(D4)[S] Crown Victoria Confessionals

[David Young Henning]

Time: Day 4, Late Afternoon
Weather: Cloudy
Warnings: Unpleasant smells
Characters: Charlotte Jacobs, David Young Henning [CLOSED]

Henning drove while staring stonily out the windowshield. Charlotte sat in the passenger seat beside him. The Crown Vic was filled with the smell of something wracked and unidentifiable that had been burning unchecked for a good long while, and although some of it was probably coming from their ashen-laden clothes, there was a second, unfamiliar layer to the odor that seemed to exist only to underscore how beyond the limits of reality the day's events had become. Neither of them had said anything since they'd gotten in the car.

The trip back downstairs through the Clock Tower had been nightmarish... Filled with the horrible possibility that the Smoking Man might strike again, while they were vulnerable on the stairwell... At least, those were Henning's fears. He had no idea what Charlotte had been afraid of, or even if she was afraid. He simply didn't know what to think. Eventually, he said it out loud.

"I don't know what to think anymore. All my life I've believed only what was apparent to the five senses... And I'm going to continue to do so. I saw, with my own eyes, someone attacking you up there. I felt the kick of the gun when I shot him. I heard you talking to him, and I can still smell and taste the ashes he left behind. I don't care who you're trying to protect, but you are going to tell me what he wants and why he's after you."

His voice, calm up until that point, became slightly strained. "As for who the Smoking Man might be, I have a few guesses. He wouldn't happen to be the astral form of an old guy in a gas mask and wheelchair, would he? Or a wraith-like version of his already ghostly manservant in the white suit? Maybe they're doing PENANCE for having such an obvious license plate. Am I getting warm? You might as well tell me now, Charlotte; I'd rather hear it from you than from either of them."

He wanted to roll down the windows to let some fresh air in, but he didn't. He kept both hands on the wheel and stared out at the road that would take them back to the hotel. Outside, the clouds hung low and waited.

[Charlotte Jacobs]

Charlotte sat in the passenger seat of the Crown Vic, arm folded around her ribs. The other itched to take his hand... but she wasn’t sure he’d appreciate the contact at the moment. So she kept her hand to herself. She had left her car back by the Clock Tower partially because she hadn’t wanted to attempt driving with freshly broken ribs... and partially because she hadn’t wanted to leave his side. Hadn’t wanted to be alone, even for the drive back.

Her throat still burned and ached from the smoke and the burning grip that the Smoking Man had had on it. She had his blood on her hands, neck, and chin... and it felt disgusting. She felt grimy and unclean. Thank god they were headed back to the hotel.

“What he wants?” she echoed softly. “I’m not entirely certain. I think his purpose is to fight the Shadows... He certainly seems to think it is, anyway. Not sure what his psychological games are about. He thinks he's helping... As for why he’s after me... well, I pissed him off. That’s why.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I put you through that. Maybe I shouldn’t have...”

Her eyes widened at David’s guesses, and she laughed quietly. She shouldn't have been surprised. Looks like she'd be telling him everything. He’d mostly figured it out, anyway. And she wasn’t in a mood to prevaricate at the moment. Especially to him. Not after everything that had happened.

“You’re very, very close,” she told him. “Though neither of those is quite right. The Smoking Man is... the physical manifestation of an alternate personality. Have you ever read Jekyll and Hyde? Well... he’s Hyde. And that’s why we didn’t ‘blow his head off right then’. Because if you kill Hyde, you kill Jekyll. And his Jekyll doesn’t deserve that.”

[David Young Henning]

"Well, if shooting him doesn't count as pissing him off, then I don't know what will," Henning said ruefully. "I don't even understand why he'd be affected. My bullets aren't made of silver or holy water or anything special that I can think of, and I can't even see him, so it can't be me... I guess it doesn't matter. The point is that it worked."

Despite the weariness clashing with the adrenaline still kicking through his system, Henning's mind was automatically beginning to recalibrate itself around the information he'd just learned. He started talking through the clamor in his head, organizing, re-categorizing as he went.

"You mentioned the Jekyll and Hyde thing back on the rooftop. It's been a while since I read the book, but I'm betting the Smoking Man isn't adhering strictly to every little plot point... It sounds like he's mainly riding the dissociative identity disorder angle. I'm not an expert, but I have worked cases involving the condition, and those afflicted tend to be erratic, unstable, prone to frequent panic attacks they can't explain... That's in their 'normal', Jekyll state. They also rarely remember the crimes they committed, or were committed against them, as Hyde. Sound accurate so far? I'm assuming you know his 'Jekyll' identity..."

He glanced at her, then back at the road.

"I know I haven't told you much about him, but I think it's time we took this to Agent York. He's had his own, uh... experiences with this sort of thing, and as a result is currently better equipped than I am to assess the situation. If you really want to help Jekyll, York's an ask questions first, shoot later kind of guy; he'll probably be quicker on the uptake. And I feel like we're dealing with a time bomb here."

[Charlotte Jacobs]

Charlotte laughed wryly, sinking back against the seat.

“I think that was, in general, wholly unexpected.” Hyde certainly hadn’t expected it. And that gunshot had been the only thing that had saved her life. She closed her eyes, listening to David talk. “He comes out to play whenever his Jekyll falls asleep. I think there may be some overlap, though. There was a moment where I saw the two of them too close together for it to just be during sleep. I’m grasping at straws, though. And you’ve hit it on the nose.”

She sighed, opening her eyes to look at him.

“I do now.”

David’s mention of York had Charlotte sitting forward, hissing in pain. Fucking hell.

“Shit. York’s coffee was right.” Not that she hadn’t expected to run into Hyde again... but the coffee’s premonition had been ridiculously spot on. And talking to York about this... she wasn’t sure. He certainly seemed to be fully aware of the... oddities abounding in Greenvale. But... “Are you sure? About Agent York?”

[David Young Henning]

Without thinking, Henning shot out a hand to steady Charlotte's shoulder as she bent forward, hissing. "Are you okay? Maybe we should stop by the hos-"

He stopped. "York's coffee... You've already talked to him, haven't you."

Unexpectedly, he didn't know what else to add to this. He didn't even know how to feel about it. Aware that his face wasn't currently registering an expression, he forced a small smile.

"...It's okay. If there's anything I'm sure about in this whole damn crazy mess, it's that York will have an idea of what's going on. After all, he's handled more damn crazy messes than most of the rest of my department put together. Sounds like you got a taste of it already... Honestly, I've been trying to get a hold of him since I got here, but until now I admit that I haven't really been exerting myself. I was... distracted."

His hand lingered on her arm, as if that small area of contact was not enough, but would have to do for now.

[Charlotte Jacobs]

Charlotte shook her head.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “No more hospitals. I can wrap my own ribs.” Though she was realising that she might need to enlist David’s help. Wouldn’t that be awkward... Maybe she’d forgo the rib wrapping entirely.

“Met him when I popped into the dining hall for a cup of coffee this morning. He’s... weird. Amusing... but weird.” She smiled lopsidedly. “Apparently his coffee warned him that there would be a lot of fire.” Of course, he also warned me to not do anything foolish. Shows how much I listened to him. Though, in my defence... I didn’t exactly do it on purpose.

“Ah... York gets the... oddball cases?” she asked. It would make sense. They would suit him, it seemed like. Distracted? I... wonder if it was because of me. She went to take his hand in hers, then remembered the blood and stopped, her hand awkwardly hovering above his.

[David Young Henning]

"Well, if you're sure... I can't force you to do anything, you know..." No matter how much I think it would be in your best interests! he thought with a confused mixture of exasperation and affection.

"As for the 'oddball' cases... In profiling, there's always an element of craziness involved. York does his job as well as anyone else in the Bureau. It's just that he seems to thrive on cases where the craziness goes an extra step beyond the norm, and the Red Seed Profiles fit that bill to a tee. From what I've heard, he's basically Br'er Rabbit when it comes to weird situations."

He took his hand off her arm as if just mentioning the RSPs might somehow contaminate her, and frowned. Up ahead, the hotel came into view, and Henning pulled into the lot and parked the car. Both his hands were still on the steering wheel, and he was still looking through the windshield as if there was still a road to contend with. He spoke slowly, tentatively:

"Speaking of weird, I had the strangest dream last night... Okay, it wasn't that strange, but I haven't remembered my dreams in years. I was kind of floating in this dark pool, and then I heard your voice... You were asking me if... You were asking me a question, but I forget if I responded before I konked out. Sorry about that, by the way. I must have been more exhausted than I thought."

Outside his window, a tiny bird lighted on the asphalt, apparently confused as to where the dirt and grass had gone. Then it flew away, almost as soon as it had appeared. Henning looked at the spot it had vacated.

"That's all I remember. It was a really short dream." He shrugged, irritated with himself for rambling. "I'm not even sure why I brought it up."

He turned away and started to open his door.

[Charlotte Jacobs]

“I’m very sure,” Charlotte replied with a small smile. She knew he wanted her to go, if only to make absolutely certain that she was all right... but she was done with hospitals for a long while. Especially the bland-faced hospital staff. Of course, a rib punctures your lung you’ll be singing a different tune, her subconscious told her. It was true, probably.

“Br’er Rabbit, eh?” she said, laughing. She had a feeling that York would forever be dubbed such in her head now. Just because it amused her. Something occurred to her, a random question that had lingered ever since her meeting with the other FBI agent. “Does... does he do that badge thing all the time?” She pantomimed the badge flipping gesture.

“It’s okay. You needed the sleep.” She paused. “It wasn’t exactly important. I, um... just... asked you out. On a date. Tonight.” She smiled shyly. “You responded... but I don’t think you had any idea what I was asking.”

She reached for him again, though she was once more thwarted by Hyde’s blood on her hands. Damn it!

“It’s okay. I... like listening to you talk,” she told him, feeling her face flush even as she spoke. Damn you, fair, easily visible blush complexion!

[David Young Henning]

"Oh, I'm sure he'd flip his badge at me given half the chance," Henning said mirthlessly. "I'm probably being unfair, though. I haven't spoken to him since the accident... He was the only person in the department who didn't send me flowers and Get Well cards, for which I'm actually grateful. I can't stand shallow condolences."

His hand was still on the door handle when Charlotte confirmed that he hadn't been dreaming after all, that she had asked what he'd thought she had... She made a movement like she was about to touch him, then withdrew.

"I responded?" he echoed, turning to face her. "What did I say?"

[Charlotte Jacobs]

“Okay, so the badge thing is ingrained,” Charlotte said, “Good to know.” She paused. “Oh! He... asked me to say hello to you for him.” She didn’t add that he’d cut himself off, or any of the other odd things that he’d said. It wasn’t important. What he’d almost said made sense, though. If York hadn’t spoken to David since the accident... He didn’t know that she knew about it.


She offered him a lopsided smile.


“Um, you said, ‘Yeah... I will. Always...’” Charlotte wanted to add something about not holding him to his word when he'd been half asleep replying, but it would only come out awkward, so she held her tongue.

[David Young Henning]

"I did, did I?" A slow grin was spreading itself across Henning's aching face. He got out of the car and went around to Charlotte's side, opened the door for her. Ignoring the blood, he bent down and took her hand.

"Well, I'm a man who keeps his promises. Given what you've just been through, I won't be disappointed if you just want to lay down and rest for the remainder of the evening. Whatever you decide, I'm legally bound to it by verbal contract, but in any case, we should probably wash up. Somehow you still look gorgeous, but I look like I was run over by a 19th century steam locomotive... How is that fair?"

[Charlotte Jacobs]

Charlotte couldn’t help the answering grin that appeared on her face. She had worried... Well, it didn’t matter what she had worried, it looked like it had been silly and unwarranted. She leaned forward after and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Staying in and resting for the remainder of the evening is the last thing I want to do. I want to go out... just be a girl out for the evening with a guy she... cares very much about.” No Shadows, no Hyde... just the two of us. She smiled. “Cleaning up would probably be a very good idea.” His compliment made her blush. Kissing him again she added, “I think you look wonderful.”