[h2]Benedict Mercier[/h2]


	It might have been at a food truck, or off 5th street, or outside of Stingers; Ben could never be sure where he first saw his White Rabbit. After a few weeks retracing steps and coming up with nothing, he was starting to doubt himself. Maybe it really hadn’t happened, maybe it was all a strange manifestation of the brain. Just like the story. He tried to recall detail after detail, but what he could remember most was the feeling that accompanied their run in. 

	She had run into him hard, and reflexively, he wrapped his arms around her waist prevent a fall. Her head didn't reach beyond his shoulders, but he didn't need to see her expression in order to know. Even through their coats, Ben could feel her body trembling. She had murmured something into his coat and pulled away. He remembered her breath puffing out little clouds into the cold air, her face obscured behind a long curtain of dark hair. He'd meant to apologize, but before he could get a word out, she was already moving past him. Her gate was an awkward quick shuffle, she'd clutched her bag and she ducked her head as if she didn't want to be seen. He couldn't help think it strange, even surreal. Her aura oozed trouble and secrecy. That was the reason he had taken to calling her White Rabbit; if only he'd been a better Alice. He'd always had an eerie ability to tell when someone needed help- maybe he should have followed her. Maybe...                 

	“Hey, hombre.” Mousy eyeballed him over from behind the counter, “Oye, listen, are you gonna’ pay or what? What’s the problem? This ain’t some library or whatever.”

	Ben put down the magazine he had been pretending to read and glanced at his watch. “Is Angel around, Mr. Torres?”

	“What have you got against my son?”

	“I just need to ask him a few questions.”

	Mousy glared at him, “Too bad. He's not here.” The automatic doors slid open; three young men, dressed to the neck in thick black coats, entered the  Super Mouse Supermarket. Mousy broke eye contact to stare at them as they walked in, swearing under his breath, “Now what? Got to be kidding me with this shit…” He made his way from behind the counter, all 270 pounds, and lumbered over to straighten a tower of soup cans. His neck craned in the group’s direction as he rotated soup labels back and forth.

	Ben also eyed the group of men, "Then, if you don't mind. I'll just wait for him here."  

	Mousy's neck snapped in his direction, "No. You know what? I do mind, Ben. You come in here- calling me by my last name, not even saying hello- acting like me and my family are trash? What is this, really?"
 
"You know that's not true."

"I don't know. All I know is that you used to be family, hombre."

	A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. Guilt. While Mousy Torres had always been notoriously dramatic, Ben could understand where he was coming from. He knew he hadn't been himself after the accident. And how could he? Manny had been like a brother. The fact that Manny had been Mousy's own son, only made matters worse for him. Ben knew himself well enough to realize that was acting like a dick; he was refusing to move on, when everyone else already had. That made him a [i]self-absorbed dick[/i].      

	Ben could vividly recall standing on Torres family doorstep on some odd hour, holding Manny's folded uniform. He had finished breaking the news to them, and at the time, he had been fully prepared to take one to the jaw for it. But to his surprise, Mrs. Torres invited him in. It wasn't his fault, they told him at the funeral. They would all get through this together, one day at a time. As Manny's body was lowered into the ground, Mrs. Torres hugged him fiercely. Between sobs, she told him that she was glad that at least [i]he[/i] had survived. He remembered feeling sick, sick to the very core; the idea that he should be the one being comforted by family who had just lost their oldest son. It was beyond pathetic.
 
	"Angel's not here right now, so you can leave."     

	"H-h-hey pops! There's only f-f-five left in the b-back!" Angel emerged from the back room behind the counter lugging a stack of brown boxes; he nearly dropped them when he saw Ben. His brown eyes, framed by false, neon blue eyeglasses, swiveled between Ben and his father. His voice was small contained a slight stutter that didn't fit with the over all appearance of his quirky, Williamsburg-hipster attire. "H-hey Ben. W-wha-what's going on?" he hefted the boxes on to the counter and ran a hand through a mop of shaggy, black hair. Sensing the tension, he added, "Nice. Is that a-a-a new patrol c-c-car?"

	"I was just looking for you."  Both men looked away from each other, Ben gestured to the door, "Let's talk."  

	"Oh, boy. Are w-we gonna d-d-do a r-ride along?"

	No sooner after they rolled out of the Supermarket parking lot, did Angel's posture change. He shoulders rolled from an inward hunch, to something more arched and proper. He reached into his pocket and took out a toothpick which he began to chew, "Benedict, I take it you have a reason for kidnapping me? If you will be so kind as to take me a few blocks south from here, I have a delivery to make while we're at it." 
	
	"Don't see what it could be,"  Ben made the first turn onto Baker's Street. He wasn't the least bit surprised at the sudden change in Angel's behavior, he had fallen into some bad habits after his brother's death and took advantage of the victim card with his parents. Ben felt like it was his responsibility to keep an eye on him. He didn't have the heart to tell Mr.Torres that his son was about a half step from juvie. He took it upon himself to pick the teen up in his patrol car from time to time and drive him along the bad bits of town. He wasn't sure what it would accomplish, maybe he was hoping to scare the troublemaking out of him.  

	Angel smirked and pulled out a stack of Super Mouse Supermarket coupons, "This, see? I'm making an executive decision today, Benedict. There's this place a few blocks down, where I deliver under the counter groceries to a hardcore meth addict."

	"What?" Ben raised an eyebrow, "You're just as dramatic as your father. Where is it?"

	"Look, see for yourself. There it is, pull up right there and give her this. Tell her we won't deliver anymore because this is a shitty neighborhood." 

	He pulled the patrol car on the side of the curb and left the engine running, "Alright, out you go. Hurry up so you can watch me fill out paperwork at the station."
	
	"Dude. I'm serious, I kinda don't even want to go up there. She's really weird." For the first time, Ben felt like Angel might be telling the truth. 
	
	He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, turning back to face the teen, "If you touch anything, I won't hesitate to tell your parents about you smoking behind the dumpsters. But just in case I need back up, you know how to work the siren, right?" Ben waited for Angel to respond, but when he saw that the teen didn't bother to smile or take his eyes off the door, he turned and made his way up the walkway. Before he knocked he shot a look over his shoulder, his expression read: [i]You'd better pray that this isn't a joke[/i]

As he was about to knock, the door slid open. He stood there, Super Mouse Supermarket coupons raised in one hand, eyes widening as he instantly realized who had answered the door. "So the White Rabbit is real, go figure..."  

No sooner had the words left his mouth did the stack of coupons fly out of his hand. He quickly looked over to see what had caused this, but the woman had already pulled him through the door. The door slammed closed and Ben could see the stack of coupons nailed to the wood of it. Only it wasn't a nail, he realized...

It was a tranquilizer dart.