(no subject)
Halloween for cops is always a really trying time. The last time he actually celebrated the holiday Angie had been alive.
They'd dressed as a cop and a convict-she was the cop and he was the convict. Matthews had been a caveman complete with the stick and the wig. Kerry (He realized the irony there and now) had been an angel. The rest blurred in his memory like a bad finger painting. Eric and Kerry had spent most of the evening together-Hoffman had introduced Angie to Rigg and Angie had moved away to talk to the coroner...
C'mon Mark, it's a cute costume idea.
He'd never liked the cheap Halloween store costumes but they'd been popular that year. Angie's outfit had been one he'd disapproved of. What first came to him was This was a dream because he'd convinced her to put it in the back of her closet and forget it existed.
She wore it now, too short skirt, long black boots and one of those damn plastic super police badges. The hat had been too small for her head so he wore it at a jaunty angle and grinned, doing a little twirl, "I know you hate it, but I still think it's cute." In the dim light he could only make out the vaguest outline of her shape, "Besides, handcuffs are fun." She winked that same deadly smirk.
This was a dream. It had to be.
"...If you like dressing like a slut." He remembered the words by rout, "But you were a hit at the party." He breathed deep, his chest growing tight, "Hi Angie."
"Hi big brother."
She was standing up, staring at him with her hands on her hips, hair pushed back. She knelt (why was he on the floor?) to put her hands on his shoulders and give him a reassuring squeeze. "...Hi."
She was warm.
She was never warm in his dreams. That's what he missed the most. He felt tears on his cheeks, reaching up to hold her hand as she cradled him against her before standing up again (why the fuck was he on the floor?)
"It's...It-" The tension, the horror, the terror of the past year ran out of him like a river and he pulled her into an embrace, "Oh Angie"
"What you should be asking yourself, is where you are." She looked around, "...It's ugly and it smells like pee. How did Jigsaw find this place?" She kissed him on the forehead, "You find more crazy places at work...remember the time you told me about the mental hospit-"
He hugged her tighter, "...I knew. I just knew you'd come back. When they told me about the dead people coming back here-"
"Mark-"
"I knew if I waited-"
"Mark-"
"You'd come back and everything would be fine. I can fix it. I can fix it easy because this place-I've healed Angie," his lip trembled, "I can heal and I can fix this and the work can-can-"
"You can't even say it can you?"
She drew her hand back and slapped him hard. His cheek hit cold floor, the dim lights from wherever they were filtering down over him. His cheek stung, jaw working to try and rid himself of the pain.
"Angie-"
A million reasons came to him and fell away like rain. He wiped at his nose, "John has his ways, he-"
"John?"
Something was off about her voice. Mark put two and two together, the contempt, the warmth in her hands-
Her body shuttered, "He's John. He's not John. Not anymore. John Kramer died a long time ago." Her hand tightened on his shoulder, "Game Over. Games are for children."
"...Angie.." hope. He'd forgotten how it sounded.
Her expression melted. His reasoning must have been plain on his face as she turned away and returned her gaze to him, biting her knuckle, "...I can't come back."
"...What the fuck is this-"
"You have a second chance Mark." She held out a hand, "This place isn't you. It's better then you. It's more then you are. You're my hero big brother. This isn't a hero's place."
(What place exactly?)
"I didn't-" (I didn't have a choice) "I wanted-" (I couldn't take it anymore. The city's poison, it's always been fucking poison) "It was-" (hands scrambling on tile)
"Then?" Angie began to pace, "No really, I want to know what makes a grown man play games." "I'm looking for a reason not to slap you again, but you get slapped enough and you have no one else to blame but yourself."
"I didn't have a goddamn choice!" He struggled to his feet to realize there was something holding him down, "He was going to turn me in! What I did was justice. Justice for you-"
"Don't do this in my name." there was an edge to her voice, "I'm not an excuse. Don't you fucking dare make me a martyr Mark Hoffman. This wasn't justice, this was brutality."
Do you like how brutality feels Mark?
"I am not a monster!"
He heard the sound of sobbing as his sister pulled away. He made a desperate grab for her before realizing he was tethered.
caught.
chained
C'mon Mark, don't you think this is a cute costume idea?
Do I really have to wear the shackle?
And then there was brilliance and the light of the sun and he realized with horror exactly where he was.
He'd only been there once.
Angie stood at the door with her mascara running down her face like a mask, hand on the light switch. He pulled at his shackle to try and reach the door, face white as he stared at his sister, "Angie-"
"...Angie please-"
"Please."
"Don't leave me! Please! Not again, I can't take it. Angie-I need you-please-you kept me sane, you kept me grounded and you're here and-"
"Don't you fucking leave me!"
She speaks through shuddering sobs, "...If you keep going like this then there's only one way this'll end."
She doesn't need to say it.
The light flicks off and she stands like a shadow in the doorway with a hand on her hip as she pulls the door shut and Mark Hoffman is gone.
Game Over
They'd dressed as a cop and a convict-she was the cop and he was the convict. Matthews had been a caveman complete with the stick and the wig. Kerry (He realized the irony there and now) had been an angel. The rest blurred in his memory like a bad finger painting. Eric and Kerry had spent most of the evening together-Hoffman had introduced Angie to Rigg and Angie had moved away to talk to the coroner...
C'mon Mark, it's a cute costume idea.
He'd never liked the cheap Halloween store costumes but they'd been popular that year. Angie's outfit had been one he'd disapproved of. What first came to him was This was a dream because he'd convinced her to put it in the back of her closet and forget it existed.
She wore it now, too short skirt, long black boots and one of those damn plastic super police badges. The hat had been too small for her head so he wore it at a jaunty angle and grinned, doing a little twirl, "I know you hate it, but I still think it's cute." In the dim light he could only make out the vaguest outline of her shape, "Besides, handcuffs are fun." She winked that same deadly smirk.
This was a dream. It had to be.
"...If you like dressing like a slut." He remembered the words by rout, "But you were a hit at the party." He breathed deep, his chest growing tight, "Hi Angie."
"Hi big brother."
She was standing up, staring at him with her hands on her hips, hair pushed back. She knelt (why was he on the floor?) to put her hands on his shoulders and give him a reassuring squeeze. "...Hi."
She was warm.
She was never warm in his dreams. That's what he missed the most. He felt tears on his cheeks, reaching up to hold her hand as she cradled him against her before standing up again (why the fuck was he on the floor?)
"It's...It-" The tension, the horror, the terror of the past year ran out of him like a river and he pulled her into an embrace, "Oh Angie"
"What you should be asking yourself, is where you are." She looked around, "...It's ugly and it smells like pee. How did Jigsaw find this place?" She kissed him on the forehead, "You find more crazy places at work...remember the time you told me about the mental hospit-"
He hugged her tighter, "...I knew. I just knew you'd come back. When they told me about the dead people coming back here-"
"Mark-"
"I knew if I waited-"
"Mark-"
"You'd come back and everything would be fine. I can fix it. I can fix it easy because this place-I've healed Angie," his lip trembled, "I can heal and I can fix this and the work can-can-"
"You can't even say it can you?"
She drew her hand back and slapped him hard. His cheek hit cold floor, the dim lights from wherever they were filtering down over him. His cheek stung, jaw working to try and rid himself of the pain.
"Angie-"
A million reasons came to him and fell away like rain. He wiped at his nose, "John has his ways, he-"
"John?"
Something was off about her voice. Mark put two and two together, the contempt, the warmth in her hands-
Her body shuttered, "He's John. He's not John. Not anymore. John Kramer died a long time ago." Her hand tightened on his shoulder, "Game Over. Games are for children."
"...Angie.." hope. He'd forgotten how it sounded.
Her expression melted. His reasoning must have been plain on his face as she turned away and returned her gaze to him, biting her knuckle, "...I can't come back."
"...What the fuck is this-"
"You have a second chance Mark." She held out a hand, "This place isn't you. It's better then you. It's more then you are. You're my hero big brother. This isn't a hero's place."
(What place exactly?)
"I didn't-" (I didn't have a choice) "I wanted-" (I couldn't take it anymore. The city's poison, it's always been fucking poison) "It was-" (hands scrambling on tile)
"Then?" Angie began to pace, "No really, I want to know what makes a grown man play games." "I'm looking for a reason not to slap you again, but you get slapped enough and you have no one else to blame but yourself."
"I didn't have a goddamn choice!" He struggled to his feet to realize there was something holding him down, "He was going to turn me in! What I did was justice. Justice for you-"
"Don't do this in my name." there was an edge to her voice, "I'm not an excuse. Don't you fucking dare make me a martyr Mark Hoffman. This wasn't justice, this was brutality."
Do you like how brutality feels Mark?
"I am not a monster!"
He heard the sound of sobbing as his sister pulled away. He made a desperate grab for her before realizing he was tethered.
caught.
chained
C'mon Mark, don't you think this is a cute costume idea?
Do I really have to wear the shackle?
And then there was brilliance and the light of the sun and he realized with horror exactly where he was.
He'd only been there once.
Angie stood at the door with her mascara running down her face like a mask, hand on the light switch. He pulled at his shackle to try and reach the door, face white as he stared at his sister, "Angie-"
"...Angie please-"
"Please."
"Don't leave me! Please! Not again, I can't take it. Angie-I need you-please-you kept me sane, you kept me grounded and you're here and-"
"Don't you fucking leave me!"
She speaks through shuddering sobs, "...If you keep going like this then there's only one way this'll end."
She doesn't need to say it.
The light flicks off and she stands like a shadow in the doorway with a hand on her hip as she pulls the door shut and Mark Hoffman is gone.
Game Over