Bree was on the phone from the instant she whirled back down the ramp, the green-eyed man disappearing with the ferry on the far horizon and not a damn thing she could do to stop him. She dreaded these phone calls, but the running helped, the familiar, comforting rhythm of her breath and the pounding of her heart in her chest, still whole, still beating - and that was exactly how she meant to carry on.

By the time Bree managed to return to her car, the Seattle PD were notified to be on alert at the harbor for the Port Townsend ferry, the picture of the green-eyed man sent from her phone to their desk and then to the patrols. Riddick was entwining himself around her legs the moment she walked into their gorgeous hotel-room-by-the-seashore. But there was no time for regret as she gathered up her luggage and her cat, and still managed to coordinate her arrival with the Seattle FBI office.

Which got more than a little awkward when she asked for a few minutes to contact her people in Richmond.

And that's when shit went beyond awkward, and well into completely tense.

Bree and Riddick were already well on their way to the Seattle PD Headquarters on 5th when she finally called her SAC. She could honestly admit, she'd have probably preferred it if Avery would have just chewed her ass up one side and down another, given her that shot of adrenaline-fueled indignant rage that could have just kept her rolling, maybe throwing the Bluetooth earpiece somewhere in the car or just screamed back at him - but he didn't.

His voice was warm, and the fatherly concern he heard in Avery's voice almost completely undid all her hard-fought composure right there on the highway. Did she have any idea how many times her brother had called the office these past couple weeks, looking for her? Wondering what was happening when all Michael was getting were these cryptic texts back after a voicemail? That even Murray was asking after her, guilt-ridden about letting the guy go when she took that bullet, the same guy she'd just dumped so much of her savings and leave time into tracking all across the U.S. - but for what?

He wasn't the shooter. He couldn't have been, it was physically damn impossible! What was going on Bree, what are you doing, beyond scaring the hell out of what family you have left, and worrying your colleagues and friends with this completely out-of-hand obsession? Yes, yes go on to the Seattle PD, no one's stopping you. You've found him for whatever it's worth, and this guy - whoever the hell he is - did escape custody on the day you and Victor were shot. But you need to know Bree, you need to really understand that the only reason your badge and gun aren't being pulled this very instant, is because you're one of the best agents I've ever known, a brilliant professional. But this is as far as 'benefit of the doubt' is going to get you, Agent Walsh...

Bree knew she should keep Riddick in the cat carrier, buckled up in the front seat, but she opened the little door anyway when that phone call was finished. The enormous black tom stole his way over the console to her lap, all warm, rumbling comfort and reassurance as her long fingers wove through that thick fur.

Somewhere around the halfway mark, Seattle PD called to say her green-eyed man was in custody, that he'd surrendered himself the minute he stepped off the ferry actually. For several long seconds Bree couldn't speak at all, her voice suddenly choked by tears she hadn't even realized were there - and for the second time in one day, Bree was glad she was entirely alone but for Riddick, who never, ever judged.

"Great, good work and... Did you get a name? Did he give you a name yet, or have some ID on him? No? No, that's not a problem, we'll get it when I get there - wait. Fingerprints! Process him now, don't wait. Fingerprints, photograph - DNA too if he'll consent."

"Yes, get a swab too if he'll give it. If not, I'll be there in... Oh, an hour and a half I think, if this Garmin isn't playing with me, or traffic doesn't. Thank you - really, fantastic job and much appreciated. I'm looking forward to meeting you all."

Bree hung up the phone again, and let out a long slow breath she didn't even now she'd been holding all these weeks, the relief that covered her this minute like the softest of blankets.

"Whatever we find in Seattle might not be as nice as that bed and breakfast," she whispered tenderly to Riddick, who simply gazed up at her with those magnificent amber eyes full of unspoken, uncanny understanding, "But I think we can actually sleep tonight. All night long... "

The fingers of one hand continued to stroke the length of the cat, velvety ears to serpentine tail, as the other hand kept to the business of driving. "I'm so tired," Bree confessed, her voice barely a whisper, as if such an damning admission might yet be overheard, even alone here with her cat.

"I just want to sleep Riddy, to lay my head on a pillow, and close my eyes and not wake up sweating, or screaming, or terrified. No more dreams. Please, just... No more dreams."

A small smile was surprised from her lips when Riddick mewed up at her, and then opened his maw with all those sharp little fangs into a wide yawn. Bree chuckled, caressing the top of his head with her thumb. "Yeah Riddy, just like that."

~~~~~~

Bree parked her rental in a parking garage on Cherry Street. It wasn't an 'official' vehicle, and she was just going to have to suck up the fee herself, just as she'd done thus far at every step of this long, long chase. She was sure Riddick would be fine in the carrier for a while, and she tucked him back inside comfortably, kissing his sweet furry head tenderly as she did so with the promise she wouldn't be long, before locking the car.

The Washington weather, it seemed, had given up any facade of trying to be 'sunny and pleasant' and returned to the rains so common to the Pacific Northwest, like a sad and endlessly weeping woman. Bree had no umbrella, and simply endured the jog down the block toward the PD. She was well aware she wasn't dressed as a stereotypical FBI agent - no tailored suit, no heels, her hair slowly transforming from a loose, windswept mess to sodden lengths of hot mess, but there just wasn't any help for it. She'd dressed this morning for meet and greet in a small town of civilians, not to impress her peers.