8.2
A cursory search of the house yields no sign of Richard - luckily, it’s not very hard to figure out the only other place he could be. Cillian drops Austin off at the hospital twenty minutes later, with instructions to come and debrief at Department headquarters once he’s finished.
The thought of being tied down by red tape every step of the way sets Austin’s teeth on edge. It’s not how he’s used to working, even with Monty. But he agrees, mostly to get Cillian off his back, but also because he needs to be able to work this case. If that means he has to navigate within the boundaries of the DPR’s endless paperwork and bureaucracy, then so be it. Hopefully Cillian won’t deem it necessary to assign him a partner to look after him - or, God forbid, a whole squad.
Har-Megiddo, Havenwood’s hospital, is markedly different from St. Sithney. Its hallways are more colorful, the nurses and secretaries more smiling and talkative, but it still carries the same sterile smell as all hospitals. With a pang of something akin to homesickness, Austin catches himself scanning a group of nurses clad in sea green scrubs, hoping to see Otter among them.
I’ll call him later, Austin promises himself as he boards the elevator. He and Otter didn’t have time for more than a few brief phone conversations, during his trip to Havenwood. Austin punches the button for the fourth floor, and tries to put it out of mind for the time being.
Jacob’s room isn’t hard to find - straight down the hall once the elevator opens onto the fourth floor. August is standing just outside the door, leaning against the wall, and startles as he sees Austin approaching. He stands up a little straighter, unfolding his arms from his chest and blinking hard, as though trying to gauge if he’s hallucinating or not.
“You’re home,” he says.
“For now,” Austin says. He stops just outside the door to Jacob’s room, and raises an eyebrow at August. “Can I go in, or do you have to frisk me first?”
“Does Jacob know you’re coming to visit?” August eyes him carefully.
Austin shrugs. “I guess we’ll find out.”
August makes an affirmative grunting noise, and holds the door open just long enough to grant Austin passage inside.
The hospital room is coldly lit, a trio of chairs with visibly scratchy upholstery shoved into a corner, a large window taking up the far wall. Jacob is awake, though from the disheveled state of his hair, it’s clear that he hasn’t been for long. He’s propped up against his pillows, intently scanning what Austin would guess is today’s newspaper. Richard is hovering above him, nearly horizontal in the air, reading over his shoulder.
“Well-rested is a good look for you,” Austin says. Jacob looks up sharply.
“Austin! You’re…here.”
“Uh huh,” Austin says, walking over to the side of the bed. “Scoot.”
Jacob obligingly moves from the center of the bed to the side closest to the window, creating a space for Austin to climb up and sit. Austin doesn’t bother taking his shoes off before getting onto the bed, stretching his legs out on top of the covers and settling in, trying not to think about how awkward the ensuing conversation is going to be. He already feels nauseous with anxiety after saying a sentence and a half to Jacob.
“Are you staying at the house?” Jacob asks.
“Yeah.” Austin tugs on his shirt. It’s just slightly too short on him, and keeps riding up to show a couple inches of his stomach. “Is that okay?”
“Oh - no, no, it’s fine,” Jacob says hastily. “Of course it’s fine. It’s your house, too.”
Neither of them says anything after that. Jacob flips to a new page in the newspaper, and Austin stares at the wilting flowers in the vase on the windowsill. The sun is beating down on them, trying to illuminate petals that can’t possibly be as vibrant as they were when they were freshly bought.
“Dad’s here,” Austin says, after a few excruciating minutes of silence. He leans his head back onto the pillows and looks up at Richard, who doesn’t seem particularly mad about having his cover blown.
“Dad - you mean…?” Jacob follows Austin’s line of sight, leaving the rest of the question unasked. He can’t see or hear Richard, not like Austin can, but he’s still always been semi-sensitive to ghostly presences in a room. It’s a muted version of mediumship that might not be so useless, if he ever bothered to try and strengthen it.
“Yeah,” Austin says. “I came here because Cillian wanted me to ask him about Abbott.”
“Abbott?” Richard asks, his eyes narrowing suddenly behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Not the subtle reaction Austin had been anticipating. “Abbott Kilgannon? What’s he got to do with this?”
“He stabbed Jacob,” Austin says, and Jacob winces almost imperceptibly.
“That’s impossible,” Richard says. “He may not have a code of ethics to speak of, but I’ve never seen him get violent with anyone, not even when he was being fired. Why did he stab Jacob?”
Austin parrots the question aloud, and Jacob winces again, setting the newspaper down on the nightstand next to the bed.
“I told Abbott that he was overstepping boundaries by having you brought home,” he says quietly. “I said he needed to call off the people he’d hired to escort you, and he - he just pulled a knife on me.” Jacob pauses, running a hand through his hair, eyebrows knitted together in thought. “He was here, to visit me, the day after it happened. He said that I owed him an apology for what happened. He seemed…I don’t know. Scattered.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Abbott I knew,” Richard muses.
“Did you apologize?” Austin asks. He can feel his blood boiling at the mere suggestion that anyone might have the gall to stab Jacob and then demand an apology for it. What a fucker. And he was the one who hired Hall and Oates and Jenny, too? Fucking figures. I guess he thought bringing me home would help him get on Jacob’s good side or whatever. Or make Jacob indebted to him. Gross.
“Of course not,” Jacob says, with a sharp laugh. “I don’t owe him anything.”
“Good,” Austin says.
“Can you ask Rich - can you ask Dad what happened the first time Abbott was at the DPR?” Jacob asks, looking up in Richard’s general direction again. “I need to know why he was fired.”
“He can hear you,” Austin says dryly. “I’m not an English to ghost translator.”
“Don’t talk to your brother like that,” Richard says. Austin rolls his eyes.
“Fine. Richard, why’d you fire Abbott?”
“He was using the underground labs for unethical experimentation.” Richard’s expression is grim, his eyes cast towards the floor, away from Austin and Jacob. “He was getting prepubescent children's’ parents to sign waivers allowing them to be subjects in a study that he thought would unlock an innate potential for supernatural powers in their minds and bodies. The first series of subjects - ten of them - all died. The second series survived, but with massive post-traumatic stress. We wiped their memories and sent them home.”
Austin dictates the answer to Jacob as Richard talks, and only takes the time to process what he’s said once the room falls silent again. Jacob’s face is drained of color. Austin’s nausea is back with a vengeance, his stomach clenching horribly.
“We sealed the underground labs after we fired him,” Richard adds. “But Abbott found his way back there, somehow. I heard he was using them for some kind of drug trial for a bit, before he dropped off the Department’s radar.”
Austin repeats the words numbly to Jacob. Jacob nods in recognition.
“Yeah. The labs are the Underground now - they got turned into kind of a home base for criminals after Abbott cleared out, after that drug trial. Some of the people who used to work for Abbott still live down there.” He pauses, frowning. “The part that I don’t get is why anyone would seal those records.”
“To reduce the fallout, probably,” Richard says. “It’d be a big scandal for the Department if those records got out, and around the time I died, there were a lot of conspiracy theorists trying to get their hands on anything that proved we were real.”
“Why’d you let him get away with it?” Austin asks suddenly, each word burning as he forces it out of his throat. His eyes sting as he glares up at Richard. “Abbott had to have asked for funding, right? He had to have put a proposal together. Why didn’t you stop him until those kids died?”
“He lied to us in his proposal,” Richard says. He looks more sad than sheepish now, his voice much quieter than it was. “He said it was a trial to strengthen the abilities of children who had already proved to be psychic at an early age. I had no idea what he was actually working on until he requested the mind wipes for the surviving subjects.”
“You should have arrested him,” Austin growls.
“You’re right,” Richard says, “I should have. But I was too caught up in raising the two of you, and my investigation into the cult - I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted him gone.”
“I want him gone, too.” Austin feels a pain in his palms and looks down to find his hands curled into fists, nails biting into his skin. “We just have to find him first.”
“Cillian said he might have a lead on that,” Jacob says. “I don’t know if he told you.”
“He’s probably saving it,” Austin says. He rolls to one side, slinging his legs over onto the floor and dismounting the bed. “I’m about to go to the DPR and see him, so no spoilers.”
Jacob laughs, less cold than before, and picks up his newspaper again. “Okay. No spoilers. Just…Austin?”
“Yeah?” Austin asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Be careful, okay? And keep me posted.”
“I’m always careful,” Austin says, with a tiny grin. “But I will keep you posted.” He looks upwards one last time, to Richard, who is pointedly avoiding his gaze. “You coming with?”
“I’m going to stay here a little longer,” Richard says, settling back into the position he was in earlier, reading over Jacob’s shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you.”
Austin nods, and opening the door to the hospital room, steps out.
“How’d it go?” August asks him, as he takes a deep breath.
“Oh, you know,” Austin says. “Can I get a ride, by any chance?”