We Get What We Want in the Wrong Way

by ValkyrieCry

Summary:

It’s been nearly two years since Arkin escaped the hell-house that was created by The Collector, but he hasn’t been able to move on, in his waking life or his dreams. Spending his days helping police track down criminals, he isn’t aware of someone new stalking him, fully intent on serving him the justice he’s been running from. Waking up in a new murder house, will he be able to escape, or is he too far gone?

It doesn’t help when some familiar faces show up.

Notes:

Hello and welcome back! I’ve heard everyone’s excitement and questions from the last year, and I’m back for the last big part of this series. Now, I will admit I’m not as big a fan of the Saw franchise on its own, but I do like the melodramatics and the connection the Collector movies have with it, so I hope you’ll enjoy this and not think of Saw timelines to closely. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: The Past

It had been a busy night for the dispatch office, from break-ins to injuries and car accidents. One woman sighed as she sat back down, adjusting her headset before a new call came in. “911, what’s you emergency?”

 

“I-I need an ambulance, my van just caught on fire!”

 

Sitting up straight, she got to work, typing away and alerting relevant services. “Okay, sir, can you tell me how many people are hurt?”

 

“Just me, god, I think someone set it on fire!”

 

“Sir, did you see a person tampering with your car?”

 

“I’m not sure, I saw a man walking away, but I just don’t know why it would catch fire when it wasn’t even on!”

 

The woman continued typing decisively asking, “We’ll look into it sir, can you tell me your name?”

 

After a few choppy breaths over the phone, the man replied. “Asa Emory. Please hurry, this isn’t the best-“

 

All at once, the man’s voice cut off, and the call dropped, the woman immediately trying to call back only for the call to fail. “Damn,” she cursed to herself, calling directly to the nearest officers. There was something horribly wrong going on tonight a few towns over, and this could be related.

 

After the officers were sent in the right direction, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number, glancing around nervously. “Hey, I’m not sure about it, but this might be important. Hoffman, just listen, I’m not kidding.”

Chapter 2: Chapter 2: The Present

Notes:

I’m back with the next chapter! Hope you all enjoy, warning for suicidal ideation.

The distant sound of the faucet is the bathroom dripping seemed to echo through Arkin’s skull, and the silence of late night had his heart aching in his chest. He hated this time of day most; no sounds of people out and about, no lulling hum of electricity, no barking or construction. It was just him, left alone with his thoughts. He didn’t like to be left alone with his thoughts, they always came back to that deep, vicious voice: we don’t have to wake up anymore. There are so many ways to end it, we don’t have to do this again.

 

The voice wasn’t new, he had been hearing it, feeling it since he woke up in the hospital nearly dead two years ago, and it always said the same things. He knew what the voice really was, but it was frightening to call it by its name; Depression. Nothing in his life mattered anymore, even when it came to work, friends, even Lisa. He was only here because he didn’t want to hurt Cindy. As he lay in his bed, he debated turning the television on for some trashy late night shows, but decided against it, turning on his side to stare at the dark wall. Maybe he could fall asleep if he let his mind drift. As he contemplated how to get some rest, he heard a soft, familiar knock on the door, the only one that he knew was safe.

 

Lurching up from his sheets, he groaned, grabbing a white tank top from his dresser as he headed for the door. Checking through the peephole, he let out a slow breath as he recognized his friend Jim standing there patiently. Unlocking both the deadbolt and the handle, he pulled it open and ushered him in, locking his apartment up as soon as they were both in. “What are you doing here so late?” He asked, turning slightly as he slid on his shirt smoothly.

 

“Just checking on you.”

 

Arkin walked into the kitchen, reaching for a bottled water to avoid the other man’s gaze. “It’s almost the anniversary.”

 

Arkin pressed his lips together as he leaned against the counter. “…I know,” he finally spoke, voice quiet, and Jim stepped over, silently reaching for his shoulder.

 

“Do you want me to stay a few days?”

 

Shaking off the hand, he walked around his friend, settling into the simple living room. “I’ll be fine. Besides, your daughter’s visiting, isn’t she?”

 

“She said she’d be late, she won’t be here till Wednesday,” Jim followed, but he didn’t sit. “At least let me take you to get a drink or something, huh? You don’t do anything but work.”

 

“Not interested,” Arkin rejected the offer, sipping his water. He was trying to calm himself with the cool liquid, and once he felt more controlled, he continued. “I don’t drink outside of this place anymore, and I’m happy with that. Going to a bar isn’t fun anymore.”

 

Jim frowned, stepping closer. “Alright, I’ll be more direct; you need to get out of this apartment and get a life.”

 

The words irritated him, but he reined in his feelings, shrugging. “I like my apartment, and I don’t need a life.”

 

Jim groaned, gripping the bridge of his nose. “You can’t keep this up forever, Arkin. That murderer died two years ago, and I think you did, too.”

 

Arkin scoffed, but he felt his mouth go dry at the words. They were a little too close to the truth, and it hurt. “I should have died,” he replied, and Jim gave him a glare.

 

“Arkin-“

 

“Look, Jim, just leave. I know you’re trying to help, but I, I don’t WANT help.” Arkin wouldn’t look at him, but he knew how Jim would look. There would be disappointment, there would be sadness, but Arkin couldn’t do this anymore.

 

“I’m not just leaving you here. I know you feel guilty, but-“

 

“Jim, leave!” He shouted, the faint discomfort in his throat turning to fear. He didn’t want to hear what his friend would say next, and he shoved him to the door, unlocking it and pushing him through.

 

Jim grabbed the door for a moment and finally caught Arkin’s eyes, and he was startled to see determination in his eyes. “I’ll leave, but I’m not giving up on you. I’ll come back after Em visits.”

 

With those words, he turned and walked away, and Arkin watched him go before locking himself back inside. Sitting against the door he banged his head back. “Fuck,” he spat, rubbing hard at his eyes.

 

Jim knew he was barely alive. He was worried about him, but he couldn’t bring himself to change his life. He planned to work to make up for his wrongdoings for the rest of his life, then die and leave everything to Cindy. It would be miserable, but that was all he had left in him. It’ll be over eventually…eventually…

 

…

 

Jim sighed as he parked in his driveway, thinking about how to deal with this all. Arkin was drowning in guilt and self-loathing, and he was worried one day he’d find him dead in his apartment. The worst part was that the ex-convict was the biggest victim of his son’s murderer, but he wouldn’t let anyone in to help. Groaning, he stepped out of his car, glancing around before catching sight of a man in a car looking at him. The two watched each other for a few tense seconds before the man raised his hand and gave a light wave. Returning the gesture in confusion, he watched the car pull away, and he entered his house.

 

A bit more wary after his strange encounter with the man, he checked over the whole house, assuring every window and door was locked and no one was inside. Then, he  hopped in the shower, contemplating further; how was he supposed to save Arkin from himself?

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Arkin is most certainly not okay, and the lack of proper resolution is killing him. If you happen to suffer with suicidal thoughts or feelings and need help, please call the suicide prevention hotline, and remember that those thoughts or feelings are temporary, things get better. As for who Em is? Well, we’ll meet her soon!

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Notes:

Hello again! I’m sorry the uploads are a bit slow and shorter, I rather unfortunately have been in the ER recently, not helped with some home renovations not going fast, and things haven’t been easy, but I’m glad to say I love this series, and can’t wait to write more! I hope this next chapter is fun for everyone, and I hope you enjoy! And just to let everyone know, I’m completely fine, but I have a physical disorder that suddenly flared up.

His fingers were tightly clenched as he stared into the eyes of the Collector beneath him. He was back in that murder house, match in hand , and the murderer was laying on that pile of bodies all over again. But this time, he pulled back the match, and the man smiled, giving an awful grin that split his face in half. The murderer grabbed onto the walls with both hands and climbed the wall like some horrible demon. In a flash, he was right in front of Arkin, and he grabbed him, tossing him down and pulling at his clothes as he bit Arkin’s shoulder.

 

Arkin tried to fight, tried to yell or push even a little, but he was powerless, and the hands stripped him of his clothes. As the murderer pulled him closer, he could hear whispered words right into his ear, praising him for his good behaviour and promising a reward. Tears fell down his face as he fought to be free, but he was pinned down, completely helpless. Looking around for anyone, he caught sight of Trevor, Jim’s son, walking around covered in blood and deathly pale, pointing one white finger at him. “Your fault, you killed me,” Trevor said, watching as the Collector began to rock against Arkin, eyes dead and glassy-

 

Arkin awoke with a start, his chest pounding from the dream. He’d had it dozens of times, but he never got much farther than those words from Trevor. They had imprinted themselves into Arkin’s very psyche, leaving his a sweaty and scared mess. As for the Collector, he had more than his fair share of dreams about him murdering or torturing him, but he hated this one the most. It revealed how weak he had been in that house. It was only by sheer luck that the dying match managed to help him set the monster ablaze, because he wouldn’t have.

 

He rolled to his knees beside the bed, taking his time to move his fingers and toes, to remind himself he was conscious before he stood. You’re awake, they can’t hurt you, he repeated in his mind, rubbing the back of his hands in a steady motion. As his heart rate began to drop, he stood, and he went for the shower, ready to relax before work. Undressing and turning on the water, he thought back to the dream, and he wondered if that man was alive. He didn’t think so. It had been nearly two whole years since the murder house was burned down, and last time he got away, that man had tracked him down within at most hours. But now? Nothing.

 

Arkin was relieved, but a small, stupid part of him was sad. He didn’t know why, but something in him hoped the man wasn’t dead. He hated that a monstrous murderer was able to worm past his defenses and sink those Stockholm claws deep. Arkin pushed away those thoughts as he stepped into the hot water, scrubbing his skin until it was a slightly sore red, climbing out and toweling off as his alarm started to go off. Well, it was time to head to work. He dressed briskly, stomach twisting as he went for his medicine and downed the pill dry before peaking out his windows and peephole. As soon as he was sure no one was outside his door, he quickly unlocked it and stepped out, chest tense as he looked around. No one was in the grimy hall.

 

Arkin closed the door behind him and locked it, body only half-turned to see what he was doing. He didn’t trust others anymore. He walked briskly to the stairs, rushing down the and going for his car the moment he was outside. His eyes constantly searched his surroundings, and he lightly swallowed when he saw a man walking toward him, his features sunken in with age. The man glanced at him, then immediately looked forward again, ignoring him. He only relaxed once he was safely settled into his car, doors locked as he put the car in drive. It was just another normal morning.

 

…

 

At his own home, Jim was getting ready for work, just barely finishing with his uniform when a call came in. Scrambling for his cell, he snapped it open and pressed it to his ear. “Officer James Harling speaking,” he said in a practiced tone, waiting for the voice on the other side to speak.

 

Instead of hearing someone speak, the other line was completely silent, only the faint sound of breathing present. “Hello? Hello, who is this?”

 

For another several seconds, the other side was completely silent, and he almost thought to hang up when the other person finally spoke, her voice soft and a bit raspy. “Is Emily there?”

 

Jim was unnerved by the voice, but tried to push away the unease building in his stomach. “Emily? I’m sorry, I don’t know an Emily,” he replied, not sure if they meant his daughter.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Em told me that this was her dad’s number,” the woman continued, and his discomfort vanished.

 

“Oh, you one of Em’s friends? Her full name is actually Emma, not Emily,” he replied, and the strange woman chuckled.

 

“I’m sorry, I thought she said it was Emily. She told me to call since she left her phone in her dorm room. She left last night and I was wondering if she made it safely there yet.”

 

“She left last night? Weird, she said it would be a few more days,” he mumbled, trying to figure out what she was doing. “Anyway, no, she’s not here yet, but I’ll keep an eye out and let her know you called. Can I get your name?”

 

The voice was quiet again for a second before responding. “I’m Amber. Tell Em I said hi.”

 

With those words, the line went dead, no goodbye or anything, and Jim felt the unease come back. Was this actually a friend of Em’s? He’d have to ask her when she made it home…

 

…

 

The phone call was short, but once it was over, the woman laughed, the rasp completely gone from her voice. Shutting off the phone she had been using, she pulled out a second one from her pocket and made a separate call. “Hello. Don’t worry, everything’s going well. I found out the girl’s name; it’s Emma. She’ll be home in the next few days, so I’ll keep an eye out. Once we get them, we’ll find him next.”

 

With that, she gave a short goodbye before hanging up, settling comfortably down on a nearby chair and staring at a familiar picture of a scruffy man. It was a mugshot from several years earlier, and the woman tapped her fingers on her knee. “Don’t worry, Arkin, we’ll find you soon, just hold on.”

 

She let her eyes drag back and forth across the terrifying wall of information around that photo, pictures of him at the city police department as well as pictures of Jim and his daughter, but none of Arkin’s home. Soon, she thought, soon.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Notes:

Hello again! Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I was having some trouble writing. In other news, my husband got back after nearly 8 months away, and I prioritized him, but I wanted to get this out ASAP. Hope you all enjoy!

Arkin arrived at the station before Jim today. Checking in and getting his temporary badge, he headed to the conference room, one officer watching him closely as he stepped inside. It was a chaotic organization of paperwork and white boards placed in a circle, victims’ photos taped to the glossy surface with scrawled details beside them. Dozens of people, all dead or horribly mutilated, their bodies left for the police to find. Everyone knew who the killer was, the cancer patient John Kramer, but he  had another name: Jigsaw. Arkin looked over the details, the familiar numbness of his medicine keeping him calm. He was called in to try and find a pattern, some way to predict what Kramer would do next, but it only seemed to expose him to several prejudiced cops. If it weren’t for Jim, he would have been thrown in a cell the moment he stepped foot in the station.

 

“Looks like the convict’s here,” a harsh voice came from behind him, and Arkin looked back to see Daniel Rigg giving him a disgusted sneer.

 

“I woke up early,” Arkin barely replied, lowering his eyes, and the other man scoffed.

 

Rigg scowled as he grabbed a separate file, and grumbled something under his breath. That was better than their last few interactions, but Arkin understood; things were stressful with this mass-murderer on the loose, and no one wanted to trust a past criminal. This time, Arkin moved to study the photo of Doctor Lawrence Gordon taped to the board, reaching for the file beneath it. There was something strange about his account, and Arkin wasn’t sure if it was because he was lying about something or if it was just too painful to fill in the rest of the details. How did he get away after he cut off his foot? And where had he been taken?

 

Pulling out three papers, he began to read between three different stories before the door opened again, this time letting in Jim, as well as someone else. He was taller, and his hair was a dark brown. With a strong jaw and wide frame, he was a more imposing man and something in his eyes rubbed Arkin wrong. He wasn’t sure where, but he felt he had seen this man before. “Arkin! Good to see you in. Wanted to introduce you to one of my colleagues: this is Detective Mark Hoffman, he’ll be helping when he has the time.”

 

Arkin offered his hand, but the detective ignored it, giving him a hard stare. “You’re the guy who survived that other serial killer, right?”

 

Arkin pulled back his hand, balling it into a fist. “I’ll be here two more days, then I’m gone. I won’t get in your way,” he replied, turning away. Jim’s shoulders slumped a bit.

 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hoffman said, but his tone had gained a bit of steel, his face devoid of sympathy.

 

“Yeah,” Arkin responded, keeping the answer short as he felt the distant building of adrenaline in his chest. Even through the numbness, it let him feeling sick.

 

“And how’d you do that?” The detective pressed further, only backing off as Jim grabbed his shoulder, giving him a disapproving look.

 

“He’s here to use his worst experiences to help us catch Kramer, not for an interrogation. Let him do his part,” Jim said, his voice firm. Turning, he locked eyes with Arkin. “I need to talk with you for a moment.”

 

Waving a goodbye to the others, he led Arkin out of the room, and then through the back of the station, into the gated parking lot. Arkin walked past him, not wanting to turn around. They would talk about last night. He was so tired of this…”Arkin, look, I’m sorry about last night.”

 

Arkin was a little caught off guard, but he turned around, biting the inside of his lips to ground himself. “I’m not angry, I just don’t wanna talk about it,” he pressed, and Jim sighed, leaning back and twisting away.

 

No one was enjoying this conversation.

 

“I guess I just…want you to move on. Be happy. Fuck that murderer, it’s not you fault,” he spoke but he refused to look at Arkin.

 

“I know, Jim,” he said, but his friend’s silently clenched jaw said he didn’t believe him.

 

“Well, one way or another, I crossed a boundary last night, I shouldn’t try and force you into anything. And for that, I’m sorry.”

 

Arkin wanted to shout and cry all at once. He didn’t WANT Jim to apologize, he wanted him to hate him, to be angry and lash out about his son’s death, just like-

 

“I HATE YOU! I wish you died instead!”

 

Like Jim’s daughter.

 

“Let’s just put this behind us, okay?”

 

Jim gave a short hum of agreement, and they went inside, but both knew the conversation wasn’t finished. Neither noticed the blonde girl hidden behind a car, her eyes locked on Arkin. It was like a rush of memories came back when she finally saw him. She wasn’t expecting to see him today, but it left her excited, heart beating fast. He was so close, she could see the lines on exhaustion beneath his eyes, and she most certainly heard every word of their conversation, a conversation that made her a little nervous. What did they mean, last night? Crossing a boundary, forcing Arkin to do something? She knew what it all sounded like, and HE wouldn’t like it one bit.

 

Standing, she slowly made her way back to the opening she’d found in the fence, pushing through and being as inconspicuous as possible. It wouldn’t do to have anyone notice her now, especially not with all the kidnappings and murders. She had to be careful. When she finally made it to her van, she hopped in and locked the door, pulling out a cellphone from her pocket. Dialing quickly, she pressed the phone to her ear, only feeling more and more uncomfortable as the ringing continued. Finally, it went to voicemail, the automated voice harsh against her ear. When the beep finally passed, she couldn’t only get out a short whisper.

 

“Hi, this is important, please call me back.”

 

And with that, she hung up.

 

…

 

It was mid-afternoon when he finally made it home. He waved at one oblivious neighbor, walking into his bright home, past the blank walls and perfectly curated living room, up the stairs and to his private study. It was tightly locked from the outside, only able to be opened with one key, the one in his hand. Twisting said-key in the lock, he opened the door, and the pure darkness of the room seemed to swallow up any light that went in, the corner of a desk barely illuminated. Stepping in, he turned on the light, and the wide swath of photos and articles were spread out, showing off so many pictures of Arkin.

 

He touched the smooth surface of the paper like he did everyday, and barely noticed the small light on his phone. Reaching for it, he noticed there was a message left, and he pressed a button to have the machine play. It was Abby. It had to be something important, or she wouldn’t have left a message. And that could only mean one thing.

 

Arkin.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Notes:

Hello, next chapter up! I know there’s a lot of building up of how things are going, but in either the next chapter or the one after that, things start to get more…dramatic.:) I hope everyone enjoys!

Inside the station, Arkin was combing through Gordon, Amanda, and detective Kerry’s statements about their traps and interactions with Kramer. As he did, he noticed something; it was small, maybe irrelevant, but it could mean something. “Jim, can I talk to you?” He called, and said-man came over, looking at him with some hope.

 

“You find something?”

 

“I’m not sure, but there might be a link to lead us to future victims,” he said, putting down all three papers.

 

“Dr.Gordon had an obvious connection to Kramer, but what about Amanda? She was just a random find for him? I don’t think so. As for Detective Matthews, he was well-known on the streets for-“ Arkin stopped, glancing up to see Rigg giving him a death glare. “-For being a police officer, and making sure he got the truth out in whatever way he could. And he actively harmed Kramer? Something there had to be personal.”

 

Glancing at Jim, he looked down, and said. “I know you already know all of this. Do you have a profile on him yet?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

From the door, Detective Allison Kerry walked in, followed closely by another tall, dark-haired man with a strong jaw. He didn’t look familiar in the slightest. “We’ll have it in the next few days. Everyone, this is Agent Strahm, from the FBI. With so many deaths, he’s been sent to help us.”

 

Kerry’s eyes locked on Arkin, and he felt a bit uncomfortable at her penetrating gaze. “This is Arkin O’Brien. He’s one of the only survivors of the spree killer targeting family homes and businesses.”

 

Strahm barely glanced at him. “You brought a civilian in on a sensitive case? Why?”

 

Arkin felt apprehensive, but spoke up. “I’m only here to make connections from my experiences. I’ll leave if you don’t want me.”

 

The man turned to him, and Arkin felt that same distant dread from earlier. “O’Brien, I’ve read your previous file, and I know why you were even at that house. You’re a criminal, and you haven’t even met Kramer. What could you possibly have to offer?”

 

Arkin felt a pain in his chest. God, I’m so stupid, why did I even open my mouth? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Turning, he kept his eyes on the floor, and said a few soft words. “If I don’t, they’ll die.”

 

The words seemed to stir a reaction from the detectives. Each looked away, shuffling uncomfortably. The words hit deeply in each of them, because they still couldn’t stop this man after years of searching. How many officers had died, how many mothers, fathers, sisters or brothers? Far too many. For the first time, Strahm seemed to actually look at Arkin, and flashes of horrific photos played in his head. Still stiff-voiced, he asked one question. “How did the spree killer choose his victims?”

 

Arkin didn’t like to think about this subject, but he took a deep breath and pushed through the fear. “He…took a van around and advertised as an exterminator. Once they hired him, he would case the house, targeting the families with one intention; kill and collect.”

 

“Collect?” Strahm interjected, and Arkin looked at him, but his eyes were hollow, lifeless.

 

“From each house, he took one person. Most of the people he took would be tortured to death in the first few days, but if he liked you,” he said the words bitterly, face devoid of emotion, “He’d beat you just bad enough to hurt, but not kill. For him, people were like bugs or toys. He could break or kill you for no reason other than he was mad. He-“ Arkin stopped, glancing at Jim before looking away. “Anyway, he was the opposite of this guy. Kramer seems to pick people he feels need to be punished or change, while the Coll- the spree killer found a house or family, then targeted them without any prior knowledge of them or, or…”

 

Strahm raised a hand, stopping his stream of words. “Okay. I’ll have my sources get backgrounds for all known victims. How many do you have here?”

 

“Just the ones with records,” Kerry answered, and she took over, talking in hushed tones while Arkin tried to relax against one wall,  running a hand through his hair while Jim stood silently, looking uncomfortable. Across the room, Hoffman, glanced between the two men, a slow sneer stretching across his face. For the last few days, it had been this way, Jim always being at the station while O’Brien was there. He had brushed anyone who asked him about it off, simply saying it was because he was his former parole officer, but everyone knew how Jim’s son had died. There hadn’t even been bones identified as his son’s, nevermind a body. He had been murdered by the spree killer while O’Brien was also a hostage, and anyone who knew about the deaths suspected O’Brien was involved. After all, what was the likelihood that his parole officer’s son would have been kidnapped, too?

 

Hoffman knew plans were coming together to finally test O’Brien, but he liked the idea of just cutting him in front of Jim. How could he stand to even look at someone so closely related to his son’s death? There had to be some other reason Jim spent so much time with him, and Hoffman had his thoughts. Was it drugs? Maybe some strange sexual thing? Or was O’Brien holding something over his fellow officer? Hoffman reassured himself that he would know in just a few days.

 

Across the room, Arkin was calming himself, taking slow breaths. He glanced at Jim, who was standing next to him but looking elsewhere, as if to give him some privacy. He let his eyes wander, and focused in on Detective Kerry and the FBI agent. They were talking softly between each other, and Arkin couldn’t make out any words. He looked away and found himself caught in the cold gaze of the other tall detective. Hoffman stared at him the way the Collector had when he was going to torture him. Arkin clenched his hands until his fingers went white, and he pushed himself up, only one thought in his mind; you have to run.

 

…

 

When Abby picked up the phone, she felt a bit nervous. She knew HE was especially obsessive when it came to Arkin, and if what she heard had any truth to it, he would be furious. “Hello, sir,” she spoke softly, and his firm voice came smoothly across the line.

 

“Have you found him?”

 

“Yes, sir,” she replied, but she knew he would be angry. “I followed that officer; he and Arkin were at the police station. I’m not sure why. I-I wasn’t able to follow him; he wasn’t parked where I could safely see him, but I’m still keeping an eye on the officer.”

 

The other side was silent for a moment before responding. “It’s disappointing, but can’t be helped. If anyone suspects you, it’ll be over for everyone. I’m glad you chose to keep yourself safe,” he finally replied, Abby feeling only a little relief. Now came the hard part.

 

“Sir, th-there’s one thing, and I don’t know how to explain it,” she said, trying not to drop into a whisper.

 

The other side stayed silent, so she rushed out the words. “What they were talking about, I was able to hear it, and…the cop was at Arkin’s house last night, when I had to leave. They were talking about it, something about the cop trying to force Arkin into something. He-he apologized for going too far and pushing Arkin into something.”

 

…

 

Arkin elected to leave before any records came in that day. “I need to calm down, talking about this is-it’s more than I can handle,” he’s said, but he couldn’t shake the look he had gotten from Hoffman.

 

Driving home, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a car was following him. Even when it turned off halfway, he couldn’t shaking the paranoid fear. His medicine wasn’t working well enough, so he had to take the emergency meds before it got any worse. If he was lucky, he might get some sleep, but today may be a day of watching the news and sitting in the dark of his apartment, keeping all the doors and windows locked. Either way, it wasn’t going to be fun.

 

As he got out of his car, looking around with narrowed eyes, he saw a work van, and that set off his panic. He sprinted for his apartment, fumbling with the locks before he made it in, slamming and locking every part he could, running to his bedroom and grabbing a knife from the kitchen. You gotta take your medicine, even if that was him, he thought, but he couldn’t move, staring at the door. Waiting.

 

He waited until his eyes got heavy, and the knife was put on his bedside table, the fear giving way to exhaustion. I’ll sleep for just a minute. Just…a…minute…

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Notes:

Hey, I’m back! I’ve had the last several days in bed while on a new medicine, and it gave me plenty of time to work on this! Now I can’t guarantee another chapter as soon as this, but I hope you enjoy!

Jim got out that after noon as normal. He had been planning to stop by a local diner and eat before heading home when he got a call. “Hello?” He replied.

 

“Hey, dad,” the smooth voice on the other end was familiar, and he found himself smiling.

 

“Em! How’s your trip back? Having fun with your friends?” He sat in the parking lot as he spoke with her, tapping lightly on the steering wheel.

 

“It’s been good, but Nessa had an emergency with her family, so I’m heading home right now. I’ll be there in the next two hours. Are you home yet?”

 

He felt a burst of excitement, but also a start of shock. “No, I stopped to eat, but I’ll head home instead. I can make us dinner if you want,” he offered, and she gave a small laugh.

 

“That sounds nice, dad. I’d like that.”

 

He grinned as he thought of what to make, and said, “Well, I’ll have to let you go then. You know, gotta drive safe.”

 

He could hear the sardonic tone as she responded. “O-kay, dad,” then continued warmly. “I love you, I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Love you, sweetheart,” he replied and hung up, starting his car up. Tonight was getting better already!

 

…

 

It was already late afternoon when Arkin woke up. The panic and fear had passed sometime during his sleep, but even rest didn’t lessen the exhaustion. Yawning and stretching, he reluctantly crawled out of bed, heading for the kitchen. He was just about to pull out a frozen dinner when a knock came from the door. A hard knock. The painful tension of panic came back to his whole body, and he was careful as he checked a window beside his door. To his surprise, he not only recognized the man at the door, but had seen him that day. It was the agent from the FBI, Strahm. Cautiously undoing every lock but the chain latch, he pulled the door open a fraction, glancing around.

 

“Can I help you,” he said the words neutrally, less as a question than a statement.

 

“Hurry and let me in, I don’t want to compromise you if anyone from the station followed me,” the taller man said the words firmly as he looked around, eyes hard.

 

Arkin didn’t WANT to let this man in. He wasn’t someone Arkin knew or trusted, and he didn’t make a habit of letting in people he didn’t know or trust. Still, this man was more dangerous to him if anyone in the complex found out he was a cop, so he unlatched the chain and ushered him in, locking the door behind him and checking the curtains vigilantly. “You’re always this careful, aren’t you?”

 

It was Agent Strahm behind him. “You’d be this way too, in my position,” Arkin replied, but his words were short, not forgiving.

 

“You know exactly why I treated you the way I did-“ the other man started, but anger finally took over.

 

“Yeah, I know why you and all the other cops treat me how you do, but they don’t find out where I live and tell me to let ‘em in, do they?” He snapped. “What the hell do you want?”

 

The agent looked mad, but Arkin wasn’t worried. Out of the two of them, he was the angrier. The man gritted his teeth and replied. “I came to talk to you about the spree killer.”

 

Arkin wanted to say he was tired of talking about him today, but waited, just gesturing for him to keep talking. “You never told police who the man was or what he looked like,” Strahm kept going, “Why?”

 

He sort of froze at the question, eyes trailing to the floor as he remembered the face, the bright eyes and cruel smile and rage filled frown. He could still see the him staring at him from the bottom of the laundry shoot, could still remember the confusion and fear at trying to drop the match. He shrugged before replying. “I was in a really bad way after…after that place burned down. It took a long time to be well enough to talk to anyone. When they brought him-the murderer-up, it was too painful to talk about. So they stopped asking.”

 

Strahm took in the should movement and aversion to looking at him and asked, “Are you protecting him?”

 

Arkin cringed at the words, sneering and balling up his fists. “That fucking monster nearly killed me, he’s lucky I didn’t do worse to him when he-“ he stopped on the last word. There was something blocking the idea that the Collector could be dead. “Well, anyway, I’m not protecting him; I just don’t want anything to do with him.”

 

“Even if finding out who he was could mean some of the families get closure?” Strahm spat.

 

Arkin immediately pictured an angry teenage girl, tears running down her cheeks as she swung a vase at him. She’s almost hit him before her father stopped her. “You said you saw my file. Why do I, ” he snarled out the word, “have to do anymore than I’m already doing? I went back into that place to save a girl, I’m working with the police to find the Jigsaw killer, I can’t go see my daughter because of this, and instead of the families hurt by that monster, some Fed comes to me to judge me on not doing enough? The only thing left I can do is die,” the shorter man was shaking from adrenaline and anger, but his eyes were wet.

 

The taller man opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say. “I set the bastard on fire after he stuck a knife through my face. I did my best,” he continued, but his voice was more sad than angry now.

 

Since he heard of the case, Strahm had felt no sympathy for the man that broke in and was tortured for more than two weeks. He felt every wound, every mental and physical attack the man had faced was deserved for being not only breaking into a home, but letting all but one member of the family die. Now, though? He felt shame drape over him. This man was broken, he was a wreck. What happened to him left him a shell of a person. “Why we’re you even at the Chase house,” Strahm said, and Arkin let out a short laugh, the sound ugly.

 

“My ex had debts with some loan sharks, and it was the last day. I had been working everyday I could legally for months, but there was no way I coulda got the money in time. So, I went to steal the Ruby in their safe.”

 

The words were bitter, and just as hard to hear as it had to be to say. Strahm finally understood; everyone has a reason. What would he have done, in Arkin’s place? He didn’t know. He didn’t speak again, because, what could he say? Arkin chose to grab him by the sleeve and pull him to the door, pushing him back out. “Don’t ever fucking come back,” the shorter man snapped. “Fucking weirdo.”

 

And the door was slammed in his face. Strahm had thought he would be able to talk about this more privately with Arkin, but he only managed to learn something about himself. I’m not a good profiler… He thought he had Arkin pinned, all he had were his own biased beliefs. Turning away, he went back to his car. He’s talk with Arkin when next he saw him.

 

…

 

The man was boiling with rage. He nearly crushed the paper in his hand, gritting his teeth to try and calm himself. “Did you hear what they did last night?” All sorts of possibilities filled his mind, none of them innocent.

 

He couldn’t stop himself from imagining Arkin on his knees in front of the pig, sucking him off. What if it had been worse? What if Arkin had been fucking the stupid cop? What if he’d been lying all those years ago about how he knew him? Stupid fucking whore, just wanted to run back to his cop boyfriend.

 

The man nearly put his fist through the wall, but he pulled back the rage, calming himself with a few thoughts. In just a few days, he would have Arkin and the fucking pig in his grasp, and he would make the smaller man watch as he tore his precious “parole officer” to pieces. “I want you to follow that fuckign cop as much  as you can, and when his daughter arrives, befriend her. It’ll be easy to find Arkin once you have the cop’s trust. Once I have them, you can kill the girl.”

 

Abby replied softly with a, “Yes, sir,” then excused herself, promising to keep him updated. He would kill that fucking cop if it was the last thing he did.

 

Outside his beautiful but bland home, a car sat, and a man watched, his dark eyes sharp. Just two more days, the man thought, starting up his car and leaving. He had a game to finish up.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Notes:

I’m back! I’m really excited as we’re really close to our SAW game, and boy, is that gonna be fun! Hope you enjoy!

When Em finally made it home, the sun was just getting low in the sky, and the delightful smells of food filled the house. Jim paused in his setting of the table when he heard the door open, and he smiled wide, heading to the front room. “Em!” He exclaimed, pulling her into a hug before getting a good look at her.

 

She had cut her hair to shoulder length since last he saw her, and she had lost a little weight. Still, her face was like looking in a mirror: the arched brows, the straight nose, the slim lips. Her eye color, though,was entirely her mother’s, as was the soft shape of her jaw. He felt a little choked at how much of a woman she had become, and how proud he was. “How was the drive, kiddo?”

 

She laughed, brightening her face. “Dad, I’m not a little kid!”

 

“Oh, really? When did that happen?”

 

She patted his shoulder. “The drive was fine, just long. Do I smell food?”

 

He took the cue from her and led her in. “Now, I wasn’t too sure what you’d want, but I made a few things,” Jim spoke as they walked in, and she was a bit surprised.

 

Green beans, mashed potatoes, steak, chicken, she could even smell crab. On the table was a salad bowl and garlic bread, the spread almost overwhelming. “Dad, did you make all of this for me?” She spoke, but her voice was a little distant.

 

Jim rubbed his arm uncomfortably, shrugging. “I was just gonna make the chicken, but it went a little out of control. I had so many options, I thought you might not like the chicken, so I made more.”

 

Em suppressed a sigh, reaching out for her dad’s hand. “Dad, this is great, but you didn’t have to make all this. The chicken would have been fine. If you’re ever worried I might not like something, you can just ask. I’m just a call away.”

 

This had happened before. Em had arrived home on graduation day to three different meals made by her dad. Her mom had been with her at the time, and had been a little confused. “Are we having more guests?”

 

The answer had been no, and neither mother nor daughter had said a word about it. They didn’t really know what to say. He had been different since…Em didn’t like to think about that, it only made her upset. Her father sagged a bit, nodding. “You’re right, next time I’ll ask first.”

 

The two sat to eat, talking about how school was going, Em’s mom, even her boyfriend. “How long have you two been dating now?” Her dad asked around a forkful of food.

 

“Four months,” she replied, but she didn’t speak with the same gusto.

 

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Is it not going well?”

 

Em leaned back, looking away. “He’s really nice, but…he doesn’t really understand why I needed to come home right now.”

 

Jim looked away, putting his fork down. “Emma, you’re young. I don’t know him, but he sounds like he’s young, too. You guys don’t have to stay together, or separate, or really know how to help each other. If he makes you happy, try and explain what happened to him. Does he know about Trevor?”

 

Trevor. It was painful just to hear his name. She didn’t wanna talk about Trevor, she wanted to eat and go to bed! “No, dad, because I don’t know him that well yet. I don’t want to talk about it until I know I really like him!”

 

“Emma, you gotta let people in! You won’t know how he’ll react until you talk to him. It’s better to be honest and not hurt yourself or him by just pretending everything’s okay-“

 

“Just!” Em snapped, slamming one hand on the table. “Drop it dad, okay?”

 

Jim looked like he wanted to say something, but he instead changed the subject, talking about his work. “Well, I’ve been doing my usual, mostly paperwork, a few wellness checks. But…” he paused, looked a little apprehensive, “I was asked to work on the Jigsaw case, just for witness consultation and investigation! No fieldwork.”

 

Em’s slowly improving mood worsened all over again. “Really, dad? You shouldn’t work on that case at all, you could get hurt!”

 

Her father nodded, but simply said, “I personally know one of the witnesses helping map the next movements of Kramer, and he isn’t stable enough to work on it without support. Once he gives all the information he can, I’ll be back to normal desk work.”

 

Em settled a bit, but her mind was working, trying to figure out who he could know that would be related to a serial killer. Only one person came up, but she didn’t want to ask about him. Besides, why would they bring him in for a different case than his own? She dismissed the idea, and they moved on to talk about something else, but the thought stayed in her head; what if it was Arkin?

 

…

 

After kicking out the FBI agent, Arkin got dressed in fresh clothes, pulling on a ball cap and sunglasses. He needed to go to the store, he needed to just get away for a minute. Stepping out and locking his door, he looked around, double-checking  that Strahm wasn’t just sitting in the parking lot waiting for him. Once he was reassured, he speed-walked to his car, getting in and driving away cautiously. He made his way across the town, heading to the nicer, more suburban side. He almost always went to that side of town to shop now, just so no one could easily trace him to his apartment.

 

As the streets went from worn and cracked to dark and fresh, dirty and empty shopping malls and smoke shops turned into small restaurants, ice cream parlors and daycares. Arkin had always dreamed of living on this side of town, raising Cindy and re-marrying Lisa. He had thought he could save her, work a steady job, and buy a proper house with a fence and perfect yard. But, of course, that wasn’t how things went. Instead of a better life, he found himself plunged right down to hell, tortured and beaten by some sadistic monster, one he couldn’t escape even years later. Worst of all, he could barely even see his daughter, and things had long since died between him and Lisa. His life was in shambles, and he had only himself to blame for it.

 

Still, as he parked beside a large grocery store, he found a bit of peace with his horrible circumstances. As awful as he constantly felt, he wasn’t dead, and he had one single friend; Jim. Jim kept him sane these last two years, took him shopping here to keep him company, and promised to help him meet some like-minded people if he wanted to. Other than Jim, he sometimes talked to Elena, but she seemed happy; she was going to college and majoring in criminal law, and she seemed very passionate about it. Looking out at the stucco beige walls, he felt a smile creep onto his face. Things are gonna get better this year. I’ll take Jim up on his offer and join a support group, move closer to Lisa, and take up a new job. I’ll leave this crazy place behind.

 

Stepping out into the warm air, he walked into the store, calmly grabbing a hand basket before making his way through the supermarket. With each aisle, he felt a bit more at peace, even  as doubt whispered in his mind. He could just walk here and let his thoughts drift, letting to coolness and flashy colors fill his senses, dragging him out of his head. Every person he saw, he glanced at before avoiding, moving to whichever side he needed to. Something about this place felt familiar, just as long as he stayed out here. He never strayed toward the bathrooms here, they brought back, horrible, painful memories, and the smaller halls left him feeling panicked. He much preferred the wide spaces. Halfway through his walk, he saw a man with a medical mask wave to him, looking a bit weak.

 

Arkin was careful s he walked over, and the man looked at him with sharp, intelligent eyes. “Excuse me, but I can’t reach the top shelf on my own. Give me a hand?”

 

Arkin’s stomach churned a bit at the gravely voice, but he pushed through it, glancing over. “Sure, what do you need?”

 

His sentence was short and clipped, but the man only seemed to give him another look. “The crackers in the orange packaging. I’m still weak from my chemo, so I don’t have the strength to grab them.”

 

Arkin looked at the man again. He was a bit thin, and his skin was fairly pale, almost sickly. His words cut through most of Arkin’s mistrust, and he relaxed a bit, grabbing the crackers. “Why you pushing a normal cart? Do they not have motorized ones?”

 

The man let out a dull chuckle. “No, not here, but it’s the closest to home. Usually my daughter comes out, but she’s working on a new project at home.”

 

Arkin nodded, stomach swirling with discomfort as a thought came to his mind. Should I offer to help? He hesitated before finally speaking. “Do you-need someone to stay with you?”

 

He left it open-ended in case the man wanted someone who worked there or said no, but was relieved and horrified when the man agreed. The two then walked together through the aisles, and the man talked about his daughter, a former drug-user who had become an apprentice contractor for a development company. “Oh, yeah? Good for her, we don’t get enough women in construction.”

 

The man raised an eyebrow. “You work in construction?”

 

“I did, at one point, but then I got pretty badly hurt, was in the hospital for months. Now, I’m just trying to get back into working,” Arkin supplied, and the man only looked at him.

 

“I see. Was it a work injury?” The man asked the question, and Arkin felt a shiver. Something about his tone made The younger man uneasy.

 

“No, I…was somewhere I shouldn’t have been, and I ended up getting exactly what I deserved. But I made a full recovery.”

 

The man glanced over to the van beside them, as if thinking. Even with how frail he had initially appeared, the man seemed confident while walking and no glassiness was ever in his eyes. His words seemed to lull Arkin, but his eyes seemed to stare right through him. “A full recovery is good, but did you learn from your experience?”

 

That question made Arkin uncomfortable. Had he learned from his experience? Of course he had! But what was he supposed to say to this random man? So he spoke slowly. “I did, but the problems it left me with were just…they were a lot. Sometimes, I’m not even sure how to move forward.”

 

He didn’t know why he was being so honest with this man, maybe it was the knowledge they would more than likely never meet again. The man was silent for a moment, then he said something that seemed off. “You survived, you didn’t live. You have the ability to be much more than you are now, if only you would break through that sadness. You have the ability to change.”

 

The words seemed to be meant as an encouragement, but it made Arkin really take in the man again. Frail and weak as he looked, something about the way he stood seemed confident, the deliberate way he shifted weight, the way he held his shoulders, even the way he looked at him, it set off some animal fear in his mind. “Sorry, but I gotta go,” he barely got out, dropping the hand basket and frantically rushing for the exit, fists clenched.

 

He shouldn’t have come out. This guy had to have recognized him, and that was dangerous. He knew people hated him, and some had tried to track him down. At one point, he had been followed by an irate man for thirty minutes before he had driven to a police department. He’d had to run in without even turning off his car because the man stopped in the street to chase him down. He’d later found out the man’s sister had been a victim, and he blamed Arkin for surviving when his own sister didn’t. After that, Arkin never went out without a disguise of some sort. This had been the first time he was recognized in his disguise, and the naked vulnerability made him feel ill, like he was back in those stinking, deadly halls, head throbbing from sickness and weakness.

 

He didn’t think about anything but driving away as fast as he could, and never looked back. He didn’t see the cold disappointment in the man’s eyes, or the way he left empty-handed as well. He calmly walked to a fairly standard blue sedan, opening the back door as the car started. The stone-faced woman in the front seat turned back to him, face warming as she smiled at him. “How did it go?”

 

The frail man pulled the mask aside, shaking his head slowly. “He’s resistant to the idea he can change, but we’ll all see if he truly has what it takes soon. After all,” the stoic face of John Kramer was revealed, “the will to survive is a powerful motivator.”

Notes:

UPDATE: So, I’m currently working through some chronic pain that may push off any writing. Trying not to get hospitalized, but I want to let everyone know I’ll be taking around a month off from writing. If I feel better earlier, you’ll see a new chapter, but other than that, hope you like the story so far.:) And don’t worry, my pain isn’t dangerous, just chronic!

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Notes:

Hello! I’m back with an update! I’m not entirely sure if this is an official return from my brief hiatus, but we’ll just take it as we go.

This chapter is light on both Arkin and the Collector, but I hope you enjoy the build up! In the next few chapters is when things get real fun!

Enjoy!

Arkin spent the whole night inside, trying desperately to make the pounding in his chest slow. As he calmed down, exhaustion filled him, and he sagged onto his sofa, eyes fluttering as he tried to focus. He didn’t want to fall asleep, but he couldn’t stay awake any longer, finally drifting off. Draped over his couch, he stayed motionless as the sun rose, as his neighbors got up and left for work, only twitching as he heard the faint sounds of something softly shifting near him. He hesitantly forced his eyes open a crack, but saw nothing. Assuaged of his temporary concern, he fell back into a blissfully dreamless sleep, unaware of the man looming in his short hall.

 

Said-man watched him closely for a few minutes, stepping toward him silently. He reached out with gloved hands, tense fingers stopping mere inches from Arkin’s nose. He retracted his hand after a moment, clenching it at his side. Moving away cautiously, the man began working silently, placing small cameras around as inconspicuously as possible. Behind curtains of the window, under the couch, even hidden under his bed, the man only stopped to listen for the man sleeping on the couch.

 

Finished with his task, he moved back to the gloomy bedroom, glancing through the open window before sliding out and closing it. It wasn’t a hard task to not attract attention, as the sight of a man sneaking from a window wasn’t uncommon in this area, but he still gave a glance around to assure himself of his anonymity before making his leaving. He made his way around the smattering of buildings, glancing at the one or two dogwalkers out before slipping into his car and pulling away. He sneered as he thought of the man and his redacted files, reassuring himself it wouldn’t be much longer before he received some punishment.

 

Finally pulling up to the police station, the man paused to make a short call, tapping on the door handle. “Hoffman here. I left the cameras, we’ll be able to keep an eye on him until tomorrow night…Yes, I was unseen.” Hoffman paused for a few moments, a cruel twist of his lips exposing his dark thoughts. “No, don’t bother. I’ll get him personally.”

 

…

 

Jim was a bit worried this morning. He had been excited to finish up his shift quick as it was his last day before vacation, but to his surprise and concern, Arkin hadn’t come in. It was 11 already, and not even a call from the other man, something completely out of character. Arkin had made it a point to call anytime he might be late in the last two years, especially to police, but it wasn’t as if he had to call in; he was simply consulting with them on the Jigsaw case, he had the right to stop helping. And yet…

 

Jim decided to take a short break to call the ex-convict when the FBI agent, Strahm, approached him, looking a little uncomfortable. The stoic-looking man cleared his throat before glancing away. “Have you, heard from Arkin today?”

 

Jim studied the man. Everything about his demeanor was embarrassed and awkward, but he couldn’t understand why. “No, I was about to call him…why, have you found something important you need his opinion on?”

 

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” he grumbled out, gritting his teeth. “He and I had a misunderstanding yesterday, and I was wondering if he left the case entirely.”

 

Suspicion quickly turned to anger. Everyone in the entire precinct had been making snide comments about Arkin and how he’d gotten off scott-free because of some rich backer that had connections, ignoring any suffering he had been put through because of his previous record. If this man came here looking for Arkin’s help and then insulted him so badly he wouldn’t even come in…

 

Jim tried to let out a breath as quietly as he could. “He didn’t leave any messages, but he sometimes has…episodes at night. So he could have slept through his alarms.”

 

Strahm’s face creased in concern. “Episodes? What do you mean?”

 

Jim felt a little satisfied to finally let someone have it. For every comment, every joke and insult on his friend’s behalf, every proclamation of “he deserved it”, or “that’s what he gets for breaking into their house”, he decided to finally let out his anger on this one agent. “Flashbacks, panic attacks, paranoia. It changes based on what triggered the response,” he spat, not even realizing how vicious he looked as he sneered. “He remembers being tortured and kidnapped, even when he thought he was safe in the back of an ambulance. He wasn’t even safe in a hospital, so how safe would he feel in an apartment? But what could you possibly have had a misunderstanding over? It shouldn’t have caused any reaction like this, right?”

 

Jim took pleasure in Strahm’s ashamed face, his eyes dropped and his mouth furrowed into a frown. “Well, can’t talk much, gotta make a call,” he excused himself, stepping into an empty interrogation room.

 

He called Arkin a total of three times, but each time, the call went to voicemail. Finally, he left a short message. “Hey Arkin, it’s Jim. Look, call me if you can, but I wanna talk. Heard that FBI agent talked with you yesterday…anyway, if you wanna talk about it, just come see me, I should be at work the next few hours. Talk to you later. Bye.”

 

Closing the phone, Jim rubbed at his wrist with one finger, still concerned. He wouldn’t tell Arkin what he said to Strahm, it would just embarrass him, but he hoped something changed for the man after all of this. He hoped the man could find some peace.

 

…

 

Em had woken up late that morning. She had slept in until nearly noon, and debated on doing her daily run at all, but thought it might be fun to jog into town. When she made it into the kitchen, she noticed the slightly different shade of paint and the different window frame set into it. She noticed it every time she looked at the wall and kitchen.  It was completely different.

 

She had been lucky enough to be at her mom’s house that weekend. Most of the kitchen and dining room had been entirely unsalvageable, even the support beams blackened and crisped, and had taken two months to fully fix the damage. They couldn’t make it feel like home again, though. The counter was in a different spot, not by much, but it was slightly off-center, and it always bugged her. The texturing or the wall felt different, but Em couldn’t be sure. The worst part of the whole house was one small photo on the wall, one her father had replaced before when she took it down; a photo of Arkin and his daughter.

 

Em had always found it a bit weird that he kept the photo out, but could never get a clear answer as to why. Her dad would always just say it was because he was a good friend, but he’d had the photo for months before they became particularly close, before…just before.

 

Em decided not to focus on those painful memories, putting in her earbuds and making sure her MP3 player was well-charged. Some music would make her feel better. Stepping out of the house, she enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her skin, taking a moment to relax before starting at a slow jog. The stretch of her muscles and the quickening of her heart were comforting, familiar sensations, ones that helped her focus on only one thing: just one more step, one more breath, one more yard. It was easier to break down parts of things now than anywhere else in her life. Somehow, running just made sense, and her concerns narrowed down to her very next step. Should she stay with her boyfriend? Was her dad still talking to Arkin? Would she ever be able to forgive herself for what happened? She didn’t know, and for the next twenty minutes, she wouldn’t care.

 

Running through the neighborhood was a bit painful, but she chose to focus on the happy memories; her first sleepover in the sixth grade happened on the corner of that cul-de-sac, she had eaten way too much junk food and got horribly sick in her friend’s bathroom before her mom came to pick her up. The park a bit further down on the left was where she first kissed a boy, Jake Simons in eighth grade. They dated for two months before having a dramatic and angry break-up over him not picking her up from her class one too many times. God, she was so young and stupid then. As she continued to jog, she slowly sped up, making sure to get used to the sticky heat as she ran. it was too hot to go for a full run, but the café was only a 15 minute walk from the house, so she could run there and back.

 

As seconds turned to minutes and the dense suburbs finally gave way to a large street, Em found her mood lifting, only the heat making her feel uncomfortable. As she reached a crosswalk, she paused, glancing to the side and catching site of a mostly obscured woman. Her facial features were clear, but the deep tint of the glass made any discernible colors vanish, and she found herself locking eyes with the woman, who had a strong frown on her face. She looked troubled, and she was NOT breaking eye contact. Em immediately looked away, her heart twisting at the strange interaction, but she only went back to jogging as the light changed. Well, that was weird, she thought, dismissing the event from her mind.

 

The café was just ahead.

 

As she stepped in, she saw a short line ahead of her, and a petite blonde girl at the very back, looking uncomfortable. Her eyes snapped over at the ringing of the bell, flinching a bit, and she looked away as she caught Em’s eye. Weird, but she seemed more sad than anything, and it reminded her of someone else, somewhere else…

 

“It’s okay, Trevor, I’ll be right beside you once I get there, I just have to wait one more day,” Em wanted to hug her brother through the grainy camera.

 

He looked awful, deep bags under his eyes and a persistent flinch whenever he heard a noise louder than soft footsteps. She’d been on multiple calls with him for the last few days, trying to calm him through his nightmares and fears as their dad comforted him in person. She would have left right then and there, but she was two hours away, and their mother and her boyfriend were out of the country on an important business trip. It had taken nearly 12 hours to reach them in the first place, then an additional 12 to get emergency flights back into the States. They were currently holed up at the airport in Stockholm, waiting for any available flight to open up.

 

“What if they find me,” he asked in a shaking voice, and Em had never felt more useless for not learning how to drive.

 

“If you want, you can come and stay with us. There’s no way they’ll be able to find you, it’s gonna be okay.”

 

He smiled weakly, seeming to really meet her eyes. “Okay, I guess I should get some sleep. Love you, sis,” and he ended the call, Em feeling a bit better. He was gonna be okay-

 

He wasn’t okay.

 

She saw the girl stumble and nearly fall in front of her, and she nearly jumped to steady her, holding her shoulder gently. The girl jolted hard, and Em immediately let her go, giving an apologetic smile. “Sorry, you looked like you would fall,” she said, and the girl’s guarded expression relaxed a bit, a small curve to her lips making her look much friendlier.

 

“Thank you. I have an injury that hasn’t healed well, so my legs are a little weak. People don’t usually help, though.”

 

Em was a bit embarrassed, but pushed through the feeling. “Well, as long as it helped.”

 

The blonde girl really smiled this time, and her sweet appearance eased Em’s own discomforts.  “I’m Abby, nice to meet you.”

 

Smiling back, She said back, “I’m Em.”

 

The blonde motioned ahead of them. “Do you want anything? My treat!”

 

As the two girls talked, Abby’s eyes narrowed for just a moment, so briefly, Em was sure it was just a shift of the eyes. She couldn’t know the monster she had let in.

Chapter 9

Notes:

Hello again! Sorry about the wait, as per the last several months, life has required more attention, but I’m very glad for everyone’s patience and understanding. We’re so, so close to the game actually starting, but not quite there yet, so I hope everyone is as excited as I am.:) Enjoy!

Arkin woke up feeling an uncomfortable twinge in his neck and with one arm numb. It was cushioning his head, and he couldn’t feel his fingers. Sitting up and wincing through the uncomfortable tingling, he tried to blink away the fuzziness of his vision and focus. He had slept so badly, having so many dreams and nightmares. One of his dreams had been a man walking around his apartment, but it had quickly shifted to more violent memories.

 

Standing on shaky legs, Arkin glanced around his living room. Warm sunlight was trying desperately to break past the blinds, a deeper yellow. Crap. He was supposed to go the police station today! He rushed to the kitchen, groaning when he saw the time on the worn microwave. It was already 2:40 in the afternoon! He went for his phone, frustrated at the blank screen. He hadn’t charged it, and there’s no way in Hell he’s going out without his cell. Plugging it in, he took his time to get showered and dressed, finally stepping out of the steaming bathroom twenty minutes later.

 

He was famished, having neglected to eat last night, and thought about grabbing food and calling the station to let them know he would come in another day. His next job was in a little more than a week, and if he didn’t get this finished soon, he may not be able to afford this dinky little apartment anymore. Reaching for his cell, he flipped it open, turning it on and flipping through messages. He has a voicemail from Jim, but he was the only caller. Fortunately, the police hadn’t left any calls separate from Jim’s, but he definitely needed to call them soon. He put the phone to his ear, and listed to his friend’s even voice. “ Hey Arkin, it’s Jim. Look, call me if you can, but I wanna talk. Heard that FBI agent talked with you yesterday…anyway, if you wanna talk about it, just come see me, I should be at work the next few hours. Talk to you later. Bye.”

 

This man…Arkin let out a soft chuckle, rolling his eyes and feeling a bit of tension leaving his back and shoulders. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Jim really saw what he was going through, and liked to pull him out of his pain. Well, he might as well go meet him and talk in person. He’d let the on-duty officers know when next he’d be coming in. Grabbing his phone and keys, he glanced back at the living room, some phantom chill shooting up his back.

 

He had been so sure someone had been standing over him, but that couldn’t be possible; he kept the place locked up tightly, and nothing was moved or missing. It had to be a strange dream. Still, what was the harm in checking before he left? Without a second thought, he went from room to room, checking the locks as he did. All the windows were closed and locked, short poles of woods guaranteeing the window would stay closed. That was, the windows were all locked…until he got to his back room. He initially believed it was also locked, but with a simple tug, the window slid, stopping short only by the wooden pole on the track. There was nearly a full inch of space. Horror settled in his stomach, and he found a way to jam the window closed.

 

His bedroom window had a broken lock. Could someone have actually been in his place? Unlikely, but not impossible. He needed to talk to some acquaintances from work to try and source a new lock, because there was no way his landlord would fix the problem for him. Maybe he should talk to Jim about this? Arkin cautiously locked up his apartment, glancing back and forth to catch sight of anyone who could be watching him. Going to his car felt like forever, but it was over without any incidents.

 

He tried to call Jim from his car, but the man’s phone only rang before finally going to voicemail. He decided to just hang up and try and catch him at the office. He should have a few more hours before he left for the day, so he might as well talk to him in person. Not only did he want to talk about that terrifying dream, but he wanted to talk about the man from the night earlier; maybe he could get some clarity of what had happened and how to handle it.

 

Damn, what would I do without him? Arkin wondered as he drove calmly, tapping his fingers before finally turning on some music. He had to relax, all this worrying wasn’t doing him any favors. Things were different now, things would be okay.

 

…

 

When he made it to the station, Arkin was surprised to find that Jim wasn’t in. He spoke to one of the officers there, and he was told Jim had started his vacation already, so he’d have to wait for him to come in another day. Arkin shrugged, trying to call him a second time, but this time he could hear a phone ringing distantly. “Hey, is that Jim’s phone?” He asked, and the man he was speaking to got up, walking back as the phone kept ringing.

 

The sound abruptly stopped as the phone call connected, and he could hear the man on the other side. “Hello, who is this?”

 

“Yeah, it’s me. Guess I’ll talk to him another way,” Arkin responded, hanging up the phone and waving to the same officer as he left.

 

Arkin hopped back in his sedan as he thought of what he should do next. He didn’t know Jim’s landline, but he DID want to talk to him, and if he waited any longer, his daughter would get in. He had said she would come in any day now, and Arkin really didn’t want to make anything harder for his friend. So, he decided to drive over that very moment. Pulling up to the house, he stepped out, glancing up at it and shivering for a moment. He glanced around instinctively, searching for anyone that might have been looking at him, but found no one.

 

It had to be paranoia.

 

Walking up to the door, he knocked, half-turning back to glance around the many cars on the street, and he still saw no one.

That was when the door opened.

 

…

 

Em had spent a good portion of the afternoon with Abby, talking over coffee and pound cake. The other girl seemed sweet, if a bit awkward and distant, but she attributed that to her being shy. Em had met plenty of shy people in school, and they were all fairly nice under the surface of stuttering and soft voices. They spoke about all sorts of things; makeup(apparently Abby had been an amateur model for a friend’s makeup before),music(Abby was a big fan of emo music, but appreciated pop), and school.

 

Abby liked to listen to what she said, and only put in a few tidbits about herself, but at the end of their talk, they had exchanged numbers and were making plans for the future. Em felt some of the tension of the last few days drain, and she was far more relaxed when her dad arrived home two hours earlier than she thought. “I thought you had a full day of work today,” she asked with a smile, offering him a glass of water.

 

He took it, laughing and setting his holster on the counter. “It was a slow day, so I came home early; our volunteer consultant couldn’t make it today.”

 

Em raised an eyebrow, still wondering who this consultant was. “Why, he have work or something? Jury duty?” She teased, and he shrugged, but his heart wasn’t in the smile.

 

“He didn’t say.”

 

Em glanced at him before turning back to the television, waving for him to follow. “Come on, I want to watch Twilight with you, it’s about to start!”

 

“Is that the one where the dad is a cop?”

 

Em laughed, rolling her eyes. “Is that seriously all you remember?”

 

“Hey, it’s the most important part of the movie, right?” He was giving her a crooked smile as the sat down.

 

“Dad!”

 

Over the next two hours, the father and daughter sat on the couch, joking as laughing and sometimes actually watching the movie together. It was a good day, the best day they’d shared since their whole lives were uprooted. As the movie ended, Jim groaned, standing and stretching his back. “See, wasn’t that a great movie with a great dad,” Em said, and he let out another long sound of discomfort, rubbing at his face.

 

“As long as you liked it, Em,” his voice was dry, and he turned for his room, “I’m gonna get changed before we start working on dinner, okay?”

 

“Yeah, dad!” She called back, looking through the channels for anything good on. Mid-search, she heard a firm knock on the door, standing and walking over. Who could be at their door? One of her dad’s friends? Maybe a co-worker to drop something off?

 

Reaching for the handle and pulling open the door without a second thought to even check the peephole, she stoped in her tracks, startled at who she saw. Mostly turned toward the street was a man she would recognize even in her sleep. She had seen his silhouette thousands of times, had crumbled up old, water-damaged missing posters that had never been removed, she had even seen him walking away as she shouted vicious, hateful statements at him.

 

This was Arkin.

 

As the door opened, his eyes lingered out toward the street, and he said,” Hey, Jim, did you know you left you phone at the sta-“ he froze as he turned, eyes widening as he met with a pair of rage-filled eyes, a sneer twisting her face.

 

How was she already here, he said she would be arriving later this week! The two were frozen for a few seconds before the sound of footsteps approached from inside the house. “Who’s at the door, Em…”

 

Jim came walking up, face confused until he saw Arkin.

 

His face fell, and he quickly looked to his daughter, who was going red in the face. “Now Emma,” he started, and she let out a shrill scream of anger, slamming the door closed before searching for something to grab, anything.

 

She reached for a nearby shoe, one of her dad’s dress pairs, and flung the door back open before her dad could stop her. Arkin was still frozen in place, eyes bugging as she threw the shoe at him, aiming for his head. “I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE US ALONE!GET OFF OUR PROPERTY! “ she shrieked, and he narrowly avoided getting hit square in the face with the shoe, shuffling back as Jim grabbed her and pulled her away.

 

“Emma!”

 

“WHY THE HELL IS HE HERE?!” She was livid, trying to break free to chase the man down, ready to punch him in the nose until he got the hint.

 

“Jim, I-“

 

“Arkin, just go!” Jim shouted as he dragged his daughter further into the house, kicked the door closed behind him.

 

Em struggled until her dad let her go, trying to calm her down with soothing words. She was so mad, she smacked him straight across the face. “How are you still talking to him?!”

 

Jim was stunned to silence, his face stinging while she pounded on his chest. “Why? Why, why, why! What about Trevor!”

 

She had started sobbing, falling to her knees, her father gently helping her to the ground. He hugged her as she cried, letting her wail and shove her fists against him until she calmed down, enough to be a soft sobbing. “I’m sorry, Emma. I should have told you sooner. I just didn’t wanna hurt you.”

 

The anger came back, and Em pushed her father away, standing shakily but all on her own. “You shouldn’t have kept talking to him! He’s the reason Trevor is dead! Why don’t you care about that?”

 

Jim, tight-lipped, pulled away, crossing his arms. “Emma, we’ll talk about this once you calmed down.”

 

“No, we’ll talk about this now! Why do you pick some criminal over your own son?”

 

Jim’s jaw tensed, and he snapped back, “Emma Marie, I am not picking ANYONE over Trevor. The man who killed him died, Arkin is the reason that happened, and he didn’t force anyone to break into our house and take him. You treat a man who survived torture like he personally killed your brother, and for what? It won’t bring Trevor back, and it won’t make you feel any better.”

 

Em wanted to punch her dad. “I hate him,” she spat, “and I hate you, too.”

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Notes:

Hello, everyone! I wanted to update as a little gift to everyone during the holiday season.:) Now, this chapter is a little shorter, but it’ll lead into a longer one next time. I hope everyone’s December’s are going well, and enjoy!

Arkin ran back to his car in a panic. He hadn’t been expecting for her to already be there, wouldn’t Jim have said something? God, was that why he left early today, because she’s made it home?! Shit, shit, shit!

 

He hopped in the driver’s seat and started the engine, flooring it away as fast as he could. It was only about five minutes later that he noticed his hands were shaking, barely able to hold on securely to the steering wheel. Pulling to the side, he slammed his fist on the dashboard, tightly clenching his other hand in his hair. “Fuck!” He shouted, feeling sick as his heart beat furiously.

 

Arkin scrubbed at his eyes as they burned with tears, suppressing the sobs in his chest. Don’t fucking cry, stop it right now! You don’t deserve to cry! He stayed tensely in his seat, fighting against his emotions before shutting off the car and stepping out. He was on the side of the road, only unkempt weeds and overgrown grass to one side while cars whizzed by on the other. He couldn’t really stay here, but he needed a minute, and he didn’t want to stew in his car any longer.

 

As he walked along the side of the road, he finally felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket, and pulled it out. Flipping it open, he cautiously replied, “Yeah?”

 

“Arkin, it’s Jim,” the voice on the other end said, and he immediately felt some dread settle in his stomach.

 

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t know your daughter would be home, I just-“ he cut himself off, waiting to hear what the other man would say.

 

“Look, let’s talk about it after her visit. She’s not doing so well right now, so you probably won’t hear from me for the next few days.”

 

Arkin nodded to himself, the weight in his stomach lightening a bit. “You, uh. You left your phone at the office.”

 

“Thanks,” Jim said on the other end, and it was silent between them for a moment.

 

“I won’t keep you any longer. And Jim? I really am sorry,” Arkin said, his voice wavering.

 

“I’m sorry, too.”

 

…

 

Jim hung up the phone, leaning back into his sofa. Em had been livid, and her last words before she stormed off to her room had hurt.

 

“I hate you, too.”

 

He should have tried to understand her anger better. He and Em had always struggled to talk about problems, but the last two years had been even harder. He glanced at the kitchen, feeling helpless. He wasn’t hungry, but she might be. He wouldn’t go bother her so soon after their fight, so he went to his room, grabbing a hat and heading toward her room, lightly knocking. “I know you don’t wanna talk to me, but I want you to know I’m heading to the office to grab my cell phone. If you go out, just text me; I love you, Emma.”

 

He waited for a moment, in case she spoke or opened the door, but only silence greeted him. He slumped his shoulders, walking away and heading through the front door, eyes hesitantly turning back toward the inside of the house. It reminded him of the last time he saw Trevor. He wanted to stay, wanted to have her talk to him and be okay, wanted this problem to just be gone, but that wasn’t going to happen now. She wouldn’t understand why he stayed friends with Arkin, and he wouldn’t force her to not blame him for Trevor’s death.

 

Finally closing and locking the door, he went for his own car, unlocking it and driving listlessly toward the police station. He watched the road closely, but he still thought back on his talk with Em. He wanted so badly to tell her what happened, but Arkin refused to talk about what happened, even with him. The two would sometimes drink together, and he usually cried quietly to himself after a beer or two, but he would still refuse to speak on it. How could he tell Em about Arkin’s assault at the hands of Trevor’s murderer when Arkin had never given him permission to talk about it, and would Em even care? Would she finally see him as a victim if she found out, or would she think he deserved it?

 

He couldn’t do that to Arkin, and he wouldn’t have Em keep blaming him more and more harshly. He worried over this through the whole drive, not able to think of any solution without first asking Arkin for his permission. He tapped on his steering wheel before shutting off his car and heading into the station, waving to the evening and night staff as they noticed him. Heading to his desk, he saw his cell phone on the corner, and he picked it up and checked it, disappointed when he didn’t see any texts or calls from Em, only a few from Arkin.

 

Slipping it into his pocket, he turned and was surprised to see Hoffman. “You’re still here?”

 

The tall man laughed, replying playfully. “I could say the same to you. Thought you were on vacation with your daughter?”

 

He slapped his pocket. “Forgot my cell.”

 

Hoffman joked with him for a moment, the two walking toward the door together. “How’s Emma?” Hoffman asked casually, and Jim gave a tight smile.

 

“She’s doing okay; seems like she’s having a rough patch with her boyfriend, but I hope she’s able to figure it out.”

 

“Yeah? Well, best of luck to her,” he said, nodding kindly as they separated to their individual cars.

 

“Oh, Jim!” He called, turning back partially. “You seen Arkin today?”

 

“I saw him in passing,” he said, and some strange look came over Hoffman’s face.

 

“Let him know to come in when he can; I had a question for him.”

 

“Sure, Hoffman, I’ll let him know.”

 

Jim tried to shake off the unease he felt , but it stayed with him all the way home.

 

…

 

The man was watching one of the older news reels of Arkin being declared missing. He stared at the face unblinkingly, thinking up how exactly to properly subdue the man. As fun as it would be to bend him over and fuck him the moment he found him, it was only a fantasy of his. If he planned to keep Arkin this time, he had to catch him by surprise and keep him completely under control. He was contemplating what type of rope would work best to keep him under control when his phone rang.

 

He snatched it up, answering quickly. “Hello?”

 

“I know where he lives.”

 

Glee bubbled up his throat, pleasure so strong he didn’t hold in a chuckle. Abby found him, and not just that, she found his home. He was so close to being caught, the man could practically feel him in his arms, struggling and fighting. He could hear the curses in his ears, smell the blood he would spill of that damned pig that befriended him. It was so, SO close!

 

“Good job,” he murmured, opening a chest in his study to reveal multiple ropes, knives, and hand cuffs. “We’ll strike soon, once I get the equipment together and you have the girl.”

 

“It’ll only be a few more days,” she replied softly, and he ended the call, eyes moving back to the recording, the burning husk of the Chase house clearly shown as firefighters attempted to put it out. Soon, Arkin, he thought, grinning wildly. Soon.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Notes:

Hello again, everyone! I’m sorry for the VERY long wait. Suffice to say, I sorta had the ridiculous fanfiction author situation. I have been diagnosed with two life long disorders so far, have the possibility of two more, one of which has severely limited my mobility, ability to regulate and manage pain, and makes me super exhausted. On top of that, someone very close to me was sexually assaulted by a friend, and I couldn’t even begin to focus on a story like this for that time. Recently, as I’ve learned to manage my disorders (don’t worry, nothing life-threatening, just difficult) and worked through the guilt in therapy, I was ready to continue here.:) I love this story, and if I really feel like it, I’m thinking of a third part that could be completely read as a separate story, though I would want to write at least most of that before I confirm it.

With all that, I hope you enjoy this first chapter back as a late Merry Christmas or Early New Years, based on what you celebrate.:) Enjoy!

Abby had been watching outside the house when HE pulled up. Arkin. She couldn’t believe it, it had taken months to even track him down to still being in town, and only a few days after first seeing him, she was able to see him again? It was like a miracle! She stayed low in her car, eyes following as he got out of the car. Abby’s heart jumped; what if he and the cop actually did have a relationship? Arkin so rarely went anywhere, so why would he come here? He glanced around as he walked up to the house, focusing temporarily on some of the parked cars around her before knocking on the door. He turned back out to the street, eyes roaming again before focusing on hers for a moment. She felt a moment of panic, leaning down low to avoid his eyes before the door opened behind him.

It was only only a few seconds later that she heard a vicious scream. It was filled with rage, and she peeked her head out, shocked as she saw the cop’s daughter tossing shoes at Arkin, screeching at him to get off the property. Arkin had stumbled away, rushing back to his car and pulling out as quickly as he could, eyes only briefly turning to look at the house before he left. Abby felt a rush of excitement, turning on the car and following him as quickly as she could. He was driving quickly, but she easily kept pace, staying just far enough back that she could make out the numbers on his license plate. The string of letters and numbers were like a lifeline, one she searched for whenever she lagged behind. All at once, cars were flooding the highway, and she was working overtime to keep him in her sights. He was slowly getting over to the right, finally pulling off to the side, Abby being forced to keep going for another half a mile or so. Pulling off as well, she kept an eye out, simply waiting for his car to pass her again, raw anxiety gnawing at her heart. Come on, come on…

It took what felt like forever for her to see his car again, and she was back on his tail. Come on, come on! Turn after turn, she followed, the streets slowly becoming more worn as bustling shopping centers gave way to dilapidated buildings and shady-looking businesses, homeless individuals pushing carts around slowly. They had crossed to the bad side of town, the drab apartments and unkempt grass painting an ugly picture. She checked once more that it was the right car, chanting the license number in her head as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Finally, he slowed, turning into a large apartment parking lot, stopping his car and turning it off. She pulled around the street, performing a U-turn before pulling in, parking far enough that he wouldn’t see her staring.

She was desperate to find his little hideout. Her eyes didn’t blink as she watched him exit, walking to the central building. She knew it was too risky to follow now, but she had to call him, had to let him know! Scrambling to grab her phone, she clicked speed dial, and shook as the phone slowly rang once before connecting. “Hello?” The familiar voice was guarded, but she knew he was anticipating her words.

“I know where he lives.”

…

Em sat on her bed, earbuds blocking out all sound. She was mad at herself. She had never liked Arkin, even before Trevor, but it had always been her dad who kept an eye on him. She hadn’t wanted to explode on him, but she just felt so betrayed; her family was victim of his choices, and if they hadn’t been campaigning for Arkin’s safe return, his wife and daughter would have been dead, too. She remembered after police first found Arkin, his wife and daughter were practically in the witness protection program. The massacre at the bowling alley made it clear that Arkin’s family was the target, and that everyone else had just been “caught in the crossfires”. That was bullshit. Arkin was a thief and a convict, and she was sure all of this had to do with his criminal ties. He was robbing a house when he went missing, for god’s sake! She felt no sympathy for this piece of garbage who took her brother from her!

She pulled out her earbuds, too distracted to find the music soothing or catchy. Awkwardly pulling open the door, she tentatively called out, “Dad? Do…do you wanna watch a movie?” 

Silence.

Em stepped out, looking back and forth. “Dad?”

Only the faint hum of the dryer running downstairs answered. What the heck? She slowly walked downstairs, feeling a strange sense of foreboding. The living room was clean and empty, no news playing, no crime drama or buddy cop flick. She went for the kitchen, and again, all was clean and in order. It was already 9:30, there was no way he was still asleep. She went for the landline, dialing her dad’s mobile. It took a few rings before her dad’s voice filled her ear. “Hey Emma, you awake kiddo?”

Hearing him was a relief, and she relaxed her shoulders. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Left my phone at work, had to grab it. I knocked on your door before I left, were you asleep?”

Em’s chest bloomed with warmth. Her dad was always like this; forgetting to leave notes or not charging his mobile. She laughed a bit, smiling. “I was listening to music,” she explained, “Wanna grab breakfast? My treat.”

“Your treat? Now what type of dad would I be if I didn’t spend all my money on you? I’ll pay!”

She rolled her eyes, but the fond smile grew on her face. “Okay, dad,” she drew out, saying goodbye and hanging up.

She headed back to her room to get dressed, not seeing the tall figure step out from the kitchen pantry. They followed her for a moment, pausing as she ran up the stairs happily. Sure she wasn’t coming back out anytime soon, the tall figure cautiously exited through the back door, glancing around a moment before rushing to their car. They sat in the driver’s side, pulling out a phone and calling in. A strong woman’s voice filled the car. “It’s all ready for tonight’s game. They’ll be going for breakfast. Yes, I’ll be careful; they won’t be hurt.”

Amanda clicked off the call, staring with distaste. She had never liked this man, but it wasn’t about her; It was about John, and John felt Hoffman should lead the kidnapping. All she would need to do was wait for his okay for them to go, and the father-daughter duo would be subdued. The game was so close, she couldn’t help but marvel at John’s plans. This would be an elaborate game.

…

Arkin had slept badly that day; the window lock was still busted, and the swirling guilt made it hard to even close his eyes. He dozed off once or twice, but gave up on sleep by 7:30. He groaned, tossing his arm over his eyes before he eventually dragged himself off the small couch. He had slept on it more than his actual bed the last week, and his back was complaining at his lack of proper positioning. He barely had his eyes open as he nearly fell into the shower, a burst of cold water jolting him awake. He needed to just suck it up and sleep in his bed; he only had until Monday off, and it would be misery if he had to adjust his sleep while working construction. He pulled on fresh clothes, rubbing at his scruff before deciding it could go another day before he took a razor to it. Hurriedly pulling a comb through his hair, he rushed through the door, locking it quickly. He was so tired, he didn’t even glance across the parking lot. He didn't take notice of the dark SUV parked on one side, and especially didn’t notice the worn out white sedan on the other side.

As he drove, he blinked his eyes to try and alleviate the dryness, but eventually pulled into a shopping center to rub at them. God, he should have grabbed coffee before leaving, what was he thinking? Glancing to the side, he took notice of the SUV, blinking for a few moments before it parked across the lot. He felt a bit suspicious, but chose to simply head for the station again; if he was being followed, nowhere would be safer than the police station. With a heavy chest and aching eyes, he pulled back onto the road. Just a bit longer…

…

The streets of the city were busy that morning, and the low hum of people and cars drove away any uneasiness left. The SUV had not followed him, and the faint crispness in the air was waking him up. He glanced down the street to the local coffee shop, choosing to grab something strong enough to keep him up the next few hours. Arkin basked in the sun for a moment, letting his body relax. He had always liked working outside, but now, it was sometimes the only place he felt safe. Houses, buildings, anywhere a door could hide some unexpected horror, it left him feeling uncomfortable. But out in the sun, people all around laughing and talking? This was as close to peace as he had gotten since he broke into the Chase home. Not even speaking with his daughter brought him any peace; it only made him feel he was putting her at risk. What if someone went after her to hurt him? Or worse, what if she found out what happened to him? How would she look at her dad when she found out a man-

The thought was absolutely repulsive. She couldn’t find out, NO ONE should have ever found out! He no longer wanted to enjoy the sunshine. He just wanted to grab his coffee, finish today with the police, and go back to work. When he worked, he didn’t think about any of this, he could just shut off his brain and move wood, set up windows and finish floors, really anything they would give him. He never felt weak or scared there. While Arkin went to get his coffee, trying to shut out the terrified voices in his head, the white sedan pulled into the public parking lot, a tall, broad figure stepping out before it pulled off. He wore a medical mask across the bottom of his face, but it didn’t hide the glossy burn scar on his left temple. It also didn’t hide his strangely bright eyes, ones that roved up and down the busy street, finally landing on a head of brown hair. He moved closer, keeping his head low and staying to the more densely packed areas. All at once, the ground parted, and he saw the thin back and strong shoulders. He immediately was sure.

This was him; this was Arkin.

He followed closer, keeping his attention focused for when his head turned. He needed to see his face, he had to see his face! The slight man turned, angling for the coffee shop, and his jaw was exposed, faint stubble lightly streaked with white. He felt his stomach flip for a moment, his step faltering for just a moment. Arkin hadn’t had any greying in his beard, why was there greying? Could he really have mistaken someone else for his Arkin? For the first time since that stormy night, a swell of panic settled in his chest. What if it isn’t him? What if I lost him again? The thought nearly set him into a mad frenzy. If this wasn’t Arkin, his Arkin, he would skin the man alive, torture him for even daring to look similar, tricking him-!

Finally, the man glanced back as he stepped in, and he saw his full profile. Deep set eyes with dark circles under them, a slim, straight nose, thin lips and high cheekbones. A few extra wrinkles had gathered at the corners of his eyes and a few small patches of white had grown into his beard, but there was no mistaking him; this was his Arkin, alive and nearly within reach. All the anger and fear vanish, the violent thoughts all vanished, only indescribable joy blossoming in his chest. He was here. He was here! It had only been a fleeting moment before Arkin turned away again, the exterior of the store their only barrier. He had to get closer, he had to touch him-

…

Arkin left the coffee shop already chugging down half of the cup. It was hot and just a bit bitter, but the sensation seemed to help him focus. He had only been in for about 15 minutes, but the streets had already emptied a bit. People were still milling around comfortably, but it was as if the rush of people heading to work had all fled, and only some stragglers were left. He walked toward the station slowly, trying to enjoy his coffee when someone fell into step behind him. The man was nearly half a head taller than him, and his shoulders were much broader. He could have easily outpaced him or pushed past, but he didn’t. He kept two paces behind him, getting a step closer or a step farther for a second or two, clearly trying to stay back. No one cared; why should they? It was just another man walking the streets of the city in the morning. But this man only had eyes for one person.

His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles nearly visible through the leather of his gloves. He followed Arkin step by step, stopping behind him as he paused for a crosswalk. He had to be sure this was real, even for just a moment, he had to touch! 

Arkin felt a chill up his back as he walked down the street, glancing around. He was trying to see if he could find any eyes on him, any person staring, but he couldn’t find anyone. He waited at the crosswalk, hands balled around his to-go cup, biting his cheek to try and soothe his anxiety. He thought about earlier, about the SUV he had been paranoid over, and tried to push the feeling down. Just a few more yards, and he would be safe! Facing forward, he took another swig of the hot liquid, grimacing at the burn now. It made him feel worse, but for now, he just had to keep his eyes on the police station. 

Behind him, a few feet away, the man towered over him, a medical mask across his face. He stared down at the smaller man in front of him, his shoulders shifting as he took a deep breath, trying to inhale the other man’s scent. He was irritated by the sheer amount of other smells that overwhelmed him, all getting trapped in the substance of the mask. Still, he was so close, so, so close…

The light turned green, and the small crowd of commuters rushed onto the street, Arkin speeding up particularly fast. He was nearly into a jog. This was the man’s last chance to do this, to reach out. As Arkin touched the other side of the sidewalk, the man lifted his hand, letting one finger reach out a brush meaningfully across the bottom of his shirt while he quickly turned to walk to the right, breaking away from Arkin for now. Arkin felt his shirt shift, and the faint pressure of something caressed his lower back. The sensation woke him up faster than the coffee, faster than the cold shower and the nightmares. It was like his entire body reset, and any exhaustion vanished, replaced by the primal need to survive. He snapped around, sneering fiercely, nearly bumping his coffee into an older man behind him. “Watch we’re you’re going, dammit!” The man snapped, but Arkin only shuffled to the side, looking around the edge of the building.

A few people had turned the corner, but he had no idea who could have touched him. He had seen one man walk into a nearby store, and a few men and women trudge along, but no one looked back. He was restless, but chose to slowly walk to the station. He was just making it all up now; maybe no one had touched him, and even if they did, it was probably an accident! God, he needed sleep. Stepping inside, he fumbled for his medication, taking one final swig of coffee to swallow the pill. Then, he trashed it. He no longer wanted the heat and bitterness. He just wanted to get this done, then head home.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Notes:

Hello again! I’m so happy to put out this next chapter! This was a little emotional to write, and if any of you feel similar to Arkin, please, PLEASE, know you’re not alone in this. If you have any thoughts of self-harm or suicidal ideation, please, reach out to the proper hotlines. If you are in the US, that number is 988. All love to everyone, enjoy!

Arkin was checking in when Hoffman stepped out to see him, smiling cruelly. Arkin’s brows pulled down at the expression, shoulders bunching slightly. His eyes slightly hurt from the light, and he rubbed at them. He was being overly rough, and stopped feeling more agitated. He just needed the medicine to dull everything for now, just needed a bit more time to calm down, then he’d go home and sleep…

He jolted as a rough hand slapped his shoulder, harder than was necessary. “Come on now, you need to relax, Arkin,” The deep voice made him want to punch out. He didn’t like people saying his name like that, it always made him think of that man. 

Arkin glared up at Hoffman, no longer hiding his hostility. The taller man seemed to enjoy his anger, unhanding him and motioning for him to follow. “It’s your last day here, so don’t cause anymore problems, huh?”

Arkin scoffed, but kept his thoughts to himself. He wasn’t interested in arguing about his treatment here, or that the so-called “problems” had always included others harassing him. He would look one last time at their newest evidence, and then he would leave. He hoped it wouldn’t even take an hour. The moment he stepped through the door, he felt his mood droop even lower. Rigg was the only other officer in the room, and he immediately sneered in disgust. Something about that look was particularly upsetting today. The moment the door closed, Arkin spoke up, “Let’s get this done.”

Rigg turned away, glancing back at him one last time before looking through computer records. Arkin had spent his whole life taking those looks, and it was only now that he was getting tired of it. He bit his cheek to rein in his anger, glancing over some newly added photos. He paused at two photos, side by side. Two individuals, both in the Jigsaw uniform. Arkin studied them, then reached over to a separate full body photo of John Kramer. Kramer was not overly short, nor was he too tall. Judging it against the photos, he frowned. The person beneath the Jigsaw disguise was short, short enough that they seemed delicate. Even with how sick Kramer was, he had never been so thin-framed. He glanced over to the photo of Kramer again, feeling a strange sense of recognition. Odd, he had never met the man, why would he seem so familiar…

As he stared at the photo, a horrible thought surfaced, reminding him of the other night at the grocery store. The man had been frail and clearly ill, but he had held himself with a strange confidence. It was as if he had complete control over everything around him, and he knew it. He had thought the man had recognized him, and maybe he had, but what if that wasn’t why he had called him over? What if he was Kramer? And why would Kramer approach him? There’s only one reason a serial killer would approach him, one that liked to torture people, just like-

The agitation swelled in his chest, filling him with terror. No, no, not again, he couldn’t do this again! He felt as if his whole body was shaking, a cold sweat beading along his back. He had to calm down, he had to make sure! That terror faded to a low ache in his chest, spreading numbness through him as he stood up fully, eyes turning to the others. Rigg glanced up, face dropping the disgust as he took in his empty expression. “What? You figure something out?”

Arkin lifted the image, waving it slightly. “I think I saw this guy in the grocery store the other day. He started talking to me, asking me weird questions…”

Rigg’s face immediately was filled with anger. “The hell are you talking about? What, some guy walks up to you and asks you weird questions and you think it’s the Jigsaw killer?”

“No, that’s not all, he looked sick-” Arkin tried, and Rigg tossed a binder down, pushing the chair away and pointing at him angrily. 

“I knew you were a criminal and a coward, but you wanna blame some sick man in a grocery store? For what? Attention? God, you’re a monster!”

Arkin’s terror had completely vanished, only the bite of adrenaline making him feel nauseous, and the sting of his words filling him with anger. No one cared that he suffered. No one cared that his family was targeted. No one cared that he almost died. All they cared about was that he was a criminal, that he couldn’t save almost anyone, and that HE survived when others didn’t. They hated him for not dying. What punishment would they think was enough? Would they still hate him, even if he died now? Why did no one care about him? That’s not true, Jim cares. Abby, Abby cares. Arkin felt the ache of grief sink into his bones as he realized he was only certain of two people that cared. Still, did he want Jim to care? His son died because of him, his home and family were torn apart. And Abby…Abby deserved to move on.

Rigg had been watching him as he blankly stared, anger only worsening. “Well, are you gonna say something?”

The anger finally spilled out, and he dropped his expression to one filled with hate, the change so sudden Rigg froze, his snide comment dying on his tongue. “I get you fucking hate that every stab and beating I got didn’t end my pathetic life, but maybe you should worry more about Kramer than me; I’m not kidnapping and killing people, I’m trying to HELP you!”

Rigg’s mouth dropped for a moment, rage spreading across his face. “What did you just say?”

Arkin didn’t falter. “I didn’t fucking stutter. You wanna talk shit about me, fine, but I didn’t make it out of a torture dungeon to just take your fucking shit! You’re just wasting time, and time isn’t something Kramer’s victims have. So take your head out of your ass and let me help you!”

Rigg grabbed his shirt collar, raising his opposite fist to knock a few of his teeth out when someone pulled him back forcing him off of the ex-convict. “Easy, easy,” Hoffman’s voice was close to his ear, filled with warning. “Can’t get you out of anything if you hit him.”

Rigg was shaken from his rage-induced delirium, taking several deep breaths before he looked back over at Arkin, seeing his heaving chest, raising and falling as he snarled. The expression wasn’t one a normal person would make, it was like a rabid dog. “ Fucking psycho, trying to make me fight him,” he spat, but a strand of guilt made him look away. He was ashamed to admit he had started it, that he had never really thought Arkin’s help mattered at all. 

Why would he trust some criminal? Not only some criminal, but a criminal who only ended up caught by the spree killer because he had committed another crime. He knew it was wrong, but he didn’t feel bad for him, not even a little bit. Arkin could see the hypocritical gleam of self-righteousness in the man’s eyes, and he hated it. Ever since he was a kid, everyone looked at him and his mom like this. They had to steal to survive, and everyone said it was their own fault. No one had any sympathy, so he had to do what was necessary to eat. He had always only done what he had to do, even when it was wrong, and these smug, sanctimonious pricks thought they were better  because they didn’t have to make bad choices. He was so tired of no one understanding, no one caring-!

Arkin turned and aimed his fist at the whiteboard behind him, cracking the surface and causing several large chunks to fall to the ground, papers and photos scattering. The pain seemed to sooth his anger and sadness, and he took several deep breaths, taking notice of the two cops staring at him in the silence. He laughed as he reached for his hair, running his aching fingers though. “God, what a fucking idiot, all I can do is make things worse.”

He looked over at the men with dead eyes, face losing any joy or anger. “You think I don’t know? That I don’t have nightmares of everyone who died because I wasn’t strong enough or didn’t listen well enough? You don’t know a fucking thing about me, you don’t know what I gave up, what I lost. You will never understand. You just think I fucking let them die so I could live? I would do whatever he wanted to protect them, and you, you!”

He angrily flung a marker across the room, hitting the wall behind the two men. He finally collapsed, holding his head as the weight of his exhaustion settled back onto him. He sat huddled on the floor, hands yanking his hair harshly. Rigg was unnerved by the behavior, taking a step back as he watched in alarm. Hoffman was not so sympathetic. His lip curled in disgust, patting Rigg and ushering him to the door. He didn’t feel like playing the mature detective right now, and Rigg was smart enough to know he should step out. After the door closed, Hoffman slowly approached Arkin, not even trying to hide his disdain. “I’ll be nice this time and won’t arrest you for assault on an officer, so get up and stop acting like a child.”

Arkin snorted, laughing at his weak threat. “Arrest me? Why not, at least it’s better than out here. There’s nothing you can do to me that’ll be worse than what’s already happened. Ever since I stepped into that damn house…”

This time, it was Hoffman’s turn to laugh. “What are you hoping for, sympathy? No one made you go into that house. The moment you stepped foot inside, you sealed your fate. Everything that happened after is entirely your own fault.”

Arkin loosened his grip on his hair, looking up at the detective with a dead smile. “I guess you’re right.” Arkin had started all this when he made a deal to get the ruby. He had suffered because of that, and he wanted the suffering to end.

Slowly, as if without thought, he lowered his hands to his neck, slowly tightening the grip until his skin took on a sickly white color just past his fingers. His face began to redden slightly, and the reality of what he was doing hit Hoffman all at once. He was strangling himself. Hoffman immediately tackled him, pulling his arms behind his back and shouting out, “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Arkin stayed silent. He was tired of arguing. Hoffman scrambled for his cuffs, locking his wrists behind his back and pressing down his chest. “You are being detained until I’m sure you are not a danger to yourself or anyone else.”

Arkin ignored him as he was dragged to his feet, and ignored all the eyes on him as he was dragged to an interrogation room, seated roughly on the metal chair. After locking the door, he called someone over, pointing out Arkin, head leaned forward to rest on the table. “Keep an eye on him for now, get some people on paperwork to sit in on him in shifts. He’s made some statements that lead me to believe he’s not in a healthy state of mind.”

The young officer nodded, giving him a calm smile.

Hoffman didn’t have the energy to smile back. For once, he had been truly rattled. He had seen something in Arkin’s eyes, something he had never seen before, something that cut through his disgust and indifference. It was like black ice lined the back of his pupils; cold, dark, and unpredictably dangerous. It unsettled him more than being held at knifepoint by Kramer. In spite of the man’s murderous hatred being directed solely at himself, Hoffman could almost feel it from his dead gaze. Worse than those blank eyes was the lack of hesitation to harm himself, something so foreign to the detective that he felt himself shudder at the fearlessness. The quiet, distant ex-convict no longer seemed arrogant and aloof, he seemed like an abused animal, shying away until the moment he could not escape, only snapping to gain his safety and willing to bash himself to death to stay away from the danger. He had heard of wolves and dogs running into walls until they died, but had never known a human could exhibit the same behavior.

He pitied the man, thinking back to the slightly redacted dossier. Dozens of cuts, some deep enough to have been stitched up, layers of bruising in different stages of healing, dehydration and starvation, as well as several other physical injuries entirely redacted, as well as a broken arm from his escape. Truly, he did sound like an abused animal, but it was still his own fault. He had broken into his employer’s home, stolen from him, and was unable to save the family. If a dog led to the death of a family, he would shoot the damn dog himself. He turned away from the interrogation room door, soothing the confused fray of his mind. Every criminal had to be held accountable, even the ones who were pitiful.

…

Arkin left his head against the table, feeling tears in his eyes. He hated the feeling, it always filled his mind with that man’s face, leering down at him. He knew the Murderer liked it when he cried, and it made him hate it even more, disgusted that anyone would be turned on by his terror. He blinked the tears back as much as he could, only managing to have them drip onto the table. He chose to sag more, keeping his eyes further closed as his shoulders shivered. Silent sobs were squeezing his chest tight, but he refused to let them out of his throat. He swallowed each wrenching quake, keeping his torso in place as he finally took a deep, shaking breath in through his nose. The pain and hurt was still there, but he had let it sink back down, hidden under the resilience of his caution toward the world. He rubbed his face against his arm as discreetly as he could, pushing his body up slightly. God, he just wanted to talk to someone.

He reached down for his phone, pulling it out as the cuffs jangled uncomfortably on his wrists. He just wanted someone to reassure him, someone to pull him out of that dark place his mind had slipped into earlier, that place that was always tugging him toward a tall bridge or a cold lake. He needed someone who cared. Trembling fingers touched the small buttons, blurry eyes staring at the meager few numbers registered. He couldn’t call Jim, they already talked about him needing to spend time with his daughter. He couldn’t bring himself to call or text Lisa, finally living a life not bogged down by his crimes and infamy. Below the guilt was a deep dread. What if she finds out, what will she think, that I let a man-

No, definitely not Lisa.

Finally, his eyes looked down to the third number, one he always hesitated to tap on. He pictured the blonde girl, eyes wide and glassy, healing thin cuts crisscrossing the back of one hand. She wore pink, and was kind, but distant. Abby. Abby would understand, but would she want to talk about this? Would she just want to live her life without the horrible reminder? He felt the unease bubble in his stomach, but tapped on the contact, choosing to text her instead of a call. At least then, she could choose whether or not to answer him. Yeah, that would be okay. He could deal with it if she didn’t respond, he WOULD deal with it!

Typing out a quick, frantic question, he put the phone down, leaning back and jittering his leg. He wasn’t going to focus on the thought of her getting back to him, why would she-

DING.

…

It hadn’t even been 10 minutes since they had left the downtown area when Abby’s phone vibrated in the cupholder. The man looked down, pulling it free questioningly. He had believed the only number on this phone was his, so was it some telemarketer? Abby, however, glanced down in surprise, a smile forming along her face before looking back at the road. “You should check, it might be someone important.”

He stared at her keenly, a deep elation in his heart. He could only think of one person Abby would be so happy about aside from him. Picking up the phone, he opened it and a shiver of pure joy made him almost nauseous in delight. The pleasure of him talking straight to his little Obsession completely unguarded made him begin to harden, but the words caught his attention. They were raw, timid, and scared.

Abby, how do you make it through each day? It feels like I can’t breathe sometimes.

The words were filled with distress, but hidden behind the brief sentences and vague language, it was more vulnerable than he had ever heard the man. He liked it. He wanted this all the time. He quickly formulated a response, staring down as he waited for his words to send.

What’s wrong, Arkin? You seem sad.

Notes:

While I know I’m dragging out everything before we arrive at Jigsaw’s Game, this IS important set-up.:) Next, the Collector and Arkin talk!

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Notes:

Hello, sorry for the very long wait…I was attempting to finish a good portion of the story first, and then life happened. I have another chapter or two fully ready, but I’m going to release them slowly, so hopefully there aren’t more huge gaps. Anyways, hope you all enjoy!

Arkin stared down at the text on the phone, heart freezing in shock. She answered so fast? She really answered? He scrambled, pulling the cuffs sharply as he snatched up the phone and read over her words. 

What’s wrong, Arkin? You seem sad.

A shiver went up his spine, staring at them before answering. Something felt strange about this. He couldn’t remember Abby ever outright saying his name, but it didn’t really matter. He thought of what to say, but was at a loss. It took him a few minutes, but he finally made his decision.

The police asked for my help, but every moment is hell. No one wants me here, I can’t sleep, and I swear someone is following me. 

He paused, wanting to say more, but feeling anxious. Would she believe him? Or would she mock him, too? Before he could make a decision, the phone buzzed, and he read the words.

What do the police want with you?

Arkin blinked at the question, feeling this was particularly odd. Abby was fairly timid, so she rarely asked such direct questions, but perhaps she was deeply worried. What if she thought it was about… him?

Don’t worry, it isn’t about what happened two years ago. There’s a serial killer here that kidnaps and tortures people, they just wanted my insight.

In the van, the man frowned, wanting to push more. If Arkin had any clue about him being alive, all this planning and work would go to waste. However, if he didn’t know, pushing too hard would make him suspicious. Abby was far more subtle, and if he believed he was speaking to anyone aside from her, he would run. Arkin was so good at running. Instead of questioning further. He chose to change tactics, just enjoying talking to him so vulnerably.

Okay. Don’t be so sad, soon you’ll sleep better.

The man smiled, eyes cold. You’ll sleep much better in my arms.

Arkin saw the words, and a warmth settled in his chest. No one ever tried to comfort him like this; Lisa begged to know why he wouldn’t talk to her, Jim wanted him to accept what happened and move on. He didn’t know how to say what happened, how to move past the pain. Maybe things would be different if almost anyone sympathized with his circumstances, however he was instead hated and blamed for the suffering of others. Abby, though? She didn’t force him to talk, didn’t blame him, she was just there, happy to sit with him in the quiet. He hadn’t seen her often since they escaped, but each time had been peaceful, relaxing. He had only one thought left he really wanted to say, so he texted the secret words in his heart.

I really miss you, Abby.

When the man saw the next text, he felt that deep contentment he had almost always felt when he held the lithe man. As if a missing piece was put back into place, completing him. He wished Arkin was saying this to him, missing him and honest enough to directly tell him. He rubbed his fingers against his lips, longing to press them against Arkin’s skin. Soon, he thought. He looked back down, ready to reply.

I miss you, too, Arkin. I can’t wait to see you again soon.

Arkin felt there was something a bit strange in that sentence, so he inquired about it.

What do you mean, see me again?

Unfortunately, Abby didn’t respond, and Arkin sighed, letting his head rest again. Might as well get some sleep.

…

Hours later, Arkin awoke to the sound of the door opening, bleary-eyed before taking in the man in front of him. Hoffman was smiling slightly, immediately waking Arkin up fully. “Sleep well?” The detective said in a mocking voice, grabbing the cuffs by the chain and pulling his arms straight.

Arkin winced for a moment, staring the man down. He had heard the police in this precinct were rough to deal with, and most everything had pointed to that being true. “Looks like you got over hurting yourself,” Hoffman quipped, unlocking one cuff at a time. 

Arkin stood as soon as both arms were fully freed, rubbing at the red lines encircling the insides of his wrists. They stayed like that for a few seconds, the detective finally stepping back toward the door. “Get the hell out of here,” Hoffman sneered, opening the interrogation room door and jerking a thumb toward the opening.

Arkin walked closer, hoping the man would step out first. The man didn’t move. Fucking great. Arkin kept his eyes locked on the detective, eyes narrowing at him. Hoffman was toying with him, and it was really starting to piss him off. The man stepped up right behind him, following closely. This would scare most criminals, but Arkin wasn’t most criminals; he had dealt with far worse at this point. He stopped walking, feeling the detective bump into him. He tilted his head back, only slightly lifting his eyes to study the man. This was the most stereotypical intimidation he had ever dealt with. “Pathetic,” He spat, walking away as the man stood frozen behind him.

Hoffman couldn’t believe the audacity of this waste of oxygen. He had always hated how overly compassionate the criminal justice system could be, especially to arrogant little pricks like Arkin. He was ready to grab his shoulder and yank him around when a voice broke through the anger. “Hey, Arkin, wait!”

The ex-convict looked up, seeing agent Strahm approaching. Hoffman withdrew his hand, biting his tongue to ground himself. This station wasn’t a place he could act as he pleased, he had eyes on him everywhere, and if Strahm discovered who he was connected to, it would spell the end for him. Arkin frowned, but walked over to the other man, leaving Hoffman to try and follow. “It’s alright, Hoffman, I’ll see him out,” Strahm waved him off, only further irritating him. Tonight, Arkin was going to learn an important lesson, and he couldn’t wait to see him suffering.

Arkin gladly left behind the detective, happy to be rid of him. He wasn’t exactly delighted to talk to Agent Strahm, but at least he had managed to shut him up last time they spoke. He followed the tall man as he led him to the front of the station, ushering him into the nearly empty reception area. It had been a slow day, and the two receptionists were off to one side, talking and eating their meals. It was private, but still just public enough to calm his on edge mood. In a way, it almost felt considerate. Strahm turned back to him, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “I, uh, I would like to apologize for the other night. It was extremely inappropriate, and I should have been…more professional and respectful.”

Arkin blinked, brow creased in confusion. Was this…an apology? Maybe. This was different, but his strained tone showed just how foreign the words were to this man. Before he could really process the words, he caught the man’s eye before he glanced away. He looked embarrassed, maybe even remorseful? Something in his stomach tensed, leaving behind an unpleasant feeling. Why’s he looking at me like that? The only person who looked at him like that was Jim, and Jim only did when he brought up-

Arkin felt his heart beating more clearly, thrumming against his skin. He knew the FBI had the redacted files on what happened to him, he was even aware that some of the details were used for profiler training purposes, but he had never wanted anyone to bring it up again. Even beginning to remember made him feel nauseous. The agent looked back briefly, finally blurting out, “I was a biased jackass that overstepped and left you feeling unsafe in your own home. I’m sorry.”

The burn at the back of his throat faded, and a strange pang of sadness welled up instead. When was the last time someone just apologized to him? He couldn’t even remember. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was completely lost in how to respond. It was honest, and it avoided any of the painful memories he wanted to forget. He was in a daze, staring at the man in shock, and said-man quickly looked away, shuffling around him. “That’s all. I don’t need you to accept.”

Arkin’s body moved before his mind, and he grabbed the man’s arm. His grip was so tight, his knuckles went white, eyes still opened wide as he blurted out two words. “Thank you.”

The air was strange, but both men ignored it. Strahm didn’t want to ask, and Arkin didn’t want to tell. Both knew there was something more important in the apology, and it would be left there. “I’m not coming back,” Arkin spoke again, releasing the blazer sleeve. This would probably be the last time they ever spoke.

“I know,” Strahm answered, glancing toward the back offices. He had been having some suspicions about the police force, and didn’t plan to drag Arkin into this case any longer.

“Well, I’m gone, man,” he said, turning slowly. As he walked away, he also glanced toward the back offices, and a chill ran up his spine.

Hoffman was watching Strahm, a cruel snarl on his face. There was something seriously wrong going on here, and he was just barely touching the surface. If he didn’t get out now, he was sure he’d end up dead in some sick contraption. It was best to cut and run. Making his way to his car, he buckled himself in, glancing around with that same horrible trepidation from this morning. It felt as if something was right behind him, just waiting for him to turn around. He took his time searching the car, looking in the backseat and trunk, and he found nothing out of the ordinary. That only solidified his resolve. He needed to be prepared because something was very, very wrong today.

…

The rooms were weakly lit, just bright enough for the camera to see the corners. Each room was fully set up, each trap and test placed just so. Most of the guilty parties had been brought in, now only Arkin and the innocents were left. Sunken in eyes moved from one camera to the next, eyes blinking slowly as a wave of nausea swirled up his throat. He calmly reached for a nearby trash can, pulling it to his side as he waved over his assistant. “It’s time,” he said, voice hoarse as her hand rubbed his back. “Go get the Harling family, I already have someone after Arkin.”

She nodded, glancing over at another photo. “And him?” She gestured at it, eyes traveling over the partial burns and faint smile.

“He’s already been secured,” the man mumbled, sweating more as the nausea grew. 

He waved her away, finally leaning over as he began to gag. She hesitated before stepping out. He was getting sicker, and there was nothing they could do to change that; he was a wanted man, and any hospital he went to would immediately report him. She had long been terrified of when he would succumb to the cancer, and at this point he could barely walk alone. She had to figure out a way to save him, if he died…

…

“Dad, it’s dinner time!” 

Jim rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile. Em was always like this; her questions always came out as demands. “I know, kiddo! Already cooking!”

The house was quiet before soft footfalls approached, and Em’s upper body popped around the wall. Her brown hair was pulled back into two short braids, and she wore an oversized hoodie. “Whatcha making?”

“Spaghetti.”

“Sounds good, where’s the garlic bread?”

Jim laughed. “No garlic bread, doctor said I needed to cut back on the butter and gluten.”

Em glanced at the pot of boiling water, raising an eyebrow. “Dad…you know pasta is gluten, right?”

Jim paused, looking at the noodles. “…Is it?”

Em looked away, smothering a giggle. “I’ll get the dishes, are we having any salad or-“

DING-DONG.

Both father and daughter froze, exchanging glances. Last time the bell had rang, it was Arkin, and that had led to an argument. They weren’t expecting anyone, so…had he come back? “You stay here, kiddo, I’ll see who’s at the door,” Jim felt a bit tense, but he rubbed her shoulder reassuringly.

Arkin wasn’t supposed to reach out to him for the next several days, so this shouldn’t be him. If it was him, he’d give him a good tongue-lashing. He didn’t blame the shorter man, but he was putting his daughter’s feelings first. If it wasn’t Arkin, he would ask them to leave. It was meant to be a daddy-daughter day, and he planned to hold firm on that. Pulling open the door, he cleared his throat, ready to greet whoever was waiting, but his voice got stuck in his throat. There was no one there. His porch light illuminated a bare letter on his welcome mat, and as he leaned down to pick it up, he noticed words were printed on. As he went to open it, he felt a hand come up from behind him, covering his mouth with a damp cloth while the other hand wrapped around his chest and biceps. He let out a muffled shout, struggling to get free, but the acrid smell made his head ache.

He was kicking and twisting his face as his head began to spin, a faint ringing in his ears growing louder. Cutting through the ringing and fogging of his brain, he heard a voice, one that made him feel sick and afraid.

“Dad?”

Em had heard a strange sound of shuffling and some soft cries. What was that about? Feeling a bit unsettled, she peaked around the wall, freezing. There was a tall person with a pig mask pulled over their head grappling with her father, dragging him toward the door. What in the hell-

She stumbled back, turning to the kitchen to reach for a knife. She had no idea if the person would chase her down or not, but she didn’t have the time or safety to grab the phone. What if something happened to her dad? What would she do if she lost him, too? Em was barely in the kitchen when someone else grabbed her around the waist, pressing a cloth against her own mouth while she tried to scream. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happening! She slammed her elbow back, hearing a short huff of air. It was a woman! Who was attacking them? As her vision blurred, she felt nauseous, losing her balance and collapsing against her attacker. As spots seemed to cover her eyes, she noticed the pot of water on the stove, still boiling as the spaghetti swirled around with the bubbles. I forgot to turn off the stove…

The woman grabbed her waist more firmly as she fell, lowering her to the ground and turning her on her side. She glanced up, watching the man in the pig mask pulling a limp Jim away from the door, flipping him onto the sofa. “Hey, be gentle; he’s not going to be tested,” she snapped, glaring at the man as he pulled back his mask. 

“He’s protecting O’Brien, isn’t he?” Hoffman shot back, glancing over at the girl on the floor. “Is she okay?”

Looking over, she rubbed her side. It still ached from the elbow, but was far from the worse treatment she’d ever received. “Put up a good fight, but she’s fine, didn’t fall or hurt herself,” she said. “I’ll start tying them up, you get the car.”

Hoffman nodded, but he had a smug look in his eyes. “Good for her.”

She’d always hated this self-righteous prick; he was just as bad as her, but acted like some kind of saint. “Just get the car,” she said, ready to turn when her shoulder was grabbed. 

“We have something to talk about after this, Amanda,” he said, and his eyes were cold, staring through her. There was something horribly wrong with that look.

She shook him off, pointing away. She didn’t like how his eyes bore into her, or the way he towered over her, but for now, she was in charge. She didn’t have to worry; both of them respected John more than they hated each other. At least, she hoped he did…

Notes:

Just letting you know this is the teaser as well as setting up the story. I know it’s short, but the next chapter will be up in the next few days, so keep an eye out.:)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Capture and Enrapture