From The Darkness

Searching for you

Jack breathed heavily over all of the old cases, looking at the fine words, the fine lines, and the hidden messages in between. Often it was the thought that came after, not the report, that lead to a break in a case.

Davey was loyal as always, right next to him. But he seemed to be able to get all the air in his lungs he needed. An impossible feat for Jack in that moment.

It felt like if he stopped breathing, even for a moment, the world would stop with it and waste time. Instead he was just working himself up, which he knew of course. How couldn't you know when your hot humid air was filling up the space in front of you so heavily you could feel it stick onto you like a disease.

Davey put his hand on Jack's arm. Jack's hand flinched as to slap it away, and maybe had it been someone else's arm he would have done it. But Davey was just trying to help, hell he was rather fond of Racer too.

Jack remembers when Race took his first steps.

He whiplashed back into the moment and switched to the next case. They all said the same thing, no body found.

What if Jack didn't have a body to bury.

What if he never saw Race again and his last damn words were, "cornflakes or fruit loops."

His breath hitched and Jack realized he'd gone light headed. He grabbed the table to steady his rapidly teetering body and rubbed at his eyes. Soothing the tension in his skull.

Davey slammed down the case, "we aren't going anywhere with these, it's useless. They all say the same thing."

Jack was surprised, Davey was usually the first one to be up for sitting down and bunkering over the paperwork, said you couldn't get anywhere without the fine details. Otherwise you could arrest an innocent.

Nobody on the job liked to arrest an innocent, there was a certain air about it. Like being the one to bring down a group project. Felt musty and rotten inside. Your coworkers would give the basic "it happens to the best of us," though you could tell they were thinking that they wouldn't have made that mistake. Your boss would say, "all we can do is learn from our mistakes," but you knew he'd go home and tell his whole family about the stupidest cop in his precinct. You yourself would have the cheap inner pep talk, "it's fine it won't happen again," yet you know it would happen again and are just trying to patch up a bad feeling. But worst of all you'd get the silent smug judgement from the innocent man, told y'a they'd say and Jack couldn't help but even feel more guilty.

Davey crossed the table and shoved himself into Jacks eye contact, holding him there hostage in a prison of uncomfortable air.

"Jack, we have a rare advantage, you know the guy. Think for once in your damn life and see if there's anything that's happened in Race's life recently." Davey asked, reaching forward to jostle Jack around like kickstarting his brain.

He's right, Jack did have an advantage here. He'd been taking care of that idiot since he was a baby. He'd talked to all his teachers, friends, workers, he knew Race from his favorite color to his least favorite kind of door knob. He knew Race from his curly blonde hair to the tiny jagged scare on his pinky nail from when he was five. He knew Race from his late night phone calls when he'd talk on and on about how great dance was, to the moments were Jack wondered if Race went braindead while standing there.

So he thought, and he thought harder than he ever did in his entire life.

They had been at the diner a lot recently, Race was telling him about dance, stupid Albert interrupted, then Race told him about Oscar coming over...

Oscar. Race's crazy ex-boyfriend who had a shelf full of model cars and enough protein powder to fuel an Olympic gymnast.

Jack jerked up, shoving the chair with little screeches across the dark wood floor. He smiled brass and bold. A lead. A Damn lead.

"I have an idea, c'mon," he urged, grabbing Davey and pulling him across the room unkindly.

He swiftly found Oscars profile, him having a semi-concerning sized record, and set off in their car to get to him.

New York traffic had other ideas. Sometimes he forgot rush-hour existed and what would've been a 20 minute car ride turned into a 2 hour car ride.

They didn't really speak during the car ride, quietly playing Jacks calming country playlist. The quiet however was full of raw juicy thoughts the filled the empty space of the outside. Their heads was enough room for the world in that moment.

Davey did demand that Jack explain during the car ride however, which Jack did happily. Glad for a reason to verbally collect his thoughts. Sometimes saying things out loud gave leeway in the mind for more thoughts, like you were clearing up that static space that seemed to fill the background.

They did arrive however, and Jack found no problem finding his apartment, because it was the only one with the door opened.

Jack frowned and reached for his gun, "hello?" He called out. No response, he creeped forward. "It's me Jack Kelly, I'm Ra.. Antonio's older brother. You know who I am. I'm here on official police business if you could open the door."

No response, "hello?" Jack asked again.

He looked over at Davey who shrugged again. How was he supposed to know. Jack pursed his lips before opening the door slowly, carefully blocking himself in the frame, glad he was wearing a bullet proof vest.

Nothing.

He peaked forward and the apparentement was empty, except for the large trail of blood that creeped from the bedroom door.

"Huh?" Jack said, walking forward, opening the door.

There stood the unmistakable body of Oscar Delancey, perfectly intact aside from the lack of head of which blood was gushing out of, staining Jacks black shoes.

Davey gasped and pulled out his radio to call more officers.

Jack's whole body slumped, he couldn't say he was sad about it, the guy treated his family like crap, from calling Crutchie a cripple to smacking Race.

But that was his only lead, and they were back to square one.

He supposed he should feel more sad upon seeing a headless body. Perhaps shocked. Maybe even disgusted as the dead body odor was starting to settle in and mixing with the wet blood stench. Instead he just felt disappointing. While he'd never seen this particularly, he couldn't say it was the first time he'd seen something horribly gruesome. In fact this hadn't even been the tip of the ice burg. He's certain that the young boy clawed apart and cut into shapes was the worst one. He still had nightmares about that.

Why wasn't this working? He was a police officer for Christ sake. This was his job. He should be able to find his little brother. He's solved murders, arson, rapes, kidnappings, but somehow the one time it matters to him, he's dry like a fish basking in the sun. Helplessly flopping about while the people above debate wether to let him rot or toss him back in.

Jack pulled at his skin, heat filling up his empty space and he swiftly reached over to punch the wall. Considering it was the wooden door frame, it didn't do much, more hurting his hand, but the searing pressure bubbling up, subsided and calmed over to a soft simmer. Still hot and fresh, but not a boil where the risk of it boiling over hung ahead every moment.

Police officers filtered the building, along with forensics and Jack just stepped back and watched.

Davey walked up to him, silently, and hugged him. Jack hugged back.

Leaning into his ear Davey whispered, "we'll get him."

Jack nodded, he would not rest until his brother was found.

One way or another.