suspicious expression on his face. "And?" he asked.
Josh shrugged. "Nothing. Was always my favorite as well."
Manny didn't change his expression but he did sit a little taller in the chair. "What are your opinions on the reboot with Pine and Quinto?" Manny said.
Josh wondered if this was a trick question. Manny's
