I knew you before (part 9)
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 Best beat reader ever ! I LOVE YOU GIRL !!
Previous part: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8
Patrick remained quiet for a moment, feeling that any of the words he could say would be frivolous and superficial. He realized that neither of them really needed to open their mouths to put a sound on the emotions that went across their body. There was no question to be asked, no big existential questions to tell. They were there, together. The inspector smiled at the patient.
"I came back."
He felt that there was something more hidden behind this claim and that it might be dangerous to corroborate the words of a person who had been detained in a psychiatric hospital for nearly seven years, according to his file. He stared at him and Henry shifted slightly so he could come and sit beside him on the bench. He felt like he was at the edge of a precipice and the emptiness beneath his feet mesmerized him. After a moment, he no longer felt the patient's intense gaze on him and when he turned his face toward him, the young man was watching with satisfaction the pleasant view of the park open in front of them. He felt like a déjà vu, as if he had already lived that moment once. He was vaguely aware that he had once heard on the subject, about an eye which dominated the other or something like that. He did not care at that point. He just wanted to enjoy the moment.
"I have some questions."
"Of course you have."
Henry put his blue eyes in his, and once again, Patrick lost his means. He was unable to resist that blue and he put every effort into ignoring the disturbing erotic dream he had involving him. He was not gay. At least he never doubted that until recently. All of his beliefs and assertions did no longer lay on solid foundations now.
"You look better, mister."
He was not brave enough to put into words what had happened since their first meeting. He needed to cling to what was rational. That was his radius. The laughter that escaped from Henry surprised and filled him with a probably immature joy. He soon realized that sobs rose along his throat. He could not say if they were tears of joy or of sadness. But an insidious and reckless thought imposed itself: he would have given anything to hear his laugh again.
"Since when are you addressing in such a formal way?" Henry suddenly stopped his course of thoughts and cleared his throat, uncomfortable as if he was at fault. "Sorry, you can address me as you wish."
Patrick frowned but made no comment. Finally, Henry spoke again.
"So you have some questions for me?"
Patrick dropped his keys in the bowl in the lobby before throwing himself on the sofa, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He passed his hands over his face and took deep breaths to calm the pain which was still deep in his body. He was still recovering and the journey to Claymoore had not been very relaxing. His conversation with Henry did not help either. It had not helped him at all. But he had loved it. And he had asked the young patient if he could come back. Henry's response to him was still drawing a smile on his thin lips just by thinking about it. It was like asking a child if he wanted to get up on a Christmas Day after Santa Claus had come. He had enjoyed every minute he had spent with him, even if it had led nowhere in his research. He considered taking a nap and instantly felt his eyelids becoming heavier when he distinctly heard someone say something in the hollow of the ear:
"Have you never said to yourself that you weren’t at the right place?"
He sat up with a start and looked around. He was alone. Desperately alone. Terribly alone. In the same time, his cell phone began to vibrate and rang at an incomparable volume, making the young man jumped again. He growled and grabbed the phone by dropping himself onto the sofa, closing his eyes and putting the trouble he had felt on the account of his imagination. He was alone after all.
"Ah, there you are!"
"Hi, Anna."
"Where have you been? I’ve tried to reach for you four or five times at least. "
"I was here. I was taking a nap. Sorry. "
He did not know why he lied. Sooner or later she would eventually hear about his short trip and there was nothing wrong behind his going there. He just checked on a patient, that was all. He had really nothing to feel uncomfortable about. So why did he? From the tone of the young woman, it was pretty clear that she could not believe a word he was saying but let him get away with it anyway.
"How are you?"
"Fine. I’m turning like a lion in a cage, but otherwise drugs fairly well mastered pain. "
Better than me at least.
"If you need anything ..."
"I know, I call you. You can make my grocery shopping, if you really need to do something. "
"Right."
"What about my housework?"
"I don’t do mine, I will not do yours."
"What kind of a friend are you?"
"I'm not your friend, Patrick. I am your partner. "
He laughed softly at his solemn tone.
"And your mother."
He laughed. It had been a long time since the last time he had had his real mother on the phone, too. It was probably better that way. She was obviously not aware of his injury. Had she been, she would have been in his kitchen at that very moment, setting up for days in his living room and trying to reprimand him on his way to work.
"Take care of yourself."
"Will do."
"How are you feeling today, Henry?"
"Better than you."
"At least that's direct."
It was his second visit and he knew that this was not the last. He made sure to give him space but could not have waited more than two days before returning to the young patient. He was aware that what he was doing was not healthy and that he should not be attending as assiduously a mentally disturbed person. The truth was that he did not know yet why the young man was interned. Had it been their first meeting, he would have appeared quite normal. Of course, his record indicated he had attempted suicide seven years ago but if they started to intern all of those who tried to kill themselves, no one would be free. Or so.
"You look tired."
"I don’t sleep well."
"Oh, do you?"
Lying again, but he could not deceive him. Since the day he had almost died, his nights were peaceful, with no dream or nightmare. He slept well, but it was definitely not good.
"I wanted to ask you something. Do you remember the first time I came?"
Henry shrugged.
"Your reaction ..."
"I’m interned, Patrick. There is probably a reason behind this. "
"No doubt ..."
The inspector turned back and forth the two words in his mind and took a deep breath. He was probably right. He should not look further to it. It was all the work of his imagination. Shaking his head slowly, he rose and gathered his things, ready to leave the young man. He was to open his mouth to say goodbye when the patient caught him strongly by his wrist and planted his blue eyes in his, getting up at the same time as him.
"If it can help..."
Patrick did not have time to understand what was happening to him that he already felt the lips of Henry land on his own and it became a whirlwind of sensations, one stronger than the other.
A rustle of leaves. The rough and icy touch of the stone. The shy heat of the sun on his clothes. The smell of old books which he drawn his fingers on and his hungry eyes upon. Then the sound of leaves being crushed by heavy steps approaching. A movement that is taking shape in the corner of his eye. Patrick looked up to watch the prim silhouette of the intruder. A black velvet coat which was certainly not the most suitable outfit for walking in the forest right in summertime.
"Well, well. Sir Williams ..."
Sir Williams startled at the hearing of a male voice arising from nowhere, quietly located by the ruins of an old building and was watching him with his emerald eyes filled with amusement. Patrick immediately noticed that he had nearly caused him a heart attack, which pleased him even more. He closed the book on his legs and grinned at his neighbor.