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Chapter 4; Hesitance
Shaun didn't see Desmond again for three days and when he did see him again he really wished he hadn't.
Shaun had just got out of the shower, still wet with a towel around his head and a robe tied hastily around his body because somebody was trying to break the fucking door down and of course Elisabeth was late and couldn't be assed to show up on time like she'd promised she would and be there to answer the fucking door like a civilized human being.
Shaun wrenched the door open and snarled; "What," low in his throat.
Desmond was grinning broadly looking like some TV personality behind sport sunglasses. He was wearing a bright green T-shirt and black jeans under an equally black hoodie that still had tags under the left arm.
Mechanically Shaun reached out and yanked the tags off without comment or even breaking eye contact. "What do you want?"
Desmond shoved rudely into the apartment, looking like some hip-hop thug behind those glasses and his hood drawn up, sleeves pushed to his elbows. "I'm doing legwork tonight down town. The guy who drove the van that picked Ezio and me up agreed to talk to me. I need backup."
"You're going to a prison to talk to—"
"No, he's been out for a few years now, plea bargain, good behavior all that shit," He snuffed and his lower lip pushed out further as if he were trying to act like he didn't care.
"Why do you need backup to talk to an ex-con?" Shaun shut the door and went toward his bedroom, shutting the door before Desmond could get in. He spoke loudly to be heard through the wall. "Is poor ickle Des-Des afwaid?"
"Fuck you."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you."
"Shaun, I'm warning you. Not today."
"Exactly, sorry mate, I've got a date, you'll have to go it alone."
"I—Shaun, man, please?"
"No."
"Aw, come on!" Desmond pounded his fist against the door. "Two hours, at the most."
"Not happening, now fuck off."
Desmond bristled and turned to leave when he got a rather nasty idea; "So, what's he like?"
"What?"
"Your boyfriend? That is who you're waiting for dressed up like that, isn't it? For your 'date'? What the fuck was that anyway, silk? You've got a silk robe?"
"I don't have a boyfriend, Des and even if I did it's none of your business, is it."
Desmond froze, blinked, froze again and finally rebooted; "Wait, what?" His nose wrinkled up severely. "Shaun… Shaun, are you gay? Like—like r-really actually gay?"
"I believe that is also none of your business."
Shaun's voice was so calm the reply seemed perfectly reasonable to Desmond and he took a step back scratching his head under his hood.
"Desmond?"
"Huh?"
"Why are you still here?"
"Oh… uh—I-I'll just… go then…" He turned shuffled toward the door, paused as if about to say something then did actually leave. He made it to the street before he realized that no, he really didn't want to go meet this guy without backup and his backup had somehow managed to convince him it was a good idea to leave alone.
"That bastard!" Desmond turned and was stomping back toward Shaun's apartment with his face contorted in anger when he noticed a tall thin young man in baggy black clothing, a knit jacket with a zipper, and a bright orange fedora shoved on his head jog lightly down the steps into the street.
Desmond froze mid step because, even though there were no glasses perched on that nose he would recognize Shaun anywhere… And what the holy FUCK was he wearing!
Desmond stripped off his sunglasses, gave the zip on his hoodie a hard yank upward… and began following him.
Date indeed… That was Shaun Hastings and he was wearing goddamned rave gear! Shaun did NOT wear rave gear. He had twenty different sweaters and cardigans, at least that many slacks in dull business like colors and a plethora of buttoning shirts that varied only in shades of white. Shaun did not wear t-shirts. Shaun did not wear sneakers unless he'd borrowed them from his sister and he sure as hell did not own anything as loud as the orange that hat had been.
Shaun didn't take the train, didn't hail a cab, didn't get on the bus, he walked… and somewhere when he was out of Desmond's sight around a corner he'd met up with someone else… Someone dressed almost identical to him save where his clothes had splashes of orange, this stranger's had splashes of electric green. Four blocks later Shaun ducked into a coffee shop with this person and emerged with three others in tow. One, a shorter heavyset young woman who was dressed in plaid, one who had rainbows on their clothing and the last all in blue. They talked and laughed loudly enough that when Desmond took off his right amplifier and turned it up he could hear them almost as if he were included in the conversation.
"So, are you going to tell us what you've been up to?" The plaid woman said.
Shaun snorted and took a quick sip of his coffee; "Why tell you and ruin the surprise? You're intolerably nosy. Do try to remember that tonight we are merely rivals, I'll have no pawing and sharing secrets from public enemy number one!"
"Aw, fuck you," The plaid woman gave him a lighthearted shove. "Public enemy number one my ass!"
"That's what she said!" The younger man in blue pants with black piping said, Desmond would call him The Smurf for identification purposes later.
"Do you know what the competition is like?" Electric Green said, twiddling his hat between his hands.
"As long as there aren't too many Jumpers we'll last the night without vomiting," Shaun said and glanced over his shoulder; "Hang on a tic…"
Desmond turned and jogged up the steps to an apartment building at random, rummaging in his pockets as if looking for keys, sweat beading on his brow because he was begging god that please, please don't let Shaun have seen me!
"What is it?" Smurf said.
Shaun was quiet for a second, "I thought I… No… Nothing, let's go."
Desmond hung a little farther back, disappointed that he couldn't hear the conversation any more, even more disappointed that it was obvious that Shaun had more friends than he'd imagined… More than that, Shaun actually had friends he did things with, he hadn't been kidding when he said he had a life…
Desmond was strangely jealous and felt weirdly neglected. He only had Becca and… well, other than Becca and the people he used to drink with—he really didn't count them anymore, not a single one of them had called or come to see him after his birthday when he'd been stuck in that damned hospital, none of them had even so much as asked what had happened— Desmond didn't have any friends… Altair? Well, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to count Altair and Ezio as friends any longer… And there was Shaun with his little group in their baggy colorful clothing and there was Desmond following them like some creepy stalker.
"What am I doing?" Desmond stopped and pulled out his left amplifier, turning it back down and sliding it into place. He let his breath out in a huff and was turning around to leave when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder and he very nearly turned around with a punch.
"Oh, no you don't," Shaun surprisingly enough, didn't sound annoyed. He pulled until Desmond had turned around to face him. "Why were you following me? By the way, that was a pitiful excuse for tailing."
Desmond scratched nervously at his neck, looking up at the displeased faces of Shaun's friends, he wanted to scuff his foot against the ground and say he was sorry and go home—
"Why were you following me, Desmond?" Shaun crossed his arms.
Shaun's friends were scowling but there was something amused in their gazes. Desmond wondered exactly what Shaun had told them about him… how much of an asshole had the Brit made him out to be? How stupid did they think he was from Shaun's stories? How much of a loser did they believe him to be?
Desmond felt heat rise to his face and he looked down with an infinitesimal shake of his head.
The Smurf snorted amusedly.
Desmond wanted to ask just what the fuck he thought was so funny, but bit his tongue instead because Shaun was looking at him sternly and even though it was hard to take him seriously because the orange of his hat clashed with the red of his hair Desmond knew The Business Face when he saw it.
Shaun sighed in irritation when Desmond remained silent and rolled his eyes; "Stop following me… Go—Go home."
When Desmond didn't move Shaun's upper lip rolled back from his teeth, "Didn't you hear me? GO. HOME!" He said it louder, bending close into Desmond's face then back again when the younger man visibly flinched. "Now, did you understand that or should I spell it out for you? Would that make it easier? If I illustrated it?" He lifted his hand, two fingers pointed down. "Desmond," He made quick scissoring motions with his fingers, as if they were walking, "Go," he drew a vague 'house' shape with his other hand in the air and walked the little finger man up to it, "Home!"
His friends giggled.
Desmond swallowed a lump in his throat and looked up, meeting Shaun's eyes, then simply because it had hurt he smiled, "Yeah, I heard you… loud and clear…" He snuffed and took in the confused expression on Shaun's face before he turned, sneering at each of the bastard's friends in turn, and left.
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His name was Lewis.
Desmond remembered him… Remembered him smiling and laughing; "Don't worry kid, as soon as your dad gives us the money you're home free."
Lewis had aged… He'd been thirty-something at the time of the kidnapping, now he looked at least sixty. His hair was no longer blonde, but grey. There were lines on his face and his eyes weren't smiling anymore, they were dark and wary. A scar pulled in the corner of his mouth and Desmond imagined some thug in prison pinning Lewis against the wall and giving him that scar… among others. He shuddered and lowered himself into the chair across from him, keeping his left hand hidden in his pocket, fiddling with his phone.
Lewis cleared his throat, "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."
Desmond lowered his voice and carefully pulled off his sunglasses, hooking them in the collar of his shirt, eyes narrowed, expression pinched. He hadn't shaved in a few days and he was sure it was the shadow on his jaws as well as the dark lighting that pulled of the disguise, that and Lewis had never laid eyes on Altair before. "Yeah, well, I've had things to do."
Lewis nodded, "I understand…" He rolled his beer bottle between his hands, "… I really don't want to talk to the police, that's why I called you—but I—Someone needs to know and you said you'd keep me anonymous in your report so… Where would you like me to start, Mr. Hayes?"
"Altair's fine…" He swallowed a tight nervous lump in his throat, "Just start at the beginning."
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It was nearly three in the morning when Desmond awoke to his phone buzzing loudly beneath his head. He was confused at first, who would be calling him at this hour? He snarled and levered himself up, turning on the lamp and fishing his phone out of his pillow case, pressing it tightly to his good ear and hiding his cheek in the pillow again; "Hello?"
"Desmond?"
"Yeah? Who is this?"
"It… it's Shaun—"
"Shaun? Shaun who? I don't know any assholes named Shaun."
"Ha-bloody-ha… Look, I-I wanted to apologize for earlier…"
"Oh, fuck you and your apology," He took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh, "Who told you?"
"What?"
"The only reason you'd be apologizing is if someone told you. Who was it? Altair? Fucking baskterd…"
"Fucking what? Baskterd?"
"Shut up."
"Des—"
"Just shut up."
Shaun was quiet for a few seconds, "Desmond… would—would you let me in, please? I've been knocking at your door for twenty minutes."
Desmond hissed a curse under his breath and rolled out of bed, phone still pressed to his ear. He scratched at the side of his face, pulled the slide bar, then unlocked the deadbolt and doorknob before he pulled the door open and shuffled back into the dark confines of his little room.
Shaun stared in awe and shock because he hadn't expected Desmond to live in such a… miniscule place. Desmond's personality was huge, how did it fit into one tiny room above a seedy bar? He clicked his phone off and put it away still looking left and right at the plastic storage totes stacked against the walls. The thick curtains over the windows. The tiny twin-sized bed with the mussed sheets and flattened pillows. Desmond's shoes sitting under the table, his wallet beside the hotplate. The blinking light on his laptop charger barely visible under the bed. Christ this place was tiny.
Desmond shoved his phone back into his pillow case and sat heavily on his bed rubbing his face.
Shaun remained standing, shifting unhappily on his feet.
"Just spit it out already," Desmond leaned back hands propped by his hips and squinted sleepily. "I've got shit to do today and trust me, this isn't it."
Shaun nodded and pulled his hat off his head. His hair was still damp with sweat and he smelled vaguely of alcohol and that sour tang of too many overheated bodies pressed too close. His pupils were wide even in the lamplight and Desmond wondered if it was adrenaline or something else. Shaun didn't seem the type to imbibe in narcotics, but he hadn't seemed the type to go to raves either.
"I came to apologize."
"Because someone told you and now you feel bad… Fuck off, Shaun, I don't want your pity."
Shaun looked at the floor between his shoes. "No one told me… When we were discussing the case the other evening I saw… Through your hair. I didn't realize it until after I'd already said what I had…"
Desmond rubbed his ear self-consciously. "Right, fine… you've apologized, go away."
But Shaun didn't move.
Desmond snarled; "Do you want me to illustrate for you?"
He flinched and twisted his hat some more.
Desmond looked at him again, a little more awake and let his breath out in a sigh; "You're drunk, aren't you."
"A little."
"A little?"
"Maybe a lot… Alice was disqualified from the competition because she threw her drink on a judge, the idiot running the sound system didn't know the difference between Tectonic and Electronica, my sister's a Jumper and I haven't got a leg over in three years nine months so—"
Desmond blinked stupidly; "You haven't what?"
"Sex, Desmond."
And suddenly Desmond was very-very awake. "I'm not having sex with you!"
Shaun blinked, shook his head and at least had the decency to blush; "What? No! O-of course not! Why—why would anyone want to have sex with you?"
Desmond scowled.
Shaun drew himself up, squaring his shoulders; "Besides, I only came to apologize and I've done so… so so… So I'm leaving now, goodbye," But he didn't move.
Desmond stared up at him.
Shaun stared back.
Desmond scowled; "Get out, go away, you're drunk and I don't want you puking in my room, the smell'll last for a week and I'm damned well not cleaning it up if you do!"
"Did you speak with that man."
"What man?"
"The van man… The—the man."
Desmond's lips pursed. "Yeah."
"Well."
"Well what?"
"How was it! What did he say! My god are you really that dense!"
Desmond rubbed his face, "I hate you, Shaun… I really—really hate you," A sigh remembering Lewis sucking down his beer, eyes on the tabletop as he spoke in a whisper, glancing nervously left and right, his back pressed tightly against the wall as if afraid someone may come up and shank him, "He told me a lot of stuff. That there were two men he answered to, only one of them was Rodrigo… He said they had an Inside Man… a Golden Boy."
"What?" Shaun's lip rolled back, imagining gilded statues.
Lewis had said it quietly, half into his beer bottle, his expression dark like a man about to jump from a skyscraper without a parachute. Desmond felt the same in that moment, "A dirty cop, Shaun… Rodrigo had a cop on his side… HE said that the only reason Rodrigo was caught at all was because of Altair, if the Auditores hadn't called in Altair and he hadn't found what he had they would have got away, not because of lack of evidence, but because there was a cop doctoring what evidence there was."
Shaun rubbed a hand over his face and sat heavily on the foot of Desmond's bed. "Christ, you're putting me on."
"No…" Desmond scratched his head, "I really, really wish I was…"
Shaun exhaled, feeling decidedly more sober that before; "Right, so… what else did he say?"
"That he never met the cop, didn't have a name or even what rank he was, only that it was a man and that he and Rodrigo knew one another from 'way back'… I spent the night going over it—" He motioned to the mess of papers and files on his table, "And it fits. Why there were no leads, why those other kids got snatched before us and there wasn't even a proper investigation… And it got me thinking, which cop was on both cases? Who had access to that information? I made a list… There were ten cops from one precinct, and twelve from another that were both on the two cases. Fifteen of those same men and women are still there. Three have retired, one moved and one was killed two years ago ILD."
"ILD?"
"In the line of duty… Domestic Dispute, the perp shot him seven times in the back, then shot his wife in the face."
Shaun winced. "So, one of those men or women is responsible for all of this mess?"
"Yeah," Desmond bowed his forehead onto his knees, "Which means there is fuck all I can do about it. A dirty cop is like a death sentence, if they realize I've got wind of them I'm fucked. They could come after me, or worse yet, come after Altair and Ezio AND me… This—this is bad, Shaun… this is like BAD NEWS, man."
Shaun thought that was an understatement. "So, what are we going to do?"
"There's not much we can do! I-I've got to either drop the case completely, or make the guy think I don't know about him, make him think El 'Tardo the Van Man didn't tell me anything important and secretly try to figure out who he is, find evidence and take it to internal affairs. But I-I don't know if I can do it, Shaun… It—it's like something out of a fucking book or a movie and it scares me, alright?" He ground his teeth and squeezed his eyes tightly closed; "This is DEEP SHIT and I can't tell Altair about it!"
"Why not?"
Desmond lifted his head, scrubbed his hair off his brow and met Shaun's eyes levelly; "I can't tell him because Chris and Walker are on that list."
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