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At first, Street doesn't notice it, it's subtle like a resurfacing itch that you can't quite scratch. He thinks it comes with the memories, the memories that like to sit in wait like alligators in the water. Waiting for the chance for their jaws to trap their prey. That's how this day went- Street was the prey and his memories were the things waiting to pounce. It starts with a case- a case that's just a bit too similar to that of his childhood.
They sit around at the table during the debrief, normally this wouldn't be their case but apparently, he was on the run.
"A rapist?" Deacon says raising his eyebrows and pitching them in a way that shows disgust.
Hondo nods wearing a similar expression, Chris scowls clearly, but Street stays as dead-faced as he can. He tries not to let the memories of the foster houses creep in. Tries not to remember the feeling of their hands on him.
"His name is Grant Russel-" The rest of what Hondo says fusses out when he says his name. He doesn't want to hear it- doesn't want to think about anything he's done. His hands shake with the force that it takes to keep himself upright. His heart beats rapidly. Not him. Anyone but him.
"You're so pretty" He tries to shake the voice away. He's not here. He is not here.
"There are some people we can talk to, Chris, Tan, Street i want you three to talk to the victims. Deac, Luca, you're with me" Hondo says, he pats Chris's shoulder and nods. "Chris you'll be driving"
"What!" Tan says
"Hey, I don't make the rules oldest gets the driver's seat."
"I can't wait to be driving." Tan spats, "I will out-race you any day Chris"
"Wow, tough words for someone whos got shit aim"
Their conversation fizzles out, and then they all begin filing out.
"Street?" Luca says patting his shoulder,
Street tries not to flinch, but he can't help the staggering step back he takes. Luca leaves his hand in the air slowly pulling it back and then looking at him a bit. He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then shakes his head.
"We're heading out! Let's go!" Tan shouts already halfway down the hall changing into their gear, Street follows along on shaking legs and hopes that this won't go as bad as he thinks it will. I mean it's been years, no way he'd recognize him.
"You bitch!" He spits, pulling away from the cops that attempt to hold him back. "I'll fucking find you, James. I'll find you! And I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"
He shakes the memory off. Trying to ignore Hondos and Luca's eyes on him, he hops into the back of the car that Chris likes. His guess is that Luca snitched about him being off. He tried his best to push it away. Tan sat bickering with Chris about who should drive, Chris clearly holding the winning side.
But that leaves him alone, to face the hands. The voice. The echo of a breath ran down his neck that he could never get rid of no matter how many times he scrubbed and washed and scratched and cut he would never go away.
Oh, but don't you like me here? It'll feel good. You know it will
He shuddered pushing away from nothing that he could see. He wanted to hide. He wanted to cry, but he could not because before he could get a sob out of his mouth Tan was opening the car door and peeling into the passenger seat. Chris after that got into the Drivers.
Tan lifted his hands to put on music but Chris slapped his hand away,
"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole," She said
Tan sputtered "Did you just quote supernatural?"
"So what if I did?"
"Because that show is-"
"Ah- watch it, Tan"
He let their conversation fall into the background, let their voices try to overpower his. Let them try to carry away the hands even if he could still feel them shifting to everything. He felt the car pull to a rough stop, and they all stepped out. They had stopped at a small row of houses, and apartments that lined up next to each other.
The hallway seemed longer than it was, but he stumbled all the way through. They had three victims in this apartment complex, so splitting up it was. Street knocked on the pale white door.
"Amanda Yovel?" Street called "My name is James Street, im with LAPD SWAT, can I talk to you please?"
He hears the lock shift, and slowly he hears the door creak open. A head of brown hair pokes through the door, her eyes look fearful. They look like his own. She seems to look at him and just knows, she opens the door wider, allowing him to step in. He goes in slowly, like the way he would like to be approached. She smiles softly at him.
"Would you like any tea?"
He nods slowly, "if it's not too much trouble." He says.
She smiles again, "It's no trouble." She gestures to the couch, and he goes to take a seat, but he is careful to show her his hands. He sits down and waits for her. In a few seconds, she comes back around the corner, Street tries to suppress his own flinch, and she gives a look of knowing. A smiles sympathetically.
"Sorry," she says, moving to hand him the tea
"No, i should be saying sorry after what happened to you"
She scoffs, nodding along and then taking a seat.
"It's not the first time I've gone through this. But you know what?"
He tilts his head, "What?" he asked setting down the Tea after he downed it in one gulp.
"When you go through this one too many times you start being able to see when someone else has gone through the same"
He freezes in his place. Her eyes seem to pierce into his soul.
"What?" He says softly after a moment.
"It's in your eyes," She says after a pause, biting down on her lip and then taking a sip of her drink. "It's the way they look after that. Its always there." She says.
Street can only nod, he opens his mouth to ask something- one of the questions that he's meant to ask but he can't get the words out. She tilts her head, finishing off the tea, and setting the cup down onto the table.
"He said, while it was happening, that he couldn't wait for the real one."
His head snaps up, looking at her.
"Real one?" He pressed,
She nods her head.
"That's all he was saying. That he just couldn't wait for the real one."
He swallowed thickly.
"Thanks," He says
"Have you told them?" She says
"What?" He asks after a moment
"Your team. Family?" She asks
"I don't have any family."
She let's out a hum, collecting both of their cups, and she got up slowly to walk into the kitchen.
"tell them. Your team. It'll help."
"You have experience?" He asks, tilting a brow
She smiles at him
"Im an ex cop. It happened on a job."
He nods sympathetically at her, she brushes off her skirt and stands at the door. Motioning for him to go.
"I wish I could give you more, but im sure your partners will only get the same pieces of information off of them. He only said that he couldn't wait for the real one."
"Thank you, Amanda," He said and he left the room, he heard the click of the door after and he couldn't help but shudder, what was he supposed to do now? He had never had another person tell, had never had another person know or understand like she would. "You tell anyone, ill kill you, ill do it again, and then ill kill you" He couldn't think, he could only relive the memories. Ill kill you. You tell anyone- He told. He told and now what? Was he out of jail? he only ever spoke about the abuse. He didn't say anything else about the deeper parts. But he was the one who got him arrested. What if he was the final one? What if he was going to come back for him. To keep his promises. "You're so good" He would whisper every time he begged him to stop. "You're my favorite of all of them, did you know? He said one night, holding Street so that he could leave his arms despite how badly he wished to just run away and never have to look him in the eyes again. Street wanted to gag when he said that. It felt worse knowing that there were others. But somehow it felt better that at least no one else would get hurt. He wraps his arms around himself, he doesn't want his hands on him again. But rather than it being someone else, he'd rather it be him. He rapped on the door to Amanda's again, she stepped out confused, tilting her head. "Agent?" She asked, "Do you have any paper? And something to write with?" He asked She looked at him confused and then walked off further into the apartment where he hadn't seen and returned with a pen and paper. She handed it to him, her eyebrows pinched in a way that made her concerned. He scribled furiously, and then folded the paper and handed it to her. "If my partners come asking for me, hand them that. Dont read it." Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, her eyes going a little wide "Please" he added. She nodded slowly and pulled the piece of paper and folded it again. She looked up at him and seemed to understand "Agent- I don't know what you might be planning but-" She started, it was almost like a plea, a plea to stop him from doing this. But he would protect others before he would protect himself. He nodded to her but closed the door, with a sharp click his fate seemed to snap itself into reality. He walked off, rushing away. He didn't have a car so he would rather just walk. He knew where he would be, always did. They put the house up for sale after but no one else ever bought it. Its still open.
The sun was setting already, he felt his skin crawl. He dropped his gear by Amanda's house. His phone, he left about halfway down from there. He knew what they would do first, check for his radio. Then after that they would ping his phone. The house was far enough away that he could go without the teams suspicion. If he gave him what he wanted then he would leave others alone. Thats what he had to do.
He didn't need to knock when he opened the door. He heard the small fuzz of the TV that was left on, nothing playing but static. He already knew where he would be. He walked up the stairs, stepping on the steps that he knew would creak. He heard the shift of the bed in the next room when he got to the top of the stairs. Then he saw the door open. It was all like he was away, like it wasn't really happening. He could see the ash-colored carpet below his feet, the way that it indented his feet as if holding him in place, like some other force was begging him to go back. To pretend that it was nothing. To go back to the team, say that he was out following a lead from Amanda that ended up being nothing, he could. But then someone else would get hurt. Hurt in ways that they could be protected from. He took another step forward, and it was like there were hands gripping at his legs, tugging on his ankles crying out. He took another step anyway.
Before he could blink he was pressed up against the wall, by the man whos face he could spot anywhere, by the person who ripped his childhood apart the second time and so many times after that. He pressed his hand against his throat, snaking his another hand to hold both of his hands up. He grinned manically. Street could see his teeth from where he looked down, but when the fingers around his throat tightened he looked up.
"Oh so you still remember my rules?" He sneered, he tightened the grip in his wrists, and he knows that he could fight him off. He could. He could arrest him, take him away. but all of a sudden he felt like a 13-year-old boy again, being pinned down and unable to fight. He moved the hand from his neck and reached down to unbuckle his pants. Street tried to ignore the wave of nausea that hit him. He let his hands down but Street couldn't do anything but keep them at his sides. He pushed his shirt up, he could feel the hands at his hips and all he wanted to do was cry. But he didn't want to give him any more pleasure, he always liked the crying.
"Stop" He said softly. It was begging. But he wasn't shouting, he wasn't crying.
"You came here, didn't you?" He said. Pressing harder on his hips. Street turned his head away, he could feel the man breathing on him.
"I want you to stop hurting other people." He said, shifting his arms, but before he could he dropped one hand and snapped them back onto the wall.
"You move those hands and ill make it so that the whole neighborhood can hear you screaming. Understand me?"
Street nods desperately, he tries to go to some other place, but he feels the zip tie tighten around his wrists and he cant help but let out a sob. He heard the flick of a knife opening and cant help but flinch. He pressed his free hands back down onto his chest moving lower, knife in his hands. He pressed the knife down at his stomach, Street inhaled.
"If you go without resisting I wont have to kill you, Street. I can keep you-ill keep you close. Right here" He said, breathing along his skin as he pushed his hands further down. He shut his eyes, and decided that he couldn't do anything but live with it. He pressed the knife into the right above the hip bone, slowly trailing it further. And then-
"LAPD SWAT, put your hands up!" He heard the shouts echo through the house. And he mind stopped. He hissed and pulled Street into the bedroom. He slapped a hand over his mouth and looked at him.
"You stay quiet."
Street could only nod, his hip burned with pain and when Street whimpered in pain he pulled his arms up again and cut at it again.
"I said quiet." He hissed. He pulled Streets hands down the Zip tie ripping onto his skin, all he could wonder was how they knew. How they found out. This room was further back- they might leave it alone if it seems like the house is clear. And then- the door was slammed open, he picked Street up and held his Knife to his stomach, while not instantly deadly, if he cut deep enough it could do serious damage. Street kept his eyes closed, turned away, and tried to ignore the man breathing down his neck.
"Drop the knife!" Hondo shouted.
"Listen to me-" he shouted from behind him "You let me finish with him and I never go after another person again"
"That's not happening," Hondo says, "Im going to need you to let him go"
He sneered and then pulled Street back as if to plunge the knife deep but before he could he heard the bullet hit him. His hands fell away and suddenly Street was on the floor, and he couldn't breathe. It came rushing back to him way too soon. His hands, his words, everything that he had ever done to him. He grasped at his throat as well as he could with his hands tied. As if trying to replace that man's hands.
"Street- kid I need you to breathe," Hondo said, kneeling right by him. He didn't touch him.
All he could see was the blood seeping into the carpet next to him, the blood of the man who ruined his life.
"Street" Hondo said again, although more desperately. Street tried to get air into his lungs but all he could think about was his hands. Before he could try to talk with Hondo his vision lapsed into darkness.
Hondo didn't know what to think, first Chris and Tan called him to tell him that Street had run off, and he left a note in the victim's hands. Then they find out that this guy was someone who fostered Street previously, and they could only guess then. It didn't take long for them to find him, but what was worse was the state that they did. Street's hands were bound and he was cut up. His shirt they had found in the hallway and they knew well enough what had been happening. Hondo was glad to say that he shot the man holding his kid. When he passed out they rushed him to the hospital.
And now? All he could do was think, all he could do was hope that his kid would be alright. But most of all, he felt anger. He felt anger at never knowing given the way he flinched every time one of them would move he should have known. Now he looks at him lying in a hospital bed, and he looks so small. And what would they do now? Was there any way to help him? All he had was the hope that the world wouldn't feel like it was ending anymore.
Street's eyes peeled open, he watched as the kid looked around, far away, and he saw the moment he looked at Hondo. Street shot up,
"Boss- I-" He tried, stuttering his way through sentences,
"Relax kid," Hondo says
Street looked like he wanted to say something like he wanted to cry. But all that came out was a half cry and he couldn't get another word out. Instead, Hondo just slowly wrapped his arms around him.
"You don't have to say a thing, Street"