A/N: Part two. My brain is blasting me back to middle school and urging me to write a disclaimer, so. I don't own BK, or anything affiliated with it. Enjoy!
"No, c'mon Jules, you know he's not stupid enough to—"
"I'm just saying, what if it was L-Lloyd, trying to-to signal us, or get our atten—"
"Stop, hey, wait a sec." Shea steps between Ray and Julianne. "Hey— hey, shut up! ...Do y'all hear that?"
The room falls silent to listen. Silence pervades, until a faint burst of static breaks through.
Erica strides to Jules' desk and turns the knob on the speaker cued up to the interrogation room's microphones.
It's not static. It's someone breathing.
Their gazes lock to the far room. The blinds are drawn on the windows.
Shea is the closest. He grabs the doorknob like it might bite him, and pushes the door open. He freezes.
"…Lloyd?"
The rest of the team rush the door. Ray corrals them at the threshold before they can storm the room.
"Not all at once," he says. His eyes are guarded. His tight nod urges caution. "Go on."
He steps aside.
Lloyd is standing at the adjacent wall, perusing their pin-up board of missing posters and crime scene photos.
A smattering of bruises line his jaw, spilling down his neck and under his shirt, peppering his inner arms.
A photo of Damien bears down on him from above. Lloyd compulsively fidgets with something in his hands.
No one moves. No one breathes. They enter the room as one. The air hangs heavy with pending relief.
"Lloyd," Julianne rasps. He doesn't hear. She approaches slowly, craning her neck to try and draw his gaze.
He passes the thing in his hands from his left to his right. It glints in the light.
It's a glass capsule. Nearly empty, save for a daub of something white and glittery.
"Lloyd?"
He recoils with a rattling breath. The capsule slips from his fingers and cracks on the concrete.
His eyes struggle to focus. Pupils dilated. Reaction time slow. He's been drugged.
Weakly, she says the only thing that she can think to say. "Hey."
Lloyd blinks at her, uncomprehending. The cogs behind his eyes grind into motion. He blinks once, twice.
Slowly, he begins to smile. "Hey," he replies.
Erica's hands cup her mouth. Ray lets out a breath and steps out. Shea watches Julianne's arms envelop Lloyd's shoulders.
Lloyd doesn't reciprocate. Over Julianne's shoulder, he locks glazed eyes with Shea.
"I pushed Damien off the roof."
"You know, it was a bitch getting these on such short notice," Damien says, popping open his briefcase.
They're in a motel room. Lloyd doesn't remember the drive. He doesn't remember sitting on the edge of the bed.
He stares past the carpet at their feet. He doesn't trust himself to move or to speak. He's barely there.
"Arm," Damien commands. Lloyd tries not to recoil as Damien ties the tourniquet and plucks a syringe from the briefcase.
Lloyd keeps his gaze low. Damien kneels in front of him, flicking air bubbles from the syringe.
"The things I do for you," he laments as he searches for a suitable vein.
A chill crawls up Lloyd's arm and floods his system. He doesn't feel the needle exit.
Damien moves. Lloyd reaches for him, but feeling is swiftly leaving his extremities, and his hand drops away.
Damien looks at him like he's the brightest thing in the universe. "Come now, doctor. Use your words."
Lloyd clenches his teeth. His jaw is uncooperative. He barely gets out the word: "Why?"
"You know why. What was it you suggested in court all those years ago?"
He tosses the syringe in the garbage, then turns to Lloyd. His grin makes his face stretch like rubber.
"A lifetime's worth of sedation and tranquilizers, to pacify a relentless murderer? I'm taking your advice, doc. Think it'll work?"
"I'm not… like you."
"No, you're not," Damien says. "At least, not yet."
His smile gleams dangerously in the light.
A/N: Lemme know what you think :)