Think of the Devil

Twenty-One

Despite the relatively sunny morning, dark clouds were rolling in by the afternoon. They set a rather gloomy background for Jane as she approached the New York FBI Field Office. While she generally loved the rain and moody days like today, she couldn't deny how foreboding it made the task at hand feel.

Entering the building, she immediately had to go through metal detectors and explain why she was there. Then she was escorted up to the floor where her meeting was to take place. Foggy had explained that he and Karen would be speaking to the agent first, and Foggy would accompany Jane for her appointment after.

As she rode the elevator, she couldn't help but nervously tap into the agent's thoughts. He was big and broad but pretty generic-looking, and his thoughts were about the same. He had to run some security check after escorting Jane to her floor, so he let her off and pointed her in the right direction before hurrying back downstairs.

For as deeply serious as a building of federal agents was, their thoughts were pretty dull as she made her way through the office. Most agents had reports to finish, deadlines to meet. It seemed about as typical as any office job, a general feeling of boredom and disinterest in the air. Jane searched for Foggy through the idle mental chatter, but she didn't have to look for long.

Foggy and Karen were turning a corner down the same corridor as Jane. She froze. She'd known she was going to have to face Karen again today, but face-to-face now she felt afraid again. The last thing Jane wanted was to make Karen more upset, so she stayed still as she waited to be recognized. It only took a moment, as the reporter's eyes lifted to the telepath while she and Foggy spoke.

(Great,) Karen thought. (Just what I need.)

"Jane, hey," Foggy greeted. "You find us okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I had an escort," she answered quietly. She glanced at Karen, who was attempting to look everywhere but at her.

"Good. Okay, let me walk Karen out. I'll be right back." Foggy was nervous, both because of how their conversation went with the agent and because of Karen's obvious distaste for Jane. He didn't want another spat to happen like it had last night.

They both looked at Karen then, but her eyes were now fixed to something away from them. Following her gaze, they saw a table with dozens of cellphones sealed in evidence bags. Most were lighting up, calls or texts coming in a series of jingles and buzzes. It made Jane's heart drop as they took in the sight, realizing the phones belonged to all the victims from last night's attack. Some of those calls and texts would never be answered. The sight was truly harrowing, burning a haunted vision in Jane's mind.

Glancing back at Karen, she could feel the absolute heartbreak and mourning that the reporter felt. Karen had already seemed close to tears, and her big blue eyes snapped shut after a moment of staring. She shook her head, turning to look back at Foggy. "Don't worry about me," she said. "I, um— I can manage."

"Are you sure? I could get you a cab." He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't mind waiting," Jane added, trying to convince her. She'd feel better if Karen let Foggy walk her out, especially after feeling just how torn apart she was.

Karen's distraught gaze flickered back to Jane, who suddenly regretted speaking up. Her eyes narrowed at the psychic. "I'll be fine. Thanks," she stated flatly.

With that, she started forward. Jane quickly sidestepped out of her way, not wanting to upset Karen anymore than she already had. She and Foggy watched as Karen quickly made her way to the elevator, not turning around despite feeling their eyes on her.

(Where is she going? What's she gonna' do?) Foggy thought. He was also upset, but he was trying to keep his mind in working order. Jane could tell it was a form of trauma response; he was working on autopilot, and he hadn't begun to process what had happened and how he felt about it. In fairness to him, she hadn't processed everything as thoroughly as she should have either, but at least she'd allowed herself to cry.