Here it is, the third installment. Because my other alternative was to
study for exams. Well screw that. ^_^
Fun Fact! Last night on the triple-overtime hockey game (Detroit v/ Colorado) they gave someone a penalty for Slashing. For * Slashing * . You're damn right I was laughing. ^_^
// thoughts //
* emphasis *
_
Leon shot up in bed as sweat ran in rivulets down his face. His chest expanded rapidly and he sucked air into his lungs, heart hammering in a fast, rapid rhythm. He didn't need to panic; he'd done this before. Leon closed his eyes and drew in deep breaths. Eventually, his breathing evened out and his pulse returned to its normal speed.
The white cotton sheet had been kicked off sometime during the night, so he merely rose from the mattress and stumbled to the living room. Though the air was cool, the shirt Leon had worn to bed was stuck to his frame, covered in sweat. He peeled it off and flopped onto his sofa, pushing strands of hair away from his face.
//Goddamn, it's still happening, // he thought, absently flicking on the television. //Fourth time in a friggin' row. //
The nightmares had started the day after he'd returned home after his little 'episode' with Count D. For the last four days, Leon had gotten little to no rest and it was beginning to wear on his nerves.
The nightmares were all the same: rows upon rows of dead bodies covered in sheets of pure, snowy white silk. He ran among them, calling desperately for somebody to help him. Finally, when nobody arrived, he grabbed the nearest sheet and pulled. It was Ashley Brandy.
So was the next one, and the next. All of the bodies were the little girl, staring up at him with malevolent glares.
You did this!
It was you!
Damn you to hell, Leon Orcot!
You're not a cop, you're a murderer!
MURDERER!
Leon shuddered as he remembered the shrieks of accusation. He'd tried everything to sleep, but nothing seemed to help. It wasn't getting him ahead at the job, either. He was so tired he barely eyed Jill anymore. He couldn't keep his eyes open, much less keep them trained on Jill's legs. [1]
It didn't matter anyway, he'd become less attracted to short skirts in the passing months. His thoughts turned to the black-haired little enigma in the dress. It wasn't just D himself that had Leon wondering about him. How was it he managed to be involved with almost every strange case in the department, yet nothing stuck to him?
// He's like Teflon, // Leon thought with a small, tired grin. // Manicured, silk-covered Teflon. // [2]
His eyes flicked to the digital clock above his television. The glowing green numbers flashed 5:56. He'd be at work soon, most likely asleep at his desk.
With a sigh, Leon turned off the television. The only things on were Jerry Springer and sleazy 1-900 lawyers. He headed for the shower, anxious to get the day over with.
__
"Leon? Leeeon? Anyone there?" Jill had an amused grin as she perched on the edge of Leon's desk.
Leon lifted his head off of the scraped, paper-strewn surface and, bleary- eyed, stared at her.
"Woah, Leon, you look exhausted! And your eyes are bloodshot!"
Leon merely blinked. "What? Um, yeah, sure you look hot."
Jill rolled her eyes. "I said bloodshot, Leon. But thanks anyway." She adjusted her tight black top and short red skirt. "Are you * still * having those nightmares?"
Leon nodded, settling his head back down on his desk. "Four nights in a row."
Jill bit her bottom lip, face edged with concern. She'd given him every alternative but one, and she considered just not saying anything to him. But, if nothing else worked, this might be the only solution.
// I don't think Leon will like this, // she told herself. //But here goes.//
"Leon," she said, coming around to stand behind him, "you might find help by going back to the Count."
"No way!" Leon sat up and shook his head. His blond hair whipped around his shoulders ; he'd forgotten to tie it back. "I'm not going to him, no way, no how. I'm not drinking ground-up animal bones or eating anything weird. Forget it."
"I'm not saying you should take anything he gives you, I'm just saying maybe you should talk to him. He might know why you're having these nightmares. How you can get rid of them. After all, he has a connection to all this." She leaned against his desk, and looked down at him. The guy needed help, badly. He was still in the same clothes he'd worn two days ago.
Leon shook his head again. "No."
Jill sighed. Men could be so stubborn. She went back to her desk and picked up the phone. While Leon was snoozing, she'd just take matters into her own hands. If Leon wouldn't go to the Count, she'd bring the Count to Leon.
_
Leon rubbed his eyes and stared at his computer screen. He had no important, immediate cases on file, so he'd tried to get some paperwork done. Tried. He kept nodding off or just staring into space.
// This has to stop. // He took another sip of strong coffee and set the Styrofoam cup down with the rest that littered his desk. // I need to get some sleep. Somehow. But I sure as hell am * not * going back to Count D. //
"He's probably just waiting for me to come back," Leon murmured to himself, "just so he can smile that mysterious smile, and never give me a straight answer, and drink his tea and just sit there and say –"
"Hello, Detective."
With a cry of surprise Leon rocketed out of his seat, sending his chair flying backwards. There behind him was Count D, basket in hand, bat on shoulder, and a grin lifting his dark lips. Dressed in a jade-green cheongsam with a Chinese dragon emblazoned across the bottom in gold thread, D looked the same as always. It drew a few looks from others in the station, but if D noticed he gave no sign.
"D? How the hell did you get here?!" Leon's heart doubled pace on him and he fought to control his breathing for the second time that day. // I didn't even hear him! Jeez. I wish he had high heels to go with that damned dress….//
D merely smiled and waved to Jill, who was grinning in triumph.
"Hello there," he gave a small bow, and from the basket on his arm drew out a small box. Handing to her, he said "Is there a place where I can speak with Detective Orcot alone? It seems he needs to talk to me."
Jill's eyes sparkled at the thought of chocolate. // Oh well. So much for the diet. Mmmm…chocolate.// "You can use the conference room down the hall, Count D. Fifth door on your left."
Leon looked from one to the other. "Jill! You brought him here? Why?"
Jill nodded, not really hearing him, while she plundered her chocolate box.
D started toward the conference room, giving Leon no choice but to follow if he wanted his questions answered. He sent one last glare at Jill who waved at him with a grin. // It's a conspiracy…//
_
End Pt.3.
And whee ^^ Might need some revision, no?
[1] Yeah, hard to believe ain't it? ^_^;
[2] Teflon – they make cook ware out of it. Nothing sticks to it. ^^
Fun Fact! Last night on the triple-overtime hockey game (Detroit v/ Colorado) they gave someone a penalty for Slashing. For * Slashing * . You're damn right I was laughing. ^_^
// thoughts //
* emphasis *
_
Leon shot up in bed as sweat ran in rivulets down his face. His chest expanded rapidly and he sucked air into his lungs, heart hammering in a fast, rapid rhythm. He didn't need to panic; he'd done this before. Leon closed his eyes and drew in deep breaths. Eventually, his breathing evened out and his pulse returned to its normal speed.
The white cotton sheet had been kicked off sometime during the night, so he merely rose from the mattress and stumbled to the living room. Though the air was cool, the shirt Leon had worn to bed was stuck to his frame, covered in sweat. He peeled it off and flopped onto his sofa, pushing strands of hair away from his face.
//Goddamn, it's still happening, // he thought, absently flicking on the television. //Fourth time in a friggin' row. //
The nightmares had started the day after he'd returned home after his little 'episode' with Count D. For the last four days, Leon had gotten little to no rest and it was beginning to wear on his nerves.
The nightmares were all the same: rows upon rows of dead bodies covered in sheets of pure, snowy white silk. He ran among them, calling desperately for somebody to help him. Finally, when nobody arrived, he grabbed the nearest sheet and pulled. It was Ashley Brandy.
So was the next one, and the next. All of the bodies were the little girl, staring up at him with malevolent glares.
You did this!
It was you!
Damn you to hell, Leon Orcot!
You're not a cop, you're a murderer!
MURDERER!
Leon shuddered as he remembered the shrieks of accusation. He'd tried everything to sleep, but nothing seemed to help. It wasn't getting him ahead at the job, either. He was so tired he barely eyed Jill anymore. He couldn't keep his eyes open, much less keep them trained on Jill's legs. [1]
It didn't matter anyway, he'd become less attracted to short skirts in the passing months. His thoughts turned to the black-haired little enigma in the dress. It wasn't just D himself that had Leon wondering about him. How was it he managed to be involved with almost every strange case in the department, yet nothing stuck to him?
// He's like Teflon, // Leon thought with a small, tired grin. // Manicured, silk-covered Teflon. // [2]
His eyes flicked to the digital clock above his television. The glowing green numbers flashed 5:56. He'd be at work soon, most likely asleep at his desk.
With a sigh, Leon turned off the television. The only things on were Jerry Springer and sleazy 1-900 lawyers. He headed for the shower, anxious to get the day over with.
__
"Leon? Leeeon? Anyone there?" Jill had an amused grin as she perched on the edge of Leon's desk.
Leon lifted his head off of the scraped, paper-strewn surface and, bleary- eyed, stared at her.
"Woah, Leon, you look exhausted! And your eyes are bloodshot!"
Leon merely blinked. "What? Um, yeah, sure you look hot."
Jill rolled her eyes. "I said bloodshot, Leon. But thanks anyway." She adjusted her tight black top and short red skirt. "Are you * still * having those nightmares?"
Leon nodded, settling his head back down on his desk. "Four nights in a row."
Jill bit her bottom lip, face edged with concern. She'd given him every alternative but one, and she considered just not saying anything to him. But, if nothing else worked, this might be the only solution.
// I don't think Leon will like this, // she told herself. //But here goes.//
"Leon," she said, coming around to stand behind him, "you might find help by going back to the Count."
"No way!" Leon sat up and shook his head. His blond hair whipped around his shoulders ; he'd forgotten to tie it back. "I'm not going to him, no way, no how. I'm not drinking ground-up animal bones or eating anything weird. Forget it."
"I'm not saying you should take anything he gives you, I'm just saying maybe you should talk to him. He might know why you're having these nightmares. How you can get rid of them. After all, he has a connection to all this." She leaned against his desk, and looked down at him. The guy needed help, badly. He was still in the same clothes he'd worn two days ago.
Leon shook his head again. "No."
Jill sighed. Men could be so stubborn. She went back to her desk and picked up the phone. While Leon was snoozing, she'd just take matters into her own hands. If Leon wouldn't go to the Count, she'd bring the Count to Leon.
_
Leon rubbed his eyes and stared at his computer screen. He had no important, immediate cases on file, so he'd tried to get some paperwork done. Tried. He kept nodding off or just staring into space.
// This has to stop. // He took another sip of strong coffee and set the Styrofoam cup down with the rest that littered his desk. // I need to get some sleep. Somehow. But I sure as hell am * not * going back to Count D. //
"He's probably just waiting for me to come back," Leon murmured to himself, "just so he can smile that mysterious smile, and never give me a straight answer, and drink his tea and just sit there and say –"
"Hello, Detective."
With a cry of surprise Leon rocketed out of his seat, sending his chair flying backwards. There behind him was Count D, basket in hand, bat on shoulder, and a grin lifting his dark lips. Dressed in a jade-green cheongsam with a Chinese dragon emblazoned across the bottom in gold thread, D looked the same as always. It drew a few looks from others in the station, but if D noticed he gave no sign.
"D? How the hell did you get here?!" Leon's heart doubled pace on him and he fought to control his breathing for the second time that day. // I didn't even hear him! Jeez. I wish he had high heels to go with that damned dress….//
D merely smiled and waved to Jill, who was grinning in triumph.
"Hello there," he gave a small bow, and from the basket on his arm drew out a small box. Handing to her, he said "Is there a place where I can speak with Detective Orcot alone? It seems he needs to talk to me."
Jill's eyes sparkled at the thought of chocolate. // Oh well. So much for the diet. Mmmm…chocolate.// "You can use the conference room down the hall, Count D. Fifth door on your left."
Leon looked from one to the other. "Jill! You brought him here? Why?"
Jill nodded, not really hearing him, while she plundered her chocolate box.
D started toward the conference room, giving Leon no choice but to follow if he wanted his questions answered. He sent one last glare at Jill who waved at him with a grin. // It's a conspiracy…//
_
End Pt.3.
And whee ^^ Might need some revision, no?
[1] Yeah, hard to believe ain't it? ^_^;
[2] Teflon – they make cook ware out of it. Nothing sticks to it. ^^