Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Unwilling Sleep ❯ Sea Change ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

See warnings, disclaimers, summaries, etc., in the Prologue to this story.

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Part Two: Sea-Change

Within twenty minutes of getting Chris's call, Leon had booked a flight. Two hours later he was in the air and fidgeting. The old lady next to him snored.

During the layover in Chicago, he called again. It was stupid, he knew, and a waste of precious cell phone minutes, but he couldn't shake off the pervading fear that, sometime in the past six hours, D would have bolted, or even that their previous conversation had been a dream.

Aunt Eileen answered the phone. "Leon!" she said, sounding surprised. "I thought you were on your way here."

"I am on my way. I'm at O'Hare. My flight leaves in half an hour for New York. Can you pick me up at JFK or do I need to call a cab?"

"Leon, of course we'll come get you! What time does your flight get in?"

"Um…about one-thirty your time. Sorry it's so late. You sure that's okay?"

"Believe me, Leon, the sooner you're here, the better we will all feel."

"Um…that doesn't sound good…okay, I just have carry-on, so I can just meet you outside at the American Airlines terminal. You'll see me. Listen, how's D?"

There was silence, and then a sigh. "Leon, who is this person, and why is he here? I've met him before, of course, but I mean really, who is he?"

"What? Look, Aunt Eileen, I promise I'll tell you everything when I get there, but I'm running out of minutes here. He's…he's still there, right?"

"Oh, yes. Still here, and if I may say so, in a rather alarming state. He barely ate a thing at dinner, and I sent him to bed an hour ago. I had to get Chris to stop bothering him. He won't hear of calling the doctor."

D, in bed? It would only be -- Leon calculated -- ten o'clock or so in Long Island. So D'd retired at nine? He was never in bed that early, if memory served. "Is he sick?" Leon demanded, hoping that none of his disappointment came through. He'd kind of hoped he'd get to check in with D again. Hear his voice. Make sure he really wasn't imagining things.

"I don't know, Leon. I'd say he's disturbed, that's what I'd say. He's traveled across the country looking for you, or so he says. Walked all day today and seems completely exhausted. Joyce said he sounded like a, I don't know, like a madman until he spoke to you, and since then he's been gentle as a lamb. Even if he looks positively like a vagrant. Well, I'll give him this, he's been extremely polite -- he even offered to help with the dishes. Of course I didn't let him."

"Aunt Eileen, he's not going to swipe the silverware."

"That's funny, coming from you," she said. "There is no need to be ugly, Leon. You know what I meant. He could barely stand up."

Leon really wished she hadn't said that. His eyes, panicked and impatient, flew up to the screens hanging from the ceiling -- his flight was still on time, thank God. "Look, okay, I have to go, I'm almost out of time. Just, just keep an eye on him, okay?"

"Leon, what are you going to do with him when you get here?"

"I don't know, Aunt. I have no idea. I just need to see him first. I'll think of something. Okaygottagobye." He pressed the 'end' button with finality.

Twenty minutes until his flight left. They were boarding now. Leon chanced it and ran to the men's room to change his nicotine patch first. God damn, he could do with a shower.

Then he boarded the plane and sat in his seat, trying not to bounce his knees or crack his knuckles or do anything else that would annoy the nun sitting next to him. Instead, he thought about his aunt, about the phone call, and most especially about D. He didn't want to admit it, but the truth was, Eileen had a good point: what the hell was he going to do now? He hadn't thought at all since hearing from Chris: he'd just thrown his few belongings into a duffel bag, fled the cheap motel, hopped on a plane. Well, that was the whole point, wasn't it? The whole purpose of his search? To find D. That was all he'd ever thought about, since that crazy, half-dreamlike day he'd handed in his resignation to the Chief and headed off to parts unknown. He'd never thought about what might come after -- what he might actually do when he found him.

As long as he was being honest with himself, he could admit that he'd half-thought he'd never really find D at all. After all, the guy had left town on a boat headed for the moon. A part of Leon's mind had always realized that that was it: that D was out of his reach forever. But the rest of him insisted that had just been a wild dream, caused by the pain of his injuries and the drugs at the hospital. D had just…left, that was all. The petshop would crop up somewhere else. Sure it would. D couldn't be gone forever. Not from Leon's world.

And now he wasn't. The boat thing…real as it had seemed, it must have been a dream after all. Because D had acted like he'd never see Leon again, on that boat, and now he was obviously here. Leon had heard his voice on the phone. What a shock that had been. It had been over three months, after all, since D's disappearance from Los Angeles, and Leon had heard that voice only in his dreams. Every night. Every night.

Those dreams…they had scared the hell out of him. He was always running in them, and D was just ahead of him, dressed in one of those fancy robes he always wore. The Count appeared to be moving in his usual slow, stately glide, but no matter how fast he ran, Leon could never catch up with him. They were both moving towards a forest, with craggy trees and dark, forbidding shadows at its borders. The sight of it never failed to fill Leon with terror, because he knew some godawful danger lay within, and he and D were heading right for it. He couldn't catch up. He couldn't stop D. He couldn't even open his mouth to yell, to warn him. And, this was the worst part, he knew that when D finally went into that deadly wood, Leon was going to follow him and face whatever horrible thing was inside -- because he had to…

And every time, just as he was about to enter the forest, D would turn around to Leon, with that little smile on his face. And then he would say, softly, "Come on, Detective. Let's go." As if they were off on some nice little picnic and Leon was just holding up the proceedings. Leon would open his mouth to scream a protest, to tell D that something terrible was waiting for him, that something dark was reaching out to claim him forever, but then it was too late, D always turned around and began to enter the woods --

Leon shook himself violently, earning a narrow-eyed glare from the nun. You're not dreaming now, Orcot. Time to snap out of it. He had that damn dream every damn night -- which explained the bags under his eyes -- there was no need to go tormenting himself with it during his waking hours. D had sounded real enough over the phone. Leon was just going to have to trust that this wasn't some kind of hallucination and wait as patiently as possible until he could see him for himself. Then he'd figure out what happened next. Speaking of dreams, he should probably try to catch a little shut-eye on this flight. It was a commuter hop, so there wouldn't be any refreshments and he could forget about having a beer. It was also the middle of the night, and they'd turned the lights down low. Most of the passengers were either asleep or reading by the individual seat-lights, and he hadn't brought a book.

He glared at the nun out of the corner of his eye. Too bad he didn't have a porn mag.

He pushed his seat back as far as it would go, and closed his eyes, pulling his flight-issue blanket around his shoulders. But he wasn't really surprised when he couldn't get a wink of sleep. Perhaps he should have been; Leon could usually snore on a fence rail, but the best he could manage tonight was a half-conscious drifting as his mind relentlessly processed the day's events. His brief conversation with D was a repeat performer. He couldn't really remember what he'd said at first. He'd been too busy shouting, because that was just what he did with D. But once he'd calmed down and been able to say some actually relevant stuff…

"You're not going anywhere? You're going to stay there, right?"

"If your aunt and uncle permit it, I will."

And then a pause, as something had occurred to Leon. "You don't have anywhere else to go, do you?"

"No. I do not."

Good. Still -- "Promise me your ass will stay put right there. I'll fix it with Phil and Eileen. Swear it, D."

"I promise."

Crushing relief, the kind he hadn't known in months, or maybe had never known, overwhelmed him. "Okay. Let me talk to Joyce."

Joyce. Jesus, she'd been confused. Aunt Eileen hadn't sounded too even-keeled either. What would Samantha think? He didn't even want to consider Uncle Phil right now. At least Chris would be okay with it all. His little brother had sounded positively ecstatic over the phone, as if D's return answered all questions, instead of raising many more. Leon envied that simplicity. Sometimes he wished he could be a kid again. But in the end -- he supposed it didn't matter what any of them thought. He had to see D first. Everything else could fall into place later.

It was only a two-hour flight, but it felt like ten. Thankfully, at this hour of the night, they didn't have to circle and wait for a runway, and when they arrived at JFK, Leon was able to grab his carryon, rush through the airport, and greet his uncle outside at roughly the time he'd promised, give or take ten minutes. He'd never been so grateful for a hassle-free travel experience in his life. Of all the times he could have been delayed…but he hadn't been. Snap out of it!

"Hi, Uncle Phil," he said, sliding into the passenger's seat and tossing his duffel into the back. "Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it."

"Good to see you, as always, Leon," Phil said. His mother's brother. They'd always gotten along…okay. It was just that Leon kind of suspected Phil had never really approved of him. Being a cop wasn't exactly on a level with being a New York banker, after all. Plus now Leon was indirectly responsible for Phil playing host to the world's weirdest houseguest, and that would sure make the neighbors talk, wouldn't it?

Leon bit his lip to keep from grinning at the thought. Jesus, he really did need sleep.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments as Phil navigated the airport parking lots that, even at this hour of night, were jam-packed. Then, as they pulled onto the Expressway at last, Leon couldn't contain himself anymore and asked, "Uncle Phil, what happened? What's he doing here? Why did he come?"

Phil snorted. "You expect me to know?" he said. "Those were all questions I was planning on asking you." Great. "We tried to pump him over dinner, but he looked like he was about to fall over dead right into the salad. Wouldn't touch your aunt's special beef stew. All we could get out of him was that he wanted to see you -- although he stuck pretty close to Chris all night, too. And…hell. This may sound crazy, but…" Phil shook his head. "It was hard to ask him questions. I wanted to, to yell at him, to ask just what the hell he thought he had to do with my family, but he just sat there with this look on his face. And of course, every time I almost got mad, Chris looked like he was gonna cry. He was practically in the guy's lap by dessert." He snorted again.

"Yeah, it can be…frustrating," Leon agreed, glad to find a point on which he and his uncle could agree. "He just looks at you with that little smirk on his face, and next thing you know, you forget what you were gonna say -- "

"Smirk? What smirk? I'd have busted his jaw if he tried to smirk at me. He just stared at me like he'd never seen a person before. Like he was about to crack. And I just didn't have the heart to push him." Leon started at his words. About to crack? D? As many times as he'd accused the guy of being crazy, he'd never really meant it. Fantastic. A whole new thing to worry his head off about. "I'm telling you, Leon," Phil continued, "I hope like hell you know what you're going to do with him."

So did Leon. "Well, first I'm gonna crash on your couch," he said. "You said D was asleep, right?" Phil nodded tersely. "It'll have to wait till morning, then. And then I'll talk to him. Find out whatever happened. Then just play it from there." He didn't think Phil's tension reduced much at this. Not that Leon could blame him.

"I'll take care of him," he blurted. "Don't worry. I'll look after him." Phil shot him a startled glance, and Leon was a little surprised himself. Where had those words come from? Certainly not from any deep-seated desire to reassure his uncle. Honesty compelled him to add, in a mumble, "Um…I'm not sure what's gonna go down with all this, but I might -- we might need to stay with you for a couple days. Until I figure out what's going on and can get things sorted out." This was the part he hated. He already owed Phil money. Not much -- just a few hundred bucks, and he could pay that back once he got a job. It would have been a damn sight more if he'd had to go to China, of course, and he hadn't been certain Phil would even have agreed to help him out in that case. But what choice had he had? He'd emptied his none-too-rich savings account, pawned or sold everything he owned -- his cheapass TV and VCR, his furniture, even his car -- and his credit was shit. Phil had given him the loan to get him to Vancouver, although it had turned out to be a lot handier in getting him a flight home. And now Leon was asking him for help again.

"It's just temporary," he muttered, more to comfort himself than Phil. "Once I know what's going on -- if things work out -- "

"First things first," Phil said grimly, keeping a firm grip on the steering wheel and never moving his eyes from the road. Like I'm thrilled about it either, pal, Leon thought. He'd just gotten to a place where he felt pretty good about his situation: a steady (if risky) job, his own apartment, the bills paid on time every month. And a little set aside each month to get some small present for Chris, or buy D an expensive treat. Now he was practically on family welfare.

Well, whatever happened, every city could use another cop, right? He could get another job. The question was just when, and where. And that all depended on D. Leon wasn't sure why, or even if it should, but it did.

"Leon," Phil said suddenly. "How…how do you know this guy?"

Leon glanced over at him. Phil was still steadily watching the road. "Well," Leon said, and couldn't stop a faint laugh, "you got a few hours? There was this dead actor, see, and we found this lizard by his body. And I went to Chinatown to this petshop -- "

"Leon, I know all that," Phil said grimly. "You think we haven't heard all of Chris's stories a hundred times a day? Count D this and Leon that? He thinks you two hung the moon. You wouldn't believe some of the crazy stories that come out of that kid's mouth. And to top it off, he's got Samantha swearing that it's all true, that she saw monsters in that guy's petshop. And -- and you know -- " Phil's voice faltered for a moment. "When Eileen and I went to get Chris back in December, even I could have sworn I saw…saw this…"

"This?" Leon asked warily.

"Nothing. Forget it. I must have been dreaming or -- something. Look, I don't know everything there is to know in this world, and I'm not sure I want to. As far as I can tell, having him around was good for Chris, and Eileen and I are grateful for that. But…you two…"

Leon felt himself bristle, without entirely knowing why. "We two what?"

There was a moment of supremely awkward silence. "I don't know what's going on," his uncle said quietly after a moment. "I guess it's none of my business. But consider your family -- remember you're both staying in our home. Just respect that."

Leon felt his stomach knot up. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Fine," Phil said, eyes still on the road. They didn't speak again for the rest of the trip. Phil kept his eyes straight ahead, and Leon looked out the window, watching the lights of the city go by. It had been a long time since his last visit to New York. He hadn't liked it much before -- it had a whole different climate from LA. Not just the weather, although it did get way too frigging cold in the winter. It was just…different. Older, colder, harder. Less spread out, so all the evils that came with a big city felt crammed into a smaller space and always seemed to be pushing against the boundaries, trying to get out.

Good God. That was the kind of thought he'd never had before he met D. Had D merely inducted him into the wide and wonderful world of philosophical bullshit? Or had he taught Leon to see things with new eyes? Leon could never quite decide.

It felt like forever before they finally pulled into the driveway of Phil and Eileen's spacious home. Leon, as always, felt a pang of envy. He worked his ass off, and his job was important and it satisfied him. But every once in a while he thought it must be nice to have a lot of money. He didn't want to be filthy rich -- he'd seen what that did to people -- but enough to afford a big house in Long Island. With a lawn, even. Or at least a really great penthouse condo, which was more his speed, now that he thought about it. And a cool car. That wouldn't be half bad. But at least Eileen and Phil were very generous about taking care of Chris. That was a big load off his mind.

It was amazing, the kind of shit he could fill his mind with when he was trying not to think.

But then the car was parked in the garage, and Leon was grabbing his duffel from the backseat, sprinting through the door without so much as another word to Uncle Phil. He looked around the darkened living room as if expecting D to leap out of a corner. Then he realized how stupid he looked, and turned around to see Phil entering the room behind him, tucking his car keys in his pocket and looking at him with raised eyebrows. "As I said," Phil said, "he's asleep upstairs."

"Right," Leon said, ears burning. "Right."

"So you'll be taking the couch? It folds out into a bed, right over there."

"Yeah. That'll be great. Thanks. I'm, um…" Leon dropped his bag by the couch and headed for the stairs. "I'm just gonna poke my head in and make sure he's okay before I go to sleep. Chris too. Oh, can I get a shower?"

"Yeah, of course. It's just down the hall, you remember. Towels're in the closet. Your friend's in the guest room, you remember where it is." Phil and Eileen also slept on the second floor, so he followed Leon up the stairs, yawning a little. "Well, it's late, and I've got work tomorrow. I think I'll call it a night." He looked Leon directly in the eye. "Hope you sleep well. That couch is pretty comfortable."

"I bet," Leon said, and managed a smile, wishing his uncle would go the hell to bed. He didn't need an audience. "Night, Uncle Phil."

"Good night." And Phil finally, finally slipped into his bedroom. Behind the door, Leon could hear Eileen already snoring away.

So there were no more excuses. His heart in his throat, Leon moved to the guest bedroom door, and cracked it open just enough to peer inside. As the light from the hallway seeped into the room, his mind ran in furious circles, wondering if this really was all some kind of dream, if D would even be there, if it was another practical joke played by the Count on Leon's whole family --

A thin, pale figure lay curled up in the middle of the queen-sized bed. Leon could just make out, in the gloom, a dark mop of hair against a white pillow. His heart dropped from his throat back into his chest, where it began beating double-time. Unable to stop himself, even though he knew Uncle Phil would be listening for the sound of his footsteps going back downstairs, Leon slipped into the room and closed the door softly behind him. Screw Phil, anyway. Like he understood any of this.

The streetlights outside shone against the closed blinds. Once Leon had adjusted to the darkness, at least enough to walk without breaking his toes against any furniture, he moved forward towards the bed. And there it was: D's face, resting against the pillow, looking troubled even in sleep. His body was curled up in a fetal position, wrapped so tightly in the sheets he looked almost mummified. One hand clenched the top of the bedcovers, which were drawn all the way up to his chin. Leon noticed, with a shock, that two of D's long nails were broken.

Being as quiet as he could, Leon stood by the head of the bed, gazing directly down at D's face. He knew at once, with a dizzying, unreal certainty, that something was different. No. Everything was different. Different about D's face. Leon couldn't pin down what it was, exactly -- on the surface it was the same face, with the same smooth, pale cheeks, the same absurdly long lashes, the same aristocratic nose. The same perfect lips Leon had always tried not to look at for very long. But there was something missing now -- and at the same time, something new had taken its place.

Then, Leon realized it with a shock. D no longer glowed.

D had always sort of glowed, at least as far as Leon could tell. He'd only realized it in retrospect, after the revelation-that-had-not-really-been-a-surprise about D's true spirit nature. But there had always been something otherworldly about D, something incredibly secret, something that hinted at a deep and profoundly hidden life that Leon would never grasp. That was gone now. He couldn't explain it, but it was gone. And, realizing this, Leon felt both indescribable loss and dizzying, terrifying joy.

It was way too late. He obviously needed sleep.

He slipped out of the room again. D did not stir. Leon closed the door carefully behind him, noting that the light was still on behind Phil and Eileen's door, and made sure his footsteps creaked going down the stairs. The light behind the door went out then. Asshole.

Leon descended into the darkened living room, grabbed his duffel, a couch cushion, and a blanket, and climbed the stairs again with all the stealth his police training could provide. Then he entered D's room again. The Count had not moved. Leon quietly set his things on the floor and moved to check the windows. Yep, securely locked, and if he knew Phil and Eileen, alarm-rigged as well. No escape that way. So his choice was simple: he lay down on the floor between the bed and the door, covering himself with the blanket and resting his head on the cushion. Hell, he'd slept in worse places. Frat houses after college parties. Outside warehouses during stakeouts. His car. At least this was carpeted. I'll see Chris tomorrow, he thought drowsily. And forget the shower. He was exactly where he needed to be right now, and he wasn't moving. No way was D going to be able to slip away on him now.

Yeah, you just try it, buddy, he thought at the sleeping figure on the bed, his heart welling with something hot and fierce. You just try getting out of my sight again.

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Comments and criticism welcome.