The Shadow Prospect {ONC}

10

"Congratulations, we've got a confession."

Cato looked up in time to see Methias enter the room, hands shoved comfortably in his pockets, an easy expression set on his face coming to the very uncomfortable chair Cato'd been sitting in for what felt like hours now-

"He did it?" Lennie got to her feet beside him.

His throat felt dry as he looked up and he swallowed, throat bobbing.

The detective nodded to the girl's question, "Told the whole story without a hitch. Turns out it was Goodman who attacked first with the knife, Clemens got cornered and managed to grab the weapon before he was hurt, then turned around and killed him in self-defense." He turned to Cato, meeting his eyes, "He panicked when you came in, convinced the only way to keep what'd happened under wraps was to kill you too and make it look like you were the one to do it."

"Damn," Lennie breathed, crossing thin arms over her chest, "that's rough."

"But what about the USB?" Cato questioned, "He said he was waiting for me to show up when he caught me. How do those two go together?"

Methias was shaking his head to the second part, hands now on his hips, "He was getting a drink, yes, but running into you was an added plus. He was actually back to look for the flash drive after he realized it was missing."

"And what about the drugs?"

Methias gave a hefty sigh at that, "The backdoor business is going to be hard to beat, but Clemens gave us some names that are involved with it, including Recardo Domiñez-"

He knew it.

"-other than that, it's pretty safe to say this case is done."

He nodded at the information, the pieces of this insane puzzle finally snapping wholly into place.

It was all over. They'd done it.

They'd finally fucking done it- "Thanks, guys."

"No problem, but you know you didn't have to come for this so soon, right? Clemens isn't going anywhere anytime soon; we could've held back another week. Give you more time to recover," Methias voiced.

Cato couldn't help the small smile at the question, "What? I need every chance I can get to exercise, right?" He joked, moving his leg. It'd been a few weeks since the operation and was still sore as hell, but despite the fact he had to hobble around with a cane for another month, he-

He got his leg back.

It was a heavenly feeling to have after all of the shit he'd been put through to get to this point.

After waking up in the hospital again and getting used to the constant beeping of medical equipment droning in his ears again, one of the doctors told him a certain detective had come in and paid for a pricy operation to fix his knee, explaining why his leg was wrapped like some freak marshmallow at that point.

Flash-forward a few more weeks and he was able to get out, still healing from the stab wound to his chest and able to hobble around on his still-recovering knee.

His first stop had been the police station.

Through exchanging texts with Lennie during his hospital stay, the chief had agreed to hold Clemens's interrogation until after Cato recovered enough to be there for it-

Which was why he was here now.

Why he was alive-

And why they were done-

The detective shook his head at Cato's answer, lips still upturning the slightest, "You better not go hurting yourself again, that was a risky move to make without the certainty we'd back you up."

"But it was worth it," Lennie added, looking over the man's shoulder with a wink, "We caught the guy thanks to you."

"Just happy to help," he smirked, looking to the floor, feeling the weight pressed on his chest since this whole thing started finally start to lift from his bones.

"And thanks- Methias- for paying for that operation. You- you didn't have to do that."

For likely the first time since he'd met him, Methias gave a small smile, meeting his eyes, "I did actually. Consider it an apology for the way I treated you through all of this, I see now I probably shouldn't have been so harsh."

"Harsh?" Lennie questioned with a smirk, elbowing the man in the shoulder, "You were a freaking beast, I don't think mercy is even in your vocabulary anymore."

"Yeah, well, forget that, because I'm apologizing now. Happy?"

"Nope."

Cato laughed at the exchange, threading his fingers together as he sat back in his seat, the two of them continuing to bicker, voices flowing into a pleasant background of noise echoing in his head until they faded completely, lost to his own thoughts.

Thinking on it, it was likely he'd never regain the full picture of what happened that night, just bits and pieces continuously floating around in his head, popping and reforming like bubbles.

But it was no longer a burden to try and remember what had happened, they knew enough of the truth now to move forward, and Cato could feel that gaping hole in his memory fade ever so slightly at the realization of what he'd learned about himself.

His memory was spotty, yes.

He would get used to it, just like every other change in his life.

But for right now two things remained true:

He was alive.

And he was whole.