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Chandler was sitting vigil at Kent’s bedside. He had done so for the better part of two days at this point, leaving Miles and the rest of the team to follow up on the would-be killer who got away.
Chandler wished he could help them, but staying guard near Kent was more important. The perp had vanished without a trace and if he wanted to finish the job, it wouldn’t take long to find Kent, hospital-bound by his own hands.
The damage he had done to him was still painted clearly all over his body, and it would be for some time. Bruises and cuts, black eyes, a broken nose, and worst of all a broken leg. The fracture had been severe enough to warrant an operation, and even with pain relief Kent was in a near constant state of discomfort.
Chandler was therefore happy he’d finally drifted off and gotten some rest. Despite the sleep deprivation he’d been put through, he had had trouble falling asleep, and when he finally did, even the smallest noise out of place would be able to wake him up again. This troubled Chandler, who knew from past experience that Kent could sleep through any noise. He hoped it was just being in hospital that set him on edge, or because he was in pain, but the expression on his face seconds after he would awaken told Chandler it was something more deep-seated.
He should probably get some sleep too, although it was hard to do on the rickety chair provided in the room. He hadn’t left Kent’s side for more than a few minutes at a time and had been living out of a bag that Miles had brought him since going with him in the ambulance. Fatigue was starting to get to him, although he’d tried to sleep whenever he had the chance. This was one such chance.
He leant back in the chair, trying to block out the busy sounds of the hospital, and somehow sleep found him.
He woke up with a startle not long after, judging by the light in the room. The sun had barely moved, evident by the shadows crawling along the room. Kent was still asleep to his relief. After all he was the one who needed the rest more. Chandler settled for having had a powernap. It was better than nothing.
He stretched, his back complaining, and decided now was probably a good time to go out and clean up a bit. He leant down to pick up his overnight bag, careful not to make too much noise, but as he moved the bag, a slip of paper fell to the floor.
He couldn’t recall the origins of it, but leant down further to pick it up anyways, not being one to litter.
Unfolding the piece of paper, just to see what it was, had him stifle a gasp, as a cold shiver ran down his spine.
He looked up shortly to see if the noise had reached Kent, but he was still asleep, for now.
When he returned his gaze to the paper, his previous plans changed.
He had to call Miles now.
The small slip of paper contained a single sentence: You can’t stay at his side forever.
He wondered whether he should wake up Kent first and had barely decided to let him sleep and get his much needed rest, before Kent opened his eyes, small slits behind swollen skin.
His voice was rough from the cold he’d caught, trapped in the freezing damp cellar with barely anything to cover him.
“Joe?”
Chandler swallowed thickly. He wanted to comfort Kent, but the paper in his hand made this impossible. His expression gave him away, before he could even think about what to tell him.
“Joe, what’s wrong?” he struggled to sit up in bed. This time, the worry on his face didn’t melt away with Chandler’s presence.
“We’ve received a threat,” Chandler said.
Kent’s eyes wandered down to the note in his hand. His face went pale.
“He was here?” His voice shook as he spoke.
“I don’t know yet. I was asleep,” Chandler cursed himself for not having been on guard. That was ridiculous of course. He had to sleep sometime, and they were in public in broad daylight with people running about in- and outside of the room all of the time.
But a few minutes of sleep was all that it had taken. Had he been keeping an eye on them? Or had someone else delivered the note for him? Maybe someone working at the hospital?
He knew there was cctv around, that they could get someone to check, but for now, he knew what the next course of action was.
“I’m going to call Miles and arrange for us to go to a safehouse once you’re discharged from hospital.”
Until they had caught the shipping ceo, John Johnson, the man who had caught and tortured Kent, who planned to kill him after 5 days, Kent needed to be far away from this place.
The man had dreams of being a serial killer. One who plays tricks and games before committing the murder, but Chandler had caught him before his first victim, and while Buchan would say that this would usually lead to one of two behaviours: Disappearance or frustrated unfocused serial killing leading to capture, this man seemed to have done neither of these. He was biding his time. Still intent on making Kent his first victim.
Chandler wasn’t going to let him. If he hadn’t let Kent out of his sight before, he was like a hawk until they were out of hospital and safely transported to a safehouse in a small town far from London. Sadly, the same applied to Kent who was on high alert and jumpy for the rest of the hospital stay.
With even less sleep between them, the two detectives fell asleep up against each other in the backseat of the car and awoke groggily as the officer driving them announced that they’d arrived.
Chandler brought their things in, having to make several rounds in and out, while Kent, only just readjusting to wearing crutches again, only had to worry about making his own way in.
It was a small house in a quiet neighbourhood. The back of the house overlooked wide open moors, making it easy to look out for people approaching on either side. There were several doors to the outside. Were it not for the small size, the lack of decorations and mostly anything in the interior would have felt cold, but as it were, it was cozy enough. At least it would be when they were both wrapped up in blankets together on the couch.
Chandler knew the simplicity was for practical reasons. Without too many things in the house it would be easier to notice if anything had changed, and it would be harder for someone to place listening or recording devices. There was a crawlspace hidden underneath the rug in the bedroom which they’d been made aware of in advance, but on their first look through the house, it was clear that it would be useless, with Kent’s leg to worry about. Their best bet was to flee out of one of the many entrances should worst come to worst.
Kent plopped down on the sofa, letting his crutches fall to the floor. He looked miserable. He already had a long road to recovery, 3-6 months because of the severity of the fracture in his leg and was now cut off from the world while the search for his would-be killer was ongoing, and worse, while the would-be killer’s search for him was ongoing.
Chandler hoped that he could at least provide a bit of sunshine for Kent, and failing that, he would settle with knowing he was bringing him security.
He did a walk around the house, checking and locking windows and doors, and keeping a watch outside to see if anyone had followed them. They’d gone in an unmarked car and had been assured that the route they’d taken had been long and convoluted. Had anybody been following them, it would have been clear.
But Chandler would rather be safe than sorry, so he scanned the area around the house for signs of anyone or anything. An old lady was watering the flowers in her front garden on the opposite side of the street. She waved at him when she saw him looking out the window and he waved back, before withdrawing and closing the blinds.
He made them both a cup of tea, and sat down next to Kent, who accepted the cup silently. As he did so, his sleeve rode up to reveal the angry red mark that had been left from the binds when he’d broken free of them, and Chandler found himself wishing the same pain on the perpetrator.
He shook his head, embarrassed at the thought.
Kent glanced up at him at the motion, but didn’t say anything, and soon went back to looking out of the window.
Chandler couldn’t tell if it was the kind of silence that was best filled or left unbroken, but he decided to let Kent be the one to decide. He didn’t want to pressure him.
This resulted in a mostly silent day where they each did their separate thing. This meant reading for the most part, and the occasional flicking through the tv channels for something to watch. Neither of them had their own phones with them. They only had a phone for emergencies that couldn’t be traced back to either of them.
Evening fell and in the electrical glow, Chandler’s eyes grew weary from reading. He rubbed them, and looked towards Kent, who was slumped over on the couch, eyes barely open. He looked more tired than Chandler felt, but he had made neither move nor mention of going to bed.
“I think I’m going to head to bed,” Chandler told him.
Hearing that, Kent perked up, and before Chandler had gotten around to turning off the lights and double checking the doors, Kent was already waiting for him in bed.
Crawling into bed, it wasn’t long before Kent was clinging to him like his life depended on it. This was their first night truly together since his abduction, and he was finally free to tell Chandler what he needed, though not in so many words. Chandler in kind, held him tight like he’d never lose him again.
From what Chandler could tell, Kent had still been awake when he drifted off to sleep, and when he woke in the morning, Kent was already up, though still hanging on to one of his arms.
He smiled when Chandler’s eyes found his, and the sight made Chandler’s heart flutter.
He cautiously leant in for a kiss. Kent’s lips were soft and warm, and the cuts barely noticeable. Chandler had been worried it would hurt, but it was Kent who deepened the kiss, so even if it did, it clearly didn’t matter to him in the moment.
He cuddled up next to Chandler. Last night’s desperation had been replaced with a quiet contentment as they had all the time in the world to lie in. This was a rare occurrence for the both of them.
Their stay at the house would have been a nice reprieve for them were it not for the circumstances surrounding it, Chandler thought as the birds chirped happily in the rising sun on the misty moor. Almost as if to punctuate the grim reality, Chandler’s hand which had been travelling through Kent’s curls found a spot where a clump of hair had been torn from his head, leaving behind a nasty wound. Kent flinched at the touch and just like that the spell was broken.
Kent sat up in bed, looking dejected.
He sighed and broke the silence.
“I should take a shower,” he said, but Chandler frowned at the way he said it. There was a hesitancy to it.
He looked back at Chandler, eyes not fully meeting his. His hands were worrying at the edge of the duvet.
“It’s stupid, but if I leave the door open, will you stay outside and talk to me?” he said, red flushing his cheeks.
“Of course!” Chandler agreed. He didn’t need any more information.
Once Kent was out of the shower, dressed and seated on the sofa with a cup of tea, a bit of the morning’s earlier calm returned.
It helped take the edge off that it was such a nice day outside. The sun was shining across the rolling moors of dark greens and purple heather. Cows were walking freely around carefree and calm, with insects buzzing about them and butterflies flittering about in the air.
Kent had abandoned his book in favour of watching the calming scenery outside. At least Chandler hoped that was the reason, and not that he was scanning for threats.
“Oh look, a hare!” He exclaimed after a while, once Chandler had been sucked into his own book once more. He looked up and had to lean across Kent to see to where he was pointing, and while he was looking another one popped up. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen one!” he said. Chandler smiled as he watched Kent out of the corner of his eye, savouring every positive emotion Kent had.
But the peace was all too easily shattered.
It was early afternoon when a knock came at the door, and Kent’s flight instincts kicked in. There was no fight in him, but he’d grabbed his crutches and were already moving towards the back door as Chandler went to see who was at the door.
It turned out to just be the delivery guy with their groceries. Chandler thanked him and brought the bags inside. Once the van moved out of the way, he spotted the lady in the garden across the street, right as she spotted him. She waved at him once more, and he waved back, before heading inside. Kent was watching warily right out of the line of sight from outdoors.
“Something unnerving about her, isn’t there?” he said.
“Hm?” Chandler turned around after locking the door.
“Nothing. I’m just-“ he didn’t finish his sentence and returned to the sofa once more. He turned on the tv but the way he flicked through the channels told Chandler he was just looking for something to occupy his mind rather than actually wanting to watch anything.
He decided to cook them both something with their new produce. Kent still hadn’t eaten much since he’d been starved, and he hoped that a homecooked meal would be appreciated, but Kent barely had a couple of bites before he began poking at the rest.
“That bad, huh?” Chandler joked to lighten the mood. He knew he wasn’t the best cook.
Kent huffed. “No, it’s good. I’m just not that hungry.”
It was clearly a lie, evidenced by the fact that he devoured half a package of biscuits later in the evening. Chandler tried to tell himself it was just his cooking, but he couldn’t help but worry.
As night approached, Kent became more and more fidgety.
“You never think about how quiet it gets without the constant background noise of cars and people, huh?” he said, his voice smaller than he must’ve hoped, as he loudly cleared his throat and looked down and away from Chandler.
“Want to watch some more tv?” Chandler asked. There’d been nothing good on it all day. He was sure that hadn’t changed by now.
“No, I-“ Kent got quiet, before scooting closer to Chandler on the couch, his eyes fixed on the outside.
“I don’t like this,” he said, and Chandler could feel himself getting a bit unnerved by Kent’s behaviour as well.
“What?”
“I just have this feeling of someone watching us,” he said, pressing himself further up against Chandler.
Chandler perked up, to scan the outside, but all he could see were the reflections from the lights inside. “Do you want me to go and check?”
“No!” he scrambled to say before Chandler had even finished asking. It almost came out as a yell, and Chandler jumped at the sudden noise, having been thoroughly pulled in by Kent’s atmosphere.
“The doors are locked, and as long as something isn’t trying to get in, we’re safe. I don’t want you to go outside and risk anything. Let’s just. Can we just go to bed?”
It was perhaps a bit early for that, but Chandler couldn’t see why he would disagree. It wasn’t like there was anything important to stay up and do.
What followed was another night of Kent desperately clinging to him, and Chandler doing his best to comfort him. He tried to listen for anything outside, but when he didn’t hear anything, the uneasy feeling faded away and he was once more asleep before Kent.
When he awoke in the morning, Kent hugged him before he could even say good morning. His eyes, still slightly closed from bruising, revealed his lack of sleep, and Chandler decided that today they would stay in bed as long as possible.
It wasn’t long before, with the light of day, and Chandler awake, Kent drifted off to sleep next to him.
It was late afternoon when he woke up, looking considerably more refreshed, which is when Chandler finally decided to get up and go to the bathroom.
Kent sent him a guilty smile, once he apologised for getting up.
Despite the slow start to the day, or perhaps because of it, or maybe it was the soft drizzle of rain outside, they were both drowsy, and Chandler made food for them to eat in bed. Kent still didn’t eat much, but Chandler could tell he was trying for his sake, so he didn’t comment on it.
They spent the better part of the day feeling cosy as they laid in bed, chatting about things not related to the past week’s events, and resting their bodies.
The only negative of the day came in the form of a phone call from Miles.
Chandler answered the phone with cautious optimism but could instantly tell from Miles’ gruff tones that it wasn’t good news.
“The bastard’s gone completely missing, but we have eyes at every property he owns. He has to return at some point and when he does – BAM – we’ll get him, so don’t worry. We’ll get that creep, so you two just hang tight. I’ll update you again when we have anything concrete.”
Kent had heard the gist of it, it would seem, as Chandler turned towards him. He tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace.
Chandler knew what he was thinking. If the would-be killer wasn’t anywhere to be found, that meant he could be anywhere.
He felt as Kent tensed up.
“They’ll find him,” Chandler tried assuring him.
“I know. I trust them,” Kent replied, his body still taut.
“They-“
“It’s fine. Let’s not let that ruin our day, okay?”
“Okay.”
But even with that, Kent’s anxiety had returned, and in the end, Chandler suspected he’d had another sleepless night.
The next day greeted them with bird song and the sun shining through the windows. Chandler stretched in the warm sunbeam that reached his side of the bed.
He was starting to feel restless cooped up in the house and the weather was too inviting for him.
“Do you feel up for a walk?” he asked, but before Kent could answer, he could tell from the way he averted his gaze that it had spiked his anxiety again.
“The nice weather might do you some good,” Chandler tried arguing. He felt a bit selfish making this argument, but he also knew that he wasn’t entirely wrong. Hiding away like this wasn’t gonna help with any sort of anxiety.
“Alright, but just a short walk,” Kent agreed, nodding down towards the cast on his leg. Chandler had a feeling he was only agreeing for his sake but getting out into the fresh air and sunshine felt as refreshing as a shower after the last couple of days.
The walk they took was slow, but they enjoyed the sight of the rolling moors, and deer walking in the dewy morning grass. The tenseness in Kent’s shoulders eased up the further they went, but as they were returning to the house, Chandler noticed that he became fidgety.
He would occasionally glance over his shoulder and began with difficulty to speed up towards their house.
Chandler hadn’t noticed anything different at first, but then he heard it. Footsteps approaching in the gravel and getting closer. Chandler looked around for the source but couldn’t see anything. This made him alert, and he matched Kent’s pace towards the house, ready to defend him.
He was therefore about to turn around and charge at the person behind him, when he saw Kent visibly shrink as he looked over his shoulder once more, the footsteps now close behind.
“Let’s get inside,” he muttered hurriedly.
Chandler turned around to see the cause of Kent’s fear, fully expecting to see the perp right behind them. He was coiled to strike, but it fizzled out to confusion when he saw the old lady from the house across the street, walking up behind them.
“Good morning,” she greeted, when she saw him turn around.
“Good morn-“ Chandler was interrupted by Kent ushering him inside.
“Come on,” he hissed.
Chandler followed him, but still raised his hand in greeting to the old woman. “Good morning!”
Once inside, Kent was adamant that they double check the locks on the door.
Before Chandler could question Kent’s adversity to his old woman, he offered it up himself.
“I’m sorry about that. She just freaks me out,” he said. Chandler could tell he was ashamed of himself, so he didn’t see the need to offer his own judgment, although he’d been embarrassed at having to act like that.
It had triggered something in Kent.
Evening came and they’d finally found something they both wanted to watch on tv. Kent as usual hadn’t been eating much, so Chandler provided tea and biscuits, since any sustenance was better than none. He settled on the sofa next to Kent, when suddenly-
CRASH
Chandler jumped out of the sofa, ready to fight, only to see Kent mortified, shards of his cup of tea on the floor, and hot liquid splashed on his skin. He hissed in pain, before muttering.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Chandler looked around once more just to make sure that whatever had spooked Kent hadn’t been an actual threat, before he turned towards his partner.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay!”
He grabbed a cloth and soaked it in cool water for Kent to soothe the afflicted skin, before cleaning up the shattered teacup and liquid on the floor.
Kent was trembling as Chandler sat back down next to him. His eyes were closed tight. Chandler hadn’t wanted to reach out to Kent with too much physical touch, fearing that he’d hurt him with his wounds and bruises, but in this moment, he chanced grabbing a hold of Kent’s hand.
It took a moment, but slowly the tremors in Kent’s body stopped, and his hitched breathing returned to normal. He sighed before leaning into Chandler.
There was a moment of silence where Kent gathered himself to speak. Chandler gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“I thought I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. Like a shadow that moved when there should have been none. It’s so fucked. I’m so fucked.”
He was about to pull away from Chandler again in shame, but Chandler pulled him close.
“No. No!” Chandler emphasised. He would’ve liked to say more. To tell Kent how strong he was. To tell him that this was understandable. That it took time to heal. But the words wouldn’t come.
They retreated to bed, and while Kent was still holding him tight, Chandler could see the guilt and shame that he felt, could tell that he wanted to roll over and pretend like everything was alright, but he couldn’t, so Chandler held him tight instead, like it was him who needed the close contact.
Another morning, another night where Kent seemingly hadn’t slept much. Chandler hung out outside the bathroom keeping him company once more while he showered and then went to the kitchen to make some breakfast when he realised, they were out of biscuits.
He commented on it.
“Ah dang, I might have to eat some actual food then,” Kent joked.
“I could go and get some more from the store if you want?” Chandler asked, not realising he’d just placed Kent in a dilemma.
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” he answered at first, but his body language became more closed. He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want to make it a big deal.
It was hard for Chandler to understand his need to prove to him that he wasn’t frail. Chandler never actually thought that, but it was a constant insecurity that Kent had that was only exacerbated when he was feeling bad.
“We can also order it, but I don’t think they’ll be able to get here today,” Chandler said.
“Nah, now you’ve promised me biscuits,” Kent said, his tone was light-hearted, but he was unknowingly hugging himself and averting his gaze.
Chandler almost didn’t want to go, but he decided to respect what Kent was actually telling him and not what he was perceiving. Maybe he was underestimating him. Maybe he actually did give Kent reason to stay insecure around him.
He nodded, turned around to put on his shoes and coat and left with a: “I’ll be back soon.”
“See you,” Kent called after him.
Chandler hurried to the store where he bought more biscuits than he had at any single point in his life and returned home to Kent who was sitting in the sofa, looking relaxed with a book in his hand. The sun shone in through the window, making a glowy outline around him. He looked up at caught Chandler’s eyes before laughing slightly.
“What?”
“You’re beautiful,” was all Chandler could think to reply, which granted him a broader smile from Kent. It warmed his heart to see Kent like this.
Maybe this short time of not feeling completely dependent on him had been good for him.
He prepared tea and presented Kent with the selection of biscuits he’d bought.
“Did you empty the store?” Kent grinned sorting through choices of biscuits he hadn’t even seen before.
“I didn’t want to run out again.”
“You’re so extra,” Kent said fondly, as he opened up a packet of hobnobs. Why stray from the classics.
That day was one of the good ones. Chandler’s heart was filled with love as Kent allowed himself to relax and smile throughout the day.
Even as evening fell, fog filled the moor and the outside was filled with eerie screeches and howls, it didn’t startle Kent who turned to the window and commented:
“Ah, just like back in London, huh?”
They had their fair share of foxes in the city, so it wasn’t like it was an unusual sound. Still after it had been going for a bit, Kent sent him an embarrassed grin, saying:
“Want to go to bed though?”
Familiar or not, the sound was still slightly unsettling, and Chandler agreed to retreat to their safe space, huddling up under the duvet like a cosy cave.
He woke up the next day to Kent fast asleep with his back to him. His lack of sleep had finally caught up to him.
Chandler grabbed his book from the bedside table, but before Kent woke up, he’d finished reading the last chapter.
He sighed as he stared up at the ceiling, knowing that he’d wake Kent if he got out of bed. For all the anxiety and danger surrounding their situation, it was really quite boring to be stuck in a house indefinitely with little to do. Especially when Kent wasn’t awake and there was no one to talk to.
He looked at Kent’s sleeping form. He was calmer than he’d been since…
But he didn’t seem relaxed despite his deep state of sleeping. He was almost completely still. It would be worrying if not for the rise and fall of his chest. It seemed more like someone who had passed out than someone who had cosied up to sleep, and it made Chandler wonder if the only times Kent had been sleeping had been when Chandler had actually seen him sleep, and if this was the result of his lack of sleep catching up to him.
As if Kent could feel his eyes on him, he began to stir. He looked up at Chandler with tired eyes. Chandler was happy to note that the swelling around them had gone down.
“Good morning,” Chandler greeted him.
He shook his head as if to get rid of the sleep still clinging to him.
“’morning,” he mumbled, and found his spot nestled up against Chandler. “You been awake long?”
Kent knew that Chandler only waited in bed to avoid waking him up.
“Uh,” Chandler began, trying to think of a lie.
“That long, huh?” Kent hugged Chandler’s arm to his chest, before kissing his hand. “Thank you.”
“It’s not like I have exciting adventures waiting for me in the living room,” Chandler said.
“I’m fine without the excitement,” Kent commented.
“Oh yeah, of course.”
“If you hadn’t found me when you did-“ Kent began out of nowhere, which surprised Chandler. He had decided to let Kent talk about what had happened in his own time, and he seemed to have shared what he wanted while he was in hospital. “He wasn’t just going to kill me and send you the snuff film. He wanted to go all ripper on you.”
Chandler swallowed dryly. “What do you mean?”
“He wanted to cut off a body part while I was still alive and send it to you along with the film. He suggested a finger or an ear but said I was free to choose something else if I wanted.”
“That’s horrible,” Chandler said, hugging Kent closer. The words felt tame in response to what he’d just been told.
“I’d resigned to that happening. Resigned myself to death. It’s like this isn’t real. Like it’s just prolonging the inevitable. Some sort of dream where every time I see you, I’m scared to lose you and be back there.”
Silence filled the air between them. What was he supposed to say?
“I need some fucking therapy. I need that man to be gone, or I’ll just continue on in this state. If I’m acting odd then that’s why.”
“Of course. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“I know. You’re there for me. You of all people get the way your mind can mess you up, but I just wanted to explain exactly why. Why I hold on to you like you might be gone any moment or why I seem to see or feel things that aren’t there. I’m dreaming. I’m back in that hellhole and I’m dreaming, and I’m scared I’ll wake up again.”
Chandler bent down to kiss his cheek and Kent turned around to cling to him as long as he needed. Chandler didn’t know how much time had passed before Kent said, seemingly out of nowhere:
“It doesn’t mean I don’t get bored though.”
“Hm?”
“In this house. I can’t concentrate on the book and I’m sick of the garbage on tv, but I don’t know what to do.”
“Want to create something?”
“I can write the world’s most depressing song.”
“If it’ll help you.”
“Nah. I don’t know.”
“I saw a trivia game at the store yesterday. That might be some light fun to pass the time a bit, if you’re okay being alone for a couple of minutes?”
“So long as you promise it’ll only be a couple of minutes. I really am a mess,” Kent admitted, though masking his feelings with a jovial tone, but Chandler still saw this as progress.
“Alright, I promise.”
Chandler stretched as he swung his legs out of the bed. His back was killing him from lying down all day. A look at the alarm clock told him they’d been in bed until half past one. Something Chandler had never done unless he was sick as a dog. It made him feel groggy and uncomfortable, so getting out in the cool air for the short walk to the store was a welcome feeling.
He’d have liked to make it a leisurely walk, but he’d made a promise to Kent, so it was with a brisk walk that he fetched the game and returned to the safehouse ready for an afternoon of trivia, tea and biscuits.
He announced his arrival upon entering and turned around to lock the door again behind him.
Walking into the living room, an odd grinding sound rose from underfoot as he stepped on something. He looked down to see the floor littered with glass, and adrenaline shot through him.
“Emerson?!” he yelled out, as he moved further into the house.
In the corner, Kent was on the floor, eyes wide with fright.
It was all he could register before the back of his head exploded with pain, and darkness filled his vision.
He fought through the awful feeling, dazed and having a hard time focusing with the throbbing of his head, but finally he could see Kent before him again, still on the floor and with John Johnson, the would-be killer standing smugly beside him. He was turned towards Chandler, who only just now registered that he’d been tied to a chair in the few moments he’d been unable to register the world around him.
“Welcome back. Hope I didn’t hurt you too much. I do still really want you to see the end of this little game of ours,” John said, his face splitting into a grin.
Chandler blinked, still too out of it to form coherent sentences.
“Especially now that I know how personal it is for you. That should make us even for you ruining my fun so early on.”
“Let us go!” Chandler demanded.
John was caught off guard for a split-second at the demand, before he broke into laughter.
“That’s a good one,” he said as he took a leisurely stroll through the room, leaning over the coffee table to grab a hobnob.
Chandler looked towards Kent. His crutches were thrown across the floor, but he was otherwise unrestricted. Still, even as John paraded about in the room, he was frozen with fear in the corner. Chandler tried to mouth at him to move, but his eyes were fearfully following John.
“Pretty good day, I would say. Seems like I get to equip the moniker of serial killer anyway. Can’t have you walking out of here alive either,” he said over his shoulder to Chandler, as he made his way towards Kent.
Kent tried to pull himself further away as he knelt down in front of him, but he was already as recoiled as he could become.
He grabbed his chin and forced him to look him in the eye, his thumb swiping across the damp line underneath one of his eyes.
Chandler fought in his bonds, making the chair wobble.
“Get away from him!” he yelled.
John rolled his eyes, gripping Kent’s face where the bruises were the most obvious.
Kent whimpered, fighting back a louder response to the pain.
“Stop it now or I’ll-” Chandler yelled, so caught up in his struggles that he caused the chair to fall down on its side.
John got up from his seated position, to roughly yank Chandler upright again. He wouldn’t want him to miss the show.
“I have it on good authority that I’ll be able to get that fight out of you,” John said, looking proudly over his shoulder at Kent, who was trying to fight back his sobs.
“Look at that. As tame as a kitten.”
“You broke his leg!”
“I know. And now he’s shamefully crying like a little bitch,” he said, delight dripping from his voice. “Look at him. He’s so angry that he can’t stop the tears.”
Chandler glanced over at Kent. He was right. Kent was fighting to seem in control, but it was clear that he was panicking, and utterly ashamed of it.
John left Chandler’s side again, grabbing another biscuit on the way. This one wasn’t to his taste though, as he took a bite, spat it on the floor and threw the rest of it in Kent’s direction.
He ducked, hands flying up to shield himself from the harmless object.
John was giggling with delight.
“Thank you, detective inspector Chandler,” he said, turning on his heel so he was facing him in an instant.
“What?” Chandler was so on edge seeing him get closer to Kent, that he was barely able to utter the one word, but any attention towards him instead of Kent was something he was going to grab onto.
“I missed this so much,” he looked fondly over at Kent.
Kent wasn’t looking at him. He was curled in on himself, his head in his hands, fingernails pulling at his hair and digging into his scalp in distress.
It shocked Chandler to realise that those particular wounds had been self-inflicted like he was a trapped animal.
John snapped his fingers to get Chandler’s attention.
“See this is what I mean. Here I was, sad that he broke so quickly, and there you were, making sure he had time to heal, so I could get reactions like this again,” he put his hands to his mouth in a chef’s kiss gesture.
“Clearly, I should get another MO after this, so I can get all those juicy emotions before people crack. I mean just look at this-“
“No!” Chandler called out, as he swiftly sat down by Kent’s side again.
Kent was so startled that he jerked back and hit his head against the wall.
John snorted at the pained expression, then grabbed his forehead and slammed his head back against the wall with even more force.
Kent moaned in pain.
John grabbed his arm in a vice-grip, and a gasp escaped from Kent’s lips.
“Stop it!” Chandler yelled, desperately trying to escape his bonds.
“Stop what?” John replied like a school bully. “This?”
He stood up, still clutching Kent’s arm tightly, forcing him to try to stand up, but ultimately serving to put his broken leg in a compromising position where if he let go, Kent would collapse on it.
Holding him aloft like this was painful enough already that Kent’s breaths were coming out short and raspy.
“Do you still want me to stop?” he asked, a devious smile on his lips.
Chandler was sickened by how much the man was enjoying this. He didn’t reply, wary of what was to come.
“You really don’t want to spare him from this?” he said, shaking Kent as he spoke. The raspy breaths intensified with the pulsing pain of the movement.
“I- of course! Please!”
“Ooh, the magic word!” He said gleefully, releasing his grip on Kent’s arm and letting him fall to the ground in a heap.
The scream that emitted from Kent, pierced Chandler’s heart. He was crying, frozen in his struggle, unable to register anything but Kent’s screams of agony as he’d fallen onto his broken leg.
John stood up straight, fingertips placed together in the way he might have done giving a presentation to his company, simply observing the anguish he’d caused in the room, until Kent’s screams turned hoarse.
“Emerson?” Chandler called out when he’d become unnaturally still, but tremors soon wracked his body.
“Sadly, I think the healing only did so much. We’re probably nearing the end of the line, so let’s finish this the way I originally planned,” John said, clapping Chandler’s shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen to look for a knife.
With a last ditch effort, Chandler pulled against his bonds, but they remained unbroken.
He was gonna see Kent maimed or dismembered.
No. No.
There had to be something he could do.
His thoughts were clouded.
He had nothing.
And yet the frustrated hiss that came from the kitchen told of something going his way.
“How?!” he appeared in the doorway, eyes looking wildly from Chandler to Kent, looking like he was making a split-second decision when the front door was forced open.
He’d been halfway towards Kent when he changed course for the backdoor, but he wasn’t fast enough. The house was alive with people and several of them had him tackled to the ground where he was handcuffed.
Another person was at Chandler’s side, freeing him, and then stopping him with a hand on his chest, when he tried to get up and reach Kent.
“You’ve suffered a head injury, sir. You’re going to need to sit still until medical help arrives.”
“Kent,” was all Chandler could say. Two other officers were at his side.
“There’s an ambulance on the way. You’re both safe now.”
Chandler wanted to argue. Kent was still in pain. Still silent and trembling on the floor, but he pushed back the urge to run to his side and turned to the woman in front of him.
“How?” he asked, echoing John’s confusion from before.
“Neighbour across the street. Little old lady said she heard glass shatter and saw the broken window. Said she’s been keeping an eye out since she recognised the nervous attitude of the young man and was worried he was in danger. Good thing she did.”
“Yes,” Chandler agreed, only just starting to comprehend what would have happened if she hadn’t been there.
John was being led out of the house, fury contorting his face, and there was vindictive satisfaction blossoming in Chandler’s chest, though it withered slightly, as he regretted that he didn’t meet the same fate as their other suspects.
He shook his head in shame, but had to stop, as his head reminded him of his injury with a persistent throbbing.
“Better keep still,” the woman told him, and he did as she said, but only for as long as it took for the paramedics to check up on him, and then he was at Kent’s side.
He’d fainted from the pain, and the sight of his unconscious form made Chandler breathless.
“He’ll be alright,” a voice told him. He turned towards it, expecting to see one of the paramedics next to him, but to his surprise, the little old lady from across the street was inside the house.
“Wh- I-“ Chandler choked out, but she just gave him a reassuring pat on the arm.
“Don’t worry.”
And for some odd reason, he didn’t.