A Singularity, or Nothingness! (Zander) (FIN)

[ZANDER “ZEUS” DEVEREUX]

Zander watched Lestrade while he talked. He looked like he was a tad bit...angry, no...hurt? Zander felt like groaning. He didn’t mean to hurt the man, but he honestly didn’t remember, and the reminder of his father was not welcome. Maybe he could still salvage things, somehow. He seemed like a decent fellow, after all.

"Noble ranks?" Lestrade snorted in amusement.

“Well, I admit it’s no An Guarda Síochána...” Zander agreed with a shrug, using a bit of Irish he remembered. It was the name of the Irish Police Force. He only knew that since he had spent a night in their cells, trying to pronounce the name as he sobered up. The night watchman had taken pity on him, pronouncing all sorts of words for him.

"Er, well. I dropped out, moved to California, got a girl pregnant, went a little psychotic for a while and moved to New York.”

Zander raised an eyebrow. That was saying an awful lot without saying anything. He had the feeling Greg had skimmed a lot of history for his own sake.

"And you? What've you been up to in the last twenty years, Mr. Fancy CEO? Thought you were going to quit all that malarky and go fly planes."

Zander shrugged, ignoring how the sarcasm laced the other man’s words. He understood it. Not everyone could have his life, and no one understood why he would have traded it for the opportunity to do something so menial. Because he understood, he wasn’t quick to get angry or defend the honor of his name.

“Well, that was the plan. I had every intention on telling my father to give the company to my sisters...”

But then he’d come home from his travels and his parents had missed him so dearly. His father had hugged him and told him that if he wanted to live abroad, they would help him get established. They had honestly thought that he wanted a new life away from them, and even though they were crushed, they would let him. So he’d shook his head and told his father he was a Devereux. He would go to Harvard. He would do it for them.

“But I ended up going to school anyways – I figured there would be epic parties, and I was proud to host many of them.” He shrugged, hoping Greg bought that excuse. “Eventually, they graduated me so I would leave and the school would finally have some peace and quiet. So I started working for my father.”

And the man had been so proud. Even Zander could see that. Every time the man introduced him to others, that gleam was in his eyes that he normally reserved for the company itself – his first child before even Zander himself.

“Dad was injured and retired about nine years ago now, and I took the reins of the company. Now I have a big, shiny toy,” he jested, knowing that most people thought he was playing at being CEO.

What they didn’t know was that he would have given it all up if he could have kept his father out of the accident. He never saw him smile again after the crash, and when he went and visited the old man, he was growly, annoyed, and irrational. He looked at his son like he despised him. Lord knew how the girls put up with living in the same house with Daddy. He was a terrible son for hiding away in New York, multi-billion dollar company or no. He never felt as awful as he had when his father finally died. Zee was never coming back, and neither was the man they’d lived with for nine years who was wearing his skin.

“But it is kind of funny that we both ended up here. I remember someone – in Ireland, ironically – telling me that life always found a way. I think he was talking about evolution or some other science, and I was pretty drunk, but the idea stuck with me.” He smiled a bit, taking a sip of his chocolate treat to chase away the melancholy he was feeling. “Maybe it applies to people, too?”

Who knows, maybe he and Lestrade were meant to meet and compare notes twenty years later? If that was the case, they were sure giving some deity up there a kick.

"Ah, ignore me. I tend to ramble when anyone is willing to listen." And that had not changed since he was a child. He always left room for others to ramble, though. "So tell me, did you have a boy or a girl?"

People liked talking about their children. Perhaps this would be some common ground where Greg would finally stop looking at him like he was a pompous jerk.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

“Well, that was the plan," Zander shrugged, thankfully not commenting on Lestrade's bluntness. "I had every intention on telling my father to give the company to my sisters...”

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "But?"

“But I ended up going to school anyways – I figured there would be epic parties, and I was proud to host many of them. Eventually, they graduated me so I would leave and the school would finally have some peace and quiet. So I started working for my father," Zander said, and Lestrade could tell he was trying to sound indifferent. Lestrade couldn't tell if he was genuinely not caring about it or not though.

“Dad was injured and retired about nine years ago now, and I took the reins of the company. Now I have a big, shiny toy," Zander continued, trying to make whatever horrible incident happened sound like a joke. Lestrade felt slightly awkward, as if he should have know this. “But it is kind of funny that we both ended up here," Zander continued, and Lestrade gave a forced chuckle; the irony was a bit funny. Out of all the men in the world (...it had to be the one who refused to remember). "I remember someone – in Ireland, ironically – telling me that life always found a way. I think he was talking about evolution or some other science, and I was pretty drunk, but the idea stuck with me. Maybe it applies to people, too?”

Zander smiled, and Lestrade thought it was just of nice as smile as it had been years ago. He was, indeed, a pretty boy. Zander was obviously pleased by the advice that Irishman had given him, and Lestrade wondered why. He didn't think there was always a way. Or, well, there was a way, but not always a solution.

"Ah, ignore me. I tend to ramble when anyone is willing to listen," Zander interrupted himself, knowing his words had gotten away from him a bit. Lestrade gave a small chuckle; he was ranting a bit. "So tell me, did you have a boy or a girl?"

It took Lestrade half a second longer than it should have for him to realize what the change of subject was referring to. "Girl," Lestrade answered. "Name's Dolores. She's back in California though," Lestrade shrugged. If Zander was indifferent than so could he be. "And what about you? You find a girl to settle down with?" Lestrade didn't really think Zander was the type to settle down, but certainly, it was possible.

[ZANDER “ZEUS” DEVEREUX]

Lestrade took a minute before he finally answered the question, making Zander wonder if he was pressing into places he shouldn’t.

"Girl. Name's Dolores. She's back in California though."

Delores. It was a name he hadn’t heard anyone called who was under sixty, but maybe this was what his sisters meant when they insisted that retro was back. It had to be hard to have her in California.

“I’m sure it must be difficult to be so far away from her,” Zander offered, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to be so far from his own future child.

"And what about you? You find a girl to settle down with?"
Zander laughed. Oh, that was a loaded question.

“Two of them, actually. Twins,” he added, chuckling at his own joke. “Sorry, it’s a running joke in the family that I’m married to my sisters with how they occupy my time.”

Oh, there had been girls. Many, many, many girls. He remembered a few of them, as he had proposed. But every time they left. He worked too much...he was too doting on his sisters...his sisters were royal brats...his mother was too involved in their relationship...Jeffry remembered her birthday, but Zander didn’t... He’d heard it all. They all left for one or all of those reasons, and every time he never saw it coming.

“As for an actual relationship, I’m trying to con the barista into one right now, but she’s playing hard to get.” He looked over his shoulder, catching Robin’s eye. He winked, watching as she blushed a deep red before turning back to Lestrade. Temptress.

“How about yourself? A handsome bachelor like yourself must have a woman or a man in his life!” Zander prodded, thinking he could help the man out if he needed. He was good at the finding part, not the keeping part.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

“I’m sure it must be difficult to be so far away from her,” Zander said, trying to be kind. Lestrade was quite sure it was just because the man felt somewhat guilty about the state of his memory, but it was a nice offer anyways. He simply nodded, humming, a silly smile plastered on his lips before he made himself ask about Zander's own state of affairs.

“Two of them, actually. Twins,” Zander actually laughed. Lestrade just blinked at him, confused at what the man could possibly mean like that. Twins? As in, polygamy? “Sorry, it’s a running joke in the family that I’m married to my sisters with how they occupy my time.” Oh, that made a whole lot more sense. Lestrade chuckled nervously, able to understand the joke now but still a little unsure what he was doing.

“As for an actual relationship, I’m trying to con the barista into one right now, but she’s playing hard to get," Zander said, and Lestrade watched him give the poor waitress a wink. He tried not to laugh; that never worked. Blunt things and long, too-subtle things worked better, Lestrade thought.

"Is she?" He noted thoughtfully, thinking about the girl to herself. He didn't find her all that nice personally, but he could see what others might. She was pretty.

“How about yourself? A handsome bachelor like yourself must have a woman or a man in his life!” Zander inquired happily. Lestrade raised an eyebrow, doubting the handsome bachelor bit, but quite pleased to hear a compliment. After all, they were just compliments, and those were nice enough, even if they were or were not genuine.

"No," Lestrade chuckled, shaking his head downward a bit, smiling. "No, I've not." He looked back up towards the waitress. "Might want to try roses. Looks like the roses sort of girl," he said. She had red earnings, shapes of flowers, and while her outfit was blue, her earnings were not. Signified a small need to appear sexually attractive, perhaps some amount of lust, but mostly a subconscious effort for attention. Were Zander to try something in front of everyone here, something fancy, Lestrade had the feeling that she wouldn't be able to refuse.

[ZANDER “ZEUS” DEVEREUX]

"No, no, I've not." Lestrade replied, ducking his head and laughing a bit.

Zander grinned. Who knew the man was shy? He had certainly been bold when he walked up to him just minutes before and most likely would have been much bolder had Zander actually been interested in men.

He watched as Lestrade looked back towards the waitress and Zander waited in curiosity, wondering if maybe Lestrade had his eye on Robin as well. A pretty girl like her would definitely draw more attention than just himself. However, he liked to think his large tips put him ahead of the pack...

"Might want to try roses. Looks like the roses sort of girl."

Zander threw his head back and laughed. “Doesn’t have anyone, he says! How can that be? You know which flowers a woman likes just by looking at her! I’d kill for that, so would a lot of other men. I shall have to come with roses next time!”

It was true. Most men would kill to be able to read women that way and Lestrade could have had anyone he wanted. Though, most men were less than astute in their observations. Zander was lucky if he recognized people, let alone what they liked.

Speaking of which...

“I hope you don’t mind, but would you mind if I took your picture?” He asked, pulling the ridiculous phone out of his pocket. “It’s an idea my assistant had to help me remember people. So far it seems to work.”

It was either that or bow down to a cat scan. Just because he had a terrible time with faces didn’t mean that he had something wrong with his brain. So he was going to try this ridiculous phone idea. He doubted it would work, but he was still going to try it.

“And after forgetting you once already, it would look pretty bad if I did it again.”

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Zander suddenly began to laugh very loudly, and Lestrade pretended he hadn't jumped ever so slightly at the sound. Not that it was unpleasant, it was, really, but it was unexpected. “Doesn’t have anyone, he says!" Zander laughed, "How can that be? You know which flowers a woman likes just by looking at her! I’d kill for that, so would a lot of other men. I shall have to come with roses next time!” Zander seemed well and truly impressed, and Lestrade felt a little embarassed.

"Just observant. It's my job and all," he said truthfully, his voice gone quiet. He wondered where all his stupid courage from before went. For some reason, having Zander actually treat him like a normal person and not someone who had just delivered a horrible news also meant that Lestrade's sense of social decency (slash awkwardness) was back. Perhaps it was like a switch, or a lever-type thing. He smirked; and this is why he thinks he should have stayed in math sometimes. Everything's so straightforward.

"I hope you don’t mind, but would you mind if I took your picture?” Zander asked, interrupting Lestrade's thoughts. The police detective looked at the man, confused as Zander took a mobile from his pocket. “It’s an idea my assistant had to help me remember people. So far it seems to work. And after forgetting you once already, it would look pretty bad if I did it again.”

"Um," Lestrade stated, because he wasn't exactly practiced in what to say in this situation. He should write it down on his list of 'Awkward Questions and Good Answers for Them 'he pretended he didn't have scrawled out in a notebook under his bed. "Sure?" He wondered if he should be doing anything besides hesitantly looking into the camera-bit of Zander's phone, and tiny, awkward smile on his face.

[ZANDER “ZEUS” DEVEREUX]

Zander smiled and raised the phone when Lestrade agreed to have his picture taken. He found the right button, hearing the annoying digital “click” that seemed to be even louder than his ringtone. It was an annoying sound, but it let him know the picture had been taken. Lestrade looked uncertain, awkward, and not natural in the slightest. But it was a phone picture, after all. It wasn’t going to make the front cover of Vogue, so it didn’t matter.

“Gregory Lestrade,” he muttered, drawing out the name as he typed it into his phone. “There. You have been digitally immortalized, Inspector.”

And with any luck, this would not happen again.

Before he could put the phone away, it started to ring. He cursed under his breath answering it. Jeffry sounded as snappish as usual, demanding to know where he was and why he wasn’t back to the office already. After only a moment of listening, he promised he was on his way, ending the call before he could be mothered any more.

“My apologies. My assistant seems to have tracked me down.” He shook his head. “He’s a rather jumpy sort. Tends to get a bit cross when I’m not in his direct line of sight.”

Zander reached for his drink, taking another sip, judging that it would get him back to the office and then he would just have to find something else to drink.

“So, this has been...strange,” he admitted with a smile. “But interesting. It was nice to meet you – again. Good luck with the policing and with your daughter.”

He stood up, turning to go before pausing. Really, if he had known the man once, he had kept things from him, especially if he had no idea what to call him. Well, he could remedy it now.

“I must have been really drunk when we met if I let you call me...well, my nickname is Zane."

He smiled and waved a bit, making his way back to the door. He turned and saluted Robin with his cup, always sure to remind her of how much he enjoyed the service. And next time, he would be back with roses.

~/~/~/~

New Years 1992 was a blur for Zander Devereux. Eighteen, away from home from the first time, and in Ireland...needless to say, he’d been drunk for the occasion. He’d stumbled in on a college party, enjoying his time with many people who had taken the plunge into higher learning. They sure knew how to party, though. He became drunk enough to flirt with any girl who had dark hair – he always had been a sucker for brunettes.

At some point, he must have gone home with one of them. The next morning he woke up in one of the dorm rooms, his head pounding, and his stomach clenching uncomfortably. He’d been hung over before, but this one was notable. He couldn’t even remember what the girl he’d gone home looked like, and seeing as how she was in the shower, he figured it didn’t matter.

Getting up, he managed to find his clothing, tugging on his jacket and mistakenly picking up her boyfriend’s wallet on his way out. He’d only gotten down the hall before going to count out what he had on him for breakfast when he’d realised the mistake.

“Gregory Lestrade,” he muttered to himself, reading over the licence. “Well, Gregory, good luck.”

He turned and opened the door long enough to toss his wallet on the bed, hoping whoever this Lestrade fellow was that he was more careful with his things. Who knows, the next person who found it might not be so courteous.