Author's note: I'm a bad person. I'm a terrible, terrible person. I beg a thousand pardons for the delay and hope that the insanity that follows makes up for it. This chapter is admittedly not my greatest, but I hope you find it in your hearts to review it anyway. Much love to each and every one of my faithful reviewers - Witchy Bee, mythstoorfoot, Segran. C-JO, Tonnerre and XJitenshaX. xxxxxxx
Queries solved, Norman and Shaun stretched in their seats and watched his friends play soccer. From the corner of his way, Norman could see that he was being intently gazed upon. He turned to Shaun and smiled.
"What?" he asked.
Shaun smiled too, shyly, just like Norman had.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
"Washington."
"With your family?"
"I live alone. Ma and cousins are in Boston."
Norman tilted his head, a curious smile lighting his face again.
"Why do you ask?" he said, the amusement evident in his voice.
Shaun gave small shrug. "Just…"
They looked straight ahead. The boys playing were a blur of blue and gray jerseys, muddied shoes kicking a chess-board colored ball. The duo followed its uneven pathway as its flight was interrupted by a kick here, a head butt there.
Norman had been that football during the course of the investigation. But the hale and hearty ten-year-old next to him made it worth the effort. That, and the letter from Grace. He still had it with him. And he would always keep it with himself.
Speaking of whom…
"So…," he cautiously ventured to ask, "how're mom and dad?"
"They're fine."
"Are they… happy?"
He only asked out of concern. It was difficult being raised in a broken home. In Norman's case, it had been his foster mother.
"You mean like 'together'?" the boy asked.
Norman shook his head.
"No, no… I didn't… well… yeah."
Shaun was still looking at him.
Norman sighed. "I worry for you, kid. That's all."
The boy shrugged.
"Not together. But they're happy. I think it'll be fine now."
Norman noticed the 'I think.' There was uncertainty in it. A result of two long, silent years. Moments of unanswered questions. Their childhood had more in common than Norman was willing to admit. But at least the kid knew his real father. It was better than a ten year long void which a store owner could not entirely fill.
He blinked and realized he had been resting his head on the foot of the seat behind him. Shaun was too, and looking at him while he had absently gazed at the brown sky. The grays were melting away.
"You look sad," he said. Norman forced a smile.
"Do I, now?"
"You have sad eyes."
His smile broadened. "I'm just tired."
"I saw you on TV yesterday," said Shaun as he slid off his seat. "Wanna walk?" he asked, in a sudden digression.
Norman rose from his seat. Hands in pocket, he followed the child. Together, they strolled on the periphery of the field.
"Do you like being on TV?" Shaun asked.
"I like watching TV. Being on it… not so great."
"Why not?"
"Gets tiresome."
"What do you like to watch on TV, Mr. Jayden?"
"Whatever's on. Documentaries, movies, sports…"
"Shaun!"
They turned. It took Norman a while to trace the source of sound. But when he did, something heavy and strong lifted off his heart and fell into the pit of his stomach.
Grace Garner stopped short when she saw Norman. Smiling, she waved at them and walked quickly, skillfully dodging the soccer ball as it whooshed past her.
"Hey, be careful!"
"Sorry!" said one of the boys.
"Mom, you okay?"
Grace looked at the boys, then back at Shaun. "Yeah."
"That was close," said Norman.
Grace held out her hand. "Grace Garner."
"Norman Jayden."
They shook hands.
"I received your card, Ms. Garner. It was more wonderful a gesture than I can convey."
"Saving my son, Mr. Jayden, does not even begin to cover it…"
Shaun chipped in excitedly. "Can we take Mr. Jayden home? Can we? Can we?"
The adults smiled. Grace looked at Norman. "Well?"
"I don't want to impose," he began, "I- "
"Did you already have plans?"
"No, not really…"
"You do now. Go get your things, Shaun!"
He bounded off happily, across the field. Grace saw him go and turned to Norman. It was only when she raised her eyebrow did he realize he had been staring. Suddenly shy, he looked away.
"How long are you in town?"
Grace smiled on seeing a pink flush trickle into his cheeks. And she noticed that he really did have pale cheeks. He was actually very pale, unnaturally so. The medical examiner inside her was beginning to shortlist causes when he answered, "Three days."
"I see."
Shaun was back with his bag, grinning with readiness. They began walking. Grace let Norman walk a little ahead before lightly smacking Shaun's head.
"You do not invite people over with a 'can we, can we?' It makes them look like stray animals."
Shaun laughed. Grace smiled and ruffled his hair. Norman heard them, well aware that he had missed out on a moment. They exited together, their cars being the only two in a deserted parking lot.
"That's my car over there," said Grace, "I could go slowly so that you can keep up."
Norman nodded and got into his car. Shaun jumped in through the next door. He fastened his seat belt and waved at Grace through the windshield. She waved back.
"Or not." She shrugged at Norman, who gave her a head-shaking smile. "Or whatever. You have a live GPS now."
Shaun was talking animatedly, his mouth running at the speed of an induction motor. She marveled at the profiler's patience. They drove in a straight line, with Norman's car almost tailgating hers. She would keep looking up to check on them in the rear view mirror.
It was good to see Shaun happy. Although too much happiness could get very distracting for a ten-year-old who really needed to get his act together for Algebra. She looked back up into the mirror.
The car was no longer was there. Tense, she looked sideways, relieved instantly when she saw the car next to her. Shaun waved at her through the window. Norman did too, shyly before looking away.
A few more turns followed through gray neighborhoods under gray skies till they were home. Grace was the first to reach the house, hearing the car doors slam only when she reached for the house keys in the purse. She opened the door for them.
"My room's upstairs!" said Shaun. He raced up the wooden stairs, till only his footsteps could be heard on the floorboards above.
"What would you like to have?" asked Grace, as she entered the kitchen.
"I'm good, thanks."
After a pause, he added, "You have a lovely home, Ms. Garner."
She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Oh, it's just an assortment of things thrown together. Placements of all objects are purely co-incidental and convenient."
He leaned against the doorway, an appreciative eye darting across the warm, beige kitchen.
"It feels like home, Ms. Garner. That's a rare feeling to find."
Grace paused before the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.
"Well, you must feel at home within your own home. It's that one secure place you have in this crazy world."
"Most don't," said Norman," his eyes locked on hers, "where do you go from there?"
Grace parted her lips, oblivious to the open door of the refrigerator and its subsequent coolness. She never knew how to reply to rhetoric.
"Mr. Jayden!"
It was Shaun. Norman left the kitchen to stand under the staircase.
"Yeah?"
"Come on up!"
"Coming."
He smiled at Grace. "You better go," she said, "and call me 'Grace' hereon. Ms. Garner makes me sound like a schoolmarm."
"Call me Norman," he said while climbing upstairs. He stopped to lean over the banister, "Mr. Jayden' makes me sound a lot more respectable than it ought to be."
She smiled and watched him climb farther up before disappearing into a room. Grace intended to give them some time together before going up and goading Shaun to study.
Until then, it was time to get things done in the kitchen.
Lieutenant Carter Blake stood grimacing behind Charlene. The secretary smiled to herself as she typed out a letter of apology. It took a shy, unassuming profiler to humble a Goliath in the department. Or better off, to piss him off.
"That's okay," he said to her in a low growl. Charlene did not answer immediately. She carefully edited his words, making them sound more sincere than they initially were.
Blake did not object to her corrections. He appreciated them, but chose not to voice it in too many words. Charlene took his approving grunt as compliment enough.
"You should personally hand it over to Mr. Mars," she said as the letter was getting printed.
"Why do you say that?" said Blake, as he pulled the letter out in a clean stroke.
"Human touch, Lieutenant…" Charlene hesitated. "… maybe he won't press charges, then."
Blake did not answer. He read the letter carefully before signing it. "Envelope," he said and held his hand out for it.
"If you go personally, I'll have a drink sent your way," Charlene joked.
Blake folded the letter in deep thought. "I could use a drink… sure. See you at Casey's."
Charlene was about the clear the slight misunderstanding when Blake said, "I'm leaving the letter at his door. But I'm not saying a word more."
"A 'good day' would be nice," smiled the secretary.
Blake shook his head. "It's a rather relative term."
Shaun waved an action figure at Norman. "And this right here is Petey." He tossed it at him. The profiler caught it.
"So…" he said as he examined it, "you have a pirate fixation."
"Mom doesn't let me put posters on the wall, but I have so many of Captain Jack Sparrow!"
"Looks like he's the only one you like."
"He's the coolest!"
Shaun unfurled a poster for him. Norman took it from the boy, only to have more pile on.
"I know what to get you for Christmas now," he said, a smile lighting his face.
Shaun smiled back. "I wish you could stay till Christmas. Who'll help me with Algebra?"
Norman sighed. "You'll outgrow school some day, kid. And then you won't need me anymore."
"I'll always need you," said Shaun as he reached for his bag, "especially for Algebra."
The casual shuffling of his books escalated into a panicked rummaging. "Oh no!"
Norman looked from the posters. "What's wrong?"
"I can't find Billy's notebook!"
As if to prove a point, he tipped it upside down. The books fell to the ground in a fluttering thud. Norman saw the mess and cleared his throat slowly.
"Look on the bright side," he began carefully, "your friend is a mathematical genius."
"I'd promised I'd return his notebook by dinner time."
"Call up school. Maybe they'll find it for you?"
"The offices are closed!"
Norman took a deep breath. "Then I guess we'll have to go retrieve it."
Grace was in the kitchen when she heard the sound of dragging feet. It was Shaun. "Mr. Jayden and I are just going out…"
Norman was coming down the stairs and Grace caught that sheepish grin on his face. She did not have to use her motherly intuition to sense something amiss.
"Out where?" she asked, humoring her son's pathetic attempt at a lie.
"… For a drive!"
It seemed like an on-the-spot improvisation. Clearly, the boy had not given it much thought. Grace was both amused and relieved at his inability regarding deception.
"Shaun, honey... what's wrong?"
He gave a small groan of defeat.
"I… left Billy's notebook on our sports ground."
Grace wiped her hands clean with a towel.
"That was very careless."
Shaun nodded, not looking up at her.
"Let's go get it."
He finally did, looking more surprised than relieved.
"Really?"
"Yes."
She threw on her jacket and left the kitchen.
"I'm so sorry about this, Norman. I'd pictured a rather different evening."
"I don't mind driving you to school," he said.
Grace considered the offer.
"This is awkward."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- "
"No, the overall situation. I can't have a guest- "
"Trust me," said Norman. "I'd be more than happy too."
Grace bit her lower lip, thinking. Norman grabbed his car keys.
"Come on."
The trio strapped themselves in the seat, with Grace mouthing 'bad boy' to Shaun in the rear view mirror. Norman shook his head and stepped on the accelerator.
Charlene Taylor had never shared a drink with a man before or after her husband. She never had to. Charlene was never a lonely widow. She always had something to do, somewhere to be. But surely meeting the Lieutenant at the local watering hole required some sort of dressing etiquette.
She asked a passing detective if she was looking appropriate enough for a "bar setting."
Kathy Conley seemed amused. "Hot date tonight?" she asked.
Charlene felt her cheeks burn. "Oh no, just a casual meeting."
She gave her a scrutinizing glare. "You're too respectable for a bar."
"So… what should I do?"
"Lose the jacket."
Charlene instinctively reached for the lapels. "My jacket?"
"Yea. And roll those shirt sleeves."
"I'm not too sure about this."
"Get in the damn pee pee joint."
She led Charlene away by the arm. "We're gonna get you lucky tonight, oh yes, we are!"
Charlene tried very hard to suppress a laugh as Detective Conley led her into the bathroom. It was a mad, mad, mad, mad station.
Grace tugged at the lock on the school gate. "Won't open."
Norman inspected the lock. On an ordinary day, with a few odds and ends, he could have picked the lock. With the absence of any hair pins or nail files in sight, the odds were against them.
Grace backed away slowly from the wall. Shaun and Norman watched.
"Uhh… mom… what are you doing?"
She did not answer. Instead, she made a running jump for the wall. Unfortunately, she did not make it high enough. Grace bounced off the wall and landed on her shoulder.
"Ow."
Norman and Shaun bent to look at her. The agent offered her his hand and effortlessly pulled her up.
"Oh, you're strong…" she groaned as he helped her up.
Norman felt it an odd time to send a come-on his way. Grace was looking at his arm, substantially muscular, though his trench coat covered it up.
"Hoist me up," she said, suddenly.
Norman blinked.
"What?"
"Hoist me up and over the wall."
Norman knitted his hands together. "Are you sure about this?"
Shaun cleared his throat. "Mom, I think this is a bit extreme."
Grace placed a foot on Norman's hands. "No son, extreme was leaving your friend's notebook out in the open field for the rain to destroy. Extremely irresponsible."
Norman grunted and held her above the ground. Another moment and he was sure to dislocate his shoulder. With a quick "hup," Grace latched on to the ledge of the brick wall. She wiggled her legs as if she was swimming mid-air, before toppling over the wall.
"Are you okay?" the duo called out from the other end.
"No bones broken," she groaned from the other. "Wait there for me, don't leave. This place is freaky."
She staggered to her feet, and tried to make sense of her surroundings. Grace had accidently dropped down outside the junior school classes. She held on to the curving wall, hoping it led her to the football field. Her cell phone threw a mild ray of white light, not particularly helpful with the crippling darkness.
She walked on at a reckless speed, impatient and desperate to get out of there. How? she wondered, realizing then that she did not think this through. In her pace, she banged into something… or someone.
It was hard to tell. But a soft growling sound alerted her of impending danger. She spun on her heel and ran. A vicious barking followed, the sound of snapping teeth just inches from her derriere. She heard a more deranged snarl and the sound of footsteps.
Panting, she ran into the nearest open door, only to realize it was a broom closet. She turned to find that the door behind her was latched shut. Grace ran to the door and pounded at it.
"Hey! Hey! Open up!"
There was no answer. Grace looked around the room. There were cleaning fluids on the shelves. And brooms. It could have been worse, she thought. It was any day better than being trapped in a lavatory. Nevertheless, she tried to make her displeasure regarding her enforced incarceration known.
She hammered away at the door, hoping that someone, somewhere was listening.
"That's taking a lot of time, isn't it?" remarked Norman as he walked along the brick wall.
Shaun followed. "It's dark. Maybe she can't see anything."
The agent frowned. "How is that even an explanation?"
"You could help me up the wall."
"Forget it, kid."
He looked for an alternate entrance. "Your school's like some fortified establishment. You keep gold inside or something?"
They kept walking till they chanced upon a tree. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Shaun asked.
"Thought of and rejected already," said Norman.
"C'mon! It's our only chance!"
Norman tried to stop him. "You'll fall!"
"Not if you help."
"I can't climb trees."
"Nor can I."
Norman groaned and stood under the tree, arms outstretched for ready support. Shaun climbed not far off the ground before looking down at Norman. "Are you coming?"
Norman took a deep breath. "Giving me no choice here, kid."
The door unlocked with a metallic clang. Grace ran to it, only to find a cop waiting outside.
"You have the right to remain silent," said the young man as he pulled out his handcuffs.
"I know my rights!" she said and tried to push past him and the man who had locked her in.
They stood in her way. "Let me go and I won't press charges," she threatened.
"You're the one who's been trespassing, ma'am," said the cop.
"I'm just here to get a notebook for my son. It doesn't even belong to him so it's essential- "
"I told you she was here to steal," thundered the man Grace figured to be the groundskeeper.
"My son is right outside! And so is Agent Norman Jayden! Why don't you just- "
The groundskeeper and the cop exchanged looks.
"She's off."
"Definitely off."
"Turn around, ma'am."
"You don't ask me to turn around, you- "
The officer had her against the wall, handcuffing her wrists behind her back. "We can sort this out," she protested. "We can sort this out like a bunch of mature adults, right?"
The officer dragged her away.
"Why aren't you doing anything?" she called out to the groundskeeper. "Are you new here? Have you never seen me attend Sports Day?"
She was taken out of the gate, the other end of school and lightly shoved into a police car. Grace wailed a long "Shaaaaaauuuunnnn," as they drove past Norman's Impala. Quite strangely, man and child were not standing next to it.
Grace sighed and fell back into her seat, the wrists stinging under her weight. The officer was listening to rock music.
"Can you at least change the station?" she groaned.
The officer looked at her in the rear view mirror and cranked up the volume on the car radio.
Grace whined and pressed her throbbing head against the car window.
Why God why?
Norman's foot slipped as he made his way up the bark. Shaun was perched at the base of an unstable branch. "Is this really the best way to go?" asked Norman.
"Yup."
The boy struggled to climb higher, to the branch bending down to the school wall.
Norman cursed under his breath as he tried to keep up.
Norman Jayden, FBI. Profiler, babysitter, tree climber.
His hands were raw from the nicks the friction left in his hands. His thighs ached as he edged closer to the branch Shaun had managed to reach.
Norman was beginning to feel idiotic.
"Wasn't that easy?" asked Shaun triumphantly as he slid away from him and closer to the wall.
Norman grunted and waited for the boy to make it all the way across. He was unsure about the weight the branch could handle, but he took his chances. Up ahead, Shaun had reached the edge of the wall and jumped down to the other side.
Norman straddled on the branch, swinging his legs in the air as he inched forward. This is ridiculous, mortifying, embarrassing, exhausting.
He slid closer to the wall, as the branch began to thin.
Awful, precarious, tiring…
He had just reached the wall when the end of the branch bent double under his weight. Agent Norman Jayden landed successfully on the wall. Just not on the end he had been hoping to.
And emasculating.
He tried very hard to keep the scream in as he bent over like the branch he was on. Half of it did come tearing out as he slumped over and banged his head against the top of the wall.
"Are you okay?" Shaun asked.
Norman looked down at the boy, a pained expression contorting his face. "I'm gonna die childless."
"You're not gonna die!" laughed the kid.
Childless it is, then.
He moaned, swung one leg to join the other, and slipped down the wall.
"Let's go look for your mother now."
Retrieving a book did not have to be so difficult…
Norman wondered if he'd accidently joined the cast of Leave it to Beaver.
Ethan Mars arrived home, grumpy after a long wait, check-up and an exorbitant taxi ride through traffic. He was surprised to find the house dark and the front door locked.
Ethan tried to peep through one of the curtained windows, looking for any sign of movement. Strange… he thought and pulled out a key to open the door. It slipped and fell near his feet.
Ethan held his aching ribs with one hand and tried to bend for the key. Of course, it wasn't so easy.
"Need help?" asked a voice behind him.
Ethan slowly rose to his feet with a grunt and turned around.
Lieutenant Carter Blake.
Ah yes, the man for all seasons. Spreading happiness where none existed.
"You here to arrest me?" he asked as he tried to bend for the key again.
Blake beat him to it.
"Here," he said, handing over the key.
Ethan did not bother expressing gratitude. He wordlessly opened the door and entered. Blake followed him in. "Didn't find you home. Figured you'd be here," said Blake from behind him.
"This is for you," he said, showing him an envelope before leaving it on a table.
"What is it?" asked Ethan.
"A letter of apology."
Ethan coughed out a laugh as he sipped water from a bottle. "New PR exercise? Hidden cameras following you around?" He left the bottle and came out to read the letter.
"That's dignified," he said, before folding the letter neatly into the envelope. "I'm guessing you didn't mean a word."
"If the circumstances played out all over again, I would do exactly the same thing over. I'm sure you would too," said Blake.
"True," said Ethan and paused for thought. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I won't press charges though I'm not up for olive branches at the moment. I need time."
Blake shrugged, unrepentant. "If you didn't, I'd probably understand." He just wanted to get out of there.
"I will," assured Ethan. "I want to make a fresh start."
His phone rang. Ethan picked it up.
"Grace?"
He listened quietly. "That's rather foolish," he said at the end of what was a long monologue.
Blake gestured to Ethan. "I'll show myself out." As an afterthought he added, "Let me know if there's anything I can help with."
He bit his tongue. It sounded nicer than he'd meant it to.
Ethan ended the call. "There actually is something you can do for me, Lieutenant Blake. My ex-wife's in prison."
Blake raised an eyebrow.
"Sounds like it runs in the family," he sneered.
"It's a misunderstanding," said Ethan as he struggled to put on his jacket again.
Blake snorted.
"Isn't it always?"
