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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
- 14
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- 16
Snake, I am the snake,

tempting, that bite you take

Let me make your mind,

leave yourself behind

Be not afraid.

I've got what you need,

hunger I will feed.
One day you will see-

And dare to come down to me.

Yeah c'mon, c'mon now take the chance...

That's right,

let's dance.
-Metallica "Devil's Dance"
U p l o a d e d

It was an awkward next couple minutes as Blake made his way out the door with his 'partner'; and he hated that word…It had that gay implication to begin with, now with Norman's 'abilities' it was even worse- Either way, he couldn't help but notice a slight eagerness in the other man's step as he walked past him and out the door, cathing a whiff of his pricier cologne.
"You wearin'my stuff?"
"Hmm?" The Bostonian questioned, turning around as he dipped his head. "I'm sah'wry?"
"My cologne. You wear'n it?"
"Like I was wearin' your puke, earlier? Sure. Just a little."
Ouch. Blake's eyes narrowed as he cracked a smirk, "Yeah? Well why the hell you wear'n it? You think you're gonna get some undead ass when we're out there?"
"I can ask you the same question, lov'ah boy. Don't think I can't smell that Stenton?"
"Ah, you got me, shithead." Surprisingly enough, he'd never heard the man admit defeat until then.
"I wanna smell like Tom Brady in front of 'yah Boston- dwell'n family. Figured it would make the girls flock to me like flies on shit, ya'h know?"
"Well, 'yah half right…" He sighed, insinuating that at least one aspect of the man's allegory was correct, the shit part that was.
Blake took a few steps down his porch stairs, looking back as he exhaled, the cloud of vapor dissipating quickly. His eyes were bemused, a slight grin to his face.
"Y'ah know, you're starting to get quite the mouth on you…" He said in a upturned tone of voice, blatently teasing.
"I've been hang'n out with you 'fah too long." Norman responded, a slight attitude to his words. The watery cloud of codensation wafted from his lips rather slowly, shivering slightly as he adjusted his jacket and huddled inside of it. He followed Blake, whom didn't seem to respond at all to his little jab.
"That mouth can be used for better things, Jayden." The man's face was lusty as he cracked a half-smile, opening his car door as he glared to the agent with other, far more provocative things in mind.
The agent's face seemed unenthused with his attempt to fuck with him, and simply acted as though nothing was said at all. Blake watched him look towards the ground as he walked, a slight pink coming to that pale face as he refused to make eye contact as he opened the car door.
"God! It's freez'n in here."
Ignoring the complaint for now, Blake instead started the machine and heard it roar to life, that was, after about the second time he cranked the key.
"Somethin' wrong?"
"Huh?"
"With the car…It didn't want to start."
"It does that sometimes- relax."
Sighing deeply, Norman re-shifted in his freezing seat as his breath once more evaporated into a cloud before him. He shivered horribly, clutching his arms around his chest as he leaned back, hoping desperately the car would heat up…Sometime soon, for Chrissakes.
"Is it ah'ways this cold this time of ye'ah?"
Blake seemed out-of-touch for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders as he looked up into his rearview mirror, finding the activity outside pretty much dead except for a car running down the street, then realizing it was just the paper delivery. He could almost barely wait (sarcastically, of course) to once again be mentioned in the paper for his incompetence, the inability to find the Origami Killer under their nose the whole two years. He wondered why he even paid the monthly fee to be insulted every morning.
"Sometimes-Sometimes it's even warm, like summer…It's been a while since that happened, though."
Their conversation was light, and Jayden couldn't help but feel a tinge better as he got Blake successfully from his sullen, abashed episode where he had, without a doubt, his pride mortally wounded. Puking on somebody never goes well. He didn't care what the situation was. Though Jayden gave himself a slight pat on the back for handling it as well as he did.
Norman nodded, pursing his lips and folding his hands in his lap. He was rather enjoying it when Carter acted….civilized? Like he could hold a conversation with another human being and not jump down their throat or belittle them. He found it rather refreshing, relieving- the young agent wasn't sure if he could deal with all this hostility all the time. It would send him to yet another early grave.
"Too bad it couldn't be this year, eh?"
"Yeah, isn't that the truth…Coulda' dealt with a year without those murders, that's for sure."
Ouch. Yeah, of course. Norman licked the top of his lip briefly and instead sat back, watching the lieutenant put his arm behind his head rest, to which Norman ducked out of a slight aversion. Pulling back out of the driveway, those bright lights shone the way as he maneuvered the grey car into position, taking off sullenly as he drove into the dark, chilly morning.
There was an awkward, slightly uncomfortable silence as Carter turned down some urban Philadelphian streets. Norman would have loved to have fallen asleep right then, yet there was a stemming excitement that arouse in the seemingly dead-man's throbbing heart. It was happening. The day had come- Carter was all dressed in that suit, tie synched and hair combed- looking as professional as possible.
He could see the older man from the corner of his squinting eyes, and was reminded of their first days on the Origami Killer case. A tension was in the air back then…Now? It was more of a...strange, livid air, them both sharing something intimate with one another they'd both rather not. Blake's bodily fluids had been on and in him a few times now- their partnership had most certainly changed.
'Wouldn't it be nice to have it be the otha'h way for a change?' He whimsically fantasized. The next time he had the urge to puke, no doubt he'd think to aim towards the lieutenant. Or would he, really? He questioned it; but in the end he just wasn't that masochistic. Besides, he decided it wasn't exactly Carter Blake's fault that he had to throw up. He just...happened to be in the way? Was that the best way to put it?
What about the blowjobs he was 'forced' to give? What if the tables were turned in that special regard? An almost-smile tugged at his face, a heat rushing to his cheeks as he got a sudden, almost unexplained vision of Blake wrapping his lips around his scrotum. Sucking at the testicles, licking along the bottom of the length as he then probed it into his slit! MMMmmm! He envisioned the man's tongue to be thick, like everything else about his steer-like physique. That lovely goatee of his brushing against the inside of his thighs-
"The hell you smil'n about?"
Snapping out of his little fantasy, his face burned even redder at having been "discovered". That smile faded a little, though he had a hard time totally making it disappear from his cheeks. Instead his heart thud in a combination of eroticism and surprise, and he moved his hips back and forth in the seat to make himself more comfortable. Yes, he had an erection. It pounded painfully in his lap, he thought about crossing his legs, but didn't think that would be particularly helpful. Besides, there wasn't exactly enough room to do that in the small space he was given, not to mention it would be awkward to do such a thing in front of the man he was fantasizing about- no doubt he would draw attention.
Blake did have those nice, dick-sucking lips. It was the one feature, perhaps along with his eye color- that he admired about him. He'd do just about anything to see those lips glide up and down his dick, that vulgar tongue lap the head of his manhood until he dripped and was forced to lap it up- Christ! He'd cum in his pants if he kept this way of thinking up any longer. Instead he took to looking out the window, ignoring the slight awkward energy altogether.
"Just'a joke I rah'membered..."
Blake make a "hmmm" noise in his throat, sounding not completely convinced, but also not interested enough to probe into the matter further.
It appeared that Blake had lived on West Penn street, and not all that far from route 76, it made sense to him. It didn't look like a bad area of town, people had yards, and they appeared to be up on a high hill. No doubt the proximity of the highway meant it would be easy to take off and hit the road, making his way to the precinct in good time.
They crossed a few streets, which were relatively lively now that they were entering the city's core. People going to work, getting their breakfast, God knew what else. He spied some cop cars, and felt a little more satisfied that perhaps this area was a little more safe then most. No matter how confident in himself- he'd rather not be robbed in his new 'house' in Philly while he slumbered on the couch.
A phone rang, and his head jerked to the side as he watched Blake shift in his seat and grumble, reaching for the cell phone in his pocket, but finding it difficult.
"…Fuck." He cursed, trying again and had a hard time keeping his eyes on the road.
"Here-" Norman offered, shifting in his seat and reaching over to help.
Blake felt awkward as Jayden leaned over, reaching as the phone continued to ring. He could feel the little peckerwood fumbling around in his black jacket near his ass- he twitched when he felt the hand grace his posterior, trying to keep his face from showing it's irritation and homoerotic discomfort. Finally he found it, pulling it out from it's snug pocket and handing it off. Repositioning his hand, his face belayed nothing but frustration as he took it from the unintentional groper. Taking it off it's "lock" mode, he finally answered the phone just as it was about to go to voice mail.
"Yeah?"
Norman listened a bit more intently then he should have. Now he seemed to be fascinated wholly by the lieutenant's activities and relations. He was steadily becoming a morbid curiosity to him.
"Uh-huh…On the road already…The traffic's pretty thin…Getting on the highway now..."
Indeed, the younger man turned his head to find them getting onto an ramp on one of the state's many highways. He wasn't much of a fan of Blake talking on the cell while he was driving, but he knew better then to argue. He gazed down at the two-way radio below, easily in the switched 'off' position. He could only just begin to wonder the sort of things that have been said through it- unbelievable atrocities committed amongst mankind by the citizens and the people sworn to protect them.
"You know where to go? Yup- no…No, that's…Eh, no, I had a big breakfast. I'm just gonna drive right through…Well go ahead- Yeah, I'll tell 'em…Alright…Hehe…Yeah, good…."
Blake hung up unceremoniously, pushing the "end call" button on the touch screen as he handed it back to the agent.
"Ash…" He remarked, though Blake wondered himself why he felt the need to inform him in the first place.
"Wanted to make sure I was on my way…He's already halfway out there- was wondering if I wanted to grab a bite, but obviously I can't do that with your ass in tow."
"Do what you want, Cartuh. I'll stay in the car…"
"And risk having someone look in and see you? Especially Ash? No- you gotta stay out of the public eye as much as possible."
Blake had to admit, part of him had to wonder why. Why couldn't he just arrive with dear 'ol Norman at his own funeral and throw him to his family, then spin off? Seeing the look on their faces would have been satisfying enough to warrant such a risk.
"You're right. I probably shouldn't 'ah even came…"
"No. You need to make sure I do this shit right. All of it. We had a deal…I don't pull any bullshit- if you need this done, it'll get done…The right way. You're gonna owe me if it turns into a pain in the ass, I can tell you that."
"Yeah, well it probably will be…" He sighed. "I just wish I could go and at least tah'lk to my family…"
"Shit, Norm, the FBI is after me about those fuck'n glasses of yours. They see you and it's going to get even worse- we'll both be up a shit crick without a paddle!"
Blake seemed to bellow the words as he- in a very animated fashion- rising his left hand off the steering wheel and gestering towards the road in front of him as said "shit crick". Jayden eyed this, hopeful that they wouldn't careen off the road and into an actual "crick" of some sort. Blake had a very no-nonsense view on driving, nearly running down several pedestrians on their previous investigation. Something told him a highway's guide rails wouldn't have much better luck.
"I understand. I know…I just…wish things could be diff-rent, that's all…"
Sighing heavily, the police lieutenant seemed to mellow out as he got on another ramp, passing a large, green, reflective sign marked I-95 and merging into some very sparse traffic. He noticed now it was the same highway he investigated next to when he arrived in Philly- funny how things always seemed to come together.
Norman once again shifted in his seat, noticing the sudden and strange silence that took over the car. He swore he could hear the detective next to him breathe, and it was slightly unsettling. It was like being next to a sleeping dragon, ready to awaken and pounce any minute.
Looking out the window, he sidled towards it as far as he could go as he exhaled, watching the cars fly by. Blake seemed to drive like he stole it- no shocker there. He appeared to have trouble staying in one lane for too long, constantly switching as he felt the need to pass one after another. The agent began to watch the license plates- mostly Pennsylvania, with the yellow, white and blue coloring and the state's website address. He couldn't help but think that it was horribly boring.
Though a large portion was also made up by New Jersey- which was even worse. That one was brownish tinge fading into white, and nothing more. A good many also seemed to hail from New York, Maryland, Delaware, Virginia…one from Florida, so far. It had only been about a few minutes, and yet the small number of cars on the highway seemed to be surprisingly varied.
"So uh…" Blake began, and it was rather surprising to Jayden that he even said anything.
"Where'd you uh…Go to school at?"
The agent couldn't help but be surprised, moving forward in his seat as he tried to lift his heavy eyelids.
"High school or college?"
Blake almost scoffed; but kept his composure. He had a whole car ride to go with this guy, he needed to maintain some sort of peace in order to remain sane.
"College, Norman. I don't really care where you went to high school…"
"I wouldn't think you'd care where I went to college, eith'ah."
Nearly smirking, the older male changed lanes as he once again passed a motorist, the blue jeep was apparently going too slow at the snail's pace of sixty-five miles per hour in a fifty-five marked highway.
"I don't. I'm… just trying to start a conversation?"
It almost sounded as though he was asking permission, and Jayden had to inwardly smile at his attempt. He couldn't blame him- though really, he was about ready to get some uncomfortable car-sleep in.
"Ah, well…" His tone was heavily accented, his tongue almost too lazy to talk.
"I uh…I went to Bay State…Prett'ah highly rated…'bout…four years. Went by pretty fast."
Blake nodded; the bastard beside him couldn't be any more boring right now. He didn't even sound interested in his own life story.
"Four years? That all it takes to be a…err…"
"Profil'ah? No, just to g'het an add-vanced da-gree in psychology. To be a profil'ah I had to train with the F-bee-eye."
"How long did that take?"
"A f'ew yea's…I learn fast, so it was no problem."
"So, what? You were in just like that?" Blake almost felt good about attacking Norman's credibility- it didn't seem to take him long to get into his profession. What a fucking kid-
"No. I worked for the F'Bee-I for at least five ye'ahs, first. I was a special agent…I uh…Shit, it was a pain in the fuck'n ass- I had to compete with all these assholes for the job…It was horrible. Cut'cha throat so much as look at'cha."
"Okay- so when did you have the chance to go to school?"
"While I was work'n. What?"
"Well fuck, how long was your work day?"
"'Bout…nine'ta five. Though I pulled 'a lotta all-nighters."
"How the hell did you manage to work and attend college?"
Norman found himself a little at ease. For once Carter was impressed, it was obvious by the side view of the older man's face, he was indeed surprised. Perheps even facinated, he'd bet on it if he were a betting man. At least...Not anymore- not after he lost enough money for it not to be fun anymore.
"I just did it. I almost never hung out- drank, did anythin'- but ay'e did it. I got through it. Just as well, I mean…I hate downtime, anyway…"
Carter shook his head in irritation, part of his pride damaged. He turned his lips inward and briefly chewed on the top one- only to draw them both out and lick them as he sat back in his seat, eyes burning harshly.
"So you're tell' in me you actually got to where you were by working your ass off?"
Saying this as he leaned over, one hand taken off the wheel to gesture with it, pointing into some random space between them as he accentuated "ass" a great deal. It actually made the agent feel uncomfortable, but not enough to shake him.
"Yeah, Cartuh, I did. Why? Why's that so hard to believe?"
Jayden's voice was, understandably, on an edge. His squint came back, and he leaned forward as he gave Blake an accusing stare, waiting for a response. The older man's gaze was pinned to the road, not even noticing that his own speed had dropped and several of the cars that passed him had caught up, leaving him in the dust.
"Like I said…You don't seem the type to getch'a hands dirty…" He tried to explain, and really, he had a hard time coming up with a reason why he never saw Norman as a particularly hard-working individual.
"Yeah, I'm not a dirty cop, Cartuh." Jayden insulted, a sharp edge of hostility laced inside.
"Can't say the same for you…" Came a whisper as he leaned back against the window, and he waited…Just waited for Blake to explode, but was surprised when a few strained seconds went by with nothing except their odd quiets between them.
"…I never took a bribe."
His words were surprisingly loud despite them being muttered practically under his breath. Jayden heard it very easily, the only other sound being the rumbling of wheels down the highway.
"I'm sahry?" He asked, mostly for clarification. Though he had a good feeling what was said.
"I said I never took a bribe. You call'n me a dirty cop? Think I'm fuck'n deaf?"
"Well I'm happy for 'yah." 'Bullshit.' Norman thought. "So that's something you actually take a stand on? Out of h'all the other illegal activities?"
"Norman, I really…really can do without your fuck'n mouth today-"
"Really? You seem 'tah like my mouth, or 'am I imagin' what happened the past coulpa' days?"
Carter's driving sped up, and he took a turn a bit faster then he should have. He ended up braking a little to slow him down, his hands wringing the steering wheel as he once again took a deep breath to control himself. This was actually an impressive feat for him- he would like to say he was never so close to wanting to fucking kill a man in his life- but Jayden certaintly wasn't the first.
"Fuck -you, asshole..."
The insult was strong, incredibly despondent, yet it was said with a face that looked more distracted then angry. In the end the whole thing came off rather vapid, and so Norman looked back at him in mild interest as he lay his head back against the seat. He was half tempted to try and get some sleep again. Except…Well damn him, now he was curious, too.
"So, I assume you only graduated h'eye school? Besides the academy, that is?"
There was a slight quiet, one that made Norman's cheeks almost heat up in embarrassment. It had nothing to do with the actual question, it just made him feel stupid. Why'd he even care? He supposed he knew he should have been trying to do what Blake wanted, make the guy happy. No doubt he felt like shit right then, and not just emotionally- no doubt about it, the withdrawals were starting to effect him once more. He could have used some cheering up after his long sick spells, that's for sure.
"Yeah." Came his reply, finally. Though it wasn't exactly a joyful tone.
"What was it like? Did you…Have a lot of friends? Play sports?"
There seemed to be an underlying method to the young man's madness. If he could find out a bit more about the man in blue, he would perhaps be able to understand his sadistic, chaotic mind. The way he ticked was beginning to be more of a project of his- or maybe the man was just an asshole? Somehow, he figured that may just as well be likely.
"Played football for the first couple years…Then I tore some muscle in my leg...mom made me quit. Never went back…"
Blake said it over-top a sigh, released slow, like somebody letting air out of a balloon. He sounded just as saddened and deflated to match it. Carter rubbed his mouth and let his left arm be propped up by the window, leaving his palm on his mouth as he casually drove down the highway with one hand.
He wasn't comfortable with this at all. There was something writhing beneath his exterior that only displayed itself in his boughts of violence and masochism- and he wasn't ready to show it to anybody. Especially not his new little bitch. However, as much as he hated it, he was indeed being interviewed by a psychiatrist. If anybody was going to crawl inside his head, it was going to be him. This came to his attention a little bit ago, and as it was, he was trying to step lightly.
"Oh…I'm…sahry tah' hear that." He put as well as he could. Giving the man a slight glance out of the corner of his eye, he gave his lips a slight lick then continued to stare off into the distance as he took notice of the change in scenery. It had changed to a slightly less residential area, and he had taken notice it was the same route he took on the way to Philly in the first place. A farm loomed in the distance, crops lining both sides of the road as some diary cows grazed in the far-off hillside.
"Did 'yah…grow up in the city? In the country?" Norman suddenly thought- even if he already knew the answer.
This time he responded a bit more quickly, he shifted as he rounded a curve, and cast the man next to him sidelong glance as he immediately turned his eyes towards the road.
"Not far from here-actually. Guess you can say it was in the country…I don't know…Kinda in the middle of nowhere…"
Jayden nodded, his tired, drugged eyes looking into the side of the older man's face. He'd come to notice how odd his features were- his face flat, his whole head was, all around, even the back. His eyes were small and deep-set, yet expressive, and it was beginning to get easier to read the older male by looking into those pits of ire. For the briefest of seconds, he'd wondered what Carter looked like when he was a young man. Not filled with dark, piteful despair, but instead a youthful vigor that could only be matched by his sheer sexual potency. Though Jayden could only marvel at just how horny the cop would be back then if this was how he was right now.
"What about you?" Came the retort, in a surprisingly gentle tone. It was a tone the dead man had yet to hear from the cruel lieutenant.
Shrugging his shoulders lightly, he struggled with how to put the words. He didn't want to sound like an idiot now that they were getting along surprisingly well despite a…rough morning.
"Suburb outside Bost-in, not too big of a place."
That was it. Jayden's childhood had been surprisingly tame, and he honestly had few truly positive, memorable moments. Nodding, Blake switched on the turn signal, indicating his change of lanes. Jayden looked up and out the window, noticing they were moving onto the turnpike, the sign "Pennsylvania Turnpike" emblazed on a keystone shaped, green sign indicating the exit one needed to take in order to turn onto he pay-road.
"Alright there, Casper the asshole ghost- sit tight. Look down, don't stick out."
Furrowing his brow, he hesitated as he took in that insult.
"Cartuh, are you fuck'n serious? I'm not a ghost!"
"You're dead. Or did'ya forget that one, FBI?"
He was about to interject, when the toll plaza reared it's head out of the haze that had enveloped the road. It was still dark out, but less so, and it was obvious to the Boston native that the sun would be rising shortly, that dawn and the odd sort of twilight sky would appear soon, with it's light blue twinges and vestiges of light towards the horizon. Say what he would about the state and it's inhabitants, but so far both the sunsets and sunrises had impressed him.
The plaza itself sprawled a good distance, several lanes open as it announced in green signs "CASH ONLY", "EZ PASS", or "CASH or EZ PASS." He had an EZ Pass, but sad to say- being dead, and the label on his old license plate that was now somewhere in the remains of his crushed-up Chevy Impala in Mad Jack's scrap yard- well, that sort of put a damper on things. He noticed Blake getting into the exclusively EZ PASS lane, and for some reason he didn't quite get, felt the need to ask.
"You have one?"
"Have what?" Blake asked, a bit irritated.
"An EZ Pass…"
"This is a state-use car, peckerhead. The state pays it."
"Oh…"
Jayden's cheeks blazed- what the hell was wrong with him? Every time he tried to make some sort of conversation, tried to one-up the old cop, he ended up looking like an ass. It was painfully embarrassing, though certainly not the worst as of late.
Sailing through the EZ PASS lane, Norman did his best to keep his head down as other cars slowed down as they entered, grabbed a ticket, then left the toll booths next to them. His luck, one of them would be an avid news watcher, and would recognize him and the almost-famous cop he was with. Not that Norman himself had the sort of face that stuck out- it was simply how his luck tended to run.
He could tell they were going the right way, the drive up may not have been memorable, but it was painfully simple. It was his first time in the state, but not his first time travelling north. So instead of bringing up which way to go next, he decided to keep quiet unless he was needed. Though it was still a long, long ways off. He noticed the older man's driving habits to be fast and aggressive, not at all shocking considering his personality. Norman was no slow chump himself, but he tended to at least stay around the speed limit, something Blake himself seemed to have considered more of a suggestion.
"What, you agents had to pay for your pass? Fuck'n cheap asses…"
"No- the account was just owned by the Federal Government."
Blake nodded, then sighed as he scratched the back of his head.
"Yup…"
Wow.
Blake honestly could say this was the most boring fucking conversation he had in his life- okay, well…Maybe that wasn't entirely true- women he'd been with, now the shit they had talked about had been boring. Still, this was easily the worst he'd heard in a long, long time. The disgruntled, obscene brute of a cop, instead, sought to rid himself of some curiosities that he had been a bit too cautious to ask. Not really for sake of ruining his "clean" appearance to the man that already loathed him, but instead saving himself from looking like he really cared. Still, they were men, regardless of one another's sexual orientations. Though, as far as Blake was concerned, it was still a "choice." Norman's "choice" was, to Blake, weak and unclean in his eyes. It was hard for him to respect a man who would make such a decision.
"Ever been with a girl?"
The question felt heavy the minute it was uttered; so heavy that Jayden nearly just let it drop. Except the damn air was too quiet in the car's cabin, with no radio blaring or outside noise to feign not hearing him. How easy and nice it would be to dismiss that question, let it slide and chaulk it up to Blake being the ignorant, prude asshole he was.
Instead, he readjusted himself in his seat again, suddenly feeling very warm as his blood rushed to his face as he turned away, staring out the window. 'Just 'answer him, you don't have to go into detail…'
"Twice…" He paused, feeling his heart pound in embarrassment as he recalled both events. "It wasn't…very memorable." That was a flat-out lie. It was very memorable, if that meant being something he'd rather forget.
Blake gave a little laugh with a snort, and sat up more in his seat as he gave a glimpse on over to his traveling companion.
"Two! Fuck, two girls?"
Blake's tone was quite astonished, though part of it was in fact a put-on to make a bit more of ass out of his traveling companion.
"How'd that work? I mean…Being a queer and all…"
Of course, he said "queer" with more malice then the rest of the sentence, though it wasn't spat at him like a vehement hatred he'd heard so much of. Luckily for Norman, or perhaps not entirely so- he'd been able to keep his sexual orientation on the hush-hush in most of the precincts he's been to. Cities in New England tended to be liberal and tolerant, so the issue almost never came up. When it did, it wasn't discussed openly for fear of persecution on either side. Jayden didn't tell the cops he worked with he was gay, but if it came up in a conversation, it was played, danced around, just in case.
When he was called to California, the same thing nearly resulted, though the LAPD was famous for it's brutality, he found them strangely accommodating. Hell, he'd made a few friends over there, though they stayed out of his bedroom. One of them found out he was gay, but seemed quite uncarring and even anesthetised to the whole concept of sexuality. Jayden found himself far more disturbed over that then if he had been cornered, then beaten in a bathroom stall- like so many gay or bisexual men before him.
The gay community was of course established better there then many places in the country, but that was never his whole scene. He much preferred a trim, almost-straight or bi-curious man, sweet but not a pushover, either. It was a hard type, and he was turned off by the flamboyant nature his orientation was always portrayed as. Fuck, he couldn't even clean his own house properly, let alone pick a wallpaper color.
The south on the other hand…He loathed traveling down there, especially in the smaller, less tolerant, back-way parts of the godforsaken United States. Everything from the Ku Klux Klan to the Republican assholes who found his way of life 'disgusting' and a piece of trash to be stomped- to simple, ignorant hicks making comments to their bar-buddies; usually involving a lynching like 'back in the good 'ol days' made his blood boil to a stupendous level. His rage threatening to unfurl much like the flag they would claim to believe in- except in his case, he couldn't afford to fly free. He needed his job, needed this busy way of life to satiate everything about himself, his addictions, and had to, craved to keep himself collected. It was a practice he'd homed, and had used quite the number of times when talking to Blake himself.
Yet despite that, Blake's tone and words didn't really sting him. Because he didn't believe the man was a real fag-beater. He'd seen those types, and he didn't fit the bill. A homophobe, perhaps, but that wasn't uncommon, especially for men his age. Though he didn't key Blake in to be religious, for obvious reasons, so to him the comments seemed to be more of a way to reassure himself, to keep himself comfortable in his own sexuality. Any fears the lieutenant had of having such 'sick' desires were squashed the minute he lashed out against them, tied it to the whipping post and beat it into submission. He didn't see Carter as gay, or even bisexual, but he did see him as…curious. Just like him, and just like him, Norman didn't know how good it was with a man compared to a woman. Not until he actually laid his hands on one.
It wasn't that Norman "chose" to be the way he was- if it was even possible to do so- it was more of a search for that missing desire that always eluded him, like an ancient explorer looking for the untold realms of El Dorado or the Fountain of Youth, and just as unobtainable. A man's body felt right, felt natural to him, and when he held his lover close he swore they became one living, breathing thing. The way his hands held those masculine hips against his own, the heat and the closeness blending together in a tempest of life and passion- it was something he imagined sex should have been.
Except it really wasn't.
Fucking a man did feel more 'right' then it did with a woman- the attraction was there for men, but not passionately so. Sure, he enjoyed staring at female breasts, though he preferred the smaller ones, the way they bounced was so much more erotic to him then the way the large, fake ones protruded almost helplessly from a woman's tight tank top; practically crying for help. He found woman beautiful and attractive in the same sense as one woman would find another, by admiring her form and the natural beauty that no man could ever possess. Treating them better then even the men he "dated", purely based on his own upbringing, which was to respect the opposite sex no matter the reason. Being raised mostly by his busy mother helped the lesson.
When he first went to bed with a boy in high school, he knew it was what he had been missing after dating two girls. Everything from kissing his lips to fucking him deeply, slowly and calculated. It felt right, and not for one second did he feel shame for his actions. Though those moments weren't without their humiliating instances.
Those romantic hints and gestures weren't anything like he thought they would be, though. Woman seemed to want him more, appreciate him more, and were sure as fuck easier to come by. Those young men didn't feel for him like he tried to feel for them, didn't want the moments of passion he needed and craved to affirm his self-esteem, the thing he lacked for a long time. He identified himself as a gay man, yet found himself becoming more and more asexual with nearly every passing sexual encounter.
"Y'know, I'm not sure I feel comf'table talking to you about this, Cartuh-"
"What, you getting shy now, Jayden? Didn't you just suck my dick yesterday? Come'on, we're men- we're supposed to talk about this shit."
Blake's tone was perplexing to the young profiler- mostly because he actually sounded interested. Such a strange concept, Norman thought, seeing as the older homicide detective had made it clear he didn't want to get involved in his personal life.
"What, like two friends would?" He brought up, glancing back ironically as he sidled back into his seat, then turning to look outside with delayed interest.
Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, Blake didn't take his eyes off the road as he tried to convey his slight curiosity. "Yeah…" He said, as if not really caring one way or another.
"Ay'e thought we weren't friends?" Jayden stated, his tone that of a smart-ass, pompous asshole. A tone more befitting his companion then him, or so one would think.
His face burning a sudden red, Carter readjusted in his seat as he kept his eyes forward, not wanting to make it obvious he was heavily irritated by that comment.
"Why don't you fuck off, Norman…"
A smirk crossed the younger man's face as he darted a look over towards his traveling companion; who was currently looking ahead as well as he could, stewing in a sort of vehement contempt as he did his best to avoid eye contact. This surprised Norman, as if anything Carter had always seemed eager to raise his hackles and go in head-first against him, almost always initiating the meeting of eyes and the clashing of wills.
Not this time, instead his voice and visage conveyed a certain underlying distress, a wounding of a stricken, woeful chord. Now the agent glanced back and forth from the cop to his window, noticing the very slightest of harbringer rains start dribbling down on the windshield, the lieutenant turning on the wipers to clear them away. Since when did it seem possible to mentally harm this brute of a man? This Hannibal of Philadelphia that seemed more eager to rip out his still-beating heart then ask him how he was fucking feeling this morning? Or was he simply misreading his partner of the past week? It was easy to do, considering his odd, sporadic behavior that was nearly impossible to fully diagnose.
Part of Norman told him not to apologize, that Blake in fact hated it and would only make him seem weaker in his small, yet expressive eyes. Though part of him also said it would always be the right thing to do; that it could clear the air and put them once again on a level playing field. Still yet another told Norman that apologizing all day and all night never really took the actual event, the actual words away, you really never could take words back once they were out there in the ether. Especially now, his words as a dead man seemed to echo far further and louder then ever before. Funny how it always takes death to put things in a light people can actually see. Until they forgot, that was, and the busy nature of life consumed everything of importance.
"I r'illy appreciate what you're do'n for me…" He paused, looking towards Carter with some partial irritation swished about with a touch of sorrow.
"…and I…I want us to get alo'hng."
He looked at Blake under his proverbial microscope, could see his eyes and lips twitching- those eyebrows heavier then a blacksmith's anvil, weighing them down and causing his eyes to look like sinful pits, shadows, the crevices in his face looming tenfold as the darkness crept over every feature on his form. Even his large, powerful yet stout hands seemed to grab the wheel a bit harder then before, clawing at the wheel like the goddamn crept keeper.
Norman found himself not quite knowing what to do, if he opened his mouth he'd most likely dig his hole deeper. Talking to Blake simply didn't get you anywhere, no doubt the man could never be a delegate, congressmen, hell- he shouldn't be a cop, he simply didn't have the ability to use words, or even accept them, as a means of solving anything.
Rubbing his eyes, the pale, exhausted profiler sat back in his seat with a massive sigh. He was glad that his withdrawals were at least subsiding, showing themselves with just the slightest volume of intensity as he experienced when alive. The Percocet was helping, and he was glad to have kept the orange vial and stuffed it in his pant pockets before he left, no doubt they'd prove valuable today. Though he knew from reading the side of said vial that he couldn't take this medication even near the frequency of Tripto- as Percocet would positively wreck his liver, turning him into a dead man once again without much trouble.
The sound of the window wipers swishing back and forth was alluring, making him want to drift back off to sleep in the man's silent, awkward car cabin. It was warmer now inside the vehicle, yet the cold, callous nature of it's owner nearly chilled the room to the bone, the dark and dreary clouds obscuring the coming dawn. Sleep was practically calling from the warm leather seats, to rest his weary head and deceased body, he gave his lips a small lick and closed his eyes to do just that- when the lieutenant spoke. He sounded like a thunderclap in the small environment, causing his eyes to pop open.
"Warm enough?"
It had been the second instance Carter had asked him that in the small time they had known each other. The first had been not long after he had shot Nathanial, and they drove up on the curb, waiting outside the coffee shop for Korda. It was the first sentence he uttered after the fatal shooting, and it had sounded oddly concerned, a mirror of the tone he used now.
Shifting himself to sit up better, he let out another exasperated sigh as his head began to pound in succession with his heart, and gave the man a slightly begging look from under his heavy-set eyes.
"Yeah…Yeah it's…Okay. It's toasty 'ehn h'eh."
The response was quite the same from before as well, though only slightly more relaxed. This time, he wasn't on the verge of emotional collapse.
Blake just gave a curt, quick nod, then stared forward as he continued to lazily drive down the long stretch of highway. He never expected to hear the younger man next to him speak up after a short, yet heavy silence.
"The first time…I didn't know I was queer, ya'h know?"
At first, the cop was willing to ask what the fuck he was talking about-until he remembered the question that started their mini, awkward tiff- him asking how sleeping with a girl had been despite being gay. He didn't look at Jayden despite the desire to do so, give him some eye contact to let him know he was listening; respect and general human nature was left in the wayside and instead was substituted with the man trying to gleam some sort of pride from basically ignoring the agent, at least emotionally.
"Right…" Blake answered, in the most plain way possible. "So your first time was with a girl?"
Norman swallowed nervously, pursed his lips as he looked out the window, and could swear he felt himself become nervous. His leg bounced a little against the car's floor, and for a moment he considered if this was a withdrawal symptom, or the tension from the potential unwinding of a very confusing, devastating moment for him. Revealed to Carter Fucking Blake, no less. Psychotic, antichrist, asshole cop of this century. Nodding, he watched Blake glance in his direction to notice his aggreance.
"Yeah…She uh…She came onto me. We were in the drama club togetha'h…."
His story was cut off by the sound of Blake snorting, a dark chuckle reverberated in the air, making it vibrate with his deep chest.
"Drama club?"
Scowling, Norman squinted horribly as he tried to think of a good reply to counteract the man's ignorant remark, but only succeeded in a strange staring contest with the side of his dimpled and scarred face.
"What?"
"You're just queerer than fuck- you were in the drama club?" Another laugh, though far less intimidating.
"Makes a lotta sense…"
"Oh yeah?" Norman took offense, jerking forward in his seat as his eyes narrowed vindictively, his long form practically making his head hit the windshield.
"How about a thick asshole like you play'in football? Huh? Bet you were a jock, made everah'ones life a liv'n hell…"
He expected the older male to explode, and in retrospect he could kick himself violently for even thinking of saying such a thing to the human volcano. Fuck, he'd do well to nickname him "Mt. Blake" for his unexpected torrents of excessive aggression, but did well to keep that term of affection to himself. Instead, however, he witnessed Carter chewing his lower lip briefly, then watched him nod slowly.
"You think you're fuckin' smart, don't you?"
His tone wasn't defeated, or even angry, but instead condescending. Of course the lieutenant was angry, about ready to stop the car, get out and bash his brains in- but he had been trying very, very hard to keep himself just short of killing the fucker again. Though his leash was a short one, the chain digging into his metaphorical neck as it chaffed and synched, becoming painful to hold back his desire to crush what had risen up so defiantly against him.
Norman shrugged with some hesitancy, looking straight out the windshield in an attempt to help cool down the situation he had almost intentionally escalated.
"I do'nunno...Not ri'lly…"
Carter practically scoffed; then spat out a "What?" in the most confused of tones, his white incisors glistening as a strange sort of smile evaporated from his face with the comment.
"You sure as fuck have been act'n like your shit don't stink this whole time, now you're tell'n me…what? It was just an act? Just a fuck'n front?"
"It's not that…" Jayden almost interrupted, closing his eyes as he attempted to separate himself from the stressful situation the best he could, the sound of the car rumbling down the road filling his ears. A constant reminder of the impending event.
"How long have you even been a profiler, Jayden?" The use of his last name throwing him off.
"Two years." He droned out, his head beginning to throb, especially behind his eyes. The younger man had hoped the withdrawals wouldn't come flooding back.
"They recommended you- said you were the perfect for the job. Fuck, I don't know…Perry called, not me…But he said you were fuck'n smart. Now you're say'n you're just as asshole with a big goddamn head on 'yer shoulders? It all makes sense, now…"
Silence. Norman felt his stomach bottom out as he swung his head towards the outside window. He swore he wanted to die right then, hell he wasn't even angry. Not anymore. Pure, uncut depression that filled him from head to foot, making his soul rot, his core turning to jelly and withering him quite like the pale flower taken out of the sun, put into a closet to die. Much like his already dead, decomposing state in that coffin in Washington. It made sense, now. He was dead, why bother even trying to feel good about yourself?
Now his self esteem sunk far below his knees, and he took a deep breath as he sank into the car seat. Stuck in a vehicle heading southbound in Pennsylvania towards D.C, with a man he loathed. If he could even think of Blake as a 'man' so much as he was the demon Nathanial had claimed him to be- strange how he seemed to inwardly notice how the insane seemed to see things even the right-minded appeared too oblivious to take notice.
"I don'ht think I'm stupid…" Came Normans sad, depleted voice. Carter took notice, and felt almost angry as the other dominant male became weak, an easy target to impose his alpha status.
"I just…Nevah really believed'n myself, I guess…I, uh…I haven't in a r'illy long time."
The agent took a minute to glance towards Blake, who did the same to him, and he was quite surprised to see a look of humanity in the cop's eyes for that brief second, urging him to "go on" instead of the "stop crying you pussy" look he'd expected.
"Evah'time I accomplished someth'n…I nevah though I da'served it. Like I…" Norman took a moment, moving his hands as he looked down at them, holding them inches from each other as he grimaced, doing his best to put his feelings into words. Shit, this was what it felt like? Opening up to someone you barely knew about your feelings and thoughts? Fuck…This sucked.
"Like I was 'nevah good enough, y'know? No matter how hard I worked, what I did, it nev'ah felt good enough…Fuh God's sake, I wasn't even able to get the Origami Killah, he was right there…I couldn't seal the deal…It was my fault he got away, nobody else's…"
His last words were spoken under his breath, leaning towards the car's passenger window as his breath caused condensation on the pane of cool glass. Even with the heat on, it seemed the electric windows still remained unable to accept the car's pressing warmth.
Norman had always felt that way, knew it, sensed it with a sort of pressing omnipresence that he was fully aware of. The psychologist that he was told him this, as well as his own deep and inner reflection. He considered this was possibly what caused his addictions, anywhere from the passing bets he took at the pony track, to the hardcore Triptocaine binges he'd indulged in to keep his ARI-fried brain from practically oozing out his nose. His dependence on everything from work, substances, and feelings of temporary euphoria from either devices or experiences made up for the inadequacies he felt in his day-to-day life.
Not that he didn't love his craft, desire to be the best he could- to be the best to his mother, to his father, to anybody he even remotely cared for. It was the fact that he couldn't enjoy any of these without feeling, somehow, he'd never be worth a fucking thing as long as he had those dependences, as long as his father felt the need to fuck around on his mom; as long as his brothers shunned him and 'lovers' ignored his every need.
There was a slight silence in the car, not that he wasn't expecting it, not that neither of them actually knew what was going to come out of one another's mouth. It was obvious there had been yet more tension hanging in the solemn, wet air then what had been intended by both that morning. Norman knew Carter could most likely care less about his problems, his pussy 'feelings' and issues, hell he himself saw his own psychosis as a result of his own weakness, even if his own teachings told him otherwise. Even if he knew better, that it was always far more complicated than that. None of it fucking mattered when it was your own lamb to the slaughter, and the Gods were hungry.
"You know, Norm…" He started, and his tone sounded so earth-shattering in the quiet cabin, that the ghost felt himself jump. Turning his head lightly towards the source, he felt just a touch terrified at the older man's upcoming words. He really couldn't deal with the mighty, pit-bull of a lieutenant pushing him down farther into self deprecation.
"Y'ah wanna know what the first thing I thought of when I saw 'yah back in the wasteland?"
Norman was caught slightly taken-aback. Now, what exactly was he going with this?
"What?" He asked, his tone worrisome and slightly paranoid in the delusions behind them. All the possibly positive, yet moreso negative, comments came swirling through his thoughts. It nearly made his heart speed up with a sort of excitement he wasn't quire used to. Alas, his heart was all a-flutter!
A small smile turned the corner of his mouth as Carter gave the younger man in the car a slight, smart-ass glance. One that spoke volumes- and he thumbed his nose as he leaned more towards him, arm reaching to rest on his seat as he relied on steering the car with his left hand. Fuck him, it felt like he was talking to a girl again, the clock turning back all the way to the 80's to when he actually had a heart for trying to impress some ass.
"I was think'n, 'Oh shit, Washington's sent us a fuck'n pretty boy- I hope he's one of those smart ones, anyway."
What made Jayden laugh a little, just a second or two of a chuckle, like it was released before he could stop it.
"Aw thanks, that makes me feel so much bettah." Norman played. His tone at the edge of being serious or joking, he wasn't quite sure which.
"Then you started talkin' and I thought 'Fuck'n smart-ass from Boston, just what I need."
Jayden leaned against his seat with a reddening face, humbled, embarrassed, but somehow feeling better. Really, Blake had just insulted him…or did he? Why didn't it feel like a rude jab in the ribs? For whatever reason, it felt practically…Complimentary.
"Yah too kind, r'illy." He spoke, lowly, his voice strained.
"You're not stupid, Jayden…" Blake stated, and he felt a hint of anger rise out of his voice, as if it was ridiculous he even had to state. "Not worthless, either. You're a fuck'n asshole who needs to pull his head out 'of his ass and learn how the real world works- but you're not fuck'n worthless, so get over yourself, already…"
'Is he try'n to cheer me up?' Thought Jayden, his face just hinting at a smirk, he was barely able to keep it back.
'In his fucked up, egocentric, masculine way…He's try'n to make me feel bettah, well fuck me runn'n.'
"I know, it's just…How I feel, sometimes. It's noth'n." Norman flicked his wrist at the front of the car, his hand "pshawing" away his feelings with one hand motion. Though it wasn't as feminine as Carter would have hoped, so he'd have the best ammunition for fucking with the agent's sexuality further.
"Just me bein'…an asshole, I guess?" Jayden smirked a little lifting his head up as he took a glimpse of the driver, who also appeared to have a small grin on his face, coming and fading quickly as he watched his traveling companion glance in his direction playfully- like the initiation of a subtle game between the two partners that could only begin as such; without either really admitting it.
Carter chuckled a short bit under his breath, keeping his eyes on the road as he got behind a Prius, glancing with some renewed optimism as he witnessed the slight blue appearing on the horizon- the heralding of a new day on it's way.
"So you admit it, eh?"
Norman shrugged in a heavily obvious manner, his body relaxing into a state so loose, he felt he might as well turn to liquid and soak into the car seat. The attitude in the car suddenly became so casual, so everyday, so…pleasant. Like he was protected- in good company…Shouldn't have a care in the world. Was this what it was like when he let Carter just steamroll over him? For some reason, it didn't feel as emasculating as he thought it would.
"Sometimes, I'ma even bigga'h asshole than you!" He stated, leaning against the seat and sighing deeply, letting his body sink further into the seat cushion, head coming about a quarter of the way down further then it was meant to. Anymore, and he'd have to unbuckle his seat belt to fully turn into goo at the strangely comfortable air Blake's presence had conjured.
"Bullshit." He smiled, toothy canines practically glimmering in the faint light of the beginning dawn.
"No-one's a bigger asshole than me."
Doubling up, Norman let out a huge "Hah!" in positive entertainment- a combination of shock forming and tension unraveling. His whale-eyed look glimpsed over at Carter momentarily, face red with the humility- how often did Blake self-deprecate himself? Never, as far as he'd seen.
"Straight' frah'm the horses' mouth!" Norman yelled, his tone nearly approaching that of British man instead of the Bostonian one he developed. He slapped his knee and stared at the man from his position- laying against the door as he recovered from that moment of sheer shock and awe.
"Yeah-yeah-" Blake stammered, playfully, though still keeping his eyes on the road. Norman tried to interject again, but he won out.
"Yeah, I'm a big asshole- what're you? A tiny, shriveled little peckerwood- Fuck, I'm bigger then you-I'd bet right now."
"Aw, now we're compari'n dicks? Give m'eh a break!" Norman protested, though with a wide smile on his face, glancing over out the window with red cheeks.
"I've seen bigg'ah! Don't flatter yourself-"
Jayden's heart flipped into his chest as he felt the man's arm suddenly whip across and push him…hard, backwards into the seat- and he let out a gasp as the sound of shrieking tires filled his ears. The car lurched forward, and he didn't even try to concoct a reason or grasp at what had just happened until it was over in the next few seconds- A car had stopped suddenly up ahead, something that you just didn't do on a highway, let alone a turnpike. Luckily enough, Blake had been paying attention, and nailed on the brakes right away. Sure, the car obviously skid a good bit, but he was quick enough on the draw to stop it just in time.
"Fuck!" Carter yelled in the loudest tone one could imagine.
"Stupid bitch-What the fuck is wrong with you? Learn how drive, asshole!"
Flipping the red Prius off with his right hand, he watched as the car's red break lights finally let up and she took off once again, albeit slowly. It wasn't until Carter himself lurched forward suddenly, from both impatience and frustration- that he saw a dead deer splattered on the road, it's body scraped across what had to easily be eight or so feet, becoming nothing more then a streak of blood and guts with the small ruminants of a body at the end- a stain, really.
Yet Blake didn't remove his arm until just then, not realizing what he had done. It was instinctive, really- though he'd hadn't done it to somebody in years. Of course he knew the seatbelt would hold a grown human being back, of course he had an airbag to protect someone even if he didn't, but that didn't matter at all when he felt a someone in his passenger seat shift forward suddenly, his instincts telling him that Jayden would go flying through the windshield if he wasn't careful-
Except Blake didn't do that to another human being, be they male or female, in fifteen years or so. When Ash sat next to him, there was no moment of sudden protection, no concern for his well being if he nailed on the brakes. Just the worry for himself and whether the brakes were fucked up from the sudden stop. Not even the hookers or other such one-night-stands he'd driven back to a bed somewhere. Not since the last real woman in his life walked out on him, did he hold back someone from the impossible-yet still concerning concept of having one's head go through a windshield despite all the precautions.
For Jayden, however, the experience was altogether…different, and confusing to say the bare minimum. He felt that sudden, intensely strong and guarding arm pressing against him, and he found himself taken aback by the strength it possessed. Not just in terms of actual muscle power, or his sheer testosterone-driven machismo, fueling his physical form to cause far more damage then what was theoretically even possible- no, it was the urgency, the force, and the overall sense of pure peace that seemed to come over the young, drug-addicted agent. As that arm had grabbed him, pushing him backwards into his seat and forcing him to sit there against it- he had never felt so protected in all his life.
Secured against that seat for all but a few seconds, his chest rose and fell at an exilerating rate as he struggled to understand the situation; upon seeing the car stopped in front of him, as well as Blake's attitude and crass words, he could only breathe against that strong arm as it clutched him close to that seat, cherishing him like a piece of precious cargo. The agent voiced no objections and yielded no protests, seeing as how he hadn't felt that defended in years. Many, many years. After all, the general consensus was that he simply didn't feel worth being protected in such a way.
Then as Blake passed the 'dumb bitch' in the Toyota, he shot the nasty teenage driver a dirty look as he kept right on going, moving into the next lane and around the large mess on the road- and removed his arm. Jayden couldn't help but feel disappointed. Now there was nothing, pure, hollow emptiness that seemed to reverbate forever as his heart hammered in his head, breath hitching as suddenly the world was back to it's dangerous, miserable state.
"Sorry- I, uh…It's a bad habit…Used to have a car that had bad breaks…" He partially lied.
Yes, Carter had indeed, at one time, had a car whose breaks would be delayed. He would quite often hit them, only to see his current girlfriend go rocketing forward, unprepared for the swift and violent reaction. It would always feel better for them to receive a warm, manly hand around their waist as it held them fast. Except he hadn't done it in years, mostly because he hadn't dated in years- not because his car buying ventures had been better. Christ, had Norman been a girl, he probably would have tried to cop a feel to boot. Wouldn't be the first time.
There was something very obviously wrong in this situation, however. Norman was a man- as in, had a penis, a set of balls, no tits- he could go on. As much as he could joke and fuck around with the man's sexuality, call him feminine and a goddamned fairy queen faggot all day and night- there was no denying he was really a male. Though as troubling as the agent's gender was, nothing was quite as bad as showing any sort of affectionate, preening, brotherly love towards that bureaucratic douche from Washington…
But fuck, he couldn't help it. He was starting to feel a bond forming between them, an allure, a desire to be and feel closer to his steadily more likable, charismatic persona. The bleeding heart act Norman just pulled had worked, despite his own callous nature, he found himself sympathizing with the brown-haired, blue-eyed agent. If it wasn't for the fact that Blake found himself feeling just as useless and shit-on as the agent had expressed, he just might have stopped and kicked him out the fucking door himself, leaving him to rot on the highway. Weakness was something an alpha male like him had a hard time tolerating, though it wouldn't be the first time Blake had become a figurative shoulder to lean on.
He was there for Ash when his first wife left him, as a drinking partner and love mentor in general; he was there for his latest Ex-girlfriend when her dad died of cancer, sharing his own story to assure her that she wasn't alone. Other girlfriends had felt his arms around them, holding them tight and promising them everything would be better, he would fucking make it okay, as far as Blake was convinced he could move mountains and part the red fucking sea.
The main point, however, was that Jayden wasn't right. He wasn't some worthless desk jockey from the Capital that was snooping around their office, as much as he didn't want to admit it. He was indeed, a tried-and-true FBI agent, he'd give him that. A smart motherfucker, for sure, just not street smart, overzealous, overbearing, and arrogant to a fuck'n "T". Jayden was an asshole, that he'd think he'd never admit. That small admission, even if in jest, made him respect him just a little more.
"It's okay…don't worry about it…" Jayden readjusted himself in his seat as he looked down at his own feet, briefly glancing over to catch the lieutenant's face.
'Fuck, this is awkward…' Christ, he needed something to do! He despised not having anything to work with, no puzzles to solve or vast mysteries to unravel. It had always seemed like his brain was moving so much faster then the rest of him, traveling at the speed of light while his corpse of a frame lagged behind severally, unable to tend to his Tripto or ARI addictions, and reacting thusly.
"You alright?" His voice was husky as he shifted in his seat again, something they both seemed to be doing a lot of lately. Jayden assumed it was from being uncomfortably close to another in such a close environment for so long.
"Yeah- the deer didn't look so good though, eh?"
Blake was no stranger to dead things, let alone dead deer. Not just from his youth, but from any trip even remotely on the outskirts of rural. Deer in Pennsylvania were like fucking rats, they ventured where they weren't allowed, ate trash and shit everywhere- except rats couldn't cause a car to be massively totaled, resulting in serious injuries and possibly death.
"Fuck'n deer. They're everywhere around here…" He commented, a small 'courtesy laugh' letting past his lips as he scratched his goatee with one hand.
"'Specially this time of the year…Breeding season, dumb bucks runn'n front of cars all the time. Chas'n does. Stupid animals…"
The lieutenant stammered a little, the upcoming nervousness of the day ahead beginning to take its toll, the stress of the almost-car wreck, this quarrelsome "relationship" between two fully grown men with some sort of odd Shakespearean injection of ghosts and goblins- oral sex with a dead man? Sometimes he'd wondered if he had been put into coma and was experiencing the wildest, longest and most detailed wet dream ever to take place.
"Animal instinct." Norman shrugged, his tone muted and practically nonexistent.
"What, you mean fucking?"
"Naw, not just that- somethin' has to make a deer cross a road like that, full of traffic…It's gotta be strong, it's gotta be there for a reason-"
"Yeah, and look what it did to him." Carter half-laughed, half stated as a matter of fact.
"If there weren't so many of 'em, they'd all be dead with 'instincts' like that…"
Norman found himself becoming just slightly irritated, it seemed every time he tried to explain something to raven-haired, flat-faced dog of a man- it just bounced off. Like the old childhood rhyme- he was rubber, and Norman felt like goddamn glue.
"All's I'm tryin' to say Cartah, is that no mattah how dumb that deer was, it's instincts were so strong that it sent it across a busy highway. It was willin' to do en'ethin'- absolutely en'enethin', to get what it wanted. Fuck, it was probably so stupid it didn't even know what 'it' was!"
"Until it found it's doe?" Blake joked, "Then it was pretty fuck'n obvious, wasn't it?"
Jayden shrugged lightly at he stared forward, his eyes focused again on the road. Right now, he just wanted to avert his eyes from the man he was forced to share the car with. This conversation, one he wasn't even intending on starting, was turning awkward.
He wanted to go on and on about the psychology, the ingrained psychosis of desire, lust, affection, and infatuation. Though this would have been lost on Blake- regardless, he knew he should give the man more credit, he'd seen his inner workings to a certain point, and knew he wasn't stupid so much as ignorant. Set in his ways, a dinosaur in a far too free-thinking time for him to handle. At least, not yet. Maybe he could change the man in blue? Turn him into a creature acceptable enough to at least enjoy his company, perhaps even crave it.
"It's deepa'h then that, even…If they're en'ethin' like human beings, trust me…It's deepah then that."
Somehow, the cop didn't think so- wait, were they talking about deer fucking this whole time? Jesus fucking Christ! Who gave a shit? He mentally kicked himself in the balls for even taking this conversation further then it should have went. Though he did suppose that it was far more then about two deer doing the nasty- but about something else entirely. He had hoped that Norman wasn't going to drug him, fuck his brains out, then try to rationalize it in some sort of sick psychological ploy. It wasn't unusual for straight men to find gay men predatory- and he'd always eye Norman as a potential rapist, not much would change his mind.
"I'll have to take your word for it, then." Carter mumbled, wishing to end this discussion.
"Let's just both agree- a guy will go a long way for his piece of ass."
A lovely, almost pleasant laugh erupted from the passenger's side, and Blake couldn't help but let himself smile deep when he got the little bureaucratic asshole from Washington to finally loosen up.
"That's a good way to put it." Norman smiled, somehow- the words were perfect, a simplifying of all of his theorical prose and complex scientific terms, and it pretty much summed it up in a way even that bullish man could grasp. On the Origami Killer case, had Blake decided to at least acknowledge his words instead of shrugging them off as both asinine and utterly wasteful- he might actually be alive today. Though the last thing he wanted to be right now was bitter.
"You're one smart sonuva bitch, Cartuh!"
The words made the supposed antichrist grin maliciously, a Cheshire, wide smile that reached from ear to ear. Obviously, it was a curse made to be affectionate, as a term of endearment. Oddly enough, he felt himself wanting to sponge that up, and it felt good inside his gut, it felt radiant. His white, vibrant smile and piercing canine teeth seemed to beam out as he made a short, almost haughty glance towards the agent. Whom, he may add, was sitting back in his seat with a reddening face, and a sly grin on his thin yet surprisingly plump, almost pink lips.
"Bout fuck'n time you realized that."
Rolling his eyes, Norman made himself more comfortable in the leather seat- finally feeling warm inside despite the outside's cold and clammy nature. The sun looked to be coming up just over the horizon, it's orange and yellow tinge heralding the approach of dawn. Closing his eyes, he gradually fell into solemn sleep, lulled into a near comatose rest by the constant rolling of the car's wheels below.

'Another day, another dollar…'
It was an ever-present thought in the young woman's mind, her usual, semi-upbeat motto when forcing herself awake from her matching semi-asleep state. If she even got any sleep, that was.
Madison Paige pursed her lips just slightly, reaching up to rub the back of her neck as she yawned wide- tired as all fuck, really. Always. Despite running the gambit between psychologist, therapist, sleep specialist…They did little for her complex, and apparently unique insomnia. Triggered, she knew, from a myriad of life experiences. The most recent being the Origami Killer- though the most traumatic was still that damned incident in Iraq. She had watched a woman die, powerless to stop it, getting so close but never quite doing it- repeated over again and again in her nightmares.
'You helped save Shaun's life, Mad. Be easier on yourself.'
Well, that was true, wasn't it? She helped acquire the identify of the Origami Killer, arriving at the warehouse just in time to help Ethan out into the swarm of police officers to prevent him from being shot. Truth be told, she was probably more responsible for saving Ethan's life than that of his son; but she wasn't about to split hairs.
So why wasn't she able to get any real sleep? Shouldn't the act of helping save the child effectively right the scales of justice? Grant her good karma in the eyes of the sleep-gods and in general put her mind at ease? It didn't seam to be the case. The life of that Iraqi woman, along with all the other victims she'd seen either die or already deceased wouldn't be expunged all-so-quickly with the rescue of one solitary child.
'Ethan. Damn, I wonder if he's sleeping right now…At least he knows his son is safe- with…her.'
When Madison had first met Ethan's wife, Grace, she had expected it to be one of two things. Either she'd be so overwhelmed with joy upon finding their son that she simply wouldn't care about her being with her husband, or she may even be grateful for her assistance, acting nothing except delirious with gratitude.
It was something altogether…different. Unexpected, really. When they were introduced, Grace seemed a bit taken aback by the younger, more attractive and toned woman that had been with her husband. Even if Ethan was still behind bars, a potential relationship was the first thing in the mind of the apparently easily rattled Grace Mars. She gave her the sort of greeting and smile that Madison knew full well was fake, and her words reminded the journalist of a two-faced bitch she used to work with when she first started at the newspaper. Actually, the term 'passive-aggressive cunt' came to mind, but Madison herself did hate that word, so she'd rather not use it, even if it did fit rather accurately.
'What did he ever see in her, anyway?'
Of course, that was a stupid question and she knew it. Obviously, there had to be something there for them to have married and had two children; though Madison had to question how strong that bond had to be for her to drop him like a hot potato after they lost Jason. The whole story made her heart clench up, her body feel hollow, empty and decrepit inside. Yet another horror story to keep her awake at night.
Swinging her feet over the bed, she forced herself to stand up on her svelte legs, her grey panties and simple, one-piece bra her only clothing. Cracking her back, she let her feet take her shakily across the cold, biting floor. She would attempt to go back to sleep in a few hours, it was a way for her to try and pack in as much sleep as possible. If she was lucky, she could get six hours of rest in her day by doing this…If she was lucky. Two-hour increments tended to be just enough to make her dream without thinking of the murders, sex trafficking, the war in Iraq, the Taxidermist, and now…The Origami Killer. At least now, she could rest somewhat knowing that Scott Shelby was dead. So was Leland, though, and that didn't stop him from haunting her bedroom at night.
At least the shadows weren't as common as they used to be, the common nightmare of her apartment being invaded was now a bit more rare. She knew from a dream specialist that such a nightmare was actually a physical manifestation of her insecurity- which was great and all, except she still wasn't sure how to make the men dressed in somber, absolute black go away.
She walked through the doorway- the remains, like her entire apartment, of a former office building. It had used to be a small business, they dealt with lingerie of all things- she remembered finding a few racy bits when she moved in, she still had them despite never really trying them on or attempting to even consider wearing them. It simply wasn't in her nature, however, to throw potentially useful things away. What if she had to play her way into another man's hands again? Fuck, Paco wasn't the first, he wouldn't be the last- Mad had a history of using her body to get the top story, shying just short of actual prostitution. Though she was lucky, extremely so- to not be raped. Even if the incident with Paco was far too close for her tastes. Stripping down to all but her panties was both degrading and humiliating- not feeling nearly as sexually powerful as she imagined herself.
The apartment itself had only just been partially renovated. Several things she kept just for nostalgic value, she absolutely loved the architecture. She didn't exactly lie to Ethan about being a photographer, it was indeed a favorite hobby of hers, finding buildings especially of the modern age and design to capture on film, using it to supplement her journalism career. Today she was planning on uploading and editing some of them, sending them in so that she could finally feel useful again. The paper, needless to say, certainly wasn't expecting her back for a while. Besides her initial report she sent in days ago, they had given her at least a month to collect her bearings.
Not that it mattered; she couldn't stop writing the rough draft of her book. It was her fist-hand account of the Origami Killer investigation, though she had just barely scratched the surface. She would have to dig deep, interviewing nearly everyone she could find. Police, the FBI-
*Bang-bang- BANG!*
Madison could have sworn she jumped straight up into the air a good three feet. She gasped in a high pitch, grasping her chest with her hand as her heart sped up to it's max inside her torso. Instantly, she began to hyperventilate, blinking rapidly as she tried to recover from such a frightful awakening. Christ, she was awake right now!
With some hesitation, she softly padded over towards the door, jumping up on the small landing and sneaking towards the door as quiet as she could. It wouldn't be the first time somebody came to her door this early, but it certainly was the most urgent, nearly frightening one. Peering out the peep-hole, she did so in a way that resembled a gopher slowly peaking it's head out of it's burrow, unsure if something was ready to devour it the minute it was seen.
Two men, that was the instantaneous reaction she first found. For obvious reasons, Madison had a slight fear of men ever since she was little- her dad wasn't exactly the best with keeping his hands to himself. Luckily enough, he was removed from the situation rather quickly, unable to do anything serious. She'd been distrustful for a long time after that, Sam and Ethan really being the only ones to find their way comfortably inside her life. Not that she hadn't had her boyfriends and serious relationships, though she was simply never able to let herself fully feel at ease.
The man in front, the loud one who apparently knocked at her door- was a rather frightening looking gentlemen in professional attire, a suit that was pressed perfectly, jet-black with a white dress shirt and dark red tie. The jacket surrounding him was quite looming, a trench coat that sunk all the way to his knees. He was glancing down at his watch, and it was obvious to the young woman that he was rather impatient. His ears were large and stood away from his face, his hair so short it appeared recently shaved, and eyes so dark they nearly rivaled his suit in intensity.
Now the other man behind him seemed somewhat different, a tall, nearly lanky man that wore a brown suit, a thick but short hairdo with striking blond hair, pale skin, and a spiral wire dangling from his ear. He seemed less interested then his partner in her door, looking off to the side as he dug his hands in his pocket.
"Who's there?"
She willed to make her voice as strong as possible, even if by all means, she was positively terrified. Who were these guys? The mafia? She'd seen cops before- government officials…somehow, they seemed far more…frightening? Intimidating? She couldn't be quite sure, but her instincts encountered enough psychopaths to see trouble looming.
"Richard Crawford, FBI. Sorry to bother you, Miss Paige- we just need a word with you."
He spoke against the door, leaning into it, to make sure his lightly British tone was audible enough. Pulling away, she swallowed and bit her bottom lip.
"Show your badge…" She ordered, gathering up all the courage she could. The girl wasn't stupid, she wouldn't just let anybody inside her apartment, especially at this hour.
The agent didn't seem at that bothered by the request. Without missing a beat, he reached down and seemed to fish his badge from his wallet, displaying it proudly to the peep-hole as he looked away, seeming more interested in the remote corners of the hallway then the actual situation. It was an FBI badge, alright. Though she supposed it could be fake- couldn't that always be the case? What were the circumstances if she simply said no?
"Now's not really a good time…" She stammered, still unsure. "I'm not dressed."
"We'll give you a few minutes there, Miss Paige. I will warn you, we have a very tight schedule, I'm afraid we need to speak to you as soon as possible..."
'Damn it! These guys mean business…'
She cursed inwardly as she jogged away from the door, making a bee-line for her bedroom area. Ripping open the bottom drawers, she acquired a pair of gray jogging pants and a loose-fitting long sleeve T-shirt. It hung off her shoulders, displaying just the tops as they threatened to peak out completely. Looked like shit, for sure, but at this moment, she was more concerned with not getting her ass in trouble with the federal government.
The brief thought crossed her mind to call the cops…Worst that could happen, they'd all have to come in and question her. Or they'd show the men in blue their credentials and asked to be left to their investigation. Though something also told Madison that it would be a tremendous amount if time wasted if her thoughts were untrue, and according to these agents, they didn't have time to waste. That would make them quite upset, and make things harder for her.
Getting her handgun had crossed her mind, the last time she used it was at Paco's "interrogation"; yet decided being armed while being interviewed by two federal agents was an obviously bad idea. It didn't stop her from memorizing the firearm's last location, still snuggled safely in her purse, sitting on the table.
Heart flying about in her chest, she walked up and unlocked the door, swinging it open as she beheld the two in their non-fish-eyed glory. The British gentleman in front nodded and gave a curt smile; thanking the girl as he strode inside, hands in pockets as his jacket seemed to frame his figure. She noticed a horrible scar on his neck, easily reaching around his throat. Someone could have very well attempted to give the man a Columbian necktie at some point- and the fact that he was up and walking around at this point made her feel icy to the bone. Any man that could survive an injury like that was obviously not messing around with anything in particular, not most certainly her.
His companion followed, his pace faster as he strode past them both. Now, the other man's presence seemed altogether difference. Ethereal- almost. Like a phantom that chased around his master like a shadow. There was something wholly creepy about him, and Madison was afraid that the disdain in her face showed itself a bit too easily.
"Oh, this is Dr. West, he'll be joining us…Don't mind him, he's here to take notes, is all."
Making no eye contact with the girl, West seemed more fascinated in Madison's apartment, taking to staring out the window with his hands behind his back. Thick, dark matching trench coat reaching down past his knees as he seemed fascinated by God-knows what below.
The polite thing, of course, would have been to offer the men something to drink, to have a seat, yet she decided to forgo all formalities as she instead jumped nearly to the point. She shrugged a little as Crawford walked forward, completely at home, it seemed, stepping up onto the landing with fluid ease, proceeding to have a seat on her couch. It made her incredibly uncomformable, and she was sure her face and body language communicated it.
"So…What are you here for? I was just getting ready to head back to bed- " She partially lied.
"How much sleep have you been getting lately, Miss Paige?"
She was obviously taken aback; not hiding it whatsoever to the frightening intruder. Her head jerked back and her mouth parted in surprise, closing it as she mussed with her long sleeves, looking down as she pulled at the fabric that extended beyond her fingers.
"I…I'm sorry?" It came out with a laugh, not quite believing what the man was implying- how did he know about her insomnia?
"You're an insomniac- correct? That's what all your doctors seem to think."
Madison felt slightly relieved- so these weren't some sort of sick stalkers, they just…talked to her doctors…Wait, that wasn't any better at all! Why would they do that? Why was she suddenly worth pursuing like this? Oh no, this was it…She was finally going to get it for snooping where she didn't belong, journalists were always such an easy target…
"Yes," She nodded, talking a few steps as she watched her feet. "I am. For a few years, now…Why?"
"Ah, no reason…" Crawford seemed to throw the topic away, using a shooing gesture as his hands waved it away with some fuss implied.
"…Just, curious is all. I'm interested in your well-being, miss Paige. That of your lover, too."
'Lover? Was he talking about…Shit, Ethan? We only had sex once! We're not…it can't be-'
"I do believe Mr. Mars is…somewhat stabilizing in prison? He's been evaluated by some psychologists- medical doctors…they want to make sure he's not a threat to the public, you know? If only…Well hell, I do wish I had that kind of...authority to let that poor man out of prison- I think it's obvious that Mr. Mars is quite innocent and is not a danger to anybody, not even himself. Right, Miss Paige?"
At a loss for words, Madison wet her lips with her ruby tongue before she finally opened her mouth;
"Why are you here, Mr. Crawford? Surely, if you wanted to talk to Ethan, you would have just seen him yourself, right?"
She didn't exactly like the way she said that, and could tell that the agent sitting right before her didn't exactly care for it, either. Yet that didn't particularly mean he was offended, and instead seemed abashed, giving a slight laugh as he glanced down at his watch briefly, then back up with an odd shit-eating grin on his face.
"Of course, and we will-we will. We actually just had a talk with Lieutenant…Lieutenant…What was his name-! Blake- Carter Blake. You've…heard of him? Met him? Was...intimate with him? For an interview, perhaps?"
Immediately offended, the brunette-haired woman stepped up on the landing, looking over at him with a venomous rage at her helm.
"I don't know where you get your sources, Agent Crawford." She spat, her cobra tongue at it's full force.
"…But I never touched him- or anybody else for a favor- in my life."
Crawford looked a bit more serious this time, at a slight standstill now that the prey he'd been batting about had finally caved, showing a hint of emotion besides distress. She was pissed! Lovely, he did like his girls with just a touch of piss and vinegar. Too bad he wasn't exactly in the mood for a good fuck. Something told him West wasn't, either.
"Of course not, Miss. Paige, of course not…"
Blake was a ploy- he'd loved throwing that in. Madison was a bit full of it on that last one, not that she was a whore, running around all over creation blowing men for interviews and top story opportunities, but it had happened a few times. Especially in her earlier years. Ah, but live and let live.
"…Though I must say, Denny Barry and Arthur Jermyn would say otherwise…Gave quite convincing accounts, they say you got this thing you do with your tongue-"
Madison was between horror and the furthest possible rage one could feel. Her face flashed red from embarrassment- Christ, they knew what happened with them? It was right after college, she was just messing around…How'd they know? Why did they care what she did with a few college friends almost ten eight years ago?
"I thought that would get your attention." Noticing the sudden look of pure shock that flashed over her face, quite like the lightening in a thunderstorm.
"Let me make myself crystal clear, darling." Standing up, he put his hands in his deep pockets as he nonchalantly strode towards her, sighing heavily as he began to once more approach the dark-eyed beauty.
"We know everything about you, everything you ever did, every place you've been, job you had, man you've...been with..." He emphasized, beginning to walk closer to her, the hair very visibly going up on the back of her neck.
"…But we also know you were quite involved in the Origami Killer case-"
"Big deal, it was all over the news." She interrupted, swallowing a large lump in her throat.
"Why are you bothering me about it?"
She got that strength from the pure hate she was developing towards this man. Someone she found absolutely intimidating the minute she heard the knock at the door. Her skin crawled and a body quivered as he laughed a bit in his throat, circling her as he came up behind and placed his hands on her arms- his grip powerful and hands freezing, even more frigid then the air outside. Another chill as his breath hit her ear- it was cold. Freezing almost. A sense of overwhelming revulsion filled her, and she found herself nearly doubling over from nausea, her head spinning. What was it with her and attracting creeps the world over? Ever since she was little, it seemed the weirdoes were pulled to her like a goddamn pervert magnet.
"Because 'yah saw too much, fit thing. You know what all those Hollywood picture shows always say...The one's where somebody sees too much...Someone always shows up to take... care of the 'situation'? Eh?"
The journalist found herself more angry then terrified at the threat, a rarity for her. A rarity for most anybody. She found it a bit odd that he spoke of movies being "picture shows", when the hell was the last time anybody even said that? It threw her off base, squelching the terror in her gut.
Feeling the corpse of a man pull away, he walked towards her computer, noticing it's conveniently "on" state.
"Let me cut to the chase, sweetheart. You've never formally met Norman Jayden. Instead, you saw him right before he died, right after he lead away Mr. Scott Shelby. The poor thing got turned into a pate of sorts, quite disgusting."
Her face became paler by the second as he once again stood in front of her. His stand was dominant and repressing, reminding her of a first-class dictator, capable of everything and anything at the bark of a genocidic order. No mercy, no degree of real sympathy, as long as the work was done. As long as his vision, whatever that may be, was intact. There was no doubt in her mind, if he was such a leader, he'd be a world power in no time; God help us all.
"…Of course, that's common knowledge. Already in the police reports, the public record, already out for the whole world to see…Regrettable, but manageable- However, there is one issue I'll need to speak to you about…"
'Shit! What? What is it! For God's sake, spit it out!'
"I'm sure you'll mention both Lieutenant Blake and Agent Jayden in your book, correct? I'm sure you'll want to interview the lieutenant, gather as much information as possible. Sensible, of course- you are a journalist- and I'm also quit sure you already have piles of information on them both, already? In notes, perhaps? Or maybe that little computer of yours?"
He pointed to it off-handingly, as if not acting that his real plans laid there. Of course, Madison did have very little info on both men, mostly some things that she was sure wouldn't be particularly incriminating. Some reports of Blake engaging in less-then-legal ways of obtaining confessions and arrests, and Norman Jayden's apparent sexuality. The former was hear-say mostly, shady information from unreliable sources. While the later was more like gossip. It would hardly get front-page attention, let alone something the FBI would want to seize, or was it? Why else would they be here?
Well, there was one thing. Despite using most of her new free time assembling information and doing her best to clear Ethan's name to the police and media- she'd stumbled upon a few strange reports. Someone had apparently seen Lieutenant Blake yesterday outside of a clothing store- no big deal, except there was somebody with him. Someone who was dressed in a wet shirt and pants, and nothing else. Again, odd, but not as odd as that person fitting the description of a very disheveled and strung out Norman Jayden. Who was, by all means, supposed to be buried today. She had considered strongly going to his funeral, but on top of not being invited, she felt it wasn't her place.
Of course, it was rather ridiculous. How many people claimed to have seen Elvis, Jim Morrison, or just about any celebrity or near-celebrity after they died before their time? Jayden had became a sort of martyr after his death, his face all over the news after his body was found. If it wasn't for him keeping Shelby busy, they never would have been able to save Shaun. It didn't even feel logical enough to attempt and contact the police for an interview with Carter Blake. He'd probably consider it a waste of his time, and she needed to talk to him about Ethan more than anything, and that had ended up being just about impossible.
Regardless, she had the information on her computer. She was going to incorporate it into her book as a note about the public's apparent obsession with the case. So fascinated, they invented heroes that never died. Even ones that hung out, apparently, with those they fought with before their supposed death. Among thr report, there was info about the witness, his phone number…
'Oh my God…'
That was it. It had to be. What else could it be? Did they already know about the witness? Were they covering something up? Why the hell would they do that, Norman Jayden was just a profiler, wasn't he? What was the fascination?
Staying silent, she decided it would be best to deny everything. She couldn't afford to have her computer and notes confiscated, not just financially- but professionally. That didn't include having her whole apartment rifled through, top to bottom, including discovering quite a few reports obtained from less-than-legal means.
"I don't keep any of my work at home." She lied.
"Everything is at my office, you can go and check if you'd like."
The air in her studio apartment felt as though it just grew icy, her own nervousness getting to her as she began to rub her arms, goose bumps forming rapidly. She didn't want to look in Crawford's eyes, so she instead turned around, finding West quiet as a mouse, but now moving about her apartment, dragging his finger along her large table and strolling casually. He looked like some sickly, depraved creeping death moving ever closer.
"I know." Richard's tone was impatient, telling her something he was very aware of.
Madison's face must have drained of color, because she sure as hell felt it happen- going almost ghost white.
"We were there earlier- West and I. Sam was very helpful- showed us your computer, logged us in…I will say your experience in Iraq was quite enthralling. Too bad you couldn't save that woman-"
"Fuck you."
Crawford only smiled, it stretched across his face like a stain appeared so suddenly to ruin a carpet- or milk dropped on the floor. His teeth were just as white, too, almost eerily so. It struck her that the man most likely had those lumineers- porcelain covering his teeth. An agent, of all people? He didn't seem vain by any other means...
"Well pardon me, Miss Paige. But I do believe being fucked is your area of expertise, is it not?"
Rage flashed across her eyes, she said something to the effect of "Son of a bitch!" as she lunged at him, only being able to take the insults so far- until even her usually calm and compiled atmosphere fell apart at her carefully woven and composed seams.
She knew what was going to happen, so there was no particular surprise when the agent grabbed her by her slender arms, a gasp in her throat a she was pushed back. Her feet tripped up with themselves as she backpedaled, a bookshelf against her wall finding her back as she heard the knick-kicks and picture frames rattle with the force. Her bladder damn near let loose- she had to urinate since she got up.
Cold air at her face again, she shuttered and came closer to pissing herself in fear. His visage came nearer, teeth gritting as she felt that breath hit again and again as his panting, over-exerted exhalations seemed to blow everywhere and cause her hair to flutter. His breath smelled horrible, and she turned her head as she pressed her lips together along with her eyelids, giving a visible shudder to try and throw him off.
Madison felt the nausea creep into her stomach as she did her best to keep it down. Now was not the time to get sick, despite the throbbing of her heart to keep her body tense and ready. The fleeing thought of being raped filled her mind, after all it's always been a fear of hers, and of course, for her it seemed to want to come to reality compulsively. Like a magazine subscription that kept coming to your house that you never fucking wanted.
"Still think this is another nightmare, Miss Paige?" He hissed, and she could have sworn she heard his saliva froth in his open mouth. "Think I'm gonna slit your throat? Beat...perhaps even... Rape you?" A thick knee slid up the inside of her leg, and she whimpered with fear at the thought. It stopped as it reached her crotch, pressing into her now pulsating organ between her legs. She couldn't help it- she didn't want it, but her body was preparing for what it considered the inevitable.
Still holding her arms, his fingernails dug into her svelte wrists before he let go, leg releasing it's hold on her womanhood as it hit the floor with a sobbering "clop" on the expensive shoes on the hard surface. Then proceeded to take a deep, shuddering and calming breath before leaning a hand against the wall. His eyes seemed to gather her in, look down and into her as she still looked away, the control in the room very obviously slanted his way since he arrived.
"Now I'm going to just give you a warning this time, sweetheart." His hidden British tone seeming to come out against his will as he rolled the last patronizing remark off his tongue.
"If I see you trying to talk to Lieutenant Blake- and I find out it's not about Ethan Mars, the Origami Killer case…Or fuck, if it's just about some goddamn parking tickets- You can kiss your computer and career goodbye…And that's if I'm feeling cheery on that particular day... Do we understand one another, Miss Paige?"
Hearing her name from that vile man's mouth made her want to fly back at him. His tone was overall chauvinistic, condescending and disrespectful. He tilted his head as he finished, and without giving a second to hear her comply, he seemed to already write her off as he closed his eyes and nearly yawned, he seemed to crack his back in mid-stride back towards the center of the apartment.
"Now if you'll excuse us, we have a funeral to attend- quite rude to be late to one of those…" He trailed off, West, like the good little puppy he was, came running at his heels as Crawford opened the door to let himself out.
Just as Madison felt it safe to let out a breath, she heard him come back in through the door, putting one hand on the doorway as he leaned in.
"You know…It's a horrible thing, all those kids…" He sighed, shaking his head a bit to illustrate some feigned sympathy.
"…Drowning to death like that- one day here, the next…poof! They just disappeared... Never to be seen again. It's amazing how…someone can just be…gone, you know? Like they never existed..."
A cold chill ran up Madison's back as the sickness flooded back, felt absolutely revolted to the core. It was all the more obvious what the agent had been trying to point out to her- how easily she could be "wiped out", another missing person to be ignored and chastised by the general public, gone off the face of the Earth.
"Well, I gotta go. Sleep well, Miss Paige." Slapping the doorway in mock friendliness, he made a brief but powerful eye contact as he nosily walked down the highway, taking the steps almost jovially.
Madison closed her eyes as she felt the sweat trickle down her body, her heart jerking her body with each strong beat. Then she slid down to the floor, one foot braced up against herself while the other laid flat across the floor.
The morning sun peaked through her windows just right; angling to illuminate her oddly-sitting, sweating form as she contemplated and reflected on her near-brush with death. This time, however- she felt his breath- he wasn't fake, not a dream, wasn't a shadow. Though her senses told her otherwise.
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