Fifth Law: Answers Were Made to be Questioned

Concentric circles. That's the best way to describe power. For power is the ability to surround and control. To dominate those who are lesser then you. However, they are concentric circles. Glance over your shoulder and you will realize that there is another circle there, slowly binding you in. Mom told me that, shortly before she slipped under. She said I had to remember to look over my shoulder.

This is very true within the power circles of the vampires. See? Circles, it's all about the circles that have been drawn around you. There is no real escape, for the circles shall ever trap you and try to force you to do their bidding. But justicejustice is the paper upon which the circles are drawn. It is the circles as it is the power, there is no escaping its reach if it decides to remove you. Me? I'm the eraser

The elevator hums as it lowers down into the depths. Lowering us down into the maw of madness. A small box of lights against the darkness. The lights on the box flickering and flashing. They said she was going, the pills had worked! But why wasn't she slipping away peacefully? The men in white were coming. The might of white. They would come and perform their miracles and save her. I looked at her eyes as she screamed for me to end it. Then I looked at the mirror nearby.

Well, you gonna say anything? I shake myself out of my memories and look up at Derek, he smirks at me. C'mon man, I know it's eating you up. How I could have sunk the whole operation. But I stuck by you, didn't I?

What is it you'd like, deputy?

A thank you maybe, or maybe you just telling me how you hope to have this sucka solved by tomorrow night. Hell, maybe just explain anything. Like that whole Phaedra thing? Now I'm not saying you don't seem to be onto something. But so far all you've seemed to do is wander around and make bizarre conclusions out of thin air.

Thick air.

The air was thick with the smell of the flowers. She wore one in her hair the night I broke the water pipes. Then there were the same flowers in Alice's room, she said Tommy picked them for her. He followed Phaedra when she went out. The flower smell in her room was strong from a constant influx. That meant she did it often, far more often then Jilean would have had me believe. She smelled of sweat too. We don't sweat, humans do. That tells me what I already knew about Jilean.

I watch Derek's eyes twitch as he takes the first steps down the road of understanding. That's cramad, I mean. Man, that's just mad cool.

Thank youI think.

But what was up with the whole matchmaking thing? Not that it didn't make me get all misty eyed. But, why try and hook her and Tommy up?

There is no justice in unrequited love.

Ah, the yellow tie, of course.

Donovan closes the book he was reading and slides it back onto the small bookshelf at the base of his bed. I spot the highlighter on the table seven feet away. Donovan is wearing his leather jacket. Some of the notes on the wall are new, some old ones have been taken down. I spot the pen and the pad of paper on top of the bookshelf. Donovan rubs a hand along the rough stubble of his chin and watches as we enter.

Hey Donovan, says Derek with a nod, he opens up his notebook. We just need to ask a few more questions. For starters, what can you tell us about Phaedra's whereabouts last night?

I offered to say something yesterday, why do they never listen? Donovan stood up from the bed and straightened his coat. He walked over to me, his eyes looking into my own. I see the glimmer of madness within them. Madness coated in sanity. I want you to listen to me Johan, and I want you to listen good. I'm talking justice here. Not truth or law, but justice. One of his hands slips into his pocket, I hear the slight rustling of papers. He seems to draw some strength from them. I want you to ignore me. I'm going to start talking, and you can't listen. What I say about Tommy is all going to be lies, understand?

Not much surprises me, I'm too good at my job. But I have to admit even I'm unsure where he's going with this one. I can see Derek out of the corner of my eye, he looks even more confused and lost then normal. I smile at Donovan, he'd best be careful. He isn't the only madman in this room. I reach out and motion for Derek to hand me the notebook. They both wait as I scribble down some extra questions for Derek to ask. If Donovan thought his madness could best me, he has another thing coming.

Sure, I understand.

I hope you're not lying, because if you are then I messed up again. Donovan sighs as he goes to sit down. But I think I can change it. The past isn't set if it's the future. But is it more important that it's my past, or that it will be your future? He lowers his head into his hands, his voice a thin trailing whine, as though he's suffered greatly. Or suffers even now. The mirror was broken, all the images didn't smile though. It was more then one reflection in a world of fragments.

He stiffens slightly, his voice trailing off. Then he lifts his head back up. His eyes narrow at the sight of me and Derek, his hand digs into his pocket and pulls out his notes. He flips through them quickly, his eyes dancing over the words. Then he pauses on the last one. His mouth twists into a snarling frown, then slowly lifts into an amused grin.

Now that is very interesting indeed. He laughs as he carefully rips the final note into tiny scraps of paper. But I don't think he fully understands the game yet. He looks back at Derek and I and smiles. Can I help you, officers?

We were talking about Tommy, says Derek, do you know where he was last night?

Interesting that you ask, I may have an idea or three. You don't want to hurt the kid, do you?

Why would we, answers Derek coldly.

It's just his actionswell, they're a little strange.

Why doesn't that surprise me anymore.

Donovan emits the faked laugh at Derek's words, his smile broad and easy. No, seriously though. Tommy has a habit of wishing to re-experience old thingsrevisit stuff he has done before.

Like the parking garage, injects Derek with a grin. His face lighting up as he glances at me, as though I should be impressed by his deduction. The scarecrow must be thinking he's gotten to the wizard and has been cured.

Howcute.

agrees Donovan with a nod. Well, and I'm not sure what this means, but I saw him come in just before dawn. He was in a rush and slipped into his room. But, he had some stuff in his backpack. Perhaps if you were able to find it

Thanks for the tip, says Derek as he flips to the next question. He pauses as he reads it over and glances at me. I nod in reassurance. He swallows slightly and reads. Why did you murder your childe?

Donovan's eyes flick back and forth between us. His face looks innocently worried. But his eyes are darker. I have seen that look before, reflected back to me in mirrors year after year. Uh, you should really talk to Jilean about that. Why are you asking?

Just a little matter I need to sort out before dispensing the proper justice, I supply with a smirk.

Justice you say? Donovan's eyes flash dangerously. Justice, law, fairness, equity, judicature, finality. Samantha's justice? Or your own? Whose justice is more important? I don't quite remember. I think I just got confused during feeding, thought I had just started in the middle of it. Then realized what I had done and tried to put some back I just messed up.

Derek mutters as he flips to the next question. He stops dead and looks up to me. I grin at him and waggle my eyebrows slightly. Hello scarecrow, the brain ain't what you thought it was, huh? Don't worry, you're about to get a crash course in investigative madness. Derek grits his teeth. He reads my question. Count to a million.

Donovan laughs slightly.

Count to a million, repeats Derek,

Donovan looks from him to me, and sees no humor in our eyes. He sighs and shrugs in exasperation. Then he starts to count. I step forward and tilt the cover on the lamp that sits on the table. The light now washes over Donovan's face, illuminating his eyes for me. I watch them patiently as he continues to count. The slow mantra of numbers washing over us like a trance. One thousand, two, three, four, five. The numbers drift by in ordered pace. We wait quietly. Then there is a slight faltering, his eyes glance up at me. His hand drifts towards his pocket even as he continues to count.

Derek, start the questions over. Donovan stops counting, both he and Derek look confused.

Uh, Donovan, why did you murder your childe?

Samantha? I didn't, he He looks up at me, his face twisting into an angry mask of sorrow and fury. Why do you think I did it! I tried to help! Why'd you do it! Yellow! His eyes are fixated on my tie now, his fingers clenching into fists. I hate yellow! Yellow you say? The color of cowardice, lies, weakness, betrayal. I didn't betray her!

Donovan springs from his seat and launches himself over the table at me. He slams into my chest, knocking me back into the wall. His fingers tighten around my tie and pull hard on it, the cloth cutting sharply into my neck. I'd breathe a sigh of relief that I don't need to breathe, but I can't. I quickly grab his wrists and try to twist him off me. But he fights quickly and with fury. One of his feet snaps out and connects hard into my knee. There's a pop as the bone dislocates.

I drop to the ground as Donovan falls upon me. His fingers gouge at my eyes as he continues to yank at my tie. His knees and elbows smash into my head and gut. Spittle sprays from his mouth as he screams about yellow. Then a dark shadow looms over us, Derek's hands clasp down on Donovan's shoulders and lifts him off me. Powerful arms lock around Donovan and squeeze tight to hold him still.

I got him!

You got him?

Derek tries to tell me to stop, but I've already grabbed the lamp. I swing it like a club, cracking the metal base across Donovan's jaw. He is thrown to the ground as Derek lets go of him. I quickly start kicking him in the ribs and stomping on his face.

Ask him about Tommy!

Donovan springs up at me. I grip his head and lock my arms about it. I swivel with the momentum of his rush and smash his face into the wall. He grunts in pain, so I smash him hard into the wall again. Ask him about Tommy!

I hear Derek's bellow even over the sound of me smacking Donovan's skull against the concrete. What the hell do you know about where Tommy was last night?

Fuck you! Donovan suddenly twists free of me. His hand lashes out and clips me across the face, knocking me back. I talked to him, but it didn't matter! Donovan spins around towards Derek, his fingernails lengthening into deadly claws. He still died for doing nothing!

Donovan springs forward, his claws slashing through the air. Derek twists desperately to avoid the deadly strike. He hisses in pain as the claws catch his shoulder and slice through leather and flesh as though they were jelly. Blood sprays from the wound as Derek staggers back. Donovan quickly spins around, one of his claws swinging out wide and cutting four parallel slashes of red across Derek's abdomen. Derek sprawls backwards onto the table, his eyes wide with fear as Donovan looms over him.

The gunshots roar like demons, the noise filling the room with a physical impact. My Desert Eagle bucks in my hand, the bullets gouging deep furrows into Donovan's back. With a startled howl he's tossed forward, his body flung about limply by the forceful blows of the rounds. He collapses to the ground, blood pooling around him in a reflective crimson puddle. A bloody mirror that reflects my own eyes back to me. Derek gingerly sits up, his hand clutching at his wounds as he nods his thanks.

So, it was him then? He did it?

What makes you say that, I ask with a sigh as I stand up and slide my gun back under my coat. He just didn't like my tie. I lean down and grab the fallen pieces of the note he tore up, and his book, that one he was reading with the highlighter.

So do we-

Leave him, we need to look in on Phaedra and Tommy.

I start out the door. Derek grumbles as he sets out after me. The hallway isn't calm now. All the doors slitting open and faces peering out. Curious as to the commotion. The faces, watching out and not caring when you're looking in. I ignore them, I walk down the halls, I find the door. Tommy's room.

I look through the little window. Just another doctor watching a life in progress

Tommy sits on his bed, his face eager and rapt. Phaedra wanders slowly around the room, her fingers brushing lightly over the contents and decorations. Cleaning supplies. Guns. Elvis memorabilia. Tea cups. Cat food. Books. Paintings. Horror movie posters. Dead flowers. Reports. Newspapers. But there are only two items of interest in the room.

One is the hanging tapestry along one wall. I've seen it before, in Crystal's office, at the murder scene. The second is a small plaque that lies haphazardly in the corner. Tommy Waters, Ph.D.

I watch as Phaedra softly smiles at him, Tommy's face splitting into a blissful grin. She presses her hands into his, her forehead meets his own. Their eyes dance as they look at each other, their mouths moving as they whisper softly. I can see Phaedra's eyes amongst her dark black mascara. But her eyes are no longer dark, they are bright and aware. I turn away and head down the hall again, Derek in hot pursuit.

What the hell is going on. What's happening?

Wait outside.

Derek looks up at my command, the first I've really given to him that didn't sound like a request. His hand is still wrapped tightly around his gut wound and he looks about ready to collapse. I walk up to the door to Jilean's office and storm through it. Derek pauses on the threshold, and then frowns as he slowly steps back. Maybe he thinks this just a clan thing. It is, but nothing that is a clan thing for Malkavians is just' anything.

I ask the answers, she agrees with her questions.