The Sandman's Playground

PART 1

Jill was having an unusually hard time driving as she steered her car through the congested streets of Chinatown. It was one of those bleak days during early summer that was bright, almost too bright, and yet somehow oppressive. A disconcerting chill seemed to lie waiting behind hours of the day that hadn't yet come to pass. Every face around her seemed sullen, and nearly every set of eyes were fixed downward, most likely trying to escape the harsh glare of the completely overcast sky.

It wasn't the weather conditions or they mood they instilled in this community that was making her so distracted, though. Leon hadn't come in or called work after his two days off. Not only that, but no one had been able to get a hold of the one person who might know where he was, or find him if he didn't. The chief had sent her here to look for either one of them, too tied up with thirteen dozen other things to go there himself.

At an intersection light, she reached out to work the search button on her car stereo with the hope of finding a little music that might dispel the dreariness. For some reason, the only selection number that was actually playing something besides commercials or talk-segments, was to a Latin-pop station. To her annoyance, it sounded like nothing more than the same short fragment of tune repeating over and over with only a slight change in word arrangement. It just seemed to magnify the feeling of tenseness around and within her.

A familiar flicker of colored light was suddenly caught by everything that could reflect it, and drew her attention in the direction it seem to come from. Down the street on her left was a rather large crowd gathered, with at least three marked police cars at the heart of it, parked with lights flashing and the officers either on two way radios or trying to control the curious mob. Instead of continuing towards the pet shop, Jill turned and headed for the scene. She found a place to park on the outskirts of the crowd and made her way to the center of the disturbance.

Without being aware of it, she had been hoping there was someone injured too badly to be moved by anyone other than paramedics. That would mean there was hope. Unfortunately, she caught the recognizable form of a human covered by a blanket that one of the uniformed officers had in their car.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you can't—"

"Detective Freshney, Homocide," she interrupted, and held up her badge for him to examine.

The officer nodded and told his coworkers over his two-way radio that she was one of them.

She crouched down and tried to shield the victim's head with her body from the crowd's hungrily curious eyes. Without a second thought, she reached for the end of the blanket at the head and lifted it over to reveal the body's face. If she hadn't instantly frozen in shock, she would have jumped back with a scream.

PART 2

It was late evening now. Traffic was noticeably lighter throughout the city, and almost nonexistent past the invisible border into Chinatown.

Jill had been focusing her mind as much as possible on her driving, trying to block the image of Leon's lifeless form staring up at an ash-gray sky. It wasn't working though. Every time that the car's path didn't demand her full attention, she would see him again. For some morbid reason that she couldn't put a finger on, it felt as if she needed to hold on to what he had looked like then, no matter how much it tore at her emotionally. Perhaps it was it was because it was the only way she could keep him from being alone in the last moment of his life, even though...

A sob threatened to burst from her throat, so she pushed her thoughts into gripping the steering wheel and seeing what was actually outside of the windshield. It wasn't safe to drive and cry helplessly at the same time. And Jill had to get to the pet shop, now, knowing that Count D would understand and forgive her for arriving at such an hour. She could let herself break down after she was there.

PART 3

T-Chan's purring had been unexpected in itself, but it had somehow driven away Leon's dread of falling asleep. Count D had cleared the parlor table in almost complete silence and then gone to bed. Now, Leon was laying with his upper body on the sofa, and his legs still hanging over the side from the knee down. T-Chan was nestled against Leon's right thigh. They would have been sleeping like that for just over an hour. T-Chan had woken up shortly after Count D had retired for the evening, however. He'd wandered about the shop's passageways until meeting up with Ten-Chan, but then returned to his spot next to the sleeping detective and to sleep as well.

Leon's mobile phone began letting out an electronic burring from the back pocket of his jeans. Since his backside was pressed into the cushioned back of the sofa, the sound was muffled enough for it not to wake him.

T-Chan's hearing was a lot keener than the human's and the sound drilled into his consciousness, causing him to open his eyes to see what the disturbance was. Once his mind had cleared a bit, he realized what the noise was from. "Orcot…you're butt's ringing." He grumbled at the sleeping detective.

"Mph?" was Leon's prompt response.

The phone blurted again, and Leon still didn't register it.

"Hey, Leon—your ass is going off! Make it shut up!" T-Chan spoke a little more loudly.

"Mmmm—" Leon groaned in protest. "—nor it…ll'go'way…" he mumbled.

T-Chan blinked, wondering if Leon had really heard what he had just said, or if he was just talking to him the way humans did with animals even though they didn't have the slightest clue what was being said. "That never worked for me," he complained sarcastically.

One of Leon's eyebrows seemed to move upward on his forehead, and a slight sneer appeared on one side of his mouth. "—s'cause yer s'fucking kyoo'n fuffy…"

"Oh-ho--dude…I should take that ass of yours off just for thinking about saying that."

"Hmm—yeah…pro'b'by. Nnnnnnngh—can y'wait'ill later…please?" Leon pleaded tiredly, but with actual sincerity in his voice.

T-Chan let his head back down on his arm. "Hmph. Okay…you're off the hook this time…just this time."

"Hmmm—" Leon hummed a sigh of relief, and a soft smile of contentment settled on his face. "Me and my ass thank you." He let out a soft huff of a laugh, and smirked ever so slightly.

"Yeah-yeah-yeah," T-Chan feigned annoyance. "I told you, I just want your ass t'shut up."

"Mm? 'already did, dude…you're the one still going off." Leon's voice was smug, but pleasantly playful.

T-Chan stared at Leon, not really sure what to think. "Hmph," he finally replied and settled back down to return to sleep.

"You okay?" Leon's question jolted the returning silence.

T-Chan lifted his head, wondering why Leon was asking him that. "Hunh?"

"Mm—thought I squeezed too hard…'fraid I hurt ya." Leon admitted a bit reluctantly.

It took a moment for T-Chan to figure out what Leon was talking about, and then remembered when he'd felt Leon's fingers grip him hard at the base of his spine. "Uh-hunh-unh…felt great. Can't hurt me…except with your stupid jokes."

"Hmph," Leon let out another amused huff. " 'should have a little r'spect for those stupid jokes of mine--they keep people from missin' me when'm not around…" He smirked slightly, maybe a little sadly, and seemed to give himself back up to sleep.

T-Chan was use to the hair on the back of his neck standing up when the detective was around. What made this time so suddenly different? He moved his head just enough to see the human's face, feeling a seriously weird sort of worry. "What about you?" He asked cautiously, wondering why Leon seemed to be understanding him, and why he wasn't acting 'freaked out' about it.

"Mm?" Leon raised an eyebrow again, but left his eyelids shut.

"You okay?" He wasn't sure why he was wondering that so much right now. Leon had acted tense after coming here from work before. It just seemed 'thicker' than it ever had.

Leon's shoulder twitched slightly. "Mm…be fine…guess." His voice seemed to have a slight catch in it.

T-Chan's spine tingled unpleasantly. Something in Leon's voice was definitely…disturbing. "What's wrong?" He tried to ask in the way Count D had asked him whenever he was in a foul mood.

"Mmmm…" Leon's shoulder twitched again, like he was trying to shrug off the subject, but then he seemed to change his mind. "Do'know'f ma'ers anymore…"

T-Chan stiffened, and looked even harder at Leon's face. "Don't know if what matters anymore?"

Leon took a deep breath, "Hmm--anything…everything…s'many things…s'fucked up…n'me…not sure why bother ge'ing up sometimes…" He seemed to deflate with his answer.

T-Chan watched him for a moment, trying to decide if he still wanted revenge for having his freedom…limited. "I do," he finally announced.

Leon's brow wrinkled slightly. "Mm? Yeah? Why?" he asked a bit reluctantly.

T-Chan stayed silent for a few seconds, eyes glittering merrily. "…s'cause I'm s'fuckin kyoo'n fuffy."

Both of Leon's eyebrows flicked upwards, then settled back down as he smiled again. "…s'gotta be it…" he agreed with a pleased murmur.

"Damn straight." T-Chan settled back down, sensing that Leon was more at ease now. He closed his eyes. "…n' don't forget it." He said smugly.

Leon smirked, more genuinely relaxed again. "Hm—deal…" his last word little more than a whisper.

PART 4

Leon's car was parked where it usually was when he'd come to Chinatown to see Count D. Jill pulled up into the empty spot next to it, and then sat staring at it once she'd turned off the engine to her car. Overwhelming emotion threatened to break through the smothering blanket of dullness that she'd allowed to wrap around herself.

She'd made fun of his car, told him in teasing that he'd probably start 'getting some action,' that he kept complaining about wanting, if he'd just get something that looked even a little bit newer.

She felt a dangerous twinge, remembering him referring to his car, surprisingly, with the archaic title of Ol' Bessy. He'd defended her with the fact that he could keep her running, all by himself, so long as he had a wrench, some duct tape, and a little love.

The old junker seemed painfully beautiful now. How could she have even thought about telling him to get something that would have added him to all the other cookie-cutter-car owners? She had, though, and the realization sent another, more painful twinge through her. She'd rationalized that it was because she worried his car would break down at the worst possible time. A newer car would be more reliable.

Bullshit, Jill. How many times had she found herself forced to surrender her own personal transportation, her hard earned money, and her time to 'professionals' to fix the with-the-times electronic shit in her car?

Leon, on the other hand, had been able to smugly boast that he'd never had a problem with his 'piece of junk'…that he hadn't been able to fix himself. And to think of all the times she'd mentally called him and idiot.

How many things had she taken for granted about him, or wished he'd changed, or even nagged him about changing? How many times had she bugged him…about getting rid of things, including things about himself, that kept him from being just another cookie-cutter-cop, like she was becoming?"

Damn it, Jill! You've already been through this before. Leon almost died from getting himself shot, was even expected to die. He shouldn't have even survived, from what the doctors had said. That should have been enough to be prepared…

She cut the end of that thought off by loosening her grip from the steering wheel to unlock the door and push it open, then sliding herself from off of the driver's seat to stand outside of her car. Her eyes stayed fixed on Leon's car, taking in the way that it seemed like an actual part of Leon, a living part.

Detective Jill Freshney forced herself to look away from Leon's…vehicle, and begin walking to the entrance of Count D's pet shop. She expected to be more composed by the time she made it to the shop's entrance, but she felt even more on the verge of losing the grip on her feelings. Her hand reached out and touched a part of the slender wood framing that made up the intricately windowed door. She stood there like that for a prolonged moment, silently chanting affirmations of her profession to tighten the reigns of her emotional control.

Jill's eyes began searching for something that might go to a doorbell. Would she have to stand there knocking until Count D heard her? She imagined the inside and remembered how it soothingly seemed to absorb sound. She might have to dig out her mobile phone and try calling…

The door suddenly started opening to reveal the familiar form of Count D, quite understandably in a night robe, with an alertly inquisitive look on his face. His eyes widened slightly in concerned surprise, and narrowed with grim determination as soon as he recognized the anguish in her eyes. "Detective Freshney, please…come in," he not only invited her with an insisting tone, but gently guided her through the doorway with a protective arm around the back of her shoulders that drew her to his side.

"I wa—" Jill began her apology for arriving at such a late hour once Count D set the door closed with his free hand, but his face turned towards her abruptly with a finger raised to his lips. She silenced herself instantly, and turned to look in the direction which Count D's head inclined with a careful nod.

Despite the darkness, Jill could see, clearly enough, who it was lying on the guestroom sofa.

"Leon…" his name rushed out of her throat in a quiet exhale that was just shy of being a sob. She broke away from her host and rushed over to Leon with impressive stealth.

Count D watched in disturbed fascination as Jill knelt down next to her colleague and began examining him with an unaccustomed desperation on her face.

Leon chose that moment to inhale deeply and let out a loud sigh. The young man's nose wrinkled briefly from the sudden sensation of rushing air passing out of it.

Jill stopped breathing, closed her eyes, and mouthed a grateful, "Thank you," to a God that she wasn't sure she deserved to trouble anymore with her problems. After opening her eyes again, she studied Leon for a moment longer, and then stood to face Count D with an apologetic smile.

Count D merely dismissed her actions silently with a sympathetic smile and slight shake of his head that ended with a brief bow. His smile deepened to one of reassurance, and he raised an arm to gesture towards another door that was further inside. She nodded her acknowledgement and thanks, before making her way past him and through the door which Count D held open for her.

The door led into a lovely kitchen, which Count D led Jill past and into a charming breakfasting cove that could have easily been used for a regular dining room. "Please, sit down, and I will make some tea for us," he said warmly after pulling a chair out from the table and offering it to her with a graceful wave of his hand.

"Thank you," she said, courteously taking a position in front of the chair and allowing her host to help her get seated. She took note of the way he met her eyes long enough to let her see the genuine pleasure he took in being allowed to aid in her comfort.

Jill was feeling measurably more relaxed now, after seeing that Leon was alive, safe, and…

A stifled giggle erupted out of Count D's newest guest. He turned, in the midst of taking things out of a cupboard, to see if the noise he heard was what he thought it sounded like. "What is it, Detective?" he asked with amused curiosity.

Clearing her throat, she glanced at the door that they'd come in through, and then looked at the place on the table in front of her with a wry smirk. "It's just that he looked…" tears welled up unexpectedly in her eyes and spilled down her face "…a little silly." Her breath hitched in a cut off sob, and she sat staring down at the table with a strained smile quavered on the corners of her mouth.

Count D sensed that Detective Freshney was struggling quite hard to hold her composure. He gave her a moment by filling the water kettle and setting it on the stove plate, before going to sit across from her and take her hand. "Please, what it is it that has you so deeply troubled, Detective?"

Jill lifted eyes filled with pleading and apology to him. Her head turned slowly from side to side in her helplessness to escape the torment which held her, "I—" Her answer seemed pathetic and in no way any justification for this…horrendous intrusion. She had to give this man a lot more reason for bothering him at this hour than a woman's silly… No, it was hardly silly, seeing Leon's…corpse…lying there in front of her, with lifeless eyes staring up and not actually able to see…

Abruptly, her eyes became fierce, and she forced the answer out in a low growl behind clenched teeth, "I…dreamed…that--that—bastard-got-him!"

Count D sensed already who she meant on that last, but he wanted to make certain. "Him?" His head tilted slightly, causing the rich black hair on one side to swing freely away from his face.

Just as abruptly, the fierceness left her after his question, and she was looking directly into his eyes again, somehow begging silently for forgiveness for letting such a thing happen her own dream. "Leon," she admitted, bereft. "The killer in the newest case we're working on…I dreamed that he'd killed Leon."