Author: Rysler
Date: 07/15/05
Archive: Feel free
Spoilers: Boys Will Be Boys.
Notes: Tracey broods. PG for a bleak outlook on the world, no other content warnings. For the "Missing Scene" challenge.
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I'm standing in the middle of an apartment. Chris is pointing out where a corpse was hours earlier but I can only see carpet. He recounts the victim's last days, and when he tells me that the victim was attacked in a club, I do all I can to keep my tone even when I ask who might have beat the victim to a pulp. Still, when I ask the question, my voice cracks. Chris notices, the bastard, and he avoids eye contact with me when he answers. He gives me the name of our primary suspect calmly. The name is easy to pronounce, as if the murderer is human.
The heavy night air fails to soothe me as I escape onto the street, but at least there's room to move, and I head for the subway entrance. Taking the subway after seeing a violent crime scene is a game I play with myself. I force myself to face the city while knowing its cruelty. I imagine I'm drawing on my courage. The first few times I rode the train after witnessing death, so many years ago, I trembled, unable to look anyone eye, knowing the women or the men could be carrying a knife or a gun. Almost everyone I encounter on the streets of New York is capable of strangling me. Half of New York wants to.
When I get home, I do the necessary paperwork. Putting down the bare facts drains the emotion from me. I let it fill the screen until I feel empty, and then I email it to Kelly for a nasty morning surprise. I wonder if she'll check the mail alone in her apartment before sunrise. I imagine her crying. I imagine her as numb as I am.
I don't see her until the next morning, when she comes into the interrogation room as I'm watching Chris tear apart our suspect. Again, I'm in control. I let Chris do the dirty work, play bad cop. I let him lie and threaten. I stay silent when he violates Miranda. He's doing what needs to be done and I belittle him to Kelly. My voice is a little too quiet and she notices, moving closer to me. I feel her arm against my side. I don't know if she's trying to comfort me or draw strength. Either way, I lean against her and offer her a smile. It's my first smile in two days, and it hurts my face.
The suspect buries his face in his hands and confesses. Kelly shakes her head. "It's just... uncivilized," she says. I reach over and squeeze her arm gently. She's learning.