Chapter 8
I am so sorry for not updating last week. I was out of town and without wi fi and I had a writer's block for this, but Choking, the fic I wrote a few days ago helped me out of it. Anyway, to answer the question of Snowleopard0 =, yes. You all really should stop expecting happy things, I've written like 2 overall happy things, and the rest is horrible angst. Once again, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, faved and followed, and I'm sorry for not writing this sooner, and I hope you enjoy this chapter
-X-
It's been about three years since Danny came to stay. I'm in my freshman year of college. I applied to Harvard, Yale, Stanford, and a few private colleges in Canada. I was accepted to all of them, but I decided on Harvard. They have a decent psychology program.
Danny was sad to see me go, but I visit every time I can, and call every day. Danny is in an education program, and he's in the equivalent of fifth grade- he skipped a few years ahead.
Mom has been cold towards Danny ever since that argument, not that he notices or cares. She loves him, I'm sure, but she doesn't show it at all. Sometimes she stares at him with this blank look on her face. No one can tell what she's thinking, but her pupils dilate and her breathing gets really quiet. Implying that she is interested in Danny for some reason. Almost like she's hunting him.
Dad has been even more loving to Danny since the fight. I guess he's trying to make up for Mom. He calls Danny son, while Mom calls him 'Daniel', most of the time. Danny doesn't really like that name much, it reminds him of the Facility, but he doesn't complain.
They aren't sleeping in the same room anymore.
Dad took the guest bedroom and Mom stayed in the master bedroom. They don't do it in front of me, but I know they fight.
It isn't even about anything important. It's just- "Jack, you left the goddamn toilet seat up again."
"Oh, sorry Mads, I'll go put it down."
"Don't bother, Jack. It's already down."
"You don't have to be snippy, it's just a toilet."
"I have every right to be snippy, Jack Fenton."
Stupid, little things like that. I hear them through the walls sometimes. A blowout is coming.
All of my books say that it's fights like these that are the kindling to a full blown divorce.
I used to not be able to picture my parents even frowning at each other during the regular year- not just Christmas- but now, the prospect of a divorce really seems likely.
As soon as I can, I'm bringing Danny with me. I need to get him out of there. It's toxic and he's still healing. He still has night terrors. All of them are because of Vlad and the Facility.
I trudged through the light, powdery snow, heading back to my dorm. The sun lazily falls behind the trees and buildings behind me, stretching the shadows and setting the sky on fire. My breath puffs out in front of me, and the snow beneath my feet crunches with each step.
I've been seeing white vans driving around lately. I normally wouldn't think anything of it, but they had black license plates and the drivers were usually bald, wearing starched white suits and unnecessary sunglasses.
Just like the people who tried to take Danny away.
The van is very close to me. Uncomfortably close, in fact. I pull out my key ring and prep the pepper spray dangling from it.
I'm tackled from behind. I twisted around in the agent's grip and sprayed him, and he let go. The other agent, a severe looking woman grabbed my keys, threw them on the ground by the other agent, and grabbed my wrists, pulling them behind my back.
Before I know it, I'm being handcuffed against the van and mirandized by the two agents.
I'm shoved into the back of the van and thrown against the back wall when it tore out of the campus.
-X-
I have been in this tiny little cell for over six hours and I think I'm going to explode.
They didn't end up taking me anywhere really horrible, like the Facility, or some weird government torture chamber. I'm in a police station.
They just threw me in this cell for hours without any explanation, and none of the cops will talk to me.
So I waited, pacing back and forth in the cell. The bars were painted a sick looking foam green and the floor was plain gray cement, chipped and worn. In the corner was a tin bench, in the other corner, a small metal pot-like thing sticking out of the wall, presumably a toilet. The sink next to it was yellow and mildewy the faucet was rusted and leaked about eighteen drops a minute. I counted.
Another hour later, the agent who cuffed me came to escort me out of my cell and into an interrogation room.
The walls were plain gray, a height scale on the wall behind me and a one-sided mirror in front of me. The table was flimsy and collapsable. The Agent frowned at me.
"I'm Agent R. You are Jasmine Fenton, correct?"
"Haversham. Jasmine Haversham."
"No. You're Jasmine Fenton and three years ago you aided in the release of the dangerous experiment known as subject 80-11. Not only that, but you again aided in it's evasion of authorities."
I sat back against the chair, feigning a confused look.
This woman had the audacity to say 'it'. She doesn't consider Danny a person, let alone sentient. 'It' is a pronoun that is applied when the object is inanimate, 'it' is not something you apply to a seventeen year old boy. I held back a sneer and gave her the best acting I've ever done.
"What?"
"Fenton, you helped 80-11 escape. It is a dangerous entity, and it endangers the whole planet with it's freedom. Tell me where it is, and I'll let you out of here right now."
"I'm Jasmine Haversham. I don't know what an 80-11 is, and I don't know any Jasmine Fentons."
"Stop lying, Fenton. It'll only make this harder."
"I'm not lying. I don't even know anyone named Fenton, let alone me. Look, Lady-"
"Agent."
"-I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. So just uncuff me and let me go. You've got the wrong person."
"I'm pretty certain I don't. I've got photos."
She reached behind her back and pulled out a manila folder. She emptied out the folder and turned all the photos over.
All of them were me. Some of them with Danny, most not.
"This-" She said, pointing to a picture. "-is Jasmine Fenton, three years ago. This-" pointing to another, "is you. Taken four days ago. Isn't there a little resemblance?"
I glared at her.
"Which ones are me?"
"All of them." she sneered.
"No. Not all of them. That's not me, and neither is that. But what I want to know is how you got all of these pictures of me without a warrant. You need a warrant to take pictures of anyone and use them as evidence. This is illegal."
R frowned at me and opened her mouth to say something before I cut her off.
"I'm not in Harvard for nothing." I smirked at her furious expression and held up my wrists. She glared daggers at me and grudgingly, unlocked the handcuffs.
Once free, I rubbed my wrists and smiled. "So, am I free to go?"
"Yes. But we'll be watching." I rolled my eyes and walked towards the door.
"Oh, and I should tell you. Getting arrested by my organization- the GIW- is a- let's call it a federal thing."
I turned back and looked at her. Her face had gone from furious to smug.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, good luck finding a job with that stain on your record." she smiled cruelly and walked out of the door in front of me, a bounce in her step.
I stood there shocked.
Being arrested by the GIW is a federal affair. A federal affair in which the laws for arrest are different than regular ones.
A federal affair where I get a permanent stain on my record because I rescued a lab experiment.
A permanent stain that will haunt me until I die.
Nobody hires federal felons.
I'm going to be homeless.
I won't be able to get a job because of the arrest, I won't be able to get a house because of the arrest, I won't be able to take Danny away from Mom and Dad because of my homelessness, Danny will be stuck in that toxic environment until he gets his GED. I'll have huge student loans to pay off, but nothing to pay with.
What have I done?