Pleasantries - Chapter 6 - In the line of Duty - Part 2
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Chapter 5
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
interlude
Part 6
Chapter 6
Part 2
Part 3
* * *Genre: Drama, Modern, Sci-fi, Dark, Crime
Word Count For Chapter: 4450 (and counting)
Rating: NC17 / M for story as a whole.
*note*: This is the second update with no images. See here for why (they will be back eventually!)
Advisories are in Part 1. Active this time around are language and descriptions of the aftermath of that implied violence (possibly a bit much if you have an active, visual imagination and are squeamish).
See, I knew I just had to get that first one out of the way and then this would go so much more smoothly, because now, without further rambling:
Pleasantries - Chapter 6 - In the line of Duty - Part 2
8:25AM Saturday May 17
Leaning his head against the cool glass of the window, Tybalt savored the sense of relief as the jackhammer in his brain turned into a small sledge instead. It didn’t last.
“Good morning, Sunshine!” Caelan called cheerfully, rounding the corner from the stairs at the side of the building.
A pained groan escaped Tybalt’s lips at the noise and the sledge swapped places with the jackhammer once more.
Caelan’s brows shot up, “I know that sound. Had fun last night?”
Tybalt gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, “No. For the most part it sucked.”
Grinning, Caelan dug in his pocket for the keys to the studio. “You’re doing it wrong then. If you are going to get the hangover you should at least enjoy getting it.”
Flinching at the slight jingle of the keys as Caelan unlocked the door, Tybalt grimaced, “Thanks. I got that memo already. Don’t think Damon did though.”
Caelan arched a brow, glancing at Tybalt over his shoulder, “The boyfriend?”
“Or something,” Tybalt sighed bitterly.
“Hmm,” Caelan hummed in sympathy, pulling the door open and stepping back to let Tybalt in, “Doubt on that front is never good. You want coffee?”
“I would kill for coffee,” Tybalt replied, reluctantly pushing himself away from the window to look at Caelan for the first time that morning.
The door handle slipped out of Caelan’s hand, the heavy glass door slamming shut with enough force to rattle the windows.
Tybalt flinched, clutching at his aching head.
With nearly timid slowness, Caelan reached up, taking hold of Tybalt’s arm to pull his hand away from his face, “Holy shit. You took the mask off.”
“And? It isn’t like I have never taken it off before?” Tybalt scowled.
“Outside of your house?” Caelan countered grinning.
Tybalt glared at him.
“Damn,” Caelan’s grin grew, “you took the mask off and you have a hea…”
Tybalt’s hand shot up, blocking the finger Caelan was about to place on his nose, “Don’t even think about saying it.”
* * *
9:40AM Saturday May 17
“No.”
Anto blinked; somewhat surprised by the vehemence Caliban had packed into such a tiny word, “No?”
“Yeah. No. As in not going to happen so don’t even suggest it.”
Leaning back in his chair, Anto watched Caliban stalk toward the coffee machine. “Right. I won’t suggest a thing, but want to tell me what it is I’m not suggesting?”
“You …” Caliban scowled at the white board on his way by, the lifeless eyes of the victim found in the dumpster that morning stared back. He froze. “… She’s fucking got Tel’s eyes.”
Anto nodded, “She does.”
Caliban shook his head and carried on to the coffee, “You are going to tell me to go into that office and request to be removed from this case.”
“I am?” Anto arched a curious brow.
Caliban nodded reaching for an empty mug, “You are and the worst part, the part that just fucking sucks neon shit piles, is you would be right.”
Folding his arms behind his head, Anto smirked, “Would I?”
“You would and you fucking know it,” Caliban poured the coffee into his cup, “I fucking hate it when you do that.”
“Do what?” Anto’s smirk morphed into a grin.
“Sit there like a smug asshole and know you’re right. Exactly,” Caliban gestured toward him with his now full mug, the coffee sloshing precariously. “Like you are now,” another emphatic gesture with the cup. “Fuck! And now you made me spill my coffee.”
Anto got slowly to his feet. “Should you be on this case?”
Caliban glanced at him, frowning as he sucked spilled coffee from his finger. He shook his head.
Crossing the room Anto reached for a towel, tossing it at the alien, “But you are.”
Caliban caught the towel, “I am.”
They were silent for several minutes while Caliban cleaned up the spilled coffee.
“We’ll find out who she was,” Anto assured him quietly.
Caliban nodded, still blotting coffee from his shirt, “I know, but I need to be on this case. I know I shouldn’t be because technically she is my sister, but I need to be. I didn’t know her, never met her but still …”
Anto nodded. He knew he couldn’t even begin to understand what Caliban was going through. He couldn’t understand any of it. Not what it would be like to have possibly thousands of siblings spread all over the world that you weren’t even aware of. Not what it was like when you did meet them and you knew, just by looking at them, they were family. He couldn’t even begin to understand what it must have been like for Caliban to look into the bottom of that dumpster and see a sister he had never met, gutted and covered in her own blood staring lifelessly back. Staring back with the same eyes as his little brother.
“I think I am just pissed off right now,” Caliban said tossing the towel back on the table by the coffee pot.
“I think that is understandable,” Anto agreed.
“I didn’t know her,” Caliban said again, “And now I won’t ever. All because some sick fuck cut her open like a fucking science project and dumped her in the trash? That’s not fair. It really isn’t fair for her. I’m pissed.”
Anto cocked his head, “Like a what?”
Caliban scowled at him, “Science project. Can we just skip the details for a minute? I’m fucking grieving here.”
Anto turned abruptly staring at the images on the whiteboard. His eyes snapped to the image of the victim, unclothed, lying in the bottom of the dumpster. He visually traced the outline of the sideways H shaped incision stretching across her lower abdomen.
“Cal?” he asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the photograph, “Are you going to go remove yourself from this case?”
Caliban snorted, “No.”
“Good,” Anto nodded, “then get over here and tell me what I’m looking at.
* * *
9:55AM Saturday May 17
Juliette knocked on the door to Consorts office. It was time to get this over with.
“Enter,” came the sharp command from the other side of the door.
With a steadying breath she opened the door and stepped inside.
Consort looked up from a stack of papers before him, “Juliette, good morning. What can I help you with?”
Juliette smiled timidly, “Good morning, Grandpa,” she hesitated a moment.
“Well?” Consort prompted as her silence stretched on, “Out with it.”
“It’s about the engagement announcement …”
Consort’s brow creased in concern, “Is something not to your liking?”
“Oh, no. Everything is fine except …” she trailed off again. She really did not want to be having this conversation. She didn’t want to be even thinking about having this conversation. Then again she didn’t want to have her life planned out for her and this was just the beginning.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping, “Grandpa, we can’t announce my engagement because there is no engagement. I can’t marry Telesto.”
* * *
10: 15AM Saturday May 17
Caelan rolled over stretching out on his stomach along the counter. He glanced down to the floor at Tybalt, stretched out with his forehead pressed to the cool tile. “Any better yet?”
Tybalt grunted in response.
Caelan grinned folding his arms beneath his chin, “I guess that’s a no.”
With a sigh Tybalt rolled to his back, folding his arms behind his head, “No, it’s better. I was just about asleep though.”
“Tsk. Tsk,” Caelan shook his head, “Sleeping on the job.”
Cracking an eye open Tybalt stared up at him, “I’m not the one falling asleep on the counter.”
Caelan smirked back, “You planning to call Malcolm and tell on me?”
Tybalt closed his eyes again with a dismissive sniff, “To much effort to move.”
The phone rang. Caelan stretched out an arm, lazily swiping at the button to put it on speaker phone. “Landgraab Commercial Photography. Caelan speaking. How may I help you?”
Tybalt chuckled quietly at the overly formal greeting which was completely at odds with Caelan’s usual manner.
A middle finger popped up beside Caelan’s head.
Tybalt snapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter.
“Caelan,” Malcolm’s voice emanated from the phone, “Where is my car?”
Tybalt crossed his ankles making himself more comfortable as he eyed Caelan curiously.
Caelan stifled a yawn, pointedly ignoring Tybalt, before answering, “In your driveway. Keys are on your desk.”
Silence for a moment before Malcolm spoke again, “Oh. It wasn’t there when I left this morning.”
“I dropped it off at around four, you were already gone,” Caelan explained shifting to lay on his side on top the counter. He stared down at Tybalt as if daring him to question why he had Malcolm’s car at four in the morning, “Where the hell are you anyway?”
Tybalt smiled innocently appearing to be quite interested in studying the ceiling tiles.
Malcolm’s scowl was audible in his reply, “Waiting for my lawyers to come and close this deal on the resort in Three Lakes. Would you believe it is still snowing up here?”
Caelan sat up staring at the phone, “You’re in Three Lakes?”
“Don’t remind me,” Malcolm replied sounding pained, “I haven’t had a descent espresso all day. Speaking of reminding, don’t forget we have that benefit tonight.”
“Will you be back in time?” Caelan asked.
“The jet is already refueled and waiting, I should be back around five-ish. If the legals ever get their asses here. Who are you bringing with you? Your mom says hi.”
“I wasn’t going to bring a date,” Caelan replied, “Hi, Mom.”
There was muffled talking from the other end of the phone for a moment before Malcolm spoke again, “They are here. I’ll see you tonight when I pick you up for the benefit and you will be bringing a date.”
“Fine,” Caelan rolled his eyes, “I’ll find someone to bring with me.”
“Good,” there was a pause before Malcolm spoke again, “Oh, and make it someone respectable please, not the usual bimbos you nail in the back of my car.”
The sound of a woman’s shocked, angry exclamation came through the phone.
Tybalt’s brows shot up as he stifled a laugh. “Your mom?”
Caelan groaned, nodding to Tybalt, “Thanks, Malcolm. That was exactly what my mother needed to hear.”
Without waiting for a response, Caelan reached out lifting the receiver off the hook then slamming it back down in the cradle.
Tybalt lost the battle to control his laughter, doubling over, clutching his stomach.
Caelan crossed his arms and sat glaring, feet kicking at the edge of the counter in agitation, “I hope you laugh yourself right back into that hangover.”
* * *
11:20AM Saturday, May 17
“Our guy is a pro,” Caliban said dropping the photo of that morning’s victim on Taneli’s desk.
Taneli looked up at him curiously, “You are still on the case,” he glanced to Anto then back to Caliban, “He shouldn’t be still on the case. Why are you still on the case?”
“A few shared genes does not mean I knew her,” Caliban said with a sigh, “Yeah, she was my sister and I am pissed I won’t ever get to know her now, but I have no more personal investment in this case than any other.”
Taneli leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk playing about his lips. “How long did you practice that before you went to the L.T.?
Propping his hip against the edge of Taneli’s desk, Anto grinned, “It only took him about 15 minutes to come up with that little gem.”
Caliban made a face, followed by rude gestures with both hands. One for each of them. “It is also true. Now can we focus?”
“Alright kid,” Taneli leaned forward adjusting his glasses on his nose, “Show me what you found.”
“Well, she has this giant H shaped cut across her stomach,“ Caliban leaned over, grabbing a pen from Taneli’s desk which he used to trace the outline of the incision. “Pretty damn weird for a hack and slash job, so this particular carving had a purpose.”
“That is some clean knife work,” Taneli remarked.
“Exactly,” Caliban tapped the pen against one of the many trails of blood dried to the victim’s skin, “and it bled like hell, so she was still alive.”
Anto joined them leaning over the photograph, “That’s not the best part, though. Show him the best part.”
“There is a best to this?” Taneli arched a brow.
“There is,” Caliban’s face split into a wide grin as he tapped the pen against the photo again, this time on a small patch of pale green skin at the end of one of the knife wounds just below the victims ribs, “No blood here, but look what is.”
Taneli leaned closer, squinting. A small black mark extended across the victims skin from the end of the wound, “Is that … marker?”
Caliban grinned, “It is.”
“And most likely the point of entry for the scalpel,” Anto added.
Taneli sat back, folding his arms behind his head, “Scalpel? We sure about that?”
Anto nodded, “Forensics agrees. The wounds on our victim’s body are most likely caused by a scalpel. The pathologist can confirm it on Monday during the post mortem and we already have clearance for the lab guys to go over the body later today and get samples to make sure that is marker.”
“And if it is?” Taneli asked.
“They can probably give us a type, you know? Like is it a sharpie or one of those ones for kids? And if they can give us a type they can maybe narrow it down to a brand,” Caliban explained.
“Are we thinking surgical marking pen at this point?” Taneli asked.
“We are thinking surgical marking pen,” Anto nodded.
“Shit,” Taneli slumped forward in his chair with a tired sigh, “Our guy is a pro. I’m getting too old for this.”
Caliban leaned a hip against Taneli’s desk dropping a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You were too old a decade ago, we like having you around though.”
Anto chuckled.
Taneli glared at Caliban, “You’re an ass, you know that, right?”
* * *
12:10PM Saturday, May 17
“Tell me again why Malcolm picked up the contract for these,” Tybalt said leaning back in one of the odd looking, twisted chairs currently occupying the studio space.
“They are paying clients,” Caelan shrugged from his seat in a matching chair of his own, “why wouldn’t he?”
Tybalt scowled, propping his elbows on uneven arms of the chair, “Because they are the most uncomfortable pieces of shit I have ever put my ass on and look like they were built by a sculptor three years past the day he should have been admitted to a loony bin. What about professional ethics or not attaching the studio name to crap products?”
Caelan arched a brow, “Have you seen the contract for this shoot?”
Tybalt shook his head.
Propping his feet up on a third, very ugly, very uncomfortable chair, Caelan smiled, “It will single handedly pay the operating costs for the next eight months. Including all salaries.”
Tybalt’s brows shot up. He was silent for several minutes until, finally, he pulled over the fourth chair of the set adopting a posture very similar to Caelan’s. “Here’s to uncomfortable pieces of shit.”
The door chimes rang signaling someone had entered the studio.
Tybalt cocked his head, “Didn’t think we were expecting anyone today.”
“We aren’t,” Caelan replied standing up from his chair to make his way into the reception area, “Saturdays are dead when we don’t have a shoot scheduled.”
Tybalt listened with half an ear to the muffled voices as Caelan greeted whomever had just come in. So far the day had not been anywhere near as horrible as he had expected. Caelan surprised him. He was still an annoying little shit, but Tybalt had discovered there was an okay person behind that. He felt comfortable talking to Caelan, or, as much more often happened, not talking and just being in the same room. Caelan had flaws, just like everyone else and annoying Tybalt was one of them, but the more he got to know Caelan the more he found he could deal with the occasional annoyance, especially when he had to admit he was not really a difficult person to annoy.
“Tybs?” Caelan poked his head around the wall separating the studio from reception.
Tybalt blinked at the mangling of his name. Not many people would dare to try that. He decided not to think about how much he really didn’t mind that Caelan had. “Yeah?”
“You know a cute redhead by the name of Lilith?”
Tybalt nodded, smiling, “In here, Lil!” he called.
Caelan stepped back from the wall, making a sweeping gesture toward Tybalt, “This way.”
Lilith rounded the corner, “Hi.”
Tybalt’s smile widened as he pulled his feet off the second chair, “Hey. Grab a very uncomfortable seat.”
Chuckling, Lilith sank gently into the offered seat. She glanced down at the misshapen arms shifting slightly. “What is this thing I am sitting on?”
“A cleverly disguised implement of torture,” Caelan supplied returning to his own chair, propping his feet on the fourth chair once more.
“But you are sitting in them anyway?” Lilith shifted again trying to find a comfortable position.
Tybalt nodded, “It seems we aren’t picky.”
“Right,” Lilith tried several more times to find a position that didn’t feel like she was being bent at an odd angle or had a corner poking into the back of her leg.
“It is way more dealable when you slouch,” Tybalt explained helpfully.
Lilith shook her head, stood up and crossed the room. Tybalt and Caelan watched her progress. When she stopped before a perfectly plain, normal looking sofa and flopped down in the middle of it, their heads snapped around to stare at each other in a mix of shock and disbelief.
“We have a sofa in here,” Tybalt said, awed.
Caelan nodded, his gaze turning back to Lilith as if she had discovered something wonderful and magic, “We do.”
Tybalt abandoned his chair to join her on the couch.
Lilith grinned cheekily up at him as he sat down before tucking her feet under her and curling into his side.
Draping an arm around her shoulders, Tybalt let out a relieved sigh, “Lil, you are a genius, did you know that?”
She nodded, solemnly, “I did.”
Caelan joined them, taking the seat on the other side of Lilith he regarded the two of them curled on the opposite end of the sofa, his brow furled in thought.
“What?” Tybalt demanded staring at Caelan over the top of Lilith’s head.
Caelan frowned curiously, “She’s a friend?”
Tybalt shook his head, “No, she’s Lil which is way more awesome.”
Lilith beamed a smile up at him, “Love you too, Tybalt.”
Tybalt hugged her tighter, dropping a kiss on the end of her nose.
Caelan nodded, turning on the couch, tucking one leg beneath him to face Lilith. A wide, charming smile spread over his lips.
Tybalt groaned, hugging Lilith tighter still, “I will hurt you, Faulke,” he warned.
Lilith glanced back and forth between them, “What’s going on?”
“Lilith,” Caelan began, his smile widening, “How would you like to go to a charity dinner with me tonight?”
* * *
On to Part 3
A couple quick notes: For anyone that missed the picture of Tybalt without his mask on here (go look, the pic clickies for full size and the detail is much more clear there), that is him in the icon for this entry so you can see what it was Caelan almost commented on. :P
And the chairs. I kind of had the image of something like these
in mind. Though I am certain the chairs pictured are much more comfortable than the ones I had in mind, and defiantely far less ugly. Just a general visualization and absolutely no slight is intended to to designer of the chairs pictured or meant to imply her product is not of the highest quality. Simply using them as a visual aide. The above image is courtesy of Today in Style. (Is my ass covered enough here yet?)