Eleven

He was only on his first case for the morning and he already felt like he was going to pass out. Not even the scent of coffee had done anything to wake him up. Granted, he reflected as he tried – and failed – to read the first page again, his night had been active in nearly every sense of the word. But he'd been out like a light afterwards. The laws of nature dictated he should've been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after a good night's sleep.

And yet he wasn't. The words before him moved on the page, blurring together or doubling up, until Oliver at last shoved the folder away from him and leaned back. He put his head in his hands and groaned into his palms.

To make matters worse, Rei was busy now and Arthur was out doing field-work. There would be no one to entertain him – or, by extension, keep him awake – for quite a while. The prospect sent a shock through his heart and he groaned again.

I am so bored!

He slammed his fists into the desk and watched with dark amusement as his keyboard and mouse jumped off the desk. Not even a foot away, his desk phone shuddered. Then it rang.

He waited a moment to see if the phone rang anywhere else in the office. When it didn't, he rolled his eyes and lifted the phone up to his mouth.

"Johnson speaking."

"Johnson. It's Gonzalez. Nice to see you're in this morning... Come by my office. There's something you might want to hear."

"Oh?" Oliver rose from his chair and stepped around it, careful to keep the cord loose as he pushed his chair in. "I'll be right there."

The phone hit the receiver with a clang. For the third time that morning, Oliver groaned. Then he shook his head, grabbed the file he'd tried to read, and stepped away from his desk. He walked to the other end of the room, nodded to anyone who called his name, and stepped into the hallway beyond. At the end of the hallway, he knocked once on the last door on the right. Director Gabriel Gonzalez gave a gruff, "Come in!"

Gabriel Gonzalez was a tall man with thick black hair and a needle-thin mustache that didn't quite meet in the middle underneath his nose. Combined with his pointed nose and narrow eyes, the mustache gave Gabriel a near-comical appearance. He sat in his chair with his head tossed back, fingers laced behind his neck as he gazed to the ceiling.

When Oliver walked in, Gabriel leaned forward and looked at him with pitch-black eyes. "Good morning."

"Morning, Director."

"Have a seat, if you please." He gestured to the chair on the opposite side of his desk as he spoke, brushing the hair out of his face. Oliver nodded and sat down. The faux leather exhaled underneath him. Oliver took a quick glance around the room, eyeing the cross on Gabriel's wall with a faint sense of disdain.

Gabriel moved a pencil away, rotated his coffee mug, and clasped his hands over his desk. "There is a Scourge on the loose."

Oliver pursed his lips. "I know. Shiro told me."

"Right, of course." Gabriel frowned. "But it has not been detained as of this morning. This has the potential to be a serious problem."

Oliver dipped his head a fraction of a degree. "I understand that."

"The Magistrate hasn't revealed a name, but there's a file being formed on this being... They're Rank Black."

He flinched. A Rank Black on the loose... "So it's dangerous," he said after a moment.

Gabriel nodded. "Very much so, yes." He scrunched his nose and looked Oliver up and down.

At once, understanding kicked in. "Director, with all due respect, I have two cases already I'm looking into as is... A potential third, if the Longsly case doesn't go how I want it to."

"And I understand that. I'm not asking you to do much. Really, if all goes well, you won't get involved at all."

Oliver rolled his eyes. Can't remember the last time I heard that one. He didn't say this, though.

Gabriel paused to take a sip of his coffee before continuing. "No, I just want you to assign a recon team. I spoke to Magi Adelade last night and she says the report should be up and finished by tomorrow. I'll have Shiro drop it off at your desk when it comes in."

"Okay, and?" Oliver leaned back and arched an eyebrow. "Why are you telling me this now?

"So that you have a heads-up. We've been getting calls since two this morning of Scourge sightings... Understandably, it has a lot of people freaked."

"I don't blame them. A Rank Black means they're stronger than whatever the Magistrate can throw at them. Detaining them is going to be a bitch."

"Exactly.

Oliver's mind whirled. The back of his head ached when he looked up to the ceiling.

A Rank Black – and a Scourge, no less – and three murders in the span of three months. Not to mention that Lilith was brought in for questioning about the last one... God, that had to have been a nightmare for her. He rocked forward again.

"Director, if I may..."

Gabriel's nose wrinkled again. "Yes, Johnson?"

"How did the interview with Lil—my sister go?"

"It..." Gabriel paused. "Actually, my correspondent has yet to get back to me on that. Why?"

"I was just checking." Oliver braced either hand on the armrests and started to rise. "Is that all you needed?"

"Yes, for the moment."

"Good." Now fully upright, Oliver turned and took quick strides for the door.

"Oh, and Johnson."

Oliver let the doorknob go with a scowl.

"Sullivan alerted me of your outburst the other night... I won't say anything about it, this time. But if it happens again, I would hate to have to rank you."

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut. There would go my life, I guess. "Yes, Director."

"Don't let it happen again."

It took every ounce of his self-control for Oliver to not wheel around and punch his boss in the face. He dipped his head in acknowledgement and walked out of the room, every step stiff with anger. He stomped for the bathroom and locked himself in the open stall closest to the door.

He glared down at the plastic seat cover and spat into it. Fingers twitching, he entertained the idea of ripping the mass of porcelain and urine stains from the linoleum, carrying it through the office, and bashing both Arthur and Gabriel over the head with it.

The thought left him almost immediately. No doubt it would end in his immediate, and grisly, suspension. And if Gabriel was true to his word, Oliver would get ranked. His days as a detective, or any sort of help to society at all, would be over. Worse yet, he would never get to protect his sister or the impulsive vampire that sometimes drove him nuts.

After much deliberation, Oliver threw open the stall door once more and trudged back into the main room. Instead of going back to his desk like he should've, he instead marched straight to Arthur's cubicle and knocked not-so-nicely on the thin wall. He felt the material dent under the force of his blows.

Three knocks later, Arthur Sullivan lifted his papers, tapped them against the desk in order to organize them, and set them aside. When he looked up, there was a sort of frosty demeanor that emanated off of him.

"May I help you, Johnson?" he asked. He leaned back in his chair and cocked his head to the side, his mouth pouted in curiosity. Oliver's anger peaked.

"What the ever-living fuck is your problem?" he snarled. Spittle flew from his lips, but he was too pissed to care. "Do you get off on being a tattle-tale, man? First you give Gonzalez another problem to deal with. Then you tell him about my little... my accident? What the fuck, man?"

Arthur watched Oliver's outburst with the same curious expression. Once enough time had passed, he sighed. His nose twitched.

"Are you done your tantrum now or do I have to sit through more of your outburst?" he asked.

Oliver clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would shatter. His nostrils flared as he stared Arthur down.

"Cut with the sage-ish bullshit."

"Only if you cut it with the assumptions. What's wrong with you?" Arthur yanked a hand through his hair and jumped to his feet. Around them, Oliver heard the screeching of chair wheels as their colleagues rose to see the commotion. With his hands curled into fists, Oliver closed the distance between him and Arthur and growled.

"You're messing with my life."

"And you're messing with my mojo. I've been actually working for the past three days. Where were you? Oh, that's right. You let your insanity get the best of you and you ran off to do God knows what!"

A hand curled around Oliver's shoulder and yanked him back. Someone stepped around him and stood before Arthur.

"What are you doing?" Rei hissed in Oliver's ear. Her spit hit the side of his face. "Are you nuts? Getting into a fight won't solve your problems!"

She pulled him back another step, just as Arthur shrugged the man before him aside and came for Oliver again. Rei let Oliver go and leaped forward.

"Sully, don't."

Arthur popped his knuckles. "I won't hurt him, Shiro," he said. He looked over to Oliver and gave him a pointed glare. "Much." Then he shoved Rei back and advanced on Oliver with malice in his eyes.

"Like me now, Johnson?" Arthur snarled. The ends of his smile drooped and when he raised a hand into the air, the skin sagged. He frowned, looking from his flesh to Oliver and back again. "What..."

Oliver's eyes snapped open and he sat up with a gasp. He smacked his head against the toilet seat.

What...?

"Johnson? You in there?"

Oliver looked around the cramped space and at once a headache hit him. He planted a hand on his forehead and grunted. As he moved to push himself upright, his other hand slid against something warm and squishy. He looked over. Under his palm, in an array of orange, blue, and brown, was the remains of his breakfast. When he looked down, his slacks were in a similar state.

"Johnson, I see your shoes. You can't bullshit me."

Sully.

"Um..." Oliver rubbed his temple with his other hand. "Yeah, hang on."

"You okay, man? Why are you on the floor?"

Good question. I should be asking that, too.

Oliver rose to his feet on unsteady legs. It was only when he was about to turn for the bathroom stall door that he saw the blood on the toilet seat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and came back with half-dried spittle and blueberry chunks.

That's fucking disgusting. He ran a hand through his hair and stopped when a jolt of pain ran through him. Something lumpy, warm, and sticky stuck out from the back of his head. When he pulled his fingers back, they were covered in blood.

"Come on, Johnson." Arthur knocked on the door from the other side. "You can't hide there forever."

"Sully... I'm bleeding."

"What?"

"I'm bleeding." Oliver stepped back, bumping against the plastic door, and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I think I passed out... And I vomited sometime, too."

"That's lovely... Where are you hurt?"

"My head. I hit it on the toilet seat, looks like."

Arthur sighed. "Did you do something stupid last night?"

"No." Not this time, anyway. "I don't know what happened, but..." Oliver unlocked the door and stepped out, hiding his face with a hand. Arthur looked him up and down before he caught sight of the swelling at the back of Oliver's head.

"Jesus, man..." He inhaled sharply and ran his thick fingers through Oliver's hair. "You hit yourself hard, man. We should get you cleaned up."

With a nod, Oliver allowed himself to be dragged to the sinks. Arthur pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and ran it under the water until the paper was soaked, then ran it over the bump on Oliver's head. Oliver hissed, gripping the sink so tight that he thought the ceramic would shatter in his hands. It didn't. After several moments, Arthur threw the bloodied paper towel aside and dampened a new one. He did this several times.

"What's been up with you anyway, man?" Arthur asked. Oliver jolted underneath his touch, the spot at the back of his head pulsing.

"I don't – agh! – I don't know," Oliver replied. "I just don't... feel like myself."

"No I get that. These new cases are bizarre and all..." Arthur tsked and wet another paper towel under the sink. "But we've dealt with worse."

"Not where my sister is involved." Though she never had been before now... "This is my family we're talking about, Sully. If your wife –" Oliver saw the dark look Arthur shot him through the mirror. After a moment's pause. "If your wife was where my sister is right now, you can't tell me you'd treat everything like normal, would you?"

"I can't honestly answer that, Johnson. To be honest, I just don't know." He chuckled. "I would love to say that I could keep my cool should that ever happen, but I just don't know. Maybe I would lose it, too." He met Oliver's eyes in the mirror once again. "But not like this. I don't if your sister is solely to blame for this, but you're under a severe amount of stress. You passed out in the bathroom."

"And saw you melt."

Arthur arched an eyebrow.

"I was having a bad daydream."

"Obviously. You—" He paused and squinted at Oliver's reflection. "Are—are you..." He turned Oliver around and scrutinized him. "Are you stoned?"

Oliver scrunched his nose and shook his head. "No."

"So you're hallucinating for no reason, then. When did you get in here?"

"Uh... What time is it?"

Arthur shrugged. "Not sure."

It was after Gonzalez's lecture... "I..."

"Are you seeing red?"

"No."

"Interesting. Have you had breakfast?"

Oliver nodded. "Muffins," he replied. "A-and an orange. With coffee."

"Interesting. Who got these things?"

"Shiro did. Well, the coffee, anyway."

"And you didn't take anything? No weed, no lace, nothing of the sort?" While he spoke, Arthur went back to scrubbing the blood out of Oliver's hair. Oliver winced and gripped the sink, watching with faint bemusement at how white his knuckles turned.

"N-no I didn't – ouch! Can you be the tiniest bit gentler?"

"Sorry. Why would... Hm."

"Ouch! Sully!" Oliver whirled around and yanked the paper towel out of his hand.

"Oh, sorry." Arthur shook himself and sighed. "Anyway. Let's get going."

Oliver cocked his head to the side. "Going?"

"To the hospital. I'm not letting you go back to work while you have a head injury."

"But Gonzalez—"

"Fuck Gonzalez. Come on. And while you're at it, I can get Shiro as well." He huffed and reached into his pocket. Oliver heard the jingle. Moments later, Arthur pulled out his keys, flipped over one of Oliver's hands, and dropped the keys into Oliver's palm. Then he closed his fingers around them.

"Go to the car," he said. His tone of voice left no room for arguments. "I'll be down there shortly."