Though I Walk Through the Valley (33/38)
Though I Walk through the Valley
Title:Though I Walk through the Valley (33/38)Series: Still Waters (Run Deep) (Part II of IV)
Author: melody_in_time
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through S1 only
Disclaimer: I wish, I wish upon a star... but until that works, not mine and sadly no money made.
Author's Notes: The resolution of the not very mysterious cliffhanger. We're almost at the end, and I'm going to have to serious work to get the next one in any kind of shape to begin positing... I'm a long way off!
Warnings:
If you've wondered here by mistake, you may wish to start at Part I of the series, Rarest of the Rare: Chapter 1.
Prologue - Chapter 10 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 30 - Chapter 31 - Chapter 32 - Chapter 33 - Chapter 34 - Chapter 35 - Chapter 36 - Chapter 37 - Chapter 38
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Greg pulled the squad car to a smooth stop in front of Sally’s place and sounded the horn. When she failed to appear, he honked again twice in quick succession, only laying off when she struggled through the door, halfway into her trench coat, toast in her mouth. She was barely in the car before Greg pulled out, GPS calling directions.
“’it uv a ‘urry, ‘ir?” Sally managed around the toast.
“Because you don’t want the answer too.” Greg drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel waiting for the lights to change.
“Not as wound up as you though.” She unabashedly slurped her morning coffee out of its travel mug.
Greg didn’t have it in him to feel jealous, not that morning.
“Do you think this is the best way to go about this, Sir?” Sally asked, holding the cup steady as Greg took the speed bump a fraction fast.
“No,” he admitted, “so I got a warrant first thing, just in case.”
“A warrant?” Sally twisted to look at the folders sprawled across the backseat behind the security barricade. “When did you get that typed up?”
“Last night.” Greg was forced to brake for the lights.
“Last night after we agreed to go home?” Sally raised an eyebrow. It didn’t go anywhere near as forcibly high as Mycroft’s, but the effect was the same.
He didn’t answer and she let it drop, turning on Radio 4 instead.
“Thank you.” She said in the break between programs. “For staying last night. You didn’t have to.”
“Just returning the favour.”
The GPS told him to go left in 300 metres.
The Carsons did not, surprise, surprise, live in a particularly well off area. Thomas Carson might have won the genetic lottery as far as being an Alpha, but his older brother Michael had certainly got the rest of the luck and talent. Thomas must have been good looking once upon a time, before the beer belly and the perpetual stubble, but he hadn’t struck Greg last time they spoke as possessing any great store of intelligence or even his brother’s snake-oil smarts.
Sharon Carson had made even less of an impression. The overall word Greg would use to describe Sharon was tired: tired of her situation, tired of her partner, utterly tired of her life. It was written in the wrinkles around her mouth and forehead, the lack of laughter lines around her eyes, and the worn disdain with which she treated everyone and everything she was forced to interact with.
Neither of them particularly wanted to let Greg through the door, but they caved eventually.
“Whatta you want?” Thomas sneered. “Haven’t you done enough to tear this family apart?”
“If you’re referring to the fact I’ve arrested your brother for murder and the attempted murder of Peter, Mr Carson-”
“Jumped up little slut.” Thomas mooched lower in his armchair allowing his ample behind to spread and cushion his way. “Told Mike he was giving that kid airs and graces, now look what ‘es gonna done.”
“Quite.” Greg replied coolly. “It might interest you to know Mr Carson that Michael Carson is also under arrest for indecent conduct with a minor and if I thought at any point you’d given enough of a damn about Peter to notice you’d be being charged as an accomplice.”
That seemed to penetrate Thomas Carson’s bluster and he paled under the brown fuzz covering his heavy jowls.
“’ow see here,” he protested, “that little slut was asking for it.”
“Oh, so you did know.” Greg gave him a crocodile’s smile, full of teeth.
“I-”
“Shut up, Thomas.” Sharon slammed the tea pot unceremoniously on the coffee table. “We don’t have to answer to you,” she sniffed in Greg’s direction, “’ot unless you arrest us and I’ll have a lawyer, if you please.”
“We’ll see how we go.” Greg stared back until she was forced to look away. “I’m actually here about something else.”
“Like what?” Thomas sprayed half-chewed biscuit crumbs as he spoke.
“A bit of background.” Greg continued with forced pleasantness. “Who was Peter’s Bearer?”
“Dunno.” Thomas growled. “I ‘as drunk.”
“For nine months?” Sally didn’t sound all that sceptical. Thomas did give off the impression he could manage that.
“’asn’t exactly around for the pregnancy, ‘as I?” Thomas glowered from his chair. “Bitch showed up, ‘hoved the whelp into my hands and left again.”
“Is that so?” Greg cocked his head to one side and kept his gaze trained on the disgruntled couple fidgeting before him.
“I don’t care for what you’re in-sin-uating, Detective Inspector.” Sharon unsurprisingly was the one to speak out.
“Only that I’ve heard another version of this story.” Greg pulled a photocopy of the missing person’s report out of his folder. “One where three year old Jeremy Smith, who has the same birthmark on his wrist as Peter Carson, goes missing from his backyard in Oxford while his Bearer’s fetching the new baby from upstairs.”
“I-I-” There was sweat beading along Thomas’s busy hairline.
“I have a warrant for your DNA,” Greg laid it down on top of the report, “and I really don’t think it will match Peter’s. So the only question now is did you take Jeremy or was that Michael too?”
There was silence. The metaphorical pin could have fallen onto the floor and rung out in pure reverberating tones.
Thomas Carson chose to run.
Eyes darting wildly, trying to find a means of egress while Sharon wailed and threw the sofa cushions after him, ranting about his bloody brother and how she wished she had never taken his collar, he sprinted as fast as he could to the door.
He didn’t get far. He made it through the kitchen door and out the side gate, but he had been living a sedentary beer filled life while Greg had been running most mornings and chasing criminals, and Sherlock Holmes, for years. The way Thomas’s breath came in fits and gasps as Greg tackled him down to the ground forced Greg to roll him over to check his suspect wasn’t having a heart attack as soon as the cuffs were on his wrists.
He wasn’t, so Greg hauled him roughly to his feet and marched him back to the patrol car where Sally was already aiding a weeping Mrs Carson into the back.
“Thomas Carson, you are under arrest for aiding and abetting the kidnapping of Jeremy Smith, and facilitating the sexual abuse of a minor. You don’t have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used in court and it may seriously …”
Slamming the door after Thomas Carson was one of the most satisfying things Greg had been able to do all month.
~*~
Almost five weeks of prison had done a lot to wipe the gloss off Michael Carson’s exterior, but he still had his greasy nature and supercilious smile.
“Detective Inspector, we meet again.” There was a danger in his voice, the gleam of a caged animal in his eye. If he had been a snake, Greg could easily have seen him raised on his coils, fangs extended, ready to strike.
It wasn’t just for Peter’s sake it was best Michael Carson was found guilty and never saw the light of day.
“I don’t believe I’ve met your associate.” Michael Carson continued smoothly.
“DCI Mulgrave.” The Dom flashed his ID and settled next to Greg. “I understand you have declined to have your legal counsel present for this discussion.”
Greg had been surprised when Mulgrave had insisted on accompanying him to visit Carson, leaving Sally to finish processing the couple at the station. The tight look around the Beta’s eyes suggested that this latest development had made this case a priority, possibly because it was a potential PR nightmare if handled incorrectly, possibly because not every Beta was as twisted as Michael Carson and like all the other officers who knew anything about the case, Mulgrave wanted to see Michael Carson answer for as much as possible and had the power to ensure he could witness it so personally.
If public executions were still legal, Greg would have expected a crowd.
“Indeed.” Michael acknowledged with an oily smile. “Your good DI already has a taped confession so apparently I can hardly hurt my defence more.”
The look sent in Greg’s direction had a distinct underlay of anger. Greg declined to feel the slightest bit guilty and struggled to keep the satisfaction off his face.
“You do understand this may all be used in court?” He asked blandly, folding his hands on the table.
“Yes.” Carson replied shortly, mimicking Greg’s posture irreverently.
Greg ignored him, well aware Carson was trying to rile him up, irritate his Dominant side until Greg lashed out. Unfortunately for him, Greg didn’t have a Dominant side to rile, though the Alpha didn’t appreciate the disrespect, so Carson wouldn’t get what he wanted.
“Jeremy Smith.” Greg enunciated slowly and clearly.
Carson stiffened involuntarily, colour draining out of his cheeks. “W-who?”
“Jeremy Smith.” Greg repeated, enjoying the way Carson’s eyes darted to the door and back. “Or as you’ve been calling him, Peter Carson.”
“I don’t k-”
“Oh come on Carson.” Greg broke over the top. “We’ve found the missing persons report, we’re comparing the DNA, and your brother and his Bound Sub have already given you up. This is more of a courtesy call, give you a chance to say something before court.”
In his peripheral vision Greg could see the smirk hovering at the edges of Mulgrave’s mouth, held at bay by the tight chains of professionalism.
“I would like to see my attorney now.” Michael Carson forced out between clenched teeth.
His lips were pressed tightly together, skin bleached white around the edges, eyes hard with furrows edged in his forehead.
“As you wish, Mr Carson.” Mulgrave let the smirk spread. “Do give him a ring.”
~*~
“Hospital?” Sally greeted Greg as he walked in Thursday morning, sulking about the fact there had still been no email from Mycroft.
“Yep, just a sec.”
The only conversation on the way to the hospital was a single question - “What are you going to say to him?” - to which Greg only shrugged in response. The rest of the ride was spent shut up inside their own respective heads worrying about their own respective problems. Neither had the inclination for chitchat.
There was a different nurse on duty at the nurse’s station, but once their IDs were studied and approved they were waved through with the information that Peter had just finished physio and was in his room.
Not needing to make any Alpha point this time, Greg knocked lightly and waited in the doorway for Peter to acknowledge them. The Omega was dressed casually for PT in track pants and an oversized t-shirt, sweat patches darkening the material at his arm pits.
“Detective Inspector Lestrade,” Peter looked surprised to see them. “And DS…”
“Donovan.” Sally supplied when it was clear Peter was struggling to remember.
“Donovan.” He repeated.
Taking a deep breath he waved them in before retreating to the bed, knees pulled up in what was an unconscious defensive pose, though his face and body language was otherwise open enough.
“Is Daniel here?” Sally asked, standing next to the chair Greg appropriated as ranking officer.
“He’s at LSE. He does actually have classes. Not that he’s been going.” From the irritated look on his face, it was an argument they’d had several times before Daniel had consented to go.
Peter sighed and looked back at Greg. “Did you have more questions?”
“New developments, as a matter of fact, but first,” Greg held out Peter’s phone, “forensics was done with this so I thought you might like it back.”
“Thanks.” Peter took the device and stared at it as if not quite able to believe it.
“Sorry,” he started again after a second, “it’s just so strange. It’s so…”
“Normal?” Greg gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know the feeling.”
Was in fact very familiar with the deep bewilderment when confronted with the evidence of such normality after a murder, a kidnapping, something that should have changed the world… and hadn’t.
Peter nodded, turning the phone over in his hands. It was switched off, but he brushed a finger over the face as if to unlock it nonetheless.
“Sorry,” he repeated, putting the phone on the cabinet table next to him with a determined thump. “You were saying? Developments? Do I need to testify after all?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Greg paused. “Would you prefer to have Daniel here? We can wait while he comes.”
“He’s in class.” Peter replied frostily.
“Fair enough. Just thought I’d offer.” It was NSY policy to provide the option actually, but still. “Peter, yesterday Thomas and Sharon Carson were arrested and taken into custody. They’ll face a bail hearing this afternoon.”
“Mum and Da?” Peter looked bewildered. “Why?”
“They’re being charged as accessories to Michael Carson’s abuse as well as with kidnapping.” Greg took a deep breath in.
“Kidnapping?” Peter repeated, shying away from the word abuse and grasping the deceptively safer looking rope.
Wordlessly Greg held out the copy of the missing person’s report for Jeremy Smith.
“We’re still waiting for official DNA results,” Greg said quietly as Peter accepted the paper with trembling hands, “but they’ve both confessed and Michael Carson is exercising his right to silence at his attorney’s recommendation. It appears he took you from your home while your Bearer was inside, presumably on the hopeful assumption you’d be an Omega when you grew up. That’s what Thomas and Sharon are claiming.”
“No.” Peter whispered, eyes wide.
“It also explains why they became so aggressive when you hit puberty.” Greg continued.
“No, no, no, this isn’t, no.” Peter was trembling viciously. “No.”
“I’m-”
“No!” He yelled. “I’m, it’s not, I’m Peter. My name is… they’re my…”
He started hyperventilating, sending Sally running for assistance from the nurse while Greg attempted to make him calm down and breathe before being bodily removed by an orderly at the command of the irate nurse Sally had summoned.
“That didn’t go well.” Sally sighed.
“Nope.” Greg pulled out his phone. “And I’m sure neither will this. Daniel? Yeah, DI Lestrade… Are you able to- on your way? Where abouts - oh, I see you.”
Greg hung up and waved at the figure making its way down the hall. By the time Daniel was close enough to make out the confusion on his face, he was close enough to read the guilt on Greg’s and see the frantic shuffle inside the room as the nurses attempted to stabilise Peter before he went into Subdrop. With a piercing glare he breezed past them to get to his Sub.
Not five minutes later the same orderly deposited Daniel firmly outside and shut the door in his face.
“What did you ask him?” Daniel yelled furiously. The tension in his muscles was palpable. “How dare you while I’m not here!”
“We didn’t ask him anything.”
Greg didn’t bother pointing out that Daniel had no right even as Peter’s Dom to insist on being present. The Sub liberation reforms of the 60’s had abolished the requirement for a Dominant guardian during all interviews with a Dominant officer, despite the claims at the time the guardian was necessary to stop the official abusing their position. The push for true equality had won out, so Alpha protectiveness or not, as a legal adult Peter could entertain Greg and Greg could question him without Daniel.
Besides, as far as Greg knew, despite how they were acting, Peter and Daniel weren’t in an official relationship of any kind and so boyfriend or no, Daniel was not Peter’s legal Dom.
Saying that to an Alpha reacting to his Sub’s very real distress would just start a brawl, so instead Greg handed over the report again.
Daniel snatched it with a growl, furiously flicking pages to find what in the stack of papers had upset his Sub. The page flicking stopped abruptly as the arrest report penetrated his haze and slowly resumed as he actually read the words in their cruelly innocent default typeface.
“Does this make it better or worse?” He asked in a subdued voice.
“Worse, I think, at least for now.” Greg took the file back from Daniel’s lax grip, handing it to Sally for the mean time. “It doesn’t change what happened, but now he probably feels he doesn’t know what’s going on either. It’s pulled the rug out from underneath him and he’s probably feeling a little lost right now.”
“So his name’s really Jeremy?” Daniel asked hesitantly.
His eyes were blown wide and pleading. Greg wanted to make it better for him, Alpha paternal instincts, but it wasn’t going to be that easy.
“It appears so.” He said cautiously. “At least on his real birth certificate. We’re still waiting on DNA, but the Carsons have confessed he’s not actually their kid. Once we talk to the Smiths we’ll have to confirm that relationship with a DNA check too, but it appears so.”
“What do I do?” Daniel asked. His eyes followed Greg’s uncertain gaze to Sally and he silently begged for answers. “He didn’t want me in there. I made it worse. How do I help, with, with this?”
Sally sighed and ran her hand through her hair.
“You wait.” She said warningly. “You let him deal how he needs to to start with, and you give him space. It’s his life that’s been faked and your instincts will just make it worse for both of you. You can’t protect him from this and it’ll drive you both nuts if you try.
“You can’t coddle him. He’s an adult who’s been kept under a Dom’s thumb for years. Let him come to you when he’s ready. Treat him like a kid, you’ll suffocate him without realising it and damage things between you permanently.”
“He’s not a-” Daniel protested.
“But he’s a Sub and an Omega and you want to protect him.” Sally met Daniel’s gaze to reinforce her point. “And you’ll end up treating him that way trying to look after him.”
Daniel’s mouth twisted in defiance before he nodded and concede the point.
“Be there, but don’t hover. And get a counsellor, for you not him. They can help you deal and guide you through helping him.” Sally finished.
Again Daniel’s jaw worked, glancing at Greg for support from an older and more experienced Alpha, but not getting it he folded.
“Fine.” It was grudging, but there.”
Another ten minutes passed before the no longer kindly nurse stomped back out of her patient’s room - ten minutes of awkward absolute silence. When the nurse Greg still hadn’t got a name for started yelling at all three of them for upsetting her patient - Greg would have traded the next ten minutes for the last without question. Well cowed and apologetic they were finally permitted back inside.
Peter was sitting sideways on his bed, arms resting on his legs, head in his hands. He glanced sideways as they walked in, returning his gaze quickly to the floor.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at class.” He accused, voice thick with emotion.
“Class was over.” Daniel replied lamely, taking a hesitant step forward.
“And the essay due Monday?” Peter asked scathingly.
“Ah, well.”
“Get out of here, Daniel.” The tone of voice was resigned, but firm with a touch of anger.
“But-”
“Go!”
“Peter-”
“Shut up!” Peter yelled into the floor. “Just shut up and fuck off and leave me alone.”
He didn’t look up.
“O-kay.” Daniel struggled to keep the hurt off his face. “I’ll come back next week after it’s done, okay?”
Peter didn’t answer and with a last pained look Daniel nodded and left.
Greg waited politely in the doorway.
“Yes?” Peter’s voice was hard, flint and granite and sparks.
“Are you okay?” Greg started with.
A gasping sarcastic laugh burst out of Peter’s lips.
“Okay?” He was rocking side to side, rough fingernails biting into his arms. “I’ve just woken up from a coma and you’ve arrested my whole family, except they’re not my family and I don’t even know my own sodding name.”
“It’s hard, I know.” Greg took a couple of steps into the room, stopping when Peter’s body began to tense almost instantly. “Do you remember anything, anything at all?”
Peter shook his head, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t a shocking response. According to the report he would have been just shy of his third birthday when he was taken.
“We’ll give you some time.” Even though he wasn’t looking, Greg smiled at Peter. “Just let us know if you need anything, ‘kay?”
Peter gave an abrupt, dismissive nod.
Holding back a sigh Greg turned to leave. Sally’s bleak expression reflected his own feelings and they shared a lip twitch and shoulder shrug. Unless Peter was willing to open up, there was nothing anyone could do for him without driving him further into his own head.
“Peter,” Greg did stop and turn at the door, not missing the way the kid flinched at the moniker, “don’t be too hard on Daniel. He really does just want to be there for you.”
“I just need some time alone, is that too much to ask for? Some space?” Peter growled back.
“Not at all.” With a flap of his hand Greg waved Sally out and they left.
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Previous - Next
Title:Though I Walk through the Valley (33/38)Series: Still Waters (Run Deep) (Part II of IV)
Author: melody_in_time
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through S1 only
Disclaimer: I wish, I wish upon a star... but until that works, not mine and sadly no money made.
Author's Notes: The resolution of the not very mysterious cliffhanger. We're almost at the end, and I'm going to have to serious work to get the next one in any kind of shape to begin positing... I'm a long way off!
Warnings:
If you've wondered here by mistake, you may wish to start at Part I of the series, Rarest of the Rare: Chapter 1.
Prologue - Chapter 10 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 30 - Chapter 31 - Chapter 32 - Chapter 33 - Chapter 34 - Chapter 35 - Chapter 36 - Chapter 37 - Chapter 38
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Greg pulled the squad car to a smooth stop in front of Sally’s place and sounded the horn. When she failed to appear, he honked again twice in quick succession, only laying off when she struggled through the door, halfway into her trench coat, toast in her mouth. She was barely in the car before Greg pulled out, GPS calling directions.
“’it uv a ‘urry, ‘ir?” Sally managed around the toast.
“Because you don’t want the answer too.” Greg drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel waiting for the lights to change.
“Not as wound up as you though.” She unabashedly slurped her morning coffee out of its travel mug.
Greg didn’t have it in him to feel jealous, not that morning.
“Do you think this is the best way to go about this, Sir?” Sally asked, holding the cup steady as Greg took the speed bump a fraction fast.
“No,” he admitted, “so I got a warrant first thing, just in case.”
“A warrant?” Sally twisted to look at the folders sprawled across the backseat behind the security barricade. “When did you get that typed up?”
“Last night.” Greg was forced to brake for the lights.
“Last night after we agreed to go home?” Sally raised an eyebrow. It didn’t go anywhere near as forcibly high as Mycroft’s, but the effect was the same.
He didn’t answer and she let it drop, turning on Radio 4 instead.
“Thank you.” She said in the break between programs. “For staying last night. You didn’t have to.”
“Just returning the favour.”
The GPS told him to go left in 300 metres.
The Carsons did not, surprise, surprise, live in a particularly well off area. Thomas Carson might have won the genetic lottery as far as being an Alpha, but his older brother Michael had certainly got the rest of the luck and talent. Thomas must have been good looking once upon a time, before the beer belly and the perpetual stubble, but he hadn’t struck Greg last time they spoke as possessing any great store of intelligence or even his brother’s snake-oil smarts.
Sharon Carson had made even less of an impression. The overall word Greg would use to describe Sharon was tired: tired of her situation, tired of her partner, utterly tired of her life. It was written in the wrinkles around her mouth and forehead, the lack of laughter lines around her eyes, and the worn disdain with which she treated everyone and everything she was forced to interact with.
Neither of them particularly wanted to let Greg through the door, but they caved eventually.
“Whatta you want?” Thomas sneered. “Haven’t you done enough to tear this family apart?”
“If you’re referring to the fact I’ve arrested your brother for murder and the attempted murder of Peter, Mr Carson-”
“Jumped up little slut.” Thomas mooched lower in his armchair allowing his ample behind to spread and cushion his way. “Told Mike he was giving that kid airs and graces, now look what ‘es gonna done.”
“Quite.” Greg replied coolly. “It might interest you to know Mr Carson that Michael Carson is also under arrest for indecent conduct with a minor and if I thought at any point you’d given enough of a damn about Peter to notice you’d be being charged as an accomplice.”
That seemed to penetrate Thomas Carson’s bluster and he paled under the brown fuzz covering his heavy jowls.
“’ow see here,” he protested, “that little slut was asking for it.”
“Oh, so you did know.” Greg gave him a crocodile’s smile, full of teeth.
“I-”
“Shut up, Thomas.” Sharon slammed the tea pot unceremoniously on the coffee table. “We don’t have to answer to you,” she sniffed in Greg’s direction, “’ot unless you arrest us and I’ll have a lawyer, if you please.”
“We’ll see how we go.” Greg stared back until she was forced to look away. “I’m actually here about something else.”
“Like what?” Thomas sprayed half-chewed biscuit crumbs as he spoke.
“A bit of background.” Greg continued with forced pleasantness. “Who was Peter’s Bearer?”
“Dunno.” Thomas growled. “I ‘as drunk.”
“For nine months?” Sally didn’t sound all that sceptical. Thomas did give off the impression he could manage that.
“’asn’t exactly around for the pregnancy, ‘as I?” Thomas glowered from his chair. “Bitch showed up, ‘hoved the whelp into my hands and left again.”
“Is that so?” Greg cocked his head to one side and kept his gaze trained on the disgruntled couple fidgeting before him.
“I don’t care for what you’re in-sin-uating, Detective Inspector.” Sharon unsurprisingly was the one to speak out.
“Only that I’ve heard another version of this story.” Greg pulled a photocopy of the missing person’s report out of his folder. “One where three year old Jeremy Smith, who has the same birthmark on his wrist as Peter Carson, goes missing from his backyard in Oxford while his Bearer’s fetching the new baby from upstairs.”
“I-I-” There was sweat beading along Thomas’s busy hairline.
“I have a warrant for your DNA,” Greg laid it down on top of the report, “and I really don’t think it will match Peter’s. So the only question now is did you take Jeremy or was that Michael too?”
There was silence. The metaphorical pin could have fallen onto the floor and rung out in pure reverberating tones.
Thomas Carson chose to run.
Eyes darting wildly, trying to find a means of egress while Sharon wailed and threw the sofa cushions after him, ranting about his bloody brother and how she wished she had never taken his collar, he sprinted as fast as he could to the door.
He didn’t get far. He made it through the kitchen door and out the side gate, but he had been living a sedentary beer filled life while Greg had been running most mornings and chasing criminals, and Sherlock Holmes, for years. The way Thomas’s breath came in fits and gasps as Greg tackled him down to the ground forced Greg to roll him over to check his suspect wasn’t having a heart attack as soon as the cuffs were on his wrists.
He wasn’t, so Greg hauled him roughly to his feet and marched him back to the patrol car where Sally was already aiding a weeping Mrs Carson into the back.
“Thomas Carson, you are under arrest for aiding and abetting the kidnapping of Jeremy Smith, and facilitating the sexual abuse of a minor. You don’t have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used in court and it may seriously …”
Slamming the door after Thomas Carson was one of the most satisfying things Greg had been able to do all month.
~*~
Almost five weeks of prison had done a lot to wipe the gloss off Michael Carson’s exterior, but he still had his greasy nature and supercilious smile.
“Detective Inspector, we meet again.” There was a danger in his voice, the gleam of a caged animal in his eye. If he had been a snake, Greg could easily have seen him raised on his coils, fangs extended, ready to strike.
It wasn’t just for Peter’s sake it was best Michael Carson was found guilty and never saw the light of day.
“I don’t believe I’ve met your associate.” Michael Carson continued smoothly.
“DCI Mulgrave.” The Dom flashed his ID and settled next to Greg. “I understand you have declined to have your legal counsel present for this discussion.”
Greg had been surprised when Mulgrave had insisted on accompanying him to visit Carson, leaving Sally to finish processing the couple at the station. The tight look around the Beta’s eyes suggested that this latest development had made this case a priority, possibly because it was a potential PR nightmare if handled incorrectly, possibly because not every Beta was as twisted as Michael Carson and like all the other officers who knew anything about the case, Mulgrave wanted to see Michael Carson answer for as much as possible and had the power to ensure he could witness it so personally.
If public executions were still legal, Greg would have expected a crowd.
“Indeed.” Michael acknowledged with an oily smile. “Your good DI already has a taped confession so apparently I can hardly hurt my defence more.”
The look sent in Greg’s direction had a distinct underlay of anger. Greg declined to feel the slightest bit guilty and struggled to keep the satisfaction off his face.
“You do understand this may all be used in court?” He asked blandly, folding his hands on the table.
“Yes.” Carson replied shortly, mimicking Greg’s posture irreverently.
Greg ignored him, well aware Carson was trying to rile him up, irritate his Dominant side until Greg lashed out. Unfortunately for him, Greg didn’t have a Dominant side to rile, though the Alpha didn’t appreciate the disrespect, so Carson wouldn’t get what he wanted.
“Jeremy Smith.” Greg enunciated slowly and clearly.
Carson stiffened involuntarily, colour draining out of his cheeks. “W-who?”
“Jeremy Smith.” Greg repeated, enjoying the way Carson’s eyes darted to the door and back. “Or as you’ve been calling him, Peter Carson.”
“I don’t k-”
“Oh come on Carson.” Greg broke over the top. “We’ve found the missing persons report, we’re comparing the DNA, and your brother and his Bound Sub have already given you up. This is more of a courtesy call, give you a chance to say something before court.”
In his peripheral vision Greg could see the smirk hovering at the edges of Mulgrave’s mouth, held at bay by the tight chains of professionalism.
“I would like to see my attorney now.” Michael Carson forced out between clenched teeth.
His lips were pressed tightly together, skin bleached white around the edges, eyes hard with furrows edged in his forehead.
“As you wish, Mr Carson.” Mulgrave let the smirk spread. “Do give him a ring.”
~*~
“Hospital?” Sally greeted Greg as he walked in Thursday morning, sulking about the fact there had still been no email from Mycroft.
“Yep, just a sec.”
The only conversation on the way to the hospital was a single question - “What are you going to say to him?” - to which Greg only shrugged in response. The rest of the ride was spent shut up inside their own respective heads worrying about their own respective problems. Neither had the inclination for chitchat.
There was a different nurse on duty at the nurse’s station, but once their IDs were studied and approved they were waved through with the information that Peter had just finished physio and was in his room.
Not needing to make any Alpha point this time, Greg knocked lightly and waited in the doorway for Peter to acknowledge them. The Omega was dressed casually for PT in track pants and an oversized t-shirt, sweat patches darkening the material at his arm pits.
“Detective Inspector Lestrade,” Peter looked surprised to see them. “And DS…”
“Donovan.” Sally supplied when it was clear Peter was struggling to remember.
“Donovan.” He repeated.
Taking a deep breath he waved them in before retreating to the bed, knees pulled up in what was an unconscious defensive pose, though his face and body language was otherwise open enough.
“Is Daniel here?” Sally asked, standing next to the chair Greg appropriated as ranking officer.
“He’s at LSE. He does actually have classes. Not that he’s been going.” From the irritated look on his face, it was an argument they’d had several times before Daniel had consented to go.
Peter sighed and looked back at Greg. “Did you have more questions?”
“New developments, as a matter of fact, but first,” Greg held out Peter’s phone, “forensics was done with this so I thought you might like it back.”
“Thanks.” Peter took the device and stared at it as if not quite able to believe it.
“Sorry,” he started again after a second, “it’s just so strange. It’s so…”
“Normal?” Greg gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know the feeling.”
Was in fact very familiar with the deep bewilderment when confronted with the evidence of such normality after a murder, a kidnapping, something that should have changed the world… and hadn’t.
Peter nodded, turning the phone over in his hands. It was switched off, but he brushed a finger over the face as if to unlock it nonetheless.
“Sorry,” he repeated, putting the phone on the cabinet table next to him with a determined thump. “You were saying? Developments? Do I need to testify after all?”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Greg paused. “Would you prefer to have Daniel here? We can wait while he comes.”
“He’s in class.” Peter replied frostily.
“Fair enough. Just thought I’d offer.” It was NSY policy to provide the option actually, but still. “Peter, yesterday Thomas and Sharon Carson were arrested and taken into custody. They’ll face a bail hearing this afternoon.”
“Mum and Da?” Peter looked bewildered. “Why?”
“They’re being charged as accessories to Michael Carson’s abuse as well as with kidnapping.” Greg took a deep breath in.
“Kidnapping?” Peter repeated, shying away from the word abuse and grasping the deceptively safer looking rope.
Wordlessly Greg held out the copy of the missing person’s report for Jeremy Smith.
“We’re still waiting for official DNA results,” Greg said quietly as Peter accepted the paper with trembling hands, “but they’ve both confessed and Michael Carson is exercising his right to silence at his attorney’s recommendation. It appears he took you from your home while your Bearer was inside, presumably on the hopeful assumption you’d be an Omega when you grew up. That’s what Thomas and Sharon are claiming.”
“No.” Peter whispered, eyes wide.
“It also explains why they became so aggressive when you hit puberty.” Greg continued.
“No, no, no, this isn’t, no.” Peter was trembling viciously. “No.”
“I’m-”
“No!” He yelled. “I’m, it’s not, I’m Peter. My name is… they’re my…”
He started hyperventilating, sending Sally running for assistance from the nurse while Greg attempted to make him calm down and breathe before being bodily removed by an orderly at the command of the irate nurse Sally had summoned.
“That didn’t go well.” Sally sighed.
“Nope.” Greg pulled out his phone. “And I’m sure neither will this. Daniel? Yeah, DI Lestrade… Are you able to- on your way? Where abouts - oh, I see you.”
Greg hung up and waved at the figure making its way down the hall. By the time Daniel was close enough to make out the confusion on his face, he was close enough to read the guilt on Greg’s and see the frantic shuffle inside the room as the nurses attempted to stabilise Peter before he went into Subdrop. With a piercing glare he breezed past them to get to his Sub.
Not five minutes later the same orderly deposited Daniel firmly outside and shut the door in his face.
“What did you ask him?” Daniel yelled furiously. The tension in his muscles was palpable. “How dare you while I’m not here!”
“We didn’t ask him anything.”
Greg didn’t bother pointing out that Daniel had no right even as Peter’s Dom to insist on being present. The Sub liberation reforms of the 60’s had abolished the requirement for a Dominant guardian during all interviews with a Dominant officer, despite the claims at the time the guardian was necessary to stop the official abusing their position. The push for true equality had won out, so Alpha protectiveness or not, as a legal adult Peter could entertain Greg and Greg could question him without Daniel.
Besides, as far as Greg knew, despite how they were acting, Peter and Daniel weren’t in an official relationship of any kind and so boyfriend or no, Daniel was not Peter’s legal Dom.
Saying that to an Alpha reacting to his Sub’s very real distress would just start a brawl, so instead Greg handed over the report again.
Daniel snatched it with a growl, furiously flicking pages to find what in the stack of papers had upset his Sub. The page flicking stopped abruptly as the arrest report penetrated his haze and slowly resumed as he actually read the words in their cruelly innocent default typeface.
“Does this make it better or worse?” He asked in a subdued voice.
“Worse, I think, at least for now.” Greg took the file back from Daniel’s lax grip, handing it to Sally for the mean time. “It doesn’t change what happened, but now he probably feels he doesn’t know what’s going on either. It’s pulled the rug out from underneath him and he’s probably feeling a little lost right now.”
“So his name’s really Jeremy?” Daniel asked hesitantly.
His eyes were blown wide and pleading. Greg wanted to make it better for him, Alpha paternal instincts, but it wasn’t going to be that easy.
“It appears so.” He said cautiously. “At least on his real birth certificate. We’re still waiting on DNA, but the Carsons have confessed he’s not actually their kid. Once we talk to the Smiths we’ll have to confirm that relationship with a DNA check too, but it appears so.”
“What do I do?” Daniel asked. His eyes followed Greg’s uncertain gaze to Sally and he silently begged for answers. “He didn’t want me in there. I made it worse. How do I help, with, with this?”
Sally sighed and ran her hand through her hair.
“You wait.” She said warningly. “You let him deal how he needs to to start with, and you give him space. It’s his life that’s been faked and your instincts will just make it worse for both of you. You can’t protect him from this and it’ll drive you both nuts if you try.
“You can’t coddle him. He’s an adult who’s been kept under a Dom’s thumb for years. Let him come to you when he’s ready. Treat him like a kid, you’ll suffocate him without realising it and damage things between you permanently.”
“He’s not a-” Daniel protested.
“But he’s a Sub and an Omega and you want to protect him.” Sally met Daniel’s gaze to reinforce her point. “And you’ll end up treating him that way trying to look after him.”
Daniel’s mouth twisted in defiance before he nodded and concede the point.
“Be there, but don’t hover. And get a counsellor, for you not him. They can help you deal and guide you through helping him.” Sally finished.
Again Daniel’s jaw worked, glancing at Greg for support from an older and more experienced Alpha, but not getting it he folded.
“Fine.” It was grudging, but there.”
Another ten minutes passed before the no longer kindly nurse stomped back out of her patient’s room - ten minutes of awkward absolute silence. When the nurse Greg still hadn’t got a name for started yelling at all three of them for upsetting her patient - Greg would have traded the next ten minutes for the last without question. Well cowed and apologetic they were finally permitted back inside.
Peter was sitting sideways on his bed, arms resting on his legs, head in his hands. He glanced sideways as they walked in, returning his gaze quickly to the floor.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at class.” He accused, voice thick with emotion.
“Class was over.” Daniel replied lamely, taking a hesitant step forward.
“And the essay due Monday?” Peter asked scathingly.
“Ah, well.”
“Get out of here, Daniel.” The tone of voice was resigned, but firm with a touch of anger.
“But-”
“Go!”
“Peter-”
“Shut up!” Peter yelled into the floor. “Just shut up and fuck off and leave me alone.”
He didn’t look up.
“O-kay.” Daniel struggled to keep the hurt off his face. “I’ll come back next week after it’s done, okay?”
Peter didn’t answer and with a last pained look Daniel nodded and left.
Greg waited politely in the doorway.
“Yes?” Peter’s voice was hard, flint and granite and sparks.
“Are you okay?” Greg started with.
A gasping sarcastic laugh burst out of Peter’s lips.
“Okay?” He was rocking side to side, rough fingernails biting into his arms. “I’ve just woken up from a coma and you’ve arrested my whole family, except they’re not my family and I don’t even know my own sodding name.”
“It’s hard, I know.” Greg took a couple of steps into the room, stopping when Peter’s body began to tense almost instantly. “Do you remember anything, anything at all?”
Peter shook his head, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t a shocking response. According to the report he would have been just shy of his third birthday when he was taken.
“We’ll give you some time.” Even though he wasn’t looking, Greg smiled at Peter. “Just let us know if you need anything, ‘kay?”
Peter gave an abrupt, dismissive nod.
Holding back a sigh Greg turned to leave. Sally’s bleak expression reflected his own feelings and they shared a lip twitch and shoulder shrug. Unless Peter was willing to open up, there was nothing anyone could do for him without driving him further into his own head.
“Peter,” Greg did stop and turn at the door, not missing the way the kid flinched at the moniker, “don’t be too hard on Daniel. He really does just want to be there for you.”
“I just need some time alone, is that too much to ask for? Some space?” Peter growled back.
“Not at all.” With a flap of his hand Greg waved Sally out and they left.
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