Beautiful Obsession

Whispers in the Dark

The shrill ring of his cell phone shattered the quiet of the night. Brooke rolled over with a groan, the sound piercing through his exhausted haze. It wasn't the familiar, rhythmic alarm clock; it was the insistent, jarring ring of an emergency. Each of those fourteen hours at work had felt like wading through molasses, chasing after leads that evaporated like mist. His body was heavy with fatigue, his mind a tangle of unresolved clues and dead ends.

Brooke rolled over with a groan, that was NOT the sound of his alarm clock. That was his cell ringing insistently. “Hello,” he mumbled into the phone. It wasn’t even that late, eleven or twelve maybe?

Bandit, his loyal but grumpy companion, shot him a look of canine disapproval, clearly unimpressed by the late-night disturbance. Brooke's hand found solace in the comforting rhythm of stroking Bandit's thick fur, the tactile sensation grounding him as he braced for the conversation.

“It’s me, were you asleep?” Andy asked apologetically.

“It’s fine,” Brooke replied. He glanced at his watch to see the specific time, “aren’t you supposed to be on stage right now?” he asked already knowing in his heart why Andy wasn’t on stage. He petted Bandit one last time before climbing out of bed.

“Devon’s been shot and… I…”

“Where are you?” he asked as he placed the phone on speaker so he could pull on his pants and shirt that he’d thrown on the floor before crawling into bed. So he wasn’t the tidiest person in the world, sue him.

“Kincaid… no, wait, Kinship... uh, Kindred... I’m at Kindred Hospital. It's... I don’t know, somewhere in the city.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Brooke reassured, his voice steady despite the sudden spike of adrenaline that coursed through him. His mind raced with possibilities, scenarios, and a deep-seated worry for Andy.

Brooke could hear the sigh of relief in Andy’s response, “thanks… will you stay on the phone with me?” he asked quietly. His voice was so small, so unlike the persona he portrayed as the front man of Vision.

He already couldn’t say no to this man, a few days ago it was just a dream to meet him, and today he was comforting him over the phone, and driving two and half hours to be by his side. The lines between duty and personal concern blurred in his mind. He couldn't deny the pull he felt towards Andy – more than just a case, more than just an assignment. This was personal, a connection that had rooted itself unexpectedly deep.

Brooke didn’t care he was going as a police officer second, a friend first.

“You wanna talk about it?”

As he juggled coordinating with his boss, Brooke's fingers flew over the phone's screen, his professional instincts kicking in despite the personal turmoil churning inside him. The balance of being a detective and a concerned friend was a tightrope walk he hadn't anticipated.

“Andy?”

“Sorry, I was shaking my head,” he finally said.

“It’s alright, you’re in shock. Just breath.”

Brooke hastily grabbed his keys and jacket, his movements a mixture of urgency and precision. As he stepped out into the cool night air, the quiet of the world outside felt surreal compared to the turmoil inside his head. He locked the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing slightly in the stillness.

Walking briskly to his car, his thoughts were a whirlwind. The night was dark, the moon a mere sliver in the sky, casting long shadows on the ground. The usually familiar path to his car seemed different tonight, as if every step was leading him further into the unknown.

As soon as Brooke turned the ignition, the Bluetooth system connected, and Andy's voice, now coming through the car speakers, filled the space. "Brooke? Are you still there?"

"Always," Brooke responded, his voice steady, pulling out onto the street. "Just got in the car. I'm on my way to you now."

There was a pause on the other end, filled with unspoken words and heavy breathing. "I'm scared, Brooke. It all happened so fast. One moment we were laughing, and the next... there was just so much blood."

"I know, Andy, I know," Brooke said softly, his eyes focused on the dark road ahead. "But right now, Devon's in the best hands. The doctors will do everything they can."

Andy's voice was a whisper, a stark contrast to his usual confident stage persona. "I keep replaying it over and over in my mind. What if I had seen the guy sooner, or... or if I hadn't insisted on that encore?"

"Hey," Brooke interjected gently, "this isn't on you. You couldn't have predicted this. No one could."

There was a slight sniffle from Andy. "I just feel so helpless, sitting here, waiting."

Brooke navigated a turn, the streetlights casting shifting shadows in the car. "Listen, Andy, what you're feeling is completely normal. Shock, guilt, helplessness – it's all part of processing something this traumatic. But remember, you're not alone in this. I'm here, okay?"

Andy let out a long breath. "I know, Brooke. It's just hard. He's not just my bandmate; he's like my brother."

"I understand," Brooke replied, his voice a comforting presence in the quiet of the car. "When I get there, we'll figure this out together. Right now, just focus on breathing. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah, I can try," Andy's voice was small, but there was a hint of effort, a willingness to hold on.

"That's it. In and out. Focus on my voice. I'm here with you, every step of the way." Brooke kept the conversation going, a soothing monologue interspersed with gentle prompts, guiding Andy through deep breaths.

As the miles slipped by, Brooke continued to talk, sharing mundane observations about the night, the empty roads, anything to keep Andy grounded. By the time the glowing lights of the city skyline came into view, Andy's breathing had steadied, and there was a faint note of calm in his voice.

"We're getting through this, together," Brooke reassured, a promise hanging in the air as he drove on, the hospital now just a few miles away.