Authors Note: So last week was rough and my favourite person on here, DevinBourdain has had an even rougher week, so this is for her, because she's doing me a huge favour today and because when things get difficult, escapism is sometimes the answer.
I was struggling a little with the next chapter of What Lies Beyond, so I took a break by writing something that was supposed to be a little more light-hearted but descended into more whump. I have to warn there is a graphic description of gore and some bad language. This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to situations and persons living or dead is…. Nope, actually over half of this is based on personal experience, in particular, a rough week of a different kind I had a few years ago. I'll let you guess which days. Enjoy.
John Kennex's Rough Birthday Week
Monday
"We should celebrate." Dorian said, fiddling with the radio station until he found some classic rock. It wasn't something that Dorian usually listened to, the lyrics to 'Welcome To The Jungle' didn't seem to fit with the ethos of being a cop, but he could tell from the subtle change in John's posture that he liked it, so he let it stay. It was John's birthday after all.
"Mmm?" John murmured, his eyes on the road ahead as they pulled up to the lights. It was a Monday night, but despite it being January there were parts of downtown that were always busy, bars were full and lines had started outside the few nightclubs that were open throughout the week. The detective was watching the crowds, revellers drunk and stumbling already, but his thoughts seemed a world away.
"You know man, your birthday. We should go out, see if Sandra and Valerie want to come. I guess we should ask Rudy too, he'll be upset if we don't and…"
"Nah, D. It's been a long day. I just want to get through the last ten minutes of this shift, go home and have a beer on my roof before bed. I don't really celebrate my birthday anyway."
"Why not?" Dorian frowned. "Is it because your mom left and your dad was always working?"
"What?" John glared at him, giving him what Dorian called 'the crazy brow'.
"I just checked the old shift database, your dad was working on your birthday more often than not…"
"Shh," John held up his hand to stop the conversation. "It's because I'm a grown ass man and I've had a long day. Not everything has to be about some deep-seated past trauma. Stop trying to turn my life into some sort of melodrama."
The lights changed and John pulled away but moments later he cursed. Dorian followed John's attention, which had been drawn to a middle-aged man, muscular but wiry, dressed in an old coat and frayed jeans. He had a bottle of cheap beer in his hand and appeared unsteady on his feet. He was also furious about something and appeared to be ranting incoherently at the people waiting in line for the club. Another man said something back to him and suddenly the guy was in his face, fists clenched. It was clear to Dorian now that this was what had been distracting John, he'd been watching to see whether the drunk guy would move on or whether it would escalate. It clearly looked to be escalating now.
"Give me a minute." John said, pulling the car over. His tone said everything, he was so unimpressed with the drunk guy's antics but couldn't in good conscience drive on. "I'm just gonna get this guy to go home and then we'll head in."
"Do you want me to…"
"No D." John got out of the car, "I'm just going to talk to him, wait here. This won't go well if he thinks we're crowding him."
Dorian did as he was told but lowered the window so he could hear what was being said. He watched as John casually strode over to the two men who were squaring off to each other and showed them both his badge.
"Hey guys, everything alright?"
"Yeah man," The younger nightclub goer said, holding his hands up and taking a step back.
At the same time the drunk guy turned on the detective and snarled, "Fuck off!"
John wasn't phased in the slightest and actually smiled at the man. "You know what? It looks like you could do with calling it a night. Where's home for you?"
"Fuck off!" The man slurred again, spittle flying from his lips. "You think you're tough, Pig? You think you've earned respect? I was a fuckin' paratrooper, I fought for this country, but no one gives me any fuckin' respect!"
John glanced back at Dorian and rolled his eyes with a worn-out smile.
"Hey man, I'm respecting you by telling you that you really need to go home and leave these people alone. No one wants any drama." John said with more patience than Dorian usually gave him credit for. Clearly not expecting to get much sense out of the drunk man he turned to the younger man and asked. "What's this all about?"
"Hell if I know Officer, he just came up to us and started calling my girlfriend a whore."
"I've never met him in my life!" The girlfriend, a young blonde woman in a short skirt chimed in.
"Okay," John nodded, turning back to the drunk man, "Come on, it's late, it's cold, let's work out how you're going to get home alright?" John put his hand on the man's shoulder and tried to guide him away, but suddenly the drunk man snarled at him and lashed out with the bottle he was holding to smash it on a nearby streetlight. As the broken bottle was brandished at him, John reacted quickly, grabbing the man's wrist and holding him at arm's length, the bottle safely out of reach. He twisted the arm slightly, just enough for him to drop the bottle and while holding his wrist with one hand he fished into his pocket for his handcuffs. But as he stepped in a little to place the metal bracelet on his wrist, the drunk man swung a punch with the other hand, delivering an uppercut to John's nose.
John staggered backward, clearly dazed but refusing to release his hold. Dorian had been out of the car in a second and had sprinted towards them. John was still reeling from the hit when Dorian barrelled into the both of them, tackling them to the ground. They landed on the sidewalk in a tangle of limbs, Dorian using his superior strength to pin the man to the floor facedown, so John could get the handcuffs on, snapping the first cuff on the wrist he'd managed to keep hold of and then after a moment of struggling, succeeding in getting the other one behind his back and cuffed too. As he did, John explained, "I'm arresting you for assault, on me," and calmly read him his rights over the top of the man's incoherent rant, full of expletives, mostly aimed at John. They had an audience and more than one had chosen to film the whole thing on their phones, but thankfully they had enough sense to have stepped back out of harm's way.
Once the drunk male was secure, Dorian and John worked together to roll the man onto his side, so that things wouldn't be complicated by positional asphyxia, difficulty breathing from being pinned down. Dorian held a hand on his shoulder and one on his hip to keep him steady and John pinned the man's thrashing legs by laying over them and wrapping his arm around them to stop him from kicking out. Dorian and John made eye contact and John actually laughed. "So much for that beer."
By rolling the man over they could see that when they'd all gone to the pavement, the man had landed quite hard. He'd hit his forehead and there was a cut an inch long above his eye which was bleeding profusely, making his face a gory mask of blood.
"I've notified control. There's a uniformed officer and a couple of MX's en route, and a medic." Dorian said.
John nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and checking for blood. It was clean. "Hey man." John spoke to the man he'd just arrested. "I'm gonna get you the first aid kit out of the back of the car, but you've gotta calm down for me alright?" The legs stilled for a moment, so John released him, intending to get up and bandage the man's head, but as soon as he did, the man kicked out again and tried to twist out of Dorian's grip. John found himself having to put his hold back on the man's legs again and forgoing the trip to the first aid kit.
Thankfully, the medic arrived within a couple of minutes and not long after, two uniformed officers and their MX's. The MX's helped Dorian get him into the awaiting ambulance, the medic having decided he needed his head wound checked at the hospital before being taken into custody. Once Dorian made the man secure and was certain the other androids had control of him, he stepped back out of the ambulance to find John talking to one of the uniformed officers while the other took a statement from the nightclub man and his girlfriend.
John was explaining what had happened to the officer, who would be taking over responsibility for the prisoner. He looked a little dazed and Dorian noticed he kept wiping the back of his hand on his nose and checking it for blood.
"It's not bleeding." Dorian said, coming up beside them. "It's not broken either, but you're starting to show signs of a concussion. You're lucky he was drunk, judging by the angle I think he was trying to drive your nose into your skull. He could have killed you."
John nodded. "Thanks Doc." He grumbled. "You got everything?" He asked the uniformed officer, who nodded. "Great, sorry for lumbering you with this. I'll e-mail you everything you need."
As he walked back to the car, he continued checking his nose, clearly expecting it to start bleeding. He slumped into the driver's seat and stared ahead while Dorian got in beside him. As Dorian closed the door, John closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before whispering, "Happy birthday to me." And starting the ignition.
Tuesday
Dorian had known that John would be grumpy. They'd finished late the night before, stuck doing statements and building a casefile against the drunk man, even though Dorian had put most of the case together before John had made it even half way through his statement. It had been clear his head had been hurting him, he'd struggled to stay focussed and Dorian had had to correct more than a few spelling errors before he'd allowed John to send it.
As predicted, John arrived late, clutching his coffee to him with a hand that had a raw graze on the side of it. Dorian couldn't help but feel a little guilty at that one, having caused it when he'd tackled them both to the ground. Miraculously, John's face wasn't showing any visible signs of injury, unless you counted the scowl.
"Hey John," Valerie greeted cheerily, clearly oblivious to his bad mood, or maybe trying too hard to shake him out of it. Detective Paul had already found out about the assault and had been joking about it with the rest of the bullpen when Dorian had come in, a quick glare from the android had soon shut him up.
John grunted a hello at Valerie and Dorian before sitting down at his desk and starting to log on to his terminal. Dorian had the good grace to stay quiet and carried on with his work. He watched though as Sandra left her office and came to perch herself on the corner of John's desk.
"Hey, how's your head?" She asked in a low voice, clearly not wanting anyone else to hear their conversation. It just made Dorian concentrate all the harder though.
"Still in one piece." John replied half-heartedly.
"What happened last night?"
"Nothing, we were on our way back when we saw this drunk guy being a dick. I tried to convince him to go home and he pulled a smashed bottle on me and punched me in the nose." He shrugged.
"Thought so." Sandra nodded. "It's just he's put a complaint in. Says you aggravated him."
"Aggravated?" John scoffed, loudly, causing the rest of the bullpen to look up and try to listen in. "I was a lot nicer to him than he deserved."
Sandra nodded. "You didn't whisper anything to him? Anything that might come up on camera footage?"
"What? No." John said, annoyed at the question. "Trust me, if I'd wanted to be aggravating there would be no denying it. Anyway, is being 'aggravated' enough for a complaint these days?"
"Well, it's that and excessive force." Sandra admitted.
John raised an eyebrow. "After he threatened me with a broken bottle and punched me in the face? The head wound was an accident, and anyway he was cleared of any serious injury by the hospital."
"I know." Sandra patted him on the shoulder. "Look, don't worry about it okay? We've got Dorian's footage backing your statement. I'm going to make sure it comes to nothing, just thought you should know." She gave his shoulder a squeeze and then hopped off his desk and headed back to her office.
"You okay man?" Dorian asked.
"No, I'm feeling pretty damned aggravated!" John seethed, getting up and striding away, still clutching his mug. "I'm getting more coffee."
Wednesday
Dorian was mildly amused, watching John sat on the flowery sofa, sipping tea from a dainty blue and white china tea cup. He'd actually been flirting with the lady for the hour it had taken him to complete the statement. Dorian had to admit that John had game, or would have, if the lady in question wasn't ninety. It had worked though, the woman had originally been reluctant to speak to them about the gangland execution she'd witnessed from her bedroom window, but five minutes in she was giggling like a school girl and filling them in on all the gossip in the block. When she'd caught John rubbing his forehead and he'd explained about the punch, she'd even brought out the tea and homemade cupcakes, which John had rather enthusiastically consumed too many of.
When they'd gathered all the details into a coherent statement, free from all the tangents and irrelevant gossip, and once John had licked the last of the buttercream frosting from his top lip, she escorted them to the door and shook hands.
As they stood outside the door saying goodbye, John cocked his head to the side and sniffed the air. "One last question, Mrs Winnet, have you seen your next-door neighbour lately?"
"What? No. Actually, not for about a week. But he's a strange young man, I don't see much of him. Keeps to himself you know. Why? He's not in any trouble is he?"
John shook his head. "No, I don't think so Ma'am."
"Okay, well you take care now." She smiled and closed the door.
John turned to Dorian. "Do you smell what I smell?"
Dorian nodded, "I've done a scan of the apartment. The TV and the heating is on, but I'm not picking up any body heat."
"That's what I'm afraid of." John groaned.
Dorian crouched down and lifted the flap of the letterbox to peer in, as he did the smell became overwhelming and John looked like he was going to gag. "I can see someone in there." Dorian said. "Hello?" he called through the door, "It's the police, are you alright? Open up!" Even though they both knew there would be no response.
John sighed. "We're going to have to go in." He gestured for Dorian to move away from the door and then kicked at the lock with his synthetic leg. The strength of the prosthetic popped the lock immediately and the door swung open with enough force to bang into the wall and leave a dent in the drywall from the door handle. With the door open, the smell was truly overwhelming, rotten meat, piss and vomit creating a concoction of smells that once you've smelt it once you'll never forget.
Dorian strode through to the living room and John followed, snapping a pair of medical gloves on and offering some to Dorian. The apartment itself was small and the living area was barely big enough for a two-seater couch, a small TV and an old-style space heater. The heater was on full blast and laying in front of it on the floor was what was left of the tenant of the apartment.
He was dressed in a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and he had quite clearly been dead for some time. His legs were closest to the heater and they had become discoloured and swollen. There were track marks on his legs and a needle still sticking out from the webbing between his toes. Dorian found it hard to understand the motivation behind drug taking at the best of times but to inject oneself in such a sensitive body part truly made him cringe. Even though technically he'd never felt pain, he had enough of an imagination to be squeamish about it.
"Overdose." Dorian surmised. "Give me a second and I'll be able to tell you what." He hesitated to remove the needle from between the toes, even though he knew his reaction what bordering on ridiculous for an android.
"Look at this." John said. He was crouched by the young man's head. There was a dark stain seeming from his head into the carpet. "This is blood. Help me roll him over to check his head for injuries."
John placed his hand gently on the man's head and another on his shoulder and started to roll him onto his back, peering underneath to check. As he did there was a wet, sticky, slurping noise. John visibly paled and let go, standing up and stepping back. "Never mind." John said hastily. "It's just where he's melted into the carpet." And then he admitted quietly, "I think I nearly tore his face off."
Dorian would have laughed at the detective's expression of horror if he hadn't been so upset himself. "Shall we get some MX's to deal with this?" He asked.
John nodded and tried to keep his cupcakes down.
Thursday
Dorian didn't like the fact that John steered the car with one hand and sipped his coffee with the other. Ever since John's blackout, which, admittedly had been a one-off and a while ago, the DRN would rather his human partner would keep both hands on the wheel at all times. But John only really seemed to function properly while caffeinated, and had seemed to have developed a skill where he could drive even at high speeds and yet not spill a drop.
They weren't driving at high speeds now, in fact John was positively ambling along, through the densely-clustered streets of downtown. They were on their way to speak to the victim of a high value bank robbery. The man was a bank manager of an exclusive banking corporation, the kind where you could only open an account with a deposit of a million dollars. While John was looking forward to getting the new information the man said he had found, he wasn't looking forward to meeting the man again. He was a chrome and had come from some serious money, from the minute they'd met, he had sneered at John and had started making demands. John had tried to explain how unreasonable he was being, that despite the speed of modern forensics, there was still a delay due to overwhelming caseloads, and that John couldn't just march in and put this guy's needs at the top of the list, but the manager responded by implying he was incompetent and lazy. Now the man had called late in the evening to state that his company finally had allowed the data request regarding clients that John had asked for and the manager insisted he had something to show them.
John had searched everywhere in the precinct for Valerie, hoping to send her in his stead, thinking that a fellow chrome might get treated less like an imbecile, but she'd been out at a crime scene all shift. He'd voiced his suspicions to Dorian that she'd been tipped off by Richard Paul who had also rapidly managed to make himself scarce, that the pair of them were hiding out. "What's the point of seniority if you can't use it to get out of conversations with assholes?" John had grumbled.
So, they were on their way to the bank manager's penthouse, coffee in hand, at the slowest pace possible that could still be considered moving.
"Maybe I should lead the conversation this time?" Dorian suggested.
John frowned. "Be my guest, if you think you'll have any better luck with him."
"It's not that, it's just I don't have a tendency to turn into a rage monster every time someone is a bit condescending to me."
John almost spluttered his mouthful of coffee, "That's rich! You're condescending to me all the time. You're being condescending right now!"
"You call it condescending, I like to think of it as an observation, and an attempt to make this next encounter go a little more smoothly."
"I'm not that angry anymore. I haven't destroyed an MX in ages!"
"I think that's more to do with Maldonado threatening to take the cost of them out of your wages. But you're right, you have become better, ever since you stopped going to Anger Management, man, you were always worse after those sessions." Dorian groaned.
"Hey," John waved his coffee cup at the android to emphasise his point, "D, if you had to spend an hour listening to some of the petty things people bitch about…"
"Wait!" Dorian held up his hand to interrupt and turned up the police radio in the car.
Someone was conducting a pursuit, "White BMW, tags uploaded to the ANPR camera, failed to stop for police, driving in excess of sixty miles an hour in a thirty zone. Light traffic, vehicle turning right, right into Seventh Avenue. Vehicle is four up, believed to be stolen."
"That's coming this way." Dorian pointed out.
"Not had a pursuit in ages." John grinned, "Fancy helping out our uniformed colleagues?"
"You're only delaying the inevitable John." Dorian pointed out, but the smile on his face said he'd rather get involved in the pursuit too.
Suddenly a white saloon shot around the corner, with a screech of brakes and a bit of wheel spin, tyres almost leaving the road as it sailed over a bump.
"Damn." John cursed, glancing over his shoulder at the disappearing vehicle, as he put the steering in full lock and began a three-point-turn.
"That wasn't the right car." Dorian pointed out, able to register the make and number plate easier than John.
"Shit!" John then cursed, looking forward again as another vehicle came speeding towards them. John wrenched the steering back round to try and get out of the way but the car was coming at them too fast. The driver of the other vehicle must have seen their car in the way, but rather than use his brakes, he put his foot down, aiming for the narrow gap between John's cruiser and the row of parked cars that lined the street.
He'd misjudged it, and suddenly a rather expensive white BMW was colliding with their cruiser. It hit the driver's side at the wing mirror, taking it off and then scraping down the side of their cruiser. On the other side, the car had also hit the row of parked vehicles and had shunted one into the next, then into the next, scraping the sides of them too, until it got wedged between the side of a Range Rover and the back end of John's car.
The impact jolted John and Dorian forwards, their bodies slamming against their seatbelts and then back against the seats. Miraculously, John held onto every single drop of coffee but put it down and rushed to the door. The four young men inside the car were shouting at the driver, who was clambering over the front passenger to escape as his own door was wedged shut by the back of the cruiser. John couldn't get his car door open either so he lowered the window and clambered out, racing round to stop the driver escaping.
Dorian got there first though and dragged the driver out of the car, spinning him around to face the car and placing him in handcuffs. John got the other three out as well, used his cuffs on one and detained the other two with no more than positioning himself between them and their only escape route, coupled with an angry glare. In another couple of seconds the pursuing squad car arrived.
The young female officer got out and surveyed the mess in front of her. "Oh shit! You guys okay?" She laughed. Her MX got out with her and together they got the last two in handcuffs.
"Control, we've got our vehicle err, stopped. Four males detained, we'll need a hand with transport, and a police collision investigator to scene." The officer reported on the radio.
"The four detained males are not showing any signs of physical injury." The MX stated. "Detective Kennex however is displaying a concussion and signs of whiplash injuries."
"Detective, I'm sorry." The officer said. "You should take it easy, we've got this from here."
John shrugged it off. "I'm alright, I already had the concussion, and I won't feel the whiplash until morning." But as other officers turned up to assist, John did take it easy, sitting down on the curb and absently rubbing at his neck which Dorian could tell was already becoming stiff and sore. The four teens were arrested for breaking and entering and grand theft auto and taken away to be processed. An MX stayed behind to complete a collision report and then the police collision investigator arrived to interview John and the female cop who had introduced herself as Rachel.
Dorian was very unsurprised that John was on first name terms with the collision investigator, but rather than treat him with suspicion like the rest of Internal Affairs might, they greeted each other like old friends. A quick interview for both John and Rachel and a download from the black boxes in their respective vehicles proved that neither were to blame for the collision, the stolen vehicle was seized and they were sent on their way. Rachel waved a cheery goodbye and went to go and deal with her prisoners, leaving John and Dorian sitting next to each other at the side of the road staring at the destruction in front of them.
"It'll still run." Dorian pointed out, "enough to get it back to the precinct and switch it out for another one at least."
John just nodded. He got up from his perch and strode over to the car but rather than get in it, he just leaned into the open window and retrieved his coffee, bringing it back to where he had been sat on the curb and resuming his seat.
Dorian was about to say something but John cut him off, "Just… give me five minutes okay?"
Dorian nodded, and for once, stayed quiet.
John finished the rest of his coffee in silence but as he gulped down the last dregs he mused aloud, "Is this what happens? You hit forty and suddenly every day becomes one disaster after another until the end?" He sighed heavily but it turned into a chuckle, "God, I want this week to be over. Come on," he lightly slapped Dorian's knee as he stood, "Let's get a new car and them go see this condescending prick."
Friday
John stood over the three bodies with an indistinguishable expression on his face, while a CSI hovered a few feet away, placing little numbered tags down beside exhibits ready for photographing and holo-reconstruction of the scene. Dorian was just outside the door, watching from the hallway. Most of the work in the room had been done already, the photography would be the last step before bagging up the exhibits and removing the bodies. The CSI clearly thought the detective was in the way, but John had been stood there, over the horrific scene for hours now and not even Dorian had been able to get his attention.
Dorian himself thought it was one of the saddest things he'd ever seen and really didn't want to be in the room for any longer than he had to be, but then he figured that he was not torturing himself about it in the same way as his partner. A week ago, a bodega had been burned down by an unknown assailant. No one had been hurt, but the crime had come across John's desk for review anyway. John had glanced through the evidence and come to the same conclusion as the investigating officers, that it had been a retaliation for money laundering scam they were running and had never actually been intended as a threat to life. That had appeared to be the end of it, until tonight when they'd received a call to a Lebanese restaurant. The owners, a married couple had been barricaded into the shop and then it was set alight using the same accelerant as the bodega. The couple had been caught in the backdraft as they forced open the door to make their escape. They would likely have been killed almost instantly. What John had been staring at for the best part of an hour were the two young children they had found in the upstairs apartment, clinging together and cowering under the bed, dead by the time they were found of smoke inhalation.
Dorian had spent his time with frustrated efforts to gather evidence downstairs and running the restaurant's financials. Everything had been coming up clean. They had little more to go on now than they had an hour ago, it appeared the victims had just been regular hard-working people.
"Come on John," Dorian said gently, sticking his head back in the door of the children's bedroom. "We should go, let these guys finish up here."
"Mmm," John looked up. He ran a hand over his face as though he was just waking up. "Yeah, I'm coming." He drifted out of the room giving the CSI a grim smile on his exit.
Dorian was surprised the man had even come into work. He was quite clearly hurting from the crash the night before, his movements were stiff and he kept rubbing the back of his neck. He'd been popping pain pills all day but when Dorian had suggested he go home he'd just said wearily that his sick record was already appalling and he didn't want the department giving him any more grief about it. But now, here they were, working unplanned and unwanted overtime again.
"When was the last time you ate anything? It's nearly midnight, let's go get noodles while we work this out."
John slapped his hand down on the android's shoulder, "That's the best plan all week. Come on D."
Saturday
"So, you're telling me there's nothing?" John asked, sitting down at his favourite noodle stand. The aging cook behind the counter smiled at him and began to throw ingredients into the wok, John's culinary tastes were nothing if not predictable and once he found his favourite he'd ordered it religiously every time he ate there.
Dorian shook his head. "Nothing, the forensics have all been burnt away, there's traces of accelerant but it's regular gasoline, could have been bought from anywhere. There's nothing in the history of either owners that connects them…"
"Except that the businesses are run by immigrants?"
Dorian shook his head at that too. "No, the Ahmadi family were immigrants, they came here fifteen years ago and have owned the restaurant since then. David Sabio who runs the bodega is fifth generation Filipino, born and raised downtown."
"Yeah, I have a feeling that our suspect is not able to make that distinction."
"You think it's a hate crime? That's one of the few crimes that have actually gone down over the last decade. It's an outdated mentality."
"Yeah but there's always gonna be a few idiots who want to blame their own misfortunes on others."
"Like you blame all your woes on androids?" Dorian asked, cuttingly, but with a smirk on his face to let him know he was winding him up on purpose.
John frowned, "That's different, you know it is. All MX's are the same." He emphasised the 'are'. "And as for you, I must have known what a pain in my ass you were going to be the moment I met you." But where as once upon a time that statement would have been said with vehemence now it was only light sarcasm.
John was delivered his noodles and he snapped apart his wooden chopsticks and dove into the steaming bowl, shovelling a huge lump of Pad Thai into his mouth.
"You eat like an animal!"
John glared at him but kept munching. Dorian was about to say something else but then something caught John's eye over the android's shoulder. The detective gulped his mouthful down and slid off his stool, breaking into a sprint.
"We'll be back." Dorian promised the cook in effortless Thai before taking off after his human.
As he ran to catch up with the detective, he saw what had caught the man's attention, a dark figure carrying something heavy, through the side door of a noodle shop that had already closed up for the night. Dorian did a quick scan and saw that there were eight heat signatures in the apartment above. He could tell by positioning and the way they were unmoving that they were asleep.
John made it to the building first and pulled his handgun from his holster, leaning against the wall as he checked the clip, keeping an eye on the door that the figure had just gone through.
"Gasoline." Dorian whispered as he joined him, drawing his own weapon. "There are particles of it in the air."
"Yeah, I can smell it." John agreed.
"There are eight people sleeping in the rooms above."
"Dammit." John cursed, his brow furrowing. "Okay, you get them evacuated, quietly, and I'll go after our guy."
Dorian nodded, "you gonna be good?"
John nodded, and reached out and opened the door. The door lead through to a corridor at the back of the restaurant, John left in the direction of the kitchen and Dorian opened a door that lead up a set of stairs. The stairs were creaky but a quick scan of the floorboards and he was able to step in the right place to keep the noise to a minimum. There was another door at the top of the stairs, Dorian knocked lightly, "It's the police," he announced, hoping to be heard by the occupants of the rooms but not by anyone in the restaurant below. When there was no response he pressed a thumb on the bio-lock and overrode it.
As soon as he went through the door, someone charged at him. Dorian registered the glint of metal in the man's hand and almost fired his weapon but instead reached out and pushed his attacker in the chest, knocking him to the floor. The man, a young Chinese man dressed in his boxers and a tee shirt and grasping a meat cleaver, stared up at him in panic.
Dorian switched to Mandarin and explained himself. "I'm police, I'm here to help. There's someone dangerous downstairs, I need to get you out of here."
"Dangerous how?" The man asked, still clearly not trusting Dorian.
"I'll explain when we get outside. We're working on stopping him but we have to go now. Who else lives here?" Dorian looked around, there was a small kitchen where the dirty washing up had been stacked in the sink and the Lino was peeling from the floor a tiny bathroom straight ahead and a couple of other doors. The man opened the first door and Dorian followed him inside. The room was tiny with two bunk beds on one side of the room and a stack of suitcases on the other side, overflowing with clothes. There were clothes strewn on the floor along with dirty plates and other garbage. The place was filthy and Dorian found himself hoping that John had never eaten at the restaurant below.
A few hushed orders and and the occupants of the beds in this room and the identical one beside it were all dressed, in shoes and winter coats at least and hurrying down the stairs. Dorian lead the way, opening the door and guiding them out, making sure no one got curious and tried to enter the restaurant. On the outside, an MX had arrived to assist and lead the small group of workers away from the building. As Dorian watched the last one go he heard a firm steady voice, loud and commanding from inside the restaurant.
"Give it to me. Let me fix this."
Dorian followed the sound of John's voice and crept silently into the front of the restaurant where John was stood facing a teenage boy. The boy was dressed in black with his hood up to obscure his face but Dorian could tell he was young, perhaps fifteen. He had a can of gasoline tipped over at his feet and had clearly soaked himself in it too, his hoodie was sodden and the flammable liquid dripped from the hem. In his shaking hand he held a disposable lighter.
John was facing away from Dorian but must have caught his presence in the doorway because without looking he held his hand up in a 'stay there' gesture. He put his weapon away and held both hands up, his gaze not leaving the boy in front of him.
"Put the lighter down and let's talk." He said gently.
"You wouldn't understand." The boy spat angrily.
"So try and explain it to me?"
"It doesn't matter now anyway. I've seen the news, I killed those people. It's over."
"It doesn't have to end like this." John said. "You're a kid, you made a mistake. Let me help you make it right."
"You can't bring back those people I killed!" The boy screamed at him.
"No, you're right. But hurting yourself won't bring them back either."
"I knew they were there. I mean't to kill them."
"Why?" John asked. He was slowly shuffling closer, his hand reaching out for the lighter.
The question threw him, clearly the boy hadn't expected to be asked. Unfortunately he was still clinging to the lighter, his finger on the button on the top. He was so heavily doused in gasoline that it would only take the slightest spark to set the whole thing alight. Dorian was looking for an alternative way to get the lighter from him, but he couldn't see one, furthermore, Dorian was worried that the slightest flaw in his synthetic skin would cause a spark and ignite everything. Rudy took good care of his maintenance but since he'd started working with John, the damage he'd sustained had been so great that he was no longer in factory condition. John was going to be on his own for this one.
"Why?" The boy echoed.
"Yeah, why'd you do it?" The question wasn't accusatory but an attempt to understand.
"Because I did the first one and he didn't care!" He replied angrily. "He just sat on the fucking sofa and when he saw it on the news he changed the channel!"
"Your dad?" John guessed. "I get that, I know what it's like to want your dad's approval. Why did you think he'd want you to do this?"
"Because he's always going on about foreigners stealing our work. He says it's why he can't get a job, it's why he went to prison." The kid was on a roll now. Dorian wondered when the last time someone had listened to him had been.
"He fucking left me! He went to prison and fucking left me, and now he's home he just sits around drinking all day. He doesn't care what I did, he won't care if I kill myself!"
"I care." John said honestly.
"Coz you think you'll die too. So get out."
"I care because I think you need some help. And I'd like to be able to help you."
"You can help by leaving me alone!" He screamed.
John shook his head. "Too many people have left you alone." He said simply. "Give me the lighter and let's get out of here." He was close enough now to reach out and put his hand over the boy's hoping to slide the lighter out of his grip. Dorian watched with rising panic, John was stood in the gasoline puddle now, touching the boy had put the fuel on the palm of his hand.
"No!" The boy snatched his hand away and as he left John's grip his thumb pressed the button. Dorian saw it all in slow motion, the flame lit and then the boy was engulfed with a whoosh, the boy letting out a bloodcurdling scream. John stumbled back in panic. Dorian snatched the fire extinguisher off the wall and pulled the pin, spraying the foam in the direction of his friend and the boy. He strode forward and grabbed John's collar, dragging him backward out of the way, still spraying the extinguisher until it was empty. The screaming had stopped but the fire was still going, licking up the walls of the restaurant and causing the room to fill with black rolling smoke.
Dorian got John in front of him and pushed him towards the exit. As they stumbled out of the door, Dorian still holding John's collar, they were met by an android fire crew, a variation on the MX's the police department used, who ushered them away.
Dorian lead his partner away, whose energy seemed to drain as soon as they were across the street. He sat down heavily on the curb and stared at the building. There was a loud crack, which made him jump, as the heat melted the PVC on the windows and they fell to the sidewalk, allowing the billowing smoke to roll up the outside of the building, the oxygen feeding the fire faster. A crowd had gathered, a mix of evacuated residents and curious onlookers, held back by MX's.
"Let me see your hand." Dorian said, crouched beside him, taking him by the forearm and turning it over gently for inspection. He could tell with a quick scan that his left hand which he'd used to try to get the lighter had second degree burns, and that he had suffered mild smoke inhalation. Thankfully these seemed to be his only injuries, which considering his proximity to the boy was something of a miracle. Dorian made a quick request over the MX's frequency and almost instantly one appeared holding the trauma kit from the back of the cruiser.
While Dorian cleaned and dressed John's hand with the slimy gel bandages that were designed to cool and stimulate healing in burns, Maldonado appeared in front of them, Detective Paul by her side.
"Good job guys. A lot more people could have been killed without your quick reaction."
John looked up and gave her a wan smile. "Yeah, I suppose so." He said half-heartedly.
"Don't mourn him too hard Kennex." Paul said. "He killed some kids tonight. At least we know he won't kill anyone else."
"He was just a kid himself." John pointed out.
"The medics should be here soon to look at your hand. How's it feeling?" Maldonado asked.
"Nah, they can cancel. Dorian has done just as good a job on it. I'm just ready for my bed."
Maldonado frowned as she thought about the request. "Okay, let Dorian drive you home. But if it gets even the slightest bit worse I'll drag you down to the hospital myself."
"Yes boss." John gave her a sloppy salute and then allowed the DRN to hover over him as he stumbled wearily to the car.
Sunday
John actually strode into the bullpen with a spring in his step, a rare sight at the best of times but after the last week completely incongruous, causing Dorian to give him a confused frown.
"You're in a good mood today." Valerie commented. "What's brought this on?"
"Nothing in particular." John shrugged. "But I'm finally at the end of the week. Every day I've stepped out of this precinct into a pile of crap, but not today. Today I am going to sit at this desk with a cup of coffee and a doughnut and catch up on paperwork like a proper detective. No fights, no crashes, no rotting corpses. It's going to be boring, but perfect."
Valerie nodded. "That's great." She smiled. "Just one problem, the coffee machine has broken."
"Are you serious?" The good mood was gone already. He'd just picked up his coffee mug but now he slammed it down furiously. "That's it. Tell Maldonado I'm taking a personal day."
"Over a broken coffee machine?" Detective Paul who had been listening in, barked out a harsh laugh.
But John didn't respond as he was too busy storming out.
Later
John wondered when his perpetually chipper android had decided they were close enough that he could just turn up unannounced. More than that, use the back way which gave his access to his roof terrace and the view of John slumped in front of his TV through the huge glass windows that surrounded over half of his apartment.
He'd been dozing in front of Sports Centre when Dorian's grinning face appeared at his window, tapping on the glass. John thought about ignoring him, and he might have were it not for the six pack of his favourite beer that Dorian waved at him.
John gestured for him to come in, knowing Dorian could just override the lock. He did, entering followed by a bitter gust of winter air that he soon shut the door blocking out. John snuggled down further into his hoodie away from the chill and slid his legs off the sofa to give Dorian room to sit down.
"Sandra send you to check up on me?"
"No. I'm sending me to check up on you. Although she's the one who told me what your favourite beer was. How's your hand?"
"Hurts. Like the rest of me." He sighed. "It's been one hell of a week. And some days it just doesn't feel worth it."
Dorian nodded. "Get up."
"Excuse me?"
Dorian grabbed a heavy blanket off the nearby bed and tucked it under his arm, carrying the case of beer in his other hand. "We're having the birthday beer on your roof that you wanted a week ago."
John smiled and got to his feet. The pair of them went outside despite the cold and sat on the chairs that John had set up to overlook the water. There was a fire pit between the chairs and Dorian lit it before opening a beer and handing it to John who had wrapped himself in the blanket against the wind. Dorian opened one of his own too and they clinked the bottles together in salute although Dorian wouldn't drink his beer and would eventually pass it off to John to finish instead. The winter sun was setting off to their left and the sky was turning a deep shade of orange which was being reflected in the dark water. It was partially frozen over and the ice sparkled in the dimming light.
"It's beautiful." Dorian commented.
"Yeah," John smiled. "I always feel better sat up here."
"You feeling better now?"
"I'm getting there. Although that could be the beer."
Dorian smiled. "Well whatever works. I know this week has been bad, but it's not always like this. Think of all the good you've done since you got back."
"We've done." John corrected.
"Right. We've done. You know that without you they'd decommission me right?"
"Think it's fair to say that without you they'd decommission me too." John joked.
"Well then I guess it's a good thing I don't plan on going anywhere. We're in this together. Happy Birthday John."
John didn't say anything, just smiled, but for Dorian, it was enough.
THE END