#transclayton

[neworleansspecial]

Summary: Will suffers a seizure

WC: 1.k

“He usually says I,” Beverly says. “He talks about the killer like they’re the same person. ‘I did this. My design. My kill. He’s not doing that today.”

“You’re correct. He’s using third person pronouns,” Hannibal adds.

Their meaning dawns on Jack. “Will isn’t doing his thing.”

“No, he isn’t.”

Hannibal takes the first step forward. It’s an open crime scene, with nowhere to hide anything from anyone, which makes it visible what happens next. First, Will freezes up. Then his pupils dilate like he’s taken a shot of heroin. Then he begins to tremble violently, and they all hurry forward.

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[neworleansspecial]

"I don't need jack shit from you" + dealers choice

Didn’t include the dialogue but that inspired this //

About two hours into the expo, Jimmy comes to check on Crockett. That’s early. Usually it’s between hours four and six that the artist or their assistant checks on him, if at all, unless he’s visibly distressed or asks someone for help. But it’s only been a couple hours, based on the clock just within Crockett’s vision, when Jimmy comes to hold a straw to his lips and offer him some fruit from the catering table. His voice is so soft when he asks how Crockett is feeling. 

“Okay,” he says, and is surprised to find his voice slightly hoarse. “It’s only been a couple hours, why’re you checking on me?”

Jimmy’s face pinches the way it usually does when his practices don’t line up with the industry standards Crockett is used to. “You’ve been in suspension bondage in public for two hours. Of course I’m going to check on you. This isn’t easy and if you’re hungry or thirsty, or you’re hurt, or you need out, I need to know that.”

The tears come without Crockett’s permission. He gets emotional, he knows, especially at expos when he feels most vulnerable- many artists had hated it, some had loved to watch him cry- and it’s hard to resist letting the feelings take over him when he’s so on display. 

But then Jimmy wipes his tears away with a calloused thumb and smiles a little. “It’s okay. Do you need out?”

“The expo is still going on for six more hours.”

“Doesn’t matter. Do you feel safe? Are you comfortable? Is anything sore or numb?”

The tears turn into full blown sobs, and the next thing Crockett knows, Jimmy has his pocket knife up and slowly cutting through the ropes that hold the suspension, one by one with his arms around Crockett so that he supports his weight when it falls. They go down to the floor and Jimmy calls over his assistant. 

“Find us somewhere quiet? The gallery show can continue, have them turn on the screens to repeat the photos and videos, and tell Connor I’ll make another appearance soon.”

She directs Jimmy to somewhere, Crockett can’t really tell because his face is buried in the warmth of his shoulder as he cries and cries and cries. It isn’t that he was hurt. It was that he was safe, he was loved, and Jimmy still made sure everything was okay and got him out when Crockett needed it but couldn’t put it into words for fear of the consequences.

[neworleansspecial]

Summary: Instead of killing herself, Ava Bekker panicked. She panicked, and, now that Connor is dead, she has no choice but to go somewhere else and start over. Multi-Chapter, Fluff, Angst, Rhekker, Chekker

WC: 15.7k

Ava tightens her hands on her backpack. After the plane tickets, she still has about twenty grand in cash. Enough for a used truck and gas to get somewhere far from the city, and then start new as a farmhand for someone with little internet access and a warm bed she can sleep in. She’s being idealistic, if she’s honest with herself, but it’s this imagined plan that keeps her from hyperventilating or bursting into tears. The running away, she’s thought of all this, but killing Connor wasn’t part of the plan. She didn’t want to kill him. She didn’t mean to. It just kind of happened, and now she can’t take it back. And Connor, he’ll never hold her through the night and tell her he loves her again. She’s completely alone, even squished in the middle seat of a cheap airline with her carryon rattling overhead.

Outside the window, which is half-lidded to protect against sun, the city has given way to green pastures and neat bricks divided by crops. The darker ones are soybeans, she thinks, and when she lands she’ll probably find out for sure. There are plenty of big company farms out here with background checks and files and worse, but there are also little family owned ones out there, especially some that might be hiring. She can figure this out, she tells herself. One way or another.

There’s another hour or so left for this flight, and Ava tries to distract herself with the sky magazine. A high powered blender, an inflatable pillow. She stares at the pictures, but doesn’t process them. Her body is humming, almost, with leftover adrenaline from what she’s done. Deep down, at the bottom of her backpack, is a picture she couldn’t leave behind, one she had printed out a few weeks ago. Her and Connor, happy and smiling. His arms were around her and they had kissed just before that picture was taken. She wants to look at that, but it’s too risky right now.

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[neworleansspecial]

Summary: Will’s hyperempathy causes problems at the Hobbs crime scene.

WC: 1k

He is cursed with what they lack. Psychopaths cannot empathize, they cannot put their feet into others’ shoes and stare out into their world, their feelings, their needs. Will has, for reasons he will never understand, become flooded with every single piece of empathy that these killers lack, and it gives him the gift of walking out into the crime scenes and knowing, instinctively, exactly what happened here and how. He feels it.

He feels Abigail Hobbs. 

As he tries to hold her throat together while the wait for help, her father (a murderer, a murderer Will murdered) dead against the cabinets, her blood gushes over his palms and he can feel her dying beneath him; this is a slow way to go. Her heart flutters in bursts that affect the pattern of her bleeding against his fingers, and she’s struggling for breath, hyperventilating and gasping and struggling. It is her desperation for life. 

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[neworleansspecial]

Summary: Crockett is a model, Jimmy is a shibari artist, and they work together for the first time.

WC: 1.9k

Today’s session is with a new artist, one he hasn’t worked with before- James Lanik. Crockett spent the night before looking through his work, which was every bit as complex and beautiful as his agent promised, and it leaves him with the distinct impression that at least seven of the eight hours he was booked for are going to be spent weaving those intricate designs around his body. He’ll probably have to ask his agent to send Ava to pick him up because he’ll be so relaxed by the end of it he can’t tell up from down. 

He’s almost excited when he enters the studio, ready to see what will become of him today. It’s clear that Lanik doesn’t take his work lightly, and puts so much time and detail into it that every photo seems to have new parts to it when Crockett reexamines them. He takes a sip of water just in case Lanik turns out to be the sort who forgets Crockett is a person who needs it. Some artists are like that. It’s not malicious, but in the process of art, it’s easy for him to become as much of an object as the rope around his body, and the bindings often mean he’s unable to lift the bottle to his mouth without help.

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[neworleansspecial]

When Sonny comes back from the undercover operation, it’s been eight months. For eight months, he was on loan to major crimes to infiltrate an organization. And, in all that time, he had no contact with the people he cares about- not his sisters, or anyone from the squad, and certainly not Mike back home in their shared apartment. 

“Leave it to Carisi to get hurt right before the end of the op,” Rollins teases from his bedside. He smiles, but doesn’t really find it all that funny; eight stab wounds make it difficult to laugh even if he wanted to. “Had us all worried for a minute.”

“Worried myself, too.”

Fin stopped by to say hello, but mostly just to see for himself that Sonny was alright. And Olivia- Olivia stepped out to try Mike for the fourth time that he knows of, undoubtedly with a handful more calls made while Sonny was in surgery. He can’t help worrying about him. Mike knew he would call as soon as he got out of the op, especially if he couldn’t come right home, so it doesn’t make sense for him to avoid answering. Maybe he thinks that Olivia is calling with bad news, and that’s why he’s afraid to pick up? He opens his mouth to say so when the chief makes his appearance, stopping to pat Olivia’s shoulder on his way into the room. 

“Detective Carisi, glad to see you awake! You gave the department quite a scare.”

He can’t even fake a pleasant emotion for this man. “Have you heard from Mike? Liv can’t get ahold of him.”

The smile on the chief’s face is the sort that’s plastered on whenever someone mentions his son; a display tries to imply pride, but always anger and disgust in his eyes. He believes that Mike is a failure, a disgrace, and a disappointment. And deserving of everything he’s been through. This duration of it, however, makes Sonny’s heart rate pick up enough that Rollins looks at the monitor in concern. 

“He was having a hard time on his own, so he moved back home with me. As of today, he intends to stay for a while, especially seeing as you can’t look after him with your injuries.”

It clicks. Mike isn’t answering his phone because he doesn’t have it. His father always takes it away and keeps it locked up like the front door. Without Sonny around, Mike would have been nervous to reach out to the others- he would have felt alone and abandoned, and eventually stopped going outside, and then when the chief managed to find their home address through some record or another, he would have convinced Mike to come home for just one dinner. 

And Sonny wasn’t there to protect him.

“Can you have him call me?”

“I’ll let him know you asked.”

Really, that means Sonny shouldn’t expect to hear from him at all unless he shows up on the chief’s front step and begs him to come to the door. 

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[neworleansspecial]

Summary: Crockett waits for Ava to come home. (Vampire AU)

WC: 1.8k

All my love,

A. Bekker

He places it in a little hand-carved box on his desk, alongside her other letters from the past fifty years. The paper changes often. Her most recent letter, the first in three years, is on thin, stark white paper that feels more like plastic than real parchment. It is short, as is custom with her. Each letter is shorter than the last. Her first few had been pages and pages long, filled with descriptions of the world she has met, blustering with her excitement to show him what she’s learned upon her return. It feels offensive that she even keeps up the pretense that she intends to come back to New Orleans.

Still, as in the aftermath of each renewed thought of sharing his home once more, the letter has him cleaning the place up. He dusts knick knacks and washes wine glasses, tossing the ones that are irreparably stained by blood, even taking the time to clean the floors with a strong smelling chemical designed to do right by the old wood. He built this home so long ago, and maintains them with the diligence he has as a new father, mopping up the muddy footprints after Harper’s play in the garden. If he unfocuses his eyes, he can even imagine their appearance. 

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