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He's got his eyes on her. He knows he should've encouraged Finau to back Amber up, he would really fit the 'enforcer' vibe way better than Bell. No offense to Bell, the guy is a great agent with his own sort of intensity and fierce drive, but he just ... looks like a cop, especially in a situation with bikers and tough guys and drug runners. Not to mention the absolutely STELLAR alternative rock/punk stick it to the man kinda band playing on the cramped stage under the blue and purple lights 'a this bar.
Mark gets in his own way, like he said to Blythe, but he also learns how to lead. Or at least, he knows how to keep an eye out for trouble. Whether that comes from a suspect or from people who aren't fans of cops (which he's seen a lot, and can't blame them unfortunately, especially when the news likes to push stories of corrupt and plain cruel police officers out on the wire) but he thanks his time as a marksman for teaching him to keep his guard up and eyes out for trouble in order to protect his squad.
Here, it's Oliveras. Of course it's Oliveras, even as he notes what happens to Bell too, and Finau's presence next to him, but he's got eyes for her. Her instant immersion in the persona that fits her story, tough, loud, and direct. Not too far from the way she is ordinarily, though he'd never consider her ordinary. She's less guarded in the way she does undercover ops, though - in the way she acts at least. Staring people down, direct eye contact, chin jutting out, head tipped up because she's lithe and small but those guys would be fools to think she can't handle...hell, anything.
He notices the guy watching her. Ball cap, dark clothes, beard. Tall too- taller than him, tall as Volchek. Why do these bastards have to be so big?! Mark growls internally as he's shouldering past people after indicating the bastard to Finau. Sergeant Finau, now. Big shot. Not that he doesn't deserve it, Mark just hopes he still gets out in the field, it'd be a shame to waste that bulldogging talent by sticking it behind a desk.
Point is, he knows Finau's following him on his six. But he's got to get to this guy. Not first, not to BE first, but to protect Oliveras. Amber.
He moves quickly and quietly out of the bar, jerking backwards at the explosion of shots - a pistol, not silenced. Either this isn't the sniper or he didn't bank on needing a nest around here.
Maybe didn't bank on anybody following him. Mark shoots back, having jerked not quite into the full cover of the side of the building. He thinks he hits, though there's no verbalization of pain to prove it. And the sun is so bright, not to mention dust is getting kicked up, that he sees what could be a dark blue or green truck speeding away. It's a pickup, he can at least tell that much; but there are others, rust-brown and red and paler green and blue, not to mention gunning bikes and other cars. It's like the scattering of insects or rodents when abrupt light or movement startles 'em. (And no, he's not calling these people rats or bugs, okay, he's also had plenty of experience of the opposite happening with varieties of critters. Try expecting to startle a scorpion.)
He chased whoever it was away from Oliveras, and that was the point. She comes out with half her hair pulled up in that bun thing, royal blue shirt under a flannel that she looks good in- he wears grey Henleys and jeans and brown leather, nothing special. But she can look good in a tank top, not to mention that white shirt she had on when she visited him the afternoon prior to his first treatment. When she offered to stay the night.
He thinks about that, about how he refused. Wonders if that was him throwing what they could've had out the window, at least to her. She put herself out there, she'd been ... vulnerable. He's doing that now, or when he'd asked her if she wanted to grab a beer. Oh sure, could he have picked a place he actually knew rather than somewhere he saw on the Internet? Yeah, probably. Would that have changed the outcome of him asking? Maybe.
But maybe not.
He watches her swing on the bastard she'd been talking to, grabbing the envelope their guy had left behind the bar. He sees how... volatile she's still acting, and he figures it makes sense with what is happening, the fact some bastard who needs a psych profile has a picture of her on his cellphone, but it also could have to do with something else. They haven't talked today, not after she'd told him she was beat the previous night.
Mark figures he needs to say something about asking her to get a drink. Not to apologize again, he feels like he's been apologizing for everything he's said to her, but... He should've let what he said about her being an incredible interrogator and excellent investigator well, BE. Shouldn't have shrugged it off or acted like he hadn't said anything. When she knew he had, she could totally tell. He thinks about the way she smiled, biting her lower lip. How he wanted to get her in his arms at that moment. But Fitz had been there. And she was dating the doctor. IS dating the doctor.
She looks at the piece of paper and he sees a shudder go through her, sees her close her eyes. "Son of a bitch," he hears her murmur, and as she turns and puts one hand to her head, gripping at her hair, Mark notices the look in her eyes is one of - it seems like frustration as much as terror, and he goes to her.
"Hey," his voice is a little rough, but he keeps talking. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she closes her eyes, drops her head. Takes a ragged breath before shaking it, pushing at her hair once "he knows us now, Mark - like you said. He knows who we are."
"We're gonna get him," Mark says.
"Are we?" Her eyes snap open again. "He's been a step ahead of us this whole time, Meachum! More like two or three, actually- and if he has an in with law enforcement, now he has our pictures and it's only-"
"It's only a matter of time before he finds us," says Bell.
"We'll have to hole up somewhere..." Finau's already on the phone. Mark feels his muscles jumping, his body tensing.
"Damn it, I know."
Oliveras lets out a watery chuckle. "Last night was a good thing then. Amazing."
"... what happened last night?"
She sighs. "Nothing, Meachum, other than me realizing if what I'm figuring is true, there's no safety in dating. I get called to this task force again, we have someone who can access our information like he's got his own personal database."
"Come on, we don't know that, Oliveras -"
"Oh, really? You said yourself my theory makes sense! And I can't bring somebody into that who's saving lives! Not when he thinks I can handle anything...," her voice breaks as she looks up with an aching intensity.
Mark steps a little closer to her. She seems close to breaking down, and he wants to help her. "Amber -"
"I told Julio that it's over," her voice is almost a hiss. "He- he didn't see all of me. He couldn't, I mean, how could he? Sure, we- we grew up in the neighborhood, but when he saw me again I'm badass DEA agent Oliveras, and he's doctor Julio, saving lives. And he just - he was sad, but he said he got it. That I have a job to do." She squeezes her eyes shut again and grips her arms with her fingers, digging into the cloth of her sleeves. Eyes shooting open once again, she gasps out "but he doesn't get it, Meachum! He can't, not like you -" the remainder of her words disappear into his shirt as he wraps his arms around her and holds her.
He cups his hand around the back of her head and strokes her hair. This isn't about them right now as he moves her out of the center of the parking lot. Bell and Finau have taken it upon themselves to get into one of the vehicles.
Mark just holds on to Oliveras, arms wrapped around her though not too tight. He doesn't know what to say to her, except that he's sorry. Again. But he also doesn't want to make this moment about him when she is hurting. Scared, too- he knows he is- and so he rubs her back and strokes her hair and promises himself that he's going to be here for her.
Whether as partner or protection detail, or whatever else she'll let him- whatever else she wants him to be.