Rivalries: Chapter Twenty-Five, Part One

 Notes: We're putting things together in these penultimate chapters, darlins! Have a long section of Charlie trying to do the right thing, and being stymied almost the whole time.

Title: Rivalries: Chapter Twenty-Five, Part One

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Chapter Twenty-Five, Part One

 

Charlie knew the chaos of a battlefield, where every move he made was surrounded by potential death. He knew the chaos of a hospital, where it seemed like every hour yet another person lost their life. He knew the chaos of a school day, now, students jostling each other as they ran from class to class, expectations being met, or not, and the worry that came from caring for so many young people.

He had never before experienced the kind of chaos that came with having your living heart separated from your body, before John was taken away from him. That was what it felt like to be apart right now, and Charlie would have spent a little more time being stunned by just how much he loved John if things weren’t so desperate.

“MR. GIBILISCO KILLED SOMEBODY IN THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE!” an incredibly loud girl screeched from the entrance to the gymnasium, and that was it—pandemonium swept the crowd, the last thing anyone needed after the tense duel that Charlie had barely survived. He didn’t know how he made it inside the building so quickly, when his legs were already quivering like two piles of jello, but it wasn’t fast enough. By the time he was at Principal Cross’s office, paramedics and police were already there, and John had already been led outside to a patrol car.

Charlie longed to go after him, to insist he be allowed to see him, to force his way into whatever interrogation they had planned—because from the look on Principal Cross’s face, somewhere between furious and fearful, he knew there was going to be an interrogation. But he also knew that wasn’t what John would want right now. He’d want Charlie to make sure the students were okay, and the student who needed the most help from Charlie right now was, for once, not Ari. It was Roland, and from the way he was shivering in the chair in the corner, his eyes glazed as the nearest paramedic tried to talk to him, he needed a lot of help.

“Hang on,” Charlie said to the paramedic as he knelt down in front of Roland. “Give me a minute with him, okay?”

“Sir, I really can’t have you interfering with treatment.”

“Have you started any treatment yet?” Charlie asked, wanting to shout but restraining himself. He could feel the quiver beneath his feet, the subterranean rumble that meant Roland’s knack was on the verge of erupting. “Because if this is your idea of successful treatment, you need to step back and reassess. I’m a former combat medic,” he added when the EMT looked like they wanted to keep arguing. “And I’m one of his teachers. He’s more comfortable with me. You’re welcome to stay, but please, let me help him.”

The paramedic nodded after a moment, and Charlie focused all his attention on Roland. “Hey,” he said, gripping both the boy’s hands as well as he could with his one. “Look at me, buddy. Look at me, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Mr. Gibilisco…” Roland whispered.

“Yeah, John’s okay, he’s just with some officers right now.”

“I want him here.”

Charlie sighed. “I do to, Roland, I really do. But there are some things to work out before that can happen. Your foster mom is on the way though, okay?”

Tears welled up in Roland’s eyes, and the floor creaked warningly beneath their feet.

“Aw, buddy, come here.” Charlie pulled the boy into a hug and Roland collapsed against him after a second, sobbing. He was actually taller than Charlie, and it was hard to support so much weight from his kneeling position, but Charlie ignored the pain in his knees and the strain in his back and how his whole body was screaming with exhaustion, and held on to the kid. After a few minutes, Roland started to speak.

“She brought me to Linda.”

Mrs. Patterson? “Who brought you?” Charlie asked.

“Principal Cross. She told me I had to come with her and—”

“Lies!” the woman shouted from across the room, where she was batting away another paramedic. “Absolute garbage!”

“She told me to be quiet and she would come and get me soon,” Roland went on, ignoring the principal’s outcry. “As soon as I saw Linda, I just…couldn’t move. She sat me down in the chair and gave me an injection of something, and—”

“Where did she inject you?” Charlie asked quickly. Roland pointed to his left elbow. “Document that,” Charlie said to the EMT, who pushed Roland’s sleeve back. There was a pinprick mark over the large vein in the crux of his elbow, dotted with blood. “We need a blood sample, too.”

“I’m not a freaking CSI,” the paramedic groused. “Taking blood samples isn’t in my job description.”

“Maybe not, but it’s going to be part of my formal complaint if you don’t do it right now,” Charlie said, dead serious. “And the pictures. This is important, all right?”

The paramedic looked from Charlie to Roland and sighed, his face suddenly looking much older. “Is this an abuse case?”

“Chronic abuse,” Charlie confirmed quietly.

“Fine. But you’re explaining to my supervisor if I get called in to a trial.”

It wasn’t that simple, of course. Principal Cross was as big of an impediment as she could make herself before being taken to the hospital herself for rapidly fluctuating blood pressure. She claimed John had brutally attacked her before breaking into her office, and that she didn’t know what had happened after that. Linda Patterson, who’d been found in said office, had been knocked unconscious by the heavy wooden door that John had apparently thrown at her. None of it could be corroborated by the cameras, apparently, so all they had was the physical evidence at hand, which included Roland.

There was talk of taking him away, putting him in a “secure location” until the truth could be ferreted out. Charlie fought it every step of the way, in between demands that he be allowed to see John, or at least assurances that John had access to legal counsel. By midnight, the only ones still fighting were Mr. Patterson and Principal Cross along with their lawyers on one side, and Charlie and Roland’s case worker Camille on the other side. No one was being allowed to see Linda or John, not until the police finished their initial interviews, which couldn’t happen until Mrs. Patterson woke up.

“I’m positive my wife was unlawfully attacked,” Colonel Patterson finished up, his voice flat and eyes unfriendly. “No matter what was happening in that room—”

“Which is definitively Mrs. Patterson breaking a restraining order by being in the school in the first place, and in the company of a child she’s not permitted contact with,” Camille cut in harshly.

“No matter what, I’m sure there’s a good explanation.” He pushed back his chair. “I’ll see you all in court.” Principal Cross went with him, and Charlie turned back to Camille.

“What can we do?” There had to be some way they could cut through the red tape and get John out of police custody. He’d done nothing but protect Roland, and sure, he might have done so with some pretty hairy knacks, but this was the life of a child they were talking about here. Linda Patterson was, frankly, lucky to be breathing.

“There’s nothing right now,” Camille said, sounding tired beyond belief. “We have to wait and see what kind of story they try to spin. That’s all we can do right now, is wait.” She patted Charlie on the shoulder. “I’ve got to get some sleep, but I promise I’ll be back by eight tomorrow morning. We’ll keep at this together.”

“Yeah.” His eyes were gritty from lack of rest, his body so tired he felt like he was about to fall apart. “See you tomorrow.”

“Go get some rest.” She left, and Charlie seriously contemplated putting his head down on the conference room table and falling asleep right here. But he couldn’t do that, couldn’t sleep without knowing how John was, without doing everything he could to make sure he was going to be all right. He needed help. He needed specialized help, more than Huda could give him, and it wasn’t fair to ask Huda to do more than be with Ari right now. He needed…

Oh. Shit. He knew just who he needed.

Charlie blessed the fact that he’d thought to grab John’s jacket, which had his phone in it. It was locked, but he knew the passcode—he’d seen John plug it in enough times—and went to his contacts. What would she be under, where would she be…ah. Probably Wicked Witch of the Lab.

He pressed send, then waited nervously. Maybe she wouldn’t pick up. Surely she wouldn’t—it was too late for her to be—

“Dr. Mullins speaking! Who is this?”

Charlie cleared his throat. “Ah, Dr. Mullins. You might not remember me, but my name is Charlie Verlaine, I’m a—”

“Friend of John’s, of course! The one with that delightful little knack problem.” Hell of a way to describe Ari’s issues. “What can I do for you, Sergeant Verlaine?”

Charlie sighed deeply, then began to fill her in.