"Trey. Trey, snap out of it."
Trey looked at the hand that waved before his face and then at the hand's owner, Liam Keaton, his psychiatrist and his only friend. He had called Liam this morning and Liam, like an anxious and close friend and good psychiatrist, had cancelled all his appointments, sat on a plane and rushed to him. How thoughtful.
His gaze dropped and travelled over the scattered newspapers, dated from a week ago up through today, through which he frantically searched every morning for information of what had happened a week ago, without any luck.
He still had trouble remembering that evening – his brain just shut down whenever he heard the echo of that shot in his head and he couldn't accept that Nash was gone. He hoped that he wasn't, but he had called all the hospitals in the area and none of them had a new patient by the name of Nash or with a close-range- gun-shot wound.
He would probably know more if he hadn't fainted and regained consciousness, six hours later, when the alley was empty with no evidenced of what had happened.
He had woken up stiff and cold, his clothes damp because of the morning dew and with a bruise on the side of his temple where he had hit his head as he passed out. He couldn't go back to that motel room, even though the room was paid up for three more days and he had clothes there, but he refused to go back, and he instead stumbled into city's centre, renting a room in the first hotel he found. The impersonal room in which he now sat, curled on the beige armchair, with food he couldn't eat on the table and Liam sitting across from him.
"Trey. Your parents are panicking because of your absence and there was a -"
"Do you know why Patty committed suicide?" Trey finally spoke, the first words since the 'Come in' which let Liam into his room.
"What?"
"She wrote me a letter." Trey pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "She wrote about how she caught Ted in a bed, her bed, in her apartment, with another woman, and instead of apologizing, Ted laughed at her." He glanced at the short-haired brunet sitting across from him. "When I confronted Ted at the funeral, he said that he was under a lot of stress at work and that he was drinking and had even smoked a couple of joints to get rid of his anxiety and that he didn't know what he was doing. That he was sorry." He rested his chin on his knees. "He didn't look sorry to me."
"Everybody deals with their sorrow differently."
"I was going crazy, couldn't sleep because I missed her call when she needed me and he looked fresh off a vacation."
"Why didn't you say that she wrote you a letter?"
"I was so angry." Trey made fists. "I broke into his apartment, drugged him, made a video of him enjoying a dildo up his ass, and then I posted it on Youtube. He lost his job."
"Trey."
"I'm not sorry for what I did to him. He deserved it. He pushed my sister into suicide."
"Patty wasn't strong enough. That's why she killed herself." Liam leaned forward. "To take your revenge on Ted, that wasn't something I would expect from you. You should know better."
"Half of my life I have been listening to you, my parents and even to Patty say that I should stop being a victim and take control. I finally did it. I embittered Ted's life and then it was Steve's turn."
"Don't tell me – are you stupid!"
"You said to face my demons."
"Your inner demons, yes, not the man who gave you nightmares."
Trey's mouth turned downwards. "I needed to go through with it, I still do. I need the nightmares to stop, so with the money from Patty's apartment I hired a detective, but the Steve he found was the wrong one."
"Thank god, for a second I thought- "
"I got another lead on him." Trey stood up, he stumbled toward the single bed and from the backpack, which he had stored in the nightstand, pulled out a slip of paper. He unfolded it and smoothed it. "But the porter said there were only business buildings at that address." Frowning, he stared at the address and at the L310 that was written above it. He had thought that it meant an apartment number, but it could be an office.
Nash had given him the wrong address, but he needed to check it out, just to make sure - since that could be Steve's working place - and to occupy himself with something other than thinking about – He tightened his jaw.
A hand descended on Trey's shoulder and he looked up at Liam, who was saying something to him. Not even caring what Liam's words were, he interrupted him. "Will you go with me?"
Liam sighed. "You haven't been listening to a word I've said."
"Will you?"
Liam's eyes examined Trey as his hands squeezed Trey's shoulder "You look exhausted. You have to stop, take a big breath and forget about Steve."
"I can't." Tray grabbed Liam's blue-and-white striped shirt. The air rushed in and out of his lungs, in spite of the three sedatives in his blood and the knowledge that Liam wouldn't let him go alone -he had too much influence over Liam, had since the time Liam had been an asylum's resident physician and Trey his first real patient. That was also the reason why once a month Liam tried to push him to another psychiatrist, to get rid of their doctor-patient relationship, saying that he couldn't help Trey, that he had become too involved. He was right, Trey was aware of that, but that didn't mean that he could let Liam reduce their relationship to just the personal level. He trusted Liam and his parents left him alone and were less worried if he lay on the psychiatrist's couch weekly.
"Trey, you have to calm down."
"No." Trey held tightly to Liam. He needed to continue with his revenge, with his quest. He needed something to hold on to, something to help him get over this expanding emptiness that threatened to suck him into a deep black hole. No, it didn't threaten him; he was already inside looking up at the small ray of light above. He'd had the same feelings after Patty's death, but then the thought of revenge had thrown him a purpose to climb into the light, into the life and now he desperately held on to the same rope. "Will you go with me?"
In the end Liam gave in, but then, he always did.
After Trey took a shower and got dressed, they went out of the room into the street. They saw a taxi and Liam hailed it.
Trey held tightly to Liam's hand the whole ride. He needed Liam and not only as a company, but to feel the human warmth under his clammy hand and to pretend that he wasn't alone.
"What's the number?" Liam asked after the taxi dropped them off on the street written on the crumpled, soiled paper in Trey's pocket.
"680 South Terrace," Trey said, knowing the address by heart now. He stepped closer to Liam, his fingers digging into Liam's palm as if that would help him appease the wild fluttering of his heart or calm the tremor of hollow dread that twisted around his body, tightening his hold with every step he made. He closed his eyes and just for a second or two pretended that it was Nash's hand that was giving him strength and comfort.
They found the number and stood before the five stairs leading down from the entry door, staring at the plate beside the door and Trey tried to ignore the two police cars, which were parked by the pavement a few feet away and whose presence now made sense.
"The Medical Examiner?"
"This has to be wrong." Trey could feel the rope which he was holding so tightly slipping out from his fingers. Nash had given him a wrong address. Wasn't it enough that he – not died. Nash didn't die – he couldn't. He got hurt and disappeared; he ran out on him. Wasn't that enough? Why did he have to give him the wrong address, too? Trey's fingers released Liam and he stumbled backwards.
Liam's hand shot out and he wrapped his fingers around Trey's wrist, pulling him forward. "Probably, but if we are here we might as well verify it." He pulled Trey, who didn't resist, through the door.
They were stopped at the glass window. The older lady asked them the reason for their visit and Liam dug the paper out of Trey's pocket and pushed it through the slit under the glass.
The lady looked at the paper then she picked up the phone and communicated something through it before her eyes were on them again. "Go down the hallway, the fourth door on the left is Dr. Thurman's office, he will take you down for the identification."
Trey blinked, his head empty, he couldn't think. He followed Liam then numbly stood by as Liam lied to the black-haired man in the white coat about the reason for their visit.
The doctor led him into the basement, through the double swinging doors with windows in their upper halves, into the long and narrow room with large steel cabinets. He went toward the eighth column from the right and pulled the square drawer from the fourth row before he invited them to come closer.
Trey didn't want to get closer, he didn't, but Liam wrapped his arm around his shoulder and guided him toward the open drawer with the long black bag, which Trey had only seen in the movies. He knew what was hidden there – a body, a dead man's body – and he didn't want to see it. His fingers bit into Liam's side. "No, Liam. I-"
"You need to see it." Liam soothingly caressed Trey's shoulder. "I always told you to face your demons, but I never thought you would take it literally and go try to find your nightmare."
"I..." Trey looked down at his sneakers.
"But now that we are here - you haven't told me how you got the address, but whoever gave it to you thought that this was Steve." Liam's hand glided over Trey's back and then he took hold of Trey's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't you want to know?"
Yes, he did want to know, but... Trey frowned. He took a step forward and another one, he dragged his feet toward the opened metal drawer. If it was Steve then everything was finished, his revenge would become meaningless, everything would become meaningless. He looked at the bag, his eyes on the doctor's hand as it started to pull the zipper down, revealing the contents.
Trey couldn't watch. He shut his eyes, his fingers wrapped around Liam's hand turned white.
The door opened, Trey could hear a click that echoed in the room as the doors swung back into place, but he couldn't force himself to move or to even open his eyes, his mind on whatever lay in that bag.
"That was quick," the doctor said.
Soft sound of steps against the green linoleum before a hand descended on Trey's shoulder and a soft breath caressed his ear. "Ray."
A small sob left Trey's throat, his eyes flew open.
"Who are you?" Liam pulled Trey against his side.
"Nash." Trey shoved Liam's arms off and turned to halt just an inch before Nash, his eyes drinking in the sight of blond hair, green eyes, the small smile that played on Nash's face and the strength that rolled from Nash's body in waves. His fingers touched Nash's chest, Nash's heart thudding against his palm. He frowned, relief overwhelming him. "I... I though you were dead."
"Who are you?"
"I'm not dead." Nash wrapped Trey in his embrace and then, holding Trey around his waist, he offered his hand to Liam. "Nash Thompson. We talked on the phone a few days ago when I inquired about Ray. You didn't have the slightest idea who I was talking about and dismissed me."
Trey buried his face against Nash's chest, his hands clinging to Nash's brown sweater. Nash was alive and well and his world just tumbled upside down and for the first in his life the change was for the better.
Liam shook Nash's hand. "I'm Liam Keaton, Trey's psychiatrist, and I still don't know who you are, but it seems that you are important to Trey, even though he's never mentioned you."
"Could we get on with the identification?" Dr. Thurman said.
"Yeah." Nash's hand cupped Trey's face and forced him to look up. "Ray – or I should say Trey, are you ready?"
Trey swallowed and nodded. He turned in Nash's arm and with both hands he held on to Nash's sleeve, but not just because he needed strength to face the dead body, but because he was afraid Nash was an illusion, which would disperse if he doesn't hold on to it tightly enough.
"He's been here a long time, so he might look weird, but he should still look recognisable." Nash said.
Trey glanced at the face before his gaze was on Nash's hand. The skin looked green and the features bloated, and there was nothing that reminded Trey of Steve, but deep inside he knew that those colourless lips were the ones that had sneered at him, that this was Steve Robinson, his nightmare. "It's Steve." He should have felt relief - the man who had haunted his dreams for more than ten years was dead and all he could feel was a pang of regret that he couldn't get even with the bastard. "How did he die?"
"He fell and broke his neck." Nash said.
"But if he hadn't died from that, he would have died in a year from cirrhosis of the liver." Thurman zipped the bag and closed the drawer. "He was a junkie. There were needle tracks in the inguinal regions, it seems he tried to hide his addiction."
Trey nodded. It seemed fitting that Steve would end miserably either way. If he believed in 'what goes around comes around', he would have said it was karma, but in real life things rarely went that way; if they did, Patty would still be with him. He looked at Nash, at the smile that shone down on him. But at least his quest for revenge wasn't for nothing, since during this whole fiasco he had stumbled over a man who managed to bring some sunshine into his life.
They went back into the ground floor, where Nash thanked Thurman for calling him. His fingers laced with Trey's, he guided Trey and Liam outside to the street.
"I saw you being shot," Trey spoke up.
"I was shot, but since I wore a bulletproof vest I only got a big bruise," Nash said. "Which you would know if you had waited in the room like we agreed. Why did you leave? And how could you follow me to the dock? What if something had happened to you?"
"I... I was worried. Your wounds... I was worried."
Nash stepped before Trey and with a finger under Trey's chin he tilted Trey's head up, his eyes scrutinizing Trey's face. "You look like shit and your eyes are all unfocused. How many pills did you take?"
"Three."
Nash looked at Liam. "A fine doctor you are."
"It's not his fault." Trey said.
"He never listens to me. I can't manage him, I never could."
"Can we go?" Trey leaned on Nash. He just wanted to bask in Nash's warmth, to hold on to him until he had drunk his fill, which would probably never happen. "Will you take me home with you? Please."
"Trey!" Liam took hold of Trey's wrist, he pulled him against his side.
"No!" Trey wiggled out of Liam's hold and was at Nash's side again, pressed against his chest, with his arms wrapped around Nash's middle.
"Your doctor needs to know who I am, and you do, too." Nash's fingers combed through Trey's brown hair.
"I don't care."
"You should." Nash smiled down at him. "Should we go for coffee or...?"
Liam proposed Trey's hotel.
They took a cab, with Liam sitting up front and Trey and Nash in the back.
"You are a cop, aren't you? And you were working undercover?" Trey sat as close to Nash as he could without climbing into his lap. "That's why you were wearing the bulletproof vest and why the police got there so fast."
"No."
"No?"
"But I was working with the police. Do you remember the small bald guy, Rudi?" Nash waited until Trey nodded. "He was the undercover cop. I'm just a journalist. I fell into the whole thing while, researching Steve Robinson."
"But... but why didn't you tell me that at the beginning?"
"I didn't have a clue who you were and for all I knew, you could have been somebody sent by Tony or Samuel to test me." Nash said. "And I had no intention of letting you ruin the whole thing for me. And not just because of the story. I grew up in the bad part of the town and saw a lot of my friends die because of drugs - catching a main drug dealer was very important to me."
"But... but..." There were so many questions that Trey needed to ask. "Do journalists go undercover like that? I have never heard that before. And to collaborate with the police? And why haven't you gone to the hospital after the heist?"
"Investigative journalism is usually about analysis and investigation of documents, and interviews with different sources; quite boring, actually. Journalists don't go undercover, I don't go undercover, but when Tony, Steve's acquaintance from prison, mistook me for Steve after he found me snooping in Steve's apartment, I took my chances. I felt confident because I used to be in the navy and have a lot of friends in the police. I hoped that they would be willing to let me do this, and they were – under a lot of conditions, and even though my boss had a couple of heart attacks everything went smoothly." Nash smiled at Trey. "That is, until you showed up at the door."
"I don't really know what you two are talking about, but I only need to know one thing: Was Trey in danger?" Liam turned in his seat to look back at them.
"He would have been if he had encountered Steve instead of me. That man was a manipulative sadist. Trey and his sister weren't his only victims, but others were too afraid to come forward."
"Steve was a coward. He got off on torturing others to feel powerful himself." Trey leaned on Nash.
"Smart words from somebody who is intoxicated."
"This is my natural state."
Nash glared at Liam. "You give him too many sedatives."
"It's either that or he gets panic attacks." Liam explained.
The taxi stopped and after Liam paid they climbed out. Then went into the hotel, where they sat down on brown sofas in the corner of the in the hotel lounge.
"I would like to thank you for taking care of Trey, Mr. Thompson." Liam said to Nash after they got the coffee and tea they ordered at the front desk. "I do hope that you'll stay in touch with Trey, since he seems to be attached to you; you are the first person that has managed to get to him in such a short time."
"Why are you talking like that?" Trey stared at Liam. "I intend to stay with Nash, if he'll let me." He turned and dug his fingers in Nash's arm. "Can I?
"Trey, you can't-"
"You said to focus on what I'm feeling and what makes me feel good. And Nash makes me feel good. In the last few days when I was with him, I didn't need pills, his presence was enough." Trey said. "So, if he takes me, I'm going with him."
"What about your parents? Have you even thought of them?" Liam crossed his legs.
"I'll call them. They would understand." Trey had no intention of backing off. He thought he had lost Nash and now that that it turned out that he hadn't, he had no intention of letting Nash go. He refused to let Nash go, unless Nash turned him down. But Nash wouldn't turn him down. He wouldn't. He made Trey feel like he cared, like he wanted him around.
"They can visit him or we could go visit them." Nash wrapped his hand around Trey's shoulders.
"You agree with that?" Liam put the cup he was holding down on the glass table.
"There's something about him that calls to me." Nash said. "He needs somebody to care for him, and I need somebody to care for. Or do you want to continue taking care of him, even though you are doing a lousy job?"
"As I already said, I don't have any control over him."
"Does that mean that I'm going to stay with you?" Trey asked Nash.
"Yes." Nash gave Trey a smile.
"Good." Trey's face lit up, a heavy weight of which he hadn't even been aware dropped from his shoulders; he felt almost giddy. And tired, as if now that he had relaxed under Nash's assurance that he could stay with him, tiredness crashed down on him. "That's good." He yawned, snuggled closer to Nash and closed his eyes.
I have to admit, since the first comment that Nash might be a undercover cop I have been wavering between the journalist and the undercover cop - at the end I stuck to the journalist. I would really like to hear your opinion on this, do you think that the story would be better and flow better if I Nash is undercover cop?