On my Watch
Part IV
The evening drew near and, with it, the fading sunrays were failing to penetrate the layers of a cloud upon another in hope to reach for the distressed city. Soon, another day would be laid to waste once dusk banished the reddening sun and heavy night descended to claim the drowning town as its own. Same as in any work place, everyone was rushing what he/she was doing, driven by the naïve hope that, soon, they would be free to go home to enjoy a long-awaited weekend – everyone but not Let. Carter Blake.
Long since he had finished his report on the closing investigation of the Origami Killer's case, Blake sat unable to stop thinking about the last time he saw Agent Norman Jayden of the FBI. Back then, something about the young man seemed odd and out of context. An aura of purpose and determination was wrapping his exit of the station and Blake doubted that it was summoned to handle a trivial task such as packing and leaving. His cop instinct told him that the man's last walk was towards something of a greater importance; great enough to render him detached from the hectic world of the police station that should've engulfed his senses.
Blake reasoned that the FBI profiler might be trying to contact his superior in DC in hope to turn the table on the local police and get his way with the investigation. However and considering the agent's early recklessness and solo attempts to pursue whatever leads he believed related to the Origami Killer, he might be up to another act of sheer recklessness. Truth to be told, the young cop seemed to stumble upon a murderer and a victim in both occasions he went on alone to investigate. In the junkyard, there was the hulking cop-murderer that, unbelievably, a green and spindly Norman Jayden managed to take down. While in the loud club, there was the mysteriously slaughtered owner of the Blue Lagoon and the black-clad man that vanished into darkness.
Blake knew that even if he dropped the idea now and left home, he won't be able to shake it off once alone trying to sleep – unfinished ideas have the habit to buzz around his head and disturb the silence of his bedroom. Determined to rid himself of the persistent thought, he requested the primary investigation reports of both incidents Jayden was involved in during his lone hunt for the Origami Killer. He went through them but got disappointed when he didn't find any statement for the younger cop. It must've been too early to get one, he rationalized and continued his thorough inspection of available findings.
Poor as they were, two details got his attention and convinced him that Jayden was truly after some valid leads. One was the fact that Jackson Neville was a suspect of stealing a car identified as the one the killer was driving when he kidnapped his late victim. Another was the existence of Madison Paige's fingerprints in Paco's office – the nosy reporter that was staying next door to Mars in the motel which he took refuge in before the unsuccessful police raid. He remembered how she hovered in the background when he was giving the order to commence the raid. He also found her appearance similar to that of the girl who entered the apartment in Marble Street and was believed to smuggle Mars out. Yet, he wasn't sure if she was the same person considering the distance that separated his car from the hooded female biker. Regardless, he found her stay at the same motel and her lingering in the Blue Lagoon, along with their profiler, beyond a coincidence.
On the light of this new discovery, one thought poked his mental nerve resulting in few unpleasant facial twitches. A junkie FBI agent along with a snooping reporter were chasing leads the he, the lieutenant in charge of the Origami Killer investigation, was ought to chase instead of typing some empty report. He felt insulted that two kids were, likely, doing some real police work while he was busy doing that of a clerk. True, they might be wide of the mark and off to realize some hollow theories. Nevertheless, they were working while he sat giving orders to patrols to find Ethan Mars. Well, he could keep hunting Mars but, in the meantime, he would check on the pipsqueak agent just to ensure that he is not getting credit for something he – a real cop – is more eligible for. Plus, he would be doing his work making sure that naïve hero-wannabes don't get hurt and run crying to real cops once troubles were onto them.
A stirring to his right warned him that his buddy Ash was ready to call it a day and go home. Immediately, he stood up, snatching both his jacket and coat before going over to his friend's desk. "You are not leaving yet," he announced to the puzzled cop who was perplexed enough only to reply, "Huh?" Seeing the look on his coworker's face, Blake rushed an explanation, "Listen, I need to check something. A gut feeling tells me the FBI brat is up to something and like hell I'm letting him stick his nose where it doesn't belong." Ash's only response to Blake's vague babbling was, "What are you talking about," but the lieutenant only added to his vagueness when he answered, "I am not sure, but I need you to locate him fast. Check his hotel. If he isn't there, notify every patrol to look for him and call me once you got a tip." The preoccupied lieutenant didn't wait for his colleague to accept the overtime assignment and exited the station quickly. Though ignorant of the reason behind the given task, Blake was sure Ash would do as he was told since they both share enough trust to operate on without requiring reason to drive the act. Such code of trust was a natural outcome of a relation that bonded both men over the years of danger and life-risking in the police force.
Above the waste crusher, there he stood ears deaf to the roaring sky but not to the echoing cries of a dying man at his last extremity – a man that he denied a helping hand to spare him a horrific death that could have claimed him, himself, if the events unfolded differently. Was it the early physical struggle or the current emotional one that left his chest too tight to allow most need oxygen into his raw lungs? He didn't know, and his awestricken mind didn't bother; same as when he slid down to sit on the platform after his legs refused to waste little resolve left standing. Unaware, behind him his arms tangled their selves with the metal bars of fear that they could meet the same fate as those of the man who was, not a minute ago, standing all tough and mighty.
Though groggy with the painful hyperventilation that, as rushed as it was, failed to get him any sustaining air, Jayden's hysterical eyes didn't blink to allow the bloodied blades out of sight. His mind was highjacked with horror that intensified every time lightening struck to decorate the spinning cruncher with glistening red. Amidst of the frenzy that entrapped his mind, a whisper of lost sense reached out for him and warned that it could be fatal to lose consciousness on this height. Acknowledging the anonymous forewarning, he tried to control his breathing but he failed miserably.
When his jaded will failed to rise to the occasion, Jayden separated his right arm from the reassuring embrace of the metal bars and sent it on a search quest to retrieve the chemical sedative. In drastic times, he always counted on the reasonless drug to take over his mind and lead him back to the shore of sanity. His vision was a blur and he knew that he couldn't relay on its offered illusions. Fortunately, the assuring sensation of the cold vile in his grip was real enough to have him act without the lost guidance of his eyes. A short sniff was followed by a couple of longer ones before relief surged through his veins, placing him back in control of his ravaged nerve system. Relaxed, his arm fell to his side, freeing the vile to roll away, before he drifted above a dreamy cloud of tranquility and peace.
His intoxicated clarity drew a smile of relief on his parted lips that already had ceased their feverish trembling. It whispered soothing promises of safety now that his victim's cries were hushed at last by the descending silence. From where he was on his soaring haven, his smile took a more sincere shade when he remembered how the kid had survived drowning slowly for days before he stumbled upon him in the warehouse. He felt a sense of fulfillment that he never experienced in a very long time – neither on a personal level nor on a professional one. Suddenly, he was proud of himself and how he succeeded in bringing down the Origami Killer, even if it was in a violent and gruesome manner. True, he refused to save a child killer but it was alright – primitive justice yet justice nevertheless. Triptocine assured him of the legitimacy of his newly acquired sense of justice, freeing him of the last shred of guilt evoked by Shelby's death cries. Liberated from the heavy shackles of remorse and doubt, he rested his head on the metal bar behind, locking vacant eyes with the dark clouds that tended to his bruised face with heavenly rain.
Earlier when he left the station in a blind rush, Blake didn't have a clear plan to follow and was only driven by the fact that he was falling behind a lesser man, or a stoner to be precise. Once he was in his car, he lost a minute bullying the stirring wheel while thinking of an alternative destination. According to Ash who just called him, Jayden wasn't in his hotel and never been there since early morning. With no idea of the whereabouts of the FBI profiler, the veteran cop hated to sit there doing nothing while waiting for further information. Leaving Jayden aside for now, he addressed his other target, Madison Paige, who was kind enough to bless him with a destination to target. Immediately, he turned the key, bringing life to the car engine, before he exited the police station parking lot.
Though he drove recklessly as usual, the anxious man found it hard to keep himself and others safe from his dashing car. It was in such time that Blake abused his authority and turned the flashing siren on to fend away other drivers with the forged urgency. As expected, civilized drivers acknowledged the fake plea and allowed him to dominate the road with his wild ride. Now that he had to worry less about controlling the speeding vehicle, he found himself wondering what Jayden was doing now. Not knowing where the other man was drove him mad since it left him with little control over the situation. Naturally for Blake, he mentally lashed at Ash for taking this long and leaving him in the dark like this.
Ash was spared the mental lashing when the rushed car came to a sudden stop at the motel parking space. Abandoning his car immediately, the lieutenant sought the motel receptionist for the room number of the unaware guest. Once obtained, he crossed the motel yard in long strides, swiftly stabbing unlucky water puddles that happened to be in his path. He made a quick work of climbing the stairs and reaching the reporter's room. Once confronted by the bold door, he bombarded it with thunderous knocks that, seconds later, lost their momentum to a single kick. Clearly, this kick proved more intimidating for the wooden panel as it flew open in a glimpse, allowing its performer a way into the dark room.
Blake felt frustration seething within him when he didn't find the snooping report who was, likely, snooping around somewhere else. He hated leaving empty handed so he allowed himself the freedom to look around the room which failed to catch his interest whatsoever. In the middle of the hushed place, he calculated his next move but found himself out of options except for looking for Ms. Paige in her permanent residence. For the lack of a better thing to do at the moment, he exited the room caring less to close its door since he was busy retrieving the ringing cell phone from his pocket. The thrill of the fight set his heart ablaze when the screen displayed the caller identity of his buddy at the station. He pushed the answer button while his legs made their way down the stairs and back to his car.
Luckily, the motel wasn't that far from the address Ash mentioned when he called earlier to tip him off about Jayden's location. His friend and partner informed him, enthusiastically, that the agent had called reporting the successful rescue of Shaun Mars who was found imprisoned somewhere in the old docks at Theodor Roosevelt Road. Though relieved that an innocent kid was saved from a psycho killer, the self-centered Blake cursed his luck for being late in catching up with Norman. Yet, it was better to arrive late than not to arrive at all and leave the smug FBI brat to enjoy unspoiled moment of glory and triumph. So he went there and there he was trying to remember the warehouse number but dropped the effort when he saw a lone car in front one of the buildings.
Blake didn't recognize the car as Norman's but being the only one there was enough to have it dominate his interest. This attraction lasted for a while between the two but it broke off when a smaller body caught his attention in the opposite side and caused him to abandon his vehicle at once. Upon approaching the wandering figure, he recognized the disoriented kid as Shaun Mars and rushed towards him. Lowering himself to the boy's level once he reached him, Blake asked genuinely, "Are you alright, kid?" His voice was tender, giving the paleness of the unfocused boy in front. The man was relieved greatly to hear the tired confirmation coming from the small lips that barely parted.
Assured of Shaun's wellbeing, Blake lifted the kid and carried him back to his car to shelter him from the heavy rain. He felt proud that he was able to act nice around the distressed boy considering his awful record in this particular department. "Stay here. The police are on their way," he addressed the occupant of the passenger seat who seemed to get the message clear. Just to feel less guilty about leaving the traumatized boy behind, he followed with an inquiry, "Are you going to be alright?" To his relief, he got an assuring node from the drained child.
Ready to leave and look for his fellow cop, Blake's attention was drawn back to Shaun when he spoke, "Where is the other cop? He went after that cop." Incoherent as he sounded, Blake pressed the kid to elaborate, "What are you talking about," and the boy answered slowly, "The cop who pulled me from the tank went chasing the one who took me from the park the other day." Feeling his patience wearying thin with the speaker's sluggish tone; which would have put him to sleep if the rain wasn't a constant alert, Blake decided to look for both cops – one real and the other imaginary . . . he presumed.
Ignorant of the layout of the old docks, Blake was fuming with irritation as he wondered around in circles. He tried calling Jayden's cell phone but there was no answer causing him to, gladly, curse the absent man to no end. Palms long since turned into itching fists, he continued his aimless search for both cops that Shaun spoke of earlier. Suddenly, his pointless exploration was interrupted by the smell of blood that, ominously, sneaked at him from under that of the soaking rain. Following his nose, he found himself approaching a noisy machinery that he later came to recognize as a metal crusher. When he came close enough to the rotating blades, the smell of blood intensified, assaulting his nostrils with a, familiarly, stinging odor. The flash of lightening that followed revealed the expected red gore, with it the fact that the chase Shaun spoke of had came to an ugly end.
For a fleeting moment, Blake stood there while his mind sustained all its current activities. No matter how many deaths he came upon, the fact that a human life had ended never got easy to accept since it always reminded him of his own mortality. Aside from Shaun and him, one of the other two had met a bloody end in this Godforsaken place. He didn't want to guess and wouldn't have dared to; not until he was reminded of the fact that the agent didn't answer his phone earlier. Instantly, he pulled his gun out, feeling threatened by the fact that the Origami Killer was, likely, still at large. He knew that he should give up the dangerous search and get back to the spared boy, just in case the killer still had him on mind.
Feet away from the murderous device, an out-of-place sparkling caught Blake's eye and, sensing its familiarity, he went to investigate. He didn't understand his action considering the dangerous circumstances that surrounded him, but he felt compelled to seek out the dimming glow. What was he hoping to find? He didn't know as he was acting on sheer impulse of hope. Kneeling besides the glass shards, Blake recognized the shattered object with the weird plug – the last relic of someone he knew. He figured that wherever this weird container was found, the agent was bound to be found as well. Involuntary, he dared a side glance at the roaring machine and, as if he was trying to imagine the early events that stained the rainy air with the metallic scent, he found himself looking above, tracing falling objects up to their source.
Aside from discarded junks falling down to be mauled beyond recognition, Blake didn't expect to see anything else; not alone someone atop of this deadly mechanism. He drew his eyebrows in confusion as he focused his sight on the still body above, which was positioned awkwardly on the metal platform. Further inspection, enlightened by a brief flash of lightning, confirmed that Norman was above the crusher, just inches away from a conveyer belt that was feeding the beast below all kind of objects. Unaware, Blake released a long-trapped breath – an action that sent waves of relief throughout his uptight nerve system. Feeling early threat had decimated, the ready gun eased in his grip and relaxation washed over his feature before a thin smile of relief claimed his lips.
Reflecting on the situation but from an angle of annoyance, Blake admitted that addicts never ceased to amaze him with their absurdity – the scene above was no exception. Here he was looking for a fellow cop thought to be dead but, apparently, he was just enjoying the bliss of another drug intake. So much for a moment of glory, he mocked the transcending man.
It was hard to comprehend how a man capable of such heroic deed as saving the life of a child would abandon him in favor of a lowly pleasure. It was a paradox in human nature brought forth by something as irrational as addiction. Blake felt disgusted observing this act of self-degradation, so he decided to avenge himself, and Shaun alongside the road. Right away, he started climbing the adjacent ladder while determined to give the man drifting above a piece of his mind
Once at the top of the ladder, Blake halted when he noticed that Jayden wasn't moving, despite the loud rattle that his feet were causing. No one in his right mind would relax on such height, he thought but was a junkie considered right in the head? He pulled himself up on the platform to see Jayden half sprawled on its opposite twin. He couldn't see his face because his head was falling backward. The scene got him worrying that the younger man might be drifting away in an entirely different world. "Hey, Jayden," he called but no answer came from the drenched body across, so he extended a hand to shake him off as he shouted again, "Jayden!" Luckily, the young profiler responded, stirring before he dragged his head lazily from where it was cast behind.
It took Jayden's eyes a minute to focus before he spoke casually, "I told you Mars is not the Origami Killer." Early concern vanished when Blake felt his intelligence being insulted, causing him to snap, "And who is the killer," before he dragged on venomously, "You didn't let him get away, did you, Norman?" Though he knew the answer, Blake couldn't resist the teaser. Jayden reply answer struck Blake as plain weird, sending his early annoyance to the back of his mind, "Whoever owns 852, but I doubt that you can get a positive ID on him since he took a ride down there," he gestured cynically with his chin towards the crusher underneath – a dark expression over his face.
In front of an apathetic Jayden, Blake felt that something was out of place. He must be extra high, he justified with anger pushing itself back to the front of his mind. "How much did you sniff, Norman," he questioned the blessed man with a ridiculing tone underlining his disgust. He heard him answering shamelessly, "Just a little to bear the smell," and upon that, early irritation diminished.
Seeing the distant look on Norman's face, Blake was reminded of the incident in Nathanial's apartment. He took a moment eyeing the distant man blankly before a deep sigh found its way out. He found himself extending a hand towards the other man while ordering in a tired tone, "Com'n, Norman. We have to get down. I doubt you've any idea where you are but it is not safe, trust me." When neither verbal nor physical response came, the lieutenant realized that the agent was deaf to the words that he'd just spoken. Realizing his failure, he tried another approach to convince the inattentive man to abandon this high ground, "Shaun is down there alone since those lazy assholes didn't arrive yet." Sensing the success of this approach, he saw the ghost of a smile on the younger face that hinted a feeling akin to content.
Jayden seemed to rationalize gradually as he replied, "Alright, but I can climb down alone. I am not a complete stone, you know." Soon, he stood up slowly leaning on the metal bars for support. Presented by this scene in front, Blake didn't help but throw a comment, "Watch out if you don't want to follow the Origami Killer." Though sarcastic, the remark still underlined a sincere concern, but the tone suddenly shifted to that of an irritated mockery when the older man added, "Or would you rather follow your happy drug." Hearing the mention of the illegal material, Jayden's mind cleared in alert and he sent his eyes darting in their search for the vile of Tripticain that he'd just used. His futile search was stopped when the opposite man uttered with boredom, "Don't bother. It fell down there." Hearing that, the FBI agent finally understood the early sarcasm and couldn't help smiling indifferently.
The younger's goofy smile seemed to get on Blake's nerves, driving him to spit his next question, "What are you so happy about? Fantasizing about your next sniff?" Although the rough cop was evidently aggressive, Jayden didn't lose his smile, even if it wore a tired shade when he questioned back, "Why so angry, Carter?" The agent felt the lieutenant's eye twitch with rising anger, and he hoped that the older wouldn't lose it and get physical at this dangerous setting. To defuse the situation, he added in a playfully tone, "Com'n Carter, can't you humor a junkie!" Luckily, Blake anger lowered its level when Jayden heard him reply, "No, cause I hate them. They are worthless wusses who should roll over and die."
Heavy silence descended on the two in their standoff; each on his claimed platform. Gradually, Jayden shed off his early smile in favor of wearing a serious expression that was, later, supported by a serious tone. "You know Carter, I could be standing where you're now, I could be preaching the same preach, but would that make any different?" He paused allowing a sinister smirk to materialize before he concluded, "I don't think so."
Blake felt irritated at the beginning but the feeling shifted to that of disgust once he was faced by the quitter's attitude. Giving up on the man opposite to him, he ridiculed with disinterest, "Keep believing that, Norman, and you'll always be the pansy druggie you are." With that, Blake turned around, hinting the end of this awkward exchange, before he addressed their current situation, "Com'n, I'll go first so I can catch your stony ass if you fall." He didn't wait for any kind of acknowledgment from the addressee and started his descent. The older man could have sworn that younger muttered something like "You wish" but he didn't pursue the idea when he saw Jayden coming down the ladder.
Blake was the first to reach the bottom of the ladder, followed by Jayden who, fortunately, didn't require any assistance while descending. Once connected with solid ground, the agent seemed to avoid eye-contact with his companion, before he got absorbed in marching towards the center of the yard. His steps faltered when he saw Shaun observing them from behind the watery glass where he was seated in Blake's car. Under the innocent gaze that brightened with the reclaimed sense of safety, Jayden realized that he was no hero and never would be. How could an addict be one if he preferred selfish ecstasy over comforting a cold and frightened child?
Jayden felt little self-worth left go down the drain when Shaun smiled at him while waving a small hand from beyond the separating glass. He never saw himself as a true hypocrite, not until an innocent being was that object of his outrageous hypocrisy. Faced by the ugly truth of his own self, he averted his gaze only to meet that of Blake who was observing him in icy silence; which soon melted when he remarked, "You look as if you've seen a ghost, did you?" Jayden rushed an answer that he only realized its stupidity later, "No," before he explained more rationally, "I feel tired. I'll go to the hotel." With that, he sought his car in the distant without glancing backward.
Jayden was still close enough to hear Blake's voice through the hammering rain when he shouted, "You should let the paramedics have a look at your cuts. They aren't that far. I could hear their sirens." The senior cop found this nice gesture of concern an alien one but felt bound to give considering the ghostly whiteness that Jayden acquired when he saw the smiling boy. At first he felt little sympathy to the man since he was just reaping the fruits of guilty seeds that he'd sowed earlier. Yet, a repentant is ought to be forgiven; unlike persisting sinners.
Jayden paused his movement feeling touched by the sudden tender signal that, though camouflaged with disinterest, was still kind enough. He smiled tiredly and turned around to shout back, "I'll be fine," he paused for a second, as if he was weighting his next statement, but carried on, "Thank you, Carter. Regardless of our differences, I appreciate it." A moment of unspoken acknowledgment followed before Jayden turned around and continued his walk towards the car.
Blake stood for a moment observing the other man getting in his vehicle before he put it into motion and drove away from the complex. He didn't really know how to feel about the troubled profiler so he tried to summarize all emotions summoned by the younger man since his arrival. There was dislike at first that evolved later into irritation then anger, before it settled on belittling the other man and discrediting everything he stood , what he had achieved tonight changed the why the lieutenant viewed him but not that drastically. It added some value to the annoying FBI brat but Blake's judgmental streak would always portrait him as the junkie that he was. No matter what Jayden did, he was a mere addict that could, at any moment, sink low beyond salvage.
Exhaling for the night, Blake admitted the truth so clearly that he even announced it to the witnessing rain, "What a waste." With this confession that confirmed the futility of the situation, he found himself watching Shaun warmly. He couldn't help but speak to the baffled kid who didn't seem to understand what this was all about, "Grow up to be a better man otherwise it will be another waste of good asset." He chuckled upon hearing his own rude remark but he didn't even scold himself for the inconsiderate act. Inconsiderate was his nature, and who he was to defy Mother Nature.
A/N: This story was designed to reflect Jayden's addiction from Blake's POV throughout the course of the investigation. Blake wasn't expected to act as the savior for a man that he only knew for days. As for Jayden and considering his age, his addiction problem needs more than one push of a button to solve it. That's why I feel that "On my Watch" has come to a proper end at this point. Feel free to agree or disagree.
While drafting the ending, I wrote a light and flexible epilog that could stand alone as a one-shot. Do you think I should post it here or as a sequel for the story?
In the end, thank you for the support. I wouldn't have committed if it weren't for you guys ^_^
Bye!