Chapter Two
Going from work to his car, and again from his car to his apartment soaked Peter's clothes for the second time in one day. By the time he unlocked the front door, he thought he was nearly frozen and almost dead on his feet. He stripped down to his underwear, then crawled into his bed and pulled an extra comforter over him.
Two breaths later, he was out.
It was nearly evening, several hours later, when he awoke screaming from a frightening dream. Cold sweat covered him as the last remnants of the nightmare faded away and he finally realized his father was holding him tightly in his comforting arms.
"Pop? What are you – never mind, I don't want to know how or why. I'm just glad you're here," Peter said as he melted into his father's embrace.
"You are trembling, my son. I felt a disturbance within your spirit. By the time I arrived, you were screaming in your dream, trying to fight with someone... "
Peter's ragged breath caught in his chest as he pulled away, his eyes focusing on a distant, elusive memory. "Yeah, I kind of remember it now. I was fighting to the death with... somebody. I'm just glad it was just a dream, because it seemed like whoever I was fighting, we weren't gonna stop until one of us was dead."
Peter's shivers increased and his father pulled an additional comforter from the bedroom closet and wrapped it around his shoulders.
"You are cold and weak. I shall prepare some tea that will help to warm and strengthen you. Wait here." His father stood and walked out of the darkened room.
Peter reached over and switched on the night stand lamp, then pulled the comforter closer to him as remnants of the dream replayed in his mind. The clothing and speech of the people in his dream seemed to be from another place and time – maybe around the turn of the century? Then again, the entire scene had a familiar feel to it, as if the strange attire was the proper thing to wear. Maybe if his head wasn't aching so, he could make more sense out of his blasted dream.
But it wasn't just his head. His heart was still pumping at a furious pace and his breathing came much too fast. Worse, he couldn't shake the chill that enveloped him.
He swallowed hard. 'Maybe I'm coming down with Blake's cold. He was out for a few days when he first came down with it. Ah, damn it, that must be it.'
Yet, Peter was more deeply disturbed by the confusing nature of his dream than by his physical discomforts. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was some hidden meaning – something which he should be able to discern if he only focused hard enough.
Fragments of conversations and thoughts that weren't associated with any part of Peter rattled around inside his head, increasing the severity of his headache. There was a persistent notion that those fragments did belong to him, but that he should recognize them as his, almost as if he had once possessed the memories and emotions of two very different men at war for control within him at the same time.
Deciding he didn't want to think about it anymore, Peter went to stand, but found himself lying face first in the plush tan carpeting of his bedroom a moment later. His father entered the room with a tray containing Peter's tea among other things, just as Peter fell. Setting the tray atop the dresser, he rushed to help Peter.
"Geez, that was embarrassing, " Peter muttered as his father helped him settle back onto the bed and covered him with his blankets and the added comforter. His father pulled more bedding from the closet shelf and piled it atop Peter as he continued to shiver.
Caine stopped and smiled. "This reminds me of times when you were sick as a young boy," he said softly, then he went to retrieve the tray he had left on the oak dresser.
His father carefully brought the cup of steaming tea to his son's lips – only to be stopped in mid-motion by Peter. Taking the proffered cup from his father's hand, Peter said, "Pop, I may have two left feet at the moment, but I think I can handle one small cup of tea."
Peter glanced up to see his father staring at his trembling hands and he tried to still the trembling as he brought the cup of tea to his lips to drink. Lightning lit up the early evening skies outside, only to be followed by a tremendous clap of thunder. As the rain pelted Peter's bedroom window, the warming tea felt all the better going down his throat, especially knowing he didn't have to be out in that nasty weather at that moment.
"I also brought some soup, crackers, and fruit for you, my son. You should take better – "
Peter cut him off. "I'm not hungry right now, Pop – the tea is enough. Thanks, anyway."
The thought of food made Peter want to run for the bathroom. Geez, maybe he was coming down with the flu. Neither man said anything for a long while as Peter continued to sip his tea, but he did feel stronger with each passing minute.
Finally, Caine broke the silence by asking, "Are you ready to talk about what happened to cause you such weakness, Peter?"
Peter pursed his lips together as he brought the cup up again for another sip, then paused. He stared into his father's dark hazel eyes, and for a moment, he was ready to try and pass along everything that he was feeling – his unvoiced concerns, the overwhelming sense of panic, and deep confusion he had regarding what had happened earlier that morning – then Peter pulled away abruptly as he often did when dealing with something he didn't understand.
"It was nothing," he whispered. "I just passed out. I think I'm coming down with the flu or something."
His father listened and brought his hand to rest atop Peter's forehead, as if to check for fever. Peter shrugged away from him automatically, knowing his father wouldn't find an elevated temperature. His anger only grew knowing his father had already come to that conclusion before he went through the motions of placating his son.
Peter sat up straighter and put out a hand in warning. "Don't, Pop! Don't baby me! Hell, I'm not some kid trying to get out of school for the day! I'm tired, I have a headache, I'm cold, and I just wanna sleep! So, stop it!"
His father pulled back the hand he'd touched to Peter's forehead and clasped it into a fist before allowing it to drop into his lap. Peter licked his lips. Maybe his father would finally get the message he wasn't ready to talk yet.
"Perhaps it would be best if I left you to rest," his father said softly, "I will check on you again tomorrow. Hopefully, you will be in a better mood to discuss your experiences from this morning."
He stood and turned to leave.
"Pop?" Peter heard a hushed, little boy tone to his voice as he suddenly regretted his harsh words.
His father swiveled back and Peter's downcast gaze slowly rose to meet his.
"I'm sorry – really, I am. I'm just tired. Look, I'll stop by after work tomorrow and we can talk about it then. Okay? I'll bring takeout for dinner. Thanks for stopping by."
His father smiled before bowing, then he left the apartment. Peter leaned back against his pillow and pulled his blankets tighter around him. Now, if only he could mend things as easily with his body as he'd just done with his father.
oOoOoOoOo
Kermit wandered around the newly discovered basement sub-level with the typical attention than he gave to a crime scene. The construction crew had left after being told the police would have to investigate, so the crews packed up their equipment and set it to one side of the basement after posting signs that warned the area was dangerous and to stay away from the gaping opening in its floor. Yeah, that took a genius to figure out.
The police department's forensics team had already been down to collect evidence and take crime scene photographs. Nicky Elder, from the coroner's office, had also been through and bagged the separate remains of the two skeletons, carting them upstairs for a closer examination.
Kermit had lingered after everyone else left, wanting a closer examination of the area without the irritation of outside interruptions. After walking around the cavern a few times, he felt himself strangely drawn back to the distant brick wall. His hands drew along the roughness of the bricks themselves, which seemed to pulse with an eerie sense of familiarity before he jerked them away in surprised shock.
Kermit shivered. When he released the deep breath he'd unknowingly been holding, he saw a big puff of vapor accompanying his exhalation. 'When did it get so frigging cold in here? he thought, puzzled by the abrupt change in temperature.
He glimpsed movement out of the corner of one eye and spun the flashlight in his hand around to sweep the area, then he chided himself for being so easily spooked.
Eventually, the air temperature seemed to warm. After another fruitless search of the area took up the better part of an hour, Kermit used the same climbing equipment to emerge from the newly created hole in the ground. Kermit decided to put the more bizarre aspects of the morning's mystery out of his mind, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the mystery was far from being resolved.
oOoOoOoOo
Mary Margaret walked into the women's restroom to reapply her lipstick before leaving for stakeout duty. She was still concerned about how badly both Peter and Jody had looked when they'd left for home earlier that morning. She decided to call them both later to check on them, then chuckled to herself. 'I'm starting to sound like the resident den mother here.'
She shook her head and applied her lipstick, then ran her fingers through her hair. She stopped when she smelled the overwhelming scent of roses. Turning her head to confirm the aroma, something caught her eye. She pivoted slowly and saw a hazy image floating in front of the restroom window.
Intrigued, she stepped forward, sure that there was some type of optical illusion causing the apparition. The image was too hazy to discern a shape from it, but it was definitely there. She gathered her courage and swept an extended hand through it, only to have the phantasm simply evaporate into nothing, taking the heady scent of roses along with it.
Mary Margaret started to run from the bathroom to call for help, then stopped herself.
"What the hell are you going to tell the guys when they ask you what you saw?" she asked herself incredulously, then decided to keep the incident to herself.
She didn't need the type of endless ribbing they'd give her in response.
oOoOoOoOo
Strenlich entered his office and closed the door behind him for a few minutes of well-deserved peace and quiet. He picked up a couple of files, plopped his feet up on his desk and leaned back in his chair, intending to get comfortable before digging into a lengthy session of reports.
Frank was deep into one report when he shivered. Sensing all was not right, his head popped up and he looked around. "Is the heating on the fritz now? Great, that's just what we need in the middle of the worst storm system of the decade!" he grumbled as he glanced out the window in his office.
It was dark enough outside to mistake the time of day for early evening, instead of early afternoon. "Better give maintenance a call," he muttered with disdain, "Those construction bozos probably did something to screw up the works. "
He went to reach for the telephone when the blinds on his office window rattled. It was cold, sure, but there was no breeze that he could feel circulating in the small office to cause that to occur. As he watched, it happened again. This time, he was certain the rattling hadn't come from any wind.
"What the hell?" he exclaimed as he rose from his seat, only to watch the blinds lower themselves on their own volition. Frank had seen many unusual sights in his lifetime, but never anything like that.
Small puffs of vapor formed with his rapid exhalations, causing him to realize the room temperature had dropped even more. He swept his hand around the cord to the blinds looking for some type of remote control device and found none.
"Blake – this has to be Blake's doing!" he said aloud.
A young woman's giggle filled the air, along with the scent of roses.
"Enough is enough!" Frank shouted and flung open the door to his office with sufficient force to cause heads to turn in his direction.
"Whoever's playing stupid Halloween tricks around here, better stop them right now if they want to continue working in this city!" he bellowed, then slammed his door shut.
He was sure there were some heads shaking in confusion, but it didn't matter. He had to get his point across and he didn't want to waste time explaining himself.
The cold had left his office after his outburst, but the scent of roses lingered a bit longer.
He tried to regain the same level of concentration he had moments beforehand, but it was pointless. This latest incident, along with the morning's worries about Powell and Caine kept disrupting his train of thought. Finally, he gave up and left to perform more mundane duties like collecting his mail and checking on the status of active investigations.
oOoOoOoOo
Blake was working on a new configuration for a miniaturized listening device that had come to him during lunch. He wanted to try it out before he left to relieve Skalany on a stakeout in a few hours.
After laying out the necessary components on his desk, he reached for his trademark cup of coffee, but the cup wasn't where Blake thought he'd left it. When he looked up, he found the missing cup sitting on the other side of his desk.
"What?" he asked quietly, puzzled that he could have been so far off.
He quickly glanced around the bullpen to see if anyone had been watching him, but the room was strangely vacant. Everyone was either off on assignment or at home sick. Relieved, he went to retrieve his cup, but he was shocked to discover the porcelain cup was ice cold.
Blake simply stared at the frosty mug in his hand for a long moment before glancing at his watch to make sure he hadn't zoned out and lost a big chunk of time, but only minutes had passed since he returned from lunch and poured his cup of hot coffee.
Holding the chilled cup in his hands, he realized the air around him had grown cold, too.
"Crazy weather," he finally muttered as he went to refill his cup with hot coffee and left it at that.
oOoOoOoOo
Karen Simms reached over to grab her telephone and punched in Kermit Griffin's extension number, "Kermit, would you please come into my office for a moment?" she asked and thought she heard Griffin grunt something in the way of an affirmative response.
As she went to replace the handset, she knocked a couple of files off the edge of her desk. Cursing softly, she knelt to retrieve the errant files with her back to the door.
When she heard the office door open and close, she spoke without turning around, "Be with you in just a second, Kermit, I've made a bit of a mess here."
Kermit could be enigmatic at times, but he was usually enough of a gentleman to offer to help in situations such as this. If nothing else, he typically replied when spoken to. Encountering unexpected silence, Karen began to turn to see what was going on with him when a strong chill in the air made her stop and shudder.
She was certain she sensed the presence of another person in the room, though she hadn't seen or heard them yet. Apparently, it was someone other than Kermit Griffin.
"Who's there?" she asked sternly, irritated that someone would enter her office unannounced.
Without warning, the lights in her office went out. Now, she was just plain mad. These were juvenile tricks to play. Someone was due for a royal reaming. When she spun around, Karen was shocked to find herself alone in the room, even though she was sure someone had been in there with her.
She slowly scanned the room, eventually winding up by the door. That was when she felt a cold hand brush against her back. Karen automatically reached for her weapon as she turned, raising it in self-defense, prepared to fire the gun if necessary.
Instead of a silent assailant or jokester, all she had was empty air to face her. Cold empty air. She jumped back in shock and confusion, her back hitting the closed door to her office hard enough to rattle the blinds on the windows.
Karen heard Kermit knock on the door behind her, making her jump again.
"Kermit?" she cried out with more panic in her voice than the tough, no-nonsense captain normally allowed.
Without turning around and still keeping her back to the door so she could watch for any potential attack, she reached back with her free hand and tried to twist the doorknob, but it refused to move in the slightest.
Karen heard Kermit's voice take on a more urgent tone and she was very glad to know that Kermit was also aware she was in trouble. With Kermit's stubborn nature, Karen was sure she wouldn't be alone for long.
The door knob jerked roughly as Kermit tried to jar it loose. "Captain? Can you hear me?"
"Yes, Kermit, I hear you, but something's frozen the door mechanism. It's not locked, but it won't open and... "
"And what?" Kermit sounded confused and more than a little concerned.
Karen thought she heard a soft voice calling out the name. She turned her head to hear more clearly. "Abigail?"
"Captain? Captain Simms, answer me!" Kermit demanded, the worry in his voice growing with each second of her silence.
"I'm okay. Just hold on a second..."
Then, she heard it again, only stronger this time. "Must... find... Abigail."
The male voice was clearer as he said more than just a name, but still it was only slightly louder than a rustling of leaves in a forest on a breezy day.
Karen's eyes tried to focus in the darkened office and she stepped closer in the direction of the mysterious voice when she suddenly gasped aloud. There was a dark mass floating beside her window, almost in the shape and size of a man, but transparent in nature.
Curiosity compelled her to move forward, but as she neared the figure, she heard the voice beg her, "Please... find... Abigail... "
And then the figure vanished. In the same instant, the lights in her office came back on in glaring brightness. Karen wrapped her arms folded around herself, wondering what the hell had just happened.
She still had no answers a split second later when the door inexplicably released its death lock and Kermit came barreling into the room, caught off guard by the opening door. He cursed loudly as he rolled over on the carpeting, then looked up into Karen's troubled eyes as she stared back at him, unable to move.
Kermit must have sensed her shock, because he scrambled to his feet and took hold of her arms.
"What the hell was going on in here?" he asked, concerned.
Karen shook her head. She was still trembling and had no answers. Finally, she shook her head and sighed. "I wish to hell I knew."
oOoOoOoOo
Chapter 2