[Fiction] Home, Ready or Not

[z-Sean McCline]

He wasn't sure why he'd kept the goatee. But as he'd been shaving, he'd trimmed the beard down to something managable before starting to shave it away. He'd just cleaned one cheek when he got a glimpse of half of himself in the mirror. The flash of the image he'd gotten had intrigued him, and he cleaned the other cheek first. When he was done, he decided that it didn't look bad. In fact, he decided it looked rather nice.

But that was his last moment of satisfaction. His apartment was too loud, despite the fact that he was the only one there. He'd gotten used to solitude and silence. Chicago had neither.

Resigned to his duty, Sean flew out his window and started on his long patrol. He put the thought of quiet ice and snow from his mind and began to recall the details of his job. The patrol routes, the protocals: all began to creep back in, destroying the simplicity that he'd found within himself.

By the time his patrol was done, he felt empty again. Sean dropped onto his couch, staring at the ceiling. He should call his mother and arrange for her to bring Iharra home; he should report to Cade. He needed to do a lot of things, but all he could bring himself to do was wrap the silence around himself and trying to find his inner balance. In the snow and the silence, it had been hard enough to find that sanctuary deep inside. Here, in the city, with distractions on all sides, it was impossible to find that place.

His pager buzzed, and Sean heaved himself to his feet with a sigh. That would be Cade, wanting a report. Or maybe Reven heard about the new goatee, and wanted to give him shit about it. Or maybe he was hearing things, and his pager was silent. Sean stood in the silence of his room, waiting until the buzzer sounded again. It was real, or at least as real as anything else was to him right now.

It was from Cade, and Sean left the room, heading toward his office. It was time to get back to work, no matter what he might be feeling - or not feeling.