#took these pictures not on andrew though but on my main so i could tank out the damage because i wanted a picture of his natural attack | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forever--darling · 4 years

Text

not too far away - s.m. (part twelve)

a/n: where she goes and explains everything to everyone

warnings: 6.7k words of truth telling, text messages, and tears

XII. heaven’s not too far away pt. 1

him

It was early in the morning, maybe around seven thirty or eight. Shawn wasn’t sure. He had gotten to the studio at six desperate to pull out his guitar and start putting together all of the loose lyrics that had been stuck in his head since he got to Canada then left again. Finally, he was able to let it all out. Everything he was feeling because of Y/N, finally he would be able to express it.

Lounging in an office chair, back sinking into the cushions, he sat crossed leg with his guitar in his lap. He was plucking the strings, trying to find the right chord. His producers and other music writers were littered across the room, going through what they had gotten done already in the two-hour span that they had been at the studio. Finally, their attention was brought back to Shawn as his head fell back against the headrest of the chair and he let out a frustrated groan. His gaze moved from his guitar to each member of his staff.

“I think I’m going to take a break,” he announced, setting the guitar down next to the chair. He stood up shorts falling loosely around his hips.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Teddy, one of Shawn’s music producers, replied standing up from where she was sat.

Snatching his phone from a side table, Shawn bolted for the door to head into the hallway. He opened it up to his lock-screen and instantly smiled at the message that was displayed. “Hey superstar, don’t work yourself to death today. okay?”

It was Y/N, because who else would it be. She was the first person, he called when his flight landed and then that night Facetimed her for three hours. He had been gone a whole twenty-four hours and was missing her like crazy. He was happy to be back in the studio and though trying to write hit singles was a long and frustrating process, he was relieved to be back to what he loved. That didn’t change though that the other part of him wanted to fly back to where his other love currently was.

“No, promises, but I’ll try not too. What are you doing today?” he typed back.

Dropping his arm, Shawn tapped his phone against his thigh impatiently and luckily within seconds his phone buzzed. There was an image and then a text. She had sent him a picture of her lounging on her couch, glasses on her nose, hair messy, and sat in one of his hoodies with a textbook in her hand. “This,” was the simple text.

“All day?” he questioned.

She was typing. The speech bubble was there and though they were only texting he still felt all giddy inside. “I don’t know, we’ll see what the day brings.”

Quite the adventurer, Shawn thought to himself as his thumbs hovered over the keyboard. “Whatever, happens I hope today is great. Facetime you later?”

Buzz. “It’s a date. ;)”

Sighing happily, he hugged his phone to his chest. He really had fallen and it never had felt like this before. Was this real? He felt like he should ask someone to pinch him because he felt like he was dreaming. Who knows maybe in a week or two, Andrew would let him go up to Canada for a weekend. If he was doing well in the studio and everything was in order, maybe no one would mind. He knew though that if that was going to happen, he needed to really push himself during the sessions. Try not to get too distracted and just focus on what sounds the best and most importantly what sounded like him. And if all else fails, the love that filled his heart would do the work for him.

her

You can’t believe you just did that. You lied, again. There was no way you were going to be able to talk to Shawn later unless it was before six and being in Canada meant you were three hours ahead in time. I am a horrible person, you thought to yourself. Running your hands through your hair, you glanced down to the time on your phone. It was now eight. You should really get up and get going. You had asked your boss for the day off a week ago when you scheduled the surgery and without a second to hesitate he obliged. Now, it would be a long day of visiting people and telling them about your situation. You only had until four before Demi would be picking you up to take you to the hospital to meet your family.

From there the next two hours would be used for prep, for the surgery, and to calm the nerves that were currently bubbling in your stomach. Like you had been saying for days, a week, pretty much since you found out the cancer was back… you had a horrible feeling about the whole thing. You had been so lucky the first time and since leaving the hospital that day where you had been “cancer free” you had gained so many blessings. Shawn being the main one. He had appeared out of nowhere like a knight on a horse and didn’t only rescue your friendship but he rescued you. He might end up being the love of your life and he would never know because though you had been one of the lucky ones, now you were afraid that your luck was about to run out.

You were beginning to scare yourself, your thoughts were turning against you and at this point, you were no longer feeling sane. So, with no other option, it was time. Time to get off your ass and reveal the truth so if the worst ended up to happen, those you loved could start their healing process. If things were to not go your way, you needed the truth to be lifted off your chest. Not only for you but everyone you cared about. They had the rest of their lives to live, and they couldn’t waste it grieving over how yours was cut short. You would never forgive yourself if you went to the grave without telling the people how much you loved them in person before it was too late. You had already done that once but came out lucky and you couldn’t have it happen again.

So, you stood up from your couch and made your way to your bathroom. You took a long warm shower, using your favorite body wash, and then pulled on a pair of white jeans and a dark grey tank top. You paired it with a pair of white slip-on shoes, and a jean jacket. Straightening the short hair that you had, you pulled the back bits into a bun, pulling out a few pieces to frame the face. You even put in the effort to do your makeup, bronzed cheeks, tan lids, and a little bit of mascara. It was out of the ordinary for you but the simple action made you smile .

A quarter from twelve, you packed up your car with everything you needed for the day and climbed into the driver’s seat, a pair of sunglasses resting on your nose. With the necklace Shawn gave you lying against your chest, you started the car and began to make your way towards the best book shop in the whole city.

It was early, and you knew that Loretta had opened it up not too long ago. You parked in your normal parking spot near the door that never seemed to be taken. A bag was being carried in your left hand, as your car keys clinked in the other on the key-ring that also happened to have the key to Shawn’s apartment on it. Opening the old wooden door, the bell jingled above the door. Then came the door creaking as it slid against the floor and then the sweet smell of pumpkins. You would never get tired of that smell and the sound of that door. It was a place you wished you could be more often.

At the sound of the door, Loretta whipped around from behind the desk eyes going wide as they landed on you. She quickly emerged out and away from her chair that sat behind the desk and made her way towards you. Though your hands were full, she still pulled you into a tight hug. “Y/N, darling, what a nice surprise.”

“Morning, Loretta,” you replied as the lady released you from her sometimes suffocating arms, and stroked your cheek like she often did when she saw you.

“How have you been, my sweets? I wanted to tell you about how lovely your party was but didn’t get the chance before I left.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. There were just some things I needed to deal with.” you explained, hand self consciously tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“It’s all good,” she sighed, hand rubbing your forearm gently, “I wanted to say that I’m proud of you and your father of course. What he did was in no way easy and I’m glad that you had told everyone what had happened.”

You smiled, “Me too.”

She smiled back as her eyes fell to the bag in your hand, obviously growing curious, “Oh, and what’s this?”

“Well, I brought you something,” you said, moving over towards the desk to put the bag on top.

Loretta still had a smile on her face but now was a little confused, “What for?”

“I don’t know, just because,” you shrugged not finding it in yourself to admit it that second.

Not able to take her curious eyes scanning you any longer, you turned and reached inside the bag pulling out the object which turned out to be a yellow hardcover book with some purple detailing on the front. Loretta’s eyes drew to it immediately. “Y/N, what is that?”

A mischievous smile had formed on your lips as you handed her the book, “Well, it just so happens to be your favorite book but first edition.”

At that, her mouth dropped and her eyes had widened. Tears were quickly forming as she glanced back and forth from the book in her hands to you. As she stared at you speechless, you could hear that familiar sound of four little feet bouncing off the floor. Looking towards where the sound was coming from, the first thing you noticed was the big floppy ears. Lou jumped towards you, the pads of his feet starting to paw at your legs.

You chuckled as you bent down to the pet the mutt’s head, fingers then running over the soft fur that covered his ears. “Hi, Lou. Don’t you worry, buddy because I got you something too.”

With that, you stood back up and reached into the bag again, pulling out a brown collar that had books printed on it. Loretta gasped again, this time louder as you handed her the collar. She had small tears falling down her round cheeks and she stared at you in disbelief and in happiness. “Y/N, where did you find this book?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded hands reaching out to cradle hers that were shaking.

“Yes it does.”

“It really is nothing,” you assured her as the smile on your face dropped a little as you stared at this woman that you cared so much about.

She was someone you looked up too and often was envious of all the kindness that filled her soul. Her life hadn’t been a walk in the park and she deserved way more than she had been given and you were so happy that she turned it around and now was where she was. She was truly an extraordinary woman who was making a change in the world one book at a time, as corny as that sounded.

Another tear rolled down her face, “It really does. This means everything. What made you want to do this?”

At that question, you grew silent and you smiled at her sadly as if you weren’t able to get the words out. She was the first person on your list to tell and you didn’t even have to guts to do that. But within an instance, it seemed like you wouldn’t have to. Her smile had quickly faded and her tears had stopped for a mere second but at the realization, they began to fall again, this time faster.

“Oh, honey,” she cried, gripping your hand, “Please tell me it isn’t true.”

You held back the tears gathering in your eyes because you knew if you were going to make it through going to see everyone else you couldn’t cry. “We both know I can’t do that.”

“How bad is it?” she asked timidly.

“Not bad enough that I need chemo but still just as bad that I need to have surgery,” you mumbled, eyes locked onto her chocolate ones that were swimming with tears.

It became silent for a second. “When?”

You sighed squeezing her hands, “Tonight, and if it’s not too much to ask I would like you and Demetrius to come to the hospital right before. In case it goes long, you don’t need to stay but-”

She cut you off, “Baby, we’ll be there.”

You smiled thankfully as Loretta began to wipe at the tears on her face, “Thank you. Now, is Demetrius around so I can tell him what’s going on.”

Loretta gained back that smile. The one on her face that was small but filled with so much kindness it could lift anyone's spirits on a bad day. “Yeah. He’s back in the corner. In that green velvet chair, you love so much.”

That smile on your face got twice as large at the new found fact and with one more squeeze to Loretta’s palms you bolted towards the back, bag in your hand, and Lou chasing after your feet. You ventured back into the deep depths of the shelves and as you turned the corner, you set your eyes on a Demetrius Xavier sat tucked in your chair with To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf in his hands, that coral shaded bookmark you had left still sat within the page you had been reading the last time you were in the shop.

Demetrius had always thought it was your favorite but it wasn’t. Sure, you read it maybe a hundred times but that’s only because they managed to sell out of the book that was your favorite and you always forgot to bring yours from home. So every single time you would settle with Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse.

“Well, look what we have here,” you joked as Demetrius’s head lifted at the sound of your voice, “You’re reading Virginia Woolf.”

He smiled, it seemed different from when he usually smiled at you, but it was still a smile, “Yes, I am. I learned from one of the biggest book nerds that it’s a good read.”

“Well, I would agree with that book nerd. She seems very smart,” you laughed, leaning against a nearby bookshelf as you all of a sudden could feel a small wet nose nudging at your ankle.

It was Lou, not a surprise at all.

“She is smart,” Demetrius replied, closing the book in his lap, thumb marking his page, “And beyond beautiful. All I can do is hope that she isn’t taken from us too soon.”

Your smile dropped and all joking behavior was set aside. Biting onto your bottom lip, you began to fiddle with your fingers, nervousness showing in your actions.

“I heard you,” he answered your unvoiced question, “It may be a long way back here but the shelves aren’t very thick and the voices carry through the long hallway.”

“Oh,” it slipped. The very word that seemed to ruin every moment you had with someone.

Demetrius frowned, “You're having surgery tonight and all you can say is ‘oh’?”

“Yes,” you admitted, gaze locking onto the books above his head not able to look at him, “There is no other way to deal with the fact that this might be the last time I see you.”

He didn’t respond at first. Instead, the warmth of his hand slipping in yours was what caused your eyes to look back at him. He was standing in front of you, close, book forgotten on the chair. “It’s not going to be the last time.”

His stare was intense like he was so sure that you would make it through to tomorrow. At first, you didn’t notice his eyes moving to your lips but once they did you knew that every gut feeling and everything Demi had said about Demetrius was true. He had some sort of feelings for you. Ones that you weren’t going to be able to give back to him. Glancing back to your eyes then down to your lips again, you knew that whatever he was about to do couldn’t happen.

“I brought you something,” you exclaimed, suddenly, slipping out of where you were standing between him and the bookshelf. Grabbing the last item out of the bag, you looked back towards Demetrius with a smile gracing your lips, like you hadn’t noticed his lingering stare. “If you had to name my favorite book right now what would you say?”

“Easy, To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf,” he said, sounding so sure of himself.

“Wrong.”

That’s when he became confused, “What, that’s totally your favorite book.”

“It’s actually not,” you chuckled.

“Then what is it?” Demetrius asked, arms crossing over his chest. You then took the item that was behind your back and handed it over to him. “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

“Yes,” you confirmed, “You see it’s such a popular book that Loretta never has it in stock so instead I just settle with Woolf because it’s not a problem. This though is my all time favorite book and I know that you have never read it. Any of them in fact, so I was hoping for me that you would.”

A smile formed on his face, “For you, I would do anything.”

It was sweet but it didn’t sound like something a friend would say to a friend. It felt like more and you needed to set the story straight. Eyes locking with your shoes on the floor, you asked before you changed your mind. “Demetrius, do you like me?”

His face turned to one of confusion, “Of course I like you.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you whispered, head lifting to meet his eyes.

You were calling him out and he didn’t look terrified one bit because he was sure of his feelings and that was something you could see on his face. “I know and I do. I shouldn’t because of how you feel about Shawn but I can’t help it.”

You felt relief wash over you, he wasn’t trying to do anything to get with you. He knew of what you wanted and simply was a man who couldn’t help what he was feeling. You pulled him into a hug, arms wrapping around his torso. “Please, promise me that you’ll find someone and stop holding onto what you feel about me. Demetrius, you deserve so much more. You deserve someone who feels the same way and I just need you to promise that you’ll try and to find that person.”

It was a simple answer and though you were breaking a small piece of his heart, he answered like he knew this was going to happen all along and he was okay with it. “For you, anything.”

After you had spent more time with Loretta and Demetrius, just talking about the surgery, you had bid a goodbye. You had hugged them both and got into your car, not daring to glance through the front store window, too scared to see the looks still enveloped on their faces.

The next person you went to see was Demi. Though you were going to see her late so she could drive you, you felt like you needed to see her. Besides Shawn, she was the best friend that had been with you through thick and thin. She was one of your favorite people in the world and there was no one else that you felt as sure about being your friend as Demi. She was a light and on days in the hospital where it seemed completely unbearable, she was there to lift your spirits with her unique sense of humor and love and care that she had as a best friend. You were internally grateful for her existence and knew without her you maybe wouldn’t be where you are now, both emotionally and mentally.

She was a catch, a queen, and the most beautiful woman you knew and if there was one thing you were sure about it was that if you didn’t make it and James does not treat her right, you’re older brother would be the first person you were going to haunt.

Parking the car, you could already see Demi through the front window. She was working at a fashion store at the moment as she finished up her last few years of college, and you wouldn’t deny that one of the reasons you came to see her on her lunch break so often was because she gave a discount on the clothes. Instead of a bag this time, you were carrying a wooden box. One that was filled with so many memories, all that could never go forgotten... by anyone.

There Demi was, sat on top of the counter with the cash register, not caring about her bosses rules because there were no customers at all in the store. She had a can of Coca-Cola next to her as she talked, hands moving in the air to her co-worker. That was your best friend alright, you thought to yourself as you walked in causing her to leap from the counter obviously thinking you were a customer but felt relieved when she saw you. That calmness though only lasted for about ten seconds before she started to freak out.

“What are you doing here? What the fuck is wrong?” she crossed the room to get to you and then began to scan your body, knowing that if there was something wrong with you cancer wise she wouldn’t be able to see it, but she still looked anyways.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you said. laughing lightly.

She sighed, hand reaching up to clutch her chest, “Don’t scare me like that. Now, what’s up. I thought I’m not supposed to come get you until four.”

“You’re not but I needed to come see you and I was hoping you could take your lunch break.”

She was cautious with your words but still accepted your offer, “Yeah, of course.”

As soon as she agreed with you, you led her out of the store and about a block away to a nearby park you had only been to once in your whole time of living in the city, and the whole walk there Demi whined. Which you knew she would. You found a bench and sat down on it with Demi following. She looked around the park before her gaze moved back to you.

“You couldn’t just talk to me at work but instead bring me a whole block away to a park?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I did,” you said gripping the box in your hand.

“Okay,” she shrugged, taking her lunch box that she had brought with and unzipped it pulling out what she had packed for lunch.

“Do you have to eat right now?” you asked giving her an irritated look.

“Well this is my lunch break and I am fucking starving,” she argued, beginning to eat her strawberries.

You sighed, “Dem, this will only take a minute, I promise.”

She could see how important this clearly was and put the food aside. With that, you handed her the wooden box that was plain out the outside, not giving a clue of what was inside. She stared at it for a second in her lap before she looked back at you, “What is this?”

“Just open it,” you said, impatiently.

And without another word spoken, she did. Under the top was a picture of you and her at your birthday party. You both had your bodies facing each other as you looked at the camera. Hands that were closest to the camera were intertwined with each other while your other arms were wrapped around the other. Your smiles were so bright and so happy like they always were when you were together, and it warmed your heart that you had had such a strong friendship with someone.

Around the picture were golden stars that you had glued on along with little pieces of gold confetti. Within the box though was a bunch of different stuff. From your favorite pair of comfy socks that she always stole when you were over, to the one movie you watched over and over again since you heard you had cancer, The Fault in Our Stars. You also threw in Just Friends with Ryan Reynolds in case it was too depressing to keep watching The Fault in Our Stars over and over again. Scattered around the inside, there were multiple pictures of your friendship over the year, one from Prom that had your corsage taped to the bottom because that night Demi had treated you better than your own date. There was another of you and her at a fancy restaurant eating some kind of exotic cake for her birthday.

You also added in her favorite perfume and lastly a charm bracelet. There were multiple charms to represent the crazy adventures you had, like a boat, for the time you had let her drove one on the lake and almost crashed it. You also added a wand for both of your obsessions for Harry Potter. But though those all meant something none of them were like the plastic pink butterfly in the middle.

The rest were silver and you had bought for the bracelet, but that butterfly you had added. Crazy enough it used to be on this thick plastic pink chain you had gotten for your sixth birthday from Demi. You had loved that necklace so much that you wore it every day for three whole years before you lost it. You eventually found it again and after that you swore you never would lose it again.

“Y/N/N,” she was speechless and the only thing that could come from her mouth was your name.

You gave her the biggest smile you could muster because she was one of the only people that could make you smile that big, “Demi, I just wanted to say that I love you. A lot. You’re my best friend, and don’t say anything about Shawn, because though he has always had the title so do you. You have been by my side through everything and even when I had gotten sick you had made time for me. You brought a kind of support and friendship to my life that I could never repay you for. There’s a chance that things might not work out but this is how I want you to remember me, always. You truly are one of the most important people in my life and I did this so you know how much I love you and how blessed I am to have you in my life.”

There it was. The tears. Those Demi tears that didn’t make a showing for many people. She was sniffling too and you knew that she wasn’t going to be able to say anything back after the speech of gratitude you just pulled out. So, instead, she hugged you. Hugged you, the way a friend does. She poured all of her feelings out in the way she held you and you knew that you would never find a better partner in crime than here.

“And there’s one more thing,” you mumbled, moving back to look at her tear stained cheeks, “I want you to know that you can date my brother. I’m giving you permission.”

Her eyes moved away from your gaze like she was scared to admit that. Scared to tell you of her feelings for James but you both had an idea that you already knew because just like the back of your hand you knew Demi.

“You don’t have to deny it because I see everything that’s been going on since the night of my birthday to the secret texts and the dates that you are going on but claim are with some guy who is into marketing. I just want you to know that though it’s a little weird, I don’t mind because I am not going to stand in the way of what makes you two happy.”

More tears fell from her brown eyes and because you were sure her throat was closing up due to her trying to hold back more tears, she just grabbed you for another hug instead of struggling to find her words. This was fine with you because you knew what she was trying to say.

This was going to be the hardest. You knew that as you walked into that restaurant to see the three of them sat at that table. Happy and smiling. You knew you could turn around, not tell them, and pretend that everything was fine but then you thought about your parents, you thought about Shawn. It was the right thing to do. Which is why you sucked it up.There was no more time to be scared, so you walked over to the table and took a seat in that fourth chair.

“Y/N, dear, how are you?” Karen asked, hand reaching out to touch your arm.

You smiled, “I’m okay. And you?”

“Lovely, thank you for asking,” she replied.

“Nice to see you, kid,” Manny said from across the table to which you nodded in reply.

Then there was Aaliyah. Sweet, funny Aaliyah. Fifteen years old, not much older than when you first found out about your sickness. She was going to take it the hardest you knew that. She was smiling at you and you couldn’t imagine the look that would be on her face after this lunch.

“I know you’re probably all wondering why I made you drive all the way to the city,” you started, hands fiddling with the black frame in your lap.

Karen could see the anxiety that was forming and grasped your hand in hers, “Whatever it is, just take a deep breath and tell us.”

You did as she said, you took a deep breath, and handed them the frame. It was a picture, taken in the summer at a lake house your families had gotten together. Both your family and the Mendes family were stood on the dock in front of the sunset. You were standing in between Shawn and Aaliyah and next to her was James. Both sets of parents stood behind the four of you and nothing but smiles were present on everyone's faces. It was funny because right after that picture, Shawn tried to push you in the lake but the joke was on him because you ended up taking him with you.

Karen, Manny, and Aaliyah stared at the picture then glanced at you. They were smiling at the fond memory but weren’t sure with what your point was with the picture. You took another deep breath, “As long as I can remember, your family has been there with mine. You all have done so much for me and James and my parents. I wanted to say thank you.”

“Y/N, we are happy that you feel this way but hun what else is going on to make you feel like you have to say this?” Karen asked, eyes locked onto you.

You sighed, fingers tapping against the table, “At my birthday party, you all got to know the truth of what I had gone through and my dad had never been so relieved to announce that his daughter was cancer free which it turns out I’m not anymore. I went to the hospital a little bit ago and there are new Mets.”

Their faces dropped and all traces of happiness from moments ago were gone because of you. You knew this would be the result of today, you were telling people something they feared for you but it was what you were supposed to do. You had to rip the band-aid off because the sooner you do that the sooner the pain will start to go away. It was a healing process.

“To remove the cancer cells, I am having surgery tonight at around six o’clock and if you could, I would really like you to be there before I go. You all are so important to me and it would just mean a lot if you were there. I am sorry it’s so last minute.”

That’s when Manny nodded, “Yeah, of course, we’ll go.”

It brought a smile to your face, “Thank you so much.”

“Of course, we are going to be here for you every step of the way,” Karen spoke a sad smile on her face.

The only one who hadn’t talked was Aaliyah. She was staring at with you such large, sad eyes while she bit on her lip to hold in her emotions. You looked towards her hoping she would say something and as her eyes locked with yours, her mouth opened but what came out was something you never expected.

“Shawn?” she questioned, “What about Shawn?”

That drew both Manny and Karen’s attention too because for a few minutes they forgot about their son who was in LA recording songs for his next album at the moment. “He doesn’t know,” you admitted.

You had never seen Karen and Manny look so conflicted before. They probably wanted to tell him but also didn’t want to upset you. You knew that by the way, they were looking at you, they were a little lost with what do to. You had to say it, you needed to assure them of all of their doubts and worries.

“I need you to know,” you paused, trying to catch your breath, “That I’m in love with your son, so completely. And it hurts me to not have him here, trust me it does but I think that it would break him if he had to watch me go through this. He needs to stay in LA and sing and just get back to being Shawn Mendes. It’s just something I had to say because I do, I love him.”

“Thank you.” Karen replied tears in her eyes, “I know that he holds a special place in his heart for you.”

“I’m going to tell him. I promise. He is going to know by tonight,” you confirmed, glancing back and forth between the three members of the Mendes family that stood in front of you.

They didn’t say much else, you knew that they wanted to but held back for you. You were going through something that they couldn’t even imagine and though they may have not agreed with your decisions, they accepted them for the time being and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.

You had one more place to stop at before you had to head back to your apartment and then leave with Demi for the hospital. It should be a quick spot because you knew that there was no possible way this person could stand having you around for more than a few minutes. That or they might not even see you at all which, either way, it didn’t matter because you had things to say and they were going to be heard. You parked the car a street down, away from the building. It was tall and made of windows. Expensive and chic. Everything that successful men and women got to see every day when they worked there. That was a life that you were maybe never going to see but that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Going in through the revolving door, you asked around until you found which floor was the place you needed to go which took at least ten minutes to get the information. The floor was used for the higher staff who worked at the magazine company. There were writers, editors, assistants to the writers and editors. It was a place that was full of important people who probably wished to not spend their important time on you. You had taken the elevator and as soon as you walked off and onto the floor, you came face to face with a receptionist sitting at her desk. She had a headset on her head and was scribbling down notes like crazy. It took you almost two minutes to get her attention.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find a Lauren Arendse,” you politely asked which didn’t change the uptight face that was on the receptionist.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, snobbishly.

“Uh, no but I’m an old friend of hers from school and I really needed to see her,” you said pleadingly.

She stared at you for around twenty seconds like she was trying to see if you were telling the truth. She blinked and just pulled her ponytail tighter on her head as she began to dial on a phone. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you replied watching as the receptionist leaned back in her chair as the phone rang before she finally began to talk into the phone, meaning someone had clearly picked it up. “Ms. Arendse, there is a Y/N Y/L/N here to see you, claims that she went to school with you. Do you want me to send her to your office.”

There was a moment of silence, signaling that Lauren was talking on the other side of the phone and just as it was starting to feel like forever, the receptionist hung up and turned back towards you. “I’m sorry but Ms. Arendse is in a bit of a crisis right now.”

“Oh, okay,” you said, voice sounding disappointment as you fiddled with a white envelope in your hand, “I understand. In that case, do you think you could give this to her, for me? It’s important.”

The receptionist could see how desperate you looked and for those last few seconds didn’t seem like a total witch, “Sure.”

She took the envelope from you and put it down on her desk just as you turned to make your way back into the elevator. You weren’t surprised at all, that Lauren didn’t want to see you. That was the whole point of the letter because you knew this was going to happen and she still needed to hear what you had to say; about your cancer, Shawn, and the old friendship you used to have with her.

You told her of the importance of what it was like to live in the moment and to forget about everything that had happened in the past. Because when you're constantly thinking about yesterday how can you ever plan for tomorrow? It was quite simple; laugh like it’s the only thing that can cure a broken heart and love like it will all be gone tomorrow. You only have so much time, before it runs out and there’s no point wasting it on someone and something that is no longer a part of your life, or matters to who you are.

Everyone dies at one point and if they were right about anything it was that forgiveness sets you free. If there was a chance you were going to make it to whatever afterlife there was, you couldn’t have extra weight on your shoulders weighing you down. This was your life, the one you had to deal with, and now you had told everyone. They all knew and the truth was heartbreaking. It wasn’t hard a thing to do, just sad, but now… now, it was time to go and deal with the real hard stuff.

next part

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #my writing #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes angst

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warofshadowstheorder · 4 years

Text

Chapter 13

The sudden blaring of “(White Man) In Hammersmith Palais” over the iPod/clock radio in Alexis Bledsoe’s room snapped her out of the deep sleep she had been enjoying. It had taken her a while to fall asleep the night before; she couldn’t help feeling like she was being watched.

She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the idea of not going to work. The mere thought of spending entire days without the routine she’d constructed for herself left her almost paralyzed inside. She’d eventually gotten to sleep, the image of the one who jumped her at the pavilion still dominating her dreams, and had consigned herself in the knowledge that she had her investigation to keep her busy. Her mission in life now was to find him and make him pay for what he’d done.

Her apartment was fairly small, but was all that she needed. Besides the bedroom and bathroom, it only consisted of one all-purpose room with an adjoining kitchen. She got out of bed and changed from her pajamas into a sports bra, a pair of blue running shorts and a white tank top before putting on some socks and a pair of running shoes. She let the radio continue playing while she dressed and enjoyed the music.

Her bedroom was decorated with pictures and other memorabilia. She had her full-ride acceptance letter and degree from Yale framed and hanging on her wall. She also had a picture of her with her parents and brothers at her graduation, as well as a similar picture taken at the family ranch in Rory. There were also framed wedding portraits of her brothers and parents, along with a recent family portrait.

Posters of the “London Calling” album cover, and movie posters for “Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten,” and “Way of the Dragon” also adorned her walls.

In the next room, a giant poster of Bruce Lee and a shooting target showing very impressive results with a date handwritten by Bledsoe herself in the bottom right corner decorated the wall adjacent to a black Everlast punching bag hanging from the ceiling, a chin-up bar bolted to the wall beside it, and a Mook Jong. Some handwraps and grappling gloves were on the floor just below where the bag hung.

Adjacent to the bag was a small table with a large combination radio/cassette player/CD player/record player stereo. A cardboard box filled with several vinyl records, along with a few stacks of CDs and a shoebox with several cassette tapes, most of which were homemade mixed tapes, were underneath the table with each item inside sorted into alphabetical order.

After she finished dressing, she turned off the radio just as the song was concluding. She then removed the iPod and strapped it to her left arm, carefully putting in the earbuds. She got her keychain and used the miniature carabiner on it to clip it onto the iPod strap. She took a reflective belt and put it across her shoulder, and lastly got some cash and stuffed it into a small pouch on the strap.

She did a few stretches, and then made her way out of her apartment. She locked the door behind her and went outside. It was early enough in the morning that it was still dark outside, and she relished the opportunity to run during a time when most people were still in bed.

She did some stretches, walked around for a bit to warm up, and then started running. Her favorite way to start her morning was with a jog around the mall area, on this particular day she was also using her customary jog to clear her mind and focus on planning the rest of her time away.

“Safe European Home” played in her earphones as she continued on her way and took in the familiar but still captivating sights of the area around her. She always liked running early in the day because of the quiet and serenity that the area offered at that time. She ran around the Jefferson Monument and always stopped there to take a break and spend some quiet time reflecting.

She thought that monument had the best location and loved how it was away from the main part of the mall. She particularly loved it when the Cherry Blossoms were in bloom but always enjoyed her stays there regardless. She sat on the steps of the Monument and paused her iPod before gazing out over the water.

She figured that the disc and information she’d requested from Andrews would be waiting for her when she got home and was considering what to do first. Given that she had the whole day ahead of her, she decided that she’d make an appointment with the Coroner, then go over the disc, and then go see the body.

She continued looking out over the water, and wondered if she should leave town for a few days on a real vacation. She thought of going back to the family ranch and visiting with her parents and oldest brother Matt, who was preparing to take over there. But she knew that first she had to resolve what had gotten her to the point she found herself in professionally. After several minutes, Bledsoe started her iPod and ran back to her apartment.

She noticed a few other runners passing her as she returned home, which further reminded her of why she went running as early as she did. There was one more stop to make before finishing her run.

There was a newsstand not far from her apartment, laden with several magazines and newspapers. It was run by a husky Polynesian-American man in his late-fifties named Bernard Ka’ahanui but known as Bernie to his friends. Before he opened his newsstand, he’d served honorably in the U.S. Army for twenty-three years and retired as a Sergeant Major with combat tours in Vietnam and Operation Desert Storm. He served with the 1st Cavalry in Vietnam and their unit crest prominently adorned the back of the newsstand.

He had ended his career serving in an administrative capacity in the Pentagon and grew very fond of the area. After he retired, he and his wife bought a home near the District and Bernie opened his newsstand mostly to keep from going crazy after retirement. He didn’t have as many customers as he would have liked, but he did have a few loyal regulars. The loyal customer whose visits he most looked forward to was Alexis Bledsoe.

Bledsoe’s breathing was labored when she approached the newsstand, she would have been completely exhausted had it not been for her lengthy experience as a distance runner and ability to pace herself. A big smile came to Bernie’s face as Bledsoe approached, and it only increased when she came to a stop in front of the stand. Bernie immediately handed Bledsoe a bottle of water, which she stopped to drink while walking in place as Bernie spoke.

“Good morning Alexis,” Bernie greeted brightly, “nice to see you back again. I’m sorry for all the troubles I’m sure you’re having at work.” He said the last sentence with a tone of sympathy while gesturing toward The Washington Post with the headline of “Nation Still Reeling in the Wake of Saunders Assassination.”

“Thanks Bernie,” Bledsoe said between heavy breaths and another drink of water, “but I’d rather not think about that right now. Trust me, you have no idea the kind of shit I’ve been through these past few days. Right now, I’m just out for my morning constitutional. I figured I’d catch up on the important stuff if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” Bernie said with a smile as he reached down to the floor on his side of the stand and brought up a small stack of Rolling Stone and Black Belt magazines along with the latest copy of The Washington Post.

“Do you want the latest editions as well?” Bernie asked.

“Sure,” Bledsoe answered, “I’m going to be doing some work at home for the next little while and could use some reading material for breaks.”

“Good call,” Bernie answered with his same upbeat tone, adding two more magazines to the stack.

She set the stack of magazines and her newspaper gently on the road as she continued walking in place and chatting with Bernie while she drank her water. Her conversations with Bernie were about the only purely casual ones she had on a regular basis with her work schedule, especially after joining the protection detail.

“So,” Bledsoe asked after a while, “how was the Luau?”

“Oh,” Bernie said brightening up even more, “it was great. I think I overdid it on the Pork though.” Bernie put his hands on his stomach to emphasize his point. “But it was great having the entire family together and doing something from the islands.”

“I bet,” Bledsoe said with a smile, “it almost sounds like the last time I went to the ranch. Only over there it was barbeque and stuff from the heartland of America.”

“Eh,” Bernie said, “it’s a Melting Pot Culture. What are you gonna do?”

Bledsoe laughed and Bernie joined in. She and Bernie went back and forth until a little while after Bledsoe finished her water. At that time, Bledsoe bid Bernie a fond farewell and paid him for the merchandise before making her way back to her apartment.

After entering her apartment building, she unclipped her keys from her iPod strap and unlocked her mailbox at the front. She put a few envelopes of junk mail and a catalog into a recycling bin conveniently located nearby, and to her delight saw a package from Andrews. She made her way back to her apartment with her mail in hand.

Her first stop was her sink where she filled a pint glass with water and took a long drink. After draining the glass, she left to take a shower. Following her shower, she dried and brushed her hair, changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and went directly to the coffee maker in her kitchen. She poured some water into the reservoir and got her container of Folgers out of her pantry. She scooped a significant amount of grounds onto the filter, having inherited her rancher father’s penchant for strong coffee. While the coffee maker did its work, she completed her breakfast by preparing a bowl of Cocoa Puffs; looking at the front of the box differently after Odin’s comment at Gitmo.

She opened the package from Andrews and saw a small DVR in a case, and a piece of paper with a phone number and the name of the Coroner. She dialed the number and had a brief conversation with him in which she set up an appointment to come over and view the body that evening.

Satisfied, she hung up the phone and turned her attention to her big-screen HDTV. She grabbed the remote and turned it on, waiting a moment when she saw a news program talking about the Saunders assassination and it’s still powerful aftermath. The coffee maker having finished, Bledsoe transferred it to a mug and poured a small amount of thick cream into it to complete the mix. She then poured some milk on her cereal before sitting down and eating while she watched the report.

She couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for what had happened, and guilt came over her hard when she saw interviews with people who’d been affected by her failure. She continued to eat her cereal and drink her coffee while watching the report, using the guilt and sadness she felt to motivate her to find the people who were responsible.

After she finished her breakfast, she put the DVD into the player, she poured what coffee was left in the pot into the mug to top it off and switched the TV to the appropriate input for her BluRay player. She stepped back and saw that the disc started from quite some time before Saunders had even entered the Pavilion. She sat down on her couch and watched closely looking for anything out of the ordinary, occasionally sipping from her coffee.

After seeing Saunders enter the Pavilion, she watched even closer. She’d been on Saunders’ detail for several months, but this was the first time she noticed how much enthusiasm he inspired in the people. She watched them stand and applaud for him and felt herself stiffen up emotionally at the prospect of what she knew was about to happen.

She watched the recording, paying close attention to everything that was happening. She felt herself stiffen inside as every moment that passed on the tape brought her closer to reliving the horribly tragic event she knew was set to occur.

Since she was incapacitated at the time of the event itself, she had no idea as to exactly when it would happen. The only clue she had was that she knew Saunders had started speaking before he was shot.

Bledsoe could feel her pulse beginning to rise as the event progressed. Her hand that was holding her remote control was trembling and she could feel her teeth chattering as her lips quivered. The anticipation of what was coming and the memory of her failure to stop it was bearing down on her.

She stopped the disc and took several frantic and labored breaths. She felt dizzy and could have sworn that the room was spinning around her. She closed her eyes and brought her hand over them before resting her arm on the arm of the couch.

Bledsoe’s pulse continued racing as her breathing became heavier. She didn’t want to continue watching the proceedings, but knew that if she wanted to catch the ones who had done the killing that she would have to pick up whatever she could from the tape.

After a few minutes, Bledsoe calmed down and once again faced the TV monitor. The scene was still frozen, taunting her. She could only sit motionless, as frozen as the scene she was facing, and prolong the inevitable. Relenting, and knowing that the only way to move on was to catch the shooters and that in order to do that she had to witness the terrible event; she took a deep breath, finished her coffee and pressed the play button on her remote.

Although it was very difficult to watch, she did her best to look for anything out of the ordinary going on, regularly pausing the disc to observe every detail of the scene as it unfolded. She tried to see something, anything that would help her better understand how the assassination happened.

She remembered Taylor’s accusation about the assassination being an inside job and hated to admit that it made a lot of sense. She began to keep her eye out for suspicious activity among the agents on the detail. The most suspicious thing she noticed was when Cruz quickly picked his nose.

When she got to the point where she heard the shot, she quickly skipped ahead to a point when the camera turned in the direction of where the shot had come from, not wanting to see the event itself and not thinking it to be necessary.

She remembered the famous incident from the Kennedy assassination where a figure was seen ducking away from a window in the Book Depository building. She was hoping for something like that from what she was watching, and she scrutinized every frame of it trying to find anything she could use.

She watched it at normal speed first, then in slow motion, and then she watched it frame by frame zooming in as close as she could. Before she knew it, four hours had passed and she hadn’t found anything even resembling a clue. Frustration was setting in by this point, and she was beginning to question her decision on how to spend her time off.

When the thought of stopping her private investigation crossed her mind, she remembered seeing the people on the news that had been crushed by the terrible tragedy and her vow and commitment were instantly renewed. She glanced at her watch and saw that her appointment with the coroner was still a little while away. She poured herself a glass of water and started watching the disc again from the beginning, keeping her eye on anyone sitting in the pavilion that left their seat and making sure that they returned before the shot was fired. She examined the footage a little more, and then got up to use the bathroom.

Unknown to Bledsoe, someone else nearby had been spending his day in his main room intently watching something. However, this person had not been watching any kind of program but rather had been watching Bledsoe.

To keep up the appearance of his cover, he ate breakfast in the hotel lobby and left the building. Unnoticed, he scaled the building via a blind spot and had been observing Bledsoe from a handheld device while sitting on the roof until his room had been cleaned. Then, he reentered via his window and continued his vigil through the nearly microscopic surveillance cameras he had installed the night before while Bledsoe slpet.

Olcán kept the curtain in his room drawn and the area around him completely dark. He hadn’t slept since arriving. His evening had consisted of dawning one of the black bodysuits he and his compatriots used to turn invisible to infiltrate Bledsoe’s apartment and plant the cameras in key areas. He then went to an all-night grocery store after testing his equipment and formulated a plan of action for the duration of his assignment. He spent the time before Bledsoe woke up training and exercising, keeping an eye on the laptop for signs of movement.

After Bledsoe woke up, Olcán had begun his observations. Olcán had been detailing Bledsoe’s schedule on a notebook, detailing when she had gotten up, when she left to run, when she got back, and her subsequent activities.

After Bledsoe left, Olcán used the time to get in a workout of his own at the hotel gym before cleaning up and having his breakfast. When he heard the cleaner coming down the hall, he quickly put the surveillance laptop into its case, slung it on his back, and went to the roof. While on the roof, he looked over the notes he had taken up to that point and took a moment to enjoy the view.

Olcán went back into his room as soon as he heard the cleaner close his door and walk away, having seen Bledsoe get home not long before. Later, as Olcán observed Bledsoe’s own observations, he made a note about her close scrutiny of the footage, and that she didn’t appear to have found anything incriminating. Bledsoe continued scrutinizing the video, and Olcán patiently observed Bledsoe like an Eagle perched on a high cliff scanning the ground below for prey. Bledsoe never watched the actual shooting, but she scrutinized every other second of the recording.

Bledsoe stared at the screen, it seemed to be daring her to continue watching. She decided to clear her head and went back to her room. She changed into a pair of boxing-style trunks and a black short-sleeved Under Armor shirt before tying her hair back in a tight ponytail. She picked out a CD labeled “Warmup” and put it in the stereo.

A few moments later, the strains of “Silent Lucidity” echoed through the apartment as Bledsoe slowly stood up and took a few deep breaths. Once the introductory portion of the song concluded and the drums began, Bledsoe began to gracefully move in time with the music around her living room area.

She bounced and twirled in time with the music, doing so on her toes for several seconds at a time. If Queensryche had ever composed a ballet, Bledsoe’s movements would have comprised the choreography. Her focus became solely dedicated to allowing the music to dictate where and how she moved, and the increases in the tempo only served to goad and encourage her.

She moved with the music, showing off her flexibility, stamina, and overall skill to an invisible audience as she moved toward the chin-up bar. As the song led to its climax, Bledsoe jumped and grabbed the bar and spent the duration of the climax doing chin-ups in time with the music. Anger and frustration added to her usual intensity as she completed more repetitions than normal before letting go and using a momentary lull in the music to take a relaxing breath before resuming her dancing for the remainder of the song, ending with a brilliant ballet-style finish.

At the conclusion of the song, she found a CD labeled “punching bag” and put it into her stereo. She downed most of a bottle of water before wrapping her hands with a pair of reusable wraps and selecting a specific track, “Gimme Shelter” on her CD.

During the first part of it she put on her grappling gloves and did some stretches, letting the music flow through her and loosening up inside. She moved slowly to the music and lightly bounced up and down on her feet. When the song began in earnest, she let loose on the bag with punches, kicks, knees, and elbows as The Rolling Stones set the tone and pace of her barrage.

She was borderline savage in the way she attacked the bag; completely aware that she wasn’t just using her time on the bag to clear her mind, but also taking out her frustrations. She was a more than formidable fighter in any circumstance, but when she had pure rage fueling her she was like a tornado tearing through a trailer park.

Her footwork was as precise and flawless as the strikes she landed as she moved in time with the music. She only stopped pounding on the bag long enough to allow the transition from “Gimme Shelter” to Metallica’s “Some Kind of Monster” to complete. She then went back to ruthlessly destroying the bag. Her barrage sped up and slowed down to the music, Bledsoe allowing the music to dictate the pace and ferocity of her workout.

What Bledsoe was doing was far from lost on the man watching her from his hotel. Olcán couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed at the sight before him. He wondered about Bledsoe’s abilities before and could see that she measured up to the descriptions of her field performance that he’d read in her dossier. He dismissed how skilled she appeared by reasoning that hitting a bag was one thing, but real combat was something else entirely. Regardless, he made a note to approach her with caution if he needed to engage.

As “Some Kind of Monster” concluded Bledsoe jumped up, grabbed the chain above the bag, and brought one knee after another into the upper part of it with enough force to knock out a man three times her size. At that point Bledsoe was caked in sweat, and with her energy depleted she decided it was time to get back to work.

She took off the gloves and wraps, and then her shirt before making her way to the shower. It took every ounce of discipline Olcán had acquired through his years of training and service to remain focused on his mission. But despite his best efforts, he used the time Bledsoe spent cleaning up to take a shower himself…although the one he took was much colder.

Bledsoe finished her shower and continued to go over the tape until the sound of the alarm on her watch reminded her of the upcoming experience with the Coroner that she was sure was going to be anything but pleasant. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Images of the prone and lifeless form of the man she had been trusted to protect lying motionless on a slab looking up at her with lifeless eyes were already beginning to haunt her.

Knowing that she needed to go through with it in any case, she cast her fears aside and went into her room. She dressed in some more formal attire then went out to her car and started off for the Coroner’s Office. She played U2’s “One” on her car stereo to help her relax and continued on her way. She stopped at a red light and used the moment to let the music completely enfold her.

For the briefest of moments, she felt the calming symphony that had gotten her through so many assignments come over her again. Once again, she was abruptly snapped out of her symphony when she could have sworn that she felt her car sink slightly and then rise up to where it had been before. The sinking only lasted a moment and would have gone unnoticed by most people.

Bledsoe however was not a normal person. She felt the sink and, being especially jumpy ever since the Pavilion, quickly turned her head to look at the back of her car. She saw nothing, and she hadn’t heard a sound accompanying the sink. She briefly considered getting out to check the trunk, but then the light turned green.

Not wanting to obstruct traffic, she drove through the light to the Coroner’s Office. She frequently glanced at her rearview mirror to check the trunk, still unable to shake the uneasy feeling that the sink was more than a figment of her imagination.

After a few minutes, she arrived at her destination. She shut off the car, then popped the trunk. She quickly moved to the rear of the car and threw open the trunk. Nothing was in it other than the usual items she kept there. Flares, a first aid kit, some collapsible road cones, a roll of duct tape, a Maglite flashlight, a green wool blanket, and a 3-gallon can of gasoline.

Bledsoe looked on confused. She was sure she’d felt something when she stopped at the light, and her experience at the Pavilion when Saunders was killed only convinced her to never doubt her hunches. She took her flashlight and turned it on to take one last thorough look in the trunk bed, carefully looking for any kind of evidence that something was out of place or different in any way.

After looking through for two solid minutes, Bledsoe was satisfied and comfortable in the notion that the sinking feeling had been nothing worthy of note. She closed the trunk and returned to the front of the car. She picked up a notebook and pen she had there and locked the vehicle before walking to the office door.

She’d never been to a coroner’s office, and the anticipation of the experience and what she was about to see and do filled her with a sense of grim anticipation and dread. The apprehensive feelings inside her intensified with each step she took.

She opened the door and walked in. After checking in at the front desk, she was told where the morgue was and made her way there determined, but slightly hesitant. Her determination outweighed her dread as she stepped closer to the element of her investigation that she was looking forward to the least.

When she got to the office she immediately found herself awash in new and unique sights, and especially smells. The only similar smell she’d encountered to what was now perforating her senses before this was when she helped her dad and brothers carve an entire steer and then deliver it to a meat locker.

She heard music after opening the door. She recognized the music as Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. Two slabs with shrouded bodies caught and held her attention. She wondered which one was Saunders.

For a moment she considered walking out of the office and abandoning her investigation. The moment was short lived when she remembered the aching feeling that accompanied the fact that she failed in her mission and was now on suspension because of it. That coupled with the burning desire to bring the guilty parties to justice renewed her resolve. After a moment, she heard the sound of a flushing toilet followed by running water from a sink. A door in the back of the room opened and the Coroner stepped out.

The Coroner was a man about two inches shorter than Bledsoe. He had thinning brown hair and sunken dark eyes. He carried a brown paper towel and finished drying his hands before picking out a couple of latex gloves from a box on a counter and beginning to put them on.

Upon noticing that he had company, his eyes opened wide for a moment. On the phone he hadn’t been expecting anything like what was in front of him. He’d imagined some kind of hard-nosed pants-suited ball-breaker professional type, possibly with a hygiene problem. Instead, he found a very beautiful and pleasant-looking young woman.

“Agent Bledsoe?” the man asked in a slightly nasally voice, unsure of who the goddess facing him was.

“Yes,” Bledsoe answered as she approached him, “and you must be the Coroner. I’m sorry,” she said politely as she extended her hand to him, “but I didn’t get your name when we spoke on the phone earlier.”

“I’m,” he said extending his hand and tensing up slightly, “I mean my name is Jonah Greeley.” It was apparent by his demeanor and the way he spoke that Greeley didn’t have much experience with women, at least ones who were alive.

“Pleased to meet you Doctor Greeley,” Bledsoe said as they shook hands.

“So,” he said after a few moments of awkward pause, “Director Andrews tells me you want to see Senator Saunders’ body.”

Bledsoe tensed up and focused her gaze to the tables behind Greeley. A myriad of images of what awaited her when the sheet would be removed ran through her head. The apprehension returned, but her iron will allowed her to push that aside and nod in response.

“Ok,” Greeley said as he held out a pair of latex gloves, “put these on and I’ll show you the body.”

“I apologize in advance if the smell bothers you,” Greeley said, “it can be a little overwhelming when you aren’t used to it,” Bledsoe nodded in understanding as Greeley put on his other glove.

“If you’re ready,” Greely said using the opportunity to take a moment to marvel at Bledsoe’s beautiful face, unable to resist admiring the sight before him despite the serious expression she sported. He was so taken with his visitor that he didn’t realize over ten seconds had passed since Bledsoe had given him a nod indicating that she was ready to proceed.

Bledsoe was still not looking forward to the task at hand, so she didn’t say anything. She had become accustomed to people staring at her, she didn’t like it but knew she had to accept the fact that she was beautiful and people would always stare. After a while, Greeley’s staring was making her uncomfortable.

“Doctor Greeley?” Bledsoe asked in a polite tone.

“Oh, sorry,” Greeley said apologetically, “he’s this one.”

He gestured to the closer table and walked to the end where the head was with Bledsoe following close behind. The feeling of grim anticipation she had had while walking up to the office returned tenfold as she approached the table. Greeley slowly walked to the other side of the table and took the highest corner of the sheet.

“I should tell you,” Greeley said, “that what you are about to see will be very gruesome. Do you have a strong stomach?”

“Yeah,” Bledsoe answered, attempting to mask the nervous trembling that threatened to manifest inside her.

“Okay,” Greeley said cryptically, “here we go.”

Greeley gripped the other side of the sheet and slowly brought it down to Saunders’ waist. Bledsoe’s eyes shot open and she took a gasping breath as she staggered for a moment from the sight before her.

The initial shock for Bledsoe was to see the body that she had seen filled with life so many times for so long now motionless and devoid of life. After she mustered the courage to look at the hope of the nation that had now been reduced to a corpse, she was grateful that what she said about her stomach was true.

Saunders’ skin had gone pale with the complete loss of life. There was dried blood on the front of his torso, and his right shoulder was dislocated. As her eyes made their way upward, the blood on Saunders’ body increased. There was some other material mixing in with the blood, and Bledsoe’s eyes stopped when they got to the base of Saunders’ neck.

She closed her eyes, turned her head down to the ground, and took a few drawn out breaths. After a few moments, she took one last long breath and quickly looked up. What awaited was far worse than anything she’d anticipated. She was afraid to see Saunders’ head looking mangled or dismembered in some other way. Instead, she saw his brains and other pieces of his head in jars above his neck.

“Have you ever seen a dead body before?” Greeley asked.

“Yes,” Bledsoe said between short gasps as she took care not to vomit, “just nothing like this.”

“I understand that,” Greeley said callously, “I thought the same thing when I first saw it. And I’m sorry for the smell, but I was told to tamper with the body only minimally until I can determine the exact cause of death.”

“I mean,” Greeley said in a joking voice, “I can tell what the cause of death was. They just want me to be able to get some more detail.”

It was obvious that Bledsoe didn’t share Greeley’s sense of humor about the situation, and Greeley immediately regretted his moment of levity.

“When you feel comfortable taking a closer look,” Greeley said returning to his professional tone, “there are a few things I want to show you on the body that you should see if you’re investigating.”

Bledsoe nodded in response and continued to breathe slowly in an attempt to calm herself down. She found herself able to focus when she remembered the Prussian blue eyes she’d seen at the rally and felt renewed with a resolve to bring in the killer. The hatred she felt in that moment far outweighed her apprehensions.

She took one last deep breath before turning around to face Greeley. She gave him a nod, which he returned. Greeley then turned to face the body on the table and Bledsoe moved next to him, grateful for the material underneath her nose. Every time Bledsoe felt herself getting queasy, she remembered the eyes and got the resolve to continue.

“Obviously the first thing I noticed,” Greeley said pointing to the remnants of Saunders’ head, “was the huge extent of the wound.”

Bledsoe looked where Greeley pointed. Being in the Secret Service she was very familiar with the Kennedy assassination and knew exactly what Greeley meant about the wound. Now that she’d gotten past the initial shock of the scene in the office, Bledsoe was able to focus much better and could observe the body as she’d planned.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Greeley paused for a moment before adding, “to even fathom this kind of damage is…the guy that did this has to be the best shot in the world.”

“Were you aware that this was a two-man job?” Bledsoe asked having recovered her professional demeanor.

“I read the report that was provided,” Greeley answered, “but there was only one shot and we only found enough material for one bullet. It may have been pulled off by two men, but only one of them actually did the deed.”

“I figured as much,” Bledsoe said remembering how much she’d seen from where she was against the wall that night, “what kind of angle do you figure the bullet came in from?”

“Well,” Greeley said pointing to Saunders’ head and tracing a trajectory, “it’s obvious that the shooter was facing him. I figure that it was a straight-on shot. This guy’s aim was amazing. It couldn’t have been better placed if he’d fired through some kind of tube that led from where he was to the point of entry.”

Greeley let out a sigh as he looked down at Saunders’ body.

“It’s really too bad though,” he sighed, “I was planning on voting for him in November.”

“A lot of the people I work with were planning on doing that” Bledsoe replied.

They both paused, Greeley thinking about what might have been if the man on the table was still alive. Bledsoe couldn’t help but blame herself for the sight before her. As the feelings of guilt and remorse began once again rising inside her, she quickly got back to business.

“Do you have any idea what kind of weapon was used?” Bledsoe asked.

“It was definitely a high-powered rifle,” Greeley said as he walked over to a nearby desk and picked up a small glass container, “but no one found it.” Greeley handed the container to Bledsoe. “We were able to recover this from the body after we performed the initial autopsy. Some of it’s also from the crime scene.”

“So,” Bledsoe said after taking a quick look at the dust in the container, “what do you make of it?”

“Well,” Greeley said pensively pointing to the main wound, “this looks like it was done with a 50 caliber round.”

Greeley leaned in closer to the body, Bledsoe remained where she was. Greeley looked closer then looked back at Bledsoe, gesturing for her to move in next to where he was. Bledsoe moved in and tried to hold her breath as much as possible.

“Now this,” Greeley said pointing to what was left of Saunders’ head “is what I can’t understand. The only thing I’ve seen capable of any tissue damage remotely like this is a hollow-point round. But,” Greeley continued gesturing to the same area, “I’ve never seen a hollow-point, or anything for that matter, take someone’s head completely off like this. And, from what I’m told, the head exploded. There’s nothing I know of that can do that, especially at the distance indicated in Director Andrews’ report.”

Bledsoe never studied medicine when she was at school, but she had picked up on some basic points concerning ballistics. She knew enough to know that everything Greeley said was right on the money, she continued to observe and listen intently.

“The other thing that bothers me,” Greeley continued, “is the fact that the shell was reduced to dust.”

Greeley grumbled a little, and it was obvious that this topic was a constant source of frustration for him.

“The only possible explanation I can think of is that the bullet used was some kind of exploding round. But the only time I’ve ever even heard of one of those was when I saw ‘Day of the Jackal.’”

Bledsoe could only look on in confusion and couldn’t suppress a sense of wonder and dismay at who she was dealing with.

“This guy wasn’t only the best shot I’ve ever seen,” Greeley said, “he’s probably also the best equipped.”

“How do you know that dust is from the bullet?” Bledsoe asked.

“I told you we analyzed it,” Greeley said, “and we found traces of gunpowder mixed with whatever the shell is made out of. If you look closely at it you can see some of the fragments shine.”

Bledsoe took the container and examined its contents. There were some metal pieces, obviously the remains of the bullet that ended the life of Senator Saunders, but nothing stood out at first glance. After looking at it for a moment she noticed the metal bits shining in the light.

“Do you have any idea what material this is?” Bledsoe asked holding the container up so that it was between her and Greeley.

“We have no idea what it is,” Greeley answered, “it’s some kind of metal that we’ve never seen before. It certainly isn’t lead. All we can determine is that it’s not an alloy, it seems to be composed of a single element.”

“You really have no idea what it is?” Bledsoe asked.

“None whatsoever,” Greeley said with a shrug mingled with genuine frustration.

Bledsoe let her gaze shift downward, looking for any excuse to not look above the Senator’s neck. That’s when her eyes caught something she hadn’t expected. She gazed at the senator’s downturned right arm, and saw stained blood surrounding the lower part of it between the tendons of the wrist.

“What’s that?” Bledsoe asked pointing to the area she’d just noticed.

“Oh,” Greeley answered, “I was so wrapped up in the little mystery up here that I forgot to go into the other one.” He came next to Bledsoe and turned over the Senators’ forearm.

“I have no idea what the element making up the bullet is,” he stated, “but we think it might be composed of some kind of element that causes an adverse effect in the bloodstream.”

“What makes you say that?” Bledsoe asked equally intrigued by the wound on the forearm as she was of the shining metal shards in the container she was still holding.

“Take a look” Greeley invited as he finished turning over the arm.

Bledsoe set down the glass container and walked back to the table. She let out a slight gasp at the sight that awaited her. There was a long slash on the forearm that looked like it had been made by a thin, sharp knife. The slash was bathed in dried blood and Bledsoe couldn’t take her eyes off it.

“There’s blood around it,” Bledsoe observed out loud, “that means it must have occurred around the same time that he died.”

“Exactly,” Greeley replied, “that’s why we’re looking into any kind of element or mineral that could cause disruption in the bloodstream.”

“What was the extent of this wound?” Bledsoe asked after she’d recovered enough from the initial shock.

“Hold his arm like this,” Greeley instructed almost sighing.

Bledsoe nodded and moved to where Greeley was standing and held Saunders’ arm in the same way Greeley had. Greeley walked back to the desk and picked up a pair of tweezers. He walked back to the forearm and carefully used the tweezers to move back the flesh around the slash.

Bledsoe noticed that there was a great deal of loose flesh, and that the right forearm was noticeably more defined than the left. After a few moments Greeley had peeled back all the loose flesh and was now using the tweezers as a pointer.

“You see the flesh here,” he said to Bledsoe earning a nod, “well the only possible answer for this is that sometime after the bullet entered the head some kind of material entered the bloodstream. Then, after entering the bloodstream, this mineral made an extremely precise cut and slash on this forearm and no other part of the body. And finally after all that, caused an explosion strong enough to dislocate the adjoining shoulder and send blood shooting out of the slash onto the pavilion floor and the torso region of the victim’s shirt.”

There was a pause between the two of them as Bledsoe processed what Greeley had just said. She looked at the wound and then over the entire body remembering all that had happened starting with when she’d looked into the haunting blue eyes floating in the darkness.

She took a good long look over the entire body of Senator Saunders, careful to take in every detail and embracing rather than shying away from the more shocking or gruesome aspects of her present task.

“Would you mind holding his arm?” Bledsoe asked Greeley, “I want to take some notes before I leave.”

“Not at all,” Greeley said moving back and deliberately attempting to smoothly brush his hand against Bledsoe’s. She was so engrossed in her final observations and getting down all the information she could that she didn’t notice Greeley’s clumsy pass. She was so consumed that she would not allow herself to feel uncomfortable or queasy.

After a few minutes she looked over her notes and the body one last time and decided that she was finished. She closed the notepad and turned to face Greeley, extending her hand to him.

“Thank you Dr. Greeley,” she said politely, “you’ve been very helpful.”

“My pleasure,” Greeley said fighting off a blush, “if there’s anything else I can help you with,” Greeley handed her a business card, “give me a call.”

“I will,” Bledsoe said taking the card, “thanks again for everything” she added with a smile.

She walked out of the room, fully aware that Greeley would be staring after her. She was so consumed with all she’d learned and going over what she should do next that she forgot about her gloves. The gloves getting in the way of her opening the door out of the office brought her back to the present.

She took off the gloves and threw them away in a nearby trash can. The smell of the substance Greeley had put on her still permeated her senses.

She went to her car and took a moment to clear her mind and think about what her next course of action would be. She immediately knew that she had to watch the recording again, but this time she would have to watch the shooting itself.

Greeley was motionless in his office, still enjoying the lingering scent of Bledsoe. He paused for a few moments, then went to the phone in the office and dialed a number.

“Hi,” Greeley said after a few moments, “you told me to let you know if anyone came snooping around…”

Dread mingled with frantic need filled Bledsoe’s mind as she sped off back to her apartment and the ordeal that awaited her there. She barely noticed the traffic lights and other barriers between her and her destination as she drove. Once she parked her car she quickly got out and ran back to her apartment, locking the car via remote as she sprinted back. The pressing need to see the moment she’d been intentionally skipping over consumed her.

She turned on her TV with the disc from the rally still loaded and immediately fast forwarded to just before the shooting. She let it play at normal speed and waited, oblivious to everything else that was going on except for every move that Senator Saunders made. Her need to see what happened overpowered the internal stiffening that had previously come to her at that point.

She saw the Senator thank the crowd before seeing the graphic mess that occurred when the assassin’s bullet hit its mark and his head, along with the bullet itself, exploded. Bledsoe struggled not to close her eyes and watched Saunders, the man who it had been her assignment and sworn duty to protect, fall to the ground. She broke down inside at the reminder of her failed assignment, and her eyes watered with tears as the complete flood of memories of all that had transpired that night, beginning with the eyes that haunted her thoughts, came back to her.

She continued to watch the disc until it ended. She couldn’t help a few more tears welling up in her eyes at seeing the moment when the hopes and bright future that Saunders had represented died with him, and remembered that it had been her post that was used to bring that about.

Bledsoe would have been weeping for hours, but she knew she had to be tougher than that. After taking a moment to regain her composure, she backed the disc up to just before the shooting.

This time, she focused all her attention on the Senator’s right forearm. She held her gaze, happy that she had something to focus on besides the gruesome sight of the Senator’s head at the moment of impact, and waited.

After a few seconds, she gasped in surprise as a quick, unnoticeable except for anyone who was watching that specific part, flash visible only at the end of the sleeve emanated. This was accompanied by a bulge in the sleeve that Bledsoe was certain was the blood splash. Saunders’ right arm jerking violently as if by some kind of explosion focused only on that limb followed, the ordeal concluded with his body falling to the ground.

Bledsoe moved the disc back to before the shooting, zoomed in as close as she could while still maintaining a view of the forearm, and played it at the slowest possible speed. Her eyes widened in surprise at what she saw.

The moment the bullet hit Saunders, Bledsoe saw the beginning of the perfectly straight line she’d noticed at Greely’s office materialize just above the heel of his hand between the tendons on the forearm. Bledsoe saw a grey mist exit through the jacket sleeve before the explosion of blood and arm jerking. After she could tell that the bizarre show with the forearm had concluded, Bledsoe stopped the disc and stood up.

The expression on her face reflected that Bledsoe had no idea what to think. She desperately attempted to formulate any explanation for what she’d just seen happen. Bledsoe’s knowledge of the medical field was limited, but she knew enough to know that what she’d just seen was not normal or even feasible.

She considered taking the disc to Greeley to see what he thought. Then, she thought of calling Andrews and telling him what she’d seen. She was so awash in her sea of thought that it took the sound of her window shattering behind her to bring her back to the present.

#novel #action-adventure #fantasy #historical fiction

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