Biding My Time
Title: Biding My Time
Summary: "The bad Sarmatian", aka, Sonny Troyer will be forever grateful for Allison Dubois' interference.
Prompt: 13: "Grateful"
Author: Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)
Rating: T
Characters: Sonny Troyer
Chapters: 13/28
Word Count: 1010
Written: 12/8/09
Completed: 12/8/09
Disclaimer: Medium and all things related are property of Glenn Gordon Caron, CBS Paramount Television, Picturemaker Productions, and Grammnet Productions. Original storyline and characters are property of me, the author.
Authors Note: This is my first attempt to write from the perspective of a character that wasn't the Dubois or their comrades and I've gotta say, I like the way it's come out. Sonny Troyer was a villain that was gone too soon in my honest opinion.
The stark contrast of his four-corner cell verses rambunctious energy that seemed to be the direct cause of his presence amused Sonny quite a bit. He never understood the hypocritical attitude criminals had toward each other; they got angry at you if you killed a girl or a guy among; they especially seemed to want to exact retribution against you when you killed children. And if that wasn't it, they all wanted to be your best friend whenever you managed to do something they could not. But more often than not, he noticed they wanted to stab you for "looking them funny".
Whatever that meant.
Sonny paid his neighbors little mind since he arrived, just three days ago. His seemingly unconnected string of murders, brought to a fortunate/unfortunate end by someone just like him, consumed his mind. And the ultimate irony was this someone who stopped him was a "woman". A fucking woman.
God had a twisted sense of humor, he would give the man that much. When he wanted to get back at you, he used the opposite sex. But that mattered very little to Troyer at the present moment. He was stilling riding the high of finding a kindred spirit, someone who had dreams, saw "ghosts" as they were mockingly referred to by those unlike them. The very word invoked a strange kind of anger in him. Sonny hated being called crazy, hated being called head-case by those inferior to him, all because he could see and understand something they couldn't.
He'd spent a good chunk of his lifetime searching for a person like this Allison Dubois and always came up empty handed. Years of being alone with his specialty almost made finding another medium seem like a unicorn, or an imaginary princess and dragon in the form of his own reflection staring back at him. A myth, one he would be chasing until the end of his life. Sonny had almost come to terms with this fact of reality. Then he saw his hiking girl being reported "found dead" on the five o'clock news, in conjunction with the girl he'd recently had a bit of fun with in the desert.
At first, he was a little worried. The news was covering the killing "spree" like it was a movie just weeks from being released worldwide in theaters. He skipped a couple dream girls to keep from drawing attention to himself, watching his himself young woman especially whenever he left his apartment.
It wasn't until he had a dream about the D.A. speaking with the deputy mayor and a mystery woman, who at that point had only been shown from the back, that he was sure that they had no concrete leads on him. He could have a little more fun before this was all over.
He waited a little longer, wanting to make sure this wasn't some fluke brought on by his desire. He sat in his apartment, waiting for sleep to come for him. And when it did, he dreamt of a girl named Taylor Greene. She would be alone in the house, huddled in her bed like a scared rabbit during a thunder storm, debating whether or not to call her best friend and ask her to come over. After she rattled down the home phone number in her message, Sonny woke up and prepared to strike.
Taylor Greene and the mystery woman from his dreams, later revealed to him as Allison Dubois in a press conference, were ultimately his undoing. He realized that now.
With mystery medium not so much of a mystery anymore, Sonny proceeded to hunt down all the information he could on her. The woman with a voice that held a mild southern twang, was from originally Oklahoma, married to a man from a Grosse Pointe, had three daughters and lived in Featherstone. How quaint, he was countered by the preverbal suburban soccer mom. He hated soccer moms, especially one as self-righteous and pretentious as this one.
Climbing into his car, he enjoyed the slow ride down into the suburbia, practicing what he would say to her. Parking across from her house, which was just as homely and plain as he expected it to be, he dialed her number, counting down the seconds to when the husband would answer it. Instead, Allison answered, completely unaware of who she was about to speak to and he took advantage of that. Sonny spoke to her in the friendliest way possible, without really meaning to. Allison didn't realize who she was talking to until he mentioned his visit to Taylor's house. He smiled at the fear creeping into her voice as she tried to intimidate him with threats to call the police, who would track his call.
"And you know as soon as I hang up this phone, I'll just throw it away. That is… after I pull away from your house," He said, grinning all the while. That was all he needed, Sonny could practically smell her fear over the phone line as he pulled away from the curb.
Half way to Mexico, he hadn't expected his car to run out of gas, but everything happens for a reason, he guessed. Leaning against the wall, Sonny opened his journal and started to write down his latest dream.
I'm standing over the latest girl of my dreams; she's dressed only in an undershirt and her underwear. She lies on the bed like a medusa victim, limbs rigid and frozen in their feeble position to fight back. Like an out of body experience, I'm watching myself write the words "Wrong roommate Allison" on the wall in the girl's blood, which still runs steadily from her neck.
Yes, Allison Dubois may have been a fucking woman (and a soccer mom, no less) and a fellow medium, but it turned out that she would be the only woman, besides his mother, that he would be eternally grateful to.
He just had to wait a year to thank her. He could wait until then.
[End of Prompt 13]