Focus

4. Focus on the guilt

⚠️This is a dark fic that tackles a lot of issues that may be triggering to some. It is very likely that I might overlook some triggers so please be very careful with how you proceed. Prioritize your mental by being selective with the media you consume. If you've read the chapter and notice some themes that may be triggering please feel free to comment them in the quote (which will always be the first line of the chapters). I'd be very grateful if the community looks out for each other with this one. That said this chapter mentions food and eating habits that may be triggering.⚠️

_______________________________

"It feels good to fix something. Especially when everything else feels so unfixable."
—Joe Goldberg, YOU.

                                           •••

Three days later Conan sat in a large, spacious room at MRPD, surrounded by comfortable chairs and a long conference table. He was attending a meeting organized by Soze, along with various department heads who formed the Unified Police Department to discuss the latest developments in their part of the collaboration.

As the department heads spoke, the bored Game Warden, who had been listening for over an hour, found himself staring at the walls adorned with pictures behind them. The smell of coffee mixed with the scent of markers from the whiteboards provided a welcome respite from the stench of Tinker's cologne. Conan hated meetings like this, and he couldn't help but compare the restrictive modern room to his office in Vinewood Hills. Despite the location, the Beaver Bush Park Ranger Station wasn't as uptight or stuffy as MRPD. There, the Game Warden was surrounded by trees and the sounds of nature and cleaner air. Here, he was stuck with Pred, who was obnoxiously loud and Baas, who almost always smelled of stale cigarettes and greasy Burgershot meals.

The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the soft sound of the air conditioning gave him something to focus on as he ignored Pred's voice. The proud man was regaling the tales of how angry El-Rahman was during his interrogation and how he tried to attack Wrangler while he was cuffed.

Instead of staring at the loud officer, Clarkson stared at the walls behind him. If anyone would question him he would deny it, but his brown eyes were focused on the picture of the sleeping redhead. Even in the picture the woman looked distressed and unwell. Just from the white gown and the yellow bedding he could tell the picture was taken by one of the guards while she was sleeping in the hospital. Conan wondered if they were on a similar scale of creepy for taking pictures of a woman who was just terrorized by a stalker.

The man could hear the sounds of paper shuffling, tapping pens, and occasional murmurs from others in the room. He knew he should have been taking notes, but he couldn't bring himself to pretend. Regret colored his face as he stared at the box in front of him. He hated collaborations.

Tessa had warned him about their involvement, but there was nothing they could do, not when Soze was involved. Conan was the head of his department but the only other person he reported to was Soze. He was his boss.

As the commissioner walked up to the podium, Conan couldn't help but watch as the man in his late forties navigated past some people, trying not to hit anyone with his muscular arms. Clarkson would have believed the steroid rumors if it wasn't for the occasional gym sessions he had with Hunter. According to AJ, their entire department was on a strict fitness regimen, which explained why most of the officers were so bulky.

Soze's speech was short. He simply gave orders to everyone and informed them of their next steps and complimented Kyle for keeping the Cg members in police custody for longer. The gang members didn't say anything worthwhile but it granted them enough time to set up for their plan.