Somewhere Else

Chapter 31: Things Are Looking Grim

Deciding that sleep would be for the best, that saving the world could come a few hours later, Brecker returned to the bed with Kray at his side. This time only one of them slept. The other spent the rest of that early morning thinking about what was going to happen and what he’d just done. Typically Brecker encountered sweet dreams, lovely dreams in fact, but this time it was a dreamless sleep that would likely leave him unsatisfied in the morning. At any rate, rest was needed and he wasn’t going to be particular about how he received it.

After an hour of lying curled up with Brecker, he gave up on sleeping. Tossing the covers off of him, he pressed a kiss to his forehead and went into the bathroom. His hands rested on the faucet knobs as he let the water run for a moment and he stared at himself in the mirror. What was he getting himself into? All of his life he knew that there was something different about him, but he would have pinned it on acute intuition more than anything. There were things that he knew that no one could possibly know about those criminals, about those cases, but that was only the sign of a slightly above intelligent cop with great dedication to the job. That had nothing to do with Brecker and his premonitions and his moving through alternate lives that were only imaginary, only spawns of the question ‘What If?’ and not anything like what he had.

But then he saw Freak as well. The man was a sight to behold regardless of anything he was capable of doing. Despite having met him for the first time that night, he felt that he knew him from elsewhere now. Lowering his head to the basin, he splashed lukewarm water over his face several times, letting the water stream down to his neck and shoulders. Turning the water off, dissatisfied with the way that worked, he decided he might as well shower and start his day. He’d been up this early before. He knew he’d be able to function just fine, so long as he quickly engaged in something that exercised the mind.

After showering he got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. There was no point in getting into a full uniform just yet, not when he had several hours before work and didn’t want to wrinkle everything he spent the previous nights pressing so that he would look just as he ought to, pristine and professional. In the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee. Despite having his back to the shelves, he couldn’t help but remember how not so long ago he’d used them as a doorway into another life. A life that was his own but not as he knew it. Once the coffee was brewing on its own, he moved around the counter and leaned against it, staring at that bookcase. He looked up at the fish and then tried to picture the shelf without it, to see if he couldn’t make that blackness appear.

It did.

Another thought crossed his mind. If he could use the bookshelves, then maybe he could use other parts of the room as well. Shifting ever so slightly, he looked at the wall that was shared between his apartment and the next. He focused carefully there as well, imagining a painting he’d seen when he was out furniture shopping once. He thought that the art was a bit overpriced for being a mere oil canvas, but enjoyed the scene that it depicted well enough that he sometimes wondered if he couldn’t find it again. When he did that, another small gap appeared. Rather than wake Brecker and ensure he was able to spot him (if such a thing could even be done), he concentrated on the gap and walked towards it. As before, without physically passing through it, he slipped from one life to another.

Immediately he was bombarded by emotions that he knew he hadn’t been feeling a second before. There was a deep despair that hadn’t quite been shed but above that was great anger, all iced of course. The muscles of his arms were taut and he was clenching his gun in his hands. Head tilted so that he could better aim; his focus was primarily on the male in the situation. He suffered from a moment of déjà vu but it passed and he was again intent on resolving this situation without firing his weapon and without the woman being further harmed.

The woman didn’t stand very tall at all, in comparison to the man at her side. Both of her hands covered her face and she was adamant about not allowing him to see the marks that were inevitably upon her as he’d heard the smack of flesh upon flesh all the way in his own home. The shouting was what had roused him, forced him out of his door and through theirs. The threat was enough to motivate any man who had any primal instincts whatsoever.

‘Shut up bitch, or I’ll kill you and the baby.’

No part of that affected him greater than knowing there might be a child present for everything taking place. The instigator stood at a towering six foot five inches and he had the most distracting hair that he’d ever seen. Several inches long, at least, it stood up all over his head and he seemed to have every color of the rainbow displayed through those spikes. His eyes were dark and menacing, outlined in a thick mascara and liner to better emphasize them. Those nails that he saw were filed to a dangerous tip and painted black, which stood out well against the fluorescent pink tuxedo jacket he was wearing.

Both hands had been raised slowly, the skin of them so ghastly pale that he could almost be seen without any aid of the light. There was still a lingering sense that he’d dealt with this creep before, but he doubted he could ever forget such a face. Nudging the air upward with the tip of his gun, he reminded him, “Higher, where they can be seen.”

Once he felt that he was safe to move in, he stepped forward and gingerly grasped the arm of the woman, pulling her closer to him. Though the gun was pointed at the man and while his eyes were still on him, he turned his head closer to her and spoke softly. “Ma’am, do you have a child in the house?”

From her came a fresh bout of tears, a soft sob as she leaned into him. Instinctively he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her nearer to him. Backup would have been nice but he was sure he could handle it on his own. “Ma’am, if there’s a child in the house we need to get them out right now.”

Shakily she replied, “No. No child.” Either the baby he referred to wasn’t here at the moment or, if this was a spat between lovers, the baby was not yet part of this world in the sense that they could be held, felt, and cared for. Hopefully the stress of this incident wouldn’t further harm her. The way she stepped into him and seemed to lean on him though, he wasn’t sure that the physical trauma would be the only thing she would have to deal with.

Though his gun remained pointed at the lanky male, he moved them back towards the door where he opened it and then ushered her out of it, closing it behind him. Now that she was safe, he could take care of him swiftly and without worry that she’d upset her further. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

The rest was simple procedure. Since he wasn’t quite dressed for work, he didn’t actually have a pair of handcuffs on him. When they found out he’d held the man at gunpoint, they were going to wonder how he had time and mind to grab his weapon but not mind enough to grab anything else. Grasping his wrists in one hand, he jammed the barrel up against the side of his head and issued his directions. “We’re going to walk to the kitchen. I’m going to make a phone call and you’re not going to give me any trouble.”

Freak obliged. After all, the more time they spent together, the less he had to worry that he was going to be eliminated in this life at all. Together they moved through the small living room over into the kitchen where Kray did in fact call the station and dispatch for himself a police car, complete with a cop carrying cuffs. Then they simply waited. The room was disgustingly silent for a moment. Finally he spoke.

“Are you really here?”

Kray was unamused. Leaning up against the counter, he kept his arms crossed over his chest, the gun still grasped tightly in one hand though no longer pointed at the other. Rather than responding to a ridiculous question, he arched a brow and waited to see if he was going anywhere with him.

Freak had taken a seat at the kitchen table, one elbow resting upon the table itself and his hand grasping a bony knee. There was a gleam in those dark, mischievous eyes of his, one that couldn’t be missed. Finally the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile and he did comment further though it made very little sense as well. “You are. You’re right here. I’ll be damned.”

It must have been the way that he looked right at him, as though he was seeing something deeper than what was really there. Or perhaps it was because he was so strong in his conviction that he lost his concentration. Either way, he lost where he’d been and he retreated through a gap he wasn’t even aware was present. When he found himself in his living room again, he was breathing hard, mind reeling from what he’d seen.

Whipping around, he looked at his décor. Bookshelves, singing fish, and the couch he was so familiar with. In the kitchen were the telltale sounds of brewing coffee, the aroma so thick in the air that it couldn’t be imagined, and he knew he was home. His right hand ached from something. If he could stand to say it, he might say from holding the gun so tightly. Now that he was back, he understood why the man seemed so familiar. It was the very same one that had been in this very apartment only an hour or so earlier. Freak had gone to distract him – to save him.