OUT THERE
Chapter Fifteen
"The place where you continually return for love and acceptance - that's home." (Richelle E. Goodrich)
Too many troubling thoughts made the night long and weary. Yet, when the new day dawned, it was beautiful. Spell-bound, Adam sat cross-legged on his rumpled bed and watched the city come alive in shades of pink and gold. Three hours of fitful sleep faded into insignificance as the sight lifted him; giving him the strength to rise, get dressed and take that final, terrifying step out of the building.
Which was how he came to find himself standing on the sidewalk, clutching a cereal bar from Stella's care package and trying not to think too hard about the journey ahead of him.
Driving to work was still out of the question. Never let it be said that Adam Ross didn't learn from his mistakes - well, most of them, anyway. The decision cost him, just as he knew it would. Focussing his gaze into a kind of tunnel vision, he made it all the way down the street to the subway station but the ride itself was a study in ice-cold fear. He held his panic at bay with a grim determination that would have put Mac Taylor to shame, and a technique inspired by the boss-man's own strategy. Setting an image of Haylen's beaming face between himself and the other passengers, he sparred with her silently to pass the time.
Are you scared? she asked him.
Fear is the mind-killer, Adam retorted.
That's deep. For an illusion, she seemed to be quite impressed, which made him feel guilty.
Not my words, okay? I read it in a book when I was a kid and it stuck with me. I used to say it to myself... just sometimes, you know? Like a mantra. He frowned, earning several hard stares from the passengers around him. Hey - why am I telling you this? You're not real; you're in my head. Which means you know exactly what I know, so stop playing dumb.
Haylen giggled. Took you long enough. And just for the record - you are scared. I can feel it.
Bite me. Not the wittiest come-back, or even the most original, but it made Adam feel better. Peering straight through his floating nemesis, he flashed a smile at the young woman opposite, who ducked her head at once as if to say 'I wasn't staring...'
In fact, now that he glanced around, he could see that everyone was keeping their gaze diverted.
Guess they think you're some kind of nut-job, Haylen whispered.
Adam swallowed. Wait... had he been talking aloud? Surely not?
With a look in her eye that said 'I know', his arch-enemy vanished.
For the rest of the journey, he sat in a stiff pose, afraid to move or even breathe. When the train reached his stop, he leapt up from his seat and fled.
Not the best start to the day. Nerves were trying to get the better of him, as usual. Which was crazy - he loved his work. Sometimes, the crime lab was more of a home to him than his apartment. There were rules and he understood them. There were people who cared for him, and most of all there was a father figure who had earned his honest admiration. Even so, coming back today felt uncannily like returning to school with the marks of his own father's anger concealed beneath his shirt. An age had passed for him when no one else was watching and he was a stranger because of it. Would they see that? Would they treat him differently? Or would life go on, just the same as it always did? He longed for the comfort that would bring; the routine, the smiles, the work that made him happiest of all because it drove the dark thoughts into the shadows where they belonged.
Like a minnow in a stream, he let the vibrant movement of the city thrust him onwards as he slipped from one current to the next with mindless ease. Better not to think about the sheer number of people around him. Better not to think about the hidden secrets locked inside each mind, or the eyes that might be following him...
"I'm goin' to work," he muttered to himself, a little out of breath from the jostling speed of the crowd. "Just goin' to work." And then, even more quietly, "Fear is the mind-killer."
Fear cuts deeper than swords.
The only thing we have to fear is fear itself...
Over the years, his mantra had grown, patched together from different sources. One of many foolish rituals that he clung to. Did it help? Hard to say. But the repetition soothed him, even now, and when he passed through the glass doors and made his way to the elevator, just as he had done almost every day for the last four years, Adam felt much calmer.
The car bore him upwards and deposited him in the cool, wide hallway. After his frantic, tumbling journey, the lab itself felt quiet. He took in a deep breath of recycled air and sighed with relief. A passing tech nodded to him and he smiled back.
"Okay. Good..." he whispered. Apparently, he could do this.
Making his way to the locker room, he paused on the threshold. A sight met his eyes that was... well, it was unexpected, not to mention absurd. Doctor Hawkes was grovelling on the floor, his head down low, his rear in the air - and his back to the doorway. Adam swallowed the laughter that rose in his throat and stepped forwards.
"Problem?" he asked politely.
"Wha..?" Hawkes twitched in surprise and spun round, peering up at Adam like some kind of startled puppy. "Oh - it's you. Sorry." Springing to his feet, he clapped his hands together sharply. "Surprising amount of dust down there."
"So - what? You were cleaning it with your knees?" Confused, Adam pointed to the tell-tale smudges. Flustered, Hawkes looked down.
"No. I dropped the loose change from my pocket and it rolled right under the unit there - every cent. I can't get it out." He shrugged. "So much for my morning snack from the vending machine."
"You need some..? Oh!" Adam fished around inside his bag. Moments later, he brought out a sweaty fistful of coins. "See, they're always escaping in here. I can never keep track." He grinned. "Whenever I get a new bag, okay, I tip the old one upside down just to see how many... what's up?"
Hawkes was staring at the coins. "Hm? Nothing. Thank you, Adam. That's kind of you, but it won't do me any harm to curb my junk food habit for a day. Keep your money. You never know when you might need it."
"Okay..." Adam dropped the loose change back into his messenger bag and gave Hawkes a wary look. Catching his expression, the doctor smiled reassuringly - and then did a double-take, as something new occurred to him.
"Adam!"
"Ye-es...?"
"You're here, then."
"Um - yes. Yes, I am." Here they come, he thought gloomily. The probing questions - the 'How-are-you-feeling?', the 'Are-you-sure-you-didn't-come-back-too-soon?'...
"Good to see you." Hawkes patted Adam gently on the arm as he passed by on the way out of the locker room.
Adam turned to watch him go with a sense of complete bewilderment.
"I've entered the Twilight Zone," he sighed.
-xx-
His first encounter with Mac was equally disconcerting. Stepping out of the elevator, fresh from an early morning crime scene, the detective caught sight of Adam and called him over.
Once again, he braced himself for a barrage of questions.
"Adam. You look like a lost soul. If you really can't find anything more constructive to do than lurk in the hallway, head on down to the evidence garage. I'll meet you there in ten minutes."
"Um... sure, boss. Evidence garage. I'm on it."
Mac gave a brief nod and strode past the lab tech, his measured footsteps bouncing off the glass walls. Adam felt strangely hollow. Was that it, then? Really? "Not that I wanted a ticker-tape parade or anything. But a 'welcome back, Adam' might have been nice'..." he murmured softly.
Unable to resist, he turned and stared after his boss. Mac turned too - and that was when Adam saw it.
He was smiling. Not a great big, cheesy smile - how weird would that be? - but a merry little crease at the corner of his mouth and a twinkle in his eyes.
Suddenly, Adam's world felt a whole lot brighter. "See you in ten, boss," he called out, grinning in return. "Hey, and thanks, okay?"
"What for?" Mac said. How did he manage to look so innocent?
Adam shrugged. "Just... 'thanks'."
-xx-
The rest of his morning was perfect.
"So, hey, you picked the cherry, right boss? Great car... I mean, case. You think if I saved up for, like, a hundred years, I could score a sweet ride like this?" Adam said, as he ran his gloved hand down the bonnet of the shiny red Testarossa.
"Oh, you couldn't afford this one." Mac shook his head. "And I don't think you'd want it, either. It's a mule."
"You mean... like, sterile?" Confusion wrinkled the lab tech's brow.
"I mean like a drugs mule. According to Flack's informant, there's about two hundred thousand dollars worth of cocaine hidden somewhere in this beauty."
"Ah - the seedy side of glamour." Adam gave a regretful smile. "So the job is to find it? What does the winner get?"
"The chance to brag in front of his colleagues. I bumped into Danny and Lindsay on the way. They were more than a little... upset when I told them what was down here."
"Oooh. Guess they were busy, right?" Holding his hand in the air for a high-five, Adam dropped it quickly when he caught the vibe that none would be forthcoming. Mac's glare was steel and the lab tech buckled, slipping around to the other side of the Ferrari. He snapped his glove, liking the sharp sound that it made. So professional. "Where do you want me to start, boss?"
"You take the inside. Think you can manage?" Mac gave a meaningful glance at his shoulder. Adam's reply was heartfelt.
"I'll manage." True - bending down was still uncomfortable. But some things were worth a little pain. He opened the door and stuck his head through, breathing in the scent of that guy's life. "Just out of interest, boss... what happened to the owner?"
"Flack has him down at the precinct. He's not in a good mood, apparently. Keeps calling for his lawyer. Something about a thousand dollar suit and a pile of garbage. And his innocence, of course."
Adam snorted. Flack did love his chases. And that flying tackle he did - that was pure gold. If ever I become a proper CSI, he sighed, I'll have to get him to teach me how to do that.
Yeah, right.
Shaking his head at the laughable thought, Adam reached for a flashlight and began to examine every inch of the sports car's interior. Vintage dials and manual transmission. Creamy leather seats so laid-back they were practically recliners - and the prancing horse logo emblazoned on the mats, of all places. "Wiping your feet in style..." he muttered. "Awesome."
As for the prize haul of cocaine, clearly that wasn't one of the special features on display but rather a hidden extra. Time to dig deeper, then. Glee fought with sadness and won. "Sorry, baby," he told the car, patting the driver's seat gently. "But face-lifts are all the rage now, you know."
"Did you just apologise to the Ferrari?" Mac's wry voice came floating through the open door, making Adam jump as he realised that the man was standing right behind him.
"Um... yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "Seems like kind of a travesty, that's all."
"No - the person who hid the drugs in the first place committed the travesty."
"That's true." Adam frowned as something new occurred to him. "Thing is, boss, this car still looks real good. Original features, gleaming finish..."
"Yes, I think we've firmly established that you like the car, Adam."
"No, what I mean is - maybe the perp couldn't bring himself to do a lot of damage when he hid the coke. Maybe he hid it somewhere... clever. Somewhere that didn't involve, you know - smashing." He winced.
"Then we'd better be clever too," Mac told him. "I've got the ATF canine unit coming in three hours. Let's see if we can't beat them to the prize."
"Woof," said Adam obligingly.
Ducking back inside the car, he considered his options. Where to start? That was the question. So many places to stash things, and most of them well-known to cops and ATF agents alike. Adam's gaze came to rest on the console in front of the passenger seat and he frowned. What if the perp had gone for a sneaky double bluff? What did they call that - hiding in plain sight? Checking that Mac wasn't watching this time, he yanked open the glove compartment and felt around inside, removing the random clutter as he did so and laying it on the seat. Take-out menus. Road maps. Tic-tacs in various flavours - but no giant stash of cocaine. "Well, okay, but you never know..." he muttered to himself. "And how dumb would I look if Lassie found the drugs in there after I'd stripped the whole interior?"
Stripped.
Now there was a thought.
Setting down his flashlight, he picked up a carpet-knife. Was it his imagination, or did the Ferrari shudder...? Must be something that Mac was doing on the outside. Still: "I'll be gentle," he promised. "It's not my first car-topsy."
Just as he was wondering where to make his first incision - and whether it should be a 'Y', he thought, smirking - the mat in the passenger foot well caught his eye once more. With his free hand, he lifted it out of the way and laid it down on the concrete floor beside him. Then he reached back into the foot well. The knife hovered over the carpet. "I'll count to three," he whispered. "And I promise, you won't feel a thing..."
-xx-
"You did what?" Danny's jaw dropped. Nervously, Adam stepped back.
"We... we stripped it bare, okay? The drugs were everywhere, packed real thin. You know - under the carpet? Inside the seats and the ceiling, too. We cut it all open." He faltered. "Mac was pleased..."
"A 1988 Ferrari Testarossa? Adam. That's like slashing the Mona Lisa."
"But I don't understand," the lab tech protested. "We do this all the time - take cars and reduce them to nothing more than a pile of scrap metal. And... and nuts. And bolts. What about the 'Batmobile'? It was pretty amazing, right? But you guys stayed up all night and pulled it to pieces - I saw what you did."
"That was science," Danny corrected him. "This was a work of art. I'm in pain - I'm actually in pain. Just you wait till I tell Lindsay. Is it bad?"
"I'm not gonna lie to you," Adam said solemnly. "It's not good."
For a full minute, Danny continued to stare at him. Adam stared back, wide-eyed - until, suddenly, both men burst into peals of laughter.
"Kidding," Danny sang out. "Feel better? Get rid of all your frustration on the poor little innocent sports car, did you?"
"Much better - thanks for asking."
"Happy that you made me jealous?"
"Oh yeah."
"Want to come for lunch with me and my beloved wife?"
"What - so she can kick my ass for destroying a thing of beauty before you guys got to play with it too? No thanks." Adam grinned at his friend. "Besides, there's something else I need to do. Catch you later, okay?"
"Sure thing, buddy." Danny wheeled off, still shaking his head in mock-disbelief. Adam caught his muttered comment as it floated over his shoulder. "Too easy..."
"Thanks a lot," he yelled happily.
Man, it was good to be back.
-xx-
Lunch in the break room was a quiet affair. Adam took a laptop and settled in the corner, positioning the screen in a way that signalled his wish to be left alone for a while. He could have made use of the giant system in the AV lab, but it was busier than Grand Central Station in there right now - not to mention the fact that he was starving and food in the lab was a definite no-no. As he worked, he wolfed down a sandwich and then some of Elma's new batch of shortbread - or rather, his own. After scoring well in the tea-brewing challenge (eight out of ten, no less), Adam had finally wheedled his neighbour back into the kitchen with a sly request to learn some baking skills. Elma hadn't been able to resist, and the two of them had spent a happy evening together, making batch after wonky batch of golden biscuits. Baking was fun, he discovered, much to his surprise - kind of like a science experiment but with edible results.
Elma was also the subject of his private research. Sticking his flash drive into the laptop, he called up his favourite search engine and typed in the magic word: 'agoraphobia'. He spent a while skimming through different articles, slowing down whenever he caught sight of something interesting. "Five years," he murmured, as his eyes flicked up and down the screen, picking key phrases out of yards of waffle. He copied them carefully into a separate folder. Some of the facts, he already knew - the phobia's link to social situations, especially crowded, chaotic ones, and also its prevalence in women. What he longed to find more than anything else was a practical way to help his neighbour. A key that would open her prison door once and for all before she suffered the same fate as her husband. Eventually, he found the contact details for a local support group and a couple of doctors who specialised in cognitive therapy. That would have to do for now, he realised, catching sight of the time. His lunch break had extended way beyond an hour.
Adam saved his work hurriedly and removed the flash drive from its port before shutting down the laptop altogether. As he slipped off the stool, his aching body protested and he gave a tiny squeak. The car-topsy had been tremendous fun, but it had also crippled him. Sitting still for so long hadn't helped, either. Adam popped a pill and followed it down with a final piece of shortbread, crumpling up the empty foil and shoving it into his bag, along with the precious memory stick.
Anxious not to lose any more time, he wedged the laptop under his arm and scurried along to the locker room. Haste made him even clumsier than usual. As he struggled to cram the bulging messenger bag into his narrow locker, he lost his tenuous grip on the laptop. It tilted sideways, slipped from beneath his arm and dropped to the floor with a worrying 'crack'.
Uh-oh...
Adam gave a weary sigh and bent down to retrieve it. Standing up far too quickly, he caught his head on the corner of his locker door. For a moment, he saw stars. Then the door swung shut and he saw something else that made him doubt his senses even more.
"Oh my God," he whispered, shivering with fright. "That's not possible... How can that be possible?"
Scratched in the corner of the metal door, as small as a thumbnail and meant for no one else but him, was a single eye.
-xx-
A/N: Adam's mantra comes from the following sources: 'Dune' by Frank Herbert, 'Game of Thrones' by George R. R. Martin and, lastly, FDR's inaugural speech.
All information regarding the Ferrari Testarossa comes from Wikipedia, Google Images... and Top Gear.
The 'Batmobile' car-topsy mentioned by Adam takes place in "You Only Die Once" (Season 4).
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