[Collab post between Gonzo and Mach2]

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Mason, seated on a small chair, sighed as he held the TV remote in his large hand and flipped between the different channels of the cell's TV. The three had been thrown in the same large, roomy, and overall comfier of the cells in District 1, as soon as the cops found out who exactly the two boys were. Cooking show? Nope. News? Nope. 'Days of our Lives'? Nope. By the way, that show has been going on forever. It needs to die soon. Nope. Nope. Nope. No- Oh wait a minute... Mason turned his head towards James and motioned his head for the TV. "Look, pop's on the news again. Looks like he was at some charity event he most likely didn't care about," Mason said with a small laugh.

James lifted his head from the pillow of one of the cots and lifted a brow as his eyes trailed over the screen. The television showed their well dressed father walking down a flight of stairs from one of the large District 0 buildings. Below the moving images, there was a line of words, describing the situation displayed. "President Elect exiting 'Help the Young of Lower Districts' gala, yesterday." James let out a scoff and looked back up to the ceiling, muttering something inaudible.

Vander had taken a seat in the very corner of the cell, and stared numbly at the ground in front of her. She was trying very hard to maintain her composure, and it was showing. If she had felt bad when she'd tried to leave the restaurant, she felt like absolute hell now. The inevitable migraine was returning in full force. Along with it came thoughts of awful anxiety.

Why had they been arrested? Lucid wasn't legal. She knew that, but had ignored the rules long, long ago. What if the law had finally decided to come down on her for using? The needles that she had stowed away in her closet, under the dirty pair of jeans. What if they'd found it somehow? Her finger tapped an anxious rhythm against her leg, and her face seemed to pale.

She raised a hand to gently massage her aching temples, and felt dampness. She frowned in confusion for a second, before it finally registered that her entire body was covered with a thin layer of perspiration. Withdrawal sweats. She'd had them before, in the long spans between doses. Vander took a shaky breath before turning to James and Mason.

"Why'd we get arrested?" she asked, the words a bit more mumbled than she had intended. Focus was difficult. For all she knew, they'd already been discussing this.

James turned his head toward the female and shrugged slightly. "You know what? I'm not really sure. I think I heard something about The Spit, but I'm not really sure." The man looked up at the ceiling and listened to the report on his father, making him more anxious and irritated than he already was. It didn't help his mood that Vander had continued with the incessant tapping. After a few moments, he turned his head back in her direction.

"Can you stop that?" He snapped, his eyes narrowed into a disapproving glare. "It's highly irritating. I mean, seriously, what's your pro-"

"Enough!"

Mason had turned around and was glaring at his brother. He turned to Vander and gave her an understanding nod before looking back to his brother. He stood and shut off the TV. He was equally irritated with his father, but he wasn't going to bitch at other people because of it. He had manners, which James should have had.

"I don't know what we are in for, but the cops should be in here shortly to talk to us. So just calm the fuck down, James."

Vander jumped slightly as James snapped at her. She hadn't even realized she was tapping until he'd pointed it out. Her problem, as James had said, was that she had been arrested in the middle of trying to leave the restaurant. Her problem was that she'd tried to push herself far longer than she should be able to go without a fix, and now she was feeling it. Her problem was that the anxious finger-tapping was the result of a far worse habit. "Sorry," she muttered, flexing her fingers before pulling both hands into a tight fists and setting them in her lap. "Bad habit...I don't notice when I do it."

The room fell into a heavy silence as soon Mason had set James straight. She pulled her legs in, sitting cross-legged, and rested her elbows on her knees. Once more, her gaze fell to the ground a few feet in front of her. She focused on a tiny speck of dirt on the ground. It blurred. It would have been clear, but her eyes didn't work right without the drug. Everything was seen through a haze. The haze of withdrawal.

James lay on the cot, staring up at the wall. He didn't know if minutes or hours had gone by. The TV was off, there was no clock, there were no windows. Just a white room. The man let out an audible sigh and mumbled something about being let out. Not even a minute later, the door of the cell slid open and a couple of officers came in. "James Jamison, Mason Jamison, and Vander.... um... P...P... You are all free to go. The charges have been dropped, and the investigation is over. We apologize for the inconvenience. " And with that, the cops turned and walked out, leaving the cell door open.

Mason was the first one up, and strolling out of the room, "About fucking time. Any longer and I probably would have pissed myself." A small laugh escaped the man as he walked through the police station, with the two presumably behind. James just shook his head and stayed silent, until they reached the entrance of the police station, he opened the door and then spoke, not caring anymore if the cops heard him or not.

"Something seems fishy. I bet you anything, dad was behind all of this." James said with a tinge of disgust.

"You're damn right I was behind this," answered a stoic Henry Jamison. He was standing next to a rather large limo. "Now get in, all of you."

As the cell opened and the officers walked in, Vander at first felt her stomach clench in anxiety. She couldn't bring herself to meet their gaze, too worried that guilt would show in her eyes. However, as soon as the announcement was made that the charges had been dropped, she looked up with an expression of incredulity. Whatever they wanted, it wasn't about your Lucid... Relief flooded through her.

With some struggle, and using the wall as a support, she climbed to her feet and followed James and Mason out of the cell and towards the exit. She kept her head down, fighting to focus every second of the way. The second she was through those doors, she had every intent of setting off for District 16. The sooner she reached her apartment and got a needle in her arm, the better.

However, these plans were quickly crushed. Outside of the police station was a very fine limousine, and standing beside it was the man she'd previously seen on the television in the jail cell. Henry Jamison. Vander turned to look at James, an expression of panic clear in her eyes. She couldn't get in the limo. She had to get home. Right now, that was the most important thing on her mind. She had already been pushing herself to a dangerous level of withdrawal at breakfast, she couldn't afford to wait any longer. And who knew how long she would have to wait if she got in that limo. "I...I c-can't..." she stammered awkwardly, already turning to start walking away. "I'm sorry, I have to leave, [i]now.[/i]"

Praying that he would understand, Vander quickly turned. She started walking down the street, headed away from Alpha at a fast walk, back to the slums of Beta.