New Man - John Abruzzi x OC

Chapter 3

Sarah came out of the office when Abruzzi stumbled out and slammed the door behind him.

"That went well." She said, raising her eyebrows.

Alice didn't say anything, but cast a glance at her.

"You did get used to them, didn't you, Sarah?"

"I suppose I did. You just have to put on that voice you put on when you talk to them. You let it slip when you talk to him, though. Do you know him?"

Alice hesitated before speaking.

"Very little. But enough. I mean, it was such a long time ago. It was dark... He has no reason to recognise me. Oh, don't look at me like that. We both know I'm not that kind of woman."

"No, you're not." Sarah smiled. "And I'm not, either. What happened?"

"Let's just say..." Alice put Abruzzi's file into the cabinet. "He saved my life, once."

Sarah hesitated, mulling it over. After a few patients came in and out, she spoke.

"He's a murderer, Alice."

Alice bowed her head, but kept herself busy with the paperwork.

"But if you can make a difference, somehow..." She continued. "And I believe that we can... Then by all means go for it. Just be careful. Some men- they cannot change."

"I can't believe he's here, though. I never would have taken up this job if I knew." She added in a whisper, unsure if that was true. After all, she was used to this kind of environment, even if she promised herself that she would never go back to it. Even if her father had tried to keep her sheltered all her life. Until now.

*

"Kudos, Fish. You got spine."

The Freshie didn't move, just continued with painting the wall. He was starting to make John's fingers itch more and more each time he saw him. He grasped at his clipboard and left him, leaning against the wall with Fiorello, who also wasn't too fond of the kid.

"Why'd you hire him?" He asked, after a few moments.

"Keep your friends close..."

He surveyed him, expressionless.

"...and your enemies closer."

Most men want to get into PI because they're bored out of their skulls. John didn't blame them; he also couldn't care less. He was in charge of PI, and unlike anybody else in this hole, he was the one who dealt the cards.

Or at least he thought he was.

They were back in the cells, the cons were milling around. John stood leaning against the wall, watching them aimlessly. His thoughts were preoccupied with the same matter since that telephone call revived murderous intent and restlessness. If Maggio knew about Fibonacci, then it was only a matter of time until Philly found out. And then, oh, man. Things were going down. It was only a matter of time, and a matter of how good a mood Philly was in. John didn't like to hear it or think it, but he knew that he was slowly losing his grip on the reins, ever since he entered this place.

"What's this, Boss?"

John shot an agitated look over his shoulder. Gus was holding up the envelope from Little Miss Soft.

"Medical details." He muttered, dismissively.

"Quite thick for medical details, unless you suddenly developed stage five cancer."

"About time." He said dryly and turned back to surveying his kingdom.

But he took the envelope after a while, curious, then climbed up into his bunk, throwing himself onto his back with a grunt. He slowly tore the paper open, then examined the contents.