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It has been almost two weeks since the Origami Killer terror stopped, but Philadelphia still hasn't fully recovered. Although Norman Jayden is hailed as one of the heroes that finally put the end on the Origami Killer, he feels hollow. He feels like that case has taken a toll on him. Requests for interviews and TV appearances keep piling day by day, and Norman feels like his life changes so suddenly that he feels overwhelmed at times.
There's also the problem with Blake and his superior during the investigation; thankfully, they have been dealt with. The ongoing federal investigation will ensure they aren't getting away with all those offenses anymore.
But that's not the peak of his problem.
"Hey man, I saw the talk show. That was cool! Ya got any big cases after that? Solve 'em all with that fancy gadget of yours!"
One of his co-workers he doesn't really know suddenly calls out to him. Norman has to prevent himself from visibly wincing. He is still trying to recover from everything that happened during the investigation - he feels sick.
"No, not at the moment," he says, trying to find an excuse to run away from the conversation without being rude. "I need to go soon. See you later."
With that, Norman bolts out from the break room. Anywhere else is fine. He needs a place to be alone. He can feel his withdrawal symptoms creeping up and curses under his breath.
Perfect timing.
Trembling, the brown-haired man quickly stumbles into a thankfully empty restroom, washing his face repeatedly until the symptoms quiet down. He takes a deep breath and looks at the mirror.
I can't continue like this.
Once he calms down enough, he enters one of the toilet stalls. Taking a Triptocaine to ease his symptoms is still tempting, even though he knows it will get him in different trouble later. He reaches for his breast pocket to find a Triptocaine vial, one he always brings with him in case of emergency. Usually, Norman immediately reaches for it, but after realizing he has developed an addiction to Triptocaine on top of getting his mind messed up by overusing the ARI (maybe I'm also addicted to ARI, he sadly acknowledges), he starts to reduce his dependency on it. But then his withdrawal syndromes kick in, and he feels even worse than before. It has become a cycle he can't break away from.
I need to get rid of this.
He flushes the vial down the toilet.
Still feeling a little dizzy, Norman fumbles through his way to his office. Seeing how he doesn't have much work at the moment, he considers to take sick leave and returns home earlier. When he gathers his belongings, he accidentally knocks over a small bag, spilling the Triptocaine vials inside. Norman bents down to take them.
I should throw the rest of this away.
After informing his superior, he goes to his car and heads home.
"Fuck..."
Norman comes out of the bathroom in a daze. Two attacks in the span of one night are too much, even for him. As he lies on his bed, Norman finally admits he needs to get over his addictions once and for all. He wants to live normally without experiencing symptoms that nearly cost him his life. Maybe it's time for him to get help and focus on rehabilitating himself.
Why don't you just quit your job?
He has the answer to that question.
I have a sense of duty. And I love my job.
But look where your job got you. Are you happy, Norman?
Norman gets up and turns to look at where the voice comes from. He sees himself there. Must be another hallucination, he thinks.
However, that question stuns him.
"I'm not," Norman admits, smiling weakly. "I'm not happy, am I?"
You are the only one who knows the answer to that question.
Suddenly Norman feels really tired. He lies back on the bed, trying to clear his mind. His eyes feel heavy. For the first time after the Origami Killer case, he falls asleep quickly. Whether from fatigue, or relief, or both, his sleep isn't interrupted by any more attacks that night.
The next day, he wakes up strangely refreshed.
"Are you sure you've thought this through, Norman? You've got a promising career ahead of you! It's a pity that-"
"With all due respect, sir, I'm done thinking," Norman says, determined. After spending a few painful days of debating whether to quit his job or not, he doesn't want to back down now. "I need to lead something like a normal life. I need to step back, at least for a while."
I want to be happy.
"Will you be coming back to the FBI?"
"I dunno... I'm making no promises," he answers truthfully. He puts his gun and ID card on the table. Then he reaches for his breast pocket and takes his ARI out.
"You can keep your ARI if you like. This one is going off-line. There's a new model due next month."
Norman hesitates for a second before finally putting the ARI down on the table as well. It's the reason why he decides to quit the FBI, after all. He is too dependent on it.
"I... I think you'd better take it back," he says. "It's just a little too compelling, and it won't help me where I'm going... The real life."
Norman gets up from the chair and heads for the door. He is going to miss the ARI for sure, seeing how it has accompanied him through his time as a profiler and investigator. But now, he doesn't need it anymore.
"Whatever you want," the Chief says. "I hope you find what you are looking for, Norman."
I want to find happiness.
"I hope so too."
With a final nod, he leaves the room, looking straight ahead. It's not too late for him to start over and fix his life. It might not be easy, but he will get through it. Norman smiles to himself. He grabs his bag, bids farewell to his former office one last time, and leaves.