That could have gone better.
Save for them two the hall is empty, the blank walls and fluorescent lights whitening Kat's already pale complexion as if trying to blend her with the asylum itself. If she wore the hospital clothing and the lights consistently blare on rather than its current flickering, Sebastian would have to look twice to notice her.
The former teacher crosses her arms in a way it looks like she's wrapping herself, closing in. "I'm sorry, it's not always like this."
Sebastian doesn't need it because he gets it. He's a man with his share of issues and this isn't a circus, these people don't need to prove anything to him, but Kat clearly wanted a good first impression. Her shoulders are closed curtains.
No drink and no smoke. Sebastian has nothing to keep his hands busy.
"I assume 'Ivan' is a sore topic?"
Kat looks as him, eyes clear like she expected it and looks away, contemplative. "It's the opposite. When Ivan was transferred, nobody addressed it."
"Was nobody supposed to?"
"No, it's just…It turned into an unspoken taboo of some sort. I was concerned for Dylan, but he…he didn't speak of Ivan and I didn't want to bring it up first. Then more than a week passed and it didn't seem relevant anymore. Which always seems to cause most problems, doesn't it?" She doesn't want an answer because she knows it. It's in her hands, gripping her elbows tight. "It must have been boiling for some time."
Sebastian isn't good with people. He used to be in the sense that he was more careful. Talking but not saying anything, all words that people want to hear, what he thought they wanted to hear because it's convenient. Petty pretentious pity crap because how the absolute fuck could he understand the barest surface of the girl who got raped, seeing her abuser in the silhouettes of her own furniture or the boy playing dead on the floor of a church shooting, eyes wide to the distance as if he's an actual corpse.
So he doesn't say anything right now. Still doesn't know the right words to say to comfort even though he's been to the same stop and saw the horizon collapse into a wasteland, a different train to get to the same place.
Fortunately he doesn't get a chance to. Kat turns red, flustered, like what she said was a mistake.
"Oh god, you're not my psychiatrist. I shouldn't be forcing my burdens onto you. What am I doing?"
She saves him the trouble by walking away to the opposite direction, her hospital slippers breezing over the tiles.
Well there's that.
Sebastian stands alone with a security camera as his company – or not since there are people coming down the hall. This is a longer way but it still goes toward the cafeteria after –
Nope, he's wrong, just confused his shadow for a person with the light flickered.
He needs sleep damn it.
What's done is done. What matters now is that Sebastian was able to glean more crucial information, more potential leads that hopefully turn out to be solid once he puts it under the magnifying glass. He needs to keep digging deeper.
The detective arrives to the cafeteria in a hurry – to get a quick bite before the crow and to start searching for Arnold – but the rush was unneeded.
The line is short, the pasta and soup are steaming, and the tables are mostly empty though Sam and Arnold are already sitting in a corner, their table split between the pasty lights from the ceiling and the blue grey light from the tall, ornate windows occupying the wall next to them. Even though the windows have elongated prints of a park in autumn, the prints must be ancient, the sun faded the brilliant colors into a pasty, dusty palette that Krimson City's true colors seep through. Just the way it should be.
Sam isn't eating as much, slowly putting pieces of pasta into his mouth while Arnold is flipping through a newspaper, his plate empty save for sauce remnants, pushed to the side. Stable company.
"Mind if I sit here?" Sebastian asks when he comes closer to the two men.
Sam doesn't look up until the detective's shadow falls over him and the blond jumps, the blood rushing to his pale, freckled cheeks and he moans, the fork down in favor of covering his face with both hands.
"Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry, it must have been so awkward – "
Sebastian cuts Sam off by laying his food tray a little louder. "It's fine, kid. A small fight like that is nothing."
He and Myra had worse.
That's when Arnold pats Sam's back, a bit harder than he should since the man almost had his face full of marinara sauce. "You said if you can't handle what's happening, you'd leave. If you stayed who knows what might else have happened? You could have had a breakdown. You did what you had to do."
"Yeah but – I, um." The younger man huffs finally, all nervous air. "I hate fights."
"I think this one's a good for the group," Arnold nods leaning back in his seat. "Now that the whole case with Ivan is out, we can go over it calmly next time and move on. Bottling it all up is never a good thing."
Now. When it's still relevant.
"Hey Brown, I'm a bit concerned," Sebastian begins casually as he takes a sip of the broccoli cheddar soup. "Something about this 'Ivan' being transferred even though he shouldn't have. If it's not too personal, can you tell me what he means by that?"
The addressed man hums in his coffee, brown liquid drips to his chin in his attempt to speak early.
"Ivan was a strange fellow," says Arnold as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. "Had all these bizarre theories whirring in his head though he seemed well enough. Didn't even need to be in the ward the way he was behaving at first. Kat gets episodes and I get episodes. But Ivan? Never seen that man had an episode the whole time I knew him. Not even once."
Sebastian frowns. "Are you saying he was sane?"
"'Course not," Arnold snorts. "The techs say he was diagnosed with delusional disorder. Apparently if you had that you can fit in all right in the 'real world' unless it's so bad it disrupts your life."
Eyes focused to the grey windows, the older man sits back deeper in his seat, draining the last of his mug.
"In short, you could never tell what's going on with Ivan. The man claimed he was a freelance journalist and was investigating a big story. Said outright that he's in the hospital for one with a smile. You can't tell whether he was lying or being honest. Whichever one's true doesn't change that he's one crazy son of a gun."
Coincidences don't exist in investigations. There was someone before Sebastian and now he's in the locked ward. The implications are disturbing.
Trying not to let the dread show, Sebastian pierces his pasta but does it too hard, the fork clanging against the plate in a sharp sound that makes him wince.
You're not an amateur, calm down Castellanos.
"Acosta said something that caught my attention. He said that your story and Ivan's 'matches.' What did he mean by that?"
If Arnold didn't look perturbed before he is now. Within the span of seconds the lines of the man's face seem to have lengthened, the shadows wrapping around his eyes beneath his bony forehead deeper.
"Hey Sebastian, Arnold is…well, he's here for PTSD and the reason is what you're asking about…" Sam speaks up though it's quiet, nearly seamless with the background clatter of dishes and small conversations. "So if he doesn't want to talk it's not that he's ignoring you, it's most of, er, just y'know, he doesn't want to talk about it?"
"…Is this going to be war related?"
Because he won't be just fucked, he will be the needing-a-thousand-lives-to-see-the-end-of-this fucked if this case stretches all the way to the goddamn military.
Arnold erupts in laughter, the older man bending over with a hand on the edge of the table for support.
"Y-you look like the entire city broke down, Sebastian! You think I'm a vet? Am one alright, but not from a war!"
As the chortles gradually quiet down, Arnold manages out, "I used to be an inspector for the KCPD. That's the kinda vet I was. I was fine right up till Lakeside Town and it went down from there."
A KCPD inspector with PTSD. A KCPD inspector with PTSD who happens to know what Sebastian needs to know. It's so astounding that Sebastian almost turned his head to inspect if there's a smartass bastard cracking up behind a hidden camera. There had been far too many moments when Sebastian feels he needs to drink out of irony.
Wait a minute.
"Are you talking about the Elk River murders?" Sebastian starts, brows rising. "From the nineties?"
"You know the case?"
"It was all over the news." That and there is no single cadet back at the academy who wouldn't know one of the extremely few cold cases involved serial murders from the city, sitting high in the list of the most puzzling that it was told repeatedly like an urban legend. Wide-eye recruits would claim they would be the one to rediscover a new lead, reactivate the case and find the culprit.
Undoubtedly Sebastian knows the case well. After all he was one of those obnoxiously naïve idiots who hoped to bring the murderer - who god knows could potentially be some old sick fuck died of age - to justice.
"Yeah, it was pretty infamous. A dozen mutilated bodies and not a single fucking lead," Arnold growls, and as if he noticed how his voice rumbled he clears his throat. "It's why I'm here. All those families back at that little village…it's always the small places. Big places like the city – crime there isn't new and seeing a body at some alley becomes normal especially when you're in the Homicides Unit. But Lakeside Town was different. Place was drowning in fear."
"It's so scary," Sam shivers. "My aunt lives there and I used to visit her during the summer sometimes and it's just so small and peaceful and I don't get why anyone would hurt such nice people."
Arnold waves it off. "All in the past now. Until Ivan got admitted that is."
Sebastian's eyes darken.
"Let me guess: Ivan's big story involved the murders."
"You got it. Ivan thought some cult was connected to the Elk River murders and said he was in the hospital to bring it to light. Wouldn't be surprised that his disorder worsened while he was admitted if he was believing his own doctor was out to get him."
Knitting his hands together, Sebastian brings them to his lips, pondering. "He got worse?"
"He didn't used to yell."
It was Sam this time. The blond is staring down at his cold, half eaten pasta, hands squirming around on his lap. "It's rare what he got, that delusional disorder and all, and the people here are good at what they do but Ivan was just so paranoid and then he started to say that the staff was out to get him so he started to do all kinds of weird stuff, like, Dylan said Ivan started to make notes and put them all over the room and then Ivan wouldn't go see his psychiatrist or the social workers or anyone who worked for the hospital and would disappear."
Arnold inhales harshly, solemnity returning like dry air to lungs. "Then one day he snapped right in the lobby. 'Code One, Code One!'" – here the old inspector raises his pitch – "He was screaming that everyone were monsters in human skins and he couldn't take it anymore, couldn't pretend to get along and ended up with a spasm on the floor, all twitchy and foamy in the mouth. Mighty disturbing I tell ya, but it's not new in this unit. Once in a while someone gets sedated. Just unfortunate it had to be one of ours."
Well fan-fucking-tastic.
The KCPD veteran tilts his head back in his seat, relaxed, the ceiling's white lights harshly chiseling his face. He almost looks two-dimensional. Unreal.
"Doesn't matter anymore. Poor bloke's in the locked ward now."
Locked ward. Locked ward.
It's looking down a manhole to the sewers: how to get down is obvious, where to go underground less so, and understanding what could be hiding in the labyrinth of pipes, creaking concrete and the murky waters a total enigma. It's Saturday, Sebastian has been here for only two days - two days – and he's starting to heavily consider going down that slippery slope, of charging on and never looking back no matter the consequences. He wants to know so bad.
Still he's not a reckless moron, Sebastian on the job long enough that listening to one's guts is only acceptable when there aren't any options, and he has plenty of options right now.
Sebastian sits in the common blind spot of the two security cameras in the lobby just in case. He doesn't know how much he waited as he rests on one of the plush green armchairs in the lobby, Beacon Mental Asylum's blueprint folded and kept neatly in the middle of an open magazine on his lap. There's faint thundering and the lights flicker occasionally, clearly a storm occurring outside. The wind paws on the walls, howling and snarling like wolves, and Sebastian is in a corner. After the fourth time of glancing the double doors opening, each time not his partner, Sebastian returns to brainstorming without distraction until the smell of rain assaults his nose.
"Sorry Seb, traffic."
The detective looks over his shoulder but Joseph is already rushing in front of the receptionist to sign in. The Japanese man's coat is dampened with rainwater, his boots leaving behind dirt traces in their wake. After a long time keeping his nose down, Sebastian realizes that Joseph is the only visitor this late an hour – making the older detective the only patient waiting in the main lobby. Apparently supervising two grown men is a simple enough job for a wearied nurse to handle.
"What time is it?" Sebastian asks when Joseph comes back to sit in an armchair across from him, coat draped over an arm and a plastic bag hanging over the other.
Smiling, the other man summons his wallet from a back pocket, rummaging between the collected receipts until he pulls out something round, a metallic shine - Sebastian smirks when he grabs the chainless pocket watch swiftly.
"Thanks partner."
It could have been a plastic digital watch or a shitty, tiny desk clock for that matter. Joseph knows Sebastian's fondness for the old fashioned.
Undoubtedly it'll be banned since it's metal but it's small, flat enough to be casually hidden anywhere on his being inconspicuously.
The detective clicks it open – 9:21 pm – and closes it just as fast, tucking it away in his pocket though he doubts the nurse behind the receptionist desk is actively watching them.
"You're in a hospital. You no longer have an active job and you have a night curfew. How is it that you look the same?" Joseph notes lightly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You look like you haven't had any proper sleep."
"I never sleep," Sebastian deadpans.
Chuckling, the Japanese Canadian gestures at the other detective's attire. "You don't even look like a patient."
"The hospital clothes aren't mandatory," Sebastian replies a tad wistful. He misses wearing his trench coat. It's sitting in his unit's closet, but it's pointless putting it on indoors.
Time to get some shit done. The older detective places the magazine on the table, twisting it around for Joseph to unfold the blueprints. Pretending to be mentally ill is worth all its trouble for exploring the asylum in-person.
"Look at the room connected to the postal room and the lines next to the patient wards." Sebastian places a finger at the aforementioned postal room's extended space beyond the small blank line that suggests a door. "These blueprints and the hospital's map don't match. The lines here imply that there are at least a couple floors beneath the hospital, all openly accessible at one point but now they're closed off."
Joseph doesn't move his head, simply looking over the black frames of his glasses to meet Sebastian's gaze. "You think you're going to find something down there? These blueprints seem to be old. It wouldn't surprise me if the hospital made multiple renovations. What's down there could be abandoned."
"Or another route to the locked ward."
"There's no other way?"
Sebastian scowls. "At each end of the patient wards is an elevator with the option to go lower but it's not for general access."
"So you beat up the guards while I steal the keys. Sounds like a plan."
It's said in smooth sarcasm, almost natural but Joseph is usually more serious, more impassioned with the task in hand, and it means that he's still reluctant despite his word, the other man's way of subtle ridicule that would piss off Sebastian by this point, even calling him out if they're in the workplace.
Sebastian doesn't say anything. Instead he considers it for a moment, approximately calculating the success rate analogous to the amount of sufficient knowledge he has of the hospital, the potential consequences and excuses of knocking out the security. Currently extremely low.
Only worth doing if Sebastian confirms that the guards' roles extend further from their responsibilities to the regular ward. Then he won't hold back.
It's fine. Justified.
Sharp eyes scanning the near desolate lobby, Joseph comments, "After reading the records, I was worried something would happen to you the minute you walked right in. Still am with some of the things I found."
That's when the younger detective hands over the plastic bag, raindrops still adamantly clinging to its wrinkly surface even though Joseph batters it gently a few times. "Here's your reading book."
Peering into the bag, Sebastian stops at the cover, grimacing.
"Silence of the Lambs. Really Joseph?"
"I chose it to test how strict the rules are here." The younger man flips out his personal notebook, the black-gloved fingers flipping through the flimsy thing paper. "I wrote something down just yesterday…'Krimson City Community – Mental Health Administrative Rule 3597: You have the right to watch TV, have a newspaper provided, buy magazines, and books of your own choice, unless limited by your plan of service or as generally restricted by program rules.' So far the hospital seems respectful to the patients' rights. It's no wonder you can barely find anything else on it besides the scandal."
Sebastian snorts. "You don't need to be concerned about my rights. The regular ward treats its patients well enough. If I go to the other ward where the extremes and the criminally insane are then it's going to matter."
A high pitch screeching bursts from the speakers like a microphone at the wrong angle and Sebastian flinches, hands shoot up to cover both hands though it passes quickly for the nurse. "Five minutes until visiting hours are over," the nurse calls from behind the desk without looking up once from her paperwork. Quickly after, a particular loud thunder crawls over the roof like a wave of fleeing, fat rats.
Joseph stands, shrugging his coat over his shoulders. "I know you want to get to the bottom of this, but take care of yourself. Sleep more."
"I don't have the time Joseph."
"I've read enough patients' testimonials to know that's a lie. You've got a watch now. You can manage better." Taking a final inspection of the hospital as far as he can see, Joseph nods, internally confirming. "In a place like this it's easy to lose time. Spare some for rest. Take advantage of not being on active duty when you have the chance."
Sebastian sighs, ruffling the back of his head. "You're optimistic. Thinking I'm returning after this."
They both know he's not referring to retirement.
His partner stills. Then he flares, sharp anger contained behind his lens. When he whispers it's dry flint stone. Cold, hard, ready to spark.
"I didn't want to report you to the IA."
Sebastian glares back. "But you did."
"You know why and I'll do it again if I have to. I'll cut it all short. Your life isn't worth this."
Bullshit. Sebastian doesn't have a proper life to trade. Not anymore.
He keeps it to himself as Joseph's back leaves behind the double doors – "See you next week, Seb" - Silence of the Lambs gripped tight in callused hands.
Joseph's a good partner and Sebastian appreciates the younger detective's efforts, truly a man that Krimson City needs. Clever enough to not trip over his own feet during a crime scene, but compassionate enough to connect with victims more easily than most officers, maybe more so.
Thanks to this visit Sebastian now knows that Joseph will definitely not cover him. In fact, Joseph would pull Sebastian up one yard down the chasm because he'd mistake the darkness for depth and won't give a shit if he's wrong.
Detective Oda can no longer be involved into this. It'll end like it began: with the Castellanos.
A/N: The development is required for setting up the shitstorm that'll happen eventually. Thank you everyone for your kinds reviews and I hope you'll be patient with this story until the action begins.