Poisonous Discontent Chapter 2 (Romani Detective Original Fiction)

[asphaltcowgrrl]

Title: Poisonous Discontent Chapter 2
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Andrej Zeklos/James Rosewood/Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,592
Summary: Andrej misses a day of work and sends Zayne into a spiral of panic and doubt.
Author’s Note: What’s next? I don’t know. But all I kept thinking while writing this was, “Dad went on a hunting trip and hasn’t been home for a few days.” Hopefully Crowley doesn’t have Zeklos.

“Have you seen Detective Zeklos around here anywhere?” Carla Mulholland, the county coroner, asked. She had a thick folder in one hand and a scowl on her face. “I’ve tried to call him three times and he’s not answering his phone.”

“That’s really unusual,” Hilary said. “You called his cell?”

Carla nodded. “It’s the only number I have.”

“Let me try his house,” Hilary offered. “I don’t know why he’s not here, but maybe he’s running late.”

“Andy’s never late,” Trish added, not helping ease Hilary’s discomfort at all.

“I know that, but what other explanation can there be?” She put her cell to her ear and waited, listening to the ringing on the other end of the line. “He’s never sick, he rarely takes vacation and – oh. Voice mail.”

“Here comes Detective Reyes,” Carla said, pointing towards the approaching Texan. “Maybe he knows where his partner is.”

Hilary left a quick message and ended the call. “I doubt it. Those two have been on the outs for a week now. They barely talk.”

Frowning, the medical examiner looked between the two female detectives. “Really? I knew they liked to bicker, but underneath it all, they seemed to genuinely like each other.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you date your partner,” Trish said. “Sometimes things go south.”

“Reyes,” Hilary called once Zayne was close enough to hear. “Where’s Zeklos?”

“Fuck if I know,” he growled. “Can’t say I much care at the moment either.”

“When was the last time you saw him,” Carla asked.

Zayne looked at the woman for a moment before answering. He’d softened his tone when he responded. “Friday, when I left this damn place. Do you need him?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to speak with him, but I can leave the files with you since you’re both working the same case.”

He held out his hand for the documents. “The McCauley drowning? Yeah, we’ve been waiting on the toxicology on this one. Thank you.”

Carla nodded. “When you see your partner, have him call me, please.”

“I can do that,” Zayne said, tossing the folder onto his desk. He settled into his chair and fiddled with a pen.

“So,” Hilary said, rolling her chair over so that she was inches from Zayne. “Where is Andy?”

Zayne stared at his desk. “I honestly don’t have any idea.”

“So you really haven’t seen him since Friday?” Trish glanced at Hilary, confused.

“No,” he told the redhead. “I don’t see or speak to him outside work not since…”

Not since they’d had their blowout and he’d packed up and moved out like an angry toddler. She could see the anguish and regret written all over his face – god only knew, Hilary was all too familiar with that look to miss it.

“What about the narco,” Trish suggested. “Maybe he knows.”

“That’s a good idea,” Hilary agreed. “What does Rosewood have to say?”

Shrugging, Zayne refused to meet her gaze. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I haven’t spoken to him at all since our last fight.”

“What the hell happened between the three of you,” Trish asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Zayne said, smacking the flat of his hand against the desk. “And it wasn’t the three of us, it was the ginger and I. Somehow Zeklos got caught in the middle.”

Meaning Andrej was the one truly suffering.

“Can you call Rosewood and see if he’s heard from Andy,” Hilary asked. “I wasn’t worried before, but I’m starting to get there.”

“What? Why?” Zayne had his phone out, ready to dial.

“Dr. Mulholland couldn’t get Andy on his phone,” Hilary told him. “And I couldn’t get him on his home phone either. It’s not like him to not answer at all.”

Zayne let his hand drop to his lap. “No, it’s not like him at all. Even those times when he was two seconds from strangling me, he always took my calls.”

“Do you think we need to stop by his place?”

Shrugging, Zayne kicked at the floor. “I don’t know if he’d let me in.”

“He loves you,” Trish said, resting a hand on Zayne’s back. “And considering how long he harbored that secret crush –”

“– and put up with all your obnoxious girlfriends –”

“– present company excluded,” Trish added with a grin. “I’m thinking that the last thing he’d do is turn you away.”

“I agree,” Hilary said. “He might growl a bit, but he’d never keep you from coming into his home, Reyes. C’mon, let’s go.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Trish said, tugging at his arm. “Besides, if he isn’t there, we have no other way of getting inside.”

“Fine,” Zayne groaned, dragging himself out of his chair. “But for the record, I think this is a terrible idea.


Trish pounded on the door for the third time. No one had answered the first two times and she’d even rang the doorbell as well. “Do you have the code to get into the garage,” Trish asked.

“Yeah,” Zayne said, stepping over to the keypad and entering the four digits he knew by heart. Zeklos’ garage was empty, startling them all. “What the hell? Where is he?”

“No idea,” Hilary said. “Can you let us inside?”

“I’m not sure we should go inside,” he said, looking at the empty spot where Zek’s car usually sat. “Isn’t that like invading his privacy or something?”

“Maybe,” Trish said, giving Hilary a look. “But if it helps us figure out where he is and if he’s okay, I think it’s worth possibly pissing him off.”

“I agree with Trish,” Hilary said. “He didn’t take your key, did he?”

Zayne shook his head. “No.” He didn’t mention that he’d forgotten to leave it and, when he’d remembered, the thought of returning it had nearly brought him to his knees.

“Then let us in, Reyes,” Trish hollered.

“Keep your pants on, Rollins,” Zayne said. Digging his keys out of his pocket, he unlocked the door and held it open for the girls.

Trish picked up Zeklos’ mail while Hilary scanned the living room. Leaving the girls to their detecting, Zayne let himself into Zek’s office knowing that, if there was anything to be found, it’d be in his desk. Sitting in the old, wooden chair, Zayne surveyed the surface of the workspace. It was as neat and orderly as ever. All pens, pencils, and paperclips secured in their holding places. He felt like a creep, but the only way to find out was to open the drawers and start looking.

The middle drawer held nothing out of the ordinary – bills to be paid, a few requests for charitable donations, a letter from someone that he couldn’t read. More than likely, it was from Zeklos’ sister since she was usually the one he spoke with. The bottom side drawer doubled as a filing cabinet and held all his old correspondence, paid bills, and other important things he might need at a moment’s notice. The drawer above it, however, was Zeklos’ one ode to disorder in his life. It was where he tended to toss things he didn’t know what to do with and Zayne figured it might be the best place to find something incriminating.

For the most part, there wasn’t anything unusual in that top drawer. A few ticket stubs from movies Zayne knows he didn’t see with Zeklos, a picture of that bartender Zek dated back before he’d met the narco, and a birthday card Trish had given him. The guy on the front of the card was wearing nothing but a speedo and a smile. Grinning, Zayne set it aside.

As he was putting everything back, something caught his attention. Zayne pulled the paper out of the drawer and looked at it. A picture of a plain, modest house was in the corner. It was surrounded by green trees and blue skies. Zayne smiled at the thought of shacking up in such a small house, living a comfortable life with the man he loved. Curious, he looked to see where in the valley the house might be.

“No,” he whispered.

“No what, Reyes,” Trish asked, poking her head into Zeklos’ office. “Are you okay?”

Shaking his head, Zayne handed the paper over to her.

Trish’s eyes scanned the listing briefly before she looked up. “I can’t understand any of this.”

“Neither can I,” Zayne admitted. “But this word, București, I know.”

She looked at the page again, eyes widening. “He’s checking out houses in fucking Bucharest?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Zayne groaned. He pointed to the bottom of the page showing the date the webpage had been printed. “This is only three days old.” Meaning, he’d printed it out on Friday.

“Did you say Andy’s looking for places in Romania?” Hilary looked over Trish’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Trish said, showing her the page she held. “Are there any more, Zayne?”

He opened the drawer again and dug to the bottom, finding three more listings. The houses varied in shape, size and selling price, but their location stayed the same. “Oh god, he’s really serious about this.”

Trish looked at Hilary. “You don’t think..?”

“No,” Hilary said, words putting an end to the conversation before it could begin. “He wouldn’t. Not without telling us first.”

“And all of his crap is still here,” Trish added.

“Then where is he,” Zayne whimpered.

“I don’t know, Zayne,” Hilary said, “but I promise you we’re going to find out.”


James scratched his head and stared at the recipe. He knew he’d bought cumin but now he couldn’t find it. “How the hell does Andy keep track of this shit?” A knock at his door drew his attention away from his dinner-to-be. “And who on earth is at my door?”

Drying his hands on a towel, James crossed his small living room and looked through the peephole. “No fucking way,” he grumbled, tugging the door open. “Go away, asshole.”

“I wish I could, gingerbread, but I need your help.”

As if his luck couldn’t get any worse. Zayne Reyes, of all fucking people, stood on his doorstep, hands deep in his pockets, head hung low. James had to admit that the boy looked a little worse for wear. There were dark circles under his eyes and those normally jubilant green orbs were bloodshot. A flash of sympathy tugged at James’ insides. He knew how Reyes felt.

Against his better judgement, James stepped back. “Get your ass in here before my neighbors talk.”

A half-assed smile tilted Zayne’s mouth upwards. “You mean they don’t already?”

“Shut up,” James laughed. “Why are you here?”

“Zeklos didn’t show up for work today,” he said. “I haven’t talked to him since Friday and he’s not answering his phone.”

That wasn’t good at all because Andy was nothing if not careful about letting them know where he was. He wouldn’t not show up to work and not call both the human resources department and his partner. “Have you been by the house?” Zayne made a strangled, hurt sound in answer. “Cowboy, you okay?”

Zayne shook his head. “No, not even close. Look at what I found.”

James took the paper Zayne fished out of his back pocket and unfolded it. “Why is this in Romanian? I think I recognize like five words.”

“It’s a listing for a house,” Zayne said. “I checked by putting in the web address and translating the page. How did we ever survive without Google? It’s in Bucharest, Rosewood.”

“You’re positive?” Not that the cowboy hadn’t done his due diligence in that respect, but he had to know, couldn’t begin to believe.

“Yeah,” Zayne breathed. “I think he’s finally decided to go home.”

“But why? I thought he hated it there?”

“He didn’t hate it,” Zayne said, collapsing into one corner of James’ couch. “But it wasn’t ideal for someone like him. Someone like us, I guess.”

James gave him a disbelieving look. “You have an advantage over Andy and me,” he said. “You honestly, legitimately like women.”

“This is true,” Zayne said. “But I like you two better than any woman. With maybe the exception of Hilary.”

Smiling, James sat down in his recliner. “She gets on my nerves, but I can see why you’d be attracted to such a feisty woman.”

“Things have probably changed since he left, but I know he worries about going home. He has no idea what the actual political climate is like. It scares him.”

“Having grown up in a place ruled by conservative religious nuts, I can understand that,” James said.

“Yeah,” Zayne said. “Parts of Texas are liberal, but a lot of it is still very conservative. It can be difficult to deal with. But Zek loves his homeland and misses his family. If he thought we –”

Zayne’s voice broke and he couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to because James had already figured out where he was going. If Andy thought they didn’t love him or want him, he might feel like he had no reason to say any longer. So, why not return to a place where no one knew him? Get a fresh start?

“There’s no way he’s going to move back to Romania,” James said. Getting up, he resettled on the couch next to Zayne. He brushed a wayward curl off Zayne’s face. “You have to believe that.”

“Then why on earth was he looking for homes back there?”

James stared into Zayne’s watery green eyes and sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe he was trying the idea on for size. Or hell, you know how he is. I wouldn’t put it past him to consider buying his sister a house in a city where they’d have a chance at surviving.”

“This is true,” Zayne said, leaning into James’ shoulder. “So where the hell is he? I was half hoping he was here.”

“Only half, cowboy?”

Zayne chuckled softly. “Yeah, because as much as I want to find him, I didn’t want to find him here.”

“With me.”

“Yeah.”

“Because?”

“Because that would mean he chose you and not us.”

He could understand that, although he was surprised Zayne had gone with ‘us’ and not ‘me’. He’d leave that for later exploration, however. James draped his arm over Zayne’s shoulders and gave him a side hug. “I’ll try and call him, too,” James said. “But he’s been pretty upset lately. Believe me, I’ve been hearing no end of it from Hansen. He and those psycho ladies you two hang out with have been all over my ass about it. It’s possible he just needs some time away to get his head on straight.”

“I hope so,” Zayne said, moving out of the redhead’s embrace. Rising to his feet, he looked down at his ex-lover. “How long?”

“I don’t know, but I’d say give it a couple days. If neither of us hear from him by Wednesday, we’ll make a plan.”

“Okay,” Zayne said. “I don’t know if I can make it until Wednesday, but I’ll try.”

“It’s all we can do, cowboy.” James stood and reached for Zayne’s hand. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

Zayne made a sour face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does.”

“Not when you’re right, it doesn’t.” Zayne stepped back. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know if he shows up or not.”

“I appreciate that.”

Zayne let himself out of the apartment. James stood, staring at the door, long after Reyes had departed. “Where are you, Andy?”