Thoughts Reflected, Brought To Mind
Disco Inferno. Not the overly popular Mendelsohn's Wedding March, at any rate, which was something to be grateful for, although D wasn't even sure why the thought of the detective having gotten married distressed him so. He told himself it was because Leon was not fit husband material to be unleased upon some poor unsuspecting female. Much less - and he released an involuntary shudder at the thought - potential fatherhood material. And that if a wedding had somehow occurred, the ceremony had been performed under duress, or worse - blind stupid intoxication. Perhaps he could fool himself into believing that that was his sole interest in the case, a matter of miscarriage of justice.
The case? Just when had he begun to sound like Leon?
D cleared his throat, trying to clear his head, attempting to focus once more. A bar in Chinatown, playing an old disco number. Perhaps that did narrow things down somewhat. If only he could glean more details from the clueless shamus.
To his surprise, he found that he still had Leon's hand held within his own, a gesture of trust which he would not have expected from the blond. Nor one he would have thought that he'd ever solicit. He seemed to be learning a lot about himself even as he tried to learn more about Leon's missing time.
"Leon," he said gently, his long slim fingers beginning to make sworls on the back of the other man's hand in an attempt to relax him, to ease him back into remembrance, to let his mind and his memory travel back to the time in question, to jog his errant recall. "Concentrate again, if you will..... music is playing... disco music," he shuddered at the very word. "Are you ... perhaps.... dancing.... with someone?"
"Dancing? Me?" Leon squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to recall.
Bit by bit, moment by moment, memories were being entered into his inner vision, like the pieces of a puzzle which have been scrambled, and the object is to put them together to form some sort of coherent whole. Dancing? Was there someone dancing? That felt rather familiar, for some reason, and he opened his inner eye just a bit wider.
"I do see someone dancing," he said, almost in awe, "someone who looks just like me. Except for the monkey suit. Which looks ridiculous on anyone," he snorted with unconcealed contempt.
"Someone who looks like you, Detective? I don't believe there is such a person," D maintained, trying not to tremble, as he coaxed the memories to be revealed, whatever they may be.
"I'm tellin' ya, D, he looks just like me," the baffled flatfoot continued, "in every way...... except he's dancing and of course I'm not. He even has rice falling off of him too....." His voice trailed away, in confusion, and D picked up the story, eyes widening, then rolling at Leon as realization hit him.
"Leon, you're looking into a mirror," he chided, "at yourself. You are the one who is dancing....."
Leon groaned, shutting his eyes. That wasn't what he had wanted to hear. Not at all. But then again, D didn't seem so thrilled either.