"In civilized life, law floats in a
sea of ethics."
—Earl Warren

: A MESMER'S TOUCH

     Holden stared in the bathroom mirror. His reflection looked back at him with pity, taking in his disheveled appearance and mocking him. This is how you present yourself, it asked him, as weak and pathetic? You deserved everything that happened in Greenville. You deserved it.

     Frail, too skinny. Weak.

     Holden's green eyes found the clear presence of his ribs poking against the skin covering his body. He'd lost lots of weight since meeting David, and it was beginning to show not just in his torso but even Holden's hands and feet were becoming spindly and pathetically scrawny. Sebastián hadn't yet taken notice of this and Holden hoped to God that his father never did. He hoped his dad stayed busy enough and tired enough that he wouldn't have to see this latest nuisance concerning his son.

     His brown hair was darker than normal, still damp from the shower. Even his eyes, which used to be filled with light and happiness, reflected the sorrow inside of him. Every moment he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror brought another painful memory of that night rushing back to him.

     It was exhausting. He couldn't even look at himself anymore.

     Holden turned his back to the mirror, stomach churning and bile rising in his throat at the thought of staring at his body. The memory of the marks David had put on his skin — red and raw, blue and purple — ambushed him as he pulled up his jeans over his bony knees. He had to stop and close his eyes, wish himself to a different thought, before he could finish getting dressed.

     Every morning seemed to be as painful as the last. Why should he have to rise and face another day when all that met him was anguish and the cruelty of humanity? Why should he continue receiving pain when he didn't have to?

     Dad, Holden told himself as he struggled to pull the sweatshirt over his head. Dad's why. He wouldn't know what to do without me... but I just cause him trouble. I don't even know what to say to him anymore.

     He left the bathroom, head ducked low as he darted about his room trying to find everything he'd need for the first day at Central City High. Once again, Sebastián had reminded him last night that Cecile Meyers would be showing him around the school until he got his bearings. The idea of a student council member helping him of all people was laughable, so laughable that he only found disappointment settling in his heart.

     "Dad! We should get going." Holden called out as he left his room and began to head downstairs. He stopped on the landing when there was no immediate answer. He glanced over his shoulder, looking up at the door to Sebastián's room. There was no light under the door to indicate anyone was awake inside the room so Holden jogged back up the stairs and knocked on the door a few times.

     "Dad? You awake?"

     No answer, but a tired groan sounded from behind the closed door.

     Holden opened it carefully, glancing inside to see Sebastián laying on his back at the edge of his neatly made bed. His dad was still dressed in the same clothes as last night and looked weary from the inside out; work had exhausted him and while Holden knew his dad wasn't telling him everything, he could see that something was wrong and that it affected his dad more than he'd be willing to admit.

     "Holden?" Sebastián's voice was low as he rubbed a hand over his face to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. A five o'clock shadow was creeping along his jawline and the front of his shirt was creased with wrinkles. "What time is it?"

     "Almost seven."

     "Ugh."

     Sebastián slowly sat up on the edge of the comforter, reaching up to stretch his arms high above his head as if reaching to grab the sun and swallow it whole. His dad's eyes were becoming brighter with wakefulness now. He looked Holden's attire over briefly before rising to his feet.

     "You look good," Sebastián complimented, eyes searching the room for any sign of where his car keys were. "Do you have everything you need for today? Feeling nervous?"

     Holden shrugged nonchalantly. "Thanks. I'm always nervous," he admitted coolly, "And I have everything I could possibly need. I just have to get there now. Then I can go to school like a real boy." Holden shot his dad a cheeky smile, referring to his entirely unready state as Sebastián cursed quietly when realizing the keys were downstairs.

     "Oh ha ha," Sebastián laughed dryly. "Go downstairs."

     "Why? Hiding a boyfriend up here?" Holden teased provocatively and shuffled towards the waiting staircase.

     Sebastián groaned, the sound of his annoyance reaching Holden's ears. "No," his voice became muffled as he turned around and took off his shirt to search the closet for a fresh one. Even without trying to look, Holden could see the elegant swirls of black and dark evergreen ink on Sebastián's lower back twisting into thin vines that stretched to reach the sides of each hip. He'd rarely seen the tattoos Sebastián had, mostly due to the fact that he constantly teased his father about having the tramp stamp. "Just trying to change my shirt," he was saying. "So you can get to school on time."

     "Hmm." Holden waited at the bottom of the stairs, listening to his dad rush around above him. Sebastián joined him in a matter of moments, looking fresh and as awake as he could be without coffee in the morning, a clean grey shirt now covering his body. "Have you seen any you like?" Holden asked curiously, watching his dad's face closely for the reaction.

     Confusion.

     "Seen any what?" Sebastián walked past Holden into the kitchen, the joyous sound of found car keys filling the space between them.

     "Guys," Holden answered with a smile, voice taking on the 'you know what I'm talking about' tone. "Y'know, have you seen any nice, strapping gentlemen of the police department? Anyone I can meet?"

     Sebastián tried to keep himself from laughing. "Okay, seriously. Do you have all your notebooks? Folders?" Holden was old enough by now to realize that this answer was a classic evasion technique, something Sebastián did quite well to other people but around his son it didn't always pass by so smoothly.

     He mentally answered Yes, I have and No, you can't meet him yet for his dad.

     The pair exited their house without further delay. After Holden had reassured Sebastián for the third time that he had everything in his backpack and was ready to start school in an entirely new city, the ride remained silent.

     As it happened to be, Central City's early morning traffic was godawful compared to Greenville. Whereas the small Nebraskan town had only two rundown buses to retrieve students in the mornings, Sebastián and Holden must've seen well over fifteen on their way to the high school. The closer Holden got to C.C.H.S., the worse his anxiety crushed his heart. He could already tell that this school was huge.

     Everything he'd seen of Central City so far was colossal. He knew he'd know absolutely nobody at school, and joining a new school at the tail end of the year would make him the interesting new kid that everybody wanted to know everything about. In reality, Holden knew he was a nobody who had never done an interesting thing in his life and therefore wasn't worth the attention he'd inevitably receive. The thought alone made his insecurities flood his thoughts.

They'll see you and their first thought will be of how stupid you look, the inner voice taunted him. They'll laugh. Cecile won't be there to show you the school. She knows how worthless you are.

Holden stared out the window.

Ever the watchful parent, Sebastián seemed to pick up on Holden's innermost thoughts, as he always seemed to. He could feel his dad's stare insisting that Holden answer the silent call. He ignored it.

"What're you thinking about, bud?" Sebastián's voice sounded calm and carefully controlled.

Holden shrugged. "Nothing," he lied smoothly. It surprised him how easily that little word slipped from his lips, dripping like honey from the comb. Holden didn't normally tell lies, and especially not to his dad, but the thought of bothering Sebastián with his ceaseless thoughts, ones that Sebastián would inevitably see as Holden overreacting, made him feel angry.

Angry that he couldn't be a normal teenager like Sebastián deserved. His father shouldn't have to deal with the stress he caused or the general annoyances that came with Holden's anxieties.

Sebastián thankfully didn't say anything.

When Holden was giving his dad a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as he entered the high school, an administrator immediately zeroed in on him as if his arrival was being waited upon and grabbed hold of Holden's elbow, guiding the teenager towards the front office of the school where the principal, Rick Blackstone, and other staff members worked from. The administrator, a young blond woman who could be no older than thirty, stopped them in front of a boy who looked to be about Holden's age.

"This is Ethan Harris," the woman pointed to the brown haired teenager in front of Holden. "He'll be your designated Student Council Guide for today, okay?"

Holden glanced at Ethan. Their eyes met for an awkward second which Holden gladly took advantage of to turn back to the blonde administrator. "Okay," he smiled charmingly at her, showing straight rows of white teeth. "Thank you, Miss...?"

"Miss Hailee Roberts," she inclined her head proudly at Holden and he suddenly got the feeling that Ms. Roberts was a confident, socialized woman. "I'm the school's guidance counselor. If you ever happen to need anything here at CCHS, Holden, please feel free to approach me or Mr. Blackstone. I'm sure even Mr. Harris would be willing to help you."

Holden glanced over at Ethan. Was that true? Would he so willingly accept the role of being some random new kid's mentor just because an adult told him to?

Ethan Harris stood a few inches taller than Holden. His brown hair was curly and stylishly short as if he'd recently slicked it back with gel, and his constantly searching dark brown gaze seemed to be sizing Holden up and collecting all available information about him just as he was doing the same to Ethan. After a few seconds of this, Holden had to break the staring.

He couldn't keep doing this.

I told you Cecile wouldn't be here. She knows you're not worth the trouble, a whispering voice interrupted Holden's thoughts, poor Ethan will realize that soon. He just drew the short straw.

"Yes ma'am," Ethan nodded briefly in Ms. Roberts' direction to concur with her previous statement. "I'd definitely be willing to help in any way I can." He rubbed his hands slowly at his waist, evaluating Holden and measuring his reaction to the proffered kindness.

He's taunting you.

     Holden chose not to say anything as he battled with the mocking voice inside of his head, the voice that liked to belittle him and berate him incessantly like a child wanting for attention.

     He's just playing you. As soon as Ms. Roberts leaves, he'll abandon you.

     "Well then." Ms. Roberts broke the silence between the trio by clearing her throat. "I have to get back to work. Mr. Harris," she directed her next statement to the senior. "Please make sure you stay with Holden throughout the day. You both have the same schedule and I'm sure he'd like a friendly face in this big school. Dismissed."

     Ms. Roberts turned on her heel and left the two teenagers standing in the middle of the office, the secretaries oblivious to their presence. It was quiet for a few moments before Ethan glanced at his wristwatch and beckoned Holden to follow him out of the room.

     They left without another word and began walking down the halls. On the way, Ethan was busy pointing out the structure of the school to Holden, telling him everything he'd need to know to navigate the school for the last half of the year.

     "There's only a few classes in the basement, like art and theatre." Ethan smiled sheepishly at Holden, and they shared a brief companionable glance. "The first floor is the one hundreds, second is two hundreds. The west wing is for your basic science and tech classes. The east is English and anything else — do you have your schedule on you?"

     The question came out as abrupt and at first Holden didn't even register he'd been asked anything until Ethan Harris stared expectantly at him and stopped walking, watching as Holden took a few steps forward without Ethan by his side. Other teens in the hallway walked past them, going to their first hours and paying no mind to the awkward exchange.

     "Oh. Sorry, what'd you say?"

     Ethan smiled again, this time showing pearly teeth. "I asked if you have your schedule on you. Are you... okay?" He glanced around them, then suddenly grabbed Holden's arm and dragged him to the side of the hallway so they weren't blocking the way for other students. The five minute bell rang as Ethan craned his neck to look down, trying to catch Holden's eyes. "Is this too much? Do you need to take a moment before we go to Mr. Scott's class?"

     He doesn't actually care, the voice desperately tried to persuade Holden, he might've stayed but only because he pitied you. He can tell you have no friends, he can see right through you.

     "Holden?"

     Holden reluctantly pushed aside the voice, listening to the pounding of his heart as he swallowed down his anxieties and, hands shaking, reached into his jeans pocket to retrieve the printed schedule he'd folded and put in there. "I have it," he spoke softly, eyes darting around nervously. He felt exposed in the hallway and uncomfortable every time someone bumped into his bag or happened to brush by his arm. Culture shocked was one way to describe what Holden was feeling; overwhelmed was another.

     Ethan slowly took the schedule but instead of unfolding it and looking at the print he frowned. "Are you alright?"

     "I'm... I'm fine." Holden couldn't meet his eyes.

     "You don't look fine," Ethan pointed out. "You look like you're gonna be sick. Do you want me to take you to the nurse's office?"

     That's right. Go to the nurse like a scared little boy. Show him how stupidly pathetic you are, prove his suspicions right.

     "No!" Holden said, more forcefully than he'd intended to. The few students that were straggling to get to class turned to look over their shoulders at his outburst, but they didn't say anything. Ethan flinched away from Holden and took a half-step backwards as if he was scared Holden would lash out at him physically. "No," he repeated in a softer voice, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. He took a step towards Ethan. "I'm sorry. I didn't-I didn't mean to yell. I just really don't want to go to the nurse."

     Ethan nodded slowly. After a moment he reached out and grabbed Holden's hand, leading him to an empty classroom just down the hall. He closed the door behind Holden and this is when Holden's heart began to race faster than a horse on a track, hooves digging into the dirt. He felt uneasy.

A memory of David pushing him into an empty room. Laughter resounded eerily in his ears, which had once been innocent and unaware of what the other teenage boy had had in store for him, but in retrospect it seemed naïve.

Holden looked apprehensively over his shoulder, unable to meet Ethan's eyes so he settled for watching the other boy's shoes make steady progress walking back from the classroom door until they stopped directly in front of him. He could feel Ethan's burning gaze demanding to be answered, demanding to be matched and held but Holden couldn't force himself to meet the student's kind and gentle brown eyes.

     They were quiet, just standing there as if they had nowhere to be and no obligations to fulfill for Holden's first day. The bell for first hour rang. It was them, the silence, and the truth in the room at that moment. The silence itself was a comfort and Holden was glad that Ethan didn't try to talk to him or make him explain himself, he was glad that Ethan was just as content as he to stand there in utter silence.

     But there's one thing that always breaks eventually: silence. While very comforting, communication is the key to any good relationship or friendship and must be pushed aside.

     "Why wasn't Cecile here?"

     Ethan looked like he'd been expecting something else to come out of Holden's mouth — maybe an apology or a pessimistic remark, he certainly hadn't prepared himself for the question and it was obvious with the way Ethan stumbled over his words.

     "Cecile? Well she — er, she-she... she heard about your, um, history and decided it would be best if someone who could relate to you showed you around."

     Holden looked up at Ethan now, realizing the major difference that just a few inches of extra height offered the other teenager. They made eye contact for the first time since stepping in the spare classroom and it sent chills through Holden's body. "My 'history'?" He asked incredulously.

     Ethan bit the inside of his cheek. "Yeah."

     "And what would you know about my 'history'? You don't know anything." Holden fumed angrily and turned his back quickly, mind racing with wild thoughts and accusations without the context he needed as he crossed his arms to keep himself from doing something stupid like lashing out at Ethan. What could some random teenager like him know about Holden's life? What could Ethan know about the things that he'd experienced?

The taunting voice inside of his head had remained faithfully silent since his outburst in the hall, but the silence itself mocked him.

The air in the classroom changed. It was apparent in the way Ethan took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, before he walked past Holden to stand in front of him again. Holden refused to look at the boy, turning his eyes to study the decorated walls of the room which held tips for aspiring writers and quotes of inspiration and hope. He couldn't face Ethan, especially not if he really did know about what had happened to him.

Holden supposed Ethan would apologize or say something like You're right, I don't know what I'm talking about but that response never came.

"When I was five, my aunt molested me."

Ethan paused and Holden's eyes wandered cautiously back to the teenager's face and upon his second glance at Ethan Harris, Holden could see the haunting look in his eyes that only someone who had been in their position before could have and could recognize.

"It went on for years. My mom didn't know, my dad was out of the picture at this point." Ethan's voice was quiet and cracked more than once going through his memories. "Five years. And then it stopped. She got into her car one night and never got out — some truck crashed into her and she died instantly. I was never happier a day in my life, even when my mom mourned her sister and fell into this-this endless rut of depression I never felt sorry for being happy. I was free from her and it took me years to tell my mom about what her sister had done to me but once I did, everything felt better. Talking to her helped me."

Woah.

Holden shifted his weight uneasily, swallowing any apprehensions he had as he reached out to the other boy and wrapped his arms around him. He was hugging someone; something Holden hadn't done to anyone except his father in a long time. Any anger he had been feeling or bottled up anguish left his body and was replaced by hard-bearing guilt. How could he be so selfish and vain? After everything he'd been through, Holden had failed to even think for another second that someone else could have experienced something of the same magnitude.

He felt horrible.

"That freaking sucks," Holden whispered into Ethan's shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"We live and we move on," Ethan responded in the same manner, slightly pulling away so he could catch Holden's eyes. "Your dad told Blackstone what happened in Greenville and Blackstone told StuCo. Cecile didn't think she would be the best fit... so I volunteered."

It all made sense then; the change of guides, the cautious way Ethan had about him like he knew how Holden was feeling. Everything fell into place. He suddenly felt better about this situation. He felt like maybe, just maybe, Ethan could be his friend.

"I'm sorry for assuming things," Holden apologized, face pinching tight as they pulled away from each other. "That was wrong of me. Thank you for being here and doing this for me, I just — ever since what happened, I don't really know how to act." He knew he was being vague but Holden couldn't bring himself to the words.

I was raped. How could he say that? I was raped and I still remember every detail, every sound, every smell.

He couldn't.

Not yet, at least. Not now. Not here. The admission would make him feel guilty all over again. It would make him feel as if he deserved it, like he asked for it. Holden knew that neither of those things were true but they felt true. Knowing the truth didn't change how he felt about the truth.

Ethan nodded understandingly. "Yeah, that's okay," he glanced around them. "I get it. I went through the same thing, especially when I got older. You don't have to explain it to me."

Holden didn't know what to say anymore. After a few moments, it was apparent that Ethan didn't either. He simply unfolded Holden's schedule and glanced down at the list of classes there in silence. The silence was comforting once more, easy and like the caress of a gentle hand to a cheek. An alliance had been made; a friendship forged.

────────

     "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?"

"No, I do not 'wish to speak' to you!" The man spat in Sebastián's face, the spit hitting his cheek as he struggled against the handcuffs Sebastián had secured around his wrists.

     As soon as he felt the spit, Sebastián growled and gritted his teeth. Morgan, knowing what was about to come, merely leaned back against the police cruiser and lazily lit a cigarette, casting a disdainful glance at the unruly subject they'd just arrested.

     "Oh you've done it now, baby," Morgan blew smoke into the air. His entire body was relaxed and as careless as he'd been when they started this case. "You see my partner that you just spit on? He used to be a Chicago cop."

     Sebastián glanced around on the city street they were on. Nobody was looking, everyone was minding their own business and one glance at Morgan pushed Sebastián over the edge. He cocked an arm back and punched the man directly on his left cheek, ignoring the pleasurable sting on his knuckles and watching as he fell against the side of the cruiser with a pained groan.

     "Don't ever spit on a cop again, you hear me?" Sebastián reached out to steady the man by grabbing the back of his neck and keep him from falling over. He stepped close and brought his lips to the subject's ear, keeping his voice low. "In Chicago, we don't tolerate that kind of behavior. In Greenville, we don't tolerate that kind of behavior. Just because this is Central City doesn't mean you can do whatever the fuck you want. Do it again," Sebastián threatened, "and I'm gonna do more than just punch you."

     Sebastián reached past the now-quiet man and shoved him in the backseat of the cruiser. He slammed the door shut and turned his back, rubbing his knuckles meditatively.

     "Did you like that?" Morgan inquired.

     "What?" Sebastián glanced at his partner, a frown pinching his face under the glaring brightness of the sun.

     Morgan took another long drag from his cigarette. "Did you," he blew more smoke, "like that? Did you like putting him in his place?"

     Sebastián glanced away, squinting as he looked up and down the street. He knew that punching an already cuffed suspect was wrong and against regulations, but it felt just. Sebastián shrugged and met Morgan's eyes. "It's not that I liked it," he explained. "If we let suspects get away with that behavior towards one cop, they'll continue to test our boundaries and escalate even further with another. It's basic human psychology."

     "Mm," Morgan nodded and stepped away from the hood of the cruiser, heading towards the passenger seat. "Makes sense, I guess. They're your cuffs so you're processing him when we get back."

     "Of course I am," Sebastián signed wearily and slid into the driver's seat, skillfully ignoring the quiet insults the man in the backseat threw at them. The entire ride back to the precinct was silent, leaving all three men to their thoughts.

────────

The call went to voicemail again.

     Sebastián sighed heavily and pulled the phone away from his ear, glancing up from his phone to see one of the patrol officers taking his suspect in the general direction of the holding cells like he'd asked. He turned his back and opened his text messages.

┌─────────────────────────┐
     To: Joe
          Are you alright?

         I haven't seen you or Barry
         for like two days now and I'd
        really like to talk to you.
└─────────────────────────┘

Sebastián turned off the screen and slipped the phone into his pocket, turning back around to come face to face with Morgan. His partner proffered a warm cup of coffee to him, nodding his head at the pocket he'd just put his phone in.

"Texting your son?"

"No," Sebastián took the coffee. "Joe. He hasn't been back to the precinct since he and Barry left Saturday night to go talk with a suspect. I'm starting to get worried."

"Hmm." Morgan walked past Sebastián to sit in the detective's comfortable desk chair. "Maybe they've been back when you were out. You've probably just missed them. Singh's not worried so you shouldn't be."

Sebastián leaned against the edge of his desk, staring down at the black coffee. He shrugged and looked searchingly over to Joe's desk for answers. Everything looked as it had been Saturday. Even the pen Joe had been using to write with was in the same place as before — right? Sebastián searched his memory; it had to be the same, didn't it?

     "Kid."

     Sebastián looked over at Morgan again.

     "Joe West is a senior detective, he knows what he's doing. Whatever you're thinking, he's fine and Allen's fine too."

     "But where are they?" Sebastián countered, voice frustrated and eyebrows pulling down with confusion. He felt as if he was the only one in the entire police department who had noticed the absence of C.C.P.D.'s finest detective and CSI. Nobody else seemed to be worried about them, least of all Captain Singh. "Why haven't they come back?"

     Morgan was about to open his mouth when Sebastián set down his coffee and leaned closer to his partner.

     "They last went to speak with a suspicious person in connection with a meta-human case," Sebastián kept his voice lowered so no roving passerby's could overhear them. "And I-I know I'm supposed to stay away from those cases but I have this feeling, Wil. Something's wrong."

     His stomach churned at the thought of what could have happened to Joe or Barry. He'd never encountered a meta-human besides Ralph Gonzales, who was stuck in a mirror anyways, and Sebastián wasn't aware of what powers people could actually possess. What if Jason Bureka was a meta? What if they went to speak to Carmine and ran into trouble when Jason showed up?

     It was too big to not look into it.

     Morgan, clearly, had other ideas about the matter. "Look, Sebastián, maybe you need to take a step back from this. You're looking for things that aren't there, okay? If you're really that concerned, go talk to Singh."

Sebastián immediately straightened himself and took Morgan's advice, striding towards Singh's office. As if he hadn't actually expected his partner to do that, Morgan called out to him to come back but Sebastián kept walking forward with his chin held high.

He didn't bother knocking on Singh's door as it was open and nobody else was inside.

"Captain."

"Belmonte — do you need something?"

Sebastián seated himself in front of Singh's desk, apprehensively leaning on the edge of the chair. "Where's Joe and Barry? I haven't seen them since Saturday night when they went to talk to a suspect."

Singh took a sip from his coffee cup. On the side it read World's Worst Boss and was signed by someone in a print Sebastián couldn't read from his position. When he set the cup down, Singh leveled him with a look. "Probably working the case still. Why?"

This was his chance.

"Everything on Joe's desk is the same as it was when they left. They left together and neither of them have been back, I guarantee it. Check the clock-in records. Joe hasn't been returning my calls or texts and I don't have Barry's number but if I did, I'd guarantee the same result. They left to talk to someone in a meta-human case, what more do I have to say to make people around here realize that they're missing?"

Captain Singh looked away, "And what does your partner think about this?"

Sebastián frowned. "What does Morgan think? He doesn't seem to care. He thinks it's nothing. But it's not, Captain, I swear! It can't be."

"Sebastián, I'm sure Joe and Allen are fine. They're probably still out investigating. Go get a cup of coffee or something and please don't just walk into my office like that again." Singh turned back to the papers he'd been signing on his desk. "Dismissed."

Sebastián stared at his boss for a moment, mouth dropping in shock. That was it?

"But Captain —"

"Dismissed," he said pointedly, throwing a flinty gaze at the detective.

Not having the energy to argue further with his boss, Sebastián reluctantly stood from the chair and left Singh's office, head down. He knew that something was going on, so why was everyone he talked to ignoring his gut feeling and acting as if everything was fine?

It baffled him. It felt suspicious, like Captain Singh and Morgan knew something he didn't and were working hard to keep it from him. Whether it was for selfish reasons or selfless reasons, Sebastián couldn't tell. He just knew he was being kept in the dark and the only way to get out of the dark was to force your way out into the light.

He walked right past Morgan's cynical face still sitting at his desk and headed towards the elevator, trying to remember the address for Carmine Ortega's house. If Morgan knew what Sebastián was thinking of doing, he either didn't care or didn't want to stop him because he let Sebastián walk right past him without a word.

────────

"¿Lo que pasó aquí?"

     "I-I don't know!" Carmine Ortega held out his meaty hands as if to keep Sebastián at bay as the detective stormed up the landlord's steps, ferocity and aggressiveness in every movement he made. "I swear! D-Detective West and the other man were here Saturday night when Señor Bureka came. They were outside but they never came back in to talk to me."

     Sebastián stopped his advance, glancing out past Carmine's yard where the police cruiser that Joe and Barry had been in was abandoned. It was the first thing he'd seen when pulling up to the residence. "And you didn't call the police about that?" His gaze matched that of an angry feline's.

     Carmine withered under Sebastián's attention. "No," he admitted in a small voice. "Jason told me not to."

     "Jason — Jason Bureka, the guy that they came here to talk to?"

     Carmine visibly struggled to swallow as he nodded his head quickly to confirm the identity. "Y-Yes. Jason, the Mesmer. He told me to keep my mouth shut or he'd make me hurt my daughter."

     Sebastián shook his head in confusion. "What's that you just called him? A 'Mesmer.' What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's what he is," Carmine insisted in a whisper, stepping closer to Sebastián to grab hold of the detective's forearm with desperate fingers that dug into his skin. "He-He can make people do things. He can control your body even when you think you're in control, he can control you; anyone. Nobody is safe from him."

"Are you saying he's a meta-human?"

"Si, si señor. Meta-human."

Sebastián stepped back from Carmine Ortega, stumbling a little as he walked quickly down the porch steps. Jason was a meta-human, Joe was missing, Barry was missing. Carmine hadn't told them the full truth about Jason when Sebastián had questioned him and now they were all paying the price.

Their disappearances could only mean one thing: Jason Bureka had taken them.

"What are you going to do?" Carmine called after him, face pinched tight in concern and fear for the repercussions of Sebastián's future actions. For a brief moment Sebastián considered ignoring the man but he couldn't resist the satisfaction in his response.

"I'm going to find them," he glanced over his shoulder at Carmine. "Then I'm coming back to deal with you. Don't go anywhere, Ortega, or you won't like me when I'm pissed off."

────────

A/N. One more chapter left till Act Two!

What do you guys think about this chapter? I tried not to rush the ending but the next chapter is going to be longer so I had to wrap it up.

I kinda like Ethan. He's such a good boi.

And Sebastián noticed something's up! Our detective boi will be furiously detecting away in the next chapter as more things come to light.

This chapter is dedicated to my friend, Zepoura, who helped me get into Holden's mindset by sharing personal details, thoughts, and experiences with me. Thanks, Z. <3