Scott and Jean-Paul, Monday night
Apr. 6th, 2009 11:32 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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While still processing the events of the day in Salem Centre, Scott gets a call from Jean-Paul, who gives him the details of what happened on his sudden trip (and not much else).
He should have gotten a hotel. He'd known that from the moment the police had said he could go (so long as he didn't go too far). Getting a hotel room would have been far too much like being kind to himself, but going back to the bistro would have been too much. So the house in Laval it was.
Jean-Paul stood in the middle of his living room. Even with the lights off, it looked normal enough, even if the ultramodern decor was a bit out of style these days. The repairs and cleaning had been worth the money. No broken glass. No bloodstains. No way to tell two speedsters had ever had a fight here, unless you'd been there.
He leaned against the wall and fished his cell from his pocket, dialing by the light of the screen. Time to face the music.
Scott answered the phone instantly, seeing who it was. Bad enough that things had quite literally been blowing up down here - at least that situation was a semi-known quantity. As opposed to the friend and fellow teacher who'd gone off to do God knows what with a murderer. "Are you all right?" he said, instead of 'hello'.
"I am fine. Sorry for taking so long, I...the police wanted to take a statement. Over and over. Dieu..." Standing up was too much effort. Jean-Paul slid down to the floor. "It was a hostage situation. St. Ives broke out early this morning, took off in a prison vehicle with about twenty bullets in him and broke into the first home he found once the tank ran dry. Three hostages -- woman, girl, old man. I had to kill him."
Scott managed not to suck in a breath too audibly. Had to? What the hell had happened? "You said you're fine," he said, not making any comment about how dubious a statement that was. "The hostages? The police?" He'd done some research earlier in the day, before the explosion. He knew what St. Ives was capable of doing.
"The family is alive. He let the girl and her mother go almost as soon as I arrived. He kept the old man back." Jean-Paul swallowed hard. "He said that he would kill him again if I did not..." Damn. God dammit. "St. Ives said that he would kill the old man if I did not kill him first. I could not find another way to end it. I wound up being St. Ives' guillotine. The SQ...wanted to hear the details on that, of course." A pause. "I am going to be up here for a few days, until they are satisfied as to whether or not it was a justifiable homicide."
"Suicide by cop-substitute," Scott said quietly, hearing the difficulty that Jean-Paul was having in keeping a dispassionate tone. "Surely they'll see that."
"No doubt. St. Ives seemed to think I'd have need of a witness. They have to do it right, though. Dot all the i's , non?" A bitter laugh. "Even St. Ives had advocates. They have kept this quiet, but still...you never know what will come back to bite you."
Scott leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath and then letting it out. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but - don't think about the long-term right now. It tends to take care of itself. Focus on just... getting through the next few days."
"I will do my best." Another moment of quiet. "I will be back at the end of the break."
"You're taking some time, then." Scott paused. "That's not a bad thing," he went on, carefully. "So long as you're... going to be all right. Or will make me a promise to use the phone when you're not."
"I will be fine, Scott. It has just been a very long day. But I promise."
I don't believe you, Scott thought unhappily, but didn't say it aloud. He might be wrong, after all. It might be something Jean-Paul could grapple with successfully, given a little time and space... and yet, he worried. "Thank you," he said quietly, instead. "There are a lot of us who'll feel a lot better if you do keep in touch."
"Merci." His throat was too tight to say anything more for a minute. "I am sorry, but...I need to call Nate before he decides to come find me, and there is only so much talk I have left in me tonight."
Scott paused. "Take care of yourself," he said, even more quietly. "I'll talk to you soon."
The last word collided with the click of the other end of the line going dead and was left to silence.
He should have gotten a hotel. He'd known that from the moment the police had said he could go (so long as he didn't go too far). Getting a hotel room would have been far too much like being kind to himself, but going back to the bistro would have been too much. So the house in Laval it was.
Jean-Paul stood in the middle of his living room. Even with the lights off, it looked normal enough, even if the ultramodern decor was a bit out of style these days. The repairs and cleaning had been worth the money. No broken glass. No bloodstains. No way to tell two speedsters had ever had a fight here, unless you'd been there.
He leaned against the wall and fished his cell from his pocket, dialing by the light of the screen. Time to face the music.
Scott answered the phone instantly, seeing who it was. Bad enough that things had quite literally been blowing up down here - at least that situation was a semi-known quantity. As opposed to the friend and fellow teacher who'd gone off to do God knows what with a murderer. "Are you all right?" he said, instead of 'hello'.
"I am fine. Sorry for taking so long, I...the police wanted to take a statement. Over and over. Dieu..." Standing up was too much effort. Jean-Paul slid down to the floor. "It was a hostage situation. St. Ives broke out early this morning, took off in a prison vehicle with about twenty bullets in him and broke into the first home he found once the tank ran dry. Three hostages -- woman, girl, old man. I had to kill him."
Scott managed not to suck in a breath too audibly. Had to? What the hell had happened? "You said you're fine," he said, not making any comment about how dubious a statement that was. "The hostages? The police?" He'd done some research earlier in the day, before the explosion. He knew what St. Ives was capable of doing.
"The family is alive. He let the girl and her mother go almost as soon as I arrived. He kept the old man back." Jean-Paul swallowed hard. "He said that he would kill him again if I did not..." Damn. God dammit. "St. Ives said that he would kill the old man if I did not kill him first. I could not find another way to end it. I wound up being St. Ives' guillotine. The SQ...wanted to hear the details on that, of course." A pause. "I am going to be up here for a few days, until they are satisfied as to whether or not it was a justifiable homicide."
"Suicide by cop-substitute," Scott said quietly, hearing the difficulty that Jean-Paul was having in keeping a dispassionate tone. "Surely they'll see that."
"No doubt. St. Ives seemed to think I'd have need of a witness. They have to do it right, though. Dot all the i's , non?" A bitter laugh. "Even St. Ives had advocates. They have kept this quiet, but still...you never know what will come back to bite you."
Scott leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath and then letting it out. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but - don't think about the long-term right now. It tends to take care of itself. Focus on just... getting through the next few days."
"I will do my best." Another moment of quiet. "I will be back at the end of the break."
"You're taking some time, then." Scott paused. "That's not a bad thing," he went on, carefully. "So long as you're... going to be all right. Or will make me a promise to use the phone when you're not."
"I will be fine, Scott. It has just been a very long day. But I promise."
I don't believe you, Scott thought unhappily, but didn't say it aloud. He might be wrong, after all. It might be something Jean-Paul could grapple with successfully, given a little time and space... and yet, he worried. "Thank you," he said quietly, instead. "There are a lot of us who'll feel a lot better if you do keep in touch."
"Merci." His throat was too tight to say anything more for a minute. "I am sorry, but...I need to call Nate before he decides to come find me, and there is only so much talk I have left in me tonight."
Scott paused. "Take care of yourself," he said, even more quietly. "I'll talk to you soon."
The last word collided with the click of the other end of the line going dead and was left to silence.