[Deleted]

Tawny Vokes

"You can choose a ready guide in some celestia-"  the high, dulcet tones of Geddy Lee were cut off by Jed's finger as he slid the phone icon across the screen and raised the device from the bedside table to his ear. "This is Quinn," he said, his voice thick and gravely from sleep. Rubbing his eyes and taking a slow, deep breath, he glanced at the brightly lit alarm clock that sat on the table next to where his phone had lain. 2:46 AM. He had been asleep for approximately forty minutes, but that was probably going to have to get him through a relatively long day. Jed was always on call for his team, but the only calls he ever got at this hour were ones that tended to need his immediate attention. Steeling himself for the voice on the other end of the phone, he tried to shake the sensation of the dream-or probably more accurately, it had been closer to a nightmare-that had been interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

 The dream was one he had often had before, but it always left him feeling drained and anxious when he did. It was part memory, part dream, confusing elements of both. There were these terrifying sounds of beeping and raised voices all around him. A pressure so intense that it was very painful pulsed across his chest in quick movements, followed by a sharp, electrifying pain from both sides of his chest. His eyes flew open and, though the part of him that was dreaming already knew, he was in the back of the ambulance again. In between beeps and sobs and voices saying things that he could not quite make out, much clearer voices rang in his head. The voices had not been there as he lay gasping, recovering from having died all those years ago. They were some fresh horror his mind had crafted for him to torture him while he slept, periodically adding new torments when his waking life supplied them with new material. If the phone had not woken him, he would have had to listen to all the most painful things that had ever been said to him whilst feeling the pain of being brought back from the brink of death.

"Boss, we need you down here," came the voice of his second in command. The stress in his voice had a wakeful effect on Jed. He immediately sat up and went to his closet, pulling down a suit at random from a hanger. The voice went on to tell him where to go and gave him a general idea of what had happened. Apparently some abusive scumbag with the gift to create heat in his hands had snapped and broiled his wife before turning on the kids. A neighbor had heard the screams and called the police, who had called in the Sector. Jed's second had neutralized the threat, but there was still quite a mess. They needed Jed there to close down the crime scene. He was pulling out of his garage before the call even ended.

When he arrived at the scene, it was about as horrific as one could expect it to be. After making sure that the perpetrator of these events had been taken into Sector custody and was awaiting him back at the office in a special holding cell designed for people with gifts, Jed learned that one of the children had survived. Apparently, the nine year old was able to create force fields and had been able to protect himself from the attack. Unfortunately, he was also protecting himself from Jed's unit. They had gifted agents they could call in to power him down, but Jed always preferred to try talking first, if possible. When he saw the look in the boy's eyes behind the shimmer of his force field, something deep in Jed cried out for him inside. The look of utmost fear and betrayal was almost tangible. Kneeling down, he held his hand out to the boy and assured him that they were here to help him, not harm him. After many gentle words and much coaxing, the boy lowered the shield and, after another moment of hesitation, all but threw himself into Jed's arms. Soothing the boy, he scooped him up and stood. Sensing that he would not be able to hand off the boy and, on some level, not wanting to, he gave instructions to his second for closing down and cleaning up the scene. 

Back at the office, he set the boy up in his own personal office, wrapping him in the blanket he kept on his sofa for when he did not make it home in time to sleep. The morning dragged on with all of the paperwork and overseeing the interrogation and investigation, but Jed spent much of it in his office, delegating to his team what he could. The boy was so traumatized that he could not speak and any time Jed tried to leave his sight, he began shrieking like a wounded animal. The regular asset he used to diffuse situations like this, an emotional manipulator, was on special assignment in the MidWest for the next four days. Jed had been told to reach out to a Tawny Vokes if he had need of such services while his asset was away.

Reaching for his phone, he dialed her number, explaining to her in the briefest and vaguest possible terms that he had a situation that called for her special assistance and could she please come into the office as soon as possible. Checking his watch, he saw that it was now 9:18 AM.

[Tawny Vokes]

(CW: Somewhat detailed descriptions of death, abuse, etc.)

Tawny drew her legs up in her chair, tucking her feet beneath her as she lifted her mug to her lips. The first, blessed sip of hot coffee inspired an appreciative hum from her throat and she shook her shoulders with a trill of pleasure. She was seated on her balcony, eyes drawn over the rooftops of Downtown as it slowly came to life. Shopowners put out their signs, wrote in today's specials and offers, and people chattered among one another as they made their way down the sidewalk. For her part, Tawny simply observed with lazy interest and tried to decide what she was going to paint. It was her day off and she'd already set out her supplies, including a fresh canvas. Now she only needed inspiration.

She drew her gaze across the balconies lining the opposite side of the street, half-heartedly searching for one of the black cats that made an appearance around this time of day. She ran a hand through her hair, still damp from her shower, and wondered how long she would busy herself with painting this morning before the inspiration left her. And what she would do to busy herself afterward. Did she want to leave her apartment today? Catch up on laundry? Leash up the ferrets and take them to the pet store? Reach out to a friend she'd ignored perhaps a couple of days too long?

Tawny jolted as the phone she'd lain down on the small, circular table beside her began to vibrate, skidding and clanking across the metal in a way that was abrupt and jarring. Coffee sloshed over the side of her mug and down her shirt, earning a grumbled expletive from her lips as she picked up the phone and studied the unknown number on the screen. After a moment of consideration, she answered, pressing the phone to her ear with a suspicious greeting. As the voice on the other line began, she uncurled and stood straighter, setting her coffee on the table as she felt all her hopeful planning slip away with the breeze.

"Okay, be there soon." Tawny sucked in a deep breath as she lowered the phone, cradling it in her lap as a familiar dread prickled at her palms. Though he hadn't given her much information, something in the lead's voice, coupled with the fact they were calling her in on her day off, was foreboding. And Josiah Quinn wasn't her usual handler; a supervisor she was unfamiliar with. It had to be urgent, had to be ugly, if it didn't trickle down to her through typical means. This wasn't going to be good. Then again, it rarely ever was.

Tawny expelled the held breath and raised her eyes to get one last, long look at the sun rising over the buildings. There was no point in putting it off. She took up her mug and stood. As she moved back inside, she passed her hand apologetically over the easel she'd have to once more abandon and set about hunting down her ferrets, changing clothes, and readying herself to leave.

- - - -

The Sector building wasn't too far from home and hardly forty minutes had passed before she was stepping off the elevator onto Josiah's floor. As she approached his office, the door opened and a figure stepped out, holding a folder in his hands. As he closed the door and made to move past her, Tawny lifted a hand to his arm, stepping a bit in his way with an apprehending noise from her throat. She smiled a thin, fleeting smile in apology and then asked him for a small briefing. He offered just enough to gather that the kid was gifted, the sole survivor of his father's rage, and that the night had been long and far from pretty. Tawny nodded her thanks and let him slip away, sucking her lips into a tight, apprehensive line before she composed herself.

Opening the door and stepping into the office, she eyed Josiah only briefly (just long enough to note the exhaustion hiding in the shadows and planes of his face), before drawing her gaze to the boy wrapped in a blanket on the couch across the room. His wide, alert eyes found hers simultaneously, and the hopeful (almost disbelieving) look that flooded into their depths cleaved something sharp and raw through her chest. His lips parted around a stuttered inhale and tears welled in his eyes, but then he visibly caught himself and deflated. Tawny shut the door and crossed the room, careful to keep her own sympathetic hurts from showing as she set down her bag and crouched before him with a warm turn to her lips.

"Hey there," she spoke, quietly but confidently, stopping herself from adding on an instinctive 'darling' or 'sweetheart' as she extended a hand between them and tipped her head. "What's your name?" She was glad she'd chosen to dress more casually rather than suit up. It was always a gamble — dressing down too much held the risk of not being taken seriously by certain individuals, but being too formal could be off-putting. Make her seem cold and detached. Throw up another wall when she was supposed to be coaxing them down. The boy's gaze shifted between her face and her fingers, uncertain and shaken, but he snuck a hand from beneath his sheltering blanket and placed it in her own.

Tawny braced herself against the touch, eyes careful and imploring on the boy's face. "Liam", he answered in a tiny, scratchy voice, and with the allowance, she let the memories slip in. Witnessed him blinking away sleep, alerted by baritone yelling growing louder and louder. Watched him pull the covers over his head and curl in on himself, breath heavy and panicked. Jolting at each weighty thud from the next room. Whimpering at the splintering sound of breaking furniture and shattering glass. At the first, terrible shriek, he'd mustered his courage and thrown back the covers. Hopped over to where his sister was similarly trembling beneath her own. Took her hand and pulled her to the floor so they could crawl under his bed and hide, pressing closer to one another when the screams eventually stopped. The door opened, throwing light into their shared room, broken only by the silhouette of a looming, panting figure.

Tawny wanted to withdraw, to blink herself away, but she willed herself to remain steadfast, knowing she had to. Knowing that, by the end of the day, she'd have to pore over every gory detail in length as she reshaped them. She let the memories play. Watched the kids be drug screaming from their hiding. The ugly, feral snarl upon their father's face as they sobbed and plead. The horrific, distorted bodies, blurred by the tears that poured from the boy's eyes. The shimmering gleam of a self-preserving shield blooming from his palms. His father beating his fists bloody against it in a desperate bid to get to him. Sector agents bursting into the room. Josiah's kind face and gentle imploring.

Tawny could have shuddered and quaked when the world around her returned, but she only let her smile pull infinitesimally wider as she regarded the boy before her. "Liam," she purred fondly, giving his fingers a light squeeze and bob. "That's a lovely name, and I really like your pajamas. My name's Tawny." She wished she was able to do more. She couldn't bring his mother or his siblings back. Couldn't go back in time to keep the thread from snapping. The only thing she could do was make it less horrifying. Covet the more haunting images away and keep them for herself; shoulder them in his stead. Her gaze flickered in Josiah's direction, supposing she would have to ask his instruction first before taking the matter into her hands entirely. She would have to know what all he wanted her to change. How much he wanted scrubbed away and what she should paint in its place. Sometimes the Sector's involvement was removed entirely, sometimes not. And there was the whole matter of what would be told to the public. What would be shared with the next of kin. What the boy might eventually come across in documents and reports later in his life. It all had to match and be cohesive, or else what was the point?

No matter what he wanted her to do, Tawny knew it would be a lot of work and figured it would be best achieved if the boy was asleep. She didn't think that would be severely difficult — he was visibly exhausted, drained not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Tawny returned her attention to him and squeezed his hand encouragingly, dipping back into his memories and guiding herself expertly to the hours before the horror. It had been a quiet, peaceful night when he'd been tucked into bed, his little sister cozied next to him, elbowing for room, while their mother opened a book before them. In stark contrast to the bubbled corpse she'd seen before, the woman was beautiful in life. Brunette and blue-eyed — Tawny wondered if that was why the tears had sprung so quick to his eyes when she walked in, hope hitched just high enough to battle his disbelief and shock for only a brief, suspended moment. Before the moment passed and he realized nothing about Tawny fit quite right. The woman read them their story and sung them to sleep, her fondness for them palpable in every lulling note and pretended voice. Something that was plain to Tawny, but perhaps not so recognizable to the children, was the tight apprehension tucked into the corners of her eyes. Weariness and worry disguised with tenderness. She hid the sadness well, but it still screamed, and Tawny had to wonder how many countless other horrors she'd had to endure before the end.

Tawny blinked herself back to the present and moved to settle on the couch, far enough from the boy to acknowledge his space (respecting that closing that distance was something to be earned), but not so far as to be unreachable. She folded her hands in her lap, turned her body toward him, and went to work. Without once sparing a glance in Josiah's direction, she asked him questions, spoke to him softly, coaxed what she could out of him with sweet, empathetic smiles, and ventured an increasingly-daring touch until... eventually... he was pulled into her lap. Blinks growing heavier and longer over bleary, tear-rimmed eyes while she hummed a low tune in her throat and drew a hand across his hair soothingly. As the boy nodded off, increasingly limp and leaden across her, she took the chance to study her supervisor, seated behind his desk across the room. It seemed he'd been mostly content to let her do as she pleased. She observed the careful way his fingers drew pen across paper, eyes following with focus despite the fatigue that framed them. The hand paused, his eyes came up to meet hers, and Tawny blinked at him before tipping her head toward the door. She eased herself from beneath the boy. He gave a fitful lurch — face pinching and fists clenching — but she crouched beside him and continued to hum and soothe until his expression smoothed once more.

Tawny rose and gestured for Josiah to follow as she stepped across the room, coaxing his office door quietly open and stepping out. Once he joined her, she pulled the door shut with a soft, muted click while watching the boy's sleeping figure through the window. When he didn't stir, she let her hand drop from the door handle and took a step back to lift her gaze to Josiah's face. "Jesus fucking Christ," she breathed, straight to the point. "What exactly do you want me to do here?" Her eyes pinched at the corners, the thought occurring to her that perhaps he wasn't aware of what she could do. Had the person who pointed him in her direction let him know of her Gift? Or was she here in a strictly-therapeutic capacity? Perhaps she was only a phone number penciled in as an alternative or a name drawn out of a hat. She imagined he was aware of the assets at his disposal, but then Tawny didn't know much about him — it wasn't her job to — so couldn't be entirely certain. If he didn't know, he'd probably had his hands much too full with the entire situation to pull her file.

As her eyes traveled across his face, noting again the exhaustion unable to be hidden there no matter the efforts taken, Tawny visibly softened. She crossed her arms loosely before her, thumbs pressed bruisingly into her biceps to keep her secondhand sorrow at bay. "You look like you could use a few cc's of caffeine straight to the vein." She scoffed in a whisper, the words more concerned than scrutinizing.

----

@josiah
OOC: Sorry, it ended up being so lengthy. If I took too many liberties, or if you want anything changed, just lemme know! <3

[Deleted]

It was not in Jed's wheelhouse to not meticulously study every aspect of a situation when the business at hand allowed it. The very second that the call with Ms. Vokes disconnected, he texted his second to pull her file and bring it to him immediately. While he waited for the file to be delivered, his eyes lingered on the boy. It occurred to him that the boy might be hungry, though he may not want to eat. Jed reached for his phone once more and sent a follow up text that requested a candy bar and bottle of water to be brought in addition to the file. If the boy showed interest in the candy bar, maybe he would open up or, at the very least, ask for more food.

As he observed the boy, his mind could not stop dwelling on the recurring dream he had woken from so many hours ago. It kept lingering on the moment when his eyes would open. No matter what change his sub conscious made to the dream, that part was always the same. His mother's terrified, wailing face would fill his vision, haunting him with the sheer amount of pain that rested in her features. There was no wonder as to why that particular image was troubling him now. The expression was identical to the one the boy had been wearing when Jed first locked eyes with him. Pain was a universal language and once you spoke it, you were forever fluent.

There was a quick knock on the door before it was opened by Agent Thomas, his second in command, jolting him out of his intrusive thoughts. The boy jumped, also, but only huddled deeper into his blanket when he saw that Jed was not concerned. Jed nodded curtly at Thomas and the man stepped forward, passing him the items he had requested. The man nodded in return and then left, closing the door softly behind him. Thomas had worked for Jed for close to seven years now and knew him well enough to not bother him with small talk or pleasantries.

Gathering up the candy bar and the water, he stood and slowly approached the boy. "Hiya, buddy," he said as gently as he could, "Are you hungry? Would you like a candybar? It looks really good." The boy eyed the still wrapped candy bar in Jed's hand almost suspiciously. "Look, I'll show you," he said, setting the water down next to the couch so he could unwrap the packaging of the chocolate. Breaking off a small piece, he popped it into his own mouth, forcing himself to chew slowly even though he did not care for this particular flavor. "See," he said, holding the rest of the bar out to the boy. Cautiously, the boy reached out, hesitating just short of contact, before abruptly snatching it from Jed's hand and shoveling it as quickly as possible into his mouth. Giving the warmest smile he could muster, Jed said, "Do you feel like telling me your name?" The boy just stared blankly at him and continued wolfing the chocolate, chewing noisily. "It's okay, bud. Just know that I won't let anything bad happen to you now. You're safe." He nodded encouragingly and returned to his desk.

Sitting back in his chair with a sigh, he glanced around his sparsely decorated and neatly organized office, hoping that it was not too off putting to the poor child. The wall hangings only consisted of his degrees, merits and commendations, as well as one oversized map of Los Eurosia covered in differently colored tacks. As for his desk, the only item that was not functional was a framed photograph of Jed and Ava, back from the days when they had still looked happy to see each other, that he could not bring himself to take down, despite having been divorced for ten years now. Now he reached for the only out of place thing on his perfectly organized desk-Ms. Vokes' file. Reading it quickly, but not skimming, he felt like he was better prepared for her when she arrived. Memory manipulation, instead of his usual asset's emotional manipulation, could prove much more useful when it came to a child, though he was not sure how much he wanted the boy to forget yet. He still did not know what exactly the boy had seen, since he had not uttered a word since the attack. Plus, she was a therapist, so she would have a good grasp on how to handle the situation.

Another quick knock on the door and Thomas reentered the room, holding another file and a cd in his hands. Jed glanced up at him and held out his hand. "Preliminary report and initial interrogation, sir," Thomas said, succinctly, before placing the items in Jed's outstretched hand and exiting the room again. This time, however, Jed could hear him talking to someone whose voice Jed did not recognize in the hallway right outside the door. That would be Ms. Vokes, he assumed. When the door opened again, he was not surprised when the young woman entered. His eyes met hers momentarily, in which time he gave her a nod, as well, and gestured for her to assess the boy. He was not sure what her process was and he did not want to influence the boy negatively by reacting too much. If she needed him to do something, he was sure she would ask. Besides, he liked having the opportunity to watch her in action and size her up. That way, he would have a better idea of how to address her when they finally did speak to one another.

To put both her and the boy more at ease, he took the cd and laid it perfectly center on top of his closed laptop so he would know where it was when it came time to watch the interrogation. He slid the file to him and flipped it open, getting to work on the never ending paperwork this job entailed. The more he listened to her soft, sweet voice, the more Jed was able to relax into his work. She had gotten the boy to speak and, even if she were unable to do anything with her gift to help him, that was a very good start. The further he proceeded in the file, however, he realized that there was yet another problem. There was no record of the boy's maternal family and everyone listed under paternal was deceased. Unfortunately, in situations like this, it was not as simple as putting the boy in foster care. When it came to children with powers, it had to be handled more delicately. He might eventually end up in foster care, but not right away, which meant that Jed needed to find a suitable arrangement until then.

Absorbed in his thoughts about this and the intricacies of the documents before him, Jed was only partially listening to Ms. Vokes. The room had been silent, save the boy's heavy breathing, for at least a minute before Jed realized that she had stopped talking. Finishing the note he had been making, Jed raised his eyes to meet hers. At her gesture, he nodded, but waited for her to extricate herself from the child, who was, thankfully, asleep. He rose when she did, following her as quietly as possible into the hallway, sparing the boy a glance on the way out to make sure he was all right.

Crossing his arms tightly across his chest, Jed leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for her to be satisfied that their charge would remain asleep. When she did speak, he almost chuckled, but opted for raising one articulate eyebrow instead, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet before settling back against the wall. Jed could tell that working for The Sector was not Ms. Voke's primary profession from the way she spoke, and, frankly, from the way she dressed-though even he had to admit that in some situations, casual wear was better suited. He had told her she had been coming to see a child, so maybe he should defer to her judgement on that. As he was about to reply, she commented that he needed a caffeine injection and his good humor waned ever so slightly. Rolling his eyes, he said simply, "I'll live. I always do."

"We haven't been formally introduced, Ms. Vokes," he said, his tone taking on a much more business like quality now that suggested he did not wish to continue discussing his own state of exhaustion. "I'm Senior Specialist in Charge, Agent Quinn," he told her, opting not to go into his dual title because it was not information that she needed at this time. He also did not offer her his hand to shake, as most people did when they introduced themselves. This, in fact, had very little to do with his disposition to Tawny and more to do with the fact that he did not like the idea of touching others without purpose. Shaking hands had never made sense to him. You never knew how clean someone's hands were. "I appreciate you coming in on short notice. As for how we proceed, I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure how your particular skills work. I'm also not sure what all the boy saw, as he did not speak to anyone but you. Care to elaborate?" Jed's words were clipped and to the point. "As a rule, I don't like to play around in people's heads, but if he saw what I think he saw, I suspect we won't have a choice. And I'm really hoping we can get him to a point where he is calm enough to stay with strangers, because the poor kid has no one and until you got here, refuses to be farther than ten feet from me. He wouldn't even tell me his name."

[Tawny Vokes]

"Hm," Tawny's thumbs pressed themselves deeper into her arm as Josiah rolled his eyes, answering her comment upon his fatigue in such a way that made it clear he hadn't liked it. Despite the entire situation — namely the boy in the next room who needed their attention and was undoubtedly their number one priority — making his blatant dismal of her concern a wholly irrelevant point, she couldn't help but inwardly bristle. His tone explicitly implied that his exhaustion wasn't open to discussion and she suspected he was used to people quailing to appease him. Expected the matter dropped the moment he decided it was. But as far as she knew, Josiah Quinn wasn't her direct boss. At the very least, he wasn't someone she had to deal with every day. So she was hardly going to pull her own teeth or bite her tongue to please him.

"Sure, always do. Up until you don't." She persisted, eyes still settled decidedly upon his face and her brow lifting marginally — unconvinced and imploring. She never understood how people could work themselves to the end of their rope, burning the candle at both ends and stubbornly denying — likely to themselves as well as others — that they needed a break. Always insisting the burden was one they shouldered with willing aplomb, no concern or chiding necessary (or appreciated). Tawny liked her work and thought it important, but she was hardly going to kill herself doing it. She kept much of her life purposely separate from her dealings within the Sector, and even her work as a therapist, never letting one influence the other too much. She had to briefly wonder if Josiah was the type of person who let work afford him little else. If it cost him nights of precious sleep, there was the possibility it cost him more as well.

But as he continued on with his introduction, leaping succinctly into the work at hand, Tawny let the matter drop. Josiah wasn't concerned about it and made it clear she didn't need to be either, so she would let him be. Or more likely, she would wait for a more opportune time to strike. Now wasn't the moment to make things more difficult for him by insisting he take better care of himself — they had more pressing priorities. But perhaps when their job was done, everything was sorted, and he could relax (in whatever unknown way he did that), she would take the chance to irritate him again. Poke about more friendly depths and attempt a bit of chiding as if he wasn't at least a decade her senior. And as if everything about him didn't currently scream 'work, strictly business, will definitely not take you up on some cordial foray, thanks but no thanks'.

"You can just call me Tawny," she insisted, suspecting he'd continue calling her by some formality unless instructed otherwise, and probably expected the same from her. She turned from him, angling her body back toward the office door and peering through the window at the boy within. "And it's no problem. Happy to help in whatever way I can." It wasn't like she would get up to anything important on her day off anyway. She tapped her fingers against her arm. It was unsurprising that the boy had so far been reticent. She figured she had an advantage, arriving as an uninvolved party — a fresh face — and momentarily taking him by (heartbreaking) surprise with her appearance alone.

"He saw..." Tawny stalled, her mind flashing with the grisly images she'd seen through the boy's eyes. As she watched the shape of him twitch under the blankets, curling defensively inward as he dozed, she imagined that they plagued his sleep, fresh and terrifying. "Well. Everything, I suppose." She regarded Josiah from her periphery, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. As she suspected, he wasn't as familiar with her gift as she'd hoped. Tawny was used to being told what to change, everything else neatly worked out before being brought to her; the picture to be painted already decided and her involvement simply the last step required to draw everything together. "With my 'particular skills', I can erase those memories, if you wanted. Or perhaps only censor them a bit." She turned slightly toward him, loosening the arms she had folded across her chest. Easing the bruising brace of her thumbs. "Manipulate them so that he saw less. Let Liam remember the faces of his mother and his sister as they had been, rather than..." she waved a hand through the air, unable to articulate the horror and ultimately deciding it unnecessary. Josiah had been there. "Perhaps then the memories... and the nightmares... won't be so horrifying."

She sucked her lip between her teeth, considering the rest of what Josiah had explained to her. It was a shame the boy had no remaining family. No familiar arms to wrap him up and soothe his distress. Grieve with him, hold him together, and see him through it. "With having no one else now, it only makes sense he doesn't want you to leave him too. It'd be very natural for him to latch on to you." She recalled the way he'd let Josiah lower his guard and embrace him. He'd been such a gentle negotiator, Tawny wouldn't be surprised if he was a father himself. "Do you have kids, Agent Quinn?" It would be ideal if he could take the child under his own wing for just long enough to get things properly sorted, but she wondered if such a thing was manageable between work.

----

@josiah
OOC: Post is bleh, but hopefully once I get caught up and back in the swing, it'll come a bit easier (and quicker lmao)~

[Deleted]

Jed shrugged and said quickly, though nonchalantly, holding his hands in front of him to emphasize the words, "Yeah and then I'll be dead and I won't be tired anymore. Can we move on?" Was he a workaholic? Yes. Did that knowledge change anything? No, no, it did not. The reason he worked so much was because he genuinely enjoyed the work. Plus, he was damn good at it. At work, he was in control and everything made a certain amount of sense-even the horrible things. The times that he felt lost or empty were rarely, if ever, at work. No, those were reserved for the few hours a week he spent at home. Usually, as little time as he could manage. Once, there had been a reason for him to return home, but she had been gone ten years now. It was hard to blame her. Even when Jed had been trying to make time for her, he could barely tear himself away from the job.

It was a small relief that she let it go and moved on to the more important issue on the table. His eyebrow went up again when she told him to call her by her first name. "I'm going to be straight with you right now. I probably won't do that," he told her, "I could drop the 'Ms' if that would be more acceptable to you, but I don't really do first names. It's nothing personal. All of the agents go by their last name and it's just what I default to." Not to mention, if he called her by her first name, then it would be a jarring difference from all his other colleagues and he did not like that, even over something as stupid as a name. First names belonged in his other life, the one he lived in as few short intervals as possible. That list pretty much only included Ava, his ex wife, Kenzie, his best friend, and his sponsor, whose name was Stephen.

Jed was silent and thoughtful when she explained what she could to him. His thoughts drifted to the sleeping child in the next room. It was not as if, until yesterday, he was some stranger to the atrocities people committed on one another. His life had not been sunshine and rainbows followed by the spontaneous combustion of everyone he had ever loved. No, there was plenty of evidence and room for inference that this was not the first trauma that Liam had suffered at the hands of his father. There was a rough patch of skin at the base of his neck that Jed was almost positive was a burn caused by the father. Medical on the scene had cleared Liam for the time being, but once they took him in for a thorough work up, Jed was certain that they would find a map of abuse all over Liam's body. Would taking the memory of what had happened last night take away what little closure Liam would ever find? As painful as it was to have witnessed, would it not be more painful to simply forget the last moments of the two people you cared most about? He was strong. Jed just had a feeling about him. But was he strong enough?

"I don't want him to forget anything," he said finally, almost defensively. Taking a deep breath, he reigned himself in and took control of his voice once more, "But, the aftermath could be a bit more... hazy. If that's something you can do? I don't want his mother and sister's last moments taken from him, but don't let him have dreams of standing over their corpses all alone. If we need to probe deeper in the future, would it be possible to reassess? Or is this a one chance only sort of thing?" Jed sighed, running his hand over his unshaven face. This was the only part of the job he did not like. "I'm not used to this sort of thing. My usual guy can control emotions and grant temporary peace or numbness until we can do the actual necessary legwork for getting someone past events like this."

Nodding at her assertion, he said, "Yeah, I knew that was a risk. I'd do it again." It was the truth. Jed felt some sort of connection to this child on a primal level. Their hurts may not be the same, but there was familiarity there. Her question, however, took him somewhat aback. His eyes widened slightly, but then he shrugged. "Can't say that I ever found the time." A point of real contention in his marriage, though Ms. Vokes could not have known that. He knew that she was suggesting that he take Liam and care for him. Perhaps, she thought some level of his exhaustion came from chasing kids of his own. Still, he certainly would not-could not-abandon Liam. "If Liam needs to stay with me, then he stays. You're the licensed professional on such matters. What do you think he needs?"


Tawny Vokes
((sorry it's short, I fell asleep once writing it so I thought I'd wrap it up and go to bed so I can get up hellah early again))