Title: Non Compos Mentis
Rating: M
Main Pairings: Blake/Jayden, Blake/Shelby (past), OC/Jayden (past).
Genre: Crime/Thriller/Erotica
Warnings: M/M scenes, bad language, graphic sex scenes, graphic violence, BDSM and generally bring British and not understanding American police terms.
Chapter: 1/?
Comments: So this is my own interpretation on Blake and Jayden's relationship. I do take some freedom with Triptocaine and ARI. Please make sure to glance over the warnings and enjoy.
Non Compos Mentis
Chapter One:
Felicia Shaw
She struggled and screamed like the best actress in Hollywood. Her chestnut hair was already matted with blood from the few inconsequential cuts he'd caused. He watched as she tried to scramble away, although the bonds tying her hands and legs together meant that she didn't get very far. Still, he enjoyed the chase.
"Oh my god, someone help me please... Oh my god, oh my god! He's going to kill me! Someone help me! Help me!"
He smiled, unzipping his trousers with one hand as he grabbed a fistful of her hair with the other. It was almost time. He loved that moment, that moment when he was inside them and they were slowly going cold. That moment when he knew that the last thing they would ever see was his face.
"Norman! God! Anyone! Help me!"
He wondered who she was calling for. A lover? A friend? It didn't matter. He pushed her head down against the floor and reached with his other hand for the knife.
Her final words were pleading with an invisible man for help.
Blake's hands tightened into fists. Another murder on his patch and another host of pictures of a mutilated corpse dumped on his desk. He stared at the manilla folder for a long moment before unclenching his hands and opening it. The first page included some information his men had dug up on the victim's identity.
Felicia Carla Shaw, a scientist from Washington D.C., grew up in the care system. There were notes about a few official warnings during her teenage years, but nothing that tied her to some criminal underworld. She had been here for a conference. Something to do with FBI technology. Blake squinted at the text, his eyesight blurring from tiredness as he tried to make sense of Ash's illegible additions to the case files. Something about ar-ee...?
Blake turned the page to the photos. She had been a beautiful woman, tall, slim and with olive skin that would have made her looked sun-kissed if she hadn't lost so much blood. She had been stabbed over fifty times before she'd had her hands cut off. The killer had then carefully removed all the blood from her face, put make-up on her and left her posed with her legs wide open tied to the seat of her car. Forensics hadn't come up with any of the killer's DNA yet but Blake was still hopeful.
He turned to the next page. It was the page regarding next of kin and possible suspects. Ash had drawn if up for him. Obviously biological parents were unknown at the present but there were names for a couple in D.C. who were listed as her parents by law. It meant he was probably going to have to drive the three hours to Washington to deliver the bad news.
He paused when he saw the next name on the list, staring in shock. That lucky little fucker. Norman Jayden was circled by Ash and next to it scrawled 'current boyfriend'. Blake couldn't believe it. He'd always assumed that Jayden was the kind of guy who was probably still a virgin, or had some kind of dysfunctional geeky relationship with the local school teacher or something. Not that he had a hot, supermodel girlfriend who had been, by all accounts, absolutely smoking hot.
Why the hell had that guy spent so much time in his stupid VR sunglasses when he could have been banging this chick?
"Yeah, real mind fuck, huh?" Ash said. Blake looked up and saw that Ash had brought him coffee. He took it and looked back down at the file. "Always had Jayden pegged as a queer."
Blake didn't know what to say about that. He'd spent most of his time being so annoyed with Jayden he hadn't even considered the kid's sexuality at all. He'd seemed so asexual that Blake had wondered if his balls had dropped yet.
"Well he's suspect number one already," Blake said, closing the file and sipping some of his coffee. Ash raised an eyebrow, looking interested.
"Your reasoning?" he prompted. Blake laughed and got to his feet, tapping the folder.
"Because I fucking hate that asshole."
The drive to Washington D.C. seemed longer than normal. Blake hated these duties. Telling people that someone they thought was alive a minute earlier was dead just made his insides feel squirmy. He could do it and he did. Bluntly. He never minced his words with the family. They often wanted his honesty. Although he usually had someone else with him to offer the condolences rather than having to go on his own. Ash had been needed to work on the case and Perry hadn't wanted to spare the men to travel up to Washington for the day. Blake didn't blame him. Another murder in the city and people were going to start to believe the police were completely ineffectual.
He eventually pulled into the right neighbourhood. Ash had set up the sat nav for him and although it annoyed him to no end, he was kind of glad of it in this neighbourhood. All the houses looked the same, large, expensive and perfect. They were the typical white picket fence brigade and Blake couldn't help but feel a small amount of contempt for these people. Assholes who thought they knew it all because they had money.
"Turn right... then turn left... You have arrived at your destination."
Blake looked up at the house. It looked like it should belong to a senator. He knew it didn't. Mr Shaw was in pharmaceuticals and his wife was a writer of rather tacky romance novels. Obviously it pulled in the money because Blake could see there was a gardener tending to the roses by the gate. He wound down the window and pressed the intercom. The gardener didn't even look up at him.
"Can I help you?" a voice came through the intercom, sounding vaguely distorted.
"This is Lieutenant Blake from Philadelphia Police Department. I'd like to talk Mr and Mrs Shaw?" Blake said, watching the gardener cutting the roses carefully. He hated intercom systems in situations like these.
"Just one moment Lieutenant Blake."
There was silent and then a buzz as the gates opened. Blake drove his car up the drive and parked it, trying to collect his thoughts a little before opening the door and climbing the steps to the door. It swung open and Blake recognised the face of Mrs. Shaw. She was staring at him with the uncertain dread that Blake had learned to expect in these situations.
"Mrs. Shaw, may I please come in? You may want to get your husband," Blake said, trying to be as gentle as he could be. This really wasn't his forte... Mrs. Shaw's hands were shaking but she called for her husband.
Blake found himself led to a lounge to wait and for them to return. He glanced around. There were pictures of Felicia Shaw everywhere. Graduation robes, pictures from exotic places and finally a picture above the mantelpiece of Felicia with Jayden. The FBI agent had his arm around her waist and was raising a glass to the camera, next to him Felicia was obviously leaning in to kiss his cheek, in her hands were a pair of sunglasses.
He turned when he heard returning footsteps and took Mrs. Shaw's unspoken invitation to sit. He tried not to slouch and turned to Mr. Shaw. He seemed more together and Blake felt more comfortable talking to him instead of his already distraught wife.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Shaw, but I'm afraid it's bad news," he said quietly. "We found your daughter's body yesterday. I'm afraid she's been murdered." He watched as Mr. Shaw's face contorted into grief and his wife let out a shriek, clutching her husband's hand tightly.
"My baby... my poor baby!" she screamed. He turned to her and hugged her. Blake sat there, waiting for it to pass. He still had questions he needed to ask after all. Eventually Mrs. Shaw's hysterical sobbing quietened a little and Mr. Shaw soothing rubbed her back, tears in his own eyes.
"I'm sorry to ask you this now, but I need you to answer some questions," Blake said, trying not to sound too much of an asshole. Mr. Shaw nodded, squeezing his wife's shoulders.
"When was the last time you heard from your daughter?" he questioned. Mr. Shaw looked to the side as he tried to think, wiping his eyes.
"She called just after her conference the day before yesterday... She was planning to come back that night and see Norman," he replied. His wife was starting to rock backwards and forwards. Blake resisted the urge to get up and pace.
"Norman Jayden is her boyfriend, correct?" he asked. Mr. Shaw nodded and looked at his hands.
"The last few months he's been unwell. Felicia hated the idea of leaving him on his own so she planned to commute back and forth until the conference was over but... but we convinced her that we could look after Norman while she was away," Mr. Shaw took a deep breath, obviously coming to the conclusion it was their fault for letting her go. Blake was more interested in the 'unwell' comment.
"And what is wrong with Jayden?" he asked. Mr. Shaw shook his head.
"He has mental health problems. He was taken off active duty last month and admitted into mental health care," Mrs. Shaw explained, speaking directly to Blake for the first time. Blake felt like all his birthdays had come at once. That little fucker Jayden was a complete nutball, as Blake had always known, and had offed his girlfriend in one of his weird, psychotic episodes.
He knew he was getting ahead of himself however. If Jayden had been in Washington D.C. it was unlikely he'd been in Philadelphia the night of the murder. And if he had been, the nurses on the mental health ward would probably have noticed him missing.
"Can you give me some information on where Norman Jayden is right now?" he asked. Mrs. Shaw looked uncomfortable.
"You can't possibly think-" she began. Blake shook his head.
"We just want to eliminate him from our enquiries," he said, hoping he sounded convincing. Mrs. Shaw nodded and stood up to get her purse. Blake watched her leave the room and then turned to Mr. Shaw.
"I will tell you now, there is no way that Norman Jayden killed our daughter Lieutenant Blake," Mr. Shaw said firmly. Blake looked hard at him.
"What makes you so sure?" he asked. Mr. Shaw shook his head and stood up, walking to the mantelpiece and picking up the picture of his daughter and Norman.
"You'll know when you see him I think."
Blake slunk into the cheap motel wishing he'd thought this far ahead. It should have been obvious, even to him, that he wouldn't be allowed to investigate a federal agent without some kind of obstruction. He hadn't expected the feds to be waiting for him outside the nuthouse that Jayden was in, but he guessed he shouldn't have been surprised that they were. They had quietly escorted him away, despite his insistence he was just paying a friend a visit and brought him here.
He hoped this wasn't the kind of shady business that made good officers disappear.
Both of the men had ARI glasses tucked into their pockers. Blake could see the familiar bulge in their pants pockets. Even if he tried to escape, he was sure that they'd be able to follow him easily with those things. Watching Jayden wander around the crime scene and see things that forensics would take at least an hour to deduce had already given him a grudging respect for the gadgets usefulness, even if he didn't want to admit that good old-fashioned police work sometimes wasn't enough. He enjoyed the idea of them, but couldn't stand that they were restricted to higher up pricks like the FBI and weren't used on the field by officers who actually needed them.
He was led to a room that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. There were nicotine stains on everything and the curtains were hanging off in places. The TV was an old-fashioned portable, it's casing held together by parcel tape. Blake even noticed that the bed had a vibrate feature, although when he sat down on it he realised that it probably didn't work anymore judging by the state of the bed's springs.
"So what're you gonna do, hm?" Blake asked. He raised his hands up in a 'c'mon then tough guys' gesture. The agents just stared at him almost impassively.
"We need to know why you are trying to see Agent Jayden," one of them said. He clearly thought he was a tough guy. He had that same clean-cut grad school look that Jayden had. His light brown hair was slicked back from his face with gel and he held himself like he considered himself smarter than Blake by far. Blake smirked.
"Oh yeah? Don't your fancy gadgets let you read minds yet?" he asked, gesturing to the agent's pocket. The man looked flustered for a minute and he folded his arms defensively.
"I heard about you, Blake, when Norm came back from Philly. He said you were an asshole but I didn't believe half the things he said. I guess I should have done," he said.
"Oh, how I love a sweet talker," Blake replied, getting to his feet. He pulled his leather gloves out of his pockets, watching as both agent's eyes narrowed down onto his gloved hands as though they were dangerous weapons.
"Quit fucking us around, Blake. Tell us what you want with Norman!" the defensive agent continued. Blake found it boring already. What a load of incompetent jackasses the feds really were if they thought this would work on him.
"Well you seem to know my name already but I don't think I caught yours?" he said, looking down at his hands. The defensive one exchanged looks with the other, who had remained silent until now.
"I'm Agent Edward Mead. This is Agent Fraser James," he said. Obviously he'd come from the same school of thought as Jayden because Mead dropped his defensive posture and attempted to step closer. Blake smirked.
"Look. I just gotta see an old friend. I don't see why that's a problem," Blake said levelly. James' eyes narrowed and Mead once again glanced at him uncertainly.
"We know you're not here for pleasure, Blake. Your department put in a request for FBI assisstance an hour ago due to another murder," Mead explained. Blake growled. Shit, why hadn't Ash rung him? He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at its blank screen realising that he'd switched it off to talk to the Shaws and never turned it back on.
"Why don't you explain to us why you really want to speak to Jayden?" James said, speaking for the first time. His voice was low and gravelly.
"Why don't you explain why I freakin' can't?" Blake snapped in reply. He stared at the two agents until Mead sighed and began to rub the back of his neck.
"We would have to get clearance to explain it to you. It's FBI business, sorry," he said. Blake stared at Mead for a long moment. What on Earth could be FBI business in relation to Jayden's mental health...?
"Right. I guess it would be too much to ask for you to tell a concerned friend what was going on then?" Blake said. Mead looked back at James again uncertainly and took another step forward, his guard down as he prepared to obviously pull the bleeding heart act for Blake.
Blake wasted no time drawing his fist back and letting it collide with Mead's face. The agent staggered back into James before he realised it was time to react. Blake wasn't sure what his chances were on taking them both on together but he'd had just about enough of their superior attitudes. He grabbed Mead's collar, pulling him forward and bringing his knee up into his stomach. The man doubled over long enough for Blake to get another blow in before having to dodge one of James' punches.
Blake felt his pulse racing. There was nothing more exhilerating than kicking the shit out of someone. Mead was still gasping on the floor helplessly and James was staggering, off balance from his punch going wrong. Blake brought his fist into the man's sternum, watching him splutter and briefly put his hand to his chest. It was enough for Blake to bring his elbow down on the back of the man's head and watch him drop to the floor.
He acted quickly, aware that he had seconds before the agents had recovered enough to have their wits about them. He quickly got out his handcuffs, linking the chain through the bars of the bed and attaching each side to the agents' wrists. Mead looked up with watery eyes and had enough about him to pull on the restraints futilely.
Blake smirked and turned on the vibrate feature, causing the chain to rattle against the chain. Mead tried to lunge for him but he stepped back.
"This is assault on a federal officer Blake! They'll have your badge for this!" Mead snarled. Blake took off his gloves and put them in his pockets, smiling down smugly at Mead. James was beginning to stir groggily.
"As fun as it's been to play with you, I've got a murder investigation to get on with, pal," Blake said as he walked to the bathroom and threw the key to the handcuffs down the toilet.
Blake had been in a few mental hospitals in his time, but never one as fancy as this. There were bright colours on the wall and the place was all at once airy and homely. It was clear that it was expensive. He wondered if the Shaws were paying for it or if Jayden had rich parents as well. Knowing that brat he'd probably had the whole white picket fence lifestyle from birth.
He hadn't needed to do more than flash his badge to get in to see Jayden. It seemed the receptionist was used to police officers and FBI traipsing through the place as they just waved him on through. She had confirmed, however, that there was no way that Jayden had left the hospital in the last few days. The receptionist had looked at him strangely after that but instructed him which room Jayden was housed in.
He eventually got to the room the nurses had pointed him to and opened it cautiously. If the guy was delusional he might go all Nathaniel on him and start trying to beat the shit out of the 'Antichrist' as soon as he walked in.
It wasn't what Blake expected. Jayden was stood in the middle of the room, his eyes blank. His hands were raised in front of his face and he seemed to be making strange dismissive gestures with them as though he were rifling through files then discarding them over his shoulder. Blake was distinctly reminded of those sunglasses Jayden used to wear. It was similar behaviour wasn't it? Did he think he still had them on?
Blake took a few steps forward. Jayden's green eyes didn't even turn towards him. He was studying something in the thin air between them intently. Blake stopped and put his hands in his pockets. It was quite clear that Jayden had completely snapped. Maybe he'd been on drugs all along just like Ash had jokingly suspected? Or had been completely and utterly mentally ill. Blake had always known that there was something wrong with the little prick.
"ARI Comment."
Blake jumped out of his skin when Jayden looked at him directly. There wasn't a twinge of recognition however as those eyes stared right passed him.
"The victim has lacerations on the right side of her face... bruising on the lower sternum was probably from..."
He leaned forward, peering at Jayden's face as the man continued to waffle. The words didn't relate to anything before them, or any case Blake was familiar with. He straightened again, his hands in his pockets.
There were a few droplets of blood on Jayden's plain white t-shirt, but there was also a red tint to his upper lip that suggested a nose bleed of some kind. Blake remembered the little bastard had been rather susceptible to them. In any case, it was clear that Jayden was semi-catatonic and not in the real world.
He put his hand on Jayden's shoulder and began to shake it lightly, wondering if that would pull him out of whatever it was that he was doing. The man frowned and pushed Blake's hand off him.
"Not now Butler," he muttered. "Can't ya see I'm a little busy here?"
Blake stepped back, more than a little confused. Who was this 'Butler'? He scratched his beard idly as he watched Jayden begin to pace around the room. His eyes weren't really focussed on anything and sometimes he'd stagger over something or his own feet.
Blake followed him with his eyes, trying to catch him doing anything that would suggest that this was only some kind of act. Jayden began to walk towards him and Blake raised his hand in front of him. Jayden continued to walk. Blake clenched his hand into a fist and raised his middle finger, feeling a weird sense of finally getting one over on the other when Jayden walked into his raised fist and paused, frowning and muttering to himself.
"Prime suspect in the case is Carter Blake, a local religious zealot with a passion for calling people the Antichrist"
Blake growled and raised his fist, convinced that Jayden knew he was there for a moment before he took in the deadness of Jayden's expression. There literally was nothing there in those eyes. They scanned an environment that Blake couldn't see. He'd seen his share of crazy people, and he knew that at this moment Jayden looked completely and utterly vacant. He slowly lowered his fist, even though he knew it would be satisfying to punch the bastard. He didn't want to have to explain it to the nurse.
"You know, Lieutenant Blake, there was no reason to come in here to see him. The nurses could have told you enough to know that he wasn't able to commit this crime."
Blake turned around, wondering how Mead had managed to escape so quickly. Blake held his hands up in a 'you caught me' gesture.
"Yeah well, I wanted to see it with my own eyes. You FBI sometimes hide the best bits from us cops," he replied. Mead opened his mouth to respond but froze, his eyes going to behind him. Blake turned in time to see Jayden looking straight at him.
"Blake?" Jayden mumbled in that thick accent of his. Blake scowled at him.
"Yeah?" he replied, not sure if Jayden was still hallucinating or was actually in the real world again yet.
"I... You shouldn't be here... Ugh... Suspect?" Jayden said. Blake took a step back when Jayden pressed his hands up to his eyes and they came away bloody. He watched as the blood dripped down Jayden's cheeks and onto his top.
"I thought he was meant to be locked inside his own head?" Blake snapped. He was more than a little annoyed that he couldn't rule Jayden out of his investigation. As much as he wanted to arrest the little prick, not having to spend time with his freak show ass would have been preferable.
"You're flashing between the butler and... are you real?" Jayden asked. Again with the 'butler'. Who was that guy? Apparently Mead knew because he was stepping forward and pointing to himself somewhat eagerly.
"What about me, Norm? Can you see me?" he asked. Blake felt a little superior when Jayden didn't even react to the man's voice.
"Isn't it obvious? He's only responding to important people," Blake replied, watching Jayden immediately begin to look around the room looking for others.
"Why are you here? Aren't I in D.C.?" he asked. Blood was starting to leak from his nose as well now. Blake turned to Mead.
"Shouldn't you get a nurse? It can't be right to be bleeding from every hole in his fucking head," he pointed out. Mead tore his gaze away from Jayden and looked at Blake.
"Don't you go anywhere, Blake. You've got explaining to do," Mead said at the same time Jayden questioned Blake who he was talking to.
"Just some piece of shit FBI," Blake replied, ignoring Mead's indignant growl as he went to try and find medical help.
"Sounds like something you'd say..." Jayden said and then put his hands on his hips in a gesture familiar to Blake. He was about to try and deduce something. He was thinking.
"There's no reason for you to come for a social visit... Unless you've come to gloat about me being stuck in here... Somehow I don't think even an asshole like you would drive all the way from Philadelphia just to gloat," Jayden pointed out. Blake smirked and took a few steps closer.
"You sound pretty lucid for a nutjob," he replied. Jayden grimaced and looked away. A few drops of blood dripped off his chin onto the floor.
"I'm not a nutjob," he replied levelly. Blake raised his eyebrows.
"Really, Norman? Because that's why you're in a fucking nuthouse isn't it?" he taunted. Jayden remained calm. As usual Blake's barbs seemed to cut him at first and then pass straight through him as just 'another assholish thing Blake had said'.
"What do you want, Blake?" he eventually demanded. Blake folded his arms across his chest. He really had wanted to wait until Mead got back and see if the other could explain it but it seemed that the idiot had gone to the Moon or something to go and get a nurse.
"Felicia Shaw was found dead in Philly a few nights ago," he said bluntly. He hadn't expected silence to meet that comment. Jayden stood there in silence for a few moments and Blake wondered if he'd gone back into his own little world again.
Then the other slowly sank to his knees. His hands went up to his own neck and he began scratching at it as though he couldn't breathe. Blake cursed and moved forward, aware that the fucktards at the FBI would think he'd assaulted him or something. Horrible red nail marks continued on Jayden's neck and only once Blake had managed to restrain him by grabbing his wrists and holding them towards his own chest, did Jayden let out what could only be described as a howl of grief.
Blake stood there awkwardly, holding the man's wrists in a tight grip and watching him sob, tears and blood mingling and dripping onto the floor. Jayden didn't struggle and Blake let him go, watching him warily for anything else.
At that moment Mead came back in with the nurses and Blake stepped back. Jayden didn't struggle as they moved him from the floor to a chair, but they seemed taken aback when he caught one by the wrist and asked her if the Shaws had come to visit him recently.
"Norm? You... Um... Can you hear me?" Mead asked, looking almost eagerly hopeful. Blake had the desire to kick him. Jayden looked in the direction of the voice and nodded before he crumpled in the chair, his hands in his hair as he cried.
"Excuse me gentlemen, but could you please leave? We want to look over Jayden and calm him a little," one of the nurses said. Blake nodded and, sharing a look with Mead, they both left the room.
"You better come with me, Blake," Mead said, his face rather flustered looking. "It would be best I explain a bit of what's going on."
"I thought you didn't have the clearance for that," Blake replied, watching as a doctor ran into the room they had just left.
"Yeah well it's not like you're going to leave Jayden alone until you know for sure that he didn't do it. So I'm going to tell you what's happened since the Origami Killer case... Let's walk."