Midnight Hunt - 11. - 15. (ENG)

11. Jimy's friends

The evening was as weak as the whole day. The last unfamiliar group of schoolgirls were leaving and a particularly exceptional bunch of cops were arriving. They put a smile on Finch's face, though. They were led by Jimy Carrow. He finally brought his buddies, to whom he brings coffee and donuts every day.

Jimy gave him a nod and together they settled right by the door while Anna cleared the table on the other side. Her face was red and tearful. Finch, however, walked confidently and without remorse to his acquaintance to ask for orders. He didn't care how Anna took his words, he had no offense against her. He had no idea, however, how he would look Ross in the eye at home.

"Good evening, what'll it be?" He spoke with a smile.

"Four large cokes, an ice cream sundae for me... the... the super chocolate one."

" 'À La Nutella' sundae?" Finch raised his eyebrows in amusement, and didn't even have to wait for an answer to write it down.

"Exactly that one! Buddy, before you go, meet my friends!" He stood up and put a hand on Finch's shoulder. The man looked shyly at the four cops, and truth be told, he had a bit of a lump in his throat. What he knew about James was that although he was a good guy, he wasn't going to outsmart him and wouldn't remotely think of associating some ill waiter with an explosion in the harbor. He wasn't sure about the rest of them, though. After all, he didn't know them, and he didn't know what Jimy had told them. "Jimy, these are the ones you make coffee for every morning, except Simon," James said, and the blond Simon, all the way over by the window, nodded, "Guys, this is Artie, our hopeful future member of the police force."

"I don't think so," Finch corrected him.

" But! You'll change your mind!" Jimy laughed, sending him off for a Coke and an ice cream.

It was that which took most of the time. This time, like the morning with the chocolate, he went aesthetically upscale and added mint leaves on top in addition to the crumbled chocolate and two chocolate tubes. Quite proudly, he placed the ice cream in front of Jimmy and was about to walk back behind the counter to watch him, but the policeman pulled him back to his bench. "Stay with us, you don't have anyone else here anyway," he suggested.

" Don't you want to eat?" Finch asked timidly. He didn't want to fraternize with the cops.

"She's here," Jimmy whispered to him. Artie understood. Well, he'd already cleared the way for him. He thought Jimy should stop stalking her and finally ask her out.

Finch didn't know what the cops were talking about at first, but he soon caught on. They were discussing another bunch of investigators that had swarmed their police station and it was none other than the feds. They were investigating the explosion. Well not just that one.

"Apparently it's happened several times," Simon noted, " They say apparent accidents and murders are dragged around the state like a zigzag snake in a circle. They say that supposedly both the accidents and the murders are the work of the same killer. The Hunter."

"That's bullshit, isn't it? Nothing connects them," the other man from the window, named Steve, shook his head.

"But it does connect," Simon made a mysterious face, "I know, agent Swan told me. The hunter has his signature and he wouldn't forget it with the prey or those accidents."

Finch's throat tightened. All the while, he fidgeted in anguish, letting his trembling palms clench between his thighs. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. The spasms echoed again.

"They're missing hearts. I mean, among other things, and it's true that the Blinder ended up as a hamburger and thus they don't know..."

" Gentlemen, are you going to eat?" Anna came up beside them. The guys asked for two pizzas and Jimmy at least asked for fries, with the argument for Finch being as thin as an earthworm. Soon she returned. She threw everything on the table like a pissed off Amazon and went into the kitchen to hide. Everyone looked at the only person who had spent more than two minutes with her. Anxiety hit full force. With it, the cramp.

"What did you do to her this time?" James pryed.

"Excuse me," Atreus forced out, struggling to keep himself upright as he stood up and made a quick dash for the toilets. He felt like he was going to explode with agony.

A moment ago he had been happy, but now he was swept away by an avalanche.

How was he going to look Ross in the eye? And would he even live to see him?

12. Breakdown

His own condition made him sick to his stomach. He crouched on the floor of the men's room, staring ahead of him, shedding tears of despair and pain. He hadn't expected his state to so suddenly deteriorate today of all days. He didn't understand. He had recently replenished his energy reserves. Every day, Ross reminded him of his medications and he willingly gobbled them all up like candy, even though he didn't believe they worked. His meals were regular and he was strictly following the diet his doctor had prescribed. And yet the only thing he was grateful for now was that he wasn't losing blood yet. He shivered in his sweaty uniform and hoped that the close would soon come and he would slip away into the dark night without witnesses.

However, he was not afforded privacy. When he hadn't shown his face for a long time, about three quarters of an hour, Jimmy peeked into the room. He was left in shock at the sight of his ruined favorite waiter. Without speaking, he walked over to him and knelt down beside him, though Finch deliberately turned his face away, stifling sobs in his soaked, snotty sleeve.

"What happened?" The policeman asked softly.

"Nothing, go away," he retorted instantly.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what happened," he paused to give Atreus space, but when he didn't answer for a long time, he continued: "Did you have a quarrel?"

"We haven't argued," he shook his head. Still, a huge pang of remorse washed over him. Not toward her, though. He couldn't let himself tell her he had to somehow wriggle out of their relationship, lest he cause her further trauma... he had to lie to her. Even though he loved her very much. He had to; but what he didn't have to do was drag someone into it who had nothing to do with it in the first place, and gave him no permission to do so in the second place. He wasn't allowed to mention it. That was their agreement. "I told her I had someone."

"Do you?" James moved to sit next to him and handed Artie his tissues. He took them gratefully and emptied his nose. It wasn't often that he cried, especially in public like this, and he was extremely embarrassed, feeling like a thirteen-year-old after a breakup. But today he'd had enough of everything.

"I do."

" Yeah?" James looked surprised, and at first he wanted to ask why he was even getting close to Anna then, but he reconsidered his next words. "How did she take it?"

"Badly, you see."

"I'm quite glad," James smiled, "at least you're not alone. Who's that? What's her name?"

"River," Finch blurted out the same half-lie he'd presented to Anne.

"Is she pretty?" The cop grinned, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little. Atreus hunched and completely averted his gaze. At first he just nodded gently. He was worried. What if his friend hated him if he answered honestly? What if he's one of those people who will make him believe that he'll burn in hell for his actions and turn the whole world against him, as if that wasn't already happening?

"He's almost perfect. He smells like menthol. He hugs me when I need it. Not once has he raised his voice at me," he lowered his own at the memory of how the situation with Anna had turned out after his announcement. She'd yelped and ranted like she was out of her mind until he was afraid her hand would fly right into his face.

"Him?" Jimmy wanted to make sure. Finch nodded.

"Anna's had a rough day, she didn't mean it," he rubbed his face in frustration, scolding himself mostly, but soon his voice broke, "I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone, but... I don't want anything serious with her! I just want to have a friend! God, she hates me now..."

"Don't cry," James sighed, patting him on the shoulder, "She'll cool down and everything will be fine again soon."

"Nothing is going to be okay anymore. You don't understand. I broke my promise, he'll be angry as well and..."

"If he loves you, he'll forgive you."

"Exactly," Atreus groaned, in his worst state in years.

13. Confession

Finch never tried to look stronger than he really was. He needed to express emotions. He even tried not to accumulate them, but to let them out gradually. Day and night, his mind was plagued with all sorts of memories that didn't belong to him, making a cortisol cocktail out of his body whenever something went wrong in his own life. If he kept it all bottled up, one day he'd be murdering in the street. In broad daylight. He'd lose his mind completely. That's why he cried all the way home from work and didn't care too much for the stares of passersby and fellow passengers. They annoyed him, yes, but it was the least of his problems.

Memories of being kicked on the ground and the blood pouring from his gums seeped into his mind. Both of his arms were paralyzed, as if they were encased in plaster. He remembered how a man had slammed his head against the ground until he lost consciousness, how painfully his shoulder was dislocated and his wrist was pinned against a hot radiator. He could feel blisters forming all over his body from the hot shower, his airway tightening as he choked on a pillow. Then he was drowning again in a bath of ice while a woman's hand held his head under the water. Every moment Finch was overcome with agony, and hot flashes were being replaced by shivering. Neither of these stimuli left a mark on his body, but his brain didn't care. The alien memories were like his own. Finch didn't know if he was red with heat, white with cold, or green with disgust, or maybe he was changing colors like a chameleon. In this state, it took him longer than usual to get home. Already on the staircase between the second and third floors he had to take a big breath. He didn't even feel like continuing. His chest clenched with remorse. He shouldn't have dragged him into this. He should have thought of something else. ANYthing.

Finch was well aware of what River Ross was capable of. He wasn't just an investigative journalist and an accomplice. Sometimes they murdered together. Often he would deliver the final blow, usually with a long hammer, and not even blink. He also operated solo. Finch knew his work. The level of sadism he was capable of. Ross himself was a shining star of the underworld and a familiar, unbreakable mist spreading a haze of terror and death far and wide - all in the "community of the damned," as Ross called it. Finch didn't know who exactly belonged to this community, but it was a bunch of mysterious, insane people, and for someone to claim to be a serial killer and a cannibal, it suggested an entirely different caliber. Although Ross often mentioned curses, that wasn't true of the community, and he'd expressly forbidden Finch to search for them on the threat of having his tongue cut out.

Today, this dangerous, sadistic and emotionless man was betrayed. Atreus wouldn't be surprised if he were to literally dig his own grave. If he doesn't flat out hammer him in his own living room. Finch slowly climbed to the fifth floor, panting, sweating and contorted in pain, wondering what words he was going to use to send himself to hell. With a deep breath, he knocked on his murderous neighbor's door.

"'Come in! Unlocked!" He heard the call.

Atreus prayed for the first and last time in his life and pushed the handle.

He entered River's apartment. It was slightly larger than his and looked like it was in a completely different price range. The clean white walls were complemented with pale wood furniture and iron features. The abstract metal sculptures looked like displays in a gallery. The blinds on the large windows were still open, giving the room the feeling of a frosty night, even though the summer heat was still cooling outside. Finch was convinced beyond all belief that this was what it looked like in everyone else's apartment, only he'd been given the last broom closet without air-conditioning. Ross was just coming out of the bathroom. His hair was still wet, water was running down his white T-shirt, and instead of suit pants he was wearing sweatpants that Finch could never imagine him wearing.

"What's so late? You missed dinner. Your meds are on the table," he said, as if expecting it. A lump rose in Finch's throat, but he swallowed all five pills despite his skepticism about both the medication and Ross's care. He couldn't afford to miss them. Ross walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. He was as calm as ever.

"River, there's something I need to tell you," Finch began. Cold sweat washed over him again. He didn't dare look up at his principled psychopath, fiddling with his shirt with nervousness.

"Go ahead," Ross smiled and returned from the kitchen with two cups of mint tea. They both sat down at the table.

"I had to tell Anna today that we're dating. You and me. I told her your name."

"Artie, we had a deal," he pierced him with a look.

"I know."

"No association. No feelings."

"I know."

"Then why did you say it?"

Finch crouched in anguish, staring into his tea, searching it for some relevant answer. He felt backed into a corner by her, she didn't give up even when he'd repeatedly indicated his disinterest in a serious relationship. He could have told her anything else. Any other lie. It was simple. And yet he'd spoken Ross's name, despite the threat of death. At that moment, though, he couldn't deny it. He saw breaking the agreement as the only option.

"Have you told anyone else about me?" Ross asked with an exasperated sigh, and Finch nodded. He'd told a cop about him. A chatty cop who works with the FBI.

"You know. You're a mind reader," Finch snapped at him.

"I want to hear it from you and out loud. Look me in the eye."

Finch didn't have the strength to resist. He lifted his gaze and stared into the dark corridors of River Ross's mystical soul. Resigned to defeat, he spoke.

"I told Carrow your name and he thinks we're dating, now that the FBI is on my trail. I've linked our names outside of this building. I broke our agreement. I betrayed you."

"Hmm," River sighed and took a sip of his tea. His look for the first time revealed a lot. Anger. Concern. Tension, but it seemed strange somehow, like a faint electric current. He blinked and stared at the wall for a moment, which kept Atreus in a state of terror for several long seconds. River set his cup down on the table and leaned in, looking even in betrayal conciliatory and above the matter at hand. "So what are we going to do about it?"

14. Peppermint leaves

They both stared at each other for a moment.

"I can't kill you, or I'd alert the police and lose my friend. I'm not going to hit you either. I can't yell and blame too. I read your mind. I know you're in pain," Ross rationalized his calmness out loud as he sipped his tea, "So I guess there's nothing left for us to do but play along until they come for us."

"So... you're not angry?" Finch was stunned with shock.

" I am angry! Of course I'm angry, but I like you and I don't want to torment you," Ross said with the calmness of an Englishman. He didn't look a bit like that, and even seemed to have resigned himself to his fate in a few minutes. Finch, however, remained on pins and needles. The pain had eased a little, but his stomach was still clenching and he couldn't even push himself up. The burning in his eyes was growing again. Ross didn't miss it and soon heard the first sob. Finch wiped away a tear. He looked away.

Ross stood up and walked over to him, pressing him against his body in an embrace. Atreus trembled beneath him and wept, though he had shed tears all evening and assumed they were all spent. River felt truly sorry for him. The whole situation, all of Atreus' pain. "I would never hurt you," he whispered, "there are so many things you try to keep from me. Why are you so afraid of me, huh?"

Finch felt utterly stupid and helpless. He couldn't stop, and truthfully he never thought this day would come. The day when he would cry so hard and realize how wrong he had been about his accomplice's character so far. He had assumed that everything was really just a barter. They were keeping each other company to share the loot. They slept together in exchange for favors. He truly believed that River felt not a shred of affection for him, not a hint of pity. He felt Ross's warm grip tighten and he sank into it desperately. He finally relaxed and buried his face in his T-shirt as River brushed his hair.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, wrapping his arms tightly around his hips, "please forgive me."

"Artie, it's not a big deal," Ross mumbled.

"I just dragged you down with me..."

"You've been escaping for fifteen years, they're not going to find you that easily," Ross consoled him, though he couldn't quite identify what drove him to this action, "So we're going to play a couple. So what. It's going to be a headache, yes, and I'm certainly not going to put on a show for you and call you sweetheart," he heard a quiet chuckle, "but I guess we'll just have to go with the flow."

"Thank you." Atreus sobbed. Then Ross pushed him away from him and, kneeling down beside him, pressed a cup of tea into his hands.

"You're dehydrated," he stated, placing a palm to his forehead, "you've been plagued by other people's memories again, am I right?" Finch didn't even have to answer, "Drink that. You're staying with me tonight. I'll help you forget."

"How? Why are you doing this?" Finch didn't understand.

"We're dating, aren't we?" Ross grinned, "Even the neighbor on fourth thinks so, we're still banging on her ceiling in the middle of the night. It'd be stupid to leave you alone like that."

"So how's that? You and me. The deal?" Atreus needed to be reassured.

"The deal is off, it's just us now."

River Ross had a good idea of how complicated, yet simple, their relationship really was. The deal had never stopped their affections from developing. He could feel them in himself, even if he couldn't name them or express them, and he could feel them in Atreus with every quiet moment and tender touch. He also knew that where he could, he added mint leaves. Both at home and at work. The Hunter wouldn't admit it, but he never stopped thinking about his cold, average accomplice with dark corridors for eyes.

"River," Atreus spoke up after a long moment, "you already know this, but... it's gotten worse again."

"I'll find you a good heart soon enough. What you're consuming is all garbage."

"Thank you. But..."

"You don't eat children. I know. You don't have to believe me, but there are still adult-aged good people out there."

15. Another world

Finch, already out of the ice shower, stood puzzled. When Ross had told him he'd help him forget, he hadn't really expected anything like guided imagery and meditation while listening to the drums. He had no trouble imagining himself in the middle of the woods or remaining motionless in his seat. He was exhausted. What he had more trouble with was relaxing and listening to Ross's voice. It was slowly guiding him like a hypnotist. It was his way of banishing the intrusive thoughts that were wrestling with both of them like a tug-of-war.

When Ross prompted him to imagine rain, a hot, thick, red downpour appeared before Finch's eyes. He had to be specific to describe it as weak. Cold. Falling lightly on the leaves of the trees. Finch should have been walking along the forest path, but first he was knee-deep in mud, practically standing still. He should have imagined the smell. First the stench and smell of decomposing bodies hit his nose, then Ross told him it was supposed to be the fresh, earthy scent of breeze and pine trees. All the while, River and Atreus sat across from each other, holding hands.

"You're on a road in the middle of a summer rain, surrounded by spruce trees. In the distance you hear drums. Their sound surrounds you and accompanies you on your journey. You are in no hurry. You walk slowly and calmly, enjoying a moment of peace, taking in the beauty of the forest. Is it night or day?"

"Night," Atreus said, keeping his eyes closed.

"How is the way lighted?"

"Only the moon shines. It is full moon."

"Can you see the sky? Is it cloudy?"

"I see the moon shining from behind the clouds."

"You're continuing on your journey when suddenly an animal crosses your path. Describe it to me."

Finch suddenly clenched his palms and wrinkles formed on his face. His pulse quickened. Held his breath.

"It's not an animal. It looks like a man on all fours... Its body is contorted like a dog's, but its skin... it's limbs are like a human, I see strong arms and hands, a short tail... standing there looking at me..."

"Go on," Ross commanded, squeezing his palms as well, "Tell me more, you don't need to worry. What kind of head does it have? Expresion? Eyes?"

"It's a man's head. No hair. It's expressionless, and its eyes are black as darkness," his pulse quickened, and the drums seemed to grow wilder, the rain heavier. The sounds of the forest suddenly hid a thousand voices and whispers that made him more and more uneasy by the second, fell upon him like a chorus and an orchestra of the Last Judgment. Louder, angrier, more accusing voices that pushed him to his knees.

The monster with a human face suddenly bared its fangs at him and blood foamed from its muzzle. Finch froze and wanted to open his eyes, but couldn't. "River, are you there?" He choked out as a windstorm started around him. He stiffened all his muscles with terror and stupefaction, trying not to let himself be pushed into the mud turning into quicksand. The animal began to bark furiously in a human voice. He couldn't hear his own words. He couldn't run away. "River!"

"I'm here, don't worry," came a strained voice, "Imagine a river!"

"What do I need a river for!" Finch exclaimed desperately, gripping Ross's hands so tightly he went to break his fingers. He was also not indifferent.

"Imagine it! At sunrise, red as blood, in the middle of a dry prairie."

The mud beneath Finch's feet turned to a thick red liquid. It instantly pulled him down with the current, and though he drowned and gasped for breath for a moment, he managed to swim to the surface and reach the shore. It was dry there. Warm. He was blinded by the golden glow and the strong wind of the dusty prairie. Low hills in the distance, lonely trees here and there, and everywhere green-yellow grass yearning for moisture. Black four-eyed rabbits hopped in it and red-orange snakes slithered. Eight-eyed vultures circled above. Last thing he noticed was a tiny, reddish-brown finch on the bank beside him. She looked fragile. She must have been injured.

"Wake up."

Atreus finally opened his eyes. He saw Ross looking at him calmly. He was as relieved as he had ever been. Atreus threw his arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug, how much he needed to make sure he was real and safe. "What was that supposed to be? It was horrible!" His voice broke. He'd never experienced such terror in his life. Not in his memories, not even on drugs. Ross, considering his answer, turned off the drum recording and returned the embrace.

"I've wanted to try it for a long time," River admitted.

"What?"

"It was your journey into unconsciousness. I wanted to help you create a place of peace in the spirit world where you could sort through and silence the memories that don't belong to you. I had no idea we would run into your curse. Especially so soon. Forgive me."

"What are you talking about?" Finch pulled away.

"I'm saying your curse is manipulating your memories. Did you really think it was just about hearts and life force? That's not how it works. It's about the quality of life, not how much you consume and when. I told you. Your diet is trash."