chapter twenty-seven:
“I never touched him,” Caelum said firmly as he stared at the two police officers in front of him. One was standing, leaning over the table, aggravated, while the other sat calmly. Their name tags read Watson and York respectively.
“Then why would Davis ask you to stop?” Officer Watson demanded.
“I don't know, but I never touched Principal Davis. I simply asked where my brothers were. He was the one who beat himself up.”
“That makes no sense, kid,” Officer York frowned. “You weren't even supposed to be in the same room as the man, why would he do that to himself?”
“I don't know,” Caelum sighed, “Maybe he felt guilty for what he did. Maybe he was begging God for forgiveness. You'll have to ask him.”
“I would, but the man is in a coma,” Watson snapped. Caelum's eyebrow twitched, he didn't know he did that much damage.
“That's not my problem,” Caelum frowned. “I'm sorry, but I'm not responsible for what inflicted wounds Principal Davis did to himself but me being in the same room as him was purely coincidental.”
The officers looked at each other, angry and frustrated. “Can I go, now?” He asked, he wanted to look at the place they said. He had to find his brothers.
“You're not going anywhere until we get some answers,” Watson snapped.
Caelum glared at the man for moment before schooling his expression and sitting up straight. “All right then, sir. Is that all?”
“What about Mahoney?” York asked. “Why was he unconscious when we found you.”
“You'll have to ask him about his physical state and health status,” Caelum shrugged. “I can't tell you a damn thing.”
“Listen here, kid,” Watson leaned across the table, Caelum felt his heart beat rise, expecting to get hit. He leaned away as far as he could with his hands cuffed to the table, but the second one held his arm, pulling him back.
“Andrew Davis beat the shit out of you,” York stared clearly, as if reading the weather report. “Then, he fucked you, inside and out. You experience this for nearly a year on a weekly basis, at least. Why would you even want to be in the same room as him?”
“I had to find my brothers.”
Officer York jumped at him, his hands outstretched for his throat, and he pulled away, his eyes wide, “No! Please!” He begged immediately, the words slipping out of him before he could process them. The handcuffs rubbing at the skin on his wrists, probably making them bleed.
His hands never even made it close to him. He moved back, watching his scared form as he tried to get himself to breathe again. “You're scared, Algol. You're scared of him.”
Caelum wasn't listening anymore, he could feel his hands tightening around his throat. He choked back tears and closed his eyes for a minute, trying to breathe. “Jesus, Calvin,” Officer Watson muttered. “Give the kid a heart attack, why don't you?”
“He was a threat to you,” he continued, ignoring his partner. “He claimed to have your mother murdered, so you attacked him. Was it revenge, Algol? Anger?” Caelum didn't say anything, he stared at his hands, tired ― he was so tired.
“I never touched him,” he said softly.
“Did you hurt him?”
“I never touched Principal Davis.”
“Answer my question, Algol.”
“Don't call me that, sir,” Caelum said flatly. “I prefer Caelum.”
“And I prefer to be at home with my wife and kids ― look at us.” He was quiet, “Tell us what you did to him.”
“Have I been charged with a crime yet?” He asked.
“Other than being an accessory to assault,” Watson noted.
“I didn't lay a hand on Principal Davis.”
“You didn't stop him either.”
“You expect me to help save the life of the same man who tried to take mine?” He asked, “You expect me to help the man who would beat me every other night, rape me, make me do things for him that still keeps me up at night? You expect me to help that kind of man?”
“I expect you to be the better person and not hurt him,” York said.
“I never touched Principal Davis,” Caelum hissed. “My skin never came in contact with his. My hands never touched him.”
“Then why is he in a coma?”
“We're getting nowhere,” Caelum sighed. “We'll be arguing for hours.”
“And we will until we get some answers,” Watson snapped. Then, the door opened.
Caelum looked over, two men stepped in, one was blonde with his hair combed back and a bit pudgy. But he had a smile on his face and wore a suit. The other was taller, leaner, and had on an identical suit and a straight face. However, he had on a pair of completely black spectacles and held a black walking stick. He was blind.
“Foggy,” York greeted, “Matt. What are you doing here?”
“We're here to represent him,” the first man said.
“I never asked for a lawyer,” Caelum said immediately. Much less, two. He didn't have a job, he couldn't pay for this!
“We know,” The other man said, the leaner one. “But a friend of ours asked us to help you. We can discuss financials later.” Caelum stared at the man, remembering how Principal Davis liked to 'discuss’ financials. He didn't want to go through that again, he didn't want to get hurt again.
“Who asked you to come?” Watson asked suspiciously. It was a very recent case, who would know to come and help him?
“Mahoney,” the bigger man said. “He advised us here. Do you mind if we speak with our client alone?”
“No, I don't want you here,” Caelum said immediately, his heart thundering. “I don't need a lawyer.”
“You're a minor, kid,” Watson said, standing up straight. “You'll need to ask your parents that.” Caelum wanted to throw something. He sat farther in his seat as the two men left leaving him in the room with the lawyers, alone.
Caelum was terrified, but he tried not to show it. He stared at his hands, which were shaking. “Let's start off with names,” the kinder lawyer said. “I'm Foggy Nelson and this is my partner, Matthew Murdock. Your name is. . .” He flipped through a paper. “Algol Forest?”
“Caelum,” he said, trying not to winced at the name.
“Caelum, alright. Can you tell us what happened, Caelum?”
“I don't need a lawyer,” he said again.
“Why?” Matthew asked.
“I can't. . .” he swallowed, “I can't pay for one. I can't afford it.”
“Don't worry about that, alright?” Foggy assured, “Let's go over what happened.”
“No, I don't need a lawyer,” Caelum insisted. “I don't want to go over what happened!”
“Are you scared, Mr. Forest?” Caelum flinched immediately at the title, remembering the still body of the man on the table.
“I'm not. . .” That was a lie. “I don't need a lawyer.” He glanced at the door, wishing it were open so he could scream, so he'd have a chance if something happened.
“What are you scared of?” Matthew continued. “Is it true, did you assault Mr. Davis?”
“No, I never touched him,” he said firmly.
“At all?”
“The recordings, they prove it.” He looked at the man again, maybe he could possess him and convince his friend to leave him alone? “I don't need a lawyer, sir.”
“Are you. . . afraid of us?” Foggy suddenly asked and he pressed his lips together.
“No, I'm not. I just―I believe I can handle this myself.”
“Mr. Forest,” he inhaled slightly, and Matthew stopped. “Caelum,” he amended. “We're trained professionals. You'll be way in over your head if you do this alone. Besides, it'll be an easy case if what you say is true.”
“If it's an easy case, why are you here?” Caelum snapped. “Go home, sir. I don't want you here ― I don't want a lawyer.”
The other man was flipping through a file, frowning, “It says here that. . . Mr. Davis is in custody because he kidnapped you and repeatedly assaulted you? Is this true?” He didn't want him to do this. He didn't want to read through the rest of that file. “And, before the kidnapping, he. . .” Foggy stopped. “Oh.”
“What's wrong?” Matthew asked. Foggy turned and whispered something to him. Caelum could see the man’s face shift from serious to concerned. “Oh. . .” he looked back at Caelum. He turned away, feeling his face burn with shame. He didn't have to possess Foggy to know what they just read.
“Let's start over, alright?” Foggy smiled gently at him. Caelum stared at the table. “My name is Foggy and this is my friend Matthew. You must be Mr. Forest―”
“Caelum,” Matthew corrected. “You must be Caelum. And, to make the record clear, Caelum, we're not going to do anything to you if you are unable to pay us. We just want to help.” Caelum hated how he needed that reassurance, but as soon as the man said it, he felt himself relax. “Can we get started now?”
He was tired. He sighed, looking away. “I want to go home,” he admitted ruefully, and Foggy smiled.
“You can, as soon as we finish.” Caelum nodded. “Tell us what happened.”
Caelum explained everything, how he came to the police building and asked to talk with Principal Davis, and they agreed ― albeit unwillingly, but the didn't need to know that. Then, Detective Mahoney escorted him upstairs and he talked to Principal Davis.
“I asked him where my brothers were. He refused to give up the information,” Caelum explained and Foggy narrowed his eyes.
“So he slammed his skull into a metal table.”
“Yes.”
“But, the recording says that he asked you to stop.”
“Yes, but I never touched him.” Caelum shrugged. “Maybe he was mentally unstable, with the arrest and all.”
“And what about Brett?” Foggy asked. “He tried to shoot him.”
“I don't know,” Caelum lied. “Maybe he saw Principal Davis as a threat. It was in his hands.”
“You didn't hurt Mr. Davis?” Matthew asked, and Caelum frowned.
“I never touched him, sir.”
“But did you hurt him?”
“How could he have hurt him if he never touched him?” Foggy asked, confused.
“Exactly,” Caelum agreed.
“There's something wrong here,” Matthew said. “Brett would never try to shoot a man like that.”
Caelum shrugged and Foggy frowned. “In any case, the police haven't charged you of anything yet, but they're allowed to hold you here at least overnight.” Caelum's heart skipped a beat at the thought.
“Nothing's going to happen to you while you're here,” Mathew assured.
“Can I stay somewhere else overnight? I'll come back if you need me tomorrow.” That was a lie. Caelum was never stepping foot in Hell’s Kitchen again, if he could help it.
“Sorry,” Foggy shrugged. “That's just how it works.”
“We advise you not to say anything else to the police without us being there,” Matthew said, grabbing his things. “You should be fine.”
Caelum stared at them as they got up to leave, his heart pounding at the idea of staying here. His imagination spurred at the things the police may do to him because he didn't give up information. And, he was the reason Detective Mahoney was probably in trouble, which would fuel their resentment even more.
They would have killed him, and would be completely justified in doing do. He manipulated them, used them, and look where he was.
He said he was going to use his power for good, and now he was here because he used it for his own self gain. How is that good? How is that right?
“How about this,” Matthew spoke, still standing at the door, not opening it yet. Caelum raised an eyebrow, letting the man continue. “I might be able to convince them to let you stay at my place for the night. Foggy and our secretary, Karen can come over, if they want to. In the morning, we'll come back here and finish questions. By then, your twenty-four hours should be up.”
Caelum frowned, that didn't sound quite right, and he didn't want to impose on them, but at the same time, the thought of staying here overnight terrified him.
So he nodded his agreement, then remembered the man was blind. “Oh, yeah, sorry, uhm, yes.” Matthew smiled, chuckling a little.
“Good. We'll be back.” He turned and left with his partner, closing the door behind them.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened again. A police officer stepped in. He expected Matthew and Foggy to be back, and give their 'verdict’ but instead, Peter stepped in.
Peter did not look happy. His face was a very irritated shade of red, that exposed his freckles. His arms were crossed and his eyes narrowed. His mouth was turned down a frown. “Parker,” Caelum greeted, but that seemed to only make his anger worse.
“Don't 'Parker’ me!” He snapped. “Do you know how long I've been waiting to see you? One minute, you're going upstairs with an officer, the next, an ambulance is here and they're rushing Principal Davis out on a stretcher! What the hell did you do?”
Caelum glanced at the officer in the corner, remembering his instructions for not to speak. “I'm. . . not at liberty to say. . .” He said, and the officer scoffed.
“I'll leave, but the door stays open,” Peter nodded, thanking the man, and left the door halfway open for them to have a semblance of privacy.
“What happened, Cael?” Peter repeated, but a lot more gently.
Caelum's heart ached and he looked away, sighing. “I. . . he said he had my mom killed,” Peter's eyebrows rose and Caelum bowed his head, trying not to remember his brothers in the cafe, covered in her blood. Their tears, and the nightmares they still had to this day. “He said the shooter was supposed to get my brothers too, but didn't. He. . .” His voice cracked and he swallowed a lump in his throat. “He killed my mom, Peter. He killed her because I left.” The realization was suddenly hitting him. He killed his mother because he couldn't find Caelum. He said his mother and his brothers ― his family ― was a distraction.
Peter came over to him and grabbed his shoulders. He hugged him and Caelum let out a sob, his mother was dead because of him. He killed his mom because he didn't do as he was told.
“It's not your fault,” he assured and Caelum shook his head.
“It–It is,” he said, “He killed her because I left. He tried. . . he took my brothers so I would stay in check. He took everything from me. If my brothers die. . . if he kills my brothers, I. . . I don't know what I would do.” He would die. If he killed his brothers, he would die.
“Cael,” Peter said softly, but Caelum pulled himself away, wanting to rub the tears off his face, but his hands were still cuffed to the table. He rubbed his face on the sleeves of his shirt instead, sighing a little. “I'm so sorry,” he said, but Caelum shook his head. He needed to get his act together!
He closed his eyes and breathed, he could think about that another time. Right now, he needed to go find his brothers, or at least see what was going on.
“Thank you, Parker,” Caelum said, looking away. He didn't have time for tears, not right now. “I appreciate it.”
“Don't do this, Cael,” Peter warned and Caelum blinked, confused. “You always do this. Don't push me away, every time I try to help ― every time I want to help, you always turn in that. . . that cold mask and seem unconcerned. Talk to me ― tell me what's wrong and what's going on. I want to help you ― I want to be there for you.”
Caelum stared at him. Then, for some reason, his mind shifted to when he and Peter were sleeping together, or really sleeping in the same bed together, and Peter pulled him close. He remembered him holding him, as if the world was burning. He remembered how near he was, how he could hear the boy's breathing and feel his heart against his own. He remembered his warmth, and the sudden safety he felt from it, as if nothing could touch them ― nothing could go wrong.
That was a dream, that was a wish shown only to stars and birthday candles. He could never have that ― he could never be with Peter like that. It wasn't possible, plain and simple. Peter didn't love him, not like Caelum did. Peter didn't need him like Caelum did. Peter was a boy who ran on sunshine, pop culture, Legos, and smiles. Caelum was the exact opposite ― darkness, isolation, sand, and frowns. They could never be together, not like how Caelum would want them to. They could never be happy, never content.
And Peter did not love him.
“Do you think you can go ask the officer if I can have these cuffs off?” Caelum asked. “And, if they have an update about my brothers?”
Peter frowned at the lack of an answer to his question ― to his plea. “You're not going to, then?” He asked, and Caelum looked away. “What can't you tell me? What is going on?”
“You wouldn't understand.”
“Try me.”
Caelum narrowed his eyes, “What do you care, anyway? This was never your problem, I was never your problem! Go home, Parker! Bother some other kid who's worth worrying over.”
“I am worrying over you! I want to help you!”
“I don't want your help!” Caelum snapped. “I don’t need your help, and I sure as hell never asked for it! You just keep imposing your ideas on everyone you see.” His voice got low, his eyes narrowed, “What's your deal, Parker? You have other friends, friends who care a lot more about you than I certainly do. Is it because you're so desperate to play hero? Is it because you want to help people so bad? Why is that? Because you couldn't help Ben? Because you couldn't help your parents?” Caelum sneered coldly, “If you're the kind of hero that gets people ending up like that, then I don't want you anywhere near me.”
Peter stared at him, his mouth open, but words failed him. Suddenly, there were tears in his eyes, and his face was growing red and blotchy. “I want to help you because nobody else is,” Peter said, his voice strained, and Caelum immediately felt guilty. “I want to help you because you're not helping yourself. I want to help because you're my friend, but if you don't want my help, then I'll leave, Caelum. I hope you find someone who actually wants to help you, and not get anything in return.”
Peter stood and turned his back on Caelum. Neither of them said a word as he left the room, slamming the door closed behind him.