Just keep breathing

[Jack Ripley]

The thumping bass and the trill of some kind of siren combined with the flashing lights made Jack think that night clubs were the personification of panic attacks. The thump--the beat of the heart. The siren--impending danger. The flashing lights--a warning that a loss of consciousness was about to happen.

So why--why oh why--was a man like him here, of all places?

Jack sat at the counter, on one of those stools that most people had to hop onto. Jack was tall, though. All he had to do was slide into it. He liked these stools. It was better than trying to enfold his tall body into one of the booths around the club.

There were dancers on the stages, some men, some women. It was one of those open-minded clubs that catered to both. Everywhere Jack looked, there was flesh. Creamy thighs that way, a lean set of abs this way. Jack lifted his glass to his lips. At first, it was a sip but he got greedy. A moment later, he was on his third drink of the night, tipping his head back and letting liquid gold--jack and coke--slide down his throat. Setting his glass down, he closed his eyes and tried to revel in it. The scene. The music, the sound of laughter, of people shouting conversations over the pounding music.

"Another?" the bartender asked Jack. He put a ringed hand up and shook his head. The three drinks he'd had in quick succession were going to be quite enough at this point. He gently pushed his glass back towards the bartender.

"Maybe give it fifteen," he said with a flash of a smile. He slid off his stool and knocked on the bar a couple times before lifting his hand up and twiddling his fingers in a toodles style good-bye. "I'm going to see if I have the courage to find a dance partner now."

He winked, then moved towards the dancers, maybe... slightly stumbling a step or two. The song changed over to a new one and Jack kissed his fist and pumped it up into the air.

"I love this song!" he said cheerily to whomever was listening.

[Alejandro Riviera]

"So is that a no?" The flashing lights caught on a set of white teeth that looked almost too perfect to be real. Alejo let out a soft laugh and pushed the napkin back. Black letters and numbers scrawled over it was more than suggestive of the guy's intent.

"Sorry, I'm not looking right now." He could only smile apologetically and turn away from the bar, feeling a mild twinge of guilt. Turning people down, saying no, it never came easily to Alejo. He hated disappointing anyone; it was just some remnant desire to please, to belong. Nobody liked a guy who said no too many times and in his youth he was guilty of wanting to be liked universally. Now that he was older, he realized the futility in it, but that didn't stop him from feeling a little sorry every time.

Why was he even here?

A place thronging with people, heavenly bodies swirling and twisting and gyrating... Seemed like a good place to be for somebody who wanted to have a good time. Or maybe a good place for somebody to pick out a likely target...

He made his way across the dance floor, keeping a wary eye out. Couldn't seem too hawkish, though. He was here undercover. Alejo danced to the beat, letting it strum through him. Oops. He turned and bumped into a taller man doing the fist pump. Typical clubbing type—if maybe a little on the older side. Most of the others here were in their twenties. Alejo laughed as he turned to him, eyes scanning the crowd beyond him.

"Me too! This club's pretty lit isn't it?"

[Jack Ripley]

Starting over in this little two-horse, podunk town. This was good for him. It was good for him. He felt like he was in the right place at the right time. And what better way to get to know the people who lived here than to go out to the club? He was aware--when he walked in--that he was quite a bit older than most of the other clubbers but that was okay. They were all still consenting adults and mostly he was here to take stock of what kind of people lived in a place like Hazleton on purpose.

It was amusing. Between the alcohol and the song he really liked playing and the prospect of... finding somebody, he was in a great mood. He threw his head back and sang along to the song, every bit as theatrical as he had been in his teen years, when he was the star of the drama club. Jack took hold of the young man's hands, pulling him into the crowd with him as he swung his hips in time to the music.

"Yes! But nothing like back home!"

No, a place in a small town like this could never be as lit as the clubs back in Boston but that was okay; he was in his element right now, in this instant, in this moment. Nothing else mattered but his moment, when everything in his stung little heart could be ameliorated by the beat of a good song and a dance partner.

"I just moved here a few weeks ago!" he shouted above the music. "Are you a local?"

[Alejandro Riviera]

"Lit" was a bit of an exaggeration, to be honest. The clubs in New York were much rowdier and more crowded and exciting than this! Alejo did his fair share of partying back in the day—something his liver reminded him of now and again. But for a tiny town like this, it wasn't bad. It did, though, look like all the youth of Hazleton had come out because he didn't think he had seen most of these people out in the streets while he was walking around during the daytime.

Or maybe these were... special kinds of people.

He felt their presence, of course, being one of them. Special. Supernaturals. Alejo was fairly certain the guy who tried to chat him up earlier was a vampire. But they weren't his target; they were just out to have a good time. He was looking for one particular type of predator that had nothing to do with the supernatural population out here.

In a trice, he was grabbed and it took a lot not to flip the guy over his back and ground him. Alejo laughed as he danced—sort of forced to, since he was pulled into the swaying crowd. Well, it didn't hurt to befriend a local this way, he thought. The man was obviously quite dramatic but not in an overly flashy way. He might have blended into the crowd, really, if Alejo hadn't bumped into him.

"I'm just visiting from out of town!" He shouted too, over the music. "Here for a week or so. Backpacking my way through the West Coast! I'm originally from out East!" He smiled up at the friendly man. "Name's Alejo! You?"

[Jack Ripley]

"A backpacker?"

Jack let out a tipsy laugh. Cute guy, backpacking all alone. Not really a good idea but who was Jack to him? His dad? Hahaha. Dancing to the music, Jack let go of Alejo's hands, now that he had led him out to the dance floor along with him. His hands might have lingered a few seconds too long. Maybe.

"Jack! I'm also from back east. Been living out of boxes for a while, though. Nothing as fun as backpacking for me, been attending schools to speak at lectures, blah, blah, blah... It's so boring, honestly!"

[Alejandro Riviera]

He felt like the lines were see-through. A backpacker from far away, traveling alone through the area with family all the way on the other side of the country... It was like the back-story of every poor kid found floating face-down along the river. But it was also simple and realistic. Lots of kids did backpack their way across the States, looking for a little fun, a little excitement. Lots of kids were lured away by monsters in the night, never to be seen again.

Alejo studied the man dancing with him. Jack. A non-descript name for a non-descript man. If not for the club, he could have been Jack Everyman. Moved here recently, too, and a professor or teacher. That also sounded like the back-story for every serial killer, blending in with the townsfolk, doing his normal day job. Alejo's sharp mind began to draw lines and connect dots. The unsub he was tracking had a degree in psychology. A teacher was a logical job for a man like that, and it wouldn't be hard to find a job in a tiny town starving for educated people.

His smile turned a shade flirtatious as he danced closer. Heart beat faster, too. This could be just a normal man out to have a good time. Or it might not be. He just had to get closer, get him alone, find out more about 'Jack.' The conversation he had with Judah earlier in the day flashed through his mind, too. The worst kind of people came out at night in this town... Maybe they went to clubs full of young people, too.

"Sounds like you're looking for a little excitement!" He grinned as he placed a hand on Jack's chest, sliding up to him suggestively then pulling back. Push and pull. Flatter the ego, make them think they were... special. Alejo had an innocent face himself. People seemed to trust him, or at least not suspect him. "Wanna buy me a drink? I'm pretty thirsty."

[Jack Ripley]

Backpackers like this guy were exactly the kind that disappeared into thin air without anybody noticing until it was far too late. By the time people started looking into the disappearance, the culprit was long gone, on his way to another victim. And if one was smart, he wouldn't use the same tools, the same styles, the same tells.

When--if--the body was discovered, it couldn't match another one too closely. That was something Jack learned just from watching all those crime scene investigation shows that populated television and streaming services these days. Really, the world was a veritable oyster for criminals in this day and age, when they were given literal handbooks and videos on how not to be caught.

These were things he wanted to impart to dear Alejo but it wasn't the right kind of conversation for a club. Besides, nobody who heard his speeches actually took them to heart. If they did, they wouldn't disappear the way they inevitably did.

A hand moved over his chest and Jack smiled. Before he could reach up and take hold of that hand, though, it was gone and the little tease was flirting with him, asking shamelessly for a drink. Jack winked at him--a blink and you miss it, quick thing.

"Has it been fifteen minutes yet?" he joked, which would mean... nothing to Alejo. He only smiled as he reached down and slid his fingertips over the soft warm pulse of Alejo's wrist, then threaded his fingers with Alejo's as if they were already close. He lifted his other arm to check his watch. As if it mattered if fifteen minutes had passed or not. It hadn't. He'd only stepped away from the bar for about, oh two songs. That was probably closer to six or seven minutes.

"What do you drink?" he asked as he led the way back to the bar.

[Alejandro Riviera]

Fifteen minutes...

Alejo's smile widened. It fit the role at the moment, him being a bold and shameless flirt looking to get a free drink out of a lonely man new to town. Some kind of twisted love story, wasn't it? But his smile was also knowing. His instincts had never led him wrong yet—that good cop gene that ran through the family didn't skip a generation, thank God.

He played dumb, though, eyes widening, laugh mildly bemused. Just another foolish young man who didn't know much about the world or how it worked. Even if he didn't know what 'fifteen minutes' meant specifically he knew the signs of something being off. Weird catch phrases. An adherence to some sort of ritual. Tells, tells, all tells. They told him about that in training, when he went in to be debriefed. He knew the general signs and he did his homework. Alejo was a good cop, despite what Judah seemed to think.

As their hands met, Alejo stepped back in. He let his fingers curl naturally against Jack's hand. So warm. So confident. Alejo followed closely, playing up his role of the unsuspecting, dumb little fish clinging to the bait. "I think I want something... hard." The innuendo couldn't be missed, could it? Shades of his wilder days partying until dawn, fucking anybody that seemed interested. He made up for half a lifetime of repressing his sexuality in about a year and a half, before he got his shit together and before Judah came into his life, providing the stability he sorely needed.

"Think you can manage that, handsome?"

[Jack Ripley]

He looked down at Mr. Cute Backpacker and he laughed.

"Wow, just come right out and say it, huh?"

Something hard. So cute, he wanted to pinch his cheek. How old was he, anyway? He barely looked legal enough to be in a club like this. Earlier, when Jack arrived, he had his eyes on somebody else but by now, that person was long gone. Maybe still in the club but out of sight, out of mind.

"I can manage a lot of things," he said as he let go of Alejo's hand. They were at the bar and he found two open seats for them. Sliding into his new seat, he tapped the bar and then turned to look Alejo over, stroking his own chin in thought. Something hard, he said. But that sweet little face. Turning back to the bartender and then past him at his rows of drinks, he perused the choices.

"Ah!" He sat up and slapped the counter. "Bacardi 151! What luck! They stopped selling that years ago." He lifted up two fingers and the bartender set upon getting the bottle and pouring them their drinks.

"You can drink this straight," he told Alejo, who looked like he probably had still been underage when the drink stopped being produced. "Have you tried it? It's like Dr. Pepper."

Only... way, way stronger.

[Alejandro Riviera]

"Why waste time being subtle? I mean... if you want me to pretend to be a good little boy for you... I could do that too. I'm versatile baby."

His grin was cheeky, like a bad little boy trying (not very hard) to hide the fact that he'd just pilfered cookies straight off the cooling rack. Kids said dumb shit like this, ones who thought they owned the world and that nothing could happen to them. Picking up a strange man at a club would've meant nothing to nineteen, twenty year-old Alejo, who thought the world of himself.

Now he shuddered to think of what could have happened if he'd run into the wrong person at the wrong time.

"Looks like you're versatile too," he quipped as he slid fluidly onto the bar stool. Swivelling slightly on the rotating stool, his knee slid against Jack's. He leaned closer too, chin on the palm of one hand, watching him deciding on the drink. Alejo's brows lifted at his choice of drink, though. Wow. Didn't pull any punches, did he? Not that he ought to have, with a dumb little big-mouth bass wriggling on his line.

"Wow, I've never seen this before!" He took the drink straight out of the bartender's hand, not giving room for any sleight of hand on Jack's part. A lot could happen in half a second—like that lightning fast wink of his earlier. Alejo held it up, still grinning confidently. "Cheers handsome." He tipped his head back and downed it. It wasn't meant to be taken like a shot but hey—he was supposed to be dumb and trusting, right?

It hurt like a bitch going down, though. Hissing, Alejo doubled over with a hand to his mouth. But he was laughing too, like he was already half-way drunk. "Oh my god, that's—wow!" He let out a silly little laugh as he straightened and leaned into Jack. "Was I supposed to drink it like that?"

[Jack Ripley]

"That's cute."

Versatile, huh? Probably not as versatile as he thought. Jack gave him a sweeping glance, from the artfully mussed up hair to the casual, scuffed high tops. He was one of those over-eager puppy types, it seemed. The type that at first glance looked like all sunshine and rainbows but deep down, they had a hurt inside that they couldn't seem to patch. Jack knew all about the pain. What about all this felt like the fix, though?

While Jack's smile remained on his lips, his gaze was far away as he slid his own glass from the bartender close. Picking it up, he slid his gaze over at Alejo without turning his head. "Cheers," he said before taking a drink. He was still swallowing his first sip when Alejo finished his off, like a shot. His free hand moved to catch the tipsy man before he ended up sliding off his stool and dropping onto the floor.

"Most people don't," he said in amusement.

[Alejandro Riviera]

"You should've told me!" He laughed, clinging to Jack and swaying slightly. Alejo let his head drop against Jack's shoulder, since it was conveniently there. He laughed again, this time a softer sound of amusement. The last time he did something like this—drink without a thought for the hangover next day—he was still a rookie in the force. Back then he was all about the good times and the hard liquor, drowning his problems with liquid hope, with the promise of a good time in somebody's eyes.

Part of him though... never did graduate from that. There was still the hurt inside that not even maturity or time could fix. No matter if he acted a fool or acted like some kind of normal functioning adult, a part of him was broken. So he could understand where boys like this came from, why they might go to a club and get drunk and go home with someone whose name they wouldn't remember the next morning. He'd been there before—he was that guy.

Slowly, he reached down and took Jack's free hand again, twining their fingers. Warm. Confident. Probably a bad idea all around to keep going with this charade but Alejo, he was stubborn in his own way too. Once he had enough evidence he'd bring him in and that would be that. Another case closed and on to the next. Another perp behind bars where he couldn't hurt other vulnerable kids who were all too easy to take advantage of.

"Can I have another one?" Just two wouldn't hinder his ability to do his job. For a moment it felt good. The burn in his throat, it felt... good.

[Jack Ripley]

Human contact was... Vastly under-recognized for its ability to bring some source of comfort. Jack's pain brought him into places like this, too. Looking for something that he never found. Would never find, if he was honest with himself. Love had never been unconditional when he grew up and it was never earned, either. Maybe he tried to make up for it by seeking out the innocent who were in pain. Himself, ten, fifteen years ago.

It was nice to have the weight of a body against him, a head on his shoulder, fingers twined in his. Of course, now both his hands were now occupied and he couldn't very well finish his drink, which sat on the counter.

"Finish mine."

[Alejandro Riviera]

Daddy issues. Mommy issues. People flung those words around like they meant nothing but those were ones whose parents never looked at them like they were dirt. Like they regretted having them. Like maybe they couldn't find it in their hearts to love their own child anymore, because he happened to love a man instead of a woman.

That kind of rejection, that never healed. No matter what he used to stuff the wound, it always felt raw, always gaped. Even if he had a wonderful job that gave him purpose in life, enabling him to help others, even if he had a boyfriend he loved and whom, he was sure, loved him back, the burn didn't go away. Substituting other kinds of love for it... Didn't work. It didn't work like that.

Sometimes he wondered what drove the man to do what he did. Maybe it was Jack, maybe it wasn't. But whoever it was... why? Why hurt others that way? Did he hurt too? Or was it simply nothing more than a sexual impulse? A deviant compulsion he couldn't quite ignore? Plenty of people thought about doing away with someone but it took a special kind of person to go through with it. What did he get out of it?

Alejo reached for the drink. He saw Jack sipping from it earlier, so he knew it was safe. Guy wouldn't drug his own drink, would he? He brought it up and took a sip, held it as he pressed in close and let the taste of the liquor soak into his tongue. "Mmm..." Alejo held the rest of it up for Jack, since both of his hands were occupied, tipping the rim of the glass up against his lips.

[Jack Ripley]

Jack's lips curved into an amused smile as the glass was lifted to his mouth. He drank from it, letting the sweet taste of it slide down his throat. He'd had enough to drink tonight that it was smooth going down--but it was no joke. Hard liquor. 151. It would have them both on their asses but that was okay. Jack was still new in town. Had a real job at the moment. No reason to go and fuck that up already.

When he stood, his head swam pleasantly. The music around them was muted, the voices quieted. He used the hand that held his to draw Alejo in close, in an almost sweet embrace. Mostly it was to keep him propped up in case he started tipping over like he did earlier. He pulled out several bills and laid them on the counter for the bartender, knowing without counting it would be enough, plus tip.

"Come on," he said softly against Alejo's temple. "Let's get out of here."