Chapter Text
“Ethan,” Madison Paige sighed and let her chin rest in her hand. She sat on a bar stool by a kitchen island in the apartment she now called home. Ethan Mars. She loved him more than words on a page could express, and she should know—describing things was her job. And she’d found ways to express all of them, over the years, except two. For so long there had been only one, but now there were two she could never quite capture. The horror of war, and the love she felt for her new family. Ethan and Shaun. It had only been one year since the Origami Killings that had destroyed the lives of so many, had come to an end. And in this ending, Madison had been given a new life. Something she could never have imagined. Sleepless nights, haunted by memories of war—death flying through the air like an avenging angel, unstoppable, unseeable, but so real you could feel when it flew past and its shadow fell over you for a moment. Death so close you could feel sand draining from your hourglass—one step closer to an abyss, too dark to look into. Nothing could have prepared her for being a war correspondent. And she had thought nothing could ever put her back together again, but it had. Ethan, love, a family, a home. Shaun. Happiness is unlike anything else in this world. It’s fragile, and you can’t force it to come or go. It’s like the opposite of that angel of death—a little beam of light unexpectedly streaming in a window, coming and going with clouds and day or night, but instantly and utterly changing when it touches you.
She could dream again.
Her husband was looking at her with his big, sad eyes. She almost wanted to laugh. He looked like he had when they first met. And to think, he was in pain over something as silly as this. “Ethan, you don’t have to feel bad about this. I understand completely.”
It seemed to hurt him more that she was taking it so well. “But, Madison, I know it’s not fair at all.” He turned and made an agitated, sweeping gesture with his arm. “I mean, it’s our first anniversary together, and I want to do something special for you, but…”
“Ethan, it’s okay for us to stay here for our anniversary. I don’t mind.” Ethan had placed his hands on the kitchen island and hung his head when he finished speaking, and he was still standing like that. Madison sympathetically moved and put a hand over one of his.
“But it’s not just that.” Ethan looked so sad, and something else. A little…resigned? He turned his head to meet her gaze. “I know it’s only been a year, and so it makes sense for me not to feel comfortable leaving Shaun with anyone else, but. I don’t think it’s ever going to change. After what happened…” He looked away, disappointed in himself for failing her. “I—I don’t even feel comfortable on the weekends he visits Grace! That’s why I go with him so much, and when I don’t I drive by, to make sure. You know I call and check in—too much—and I can never sleep. Madison…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust anyone else with watching him.”
Madison blinked in surprise. Ever? She looked at his face. Feeling so guilty for his need to protect his son. She put a consoling hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Ethan, it’s okay. I know what happened—I understand. It's natural for you to worry. I’m sure, with time—“
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
She hesitated and tried again. “Well, even if you don’t, we’ll figure something out.” It wasn’t like she didn’t want it—the occasional night out, with just him. Of course she did, but how selfish would it make her to blame him for loving Shaun so much? This fear was something he couldn’t control. The mind does what it wants—she should know.
Ethan just looked down again, so they stayed there in silence, her hand still on his, each mulling over the implications of Ethan's words.
“I didn’t realize it worried you that much when he went to see Grace.” Madison tried to smile at Ethan—cheer him up. He just shook his head in response. Madison looked at the countertop. “No one on earth you’d ever feel comfortable with?”
“I would trust you.” Ethan smiled a sad smile at her. The most progress she’d had since the conversation started. “But there’s no one else I could depend on to keep Shaun safe.”
Madison’s eyes suddenly widened as it struck her. “No one?”
Ethan looked at her expression in surprise. “Madison? What is it?”
-
Norman Jayden shifted uncertainly from foot to foot. It was hard to keep a handle on everything. Right now? He just needed some time—to get his head straight. That’s what he’d been telling himself for months, though, and he was all out of time.
A few weeks after the closing of the Origami case, it had started. Something had gone wrong in his head. ARI, he couldn’t shut it off. He had set down his glasses, and those tanks had come crawling up the table. He’d seen them, real as his hand or the desk in front of him. And he hadn’t been able to shut it off.
The FBI had sent him to a specialist. Officially, he was on “sick leave.” The specialist he’d gone to see hadn’t known what to do. “The ARI is a very new technology.” In other words, ‘you were the guinea pig. We know the side effects now, but we sure as hell don’t have a cure.’ The FBI had assured him it would be temporary—a few weeks away, lots of rest, stay hydrated, stress free, and it’ll all go away. Like a goddamn nap and a bottle of water could fix a mind that had started to develop cracks in it.
Days had turned into weeks, weeks to months. He had been able to tell, when the FBI had given up on him. They never said so, no, but the phone calls changed. They knew the answer to their questions about progress before a word was out of his mouth, and he could hear it. They weren’t wasting any money on trying to patch him up either. They didn’t know where to start. So he’d sat, alone, in a dark studio apartment in New York, with the blinds shut and the drapes closed, while his mind let images and things that weren’t real seep in through the cracks he’d made saving the life of Shaun Mars.
Saving the life of Shaun Mars.
He wasn’t angry. Not when he remembered that. He was angry he hadn’t been warned or advised properly, sure, he was angry his life was over, but…
It was a good trade—his mind, for the kid’s life.
More than fair.
So he’d sat alone in that apartment and waited for something to happen. Not angry. Just. ...Scared. And alone.
And then, one day, something had happened. Someone from the FBI had called and told him that a Madison Paige wanted to talk to him, and did he want her to be given his number. He hadn’t had a reason to say no.
Of all the…
She’d called him, and asked him if he would like to come and visit her and Ethan Mars, and Shaun. He hadn’t really known if— He hadn’t been around…people. Not in months. Not since he’d broken down. He had sort of thought he wasn’t supposed to. The FBI had sort of thought he wasn’t supposed to.
But. He had said yes anyway. He hadn’t meant to.
And now here he was. Back in that god damn city, with its god damn endless rain. And he still hadn’t remembered to bring an umbrella. He was wearing sunglasses again, too. Not ARI, of course. He had just thought, when he was heading out the door and had seen his face in the hotel’s mirror, that his eyes might scare the kid. They hadn’t seen real rest in a long time. They'd almost looked dead to him.
The trip from New York had been a nightmare. He’d taken a bus. He’d had the sense to realize flying, like he was now, would be a huge mistake. Being out of that apartment for the first time in months, it was sensory overload. Even in this perpetually grey town there were colors he’d sort of started to forget about. He tried hard to focus on the colors, instead of the imaginary storm blowing around him, sending bits of wood and leaves past. He tried not to flinch as an unreal piece of ARI debris collided with his head. Norman closed his eyes and took a breath.
He rang the doorbell.
I shouldn’t have come, what the hell was I thinking?
He turned to go, but Ethan Mars opened the door. Norman stopped. He hadn’t seen Ethan since he’d left, shortly after the case had been closed. But they’d talked a few times, the night it had ended, and after. Still, he was surprised by how genuinely happy Ethan looked to see him.
“Agent Jayden!” Ethan opened the door all the way, making plenty of space for Norman to join him inside. When Norman hesitated, Ethan stepped out into the rain and shook his hand. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Yea,” Norman remembered to smile back “you too.” He stepped into the house, following Ethan. “How’s the kid?”
Shaun answered the question himself. He had heard the door open and come scurrying out from the kitchen. “Hey!” The kid came at a run, waving at Norman, but about six feet off suddenly got bashful and hid behind Ethan.
“Hey, kid.” Norman knelt down to the boy’s level. “You got taller.”
Shaun grinned from behind his father's leg and nodded. “I like your spy glasses.”
Norman put a finger to the familiar feeling sunglasses he wore. “These?”
Shaun nodded again, then took off, back towards the kitchen. “Come on! Mom made dinner. It’s a really good one.” He added the last part in a confidential tone, as if spilling a secret. Then he was off again, much of his initial confidence restored.
Norman stood back up as he watched the kid disappear into the house. “Looks like he’s doing good.”
Ethan looked proud. “He is. Good as gold.” The two watched him vanish behind the kitchen island. Madison waved from across the room and started towards them.
“Jayden, it’s so good to see you again.” Madison took his hand. This was so fundamentally different from the way the last year had been for Norman. Two—no, three—three people. Sincerely happy to see him.
He shook her hand. “It’s nice to be able to check in. He really bounced back.”
“Yea, he did.” Madison smiled at Shaun, who was moving a water pitcher carefully over to the dining table. He was on good behavior. She knew he wanted to impress Jayden. To Shaun, he was practically a super hero. She still remembered that night clearly.
Herself and Ethan and Shaun, walking out, hands up, together. That asshole of man, Blake, had arrested Ethan the second they were in reach. Shaun, still in shock, had been ripped out of Ethan’s arms. Blake had slammed Ethan against a car and put cuffs on him while she and Shaun had both been shouting at him to stop—that he had the wrong man. Well, Shaun had been weakly protesting. She’d been doing the shouting. She’d kicked Blake, and two officers had had to hold her back. The whole thing was a mess, and Blake wouldn’t listen to a word she said. Shoving Ethan around—hurting him. She remembered Ethan meeting her eyes and smiling. He didn’t care what was happening to himself at all—his son was safe. And that had made her cry—out of love, or sympathy, or anger at Blake, she didn’t know. She’d punched an officer in the face, and kneed another officer in the groin before she’d been successfully restrained. She hadn’t been able to hear Ethan, but she could read his lips well enough to know he was telling her it was all okay. But it hadn’t been! The injustice of it all—and poor Shaun, held by some policeman he didn’t know—when a man in a policeman’s uniform had been his kidnapper. Watching his dad shoved around, and thrown into a squad car, and shouted at? She’d argued adamantly with Blake, who wouldn’t take “he was saving his son!” as an acceptable answer to “If he’s not the killer, why would Mars even be here?” She’d told him the killer was Scott Shelby, and she had proof, but he’d told her she was “fucking crazy” and Scott was “an old friend and a damn good cop.” And then, Norman Jayden had come—limping out of the warehouse, looking like hell. He’d been exhausted, and probably suffering from at least mild trauma, but when he’d seen the huge cluster of cop cars his expression had changed and his slow limp had turned into an angry, determined speed walk.
Blake had seen him after she did, when he was close. “Jayden, so this is where you were. What part of ‘you’re off the case’ did you not—“ Norman took one look at Ethan, locked in the back of a Police car, grabbed Blake by the collar, and slammed him in the face. Madison had never seen someone win with a head-butt before, but Blake went staggering back, and Norman didn’t look like it had even hurt him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing! This man has been through hell over the past week because of you, and he finally manages to save his kid,” Norman was gesturing wildly, shouting at Blake, who wasn’t back up yet. “and you rip his goddamn kid out of his arms and arrest him!” He kicked Blake. He’d apparently had about enough for one day.
Blake pulled his gun out, and all of a sudden all the officers nearby were very focused and tense and quiet. The ones holding Madison had let go, ready to go for their own weapons, if need be.
“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck’s wrong with you!” Blake pulled himself back up. “Ethan Mars is the origami killer!”
Norman didn’t back down. “Blake, put down the goddamn gun! Ethan Mars is not the origami killer, Scott Shelby is,” Blake started to talk but Norman cut him off “—I know, because I just saw him try to kill Mars, and bash my fucking head in, and ten minutes ago he fell to his death and got chopped up by a goddamn waste grinder!” He pulled his shirt off one of his shoulders, revealing a huge bruise. “Do you still think I’m making this up! I fucking called it in!”
He certainly had looked like he’d been in a fight to the death.
An officer spoke up hesitantly from behind Blake. “Sir, we did get on the radio that he called it in.”
“He can’t be right!” Blake snapped.
“Blake, give me the goddamn keys!” Norman held out his hand.
“You can’t be right.” Blake was seething now.
Norman’s anger matched Blake’s. “Give me the keys, or you better goddamn shoot me!”
Madison thought for a moment that Blake was going to shoot him, too. She was sure he would have, but the officers around him were tense. And they could all feel it. The loyalty in the group was shifting to Jayden.
Blake wasn’t willing to move, so Norman had wrenched the car and handcuff keys out of Blake’s coat pocket on his own. Stepping close to get the keys, for a second the gun was against his chest and Madison had closed her eyes, because she thought Blake would pull the trigger.
The gun lowered, and Blake stood in smoldering silence as Norman wrenched open the car door and helped Ethan out. Madison hadn’t been watching Ethan’s face at all during the confrontation, but she did then, and he looked a little in shock himself. Despite the rain, the group was so silent they all heard the click when Norman unlocked the handcuffs.
Ethan rubbed his wrists and stared at Norman. This was the second time the FBI agent had broken him out of police custody. And he’d saved his life less than half an hour ago. Fought a killer. He looked pretty all in, at that.
“Mars, sorry about your treatment at the hand of the local police.” Jayden’s shoulder rammed into Blake as he helped Ethan back over towards Madison and his son. He stopped when they reached the kid, and Ethan took Shaun back into his arms. His son had buried his face in Ethan’s jacket.
Norman’s voice grew calmer. “Thank you, for saving your son.”
Ethan remembered Norman’s words to him, when he’d let him go the first time. “If you want to thank me, save your son.”
“Thank you.” Ethan hadn’t known what else to say. He’d been stunned.
Norman put a hand on his shoulder, and turned to Madison. “You are…?”
“Madison Paige. The journalist who phoned you?” She moved to Ethan’s side, wrapping her arms around one of his.
Norman had nodded. “Right, of course. Thanks for the tip.”
“It looks like you had already figured it out on your own. Unlike some people.” She would have assaulted Blake personally, then and there, if Ethan and Shaun hadn't been with her.
Norman had turned to one of the officers then. “Hey, you, quit standing around. We need to get this kid to a hospital. Actually, him and Mars. And--” He looked at Madison questioningly.
“I’m okay.” A little smoke inhalation, but okay.
He looked back at the officer. “Got it?” The officer had nodded and hurried off to get medical personnel. Norman turned back to the little group of fellow survivors. “Come on, let’s get you out of this go—“ he’d noticed Shaun and changed it to just “—rain.” Though, it was a little late for censorship. “You doing okay, kid?”
Shaun had nodded at him.
------------
Since that night, Shaun had talked about “Special Agent Jayden” pretty often. He’d loved the stories Ethan had eventually shared, about Jayden punching Blake in the face and sneaking him out of the Police Station when he’d been arrested, and how, when the killer had drawn a gun and gone to shoot Ethan in the back, Jayden had come out of nowhere and body-slammed the killer to save him.
Shaun had been so excited he was coming for a visit.
Now, as they sat around the dinner table, she could see it easily on his face. Shaun had asked her to let him sit next to Norman, and he’d gotten his wish. Now Shaun kept swinging between shy and bubbly.
Norman looked surprisingly like he had that night he’d head-butted Blake for the good of mankind. Which was not a good thing. He looked tired—worn. And sunglasses indoors and at night? When she’d called, the woman at the FBI had told her Jayden was on sick leave, and had been for several months, but had been “unable” to elaborate. So she'd kept digging and learned from a friend in New York that he’d been living alone in some apartment since not too long after the Origami Killer case had been closed. Why? What exactly was wrong with him, that would keep him on sick leave for months, but leave him free to travel? He didn’t seem ill. He didn’t seem to have trouble walking, or any other visible injuries. So then?
He saw her looking and she hurriedly looked away.