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wl_fanfictionDon’t Stand So Close to Me
For: Sungreen70
Rated: PG-13 for language. Heavens to Betsy it’s persistent
Pairing: none at the mo’
Summary: People get served hardcore, Wayne hides suspicions and Colin runs from toilet water
Disclaimer: You think Poo will take me back? (still not owning nothin’)
Chapter 6
October 10 – News Item, local paper
“You hear what happened?” is being whispered all over the Canadian Institute for Criminal Boys. Two boys, Rory Bremner, and Archie Hahn, members of one of the toughest gangs in the CICB were found stuffed in a janitor’s closet, their hands zip-tied to their ankles and their mouths taped, severely beaten and with gang signs carved into one of their backs. When confronted by the Warden after being treated for their injuries, neither could, or more likely would, divulge any information about who might have done it.
Warden Maxine Weiz had them immediately transferred to another facility. When asked about the transfer, the Weiz replied, “I’m certain the attackers were known to the boys, and in the interest of their safety and the security of the CICB, I transferred them to another facility, effective upon their release from the hospital.”
When asked about this most recent incident, the Warden stated that “the investigation was ongoing,” and she therefore could not comment further.
There have been two other instances of inmate-on-inmate violence in the last month at the CICB, and all are under investigation.
Officer Brady waited more or less patiently outside the Warden’s office under the baleful eye of her watchdog, Mrs. (not Ms., I’m married, thank you very much) MacLheiny. He’d been summoned for what he hoped would be a short meeting as he had a date with his wife. It was their first anniversary, and he smiled at the thought of her excitement when he’d told her about the reservations he’d made for the event.
Warden Weiz stalked in ten minutes late, dropping some papers on MacLheiny’s desk. MacLheiny, to Wayne’s amazement, actually smiled! The Warden crooked a finger at him to follow her. Silently he did so, closing the door behind them. He and the Warden had started at the CICB almost the same day, and had become friends shortly after that as both recognized the same discipline and dedication in each other.
“Coffee?” he asked gesturing with the pot.
“Please.” Wayne poured two cups, adding two creams to hers as she finished the paperwork before dropping the paper in her out box and leaning back with a sigh. He handed her the cup and she took it with a grateful nod. Wayne dropped into a chair and sipped his cup, relishing the quiet. Outside a sharp whistle blew and she glanced at the clock. End of the day. Reaching into her bottom desk drawer, she pulled out a small bottle and poured a shot of fine whisky into her coffee and handed the bottle across the desk. Wayne followed suit and recapped the bottle. Max tucked it back into the bottom desk drawer and they toasted each other for having survived to fight another day.
“So,” Max said. “Any progress?”
Wayne shook his head in frustration. “Nothing but crumbs.” He took another sip of his coffee. “We know the stuff’s coming in, and all the narcotics guys tell me is that they have a handle on everything, and will I please just trust them, they’ll take care of it.” Max snorted into her coffee.
“Well, they don’t have to deal with the fallout. There have been two overdoses in the last two weeks, and of course, nobody knows what I’m talking about when I want to know where they got it.” She scowled. “Damn it, I won’t have it, Wayne. This Institute is mine!” She stabbed a finger into her desk, her nail making a sharp clicking noise, her eyes blazing. “Have you any idea how it’s getting in?” Wayne didn’t answer immediately, frowning at his cup. Max cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting.
“I might,” he finally said, reluctance in is voice. He finished his coffee and rose from his seat to set it back with the pot. “I’d rather not say just yet.” Max focused sharply, the formidable gaze boring into him, silently demanding. Wayne turned and met her gaze flatly, refusing to budge. The battle of wills lasted a long moment, finally broken when Max gestured at the door with her chin, anger in her eyes. Wayne nodded and headed for the door.
“Officer Brady,” Warden Weiz called as he opened the door. “I expect to be kept apprised of any progress you make in your inquiries.” She pinioned him with her gaze. “Any. Progress. Is that clearly understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brady said and closed the office. MacLheiny watched him leave.
Max finished her coffee, sighed and rose to set her cup back on the counter, her expression thunderous. It wasn’t easy, but she was just going to have to trust him. He was good, and had never let her down before, but waiting had never, ever been one of her strong suits. “Fuck it all!” she swore, slamming a fist down on the counter so hard the coffee cups rattled. Sighing, she went back to her desk and began to wade through the mountain of paperwork. If she hurried she might even get done by midnight.
Wayne made his way slowly down the hallways to his closet of an office. Max was really pissed that he wouldn’t share his information, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t really information so much as intuition, honed by years on the force before coming here. He had no proof, and if what he suspected turned out to be true, there were some officers under his command who could be ruined by it all coming to light. One might even do some time.
As for the boys, Wayne just shook his head. He was certain, though still had no proof, that Sessions was involved. No surprise there, the kid was bad news, but it also was beginning to look like the Stiles kid and his crew might be involved somehow. He sighed and hoped he was wrong about that. He was certain that Stiles and his friends were good kids, if they could just get a break, but Stiles was currently the main supplier for all that was contraband since the other two connections had either been transferred or wound up in a wheelchair. It wasn’t that much of a jump to go from supplying makeup for somebody’s boyfriend, a little pot, and prank materials during Halloween Hell to something harder. And if that last OD didn’t recover, they were talking capital murder.
Thinking about Stiles, Wayne frowned. Something about him… His intuition was really working overtime lately, and maybe he was just tired, but he didn’t think so. He had literally stayed alive by listening to that intuition, and it was telling him that Stiles wasn’t what he seemed to be.
Checking his watch he swore and hurried for the gates. He had a date, and if he didn’t hurry he was going to be late.
----
Colin didn’t quite know what to do about Greg. Whenever he tried to talk about what had happened, all he’d get was a blank stare or a clipped answer. Eventually Colin decided that if he was determined that that night had never happened, well, Colin would respect his wishes.
Even if Colin did want him…
When Greg finally approached him for something longer than a coffee break, his usual humor took hold, making him once again bright and snarky instead of gloomy and irritable.
As they walked along the hallway, Colin perked up when Greg mentioned holding a Halloween party here after midterms. It sounded like a lot of fun, and maybe a chance to see Ryan in a social setting… “Of course the guards will be reinforced, complete with rubber bullets, pepper spray, everything they can think of, but I managed to convince Weiz, so this should be fun,” he grinned.
Colin grunted agreement. “Should be, but weren’t you saying something about some serious pranks?”
“Yeah, but if we hold the guys a party only for good behavior,” he let the sentence fall flat when a loud bang shook the walls around them. They looked down the right corridor to see the hallway flooding with evil looking water from a bathroom and a very disoriented looking young man came staggering out into the waiting arms of security. Heads peeked out of classrooms before jumping back inside against the tide of toilet water raging by.
Colin blinked.
“Welcome to CICB during Halloween Hell,” Greg muttered, walking on without missing a beat, leaving Colin to scurry after him, rushing to avoid the foul tide.
For: Sungreen70
Rated: PG-13 for language. Heavens to Betsy it’s persistent
Pairing: none at the mo’
Summary: People get served hardcore, Wayne hides suspicions and Colin runs from toilet water
Disclaimer: You think Poo will take me back? (still not owning nothin’)
Chapter 6
October 10 – News Item, local paper
“You hear what happened?” is being whispered all over the Canadian Institute for Criminal Boys. Two boys, Rory Bremner, and Archie Hahn, members of one of the toughest gangs in the CICB were found stuffed in a janitor’s closet, their hands zip-tied to their ankles and their mouths taped, severely beaten and with gang signs carved into one of their backs. When confronted by the Warden after being treated for their injuries, neither could, or more likely would, divulge any information about who might have done it.
Warden Maxine Weiz had them immediately transferred to another facility. When asked about the transfer, the Weiz replied, “I’m certain the attackers were known to the boys, and in the interest of their safety and the security of the CICB, I transferred them to another facility, effective upon their release from the hospital.”
When asked about this most recent incident, the Warden stated that “the investigation was ongoing,” and she therefore could not comment further.
There have been two other instances of inmate-on-inmate violence in the last month at the CICB, and all are under investigation.
Officer Brady waited more or less patiently outside the Warden’s office under the baleful eye of her watchdog, Mrs. (not Ms., I’m married, thank you very much) MacLheiny. He’d been summoned for what he hoped would be a short meeting as he had a date with his wife. It was their first anniversary, and he smiled at the thought of her excitement when he’d told her about the reservations he’d made for the event.
Warden Weiz stalked in ten minutes late, dropping some papers on MacLheiny’s desk. MacLheiny, to Wayne’s amazement, actually smiled! The Warden crooked a finger at him to follow her. Silently he did so, closing the door behind them. He and the Warden had started at the CICB almost the same day, and had become friends shortly after that as both recognized the same discipline and dedication in each other.
“Coffee?” he asked gesturing with the pot.
“Please.” Wayne poured two cups, adding two creams to hers as she finished the paperwork before dropping the paper in her out box and leaning back with a sigh. He handed her the cup and she took it with a grateful nod. Wayne dropped into a chair and sipped his cup, relishing the quiet. Outside a sharp whistle blew and she glanced at the clock. End of the day. Reaching into her bottom desk drawer, she pulled out a small bottle and poured a shot of fine whisky into her coffee and handed the bottle across the desk. Wayne followed suit and recapped the bottle. Max tucked it back into the bottom desk drawer and they toasted each other for having survived to fight another day.
“So,” Max said. “Any progress?”
Wayne shook his head in frustration. “Nothing but crumbs.” He took another sip of his coffee. “We know the stuff’s coming in, and all the narcotics guys tell me is that they have a handle on everything, and will I please just trust them, they’ll take care of it.” Max snorted into her coffee.
“Well, they don’t have to deal with the fallout. There have been two overdoses in the last two weeks, and of course, nobody knows what I’m talking about when I want to know where they got it.” She scowled. “Damn it, I won’t have it, Wayne. This Institute is mine!” She stabbed a finger into her desk, her nail making a sharp clicking noise, her eyes blazing. “Have you any idea how it’s getting in?” Wayne didn’t answer immediately, frowning at his cup. Max cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting.
“I might,” he finally said, reluctance in is voice. He finished his coffee and rose from his seat to set it back with the pot. “I’d rather not say just yet.” Max focused sharply, the formidable gaze boring into him, silently demanding. Wayne turned and met her gaze flatly, refusing to budge. The battle of wills lasted a long moment, finally broken when Max gestured at the door with her chin, anger in her eyes. Wayne nodded and headed for the door.
“Officer Brady,” Warden Weiz called as he opened the door. “I expect to be kept apprised of any progress you make in your inquiries.” She pinioned him with her gaze. “Any. Progress. Is that clearly understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brady said and closed the office. MacLheiny watched him leave.
Max finished her coffee, sighed and rose to set her cup back on the counter, her expression thunderous. It wasn’t easy, but she was just going to have to trust him. He was good, and had never let her down before, but waiting had never, ever been one of her strong suits. “Fuck it all!” she swore, slamming a fist down on the counter so hard the coffee cups rattled. Sighing, she went back to her desk and began to wade through the mountain of paperwork. If she hurried she might even get done by midnight.
Wayne made his way slowly down the hallways to his closet of an office. Max was really pissed that he wouldn’t share his information, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t really information so much as intuition, honed by years on the force before coming here. He had no proof, and if what he suspected turned out to be true, there were some officers under his command who could be ruined by it all coming to light. One might even do some time.
As for the boys, Wayne just shook his head. He was certain, though still had no proof, that Sessions was involved. No surprise there, the kid was bad news, but it also was beginning to look like the Stiles kid and his crew might be involved somehow. He sighed and hoped he was wrong about that. He was certain that Stiles and his friends were good kids, if they could just get a break, but Stiles was currently the main supplier for all that was contraband since the other two connections had either been transferred or wound up in a wheelchair. It wasn’t that much of a jump to go from supplying makeup for somebody’s boyfriend, a little pot, and prank materials during Halloween Hell to something harder. And if that last OD didn’t recover, they were talking capital murder.
Thinking about Stiles, Wayne frowned. Something about him… His intuition was really working overtime lately, and maybe he was just tired, but he didn’t think so. He had literally stayed alive by listening to that intuition, and it was telling him that Stiles wasn’t what he seemed to be.
Checking his watch he swore and hurried for the gates. He had a date, and if he didn’t hurry he was going to be late.
----
Colin didn’t quite know what to do about Greg. Whenever he tried to talk about what had happened, all he’d get was a blank stare or a clipped answer. Eventually Colin decided that if he was determined that that night had never happened, well, Colin would respect his wishes.
Even if Colin did want him…
When Greg finally approached him for something longer than a coffee break, his usual humor took hold, making him once again bright and snarky instead of gloomy and irritable.
As they walked along the hallway, Colin perked up when Greg mentioned holding a Halloween party here after midterms. It sounded like a lot of fun, and maybe a chance to see Ryan in a social setting… “Of course the guards will be reinforced, complete with rubber bullets, pepper spray, everything they can think of, but I managed to convince Weiz, so this should be fun,” he grinned.
Colin grunted agreement. “Should be, but weren’t you saying something about some serious pranks?”
“Yeah, but if we hold the guys a party only for good behavior,” he let the sentence fall flat when a loud bang shook the walls around them. They looked down the right corridor to see the hallway flooding with evil looking water from a bathroom and a very disoriented looking young man came staggering out into the waiting arms of security. Heads peeked out of classrooms before jumping back inside against the tide of toilet water raging by.
Colin blinked.
“Welcome to CICB during Halloween Hell,” Greg muttered, walking on without missing a beat, leaving Colin to scurry after him, rushing to avoid the foul tide.
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