A/N: minna. . .thank you so much for the praises you gave. I'm so sorry that I took so long to update. . .call it writer's block! Oh yeah, the 'net lab at my department is down till I don't know when so I may only be able to update during the weekends! Bear with me, please! ^^
Wow, two updates in two weeks. . .I must be having a fever. ^__^;;;
Elizabeth linares: Thanks so much for wanting to read more of my story. Hope you keep on enjoying it!
Blood Angel: I DID update! Look! Update! *whimpers*
Skippy: I had a classmate whom we called Skippy. She was the small, cute type of girl. . .where am I going with this? I have no idea.
Jexia: Thanks, I thought it'd be nice to have Berkley and Bikky not portrayed as major a**holes all the time. After all, if Bikky really loves Ryo, he would understand. Besides, Dee is a good guy. A bit oversexed. . .but good anyways! ^^
Andie: I think, if you get into my head, you'd realize that I actually HAVE NO IDEA where this story is going to and you might be tempted to whack me. XD
Ita-chan: Glad I could keep you on the edge of your seat. No worries, a lemon will come up soon! I think. . .hmm. . .*scratches head*
Quatorze: Tell me, is this chapter's version of Berkley making you weak too? Ohohoho! You're right! Down with all fics that sisssifies our gay detectives! Hahah! Kidding.
Crystal: Your wish is my command
Sesshoumaru lover: Yay! New reader! Hello!
Also, I just want to say "gomenesai" to the people who reviewed yet I failed to acknowledged. It's just that by the time I'm uploading FAKE, I get so rushed that I barely have the time to. But believe me, your reviews keep me going!
Warning: Blood.
Disclaimer: As usual, really.
CHAPTER 6: My Home Is My Sanctity
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As a cop, you learn the habit of sleeping light, always keeping wary even in the sanctity of your home. Because, as a cop, you know what few people don't; there is no such thing as sanctity. The coziest home, secured with the best that modern technology can offer, is not infallible. There's always something or someone that can turn a cheerful haven into a pit of nightmare. It's just a matter of luck actually. And Fate, if you're into that kind of thing.
Ryo Maclean is a good cop. No, better than that. He is one of the best cop to ever work in the 27th Precinct. He was born with the instincts of a true-blue cop and had the brains to go with it. Paired with a partner that was as good as him, in his own slightly brash and enthusiastic way, only served to hone and sharpen his skill.
That night, with the rain beating down in a barely heard murmur over their apartment building, as he slept, Ryo knew something was wrong. He couldn't really say how or why he knew something was wrong. He just did. Maybe it was his instinct kicking in. Maybe it's because the ties of love that bound him and his partner ran deeper than surface impressions. Whatever it was, something warned him that all was not right with the world, the warning ringing like a clarion in the dreamless sleep he was lost in.
Slowly, like a swimmer rising to the surface, he let awareness pull him back, his usual first reaction of reaching for his revolver stopped by the fact that what he felt was not danger. Rather, it was just a feeling of complete and utter. . . .wrongness and pure dread.
He was alone in the bed.
Turning over to the side Dee usually slept, he was met with rumpled sheets, now cool to the touch. For whatever reason Dee got up, he had done so for quite some time it seemed. Ryo didn't like waking up alone. For so long now, the first thing he saw when his eyes opened was black hair mussed by sleep and sleepy gray eyes. Not seeing that unnerved him for some reason tonight. Blinking, he saw that the digital clock on the bedside table read 3.32 am. He strained his ears but could not make out any sound at all from the attached bathroom or from outside the bedroom.
"Dee?" His voice sounded lost, swallowed by the gloom, the silence a mocking sound.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled on a pair of flannel pants, forgoing his t-shirt. Barefoot, he padded out to the living room and the kitchen. No sign of Dee anywhere. The bathroom light wasn't on so he didn't think Dee was inside it. Maybe he couldn't sleep and had gone out for a cigarette? It wasn't like Dee to just leave like that. He knew Ryo would be worried to find him gone and would usually wake him up to tell him not to. Besides, his coat was still hanging in the coat closet by the front door.
He went back inside their bedroom and switched on the light. Shadows chased away, everything looked normal and calm, hardly the setting for the worry that pulled him from sleep. As he gave the room a cursory glance, he noticed that the bathroom door was slightly ajar. The interior beyond was dark though, especially against the bedroom light. Ryo really didn't think Dee would be in it; after all, the lights aren't on. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check.
Sighing, he pushed the door open and it swung open on silent hinges. After the brightness, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark so he fumbled for the light switch.
And blood colored his world.
"Dee!"
* * *
Ryo had seen some pretty gruesome sights in his line of work. Victims of gunshot wounds with blood spilling hot from skin torn open, kids just in their teens brutally raped or beaten, he had seen many things. After a while, he learned to accept it for if he didn't, he would have gone insane. He learned to detach himself from the moment to do his job. So he could catch the bastards responsible and maybe, avenge the victims. But when he was alone at night, with no one to talk to, each one of those hurt, maimed or bruised, came back to haunt him. Only another cop could fully understand the weight that lay heavily on his heart and help lighten them. Dee helped him, as he helped Dee.
So doesn't it seem to be unnaturally wrong to find his Dee the one hurt?
The bathroom was a mix of creamy blue and white; a pale canvas for the blood that pooled innocently on the tiled floor. And Dee sat in the middle of it.
For a long moment, Ryo could only stare in horror, because he couldn't, wouldn't believe his eyes. He gripped the doorjamb tightly and fought against the rising hysteria that threatened to overwhelm him. A slight movement from Dee jarred him from his shock and ignoring the puddle of blood, he sank down to his knees, trying to think of what to do.
Dee was still conscious fortunately, but his eyes were blank, staring straight through him without recognition. In his hands, he held a razor; one that dripped blood. His left wrist held a jagged cut that still bled sullenly, slowly adding to the spreading pool.
"Dee," Ryo started, his voice hoarse. "What. . .what happened?"
Dee ignored him and instead, lifted the blade and ran it over his wound, tearing it open further.
"Dee! No! Stop it!" Ryo cried out. He grabbed Dee's hand and snatched the razor away, flinging it into the bathtub. Taking the wounded hand, he held it up to stop the bleeding and fumbled for the first aid kit underneath the sink.
"No," Dee mumbled. With weak movements, he tried to pry his hands away but Ryo held strong. "Have to. . . . .he. . .have. ."
Ryo took the roll of gauze and started to wound it tight over the cut. "It's okay Dee," he said gently, trying to keep his voice firm and steady. "You're with me, remember?"
"He said. . ." Dee shook his head faintly and tugged his hand absently. "Said I have to. . ."
The blank eyes, the detached voice. . . .Ryo realized with horror that Dee wasn't really awake. He didn't even realize what he was doing to himself.
"Ryo? What's wr—oh my God! What happened to Dee?" It was Bikky, the boy standing in the doorway in his t-shirt and shorts, staring at them in shock. Seeing his charge, Ryo quickly got himself together.
"Bikky, call an ambulance! Hurry!"
For a moment, Bikky stood there, still transfixed by the sight but at another snapped instruction from Ryo, he quickly ran to the phone. Ryo went back to bandaging Dee's wound and tucked the ends of the gauze tight. Already it was becoming rapidly soaked.
"Come on, Dee," Ryo said gently, the shock still clouding his mind and actually helping him deal with the situation. Without a doubt, he knew he'd break down soon but he couldn't afford it now. "Let's get you out of here, okay?"
As he tugged Dee to his feet, Dee seemed to rouse himself and looked straight at him, the cloud lifting from his eyes.
"Ryo," he said clearly and a second later, he slumped unconscious in Ryo's arms.
"Dee? Dee! Please! Wake up!"
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"Maclean?"
That voice jarred him from the haze he had drowned under and tore the white veils from his eyes. Looking up, he saw that Rose was standing before him, concern radiating from his eyes.
"Sir," he said dully. He realized he was still sitting in one of the hard, plastic chairs that littered the hospital's waiting room. He must have been sitting here for hours. His back was killing him.
"A friend of mine told me that one of my officers was admitted," Rose said and sat down beside him gingerly. The plastic creaked under his weight as he shifted to look at Ryo.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently. "What happened? My friend couldn't really tell me what's going on."
His flannel pants were soaked with blood, a distant part of his mind noticed. When the ambulance came, he had snagged a jacket to wear over it, not wanting to leave Dee alone. "Dee. . .was hurt," amazing, how his voice could still function. He wasn't sure if anything else would. "Where's Bikky?"
"Your charge?" Rose asked and he nodded. "I saw him in the cafeteria earlier with a girl Shall I get them?"
He shook his head numbly. "No, it's okay. . .don't really feel up to it. . ."
"What happened Ryo?" Rose asked again, more firmly this time. "I know I haven't exactly endeared myself to you or Laytner but the both of you are still my detectives. Tell me what's wrong? I may be able to help."
Ryo blinked at the caring that statement showed, uncertain whether he heard it correct or it just confirmed that he had dropped in an alternate universe. Really, the night was giving him all sorts of surprises. Next thing you know, JJ would be here proclaiming his undying love for him instead.
"I'm not sure you can help me with it sir," Ryo replied, the politeness ingrained in him since birth coming automatically. It seems even when disaster strikes, he'll still be polite. Imagine that.
"Please, just te-"
"He tried to kill himself."
* * *
Rose blinked. And stared. And gaped.
"Kill. . .himself?" he asked faintly. "Are you sure?"
"Not really," Ryo nodded seriously. "But when a person is sitting in a pool of blood and is holding a razor with his wrist slashed, you tend to arrive at that conclusion."
It was kinda funny seeing Rose at a loss like that. His normally confident expression of perfect control was lost, and he shut and open his mouth a few times as though wanting to sat something but not quite sure what. Even his glasses looked confused.
"Why on earth would Laytner try to kill himself?" His tone was pure bewilderment. Even in his dislike for the man, he knew Dee Laytner as a tough, no-nonsense sort of cop with good instincts, a good heart and the occasional bouts of gentleness revealed that he fervently tried to bury under layers of bluster. Wow, the shock must have really gotten to him. He had never thought so highly of Laytner in one sentence.
"Oh, he wasn't really trying to kill himself," Ryo said empathically.
"He wasn't? But you said. ." Now he was just plain lost.
"Well, yeah, but from the way he acted, it was more as if he was sleepwalking. Like he wasn't aware of what he was doing." Ryo plucked absently at a crusted fold in his pants. He felt kind of hungry.
"Sleepwalking?" Rose frowned.
"Yeah. He said something about somebody telling him he has to do it."
Rose did the whole open/shut mouth thing and finally threw his hands up in the air. "I give up. Has the doctor finished with him yet?"
"No."
Rose gave him a long look. "C'mon," he said then and he was gentle about it. "Let's get you something clean to wear. You're probably hungry too aren't you?"
Ryo nodded and with the commissioner's hand guiding his elbow, he stood up slowly, feeling muscles and joints protest after not moving so long. Alarmingly, the room started spinning, the green and white walls swimming around and the floor tilting crazily beneath his feet.
"You know, I'm not feeling so good," Ryo said faintly. "Must be something I ate last night."
Rose was saying something. I think. Can't really be sure. A dim voice came from far away and he strained his ears to hear it.
". . . you're in shock. . . .have. . .doctor. . ."
He passed out.
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"Mr. Maclean?"
"Yes?" Ryo swung his legs over the side of the bed they had laid him on and looked expectantly at the doctor. The name tag said Dr. Wyle.
"Are you feeling better?" the doctor asked, a look of sympathy on his face.
Ryo flushed and waved the concern aside. "I'm fine. I'm sorry for being such a bother." He had in fact, collapsed from the strain and shock and had woken up to find himself in a hospital bed in clean clothes. Bikky and Cal, who sat by his bedside told him that Rose had helped find the clean clothes and that the man had gone to see what he could do to help about Dee. Ryo winced slightly at that. If Dee did try to hurt himself. . . .IA might be called in, to evaluate whether he was fit for work or not. . .
He couldn't really think about why Dee would want to hurt himself.
He wasn't sure he wanted to.
"Mr. Maclean," the doctor went on, amusement plain in his voice. "this is a hospital. We're supposed to take care of you. Now, I came here to tell you that we have your partner stabilized. Are you ready to see him?"
"Yes," he said hurriedly. "He's okay right?"
"He will be," Dr. Wyle assured him as he followed the doctor down a long corridor, Bikky, Cal and Rose, who had popped out of nowhere, following behind him. They stopped outside room 354, one of the rooms that had clear, glass covered walls so that the nurses from the nurse station could monitor the patients. Peering in past the reflections, he could see dark hair, ruffled and laying still.
"One visitor at a time though," Dr. Wyle cautioned him. "He has stabilized but we're not going to take any risks. Just 10 minutes for you and one more after. Alright?"
Ryo nodded, though the words barely penetrated him. All he could see was Dee. Stepping inside the dimly lit room, he made his way slowly to the still, prone figure lying under the blankets and sat down cautiously on a chair by the bedside. Dee didn't even stir. Monitors beeped and IV lines were attached to his pale arms, the left with its wrtist now bandaged neatly.
He swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from the gauze that gleamed innocently in the dark.
"Dee," he said softly, brushing back soft bangs from sleeping eyes. "What happened? Can't you tell me?"
Silence only.
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The problem with being one of the most modern countries in the world is that everything else before it is, isn't.
Ted gave a frustrated sigh and huffed back the bangs that kept falling in his eyes. He had been stuck here, in the station's record room for the past few days trying to wade through the old case files for the same M.O to the Anti-Christ case. The trouble was that all the case files before the last ten years had yet to be computerized. Excuses kept being given; too little time, too little budget, too little everything.
"I swear, if someone actually looked through this thing, we'll probably find out what happened to Elvis," Ted grumbled. He had the right to be grumpy. He had spent the days in a dark, windowless room with only himself, and boxes upon boxes of dog-eared files for company. Oh that, and the dust.
Sighing again, wishing for better light than the bare, naked bulb that hung pendulously above, Ted pulled out a seemingly random file from the stack near his feet and flipped through it almost automatically. The days of dead ends were taking their toll on him. Already he wished he could just take the whole goddamn lot and burn them in an incinerator. Not just for the sheer frustration, but for the utter horror and gruesomeness that lies innocently between typed lines. If he had any doubts about how ugly humanity could get, the files had cleared it all up.
Glossy photographs were attached to the file, relatively thin in comparison. It wasn't a serial case. It was just an all-out thing involving lots of cops, lots of ammunition and lots of murdered kids. Ted snorted. He had pulled out the wrong file. The box he had taken was supposed to contain only serial killer cases. This had obviously gotten in there by mistake.
Still, a picture caught his eye before he could slam the file close in disgust. A little boy sprawled awkwardly on an altar it looked like. Judging by the sprawling, his arms and legs were broken. Stomach churning, Ted fought to keep his coffee down and flipped past to another picture. He had this feeling. . .
The next picture only consolidated the nausea, and heightened the feeling that he was on to something here. He flipped to another picture, and another picture, and another. . .
Swallowing hard, he then read the file from front to back. And again.
"Hey Ted?"
With a startled yelp, he twisted around in his chair, the file slipping from his hands, paper fluttering free and pooling on the concrete floor.
"Sorry to startle you like that man," Drake apologized.
"It's okay," Ted waved aside the apology and bent down to pick up the scattered papers. Drake stepped in the room and bent down to help him also.
"No!" Ted snapped. "I got it!"
Drake blinked at him in surprise and slowly stood up. ""Kay, no need to get upset. I think you've been spending too much time here. You're getting cranky as a bear."
"I'm sorry," Ted apologized somewhat distractedly. "I just. . .had these in an order. . don't want to lose my place," he finished with a weak laugh. "Anyway, you wanted something?"
Drake looked uncomfortable at the reminder and he shuffled his feet, hesitation on his face. "Yeah, we got a call from Rose just now."
"Oh? What's up?" Ted raised an eyebrow in question and stacked back the papers in the correct order, studiously obscuring the photographs from Drake's view. He wasn't ready yet for the others to know. Not until he confirmed it.
"It's Dee. He's in the hospital," Drake said miserably.
"What's wrong?" Ted asked sharply. "Did something happened?"
"He. . . hetriedtokillhimself," Drake blurted out. He was totally unprepared for Ted's reaction. There was the initial, expected shock crossing his face. But then, the shock was replaced with something undefinable and he shot to his feet, still clutching the file.
"Oh shit!" he shouted, and ran out of the room.
Bewildered, Drake followed him.
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~to be continued~
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A/N: You like? You no like? You what think? Ted find what? English no good. Many many typing. Brain go bye-bye. Review but please!