Hello everyone! I am so terribly sorry about the long wait!
To be honest, I have been wrestling with this story and it has been putting up more of a fight than usual. XD I have been hammering out some of the broad details of the later parts, and to be perfectly honest, it was probably a little premature for me to post the first chapter when I did. I didn't have it figured out enough. I have more figured out now, but there are a few connections I am still struggling with. I am taking a slightly Steven King approach to this one- just writing and letting the story shape itself.
Now this chapter is a little shorter than I intended, but to put the next section in would have made it reeeaaaally long, and I'm not 100% happy with the way the second part sits as of right now. I figured you guys have waited far longer than necessary and I would give you the first part.
SO I enjoy responding to the reviews I get as we go, just to recognize the reviews you guys write because they mean so much to me.
Review Responses
Nina - Why thank you. :) I thought the actual kidnapping would start it off with a bit of a bang. XD
Tammy - Yeah, I didn't want to get too far ahead of myself. I am a perfectionist when writing and very picky when it comes to fanfiction in particular, so this one might be slow going. But I have FAR from given up on this. My brain came up with all of the connections I needed to answer all of the questions left hanging at the end of season 1 and I am determined to tell you all the story. XD
DTS - Yeah. I came looking for them too, but it seems most people don't want to tackle the challenge of fishing all the missing characters out of plot holes and plugging the rest of them. But my brain managed to craft a cohesive narrative, so I'll try my best to put what is in my head onto the page. XD Ray, Frank, Clooney, Maya, and even Toby's brother play big roles in this. :)
Guest - SURE AM! 8D
nacimynom - I love theorizing! Of course, I'm going to be all cruel and not reveal my plots, but I love it when people are into the story enough to try and guess what is happening/ going to happen. As for the characters, most of that info is covered in the next chapter. :)
Labrina - Will not be a one-shot! :) Actually, from what I have written and the way I have this planned out, there will actually be a lot more of Toby in the chapters than I originally planned. I kind of wanted to maintain the mystery of what was happened, but as I wrote and planned and thought, it seemed like there was enough mystery in the way things were cut off at the end of season 1, and decided the best route would be to flummox everyone a little less and show you what you want to see, which is Toby during all of this madness.
the jester - Aww! Thank you! *blush* As a writer I am finding myself using those words so much. "It was good, but it could have been so much better." And that is what has spawned this story. I like the Listener. Even in the later seasons it kept that constant theme of this amazing but imperfect gift that they used like a tool in their investigative belt. I thought that was an interesting way to go about it. But at the same time, I found myself constantly longing for the amazing writing of the first season.
ChibiAyane - Am continuing. XD lol That's actually the direction I have settled one, showing a decent amount of both sides. The group moreso than Toby, but there will be a good amount of Tobyness in this whole thing. :)
Dayreader - Late, but updated! :D
Labrine - They haven't been too bad. To be honest it has calmed down quite a bit, and I've learned how to stretch and mess with the muscles to relax them when they start to throttle mah poor finger nerves. XD And I have decided on a relatively equal dose of both sides. I think there will probably be more writing on the investigative side, but there will be both. :) Plenty of Toby. XD
Catherine - I'M GLAD! This is what I was looking for too, but it didn't exist. So I had to write it. XD
Alright. That wraps that up. I don't own the Listener! Here we go!
After what seemed like an eternity, the blindfold finally came off.
Vernon was no stranger to life on the wrong side of the law. An old faded scar along the curve of his face spoke to a nearly-forgotten knife-fight. His bones and dark skin were mottled with so many breaks and invisible imperfections, he could no longer recall where he got each one. It was not common that he was surprised or taken off-guard.
But this was one of those times.
He cast his dark eyes toward the ceiling, running them over the elaborate chandelier that hung in what appeared to be a fancy- if quite small- lobby. He stood before the doors of a closing elevator that then rattled its way back down to the parking garage. He could hear the SUV that had dropped them off screeching its way around a corner and fading. The tile beneath his feet was polished and resembled marble- well enough that he honestly couldn't tell if it was real or not. There were rugs of elaborate colors and designs beneath his feet and all down the hallways that stretched away from the lobby.
He made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle as the shorter man behind him moved to one of the small tables, and set to rummaging around in the large duffel over his shoulder. "You know, Rhett... when you said we were going to be bringing room service to a guest... I kind of thought that was a euphemism for working over a prisoner." He finally looked at his pale-skinned partner and gave a shrug. "But whatever. I mean... I make a pretty good cheese-bread." His eyes lit up in a way that he tried his best to hide, even though Rhett's gaze was still on the contents of his bag. "Are we bringing scones to Mij or something?"
Rhett finally raised his eyes to meet Vernon's- eyes that the dark-skinned man had always found uncomfortably blue and piercing. As usual, he looked away as Rhett spoke. "No, you had the right idea."
Vernon glanced back to the smaller man for a moment, and then looked around again, his gaze lingering on the chandelier. "A prisoner? Here?" He gave another half-chuckle. "What, is there a dungeon in the basement?" he joked.
Rhett looked at him like he had sprouted an extra head and aimed a finger down the hallway opposite the elevator. "No, he lives in the second door on the right." He furrowed his brow as though suddenly questioning Vernon's intelligence. "And even if there was a dungeon, why the hell would we have come upwards in an elevator first?"
Vernon ignored the jab and peered in the indicated direction. On either side of one of the doors on the right sat folding chairs bearing an unfriendly looking man and woman in black, with enough of a bulge in each shirt to be holding what Vernon assumed was far more powerful than a simple pistol. He smirked, feeling a clench in his gut that always accompanied the presence of high-powered weapons, and turned to have a rifle with a flashlight taped to the thin barrel shoved into his hands. He stared at the gun for a long moment as though attempting to decipher what it was before looked back at his partner.
Rhett didn't like questions and was plenty strong enough to discourage them, as Vernon- to his chagrin- had discovered more than once. He was small, lithe, deceptively strong, and had the eyes of a madman whenever violence was imminent. But the situation was just so bizarre, Vernon's usual caution when dealing with the man wasn't what it normally was.
"Um... Rhett? We going hunting?"
Rhett grumbled something incoherent to himself. "It's a tranq-gun, dumbass."
"I know what it is. I'm wondering why I need it in a place like this," said Veron quietly, almost under his breath.
Rhett didn't think his curiosity was worth clarification and after a moment of silence, he rolled his eyes and gave an agitated sigh, plunging his hand back into the duffel with more force than necessary. "We wouldn't have held onto the Listener for this long if he didn't provide us with something, so it doesn't make much sense to physically hurt him." From the bag, he withdrew a thin metal case and when he popped it open, Vernon couldn't help the uneasiness that washed over him at the sight of four syringes, each one loaded with different quantities of a pale yellowish liquid. His fingers twiddled a little as he moved between two of them as though trying to decide which to pick- one which held the least amount of the serum and the second which held nearly twice as much as the first. The other two in the case seemed to follow the same pattern; each with nearly twice the dose of the previous. With a sigh like he was making a hard decision, he finally removed the one that held the least amount of the substance, closed the case, and tossed it back into the bag, flicking his chosen syringe with his free hand. "Alright," he said, slipping the syringe behind his ear like a pencil. "Ground-rules." He pointed at the gun held laxly in Vernon's arms. "If I tell you to shoot him... shoot him, understand?" The black man glanced down at the gun and gave a hesitant nod. "Second, I do the talking." Another nod. "Lastly... try not to look him in the eyes. Freaks some people out." This was said with a strange smile that had absolutely no humor in it. Was that... contempt?
Rhett brushed past him and Vernon followed. Something occurred to him and he glanced quickly to the rifle and then up at his partner's back. "What's the flashlight for?"
He could tell Rhett's annoyance was rising. "For if the lights go out," he growled.
Under his breath he muttered, "Is that... likely to happen?"
Rhett shrugged, but didn't turn to him as he spoke, "Does from time to time. Now shut up." His response seemed loaded and Vernon assumed there was more to it, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
They were only passing the second door on their right when the guarded door opened and a tall thin man swept past the sentries, clutching a thick folder to his chest. He was older, most likely in his mid- fifties with a wreath of thin gray hair around the back of his head, and a York University lanyard suspending a thick ring of keys around his neck. His eyes seemed naturally kind, but hardened when they settled on Rhett. "Oh look, it's Dr. Mom!" cried Rhett with a kind of demented enthusiasm that made Vernon's stomach twist. In that one exclamation, Vernon instantly knew that Rhett was reveling in the hatred that this doctor had for him. "Off to file another complaint, are we, Mommy?"
The doctor clutched his folder closer to his chest. "He'll listen to me this time, Rhett," he growled, his eyes flicking for an instant at the syringe behind Rhett's ear. "It hasn't even been two weeks. At this rate, he'll end up like..."
Vernon took a full step backward as the doctor's sentence trailed off. More so than anyone he had ever met, Rhett's eyes were adept at curtaining themselves with madness- a strange sort of crazed rage, the source of which Vernon could only guess. Never had he seen that madness more clearly than in the glare he sent at the doctor. To his credit, the so-called Dr. Mom looked braced and ready for whatever the smaller man could throw at him, and did not back down from his stare. But the younger man said no more. There was only a tense silence that stretched between them for a long moment, after which, the doctor glanced at Vernon, gathered himself up and hurried past them.
Vernon had resolved to ask no more questions lest Rhett's mad glare be turned on him, but to his surprise, the thin man offered the information with a gesture toward the retreating form of the doctor. "The good Dr. Mom, as we like to call him," he said with a sneer. The madness had gone from his eyes to be replaced with their normal strange mix of pleasantness and hatred. "He's kind of the authority on the Listener. He's basically just a fussbudget that complains when he thinks we're working him too hard."
Once again, Vernon kept his mouth closed as Rhett lead him up to the guards. The man was thin, but muscled, deceptively powerful the way Rhett was. The woman beside him had a cruel-looking twist to her lip that gave her a permanent scowl, and her icy green eyes did nothing to dispel such an image. Rhett and Vernon were quickly searched and then admitted. Vernon heard the door's lock click behind them.
They were in a living room larger than Vernon would've guessed an apartment could possess. The black couches were large and overstuffed, sitting opposite quite a large TV mounted to the wall. Below it was a TV stand with a flawless sheet of glass at its top, holding what appeared to be a gaming system, a few extra controllers, and a little blinking black wifi hotspot that sat in some kind of thick protective case. A half-wall with a counter set atop it separated the sitting room from a picture-perfect kitchen. The appliances that Vernon could see were gleaming, spotless, and seemed to be state-of-the-art. It appeared that a good portion of the apartment's cost had gone into the kitchen alone. To the left sat the door to what Vernon guessed was a closet and beyond that was a darkened hallway with four doors branching off of it.
It was chilly, and Rhett flipped on one of the lights. Vernon could easily have assumed no one was home. It seemed a cozy enough place- plush comfortable furniture and the remnants of some delicious meal wafting though the air. But as the black man's eyes continued to wander the rooms, there were a few things that denoted this as more than a nice place to live. There was a doorknob on the door behind him, but no lock accessible from within the apartment. There was a square patch of chipped paint on the wall in the kitchen with a small hole in the center, where hung a few frayed chords as though someone had torn out a land line phone. Upon closer inspection, Vernon recognized the little black box he had assumed was a hotspot to be some sort of signal-jammer.
"Wow... this is nicer than my place," mused Vernon, even as his brain recognized it as the prison that it was.
"Everywhere is nicer than your place," muttered Rhett. Then, all of the irritation and tension that had been building in the lithe man outside the apartment seemed to suddenly disperse. That same contemptuous smile bent his mouth and suddenly he cried, "Toby! Here boy!" He whistled a few times, looking toward the floor and peering around corners as though he expected some little yappy canine to come barreling out of a doorway. Rhett suddenly turned to his larger partner and said in an overly loud voice, "He's so shy around new people!" Vernon only stared at him. Without waiting for a reply, Rhett turned back to face the living room and patted his knees, his voice hiking up in pitch as he called again, "Come on, Toby! 'Cmon boy!"
He made an elaborate shrug with his shoulders, as though performing on a stage rather than just for his companion. He began walking toward the hallway, casting his eyes this way and that, still searching for some erstwhile pet, but his steps seemed somewhat purposeful, like he already knew the location of that which he sought. Vernon once again swallowed his questions. The madness now in Rhett's eyes was that of enjoyment, as though he were playing some demented game and was legitimately having fun at it. The scarred man knew much better than to interrupt.
Rhett stopped short of the hallway and grabbed the handle of the door to the closet, fixing Vernon with an exaggerated, and very artificial, exasperation. His voice was once again far louder than necessary when he spoke. "I bet I know where he is," he announced. "It's his favorite spot!"
He flung open the door and slapped his hand to the inside wall with a cry of, "There he is!"
A single bulb dangling from a beaded chain flickered on. There were shelves suspended on little supports near the ceiling and they held traditional cleaning supplies- spray bottles, folded rags, a few pairs of rubber gloves. A broom and a mop were leaned against the wall on the left and a bucket sat next to them. But the center of the closet was kept clear for the man sitting on the cold tile floor. He squinted when the light came on, but said nothing for the thick band of tape across his mouth. His wrists were suspended at shoulder-height by bizarrely out-of-place metal manacles. Chains were attached to the cuffs at one end and to the wall at the other.
He was dressed plainly, in a blue t-shirt and old-looking jeans. His feet bore only thin socks and overall he looked fairly cold, his elbows bending as much as the chains would allow toward his middle. He was lithe like Rhett, though with perhaps a little more thickness to his muscle, as opposed to his partner's wiry frame. His outstretched arms were well-muscled like his torso in such a way that it gave off the impression of a man either whose career it was to be in shape, or spent little time outside of a gym. His hair was pitch black against the pale skin of his face and buzzed short. He looked strangely out of place. At the word 'prisoner', Vernon's mind conjured images of dirt-encrusted flesh, evidence of physical violence, and broken eyes. This man looked... well cared-for. It was as though the resident of this comfortable lifestyle had just decided to sit down and allow himself to be chained to a wall. For a brief moment, Vernon wondered if this was some bizarre setup.
But he barely had time to register the thought. Before he could recall that the ground-rules advised against it, Vernon found his eyes locked with the bound man's. He almost took a physical step back. Very similar to Rhett's, his eyes were brilliant and piercing blue, but the depth in them was of a different sort than those of his partner's. While Rhett's eyes shone with barely-contained madness, this man's eyes held a surreal insight, as though he could look straight through him. But with that strange piercing aspect, they also bore an invisible weight of sadness and fatigue. The house around him was high-end and comfortable, but Vernon needed only to look into this man's eyes to know that he was indeed a prisoner here.
Rhett took a single step to crouch in front of the man and ruffled his short hair. "Toby, this is Vernon!" he cried in that same high-pitched voice, though it now sounded as though he were talking to someone he perceived as slow. "We got a big job coming up next month, and I wanted you two to get acquainted beforehand," he said, his hand giving Toby's head a sideways shove and his voice dropping suddenly into a more conversational pitch.
Toby looked up at Vernon and the black man fixed his eyes on the wall behind him. Rhett had been right. The young man's gaze was as difficult to meet as Rhett's, even moreso with the weight of imprisonment.
"We also brought you some music!" cried Rhett with a cruel twist to his lips and a tap on the syringe behind his ear. Toby's face suddenly contorted with something akin to terror and he shrank back against the wall. Vernon's entire body tensed, but he held himself stiff. "But first," continued Rhett, his tone a sickly sweet. "I gotta ask you a question, Toby." He plopped onto the floor to sit next to the bound man. He leaned over, pressing one of his cheeks against Toby's and both of them stared up at Vernon. "Is he a cop?" he breathed into Toby's ear.
Vernon's mind went blank. He stared at the two as though attempting to decipher if there could be a double meaning to the question, but Rhett simply looked between the two of them, a demented smile on his face. Toby's stare was intense as he locked his eyes on Vernon's face, like he was trying to read the answer on his very features. He swallowed hard and Vernon found himself copying him. After a few moments of silence, Rhett tapped the prisoner's opposite cheek in impatience. "Hey. You done rooting around in there? Answer the question, Toby."
Toby startled at the touch, and glanced quickly to Rhett, then looked back to Vernon. Something in his eyes made Vernon's heart drop into his stomach. At last, Toby shook his head slowly back and forth, never breaking gaze with Vernon. There was a knowing look there that the larger man couldn't quite decipher.
"No?" cried Rhett with that same perverse enthusiasm. "That's fantastic!" He pressed his cheek against Toby's once more, wrapping an arm around his neck in a strange hug and then sat back and pulled the syringe from behind his ear. "Got some Noise here for you."
Once again Toby shrank away from the man, but with his arms already outstretched, this did little but wiggle him against the wall. Rhett aimed the syringe at the man's neck, but at Toby's squirming he withdrew it and gave him a warning glance as one might give a child who was on the thin ice of punishment. "Now, now, Toby. Behave or I'll up the dose."
Vernon's stomach gave a twist as he recalled the remaining three syringes, each one with at least twice the amount of liquid than the one Rhett was holding. Toby obediently stilled and Rhett pushed the needle into his neck, slamming the plunger down and drawing a muffled cry from behind the strap of tape. Rhett stuffed the syringe into his bag and shot Vernon a look of barely-contained glee, holding up a finger as though to signal the beginning of a spectacle. The larger man's eyes moved back to the captive as sweat broke out on his face and his head rolled down until his chin rested on his heaving chest. His breath was forced in and out of his nose in harsh hisses and every few breaths was accompanied by a cry trapped in the back of his throat.
The single bulb illuminating the closet flickered suddenly and Vernon took a small step backward. He tossed a glance over his shoulder to find that the rest of the lights in the apartment were doing the same. A few flickered like they would go out and others burned overly bright. He cast a quick glance around him, but was drawn back to the closet by Rhett's sudden movement. He hopped up onto his haunches and grabbed the prisoner's ears, forcing his head up to face him. Toby's eyes fluttered and rolled up into his head. Rhett pressed his forehead against Toby's and the sick smile on his mouth widened. "Toby..." he cooed.
The prisoner's eyes suddenly focused and locked with Rhett's. Tears traced shimmering tracks down the bound man's cheeks and the light above them burned brilliantly until Vernon had to squint. His grip on the gun he held tightened, but he kept his finger off the trigger. There was a dull humming that seemed to echo from the walls and the lights in the main rooms became strobe-like as they flashed and dimmed.
"Rhett...?" he began, hefting the gun a little higher in his arms.
"Shut up, Vernon," Rhett hissed, his hands tightening their grip on Toby's face.
With a dull 'pop' that seemed to come from the walls themselves, all went silent and dark. The light that hung above them flickered out along with those from the main room. With a fumbling hand, Vernon flipped the switch of the flashlight on the barrel of his gun, the beam illuminating Rhett and the prisoner. Rhett's breathing was heavy, and the smile on his face was loaded with satisfaction. Toby's head had rolled forward again, resting on his chest. The muscles in his neck gave occasional twitches, shaking his head back and forth in a motion that looked almost involuntary and sent a shiver down Vernon's spine. Rhett eyed the chained man like he was freshly-killed prey. He flashed a thumbs-up at his partner. "Alright," he sighed. "We're good."
Vernon took a few steps backward as Rhett swept past him and slammed the closet door. He looked around the pitch black room, expecting the lights to flash back to life, but they didn't. He heard Rhett moving around him and suddenly there was knocking to his right. The sound of the lock clanking open drew Vernon's attention and a shaft of light shot across the floor as the front door opened.
"Threw a temper tantrum again," said Rhett and the guard visible through the crack nodded. After a few moments the light came to life and Vernon found his partner leaning against the front door. A toothy grin stretched his mouth, and was in stark contrast to the shimmer of fresh tears on his face. He sniffled, and turned his smile on Vernon. He brushed the water from his face and heaved a cleansing sigh like he was putting the entire matter to rest right then. "So! You're all set for the Resor job next month. Toby will be helping out there as well, so we'll contact you when we've got the intel for you to read over."
Vernon nodded, but his mind was long gone. The oddness of the night's events were now punctuated by a strange break in Rhett's usual madness. Tears would normally indicate any number of emotions, but what had been in his eyes was far from any of them. There was a wild satisfaction buried somewhere in those blues; a raw and primal delight forged by success gained through some sacrifice of his own.
The blindfold tightened across his brow and he was shoved once again into the SUV. Nearly two hours of driving had gotten them to Toby's prison, and he feared the return trip would seem far longer with little to occupy his mind but the thought of the strange events of the night and Rhett's maddening, tear-stained stare.
Let me know what you think! Hopefully there won't be as big of a gap between this update and the last one. Hope you all enjoyed and I'll see you all soon!
