Hacker – Chapter Nineteen

NOT EDITED

Chapter Nineteen

8:01 AM; CLINSTONE POLICE DEPARTMENT, LAB

Bo released Pollux’s hand only long enough to flip on the light. He hiked Castor up on his hip and grabbed Pollux’s hand again as he walked across the room. Although he was supposed to take the boys to the daycare just down the hall, Bo couldn’t bring himself to part ways just yet.

He didn’t necessarily want to be around other people yet, but he didn’t feel that being alone was best for his mind. He planned on keeping the twins around for at least a few minutes before he called it quits and headed upstairs to sit with Jensen for the rest of the day while he worked on a more effective, efficient way to backtrack the pings.

Bo was simply terrified of what his mind may do once left in complete silence, as it usually was in the lab.

He sat down at the table, pulling out the chair Jensen usually sat in hen he came down to check on him. Bo set Castor down in the chair and turned, grabbing a second chair. “Here you go, buddy,” he murmured, picking up Pollux to set him in the chair. “Just thought you could keep Daddy company for a few minutes. Then I’ll take you both to daycare and you can… color and play with the toys there. Sound okay?”

“Otay, Daddy,” Pollux said.

Castor nodded. “Okay.”

Bo pushed his fingers through his hair, briefly tugging at the blonde locks. He was sore from laying on the couch that morning, tired from being unable to sleep, exhausted from combating harmful, dangerous thoughts all morning. His mind would be nearly useless when it came to helping create an easier method of dealing with all of the emails from Martha Fraser’s harasser, but he figured that wasn’t something that he could let get in the way of it all.

Martha Fraser deserved justice. Her family deserved justice. End of story.

It was Bo’s latest mantra. The eleven words played on repeat in his head all day long, and he did his best to keep it that way. Remembering there was a victim, even if it hadn’t been murder, was important. It kept him going, kept him pushing forward. It made him want to make progress. It made him crave efficiency.

It made him focus on something that wasn’t… everything else in his head. It didn’t work all of the time, obviously, but it did a relatively okay job. He figured that was at least twice as good as nothing at all.

Bo scrubbed both hands over his face before pushing his chair away from the table. “Okay, kiddos. Let’s get you to daycare.”

After walking the boys down the hall and into the station’s daycare room, Bo flipped off the light in the lab and headed back upstairs. He sat down in front of Jensen’s empty desk, lifting his satchel over his head and sliding his camera bag off of his shoulder. He set them both on the floor and pulled his laptop from the satchel.

Jensen squeezed Bo’s shoulder as he walked past the blonde. “How’s your head?” he asked before sitting down behind his desk.

“I don’t recall hitting my head.”

“No, Eli, your… your head, your brain. Your mind,” Jensen said.

“Oh,” Bo whispered. He lifted his shoulders as he typed in the password for his laptop. “Same old, same old.”

“Can I get an actual answer there, babe?”

“I don’t know, Jens. I’m exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I feel like I’m dragging my ass everywhere I go, just trying to… to push through the day the best I can and make it out alive. This is just one more form of personal hell for me.” Bo winced as though the words had physically hurt him. “My apologies. That a bit too candid.”

“No, Eli, that was the kind of answer I was looking for. I don’t want you to tell me what you think I wanna hear. I just wanna know what’s going on inside that head of yours, that’s all,” Jensen said.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Bo inhaled, tilting his head back slightly as he let out a harsh breath. “Fun fact?”

“Sure.”

“Dominic Wilkinson is, more than likely, dating Ashton Lawrence.”

“You’re bullshitting.”

“I wish,” Bo mumbled. “I had Mekhi track Wilkinson. The two were holding hands while they were walking in L.A.. It shouldn’t add to the issue, but it feels like it does. I feel like… if the Lawrence kid gets hurt, it’s somehow my fault, even though I know that makes absolutely no sense. I can’t help it. It’s just another thing to eat away at me, to try and tear me down one way or another. I hate it.”

“Well, we just won’t let him get hurt, then,” Jensen said confidently.

A small smile tugged at one corner of Bo’s mouth. “Thanks Jens.”

“My pleasure, baby.” Jensen leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his chest. “Jake says Mister Lehmann has an interview next week. This is one of the last chances you have to decide you don’t want him here.”

Bo shook his head. “Caleb’s just another person who was thrown off by a combination of dealing with his own life and not knowing how to handle me and every bit of baggage I bring along with me. I have no reason to hold a grudge. I never have,” he said. “I hope he gets the job. That’s all there is to it.”

Jensen shook his head. “That’s where we differ. I never even met the guy and I hold a damn grudge.”

“And that’s I’m your anger manager, remember?”

“Mm.” Jensen smiled. “I love you, Eli. So damn much.”

“I love you, too, Jens.” Bo let out a heavy sigh, eyes shifting back to his laptop. “Mind if I go out for a quick cigarette break?”

Jensen bit back a sigh. “No, go ahead. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you,” Bo whispered. He set his laptop on the other chair and pushed himself to his feet. “I promise you, Jens. I’m quitting as soon as I’m better.”

Jensen smiled. “I know, baby. I believe in you,” he assured. “You go on. And then I’ll cheer you on all day while you do Internet… pingy stuff.”

“Internet pingy stuff,” Bo repeated quietly. He offered a smile. “I like that, thank you.”

“No problem, Eli.”

10:30 AM; UNITED STATES, UNKNOWN LOCATION

With their newfound power, the Hacker had scanned the interwebs in search of their next target. They had narrowed it down to three people that, in their opinion, deserved the harassment just as much, if not more, than Martha Frasher did.

They leaned back in their desk chair, arms folded over their chest. Was picking just one of the bastards going to be enough? Or would all three be a better choice? They figured it couldn’t hurt. Sending emails and pictures to three people instead of just the one would be like a game.

Which player would leave the lobby first?


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