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[Part of the Quadruple Murder Storyline. Aiden = ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hurtlikeabastrd, Anna = vivo_per_ardua, Angell = foundherwings, follows THIS.]
His bedroom clock was stuck on military time. He had no idea how to fix it, but found him suddenly inspired when he was sitting at home on his ass while Danny was being held somewhere, in danger, and he was banned from the precinct. Yes, he knew it was for his own good, and yes, he was tired, but that didn’t mean the worry in the pit of his stomach was going away anytime soon to help him in that endeavor. And since he couldn’t do anything bit sit around his apartment, he decided to get started on the things that really needed fixing.
Situations like the one he was in now reminded him of Aiden, and how they had come so close to losing her to DJ Pratt. Where she was gone and he didn’t know how to find her, and being blind to that kind of information when it came to his friends. It wasn’t more the frustration of not being able to find him, it was the frustration with himself for not being able to do his job and protect the people he cared about. Lately it just seemed to be coming to a head, first with Anna followed by Danny, and it was something that had just been building for a while and had yet to explode.
Narrowing his eyes and the bright red 13:03 that was glaring back at him he took the clock in his hands and started going over the clock, looking for the settings buttons so that he could switch it. Granted, knowing how it wound up on military time to begin with would probably be even more helpful, but since he didn’t even know that he wasn’t even going to get started. He would just go for the basics—whatever few programming buttons he had—and hope that that would get him a step closer to his goal.
Focusing on something else was helpful for all of two seconds. Then thoughts of where Danny was, what was happening to him, the pictures that he had seen, and the frustration of not being able to help was starting to mix and mingle with the frustration of not being able to fix the clock, and suddenly the anger level was rising higher than he had anticipated and his knuckles were starting to turn white as he gripped the side of the helpless alarm clock, trying to feed more of his anger into it, and feeling himself whip around and letting the small machine collide with the wall.
He felt the frustration start to release from his shoulders with the shatter of plastic and wires against the wall. He paused for a minute, not quite realizing that he had done what he did, and just shook his head slightly, trying to clear it of the thoughts from the past few days, whatever had been building for the time that it had, and leaning back against his bed. He stretched back, one hand on his stomach and the other behind his head, before closing his eyes and trying once again to start to drift off to sleep. He still was resting on just the cusp and not letting himself fall over the edge, but at least some of the tension was gone, and maybe in a little time from now, he would at least have a few hours on his side.
567 words
hurtlikeabastrd, Anna = vivo_per_ardua, Angell = foundherwings, follows THIS.]His bedroom clock was stuck on military time. He had no idea how to fix it, but found him suddenly inspired when he was sitting at home on his ass while Danny was being held somewhere, in danger, and he was banned from the precinct. Yes, he knew it was for his own good, and yes, he was tired, but that didn’t mean the worry in the pit of his stomach was going away anytime soon to help him in that endeavor. And since he couldn’t do anything bit sit around his apartment, he decided to get started on the things that really needed fixing.
Situations like the one he was in now reminded him of Aiden, and how they had come so close to losing her to DJ Pratt. Where she was gone and he didn’t know how to find her, and being blind to that kind of information when it came to his friends. It wasn’t more the frustration of not being able to find him, it was the frustration with himself for not being able to do his job and protect the people he cared about. Lately it just seemed to be coming to a head, first with Anna followed by Danny, and it was something that had just been building for a while and had yet to explode.
Narrowing his eyes and the bright red 13:03 that was glaring back at him he took the clock in his hands and started going over the clock, looking for the settings buttons so that he could switch it. Granted, knowing how it wound up on military time to begin with would probably be even more helpful, but since he didn’t even know that he wasn’t even going to get started. He would just go for the basics—whatever few programming buttons he had—and hope that that would get him a step closer to his goal.
Focusing on something else was helpful for all of two seconds. Then thoughts of where Danny was, what was happening to him, the pictures that he had seen, and the frustration of not being able to help was starting to mix and mingle with the frustration of not being able to fix the clock, and suddenly the anger level was rising higher than he had anticipated and his knuckles were starting to turn white as he gripped the side of the helpless alarm clock, trying to feed more of his anger into it, and feeling himself whip around and letting the small machine collide with the wall.
He felt the frustration start to release from his shoulders with the shatter of plastic and wires against the wall. He paused for a minute, not quite realizing that he had done what he did, and just shook his head slightly, trying to clear it of the thoughts from the past few days, whatever had been building for the time that it had, and leaning back against his bed. He stretched back, one hand on his stomach and the other behind his head, before closing his eyes and trying once again to start to drift off to sleep. He still was resting on just the cusp and not letting himself fall over the edge, but at least some of the tension was gone, and maybe in a little time from now, he would at least have a few hours on his side.
567 words
