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Chapter 6: Child's Slay

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Leslie looked him over, seeing him as human for the first time since...earlier that night. She glanced away and was quiet for a bit.

"And hate crimes," she added. "You could expose your parents' crimes to the whole town and lock them up forever." Leslie shook her head, reality settling in. "But let's face it, Carl. Everybody in Lakewood, even the institutions, know your parents are Klan. You think they'll bat an eye if you let slip they're child-abusers? In a happy world, maybe." She returned his gaze. "But we're not that lucky."

Carl was silent at that. Nobody would really be surprised. And yet...

"I wish I could have told Micah. But I was scared."

Afraid he'd see him as some beaten, broken thing...

Leslie nodded solemnly. "Micah would have understood. He'd get it. He...he understood a lot." She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep her cool, recollecting all the stuff she confided in him, the shame she felt when she went down to the lower west side and saw the shit she saw, the shame she felt then, that she still felt. "But I guess who'd blame you for not being chatty about it?" Leslie spoke up, her voice low. "I understand, Carl, if it's any consolation."

"Thank you." Carl was still in shock they were actually having THIS conversation. Let alone him THANKING his former(?) bully for understanding.

"Did Micah tell you, about the date we had?"

"No," Leslie replied, shaking her head. "I didn't see him after. The last time I saw him was...just before he left. That was the last time..." She sighed, regaining her focus. "I know about Drew but...not before." Leslie paused. "How was it?"

"It was great," Carl said without hesitation.

"I called in a song request. Found a great view...everything."

He nodded over to where Pedro was, "And he interrupted it. Scared the shit out of us while we were...kissing."

Before Leslie could storm over to confront him, Carl continued, "We didn't actually see him, and he's not a sex pervert. Apparently...we woke him up from a nap."

"That's...that's a shame." Leslie twitched her nose, curious. "Tell me...what exactly drew you guys together? A month ago, you weren't on each other's radar which I was why I was so...suspicious. What'd you see in him?"

"I...I fell in love with him, the first time I saw him. I was still with Deanna," Carl admitted, "And as I got to know him, I realized I didn't have to hide who I was with him."

"That night, in the park...something happened. I don't know what. But something changed in me."

"Yeah, you never had to keep secrets from Micah. Hell, if you did, he'd read you anyway, he was so sharp," Leslie said, her heart getting heavy.

Enough of this. They had work to do.

"We have to get back on track. Get more prints. Get the knife back." She stared down the one adult in the room she knew she could trust (which was sad now that she thought of it like that). "And I know someone who can help us with that."

"Who's that?"

"Fitz Smith," Leslie clarified. "I don't know how but we've become allies, I guess. He could get us the knife and we can take prints and start looking for any matches with what we have." She smirked. "The best thing is I know he can't be the killer. He doesn't have the heart and..." She squinted from across the room. "The fuck happened to his eye?"

"How do you know he's not it? And..." Carl got a look at his face, "What the fuck?"

"A.) He's a wimp and B.)..." Leslie shrugged and said, sarcastically, "I don't know, Carl. Do you think he has the dedication to take out his eye to stay undercover?" She shook her head. "No. He's got to be the most toothless venture capitalist on this earth."

"Fair enough."

"Vice Principal!"

"Ach!" Theodora whirled around, narrowing her eyes at once, "Mr. Smith. The degradation of our social mores notwithstanding, I at least expect you to knock."

Fitz raised his hand, knocking sharply on the kitchen door. Theodora didn't appear impressed.

"What's that can?" he asked.

"I found this tin of instant coffee in the larder. Might be as old as the cretaceous, but my mother always said if the Russians ever struck, we'd have no shortage of Hostess cakes and instant coffee for meals."

"We never had instant coffee in the house," said Fitz airily, "Such swill was for laborers and..."

"I pray, Mr. Smith, for both our sakes, you don't finish that sentence."

So he didn't, only meekly adding, "We had a French press."

Theodora made a noncommittal noise in her throat, "Regardless. It's been a long night and it's fixing to be a longer day. I'll benefit from the beverage. You may have a cup if you like."

"Hmph!" Fitz turned his nose up, "I need no coffee."

"Very well, then."

Now or never, Smith, now or never...

"I'd sooner have a pill."

Theodora turned, very slowly, to look at him, "A pill?"

"Yes!"

"Like an aspirin?"

"Oh, anything, really, I've no preference."

"Except when it comes to coffee," Theodora observed flatly.

"Oh, cut the claptrap, Kellerman!"

"Excuse me?"

"We both know you have Tracy Lewis's painkillers in your pocket!"

"The devil are you suggesting?"

"Is it money you want?"

"Are you daft?"

"Influence! My dear woman, shares in Smith's Sweeties?"

"I wouldn't want a share of your sticky shell corporation if you had your own damn theme park!"

"Is it a kiss, then? I've been told I've magnetic lips."

"Mr. Smith, I'd say you lost whatever remained of your sense when your eye popped out, but we both know it was gone long before..."

"I NEED THAT MEDICATION!"

"You certainly need some medication. A white jacket, and a padded room too, more than likely..."

"This is no game!"

"It certainly is not! Now, you step out of my way, or so help me God, I will crack this instant coffee over your smug pinhead, and I swear to God, nobody in this place will ask me the reason why."

-Theodora and Fitz

A scream rang through the hall.

Into the kitchen came running the groovy doctor Nicodemus. "Oh, it's terrible, man! I don't believe it!"

"What?" demanded Fitz, "What is it now?"

"Kieran! He's gone!" Nicodemus cried, hands on his head.

"Gone?" demanded Theodora as Fitz asked, "Who?"

"How is he gone? He was locked in the bathroom!" she whirled on Fitz, "Wasn't he?"

"How should I know? I've only one eye!"

She slapped him. Fitz fell against the counter, howling.

"You were supposed to be watching this place while we were gone! If someone unlocked that bathroom door..."

"I HAVE SUFFERED!" Fitz screamed, tears running down one side of his face, "I HAVE LOST SO MUCH IN SERVICE TO YOUR PLEBEIAN TWITS! I have suffered more than any of you..."

"Dr. Langley!" Theodora turned to him, "How did this happen? Never mind telling. Show me at once!"

-Theodora and Fitz

Nicodemus led the way frantically. "I was returnin' the body of the recently deceased and I wanted to check up on Kieran, dig? But I found the door ajar and 'twas empty, man! Bloody paper towels all over the floor! He told me he wanted to stay in there cause he said he was scared what'll everyone else'll do to him! S-somebody mighta taken him, I think!"

"Taken him?" demanded Theodora, peering in the bathroom, "He's a mad mass murderer, he might as well have escaped!"

"Lord!" gasped Fitz, "Blood!"

"Yes, blood, you facile imbecile!" Theodora rounded on him, "God, somebody got brutalized here..."

She turned around, "All of you!" she looked about at all of them, "I'd advise you to panic, but you're all going to do it anyway. Kieran Wilcox has escaped. I would like to think if any of you had seen him do it, you'd have said something, so I must assume you're all as blind as Mr. Smith here."

"Excuse me!" interjected Fitz. Theodora silenced him with a look.

"If any of you did see him, or have any idea as to how he left, or with whom he did, if anybody...please, say something."

-Fitz and Theodora

"Y'all never understood!" Nicodemus persisted hysterically. "He ain't mad! Just sad! All he wanted to do was head back to prison and meditate! He wouldn't never lie to me! Wouldn't never!"

Leslie stepped forward, disgusted yet again. "The serial killer is out?! Can't you authorities do anything right?" She glanced at Theodora and raised her hand in respect, her excluded from the band of idiocy for now.

-Nicodemus and Leslie

"Wilcox escaped?!" asked Teague as he walked in, just in time to hear it.

"Yes, Edward, he escaped!" Theodora rounded on him, "Damn it all, did Tina Hudson ever get back with the girl? I don't see them anywhere..."

Or Lance Wilson, who had accompanied Tina, as she recalled. Or, for that matter, Tina's son...

She folded her arms, "This enterprising drug addict..." she gestured to Fitz.

"HOW DARE YOU..."

"...let him walk out the door."'

-Theodora and Fitz

Teague right up to Fitz and crossed his arms.

"Well, Smith? You got anything to say for yourself?"

"I will say this!" Fitz announced in ringing tones, "I have lost more in the last 12 hours than some of you sorry pantywaists have lost in all your lives! I have been ground down, humiliated, maimed in an act of selfless sacrifice..." he his finger up, as if reciting a poem, "And now I am accused of irresponsibility by the blocktop who dragged us all out to this godforsaken mire in the first place!"

Nicodemus put his arms in between the two conflicting parties (though it was no party at all). "Please, friends! Keep peace!"

"You're forgetting one tiny detail," Teague said lowly, briefly looking at Audrey Jensen, "Because of you, a good man is now dead."

"My lie, you ignominous twat?" Fitz prompted, "That man died for one reason and one reason alone, because your trigger happy machinations couldn't save him! But no, blame whoever you see fit! I know how it is. I'm everyone's scapegoat! My money, my estate, my miserable begotten son, my charms and peculiar attitudes!"

"I'm not sure what that has to do with..."

"I've had it!" he pointed right in Teague's face, "You are a sanctimonious tinpot general better suited to govern an ant farm than a school! Any blood that has been spilled since we arrived at this place is on your hands and yours alone."

"No, Fitz Smith, this blood is on your hands," countered Teague, "Because of you, a girl is now an orphan, and a killer is still alive."

Maybe if it hadn't been for the lie, Howard Jensen would still be alive.

Or maybe he'd be dead instead.

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