Not sure how long this is gonna end up being.
Enjoy,
Vax.
/ / / /
He meets her at a seedy club in downtown Chicago.
It's a call over dispatch he can thank for it, someone deciding a man looked suspicious, dangerous, and possibly violent. A much more common occurrence than Will would care to admit he gets, but Diego and him are just a block away and as usual they check themselves as they flip the lights and fall into a silence. He's out of the car first, pushing past the small gathering at the entrance and waiting for Diego before he flashes his badge and introduces himself to the bouncer. They move past. When he gets inside there's an assault on all of his senses; the smell of marijuana, flashing lights, thumping bass, far too warm and humid for a cool autumn night. Diego makes a comment and it goes unheard in the room. He shares a look with his partner, who shrugs, and is promptly greeted by a waitress. Of sorts. She's nearly naked, which tells him exactly what sort of inhibitions the club caters to. The little nametag pinned precariously on her skimpy top reads 'Cindy.'
She looks panicked, and quickly waves them to follow. He still can't hear anything over the music. But, something isn't right. Diego must have picked up on it too because he places his hand on his pistol holster at the same time that Will does. It makes sense when they're ushered towards the back room and he comes to the realization that most of the dancers are still there because they're too high to know about any danger. There's no waitresses walking around with drinks, and the DJ, someone named Riley Blue judging by the banner, is missing from the booth. "Did you make the call, ma'am?" He asks over the noise. Even if he's not sure she hears, the woman turns around with a curt smile and nods. "This way," She urges, very obvious in her attempt to keep calm. "They went to the back room."
"They" Will mouths back at Diego. It takes them a minute to wind out of the heady floor and into the quieter back halls. Behind him, he hears his partner sigh. "Thought I'd never hear myself think again, man."
"Tell me about it, I-"
A scream, female, muffled through the doors and hidden from the rest of the world by thumping bass and rolling synths. They both burst into action. Will pops the clasp on his service weapon and draws it, flicking the safety, keeping the muzzle down, pressing his finger over the trigger guard, and pushing down the hall until he's sure he's at the door where another scream is cut short. He tries the handle and it's locked of course, so he bangs on the door as hard as he can and yells, "Police!" There's a panicked pair of male voices on the other end of the door, followed by the sounds of some crashing and movement. He knocks again before Diego moves to his side. "Get this fucking door open man!" And Will agrees. He turns to Cindy and gestures at the door handle, but she looks like a deer in the headlights. Frozen, scared. She only says "Oh my god, the DJ." Cursing his bad luck, he braces himself and shoves against the door. Once, twice, and it gives on the third time in a splintering of wood and a crash that echoes in his head. Diego is in first and when he recovers from his human battering ram impersonation, the room is clear save for one slight of a woman slouched against a couch beside a fallen table. She's breathing hard, coughing, her mascara is running down her cheeks, but she's alive.
Will holsters his pistol and moves to her side, crouching on one knee. "Hey, hey, are you okay?" She doesn't lift her head but she does nod, one hand rubbing at ligature marks on her neck. To her side a little blue plastic bag sits crumpled on the ground, Will gives it one look and feels sick when the realization of what was happening dawns on him. Diego comes back through an open door to his left, huffing, puffing and scratching at an eyebrow. "They're gone. She okay?"
"Yeah, I think so." Will nods to him, then turns his attention to her again, moving his head down to try to grab a better glimpse of her. More than just a set of trembling lips and mascara stained cheeks. "Riley, is that right? You're safe now, okay? Are you okay?"
She doesn't reply, but she nods again and finally looks up at him through a curtain of bleached hair. He locks eyes with her and watches the leftover fear wash away. Riley is a pretty girl, he thinks, a little thin and petite but with a softness in her face. Her eyes have bags under them. Will doesn't let himself consider anything past that, her beauty and lack of sleep is irrelevant to the report he'll have to fill later. She glances over him in a quick flick of eyes, the tension falls out of her body at his uniform. Her arms cross as she hugs herself at the waist, new tears forming. He can see her pupils, makes note of how dilated they are, even makes note of the color. She looks vulnerable and small, to the point that he feels a slight protective, but he keeps eye contact only as long as she does. His father had taught him this part of the job, he needs to be able to be trusted by victims. Eyes are the mirrors to the soul, son. If you can keep eye contact, you can build trust. Too much, and you'll push them away.
"Good. My name is Will, I'm here to help. You're safe, I've got you." He tries to come off as warm, but the thrum of the bass and the thick scents wafting through the door are giving him a very sharp headache so he's not sure how it falls out of his mouth. He can feel his edges dulling, feeling like he can't breathe, like he's trapped. Still, he offers her a hand and leans back to give her space. He tries to project calm, tries to give the woman something to center herself on in what he is sure is a trying time. He takes a moment to examine the bruises forming on her jaw, arms, and neck. Then he smiles his kindest smile and says, "You can call me Officer Gorski, if you prefer. Would you mind if we go somewhere quieter and talk?"
Diego mutters something.
"Like... Like the police station?" She has an accent. Northern European if he were to guess, but he's never been great with accents. Will keeps his and tries to ignore how scared she had just sounded, instead he helps her up and lets her take her hand back. "I was thinking outside... With fresh air." It would give her time to sober up. He didn't want her to be held for using illegal substances after being nearly killed. He looks at Diego, who rolls his eyes and gives a long-suffering, dramatic sigh. "If you'll talk to the waitress?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it Gorski. You're welcome."
"Thanks." He pointedly ignores the snide comment that follows and turns back to the woman, "Alright, Ms…"
"Blue." She supplies, looking everywhere but at him for a moment. They meet eyes again. "Riley Blue. Riley is fine."
"Riley it is." Will leads her out into the hallways and away from the scene, taking one last look around for the details. Knocked over table, crumpled bag on the floor, but no usable evidence without forensics getting involved. It was assault and attempted murder at the least, but thankfully the presence of all of her clothing meant that rape wasn't involved. The cool air of the Chicago streets was a welcome change to the overbearing atmosphere of the club. The crowd is gone when they exit, the remainder divvied back up into a line awaiting entry. Other police cruisers have shown up, their lights mixing with the pale purple and greens from the club door.
He gestures off to the side for a place to sit, to which Riley nods and moves over to sit on a bench. Will settles down next to her and slips his notebook out of his pocket.
"Do you mind if I have a smoke?" She asks before he can open his mouth, her hand on one of her jacket pockets. He considers the harm of secondhand, weighs it against his general dislike of smoking, then decides if it gives her comfort it's not really that bad and tells her it's fine. It takes her a few seconds to light her cigarette, and after she exhales smoke she smiles. A slight, thin line. "Thanks."
"Yeah." He clicks his pen, returning her smile before going back to business. "I was wondering if you were going to pull out something illegal. Anyway, let's go over the simple facts..."
She's quite helpful, very obviously intelligent. Her story goes like this; After she spent the night DJing for the party, an old friend of hers from London had found her and believed that she'd stolen money and drugs from them. The simplicity of it fell apart when she mentioned that she'd been mixed up in drug trade, and that her 'friend', Nyx, believed that she'd stolen money and drugs from them. Will noted down big details; DJ as a profession, only in America for two weeks. The man's name was Nyx. An altercation between Nyx and her now dead ex Jacks and his friend Nocker. London, a drug called DMT, that she threw away the drugs and money and left for America, and that she's trying to be better, she really is.
He lets her rant, lets her go through her emotions, and after she falls silent he chews on his lip and mulls over this information, studying Riley and that rebellious blue streak in her hair. She doesn't look away, staring into his eyes long enough so that he averts first. Will is almost impressed that she's so unabashed about her past, but at the same time he wonders how much of that bravery is just bravado. She doesn't cry, and he wonders if he's wrong and she really is just that brave.
"I thought he was dead." She says after a stretch of silence, moving to throw away the cigarette in a nearby bin and rubbing at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Migraine."
What a coincidence, he thinks. "With all of the drugs in there, I'm not surprised. Does this uh... Nyx have a last name?"
"I don't know it. I don't even know if that's his real name."
"Okay." He notes that, nods, and closes his notebook, slipping it and the pen into his pockets and rubbing his hands together to ward off the chill. "Do you have someone you're staying with? A friend, maybe?"
"I… no. I don't really have any friends anymore." She hugs herself again and he feels a pang of pity. "No, I was in a hotel. I'm flying back out to Europe tonight. I have a show in Paris in a few days."
He nods, trying to wrap his head around traveling for work. Will chews on his lip again for a moment before letting a breath out. "Well, I have to tell you that it's better if you do come down to the station and give a recorded statement, maybe let us put you under police protection until you're safely out of the country. But I can't hold you if you decide you want to leave." She looks at him and he feels that headache twinge, but he gets a very stark reminder of why he loves being an officer of the law when he sees that her tears have stopped. Riley feels safe with him there, and he can see it. He can feel it. So he continues. "I know that what happened in there was frightening, and terrible. I really wish I could say that it won't ever happen again. I know you might feel like running, because that's what I feel like I'd do, but if you do decide to leave and hop on that plane, I- we can't protect you if you won't let us."
"I'll be fine." She replies far too quickly, before shrinking back into herself again. "I just want to move on."
Will nods, disappointed, then purses his lips and stands. In the middle of pulling a business card out of his pocket he sees Riley's face scrunch up and stops to watch her wipe a hand over her eyes. "Alright, you're right." The woman pulls her jacket tighter around herself, he gets the distinct feeling that she wants something less legal than tobacco. "I can reschedule my flight."
He nods again and gestures towards the police cruiser. Diego comes out twenty minutes after they finish, and the pair cart the DJ to the station. Diego is chatty, as usual. Will chimes in on some jokes, laughs at others, and glances back at Riley whenever Diego tries to get her to join them in the merrymaking. "Ignore him." Will says after a while, patting his partner's shoulder, "He doesn't know how to shut up sometimes."
"Stuff it, Gorski." Diego shrugs his hand off.
Later, near the end of his shift when his partner is out, Riley comes to sit with him at his desk and thank him again. He smiles and accepts, asks if she has their card and makes small talk. He learns a few interesting things, like when she's flying out, that she's been to many places he's always wanted to, but the most interesting thing is that she's from Iceland and misses her home country. When he asks why she doesn't go back, the woman clams up and he backs off. When Diego comes back, Riley thanks the both of them. Diego smiles and takes the thanks like the good cop, but Will spots a bit of sorrow in her face and frowns. "Hey. Are you sure you're alright, Riley?"
"Riley?" Diego mouths, his eyebrows raising.
"Sometimes." She avoids his gaze with a sad smile, then turns and leaves. Diego watches her go then spins on Will after she's out of earshot. "Are you alright, Riley?" He parrots with a funny look on his face. Then he smiles, "Gorski gettin' friendly with a lady, didn't think I'd ever see it. Don't suppose you got her number, right?"
"No. Why?"
"Wow." Diego scoffs, "Wow. You are such a good guy, Gorski. Real top of the line."
Will frowns while his friend waves his hands in the air like revealing a banner.
"She's hot…" He enunciates and draws out the word, "And I think she might've been into you. Maybe she's one of those girls with a Knight in Shining Armor fetish." He grouses and shrugs a shoulder and plops down in his chair, "But what do I know?"
"What do you know?"
"I know you're going straight to O'hare to make sure she flies away safely when the time comes."
"What?" Will's turn to scoff. "Nah, that's just weird."
He does just that anyway, days later, even with a police detail escorting her. He doesn't expect to see Riley again outside of the dreams his subconscious forces on him.
/ / / /
It's sometime around ten thirty at a bar with all of his fellow officers when he gets a rush of fear and chokes on air.
It's a sharp, painful feeling around his neck, and in an instant he's not in the warmth of a bar surrounded by his friends, his peers, and his father. He's Riley, in a cold, abandoned house clawing at whatever's around her neck and paralyzed with fear as Nyx looks on with a bored, distant expression. Someone grabs him and his fight instinct takes over the both of them. Someone comes up behind him to help and he strikes out with an elbow. Riley breaks the nose of the man choking with the back of her head, a satisfying crunch that loosens her noose enough to get a good breath. Will elbows a man who tries to restrain him, Riley twists out of the not-so-proverbial garrote and slams the man's head into a wall.
Will, on the ground now, kicks a man's leg out from under him and rolls to freedom, taking long, indulgent gasps of air. He's Riley as they wriggles away from Nyx's weak attempt at a grab, twists his fingers until they feel bone break and jabs Riley's fist straight into his windpipe. He chokes, grabs his neck and goes down. His head impacts on something and Will sees blood before he comes back to himself in full. Diego is at his left, a decent distance away with one hand on his head and the other on his hip. His father is up ahead of him, a confused look on his face. Two of the officers from his precinct are on the floor with him, the third is moving to stand. Will falls back on his back and breathes until the world stops turning. He holds out a hand to stop anyone else from crowding him, clenches his eyes shut and wipes sweat off of his brow.
He hears about it for the next three hours. Spends too much time trying to explain himself and even more apologizing. He offers to pay any medical bills, but the worst injury was thankfully a busted lip and few bruised egos and reputations. His included. Diego corners him before he leaves, and his excuses himself without explaining more than 'I couldn't breathe, I don't know what happened.' He's halfway home before he gets a call from the captain, at one in the morning no less, and resigns himself to whatever punishments he's given. It's desk duty for a month. A week for every man he fought, and leniency only because Will accepted going to see someone about the sudden 'whatever the fuck that was'.
By the time he's home, he feels hot and he feels unclean. He strips out of his jacket and shirt, turns the water on and can't stop moving while it warms. He's wired on adrenaline, playing the fight over and over in his head. They're like distant memories, interconnected like cloth but he wasn't sure how that worked at all considering the situation. He was in Chicago, and she was… somewhere else. France or somewhere in Europe. But he feels it like it was him there, the ache around his neck as real as the cut on his knuckles. When he thinks back on Riley's fight, he can remember so vividly the details. The chill in the air, the mustiness of the room, the feeling of dust, even how scared he(she?) felt. He blinks, avoids thinking about the growing headache and strips to shower.
Will takes his time, letting the warm water wash over him. The air is unbelievably cold for how long he stays in the shower, and he's wondering if his heater broke again. When he closes his eyes there are street lamps and fog, the sun across his face and panic in his chest. But when they're open he's back in his bathroom, the water going colder and colder as he stands there. The cool water sobers him, alleviates the pent up energy and leaves him with a headache and enough fatigue to match. He twists the knobs and towels off, pulls on a fresh pair of briefs and lathers his face to shave. He's halfway through before he cuts himself. He winces and closes his eyes, leaning his head down until it stops pounding. When he looks back up in the mirror, Riley is staring back.
She looks surprised, her mouth open in a little 'o' and a washcloth still on the blood on her jaw. Will's eyes flick to the marks on her neck before he feels his brow furrow and a coil of worry and fury settles in his gut. It's a violent mix that makes him want to vomit and makes him want to hit something. He stamps it down and instead basks in the wonder and confusion of seeing her again. Together, they reach a free hand out to touch the glass in front of them. They both flinch when they feel skin and warmth. Will is the first to recover, astounded. "Riley?"
For a moment, and only that, he doesn't feel alone.
"Will." She breathes, her face changing to something like relief for only a second. He spins around as if he'll find her standing behind him, but when he turns back she's gone again. Swallowing back whatever emotion bubbled up, Will finishes shaving and washes his face off, cleaning off the new cut on his jaw before leaving his bathroom to collapse on his bed.
He's going insane. He has to be.
His phone is blinking. There's two texts there, one from the captain and another from Diego. He scrolls past the captain's message and reads the words 'I'm worried about you, man. Get some sleep, come over for dinner tomorrow.' and lets out a slow breath. He sets the phone down, shuts off his alarm, and closes his eyes.
That night he wonders if Riley's okay and dreams of a blue streak in white hair.
/ / / /