(Hospital) Beat the Press

Daysha’s head jerked back slightly at Derevko’s answer. Which didn’t make a lick of sense. So far during her visit there was a lot of ‘what the fuck’ going through her head. “Who the hell kidnaps someone and lets them go, especially without wanting something in return?” One of her hands flipped into the air. “If they tortured you just for the sheer enjoyment of it, are they some kind of sadists or what?” Her head leaned toward the ex Agent. “Did you even see what they looked like?”

The Detective wasn’t really struggling, besides Darrin’s place in her basement was free anyway. “Hey, if you need help. I’d make it work.” Shrugging a little Daysha added. “Besides, there’s always another Jackson.” Which was clearly a reference to her dad. She never understood how those two got along for so many years. Although Doug was less feisty than she was.

Daysha had some weird flash from the Beauty and the Beast Disney movie. Where the beast was bitching about Belle.

Gawd, throw me a fricken bone here man.

"Maybe they already got what they wanted, I don't fucking know," Derevko said wearily. "Those questions only really make sense if you start assuming the whole place was sane, y'know? It's like dealing with a serial. The normal rules don't apply." He scratched at the knotted scar on his cheek, feeling the raised, hard flesh underneath his fingernails.

He remembered when it hadn't been like that. Fuck.

"There were obviously a few fuckin' people around, but I was drugged out of my skull. I spent a lot of time half-asleep - couldn't have stood up even if they'd fucking untied me."

Derevko's expression tightened at the offer, and he shook his head sharply.

"Wouldn't put either of you through that. I ain't a nice house guest."

“What did they want anyway?” Daysha shrugged, not knowing if Derevko knew or not himself.

“So, I’m guessing this wasn’t sane then.” Rhetorical was her tone before she continued. “I’ve thrown normal rules out the door a lot lately.” Every since her discovery two years ago, everything looked immensely different. Daysha could only shake her head when he reiterated the fact he was drugged. Shit like that was notorious of weak people who needed to be in control.

If he didn’t want help, she certainly wasn’t going to sit there and force the issue. “Yeah well, it’d be an interesting challenge for my mother.” Smirking at the thought. At the precinct, you didn’t make cracks about someone’s spouse. That was the general rule. At least to their face.

"From what they told me, it was something to do with my father. Which is fucking ridiculous anyway. My father's been dead since I was a toddler, what the fuck do I know about that?" Derevko said. Then he shrugged. "Everything else was demons, demons, demons. I don't know what the fuck they thought that would get them, but I don't think I gave them it. I hope I didn't. Drugs do stupid shit to you though, and my memory's not perfect."

The scarred former Agent shrugged.

"I don't think her getting arrested for murdering a former cop would look good on your dad's page."

“Huh, something to do with your father…” Daysha couldn’t remember if Derevko’s mother was around yet to answer that question. And considering she’d poked a few other open wounds, that was probably not another she should poke right now. “Guess that all depends on how badly you want to know what happened while you were drugged.” The detective knew without a doubt his answer would be no.

Daysha nearly smirked at the thought of her mother murdering Derevko. “Pretty sure it’d only be attempted.” Cause her mother was a weakling and was all talk.

The Detective was feeling like she was beating a dead horse, almost literally. She didn't know what she expected when she walked back in. Thinking all his talk of demons may have brought him 'round to the Vigil. She thought wrong, or else she approached this situation entirely wrong. When shit was personal, sometimes she lost focus of the cop side of things.

"Memory's just kind of fucked up right now," Derevko said bluntly. "If I could remember anything of use, I'd go for it, but... like I said. Drugs. I'm trying." He looked aside for a moment. "Remembering the shitty parts isn't anything I care about. Can't be any worse than the shit I do remember."

The scarred not-Agent turned his head for a moment, and shrugged.

"I ain't in shape right now. She could probably take me."

“Well, I know you’re obviously not in the state to try to remember.” Daysha knew she was being rhetorical, but it was necessary at the moment. “However, when you are feeling more up to it, there’s always hypnosis. Then again, there’s always the chance that you’ll remember other shit you stuffed away.” The detective hadn’t witnessed first hand anything like that, but she’d heard enough stories over the years. Mainly from victims whose childhood issues came up during sessions.

Daysha shrugged, “I guess I don’t know what some occultist would want with you if there wasn’t a ransom or anything else. I mean in cases that are typical of this stuff it’s generally money or some sacrifice. And generally when you’re a sacrifice they don’t usually let you go.” She may have mentioned the same thing in another form earlier, but she was still trying to wrap her head around the situation.

Of all people, Derevko is the LAST person I expected this to happen.

Derevko shrugged. He'd tried that shit once or twice, at the insistence of the department's psychiatrists, and it had never worked. He couldn't relax enough, or something, so it just never took. Maybe because he didn't want to sit in a chair for eight hours talking about his fucking traumatic childhood that was no one's business.

"No one's ever been able to hypnotise me before. Must be too stubborn," the scarred man said, with another shrug. "And don't worry. I remember all the times the priest touched me. Nothing stuffed away here." It was a snide, bleak joke, but fuck, his actual trauma was still no one's business.

"Yeah... I don't have any money, and I'm pretty fucking sure I'm not a ghost. Whatever they wanted... I guess it wouldn't make sense to anyone but them."

Great, now I’m thinking of Rory. But her brow furrowed slightly in disgust, even though she was aware he was kidding. Daysha really had no retort for Derevko’s inability to be hypnotized because, well it was the truth. “Yeah, well some would say you’re just a tougher nut to crack.” Shrugging, starting to crave a smoke.

Sighing again and rubbing her temple, clearly bewildered by the situation. “I’m really having no luck putting this together. And considering you were there and you don’t even know, well I guess there isn’t more that can be looked into.”

“I guess just racking it up to some cheesy occult that was clueless as to what they wanted for themselves.” The Demon thing still bugged her. Maybe it was because she was a Hunter and there was some partial fascination with it… and the want to kill it.

"Whatever the reason, it ain't fuckin' easy, either way," Derevko said bluntly. "Look, I don't have the fuckin' answers. I wish I did. Believe me. If I had some big fuckin' board with all the explanations on it or something, that I could just point to... I'd use it. But I don't. I got barely anythin'." The scarred not-Agent rubbed his temple, feeling the knotted, keloid flesh there.

"Maybe their motivation just don't make sense. I don't know. Maybe they won, and got what they wanted, and it's just hard as fuck to figure out. Whatever happened, I gotta live somehow now."