I knew you before (part 3)
Fic: I knew you before
Author: de_cendres
Summary: Based upon my movie synopsis meme. During a murder investigation, PI Patrick Van Zedde (M.Fassbender) goes to a psychiatric center to confront a key witness. While he’s heading for the exit, he comes to meet a young man (J.McAvoy) flanked by two auxiliary nurses and captures his empty stare. His blue eyes seem to be so dead that Patrick is overwhelmed by sadness. Putting his feeling aside, he continues his path. In the following seconds, the young patient freezes and begins to come back, hurrying on Patrick, holding him with despair and whispering nonsensical words. The auxiliary nurses bring him under control and free Patrick. The PI leaves, more troubled than ever. Days pass by but Patrick can’t take this stranger out of his head. Moreover, he starts to make always the same kind of dreams. Dreams where he lives in the nineteenth century a secret and forbidden passion with the young man from the psychiatric center and ending in blood and death. Unable to stand this restlessness, he decides to search after the patient’s identity and is determined to find out if he’s drowning himself in madness or if a previous life may come to haunt him. Haunt both of them.
Note: Thank to californiacorps , the best beta-reader ever. I love you. I hope you’ll enjoy.
Patrick froze as the young man was still hanging tight to him, preventing him from drawing away. In any case, it would have even been impossible for him to lift a single finger. All he could do at that moment was to focus on his breathing in order to bring the precious oxygen back in his lungs. He could not think straight. He did not even know if his heart was still beating, yet he had never heard it beating so violently into his temples. He felt his legs shaking faintly, and if it was not for this other body gripping firmly and holding him up against all odds, he would have probably collapsed. Beads of sweat drained from his forehead to his neck then along his back. He was paralyzed, remaining completely under the grip of this stranger who had took him completely by surprise and turned him upside down more than he was capable to admit in that very moment.
“Henry, let him go.” He heard the close and serious voices of the orderlies, trying, in vain, to separate them. His arms by his sides, he did not let himself go into the grip of the patient but neither was he trying to get rid of him. He did not want to. Moreover, he sought contact, lowering his back against the torso of the young man in a mechanical reflex that he did not foresee. He felt hands creeping between their bodies, trying to separate them. However, the stranger, Henry as it appeared, refused to let go off him and yelled desperately, his screams mingled with the invective of the orderlies. Patrick remained silent, unable to open his mouth. His throat was too tight. “Henry, calm down. Let him go. “
Suddenly, as their bodies were slowly separated, he felt a dull and unexpected anger invading him. He was angry like he had never been before at these orderlies. How dared they intervene? He decided to put that emotion on the account of its dominant male ego, convinced he could have managed it alone, without any external intervention; he was trying to fool himself. Finally, the orderlies were able to let him go and Patrick turned back immediately, observing the young man taken by force but keeping on struggling, stretching out his arms and yelling at him, asking for them to let him go.
The inspector was obviously shocked but that was not the reason why he stared at the orderlies taking him away, without moving an inch. Without knowing why, he even made a following step before he realized what he was doing. But he was still unable to break away from the blue eyes of the young man and this one did not calm down. The way he was screaming and behaving broke Patrick’s heart. The orderlies eventually contained him until a nurse arrived and stuck a syringe into his arm, calming him gradually until he became again as quiet and empty as he was before he caught Patrick’s eyes.
Patrick turned off the engine and let his head rest on the steering wheel, closing his eyes while his hands were taken of violent spasm, as was his whole being. He sighed, passing his hands over his face, and took a cigarette he tried feverishly to light up with his shaking fingers. He did not seem to get over what had happened. Finally managing to light it, he took a deep breath, letting the nicotine exercising its relaxing effect. But this time, it could not do any good and the incident kept on repeating itself in his head. He did not understand why this stranger had suddenly grabbed him this way. After all, they had only passed each other. Surely they had exchanged a look, but that was all. Patrick had continued his path and he had noticed, even in the fugacity of the moment, the patient had also continued his own way without stopping. At least at first. Of course, he should have taken into account that they were in a mental hospital and that there was a reason for this young man to be confined. Maybe it was how he was reacting with everyone and it was probably not a surprise if something like that happened. But still, in spite of the distance between them, despite the very few things he knew about him, he was convinced that it was not a simple and recurrent psychiatric problem of his and that what happened between them was somewhat special.
He laughed slightly, realizing how ridiculous his own thoughts were. Biting his thumb, he took another puff of his cigarette as he was gradually relaxing and breaking away from the Claymoore institution and its residents. It was really stupid to be bothered by some insane people. He should not have stopped at that and should have continued his merry way, without paying more attention to this stranger. In any case, he would never see him again so there was no point in wasting time on his identity, his past, what had brought him there and if he could hope to get out of there one day or spend the rest of his life with people trying to lick the fruit patterns on the wallpaper. He was probably not any better than any of the other patients and certainly had his place among them. Patrick did not have to worry about him. Not even think about him. It was a shame his own thoughts were not entirely agreeing with him.
He violently jumped when all of a sudden someone knocked on the window of his car. He brought down his cigarette and put a hand on his chest, trying to calm his heart down to recover from his deadly fear. Glowering at Anna who was smiling at him from the outside, he got his cigarette back then crushed it in the ashtray before he finally opened the window.
“You’re back? John’s lost his bet. He was convinced they’d interne you.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Sorry for him. “
“Don’t. He should stop betting on everything. “
“Then bet him to stop betting. “
Anna let out a slight laugh, shook his head and tightened the folder she was holding against her chest. Patrick gave it a furtive glance.
“This is our witness’ results. “
Positive nod of his partner.
“Did we get anything with her? “
“With Ava? “
“With Ava. “
“No, nothing. “
She sighed deeply as he passed his finger along the wheel, thinking.
“You okay? “
He looked up, surprised. The look she was giving him was worried. After a few seconds, he finally cleared his throat.
“I have a little headache. Can you tell Paul that I’ll be back tomorrow? “
“Of course, have a good rest. “
He nodded and started his car.
The young man put his cupped hands under the running water before passing it on his face. Raising his eyes, he caught his own image on the mirror, an image far from glorious and attractive. He was so pale he would have certainly thrilled the dead; it was no surprise that Anna made a comment since he got sick only once every five years. He could deny it all he wanted but the incident of the afternoon had turned him more than it was reasonable to and he was having a great difficulty in admitting it since he still did not understand why. With a deep sigh, he turned off the bathroom light and slipped into his sheets, trying to find a sleep which he knew would not come soon as he laid his head on the pillow. He spent long minutes turning and turning, too hot then too cold, ending with his legs tangled in the sheets. Minutes became hours and the more minutes slipped, the more the sleep fled.
He was in the library. His fingers roamed the leather bindings of books whose titles were written in golden letters. But he did not find what he was looking for. In fact, he did not even know what he was looking for. However, he was convinced that he would find it at the very moment he would put his hand on it. Finally, he put his interest on the book with a royal blue cover that had faded over the years. He could not help but gently laugh as he slid it off the shelf and opened it to its first page, revealing the name of the licentious author.
“Well, well, what have we got here? “He murmured to himself.
C’est, nous ne le déguisons plus, pour appuyer ces systèmes, que nous allons donner au public l’histoire de la vertueuse Justine. Il est essentiel que les sots cessent d’encenser cette ridicule idole de la vertu, qui ne les a jusqu’ici payés que d’ingratitude, et que les gens d’esprit, communément livrés par principe aux écarts délicieux du vice et de la débauche, se rassurent en voyant les exemples frappants de bonheur et de prospérité qui les accompagnent presque inévitablement dans la route débordée qu’ils choisissent.* A wide smile was now anchored on his face. Who would have thought he would find a book of the famous and dark Marquis de Sade in this library?
Fully focused on his book, he neither noticed the creaking of the door behind him and nor the footsteps approaching gently and discreetly. It was nighttime after all. He went through a few pages, wondering about the value of this novel and if he should continue his reading or not, when he suddenly felt hands on his hips. His first reaction was to flinch at this unexpected touch and he almost dropped his book. His second reaction was, however, to lean back against the body of the person who was innocently putting his lips in the hollow of his neck and racing through it with soft kisses. He moistened his lips and closed his eyes while chills were running throughout his whole body.
* La Nouvelle Justine ou les Malheurs de la Vertu, Marquis de Sade