Rebirth – Chapter 35: Loose Stitches
So, a few side notes. Fic is still in production as planned, time still evades me. And more importantly, if you're into Adam Lawrence stuff, you should definitely hook up at, h t t p / w w w . livejournal . c o m / chainshipping It's good fun. Do it!
Lawrence yawned and looked into the fridge, staring at a carton of orange juice for what seemed to be the hundredth time that morning. When had he made it into the kitchen, anyway? And what was he looking for? Grumbling, he took the orange juice from the shelf and shut the door, turning to find a glass. Still on medical leave, and stuck at a home he didn't want to be in, life moved on around him at a slow trudge. Diana was at school, and as aforementioned, conversation between Allison and himself had somewhat dwindled. So that left him, the fridge, and the T.V. But he wasn't all that interested in what was on, and he wasn't that hungry. There was no denying that he would have rather been with Adam, but if he spent any more time over there than he already did, anyone could've suspected he was doing something he shouldn't be.
Part of him was exasperated at that. He was doing something wrong, wasn't he? He knew he was, it was just…he felt right with Adam. Even though he knew it was wrong. That made him feel somehow worse.
In any case, he didn't have the time to contemplate how right or how wrong it was. Another couple of weeks and he would be going back to work. Things would go back to the way they were, only this time, he really would be cheating. That was, arrogantly assuming that Adam would put up with it for that long. In truth, he wasn't sure he wanted Adam to put up with it. He didn't want Adam to lie and cheat because of him…It wasn't Adam's fault, Adam didn't do any of this. For God's sake, Lawrence was the one that started with that kiss, wasn't he? Or their first sexual encounter? But Lawrence couldn't bare the thought of leaving Adam alone where he'd found him; a drab career in a cluttered apartment with no friends or family. That only left him the choice of leaving Allison…but the idea absolutely mortified him. Every time he looked at her, all he could think was she doesn't deserve this… And it was true. She didn't. Which left him screwed, he supposed.
How could you tell a women you've been married to for the better part of a decade that you couldn't be with her anymore? How could you tell anyone that you just weren't in love with them? It seemed like such an awful thing to say, even if it was true. What would she say? What could she possibly say to that? "I don't love you. I need a divorce." Eight words was all he needed, and eight words had never been harder to say. Exactly what dinner conversation was he supposed to work that into?
But he knew he better say it at some point. You can't be gay and married to someone who's not. Things just didn't work that way.
"Larry?" Allison's voice interrupted his thoughts as she came into the kitchen.
It was then that he looked at her, and for the hundredth time, thought…tell her…just tell her. She's right there…
"Uh, Larry…?" she said again, blinking down repeatedly at his hands.
Lawrence looked down to find orange juice drizzling off the counter, the glass only half full. "Oh!" he jumped a little in shock and his wife went to grab a towel.
"Something on your mind?" she chuckled slightly as she handed it to him.
"Yeah, I—well I guess I just spaced out there for a minute." Are you even listening, do you realize what she just asked you! He bowed his head and began wiping up the stream of orange juice leaking down the hardwood.
"You okay?" she leaned her palms onto the counter next to him. There was that push of invasion yet again, when she stood a distance of as far as two feet away.
"Fine. You?" he replied habitually, taking his glass to the sink.
"Same old same old. Anyway, have you seen my checkbook anywhere? I've been looking for the damn thing for an hour now." She rummaged idly through a stack of papers on the counter as she said this.
"Sorry. I could check my office." Lawrence distractedly shook his head.
"Yeah, when you get a chance." She nodded and looked at him with a casual smile.
Lawrence caught her eyes and had to stare. He didn't want to be one of those people who put things off forever because they were too scared. He'd done enough of that as it was. "Allison," he started, biting his lip. Just say something, anything. Get it started already.
"Ye-" she turned to meet him again, but accidentally sent a good half of the stack she'd been searching through sprawling on the tile floor. With a exclamation of dismay, she reached down to pick them up, leaving Lawrence stalled in the midsts of his confession. Just as he was beginning to find his words—the phone rang and cut him off yet again. "You wanna get that, Lar?" Allison requested as she sorted through her miniature disaster.
"I…" he held up a hand, but it slowly dropped. "Yeah." He muttered, turning off to find where the phone lay calling him. Maybe fate just wasn't happy with him. "Hello?" he answered as he lifted it, masking his terrible mood with a light tone.
"Lawrence? …Shit, oh God, I mean thank God it's you, if it was Allison, I don't know what I would've s—!"
"Adam?" Lawrence straightened up a little and held the phone firmly.
"Look, something happened, I—" Adam's voice cracked a little and it was clear that it was shaken with nervousness.
"What is it, what's wrong?"
"Someone came over, okay? It—I mean I answered the door and it was—last n-night was—"
"Adam, Adam, calm down, breathe…just tell me what happened." Lawrence's throat constricted as he felt the panic in Adam's voice. He went into his office and shut the door, awaiting an answer worriedly.
"We're in trouble. I'm in trouble. This is my fault! God, I'm so stupid, I'm sorry…" Adam got out. "I-It was Eric."
"What?" Lawrence paused, processing the information through his head. Eric. Alarms were going off in his head before he even truly put a face to the name. Then he remembered, through a memory of confusion and defensiveness, and he gripped the phone in tense anger. "Eric? What do you mean? Did he threaten you again? What happened, are you alright?"
"No, Lawrence, listen…ah…" he heard Adam clear his throat desperately. "It was the police. They came to talk to me just now, I…"
"Why?" Lawrence was thuroughly confused.
"Okay…okay, do you remember when E-Eric came over last night?" Adam queried, his voice more under control.
"Sure."
"Well he…he was all drunk and pissed off. He had blood down the front of his shirt—why didn't I…?" there was a hesitation and what sounded like Adam muttering to himself. "He wasn't just mad at his wife, man, he…he came down here last night after he killed her, Lawrence, he fucking killed her!"
"…What?" Lawrence repeated numbly.
"He came over last night because he was pissed at me for not finding out about her affair…For not taking the job. Who knows what he was planning to do? I don't know, but—he was rambling about how he walked in on her and some other guy, and…and I guess he didn't tell the whole fucking story, because they found her dead later that night…some neighbor heard the noise or something, they called the police. They came here this morning, when they caught him. I never meant for this shit to happen, I never thought it…"
Lawrence was stunned, unable to form the words he needed. This was certainly unexpected. "God…" he uttered, rubbing the side of his face.
"I'm sorry, Lawrence, I'm sorry." Adam continued to spout apologies, mixed with a choice amount of swear words.
"It's not your fault, it's okay." Lawrence said instantly, his mind already jumping to try and sort this new problem out.
"Don't you get it, man?" he burst suddenly. "I…They have him in custody, okay? They know that you were there with me. You know what he'll tell them!"
A cold wave of horror swept over Lawrence, pulling him into silence for a moment as he realized this. Damn it. He was right.
"They questioned me, Lawr, they think I'm a goddamn accomplice! I-I kept trying to tell them, I'm a private invesitgator, not a fucking hitman! Man, I don't know what to do, oh God, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault, if you hadn't been there—"
"Adam, buddy…come on, it's okay. It's okay, don't panic on me, okay? It's gonna be fine." Lawrence said this as confidently as he could, but he knew he was in deep shit at the moment. "You're at home right now? Just stay there. I'm coming over."
"No," Adam pleaded. "No, don't, are you crazy…? The cops are coming to question you right now…Fuck. Fuck, this looks so bad…"
Lawrence bit down on his lip hard and pensively fisted a hand in his hair, looking over his shoulder to make sure Allison was nowhere in hearing distance. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this to her? He caught the half-witless murmuring of Adam from the other end, however, and his focus changed swiftly. "Then I'll be over as soon as they're gone." He assured quickly.
"No, they already must be thinking something's up, you can't—"
"I don't care. Just wait for me, okay? Just hold tight and wait for me."
"…Lawrence—"
"I have to go." Lawrence hurriedly hung up the phone as Allison came in, looking at him quizzically.
"Uh, Larry…some people are here to talk to you." She appeared confused and concerned. Lawrence shuddered. Right on cue. "They're cops or something Lar, what the hell is going on?" she nervously glanced over her shoulder and back to him.
"It's okay. It's nothing, I think they just…need to ask a few questions. Maybe…maybe about uh…well, you know. That night..." He knew that was the most plausible excuse.
Seeing that she seemed a bit more at ease, he stood shakily and swallowed. He had to find a way to get out of this… As he walked out into his hall, he found two men standing in his living room, and suddenly…he felt a timid spark of hope daring to rise up as he looked to one of them in particular.
"Hello again, Dr. Gordon." Said the man with a nod.
Lawrence's chest dropped a little in a small, inaudible gasp. "…Detective Palmer…right?"
