Jonathon Martel's Story

A figure appeared at the door of his lab. Ollie looked up, feeling a shiver run down his neck. He froze as said figure lifted a gun, aiming it directly at his head. He didn't have time to react before the bullet found it's mark.

Ollie managed to drag his eyes open, sighing with relief as he realised he was still alive. He glanced up to confirm that the door was still locked. The light was still red, and he relaxed a little, rolling over in his sleeping bag. The floor of the lab had replaced his bed for the past few weeks. Not that he cared. At least he knew that nobody could get in unless he wanted them to.

His lab was at the far end of the building and wasn't used in the day shift, due to the fact that they didn't particularly need it and that he usually had several cases worth of evidence in it, meaning that it was usually better that it was only used by him. He usually set an alarm for half an hour before everyone else came in so he was dressed and presentable before everyone came in. He went home and showered every morning, picked up some fresh clothes and ate, before going back into the lab to sleep. He slept in a t-shirt and old tracksuit bottoms.

The station seemed oddly busy, considering his alarm hadn't gone off yet. He stretched an arm out to wake his phone, then swore under his breath as it didn't come on. He had missed his alarm and probably overslept. He froze as he heard a tapping on the glass door that served as the entrance to his lab. He shoved himself into a sitting position to see Jonathon standing at the door.

"Oh crap." Jonathon had clearly seen him, so there wasn't much point in pretending any more. He climbed to his feet, grabbing his pass card from the table where he'd left it before going to sleep. He swiped it, releasing the door, and smiled a little sheepishly at Jonathon as the door slid open. "Hi."

Victor pulled on his white t-shirt, before grabbing his jacket and pulling it on. He wasn't required to wear it, but he was planning on doing more searching at the crime scenes today, meaning it would make his job a lot easier. Sure, he'd have to take it off to put on the clean suit to prevent contaminating the evidence, but people seemed to be less suspicious if he was wearing the jacket, ID or not. They were also a lot more willing to let him in, because it marked him out as a forensic investigator as opposed to a cop.

He fixed his hair, before grabbing his kit and ID. His ID went into the pocket of his plain black jeans, and he grabbed his keys shoving them into the pocket of his jacket. His landlady was heading into her apartment as he reached the bottom floor. "Evening, Mrs. Fuentes!" He said. The old Mexican woman smiled at him. "Ah, Victor. Rushing out again, I see?" She teased him. He laughed. "It's a beautiful day to solve crimes!" He said, before closing the door behind him.

His apartment was close enough to the station so that he could walk to work. Some evenings, if he was running a little late, he'd cycle, but his kit was a little difficult to balance at times. It was starting to get cold, and the light was rapidly fading. He was fully planning on just reporting in, seeing if anyone had anything to tell him, then convincing someone to either help him set up a reconstruction or to come out with him and comb the most recent crime scene. Something was already on his mind, something he wanted to try out.

Everyone else was starting to drift in and he scanned his ID as he reached the door. "Hey Victor. If you're looking for Alexandra, she's talking stuff over with Scout." Someone called. He swore under his breath. He didn't know if Roxie would be in yet, so he decided to head to the demo room.

Jonathon ran his fingers through his damp hair, still wet from his hurried shower. His eyes were heavy from the sleep he had decidedly dubbed was too unimportant in his life. He had stayed up all of the night before, rereading the files on the Nightmare obsessively. His gut churned and twisted when he thought of what this twisted individual was doing to the people at the station. His mind rebelled at the idea of someone in his team being shot by this man who left typewriters as his trademarks. Jonathon would have to get his team to take the thing apart one day, the idea of the Nightmare hiding a clue within his trademark was plausible. The man wanted the attention, he wanted the glory that he would have if he ever got caught. It's a sick idolization the public gives to murderers, the publicity they gain.

He got out of his chair, the thoughts his mind held fleeing away. He glanced at his watch, he would have to leave to the station soon, he liked being there a bit early before others started to flow in. Not only did it help it get settled for the night, it often meant that he could grab a bite to eat also. He looked around the floor, looking at his photocopied papers of the case, pen and highlighter covering the paper emphasizing the important points. He picked it up neatly, putting great care into making sure the pages followed one another and then put it in his briefcase. He grabbed his car key, put his coat on and drove to the station, stopping to pick some coffee up on the way.

Once there, he went to his desk right away and took the papers out of his briefcase, going over them once more. The victims bothered him, it was like it was too easy. The victims didn't give him the feeling that murders usually did but he had also been in the business long enough to know that looks and feelings are sometimes deceiving. The words on the page were starting to look more and more similar and the case was starting to sound like a who-done-it book. But the photos in his wallet of the decease ensured him that it was not just a story and this person was starting to become more menacing. He feared for his team the most, the ones he had created connections with and they were the only people he actually had in his life at the moment.

He had been especially fond of Ollie, helping him out to try and sort his life out. Jonathon recalled the note he had mentally left himself, he needed to talk to the boy about something that seemed odd to him in the case. He valued Ollie's input and intelligence and he often provided Jonathon a new perspective when his started to become dull; and judging by the amount of creases and mess in his paper, his perspective was becoming just that. Jonathon got out of his chair and grabbed his coffee, sipping as he walked over to the lab. The coffee gave him warmth is his belly, reminding John that he had not eaten since sometime in the night, when he was up reading the papers.

Jonathon looked down as he tapped on the glass to Ollie's lab, waiting to be let in. His regarded his shoes, that had been scuffed from being out in the field these past few days. He added that to his list of things that needed to be done, but knew he wouldn't get a new pair in a long while. These never seemed to be enough hours in the day for what he needed to do. An "Oh crap" brought him out of his thinking and he looked up, looking at Ollie, not before he saw the sleeping bag in the lab.

Jonathon wanted to feel surprised but he had noticed that something was off with Ollie lately. He seemed heavier and a weight seemed to be on his shoulders. Lines of worry seemed to line his face, although he tried to not show them. Ollie had always been a trooper and John was proud of him. Jonathon assumed that it was because of the murder in his apartment, the fear was just too real. He perfectly understood the fear but Jonathon knew that there were better alternatives than to sleeping on the ground in a lab full of evidence.

Ollie let him in, a sheepish smile and a "Hi" bubbling to his lips. Jonathon gave him a small smile, trying to form the words in his head before he spoke them to Ollie. He felt bad for him, knowing just how real these murders were becoming to everyone who worked at the station. "Come now boy, I can assure you that there are better places for sleep and a cold, hard floor is not one of them. If you need a place to sleep in safety Ollie, there is many places for that. In fact, even if you need a place, regardless of if safety is a factor or not, you know you have one." John gave him another small smile as he finished his coffee and his stomach responded with a gurgle.

"But we'll finish this conversation later, when I take you out for lunch at the diner." Not only was this an excuse to get some food into him, it would also settle Jonathon's mind. The boy should have talked to him before deciding the lab was the only place for him to sleep. He should have realized that he would not have been a bother to Jonathon and his more than empty house would welcome him greatly. The second story was rarely ever used, as Jonathon's room was on the first floor. And even had Ollie been uncomfortable with this suggestion, he had more than enough means to supply him a hotel room, the funds in his bank account rarely touched.

"Come now boy, I can assure you that there are better places for sleep and a cold, hard floor is not one of them. If you need a place to sleep in safety Ollie, there is many places for that. In fact, even if you need a place, regardless of if safety is a factor or not, you know you have one." Ollie allowed his eyes to slip away from the man that stood in front of him. It wasn't that he felt his apartment was unsafe- it was the fact that he knew exactly how safe he was in the lab. The glass was practically bulletproof, and the ID scanner couldn't be fooled- something he had found out on the rare occasions where he'd left his ID at home.

"But we'll finish this conversation later, when I take you out for lunch at the diner." Ollie wasn't that hungry. He'd eaten after coming out of work this morning, and he'd pretty much slept since then. But he didn't want to say that in case Jonathon thought he was blowing him off. So instead he smiled. "I'll just get changed." His jeans and checked shirt were folded in his bag, and it only took him a matter of minutes to change.

He went back out to meet his boss when Victor Hale suddenly appeared at the far end of the corridor, looking rather stressed. "Sir, there's been another murder."

Victor pulled off his jacket and slung it over the door, looking around. Something had felt... off about the last murder. The angle of the gunshot didn't correspond to where they'd found the body. The victim had either been moved or the killer had been standing at a strange angle. Either was possible, knowing the Nightmare.

He lifted the gun and was about to call out, but then someone burst into the room. "Victor, we've got another one." He whirled around, the gun falling to his side. "Already? Who?" He demanded, putting the gun back on the table and grabbing his jacket. "Peter Hurley. Another gunshot. He didn't report into work today, but nobody missed him. It's possible the Nightmare killed him last night." He sighed. "Okay. We're on our way."

He headed straight for Scout's office, knocking briefly before going in. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got another scene. Peter Hurley. We're wanted on the scene as soon as possible." He said, before retreating and heading to find the others. He found Jonathon and Ollie just outside Ollie's lab. "Sir, there's been another murder. We're wanted ASAP. Peter Hurley's apartment."

Lana Tyler Dhavernas

Cold water was capable of much more than people seemed to give it credit for, Lana thought. It had a way of wiping the slate clean; regardless of whatever her state had been the night before, she could step beneath the cool flow of the shower, close her eyes, and rely on the slicing droplets to wash it all away. It had become a calming sort of morning ritual, and this day was no different. Hair falling in front of her eyes, she allowed it to sting her nerves to numb, stripping her consciousness apart and piecing it back together in a new, more optimistic pattern. Washed, satisfied, and freshened in more than one way, she stepped out of the small cubical and into a smile.

The smile that she inhabited did not leave her as she got dressed, nor was she deserted as she prepared herself tea and a bagel. It wavered when she took a second to check her watch, cursing under her breath at the numbers on the tiny screen (which indicated that it was later than she'd previously thought it to be), but only briefly, before she transferred the tea to an old black travel mug, tossed the bagel into her kitchen's trash bin, and jogged the few blocks that made up her route to work, pushing through the wide entry doors with no lack of enthusiasm. In fact, it did not dare to slip until the moment that she saw Victor's face, standing outside of Ollie's office with several of her other co-workers. When she did, it stuttered, as did she, allowing herself to hesitate and tighten her grip on the mug before moving towards the group. Her smile had retreated, and her voice was quieted in its absence, wary of whatever dim news was headed her way.

"So, what'd I miss, then?"

Roxie leaned back, waiting for the test results, when a stirring outside her lab caught her attentions. She stood up from her chair, noticing a couple of officers move by rather quickly with a sense of urgency. She had time to kill, waiting for the results, anyways so she figured she'd stop and see Ollie. Taking a sip from her coffee and scooping up Ollie's, she made her way out of her lab.

Tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, she came upon the group, which consisted of almost half of her team. She quickly picked up on their body language, and knew something was wrong. She quickly walked to her spot, beside Ollie. Her arm brushed Ollie's, a motion that was easily unnoticeable to the others but made her heart speed up just a little. His brown hair was slightly unruley, yet he still perfect. She smile warmly at him, and gave him his coffee. Shifting into her serious mode, her amber eyes flicked between Johnathan and Victor (who she playfully called 'Icky' or 'Vicky'). Both looked very serious. "What's happened?" She asked, a touch of worry in her voice. It couldn't have been a breakthrough in the case- they wouldn't look so grim. "Oh, dear..." She breathed, glancing at her best friend. "Another body?"
She winced, knowing she was right. The others would go to the scene and leave Ollie and her. Not that she minded, but she felt cold. How many officers was he going to go through? What if he moved to her team? She shuddered. She couldn't imagine losing any of them.

7.30. The crime scene has been secured and the field officers are currently in the process of conducting a technical examination.

He took a mouthful of his coffee and sighed, waiting for the machine behind him to beep. The others had rushed off to the most recent crime scene, leaving him and Roxanne practically alone in the building. He had considered going into her lab and offering to work with her, but had found himself unable to ask her. Just the simple physical contact of her brushing his arm had made his heart race.

His machine started to chirp, and he turned around, reading the machine print out. He frowned. The results of the poison were exactly as they had been for all of the other victims- untraceable. The poison appeared to be some kind of over the counter narcotic. He'd contacted some of the drug stores, and they'd informed him that a lot of people bought this particular product. They had nothing else to go on, and it was driving him mad.

He sighed heavily again, picking up his coffee and heading for Roxie's lab, humming "You Are Not" by Young Guns to himself. He'd promised to give her the results of the poison when he got them back.

"Hey, Roxie." He leaned against the door of her lab. She wasn't as cautious as him, it appeared, as she had her door left open. "I got the results of the poison back. Same again. I have no clue what to try next." He sighed, tapping his fingers against his leg. He grinned at her, taking a mouthful of his coffee. "Still, at least we're safe here and not out in the Nightmare's territory. I'm going to run the partial fingerprint we found again, see if we have any results."

He headed back to his lab, still humming to himself.

It was warm underneath the clean suit and mask, even though his jacket was still slung in the back seat of one of the black SUV's entrusted to the forensics unit. The room was filled with floodlights, making sure that the room was as bright as day. Victor deposited his case on the floor and looked around. The medical examiner was kneeling at the body, a job that Victor didn't exactly envy him for. Dealing with dead people was one thing. Working with them for a living was another.

He produced the camera that they used to document the scene and started taking pictures. One of the body.The blood spatter on the walls. The card on the body, which just read the usual. Never question what you don't know. He turned around and saw a smudge that looked vaguely like a fingerprint on on of the doors and headed over to it, photographing it. He dusted it and lifted the print, before pushing the door open.

Written on the walls in what looked an awful lot like blood was a message.

Lonely, lonely, we came so close before...

"Guys!" He yelled. "We got a message!"

He went outside for a minute to talk to one of the uniforms who had secured the scene and ask them if they had seen it when they were securing the scene, and if they had, why hadn't they told him?

He took out his phone and texted Roxie.

"The phrase "Lonely, lonely, we came so close before" mean anything to you?"

The rush to get to the crime scene had given time for Jonathon's stomach to remind itself how actually hungry he was, his empty stomach groaning in protest, asking him for food. His missed "lunch" with Ollie was disappointing but the murder of Peter Hurley was another disappointment in the case of horrors. Jonathon had spoken to the man a few time and although the conversations were brief, Jonathon always assumed that he was very nice. Their conversations usually consisted of work and plans for the weekend- which had usually consisted of more work for Jonathon- and John now felt regret for not talking to Peter more. And now he would never get the chance to do so, as he had been murdered, presumably by the nightmare. Nothing could ever been assumed until one got to the crime scene as they could be replicated as soon as public information got out. He had seen it done before, sick individuals who wanted credit for murder sprees that were not theirs.

The wavering lights of police cars brought Jonathon out of his thoughts and back to life. Uniforms stood outside, some milling in and out of the building and some sectioning off the scene with tape. A few spoke to the others who lived in the apartments, trying to get them to clear the premise. He parked the car quickly and got out, barely spending the time to put the vehicle in park. He flatted his suit with his hands, trying uselessly to get the wrinkles out of the expensive clothing and then flashed his badge at a uniform who started to question him. He went past the tape and went into the building, arriving slightly after his team. He went up to the room, wincing at the bright lights.

The body of Peter immediately stopped the protesting of Jonathon's stomach, quickly loosing his appetite. There was another picture to add to his wallet, although he would soon run out of space. He sighed sadly and walked over, crouching beside the examiner. He turned to the man- the live one- and started to talk. It wasn't his forte, but it needed to be done. He wanted to know the method used, approximate time of death, if the trajectory of the blood made sense as well of how it was called in. The man explained it all to him, even bothering to mention the girl who found the body. Jonathon's eyebrow arched, making a mental note to question the girl himself and perhaps even in custody. He was getting desperate with the case and wanted all ends to meet- eventually he would find that frayed piece of yarn, he usually did.

He stood back up, his legs cramping as he did so; Jonathon was not as young as he used to be and sometimes age provided pain and creaks in places he didn't even know could. He walked over to the wall, regarding the spray and consistency of the droplets of blood. Photos would have already been taken and samples taken, he did not doubt this, his team was intelligent and efficient and he could trust them with his life.

A small smirk graced his face, something rather uncommon, as that thought entered his mind. He soon might have to do this, he would have to push his team and pull some extra hours on them so they could solve this mystery, something that was forever becoming a danger to his team. He would never let something happen to them, but sadly that was out of his control- the best thing he could do was catch the murderer before The Nightmare got the chance to hurt his team.

"Guys! We got a message!" Brought Jonathon over to the room where Victor had apparently been in. John watched Alexandra go into the room after the statement and he went to stand in the doorway. He quietly listened to the conversation that was laid out in front of him as his eyes scanned the message. Lonely, lonely, we came so close before. It bothered him, this man was taunting them with messages written in blood. It was a joke to The Nightmare, watching his team struggle to find him- or her. Maybe he really wanted to get caught, perhaps he would start sending them messages when put together would lead them to an answer. Or perhaps it was there to throw them off, distract them from the things that really mattered. Whatever it would be, he wanted to know why this sentence was chosen.

He whipped his cellphone out, still listening to the conversation, although at this point it was mainly thick silence filled with deep thinking and some muttering from Alexandra. He googled the words, not really finding anything that popped out of his eyes, he founds a few songs with lyrics, a lonely thread on a site called twitter and other articles based off of loneliness. It was really nothing to go by but he would go over a few sites later, perhaps getting someone else from his team to analyze the articles with him. Maybe he would get Alexandra to help him, he enjoyed that the girl was quiet like himself and she enjoyed working as much as he did.

"Victor. Someone in Ollie's apartment building was murdered recently, right? Is he still back at the department? Who's with him? Roxie? Lana?" Her conclusion made Jonathon's stomach drop, dwindling his thoughts with fear. He wasn't the only one who thought that their team wasn't invincible and what she said made sense. The Nightmare had been close to Ollie when he was murdered. Jonathon's blood turned to ice and he started dialing Ollie's number, the beeping on the phone now making himself known in the room. He may have been jumping the gun by calling Ollie right away but he trusted Alexandra's gut instinct, it was much like his own, and you could never be too safe.

"Ollie, it's Jonathon, I want you to make sure you stay locked within the lab today and if you recall loosing a key or giving it to someone, call me back. There's not much reason to panic, but we've found some evidence at the scene that Alexandra thinks may link the scene to you. Call me back if something happens." He left the message in a tight voice, not wanting to betray his thoughts. One thing he had learned in all of his years at the station was that one could never be too safe.

He turned to Victor and Alexandra. "Once we get back to the station and the two of you have done everything you can with the evidence we've gotten today, I want some research done on this sentence. If any of you find anything, I want to be the first one to hear about anything that you may have figured out. If you're right Alexandra, which I hope you aren't for once, Ollie may be in trouble."

"Victor. Someone in Ollie's apartment building was murdered recently, right? Is he still back at the department? Who's with him? Roxie? Lana?" He stared at her blankly, before the realisation hit him. Jonathon appeared and called the analyst, but didn't appear to have any luck.

He turned back to Victor and Alexandra. "Once we get back to the station and the two of you have done everything you can with the evidence we've gotten today, I want some research done on this sentence. If any of you find anything, I want to be the first one to hear about anything that you may have figured out. If you're right Alexandra, which I hope you aren't for once, Ollie may be in trouble." He nodded, and headed back inside, pulling the hood of his clean suit over his hair again and pulling the mask over his face.

His mind wasn't on his work as he dusted for fingerprints. He was worried about Ollie. He mightn't have been best friends with him, but he still didn't want him to get shot. And besides, if Ollie was the next victim, that meant that he was turning to the night shift team. It could be him or Alexandra next. And he didn't want either of those to happen.

His phone buzzed to indicate that it had turned on. He went over to it and saw that he had a new voicemail from Jonathon. He decided to check it in a few minutes, after he was finished comparing the fingerprint samples. He didn't think for a second that anything would show up, but he was including more databases in the hope of something coming up.

He'd left the door open so that Roxie could come in, even if he was in the middle of something. He drained his coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. His computer beeped, confirming what he had expected. The partial fingerprint didn't match any previous records, and he sighed.

He heard someone at the door. He knew that it was probably Roxie, but he glanced over his shoulder anyway.

He'd never been so glad that he had looked over his shoulder.

A figure, dressed entirely in loose black clothing that hid it's figure, making it impossible to see if it was a male or a female, stood there, a gun barrel raised. Ollie leaped for his gun, which lay on the chair a few feet from him. The first bullet missed his shoulder by inches. The second hit him in his shoulder, but Ollie managed to raise his gun with his good arm and fire off two shots. He wasn't sure if he hit him or not, but it was enough to make him run, throwing a card in his direction. Ollie wasn't quick enough. By the time he made it to the door of the lab, still clutching his gun, the figure was gone.

His breath was shaking. Now that the immediate threat was gone, his shoulder felt like it was on fire. He took a deep breath and picked up his phone. He knew that he should probably call an ambulance, but he didn't want that. He was suddenly terrified and aware of how close he'd been to dying. He called Jonathon's number.

"Jonathon... He was here. " He still felt like he couldn't breathe, and found himself almost gasping for breath. Tears streamed down his face. "Oh God, he tried to kill me. Oh God. Oh God."

He was pretty sure that he was hyperventilating now. But he didn't care, he was just so scared and his shoulder hurt so badly. He couldn't get anything else out. He glanced at his shoulder and knew that it was probably just a flesh wound, but the fact that it could have hit his heart or his brain terrified him.

Jonathon had not been able to get the fear out of his heart and found that he kept on zoning out during his work. He had no reason to rush back to the station to see Ollie and would probably look stupid if he had. For now he had to concentrate on his work, in case what Alexandra said was true. He still felt the growing concern in the pit of his belly- or maybe that was just hunger? Jonathon assumed it was a bit of both, although it was definitely the fear that made him feel sick.

The vibrating within his pocket alarmed him, the smartphone display screen showing him that it was Ollie calling. Perhaps he was concerned but Jonathon left the message telling him to call back only if something happened. The dread started to grow until he felt his fingers shake. He answered the phone, not bothering with a hello. He could tell by the labored breathing on the other side of the phone that something terrible had happened and in the instant Jonathon had never felt more afraid. His bones felt weak and his head spun with adrenaline, nothing could happen to Ollie.

""Jonathon... He was here. Oh God, he tried to kill me. Oh God. Oh God." Ollie words confirmed the dread that he was feeling and his world went black for a brief moment. Ollie was like the child he had never had, the one he had watched grow in the team and it hurt Jonathon to know that something like this had happened to him. Each gasp of breath on the phone brought a pang into his heart, something that Jonathon did not know could happen. He had never had children, he never know the heartbreak of knowing that someone he loved had been hurt and he could have been there to stop it.

"I'll be there as soon as I can son, we're on our way." The words came out rushed and blurred together as he hung the phone up. "Victor, Alexandra, Ollie's been shot, assumedly by The Nightmare. He hasn't described his situation to me but I can only assume the worse at the moment, although he can still speak. I want you to follow me back as I get the uniforms to finish this up, perhaps another team too. Now I want you at the most recent crime scene- Ollie's lab. Be careful though, I can only assume that anyone on this team is not safe." The words left his mouth in a stressed jumble once more as he quickly jogged out of the apartment, going to his car. He ignored the uniforms who tried to speak to him, his heart hammering as he tried to rush as quickly as he could.

Once in the car he put the lights on carelessly so no cop you pull his unmarked car over for speeding. He didn't even bother putting his window back down as he zoomed, going recklessly over the limit to get to Ollie. He quickly dialed 911, wanting to get an ambulance crew there as well as cops but the women on the phone had informed him that this had already been called in. He thanked the women on the other end of the phone as he hung up, feeling his heart race almost as quickly as he was driving.

He pulled into the driveway at the station and parked as closely to the door as he could, leaving the crooked car. He started the jog into the building, not even bothering to lock his car, and pulled his gun out. He wished Ollie had described the man to him in case he was still lingering around but understood the stress he was under at the moment. Jonathon was still careful though, the last thing he needed was to end up dead, it would not help the case out at all.

As he rounded the corner and saw Ollie's lab, he saw Roxanne over Ollie, speaking to him. Jonathon felt pride in the girl, suspecting that she was the one who had a clear enough mind to call the ambulance. As he neared he also noticed that she had made a compress out of her jacket to help contain the bleeding as well as hopefully slow it down. He was glad it was Roxanne who had found him and not someone else. He was sure she had been able to keep a clear head as well as help Ollie calm down from the situation he had been in. He finally knew that his suspicions had been right, The Nightmare would now be targeting members from his team. This gave him a sense of dread as well as determination, he would find the person who had been killing his team members, even if it was the last thing he would do. Jonathon did not want Ollie to end up as another photo in his wallet, or anyone else from his team for that matter. He would simply not allow this person to hurt them.

"Ollie, Roxanne, are you okay?" He asked as he entered the room, wiping the sweat off of his brow. He knew it was a dumb question to ask, obviously the two were not alright but his mind was jumbled at the moment and conversation had never been his strong point. Although it was comforting to realize that Ollie only had a flesh wound, had it hit a serious artery there would have been much more blood. This led Jonathon to believe that it had not gone through his arm as well, so the boy would hopefully not loose feeling in it or the actual arm itself.

"I'm glad to see you've taken care of him, you've done a good job Roxanne. And don't worry Ollie, I will not allow for something like this to happen again. We'll find The Nightmare- don't-" His words got cut off as the ambulance crew entered the room, carrying a stretcher with them. The placed in on the floor and Jonathon got out of the way as the started to speak to Ollie. It was odd to realize that he would have to question Ollie about the specifics of the case, but that would be done later. For now all Jonathon could feel was anger in his heart at the person who dared thought he could hurt his team. But this anger was a cold anger, the type that Jonathon could keep in his heart and use it to drive himself to catch The Nightmare. And when The Nightmare was caught- in which there was no doubt that he wouldn't in his mind- Jonathon would put all he had into making sure that this twisted prick spent the rest of their life in the darkest, most mistreated, part of the world. And he would make sure that this fucker got the worse care the prisons could give.

"I'll be there as soon as I can son, we're on our way." Ollie allowed the phone to clatter to the ground, moving his good hand to press on his shoulder. He didn't know how badly he was bleeding, but he couldn't really think straight right now. The mix of fear and pain wasn't exactly clearing his mind. All he was really fully aware of was the pain in his shoulder and the fear that the Nightmare would be back.

"Ollie! Thank god you're okay I heard the shots and I was so scared. I thought he killed you!" He looked up abruptly to see Roxanne rushing over to him. Roxanne. He was suddenly very glad for her, just for her presence. But he was scared too, scared that she would be in danger if the Nightmare came back. She balled up her jacket and pressed it to his shoulder.

"You're okay, he's gone. You're safe. I'm so glad you're alive." She touched his face, and he looked up at her. He'd never been as scared in his entire life. His life had been in danger before, like in the lake. But the people he loved had always been safe. And now as the person he thought he'd miss the most was sitting in front of him, the fear almost paralysed him.

"Ollie, you're okay now. I called an ambulance and he's gone. I'll never let him hurt you again. I-I don't know what I would do without you." He wanted to hug her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to not be injured so he could make her feel safe and keep her safe and happy for as long as he could. But he was in a rough sitting position, a bullet in his shoulder, scared to move his right arm for risk of worsening the damage.

He heard the blare of sirens outside. Jonathon appeared at the door, and Ollie relaxed a little. He could feel his consciousness starting to slip, and missed Jonathon's words. He could feel himself on the verge of passing out as the ambulance crew arrived. His words were slurred as he answered their questions and as they gently moved him onto the stretcher. He felt them give him a shot of morphine, easing the pain a little.

His good, blood covered hand grasped Roxanne's as the EMTs lifted him up. He managed to get out one word. "Stay...."

***

Ollie swore under his breath as he tried to balance his bag on his good shoulder. He had spent the past two nights in hospital. The bullet had missed the bone by a millimetre, but had still lodged inside his shoulder. Now that it was gone and back at the lab for analysis, they had agreed to let him out. Roxanne had gone back to his apartment and gotten him some clean clothes that allowed for his dressing.

The painkillers were starting to wear off, and he hadn't slept. Jonathon had agreed to let Ollie stay with him. The only place where Ollie really felt safe any more. The shock had worn off and now he was just pissed off, and a little bit scared. But mostly now he was just tired and sore.

Roxanne had agreed to pick him up and bring him to Jonathon's and look after him until Jonathon could get away from the office. He didn't know when she'd be here, but Ollie was okay with that. The hospital was safe, and warm, and the tea was decent. He had a bottle of strong painkillers to take when he needed them, but he didn't particularly want to. He wanted a clear mind.

Victor couldn't sleep. They had finished sweeping Ollie's lab last night, and it had felt completely surreal. Their one stroke of luck had been that Ollie had managed to land a shot on the Nightmare. They had a blood sample to test, and while it wasn't showing up any results yet, it was something.

Victor sighed heavily and stood up. He wasn't going to sleep, so he may as well do something productive. He changed into his running gear, a tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie. He kept hearing an echo of gunshots in his head and he couldn't shake it.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and strapped his holster around his waist, shoving his gun into it. However, a knocking on his door made him freeze. He drew his gun as he pulled the door open, pointing at the head of the person who stood there.

Roxie drove to the hospital, her heart pounding. She had barely left Ollie's side since he had almost been killed. any boy, was she pissed. her drive to find the Nightmare had increased ten fold since the incident. it was now her personal mission to find him and make him suffer. There wa no way he was going to touch another member of her team.
But at least she was glad that Ollie was okay. She knew she had feelings for Ollie before, but she didn't know just how strong they were until she thought she had lost him. It made her uneasy, being away from him. she didn't know what she would do if she lost him. nobody knew her quite the same way as he did. she loved everything about him- his innocent demeanor, kindhearted habbits, and her heart just about stopped when he did that thing where he crinkled his nose slightly.

Roxie smiled politely at the nurse as she returned to Ollie's roon, to take him to Johnathan's house. When she entered his room and saw him, a bright smile lit up her whole face. Those big brown eyes never failed to ease her fears. "Ready to go?" she asked, her big smile still lingering on her lips. She tucked a strand on her hair behind her ear shyly, blushing a little as she realized that her staring was probably a little creepy.
After making sure he had everything, she left the room by his side. She kept close to him, her arm brushing his unharmed one. When they got to her car, she looked at him with concern. "You aren't in any pain, are you?" Her deep amber eyes studied his, turning away and driving away from the hospital when she had determined that he was alright. "If you can convince Jonathan, you can borrow Bear or Koda." she glanced over at him, smiling. Her dogs absolutely adored him. Even Koda and Kita, who were generally very protective and reserved. They had completely acepted him. She offered him Bear, even though he was a complete teddy bear. He was massive and looked terrifying, but in reality he couldn't harm a fly. Koda, on the other hand, was generally a very outgoing and sweet dog but he was very protetive. If he liked you, he woudn't let a stranger anywhere near you.

When they arrived, Roxie paused before getting out. She studied Ollie's face, her heart fluttering. Everytime she looked at him, she couldn't help but be grateful that he was still alive. She cared about him so much. Sitting there, watching him with a little smile, she had never wanted to kiss anybody more. An internal battle raged on within her, unsure of what she should do. Why not? Careful not to think about the concequences, Roxie leaned over and kissed Ollie.

His side burned. That damn scientist. He'd made the fatal mistake of underestimating him. Not only had he managed to get to his gun, but he'd managed to hit him even with an injured shoulder. His pathetic excuse of a human that he had been forced to choose as his assistant had almost botched up the sutures for the wound. As if he hadn't probably done enough damage trying to remove the bloody bullet.

It's been three days. I need fresh blood. He winced at the harshness of the voice, but it was enough. The craving began to engulf his body, until he couldn't contain it any more. "FRANKLIN! Where are they?" He barked. Franklin flinched and hit a few keys on the keyboard. "Target 1 is still at the station, sir. 2 is at 3's apartment, and 4 and 5 are outside 1's house. 6 is at home alone, however, sir." Yes. Her. You've seen the way Martel looks at her. It will kill him. It will make him an easier target. He is already compromised by the attempt on that scientist kid.

He dragged himself over to the medicine cabinet and found a bottle of morphine. He filled the syringe and slid it into his arm, sighing as the relief spread through his veins. "Franklin, we're almost out of morphine. By the time I get back, I expect there to be more."

He shoved some essentials into a bag and headed out, his heart pounding. The voice was happy, making his heart beat a little faster and a smile curl up the corner of his lips. The drug had made it a little easier to walk, enough so that he could hide the pain. It was starting to wear off as he got to the house, but that wasn't a bad thing. It made his mind a little sharper.

He winced as he knelt down and produced the tools necessary to pick the lock for her front door. It took him under a minute, and he was in. He pulled on one of the very suits that they wore at crime scenes, a nice taste of irony. He pulled on a pair of neoprene gloves. He'd made the mistake of wearing latex gloves before, and his hands had been sore for weeks after.

He could hear her voice, cooing like it was talking to a baby. A cruel idea occurred to him, and he smiled as he pulled on a surgeon's mask.

She looked up as he appeared at the door, and he raised his gun. Before she could scream, he hit her in the ribs, where he had been hit. Then the stomach, and then again in the stomach. None of them were a kill shot, but she was going to die. Just in time for Martel to find her. The baby was screeching, but he tuned it out. He'd been forced to do that enough as a kid.

He found her phone, and called the number for Martel. He answered relatively promptly. "You might want to get here as fast as you can." He said, smiling beneath his mask, before disconnecting.

She reached for her gun, and he kicked it away, stepping on her wrist. "Jonathon is on his way, darling. But he's going to be too late to save you, isn't he?" He grinned, stepping on her wrist as hard as he could. He pulled the gloves from his hands and dropped them beside her. "Sleep well, Scout."

He closed the door, and stuck the card between the frame of the door and the door itself. Catch me if you can.

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