Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Delicate ❯ Nowhere and Everywhere ( Chapter 19 )

Disclaimer: Lyn and Andrew and their beautiful family are mine, must have expressed written consent to use, fanfic or whatever. Dee and Ryo etc. are not mine. Don't sue, I'm poor ^_^;

 

Delicate

 

Chapter Seventeen:

Nowhere and Everywhere

 

 

By: Irish

 

-o-o-o-o-o-

 

Getting out of a taxi the other day

My heart fell out of my backpack and into a puddle

And so my chest was empty but it felt okay

I just fished out the pieces and walked away into...

 

Nowhere and everywhere

 

- Michelle Lewis

- Nowhere and Everywher

 

-o-o-o-o-o-

 

Dee lay back, looking up at Ryo, who was straddling his hip. He couldn't help but smile. Ryo was such a beautiful man. It was like being straddled by an angel… only no angel would be moving his hips like that, rubbing a tight muscular ass over his denim-trapped erection.

 

“You're cruel,” Dee whispered, running his hands up Ryo's arms, over his shoulders, before tracing the chiseled lines of his chest and stomach. His smile took any real accusation out of the words.

 

“You love it, and your in no position to say otherwise,” Ryo laughed, tossing his hair out of his eyes as he did. “Because I have some very… hard… evidence of just how much you love it.”

 

“Maybe, but I love you more,” Dee's smile softened. It was the truth. Sex was good. Dee loved sex, especially with Ryo. With Ryo though, it was so much more then sex. It was intimacy. Intimacy was something Dee longed for like the dessert longs for rain.

 

Ryo's smile softened and he leaned down, resting on his forearms, nuzzling his nose against Dee's. “And I love you.”

 

Dee felt like he was lit up from the inside, Ryo's words making his heart swell. It felt so good, Ryo touching him like this, talking to him like this. Dee leaned up, closing his eyes and leaned up to capture Ryo's lips, only he never found them. After a moment he opened his eyes.

 

The room at been lit with the soft glow of a dozen candles, now it was dark, dim and grainy, and he was alone. Dee sat up, still clad in just his jeans.

 

“Ryo?”

 

There was no answer. He found a note on the pillow next to him, just like after their first time, the writing made no sense to him though. A bolt of panic lanced through him, just as it had the morning after their first time. He had never really told Ryo, but that had been one of the worst moments of his life, waking up alone that morning. He felt even worse now.

 

Dee scrambled out of bed, still in his jeans, padding quickly out to the rest of his apartment. All his furniture was covered in dust cloths; his windows were boarded up. It didn't look like anyone had been here in months, years even. But he was in here, what the fuck? The front door hung open, off one hinge. Dee would have never, ever left his door like that. What the hell was going on here?

 

He moved quickly out into the hallway. All the other doors up and down its length were open, or missing, or boarded over. Now, fear was welling up in him, and the detective trampled down the stairs and out into the street. The silent street. No cars. No people. Nothing. He was totally alone-

 

Dee woke with a gasp, sitting up sharply in bed. His room was filled with a dingy gray light, and his heart was throbbing in his chest. His throat was even tight with unshed tears. He didn't need any damn crystal waving new age quack to tell him what that dream meant. He was lonely. He missed Ryo, he felt abandoned and alone. Hell, he didn't even need his psyche to tell him that. He already knew.

 

“Fuuuuuck,” He groaned, rubbing his face. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get Ryo out of his head. It had been a month since the `lets be friends' talk. Dee felt he'd been doing a damned good job of playing nice. He was polite, if a bit perfunctory, when talking to Ryo. They'd been going to the last of Bikky's basketball games, not together, but sitting together once they met up at the gym. They'd taken Bikky to a movie, and a NBA game, gone out for a couple meals, but Bikky was always the buffer between them. Bikky was the only topic of conversation Dee allowed. Sometimes, they branched off into work related topics a bit, but Dee could tell they both found that painful. They had lost more then a lover when they hard parted ways; they'd lost a very trusted partner.

 

Bikky seemed happy. That was good. Very good. In fact, that was the only reason Dee kept up this stupid charade, it made Bikky happy. If it weren't for that, Dee would have kept Ryo as far away as possible. Or, the worse alternative, if it wasn't for the fact that he wasn't trying to be a role model to the boy, he would have thrown aside his convictions weeks ago, and gone back to Ryo, groveling. He would have donned emotional handcuffs and a ball gag and let Ryo fuck him up all kinds of good. But that was something he didn't really want Bikky to see.

 

Dee checked the time. It was evening, time for him to get up and get moving. He sighed deeply, flipping open his cell phone. Ryo had called. No surprise there. Ryo was the one who usually did the calling and made the plans. He hadn't left a message though. Instead of calling him back, Dee speed dialed Lyn.

 

“Hello, Dr. Doren speaking,” Lyn, answered formally, apparently not having looked to see who was calling.

 

“Hello yourself Dr. Doren,” Dee managed a small chuckle. “How's the crew?”

 

“Just finished dinner, so largely covered in food. Andrew included,” Lyn laughed, apparently not minding the situation. Dee knew he didn't.

 

“I just bet. Listen, is tonight going to be a late night for you?” Lyn was a night owl, more of an insomniac, actually, and met Dee during his break at work now and again.

 

“I think so,” Lyn agreed. “You wanna get together?”

 

“Yeah… I do. Andrew and the girls are always welcome, but my breaks probably around one am.”

 

“Yeah they'll all be in bed, Andrew included. I'll be up though. Meet you at the greasy spoon across the corner from the two-seven?” Lyn asked, dishes clanging in the background.

 

“Perfect. Thanks Lyn,”

 

“Any time… is it something you want to talk about now?”

 

“No, I've got to get up and get moving and get in to the precinct and start busting my hump. I'll see you in a few hours,” Dee said. “Give my love to Andrew and the girls.”

 

“I will, have a safe night Dee,” Lyn replied. Dee said good-bye once more before hanging up. He didn't waist any time staring at the phone, which was a nice change of pace. Instead he was able to do as he had told Lyn, and get in the shower and clean up, before taking the train into work.

 

Busting his hump was a given once he punched in at work. It was always something. Dee didn't understand how as a plain clothes detective, there was work for him during the graveyard shift, but there was. There was no such thing as nine to five in the NYPD. To be fair, he did a lot of `beat' work, pounding the pavement, talking to witnesses and such that only came out at night, prostitutes of all varieties, dealers, pimps. Dee was good at getting those folks to cooperate. They were, Dee realized, his people. He had a vague idea that he should be ashamed of that, that he could relate to “those kind” of people, that he had gone to school with some of the girls strutting their “wares” over on 15th street. He wasn't though. He was what he was.

 

“Come on, Jenny, don't give me the run around,” Dee sighed, “What have you got to lose by being honest with me?”

 

“Shut up, Dee, its Ruby now,” Jenny hissed, glancing over her shoulder at the other Women of the Night. “They don't need to be knowing my real name. `Sides, I just ain't that girl any more, ya know?”

 

“Bull shit,” Dee shook his head. He had known Jenny a lifetime ago, for both of them. She had been in and out of the orphanage a few times, as her mom had yo-yoed on and off coke. She ran away and took to the street before she graduated high school. Dee was older then her, and had looked out for her as best he could while she was in the orphanage. He had tried to look out for all of the kids younger then him. Jenny had never been a good girl, or a sweet one. She had been hard and worn thin when she was a kid. Now… now she was starting to pick up the same coke habit her mom had had.

 

“What do you want Dee, time is money, so unless you want to pay me for a hand job while we talk, get to it.”

 

“I'll pass,” Dee said dryly, but not entirely without humor. “Do you know any of the Trannies across the street?” Dee asked, indicating the group of xy's in miniskirts with his head. “I don't have an in with them, and they are Stonewalling me… er, no pun intended.”

 

Ruby/Jenny looked across the street, then back at Dee. “You're not going to hassle them, are you?”

 

“You know I'm not.”

 

“Alright, come back tomorrow night, okay?” Jenny crossed her arms over her barely covered breasts. “You gonna pay me for my time?”

 

“Yeah, yeah fine… Just buy yourself a shirt or something with it, not coke,” Dee took out his wallet, and money changed hands. Dee watched her, and the other girls, a moment, before slowly returning to his unmarked. He hoped Jenny would be able to convince the “girls” across the street to talk to him. Dee knew that police in particular harassed transgendered sex workers, and he didn't blame them for being wary, but damnit, it was their lives at stake!

 

After nearly a year break, the Meathook Murder had returned. He'd gotten smarter now, though, and he was now killing men no one would miss. Sex workers, runaways… and with greater frequency. What really pissed Dee off is that the bastard was getting away with it because his victims were “throw aways”, and as far as the NYPD was concerned the lowest of the low, men who liked men, or who wanted to be women. He was one of the only people assigned to the case now, there was one other guy who worked days, but he was a douche. Tomorrow night though… maybe he'd get somewhere.

 

 

Around one in the morning, on his “lunch” break, he crossed the street in front of the precinct to Dave's Diner, a cop mainstay. Business was at a bit of a lull at the moment. It was one of the few twenty-four hour joints that didn't get bar traffic. Largely due to the high population of cops. That meant that plenty of other third shifters, though, who didn't want to deal with the bar crowd came from several blocks away. Lyn, Dee saw, was already in a booth, and Dee slid in across from him.

 

“Hey, Lyn,”

 

“Dee, there you are,” Lyn smiled, in his standard `off duty' uniform of flannel pants and a hoodie, glasses on his nose instead of contacts. Dee would have never left his appartment in that state of dress. He couldn't have pulled it off. Lyn didn't actually seem to care if he did or not.

 

“Sorry I'm a little late. You know how it goes” Dee shrugged sliding into the booth across from him.

 

“Sure do, no worries, I was just catching up on some reading,” Lyn patted the book beside him, a heavy hardbound tome of at least four hundred pages. Dee rolled his eyes.

 

“Right… A little light reading before bed, eh?”

 

“Exactly,” Lyn nodded sagely, wrapping his hands around his steaming coffee mug. There was already an empty mug and a coffee pot to fill it with waiting for Dee, and he wasted no time in doing just that. “So, what's on your mind, Officer?”

 

“What isn't might be a shorter list,” Dee sighed. “Tell me about how everyone is first.”

 

“Oh, Keiry's getting into the `no' and `mine' phase. We're starting to talk about preschool for her, Andrew and I…”

 

“But?” Dee asked, knowing there was a `but'.

 

“He and I aren't seeing eye to eye on it. He wants to send her to an all Deaf all ASL program,” Lyn said, sighing a bit. “And I'm not convinced that's the best option. There's a mixed preschool, for Deaf and hearing kids. They sign, but they have a more Total Communication approach. Her and Annie are so close; I don't want to send them to different schools. I know Annie won't be starting until several months after Keiry, but still.”

 

Dee nodded, listening. It wasn't often Lyn and Andrew fought, not seriously anyway. From what Dee understood, they had a lifetime of fighting and tension early in their relationship, and had figured out how to fight with each other. Now they were so efficient at it, it was rarely even a blip on the radar screen. They also had a very strict `behind closed doors' policy. Fighting was family business. They showed the world a united front.

 

“We're just looking at it from such different perspectives,” Lyn frowned deeply as he said that, which made Dee chuckle.

 

“By which you mean he isn't letting you have your way,” Lyn was a bit of a princess at times, and Andrew usually indulged it. Dee added a little sugar to his coffee, he usually drank it black, but he could use a little extra sweetness tonight.

 

Lyn opened his mouth to object, and then chuckled shaking his head. “Okay, that may be why I'm mad about it, but it's not just that. He says he doesn't want her to feel like she's some how less-than because she's Deaf, that if we try to get her to learn like hearing kids, she'll feel inferior. I think he's really just afraid she'll grow up and hate us.”

 

“You're not worried about that?” Dee asked, skeptical. He couldn't imagine not being worried about having your kids hate you. Bikky was able to express himself and state his needs and Dee was still worried that the kid would hate him because Dee missed something along the way.

 

“I am…” Lyn nodded slowly, shifting in the booth, either literally of figuratively uncomfortable “But… okay, so, she's Deaf, she's adopted, and she's got two dads. I feel like its even odds that she's going to hate us when she hits puberty no matter what we do. If we go totally Deaf, she'll hate us because she can't get by in the hearing world. If we teach her to speak and lip-read, she's going to hate us for not accepting her Deafness.”

 

“That's true. Bikky hated Ryo and I for being together, then he hated us for being apart just as much. Either way we were `ruining his life'. “ Dee smiled a bit. Teenagers were just impossible, and that's all there was to it.

 

“Right, exactly. Even kids who have loving and understanding parents, all the latest everything, etc. always find something to be pissed off at the world about. Anyway, that's what Andrew and I have been up too, disagreeing. Now, what about you?” Lyn hadn't even tried to cover the blatant switch of subjects, but Dee let it go. He knew Lyn and Andrew both didn't like to `air their laundry'.

 

“All quiet on the Western front,” Dee shrugged. “At least in my personal life. Ryo and I… okay mostly I… have mostly moved past the bitter divorcee stage. It ain't comfortable, but, sometimes you just have to keep your seat, tack on the chair or not, ya know?” Dee shrugged, shifting to lean back against the wall of the diner, resting his feet on the booth, knees drawn up a bit.

 

“Well, that's good. Ryo's finally started replying to my emails again. He wasn't for a while there. I'm glad he's finally gotten over his own homophobia, at least mostly.” Lyn said, pausing when their waiter came by. They both ordered breakfast.

 

“Right,” Dee sighed deeply when the waiter left. “Anyway, that wasn't really what I wanted to chat about.”

 

“What's on your mind?” Lyn asked, a bit surprised.

 

“Work. I've got a real problem. I need your legal expertise.”

 

“Oh now that doesn't sound good, what the hell is going on that you need a lawyer?” Lyn sat forward a bit in his seat. When someone said “problem” and “legal expertise” together, especially when that person was Dee, it was serious.

 

“No, no, not me!” Dee said quickly, chuckling a little. “I don't need a personal lawyer. It's more of a GOAL thing. Remember when you first came to the precinct, when Ryo and I were still `RyoandI'? There was a serial murderer that was getting some press coverage. The Meathook Murderer? He was targeting gay men?” Dee slid the case file across the table. “Don't worry, I took the photos out.”

 

“Yeah, vaguely…” Lyn nodded as he scanned the documentation that Dee had offered him. It was reports, evidence lists, notes from individual detectives, a majority of which were his and Ryo's.

 

“Right, well he's back. He's gotten smarter and changed his targets. Before we're pretty sure he was picking up men at gay bars. The kind of men who get noticed when they don't show up for work. Well, now we've got the same M.O. but now he's targeting sex workers. Male gendered and transgendered both. The NYPD doesn't feel that this case really deserves are attention. Really, this case should have gone to SVU in the first place… but it didn't. Now it should really be worked by SVU… but instead it's on my desk.” Dee spoke quietly, also leaning forward so he and Lyn's heads were close together, not wanting this to be overheard by the public at large.

 

“Right…” Lyn said slowly. “But because of who the victims are, no longer just queer, which was bad enough, but now they're whores too. You can barely get people to notice when female heterosexual sex workers are murdered. Transwomen sex workers? The guy might be given a medal instead.”

 

They hashed it out over their food, talking quietly, trying to come up with options, for some way to get this noticed. If nothing else, to get this information out to the people who were being targeted, so they could be more careful. The only plan of attack they came up with that was likely to go anywhere, was that Lyn planned to use his contacts through GOAL, and Andrew's contacts through the Queer Resource Center to see if they could find any transgender MtoF women who would help reach out to the trans community. Dee couldn't think of any way to get the NYPD to take this seriously, and went back to the precinct, jaded and discouraged.

 

 

Ryo greeted Drake in passing, just like any other morning, as he headed to the tiny office he and Dee had shared, in fact, still technically shared. Since Dee worked nights and Ryo worked days, though, it was more like their stuff shared the office, and he and Dee just populated it occasionally. He opened the door, whistling a bit tunelessly to himself. He was in a good mood. No real reason. Ryo had felt in better sprits for a couple months though, since he had broken up with Mary and had come out to his aunt. He just felt better. The relief of not waking up every morning to find himself under the same depressive funk he had been in since Dee had left just made him… happy.

 

“Morning, Ryo,”

 

Ryo jumped, almost dropping his coffee and the file folders under his arm. Dee was still here. Still here, and clearly waiting for him. His desk chair had been turned towards the door. He looked very attractive in a tough and rumpled way. His work shirt was untucked, his tie loose, sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned. There was a day's worth of stubble on his face.

 

“Dee? What are you doing here? I mean, ah, good morning. Sorry, I just… you don't usually… uh, yeah,” Ryo finished lamely, hastily walking around Dee to set his stuff down on his desk. The sudden appearance of Dee had thrown him for a loop.

 

“I need to talk to you,” he paused, “about work.”

 

“Oh! Oh of course, yes, right,” Ryo sat down behind his own desk, flustered. “Ah, what's on your mind?” Dee seemed to have no sympathy for Ryo's discombobulation.

 

“Remember that case we had been working, the Meathook guy?”

 

“Yeah sure, but we stopped finding bodies and figured he moved or had died. What about it?”

 

“If he moved, he's back. He's changed his target though, and I've got a real problem getting anyone to care.” Dee explained, about whom the new targets were, going into more detail then he had with Lyn about the pattern of the murders, how he was damned sure it was the same guy and not a copycat. Ryo asked a few questions for clarification here and there, as he would for the briefing of any case. When Dee was finished, Ryo looked down at his blotter, picking at a scratch in his desk.

 

“Dee, I sympathize, and you're right, it's bull shit that this isn't getting taken care of… but what do you want me to do about it?” He wanted to be able to help Dee, he truly did, but he wasn't high enough on the chain of command to really do much about it.

 

“I've got finals next week, then I'm done for the semester. I'm going to talk to the chief about adjusting my hours a bit… I…” Dee took a deep breath. “Ryo, you and I worked this case together in the first place. I need help, and I need someone with more clout then I have to keep pushing this. If the chief okays it, if you're willing… I want to be partners again. At least long enough to do something about this case.”

 

Ryo blinked at Dee, shocked. “Are you sure?” he asked finally. “Because if we do that, we need to set aside all the other personal crap. We have to trust each other.”

 

“I know,” Dee closed his eyes a moment, he wasn't really ready to let his anger go, but he had to. It wasn't doing him any good, and it was keeping him from taking the steps he needed to take to get this case solved. “I know. We were partners before we were anything else, Ryo. I think I can handle it.”

 

Ryo allowed himself to smile, and tried to tell his heart to just calm down. Dee would do anything for a case, especially and `underdog' case like this. All it meant was Dee was just that dedicated to his work, it was nothing personal. He offered his hand across the desk. “I'll talk to the chief today. I'll call you tonight and tell you how it went.”

 

Dee shook Ryo's hand with a friendly grip. “Thanks, you're a life saver, Ryo. I appreciate this.”

 

“Hey, no sweat,” Ryo stood as Dee did, clapping him on the shoulder, “Now go get some sleep, partner,” he grinned sassily.

 

“That's the plan…” Dee paused just outside their office door, looking back at Ryo. “There's no one I'd rather work with.” He said softly, before continuing on his way, not giving Ryo a chance to respond.

 

Ryo watched him go, smiling a little. Dee had forgiven him, trusted him enough to work with him. It was more then Ryo had really hoped to regain, and he silently promised Dee that he would never betray his trust again, no matter what.

 

-o-o-o-o-o-

 

 

 

Author's Note 1: The pun Dee makes is in reference to the `Stonewall Riots' on 1969. Anyone who is gay-friendly should learn about this if you haven't already. Wikipedia has good general info on it, just search `Stonewall'. The joke is that the Stonewall Riots were initially started between (probably corrupt) NYPD and transgender and transvestite folks who were sick of being harassed. Hopefully at least a couple of you got a chuckle

 

Author's Note 2: That's all folks! This is the last chapter of Delicate, right here. I never thought it would happen, but I finished it. Now, before you flip out on me, I am writing a sequel. I don't intend to leave them broken up, but them getting back together is really its own story line. In order to prove that I will indeed start a sequel, I will have the first chapter up by the end of Thanksgiving weekend. Trust me, have I mislead you yet?

 

There is so much I want to say about this story. I've been writing it for just over four years now, not quite to the day, but to the month. It's approximately 80,000 words long, which would be more then 300 pages if it were a “real” novel. It's amazing; I can hardly believe that I've basically finished a book. I won't pretend that this is publishable writing; it's not, for many reasons, even without the fact that it's fanfiction. I love Delicate dearly, and I'll be honest with you, someday, once I'm an established writer, I hope to find a way to publish this, after much reworking of course. Delicate is a documentation of my growth as a writer. It isn't always my best writing, even this last chapter here isn't what I'd call a “good” example of my writing, but I feel like I have improved drastically over the years.

 

I want to thank everyone who has been reading this story, and all of you who have left me so very many reviews. I want to thank you for your patience and loyalty over the four years this story has been written.

 

For those of you have been detractors… nahnah nah booboo :P

 

I hope all of you will stick with me for the sequel. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise and get them back together by the end of this story, but I wanted to be sure that their re-falling in love is beautiful and genuine, and that takes time. I've always loved Dee, but Delicate has helped me love Ryo too. Delicate is a large contributor to my ability to “become a writer” in the published sense. Delicate has allowed me the chance to make mistakes, to be encouraged, critiqued, to learn and grow by doing. My “real” story, The King's Man, which is about 50,000 words long (200 pages), is within spitting distance of being finished. I've been told that it is a “viable” piece of work. My writing Delicate has contributed to that.

 

All right, I'm just babbling now. Once more, thank you, and look for the sequel. I don't have a title for it yet, but it will be clearly labeled as the sequel to Delicate. Check back Sunday the 25th of November for sure!

 

Courage, Kindness, Integrity,

Irish.

See authors note.