Chapter 26: John
John didn't bother drawing his gun as he ran up the grassy front lawn of the historic building that had been repurposed as one of NYU's most popular frat houses. None of these...children...were going to be a real threat; there was so much anger-fueled adrenaline flowing through him that he was channeling it to his senses, becoming hyperaware of his surroundings.
The front room of the frat house was empty—but the litter of empty punch cups and abandoned half-empty beer bottles told their own story. As did the single bullet hole through the center of the speaker system's receiver—Sam had gotten their attention as only she could—or would. And they had all decided to make themselves scarce. That was fine; Finch was no doubt looking at campus security camera footage right now and identifying whoever might have escaped out that door before John had gotten there. They could be dealt with later.
"Up here, John," he heard Sam call, and he took the steps two at a time. The door, half-ripped off its hinges, was the first thing he saw; the second was Kylie, out cold on the floor, and Steve Wood, who looked like he'd been planning on getting up...until he saw John, at which he'd frozen with a look of fear in his eyes. John saw the way his fists were balled between his thighs, and smiled grimly. A kick to the groin was particularly painful, for a male; if, as John suspected, Sam had caught Steve aroused, the pain had to be crippling. He wouldn't be moving anywhere fast anytime soon. And on the bed was Lia; Sam had stretched her out on the bed, covered her from the waist down with the sheet, her upper body wrapped in Sam's own jacket.
"She's been drugged. It's the same stuff Aleksa got you with. It hit her a lot harder—I'm having trouble keeping her awake. I made her throw up to get whatever was left in her stomach out before it hit her bloodstream. Her pulse is weak, but it's there. She's very disoriented, and lethargic—I wonder if she didn't have a mild anaphylaxis attack." She focused her attention on Steve. "After you drugged her, was there a moment when she seemed like she was choking, trying to breathe, and panicking because she couldn't?"
Steve stared at her, fear replaced with sullenness, and didn't say a word.
John pulled his hand back and hit the boy.
He barely remembered, at the last moment, to not do anything that Joss and Olivia Benson would have a hard time explaining; and he certainly didn't want to get the SVU in trouble for police brutality. So instead of hitting Steve with a closed fist, he slapped the sullen look off the boy's face with an open hand; then cupped the boy's chin hard in an 'attention grab' he'd learned long ago in military SERE training. "Answer the lady. Or it won't be a slap next time."
Steve didn't look at Sam. "Yes." He ground out through gritted teeth. "Thought it was because Kylie was forcing her mouth open."
John glanced at the blond girl on the floor. He'd never before hit a woman who didn't hit him first; it was ingrained into him, but he'd never before felt such an urge to hit a female as he did now. Thank God Sam had knocked her out; John was sure if he had to talk to her he would hit her.
A commotion at the front door; then Joss's voice. "John? Sam?"
"Up here," Sam called before he could say anything, and he returned his attention to Steve Wood, never once relaxing his hold on the boy's chin. The carotid artery was so close, so temptingly close; he could squeeze that, rid the earth of this piece of filth who would drug an innocent young girl and rape her while she was unconscious...
"Let him go, John. Come on, let him go. I got him now." The red haze cleared from John's vision a little, and he recognized Lionel Fusco, standing there with a pair of handcuffs. "I'll take him. I got him."
John let Steve go, somewhat reluctantly; Joss was beside Sam on the bed, leaning over Lia. "Lia, hey, sweetie, come on, open your eyes and look at me, okay? It's Joss, Taylor's Mom. Open your eyes and look at me, okay?"
It seemed to take a monumental effort for Lia to open her eyes. "Taylor...?"
"No, it's Taylor's Mom. Can you sit up?" But Lia's eyes just closed again.
"She's been drugged," came a new voice at the door, and John looked up, to see Detective Fin Tutuola and Captain Olivia Benson from Manhattan SVU. "We been seein' an epidemic of this in cases that involve college frats. A new date rape drug that's making the rounds." Olivia crossed the room quickly, joining Joss by the bed as Fin stepped up beside John, joined shortly thereafter by Sam, all three of them forgotten as Joss and Olivia worked on Lia. "These frat boys get girls to drink the stuff. It doesn't knock them out, but they have no memory of what they did later. Lia ain't gonna remember any of this later."
"Yeah, well, she's gonna be reminded by the other kids in her class," Sam ground out as she passed over Summer Winters' phone to the stocky detective. "Taylor wanted to go home to work on Finch's computer project, so I promised him I'd stop back at the school when Lia was supposed to be dropped off by Trinity Cross after they went shopping for prom dresses. When I drove up I didn't see Lia anywhere, so I started driving along the route the girls usually take going home, and saw Summer Winters and her crew stopped in the middle of the sidewalk watching something on her cellphone screen. I came up to ask them if they'd seen Lia and they looked so guilty the moment I mentioned her name I knew something was wrong. And then I saw the cellphone feed Kylie was broadcasting." Her tone went flat, icy. "She said 'lie back and enjoy it, give the boys a good time.'"
"We'll take this into evidence." Fin took the phone from Sam, carefully dropping it into a clear evidence baggie. "In the meantime, maybe you two should make yourselves scarce. We're gonna have to call NYU Campus Police, and a forensic team to gather evidence, so if you want to preserve your anonymity..."
Sam nodded and grabbed John's arm as she headed for the door. "I wanna talk to John privately anyway."
Once outside in the hall she gave in to her anger, her fury, and unleashed it on him. "Damn it, this might not have happened if you and Finch had just listened to me! You both thought Lia couldn't get in trouble, you brushed it off when I suggested it, and now look what happened!"
"It wasn't just John, Sam, I didn't think she could get in trouble either, so he's not entirely to blame for this," Joss said tiredly, stepping out into the hallway. "I underestimated the kind of trouble Kylie could get Lia into."
Sam was too angry to talk anymore. "Fine," she bit off angrily. "You take care of Lia. I'm getting out of here before I hit both of you." She turned on her heel and stalked off.
"Don't," Joss caught John's arm as he started after Sam. "Just let her cool off. She really likes Lia—remember the evening at the restaurant when Sam and Finch showed up? They came because Sam wanted to meet Lia. She thought we were being too dismissive of possible danger and wanted to keep an eye on Lia herself."
John stared at her. "So Sam saw this coming. We didn't."
"No, we didn't. I didn't even think about it. Sam's got a right to be mad at both of us." She sighed, scrubbing her forearm across her forehead. "Where's Taylor?"
"Left him at home playing video games. I just told him that I had to go out for a bit and I'd be back. I didn't tell him why—I didn't know if he'd maintain his calm in this situation and I didn't know if I could handle him and whatever the situation was when I got here." He sighed. "Should have expected Sam would take care of threats."
"Yeah. She would. Okay. Go home, tell Taylor what happened—gently—and tell him I'm going to be at the hospital with Lia."
"If he asks to come?"
"Maybe not a good idea. She's been traumatized and because of the Ten Scope, she probably won't remember anything when she wakes up. She might never remember. Did you ever remember everything from the night Aleksa drugged you?" Numbly, John shook his head, feeling guilt settle over him like a blanket. I didn't think she would get in trouble. Sam's right to be angry with us.
Almost as if she could read his mind, Joss shook his arm gently. "Sam will be fine. She's mad but she'll get over it. We made a mistake, we miscalculated how vicious Kylie was. It's done, it's happened, there's nothing we can do about it, so let's just pick up the pieces and do what we can, okay?"
But despite Joss's words, he still felt guilt tear through him as he drove quietly home through darkened streets. Even Finch seemed to sense his mood, because after a brief statement about preserving the footage from the NYU campus security cameras for the SVU in case they needed it, he left John alone with his own thoughts.
Taylor looked up as John came in. "Is Mr. Finch okay?"he said, then he took in John's face. "What happened? Is Mr. Finch hurt?"
"No. It wasn't Harold." John took a deep breath. "Sit down, Taylor."
Taylor put his game controller down. "What? What's wrong? Is Mom..." he swallowed hard. "Is Mom..."
"No, no, it's not Mom." John sat on the couch next to Taylor, suddenly so drained he couldn't stand anymore. "You know Lia was supposed to go dress shopping with Trinity, right?"
Puzzlement creased Taylor's forehead. "Yeah...when Sam picked me up this afternoon I told her and she promised she'd stop back at the school at five when Lia was supposed to be dropped off to walk home with Summer and her friends." Then something clicked. "Is it Sam? Lia?"
"Somehow Lia wound up at a frat house on the NYU campus. Sam walked in on Steve... assaulting...Lia. And Kylie..." Bile rose in his throat, created a sour taste in his mouth. "Kylie was watching. Worse, she was filming it with her cellphone. And she broadcast it to the cellphones of kids at your school."
"Oh...my God..." Taylor looked thunderstruck, and then John saw tears form in the boy's eyes. "Is she...is it like Mom..."
"No, no, it's not that bad, she wasn't bleeding. Steve and Kylie drugged her—Sam got there first and she knocked Kylie out and...immobilized Steve." He'd bet that what Sam had done was barely a fraction of what she'd really wanted to do, which was—likely—to kill Steve and Kylie. A sentiment he agreed wholeheartedly with and, had Steve and Kylie both been older, one that he would seriously have considered. "She got Lia to throw up the rest of the drug in her system, but she says the drug is one that will make Lia forget everything that happened."
"So she won't remember anything." Good." Relief washed over Taylor's face for a split second, then suddenly his eyes narrowed. "Wait. You said Kylie took video of it on her cellphone and sent it to other kids at school."
"Yes."
"So Lia won't have to remember. The kids at school will remind her. Every day, in every way possible." The horrified realization on Taylor's face was followed by a fresh rush of tears. "Oh, God."
John reached out, put an arm around Taylor's shoulders. They sat that way in silence for a moment, each engrossed in their own thoughts, then Taylor said, "Is that where you went?"
"Yes. Sam called Harold, Harold called me, then he called Mom and Lionel at the precinct and Captain Benson at the SVU, and she showed up with one of her detectives."
"You didn't tell me." The flat tone was accompanied by a tensing of the muscles in Taylor's shoulders even as the boy pulled himself out from under John's arm, looking at John with accusation in his eyes. "You didn't tell me."
John shook his head. "I didn't. I was worried that if you came along, you might lose your temper at the other boys there, or at Steve and Kylie, and I might not be able to control the situation long enough for Mom and Olivia to get there."
"You didn't tell me!" If Taylor had even heard John's explanation, he gave no sign that he realized what John had been trying to do. "My girlfriend was in trouble and you didn't tell me!" He flew off the couch, paced angrily to the other end of the room. "When Mom got hurt I called you. I called you and told you. You knew. So why didn't you do the same for me?" without waiting for John to answer, he rushed on. "You treat me like an adult only until something bad happens and then all of a sudden I'm a kid again and I need to be sheltered. Mom does the same thing, to her I'm still her little boy. I expected that from Mom, but I didn't expect that from you. I thought we were friends. I thought I could talk to you like a man, that you'd treat me as an equal. Since we started hanging out I learned what you expect of yourself, and I tried to be like you, to expect the same things of myself that you expect of yourself. And suddenly you're treating me like a kid, like Mom does, like my Dad does."
"Taylor..." But he couldn't say anything. There was nothing to say. What could he say to this young man facing him across the living room with a maelstrom of emotions in his eyes? Nothing. There were only empty words that could do nothing to save John from the anger in Taylor's eyes. Anger, and hurt, and betrayal.
"I thought you were different. I thought you were a friend, that you were cool. That we could be friends, equals. Yeah, right." His voice was flat, leaden.
"I..." But there was nothing John could say.
"So Mom's at the hospital with Lia?"
He seized on that gratefully. "Yes. Captain Benson and Mom went to the hospital with Lia, they'll make sure she's okay and they'll probably take Lia home and explain what happened to her Aunt and Uncle." Another worry. John remembered, vividly, what Joss had gone through in her recovery from what Walker had done to her. And he still remembered Olivia Benson's words to him; recovery after something like this is as much about what support you have as it is about who you are. Would Lia's Aunt and Uncle help her, give her the emotional support Lia was going to need, as John had given Joss emotional support for her recovery?
A tiny voice in the back of his head said 'no'.
"Can I go?" Taylor asked.
"Mom said that might not be a good idea, Taylor—"
But Taylor didn't wait for his explanation, refused to listen to him. "Just like Mom. Shelter me. Baby me. After everything that's happened in the last year, I hoped maybe all of you would see me as an adult. Thanks for proving me wrong." And he spun on his heel, stormed out of the living room; seconds later, John heard the door to Taylor's room close. Softly, though. Not a slam.
Somehow that hurt worse than if Taylor had slammed his door.
He'd miscalculated. Badly. Taylor's words rang in his ears. I learned what you expect of yourself, and I tried to be like you, to expect the same things of myself that you expect of yourself. He'd seen Taylor maturing right before his eyes; had seen how the boy was learning to control himself. I tried to be like you. Yes, Taylor was trying to be like John himself; he wasn't as impulsive and quick-tempered as he used to be, wasn't as impulsive and quick-tempered as John knew Paul Carter to be. Somewhere along the way, Taylor had made a conscious decision to not be like his father.
Had made a conscious decision to be more like John himself.
Not that John considered himself as a good role model. Had never once, in fact, considered himself as a role model for anyone. Yes, there had been times, when he dreamed what it would be like to have children of his own, he'd thought about the qualities he would have liked to instill in his kids; a son—if he'd ever had one—he realized now that he would have wanted his son to turn out like Taylor. Kind, conscientious, protective and considerate, but at the same time controlled, not too impulsive, thinking, rational. Taylor was the son he'd always thought he'd have liked to have.
And now he'd let the boy down, exactly as Paul Carter had let his son down. In Joss, it was understandable; she was his mother, he was her little boy, the precious, precious little boy she'd nearly died giving birth to, the little boy who had wanted to protect her from his own father, the little boy who had been terrified that his mother was going to die the day his father had thrown a vase at his mother and cut her head open. The little boy whose earliest memory had been of his father lunging at his mother with a kitchen knife. No, no matter how old Taylor got or how big he got, those would be Joss's instant memories of him, and the way she would always see him. She was his mother. It was natural.
But John had fallen into that, too; had refused to see the man in the boy. Oh, he saw the young man in calmer times, but in a crisis he'd seen Taylor as a little boy, and yes, it had been an insult to the brave, thoughtful young man Taylor Carter had become.
"I'm sorry," John whispered. But it was, as all his apologies were, too little and too late.