*wrings hands* Ah, gomenesai, everyone! *wailing* Yes! I know I PROMISED to update faster but. . . .blergh! Things. . .happened. . .things like me getting really caught up in my other fic which is a Yami no Matsuei story called "End of the Worlds" coz it's getting to a really good part and yes, it is a blatant, major HINT for you to go and read it and praise my genius more and more so please forgive me. . .*sniff*. . .forgiven??? By the way, the sentences underlined and bold in this paragraph are actually subliminal messages designed to influence your subconscious to go and read my other stories.
But I understand if you don't read Yami no Matsuei. . . .XD
Note 1: To the readers, please be aware that this is my first time writing a police story. I have had absolutely no experience with the genre since fantasy is more of my forte. So any police procedure thingy, policies, etc, are all the product of my mind, culled and gleaned together from whatever police shows I watched and what you read is the end result. Eh, let's all just pretend that it's correct, ne? ^__^;;;
Note 2: Er. . . .I also took the liberty of assuming that Dee is 26 years old. 'Coz I don't know his real age and I have no time to search. Heh.
Skippy, Jay, Blue Sakura, Ashura, Kiarene, Akurei, a_a2002, DK Adeena: Thanks very much ^__^
Jexia: Look! More breadcrumbs!
Sherry Marie: It's always a pleasure to give in to the demands of "I want more!"
Quatorze: Mmm, I get kinda finicky too about the stories that I wanna read. I sincerely hope this story will continue to enthrall you
Natascha: Wow, thank you! Sorry it took me so long to update but here ya go ^__^
Ians_Koibito: *is shaking her computer and screaming* Look! Look! It's an Update! Oh my god! I updated! *peers out of her window* Oh my god! I can see pigs flying!!! *grins*
Warning: Erm. . . .stuff. Another cliffhanger but there you go. What would life be without one?
Disclaimer: I claim no responsibility. None. It's not my fault.
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Chapter 7
If You Can't Remember, It Doesn't Count
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Consciousness came as a slow morphing of the void behind his eyelids.
As he felt himself returning slowly to awareness, he was aware of feeling terribly heavy, as though weighted down and his movement felt constricted.
Dee didn't like the feeling. He was a man who valued personal freedom above all else. To be weighted down like this, to not be able to move freely, chafed him like a steel handcuff must have chaffed those countless criminals he himself had deprived of personal freedom. He didn't like having the same feeling visited back upon him.
. . . . . .shit. . . .was his rather eloquent testament to what he was currently feeling. A headache was pounding merrily away somewhere at the back of his head, on top of the general feeling of wretchedness that seeped into every pore of him.
Did I drink too much last night? He wondered. He didn't recall going to a bar, nor did he recall diving into the liquor collection he and Ryo kept at home. Besides, he doubted Ryo would have let him in the first place. The man did not like drinking when Bikky was in the house. So if it's not a hangover, then what?
He decided to chance opening his eyes and face the consequences of whatever happened head-on. I'm a man, hear me roar, he thought wryly.
Even his eyelids felt a thousand pounds heavier. Nevertheless, he persisted, forcing gummed eyelids open and blinking back tears as a light, though dim, pierced his vision. Everything was sort of blurry, faint fuzzy edges to the outlines. Dee felt a frown creasing his forehead.
A movement to his side alerted him. Turning his head slightly, he saw a light, sandy brown head resting on the mattress just by his elbow. Two more people were standing by the foot of his bed, talking in soft whispers. The light brown hair he was immediately aware of being Ryo. It was just that sort of thing, you know. The people by his foot though. . .
He squinted, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes and frowned harder.
"Commissioner?" he called out in a puzzled croak. "What are you doing in our bedroom? Don't you think you're taking it too far?"
The fine blond hair whipped back as Rose turned around in sharp surprise. For a minute there, Dee could have sworn that relief crossed the commissioner's face before it was quickly replaced by the customary slight smirk he wore around Dee.
"Detective," he said by way of greeting. "Nice to see you finally joining us. And no, we're not in your bedroom."
"We're not?" Dee asked faintly. He shook his head and instantly regretted it. The shaking had increased his headache by a hundred decibels at least. When the world finally ceased spinning against the natural order, Dee took a good look at his surroundings.
Bare, institutional white walls. Drab blinds covering the windows. A glass-fronted wall opposite his bed which had a straight view to a counter manned by a woman in a white uniform. Beeping machines by his side. Tubes poking into his arms. Really ugly white gown he was currently wearing.
"I'm in the hospital?" Dee ventured. He still sounded like Kermit the Frog.
"Yes, Detective Laytner," a doctor by the looks of it spoke up. It was the other guy who was talking to Rose earlier. "My name is Dr. Wyle. I'm your attending doctor for now."
"Did my fever came back last night or something? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I was sleeping in my own bed last night."
Rose and Dr. Wyle exchanged glances. One was troubled while the other was speculative.
"You didn't remember anything at all from last night?" Dr. Wyle said delicately.
"Well I wouldn't be saying so if I did would I?" Dee was starting to feel a bit crabby. Here he was, in a hospital, in a godawful gown, a headache pounding his poor head, his throat a parched desert and his doctor wanted to play 20 Questions with him.
"Behave yourself Laytner," Rose said mildly and proved that the world had gone down the metaphorical rabbit hole when he went to his side and picked up the water jug on the bedside table. He poured some water into a plastic cup and thanks to a very surprised and bewildered Dee, managed to help him lift his head a little and drank down the entire contents of the cup.
"Slowly now," he murmured as Dee choked slightly on the cool water. "That's it."
Dee was still in shock as Rose helped him lie back down, smoothed his blankets and took an empty chair by his side.
"What on earth is going on?" Dee declared and accidentally jostled the still sleeping Ryo. "Oops, sorry babe. You okay?"
Sleepy brown eyes stared at him for a full ten seconds in total incomprehensibility before realization sank in. Dee couldn't help the little yelp of surprise as Ryo shot straight up and immediately engulfed him in a tight hug.
"Oh my God! You're awake! Finally! Do you realize how worried I was? And Bikky! And Cal! Everyone! You idiot!"
Dee blinked. Rose politely repressed a snicker. Dr. Wyle smiled.
"Er. . .sorry?" he offered and patted Ryo's back. At the movement, a stinging pain laced through his wrist and Dee winced. "Ow. . that hurts."
"Oh, sorry," Ryp blushed and quickly released him, opting instead to sit back down. Dee meanwhile, was staring apprehensively at his bandaged left wrist.
"Ryo," he said slowly. "What happened last night?" He was still staring at the bandages.
At this, Ryo fidgeted uncomfortably and shot the doctor and Rose a nervous look. Each man shrugged slightly and kept silent. It's your call, their looks said.
"You don't remember?" Ryo asked softly.
Dee was really starting to get crabby now. "That's what I've been saying over and over. I don't. Now tell me what happened."
When Ryo spoke next, it was in a quiet voice that hinted at extreme self-control, as though to speak in a louder voice would mean him totally losing whatever composure he had. So in a vaguely monologue voice, Ryo told him what happened.
"It was around three in the morning. I woke up suddenly and you were gone. I got worried so I started looking for you. I thought you had gone down to the store to get a cigarette but your coat was still hanging. You weren't anywhere in the apartment. The last place I searched for you was our bathroom and. . ."
"And what?" Dee asked impatiently. He tired to hide the faint stirrings of unease that had started to roil in his stomach. At the back of his mind, he seemed to recall a voice. . .a shard of. . . .memory?
"I found you on the floor. Sitting in a pool of your own blood. You slashed your wrist." Ryo's voice was hammered flat.
It took a while for that surprising revelation to sink in and Dee stared at Ryo for a long, silent minute.
"That is not a funny joke Ryo," Dee said faintly.
"It's not," Ryo shook his head as tears glistened in his eyes. "Bikky found us when I was trying to stop the bleeding and he called the ambulance."
Without bothering to insist that Ryo ceased joking, Dee raised his hand and before anyone could stop him, tore the bandages open. There was only so far you could take a joke before it became tasteless and crude after all.
A long, welted line, purplish with clotted blood that ran the span of his wrist. Neat stitches of black thread closed the gaping wound tightly, leaving the impression that his hand had been attached to his arm, rather than the perfect whole it was yesterday afternoon. It was throbbing as he looked at it and even stung a little when he prodded it with a disbelieving finger.
"So it wasn't a joke?" his voice sounded pitifully thin and lost suddenly.
"No," Ryo answered him, biting his lip.
"It really happened?"
". . . .yes. ."
"I tried to kill myself?"
A long silence greeted him when he asked that and Dee looked up, a wild look in his eyes. "Did I?" he demanded.
"We were hoping you could tell us instead Laytner," Rose answered him gently. "I know you and I know that you're not that kind of person," he gestured at the stitched wrist. "But. . .what happened?"
Dee shifted blank grey eyes back to the livid wound that still refused to go away despite how many times he blinked and wished it to. A distant corner of his mind wondered if he clicked his heels together three times he would wake up and this would all be a bad dream.
"Detective?"
Dee gave a faint shake of the head and cradled his left hand close to him.
Bewildered, Dee answered him. "I don't remember."
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Ted paced the hallway nervously, his shoes clicking against the polished, tiled floor in an agitated staccato. Once in a while, he would swat the thick file he was holding against his thigh absently while checking his watch every 2 minutes. It was already late evening and he had been waiting for the Commissioner for nearly half an hour. Drake had come by with the boggling news of Dee's apparent attempted suicide early this morning but he had only managed to swing by the hospital just now.
He had had errands to run first.
Ted swore softly under his breath and finally slumped into a chair. Rose had been at the hospital the whole day, accompanying Ryo while Dee was subjected to a battery of tests. He himself had called the commissioner during lunch, asking for his permission to look through some classified files. What he found was what made him pace the hallway earlier. God, he hated being the bearer of bad news.
"Detective?" Rose's strong, deep timbre cut through his musings and Ted looked up in surprise. So lost was he in his reflections that he had failed to notice the man coming up to him.
"Sir." Ted nodded and stood up hurriedly. "How's Laytner doing sir?"
Rose sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in a tired gesture. His hair was starting to look disheveled, a novel occurrence, and Ted had to bit back a smile at how more humanly approachable Rose was like that. He wondered if Rose realized.
"Other than the obvious, Laytner is doing fine."
"Did he. . ." Ted hesitated. "Did he really try to kill himself?"
Rose gave a bare shrug. "We don't know. He said he couldn't remember what happened last night. The doctor doesn't think he's faking it but can't say for sure what's wrong anyway. . ."
"Are you going to call in Internal Affairs sir?"
"I have to think about it," Rose took off his glasses and shoved them in the breast pocket of his suit irritably. "I don't like involving IA with my boys. We may have to do a psych evaluation with the department's psychiatrist first. We'll take it from there."
Ted nodded silently.
"You called earlier wanting my permission to look through classified files. You have a lead on the case?"
Ted hesitated again and finally, nodded. "I found something in one of the old case files I was looking through, the ones that haven't been computerized yet and. . ."
"And what Detective?" Rose said impatiently. "As much as I like your company, I'm pretty tired. Get to the point."
Ted sighed and offered his boss an apologetic look. "I think we have to sit down somewhere private for this discussion sir."
Rose stared at him, taking in the all too evident seriousness and swore inelegantly. "Can't it wait?" though there was very little hope in his words.
"I don't think we have time to wait sir," Ted said gravely.
Rose's mouth was a pinched line and his eyes had darkened. He looked suddenly older under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital and Ted felt a twinge of guilt for adding on to the stress that marked the commissioner's face.
"Very well. Follow me."
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'Dumbfounded' was an understatement. 'Shocked' was still too mild. 'Blown over' didn't quite have the ring he was looking for. 'Stunned' still didn't quite cut it.
"Well fuck me to kingdom come," Rose managed and that seemed pretty accurate to what he was feeling.
Ted gave him a commiserating smile. "I know how you feel sir."
". . . . .and he hasn't been caught?"
"No sir."
". . . . shit."
"I can't put it more elegantly than that sir."
". . . . . .of all the flying fuck to hit the fan, this shit has to come down on us?!"
". . . . .er. . ."
"Never mind, don't answer that," Rose threw his hands up in disgust, nearly sending the thick file flying and with amazing dexterity, Ted caught it with a nimble jump. "Oh, sorry Detective."
"I understand sir."
Both Rose and Ted sank into their seats a little bit lower, misery and confusion having found company. From the corner of his eye, Ted gave the commissioner another once over. He had been doing that a lot recently.
Rose had taken the new information as well as he did, though that really didn't surprise Ted in the least. After all, Rose wasn't the kind of man to go to pieces at the least provocation. He was the kind of man who took setbacks and blows in his stride, evaluate his options coolly and do what was needed. Privately, Ted suspected that Rose did the 'falling to pieces' bit in the sanctity of his own home. No one could be that cool after all. But still, Rose seemed to be losing some of that cool now. Not that he blamed the man.
"Are you sure about this Ted?"
Ted was startled out of his musings by the commissioner's casual use of his name. Rose had never done that before with him. They had always been on a 'Detective' and 'Sir'-name basis.
"Yes, I'm positive. . .sir," he finished awkwardly.
"Well. . . . . .fuck." Rose slumped lower and rubbed his hands tiredly over his face. He had barely gotten any sleep last night thanks to the mayor whining in his ear, only to be woken up at 5 a.m. to be told that one of his detectives may or may not have tried to kill himself, was stuck in the hospital from morning to night with no rest whatsoever and now. . .now this.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck."
Ted was starting to reconsider his earlier assessment of the commissioner's coping ability.
"What do we do now sir?"
Rose sighed and stood up, Ted quickly following suit. Taking out his glasses and perching them back on his nose, Rose took the file and smiled wearily at Ted.
"I want you to go home, get some rest and come back here with me tomorrow morning," Rose instructed him. "Don't talk to anyone about this yet. I'm going to sleep on it myself and tomorrow we'll have a talk with Maclean since he is one of the officers in charge. I should have some ideas by tomorrow on what to do."
"And if you don't sir?" Ted asked softly.
For a long moment, they stared at each other silently, for once, the barriers between a superior officer and his detective dropped. They both knew the implications of what the file contained. It could very well mean dragging the entire station into something that had first only been a simple serial killing into something much worse.
"If I don't Ted. . . ." again using the familiarity, Rose went on hesitantly, "if I don't. . .I don't know," he admitted painfully.
Ted smiled crookedly and offered Rose his coat. "C'mon sir, I'll buy you a cup of coffee first. I'm sure we could use a break."
Rose sighed. "We all could use a break." Nevertheless, he smiled and the both of them walked out companiably together. "And you can call me Berkley."
"Okay. . .Berkley. . .feels weird though."
"You'll get better with practice."
"I sure hope so."
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to be continued
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A/N: Can it be??? Is Ted actually getting it on with Rose? Will sparks fly between the two?? Oh my. ^__^
Eh, I need help. Can anyone give me a physical description (hair color, eyes, height, etc) of the other detectives? Rose, Ted, Drake, JJ and whatnot? I have no idea how the guys look like *sweatdrop*. Help me?