Scent of Fear: Chapter Thirty-One
Title: Scent of Fear
Chapter: Thirty-One
Fandom: Whose Line is it Anyway/Green Screen
Genre: Slash; Murder mystery; Thriller
Pairing(s): Brad/Ryan. Drew/Greg. Colin/Wayne.
Warnings: Some language.
Disclaimer: Don't own Whose Line. Not making money from this.
A/N: AU. A fic based on Kay Hooper’s Fear series.
Kinda short, but the next chapter should be out tonight.
-----
"Karen's pregnant."
Ryan stared at Brad, "She's what?"
"Pregnant. With a baby," he added unnecessarily.
"Shit."
Brad turned his attention back to the comatose woman lying on the bed before him. Ryan walked over to join him and placed a hand on his shoulder; he'd only stopped by to pick Brad up for lunch, he hadn't been expecting news like that.
"How far gone is she?"
"Four or five months," said Brad, "I don't know if she knew...she's a busy sort, she probably didn't take the time to check."
Ryan shook his head slowly, and rhythmically squeezed Brad's shoulder in a slow massage. "Will she be able to deliver with all those burns?"
Brad shrugged, "The doctors say if she tries to give birth in these conditions, the pain will kill her. She's out of quarantine, so she must be getting better...it's a case of her getting really better in the next couple of months."
Ryan bit on the inside of his cheeks; life could be vicious. Karen had to make the awful choice of choosing between her own life and her baby's. And she wasn't even awake. Ryan was forced to wonder if, in the case that she didn't wake up in time, someone - possibly even Brad - would have to make the decision for her. He rubbed his eyes at the thought.
"Are you okay?" Brad asked suddenly.
"Uh...yeah, fine." It seemed an odd question to ask in front of a coma patient; then he remembered his white-outs, as though they were a distant memory, almost a dream, almost non-existent, "Yeah, no problems. I've just been worrying about you and Kar all day."
Brad smiled weakly and took Ryan's hand in his, "No need to worry about me."
Ryan chuckled, "I think there's every need to worry about you, sweetie."
-----
"It is plausible," Chip said, his thumb and forefinger pensively rubbing against his chin, "with the theme of sacrifice and sides...the chess analogy works." He looked over at Colin and Wayne, "How sure are you about this?"
Wayne nodded, "I have a good feeling about it."
"Then you need to list everyone who could possibly be in danger," he downed the rest of his juice and got up from the dining table, "I need to get back to work. Thank you for alerting me to this." He shot an appreciative smile directly at Colin, then grabbed his jacket and left the apartment.
"Well, we've got a psychic's approval," Wayne said, wrapping his fingers around Colin's wrist, "Now we've just got to find eight people out of the billions there are in the world who could possibly be a target for this psycho."
"Wayne," Colin began, "I am a target."
"Well, Col, I know I said that, but there's no proof yet-"
"No, there is," Colin interrupted, then took a deep breath, "Oh, I should have told you this before...when I-I left...at the airport, there was this guy...really creepy, kept quoting Socrates for some reason. I got a really bad feeling about him. He...he was reading this book, Death to Fidelity-"
"Didn't you read that?"
"Yeah. Scary as hell, there's a death virtually every other chapter...anyway, he had a copy which had a...a knife with some blood on it. Now, I don't know if...if what I saw was just because I had that image on my mind, or if it was actually there, but...I saw it. In his bag. A knife with a trickle of blood on it, just like the illustration on the novel."
Wayne shuddered, "You're sure?"
Colin nodded meekly, "I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier."
"Yeah, you probably should..." Wayne said, writing on his notepad, "but at least I know now."
Colin stood up and pushed his chair under the table, "I'd better get to work, too. I'll be back at six, so if you could defrost the lasagne by then," he kissed Wayne on the cheek, "I'd appreciate it."
"Okay. See you later."
As soon as the door closed, Wayne leapt up and swiped up his bag, his wallet, his FBI badge and his keys. He was well aware that what he was about to do was one hundred percent illegal, but his curiosity just wouldn't rest. And maybe, just maybe, he would unlock something that could help with the Proops case.
.x.Sess.x.
Chapter: Thirty-One
Fandom: Whose Line is it Anyway/Green Screen
Genre: Slash; Murder mystery; Thriller
Pairing(s): Brad/Ryan. Drew/Greg. Colin/Wayne.
Warnings: Some language.
Disclaimer: Don't own Whose Line. Not making money from this.
A/N: AU. A fic based on Kay Hooper’s Fear series.
Kinda short, but the next chapter should be out tonight.
-----
"Karen's pregnant."
Ryan stared at Brad, "She's what?"
"Pregnant. With a baby," he added unnecessarily.
"Shit."
Brad turned his attention back to the comatose woman lying on the bed before him. Ryan walked over to join him and placed a hand on his shoulder; he'd only stopped by to pick Brad up for lunch, he hadn't been expecting news like that.
"How far gone is she?"
"Four or five months," said Brad, "I don't know if she knew...she's a busy sort, she probably didn't take the time to check."
Ryan shook his head slowly, and rhythmically squeezed Brad's shoulder in a slow massage. "Will she be able to deliver with all those burns?"
Brad shrugged, "The doctors say if she tries to give birth in these conditions, the pain will kill her. She's out of quarantine, so she must be getting better...it's a case of her getting really better in the next couple of months."
Ryan bit on the inside of his cheeks; life could be vicious. Karen had to make the awful choice of choosing between her own life and her baby's. And she wasn't even awake. Ryan was forced to wonder if, in the case that she didn't wake up in time, someone - possibly even Brad - would have to make the decision for her. He rubbed his eyes at the thought.
"Are you okay?" Brad asked suddenly.
"Uh...yeah, fine." It seemed an odd question to ask in front of a coma patient; then he remembered his white-outs, as though they were a distant memory, almost a dream, almost non-existent, "Yeah, no problems. I've just been worrying about you and Kar all day."
Brad smiled weakly and took Ryan's hand in his, "No need to worry about me."
Ryan chuckled, "I think there's every need to worry about you, sweetie."
-----
"It is plausible," Chip said, his thumb and forefinger pensively rubbing against his chin, "with the theme of sacrifice and sides...the chess analogy works." He looked over at Colin and Wayne, "How sure are you about this?"
Wayne nodded, "I have a good feeling about it."
"Then you need to list everyone who could possibly be in danger," he downed the rest of his juice and got up from the dining table, "I need to get back to work. Thank you for alerting me to this." He shot an appreciative smile directly at Colin, then grabbed his jacket and left the apartment.
"Well, we've got a psychic's approval," Wayne said, wrapping his fingers around Colin's wrist, "Now we've just got to find eight people out of the billions there are in the world who could possibly be a target for this psycho."
"Wayne," Colin began, "I am a target."
"Well, Col, I know I said that, but there's no proof yet-"
"No, there is," Colin interrupted, then took a deep breath, "Oh, I should have told you this before...when I-I left...at the airport, there was this guy...really creepy, kept quoting Socrates for some reason. I got a really bad feeling about him. He...he was reading this book, Death to Fidelity-"
"Didn't you read that?"
"Yeah. Scary as hell, there's a death virtually every other chapter...anyway, he had a copy which had a...a knife with some blood on it. Now, I don't know if...if what I saw was just because I had that image on my mind, or if it was actually there, but...I saw it. In his bag. A knife with a trickle of blood on it, just like the illustration on the novel."
Wayne shuddered, "You're sure?"
Colin nodded meekly, "I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier."
"Yeah, you probably should..." Wayne said, writing on his notepad, "but at least I know now."
Colin stood up and pushed his chair under the table, "I'd better get to work, too. I'll be back at six, so if you could defrost the lasagne by then," he kissed Wayne on the cheek, "I'd appreciate it."
"Okay. See you later."
As soon as the door closed, Wayne leapt up and swiped up his bag, his wallet, his FBI badge and his keys. He was well aware that what he was about to do was one hundred percent illegal, but his curiosity just wouldn't rest. And maybe, just maybe, he would unlock something that could help with the Proops case.
.x.Sess.x.