The Dual of the Parallels

Prologue - The Chase

The black evil crows carefully clawed onto the cables, and barked their annoyance at me. Even the dark, hideous silver-linings behind the clouds looked petulant as I choked on the thought of Nate putting those uncomfortable handcuffs around my injured wrists. I was running for my life. Better yet, I was sprinting away from a crime scene. The stiff body was stabbed exactly 12 times, in the same fashion as the recent murders; 4 times in the heart, and 8 times in the stomach. And of course, the cops would have to arrive when I opened the stuffed closet to find the body dropping out... and then triggering a grenade hidden quietly in the cold hand of the dead man.

The explosion almost left me to eternal sleep, but I somehow managed to escape as the house collapsed on itself when the other bombs activated as well.

Now I was on the streets, hiding in the shadows with my scarf covering my bloodied face. The iron-rich stench was making me sick, and when one of the cops behind suddenly yelled to stop me, I just sprinted without a second thought. Then, without any hesitation, the cops fired at me. Soon, the sirens were alarmed, and their chase began.

My spiked-up hair was soaking wet from the situation, and itching dust stuck sticky on my forehead. Only if Nate was here to clean me up.

"Oh Nate," I wondered, "what if I do die at your hands? Wouldn't that be romantic enough for us to start a new life together?"

I hurried into an ominous wall of fog that hindered a small alley. Perhaps I could jump a fence or something to get away from all this. Perhaps there is a door that will lead me into one of the side buildings. Perhaps there's...

Shit. A 20-foot-tall cement wall. No side doors. No escape.

"Where is he?!" The voice sounds familiar. It was Nate's boss.

"I don't know, sir!"

"Sir," a third officer appeared, "some folks saw a suspicious man running to the market."

"Then go! Go, go, go! We can't let him escape this time!"

For the first time since the run, I have never been so relieved to know that I am alone now. I pushed my back up against the rough wall, slowing down my heart rate, catching my breath. I could barely see a foot in front of me with the cold haze surrounding me, but the chilly air was all I have to put some distance between Nate and myself.

"Why does it have to always end this way? Why am I always the bad guy? Yes, yes, I was part of an organization that I didn't want to be part of in the first place, but that doesn't make me a bad guy, does it?"

I gently brushed my fingers against the bumpy, jagged cement wall behind me; wearing a pair of fingerless gloves made the tips of my hands even more sensitive to the texture. How strangely did the feel remind me of the strong, warm arms of my lover, and how untimely did the feel remind me of his gentle caress of my hair. And how satisfying did...

I accidentally closed my eyes with all those wonderful memories, when out of the fog, a pair of strong, warm arms reached and gripped my injured shoulder.

"He found me, and I'm about to die in his arms."

He pulled me into his aggressive embrace, only to shove me against the wooden panel that was leaning against the adjacent wall. My cap that hid my eyes was even knocked off in the process, but my scarf still shielded me from revealing my entire face. But it does not even matter at all. Nate could tell, without a doubt, that it's me just by looking into my deep light-brown eyes.

Nate's cologne, the one that I bought for him... I could smell it through my scarf. Then it finally registered. Nate still loves me. Nate still cherished the memories we had together. But underneath my disguise, Nate knew that I was secretly grinning to the thought. And he shoved me up the wooden panel again, but he gave me some painful splinters this time and I swallowed the agonizing sensation silently.

There was just a silent hum in the background now from the generator across from us now. If this isn't about chasing me down, it would have been pretty hot to just be standing there, your love's nose only an inch away from yours, his tough, broad-shouldered body slightly humping you, and his prick... It's poking my inner thigh, craving for my attention.

I broke the silence.

"Want to know the truth?" The scarf muffled my voice.

Nate's soul-piercing eyes began to collect water.

"What to know the truth?" I repeated myself, only in a mocking tone this time.

He shoved me up the panel again. Fuck, those splinters.

"Tell me then." His husky voice made me swallow hard.

"I'm not the person you think I am," I bullshitted.

The sudden flashes of shadows on the great wall of fog annoyed me more than it scared me. Nate and I heard his boss yelling to the rookies on the other side. His boss probably has a shotgun in his hand, ready to blow me to pieces.

"Where is Captain Young? Where is fuckin' Nate?!"

"Let me call him, sir."

Although it was just for a split second that Nate and I made our final eye contact, he knew he had to trust me on this one. He abruptly pressed his lips hard on mine, and I moaned, gently bit his lower lip before he rushed out of the fog.

"No sign of anyone in there," Nate announced, "we should go back to the scene to see if the suspect left any evidence."

I waited, and waited until all I heard were heavy footsteps echoing in my mind. It's safe now, temporarily.

Nate... Nate, you have to trust me on this one.

Chapter 1.1 - The Arson

The police department was very organized and structured, and it had a particular citrus smell to it. It must have been the leftover orange chicken left on one of the desks.

The moment I stepped into the working hall, everyone seemed to have stopped whatever that they were working on and sneaked a peek at me. I guess I do exert a murderous atmosphere wherever I go, and since it was, afterall a cop den, everyone was extra sensitive to this, well, me.

"Dr. Chang, you seem to capture my co-workers' attention," Officer Andrews noted.

"Call me Tim, please. And well, I do look new, and I don't mind being the center of attention if this is what it takes to have things done."

Officer Andrews chuckled at the idea.

"I'm sure captain wouldn't mind having you here then."

"Excuse me?" I was caught off guard by the comment.

"I said, if we catch the killer because of your presence, I think our captain would do everything to make you stay."

"Oh, well, I'm not that magical."

We made a turn into an even larger working area and headed to the back office through a maze of desks and tables with empty coffee cups and half eaten burgers that sat there, alone but not in the least, lonely. Phones were ringing violently, one after another. Some FBI agents were sitting in those squeaky plastic chairs, listening to the most recent updates of their cases.

Officer Andrews turned to me before he knocked on the door.

"Captain Young may scare you at first, but I assure you that he is a very warm person."

Well, that's... very... nice. I couldn't decipher the deeper meaning to that.

Well, and I didn't really need the warning at all anyways. Before Officer Andrews had the chance to knock, the door itself busted open and the masculine captain himself appeared in front of me. I think he was going to shout something to his crew, but all he did was stare straight into my eyes. For a few seconds, I was not able to blink. He wasn't able to break his eye contact with me either. Then I fixed my eyes to the door frame instead, and snap him back to place.

"I need all the files now! Rainen, get me another cup of coffee! Gran, call the forensic department! I need to know what the possible weapons are! Now!" His deep, but loud tone went through my ears like classical music.

I adjusted my glasses and locked my lips, while he made eye contact right back at me again.

This time, Officer Andrews interrupted.

"Captain Young, this is Doctor Timothy Chang from Mountain Bridge Medical Headquarter. He is here to serve as the temporary head of the Department of Pathology."

His deep, dark-brown eyes, I'm telling you, are the most attractive feature on this man, at least from all the seeable features that I can compare them to for now.

I stuck my arm out for a handshake, but he was obviously lost in my signature innocent, yet aggressive gaze.

"Captain? Something wrong with my eyes?" I teased.

"Oh. Sorry. Spaced out for a moment. Your eyes are beautiful." He stuck his calloused hand out to give mine an electrifying squeeze. And I politely returned a weak squeeze back.

"Thank you Officer Andrews. You can go back to work on your assignments," the captain dismissed Officer Andrews, still held on to my hand. He sounded so aggressive, yet polite that it was too hot for me to handle. It's like being burned at stake right now.

"We haven't met each other before, have we?" the captain coughed, attempting to hide his affection towards me.

"I don't believe so, captain. I'm new to this town." In fact, I have seen him before. I was doing my job, and he almost made a headshot, blowing up my brain right then and there.

"We can talk in my office. You want coffee, doc?" I couldn't reject.

His office was very roomy and gave me a feeling of home, a sense of belonging. There was a plumped sofa up against the wall next to the door, and his bookcases were filled with reference books and psychology textbooks.

"I'll have to be careful with this guy," I mentally note, "psychology."

"Go ahead and take a seat," he pulled my chair out for me like a gentleman and returned to his black business-class office chair, "because I don't think you will want to stand while taking glances at these pictures, doc."

He handed me an old-looking, 3-inch yellow binder.

"The recent murders have been done in the same fashion, including the one from last night. A CEO, Sharon Night, age 30 was found stabbed 12 times..."

"...4 times directly in the heart and 8 times the victim's stomach," I finished the captain's sentence.

"Exactly."

I began to read the news clippings aloud in the binder and scanning over the gruesome photos that provided the vivid scenes. They looked too familiar.

"A 48-year-old millionaire murdered, brutally stabbed. A 16-year-old mother of two in septic tank. Stabbed 12 times." I looked up, and his eyes captured me again, and my words slipped, "I guess the killer's having too much fun with utility knives." Fuck.

"Utility knives?"

His office door flung open and the rookie rushed in with a file in his hand, "Captain, the forensic team believed that the weapon is a thin blade, perhaps like a..."

"An utility knife?"

"Yes! A box-cutter of some sort! And the openings of the wounds matched the..." The rookie finally noticed me sitting there with my coffee cup on my lap. I gave him a nice, steady nod, quietly sipping my energizing mocha. It tasted more like chocolate milk though.

"Hi!" This guy was too excited to feel any embarrassment.

Captain Young had to break the awkward silence, "Well, thank you Gran! Remember to knock next time."

The rookie almost slammed the door shut, but I can already feel the heat from his stare.

"Utility knife, huh?"

"Utility knife indeed."

Silence.

"Doc, tell me," he whispered, "were you the killer?"

I grinned with all the satisfactions, and I shivered, but remained very, very calm, "Would you take a 'no' as a response?"

He would have jokingly replied back, but that shriek from outside was too horrifying of a sound to not go check it out.

It was chaotic, and fire was spewing out like flamethrowers from the ceiling, where the water from sprinklers were supposed to spray. The five different exits from the working area were already engulfed by walls of spontaneous combustion.

No! Not now! They can't burn the place down now! Hell, I'm still in the building! What were they thinking of?!

"Make the run!" Someone yelled across the space in pure distress.

"Go!"

"Fuck!"

My senses were overloading. I felt so numb, so angry. And I didn't even notice when a grenade launched into Captain Young's office, and indirectly, at me.

"Doc!" Captain Young promptly grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me into his broad chest, and threw us both behind a desk. The glass to his office shattered into fragments of shards. And a smaller piece cut me right up my left cheek vertically. My ears were ringing with white noises, my head dizzy from the impact, but Captain Young lifted me up bridal style and carried me away from his exploded office. It was getting too hot. Some of his teammates became motionless after trying to roll the fire away on the carpet. Some became torches, burning brighter than the stars. It was too unpredictable, and too uncontrollable. We were going to die here, before I could go out and kill whoever that turned the station to hell, literally. Everything was in shades of red. Everything was turning into ashes. Everything was too blurry.

"Wait!" I shouted, but then coughed out smoke that was traveling down my dry throat. I jumped out of his arms and kicked the half-molten water dispenser down, and tried my best not to spill any water from the 5-gallon container. Captain Young rushed over and took the deformed container from my hands and soaked himself completely wet, and then dumped the rest of the water on my hair and dress shirt.

"Shit," I said to myself. This was definitely not the time and place to blatantly eye his defined six-packs and his deltoid and his biceps and his chest and his...

He took off his heavily soaked outer coat and covered my head.

"Jump on!"

I hopped on his back playfully, and covered his head, too, with his coat.

"I can't guarantee anything, doc!"

"Just try your best!" I patted encouragingly onto his shoulder.

And he blitzed right through the solid screen of hellfire.

Captain Young collapsed onto the granite floor of the station lobby as paramedics immediately crush oxygen masks into our faces. The firefighters randomly continued to fire their hoses into the smoky halls of death, hoping to hit the sources of the flame.

"You stupid assholes, the fire's coming from up top," I choked out the words in my head, and then I passed out next to Nate.

Someone was gently thumbing my injured cheek when I opened my eyes, to find Nate sitting next to my hospital bed. I had seven stitches on my cheek that will leave a permanent, but faint scar, but I don't care about my injuries. All I wanted to see was Nate unharmed.

That day, nineteen officers died from the arson, and six more from an explosion that occurred right after Nate and I were carried out into ambulances.

And they thought all the evidence is no more...

Chapter 1.2 - Nate and I

Since the arson, Nate and I have been seeing each other every day. When the doctors finally peeled off the gauze that protected my scar, the result was better than expected. The injury only left a 2-inch mark of faint discoloration below my left temple. I always joke now, that if Nate ever decides to dump me, it's going to be because of my scar. I mean, it's going to be hard to introduce your boyfriend to your parents, given that his face is disfigured, no matter how small the cut is, right? But he shrugs and hugs me from behind, saying that I look even sexier with the scar.

It's been six months since the fire, and two months since we started dating. And good news was that there have not been any similar murders in the past few months. Then bad news was Captain Nate Young is captain no more. Since they had to move to a new station, the surviving members of his team were moved to be under an old, grumpy, ex-undercover grandpa that couldn't even take a dump by himself.

And as for me, the head of the Department of Pathology returned, so I reverted back to become a normal, yet highly-ranked doctor.

I shook the gallon-sized zip-lock bag of steaks marinated with red wine while trying to read the recipe on my tablet. The door leading to the garage opens, and my handsome boyfriend entered the house to find me frustrated in the kitchen.

"What'cha doin'?" He hugged me from behind around my small waist, and nudged his nose into my soft neck. I love it when he does that. It drives me insane.

"I'm... cookin'."

"You need help?" He tried to untie my apron, but I turned around to kiss him. I can't stop smiling as he swiped his tongue side to side in my mouth. And I could not ignore the growing pain in my pants either. Perhaps I was poking him too hard. He slipped his hands under my boxers, one to massage my left cheek, the other circling his finger around my cockhead.

I moaned, way too loudly, but Nate doesn't mind a bit. I must have been leaking out all the pre-cum stored in my sack. Nate scooped some out with the tip of his finger and without breaking our eye contact, he sucked his index finger dry. I had to bite on my lower lip to stop myself from cumming right there.

"You! You need to stop, or I won't be able to finish making dinner."

"Screw dinner. All I'm going to eat tonight is you."

I gave that statement a thought, still thinking of my steak, but then, "Fine!"

I threw the bag of steaks down the tiled floor and attacked his lips again. His hands cupped my ears to position my head and he sucked the chilly air out of my lungs with a devastating suction. I pushed him hard against the fridge, and I guess the cold surface turned him off a little, so he spun me around to have my back against the cold metal... selfish bastard. He was still trying to untie my apron, but then I just ripped it off of my hips and he undressed me instantly. My prick was exposed to the breezy air, and my balls shyly lifted itself up to get its warmth. My nipples were so hard; Nate needs to stop licking them.

Unexpectedly, he pinned me with my arms up. I looked at him innocently as he scanned my face for the prettiest part to eat. I closed my eyes, just to make sure he doesn't pick to lick my eyeballs. The sensation was weird, because when I have something wet rubbing against a faint, bumpy scar on my face, I would scream with ecstasy. He was enjoying licking my scar on my cheek. His saliva smelled like a mixture of overnight coffee, with a scent of faint cheese, which I would die for if he would use his spit as lube when he enters me.

"Ready to be eaten, Tim Tim?"

"Yes... Eat me, you dirty cop!"

"Yeah? You like a dirty cop running your life?

"Yeah..." I whispered with delight.

I gently rubbed the underside of his cock through his pants. If my sense of touch was correct, I was feeling a giant wet spot right now.

Nate swiped my naked body off my feet into his strong arms and my slender arms around his neck, and he spat on my prick before throwing me onto our bed. The thick mucus dripped slowly down my shaft, and before it tangled in my pubes, Nate grabbed my ass-cheeks, pushed it upward, and slid my prick up his mouth, gliding in and out of his hot trap. My breaths were so uneven I was afraid I was going to hyperventilate. He slurped and grunted, polishing my hard beef jerky. I even almost cummed right into his mouth, that is, before I pulled his massive frame on top of me, and I grinded my asshole against his cock. His head poked and only poked my ready hole, and I was dying from the anticipation.

"Please, Nate. Fuck me."

"You really want it? Do you?"

"Yes!" My voice cracked. He softly chuckled.

He spat a sticky slobber in the palm of his hand and rubbed it on his uncut cock. I can already feel the moist slab of meat in me fucking the cum out of me. Hurry, Nate, hurry!

As he ever-so-slowly pressed his cock inch by inch into me, I took his fingers and licked his spit off between his fingers. That must have sent him into an overdrive; he suddenly powerfully plunged his cock straight into my prostate.