Chapter Text
It’s just like any other Monday at the Krimson City Police Department, and usually Detective Sebastian Castellanos would joke around and say the M stood for murder or mind-numbing even, but today he’s just not feeling it.
Instead, he’s drained, sitting silently at his desk at the back of the office. His arms crossed, his fingers rhythmically mocking the ticking of the grandfather clock across from him – the one next to a mirror, which he’s staring at intently. That, and his reflection…
Though it’s more like he’s procrastinating. His legs intertwined with each other, propped up and angled among the papers and manila folders on his desk, jittering his dominant foot, and when he hears a sigh he doesn’t even turn to see who’s stepping up behind him.
It’s obvious it’s Kidman… She always sighs like that. Quietly.
“What time is—”
“Half past ten.” Sebastian slides his legs off his table with a turn, smoothly spinning in his chair to face her with his typical expression. Stoic and frowning. “Time for you to go home, Kidman.”
It’s a direct order, a dismissal, but it seems to catch more of his partner’s attention, Joseph Oda, rather than Kidman’s, who’s sitting across from him at his own desk. Not with a fancy name plate like Sebastian’s though, and the younger detective takes off his glasses to wipe the sleep from his eyes in a groggy drone.
“Shouldn’t we all be going home?” Joseph asks, not really in a complaint per say, more like a casual conversation between burnt coworkers. “It’s not like we have anything left to cover tonight.”
“You sure about that? Because I think I know someone who still needs to fill out that paperwork on last week’s shooting.” Kidman eyes Sebastian discreetly, who exhales like he’s pushing smoke through his nose.
A cigarette he could use about now, and he reaches around the back of his chair and into his trench to rummage through his pockets.
“I’m working on it.” Sebastian gruffs, pulling out an empty pack of cigs, which he’s soon to skip across his desk and onto the floor, obviously unhappy. “Got another eight files to go.” And after a grunt he leans forward to shabbily shuffle through the pile of papers, his brow furrowing when he uncovers another folder beneath all the others. “Make that nine…”
“You’re kidding, right? You’ll be here overnight, Sebastian.” Joseph scolds as he makes an effort to put away his own things before rising to a stand, and after a few brushes at his black vest he’s reaching for his coat on the hanger behind him. “What about Leslie?” He slips his right arm in first, flinching from the gunshot wound he got last week – from the same case Kidman mentioned earlier. “Is he all right at home by himself?”
“Yeah, I’ve got Tatiana looking after him tonight.”
Tatiana being the house nurse he just started hiring, and Sebastian glances at his partner’s stiff shoulder and struggle before dropping his eyes to his desk, guiltily. After all, he’s still beating himself up for not being quick enough in covering him last Wednesday. But it seems there’s no use in berating the past. What’s done is done, and Sebastian dips back with his chair in a deep slant.
“Fine print says fifty bucks charged hourly for overtime.”
“Good for her.” Joseph muses, sarcasm as dull as his tone.
“Bad for me.” Sebastian scoffs sourly, before signaling his partner off with a wave. “Now get out of here already. Just looking at you is making me sore.”
“I’ll agree with you there.” Kidman chips in, one hand on her hip like she’s favoring the weight of her stilettos, the heels looking rather dangerous alongside her tough girl appeal as she gets the door.
“Thanks…” Joseph exhales and fixes his tie unevenly, no doubt a result from all the pampering – something he’s not used to, before he takes Kidman up on her courtliness. “See you two tomorrow then?”
And just like that, Joseph’s gone.
No more dry humor or much-wanted distractions, and Sebastian tiredly drags his attention back to the case files on his desk. Good material for a headache he doesn’t want, and soon he’s scooping up the pile to shove what he can into one of his drawers.
“Forget it. Think I’ll call it a night too.” Sebastian mumbles to himself, voice yawning as he stands up to roll a shoulder. But before he can get any satisfaction from the stretch, the screen of his cell phone lights up.
It buzzes loudly on his desk, and Sebastian bares his teeth at the thought of taking the call. He could just let it go to voicemail, he thinks, make up the excuse that he was sleeping, or maybe in the car driving. Except when the vibrating gets even more erratic, after what sounds like the fifth time, he scoops it up quickly.
“This is Detective Castellanos.” Sebastian’s introduction is flat like taffy, chewed and thick with no charm. Though he does get a kick out of throwing in Detective now and again, and he’s almost flattered when it’s thrown right back.
“Detective, I know it’s late and you’re probably busy with other cases, but I wouldn’t be calling unless it was important.”
Sebastian can hear sirens in the background, wooing and competing with the voice on the other line, but after a second or two it quiets down.
“I really think you’ll be interested in what I’ve got to say…”
“Connelly?” Sebastian perks a little. “Is that you?”
There’s no answer, but Sebastian knows it is by heart – that, and by ear. After all, he and Oscar Connelly were old friends. Good friends. Often meeting off the job and at crime scenes once in a while. In fact, Sebastian originally met the man during his very first case in the field, the case that landed his career. His bump from beat-cop to Detective, so he’s not about to get impatient because of a little silence.
“What’ve got for me?” Sebastian bends forward, trying not to sound like he’s holding a one-sided conversation as he picks up a loose pen to streak a few lines in his trusted notebook, ready to take point. But when it doesn’t write he’s grabbing another one from his assorted mug.
“Something you’ll… probably want to see in person. Can you meet me at Beacon Mental Hospital?”
“What?” Sebastian glances briefly at the grandfather clock again, watching the small hand eat away the seconds, seconds that seemed to drag like a dead foot, dead as a doornail. “Now?”
“Yes, and you… might want to bring b…k… up. It’s regarding an… old c…e… of yours—”
After a high-pitched beep the connection dies suddenly, a dropped call, which leaves Sebastian hunched with grit teeth. That, and a floodgate of questions – questions he wants answered. “Connelly? Hey, Connelly!”
“What did he want?” Kidman asks, composed as she sits herself on the edge of Sebastian’s desk, and this time it’s his turn to sigh… Heavily.
“Looks like I’m meeting him at Beacon Memorial tonight.” Sebastian turns, grabbing his beige trench off the back of his chair in a sort of shake to get out the wrinkles.
“Why the urgency?”
“He didn’t get a chance to say.” Sebastian shrugs before slipping his coat on in a hurry, only taking a long enough pause to fix the back of his collar in a twist. “We lost connection.” He kicks his chair into place, tossing his neck towards the exit and his junior detective. “Up for a drive?”
It’s a rushed proposal, seeing as just a few minutes ago he tried to send her home, to go get some shut-eye. Hell, they all needed it. But Kidman’s every bit of loyal to Sebastian as he is to his job. Always ready and on call – always ready to prove herself.
“You got it.” Kidman nods before she moves away to get her gear from her locker nearby, leaving Sebastian to rummage around his desk a little longer.
He’s looking for his keys, and slides his rough hands over and under the loose papers in a sketchy search. “Dammit, where are they?” He growls aloud, something he does often – complaining for the sake of showcasing his impatience, and when there’s no such luck on top, he opens the drawer on his right to check there.
But that’s when he sees the framed picture he’d hidden a while back – the one with himself and a fifteen-year-old Leslie standing together, awkwardly. It’s an old photograph, ten years to the dot, and Sebastian frowns when he picks it up, suddenly remembering that it’s the boy’s birthday today.
“Shit.” He mutters, mostly at his own forgetfulness, before he locates his keys under his desk and bends down to retrieve them. Dropped there because of his clumsiness, no doubt, and after they’re in-hand Sebastian closes his drawer in a slam, hiding the picture once again – a sweet memoir but also a reminder.
A reminder that Leslie isn’t his real son.
But despite that fact, Sebastian tries his hardest to treat the boy like he is. Though somehow these late-night shifts are straining their relationship, a bond that was unstable to begin with – generally because Leslie, now twenty-five, is still as unpredictable as the day Sebastian adopted him.
The kid’s a complete mess…
No, he’s no longer a kid, Sebastian reminds. Better yet, tries to convince himself regardless of the way Leslie still acts immature and distant most of the time. But honestly, can Sebastian really blame him?
Leslie saw his whole family murdered right in front his eyes, a privilege that came with being the last victim on the Elk River serial killer’s list, before Sebastian Castellanos arrived on scene and ruined those plans. Though that didn’t mean the case was a wrap, it was more like a case that ended in a lot of misery. Not just because the perpetrator was never caught, but because a child was left homeless.
That child being Leslie, whom Sebastian took in and gave a home, seeing as the boy clung to him like a scared child would a parent after he was found hiding under his bed.
But even though Leslie was cleaned up and given a safe place to stay, there was nothing Sebastian could do about the night terrors that followed. Terrors that woke the boy in the dead of night almost every day of the week, and his condition didn’t just stop at the spontaneous outbursts of fear.
It ranged from fits of panic when there was a loud noise, to disjointed ramblings and confusion, and nowadays Leslie couldn’t even hold a conversation – just repeat words.
Hurts, hospital, and fine.
Words that had no meaning to Sebastian, and his head feels miffed just thinking about them. The whole situation… It’s one big nest of a mess on his nerves and it’s wearing him down. He knows it is. He can feel it in his forehead, the way his wrinkles crease above his eyes when he tries to look pensive, and now’s no different.
“You ready?”
Kidman’s return snaps Sebastian from his thoughts, her voice every kind of tedious as she secures the straps of her shoulder holsters, and he snorts.
“You know what they say…” Sebastian pushes past her with his usual pine before opening the double doors of the office with both hands to leave and step into the fresh night air. The city lights making the metropolis around appear alive and aware, despite the late hour and thinning traffic, and after a short breath he electronically unlocks his car from across the parking lot with no smile to match his wit. “No rest for the wicked.”
Because Detective Sebastian Castellanos is just that… Wicked.