A/N: Their norm is abnormal. Hugh does his best to navigate it all, though.

CHAPTER 02: WARD

Hugh watched his silent passenger from the corner of his eye, somewhat sheepish despite his just means to postpone picking up his undercover Cruiser. "Sorry about last night," he said. "I had already promised to put Tobi down and—"

"It's fine," Jezebel countered. "Not like the place would've been open for visitors anyway."

"Still. I didn't mean to seem short or—"

"I said it's fine."

"Damien—"

"Just drop it."

"Right." The detective exhaled as his fingers tapped the steering wheel in tandem with a pop song from the radio, but the consistent straightaway gave him little else to do until FDR Drive split into their needed exit. "So, when was the last time you saw your sister?"

"I already told you."

"Humor me. I brought the case files, too; make sure you're consistent."

Jez snorted. "You don't believe me?"

"It's literally my job to assume everyone is lying."

"I'm not."

"That's what my gut says, but for the sake of a biased-free investigation, I gotta go about this by-the-book."

"I came to you because you aren't so by-the-book."

"You saying I'm a bad cop?"

"I'm saying if the book hasn't helped yet, why'd I bother tracking you down to that cheap taco joint?"

Hugh left the steering wheel in the care of his stub arm to point at the honey-haired woman. "Insult Taco Joe's one more time, you'll be swimming across the river."

"Their tacos aren't even real," Jez said with a sneer.

"I can touch 'em. I can taste 'em. They're real."

"They're Americanized trash. You wanna taste a true taco? Use the recipe Mami made." Jezebel's tan face lit up with a smirk for all of two seconds before reality weighed her back down.

Hugh saw her sigh, running a hand through her pixie-cut hair as his attention returned to the stop-and-go traffic. "Hard to believe it's been almost two years since they passed, huh?"

Jez growled, although her voice was tender, "That's another reason I'm so worried. I don't want Mir to go through an anniversary without me."

"Wasn't the last anniversary what pushed her to stop seeing you?" A female host rambled from radio, but though she was the only noise, Hugh knew the Dominican passenger glared. "It's a legit question," he added, "and I need a legit answer."

"What difference does it make?"

"All the difference. You asked for this favor. Because of that, it'll be assumed that I comprised the whole thing with a conflict of interest."

"Like it matters. This won't go to court."

"But it's on my record. I already stuck my neck out to pull the files from archives. Doesn't it tell you something that Donna's replacement kept it hidden, even though you had asked her to put it on my desk?"

"Well, yeah."

Hugh sent Jez a cursory glance. "I think she was trying to keep me outta trouble. I should thank her, even though I'm also pissed it never made it to me. Come to think of it, why didn't you ever call? Not even a text."

"I filed the report the moment I found out she had left the Center. By then, she had been gone almost two weeks."

"You weren't notified?"

"She removed me as her personal contact." The Dominican sighed and took a moment to recollect her thoughts. "When I found out, I went to your precinct then began my own investigation."

"I take it you exhausted your resources."

"For a while, I was sure I could find her on my own. That's not the case anymore. She's gone off the grid. Like, she was released then walked into another dimension."

"At the rate New York's going, I wouldn't be surprised if an inter-dimensional wormhole showed up over the city and began sucking up buildings."

"Sounds like a movie."

"Our lives have turned into a movie."

"A shitty one." Jez scoffed—a cynical act. "The next anniversary is coming up. I wanna find her before then."

"And we come back to my other questions."

"My statements are in those files beside your seat. Or do your detective skills stop at your mouth?"

"If you don't want to go through this with me, we could always turn around and find another cop."

"No. I don't trust them. They're shady."

"I can be shady."

"Pfft, yeah, sure."

"I keep lots of secrets."

"Somehow, that doesn't make you shady. Obnoxious, not shady."

"Well, this 'obnoxious' detective wants to know when you last saw Miriam, and if the death anniversary pushed her to cut ties with you." The passenger groaned, and Hugh jerked the Cruiser when her seat fell back, and her sneakers hit the dash. "Easy! I've already had to fix that once."

"Last time I saw Mir was the first anniversary," Jez admitted. "I tried to talk to her, apologize. She...she wouldn't hear it."

"Damien told me you regret telling her the truth."

"I thought she deserved it. He convinced me she did."

"Now you wish you hadn't listened."

"What I wish is that I never joined the PDs. I wish I had stayed home and never been involved with—" The Dominican shuddered from her body to her voice, speaking breathlessly. "They killed my baby brother, Mami. Shot 'em. And Mir blames those turtles and me for what happened."

"You..." Hugh had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road as they eased passed a street light. "You were there?"

"Should've been. I left before it all happened, went drinking with D."

"Then you—"

Jezebel sneered. "Don't you dare defend me. I went to sleep that night convinced the gang was my family. And by the time I made a choice, realized what had happened, it was too late. Mir should blame me."

"Who are you trying to convince? Miriam or yourself?"

"I...I don't know. It's like I get why she hates me, but—"

"You don't want her to hate you. I understand."

"Right."

"Hey, I wasn't born a handsome six-foot-one law enforcer, ya know? I've done my share of stupid, regretful things. I've been selfish, hurt people."

"You didn't get them killed."

"You don't know that." The detective eyed Jez, daring her to refute. She didn't, so he focused on switching lanes to Exit 17. "I have a little sister, too," he added while following the curved ramp. "Taylor. I abandoned her for Mia and New York. Ebon, ugh, our dad, was a difficult person. Controlling, verbally abusive, dependant. Our mother couldn't handle it after he lost his job. She left. And he never even told us her name..." Head shaking, Hugh straightened the steering wheel as they approached the metal beams arched over Kennedy Bridge and braced himself for spontaneous brake lights. "We lived off his workman comp and disability because he couldn't fix cars anymore. That just sent him downhill, and I left Tay with the burden of caring for him."

"Damn, that was a shitty thing to do."

"Worse part is I never went back. Never called or emailed. I got sucked up in my troubles here and—" Wow; the more he thought about his afro-haired sister, the more Hugh felt like scum below the bridge beams. "Ebon died of a heart attack sometime this spring. Tay didn't call about it or invite me to the funeral. I only found out because of a whim. Just felt like checking Nashua news that day."

"You still haven't talked to her?"

"Tried. Before she cursed me out and hung up, she told me the only attendants at the funeral were Tay and Kelly."

"Kelly?"

"My niece, apparently. Eleven-years-old; no idea what she looks like."

"That's..."

"Go on, say it."

"Sad."

"Agreed." Hugh laughed, however morbidly, and smiled at Jezabel. "So you see why you're such an inspiration to me."

The Dominican snorted.

"It's true. You're searching for your sister, despite the odds, past, and fact that she could return to jail. We'll find her first, though, Jez. And before you know it, you'll be ready to take on law school again."

"I dunno about that. I ruined my record pretty badly."

"Hey, if Damien and Ken can survive the Academy, you can be a lawyer. I know I'll need your help later on. Now, let's go see what this doc has to say."

'What in Taco Joe's name made me think this was a good idea?' Hugh tapped his dress shoe repeatedly and sucked in a breath that he soon regretted. A thick clinical stench burned down his throat, which brought unwanted attention from others in the yellow-painted waiting room.

"Troubles?" Jezebel asked.

Hugh disregarded the onlookers and the Dominican. "Fine."

"You don't look it."

"I'm not a fan of medical facilities. Any kind, really. It was a challenge being there for Rina when Tobi was born...Don't tell her that."

"But you drove me here."

"Ya know, reading 'Manhattan Psychiatric Center' on paper and walking into a compound that looks to come out of a horror movie are two very different things. I've never even been to Wards Island before. It's like Alcatraz for crazies." The detective whispered his last words, just in case any of the people peppered around the duo was a future resident. "How much longer did he say he'd—"

"Mister Reese?"

Hugh twisted towards a reinforced door in one of the room's corners, where a petite nurse looked over the scarce crowd. "Detective Reese, actually," he said. "I'm here on business."

The nurse looked unimpressed and overworked. She waved for him to follow, and he couldn't help jumping at the crisp click when the door latched behind them. 'Relax, Hugh, this isn't the EPF. Breathe. Just not through your nose.'

"Hon, the appointment isn't with—" The nurse cut herself short with a sigh as Jezebel took the lead as if she had the route memorized. They walked down four different halls to an ajar door with a golden plaque screwed to it. Hugh hardly had time to read the engraved letters before the nurse ushered him into an office not much smaller than the waiting room yet better smelling. "Your ten o'clock, Doctor. Enjoy"

"Ah, Detective, come in," a matured voice added.

"This is some workplace," Hugh said. He studied the overflowing bookshelves and colorful tapestries hung between the windows as well as the knickknacks cluttering every available space on the doctor's colossal desk. He did this partly in the interest of the African decor and partly for clues of the kind of man he would be interviewing.

"It doubles as a house," the doctor told him. "I hardly go anywhere else. You understand."

Hugh's attention turned frontward to see a gray-haired African with downturned eyes and a well-trained grin, fixated in a leather seat that cradled his well-fed figure. "I'm not here for a session. Just answers."

The doctor laughed. "I don't need a session to know that much. Living at work basically came with our job descriptions, no?"

Well, he wasn't wrong, and Hugh half-smiled as he shook the man's large hand. "Detective Hugh Reese, NYPD."

"Doctor Mica Wells, Psy.D."

"So your door said. Sorry to barge in on such short notice."

Wells shook his head. "I expected this."

"You did?"

"Jezebel said she'd return with someone who'd make me talk."

Hugh eyed Jezebel. The Dominican had gone quiet at his side, maybe to reiterate that the detective led matters or due to a past argument. Either way, her glare let her opinion known, but Hugh postponed any chastising remarks to save face with the doctor.

"I'll tell you what I told her," Wells continued. "I won't comprise my doctor-patient confidentiality."

"His job is to find Mir," Jez said. "You have no choice."

Hugh pushed down the finger the Dominican pointed Wells' way then sat in a velvet chair he gestured to. "He can still uphold his promises and give us answers. Right, Doctor?"

Wells hummed—a dubious sound. "That depends on the questions, Detective."

"Nothing detailed. Give me the basics."

"Like?"

"How long did Miriam stay here?"

Jez brought her glare to Hugh as she took the second velvet seat. While the question was obvious, he was surprised the would-be lawyer didn't understand or care that it laid a foundation for future prodding.

Judging by Wells' controlled expression, he did, and he knew better than to dismiss the conversation so soon. "Miriam was admitted to this Center not long after her arrest in January last year. She was at first admitted to Lennox Hospital for extensive injuries due to torture by gangsters, and after a mental evaluation deemed psychologically inept. She wasn't pardoned from her kidnapping charges, though her claim to temporary insanity brought her to me. Her sentence was to taper off once she filled our criteria for release; ask Judge Felton."

"According to our records," Hugh flipped through the files he had forgotten he tucked into the back of his waistband, "Judge Felton said she could be released only under strict circumstances. She was to remain on house arrest , continue her therapy, and agree to spontaneous visits from her parole officer."

"Yes."

"But she never contacted you after leaving the Center, her parole officer hasn't seen her since he dropped her off at her new apartment, which she hasn't been in for months."

"Well, I don't really have control over that, do I, Detective?"

"She destroyed her ankle bracelet. Does that sound like someone 'reformed'?"

"Just what are you insinuating?" Doctor Wells kept smiling, even when his eyes narrowed into dark, angled slits behind his wrinkles. "I'm not in charge of my patients' actions; I only help."

"Does 'helping' mean excusing a young woman before she's ready?"

"She was ready. In accordance with my interview."

"She has a knack for manipulation," Jezebel interjected. "If you really spent all this time with her, you'd know that."

The black doctor sent her a look like he was laughing on the inside. "She was a miserable patient when she first came to me. Raving about mutant turtles, cyborgs, and gangsters, and how they ruined her life. That included you, Jezebel."

"I left the scene before—" Jez curled her hands on Wells' cluttered desk, and Hugh could tell it took all her willpower not to push over his statue collection at her corner.

"That lie you fed her—"

"It wasn't a lie!"

Wells' facade fell. "How could you do such a thing? The only family you have left in the world, and you added pressure to the stresser of your mother's and brother's death anniversary by spouting nonsense about vigilante mutants failing to save them. Why didn't you tell her you were the one at fault?"

"I..."

"You could've been there to stop them. You left. Turned your back."

The Dominican growled, fists shaking. "I didn't live at home anymore. I didn't know Mami was taking David out there!"

"Therein lies the issue."

"Okay, Doc." Hugh waved a hand between the two and forced a grin even though the tense atmosphere lingered. "We're here for facts, not an evaluation."

"Jezebel makes it easy," Doctor Wells said sorely. "Listen: I can't or won't say anything about what Miriam confided in me. I will tell you the root of her troubles leads back to Jezebel."

"Me?"

"You toyed with her emotional psyche for as long as she could remember. It only worsened over the years. She's vulnerable, a wounded young woman who deserves more than a cage. The way I see it, you should've been the one arrested and hauled to an institute. Mutants. Ha!"

Hugh heard Jez's sharp hiss in time to catch her fists. She struggled while they both stood from their velvet seats, making a strangled sound between a roar and sob as the detective whispered, "Don't make me put you in the Cruiser's backseat. Please."

The honey-haired woman conceded, and after a final glare at her nemesis, left in a huff to vent outside the office.

"See?" Wells asked. "Unstable."

"Doctor," Hugh faced the black man with as much composure as he could muster, "please leave her out of this equation."

"She's a big part of it. But fine."

"So what you just said will be your formal statement?"

"Yes."

"You have no clue where Miriam could've gone? No idea she planned to run?"

"Not reporting such intent would be an infraction against my reputation. That said..." The doctor leaned forward, elbows on the table and short tie dangling from his dress shirt. "I'm not surprised she wanted to disappear. I can't blame her, either."

"So it's not in your interest to help us find her?"

"Of course it is; she's still my patient."

"Missing patient."

Wells leaned back in his leather seat, which squeaked with his weight. "Fact remains that I don't know where she is. Sorry, Detective, you'll have to take your investigation elsewhere."

Hugh drew in a slow breath. Thankfully, the office reeked of Lavender instead of antiseptics, although the scent did little to ease the tension in his muscles.

"Thank you for your time, Doctor Wells," he said. "We'll be in contact."

That was a promise, and the black men forewent a handshake; it was obvious neither wanted to touch the other and Hugh met Jezebel in the hall with an exaggerated sigh.

"I'm going to need a taco pick-me-up when we get out of this hell hole," he grumbled.

"Stonewalled, huh?" Jez asked, upper lip curled.

"Not quite. While he may not be directly involved, it goes unsaid that he sensed she might pull something like this."

"That's what I've been trying to tell people."

"Don't worry, Jez. We have other resources."