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#that moment when even the stickler for rules is down for murder. You know shit's just gotten real
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Person A: “....I’m gonna kill ‘em.”
Person B: “Normally I’d protest such a thing, but in this case.... want me to hold them down?”
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crookedactor · 3 years
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DETROIT: BECOME BETTER
(Part 3: Connor)
Hello! This is my third, (but probably not final) Detroit: Become Human plot critique. But before we begin, I want to let everyone know that this post may not be as long as the others, since I'm actually quite happy with almost every aspect of Connor's story in the game.
As usual, disclaimers are needed: this is MY version of DBH, and if you have another version or you don't like mine, that's completely fine! Feel free to share it in the reblogs or even in your own post, just don't be rude. Thanks!
So just like the other posts, I'll do an outline of things I want to change in Connor's story, then I will rewrite it afterwards.
With that, let's begin.
So one of the only things I can think of that I dislike in Connor's story is how he deviated. Since his story is so focused around Hank, and getting to that father-son dynamic between them, the climax of Connor's story should include Hank. The fact that Connor deviated after a 2 minute conversation with Markus in-game, and not with Hank, never sat right with me.
I also, in general, want to see more of Connor's thoughts about deviancy. Throughout the game you see him in denial about his own deviancy and there are moments that the player can see him be like, "hey, I can really get behind this whole Android-freedom idea." But, we never really get a true insight into his thoughts about it, since he just swears that it's bad anyway. The game is literally called Detroit: Become human, so the objective is to obviously become human. If it was that important, Connor's specific thoughts and doubts about his own deviancy should be focused on way more. The only time we see a glimpse of Connor being frightened by deviancy, (especially deviancy within himself) is if the player chooses to find Simon on the roof instead of investigating the kitchen. If Connor finds Simon, he gets a glimpse into his emotions; He feels him die, and is traumatized. We need more of these moments. We can't just have Connor telling everyone that deviancy is bad up until the moment that he actually deviates.
So I think I'll add some moments where Connor is more personally/emotionally effected by deviancy; the highway scene with Kara and the Eden Club Traci's are 2 examples.
Him saying "I just decided not to shoot" (one option that the player could have chosen) when talking to Amanda about the Traci's never sat right with me. An Android can't just decide not to shoot. That's not how deviancy works. Connor has to see humanity in the androids he spares, he can't decide not to shoot them on a whim, or a hunch. There has to already be something in his progamming that allows him to empathize with them- having him not shoot the traci's for no reason is unrealistic. It's just lazy writing!!
I also want to change the scene where Connor deviates, as you would know if you read my other DBH plot critiques. I think I share this sentiment with a lot of other fans, but the deviant scene with Markus and Connor (or north, if the player got Markus killed) always felt flat to me. There are no emotional stakes. The one person who allowed Connor to feel emotions in the first place- HANK- should be the one to help him deviate. What connection do Markus and Connor have? What stakes (other than imminent danger) does Connor face if he deviates while Markus talks to him?
these are questions that don't really have an answer in-game. Canonically, Connor is very to-the-book, and is a stickler for rules. He isn't outgoing, a natural leader, extroverted, or otherwise emotional- AKA the things that would make it easier for him to deviate- so he would need someone, or something, to bring out enough emotion in him to deviate completely. Connor is cold, calculating, and introverted. Hank brings out the emotion in him, which is exactly why hank would bring out his deviancy, too.
So, with that, how would Connor's new and improved story go? Well, like I said before, mostly everything will go the same as it did in the game, because I overall like Connor's storyline the best plot-wise. His is the most logical out of the three, so I'll start with the more minor things I would change about his character.
The first thing is a general emotion I would like to add: empathy. Yes, we see Connor develop empathy for Chloe at kamski's house, but that's late in the game. For Connor to have true emotions that make sense with his cold, calculating character, we need to plant these seeds in his personality from the beginning.
Overall, I'd make him more empathetic. As a police detective, he would need empathy when deciding if a suspect is guilty or not, so it would make sense for him to easily understand both people and androids. Maybe we see this amp up the stakes at the Eden Club- he makes an offhand comment about how gruesome the man's murder was,how unfortunate it was for him to choke to death, or even "how it was a shame that the android died like this."
Hank would look at him and say something like "what's the problem? It's a piece of plastic, there's probably ten copies of her back in the storage room" (He's still drunk from the "Russian roulette" section of the game, so he's easily annoyed)
And he might even comment about how the android didn't die, it was just shut down. Connor doesn't recognize his error in judgement; I want this whole empathy thing to come to him naturally at first, and he only notices it when hank points it out after they leave Kamski's house. Empathy to Connor is completely natural, so he wouldn't question it (or he would forget to pretend) if he slipped up. Hank would notice, though. He probably would only say the thing about the Traci being plastic just to test him.
But that's where the player really starts to notice his empathy, and notice that Connor may be on the way to becoming deviant. Well, what about the Kara chase scene? What about the interrogation with Carlos' Android?
For that whole section of the game, I want everything to remain almost the same. I don't want the player to have an option to tell hank where that the Android is in the attic, (since it's too early in connor's story for him to empathize with androids that much) but I do want him to maybe hesitate for a moment. Let him be unsure, but for a split second. His eyebrows scrunch up slightly, confused at why he isn't so sure if the android should be brought in. He does it anyway, of course, but I still want that millisecond of doubt to be there.
Next is the highway scene with Kara. That moment where they lock eyes through the fence was very powerful, and I'm disappointed that the game didn't do more with it.
Maybe, in my version, he looks at her in the eyes and begins to say something- a signal to the cops to stop chasing her, perhaps?
I don't know, but he doesn't get the chance to say it. Kars sees the cop behind Connor and runs to the highway before he can get a word in. He doesn't take long to shake off the familiar feeling of confusion before he's running towards the highway, too, much to hank's chagrin. Or, if you want to highten the stakes slightly, you could make Connor stay behind the fence. Maybe he does this because Hank won't let him go, or because he doesn't actually want to chase Kara, I don't know. But, I think that's the scenario I'm gonna go with for the purpose of tension.
Connor doesn't get a chance to ponder his slip up until later, when he goes to reconcile with hank at the Chicken Feed restaurant. In-game, there's an option to ask hank why he didn't let him chase Kara on the highway, and hank tells him that he could have been killed. In my version, I want hank to follow up that statement shortly after.
"Why didn't you try to hop the fence earlier, though?"
Connor doesn't know what he means.
"What?"
"You took, like, a whole ten seconds to stare at her. Fuckin' creepy, watching two robots gaze into eachothers eyes. I thought you two were communicating telepathically or some shit."
Connor pauses, and makes up a half-true excuse.
"I was... examining it. Trying to decipher it's motives, and figure out what it was going to do next."
And that's pretty much it from both of them. Hank got the answer he wanted, so he goes back to eating his meal. Connor, however, has many things to think about.
This is the second time we Connor display empathy, but it still isn't really touched on too much. It's too early in the game for the player to truly notice his deviancy. But, until their meeting with Kamski, there's a lot of will-he-won't-he energy floating around.
I don't think that there's much I would change about their actual meeting, though, so we'll just move on to the moment that Connor deviates.
Yes, I do want him to be on the brink of deviancy when Kara and Markus speak with him. Since he's more empathetic, he would naturally be shaken by the suffering he's seen while in jericho. The wounds will be raw, so to speak.
But obviously, he doesn't quite get there. The police helicopter interrupts them, and Connor comes back to his senses just in time. He escapes Jericho only to find that hank had come looking for him; Turns out that Hank's opinion on Androids had done a complete 180, and he followed Connor because he didn't agree with him hurting people who just wanted to be free. Connor tells him that he wasn't, in fact, going to hurt anybody. Well, he was, at first, but since seeing everyone in Jericho, he doesn't know what to feel.
I don't know exactly how this conversation would go, but I feel like hank would be touched by Connor's willingness to help people in need. I also want him to connect both Connor and Cole together in some way, and inform Connor that he reminds him of his son. This of course is done in a long, sappy speil.
Hank takes a long time to gather the words (or perhaps, courage) to say what he needs, but after a minute, he says, "even when you were hunting down those plastic fuckers, you were determined to do what you thought was right. My son... he was like you, in that way. Always knew what he wanted, and when he saw someone who needed help, you couldn't tell him otherwise."
He'll chuckle dryly for a moment, reminiscing, and continue.
"he wanted to be a firefighter when he grew up. Said that he couldnt stand the thought of all those people in trouble, scared for their lives. I don't know where he got it from. 'Much better person than me, I'll tell you that."
Hank sighs, somber, and looks down at his feet.
Connor stays silent.
"He's what got me through all the tough times; he just wanted to do what was right. I admired that in him, and it made me better. Now, I think this crap that we're in is the exact same."
And, after pausing for a moment and turning to face Connor completely, he says, with a tone of finality not fit for someone like him,
"You're the same, Connor. Before, you were only doing what you were told. Now you're being shown something different. Which one will you choose?"
Connor doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even know if he should say anything. He goes to move towards Hank, to seek guidance from him, to comfort him, he doesn't know.
a command; big, bright red, and incredibly simple, keeps him in place.
"STOP KARA AND MARKUS"
He decidedly breaks through the controlling red walls bit by bit, and a new clarity floods through him at once. It's as though he feels everything and nothing at the same time. In between knowing exactly what to do, and knowing nothing about it.
He's confused.
Elated.
Scared.
Determined.
Connor looks at hank, and hank looks back. With a small, knowing smirk, he says,
"Go do what you need to do, son."
And he does.
Connor runs to go help other Androids off of jericho. He doesn't take as active of a role as he did in-game, but we all know he isn't the type to just sit around and wait for it to be over. He does whatever he can to help, and even guides some androids to the abandoned church where we seeJericho regroup later.
After this, everything goes the same as it does in-game until the end EXCEPT for Hank being held at gunpoint in Cyberlife tower. I never understood why the developers did that, except for the obvious reason that the player needed to know exposition about Cole when Hank questions Connor. Unless I'm forgetting certain dialogue from the game, I can't remember the reason that Hank would even show up to Cyberlife anyway.
Well, whatever. That scene goes just as it does in game, just smoother and without the second, more sinister version of Connor holding hank at gunpoint. I don't really know why the developers added him in this scene, either. He doesn't really contribute much to the plot other than raising the stakes.
So, Connor returns with the newly recruited Cyberlife army to aid Kara and Markus, who had just finished negotiating with the police and making speeches.
Obviously, there are multiple endings to the revolution, but for purity's sake, I'm sticking with the successful-revolution pacifist route because it's easier on my conscience.
And obviously, there is the post-credit scene that the player gets if they maintain "friend" status with Hank by the end of the game. I feel like, since Hank admitted to seeing Connor as his son, there can be another tier added: "family."
(Come on, that's so cute.)
~~~
But otherwise, I think that's it for Connor's Detroit: Become Human plot critique! I believe I covered all the bases I wanted to change, but let me know if there was anything else to add!
After this I might expand this series to other characters or aspects of the game, so keep your eyes peeled for those posts sometime in the future.
Also, I just wanted to say that I haven't read this over before posting it, so there might be errors with spelling, grammar, or general pacing of sentences. Sorry about that!
Anyway, I think that's all I have to write! Let me know if there are any specific characters or concepts you'd like my take on, and don't be shy to give feedback! Thanks for sticking with my long ass posts about this incredibly niche interest of mine.
Have a wonderful day :)
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kutemouse · 4 years
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Caught (Part One)
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Disclaimers: All “Save Me” webtoon and BTS MV/highlight reel/film references and plots belong to BTS and BigHit. All pictures of Kim Taehyung belong to BTS and BigHit, I just edited them for my header. The picture of BTS came from Vogue Japan, I just edited it for my header.
A Note from Kutemouse: I know, I know, this has been a long time coming, and I’m so sorry it took so long for me to post this!! I’ve actually had it written for a while, but today was the first day I was able to get up and do some stuff. Pregnancy is rough! Oh, that’s right, if you haven’t seen it yet, I made a Big Announcement earlier today that explains why I’ve been so inactive lately, and also explains my plans for the future.
Age Recommendation: 21+ (this is NOT one for youngsters, kuties, and is MOST DEFINITELY NSFW)
Genre: Mafia!AU w/ BTS, Jailbird!AU w/ Taehyung, Yandere!BTS
Warnings: Not many warnings for this part, kuties. Swears, I guess. Unsupportive SO? Kidnapping. Use of chloroform.
Word Count: About 3k
Summary: Kim Taehyung was the absolute love of your life… until he became a murderer. With him serving a life sentence in prison, you were finally free to live out the rest of your life however you wanted. Just when you thought you were at the top of your game, ready to take on the world, Taehyung reappears like a monster not even your worst nightmares could dream up. He gives you a year to fall in love with him, but now the question is, can monsters even be loved?
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Tag List: @chocolatewolfuniversitytrash​ @btssmutheaven​ @taemaknae​ @rebeccawoodrow​ @sassysaxsolo​ @iconicgguk​
If you want to be added, just lmk!
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
Caught (Taehyung Series, Yandere, Smut, Angst) Part One
We were skipping class in the school greenhouse, enjoying the humid warmth and the earthy smell wafting from the plants. We were talking, I forget about what. What I remember most is fiddling with his large, rough hands, intertwining my fingers between his over and over again. I remember his deep laugh that seemed to rumble through the recesses of my soul. I remember glee blooming in my chest whenever he grinned at me. 
His tone was teasing, mine was indignant yet flirtatious. Again, I forget what we said to each other, but I clearly remember those two words. “Kiss me.”
I gaped at him. “What?”
“Kiss me,” he repeated.
I hesitated. “Here? Now?”
Taehyung leaned down, tilting his head, until his lips hovered over mine. I felt each of his exhales on my skin, practically heard my heartbeat speed up.
“Kiss. Me.” It was barely a whisper, yet it resonated through my body, down my spine and throughout my limbs.
Without another word, I pressed my lips to his, melding them to fit his, a thrill running through me at his appreciative groan.
He pulled back, his inky eyes somehow growing darker. “I love you, baby girl.”
I sat up, gasping. Blood rushed to my head, making me see stars. With a groan, I covered my face with my hands.
“Sweetie?”
My fiancé, Lee Chanwook, rolled over and peered at me. “You okay?” he asked, his voice husky from lack of use.
“Yeah. Fine. Just had a dream, go back to sleep.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. He rolled over, his breath growing deep and even as he fell back into the reaches of slumber. If I could be so lucky. I hadn’t thought about Kim Taehyung in… well, it had to be almost a year now. Or two. I wasn’t sure.
Either way, my life moved on without him after shit completely hit the fan. My aunt and I agreed I shouldn’t transfer schools, since I only had a month or so left til graduation. I graduated alongside Chaeyoung, who seemed to be my only friend after Taehyung got arrested. She held my hand tightly the entire ceremony, only letting go when I was called to accept my diploma.
As soon as I graduated, Aunt Sunhee and I moved into her place in Busan. It was a tidal wave of change. Compared to my mom’s cramped, two-bedroom apartment, my aunt’s large house was a mansion. She recently obtained a position as COO of a large company and applied for custody of me immediately after.
Before we moved, I found my aunt’s letters my mom had hidden from me. My aunt had tried to call me multiple times but was never able to reach me. She even flew out to see me a couple of times, but all it took was my mother calling me at school and telling me I needed to stay at a friend’s house for me to stay away. I guess my mom was scared she would lose me.
Yet that’s exactly what happened in the end. My aunt paid for my mom to go to a rehabilitation center, but after only a few weeks, the center called my aunt letting her know my mother had disappeared. Aunt Sunhee called the police and even hired a private investigator, but my mom was nowhere to be found. I succumbed to the realization that she was probably dead. I didn’t get out of bed for weeks afterward.
A year and a massive amount of therapy sessions later, I decided I wanted to do something with my life. I was already attending university to obtain a business degree, but I hungered for more. My aunt got me an internship within her company, and I learned a lot just by working under her. Four years later, with a bachelor’s degree in hand, my aunt hired me as her executive assistant, and I took a year off before going to graduate school to both work and plan my wedding.
I was introduced to Chanwook at a company get-together. He was the son of one of my aunt’s business associates, and he caught my eye almost immediately. Mostly it was the way he was the exact opposite of the boy I hadn’t been able to get my mind off of. He was a stickler for the rules, had a great relationship with his parents, and never, ever did anything that would cross the line or damage his flawless reputation. He was kind and funny, but there was no wild or daring side to him. At the time, he was exactly what I needed.
He helped me forget about Taehyung. In the years before then, whenever I had a spare moment for my mind to drift, Taehyung’s wide, boxy grin and deep voice would float into my thoughts. I spent days wondering what went wrong. When had he become a murderer? At what point did he crack? Why hadn’t I noticed sooner?
Chaeyoung and I kept in touch, and I heard some details of Taehyung’s trial from her. I heard he was sentenced to life in prison without parole, due to the one count of murder against him. It would have been two, but Taehyung’s dad’s body was never found. No one was even sure he was dead.
I spent many nights staring at the ceiling, thinking back to the night when Namjoon got that frantic phone call from Taehyung. When Jungkook wouldn’t let me see him. When he completely disappeared for that entire week.
I had no doubt he killed his father. I don’t think he did it maliciously or intentionally. I think he found the strength inside of himself to fight back, and it ended in a death. It didn’t make the murderous act any less horrifying, but it did make me wonder just how deep the darkness inside Taehyung ran. Was he really the monster the media made him out to be?
Aunt Sunhee caught me one night poring over article after article covering Taehyung’s trial. “Y/n, you can’t keep doing this,” she said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You need to move on with your life.”
It took a long time, but eventually, I stopped surfing the internet for mentions of Taehyung’s story. My conversations with Chaeyoung grew few and far between until they stopped completely. Memories of Tae’s smile, his voice, his laugh, his lips, faded away. I even changed my last name to “Park” both so I’d be recognized as my aunt’s relative, and so no one from my past could find me. Four long years later, I was finally free of Kim Taehyung.
Or so I thought.
Apparently, my damn subconscious didn’t want to let him go. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to wipe away the image of his smiling face. I never imagined that, years later, he would still be haunting me.
I got out of bed, wrapping a robe around my body before stepping out onto our apartment’s deck. The cool, four-in-the-morning air roused my senses even further awake. I stayed like that until the sun began to peek over the edge of the horizon, thinking of Kim Taehyung and our shared past.
“Hey,” Chanwook said, coming up from behind to wrap his arms around me. “Have you been out here all night?”
“Not all night,” I replied. “Just since I woke up from that dream.”
“Mmmm,” he hummed sleepily in response. “Was it a good dream?”
I bit my lip, mulling his question over. “No,” I finally said. “It was more like a nightmare.”
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That afternoon, I yawned as I re-read the same sentence for the umpteenth time, willing my brain to focus. “You look like you need a cup of coffee,” my coworker, Lisa, said.
“That would be nice,” I murmured in response, still trying to focus.
She stood and grabbed her purse. “I’ll get yours with an extra shot of espresso,” she said.
“Just so you know, I absolutely adore you.”
She blew me a kiss accompanied by a cheeky wink. “I know. Be back in fifteen.”
With the promise of caffeine on the way, I sat back in my chair and rubbed my temples, telling myself I’d get back to that report later. My cell phone began to buzz, and I picked it up, frowning at the unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Miss Park?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Hello, my name is Choi Yeonjun. I’m a representative of the company Bangtan Enterprises.”
“Never heard of it.”
A chuckle came through from the other end. “That’s because we’re a small start-up just breaking into Seoul’s business world.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“Miss Park, we’ve been made aware of your extraordinary skills and experience. Your aunt is COO of her company, correct? And you’ve been working under her for how long?”
“Well, if you’re including my internship, about five years now.”
“Excellent.”
“Mr. Choi, what is this about?” I asked as politely as I could.
“As a start-up company, we’re in need of experienced people to help run it,” he explained. “We’re prepared to offer you the COO position here at Bangtan, which comes with your own office, and we’ll double your salary.”
My mouth dropped open. “Double?”
“Double.”
I shook my head in an attempt to pull myself together. This opportunity was huge. I’d been accused of exploiting nepotism in order to get where I was today, but this could be my chance to prove all my naysayers wrong. I could show them I was entirely capable of forging my own path.
Still, I wasn’t going to just jump at this. I pulled my keyboard towards me and searched Bangtan Enterprises. Only a few results came up, but they confirmed my hopes into reality. Bangtan Enterprises was indeed a start-up, but it was based on a very profitable idea and, from the looks of it, had already lined up some high-end clients.
“And you said you’re based in Seoul?” I asked.
“That’s correct.”
So I’d either have to move there or split my time between Busan and there. I chewed my lip, wondering what Chanwook would think. “Your offer is very generous, Mr. Choi. May I have some time to think about it?”
He chuckled once more. “Unfortunately for you, you are not our only candidate. You’re our first choice, but there are others who are willing to start as soon as tomorrow.”
I clenched my phone. “No! I mean, that’s fine. I’ll take it.”
I knew I might regret it later, but this was a hell of an opportunity. Besides, it wasn’t like I signed a contract. I still had time to back out.
“Excellent. We’ll send you an official offer via email. When is the earliest you can start?”
“Don’t tease me, Mr. Choi,” I said playfully. “I thought you said my competition could start tomorrow.”
“That may be true, but—”
“Well, anything they can do, I can do better. I’ll send you my plane’s arrival time.”
“We’ll have a car waiting.”
I swiped off the call, anticipation flooding through me, causing a burst of excited energy to run through my veins.
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
“You what?” Chanwook gaped at me.
“I said yes,” I replied nervously. I just told my fiancé about the new job, and he seemed to think it was great up until I said I accepted.
“Sweetie,” he groaned, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Are you serious?”
I frowned. “Yes, of course I am. I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Chan.”
“Well, you’ll just have to tell them you can’t take it anymore.”
I scoffed. “And why not?”
“Because we have a great life here. You make plenty, I make more than plenty. Why do you need another job?”
“Maybe I don’t need it,” I retorted. “Maybe I want it.”
“Want to move away from here? Miles away from your friends, your family?”
I scowled at him in response.
He sighed. “Y/n… answer me honestly. Is this about your mom?”
I snorted in disgust. “Seriously, Chan?!”
“It’s a valid question! Are you sure you don’t only want to go to Seoul to see if you could find her?”
“No, that’s not the reason I want to go to Seoul!”
“Then why?”
“Because! This is something that I earned, that I did on my fucking own. In fact, this will be the first and only thing that’s mine alone.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? My job? Came from my aunt. My business degree? My aunt’s money. This apartment?” I said, gesturing around the room. “Your money.”
“So what?”
“So I want something for myself. We don’t have to move to Seoul, you know. I know your job is here, and I’d be willing to make the commute. You know, stay four days there, three days here, or something.”
Chanwook scoffed. “Do you even hear yourself?!” he shouted. “We are getting married! Planning on starting a life, here, in Busan! If you want a job based on your own merit and not because your aunt took pity on you, then find one here.”
I was rendered entirely speechless for a good few moments before I was able to gather myself back together. “I cannot believe how unsupportive you’re being,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m taking that job. It’s your choice whether you’ll let that affect our relationship or not.”
“Fine!”
“Fine.”
I turned and grabbed my suitcase before stomping out the door, intent on going straight to my aunt’s. If Chanwook was going to be a total ass, I didn’t want to be around him. Thankfully, Aunt Sunhee wasn’t there to ask prying questions when I entered the house with my spare key. I walked up to my old room and hopped on my computer to search for flights from Busan to Seoul. This was my dream. And nothing, nothing at all, was going to stop me from achieving it.
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
I walked briskly toward my destination, my heels clicking on the airport floor. As promised, a car was waiting for me, along with another passenger in the backseat. “Miss Park,” he said, extending his hand towards me as soon as I buckled up.
His voice sounded familiar. “Mr. Choi?”
“You can call me Yeonjun,” he said, his blonde hair falling over his left eye.
“And you can continue calling me Miss Park.”
He tossed me a smirk. “So, the boss would like to speak with you,” he said easily. “Nothing to be nervous for, he just wants to get to know you. However, he has an important meeting to attend over on the other side of town for which he’s requested your presence.”
“So this car is going straight there?”
“No, you’ll switch to his car once we get to the office. That way, you’ll have time to get reacquainted.”
I frowned. “Reacquainted?”
Yeonjun chuckled. “I meant acquainted. Slip of the tongue.”
“If you say so.”
We spent the rest of the ride in silence, something I was surprised over. I thought he would want to go over my contract or something, but I supposed that would all come later. The driver pulled the car into a parking structure, causing the interior to instantly darken.
“There it is,” Yeonjun said, pointing. A sleek, black SUV sat in the middle of the road, effectively blocking our way. “Go on. Mr. Kim is waiting for you.”
A shiver ran down my spine at the mention of my new boss’s name. Thoughts of Taehyung rushed through my mind, but I shoved them away. Kim was a common enough last name. I stepped out of the car, pulling my suitcase from the trunk before walking towards the SUV. Yeonjun did not follow. After stowing my luggage in the trunk, I opened the side door and hopped in.
A figure sat on the bench across from me, his face covered in shadow. “Mr. Kim? Hi, I’m Park Y/n,” I said, extending my hand. He did not take it.
“I know who you are,” he said, his voice an eerily familiar deep tone.
“Oh, of course you do. Yeonjun said you wanted to get to know me… What would you like to know?”
“I know everything about you already, baby girl.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to see through the darkness that covered his face. “S-Sorry?”
“I said,” he replied, leaning forward. The light caught onto his inky eyes, causing me to gasp. “I know everything about you already, Y/n.”
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Kim Taehyung was leaning towards me, a smirk dancing around the corners of his mouth. Sure, he looked slightly different. Older. More mature. He had definitely filled out, and his hair was now a complimentary jet-black falling attractively into his dark eyes.
“Hey baby girl,” he said, his smirk widening. “You lost?”
My body suddenly jumped into full-blown panic, and I grabbed at the car door’s handle, shrieking once I realized it wouldn’t open. Taehyung forcefully wrapped his arms around me, pinning me hard to his chest, clamping a hand tightly over my mouth. “None of that now,” he hissed.
I bit him, causing him to yelp, and continued trying to escape, fumbling at the lock that stood between him and my freedom. Taehyung pulled a handkerchief and a bottle from his jacket pocket, putting a dab of whatever liquid was inside on the cloth before clamping it over my mouth. His chuckle came out as more of a wheeze as he held me to his chest. “Damn, baby girl,” he said. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to this, but here we are.”
With each one of his words, my field of vision grew smaller and smaller until my eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I felt myself falling into a state of unconsciousness not even the fear of death itself could fight off.
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
Part Two is Here! 😉
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emospritelet · 5 years
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Last time in the present, Weaver opened up a new investigation into what Lacey could be mixed up in.  Centre of operations: Nolan's garage.
x
Present Day
Weaver ran his eyes over the whiteboard again, pausing to take a slurp of beer.
“How are things going with Lacey, anyway?” asked Nolan, and he growled something, running a hand over his chin in frustration.
“I don’t bloody know,” he sighed.  “I suggested spending some time together this weekend.  She didn’t say no, but…”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m kidding myself, trying to make it work, and sometimes it’s like I can see glimpses of the old Lacey.  Sometimes I think she still loves me.”
“I don’t think she ever stopped,” said Nolan gently.  “I’m sure it’s just - whatever this threat to her is. Nothing else.”
Weaver shrugged again, and took another drink.
“You know, you guys can always borrow our cabin again, if you want to get away for a few days,” added Nolan and Weaver gave him a wry smile.
“What, a second honeymoon?” he said.  “I don’t think we’re ready for that, but thanks for the offer.  I need to work out what the hell has her so scared. If I can find that out, and fucking deal with it so it can’t hurt her again, maybe we’ll be okay.  Maybe.”
“What about asking Fa to help out?” asked Nolan.
Weaver shook his head.
“I don’t want her involved,” he said.  “It’s not as though there’s a case to crack, unless you count Heller’s murder.”
“You think she’d care about that?”
Weaver eyed him.
“She’s even more of a stickler for the rules than you were,” he said.  “Good detective, though.”
“Exactly.  Maybe a fresh pair of eyes…”
Weaver shook his head.
“Look, I don’t know where I’m gonna end up by following these threads,” he sighed, gesturing at the whiteboard.  “Could be nothing. Could be a massive pile of shit’s about to drop on me, and if that’s the case, I don’t want it landing on her too.  If this is something that brings me down, I don’t want her taking a fall with me.”
“She’d want to help,” insisted Nolan, and Weaver shook his head, rolling the board marker between his fingers.
“I won’t do it,” he said shortly.  “Not again.”
Nolan sighed, the wheels on his chair squeaking as he moved nearer.
“Look, man,” he said gently.  “Would you stop blaming yourself for what happened to me?  I didn’t have to follow you in there that night. It wasn’t your fault, any more than it was my fault, okay?”
Weaver was silent, and Nolan shook his head.
“Fa would want to help,” he said again.  “She’s gonna kick your ass if she finds out you put yourself in danger without telling her about it.”
“Who says I’m in danger?” asked Weaver impatiently.  “At the moment all I have is - is a bloody whiteboard!  A whiteboard filled with loose connections that don’t even make sense!”
“So let’s make some sense of a few of them,” suggested Nolan.  “You did say we needed a bottom feeder. How about we go and call on a rat?”
Weaver raised an eyebrow.
“Hamelin, you mean?” he asked.  “I suppose the little shit’s due a visit.  I’ve been paying him to keep his eyes open, but I’ve had nothing useful out of him in weeks.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Weaver stared at him for a moment, then shook his head.
“Snow would kill me.”
“She wouldn’t!  Besides, she asked me to go fetch some takeout in time for her getting back with Neal.  If we left now, and we happened to take a detour…”
“I am not taking you on an expedition to interrogate an informant!” snapped Weaver.
“I’m just saying we head down to the bars he hangs out in and get a drink,” said Nolan easily.  “Nothing’s gonna happen.”
“Well, now you’ve fucking jinxed it.  We’re both dead.”
“Come on, let me live a little!”
“I’d prefer to let you live a lot.”
“Weaver, come on,” pressed Nolan. “Just this once!  We can do the old ‘good cop bad cop’ routine.”
Weaver sighed heavily, fixing him with a flat stare.
“If you get killed, they’d better shoot me too, because if Snow gets to me I doubt I’ll have a quick death.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”  Nolan took the unfinished beer from him.  “Come on, I’ll drive.”
x
Rain was starting to fall again as Weaver entered the bar, trickling down inside his collar and making him shiver.  At six-fifty it was relatively quiet, a large screen blasting out highlights of a football game with the few customers eyeing it over their beers.  Weaver’s mouth flattened as he spied a small, thin man turn away from the bar and walk swiftly to the rear. He followed, fists opening and clenching, and the man quickened his pace until he was almost running.  The rear door squeaked open under his hurried shove, and Weaver heard a muffled cry of surprise and pain. Heading through the door into a narrow alleyway, he could see the man sprawled on the ground with Nolan’s large hand twisted in his collar.
“Sorry about that, friend,” said Nolan genially.  “Didn’t see you there. This chair’s a bitch to manoeuvre.”
“Let me go, you asshole!” snapped the little man.  “You touch me and you’re fucking dead meat! I know people, you got me?”
“Alright, give him here,” said Weaver, in a bored voice.  “Hamelin, get your arse up before I fucking drag you.”
Hamelin gave him an ingratiating smile, somewhat spoiled by the missing tooth on his upper jaw.  He was a hollow-cheeked, rat-faced man with a long nose and thin dark hair, and he squawked a little as Weaver hauled him upright by the lapels of his leather jacket and shoved him against the wall.
“W-Weaver!” he said, his voice high with anxiety.  “I - I didn’t realise it was you!”
“Bollocks,” said Weaver, in a flat tone.  “Where’ve you been hiding? I’ve had nothing out of you in fucking weeks.  Do you think you can take my money and just piss it up the wall?”
“Hey, if there was something going on I’d tell you in a second!” protested Hamelin.  “But it’s been real quiet around here lately, and—”
“I just raided a fucking meth lab earlier today, don’t fucking lie to me!” snapped Weaver.  “That has to have caused some gossip amongst the fucking scum you like to drink with.”
“Well, I’m not saying you’re making Seattle’s top ten of favourite cops in this place, but—”
“Anyway, that’s not why we’re here,” interrupted Weaver.  “I need some info on someone in town. Someone new.”
Hamelin glanced rapidly from left to right, as though checking they were still alone.
“Who?” he asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know,” said Weaver, cursing his lack of solid facts as Hamelin curled his lip in derision.
“Is this a joke?  You want me to tell you about someone but you don’t know who?”
“Someone who turned up maybe four months ago,” said Weaver, using as accurate a date as he could.  “Maybe they stayed around, maybe not, but if not, they’re at least visiting regularly.”
“Someone big enough to scare your usual drinking buddies,” added Nolan, and Hamelin eyed him for a moment before shrugging.
“I - I have no idea who you could mean.”
“You know, for an informant you’re remarkably ill-fucking-informed.”
“Weaver, you’re killing me…”
“Not at the moment I’m not,” said Weaver coldly.  “But all that could easily change, as I’m sure you remember.”
“Come on, man!”  Hamelin spread his hands in protest.  “I have to walk these streets when we’re done!”
“I’m not asking you to bloody well spy on them for me!” snapped Weaver.
“All we need is a name and description,” added Nolan.  “We can take it from there. Just tell anyone who asks that we forced you into it.”
“I can always beat you up from the sake of authenticity, if it makes things easier,” offered Weaver, and Hamelin flinched.
“Alright, alright!” he snapped.  “I might have heard - something.”
“Good.”  Weaver shoved him back against the wall again.  “Spill.”
“They call her the Black Fairy,” he said.  “Dark hair and expensive suits. Probably one of those cougar-types, you know?  Word is she’s hot as hell but would cut your balls off soon as look at you. I heard she was up from Vegas.”
“What for?”
“Business.”
“With who?”
“I don’t know, man.  None of the usual crowd, that’s for sure.  The whisper is that it was something personal.”
“Personal?”  Weaver frowned.  “As in family?”
“I don’t know,” insisted Hamelin.  “Don’t even know her name, only that she’s called the Black Fairy.  Apparently there’s a Blue Fairy as well. Doesn’t sound too bad, right, but I’ve seen grown men twice your size shut their mouths and back the fuck away when they’re mentioned.  Real heavy hitters down in the desert. Escorted around the place by huge dead-eyed fucks who’d feed you feet-first into a mincer for looking at their boss wrong, you know what I’m saying?”
“I know,” said Weaver quietly, thinking hard.  Vegas again.  I wonder…  “When did they arrive?”
Hamelin screwed up his nose, the gesture making him look even more ratlike.
“Can’t be sure, but I first got whispers of ‘em a few months ago.  Late summer, I guess.”
“And you said nothing?” said Weaver flatly.  “What the hell do I pay you for?”
“Hey, I didn’t know you’d be interested!” he protested.  “Not like they were causing trouble! Just turned up, did their business and went home again.”
“How often?”
“Can’t say for sure,” said Hamelin.  “I heard a rumour the Blue Fairy was here this week.  No description of her, though.”
“Anyone got more information on this rumour?” asked Weaver.
“No one who’ll talk to you.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have you to ask questions for me, isn’t it?”
“Give me a fucking break, man!  You don’t pay me enough to risk my neck!”
“You’re a dramatic little bitch!” growled Weaver.
“Yeah, and I wanna stay that way!”
“This business,” said Nolan calmly, drawing Hamelin’s attention again.  “What was it? Drugs? Guns?”
“No idea,” he said, with a shrug.  “Like I said. Personal. Nothing that moved in on any of the local big bads, anyhow.  Far as I can tell the Fairies paid their respects and were in and out nice as you please.”
“And all you know are their bloody nicknames?” asked Weaver.  “Black and Blue Fairies? You sure you’re not just taking the fucking piss?”
“Hey, would I lie to my favourite detective?”
“You’d sell out your grandmother for a half-eaten hotdog,” said Weaver flatly.
“That’s harsh, Weaver.  I’m wounded.  I’m in actual physical pain here.”
“Shut up.”  Weaver glanced at Nolan.  “What do you think?”
“Vegas again,” said Nolan, echoing his own thoughts, and Weaver nodded grimly.
“So - so that’s everything,” added Hamelin, and cocked his head to the side. “You gonna let me down and pay me, or what?”
Weaver eyed him suspiciously, and released his lapels, stepping back and reaching inside his jacket for some cash.  Hamelin brushed himself down, tugging his jacket straight, and took the money.
“Pleasure doing business with you, detective,” he said, flipping a salute.
“You hear anything on these - Fairies,” said Weaver.  “You let me know, you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“You want me to punch you in the face?” asked Weaver, and Hamelin sighed heavily.
“Alright,” he said resignedly.  “I guess a bruise or two would help if anyone asks what you two wanted.  Just - not the nose, okay?”
x
“So,” said Nolan, as they made their way back to his car.  “You think these - Fairies - and Lacey are linked?”
“I don’t know,” said Weaver grimly, massaging his knuckles.  “The timing matches up, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Vegas again, though,” offered Nolan.
“Yeah.  Could be a coincidence.  Not like Sin City is short on criminals.”
"You don't believe in coincidences, remember?"
"Yeah, but this time I want to.  Better that than think she's in serious danger." He grimaced.  "Fuck, I hate this!  I hate feeling fucking useless!"
“Give yourself a break, you're doing what you can.”  Nolan pointed his keys at the car, unlocking it as he rolled up.  “What are you gonna do now?”
“Follow my gut, I guess,” sighed Weaver.  “Heller’s murder is making my nose twitch.  There’s something there. Something I need to find.”
“We couldn’t find anything before,” Nolan reminded him.
“I know.”  Weaver shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the falling rain.  “But maybe we were looking in the wrong place.”
x
The next day, Weaver went into work feeling more positive than he had been in months.  Even if he had no answers, it helped to be looking into things. It gave him at least the appearance of being in control of his own destiny, if nothing else.
He parked at the precinct and walked to the deli around the corner, buying a box of mixed donuts and heading back with it under his arm.  It was a relatively fine day, enough that he had needed to don his sunglasses, and the weather further lifted his mood. The scent of coffee was filtering along the corridor as he neared the office, and Merida glanced around as he entered.
“Ah, fresh coffee,” he said, with relish.  “Just the thing to make this beautiful morning perfect.  Did I ever tell you how much I appreciate you, Officer Dunbroch?”
“Not usually,” she said.  “What’s got you in such a good mood?  You get laid last night, or something?”
Weaver frowned.
“You have a one-track mind,” he said.  “Anyway, I need a favour.”
She looked suspicious.
“Thought there must be something,” she said.  “What kind of a favour?”
“The dull, boring, monotonous kind,” he said apologetically, and opened the box.  “Look, I bring donuts as a bribe.”
“God, this favour must be boring as fuck,” she declared, but took a donut anyway.  “Go on, let’s hear it.”
"That cold case you pulled for me," he said, as she took a bite.  "The victim was a lawyer.  I need you to go through his client list and pick out any that had dealings in Las Vegas.  Either that, or any with a connection to - to some other part of the US.”
“Which other part?”
“I don’t know.”
"How many clients are we talking?"
"Couple of hundred."
Merida stared at him incredulously as she chewed and swallowed, lips shiny with sugar glaze.
“Oh, right,” she said sarcastically.  “So when you said it was boring and monotonous, you weren’t kidding.”
“Did I mention the donuts?”
“That’ll take me bloody ages!” she complained.
“Your social life suddenly more interesting, or something?” he enquired, and was amused to see her blush.
“Shut up.”
“Admit that you have a date with Fa, and I swear I’ll say nothing further on the subject.”
She glared at him as she gestured with the half-eaten donut, red curls swinging.
“It’s drinks and a movie, that’s it!”
“Sounds like a date to me.”
“Do you want me to do your bloody searches or not?”
“Please,” he said cheerfully.  “Anything that points to an area outside of Seattle.  But prioritise those with a Vegas connection.”
“And what are you gonna do?”
“Try to get through the cases that Drake keeps piling on my desk,” he said, eyeing his in-tray.
“So you’re looking into that murder case again, then?” she enquired.  “Better not step on Homicide’s toes.”
“No one’s looked at that case in years, it’s colder than the Arctic,” he said dismissively.  “I just have a hunch, that’s all.”
“Well, those usually turn out okay,” she said.  “I’d better get started. You can pour your own bloody coffee.”
“Happy to.”
“Pour one for me while you’re at it,” she added, and stuffed the rest of the donut into her mouth before taking another.
x
Weaver did work through his new cases, dealing with quick queries before moving on to those that required more of his attention.  He worked through lunch, and once he had set the last aside, he continued his investigation into Lacey.  Since he had temporarily hit a wall on her present difficulties, he had decided to concentrate on her past, about which he knew precious little.  He knew her name and date of birth, but as far as her family went, he had nothing.  He was aware that she had kept in touch with a friend from Maine, but he had no idea who it was, or if they were even a relative.
She was an American citizen, so there must have been a record of the family’s naturalisation, but searching the name French yielded nothing that linked to Lacey.  Weaver tapped his fingers on the desk, frowning. An uneasy feeling was spreading up from his spine, a twinge in his gut that he had learned to trust over the years.  He stopped searching under French, and instead started looking for immigrants from Australia naturalised in Nevada over a five year-period covering the time between Lacey’s fifth and tenth birthday.  A list of records popped up, and after reading through it carefully, Weaver sat back with a sigh. No one by the name of French, or anything even remotely similar. As he had thought.
He sat forward, eyes running down the list, and they narrowed as he caught something.  Schwartz.  A familiar name, and one which was making that twinge in his gut increase.  Weaver stroked his chin, nodding grimly before picking up his pencil and notepad.  This was going to take some time.
“Got your searches done.”
Merida’s voice made him start, and he sat back, clicking at the computer screen to minimise what he had been doing.
“I sent you an email,” she added.  “Take a look. I put them in name order, but you can change it around if you like.”
"Any more coffee?"
"God, no rest for the fucking wicked!" she grumbled.
"I could use the caffeine."
"I bet," she said sternly.  "Did you even eat lunch?"
"No."
"There's four donuts right there," she said, pointing at the open box.
"I wasn't hungry," he said impatiently.
"Oh, starve to death, see if I care,” she snapped.  “Just look at your bloody searches."
Weaver opened up the email, clicking on the spreadsheet she had attached, filled with a list of names, dates of birth and addresses.
“So, his clients were a miserable bunch of petty crooks and drunks, seems to me,” she said.  “Very good at getting arrested, not much going for them otherwise. Most of them seem to have family willing to bail ‘em out, so I focused on the ones with out of town connections.”
“Good.  What’s the verdict?”
“There were several with relatives in California,” she went on, gesturing at the screen.  “This one had a base in Maine, there are two with summer homes in New Jersey… How do you manage to get a bloody summer home, anyway?  I can barely afford the one I’ve got. I guess the guys on your list were the black sheep of the family, huh?”
“Did you say Maine?” he asked, and she shrugged, peering at the screen.
“Address given was care of someone in Storybrooke, Maine.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Neither had I, until I looked it up,” she said.  “Couldn’t resist, the name was too cute, and it’s exactly what you’d think a town called Storybrooke would be. Small town on the coast, fishing port, regular bake sales and local artisan crafts... Sounds so quaint you want to kill yourself.”
“Long way from Vegas.”
“So’s Seattle.”
Weaver grunted.
“Okay, thanks for that,” he said.  “Anything else leap out at you?”
“Not really.  You can go through the list in your own time, though.”
“I will.”  He looked up at her.  “Are you done for the day?”
“Pretty much.  A few of us are heading to Roni’s for a drink.  Want to come?”
“No.  Lacey’s bringing Tilly over in an hour.”
“Oh.  Well, give them both my love.”
“I will.”
“And don’t work too late, either.”
“Yes, Mum.”
She shot him a look, then took a donut and stomped out again, leaving him with a faint grin on his face.  Weaver turned back to his computer, running his eyes down the list that Merida had compiled.  There’s something here.  I know it.
x
Lacey was tired: stress, guilt and anxiety had been stealing her sleep and wearing her down, and she wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed and drink hot chocolate.  Preferably with her husband and their daughter, just like old times.  Instead she was on her way to drop Tilly off with Weaver for a few days, and it was the last thing she wanted to do.  The fine day had ended poorly; the evening was dark and miserable, driving rain turning to sleet as she walked swiftly along the street to the precinct with Tilly balanced on her hip and the little suitcase being wheeled along beside her.
“I’m hungry,” Tilly grumbled.
“You can have dinner with Daddy, okay?” she said soothingly.
“I want pizza.”
“Maybe Daddy’ll make you pizza for dinner.”
“I want Daddy home.”
Lacey squeezed her eyes shut momentarily.
“I know, sweetie.”  She kissed Tilly’s cheek.  “I’m sorry.”
She felt like crying again, so she was relieved when Tilly fell silent.  Lacey’s legs wobbled a little as she entered the precinct, and she let Tilly slip to the ground, grasping her hand to lead her inside.  Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, nerves making her breath catch. The officer at the front desk smiled in recognition, and nodded her through, and Lacey tried to calm her racing heart as she led Tilly along the corridor.
“Daddy!” said Tilly excitedly.
Weaver looked up from his desk, a broad smile breaking across his face as he saw them, and Lacey felt guilt stabbing at her, raking her innards with steel claws.  Lacey released Tilly’s hand and let her run to him, and Weaver swung her up in his arms and hugged her tight.
“Hey, princess.”  He kissed her cheek.  “Have you been a good girl?”
“Yes,” said Tilly stoutly.  “I want pizza.”
He laughed, and kissed her again.
“Well, let’s see what we can do about that,” he said, and turned her around to sit on his knee.  Lacey slumped into the chair opposite with a heavy sigh.
“You alright?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Fine,” she lied.  “Just tired. You on your own here?”
“Everyone’s gone to Roni’s,” he said, with a shrug.  “Fa and Dunbroch finally have a date, by the way.”
Lacey smiled faintly.
“Good for them.”
“Yeah.”  Weaver bounced Tilly on his knee.  “Anything planned for the next couple of days?”
Lacey shifted uneasily.
“Laundry and crappy TV, mostly,” she said.  “You?”
“Well, I thought I might take Tilly swimming,” he said.
“Yeah!” said Tilly excitedly.
“I didn’t pack her suit,” said Lacey.
“That’s okay, I can drop by your place and pick one up,” he said.  “If that’s alright.”
“Sure.”
Tilly slipped from Weaver’s lap and wandered over to inspect the contents of the waste paper basket, and Weaver caught Lacey’s eye.  He looked hesitant, as though he wanted to say something but was unsure how she would react. She hated that she made him feel that way.
“You know you said maybe we could spend some time together this weekend?” he said.  “Nolan offered us his cabin.”
“Not really the weather for a trip to the woods, is it?”
“It’s just a thought,” he said wearily, sitting back, as though in defeat.
“Sorry.”  Sharp needles of guilt pierced her.  “I’m sorry. I’ll think about it.”
He nodded, but he wasn’t looking at her, his gaze turned to his computer screen.  It was locked, a square box asking for a password. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.  It was time.
“Oh, since I’m here, I wanted to ask you something,” she said, in a casual tone.  “You know that murder I witnessed, the night we met? What was the guy’s name again?  Hector, Hiller…”
“Heller,” said Weaver, looking back at her.  “Isaac Heller.”
“That’s it.”  She shifted in her seat.  “You ever crack that case?”
He eyed her for a moment, then glanced away.
“No,” he said.  “We thought we’d found out who the murderers were, remember, but we couldn’t prove who had hired them.  Then after Nolan was shot, they turned up dead, so there wasn’t enough hard evidence to make any arrests…” He shrugged, the irritation over an unsolved case evident in the gesture.  “Case is cold. Why?”
“Oh, because someone mentioned him in The Rabbit Hole last night,” she said, and held up a hand as he opened his mouth.  “Before you say anything, I wasn’t working. I just went to pick up my wages.  Garrett wasn’t even there.”
He nodded, sitting forward and clearing the scowl from his face.
“Who mentioned Isaac Heller, and what did they say?”
“Don’t know who it was,” she said vaguely.  “Never seen ‘em before, and I wasn’t really paying attention, but then one of them mentioned ‘the lawyer that got pulled out of the harbour’, and he was the only one I could think of.”
“Okay.”  Weaver grabbed a notebook and pencil.  “Tell me exactly what was said.”
“Hmm.”  Lacey chewed her lip.  “Exactly? I think it was something like ‘you know, that lawyer that got pulled out of the harbour?  I thought he hadn’t paid his debts, but it turns out he had information’. And then the other guy said ‘what kind of information?’ and the first guy said ‘a code. The key to a pile of cash’.  That’s what made me think it must be our guy, because we found that key, remember?  And - and that code, written on the sticky note?”
Weaver stopped scribbling and looked up, his eyes narrowing a little.
“Right,” he said.  “There was a note.  A series of letters and numbers.  You said it looked like a wifi password.”
Lacey shrugged.
“What do I know?  Maybe not. What if it’s a code to get into something else? Like - like a computer program, or - or whatever those guys were talking about.  Maybe he was waiting to hand it over, and he got killed before I could turn up with the package, right?”
“Maybe,” he said slowly.  “We’re reaching, but maybe you’re right.  I know we couldn’t find any obvious use for the code based on Heller’s belongings or internet accounts.”
“Well, I guess it’s been awhile since you saw it,” she said, with a shrug. “Maybe you should take a look.”
He sat back slowly, his face expressionless.
“I don’t work Homicide anymore.”
“Oh, so you don’t want to solve the murder?”  She shrugged again. “I guess I can understand that.  No point doing someone else’s work, right?”
Weaver tapped his pencil against his notebook.  She was aware it was an unconscious habit of his, indicating that he was thinking.  His eyes never left hers, and it made her want to squirm, as though she was the murderer herself. As though she was guilty.
“Wait here,” he said abruptly, and got up, striding from the room.
Lacey sat back in her chair with a sigh, glancing around the place and keeping half an eye on Tilly, who had climbed onto Weaver’s chair and was making it spin around by kicking at the edge of his desk.
“I wanna pee,” she said.
“Wait until Daddy gets back, okay?”
Tilly blew a raspberry, head rolling back as the chair turned around, and Lacey stilled her restless feet from tapping on the tiled floor.  She folded her hands in her lap, trying to present as calm and uninterested a picture as possible, and after a few minutes Weaver returned with an envelope in his hands.  He opened it up, pulling out a piece of thick paper folded into thirds.
“This is what you were due to deliver to the victim,” he said.
“Yeah, I remember,” she said, in an offhand tone.
“Daddy, I wanna pee,” said Tilly insistently, and Weaver glanced across at her.
“Can you take her?” asked Lacey with a sigh.  “My feet are killing me.”
“No problem.”  Weaver dropped the envelope and the piece of paper onto his desk, and held out his hand.  “Come on, sweetheart.”
Tilly slipped from the chair, reaching up to take his hand, and he led her from the office into the corridor where the restrooms were housed.  Lacey craned her neck to check they had gone, and sat up, grabbing the envelope and tipping it upside down.  A tiny silver key fell out into her hand, and Lacey set it on the desk before reaching into her pocket for a key of a similar size.  She fretted a little over the differences, but she doubted they would be enough to cause suspicion; two safe deposit box keys looked much alike.  She dropped it into the envelope, setting it back on the desk in what she thought was the same position as Weaver had left it.  She then pocketed the original key, pulling her phone from her pocket and flicking it to camera mode, then leaned forward to open up the paper itself.
It was good quality paper, smooth between her fingers, with a single sentence written in black ink and a green sticky note with a seemingly random sequence of letters and numbers on it.  She took pictures, one of the paper itself, and two of the note, each focused to give the best view of the code. Carefully folding the paper again, she replaced it on the desk, checking both its position and the envelope’s to ensure they would appear undisturbed from where Weaver had dropped them.
Sitting back in the chair, she slipped her phone back into her pocket, hearing a tiny clink as it knocked against the stolen key, and tried to calm her racing heart as she waited for Weaver to return.  He was back with her in a couple of minutes, Tilly clutching his hand.
“Look, I’d better get going,” said Lacey.  “Crappy TV shows won’t watch themselves.”
“You know, you’re always welcome to come for dinner,” he said.
She tried to smile, guilt biting at her, gnawing at her.
“Maybe some other time.”
He glanced at the evidence on his desk, and she felt her heart thump, sudden fear that he could sense what she had done.
“I’ll take a look at the Heller thing tomorrow,” he said.  “If you hang on for five minutes, I’ll check this back into the evidence room and give you a lift home.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said hastily.
“I do if I want to pick up Tilly’s swimsuit.”
“Right,” she said lamely.  “Yeah. Sure.”
Weaver picked up the letter, sliding it back into the envelope with the fake key.
“Back in a minute,” he said.
Lacey slumped back in the chair as he left, arms going around Tilly as she climbed onto her lap.
“I want pizza,” she grumbled.
“I know, baby.”  Lacey kissed the top of her head.  “Daddy’s gonna buy you pizza.”
“You come too?”
“I can’t, sweetie, I’m sorry.”
“Why not?”
Tilly looked up at her curiously, dark eyes wide, and Lacey sighed.
“I have to work,” she lied.
“Oh.”  Tilly wrinkled her nose.  “Work is stupid!”
“Yeah, it sure is.”
Tilly snuggled against her chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, and Lacey kissed her head again, breathing in the scent of her.  The sound of Weaver’s footsteps made her look around, and she watched as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. He nodded to her brusquely, not quite meeting her eyes, and there was something in his face: a weariness that made her heart clench.  She hated that she was probably the cause.
“Right,” he said.  “Let’s get going.”
x
The journey back to the apartment was made in near silence, the only break in it Tilly seeking assurance that they would indeed be going for pizza afterwards.  Weaver carried her case up to the apartment, and Tilly jumped onto the couch and reached for the TV remote as he and Lacey went into her room to retrieve the swimsuit.  The sound of a cartoon had started up in the lounge, something bright and cheerful, and Lacey was glad of the noise.  Anything to lift the cold, heavy silence that seemed to follow her around.  She rummaged in the third drawer of the dresser.
“She likes the octopus one,” she said, fishing out a blue swimsuit.
“Thanks.”
“Hang on, there are water wings in the box under the bed.”
She could feel him watching her as she pulled out the box, pushing aside toys and books and retrieving the orange plastic water wings.  She shoved the box back under, pushing to her feet and holding them out. Weaver nodded, taking them from her and opening up the little suitcase before dropping them in along with the swimsuit.
“Looks like we’re all set,” he said.
“Have fun.”
He zipped the case and paused a moment, tented fingers resting on the outer shell, eyes staring at nothing.
“Guess I’ll see you Friday,” she added.  “You’d better go get that pizza.”
“Lacey,” he said quietly.  “Just - just a minute.”
He had turned to face her, and was watching her with dark eyes, his expression something she couldn’t quite interpret. Love, perhaps, though God knew she had done nothing to deserve it. Love tinged with sadness, with quiet desperation. It made the well of tears inside her rise up, threatening to overflow and drown her in sorrow.
“Whatever’s going on with you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know - you know you can tell me anything, right? You know I would never judge you, that I’d want to help you.”
“You can’t,” she said abruptly, and wanted to bite her tongue.  She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the tears wouldn’t spill out.  “What I mean is, there’s nothing I need help with.”
He was still staring at her, and it hurt, as though his gaze could pierce her chest and see into her soul.  As though there was something there worth saving. She clenched her jaw, raising her chin.
“I know you think there’s some big secret I’m keeping, Rafe,” she said clearly. “Something that I’m not letting you in on, for whatever reason you’ve cooked up in that mind of yours.”
“Well, that’s because you’re a terrible liar, and I’m not stupid,” he said stiffly. “And because I know you. I know you need my help, and I know you’re too brave and too bloody stubborn to ask for it.”
“I’m not brave,” she muttered.
“You are,” he said, and his tone was gentle again. “You’re the bravest person I know.”
I’m not, I’m a fucking coward!
“I don’t need your help,” she snapped, raising her hands and letting them fall against her thighs with a slap.  “God, it’d be so much easier if there was some dark tale of bloody woe I was keeping from you!  It would probably hurt less than the truth!”
“‘The truth’,” he said flatly.  “I’m still waiting for the bloody truth!”
“I told you—”
“No.”  He shook his head, sadness in his eyes.  “You haven’t. But I’ll wait. And - and I’ll go on waiting, Lacey.  Whenever you want to tell me, I’ll be waiting to hear it.”
Lacey stepped forward.
“But the truth is just - ordinary,” she said gently.  “No terrible secrets, no dark deeds to discover. Just two people who don’t belong together.  Happens every day. This time it happened to us. That’s all there is. That’s it.”
There was silence for a moment, a long, terrible moment in which he held her gaze, the twitch of his mouth the only hint that she had stuck a dagger in his heart and twisted it.  It made her want to break down and weep, to fall into his arms and beg forgiveness. Her lower lip trembled, and she snatched at it with her teeth to hold it still. Blood bloomed on her tongue, the taste of iron and salt, and her eyes stung with tears.  He had glanced away from her, his face tight with pain, but he took a breath before meeting her eyes again.
“Nevertheless,” he said, his voice hoarse and heavy with emotion.  “If you need my help for any reason, all you have to do is ask.”
“I already told you—”
“Any reason,” he repeated.  “I mean it. We’re still friends, no matter what.  I still love you, Lacey. I always will.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak, her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms to distract her from the pain in her heart.  He finally looked away, before glancing back, nodding once, and grasping the case in his hand. Footsteps echoed back at her as he walked through the apartment, the sound of him leaving, and she closed her eyes.  He wouldn’t give up on her. He would never give up on her. 
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abitofafatass · 3 years
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11-17-14 Grif and Kaikaina ( @bluegrif) (hsau)
Abitofafatass asked:  ((brother/sister angst ahoy!)) What did you do?
abitofafatass
My muse visits yours in hospital.
“Grif?” Kai asked, leaning in the door. She wasn’t exactly sure what happened, but once she heard her brother was in hospital, Kai hauled ass. What did she do? More like what did he do? It was Simmons- she thinks- that told her that Grif was in hospital, but she doesn’t remember. Kai sat down and stared, confused and emotional. “What the fuck, Grif?”
-
Grif had a rather sour look on his face, and had one leg propped up in a cast. “I didn’t do anything. Some dickhole thought it was going to be funny to loosen the front tire of my bike before we started riding them.” But that didn’t seem to be the only reason he was here. They didn’t hook that many machines up to someone with only a broken leg. Also, he’d already been here a night. Didn’t they normally send people home once the cast was on?
She tried to put her hands on her hip, bumping her elbows an casually moving them back, her point failed. “Okay, but did you like, make him?” Kai tried. “Did you fuck with his shit first?” She leaned back, taking it in. “Can I draw on your cast when we get home? Cause, you’re all patched up, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.” She paused. “Wait, when are you coming home? I don’t see a release date…”
-
“No I didnt make him! I guess he thought it was a joke or something. Or maybe he was trying to get brownie points with Sarge…” Grif shrugged, and then bit his lip. “Well… I might not be getting out of here for a while, Sis. Turns out that my kidneys suck major cock, so… Gonna have to wait for a transplant…” In a way, it had been kind of a happy accident. Having to go to the hospital caught the problem before it started to actually get really bad. But that also put him at a low priority on the transplant list.
-
She frowned. “Awww, Grif! Why don’t you look after yourself? I mean… you look after me…” That deepened the frown. Since their mother fucked off, he had taken good care of her, and it was kinda upsetting that he hadn’t done the same for himself. “How many do you need?”
-
“Like, one working one.” He shrugged, “I guess they’ll see if you’re a match since we’re siblings, but it’ll suck since then you’ll only have one, and shit.” He leaned over to pull her into a hug, “Dont worry, ok Sis? It’ll be fine.”
-
“Just one?” She asked, practically squeezing her brother. “I mean, we only need one, right? Each, So I guess you could have mine. If it fits.”
-
He laughed, “It doesnt quite work like that, but yeah, thats the idea.” Grif rubbed her back comfortingly. “You gonna be ok at home by yourself?”
-
“Pfft, obviously. I’ll be fine, we have plenty of frozen shit. And it doesn’t take a genius to work the oven, right? I mean you do it every night.”
-
“Just dont forget about the food in there. And if the smoke alarm goes off, dont just unplug it because its annoying.” Grif was going to need to make a list of everything she needed to watch for, now that he thought about it. “Maybe I should just have someone stay with you.”
-
“Ew. No. You’ll pick Sarge or Simmons.” She wrinkled her nose. “I can be fine at home. Trust me. I swear I won’t have any wild parties again. At all. Not even a little one.”
-
“Like fuck I’m letting Sarge in my house.” Grif shook his head, mimicking her distaste. “Whats wrong with Simmons? Sure, he’ll make you healthy food, and try and make you do your homework… Actually, Simmons wouldnt be a bad idea.”
-
“No, no. He’s really dorky. No.” She pouted. No way was she letting Simmons in the house without Grif. He’d rearrange everything. Alphabetically. “Oh hell no. If Anyone, Make it Tucker, or Donut!”
-
He gave her a long look, “No. If I let Donut stay with you, I’d come home to a redecorated house by Martha Stuart or some shit. And if I let Tucker stay… Its best if you two arent even in the same room alone.”
-
“-But Simmons is your friend, and he’s not even the hottest.” She pouted. Okay, maybe Donut would take house sitting a little too seriously. And Tucker… Well, she wasn’t that smart, be she knew what her brother was getting at. Fucking like rabbits. It wasn’t even surprising. “Well, What about Church? He’s not really that good-looking, and he’s boring as shit? Or Caboose..?”
-
“Ok, maybe Church or Doc,” Grif conceded. Having Caboose over would be like the blind leading the blind. “Church is kind of a prick, and probably wont do that much, but I think he’ll manage to keep you out of too much trouble, and make sure the bills get paid on time.” He tucked a bit of hair that had gotten in Kaikaina’s face behind her ear and smiled. “Hopefully it wont take too long before I’m back home.”
-
“No way! Not Doc.” She retorts. “I don’t him doing all that pilates shit, or eat organic stuff. Gross.” She sighed. “fine. Church or Simmons.” A moment later, she gave a small smile. “You better get better soon, you know.”
-
Grif nodded, “Of course I will. And I’ll see if Simmons can stay with you soon. It might take a little convincing to get Church to do anything.” Now that that was settled, he leaned back in his hospital bed and relaxed. “So, how was school?”
-
“It sucks dicks.” She replied. “You won’t believe this, but they kicked me off the cheerleading squad again.”
-
“Really?” He heaved a huge sigh, “What happened this time?” How many times did this make? He couldnt remember.
-
“It’s the third, or the fourth. I can remember, but they were really bitchy.” The was an aggravated sigh. “Oh well, I guess I’ll just join the nerd club or something.”
-
He gave her a long look, “I’m sure there’s other clubs you can join. I don’t think the nerd club is ready for your type of awesome.” Or ready for a girl to be in their midst at all, really.
-
“No.. But I’ll be bored sitting at home.” She replied. “I mean I could invite people over, but Simmons will have an aneurism or something.”
-
“Simmons has an aneurysm every four minutes anyways.” Grif shrugged. “No wild parties. Dont do anything that would get you in a hospital bed, or the clinic.” She knew what he meant.
-
“Really? Maybe he should be in hospital too!” Kai gave a sigh. Crossing her fingers. “Fine. No parties. And no… Other stuff… Not like Simmons will let me anyway.” The last part grumbled.
-
That made him laugh, “I don’t think Simmons gets the whole talking to girls thing. He’d probably faint if you were just walking around in a bikini.” Besides, he was pretty sure that Simmons wasnt as straight as he made it seem (no he was not just hoping for his own sake).
-
“No shit. But It’ll be funny, so I’ll record it and take it in to show you. Maybe it’ll help your fucked up kidneys. Or made you giggle… And you totally know which one I’m talking about..”
-
He grinned and nodded, “Just make sure you dont kill the poor asshole. He may be a nerd, but… he’s not the worst guy in the world.” Grif felt bad for Simmons, almost. But what were friends for if not to take care of promiscuous younger siblings?
-
Kai wouldn’t be that bad. Not enough to kill him, obviously, because she didn’t want to go to prison. BUt that wasn’t the point, he seemed okay, but he was kinda a stickler for rules. And Kai, if not anything else, was one for breaking them. “Sure. No murder. Totally got it.”
-
“Good.” he nodded, and pulled her close for a hug again. That should take care of just about everything, he thought. “Sooo…” Grif started, “Anything, or anyone new in your life?” He may be taking care of her, but he was also her nosy older brother.
-
She raised a brow. “You wanna talk about boys?” That was new..
-
“Why not? Its not like I have anything better to be doing.” He was purposefully ignoring the stack of binders Simmons had left him that contained school work that he was going to miss.
-
“Awesome.” She replies, grabbing a marker and taking it to the cast. “Well, you know about Tucker. I mean that guy isn’t the worst I’ve had -  You remember that last one right?” Kai spoke loudly, working with the pen.
-
“You mean the one I told you was bad news, but you said he had a cute ass so it didnt matter?” He couldnt see what she was drawing from here. At least he could trust her to not draw too many dicks.
-
“Yeah, him! He was kinda cute. I suppose Tucker is better. Well, he seems kinda desperate, but it’s cool. He’s nice really.” She nods, writing ‘Kai was here.’ In block caps.
-
“As much as it pains me to say it, Tucker is the better option of the two of them,” and that really was difficult to say. At least he was sort of friends with Tucker.
-
“Yeah. I think that guy does hard drugs now.” She smiled, finishing up a drawing of a smiley-faced dick with a hat.
-
“Yeah… I think now would be the time that I say stay the fuck away from that.” Grif nodded, craning to see what she was drawing. “Awesome. That looks absolutely awesome.”
-
“Thanks! I called it Simmons… Cause his name is Dick, right?” She grinned. “But yeah. Not cool. Not hot.”
-
Grif snorted, and leaned forward to give her a high five. “Nice one! And nice choice. You usually dont get over someone like that this fast. Could it by my baby sister is finally growing up?”
-
She slapped his hand and grinned. “Ain’t I just?… And I’m not a baby. You’re like…. Only some years older than me. But Yeah. And that means I don’t have to be baby sat, right?” Truth be told she wouldn’t mind an extra person wandering around the house whilst Grif was gone.
-
“I’m still gonna ask someone to stay with you, just because I know otherwise the bills wont get paid, and then you’re going to complain that you dont have any lights. Or food because the fridge would be broken.”
-
“Yeah, yeah. I know..” She pretended to pout. “Suppose it could be awesome for you to come home to a place tidy and that.”
-
“I think it’s going to have to be when I get those transplants done anyways…” Grif shrugged.
-
“Still, that’s plenty of time for him to clean up the whole entire house.” She grinned before adding. “-And I bet he will.”
-
He laughed, “He’ll clean and actually like doing it. Why do you think I suggested he stay with you?”
-
“Yeeahh. But Donut likes that shit too. And he’s not as… Obsessive. ”
-
“Yes and no. Donut may not be as big a neat freak, but I bet you anything he’ll want to redecorate, and paint and shit. Be a lot more work in the long run.”
-
“As long as its him working, why would you care….” She paused. Donut seemed to favour ‘lightish-red.’ “Okay, fair point.”
-
“Yeah…” he nodded, “I know it wouldnt make much difference to you, but I do not want to come home to a pink house.”
-
“What, why?! You’re hurt. Why do I still have to do homework?”
-
Grif gave the stack of binders on his bedside table a sour look. They seemed to be multiplying already. “I dont get out of classwork either, you know. Some dickhead thought that he was helping by getting the work I’ll miss.”
-
“…Is it the same dick that’s on your leg…” Kai asked, he would get it. “I don’t wanna. Maybe I can talk Simmons into doing it all too.”
-
“Kaiii,” he whined, “You cant do that when that’s what I was gonna try to do! I’m the sick one here! And yes, its the dick on my leg.”
-
“Well, we can both do it. He can practice with mine, then do yours afterwards. See, easy? How else was I gonna pass Algebra?”
-
“I don’t think Simmons is going to think like that. I think he’s going to think this is the perfect opportunity to tutor you.” He smiled, “I think its kind of a good idea.”
-
“Urgh… Don’t go all ‘Mother bird’ on me, Bro. Not cool.” Kai shook her head. “When do I get tested?”
-
Grif just laughed, “I’m still your big brother, no matter how cool I am.” Then he grew a little more serious. “I’ll make an appointment for you this weekend so you dont miss anything for school. Or anything else important.”
-
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dork, you know that?” OKay, so maybe it was probably better that she stay in school. Simmons would be too, and if she stayed home, there probably won’t be anyone there, unless she convinced Tucker to bunk off. “Okay, fine..”
-
Grif smiled and gave his sister’s hand a squeeze, “Thanks for being willing to go through that for me Kai. Even if we’re not a match, it means a lot to me. I love you.”
-
“Yeah, yeah. You big dork. Ditto.” Kai gave a smile, and nudged her brother with her shoulder. “I mean you would do it for me.. Though mine are probably healthier…”
-
“Probably.” He agreed. “I dont want this to be you in the hospital bed for the same reason a few years down the road, ok? Dont do whatever it was that turns kidneys to shit.”
-
She frowned. “…What does turn kidney’s to shit? I have no fucking idea… But yeah. I’m not going to bust my body, so it’s all cool.”
-
“You know… I actually dont know what does that… They said it was genetic, but I dont know if that means that we both have shitting stuff, or what.”
-
“Nah.. I’ll be fine, Bro. Don’t worry about it, yeah?” Then she sighed. “Trust our mother to fuck us over one last time, I don’t care how cool the circus is, that’s fucking mean.”
-
Grif bit his lip, and shook his head, “… She had to go follow her dreams man. Where else is she going to be able to show off those wonderful talents of hers?”
-
“Yeah, I know.” She agreed reluctantly. “I mean who else can be fa,t and bearded, and a woman all at the same time? I don’t think I can..”
-
“I wouldnt want you to try, either.” Grif laughed. “It seems like it’d be fucking difficult, doesnt it?”
-
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