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Drugging Carson for fun - Carson series

(I decided to just start using the titles for works that I put on my notes lol)

Also on Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982710

Carson stared at the small vial on the table in front of him, "you're kidding, right?"

Riley's expression didn't change, "it only works on magicians."

"Still I'm not gonna drink some un-tested, maybe poisonous material just for you to 'see what happens'," Carson said, pushing the vial away defiantly. Morris folded his hands over his desk in thought. "Are you really on board with this?" He asked him.

"Look, Carson, it is proven to be completely safe and could be a major help to the case. The longer this goes unsolved, the more people die." Morris said.

"Or, it could be a major waste of time. I've done the whole psychic vision thing and it sucks." Carson said, crossing his arms. He was starting to get the feeling they were taking advantage of his lack of self-preservation instincts. Some small part of him saw the vial of mystery drugs as a sort of challenge, but he's trying not to let that part get the better of him.

"We'll compensate you well if you do this," Riley interjected from where she sat perched on the arm of Morris's couch.

"I've got money. Pass."

Riley and Morris still didn't appear to be giving up. They really thought that this little stunt would somehow help them solve the case, that's just how desperate they'd gotten. "Carson, I know it'll be unpleasant but you'll be absolutely fine and it could be really helpful." Said Riley. She was using that coercive voice that always rubbed Carson the wrong way.

Finally, he sighed and gave up a little bit of his resolve, "Fine, tell me more about it and I'll think about it."

Riley launched into an explanation,"Ok so we've seized samples of this drug at four different locations now where gangs of magic-users," Carson cleared his throat purposefully, "gangs of magicians are known to operate. A few officers have given detailed reports of magicians they've encountered while using the drug. We're not sure yet if it's recreational or if it poses some kind of advantage. We're hoping to figure that out. If magicians can use this substance to strengthen themselves and become more dangerous, we need to know."

"Or it could be some dumb party drug that plays with senses only magicians have," Carson suggested.

"Such as?"

"Magical energy is visible to us if we use our senses properly. It's always there but if you really look you can see each grain of energy. They're colorful, kind of tingles a bit if you touch it. I'm not sure exactly what other people see because I'm different. I see people's souls, their life energy, and the traces of it they leave behind. You can also kind of use it to spot magicians because magic will cling to them, unlike regular people."

"Hmm, if what you say is true..."

"Which it is," Carson interjected.

"...Then it could potentially be used as an advantage. We won't really know though until we have more data." Morris said.

Carson sighed and rubbed at his face, "I still don't like the sound of this. I'm not doing it."

"Umm," Riley said.

"What?"

"It's a little late for that."

Carson's eyes widened in anger, "what the fuck did you do?!"

"I had a feeling it would be hard to convince you so I might have just put a few drops into your coffee when you came in. Just a few drops, it probably won't even have an effect."

"And you let her do that?" He turned to the man sitting across from him.

Morris practically growled at her, "You'll have to excuse my junior detective. She gets a little ahead of herself," he said through clenched teeth.

"No, no, no...I didn't sign up for this," Carson gripped the arms of his chair like he was afraid it might just up and fly away.

"Riley, close the blinds please," he told her. She hopped up from the couch immediately and covered the window of his office, blocking it off from the rest of the station. "Maybe you should make yourself comfortable on the couch." He offered.

Carson eyed the leather couch longingly, "how could I possibly do that if I don't have legs?"

Morris blinked, "you what?"

"What?" Carson repeated cluelessly.

"Nevermind." He sighed then picked up a notepad off his desk, angrily scribbling something down. "There, just so I don't forget." He said with fake cheer as he slapped it onto his computer screen. Fire Officer Miller.

"Hey!" she protested.

Morris shot her a positively murderous glare which shut her up right away. "Help me with him."

Stepping around his desk, he approached Carson calmly and carefully. He tapped Carson's pant leg. "Feel that?"

"Yeah," Carson answered. "That's your left leg." He informed him. Carson's eyes widened in surprise as Morris proceeded to tap his other leg. "And that?"

"Mhmm."

"That's your right leg." Carson wiggled his toes experimentally as if he didn't entirely believe him.

"Doesn't that couch look comfortable? Wouldn't you rather sit there?" He asked slowly. Carson seemed to think about it for a second letting his glazed-over eyes trail across the leather sofa.

"Okay."

Together they got him on his feet and guided him over to the couch so that he was lying across it. Though she didn't express it, the guilt was obvious on Riley's face at what she had done.

"I really thought a couple drops wouldn't do anything..."

"Well, you thought wrong. You better hope he doesn't sue you when he sobers up later." Morris said seriously.

With Carson safely on the couch, they both breathed a sigh of relief and took a step back. He looked mostly okay except for his pupils which seemed a bit off.

"Now what?" She asked.

"Don't look at me. You did this."

Carson lifted one of his arms to swat at the air, smiling as he caught whatever it was that he saw there. "It's always so colorful. I wish I could look at the magic all the time." He mumbled.

"What kind of magic?" Morris asked.

"Hmmm, it's just traces of this or that. A little bit of me, a little bit of you. Time has a way of shedding human souls, bit by bit, until you die."

"Well that's pleasant," he grumbled, leaning back in his desk chair. This really wasn't how he planned to spend his day. Being the lead detective did come with some responsibilities he needed to tend to. In the back of his mind he reaffirmed his decision not to have kids, these two idiots were enough to deal with already. Following that train of thought he grabbed another sticky note and jotted something down about buying more hair dye for the grey hair this would inevitably give him.

Carson was oddly quiet, kind of in his own little world. So far nothing bad had happened. He just laid there looking stoned out of his mind. Half an hour passed before Carson sat up abruptly, looking around the corners of the room for something.

"What's wrong?" Riley asked.

"Pictures," Carson mumbled. "They just..." he grabbed his head in discomfort, "ugh."

"Does it hurt?" Morris asked, sounding concerned.

"It always hurts." A tiny trail of blood dripped down his nose which Riley stopped with a tissue before it could make a mess. Carson shoved her away, taking the tissue to hold for himself. He's had enough nosebleeds that even in this state he had the sense to dab it clean. Riley tried not to look offended as she rubbed at her forearm where he had pushed her. Despite sitting right in front of him, Carson didn't seem to be fully aware that Riley and Morris were even there, choosing instead to stare off into space, occasionally blinking or shaking his head. Riley wondered if this is what it would look like if he had visions while awake, minus the usual seizing.

"Even if he figures something out with this drug, it won't be of any use if he doesn't remember any of this." Morris commented to himself.

"I never forget," Carson responded, surprising them both when he suddenly acknowledged that they were there. There was a spark of lucidity in his eyes as he looked between them. It didn't last long though…

"How long does this usually last?" Asked Riley.

"It's barely been an hour, don't tell me you're bored already." He clipped, still irritated that she would go behind his back to do something as reckless as this. "Could last all day, we don't know much about it."

"All day?" Carson whimpered as he brought his legs up onto the couch so that he could curl into a little ball.

"It'll probably get worse too." Morris deadpanned. A small sound of fear escaped him as he started to twitch with nerves. They hadn't given much thought to how this drug might affect him differently than other magicians. While it might give them more raw power to fight with, his powers were more mental, more unique. The drug seemed to have more of an effect on his psychic abilities. Honestly, it was terrifying, there was no telling what might happen. Carson tried to keep it together and stay calm but it was a struggle just to sort out what was real. His vision was clouded by magic that swirled around the room, thrumming with life. That part wasn't so bad... It was the flashes, disorganized chaos of faces and memories and facts.

A steady hum rose in his ears like the chattering of a hundred voices. If he concentrated on picking out a singular voice he could catch little phrases. Just mundane thoughts like "I'm gonna be late to lunch", or "Maybe I should have brought a jacket today."

He looked straight ahead at Riley. "Why do his eyes look like that? Fuck, I'm in so much trouble. How was I supposed to know how potent this shit was? Maybe it's stronger because he's such a lightweight."

Carson wanted to refute that last part but it was true. No point in denying it. He turned his head to Morris who was attempting to get some paperwork done. "What am I gonna do with her? If she takes risks like that in the field someone could get seriously hurt. Maybe if someone slipped her some LSD she'd think twice about these things. Ah geez, now he's looking at me. Can he even see me?"

"I can see you," Carson said quietly.

Morris froze, not immediately making the connection that he was answering a question out loud that he had asked in his head. It sounded like just another disassociated comment. "What?"

"Just... I can see you." He clarified.

"Okay," said Riley, looking confused. "What's going on in there?" She asked.

"Lots of things. Lots of voices. Nothing very important. Not about..." Carson trailed off, forgetting why he even took the drug in the first place, "not about the case," he said finally.

"Like what?"

"The reception lady is wondering if she has time to go to her favorite sandwich place on her lunch break. And the guy at the desk is wondering if her tits are real."

"Wow, alright. Let's try to filter some of that out." Morris suggested.

"It seems like the drug really can amplify a person's magic. I mean, you can't read minds all the time right...?" Riley asked.

Carson abruptly stopped shaking his knee and looked at her, "Isn't this dangerous? I mean, who knows what could happen?" He asked. She shrugged, unable to answer either of those questions. They were really in the dark here. Riley felt a pang of sympathy. He seemed so out of it. She really thought that it wouldn't do anything in such a small amount. She watched as the blood suddenly drained from his face. It was scary how fast his skin turned white, even pulling any color he had in his lips. "What if He comes?" He asked suddenly. His tone was sincere, not scared, but concerned. He was actually glad that Morris knew about his secret in that moment.

"He's not going to come here. I'm sure He has more important things to do right? It's silly to worry about it," he said comfortingly. The logic was sound, but Carson was still paralyzed with fear.

"But what if I summon Him accidentally? I might not be able to control it," he said.

Morris was really getting nervous now. Carson was a bomb that could blow at any time. He had a feeling that there was much, much more to his magic than any of them knew. Suddenly jumping back, Carson went a shade paler, resembling more of a corpse now than a human. He shrank into the corner of the sofa. "...Do you see it?" His voice was barely audible. They both whipped their heads in the direction that Carson was looking. At first, it appeared empty, but there was something unsettling about it. Something you feel rather than see. After a few moments, they realized what they were looking at. The shadow in the corner was moving. It swirled and grew, and traveled like smoke. There was darkness there. More than there should be.

"O-Oh my god..." Riley stuttered. She fell back into the chair in front of Morris's desk. Morris perked up in his seat and leaned in toward Carson, time for damage control. His instincts told him that he needed to calm him down and fast. "Carson, look at me, there is nothing there. You are in control of what you do. I know you are scared right now. Just take a deep breath, I think I know something that could help."

Carson's eyes softened slightly, "what is it?" He was eager to put hope into whatever Morris was suggesting.

The older man turned in his chair and opened the lower-most drawer in his cabinet. In it was a half-empty bottle of whiskey and under that, a neatly folded blanket. He pulled out the blanket and closed the drawer. "Here, it's clean." He spread it over Carson. The change was immediate. He let his head fall back into the couch and pulled the blanket up to his face. He was right, it was clean. He could smell the laundry detergent on it, it smelled kind of like the brand Daniel uses. Riley and Morris both discreetly glanced into the corner to find that it had settled down. Morris sighed with relief. "That's better, isn't it?" He asked Carson, who didn't respond at first but ended up giving a tiny nod. Despite being calmer he was still pale and visibly shaking. "Rest for a while. I'm going to try to get a little paperwork done."

To their surprise, Carson agreed easily, closing his eyes. It made him feel like everything was normal and he could just take a nap. It wouldn't take long though before Carson would regret falling asleep…

Since Carson seemed to doze off almost immediately, Riley and Morris assumed they were in the clear. About ten blissful and uneventful minutes later, he stirred.

"Unngghh," he groaned miserably.

"What?" Riley turned to him but he was still asleep. He looked uncomfortable, in pain almost. She leaned forward to have a better look at him.

"Just leave him alone," Morris told her.

"What do you think he's thinking about right now?" Riley asked him curiously.

"Jesus Riley, where is your common sense? Look at him, you want to know what's going on in his head? I can almost guarantee it would scar your naive, little mind for the rest of your life." He was angry. She shrunk under his gaze. Now that Carson was asleep it was as good a time as any to start discussing her punishment. He peeled one of the sticky notes off his computer screen, the one that said Fire Officer Miller. He set it down so Riley could see it.

"You're not really going to fire me, are you?" She asked.

"I could. I have every reason to. The forms are right here actually," he pulled a folder out of one of his desk drawers threateningly. "Please don't... The reports said that magicians usually took a whole vial at once. Three drops are next to nothing," she reasoned. "If I didn't do this he might have taken the whole thing, then what would have happened?"

Damn her, she had a point. Without this little experiment of hers, they would have assumed he should try to normal dosage, and judging by the effect it has had on Carson so far, a whole vial could be catastrophic. Morris paled visibly, "I'd really like to make it through the day without having to evacuate the entire block."

He tapped the edge of the folder on his desk, lost in thought although Riley assumed he was still trying to send her a message. "Please don't fire me, it won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't. I'm thinking... three weeks suspension should be enough time for you to think about your actions. Unpaid. And I want a one-page essay on how you can be a better detective, every day until the suspension is over." Morris said.

Riley frowned, "You want 21 one page essays?"

"Did I say one page? I meant three."

Riley pulled at her hair in frustration, "Fine, fine. I'll do it. But what about the upcoming field test next week? Can I still take that? The next chance to do it would be three months from now..."

"Oh darn, guess you'll have to wait," Morris said with absolutely no sympathy for her. Riley knew better than to keep begging him. He'd just tack on more and more to her suspension if she continued to protest. "Over 60 pages of writing, that's twice as long as my thesis paper," she mumbled to herself quietly.

"If you don't want to do it, you could always quit. I have forms for that too," he told her.

"Aren't you being too mean?" She whined.

Morris groaned internally. Riley tested every last shred of patience he had on a daily basis but in some twisted way, each mistake she made just made him want to help her more. He sighed, "It's my job to train you to be a detective. If you're not ready for that responsibility, then you're not ready, end of story." Carson continued to stir every minute or so but he still looked more comfortable than he did when he was awake.

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He found himself in the middle of a dream. As was typical of dreams, his surroundings didn't quite make sense and he seemed to fall into it at a completely random point with no idea how it all started. He sat up, realizing he was still on the couch in Morris's office only, it wasn't Morris's office. It wasn't even the same couch. This one was a beige tweed fabric, a stark contrast to the neat, leather sofa Morris had. Carson planted his feet on the floor noticing that that was different too. Most of the station had replaced all carpeting with tiles but here the floor was covered with a very dark green carpet that looked like it belonged in a movie theater.

A chill ran down his spine as he exited the small office, stepping into the open station. It was quieter than he'd ever seen it. Every single desk was empty and only half the lights were on. They seemed to be leading him somewhere. Carson walked through the dimly lit section of the station that took him towards the hallway that the break room was in. The whole place looked unsettling but Carson wasn't scared. He had that disassociated feeling that came with dreams, reassuring him that nothing he was seeing was real.

Carson walked slowly, he peered into some of the rooms in the hallway but they were all dark so he moved on from them. An overhead light flickered to life, illuminating a sign that said "Interrogation rooms" Carson had been down this hallway once before but everything was subtly different. For example, he didn't remember there being a door at the very end of the hallway. A distant memory provided him with the image of a potted plant, maybe a drinking fountain there, but not a door. And surely it was no coincidence that that was the only one with a strip of light shining out from underneath. He proceeded to the interrogation room, not once questioning what might be inside. As soon as he opened the door and crossed the threshold the light in the room got brighter, blinding him for a moment. When he blinked his vision clear he had magically jumped from the doorway to the table where he sat, handcuffed to one side, with a strange man sitting at the other.

"Sure took you long enough to get here, Carson," he said. His voice was deep and raspy. The man wore a police uniform but something told him he wasn’t a cop.

"How do you know my name?" Carson asked.

"I've been waiting for you to join me for a very long time."

Fear pulsed through Carson's veins at the sound of his voice. Every word out of the man's mouth felt like a wet tongue gliding over his ear. He wanted to brush it away but his hands were cuffed to the table. Which was also something that couldn’t be a coincidence.

"What side are you on?" Carson asked weakly.

"Yours, of course." The man smiled, flashing a set of yellowed teeth.

Carson shivered and squirmed in his seat. The light above them flickered and he swore he saw the man tense. He started talking again, more urgently now. "All I want is for our people to be free. Don't you want that, Carson? Don't you want to be able to use your magic in any way you please? Is that not our right?" He bombarded him with questions. The light flickered again. He was running out of time.

"Promise me that when the time comes, you'll be on our side. Promise me!" He stood up, showing his full height. Carson cringed, seeing he was well over 6ft tall. There was something very wrong and twisted about that image. It looked like his spine had been stretched out to an inhuman length and as he leaned over the table, his arms stretched out as well, curling like tentacles. At some point this dream had become a nightmare and Carson wasn’t even sure when. Hands came to wind around his neck, squeezing his windpipe like a snake constricting its prey. Carson kicked and thrashed, trying to free his hands but it was no use. The strength was too much to overcome. He knew that immediately. 'I'm going to die, I'm really going to die like this... His mind repeated as his body struggled. Then suddenly the light went out and the room was filled with darkness. Carson felt a cold rush of air as the pressure finally eased up on his throat. He knew this darkness of course, it was Death. He should have been scared yet he felt so, so relieved by its presence.

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Carson gasped, his eyes snapping open. At first, he had no idea where he was. His vision was swimming and there were hands on him, belonging to more than one person. When his vision cleared he could make out Riley and Morris hovering over him. They breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh god," Morris breathed, "if we didn't get your hands away you would have killed yourself."

Carson coughed harshly, turning away from them slightly. "What... what are you talking about?" He rubbed at his sore neck, making Morris flinch, thinking he might start choking again.

"One second you were asleep, the next you were strangling yourself. I was about to call in more officers to come hold you down because you wouldn't let go." Morris explained.

"Why would I do that?"

"You tell me."

"There was a man, he was… I woke up in your office, except it wasn’t your office and…” Carson said, not making any sense. He started to sit up, slowly piecing things together. Without any warning he threw himself onto the floor, scratching at the carpet, "it was green. I swear it was."

"What was green? The carpet?" Riley asked.

"Yeah, dark green."

"Might have been back when I first started working here about 20 years ago." Morris added. If that detail of the dream was real, what else was? Carson stood up and walked out of the office before either of them could stop him. Carson ignored everyone else as he retraced his steps. He headed straight for the interrogation rooms. Riley practically had to run to catch up with him. She bumped into another officer on her way, barely mumbling an apology as she continued after Carson who she found standing where the hallway forked, leading to other rooms and offices.

"What the hell are you looking for?" She asked.

"It was right there," he pointed at the blank wall at the end of the hallway. His memory had been spot on in that there really were a couple of potted plants and a drinking fountain there. Certainly no door. "What does it mean? It was right there."

"Come on, let's go back," she pulled on his arm to urge him to follow her but to her surprise, Carson fell straight into her.

"Oof," she nearly lost her balance but managed to get one of his arms over her shoulder so she could haul him back to Morris's office. Riley locked the door behind them.

"Well?" Morris asked.

"I think he's lost his mind," she said breathing heavily.

"Maybe not. I called Janice and she emailed me this picture of the station in the late ‘90s."

Riley walked around his desk to get a look at the computer. "That's green alright."

Carson sank back into the couch shakily. Adrenaline had cleared his mind for a moment but as his heart rate went down, the hazy effects of the drug returned. He couldn't get those images out of his head. Who was that? How did he know him? Carson tipped over onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like he was on a psychic carousel that never stopped spinning. The input going through his head varied from being debilitating to being more of an itch in his mind that he couldn't scratch. If he tuned into it and really listened, it was still there, all the voices and thoughts and memories of everyone nearby. All he could do now was pray that they would go away after the drug wore off.

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