Chapter 3 part 2

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William picked his way down the alley.  His light wool socks were sodden and torn from scuffling against the rough concrete.  The Advisor directed William's attention up the brick wall to a high second floor window.

The window is open, The Advisor said.

Go up inside.  Take what you need.  The Caretaker stayed close to William, kept him from growing too cold.

The Hunter remained silent.  He simply crouched low and bounded up onto the fire escape, his shadowed form seemed to melt and blur during the leap, settled back only after landing.  William simply watched the change.  The other voices always seemed to have the same form, but The Hunter had always seemed more fluid than the others.  Something about his physical power had always seemed too large for a human shape to contain.

A dumpster hulked a few yards from the bottom of the fire escape.  William set a tired shoulder against it and shoved.  It rolled forward, arced toward the middle of the alley as it traveled, almost beyond the bottom of the ladder.  He reached over the far side, grabbed its edge and clambered canoe style onto the lid, felt the battleground of flaking paint and rust beneath his cheek as he caught his breath.

He levered a knee under his stomach and stood shakily.  One hand reached out, clasped the bottom of the fire escape.  He stepped forward to stretch his other hand out, and the dumpster slid away beneath him.  He stumbled, tightened his grip and felt air beneath his feet as it slid to the middle of the alley.  He hung from one arm until he felt the fog above him.

The Hunter reached down through the bars of the fire escape and touched William's free arm.  William waited only a moment as he felt new strength fill him, then swung the arm up, took a firm grip and pulled.  Muscles in his arms and back contracted, working harder than he could remember, drawing him up and over the railing.

He flopped down to the raw metal and found The Caretaker waiting for him.

Inside.

He rose, wedged fingers under the open window sill and yanked it up.

As he stepped into the room, the fog receded and William stumbled at the change, almost like a sudden drop in air pressure.  He caught himself, slowed his landing onto a padded rug in the middle of a small living room.  The furnishings were simple, conservative leather and polished wood.  William lay there, took in the human surroundings a moment.  The smell was rich and deep, not torn by the cheap disinfectants his nose was used to.

A round bellied tabby cat strolled up to William and stared at him.  As he reached a dirty hand to the cat, the fog rose up in the room.  His hand faltered a moment as The Caretaker swirled together in front of him. This way, she said as The Hunter and The Advisor took shape behind her.

 William forced his palm forward and stroked the cat's back once.  He lurched up and followed the voices down a short, hardwood floored hall to a bedroom.  The bed and dressers followed the conservative lead of the living room furniture.  He stopped his inspection of the room as The Advisor stepped into the closet door.  William followed and drew it open.

Inside was a row of suits, shirts and polished dress shoes.  The Advisor passed deeper into the closet.  William wedged two hands in and parted the sea of business clothing.  Behind, he discovered an island of torn jeans, black army slacks, combat boots and t-shirts.  The treasure chest of an old school punk.

William pulled out a shirt, paled with use from black to dirt gray.  The Clash.  London Calling.

Long ago, he had loved that band.  The opening chords of "Should I Stay or Should I Go" began in his mind.  He and Jess had sung it together, voices barely in tune and competing with each other to drown out the stereo in her apartment.

He began to strip.

 *

Bryan ducked in under the police tape and breathed in the quiet of the room.  It was austere, white walls, white bed frame, white sheets.  All beauty-marked by an occasional yellow stain.

His tour of the room brought him quickly back to the door, where the nurse from the hall leaned in over the tape.  "You a police officer?"

"Detective.  Bryan Mickelson."  He shook her hand and she bobbed in under the tape.  She stopped and turned toward him, close by.

"Detective?  Huh.  That's kinda interesting."  She smiled at him, but Bryan looked back to his work, didn't focus at all on the brightness of her teeth or how full her lips were. 

"The guy that attacked the doctor.  This is his room?" he asked.

She switched tactics to a pout but stayed close as Bryan turned from her to the bed.  "William Adams?  You think he attacked Dr. Westen?"

Bryan studied the bed.  Unmade sheets, rumpled pillow next to a constellation of slipshod patches in the plaster.  He gave her no answer.

"I mean, I know that's what they’re saying, but I don't see how he could have.  His meds are really heavy.  The guy could barely walk."  She leaned against the wall and levered the side of her hip out toward Bryan.

Slowly, Bryan noticed her presence, her available posture.  He stared at her a moment, not sure what to do.  He knew he had never been good at noticing or responding to such interest, even before he had met Claire.  She had teased him about how hard it had been getting him to ask her out.  And now, he regarded himself as hopeless at it.  And dealing with an interested woman like this nurse was a skill he wasn’t eager to practice.

He turned away, hoped that work would protect him from her flirtation and his own uneasiness, as it had sheltered him from thoughts about Claire and the baby for the last two years.  He lifted the sheets with his pen and nudged the pillow aside.  Three small pills, partly melted, waited for him on the sheet.  He pulled a small evidence bag from a pocket and finally turned back to the nurse.  "You think you could get me his file?"

 *

(Author's note:  Has anyone noticed any parallels between Bryan and William?  Do you think there's any kind of connection there?  I'll try to keep myself from giving away any real spoilers.  Check out chapter 4 for much more about our two heroes!  And...thanks for reading and for the votes and comments!)

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