Breakdown (2 page)

Whispering filtered through the windows, my old man’s, Halliday’s, and it took Jan’s brush against my leg to unclench my fist as I listened to it.

“Look at me. Jack,” he said.

Tearing my glare away from the door, I did.

“I’m here,” he said quietly, “you know that. Whatever happens, I’m here.”

“And when the police arrest his ass, you still gonna be with me then, gorgeous?”

The suitcase that Jan had brought out with him went in the boot, then Halliday took to the back with us as my old man got in the driver’s side.

“Oh, your meds.” Jan made to get back out, but I stopped him as Halliday said, “It’s okay, Jan. We can make a stop and get Jack’s meds from the main Master Circle’s psych unit.” The doc looked at me. I fucking hated stepping back into Gray’s world. “You’ll need them under a police interview, Jack. They’ll need to see that you’re taking your medication.”

I nodded, just the once. There was sense behind that. As the Rover pulled away, Jan’s lost look went back out the window. I kept mine levelled on him.

“There’s a quote,” said Halliday as the Rover pulled to a stop.

I followed Jan’s search of life outside of the windows on Halliday’s side as we pulled up outside of the Master Circle’s Psychology Unit. I’d been here as an outpatient many a time over the years to evaluate my aptitude for training Doms, but mostly for cognitive behavioural therapy surrounding OCD and Vince’s—

This needing to be clean bollocks is pissing me off now, Jack. Don’t...

“Jack?” said Jan, his touch on the back of my hand bringing me back. “You okay?”

“Hm.” I focused back outside. Every MC psych unit like this place handled potential Doms from the Army, Police, Secret Service... so psych evaluation was paramount, but being Government funded, these places also didn’t exist outside of the Master’s Circle. The MC had the best of everything, with
bastard
being a key requirement nowadays for any position.

“‘God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another,’” said Halliday and I scowled not knowing why he pulled that out of his ass. “The quote. Do you know where it comes from, Jack?”

“Do I look like I fucking care at this particular point in time?”

“Shakespeare,” said Jan quietly. “
Hamlet
.”

I glanced at him. “Yeah? Peachy, that.” Back to Halliday. “Get the fucking meds, yeah?”

“He was talking about Ophelia,” said Halliday. “How intentions can be hidden under the cover of makeup, how she’s given one face and sculpts another to hide her true intentions.
I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.”
The door handle felt cool in my hand.

“Looking back at your life, Jack, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done, the one face you’d hide if you could?”

Now I looked over. “Everything to do with Gray, except him,” I said, flicking a look at Jan.

Halliday nodded. “Keep that in mind, Jack. I’ll ask it again in a few months.”

“Yeah? You do that.”

Halliday moved to get out. “You know the routine, Jack. You’ll need to sign paperwork for your medication.”

I got out, ignoring the pain at my hip, how damp the material was there.

The name printed on the board outside the Psych Unit tagged it as Clearwater, and the irony of it almost made me grunt as I headed on in. Everything about the Master’s Circle was kept hush-hush. There was nothing clear about these sadomasochistic waters.

The reception area always impressed, having seen a professional interior decorator, its private budget and a fine eye for contemporary design making it as calming on the mind as it was on the eye. Yeah, only the best for the MC and the MC employees. White leather settees matched the calming white mahogany of the coffee table. The floor wasn’t carpeted; polished marble making even the softest shoe sound audible, so no sneaking up on the receptionist. He sat cocooned in a corner, tucked away behind a white mahogany half-moon desk that came up to chest level. Beyond him was a door, leading to the file room and the details on MC psych evaluations. The receptionist wore black trousers with a crisp white shirt. No uniform, but I suppose that was to take away the
them and fucked-up us
feel. He must have been new, because I hadn’t seen him here before. You could picture him as the young, good-looking face of the place, sitting there on the front of a brochure, smiling and talking to patients, who would of course wear the same dumbass grin.

And he sat there with that smile now, looking over at us.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The name pinned to his shirt called out David, and the prompt from big eyes should have been inviting enough to provoke a response, but after a few moments of silence, that smile slipped a touch on good ol’ David’s face. “Sir?”

“Jack Harrison,” said Jan quietly, and I glanced over my shoulder, not realising he’d followed me in. “I’m Jan Richards.”

“Best off in the car, Jan,” I said. “This is MC property. Private.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said over by the desk. He went to say something else as the door behind slid open, but he fell into quiet as voices were heard over the sound of polished shoes on polished marble.

“David, can you notify Doctor Reis and Doctor Morgan and have them meet in room 614, please,” said Halliday as he came over, followed by my old man. “Jack, it’s Sunday, we’ll need to go through to my office.”

“Great,” I mumbled.

“Sir.” With a last practiced smile at me, then a longer one at Jan that had me lowering a look at David, he disappeared behind the door he guarded.

“Jack.” A gentle touch came at my arm, stealing my attention from following the receptionist. “Halliday’s office.” My old man seemed to have aged decades within the space of just a few months, maybe over the last few hours. Shadows under his eyes were dark, skin looking tight, wafer thin across old bones. He’d been damn good looking in his younger days, but lately everything seemed to seep through his skin and escape. Gray. That bastard had taken down everyone in his path, everyone with his—

“You, you need to get the fuck out now, Jack.” Gray backed off. “You... you need to go, and you... I’d never hurt you, you need to know I’d never...” He came in and a light touch ran over my hip, blood staining his fingers. “Fuck. You’re so lost, kid. Please. Leave me alone. It hurts too much, so fucking much, Jack. Mercedes. Mercedes fucking Benz.” He took a step back, put some distance between us and—

“Jack.”

Dr. Halliday brought me back with his soft call. Maybe it hadn’t been a soft call, just seemed soft and distant as though he was at the other end of a tunnel. He was looking at his watch, then me. David was also back, sitting at his desk and typing away. When he’d come back was anyone’s guess, but now he was slipping a few glances up at me and Jan as he carried on working. “Are you aware of what just happened?” said Halliday.

My old man had taken a step back, unease settling in his eyes, almost matching Jan’s.

“Are you aware you weren’t with us for ten minutes?” Halliday said quietly, almost whispering.

“Hmmm?” I couldn’t quite catch it; stop the fall before it kicked in. I shivered and again Jan was there rubbing at my arm.

“Let’s get those meds,” said Halliday, pulling out a tag and swiping it down the security lock in the door. He hadn’t gone for the usual one I went through, and I glanced back over my shoulder, back to the usual route. Sunday. Not many people worked on Sundays, certainly not a man who no doubt cost the best part of a Jag for just an hour’s work. Christ, even psych units had servant entrances.

My old man went through first, but I didn’t shift until Jan went on in after, easing a smile over at me that looked so fucking sad. There was a lot of hurt there in his eyes, and the instinct was there to run with him, get him away, lick wounds in private, no matter how much the need was there to kick and fight against any touch. For now, my feet just followed his, moth willingly to flickering-out flame. He moved, I danced in the shadows, even though the scent of this candle made me want to choke back as stinging bit into my eyes. But I still followed.

The door closed, and the clicking on the timed lock had me looking back, frowning.

Jan went to say something but Halliday shook his head, holding out a hand on Jan’s chest, stopping him coming over. I lowered my gaze, focused on that touch; he really needed to get the fuck off Jan now.

“Jack,” said Halliday, looking over to the nurse’s station and giving a nod at someone. “You have to be aware that you will not be leaving these premises. I’m putting into place sectioning an—”

“Huh?” I took a step towards him, not understanding what the hell he was mouthing, but Jan was suddenly there backing me up against the wall. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, lips against my neck. “Listen, just listen to him, please, baby. Don’t get mad.”

“Mah—” I looked at Jan.
He only ever said that when shit really hit the fan, why the hell would I get mad—

“You’ll be held for seventy-two hours,” said Halliday, “during that time you will undergo assessment to determine whether you will be held under section two or three of the Mental Health Act. Section two is a twenty-eight day period; section three is six months with treatment. Although these periods can be reduced if deemed necessary.”

“
What the fuh
—”

Jan pressed me back against the wall.

“You...” I looked at him, trying to push him away. “
Th’ fuck, Jan? What the hell have you done? What
th’fuck
have you don
—” Other people were there, one in particular looking my build but coming with a hell of a lot of balls behind his grip. “There’s nothing fucking wrong with me. Gray, he—”

“Lost, baby. You’re both so fucking lost, baby.” Jan came back in, or tried to at least, but someone pushed him back. And seeing him jolt, jerk back and stumble a touch, that kicked life into such fucking high gear. “Jan.” They really needed to get their hands off him now. I hadn’t been able to stop the last bastards touching him, but now—

One man staggered back a touch, a broken nose from my head butt painting a lovely colour on his blue T-shirt, then I cried out for the blackness to take care of the rest. Jan, they—“Don’t fucking touch him—”

Something scratched my arm, and a different darkness started to take grip, one that tipped all of that pissed-off energy on its head, one that didn’t care so much that I couldn’t get to Jan.

Cool marble touched my back, then hands were continuously wiping at my face. “Head fuck,” Jan whispered, head resting against mine. “So fucking bad, baby. You just need to see it. Please see it. For Christ’s sake, see it. I’m here. Don’t forget that.”

I breathed him in, part through natural default, anything to get into the land of Jan but—

In the fogginess, Jan cried out as I started to choke, sickness rushing my throat and... this candle, soft heart, softer soul, he came with the strangest fucking smell that wanted to choke the life out of me, made me want to shove him away even as blackness tried to take me under. And then I was struggling to get him off, away, and hearing him cry out even more.

Hadn’t got a clue what the hell I’d been drinking, but I woke, trying to ease up on my bed and rub away the merry-go-round in my head. Life was pretty quiet, just edging into that early morning feel and—“Huh... fuck.” Pulling my legs up, hands went across my knees as I rested my head down. Then scratching came from the foot of the bed, like some big fuck-off mouse going diet on a low-cal biscuit and spitting most of it out.

Grabbing my pillow, I threw it to the end of the bed without looking, needing the noise to shut the fuck up.

“Easy there, mate.” The sound of a chair scraped back, then the pillow dropped on my feet.

“Jan... knackered,” I mumbled, still rubbing at my head. “Just need to sleep, ’kay.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

Th’ fuck? “You know my...” I caught something metal, jolting the funny bone in my elbow, and giving a glance as white railings on the left side of my single bed chuckled back at me. Right side was the same and—“Th’ fuck?”

I hopped over the one side, backing away from the hospital bed. “The fuck is this shit?” The door was over there, open, but the bed... I looked at the hospital bed, the railings that had stopped me going arse over tit in my sleep, then... there was nothing else in here but a chair. “Th’ fuck is this?”

“That the best of a bad mouth? Any chance we can go for something else?”

Bumping into someone behind me, I jerked around, almost crouching down, away from the man who stood there.

“Easy, mate,” he said, backing off, hands raised. “Name’s Craig. I’m the lucky bastard who drew the short straw for looking after your ass whilst you’re here.” Something came through, just a few images of being taken down to a marble floor.

“Where the fuck’s here?”

“MC’s Psychiatric Unit. Can you remember how you got here?”

All that mattered was the door.

“I can take you for a look around,” Craig said softly, “but I need for you to tell me your name.”