DISCLAIMER: Heavy Rain and Norman Jayden belong to Quantic Dream. Unless stated all associated characters and likenesses belong to Quantic Dream Inc. It is a fictional story made for purely entertainment purposes. Any relation to events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Windshield wipers hypnotically made a rhythmic humming noise as they crossed to and fro across the plane of wet glass, taking with it in its path small clear currents that hindered his vision.
"I really cannot stand this fucking rain." The thought blaring in his mind, he thought he was done with the terrible weather and he did not want to bother himself with the nagging sense of failure after this latest case. Norman Jayden, for the most part stuck things out through till the end_ but not this time , this time he thought that maybe he was far too close to this case or maybe that was what he wanted to tell himself...
He knew accusing Blake wasn't exactly the brightest thing to do, he also knew Mars wasn't the killer either but who else could that leave? Who else to take his frustration out on then, some asshole who had kept pushing and clawing at his patience since he first arrived? The whole police station had been against his very presence from the get go, and instead of cooperating with him they were quick to dismiss his evidence as "crackpot theories" It was all just a little too much for him to be bothered with and though he hated the thought of just abandoning the Shaun Mars case he just needed to get away ...in so many meanings of the word. From the case, from that place, from the FBI, just everything.
The roads where clear save for the random passer by-er, and he certainly preferred it that way. It was a small comfort knowing he only needed to watch his own ass on the road and not be concerned for another person's idiocies he wanted to keep his mind as clear as possible as he was going home...or the only thing he could call such a place.
Norman couldn't really recall too many fond memories of it, he was only calling it home because that was where his family was still living. After an abrupt departure from the good town of Boston he wasn't exactly expecting a warm reception to his sudden return, but he had to start somewhere he figured and aside from D.C, Boston was the only other place he knew fairly well.
A flash of lighting unexpectedly tore at his retinas, causing him to blink tightly and wince slightly. The brightness of the flash was painful... unusually so; sweat was beginning to form at his brow as he shook his head to focus quickly on the road again. His head was getting heavy, blood rushing so fast that he could smell it. Rubbing his index finger over the bridge of his nose slightly he could feel his heart beats skip a bit.
"A..migraine?" No, he certainly knew better than that, it was withdrawal from the triptocaine. A constant reminder of his oh so successful career with the FBI and just one of the many reasons why he was even out here trying to return to a "normal" life, whatever the fuck that constituted at this stage.
The hard rush of rain water was relentless in its onslaught of his car, water overflowing in every which direction hindering the windshield wipers absolutely useless in their plight to help Norman see the road, and this on-coming flare up was not helping maters. Flipping his blinker offhandedly he pulled his car over onto the shoulder sloppily, showing just how much control he had lost in a mater of seconds.
Resting his head on the steering wheel he began to feel lightheaded now, the abrupt change in motion threatened to make him expel what little he had eaten before leaving DC. Breathing a bit haggard he tried to focus on the sound of the heavy rain pelting the car the windshield wipers still desperately trying to remove water from the front window. He was finding himself to be extremely frustrated but he couldn't blame anything on anyone aside from himself , "I'm being stupid" He berated himself, silly of him to think that just because you remove something as dangerous as that from your life that everything was going to be peaches and rainbows in the aftermath.
Overcoming the pain...and the urge was something he would have to deal with for the remainder of his life most likely, ARI or no ARI his overindulgence had left a fresh laceration on his mind, physical symptoms aside they would pass in due time but that was why he left, taking that first step was the most important to getting himself back on track.
"I hate not being in control" He mused to himself, he had lost control of everything here to the point that he was dependent on a drug...and a fantasy world. The constant retreating to get away from reality, was he afraid of it? Sometimes it seemed easier just to indulge and run away from the frustrations and complications that came with its predictability but he could not live that way thus end up destroying himself in the process.
As his symptoms began to calm steadily he lazily guided his hand towards the ignition, he turned the key with a flick of a wrist, the vibrations from the motor ceasing, the windshield wipers frozen in place and the rain still relentlessly pouring outside and around him.
While this attack was somewhat tame to what he usually experienced he knew there would be many more with varying degrees of severity...so for just this once he decided to use this window of control to just listen...listen to the sound of the rain.
On the side of the road his car sat deathly still....
