Traffic lights, taxes, paperwork.
Anything to keep my mind occupied.
I look up and see Shawn and Gus coming towards me. Shawn places a gold coin in a glass case in front of me.
"Bring that to Lassiter," I say. Shawn's dark eyes look at me and I can feel my heart beat a little quicker. I know what he's thinking. I know that he is worried about me, and I know that I need to get back to work, but right now I just can't imagine it.
"What would be the fun in that?" He replied. "I want you for this."
"Chief wouldn't hire you guys?" Clearly some things have changed since I've been gone.
"Look, I got case blocked by my own father, ok. Don't you think it's time you got back up on the horse?"
"It's a temporary reassignment. It's pretty common for cops when they experience something..." my voice trails off for a second, "traumatic."
Sure. Traumatic. Being dangled off a building by a serial killer. Or in simpler terms, traumatic. At least that's what everyone around me seems to be calling it.
"Look, I know the whole Yin thing was difficult, for everybody, but at this point it just feels like you're hiding here at this giant post office."
"It's city hall, Shawn."
"We have a city hall?"
"I just need a little time, and I am perfectly content staying off this case."
I want to scream at him. Difficult. You thought that it was difficult? Was it a little hard for you, Shawn? He didn't pull the ground out from under you, Shawn. Literally. He didn't grab you and run away with you like you were just a prop in his sick game. He didn't breathe on you or make you read some clue. He didn't leave you dangling from a building, listening to the minutes tick by until you died. But sure, Shawn. It was difficult for all of us. And I'm the one with the problem because I don't want to put myself out there again.
"Oh really- Did you know there's no ransom note? Did you know that Becky Chang stands to inherit approximately 20 million dollars and is already being groomed for an ambassadorship- at 19?"
"Not my case, it's Lassiter's." I pick up the coin to put it back in Shawn's hands, but something about it catches my eyes. Damn it.
"What?"
"It's an old Hong Cong 50 cent piece"
"Which dynasty?"
"1978"
"Look at that- somebody's helping already," he sings, and he and Gus start to walk away.
"There is... one other thing," I say, sighing. Just let them figure it out. But I can't. "It's counterfeit."
Shawn gives me a satisfied smile and they walk away. I shake my head and try to redirect my attention to the computer. Fill in a box. Tab. Fill in a box. Tab. I keep checking boxes and entering numbers, my mind wandering despite my best efforts to keep it focused.
Don't you want to get out of this hell-hole? My "before" voice asks me. The one that has started getting louder and more confident. Clearly, she is done sitting here. She wants to get back on the field. Back to fighting the bad guys, not hiding from them.
But then, even louder, "after" says Get out of here? Really? Put yourself back on display? He's still out there, you know. What's to stop him from picking you up again. Stay here. It's safe. It's low to the ground. There are no crazies in City Hall.
After wins, just like she has been for the last month. I don't want her to, but it's safer when she does. Because I still feel stuck. After is tying me to the ground. All Before wants to do is run but running is still too scary. And it brings it all right back.
So, I stay.
Tapping at the keyboard and checking off boxes.
Heavy footsteps get louder and I see the shadow of my partner walking towards me.
"Lassiter, no." I avoid eye contact.
I don't want to see him. I'm too embarrassed. I let my guard down. I broke down in front of him. I needed saving.
He ignores me and starts to shuffle surveillance photos in front of me.
"We're not sure what the deal is with the wrapping on the hand is. He left a wall in the crowd so he's athletic. Kept his face covered the whole time, couldn't get a clear shot of him, almost as if he knew their cameras there..."
"Carlton, I have a lot of work to do here so if you wouldn't mind-" I'm interrupted by Shawn and Gus walking back towards my desk.
"Oh my god, we're on the same page! You are trying to lure her out of this dungeon with details from the case."
"I am not," Lassiter retorts over my head.
"See it's not just me, you're concerned about her insisting on staying down here- the unreturned phone calls, and the ever so slight darkening of the hair." He waves to the top of my head.
"I hadn't noticed."
"I like it," Gus says from behind me.
"Thank you, Gus! Now will you all please just leave me alone?" I ask impatiently, standing up from my desk in hopes to get away from Shawn, Gus and Lassiter all leaning over my new chair. I know what they are trying to do. I know why they are trying to do it. But I also know that even though I should listen to them and get back out there, something inside me is holding me back.
There is something keeping me in this boring desk job sorting out paperwork from the city.
My heels tap on the tiles as I walk slowly down the hall.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
And I'm back. Counting the minutes. 39 minutes to be exact. Listening to the wheels of the clock turn and tick away the minutes. My last minutes, I thought.
My feet tap faster on the tiles as I make my way to the bathroom. My hand starts shaking as I struggle to lock myself in the back stall. The cool metal taps my hands as I try to steady them on the handle. I cover my mouth and feel the bumps of the wall scratch my back as I slide down to the floor.
Hold it together, O'Hara.
I feel my face getting warm with hot tears stinging my eyes as they slide down and my cheeks and land on my chest. I pull my hair out of its bun and let it fall over my face, pulling on the dark layers.
I had to dye it. I was the dumb blond. I was the little girl who needed a big man to protect her. I was one of those stupid Disney princesses I used to detest as a kid. I wanted to fight for myself, and clearly the dumb blond couldn't do that.
Thick clumps of hair stick to the tears on my face making it hard to breathe, and just like that, I'm back.
I can feel it. I feel the rag wrapped around my mouth and my chin and the warmth that surrounds my face. I can't breathe. It's too hard.
I feel the rope tightening and loosening around my stomach as I try to take deep breaths, but I can't. It squeezes me too tightly, holding me in place. It scratches my calves, binding my feet to the legs of the chair. My hands grip the cold wooden base of the seat, the only solid thing I can hold onto, even if my rational brain is telling me that it won't do me any good if I fall.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Hold it together, O'Hara.
I'm ok. I'm safe now. Lassiter got me. He saved me. Gus saved me. I'm ok. I'm on land. I'm on the ground.
You're ok. After tells me.
I run my hands on the floor of the bathroom, my fingertips scratching the hard line of cement that holds the tiles together. I am here.
"I'm fine," I whisper out loud, attempting to let the sound wash over me to drown out the ticking that is still echoing in my ears. I can't get it out. It just keeps ticking and ticking and ticking, filling my mind and tapping on my heart.
I cover my eyes to try to shake the sound, but the dark makes it worse. Every time I close my eyes, I see it. Again and again. Looking out over the city, praying for the flashing lights of a police care. Looking down at the ground, imagining myself plummeting to my death. I can't close my eyes. I can't sleep. I haven't slept barring exhaustion in the last month. I can't do it.
My eyes snap back open to knock the images out. I need them to get out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I take a few deep breaths and pull my feet back under me to drag myself back up. I rub my hands down my legs to straighten my skirt. The floor of the bathroom gets much less gross, that is, when you end up there at some point during the day every single day. I roll my shoulders back, head up, and pull on the cold metal handle to let myself out of the stall. I stop in front of the sink and look closely at my reflection in the mirror.
I look the same. I've got the same face and eyes and mouth. And yet, I am completely changed. There are dark circles under my eyes covered with light powder I pulled out of the bottom of a drawer in an attempt to hide them. My cheeks look puffy and my eyelids swollen and red from how much I have rubbed them to get the memories out of my head. I twirl a loose strand of dark hair and attempt to tuck it behind my ears. My eyes look deeper too- and darker. Like all of the light has been taken out of them and they are dull and glazed over. I can see what's around me, but I can't. There is a shadow over my whole world, and it can't be lifted. It's stuck.
I quickly wash my hands and dry them before gently pulling the door open and pushing up against it so it will close quietly. I try not to make too much noise.
Back at my desk, there is another picture of the kidnapped girl with a sticky note and thin black letters strung together through the middle.
You know where to find me.
Lassiter.
I do know where to find him, but I can't bring myself to go there. Back to the station. Back to my desk. Back to the place where everyone knows me, and more importantly- what happened. I can't face any of them, especially not Lassiter.
Just thinking about him and it's the morning after all over again.
"I'm fine," I tell the paramedic for the 15th time, but they won't leave me alone. They keep telling me that I need to go to the hospital, looking in my eyes, at my head, at my arms, searching for something wrong. But there's nothing wrong. I'm totally fine and no I don't need to go to the hospital, so please just leave me alone! "Please! I'm fine!"
I'm losing my temper now. I want to go home. I want to get off of this stupid clock tower. Why won't they let me get down from here?
"Just get away from me!" I snap.
"Alright. You're done here," Lassiter says, grabbing the man by his shoulders and redirecting him away from me.
"I'm fine," I tell him, waving my hands in front of me to brush the whole evening off. "I'm totally and completely fine."
But he interrupts me. He reaches out his hand and says, "You don't have to be fine."
"No, but I'm fine," I say, shaking my head, fear and relief swelling in my throat and threatening to bubble over.
"You don't have-"
He catches my eyes and I can feel the tears start to come. My body going limp and I lean forward to slump against his chest.
"You don't have to be fine, Juliet," He says, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer. I clutch his arms and feel myself start to sob. I'm shaking and crying, the air around my nose becoming wet with my tears.
"Shhh, shhh, shh," He says calmly, letting me cry into his shoulder. "It's ok. We've got you now."
I let my body go weak against him and all of the sadness and stress from the last 12 hours fall out of me.
Lassiter doesn't say anything. He just lets me cry, holding me tightly to support my weight. As we stand there, I can feel the world shifting and shuffling behind me. Every so often I can feel the weight of someone's eyes watching me, Lassiter shaking his head, and footsteps walking away. I feel a cool breeze on my back that sends a chill through me.
"C'mon," Lassiter finally says. "Let's get you off of this tower." I'm cold. I hadn't noticed how chilly I had gotten, but goosebumps cover my arms and my teeth are chattering.
Still in a haze, I let Lassiter lead me down the long staircase. We walk slowly, each landing feeling a mile apart. Lassiter is patient with me, allowing me to slide my hand down the railing and find a careful footing on each step. When we finally reach the lobby of the building, he gently directs me towards his car.
"I'll drive you home."
Oh yeah. I didn't drive here. I was brought here. But the scrapping of concrete under my shoes feels good, and I finally being to feel grounded.
The car is silent. I don't want to talk. He has nothing to say. Trees and lights fly by the windows, but I can't see any of it. The still rising sun is bright on my eyes and I try to close them, but closing my eyes brings it all right back.
I see his back as he carries me, slung over his shoulder after I dropped down the trap door.
I see the side of his dark mask as he drives away with me in the back seat of his car, my hands taped together behind me and a tight rag cutting into my cheeks.
I see his black eyes staring at me when he turns around and sprays something on me- before I don't see anything else again.
I see him out of the corner of my eye after I wake up, on top of the clock tower, tightly bound to a chair. I want to scream but the sound won't come. My mouth is dry and the cloth over my mouth is tight.
"Read!" He demands, holding my phone and a slip of paper in front of me. He pulls off the cloth. I see Shawn's name glowing on the dim screen.
My eyes snap open and watch the car pass houses on my street. I'm almost there. I'm almost home. I let my eyes blur over, focusing on a speck of lint clinging to the dashboard.
Lassiter pulls the car to a stop in my driveway. I try to unbuckle my seatbelt, but my arms feel heavy and I can't get my hand to reach the buckle. In a moment, Lassiter is at my door, reaching over me to find the button. I hear a sharp click and feel the belt roll up across my stomach.
Wordlessly, he takes my arm and helps me to my feet. We walk slowly up the stairs, and when we get to the front door, he pulls out his spare key to my house and lets us in. It's quiet inside, exactly as it was when I left for the operation yesterday. The shoes I was going to wear lay on their side next to the front door, and my hair ties and hairbrush still on the table next to the door where I was doing my hair before I left. It looks like nothing changed. It looks just like how it would have looked had I come home last night, thrown my keys on the table, and went to sleep. But that's not what happened. Because I never came home last night. And I didn't get to go to sleep. Instead I was being whisked away to the top of the clock tower for some sicko's game.
"You can go," I say quietly, not realizing that I haven't even stepped through the threshold of the door yet. I don't know why I won't go in, but my feet feel stuck to the ground as I take in my living room from the doorstep.
"I'm not leaving you alone right now," Lassiter says, gently guiding me through the front door. I can tell he's on high alert, surveying my apartment, making sure there is no one who is going to jump out again. It feels over, but he's still out there somewhere. What's keeping him from coming right back here?
I stay put at the door as Lassiter walks around my apartment for a minute, checking into rooms and closets.
"It looks undisturbed," He says, walking back towards me.
"I'm going to change," I say, not necessarily to him, and walk in the direction of my bedroom. He sits down at the kitchen table, looking around. I feel weird about him being here, but I also don't want him to leave.
I walk to my room and pull the door behind me. I pull off my suit jacket and throw it in the corner. My skirt and shoes follow. A pair of jeans that I wore earlier in the week lay inside out over the corner of my chair, so I grab them and pull them on. Now for the shirt. The soft fabric of the turtle-neck hugs tightly. I pull my arms out of the sleeves and ball the shirt around my shoulders. I want to get it off, but I can't pull it over my head. I don't want it to be dark. I don't want it to cover my mouth and my nose. There are a pair of scissors on the counter in my bathroom, so I grab them and quickly cut the shirt down the middle. It's not like I could ever put it on again anyways.
I grab the first tee-shirt that I can find and pull it on. I realize that I'm officially alone, for the first time since Lassiter and Gus burst through the door. My heart starts beating a little quicker as silence surrounds me. Well, almost silent.
Even from behind my closed door I can hear the clock in the hallway.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"No!" I scream, flinging open my door and reaching up to grab the clock. I throw it on the ground and slam my bare foot through the glass cover.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I kneel down and snap the hands off the nose, about the throw the whole thing against the wall when I feel a hand on my back.
"You're safe now," Lassiter says, pulling the clock out of my hands and flipping it over to take the battery out of its case on the back. The ticking stops.
I slump against the wall, pulling my knees into my chest. Lassiter adjusts to sit across from me.
"I can't do this," I say, tucking my face into my knees.
"Yes, you can," He says. "You are a fighter. And a survivor. And most importantly, you're my partner, O'Hara. I'm not letting this crazy take you away from me. I'm not going to lose you."
"I can still feel him. He's there, somewhere. Everywhere I look. Every time I close my eyes. He won't go away."
"He will. It will just take time. Take your time."
And that's what I've been doing. Taking my time. Or trying to, at least.
Lassiter slept on my couch for the next three nights while I lay awake in my bed. He updated me on the case, but no one had seen or heard from Yin since Shawn saw him running away when he went to save Abigail.
After three days I decided that it was time to get out of the house. I needed to do something other than sitting around at home. It was driving me crazy. I felt like a sitting duck.
So, I finally called the therapist that Chief gave me the number to and set up an appointment. Not that it helped. I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to be over it. I just wanted it to go away. I still do. That's all I want. For the flashbacks and the noises and the sinking feeling in my chest to go away so that I can get back on the force. But what happens when I do? What happens when I go back, and I have to face everyone again. And what if he comes back for me? I can't do this again. At least, that's what After keeps telling me.
When a week passes, I accepted the temporary desk job Chief set up for me at City Hall. I could hide in the back of a big office, not having to talk to anyone and not having anyone talk to me. If they know why I am here, no one has made it obvious. So, I continue to hide in my anonymity. But I've got to get out of here. This work is mind-numbing, Before tells me. I'm not doing any good here.
Yet, I can't bring myself to leave either.
Instead I sit here, typing away at tax documents for the city. A figure moving towards me catches my eye and I look up to see the chief pushing a cart of files.
"Chief!" She hasn't come here yet. Shawn and Gus have dropped by more than a few times, as have Lassiter, but she hasn't come yet.
"How we doing, O'Hara?"
"Good!" I say, then see the look on her face, "Great!"
"Great?"
"Great." Confident.
"Great?"
"Great?" I'm confused now.
"Great." She says quieter. I can feel her eyes studying me. Trying to figure me out.
"You know," she continues, "there's no shame in feeling what you're feeling. That Yin case is the kind of thing that can shut a person down."
"You too, Chief?" I sigh and stand up out of my chair. "I will come back to work when I am ready." I don't want to hear it.
"I'm not here to force your hand." She says, shaking her head matter-of-factly. "I just wanted to ask."
"I just… they say to take some time. It's recommended," I try to justify the last few weeks to her, but she knows better. And I know that she knows better.
"Of course," she says, gazing at me with her stern eyes. The ones that can send messages and get things done through the entire precinct without her even saying a word. "Just make sure you know when the healing ends and the delaying beings."
"Of course, I will" I say, relieved to be done with the conversation and turn to sit back down in my chair. "Thank you."
"Great!" she says, "so here you go- stop light safety project. Just track and compare every light in the city cross reference with each stop sign. Tell me if two years isn't enough of the sample to draw a conclusion. I'll have McNabb bring the rest down later," She gives me a sly smile as she pushes the cart towards my desk. "Good luck, O'Hara."
I roll my eyes as she walks away and slump back down into the chair. I want to get out of this place. Why can't I get out of here?
At 5:00, I throw the files from chief in a pile next to my desk, log out of my computer, grab my bag, and walk out to the parking lot. That has been the nicest thing about this new job. No late hours. No working through dinner or overnight to fix the problem. 5:00 comes and everyone leaves because nothing that we are doing is time sensitive, and none of it is changing anyone's life.
After carries my feet quickly through the front doors and through the parking lot to find my car.
Beep. Beep.
I open the door. Collapse into the leather seat. Lock the door. Buckle. Breathe. I am safe.
I can go home now. I take the long way so I don't pass the station. I don't want to see it. I don't want to see what I'm missing while I'm here and I don't want anyone there to catch me passing. I feel like if I drive past, I'll somehow get sucked in. I can't risk it.
When I get home, I pull out my laptop and collapse on my couch. That is, after I pull the kitchen table in front of the dead-locked door. Not that it matters. Logically I know that. But logically hasn't been settling too well with me lately. No matter what Before tries to tell me.
Because logically I know that I'm fine. The game is over-for now. He's had his fun, and now he can go into hiding or whatever it is that he does when he's not tormenting us. And logically, I even know that if this sicko really wants to get to me, a table in front of my door isn't going to stop him.
Logically, I know that I am procrastinating, and that I should just get back to work because that is what I love doing. Logically I know that everything will be fine when I get back to work because I've got a great partner to look out for me and a team of others who I work with so that we are all ok. Logically, I know that when I get back to work, I will feel so much better.
Work. Just think about that.
I log into my station desktop and pull up some of Carlton's files on the case that they were telling me about today. I lose myself in the documents, statements, crime scene photos, a newly uploaded ransom note. I try to puzzle through it, connecting the dots and rearranging them in my head until they all tangle into a knot and I take it as my cue to go to sleep, and do it all again tomorrow.
Sleeping has finally become easier, mostly because I finally got so tired that not sleeping was no longer an option. Well, it's easier as long as I sleep with music playing and my closet light on.
When I wake up in the morning, something feels different. I feel antsy, almost like I'm ready to run. Something I haven't even kind of felt since before.
At work, the stop-light project is still pilled up on the cart exactly where I left it yesterday.
A deep sigh bubbles up from inside of me and I fall back into the desk chair. I just want to get out of here. But I feel so stuck now.
C'mon! Before yells, Let's go! Get out of here.
But what if… After pokes her head in, just to keep me grounded.
Shawn and Gus come by again, asking me about the case again. I want to help more. I do. I want to be there. But I am here right now. This is where I need to be. I need to take time off and take care of myself. That's what I keep hearing.
Take a break.
Take care of yourself.
But I also hear Chief's voice in my head, getting louder than any other voice.
Just make sure you know when the healing ends and the delaying beings.
Listen to her! Before shouts.
And, finally, I start hearing my own voice, telling me that it will be ok. And that I will be ok. And that I just need to get out of here.
But I'm here. I'm not ready yet, right?
I'm brought back to reality by my phone vibrating on my desk.
Shawn.
"Hello?"
"I'm about to solve a kidnapping. I need you to bring backup."
"Shawn. Call Lassiter." Not yet. I can't do it yet. I'm not ready yet. Especially not alone.
"Nope. Not doing it."
"Stop it. I am not coming."
"Nope. It's got to be you." He pauses, hearing my sigh though the phone. "Listen, Jules. Yin came after me too, ok? I'm not gonna let this guy keep me from living. I need you, or I go down alone. Well, with Gus. You know what I mean."
"Sha-" I start to say, but with a click the line goes blank.
It's not the same. Yin didn't come after him in the same way.
I can't do this. I'm not actually ready. Not yet. I can't do this.
But I have to. He trusts me. He needs me. He's counting on me. He's had my back time and again and he needs me now. I need to go. Now.
I'm done hiding. I want my life back.
There's no Before or After talking. It's just me. I can hear myself thinking for the first time in forever.
Without looking back, I grab my bag and my car keys and run out of the building.
Before I know it, I am in my car, racing to the address that Shawn texted me.
My gun is in the glove compartment, and it feels good to pull it out. The cold metal feels heavy in my hands, but I wrap my fingers tightly around the grip and push the car door open. I run over to the front of the building, hugging the wall with my back.
"Ahhh!" I hear a scream above my head and something slamming down on the floor. Forgetting the wall, I run up the stairs. When I walk through the doorway, I see Shawn pulling a flimsy sword from a rack.
"Oh man!" The thin metal flops in his hands. But I am there. I have my gun. I am strong.
Teno Tan stops and puts his hands up.
"Really?" Shawn says, exhaling heavily.
He turns and sees me, and I can see relief wash over his face.
"Oh, good work, Jules. Yeah, he had just surrendered before you got here."
"Uh, he surrendered when I walked in, Shawn."
"Oh gosh," He heaves forward and collapses on the ground.
I exhale, letting the power that I feel in that moment wash over me.
I'm back.
Henry is walks in shortly after. Apparently, Gus texted him before they walked in.
"Nice work, Detective," Henry says, smiling at me and handing me his handcuffs.
I walk behind Teno and fasten them tightly around his wrists before reading him his rights. It feels so good. I feel so alive again. The fog that has been hanging around my head for the past four weeks thins and the breaths that I take feel clear.
The rest of the backup follows, and a crime scene is set up. It feels so normal. It feels like I never left. I stand in the corner, writing my statement and taking in the scene around me.
No one is looking at me, but they're not not looking at me either. Every so often someone will give me a sympathetic smile or whisper "good to have you back," but no one is staring at me. Worry over my return melts away because I am here. I just needed to get here.
But he knew that.
Shawn is standing across the room, rolling his eyes at something his dad is saying to him. I wave to catch his eyes. He quickly walks away from Henry and comes over to me.
"Thanks," I say, hoping he knows how much I mean it. About everything.
"I was about to say the same thing to you."
"I may have needed a kick in the pants to get going."
"I would never kick you in the pants."
"You didn't give up."
"And I'll never give up." He stops and turns towards me. "What do you think? Should we hug?"
"We could," I shrug and smile. He smiles back and starts to take a step towards me.
"There you are," We are interrupted by Lassiter walking over to us.
"Rain check," Shawn says and walks away.
"Chief said you were working on a special project. Thought you could work on these too." He hands me a stack of manila folders.
"Oh, now you're going to ply me with additional work?" I look down at the pile. "Carlton, these are your taxes."
"Hey, I'm trying to help you."
"And this is how you help me?"
"Well, you're here, aren't you?" He smiles at me, "It's already working."
I smirk at him and drop his taxes to the floor.
"So you really back?" He says, scratching his head.
"You can't get rid of me that easily, Partner."
"Good. Cause you've got a lot of paperwork to catch up on."
I roll my eyes at the back of his head as he walks away to talk to an officer.
It doesn't matter though. I'm here. I'm strong. I'm a survivor. I made it through this dark mess, and I came out on the other side. I didn't think I could, but I did it. The voices are gone, and it's just me. That doesn't mean that they're gone forever, or that there won't be some dark nights or days when I am faced with fear, but I'm not letting it hold me back anymore. I'm climbing down from the clock tower, officially.
I am free.