Affinity Part 2
Oz had a date.
This, of course, was because Oz was totally sexy, and funny, and an all-around hot catch and the girl (legs up to her ears – Oz wasn't kidding) had great taste in men.
Oz was thinking about phoning her and telling her he had syphilis. Or maybe his gold fish had died. No, he knew what to say: Toby was having crisis of some sort – um, hair trouble? Toby did have that ridiculously tousled look going on. He probably used product. Maybe he'd reacted badly to it and all his hair had fallen out? – and was totally in need of a boys night out.
Yeah.
What if he got there...and she changed her mind? What if she hadn't really been asking him, but the guy behind him? Who had been standing behind him?
"I was standing behind you, you spaz," Toby said, "and trust me, she wasn't asking me. I know."
"Yeah?" Oz said. "She was thinking about me? What was she thinking, Toby? You can tell me; I can take it."
"She was thinking you're cute, okay? You got nothing to worry about, Oz. You're great."
"I'm awesome." Oz said automatically. Then he cringed. "Cute? Really? Not, like, dashing, or handsome, or...or regal, or something? Cute, like, puppy cute?"
Toby rolled his eyes. "It's just a date, Oz. She's not going to eat you alive."
"Like you've ever worried about a date in your life, Mr. Psychic. You know what they're thinking the whole time."
"She likes you, Oz. Go with it." Toby smirked. "Don't tell her you have syphilis."
"Oh, ha ha." Oz grumbled. "Funny guy." He pulled a blue shirt off the rack and held it up. "How about this one?"
"Green," Toby said. "Find something in green."
"Right." Oz put the blue shirt back and wandered further into the racks. He didn't realize he's lost Toby until he heard the door alarms go off and heard the clerk yelling, "Sir! You can't just leave, sir! Hey, stop!"
Toby was standing in the doorway. A security guard was grabbing his arm.
A man shoved passed Oz.
"Hey!" Oz said, then shook it off and followed on the man's heels to the door. The man pushed passed Toby and the security guard and out into the parking lot.
Oz stopped. "Is there a problem?" He said. The clerk at the counter finally turned the alarm off.
"None of your business." The security guard snapped.
"Um." Toby had a blank look on his face. He clearly wasn't tuning into the audible conversation. Oz was not above lying to cover for his friend. He was a kick-ass best friend like that. Oz whipped out his wallet.
"We're paramedics" Oz said and flashed his credentials. "We just got an emergency call-in for overtime. We have to go. Is there a problem?"
The security guard was not mollified. "Turn your pockets out." He told Toby. "What's in your bag?"
Toby slowly pulled his pack off his shoulder and unzipped it. The blue shirt Oz had been looking at earlier was stuffed inside.
Oh, shit.
"I asked him to hold that for me while I was looking for more, you know?" Oz said quickly. "Must have forgot when we got the call. He's eager to get to work, saving lives, aren't you Toby?" Oz shoved Toby behind him and pulled sixty dollars out of his wallet. "Here, that's more than enough, keep the change, we have to go now, sorry about all the confusion, you're doing an excellent job, keep it up, bye!"
The security guard didn't believe Oz for a second but the shirt was paid for and Oz shoved Toby out the door as fast as he could. The two of them hurried to the car and pulled out of that parking lot like the place was on fire.
Oz didn't say anything for a long time.
"I'm sorry." Toby said. Oz didn't look over to see if Toby was staring at him with big blue eyes or staring shamefaced out the window. "I don't know why I did that."
"The guy who walked passed us at the door," Oz said. "Was he thinking about shop lifting?"
"I..." Toby said. "Yeah, he was."
"You're not a shoplifter." Oz said.
Toby snorted. "I'm a foster kid with barely controllable telepathic abilities. It wouldn't be the first time."
"You're not a shoplifter." Oz said again. Obviously, Toby hadn't heard him. "You're not a thief, you don't steal things, you don't hurt people, you don't even say mean things to people. You have an unshakable moral code and you do the God damned right thing even when it kills you. You're a nice guy, Toby. I know that because I know you. And I don't have to be a mind reader to know that about you."
When Oz finally looked over, Toby was staring out the window. Oz sighed a long, noisy, obnoxious sigh. Then he reached over and mussed up Toby's hair.
Yup. Definitely used product.
It was cold in the basement. Oz sighed and yanked on his cuff for, like, the millionth time. Toby hissed at him.
"Will you stop that? It's not going to come loose and you're making my wrist sore."
"We can't just wait for that psycho to come back, Toby." Oz said. He was trying really hard not to get sarcastic with his best buddy, but Toby – after a few initial attempts to first pick the lock then unscrew the grate – was just sitting there. Like a lump. Like a big, goofy, telepathic lump who had nothing better to do than sit around and wait for...
"I can hear what you're thinking." Toby said. He sounded annoyed.
"Don't you have any useful abilities?" Oz said. "Like, I dunno, talking into other people's heads? Like psychically dialling Charlie up and saying, 'Hey, Charlie. If it's not too much trouble, can you come and rescue us before the crazy psycho that's really mad at you does something horrible and permanently scarring to us?' Post traumatic stress, Toby. I'm going to be crawling up the walls if we don't get out of here soon."
"Post traumatic stress happens after the horrible event, Oz."
"Right," Oz said. "Like getting kidnapped at gun point isn't terrible enough. We should get out of here now. So there is no horrible event."
Toby didn't even pretend to fiddle with the hand cuffs. "People only know how to magically pick the locks with their magically handy hair clip on TV, Oz." Toby said. He sounded tired. Oz didn't for one minute imagine Toby was tired with him. "I'm not wearing any magical hair clips, Oz." Toby continued. "Are you wearing any magical hair clips, Oz?"
"No, Toby." Oz said through gritted teeth. He gave the hand cuff one more good yank for good measure. Toby scowled at him.
"How about the grate?" Oz said. He examined the bolts. It looked like someone had deliberately stripped all six bolts. Oz didn't think he had anything to unscrew them with anyway.
"Shit." Oz said. He slumped against the wall and tilted his chin up to stare at the ceiling. Toby mirrored the pose.
"We're not getting out of here on our own, are we?" Oz said after a while.
"Charlie will come." Toby said.
"That's the stupidest plan ever." Oz said, but there wasn't any heat in his voice. "Did you get any hits off that psycho?"
"His name is Andy LaPaige." Toby said.
Oz snorted at the universe. "Not Jack the Ripper? Not Robert Pickton? We're being kidnapped by someone named Andy?"
"He's Oliver LaPaige's older brother. He loves his brother. For a long time it was just the two of them against the world and it was Andy's job to make sure nothing bad happened to Ollie. He didn't often succeed. They were just kids."
"LaPaige." Oz said and looked at Toby. "He's not Ollie to you, Toby. You don't know him."
"...Yeah."
"And they're not kids anymore."
"I know."
"What's going on, Toby? You don't usually slide like this, do you?"
"Mostly, I get hits." Toby explained. "That's when I'm blocking it out. I'm usually blocking it out." Toby shivered. Oz knocked his shoulder against Toby's and left it there. "When I concentrate, I pick up a cacophony of thoughts – like everybody shouting different things at the same time. It can be hard to sort out. And sometimes, not so often now that I'm older, certain people are easier to hear. Those people who are really focused, really pushy: the strong personalities. They sneak up on me, sometimes." Toby looked at Oz. "I mean, sometimes I hear their thoughts and it takes me a bit to realize they're not mine."
"Like Andy LaPaige today," Oz said. "You did what he wanted."
Toby nodded. "The hits usually come in pictures: A really strong emotion – like fear, or shock – and an image of what's causing the fear. I know I'm not really seeing that, so I know it's not me. But the ones that sneak passed, they're usually desire or wanting of some sort. Like, Andy LaPaige really wanted us to do what he said...and it felt like I wanted that." Toby dropped the eye contact and hung his head. "Those types of thoughts are harder to sort through, harder to filter out."
"Shit." Oz said. "Guess being a super hero isn't all it's cracked out to be, huh? Even you got your kryptonite."
"I'll work harder." Toby said. "Ray's helping me. It's all a matter of practicing harder. I can get it under control."
"Okay." Oz said. "But for now, repeat after me: I am not a psycho gun-wielding serial murderer wannabe. I am not a psycho gun-wielding serial murderer wannabe. C'mon, Toby, work with me here."
"Thank God you say everything you think and think exactly what you say." Toby said instead. "You're so simple, compared to everyone else Oz."
Oz was not trying to plant his thumb in his best friend's ribs when the psycho came back.
They quieted, listening to the footsteps cross the kitchen and move toward the back of the house. Oz swore he could see dust motes falling from the basement ceiling with every ominous step Andy LaPaige took above. LaPaige did not come down the basement steps.
"Charlie knows LaPaige kidnapped us," Toby whispered. "He's contacted her. He told her to admit she planted evidence at the last crime scene. He told her he'd kill us if she didn't. He told her she would never find the bodies. He said she couldn't tell anybody and he would know if she did."
"Would he?" Oz whispered back, "Know if she did?"
Toby closed his eyes. His mind was very far away. "Not right away. He was lying. He thinks the threat will be enough."
"Charlie's smart. She'll tell."
"Yeah."
Oz listened but he heard no further movement upstairs.
"He watching TV." Toby finally said. "Seinfeld reruns."
"I watch Seinfeld reruns!" Oz felt strangely outraged. "Seriously? Seriously?"
"Well, hell, Oz," Toby said, "He's not an alien. That's what people do when they have nothing better to do – they veg on the couch and watch stupid TV."
"He's a serial killer's brother and he has two kidnapped paramedics chained up in the basement." Oz hissed, "Shouldn't he be, like, plucking the eyeballs out of teddy bears or something? What kind of self respecting psycho is he?"
"Are you really complaining that he's not plucking the eyeballs out of teddy bears?"
"No." Oz deflated. He added dully, "Teddy bears have feelings, too."
Charlie Marks hung up the phone and considered her options. The voice on the other end had been distorted and unfamiliar but there were very few people in the world capable of sympathizing with Oliver LaPaige.
It had been a good arrest. Charlie had crossed every T and dotted every I. There was no way in hell she was going to leave even the possibility of a technicality for that animal to get off on.
She shoved her chair away from her desk and grabbed her jacket.
"Becker!" Charlie banged on Becker's office door as she rushed passed. "I know where that missing ambulance is!"
It was really damn cold in the basement. Oz huddled up against Toby and 'accidently' jabbed his elbow in Toby's ribs. Toby ignored him. Toby had that look on his face that meant he was listening to whatever the psycho upstairs was thinking. Oz studied his friend. No wonder LaPaige had flipped on him. He really did look like he was tripping on something.
Oz gave into his better impulses and stuck his tongue out at Toby. Then he stuck a finger in the corner of his mouth and pulled his face sideways. Oz was a totally mature friend like that. Even traumatizing, terrifying, horribly stressful circumstances couldn't bring the Oz-man down. Oz was great for morale.
"Quit panicking, Oz." Toby said. "Your face might freeze like that."
"I'm not panicking. I'm cool. I'm cool as a cucumber. I'm cool as a cucumber about to get eaten by a psychopath with a gun. And shit, is he moving again?" Oz watched the ceiling. Toby shushed Oz.
Andy LaPaige walked down the hall and into the kitchen.
His steps paused, then shuffled quietly across the floor.
"He's making KD."
Oz made a face at the realization that he had another thing in common with the psycho. Then his stomach growled.
"He gonna bring any down here?"
"Yeah." Toby cocked his head sideways, as if he actually was listening to something. "He's not putting anything in it. You can eat it."
That idea hadn't even occurred to Oz. Oz shuddered. Thanks, Toby.
"You're welcome."
Oz blew a mental raspberry.
The steps above shuffled across the floor again. The basement door opened. Andy LaPaige stood framed by the light from the kitchen.
Oz tried really hard not to think about every scene he'd ever seen that involved axe murderers or hockey masks.
LaPaige came down the stairs.
"Do not move."
Oz thought about trying to kick LaPaige's legs out from under him. Oz thought about catching LaPaige's head between his knees – no matter how he'd get the leverage to do that – and breaking the man's neck. Oz thought about ripping the grate out of the wall in a feat of hulk-ian strength and charging LaPaige.
Oz did not move
No thanks, Hollywood.
LaPaige put two bowls of KD on the floor and slid them toward Oz and Toby.
"Marks hasn't called yet."
"She will." Toby actually sounded reassuring. Oz thought, I am not a psycho gun-wielding serial murderer wannabe.
LaPaige considered them for a long moment. Oz wished he knew what the psycho was thinking.
"You have until morning." LaPaige said. "Then I'll shoot the short one." He went back up stairs.
"Shit." Oz moaned. "I'm the short one, aren't I? He meant me, didn't he?" And Toby, mind-reading wonder that he was, clamped a hand over Oz's mouth before Oz could holler after LaPaige, "I'm not that short, asshole!" Instead, Oz yelled, "Hmm nht thhtt sssst, ahhhsslll!"
Toby wiped Oz's spit on his pants.
"Feel better?"
"No." Oz sulked. "I'm going to get shot tomorrow. God, I'm gonna die tomorrow. Shit, Toby, Charlie's gonna pull through, right? Tell me she's gonna pull through."
"Charlie will come through. She's bringing everybody, Oz. We'll be out of here before morning, with a story to tell."
"Right." Oz took a deep breath. Then he took another. "Right."
It took a little manoeuvring, but Toby finally managed to hook one of the bowls of KD with his foot and drag it closer. The second bowl remained stubbornly out of reach.
They split it up the middle, and took turns with the spoon.
Author's Note: Thank you, MamzelleHermy, Highonstargate, and Here To Annoy for the encouragement. It really helps to get me moving.
I struggled with this chapter because I needed to include so much exposition and because there is very little actual movement in it. I hope it doesn't totally collapse your expectations.
Next chapter will see some action.