Chapter Text
It was nearing the end of his sixth session with Doctor Saunders, and Sebastian wanted out.
Three weeks since he escaped the STEM system and there were still no leads on anything –on Leslie’s (Ruvik’s) whereabouts, on Kidman’s past or on Joseph’s location. Sebastian knew that, in all likelihood, they were searching for Joseph’s body –and he knew that was what everyone else thought too, by the way they had looked at him as he cleared his things off his desk the last time he’d been to the precinct.
And there was nothing he could do to help (officially), because he’d been slapped with mandatory leave the second he’d walked out of the hospital and told to see Doctor Saunders twice a week or lose his job. Sebastian had agreed to see her, but he hadn’t been happy. He was less than trusting of shrinks these days. Doctor Stevie Saunders didn’t seem to begrudge him that, though, even if she was too smart to miss it.
If he was being honest to himself, he knew he was probably being unfair to her. She’d been understanding with his silence on certain subjects, she didn’t push the issue when he’d outright refused her offer of sleeping pills or any kind of medication, and she’d even put in a good word for him to the chief when the IA were assessing if he’d ever be fit for duty again. But there were times when Sebastian would look at her and swear he’d see Ruvik’s gaze –as if he were a lab rat in her eyes, a curiosity to be studied and, if there was more to be learned, cut apart. Sebastian would blink, and she’d be looking at him with a kind smile and warm brown eyes (oddly a few shades lighter than her skin, he’d noticed), but he could never be truly comfortable around her.
“I really do want you to make an effort to get more sleep, Sebastian,” Doctor Saunders said, leaning towards him in her seat to emphasise her concern. She was about ten years younger than Sebastian, and pretty with wavy black hair that framed a heart-shaped face. Everything about her seemed to suggest a caring, loving individual, which he supposed was useful in her field of work –encouraged trust. “Even if you don’t want any medication, there are many other methods.”
Sebastian was pretty sure that if they weren’t in a professional environment, she’d suggest a cup of warm cocoa before bed. She just seemed like the type of person.
“I’ll do my best, Doc,” he replied. It was insincere and she saw through it immediately, but her reaction was a smile that showed only a little disappointment. Of course, that disappointment could well be there for show, designed to make him feel guilty and make a more genuine effort–
–or it could be her reaction to a patient who wasn’t making much progress. Sebastian would have to reconsider Doctor Saunders’ concerned assertion that he was becoming increasingly paranoid if he started to assign cruel intentions to a suggestion that he actually get a healthy amount of sleep. He looked at the clock, just over her shoulder so her patients could see it easily (and she could easily see her patients looking at it) and found that it was time for him to go. He stood and grabbed his jacket off the chair –Doctor Saunders was used to his abrupt departures by now, and generally accepted his promise to try and get more sleep (or socialise more or whatever it was she suggested he do) as a parting comment.
This time, though, she made a little noise before he could make a move for the door, one that told him she had wanted to speak but stopped herself to reconsider. Her smile had disappeared and she looked as serious as he had ever seen her as she watched him to make sure he’d stay. When she was satisfied that he wasn’t going to dive for the door (something that he had very nearly done on his first visit to her office) she looked at her little clipboard, which she always held but never seemed to write anything on, and avoided his eyes. Sebastian could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to think of how best to approach whatever she wanted to say. It reminded him of a few interrogations on certain suspects –the ones who were smart enough to think before they spoke, but hadn’t thought it through before they’d been brought in. To the doctor’s credit, it didn’t take her nearly as long to speak as it had those suspects.
“I was provided with a copy of your statement to the police,” she began. And now he was the one looking away, because he knew what was coming next. She wanted him to talk more about the STEM –what little he’d told the police about it, anyway.
The discovery of the STEM lab had sent shockwaves through Krimson City. It had provided leads in dozens of murder cases and potentially hundreds of missing person’s cases. The research conducted there, reporters said, was terrible, but could revolutionise mental health work. The official statement said the victims had been pumped full of chemicals that somehow induced a mass hallucination. No mention of connecting brains and no mention of Ruvik. Sebastian, as the only known survivor, was mentioned several times, but the press had been kept away from him with impressive totality. He had been mostly honest with the detectives that had interviewed him –two from the homicide division, then two new members of the missing person division whose transfers he’d missed, and finally two from IA.
After the IA interview, he’d been all but shoved through Doctor Saunders’ door. She had touched on his time in the STEM, but never pushed it, seeming content to wait until he brought it up. Instead, she’d focused on how he was coping with the loss of his partner and friends, how he was handling the realisation that he’d been missing for a month, and any lasting trauma he was suffering.
Sebastian feared that had changed, but she remained silent on the topic. Instead, she brought up another subject he desperately wanted to avoid.
“You reported news on the disappearance of a patient at Beacon, a… Leslie Withers.” Her face was hard to read through his lashes, because he still couldn’t look her in the eye, but she was studying him, he knew, watching his reaction. He gave her a curt nod, not trusting himself to speak –and, paranoid or not, not trusting her at all. “Towards the end of your statement, you warned he might be dangerous but did not elaborate on why.”
She studied him for a moment more, waiting to see if he would speak. When it became clear he would remain silent, she sighed.
“I’ve seen Leslie Withers’ file, too. According to a Doctor Jimenez, he can be upset easily, but there’s no history of violence. In fact, I believe the word ‘docile’ was used more than once.” The blunt tone she’d used was the same one he’d heard when she’d asked him about his drinking habits and if he was planning on self-medicating again. She sat up straight, too, and looked him in the eye. Sebastian had to admit that, for a young and unintimidating woman, Doctor Saunders could summon a certain amount of authority when she wanted to. Not enough to cow Sebastian, though, who was used to working with a department head who could stop a raging bull with one glare.
“Why do you believe that Leslie Withers could be dangerous?” she asked him.
For a second, Sebastian wanted to speak. Wanted it off his chest, wanted to tell Doctor Saunders what he hadn’t told any of the detectives –that Ruvik had taken over the body of Leslie Withers and Sebastian had no idea what he was willing to do to keep it or what he was planning to do with it. Of course, there was a reason he hadn’t told anyone else that. If everything else he’d said had convinced them he was crazy (Doctor Saunders had assured him he was only there because his co-workers were concerned about the trauma he had suffered, but Sebastian had seen the looks on the faces of the six who’d interviewed him and everyone who had access to the reports) then this would be the final nail in the coffin. Instead, he settled for something that wasn’t entirely a lie.
“A lot of things happened to him in Beacon. I don’t think he’s the same person he was when he went in.”
Doctor Saunders accepted that answer with a nod, and smiled as if she were happy he’d opened up to her. He did his best to smile back, but it seemed she’d ascribed a different reason to why he couldn’t quite manage it.
“I’ve been assured that leads are being pursued in his case. According to what I’ve heard, I think he has a good chance of being found.” She stood and shook his hand, and even if he trusted her about half as far as he could throw her, Sebastian had to admit he was glad that he’d gotten her rather than the smug bastard the IA had assigned to him last time.
“Thanks, Doc,” he said, and maybe meant it a little bit.
She turned to fill out some notes on her computer, and he walked out her door, which was surrounded by degrees and commendations. When he’d asked her about it (in a bid to get the conversation away from himself, even if for a moment), she’d confessed that she’d had her credentials questioned once, and kept them around to point to them if it ever happened again. It hadn’t, she’d told him.
***
Sebastian had felt guilty about a lot of things in his life. A lot of things he’d often have to make a conscious decision not to dwell on. But Leslie Withers was very high on the list of things he felt guilty about and one of the few he could still do something about.
So, when he’d been put on mandatory leave for no defined period of time and his only commitment his sessions with Doctor Saunders, Sebastian had wanted to do a little investigating of his own.
Problem was he had no idea where to start. Whichever organisation Kidman worked for had covered their tracks well, and Beacon Hospital had been locked off from him. But he’d stood by and watched the kid get… absorbed or erased or whatever had happened, and he couldn’t forget that, even if the only thing he could do was try and get some justice. For Leslie, for every other victim of the STEM labs, and hell, even for himself.
And for Joseph, some part of him thought. He quashed that voice. These days, Joseph was one of the topics he decided not to dwell on.
Sebastian felt a chill not related to the cool autumn weather as he walked back to his apartment and quickened his pace.
They hadn’t found Joseph and Sebastian knew that many in the department blamed him –blamed his bad statement for the lack of leads and even blamed him for Joseph’s disappearance in the first place. Joseph hadn’t been outgoing by any means, but he made friends and kept them far easier than Sebastian and everyone in their department at least appreciated his company. On the few times he’d been to the missing persons department since Beacon, it felt oppressive. When Lily had died, he’d used work as an escape. He did the same thing when Myra disappeared. But that tried and true method would fail him now, he knew –even when (he refused to think if) he was taken off leave, Joseph’s absence would destroy any chance of finding comfort there. He’d be assigned a new partner either from the department, which meant they would think he was crazy already, or a transfer, who would soon learn that association with Sebastian seemed to carry some sort of curse.
Sebastian turned the last corner to his apartment building, but as he did he saw something that made him walk right past it.
A shadow, flitting into a small alley when it became possible for him to see it.
He was being followed.
With his apartment safely behind him, Sebastian listened and watched out of the corner of his eye, mindful of Doctor Saunders’ ‘paranoid’ assessment. But after five minutes of walking aimlessly, he only became more convinced –his tail was smart, he’d give them that, always keeping a reasonable distance and remaining inconspicuous, but Sebastian knew what to look and listen for.
He headed for streets that were more or less abandoned. It was 6pm and cold, so it wasn’t hard to find a street where only a man stood, smoking beside an apartment building’s door. The street was close enough to his home that he knew it, far enough away that the standard of living here was noticeably lower. The pavement was cracked and broken glass littered the street everywhere, glinting in the last of the day’s light. It looked almost pretty, but the remnants of dried vomit in the gutter ruined the effect.
His tail was still there, further back than ever. Sebastian made a sharp turn into a narrow, trash-lined alley, trying to look like he’d remembered a short-cut. He caught a glimpse of them, saw that they were smaller than him and closing the distance.
The alley was filthier than the street and far darker. A stray cat nibbled on a chicken bone at the other end, where a tall brick wall rose, blocking any other exit. Under other circumstances, Sebastian might have picked it up and taken it to the animal shelter. Right now, he had bigger concerns.
He stayed close to the edge of the alley, back flat against the wall of the building, standing on someone’s leftover salad, and waited.
Soon enough, he heard soft footsteps and a long shadow stretched out in front of the alley. Sebastian didn’t dare to breathe.
Memories tugged at him –hiding in wait for a Haunted to walk past so he could take them out quietly, hoping and praying that none of the others heard it. Hoping that perhaps this one might drop something useful –ammo, a syringe or even an axe or a torch. Fearing it would be one of those creatures who couldn’t be taken down by a stab wound to the spine.
It was only when his follower was only a few steps away and Sebastian found himself reaching for a knife that wasn’t there that he came back to himself.
Easy, he thought. You’re not there, and it’s a person this time. A threat, maybe, but not a monster.
He hoped.
They rounded the corner and Sebastian looked at them just long enough to ascertain that they weren’t the man smoking next to the building, and it was only when he’d grabbed her and slammed her into the alley wall that he processed who he was seeing.
“Kidman,” he growled.
Juli Kidman seemed unimpressed, even when a much larger person loomed over her looking ready to kill. “Nice to see you, too, Sebastian.”