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Uploaded	By : HazardousRaptor Category: +G through L > Heavy Rain Views: 2688 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Heavy Rain, and am not affiliated with Quantic Dream, or Sony. (Sad to say) I do not own Norman Jayden, Carter Blake, or any offical characters contained within. I earn no money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Rating: M
Warnings: Cursing, and sex between two men. (In later chapters.)
Author's Note: Wow. I took wayyyy too long this time! Shit, I'm sorry. I mean that, too. I know when someone takes forever to update I'm normally chomping at the bit until it happens- at least I have an actual excuse! This chapter was intended to be much longer, but I sought to cut it up in able to get something to you faster. The next chapter WILL include more 'action', and it's already almost done. So hang tight. Pun intended. ;)
If you had the time to lose,
An open mind and time to choose.
Would you care to take a look?
Or can you read me like a book?
Can I tempt you, come with me.
Be Devil may care, fulfill your dream.
If I said I'd take you there,
Would you go, would you be scared?

Don't be afraid, you're safe with me.
Safe as any soul can be.
Like a wolf in sheep's clothing,
you try to hide your deepest sins.
Of all the things that you've done wrong,
and I know where you belong.
-"Caught Somewhere In Time" Iron Maiden
U p l o a d e d
It took everything in him not to heave up that morning's breakfast. Good for him; he didn't. Holding it down in the recesses of his gut, he leaned over the sink as he mirrored the scene from that Saturday before. He recalled now what he did back then, wondering what was wrong with him. Now knowing it wasn't anxiety alone, though he had to admit the agents did get him worked up. For the few times in his life when he was terrified, he never recalled acting anywhere like this. Never felt like he did now; that he was going to keel over at any minute- ready for the oblong box.
Yet something told him he wasn't going to die. Not like this. His body and mind too set on living, simply unwilling to go. Like it's owner, when his body made a decision it tended to stick with it. He made a low, disgusted growl as he spun the taps desperately, hearing them creak a little then give way as he washed his face, splashing the liquid three times in total as he rubbed his eyes and slicked the water through his hair.
Pressing it down like a 50's greaser, he tried his best to hide his sick and weak complexion. Catching his face in the reflection, he leaned in closer and studied the bags under his eyes, sighing as he noted their size and color. The dark circles that lay there had seemed to grow since this morning. Odd, considering he actually slept straight through the whole night.
He held there for a few more minutes, his arms resting on the sink as he stared down into the drain. The faucet leaked slightly, sending drop after drop down into the abyss below it, filling the empty room with a small echo. Sniffling a few times, he noted that he finally stopped shaking. It took much longer then he thought. Standing up as straight as he could, a crack resounded in his wide back that made him cringe. A warm, almost soothing feeling replaced the momentary pain. Perhaps a blood vessel that decided to finally break or relocate itself? It would be his fucking luck to have to see a chiropractor after all this, all thanks to that little prick from Washington-
A gruff, angry growl started in his throat, and It worked it's way out of his lips as he bent back down. His head had begun to spin; he'd need another few minutes yet. He was just gracious nobody had come in to bother him so far. Thanking God (not that he believed in one in the slightest since he was twenty-two) that Ash had left him be; he really didn't need to see him shaking like a fucking tree- eyes bloodshot like he just got done sniffing a mountain of cocaine.
Carter rose his head again, pushing himself up with his arms to see how sickly his face was this time-
"Holy fuck!-"
Norman stood there- glancing at him with surprise in the mirror. He seemed to have the same reaction, taking a step back from the lieutenant as his eyes widened and body tugged backward as if shot. His pouty lips quivered as he hurdled backwards, falling into a stall as he struggled to hold onto something - instead slamming into the tile below and nearly missing the porcelain toilet behind him that could have easily dented in his skull.
Carter's heart leapt in his throat again, accelerating wildly as it pumped hormones into his blood to get him into a flight-or-fight mode. Turning about-face, his back hit the sinks as he breathed out in heavy bouts; feeling the desire to pass out again looming on the horizon. Instead, he strained as he tried to calm down, lifting his heavy head up then letting it fall back down, eyelids opening the whole way as he struggled to catch his breathing. He heard the sound of the agent groaning and skittering as he attempted to stand up on the dirty bathroom floor.
Rising to his feet, Jayden used the door to the stall to pull himself up. He gasped out a breath of shock and irritation, not at all expecting to see Blake yet. Just hours ago, he found himself waking up on Mars. Fine enough, then he began to walk through the Martian landscape out of pure curiosity. Despite wishing for his house in Martha's Vineyard to pop up, it wasn't. Which was odd, because this was the first time his subconscious desires were ignored. He found his jacket and pants discarded among the landscape, assuming them to be the previous location in Blake's home's layout. It was odd and almost disconcerting. His physical effects were manifestations of this world.
In the distance, he saw an object. Not a rock- not like the others amongst the other swirling red clouds, and that's what intrigued him. The closer he got, he began to come under the realization that it was a building. Picking up the pace, he felt his heart rate increase at the exertion, panting and running as he somehow felt something tugging him forward. Something that felt as though it was watching and willing his every movement.
It was a sensation that crawled up his legs and nestled in his back, in his belly, in his head. Despite the cold of Mars, he knew the chill that crept all over had little to do with the simulation and more to do with whatever sort of alternate reality he'd fallen into. A wave of intense relief washed over the young man as he finally reached the front door. It was a large, squat grey building. Odd, as it was perfectly clean and seemed oddly symmetrical. Buildings never looked this perfect anywhere, not even when they're freshly built.
The door stared at him with a sort of ominous, revolting expectation. It was then that Norman's heart quivered in his chest, and grasped the cold hard reality as it dawned on him- it resembled the door of the bathroom in the police precinct in Philadelphia. A strange thing to remember, and indeed he never would have recognized it if he'd hadn't used it so many times while on the Origami Killer case, a refuge he used only hours before his death. He didn't know why or how he remembered- perhaps it was better if he didn't. At this understanding, he looked back up and furrowed his brow as the "MEN" sign was now there; forming only when his gaze was away. It made a chill form in the middle of his back.
'I'm dead and walk'eng around in a post-mortem dream world and this is what bothers you, Norman?' He chided himself.
It wasn't so much that as it was the feeling coming in behind him. He took a deep breath as a few stray tears found themselves in the corner of his eyes. The sense of dread was overwhelming, crushing his sensensions and filling him with terror. He turned around and saw nothing, just the bare landscape of Mars. Empty land, a red Martian world as far as he could see. Wind swept the sand, throwing it into massive clouds that had little effect on him- he was leaning with the wind, not against it.
That feeling only seemed to get worse, and he had to sharply inhale as the foreboding seemed to bury his will, literally powering him forward to open the door. He took it a as a sign, perhaps an instinct? Either way, he couldn't take it much longer. It was making him sick. He needed to press on. Who knew what might be in this building? This was all new, and it was all getting to be both disturbing- and therefore oddly fascinating to the curious mind he possessed. That deep, powerful desire of a living thing to explore its surroundings.
Cautiously, he pushed it open and found himself in an exact copy of the precinct's bathroom. Like always, it seemed empty, the small echo of a drop of water hitting the bowl beneath it. Taking a few steps, he slowly made his way into the familiar territory, a warning tingle of danger making its way about his back. That's when he could swear he heard the sound of water splashing, of a muffled groan and a familiar voice. Terror clutched his system once more as the lights flickered and buzzed, going out momentarily before shaking and turning back on. Turning about, he looked towards the sinks-
Carter stood there, looking into the mirror- staring at himself through it. Locking eyes in the reflection.
"Holy fuck!-"
The exclamation wasn't nearly as loud as he'd heard from before. Still, it shook Norman, not so much by the words and force used, but by his extremely sudden appearance. When he recovered, he stood back at attention, eyeing the lieutenant with utter curiosity as he got a horrible, discomforting chill from the whole situation.
'This is one fucked up-kind of place….' His senses told him, making his body shudder involuntarily.
'None of this shit seems right.'
And he would be right. Tired, frightened eyes blinked over to Carter Blake as he seemed to had braced himself on the sink in shock. A speedy recovery later- he stood to full attention and leaned against it with his lower back pressing into the porcelain. From what he could see, he wasn't wearing ARI. What in God's name made him suddenly show up? Something had drawn him towards this building, and then towards Blake himself. Giving the man a speedy once-over, he took notice that his hands gyrated wildly against the sink, before he positioned them behind his back in order to hide them.
'Goddawm it.' His accent thick even in his thoughts. 'Withdrawals. Already. He's a fast one with this. I never 'wood have guessed it. But it all makes sense, he's adapting to AR-E at an unheard of rate, of course he'd be suffe'rin effects from it already. That's why he's seeing me…That's why I'm see'in him.'
"Blake! What are you-?"
There wasn't much of a reaction time, maybe five or so seconds, but he felt himself stumble backward as he tried to contemplate what the hell just happened. He felt dazed, pain and throbbing emanating from his nose as he felt wetness pool there. It was a sensation he knew well- his nose was bleeding. Reaching up, Jayden tested his nose the best he could, realizing that Blake had punched him. Wiping the smear of trickling blood away, he sniffled painfully as his face wrinkled from agony. God, it felt like a truck had just hit him and decided to keep on driving. Even now, his head swam, the lights from the ceiling spinning in circles.
"-You little fuck." The madman spat, shaking his right hand as he closed it into a fist once more.
"What're you talking about-?"
"-Who the hell you got follow'in me?"
There was a few seconds delay; Norman's face twisting into a hateful, irritated scowl as he squinted angrily at the sudden appearance of the psychopath before him. He thought that he had gotten himself on Carter's good side, and here came one momentous swing in the opposite direction. He braced himself on the stall door, right hand clutching onto the door as the left was wrenched on the opposite wall to steady himself.
Looking to the left, frowning deeply, he peered back up as he struggled to keep his balance amongst his growing tempter. Carter still stood there with his fist raised. He was sure the shorter man found it hilarious that his victim was still shell-shocked. That constant need to prove himself becoming more and more apparent. Was it a deep insecurity? Norman filed that thought away.
"What the fuck, Blake! I got no idea-"
"Two Federal pricks from Washington were waiting for me in the parking lot; you don't know anything about that?"
He raised his voice, careful not to scream. Soon, he knew his luck would run out. Eventually somebody would walk through that door, and they'd see him arguing with an empty space. He'd be in the loony bin before he could blink.
"-No, I don't." Norman stressed, now trying his best to stand up properly.
"Maybe if you calm yourself down, Cartah, I could try and tell you why they're followin' you to beg'n with?"
Stepping off to the side, Carter gave the 'illusion' a sideways glance. His head and gaze lowered, he tried his best to stand up straight and began to feel somewhat normal again. Yet his back ached, his hands sore, his pride even more deflated. At least, he noticed, the shaking had stopped. Just in time, too. Any more, and he honestly suspected he was going to faint. This at least made him take a deep breath to relocate his thoughts- he could get through this day easily enough.
Norman sniffled again, then looked around as he noticed the paper-towel dispenser. He walked on over and took a sheet, bracing it against his nose as he winced. Watching the brown towel turn crimson about half way, he groaned at the sensitive tissue of his nose pulsing with each heartbeat, stinging him mildly with each touch.
"Goddawm, what was that 'fowr?" He muttered under his breath, directed towards the lieutenant but not really feeling the venom at the moment- not truly ready to confront him about it. Turning a bit, his eyes darted to a once-again hunched over Carter, and he bit his lip as he went to speak- then stopped.
'Jesus, he looks really bad. I need to tell 'em. If he does it while he's drivin', or on a case… Gawd, he could die. If he dies…I die. Permanently. He's gonna need triptoca-'
"Do you know a Crawford?" Blake tried, not looking up but speaking as he continued looking towards the floor, left hand braced on the sink behind him.
There was a pause as Norman's mouth opened, no sound coming out as he seemed a bit surprised at the question. It seemed obvious he was rolling that one over in his head.
"I…Richard Crawford?" He stumbled, searching his internal memory banks.
"Yeah, looks like he just got out from the army or some shit-seemed pretty sure I was bullshiting him about those 'great' glasses of yours."
Jayden seemed confused, his brows furrowing and lips opening and closing like a fish begging for air.
"Crawford? They'd send him? Seems a little overkill to me…Are you certain-"
"Yes, I'm certain, Jayden! I'm in deep shit here because of you-"
"Be'cawse of me?" He shouted, standing up to full attention as his eyes lit up, short temper coming to a head. The absence of triptocaine was making it worse, turning him into an unstable junkie once more.
Jabbing his finger harshly at the man, it hovered inches from his snarling face, and Jayden couldn't help but be reminded it was like jabbing a stick into a junkyard dog's face. A dog at the end of a very short, brittle chain.
"You're full of shit, Carta! Nobody told 'ya to put ARI on- nobody told ya to keep comi'n back! You brought this one yahself-"
"-don't put that shit on me- If I didn't where'd the hell you be, Norman?" He quickly spat, moving closer when the other combatant put down his hand.
"Last time I checked, you asked for my help! Not 'tha other way around!"
"What's that got'ta do with enethin!" Jayden cried, throwing his left arm up as he eyed up the other man square in the baby-blues. They burned with more with red- reminded once again of how sickly he looked. Instantly, his anger wavered, his caring nature coming out for even this hostile man.
"It has everything to do with it! If you didn't reach out for me like you'd did, I probably would have just…Put them down-"
"Blake, crock-of-shit!" He spaced out each word as he put his hands on his hips, moving his lips to accentuate the pronunciation of each one.
"You're loven' this and you know it! You're taking to it fastah then a fish 'tah water and not even 'tryin to hide it. If it wasn't for me reigning you in they'd would 'hav killed yah-"
'Shit, shouldn't have said that. Stupid! So fucking stupid.'
Now it was Blake's turn to be confused- he shifted to his right and eyed up the agent with a renewed sort of puzzlement, one rife with a hollow breed of dark fear beginning it's clutch. His eyes didn't widen; instead they squinted just a little in an analyzing gaze as they studied the bleeding man as he stood in the bathroom stall.
"Killed me?" He spoke with a venom, head bobbing a little as he spoke, palms displayed as he gave a universally accepted confused gesture.
"Did you just say those damn glasses can kill me?"
Norman took a moment to close his eyes, leaning his head back to stem the flow of blood. Luckily it died down pretty fast; he sniffled and wiped it away with his right sleeve. His suit really was getting gross. He sincerely hoped he wasn't stuck with the thing for eternity. Maybe he could somehow get it washed? Hell he created a bed out of nothing, maybe a fully-staffed, certified Laundromat was next?
His face pulsed, the heat from the broken capillaries in his nose giving off a warm, slightly painful glow. The agent could even feel his heartbeat as it throbbed about his face, still recovering from the impact. He knew this would be coming, actually- he was surprised it took as long as it did. Perhaps he should give Carter credit for holding himself back for as long as he did?
"Shit, Cartah…" He sighed, "Did'ya have to hit me like that? I think 'ya broke it-"
Norman's heart jumped in his chest as he heard the bathroom door open- God, it was bound to happen sometime- and his head turned in the direction of the noise. For a brief second he caught Carter's gaze fly over that way, and then as he went to protest he felt himself ruthlessly shoved back into the stall, stumbling backwards and just barely missed being thrown onto the toilet.
"Get in, get in." Blake whispered as loudly as he could manage. "Don't talk…"
Shutting the stall door behind him, he locked it quickly as his own heart beat wildly in his chest. He didn't know yet if others could see Jayden, if he was a delusion of his own making or a manifestation that others could see and hear. Jayden could manipulate the environment, yet he wasn't positive if somehow he was all imagining this- or he was an apparition of technical makings. Either way, he didn't want to find out like this.
The young, chestnut-haired man felt rather like the lover being hidden from the parents; that any minute ma and pop Blake would find him and chastise their child for their relationship. The thought almost made him laugh, if he wasn't already so stressed and strained by the punch and arguments. Fear clutched at him as well, threatening his pseudo-existence as if he was alive and whole again. He felt awkward as the back of his legs hit the toilet seat as Blake continued to push him, then watched as he looked back, looking for feet towards the bottom of the stalls.
Jayden's breath hitched as the lietenenant leaned forward, oddly close and filling the stall with an awkward air. It would be almost arousing if the room didn't have that typical clean-yet-still-kinda-gross bathroom stench. And if it wasn't Blake. Or if he was in any kind of mood. Yet he couldn't help but shudder all over as the man applied pressure all about his chest, crotches almost aligned yet not quite thanks to their distance in height. Jayden tried to understand why the man was getting so close to him- especially since if he was to gain an erection right now…it would be felt by both parties rather fast.
His breath hit his ear, the warm and obvious air giving him the chills. Carter's arms went for the back of his thighs- and his eyes widened and body reacted negatively, throwing the other man a heated look as his face drained of color. His whole body jolted out of nervousness, out of his body betraying him in such a conflicting, compromising position. 'Whoa- what the fuck- not now, Blake- well not ever- but especially not now-'
"Get up on the toilet!" He cried as quietly as he could before the man could get closer. Already, the footsteps were echoing in the room far too loudly for his liking. Norman seemed surprised by this, reacting with a slight start as if an obvious realization hit him through the fog his brain had spun. He moved fast, however, Carter helping to speed the process as he grabbed him by the back of his legs and hoisted him up, trying not to make a grunt of exertion- and trying not to feel too awkward as he felt the taller, more slender man in his arms, his body lean over his right shoulder as his surprisingly warm, suit-clothed body touched his neck and cheek.
Norman grabbed around his neck, feeling a slight flutter at the tension in the room. The man far too closer and intimate for his liking. Yet it felt nice to have someone hold him like this- to feel completely and oddly safe in this stronger, more dominant male's arms. For just the briefest of a few seconds, he envisioned his pants being unbuckled and legs stripped bare- his ankles around the man's waist- then he got an odd heat in his groin as he felt a slight hardness begin.
Exhaling deeply, Jayden tried to make it sound like more of a stressful release instead of a noise of sexual frustration. Frustration was the right word, too, because he was pissed at himself as well as this situation. He was better then this, better then Carter himself in just about every capacity…He didn't want anything to do sexually not to mention platonically with this man, yet he kept finding himself in these situations where he wanted to be touched, handled, caressed by the cop's rough, calloused, and above all experienced body. Be forced into compromising positions where he was held down and humiliated, legs forced wide and mouth agape with moans.
He theorized maybe it was because of the man's apparent high testosterone production- he smelled good, felt good…And despite his distaste at his age, looks, and behavior, he found himself becoming fascinated with his eyes and lips, even that rough and thick goatee that stained his face like a dark accentuation. It was somehow intimidating. A warning to others before they even opened their mouths; that his very soul was tainted.
Norman contemplated that perhaps his age was a plus as that meant he had experience, his attitude still distasteful yet slowly finding himself becoming tolerant. He actually would love the opportunity to pleasure the older man, knocking him off his high-horse as he plowed him into the bed and moaned wantonly. The profiler was never a sexual man, treating the activity more like a need then a want. It became more frustrating then anything when he got an erection and had to put an end to the activity then relish it. Not like this cop, the knuckle-dragger probably fucked every streetwalker and whore in a thousand-degree radius and would be proud to admit it.
Unlike Blake, Jayden's profession had no room, no time for such lusty thoughts. He was too professional in both attitude and structure. Beat into his head at an early edge that work always came first, usually never even making the first come-on when at the up-class Washington bars. There was little time for play, telling himself that he at least was able to release all that pent-up frustration on some helpless boy or the occasional girl. Blake? Lucky fuck- probably blended work with play all the time. He wondered how many girls he did in his car…Oh God, the image- he got the flash of him slamming into some pretty young girl in his back seat, pants of either of them barely pulled down from the animalistic fervor that came over them.
This thought began to take front stage for some demented reason. Despite the intruder walking about in the room, heading to the urinals it seemed, he was thinking about fucking. Since when did that happen? It didn't make any real sense- aroused by someone they loathe quite entirely? Shouldn't he want to be far away from Blake instead of as close as possible? He struggled with this thought, and it made his arousal fade, and he shook his head a little as his face warped into a scowl. This sudden onslaught of sexual thoughts was unbecoming of him and his career- then he reminded himself that he was fucking dead. Dropped off the radar, no longer had a social security number and had a spot in the obituaries. Maybe he should stop giving a fuck and go balls-to-the-wall…?
No, no. God, what was wrong with him? He was better then this, better then him.
A flush- a few seconds of hand-washing and the footsteps proceeded out the door. Both men took a deep breath, and Jayden looked down to realize this whole time, he was standing with his crotch practically in-line with Blake's face. Well, okay…He would have to stoop to get anything done, but that was still amusing. It made him smile internally, he noted Blake was still looking away and listening for any new intruders. Jayden instead smirked, and entertained the idea that he would love nothing more to shove his dick into the haughty lieutenant's mouth. He watched the man's blue eyes as they darted about in surprise, waiting for someone to come back in any real second.
Lifting up his right hand from the man's shoulders, he acted before he had a chance to stop himself. His thumb gently ran along the bottom of his large, dry, yet kissable lips. Carter narrowed his eyes and looked towards the other man with a look more of confusion then anything else. Gently pushing the thumb past said lips, felt the teeth that lay beyond those lips and stopped. It felt good to finally feel the mouth that he used so well in vulgar spats, showing the world his creative palette of curses, wanted to go past those white teeth and into the warm and wet mouth- had wished he could part that jaw and sink himself into that vulgarity-spitting, arrogant maw and shut him up for at least a few minutes.
Yet Carter granted him none of this, for obvious reasons. Instead he received a look of repulse; and a hand quickly flew up to rip the young man's hand from his mouth.
"-The fuck are you doing?" He literally hissed, his stare cautionary. Warning in a mere glance that the kid was getting too close. Invading his personal space.
A pause, and the brief spell Norman had been under was broken as his face drained of color from fear. His jaw worked hard as words failed to fall out, once again resembling a fish with hook-in-mouth.
"Nothing…"
Blake's face scrunched up, a ghastly and scary display, taking a few steps back as he watched Jayden fail to keep his balance. The young man reached a hand back and held the top of the toilet, taking a shaky step down as he hopped onto the floor.
"Nothing? Didn't look like anything to me, Norman!"
Shrugging his shoulders as the agent looked down, he struggled to comprehend the man's sudden behavior. Norman didn't seem to have any actual attraction towards him- and the feeling was mutual. What had just happened, however, was out of the clear blue sky and sexually confusing. When he had done that just minutes ago…Carter got excited. Just a twitch, just a little hardness- then it fell almost immediately when he remembered whose face he had been looking into. That little piss-ant from Washington.
"Oh, well, sorry big fella." The tone in his voice was ironic, condescending.
"Being down there like that, you just reminded me of first guy who sucked my dick- you got nice lips for it, too."
A look of absolute hatred flushed across the lieutenant's face, and it was obvious to the agent that he was doing everything in his power to keep from nailing him in the face one more time. Norman took a cautionary step back in preparation of the blow, waves of animosity rolling forth as if the agent himself was the shore. Blake raised a fist and took a few steps forward, his legs carrying his heavily jacketing form towards him in a frightful display of virility.
"I swear 'ta fuck-"
The door sailed open again, faster then before. Blake growled low in his chest as Jayden literally felt himself attacked, pushed harshly into the same stall and this time, pushed against the stall wall to the right. Norman's heart sounded as though it hammered in his ears; from both the rush of potentially being caught, to the contact with the other man. He knew that he couldn't be in the stall with the other man like this. If it was possible for other people to see him, they'd see two sets of legs. Needless to say, that would make things a living hell for Carter, and even if he said he didn't care what happened to the corrupt cop, he didn't need the man getting into hot water on his account. Their professional relationship they held was unstable enough.
"Carteh-"
"Shut the fuck up!"
They both listened to two more men come in and do their business, two using the urinals and talking to one another about some inter-office gossip. Another came in to use the toilet, which was luckily relatively quiet and fast, because their faces were red enough without needing to hear some grown man take a shit.
Blake looked back into the young man's face. After seeing his own red eyes and pale complexion, he had to admit in a rather frightening coincidence, that he could see the same basic look in the kid's. His grayish blue eyes bloodshot, face shifting from a pulsing, embarrassed red to a color-drained, ghost-like state. Then the agent noticed this sudden fascination, and met eyes with him. The result was rather discomforting, as now the cop could feel his cool breath on his face. Cool air. It wasn't right. Then he reminded himself that Norman was dead, after all.
"You look fuckin' dead, Norm." He hissed, and on cue he could feel the man shudder and begin to twitch against his palms.
"Right back atch'cha." Norman spat, trying to stay just under the auditory radar.
Sighing, Carter looked back up as he heard the man finally finish and flush- then not wash his hands. Gross. That was a hot-button of his. If something wasn't clean, it drove him absolutely nuts. Washing your goddamn hands took a minute- he hoped the guy didn't go around touching everything.
Norman let out a breath as Carter released him in a huff, blasting out the stall door with an angry ram kept caged too long.
"I'm not doing this shit." He flung, finger pointing to the floor as he accentuated the point. "You hear me? I didn't ask you to show up here!"
Jayden did his very best not to flip his shit- took a deep shuddering breath- only to inhale some pretty disgusting, pungent bathroom odor.
"Ah please, Cartah! Don't bust my balls- you think I wanted to appear to you in the bathroom like some godda'awm Virgin Mary or someth'n? I was on Mars twent-ee minutes ago! I didn' choose 'tah be here!"
"Oh really? You had absolutely nothing to do with showing up in the bathroom toilet to scare the hell outta me and fuck up the rest of my day? Nothing at all? You know what? Fuck you, Jayden. Fuck you're F-B-I, buddies, too." Saying the acronym slowly as mouthed every letter with contempt.
Jayden man a face like he'd just had water spritzed in his nose- like how a cat reacts when hit with the blast of a water sprayer. Flinching and scrunching his nostrils.
"Gohd dawn it, Cartah! Do you 'hav any idea what's goin' on? When you took ARI you lied to them, didn't you?"
There was a hesitation; Carter seemed to be rolling that one about in his head for a good few seconds before he spoke.
"No."
"Don't bullshit me, Blake!" His voice rose, and for once he felt on top of an argument with the older man.
"They wouldn' be here if you didn't!"
Carter huffed, putting his hands on his hips as he craned his head back. A long, slow grumble that Norman supposed was a sigh passed through his nose as he tried to desperately calm himself down. His eyes were trained on the agent as he watched him play his hot-shot from Washington act.
"I told them you had your glasses on ya' when you died. That's all they wanted to know, so that's all they got."
Giving a hard, tired stare, the man in charcoal-grey furrowed his brow and looked away for a few seconds. If somebody came through the door right now, they may very well have caught the two off-guard. They were too focused on one another's actions and words to keep an eye out for intruders on their little pissing match.
"Makes sense. They didn't want to tell you ene'thin if they did'n 'haf to." Then the agent looked down, carefully tenting the fingers in front of his face as he thought that one over. No doubt, ARI may have had some sort of tracking device. This was never released to him- as a matter of fact, several things about ARI were kept hush-hush, 'for his own good, and the good of the country' he had been told. He never thought about it until now, but they may very well know Carter had the ARI system right now. Maybe even- God help them- what exactly they were doing with each other.
"There something you wanna tell me, Jayden?" The lieutenant hissed his last name like a swear.
"…You seem awfully concerned about something!"
The younger man scratched his chin thoughtfully, then rested it there as he pondered. Before the atmosphere of the bathroom almost seemed eerily comforting, almost homely. It was somewhere he had actually remembered from before; not like the almost alien nature of Blake's one-story, quant home. The lights above buzzed only slightly; enough to give the room an almost frightening air.
"I'm concerned for us both, Blake." He sighed out, putting his hands on his hips and blankly staring at the floor. He could sense himself becoming more and more like his old, living self. It meant those withdrawals were coming back. It was something he didn't think he'd be able to control, now. Before he used various methods besides actual Triptocaine; cold showers, alcohol, breaking objects, hurting himself…other, more dangerous painkillers. Anything to draw attention from the receptors in his brain telling him he needed a certain substance. Now- there was none of that in the ARI- dream world. He briefly wondered if he could conjure these up like the bed from last night. In the end, however, he simply didn't know yet. Wouldn't be able to find out until he went back.
Shakes, sweats, dizziness, nausea, the almost-constant sensation of weakness coupled with chills and the urge to faint. Pain, uncontrollable tremors that racked through his body and made his chest tighten like an early heart attack. Made his head pulse with unbelievable migraines the likes of which nobody should have to suffer. The unshakable urge to lie down and rest. Even when he did it never wanted to go away.
The symptoms would loom over him like God himself, hovering there as it punished his weakening form. In waves they'd crash over him, fits of torment clawing and racking his body like water thrashing onto the shore of a rocky beach. Swept away in its undertow, unable to escape. Every time he fought back and won; didn't give into Triptocaine's soothing and exilerating effects to calm him from the withdrawals of ARI's brain-altering, addicting hold, to relieve the pain in record time and numb him head to toe, he felt himself grow weaker. Not stronger, not better, yet somehow always prouder. He told himself one day it would feel good to break away. Yet they also said the ARI could very well kill him without the blue powder. The flouresant, strangely beautiful, crystalline powder that could eventually snuff him out all the same on it's own.
At first Triptocaine was indeed harmless. Yet very ineffective. Many agents, including himself, became immune to its effects quickly. They were overcome with ARI's side-effects and stopped usage. To the Bereue, this was no good. It rendered the glasses useless. Even after tuning down ARI's abilities, it was still too dangerous. They strengthened the formula with a few risks involved; use sparingly. Even then, they were asked to sign a release, a security waiver, a new life insurance policy…They were told they were test subjects at this point.
Jayden was given a test to see how addictive his habits were. He skirted by, flying just under the radar, and informed the doctors he didn't smoke, didn't gamble, and drank socially. There were a few tests involving colors and shapes, which he apparently pulled off. Mind tests, which analyzed rather then an assessed. He had no idea if these would mean anything; but either way he was granted clearance. He would continue the ARI program and report his findings. The young man wanted the privilege to have ARI back more then anything, had become dearly in love with the technology and what it could do, the hope it had for the human race beyond his own applications.
He didn't know if he was the only man in the program to have problems, really. The young agent didn't dare open his mouth. What he witnessed from the few other agents that were involved with the secretive program was calm. For them, the rare drug was rather like a Tylenol. Deadly in high doses, but rarely used enough to be a concern. They sometimes went days without a single tube.
Instead, he found himself lining up the vials on his desk. Counting the usage and reporting a far lower number to the testing division. His request for more vials was explained as "back up supply", and indeed the other agents always seemed to have cases of the shit lying around. It took everything in his power to not try and swipe the heavily regulated government property.
Too much Triptocaine would kill. It had been revealed to him that it possessed a steadily accumulating effect, parts of it never leaving the body. It made him ill to think that with every unregulated sniff, he was steadily turning him into a dried-up, dead husk. One could easily overdose by taking too much at once or continuing to take it until the day their heart walls wore thin and they fell into cardiac arrest, or a blood clot caught in their brain causing a stroke. It didn't frighten Jayden most of the time, only when sniffing far too much in a day…Feeling the light-headed, dizzying ecstasy as his heart flew into overdrive and eradicated his pain to the point of total and utter numbness. All that wonder came with a price. He knew he had to get out of this; had to put the drugs down for good…
Except that left him with ARI's side effects. He hadn't a plan for that when he began cutting down on his Tripto use. Or at least tried. Then it hit him full force, wave after wave of detoxification as his body sought to flush him of the device's dangerous effects. The nausea was at times overwhelming, the sensitivity to sunlight making life in hot, humid and swampy D.C. a living hell. In the summer months he almost shut down. How he managed to keep himself functioning, alert, and in decent shape he honestly found a miracle.
Now as he felt these same symptoms began to rear their ugly head, he felt a pang of distress, of hopelessness. Nearly gone was that surge of optimism that perhaps this death of his was going to be a new beginning. Instead he was turning into a facsimile of his former self- addictions and all.
Then he looked into Carter's bloodshot, pale eyes. Now a cold, empty, and hollow feeling of despair filled his soul to the brim. Guilt, a total sadness. Despite the fact that Carter of all people truly would deserve something like this, the gripping effects of dependence and the pain it brought, he knew the man had some good in him. Something that made him want to be a cop in the first place, or at least at one time. Perhaps the man was soiled by society, turned into a monster by his surroundings beyond his control, his toils unheeded by the masses and instead struck down and turned into the creature of hate he was today.
Norman didn't have the maliciousness in him to wish ill on Carter. Even if he was a sick, psychopathic son of a bitch. Nobody deserved the hell he went through every day- and unwillingly, he was causing it to another person. A person he was getting close to despite every attempt to come away. He watched as the man's eyes grew further tired, bloodshot, as he watched Norman for a reaction. Could note the draining of his color, the slight shake to his hands. Another pang of remorse- of pity.
'Gahd, what do I tell him? What's gonna happen if the eye bleedin' starts? What do I say? How would he take it…? What's he gonna do when I tell him he needs to take drugs for the rest of his life? Can he even handle Tripto? He's older; he could have a heart attack…'
"Are you feelin' okay?"
The question shocked the cold-blooded lieutenant. Actually made him flinch slightly. He seemed to analyze that one, despite being the sort of rhetorical question one is simply supposed to utter a simple "yeah, I'm fine" in response.
"What's that got-?"
"You're having withdrawals, Carter." Norman stated in such a soft voice, it was almost silent.
For a moment the other man turned his head to the left and up; seeming to analyze the agent's words as he sought not to believe what he just heard. His lips parted, the stickiness of his dry mouth making it audible. The lieutenant found himself craving water, downing it by the gallon if he could.
"What?" He said quickly, eyebrows rising as he tried to figure out this kid's psychobabble. "I'm not no fuckin' druggie, Jayden!"
In surprise, Carter watched as Norman didn't seem to react at all to that statement. He just nodded, which in all honesty confused and scared the cop more then it angered him.
"I know." He stated, again in a low voice. Too afraid to utter them in case he might actually hear it; he didn't have the heart to tell the man he might be doomed for life.
Carter poked the right side of his cheek with his tongue. Outwardly, he was calmer then what was going on inside his head and body. His blood pressure elevated, heart pounding away as it handled the load of stress he was receiving. A weak man may have fainted straight away, yet his powerful heart simply wouldn't allow it. His whole body seemed to almost jump with each throb of his pulse. Norman did notice this, but didn't say anything as he watched a slight jerk dance across his frame every few seconds.
"The AR-eee has side effects. It stimulates the brain just like a drug-"
"Wait a fuck'n minute-" Blake interrupted. Closing his eyes, he grinned sardonically as he shook his head.
"…You're telling me that those damn glasses are doing this to me? Oh that's right! You just said they can kill me not long ago. How 'bout you fill me in?"
Jayden did a little shrug, looking off to his left side as he scratched his neck. He remembered when the older man had steaming hot coffee thrown in his face. It took him a small bit to recover from the shock of seeing his partner compromised in such a way. He hovered about him for a few seconds, only to be sent away. Truth was, back then he'd lay down his life for his partner just like any other, despite the bad blood. Even now, if asked, he'd gladly rip a kidney out and hand it to him with a smile if he so needed it. The sad thing was he hadn't the faintest fucking idea why.
"It's so much more then that, Blake." He released with a sigh parting his lips.
"It changes your brain; it's chemistry- the more you use it, the harder it is to go back. Your body starts to crave it, it wants it- needs it. There's a drug that can offset the effect-"
Watching as Blake began to look off towards the door, he felt his own lighter heart jump into his throat. Tears almost came into his eyes as he broke the news, tearing him apart inside. Jayden himself had literally signed up for this. Was explained all this by the superiors and a team of doctors and given several documents to sign, waiving the right to sue the United States Government, or the ability to open his mouth about it.
Blake didn't. He had no idea what was going on. He thought he was simply trying on a pair of strange glasses. And indeed, if all he did was put them on and used them a few times, he'd recover fast and that would be the end of it. He didn't know if the older man had an addictive personality akin to his own, but ARI was easy to get hooked on as it was. Only a few of his fellow agents had a hard time putting the system down, the interface easier then a computer and simply faster as it had a direct line to the brain. Still, they handled it better. Balancing it with their normal lives. The only female in the program even balanced children with her daily workload, not at all tempted to use it outside of work despite its temptation. She claimed she simply never had the time.
None were as bad as Jayden himself. It still shamed him. Now he watched as Blake struggled with addiction signs mirroring his own. The other agents got the shakes every great now and then- they upped their Tripto for a few days and everything was fine. It wasn't anything like his own attacks, or like Carter's, presently. Guilt gripped at him, hard and icy as it watched the older man run his hands through his hair and gaze at the floor.
'I shoulda' warned him. Fuck. Fuck! This is all my fault!'
"I'm…I'm so sorrah, Cartah. Shit- I should've told you. I should've said somethin'…"
Blake stood up straight and looked towards the man in a dirty Armani suit. His own shoulders were slacked, eyes no longer bloodshot, but tired, showing the full force of their many years on this Earth.
"I'm not afraid of a pair of yuppie glasses, Jayden. Don't get all sappy on me- just do your job and I'll do mine."
He watched as Blake seemed to sigh and head towards the door, and felt the urge to follow. Stopping himself after a few steps, he realized his folly and halted dead in his tracks. Hearing this, the older man hesitated and craned his neck back, about to ask what his problem was, when the realization hit him.
"Oh right, the whole being dead thing…" He muttered under his breath.
Scratching the back of his neck, he eyed Jayden up. He'd like nothing better then to put the little cocksucker under his desk so he could get some head while taking calls. That thought was rather exciting, he had to admit. Though he'd never be able to hold himself back from moaning like an expensive whore from the other man's minstrations.
"Stay here."
Jayden went to talk, watching as the man went to leave the bathroom entirely.
"I'm not staying in a goddamn bathroom-"
"Jayden, unless you can shrink down to the size of a fucking kitten- I'm not gonna be able to sneak you outta here. If you've got a better idea, I'm willing to listen!" He finished that with a cruel smirk, echoing the agent's words when he first arrived at the precinct.
"Son of a bitch- c'han you at least…Bring me somethin' to eat? Drink?"
Carter jerked as he scoffed at the younger man. He was just about to chastise him, when he realized that his little pet hadn't eaten since yesterday. God, he felt like he was taking care if a dog or child more then a grown man. A grown dead man. His expression and stature softened, sighing heavily as he once again awkwardly scratched his neck as the air in the room seemed to be sucked away.
"I'll check to see if there's any donuts left. Black coffee, right?"
Norman jerked a nod, he could sense that he wanted to say something else, yet felt like he was looking a gift horse in the mouth by saying it.
"What?"
"I, uh…This place's coffee is horrible-"
"Oh, for fuck's sake! I'm not your goddamn dad, take it or leave it!"
"Fine! Just…Put some sugah in it, okay?"
"Alright…I'm not going to be back right away. I need to figure out how exactly I'm going to carry coffee and donuts into this bathroom without looking like a fucking nutcase-"
"Is that office still empty?" Norman tried, squinting as usual as he looked away, light blue irises in the left corners of his eyes.
"Of course, but me going in there isn't going to look any better." Where exactly was the kid going with this?
"Right, right…What about'cha your car?"
'Well, looks like I got a little hobo on my hands. First he sucks my dick for payment, then he wants to live in my car…'
"Fine, I'll go down at lunch, Ash is going to bitch. Thanks to you, I have to explain why I'm spending so much time in the can. That should be fun."
There was a slight pause, and Norman seemed to give a small scoff, "I thought you told him what to do?" Norman questioned, an almost -grin forming on his lips.
The older man smirked, his eyes smiling more then his mouth.
"Thanks for reminding me. How am I going to tote your ass down there without people seeing you, anyway?"
Norman nodded towards the man, his own hands falling to his sides as he blinked rapidly.
"AR-eee, just put 'em on when you get to your c'har. It'll take me there."
"You're right. 'Never thought I'd say that." He huffed, then turned around again as he rushed for the door. He'd wasted too much time as it was.
"Thanks, Blake- I'll make it up to you-"
"Fucking right you will." He said in an upturned tone of voice. Looking back towards the agent, he eyed him up and down. Judging the lanky, slender, tall man like a piece of meat hanging in a slaughterhouse.
"…Today, at lunch." Smirking lightly, he exited the door as he headed back to his desk.
"Shit." Jayden licked his lips when he instantly recognized the man's perverse hint. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he began to pace the long room a little. Deep down, he knew Blake would want another round. Yet he loathed it, not so much for the process itself as what it meant. Doing it to this man killed his pride, and embarrassed him profusely. Doing it to a complete stranger would have been far less worse then to this police lieutenant, a man he was beginning to tolerate but still found a deep loathing for. The thought of the action made his stomach flip; his muscles flinch and body go into a rigid state.
Despite knowing that it would come back around sooner or later, he had hoped that secretly Blake would be too busy to remember their little arrangement. Apparently, he was very wrong. Turning around, he leaned on the porcelain sink as he let his head droop and look into the basin. For a few seconds he stood there, listening to the miracle of himself breath- of reality, of standing in solid, perpetual space and time.
'I do owe him so much.' The thought disgusted him with its actuality. 'I owe him everything. Without him I'd be in un-reality forevah.'
He wondered, was that so bad, really? Was he better off never setting foot in the real world again? After all, he never much cared for it. As a child he was a dreamer, sought a world full of wonder instead of the dead, bleak walls of the Federal Bureau's' cold, cruel, and grey offices. Blank and dull, filled with chaos and noise. His parents ripped away his toy dinosaurs, his clay, pencils, papers, and even action figures at a young age- could no longer play the dreamer, the adventurer, or the hero. Replaced with non-fiction texts that told him the truth instead of the wondrous. The unlikely but not altogether impossible. The solid instead of the unsure. The bleak outlook of life opposed to the unlimited barriers of the human imagination.
Alice in Wonderland, The Hobbit, The Chronicles of Narnia, Frankenstein, The Lost World, among others populated his childhood. Everything from old myths across the sea; to new fantasies from the here and now. Sir Author Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes novels, especially, interested him later in life. It had a big part in pushing him into his current career.
Then came a period of science fiction, where he became enraptured with Verne's little fantasies, and H.G Well's grim outlook of the future. Yet above all what stuck out was the technology in the stories, the ability to use advanced science to accomplish what the fantastic stories of his youth presented but never explained. With these devices, this science; anything was possible.
It wasn't that he sat at his desk and wished to be in a land of unicorns and magical goddamn elves- it was that the world as it stood bored him profusely. He longed for a window in his office, a glance out to the world outside…and when he finally went outside- he could care less. He had to get going, always running off to another task or order from the main office. When he talked with people, he longed for understanding of their ways. To fully comprehend their actions and what made them tick. Yet when he did get them, he did his job and went about his way. Nothing was ever satisfying to him. He wished for a world that met his expectations and went beyond.
Yet ARI was even too limited, and especially when he had no choice but to exist solely inside it. Carter was a Godsend, if he still believed in God. He told himself he should be grateful, even if deep inside he fought the urge to spit in the older man's face. Even if he sought his almost constant approval while simultaneously hurling insults. Even sucking his dick apparently didn't make him happy, earned him no real affection and only tolerance.
Hearing the bathroom door shift, he perked up and found himself running towards the nearest stall. Clambering on top of the toilet, he locked the stall door and crouched down, trying his best to keep balance on top of the porcelain throne.
Just when Jayden didn't think things could possibly suck any more, a knock came at the door.
"Hello?" Came a strained man's voice, echoing in the room.
"Somebody in there?"
'FUCK.'
The door rattled on its loose hinges, and Jayden's eyes focused on them as though his very existence depended on them- and they did. If anybody found him- maybe he'd get lucky and they wouldn't recognize the agent they loathed from day one. If they did, though, the word would get around that he wasn't dead. Somehow it could all lead back to Blake, and if he didn't have access to ARI anymore…He might vanish from reality entirely.
Just like that, though, the man gave up. He chose the stall next door and proceeded to use it while Jayden stood there, perched like a bird on its rim as he waited for Carter to bring him to the car. It was awkward to say the extreme least. He just hoped his withdrawals didn't start again. God only knew he wouldn't be able to handle it right then and there.
Time flew by at an agonizing pace, and as it did so, Norman wondered just what time it was. Was it even close to lunch? God- he was so fucking hungry! He was beginning to feel the hunger pains already clawing at his stomach. He felt hollow inside, like somebody carved him out like a Halloween pumpkin and sat him on the front porch. Though the last thing he had was an eating disorder, the man prided himself in being able to skip meals to achieve more time in his day, if need be. The pains never bothered him before. Now, they seemed dire. Like he hadn't eaten in days, not just since yesterday. Biting his lip, he leaned against the bathroom stall as he took a deep breath- the agony of starvation raking him as his belly made various gurgling noises-
"Oh…" He said out loud in another realization. Another urge suddenly came upon him for the first time since his death. Well, he was in the right place for it. He just hoped Carter didn't pull him through mid-way.
Laying toilet paper down on the seat carefully, he shook a little from a slight tremor of fear ran through him. Pulling down his pants, Jayden sat on the toilet as he sighed in a sort of half relief, half frustration.
Ash had been leery of Blake ever since he finally came back to sit down. A small conversation came up about what was specifically wrong with the lieutenant, to which the shorter man simply waved it off as a 'bug he heard was going around'. Of course, the taller man knew there was no bug, could sense the lie in a man he knew for years. He knew when Carter was lying because he was the one that had taught Ash how to do it without being caught. The student became the master.
Yet he didn't bring it up, didn't question it further. Instead, Ash simply observed as the other man tried to work to the best of his ability. They talked business, of Scott's body, the murders at the Kramer estate, among others. Carter didn't seem as interested as he normally would be, his eyes almost glassy as they seemed to have more activity going on behind them then normal. There was no focus there, and instead there laid a nervousness he wasn't at all used to seeing from the tough cop of over thirty years experience.
Then he watched as Blake turned around, almost as if suddenly remembering something. He looked down at his own gold watch, checking the time.
"'There any donuts left?"
Ash was caught off guard by that, so he shrugged and looked towards the table where he saw a closed Krispy Kreme donut box, then lifted a brow.
"Maybe?"
"Fuck, I don't know why but this sickness is making me hungry as hell. I can't stop eating."
This only deepened the mystery to James, so he chewed a bit on his lip as he looked across to the shorter man, yet Carter didn't look back. He was still focused on those donuts like a lifeline.
"Well, go see if there's any left, then. Don't let me stop you." Ash flung his arm into the air and waved in the table's direction, a bit irritated with his 'stupid' question.
Without further hesitation, the lieutenant looked around, then stood up. He made his way to the table, opening the box up fastidiously. Pulling out what looked to be a glazed, crème-filled donut; he took an enormous bite and began to chew with widely-puffed cheeks. It was like watching a squirrel hoard nuts, afraid somebody was going to come along and take them all away. A cop did get too close to the ravaging man in blue, and received a nasty stare in warning. There was a stink-eye stare down as the cop walked away, shaking his head in bewilderment.
'Well now, this is interesting.' Ash noted, then began to open up the computer program his little report of Carter was stored. Typing away, he noted the exact time of day in his passage.
Then he watched as his partner grabbed a small pile of nearby napkins, piling three donuts on top. It was all that was left, and he was making sure he got them all. Sprinting over to the coffee machine, he looked about nervously as he made a cup, pouring in two sugars and stirring it quickly, all the way working one-handed.
'Now wait- Carter hates coffee black. He dumps so much crap in that thing it might as well be a cup of creamer- what the hell is he making that for?'
Taking all of these, he turned around and nodded towards Ash, his gaze steely and determined, perhaps also a little bit embarrassed.
"Be right back…I gotta go take care of something-"
"With a pile of donuts and coffee?" The slightly younger man questioned, his gaze curious and tone almost irritated.
Shrugging, Carter looked like a kid with his hand stuck in the cookie jar.
"I'm gonna eat while I work, is that a problem with you?"
"Let me come with you-"
"No."
That tone was new; rarely did Blake speak that way to him. He didn't like it.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said no. I need to make a private phone call." He said this as he walked towards the elevator, his voice trailing off. It was obvious to the detective that he wasn't the lieutenant's top priority. In fact, it sounded like he could care less. Belligerent, even.
Ash felt that horrible anger surge deep inside. It wasn't something very becoming of him, he tended to remain relatively calm under pressure. Rarely did he get mad; instead he often set about to getting even. He was like karma, that universal rule of positive and negative energies swirling about. He came back to bite you in the ass when you least expected it. Insults were laughed at, his smart ass tone and smile only enraging the attacker instead of satisfying them.
For a moment he saw red, taking a deep breath as he watched the man push the call button and not even look back when he went inside. As his pulse raced, he wasted no time as he draped his jacket across his arm and stood to full attention. It wouldn't be easy tailing his more aggressive partner, but he'd be able to pull it off. He was always the more cunning of the two of them, and outsmarting him shouldn't have been too hard.
Walking up to the red elevator doors, he nervously looked to his left and right as he contemplated his plan. Counting down the minutes, he hoped Carter would have been off doing whatever the hell he was before Ash himself reached him, because if he really was simply making a private call at the elevator's base…Somehow…He'd be caught, chewed out, and his cover blown. In Carter's eyes, the grey-clothed detective would have no business being down there- especially when he made it clear he wanted to be left alone.
Except he knew full well that wasn't the case. That there was no call. Unbeknownst to Blake, Ash had noticed he left his cell phone on his desk.
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