Usually, Matt loved the weird and wonderful but when he hadn't had some decent sleep and coffee it tarnished his joy of dealing with the odder things of the world. This afternoon, instead of getting to head home for a much needed rest, Matt had found himself returning to the hospital.
As he stood observing his latest problem, Matt felt he might be a little too tired to be dealing with this new strain of oddity and the theatrics that came with it.
"I don't know how she got out there," Dr. Fields commented scornfully. "Hell I don't know how she's awake already given what we gave her."
Matt followed the doctor's gaze across the room to the tall glass windows and the garden view they offered. They were on the ground floor where a sealed garden served as a tranquil spot for some patients. It offered a small retreat of carefully trimmed potted plants, a currently thinned out patch of grass, two benches and a pond. Matt's attention became taken up by the half-frozen pond and its occupant.
The woman from the lake had seated in the centre of the pond, knees hunched up and water up to her chest as she sat looking about forlornly. She didn't seem fazed by the small chunks of dirty ice floating beside her.
"How the hell is she not suffering hypothermia?" Matt wondered aloud.
"Oh she probably is," Dr. Fields murmured, "it's adrenaline keeping her oblivious to the effects but that won't last, she will go into shock." The doctor stood with her arms crossed as she looked outside with a frosty scorn.
"Any attempts to bring her in yet?"
"We called you before we located her," Dr. Fields reminded him, "I only got alerted to her present state five minutes ago."
Matt nodded. "Alright, well I'll go out there then."
"Take a blanket, no good wasting another coat."
Matt frowned at the doctor's biting tone before he obeyed. He snatched up a blanket from a waiting bed and headed to the double doors that led outside. He pushed down on the handles but neither budged.
"The doors are locked," he remarked dumbly.
"I did say I don't know how she got there."
Matt glanced over his shoulder crossly at the woman. "Can someone get me the keys?"
Dr. Fields sighed and nodded. "I have asked for the keys," she advised calmly, "we're just waiting for them."
Matt mumbled a curse just as a young, startled looking male porter came sprinting up towards them. The expected keys jingling loudly in his left hand.
"Here." Matt extended a hand for them.
The porter glimpsed the detective's badge glinting at Matt's belt and handed the keys over.
"Sorry," he babbled, "it's chaos in here tonight, the bad weather and all makes it busy."
Matt dismissed the excuses with a shake of his head as he accepted the keys. He turned back to the doors and slotted a key into the lock on the left. The lock turned with ease and enabling Matt to push down the handle and free the door.
The woman glanced up cautiously as she heard the door open. She watched Matt with a cautious stare as he came to join her in the cold.
The early evening had begun as Matt glanced up briefly he saw that the sky had turned a deep, dark sapphire blue. Down here frost built up on the grass and branches of the small, ornamental plants, and ice had started to appear on the tiles.
Matt frowned as he felt his shoes threaten to skid twice as he walked across the patio. He followed the stone slabbed path through the patch of grass to the pond and found it no safer to stand on. No one had bothered to salt here, a lawsuit in the waiting for sure, which might explain the doors being locked.
The path wasn't even a set one, the stone slabs were separate meaning Matt had to swap hard stone for slippery grass with every step. With the threat of frost and ice it took the detective a painfully long time to reach the pond. He figured by the time he got there he might know what to say.
"You really like the water don't you?" The question came out dumbly with a small, stupid smile to match.
The woman blinked slowly, hands about her shoulders now and knees raised close as she sought modesty. The hospital robe on her had soaked right through, clinging to her front like a second skin and leaving little to the imagination. It hung open at her back exposing the bandages and gauze strips running alongside stitching as well as a few still visible scratches.
"You know I'm not sure what happened to you," Matt continued in a sympathetic tone, "but whoever did it, I'll find them." He crouched so that he could be eye level with her. "And until then I'll make sure you're kept safe." He paused realising how personal the offer sounded when he didn't really mean it like that.
Matt realised how false his offer was considering the force's resources were already low and stretched, no one would authorise twenty-four seven protection for this woman, not at Matt's whim without a suggestion of who the criminal might be. Where would they even be protecting her? Where did she come from?
"What's you name?"
She bowed her head and stared down at the half-frozen water she occupied.
Matt wondered if she might be too traumatised to talk or afraid of the consequences if she did speak. Was English even her first language?
"Alright," he assured her, "you don't have to talk yet. How about you come out of the pond? It's cold, not the right time of year to be in the pond although there's probably no right time of year for that."
The blue eyes were back on him again and he realised it wasn't fear they bore but sadness.
He raised the blanket and held it out to her, hopeful that she would understand the gesture if not his words.
She stood with an obvious reluctance and accepted the blanket, fixing it about herself awkwardly before she waded out of the pond. If she felt the cold she did not show it save for the faint mist that escaped her lips. Matt offered a hand but she refused it, instead looking at him curiously until he turned and started walking back.
Matt began to regret coming here alone. He had no clue what to do with the woman.
When Matt looked ahead to the glass doors his thoughts shifted.
Shards of glass shattered outwards as a steel bin came hurtling through the doors.
Matt scarcely had time to react but thankfully the many years of evading and fighting criminals and the more recent months of tackling and dodging monsters had imprinted on Matt and his body knew what to do before his mind even registered what was happening.
The detective ducked low, pulling the woman down with him, bowed his head and raised his free arm to shield himself from the rain of glass.
Once all the glass had fallen, Matt tugged out his Browning and stood up hastily to take aim at the approaching foes.
There were three in total, all male and all human although Matt felt quite certain there was a whiff of something else about them though he could not quite place what exactly that something else might be.
The tallest figure stood at six feet with scruffy, dark brown hair hanging down in a mane of uneven spikes. His fierce golden-brown eyes locked onto Matt as he gave a snarl, which revealed sharp looking teeth.
The second male walked with short, fast steps and kept scratching at his copper streaked caramel brown hair in irritation. The copper in his hair highlighted the swarthy tones of his skin against which his flint grey eyes appeared almost black.
The third man stood the shortest but his mess of jet black curls made his pale, almost clear blue eyes and alabaster skin stand out, drawing attention to the scarring at his lips and throat.
All three males looked to be somewhere between their late twenties and early thirties and had dressed like they belonged in a eighties nightclub, wearing black leather jackets, torn, dark jeans, ripped t-shirts and scuffed boots.
"I smell dinner," the first snarled with a wide toothed grin.
"Poultry's my favourite," the second remarked.
"Stay where you are," Matt snapped at them crossly.
The three exchanged a look and the one with copper streaks snickered. "He looks tender," he commented, "a nice, tasty human."
Matt aimed his gun at the brunette's chest. He tried to release the woman's hand so that he could flash his badge but she had both her hands wrapped tightly about his wrist.
"I'm a detective," Matt remarked sternly, "and you three are already guilty of damaging property and risking endangerment to people, don't add to it."
The one with copper streaks continued to look amused whilst the dark haired male seemed puzzled.
"Give us the bird," the copper streaked male ordered, "and we won't eat you too."
"Eat me?" Matt rolled his eyes. "Must be drugs," he muttered. The thought had him sparking with the realisation that the men probably were high and at the hospital looking for their next fix.
"Hand her over," the male with amber eyes snapped. He stepped forward menacingly with his hands raised slightly and tensed like claws ready to strike.
Matt glanced at the man's hands and realised that they did have claws, long, sharp and a dark grey like a wolf's. The redhead tensed and tightened his grip on his gun as he met the male's unusual eyes.
"Don't move," he commanded bluntly, "or I will shoot."
"Flimsy looking weapon," the brunette scoffed.
"It's tougher than it looks," Matt jested.
The three men started to move simultaneously, coming at Matt in a run, laughing and jeering as they did.
BANG! Matt was good on his word, aiming to hurt but hopefully not kill.
The caramel haired male let out a snarl and a curse as the bullet cut through his right shoulder in a spray of blood.
The other two were coming fast, too fast. Matt braced for impact just as the woman pushed him out of the way with a surprising show of strength. Not expecting the blow, Matt stumbled and slipped on a patch of frost and landed hard on his rear.
Matt only just caught the sounds of a sharp slap as the woman smacked the brunette hard across his nose causing him to emit a yelp. Matt was startled by the sound as it really was a yelp, like the kind a dog would make.
The male with the black curls stopped running and glared at the woman as he let out a low guttural snarl. "You're prey, you don't stand a chance."
The caramel haired male clutched at his bloody shoulder and gave a low, canine like whimper.
The brunette with the copper streaks stood with a scowl rubbing at his reddened nose.
The black haired man glanced at his companions and then back to Matt.
Matt had gotten to his feet again, gun raised and ready to fire.
"It's got a bite more bitter than iron!" the male with the bullet injury wailed.
The black haired man raised his lip in a snarl. "Alright, consider this a warning then. From the dogs of the Wild Hunt!"
The trio turned and made a surprisingly swift retreat.
Matt offered a vain yell of, "hold it!" but he couldn't back it up with gunfire, he wasn't one to shoot someone in the back, not unless they had proved too dangerous to let live.
Matt began a pursuit, chasing after them breathlessly as they raced back into the hospital and through the gathered crowd. Matt unfortunately became hindered by the gathering of panicked people and struggled to keep the three in his vision as he moved.
The copper haired detective made it downstairs and outside to the front of the hospital where he lost them on the streets. Frustrated, cold and tired, he let out a curse before holstering his gun and returning to the hospital garden.
He arrived in time to find Dr. Fields attempting to corner the still nameless woman in the garden.
The woman had backed up against a wall and let out a warning hiss as she glowered at the approaching doctor.
The doctor moved slow, offering sweet, gentle worded sentiments as she approached with a needle ready in her right hand.
Guessing at her good but misguided intentions, Matt hastened back outside to prevent any more violence.
Dr. Fields jumped slightly when Matt's hand gripped her right wrist in a restraining manner.
"I don't think she's ready for sleep," Matt said calmly with a small smile as the doctor glowered at him.
"Oh really," Dr. Fields answered sardonically, "and when did you get your PhD Bluestone?"
"Look," Matt said quickly, "how about I take her off your hands? She's obviously still being targeted and she is only putting other people at risk by being here."
Dr. Fields gave him a scowl in answer as her brown eyes darted to the broken door and then back to the woman. "Well I can't argue with that but she's clearly unhinged Bluestone, she was sitting in the pond in the middle of winter for God's sake, woman will probably get pneumonia."
"Becky...Dr. Fields," Matt corrected hastily in response to her look of ire, "I will make sure she's looked after."
"And are you going to make sure our doors are looked after?" Dr. Fields gave a pointed look to the shards of glass glittering amongst the frost.
Matt suppressed a sigh. "Criminal damage, I'm sure the hospital has insurance to cover it, just see the appropriate people fill in the appropriate paperwork and I promise I will do the same. Now look, I've got to get going, can you discharge her?"
"I really shouldn't but you're right, the woman is trouble and her safety isn't worth jeopardising the hospital and asides from some questionable mental issues, which may perhaps be PTSD, she is in decent physical health. Of course that dip in the pond might have ruined that. Bring her inside and let me give her a check-up."
Matt looked at the hand holding the needle that he still gripped.
"I won't drug her." The doctor a dramatic roll of her eyes to emphasise the sardonic tone in her voice.
"Alright then."
Matt released Dr. Fields and stepped past her to offer a hand out to the woman. "It's alright, just a quick check-up and then we can go," he said to her reassuringly. He still wasn't entirely sure if she understood him or not, that was mere speculation on his part.
The woman scrutinised his hand briefly before placing her own in it.
Matt directed Dr. Fields to lead the way before following after her with the woman.
The check-up took just over an hour and involved getting the woman fresh, dry robes. Her pulse, breathing and temperature were checked and her now soaked bandages stripped and trashed before her wounds were inspected again and redressed.
The doctor was unimpressed but admitted that the woman showed no signs of suffering a chill, no shivering, no laboured breathing or sniffling or sneezing and whilst it was impossible to insure there would be no delirium or memory loss she seemed focused and alert enough. With reluctance, Dr. Fields finally discharged her into Matt's care.
"God help her if you're the best she can do Bluestone," Dr. Fields remarked nastily as she dismissed them from the ward.
Matt merely smiled as he escorted the woman from the ward, once more offering her his coat as a guard against the cold. This time he had donned a heavier, black winter coat, one Matt didn't mind giving up as much as his favoured trench coat, which was at home in need of a good wash and drying out.
Matt directed the woman to his car, bundling her into the front passenger seat. He climbed into the driver's side, switched on the engine, and cranked up the heat.
Matt glanced at the woman who peered up at the small dream catcher hanging from his mirror with an intense interest. It was a gift from Elisa who didn't hold much stock in them and had considered it a novelty gift, given Matt had it hanging in his car rather than his bedroom he was inclined to agree it was just for decoration.
"Well I guess for now you're going to have to come to my house, unless there's somewhere else you can go?" He looked at her curiously, again wondering if she understood.
She blinked back at him nervously and shook her head.
"You do understand me!" Matt cried out happily before he could help it. His smile turned awkward and he rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand before considering his next words. "Um...well my flat's not great, bachelor's pad you know, kinda got a little blown up a few months ago too er but don't worry about that, we got those guys. Anyway, at least if I bring you there I can keep an eye on you properly and it's more secure than a hospital open to everyone. It's not really protocol, totally against it in fact but I'm not sure you're a normal case so I guess normal rules don't apply." He stopped babbling and asked, "is that alright with you?"
She nodded back calmly.
"Okay, good." Matt turned his attention to his car and manoeuvred it out onto the road.
A hundred other questions to ask the woman burned in his mind but he cautioned himself to the fact that she was still scared and stressed and he wondered if that might be why she couldn't talk.
When they reached a red light Matt looked to the woman again. "I don't mean to be rude but can you talk? I mean, in general can you talk? I understand if you can't now."
The woman looked sad and bowed her head to her lap before looking up to Matt with sorrowful eyes as she nodded.
"Alright, we're getting somewhere. Well if you have a voice it'll return then," he said confidently. "So you can't talk right now, is it because something very traumatic happened to you?" He cursed himself for his bluntness but wondered how else he should get to the bottom of things.
The nodding came fast this time as fear crept into the sorrow of her stare.
"Okay, okay," Matt answered quickly, wanting to banish the anxiety he had conjured in her. "We don't have to get into it just yet. I'm a detective you know, it's my job to figure these things out and put bad people like the ones who hurt you away. When you're ready to talk about it you let me know."
Matt spied the takeaway store that lingered near his apartment block. Its lit up sign had turned dim, formerly white with red lettering, it had faded to yellow with letters missing and a large collection of dead flies at the bottom of the light's box. It was meant to read- J. Jackson's Beef, Bird and Pork but instead read J. acksons eef, Bid nd ork, not exactly appealing. Not that the name was great to begin with. Its windows were steamed up and smeared with greasy handprints and the occasional ass prints and lipstick smears from drunken patrons. Inside it smacked of a careless attitude to healthcare with grimy brown tiles that used to be white and were, like the yellowing walls, eternally stained with grease, sauce stains, bloodstains, and dried spittle as well as graffiti from markers, pens, lipstick, pens and whatever else had come to hand for the teenaged idiots who had insisted on leaving their mark. It was one step away from being shut down and Matt knew as a man of the law he should really be passing it on to the health department but the fact was Matt shamelessly enjoyed his grease soaked and deep fried chicken burgers served with thin, crispy fries that were sprinkled with enough salt to induce a heart attack.
Matt pulled into a space beside the takeaway as he realised it had been a while since he had last eaten anything. He looked to the woman curiously. "Would you like something to eat? Chicken maybe?"
The woman looked horrified and angry. She slapped him across his right cheek, stunning him with her sudden moment of rage.
"Ouch!" Matt cried out in protest as he raised his right hand to the reddened cheek. "What did I say?" He ogled her in astonishment. "Are you a vegetarian? Hey that's fine if you are but I'm not and you shouldn't be so offended by that. I was only offering!"
The woman blinked at him and the anger seemed to dissolve from her eyes instantly to be replaced with apology. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak but no sound came out. She raised her hand again but this time the gesture was slow and she pressed her palm gently against Matt's hand, which was clutching his cheek. She gripped his hand lightly, her touch soft, and blinked at him again, trying to convey something in her eyes.
Matt looked back at the woman with uncertainty, still not quite sure where the sudden burst of rage had come from. "Are you...you're not mad anymore, right?"
She shook her head.
"Am I allowed to eat a chicken burger without getting a slap?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly and a soft sigh escaped her before she nodded with a reluctant look.
Matt frowned. "You won't slap me but it will still annoy you, right?"
She looked at him again with apologetic eyes as she nodded slowly.
Matt nodded this time. "Fine, I'll give it a miss. Are you hungry though? We can get something..." He swallowed hard, almost unwilling to voice the horrid word. "Vegetarian," he pronounced it like it was something to be reviled.
The woman shook her head.
Matt tensed as he felt her hand stroke his tenderly. He let his hand fall away automatically, expecting hers to do the same but instead she stroked his cheek. He wondered if she was trying to ease the hurt she had caused him.
"We'll just go to mine," he decided aloud, "it's not far and I can rustle up something there."
With reluctance and a forlorn look at the takeaway, Matt drove on. He reached his apartment block and drove into the underground car park reserved for residents. Once the car was parked, Matt guided his new guest over to the elevator.
When the metal doors opened, the woman peered in with reluctance and interest, her head craning up to the ceiling and down to the floor. She took a step back, forcing Matt to take her by the hand and guide her in. When Matt hit the 10 button for his floor and the doors shut, the elevator binged and started moving resulting in the woman jumping and letting out a fearful hiss.
Matt pondered the hiss as the woman grabbed his arms and squeezed tightly as she looked about the elevator in alarm.
"You know I'm starting to think you're not from around here," Matt murmured.
The detective could only be grateful that no one else called for the elevator on their ascent, which was highly unusual. Usually the elevator got stopped at least three times and Matt found himself forced to make small talk with neighbours from different floors who looked to his badge with suspicion and often looks of revulsion or fear. It was the older residents who seemed to eye him with friendliness and calm, assured by his presence and hopeful that it meant their safety in the building. The younger ones seemed to think he would somehow figure out their petty crimes of skimping on their electric bills, smoking the occasional joint of pot or, in the case of the schoolkids, participating in under aged sexual activity and downloading porn without paying for the privilege. Others looked at Matt as if his mere presence meant danger rather than safety and he had to suppose lately that had proved true.
Matt had been a target more than once now for the crooks of the city and the deeper he dug into the Illuminati and the gangs the greater the danger became. Oh sure he was a member of the Illuminati now, lowest of the low, but that did not mean his intent to expose them had vanished. Then there was the likes of Tony Dracon and the gangs to consider, Tony was just one head and even incarcerated he remained dangerous. Any time Matt or Elisa went undercover to expose the gangs and gather evidence that was just another tally against them, another reason for the gangs to want them dead. Matt was just grateful he had no nearby family to be threatened and he worried that Elisa couldn't say the same.
They reached the tenth floor and the woman released Matt to run out of the elevator as if in terror of the doors closing and never releasing her again.
"Hey wait!" Matt called as he followed after hastily. "You're going the wrong way."
She paused and glanced at him before walking back.
"This way." Matt gestured to the left with a smile.
It didn't take long for them to reach Matt's apartment. He unlocked the door quickly and hit the lights before glancing about with a practised ease. Nothing seemed amiss and nothing appeared out of order save for the big blue gargoyle barely in disguise with a trench coat and hat, standing outside at the balcony window with a wide grin whilst waving in at Matt.
Matt gaped at the gargoyle in a moment horror and gestured frantically back with a shake of his head and motioning shoo gestures with his hands.
The woman slipped in behind Matt and it became too late for the gargoyle, Broadway, to glide away unseen as her eyes focused on him instantly.
