"Angels With Two Faces", Chapter Seven
Title: Angels With Two Faces
Chapter: 7/??
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): still treading the edges of Nino/Jun
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence and language.
Summary: "I'm Kazu Ninomiya. I'm 26 years old, and I'm here to catch a murderer. Let me tell you about Los Angeles."
Shit.
Maybe some twisted sicko back east will start committing murders. Maybe they’ll have to call me back. “So sorry,” I’ll have to tell Takizawa. “Sorry, but I’m needed elsewhere. Good luck with the North Hollywood case.”
Fat chance. I’m losing it with each passing day - following a man who seems to have hit rock bottom will do that to you. Especially when that man may have murdered four people. Sakurai’s been quiet. Can’t let a few sliced brake lines keep me off the case, but it’s rather pathetic when you look forward to stalking a man rather than sitting at the desk of another.
Matsumoto hasn’t said anything. Neither have I. We’re that silent, steely type when it comes down to it, aren’t we? Or maybe being out in Hollywood turns everyone into an actor, everything into a show for the audience’s entertainment. But there’s nobody sitting in the movie palace watching him and me.
The theater’s empty, but the picture plays out just the same every day.
--
It would have been rude to turn down the invitation, and Dr. Ohno had been nothing but accommodating. And getting away from Sakurai’s sad sack life for a few hours would be rewarding. Especially since he’d bought himself a bus ticket the other day. He’d even been upfront, calling ahead to let Jun know he’d be visiting his sick mama up in Monterey for the next few days.
Jun had even agreed to call him in the event of a break in the case, though Nino knew for a fact that the terms of Sho’s suspension meant he was to be kept out of the information loop. But Jun was loyal to him, and Nino still didn’t know why. Getting that information from Matsumoto though - well, he wasn’t trying to think too hard about the ways he could pry that from him.
At present, Nino was mostly thinking about how to get the doctor to turn the boat around and head back for the dock. They’d only been out on the waves for twenty minutes, and Ohno was still going through his tackle box to find the perfect lure, but already the waves and the constant bobbing were making him sick to his stomach.
He was laying flat on the small deck, trying not to heave his stomach contents over the side of Ohno’s boat. The doctor was a quiet man, his concentration entirely focused on his rod and reel. Nino supposed that the same fresh sea air that made him ill made Dr. Ohno happy. Spending most of your time around death in a chilly, cramped morgue would make anyone long for the open water.
Ohno cast out the line with a small quirk to his lips. “You still feeling sick, Kazu?”
“Mmm.”
He smiled. “Well, we’re closer to Catalina than the mainland, so if you still don’t have your sea legs in an hour, we can go have lunch in Avalon. Let you rest up.”
The thought of food wasn’t helping. He curled up in a ball. “No…no Avalon.”
He shut his eyes tight, eventually feeling a bit of warmth as the doctor dumped a blanket on top of him. As the boat swayed, he tried to focus. Monterey. Sho was going up to Monterey. Or maybe he wasn’t. The last time there’d been a weekend off, Erika Toda had ended up dead. Maybe there was no sick mother up north.
But if there was and Sho was out of his apartment for an extended period, it would be the perfect time to have a look see around. If he could find something to exonerate the Lieutenant, anything that would give him an alibi for Erika or any of the other deaths, then he could shake the sinking feeling he’d had since that night in the cemetery. The only person who could clear Sakurai’s name was Sakurai himself.
Then again, if he spent the time getting in and out of the Lieutenant’s building and he wasn’t in Monterey, would someone end up dead? Would Matsumoto ring up the hotel for him? Wouldn’t it just be more sensible to see if the man got on the bus on the first place?
Thinking was impossible so long as he was away from dry land. “Dr. Ohno, you mind going back?”
“Back?” the man wondered. From the smell on the deck around him, the man had already caught a fish or two since Nino had mostly disappeared into his mind. That was enough fish for a trip out, right?
“Don’t want to ruin your hospitality, but I don’t think I’m meant for fishing.”
“Ah, you’re probably right. You look pretty awful.”
He’d looked awful since they’d left the marina. Ohno wasn’t the most attentive host. Nino listened to the doctor reel in his line, setting the rod back down and heading for the wheel. “Appreciate it,” Nino mumbled. The ride back would be something awful, but he’d endure it.
Every minute away was a minute he didn’t have to think about Jun, his soft lips, and the reality of what he was feeling for him. Better to lie in a daze on the deck of Dr. Ohno’s fishing boat than to sit in the squad room looking up just in time to see Jun looking away.
It was over too soon, and Ohno was getting the boat tied back to its berth at the marina. He slunk off the boat, smelling the fish the doctor had caught. His legs were shaky as he made it onto the dock, and he leaned against a post while Ohno gathered up his things. “Kazu, something’s been bothering me.”
He sighed. “My lack of interest in fishing?”
“No,” Ohno chuckled, almost like a young boy rather than a grown man who cut open bodies for a living. “You’ve been away from the station a lot. Masaki says you’re like a ghost. How are you going to solve a case like that?”
His stomach was still swaying like the waves. Because the more time I spend around Matsumoto, the more likely I am to do something I might regret?
“There all the time,” he lied. “And when I’m not I’m following up on leads. What few we have, considering how many bodies you’ve had to look at.”
Ohno nodded. “You think it’s a police officer. Don’t you?”
He was stunned, seeing Ohno stand there so calmly with his tackle box, his rod and the bucket of fish, asking him something like that. “What makes you say that?”
“That day, when you asked me about police-issue equipment. Why else would you be looking into that if you didn’t suspect a cop?”
Nino looked down. “Was just a niggling suspicion. Big dead end.”
Ohno was watching him carefully now. “I don’t really like when people lie to me, Kazu. I’ve been working with these boys for years now. If you’re suspecting one of them, I think you should give them a chance to clear their name instead of poking around behind their back.”
What did he know about police work? All he did was look at dead bodies, let them tell him what happened to them. He had something tangible to go on when he typed up his reports. “Why don’t you stick to your job, Doc, and I’ll stick to mine.”
The man stepped forward, looking up with a disappointed frown. “I think you’re wrong.” Nino was just glad he had a fishing rod and not his scalpel that day. “Thanks for coming out. Always good to have company on the boat.”
Nino watched the man lug all his equipment back down the dock, leaving him alone as the sun peeked out through the winter clouds.
--
Ohno had left him high and dry- if that was the man's way of sending a message that he was offended at Nino's suspicion of his fellow police officers, then Nino got the hint loud and clear. It took him twenty minutes to get a cab, and a fistful of bills to get back into the brick buildings of North Hollywood.
He had the cab drop him off at Sakurai's place. There was a gas station across the way that he could call another cab from when he was done; it was obvious he couldn't involve Matsumoto in the plans. And he sure as hell couldn't let anyone else know that the lieutenant was his prime suspect.
Sakurai was a cop, first and foremost, so his house was locked tight while he was away. Nino tried the door but he didn't have a lock-pick handy on him, and besides, the front stoop was in full view of the street just beyond the walk. He'd be spotted in a heartbeat. The back was his best bet, and there was only one opening that didn't have a storm window on it.
Fortunately, Nino managed to wrench the thing open, at least enough to crawl through. Unfortunately, it was Sakurai's bathroom.
"Shit," he mumbled, when his head hit the side of the stool as he fell onto the tiles. It was damn cramped, and the wood from the window frame had scratched the hell out of his palms on the way in. He was bleeding a bit- he stuck the fleshy part of his hand against his lips and tried to staunch the flow as best he could, stumbling out from the bathroom into the hall.
Sakurai was neat; neater than Nino had thought he was, given the last time he'd seen the man's home. There were a few empty bottles in the trash can in the kitchen, so he knew at least half the way that Sakurai was spending his suspension from the force.
And he wasn't even sure what he was looking for, given he didn't think the man was going to leave the hearts of his victims lying around the living room.
He started with the obvious things- the laundry basket for bloodied clothing, the bathroom for traces of splatters on the walls. When he came up empty, he started digging deeper. There was nothing stashed under Sho's bed, nothing incriminating in the medicine cabinet.
Nothing. The house was clean. Not a single thing, but that wasn't entirely surprising. It had been weeks since the first murder, days since Erika's. And unless Sakurai was keeping the hearts when he carved them out, there wouldn't be anything at the house- Nino didn't think any of them had been killed there. At least none of the signs had pointed to such a thing.
What he did find was a photo album of the academy.
Nino stared at the book in his hands, sliding down onto the man's bed. There was Sakurai, manning something- a cadet, it seemed, or someone in a position of power. Training the rookies, helping them through. And then beside him was Jun, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Thinking he could change the world with just the power of his will.
The lock on the front door clicked.
Nino nearly dropped the book; he caught himself, but only just in time, heart beating like mad in his throat, choking him. Had Sakurai come home early? Jesus, he thought he'd be fine- last thing he wanted was to be found in the home of a man he suspected of killing four people. He made a mad dash for the closet and pulled the door closed behind him, looking out the slits.
He could hear movement in the living room- someone humming? He couldn't make it out. He didn't know how he was going to escape without being noticed. Christ, he'd thought he had plenty of time, Sho wasn't due home for at least a day.
His own breathing sounded very ragged, and he could hear the footsteps moving closer, towards the kitchen. In the direction of the bathroom. It hit him that he hadn't closed the bathroom door after he'd slid inside- his palm throbbed just thinking about it. He bit back a curse and squeezed his eyes together. The humming abruptly stopped.
Jesus. He'd seen the open window. He knew; Sakurai had to know.
The footsteps started towards the bedroom. Nino's back was pressed up against a suit jacket and pair of slacks, folded over the hanger. He couldn't shrink back any further without making noise, or hitting his heel against the back wall, and he couldn't get out of the closet. The bedroom door squeaked open further, bouncing against the stop.
Nino's breath caught. And through the slits, he saw the figure move towards the center of the room.
Aiba- holding a handful of mail. Not Sho. Aiba was looking around with knotted eyebrows, like maybe the window had tipped him off, but he didn't go near the closet.
Nino could practically see the other man's eyes on the book lying open on the bed- it was still on the page with the picture of Sho and Jun, looking proud into the camera lens together. Aiba bent towards it, and even through the closet door slits, Nino could see the man's frown. Aiba made a 'tsk' of annoyance, like the book- or the photo- had offended him, turning his back on the bed.
He swept the room and then shrugged a bit, looking back down at the letters in his hand and leaving the bedroom again. Nino wheezed in, body shaking and trembling in adrenaline-tinged relief.
"Bill, bill," he could hear Aiba mumbling in the living room. There was banging in the fridge. Getting the mail and switching out the milk, then. Aiba started humming again, something off-tune that might have at one point been Calloway. There were the sounds of more rummaging in the fridge, and then a muttered, "Definitely past its prime."
Nino felt secure enough to run a hand through his hair, jostling the clothing next to him. After a few minutes, Aiba's humming stopped and the front door opened and closed again.
But Nino didn't fall out of the cramped space until he heard the lock click back into place again. The last few days had done a number on his poor heart- between the cut brake lines, Jun... well, Jun, and almost being caught sneaking into the lieutenant's house, Nino was done with surprises.
He reached for the photo album, to put it away, and lingered just a bit on the photo. Sho had his arm around Jun's shoulders- he looked so proud. And Jun looked so... content. Pleased. Accomplished, maybe.
There was a twinge of something in Nino's gut. A shiver ran down his spine, like he was once again remembering the feel of Jun's mouth against his- the ghost of warmth, of barely restrained desire.
He needed to figure out just what bond ran so deep between Matsumoto and Sakurai. He needed to discover the lieutenant's past, his allegiances, any prior charges- Nino needed everything. He wasn't going to find anything more skulking around the man's house like a common criminal.
As he replaced the photo book where he'd found it, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, and made his way back to the bathroom. Shimmying out the window seemed easier than getting in, but maybe it's because there was still fire running in his veins, propelling him into action.
"What makes you tick, Sakurai?" he mused aloud, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he jogged across the street to the gas station across the way.
He had to find out. It was possible that more lives were at stake; Nino couldn't accept failure again.
--
It had taken the better part of the evening, and nearly a bottle of scotch to get Takizawa to agree to his demand. Sakurai’s home wasn’t talking - the only thing that would was probably his personnel file at LAPD headquarters. Every commendation, every write-up would have to help fill in the blanks that his suspicious behavior left open.
Of course, he couldn’t just ask Takizawa for Sakurai’s case file - too suspicious. No, all Takizawa needed to do was get him permission to enter the archives at headquarters. Even beat cops had a hard time getting in, but the scotch and a casual mention of the handcuffs that had kept Erika Toda shackled to that bridge were enough to get what he wanted out of his superior.
The cab dropped him downtown, and his badge and Takizawa’s name were enough to get him past the sleepy guy at the front desk. The girl in the archives was just leaving for the night, but a quick smile and the promise of all the dancing she wanted the next night at the Brown Derby got him inside. It had probably been a bit cruel to introduce himself as Takizawa, but he’d never be back here again.
She kept out of his way as he found files for North Hollywood officers. Sakurai had two whole boxes - he took the top off the first one and closed it within seconds. Commendations out the ass. Nino grabbed the second box, and much as he felt guilty for doing so, he grabbed Jun’s as well, making his way over to a table.
He opened Jun’s first, biting back a smile at the grouchy file photo scowling back. His academy photo - he didn’t look so much like a wannabe cop, but more like one of the juvenile delinquents the cops would arrest despite that pretty face. Born August 30, 1911, Riverside, California - he had to laugh. Jun was only two months younger than him. Father deceased, mother not.
He kept flipping through the file, stopping on a flagged item. Recommend immediate expulsion for Cadet Matsumoto - striking superior officer, record of insubordinate behavior. Well, that didn’t surprise him.
Tacked to the expulsion order, however, was something far more interesting. He skimmed it quickly.
...recommend Cadet Matsumoto to detective division. He’d probably be wasted elsewhere. I will assume full responsibility for Cadet’s behavior...
...unavoidable home situation, but the Cadet shows promise and dedication...
...see a lot of myself and my academy struggles in Matsumoto, therefore I humbly request...
He shut the file, rubbing his tired eyes. Okay. The stories really were true - Jun would have gotten booted if Sho hadn’t stepped in to save his ass. They were buddies. It was a beautiful, touching story - no wonder Aiba could barely contain his irritation at the academy photo. He’d probably worked his ass off in the academy while Sho stepped in for a troublemaker, even though Jun should have been out on the street.
The same favoritism definitely extended to North Hollywood homicide. It was the Sakurai and Matsumoto show, and now it was crumbling. The past kept Jun blind to reality. Just what the hell had he done? What really made Sho step in?
Nino moved on to Sho’s files. Academy golden boy, recommendations and commendations - not at all like the insubordinate Matsumoto. Records showing his transfer almost immediately from the Academy to homicide, detective shield by his second case. More commendations.
Then the records stopped. Well, not so much stopped as had been taken out of the folder or blacked out. All that remained between his first year at North Hollywood and now was a file dated from February of last year. Valentine’s Day.
Lieutenant Sakurai reinstated to active duty, effective immediately. All charges dropped.
“Excuse me?”
It was the girl from before, standing with a frown on her face as she looked down at all the papers he had scattered over the table. He glanced up, feeling even worse. Sho, what the hell did you do?
“Mmm?”
The girl started packing the files back into the box. “There’s a Sergeant Matsumoto on the telephone for you.” She raised an eyebrow. “Agent Ninomiya.”
He nodded slowly, getting to his feet. “Thank you.”
“...not some floozy,” the girl was mumbling under her breath as he left, and he rolled his eyes. Finding the telephone receiver waiting on her desk, he picked it up and cleared his throat. He really didn’t need to talk to Jun - especially if Jun knew exactly where he was.
“Ninomiya.”
“Had to nearly beg Takizawa to tell me where you were.”
He didn’t doubt it. Takizawa wasn’t too fond of the LAPD since their various corrupt members kept him working after hours every night. Okay Jun, he thought. Let me have it. Why are you at headquarters alone at this hour? Just what are you investigating?
But Matsumoto had worse news.
“You’d better get up here. There’s been another one.”
--
The cab dropped him off at the station, and Nino wasn't sure whether his stomach was clenching because there was another murder- and therefore another failure resting solely on his hands, crimson and sticky- or because he was going to have to see Jun face to face and confront the demons. It was a tricky thing, a fine line he was going to try and walk, and honestly- well, he wasn't entirely sure if he was going to be able to pull it off.
He had less time than he anticipated to think over his next move, because he took one step out of the cab and was bombarded with the press standing on the sidewalk and cops moving everywhere with hands splayed out in front of them, looking haggard and weary and like they all wanted to be anywhere but where they were. The beams of the flashlights the police were holding were moving quickly across the grass, making loops and circles against the blades.
"The hell?" Nino said, because the activity wasn't press-related, like a bombardment of reporters and photographers eager to know the new details. It was more hurried, more impatient; it was the flurry of activity that surrounded the crime scene.
And someone had brought the crime scene to their front door.
Nino pushed past the officer nearest to him and the throng of reporters. He found Jun standing near the corner, near where the bushes lengthened and wrapped around the brick building just under the window shutters. There were officers there trying to push back the spectators, the growing crowd, and Nino shoved right past them, nearly tripping over the body because he couldn't entirely see it in the darkness.
"What-?" was all he managed to get out, before Jun was there next to him grabbing for his arm, fingers tightening around his elbow to keep him from falling on top of it. And it was only because Nino was going to stumble right down onto the victim that he didn't pull out of Jun's grip immediately.
"Dumped it here," Jun said, as Nino found his footing again and shifted. Jun's fingers fell away from his arm, and Nino could breathe again.
"Here?" Nino repeated. "Are you kidding? It's on our doorstep."
He stared down at the body, covered in red that blended with the shadows. There was a buzzing in his ears that he didn't enjoy, failure pumping through his blood- they'd let another one die. They'd let another die practically right in front of their faces because they couldn't find the killer. More and more were on their consciences now. He swallowed down the bitter sting of guilt, but it didn't completely go away.
"Who is it?" he asked, softer.
Jun stepped aside a little, deliberately not looking at Nino, even without the flashlight beam illuminating them. "Jin Akanishi."
That name stopped Nino cold. "What?"
"He's a singer," Jun said, flipping through some pages and gesturing to one of the officers across the body from them. "Works at Shun's lounge- if Shun hadn't had an alibi already, I would bump him to number one. It's his employee. And remember when we arrived to talk to Shun the first time?"
Nino did, vividly. "They were having an argument."
But that wasn't why the name was ringing a bell in Nino's head. He just couldn't figure out what the real reason was. And standing over his still-warm body next to the very person clouding his mind... well, he wasn't going to figure it out. Not there, not like that.
One of the officers ran over to give Jun something, something Nino couldn't see in the darkness, and it made Jun shift his weight again. His shoulder brushed Nino's and they both jumped; Christ, could they be any more obvious? Nino's heart was in his throat, imagining Jun's mouth against his own, Jun's fingers against the side of his face.
"Sorry," Jun mumbled, without meeting Nino's gaze.
Nino just stared down at Jin's form, chest opened, shirt soaked with crimson life-force. Nino had been so worried about getting into Sho's place when the lieutenant was gone, but for what? So Sho could do it again?
He felt like he'd swallowed a round of ammo.
"He's taunting us," he said, before he realized he was even saying anything out loud. "Damn bastard is mocking us, look at this! It's right at our feet!"
His brain was on overdrive, screaming at him, hissing in his ears- could have saved him, Kazunari, could have saved him if you'd said something, found something, stopped Sakurai.
"God damn it, we could have stopped this!" Nino cried, slumping forward to balance on his heels, elbows on his knees. "Dammit, dammit, we should have stopped this!"
"Nino!" he vaguely heard Jun yelling above him, but he didn't see Jin's pretty, anguished face anymore- it was Mrs. Phillips again, and Erika Toda. "Nino!"
His breath caught in his throat; he should have told someone. He should have told someone about Sakurai, but he'd let him "leave town", he'd let him skip out without knowing his whereabouts, and now another one was dead, all because he'd kept it to himself.
"Kazu!" Jun was next to him, in front of him, fingers warm and wrapped around Nino's wrists.
He had to tell him- didn't he? He had to tell Jun something, anything; the investigation was barking up the wrong tree. Nino didn't have proof, but he had a gut feeling, knowledge that something wasn't right.
No one dropped a carved-out body on the lawn of the LAPD without knowing exactly what they were doing and how to get away with it.
"Lounge singer," he gasped, as Jun's fingers tightened around his skin, almost hurting. "Doesn't fit the pattern."
Jun hauled him up to his feet, steadying him, and Nino should have pushed him away. He should have moved and gotten up on his own, but the other man's presence was steady and solid, something to cling to. And then Nino got another whiff of Jun's cologne, and it made shivers run down his spine to settle at the base.
Staring at his partner, Nino just wanted to kiss him again.
"No," he said.
Jun frowned, confused and tired, lines evident on the sides of his face. "No what?"
If Nino didn't move, he was going to. And he'd lose every semblance of control he'd tried so furiously to gain back in the past day. He couldn't lose it, not standing in front of half the North Hollywood payroll with a dead body at his feet.
He took an unsteady step backwards, hand against his forehead. "Get- get Dr. Ohno. We need a report. A full report. And... Jesus, sweep the area. Maybe there's something here, a clue."
"I'm already doing that," Jun snipped, and Nino didn't know where the tone was coming from- he couldn't raise his gaze to see.
"I'm going inside," Nino told him. "If you find anything, let me know."
Not like the inside of the station offered him anymore answers, but at least he could sit with his arms propped on Jun's desk, and he wouldn't be assaulted with the wave of cologne that colored every thought with memories.
--
He was sick and tired of the press. Maybe freedom of the press was an overrated privilege with the way the flashbulbs had been going off around the North Hollywood station for hours. Dr. Ohno had arrived earlier, and he’d nearly been kept away by the horde of reporters and curious onlookers. Detective Aiba had finally had to pull out his gun and threaten to fire if they didn’t let the doctor through. There were hardly enough men on the force to keep the crowds behind the barriers.
Akanishi’s body was already cooling in the morgue, and it was all Nino’s fault. A trip down Matsumoto and Sakurai’s memory lane had just enabled the murderer to drop the corpse off right on the police steps. Just like he’d been able to drive Nishikido’s car to the El Portal, the guy had probably dragged Akanishi and dumped him like he was a candidate for the drunk tank. It wouldn’t have looked suspicious until someone saw the blood.
There’d been so much blood.
He didn’t really need to wait for Dr. Ohno to finish his slice and dice - it was number five. Did the singer have to struggle? Or had he known his killer? Did Sho simply flash his badge with one hand and stab Jin with another?
He’d been on the phone during all the wee hours of the morning, fielding media calls that Jun wasn’t able to handle, trying to get a hold of Oguri to let him know his headliner was dead. He’d even called Sakurai’s place, but on Jun’s barked order from inside Sho’s office. Of course, Matsumoto expected Nino to relay the very confidential details to his superior - but Nino was more interested to see if Sho was even home.
He wasn’t. Probably on the way back from Monterey. At least that’s what he’d tell Jun. Why Akanishi? Did he know something? It was too much. He had to voice his suspicions, and he had to do it now. Sitting on Sakurai hadn’t been enough - he was just one man. If he went to Takizawa, he wouldn’t have to tell Jun. But Jun would find out.
Takizawa didn’t have anyone to spare anyhow. No matter what, Jun was going to be furious. He was never going to forgive him, and Nino was enough of a bastard to expect that sort of reaction. He’d been the one with unpleasant news to deliver on case after case. But this time it was different. This time it would hurt him just as much.
The sun was already peeking through the blinds - nearly 7 AM, and he’d been out all night. Ohno was still working down in the basement while Aiba had his head down on his desk, long limbs sprawling in every direction. He got up and stretched. The station was pretty much on lockdown, but he had to get out.
The rear station door opened to an alley, and with the body gone, most of the onlookers had headed home. It was quiet as he lit up a cigarette, scratching his head and sighing. If he was a nice guy, he’d go get coffee for everyone. But he wasn’t feeling particularly nice. He had to tell Jun.
And he was going to get his chance. The door opened behind him, and Matsumoto was on the landing, taking the steps down to the alleyway two at a time. He looked away, blowing some smoke.
“Did you talk to Sho?”
“Wasn’t home.”
Jun sighed. “Ugh, he must still be up in Monterey. I could have sworn his bus was getting in around midnight.”
Well, Nino thought. Put the pieces together, Jun. Don’t make me have to do it. I don’t want to.
Matsumoto leaned against the building. “Give me one.” He rolled his eyes, tossing his pack of cigarettes over his shoulder. He heard Jun catch them. “Thanks. Light?”
He turned, knowledge of what news he had to break weighing him down like an anchor. Pulling his matchbook from his pocket, he struck one quickly, holding it up tentatively. Jun’s eyes got him, that stare that was keeping him up every night now. Matsumoto didn’t even blink as he leaned forward effortlessly, bringing the cigarette precariously balanced in the corner of his mouth to the match.
It lit and Nino pulled the match away, shaking it and stomping it underfoot. Damn him. Jun pulled the cigarette from his mouth, blowing out a steady stream of smoke. Just like a fucking movie star. Like those juvenile delinquents that needed two-faced sonsabitches to keep them in line, keep them on the squad.
He tossed his own cigarette down the alley. “Got something to tell you.”
“You didn’t call Sakurai,” Jun answered. “I get it. He’s suspended. You don’t think he should be getting information.”
“I called him.”
“Yeah, I bet you did.” Jun took another drag, not looking away from him. “You’ve been a pain in my ass ever since I’ve had to take over. Using your badge and your FBI connections to run your own little show out here. I’m tired of it.”
“Not like LAPD’s doing a god damn to find the killer. Maybe I’ve already found him.”
Matsumoto laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I bet you have.”
He looked away from Jun, from the cigarette dangling at the edge of his mouth. From the lips he knew and wanted to be far better acquainted with. Damn him. “Wanna know why I was at headquarters last night? Wanna know what I was looking for?”
Jun snorted. “Nothing in those old dusty files will find the bastard we’re after. This isn’t something that’s happened before. There’s never been one like this. No amount of folder browsing and shelf skimming’s going to help you. Can’t use your FBI Academy tricks to turn up this guy.”
He got closer, close enough to see the light mole on Jun’s upper lip. “Flap your gums all you want. Maybe you’re afraid I really have found something.”
“Afraid?” Jun asked, his eyes changing from irritation to something different. “Why would I be afraid? Stop beating around the bush, Ninomiya. I’ve got work to do.”
He didn’t know why, but the pissing contest was making him hot. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was not wanting to lie to him any longer. It was hard to look Jun in the face and lie. It was hard to look Jun in the face and not pull him close.
The sun peeked out over the trees behind the station, temporarily sending Jun’s eyes fluttering, blinking away the light. He thought of the letter Sho had wrote to keep Jun from being booted, thought of the type of man who would put his reputation on the line for some cadet.
He had to ask him about Sho. But he didn’t have the stones to go all the way. Nino stepped forward, pulling the cigarette from Jun’s lips and taking a drag of his own before tossing it to the ground. He could smell the sweat from under Jun’s arms, could see the five o’clock shadow dusting his face.
“Tell me,” he managed to whisper nice and quiet, brushing the pad of his fingertip against the corner of Jun’s mouth, just where the cigarette had rested moments before. “I want you to tell me about the academy.”
Jun’s breath was warm where it escaped from between his lips, a shuddering sigh at the feather light touch. “What?”
“Sometime. I want you to tell me.” Tell him you suspect Sakurai. Tell him you think his hero’s a murderer. Tell him that Sakurai was dropping off a bleeding body on the steps of his own station at midnight. “I wanna know why…even though he’s suspended that you want to call him. I want to know why you trust him. Can’t even do his job.”
Jun’s hand shot out, fingers wrapping tight around his wrist. “Why? You never had someone to trust before, Nino? Never had somebody you stayed up all hours with to crack a case?”
No, he thought bitterly. Not until I met you.
“I just…I…” Jun’s thumb was pressed against the inside of his wrist, against his pulse point there. “Just curious.”
“Only reason Lieutenant’s not here is because we haven’t done enough to help him,” Jun said quietly.
Nino’s body screamed. His brain, to tell Jun the truth. His body, to lie a little longer, find solace in him. He grabbed Matsumoto by his thick, dark hair and pulled him close. Their lips didn’t touch. Jun wasn’t struggling, but Nino couldn’t give in. Couldn’t take what he wanted. He could feel Jun’s heavy breathing, exhaled it right back.
He swallowed. “I don’t know what I want any more,” Nino admitted.
“Want to solve this case.”
“Not what I mean. You know that’s not what I mean.”
Jun’s other hand was on his back, fingers up and down his spine. It was 7 in the morning. “I know. But we have work to do.”
“Yeah.”
He pulled away, shaking like a damn leaf. Why can’t you say the words? Why, when the body count just kept rising?
Nino wondered later just where they’d been standing, where they’d been watching. Where they’d been when they’d pressed the shutter release.
Chapter: 7/??
Fandom: Arashi
Character, Pairing(s): still treading the edges of Nino/Jun
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence and language.
Summary: "I'm Kazu Ninomiya. I'm 26 years old, and I'm here to catch a murderer. Let me tell you about Los Angeles."
Shit.
Maybe some twisted sicko back east will start committing murders. Maybe they’ll have to call me back. “So sorry,” I’ll have to tell Takizawa. “Sorry, but I’m needed elsewhere. Good luck with the North Hollywood case.”
Fat chance. I’m losing it with each passing day - following a man who seems to have hit rock bottom will do that to you. Especially when that man may have murdered four people. Sakurai’s been quiet. Can’t let a few sliced brake lines keep me off the case, but it’s rather pathetic when you look forward to stalking a man rather than sitting at the desk of another.
Matsumoto hasn’t said anything. Neither have I. We’re that silent, steely type when it comes down to it, aren’t we? Or maybe being out in Hollywood turns everyone into an actor, everything into a show for the audience’s entertainment. But there’s nobody sitting in the movie palace watching him and me.
The theater’s empty, but the picture plays out just the same every day.
--
It would have been rude to turn down the invitation, and Dr. Ohno had been nothing but accommodating. And getting away from Sakurai’s sad sack life for a few hours would be rewarding. Especially since he’d bought himself a bus ticket the other day. He’d even been upfront, calling ahead to let Jun know he’d be visiting his sick mama up in Monterey for the next few days.
Jun had even agreed to call him in the event of a break in the case, though Nino knew for a fact that the terms of Sho’s suspension meant he was to be kept out of the information loop. But Jun was loyal to him, and Nino still didn’t know why. Getting that information from Matsumoto though - well, he wasn’t trying to think too hard about the ways he could pry that from him.
At present, Nino was mostly thinking about how to get the doctor to turn the boat around and head back for the dock. They’d only been out on the waves for twenty minutes, and Ohno was still going through his tackle box to find the perfect lure, but already the waves and the constant bobbing were making him sick to his stomach.
He was laying flat on the small deck, trying not to heave his stomach contents over the side of Ohno’s boat. The doctor was a quiet man, his concentration entirely focused on his rod and reel. Nino supposed that the same fresh sea air that made him ill made Dr. Ohno happy. Spending most of your time around death in a chilly, cramped morgue would make anyone long for the open water.
Ohno cast out the line with a small quirk to his lips. “You still feeling sick, Kazu?”
“Mmm.”
He smiled. “Well, we’re closer to Catalina than the mainland, so if you still don’t have your sea legs in an hour, we can go have lunch in Avalon. Let you rest up.”
The thought of food wasn’t helping. He curled up in a ball. “No…no Avalon.”
He shut his eyes tight, eventually feeling a bit of warmth as the doctor dumped a blanket on top of him. As the boat swayed, he tried to focus. Monterey. Sho was going up to Monterey. Or maybe he wasn’t. The last time there’d been a weekend off, Erika Toda had ended up dead. Maybe there was no sick mother up north.
But if there was and Sho was out of his apartment for an extended period, it would be the perfect time to have a look see around. If he could find something to exonerate the Lieutenant, anything that would give him an alibi for Erika or any of the other deaths, then he could shake the sinking feeling he’d had since that night in the cemetery. The only person who could clear Sakurai’s name was Sakurai himself.
Then again, if he spent the time getting in and out of the Lieutenant’s building and he wasn’t in Monterey, would someone end up dead? Would Matsumoto ring up the hotel for him? Wouldn’t it just be more sensible to see if the man got on the bus on the first place?
Thinking was impossible so long as he was away from dry land. “Dr. Ohno, you mind going back?”
“Back?” the man wondered. From the smell on the deck around him, the man had already caught a fish or two since Nino had mostly disappeared into his mind. That was enough fish for a trip out, right?
“Don’t want to ruin your hospitality, but I don’t think I’m meant for fishing.”
“Ah, you’re probably right. You look pretty awful.”
He’d looked awful since they’d left the marina. Ohno wasn’t the most attentive host. Nino listened to the doctor reel in his line, setting the rod back down and heading for the wheel. “Appreciate it,” Nino mumbled. The ride back would be something awful, but he’d endure it.
Every minute away was a minute he didn’t have to think about Jun, his soft lips, and the reality of what he was feeling for him. Better to lie in a daze on the deck of Dr. Ohno’s fishing boat than to sit in the squad room looking up just in time to see Jun looking away.
It was over too soon, and Ohno was getting the boat tied back to its berth at the marina. He slunk off the boat, smelling the fish the doctor had caught. His legs were shaky as he made it onto the dock, and he leaned against a post while Ohno gathered up his things. “Kazu, something’s been bothering me.”
He sighed. “My lack of interest in fishing?”
“No,” Ohno chuckled, almost like a young boy rather than a grown man who cut open bodies for a living. “You’ve been away from the station a lot. Masaki says you’re like a ghost. How are you going to solve a case like that?”
His stomach was still swaying like the waves. Because the more time I spend around Matsumoto, the more likely I am to do something I might regret?
“There all the time,” he lied. “And when I’m not I’m following up on leads. What few we have, considering how many bodies you’ve had to look at.”
Ohno nodded. “You think it’s a police officer. Don’t you?”
He was stunned, seeing Ohno stand there so calmly with his tackle box, his rod and the bucket of fish, asking him something like that. “What makes you say that?”
“That day, when you asked me about police-issue equipment. Why else would you be looking into that if you didn’t suspect a cop?”
Nino looked down. “Was just a niggling suspicion. Big dead end.”
Ohno was watching him carefully now. “I don’t really like when people lie to me, Kazu. I’ve been working with these boys for years now. If you’re suspecting one of them, I think you should give them a chance to clear their name instead of poking around behind their back.”
What did he know about police work? All he did was look at dead bodies, let them tell him what happened to them. He had something tangible to go on when he typed up his reports. “Why don’t you stick to your job, Doc, and I’ll stick to mine.”
The man stepped forward, looking up with a disappointed frown. “I think you’re wrong.” Nino was just glad he had a fishing rod and not his scalpel that day. “Thanks for coming out. Always good to have company on the boat.”
Nino watched the man lug all his equipment back down the dock, leaving him alone as the sun peeked out through the winter clouds.
--
Ohno had left him high and dry- if that was the man's way of sending a message that he was offended at Nino's suspicion of his fellow police officers, then Nino got the hint loud and clear. It took him twenty minutes to get a cab, and a fistful of bills to get back into the brick buildings of North Hollywood.
He had the cab drop him off at Sakurai's place. There was a gas station across the way that he could call another cab from when he was done; it was obvious he couldn't involve Matsumoto in the plans. And he sure as hell couldn't let anyone else know that the lieutenant was his prime suspect.
Sakurai was a cop, first and foremost, so his house was locked tight while he was away. Nino tried the door but he didn't have a lock-pick handy on him, and besides, the front stoop was in full view of the street just beyond the walk. He'd be spotted in a heartbeat. The back was his best bet, and there was only one opening that didn't have a storm window on it.
Fortunately, Nino managed to wrench the thing open, at least enough to crawl through. Unfortunately, it was Sakurai's bathroom.
"Shit," he mumbled, when his head hit the side of the stool as he fell onto the tiles. It was damn cramped, and the wood from the window frame had scratched the hell out of his palms on the way in. He was bleeding a bit- he stuck the fleshy part of his hand against his lips and tried to staunch the flow as best he could, stumbling out from the bathroom into the hall.
Sakurai was neat; neater than Nino had thought he was, given the last time he'd seen the man's home. There were a few empty bottles in the trash can in the kitchen, so he knew at least half the way that Sakurai was spending his suspension from the force.
And he wasn't even sure what he was looking for, given he didn't think the man was going to leave the hearts of his victims lying around the living room.
He started with the obvious things- the laundry basket for bloodied clothing, the bathroom for traces of splatters on the walls. When he came up empty, he started digging deeper. There was nothing stashed under Sho's bed, nothing incriminating in the medicine cabinet.
Nothing. The house was clean. Not a single thing, but that wasn't entirely surprising. It had been weeks since the first murder, days since Erika's. And unless Sakurai was keeping the hearts when he carved them out, there wouldn't be anything at the house- Nino didn't think any of them had been killed there. At least none of the signs had pointed to such a thing.
What he did find was a photo album of the academy.
Nino stared at the book in his hands, sliding down onto the man's bed. There was Sakurai, manning something- a cadet, it seemed, or someone in a position of power. Training the rookies, helping them through. And then beside him was Jun, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Thinking he could change the world with just the power of his will.
The lock on the front door clicked.
Nino nearly dropped the book; he caught himself, but only just in time, heart beating like mad in his throat, choking him. Had Sakurai come home early? Jesus, he thought he'd be fine- last thing he wanted was to be found in the home of a man he suspected of killing four people. He made a mad dash for the closet and pulled the door closed behind him, looking out the slits.
He could hear movement in the living room- someone humming? He couldn't make it out. He didn't know how he was going to escape without being noticed. Christ, he'd thought he had plenty of time, Sho wasn't due home for at least a day.
His own breathing sounded very ragged, and he could hear the footsteps moving closer, towards the kitchen. In the direction of the bathroom. It hit him that he hadn't closed the bathroom door after he'd slid inside- his palm throbbed just thinking about it. He bit back a curse and squeezed his eyes together. The humming abruptly stopped.
Jesus. He'd seen the open window. He knew; Sakurai had to know.
The footsteps started towards the bedroom. Nino's back was pressed up against a suit jacket and pair of slacks, folded over the hanger. He couldn't shrink back any further without making noise, or hitting his heel against the back wall, and he couldn't get out of the closet. The bedroom door squeaked open further, bouncing against the stop.
Nino's breath caught. And through the slits, he saw the figure move towards the center of the room.
Aiba- holding a handful of mail. Not Sho. Aiba was looking around with knotted eyebrows, like maybe the window had tipped him off, but he didn't go near the closet.
Nino could practically see the other man's eyes on the book lying open on the bed- it was still on the page with the picture of Sho and Jun, looking proud into the camera lens together. Aiba bent towards it, and even through the closet door slits, Nino could see the man's frown. Aiba made a 'tsk' of annoyance, like the book- or the photo- had offended him, turning his back on the bed.
He swept the room and then shrugged a bit, looking back down at the letters in his hand and leaving the bedroom again. Nino wheezed in, body shaking and trembling in adrenaline-tinged relief.
"Bill, bill," he could hear Aiba mumbling in the living room. There was banging in the fridge. Getting the mail and switching out the milk, then. Aiba started humming again, something off-tune that might have at one point been Calloway. There were the sounds of more rummaging in the fridge, and then a muttered, "Definitely past its prime."
Nino felt secure enough to run a hand through his hair, jostling the clothing next to him. After a few minutes, Aiba's humming stopped and the front door opened and closed again.
But Nino didn't fall out of the cramped space until he heard the lock click back into place again. The last few days had done a number on his poor heart- between the cut brake lines, Jun... well, Jun, and almost being caught sneaking into the lieutenant's house, Nino was done with surprises.
He reached for the photo album, to put it away, and lingered just a bit on the photo. Sho had his arm around Jun's shoulders- he looked so proud. And Jun looked so... content. Pleased. Accomplished, maybe.
There was a twinge of something in Nino's gut. A shiver ran down his spine, like he was once again remembering the feel of Jun's mouth against his- the ghost of warmth, of barely restrained desire.
He needed to figure out just what bond ran so deep between Matsumoto and Sakurai. He needed to discover the lieutenant's past, his allegiances, any prior charges- Nino needed everything. He wasn't going to find anything more skulking around the man's house like a common criminal.
As he replaced the photo book where he'd found it, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, and made his way back to the bathroom. Shimmying out the window seemed easier than getting in, but maybe it's because there was still fire running in his veins, propelling him into action.
"What makes you tick, Sakurai?" he mused aloud, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he jogged across the street to the gas station across the way.
He had to find out. It was possible that more lives were at stake; Nino couldn't accept failure again.
--
It had taken the better part of the evening, and nearly a bottle of scotch to get Takizawa to agree to his demand. Sakurai’s home wasn’t talking - the only thing that would was probably his personnel file at LAPD headquarters. Every commendation, every write-up would have to help fill in the blanks that his suspicious behavior left open.
Of course, he couldn’t just ask Takizawa for Sakurai’s case file - too suspicious. No, all Takizawa needed to do was get him permission to enter the archives at headquarters. Even beat cops had a hard time getting in, but the scotch and a casual mention of the handcuffs that had kept Erika Toda shackled to that bridge were enough to get what he wanted out of his superior.
The cab dropped him downtown, and his badge and Takizawa’s name were enough to get him past the sleepy guy at the front desk. The girl in the archives was just leaving for the night, but a quick smile and the promise of all the dancing she wanted the next night at the Brown Derby got him inside. It had probably been a bit cruel to introduce himself as Takizawa, but he’d never be back here again.
She kept out of his way as he found files for North Hollywood officers. Sakurai had two whole boxes - he took the top off the first one and closed it within seconds. Commendations out the ass. Nino grabbed the second box, and much as he felt guilty for doing so, he grabbed Jun’s as well, making his way over to a table.
He opened Jun’s first, biting back a smile at the grouchy file photo scowling back. His academy photo - he didn’t look so much like a wannabe cop, but more like one of the juvenile delinquents the cops would arrest despite that pretty face. Born August 30, 1911, Riverside, California - he had to laugh. Jun was only two months younger than him. Father deceased, mother not.
He kept flipping through the file, stopping on a flagged item. Recommend immediate expulsion for Cadet Matsumoto - striking superior officer, record of insubordinate behavior. Well, that didn’t surprise him.
Tacked to the expulsion order, however, was something far more interesting. He skimmed it quickly.
...recommend Cadet Matsumoto to detective division. He’d probably be wasted elsewhere. I will assume full responsibility for Cadet’s behavior...
...unavoidable home situation, but the Cadet shows promise and dedication...
...see a lot of myself and my academy struggles in Matsumoto, therefore I humbly request...
He shut the file, rubbing his tired eyes. Okay. The stories really were true - Jun would have gotten booted if Sho hadn’t stepped in to save his ass. They were buddies. It was a beautiful, touching story - no wonder Aiba could barely contain his irritation at the academy photo. He’d probably worked his ass off in the academy while Sho stepped in for a troublemaker, even though Jun should have been out on the street.
The same favoritism definitely extended to North Hollywood homicide. It was the Sakurai and Matsumoto show, and now it was crumbling. The past kept Jun blind to reality. Just what the hell had he done? What really made Sho step in?
Nino moved on to Sho’s files. Academy golden boy, recommendations and commendations - not at all like the insubordinate Matsumoto. Records showing his transfer almost immediately from the Academy to homicide, detective shield by his second case. More commendations.
Then the records stopped. Well, not so much stopped as had been taken out of the folder or blacked out. All that remained between his first year at North Hollywood and now was a file dated from February of last year. Valentine’s Day.
Lieutenant Sakurai reinstated to active duty, effective immediately. All charges dropped.
“Excuse me?”
It was the girl from before, standing with a frown on her face as she looked down at all the papers he had scattered over the table. He glanced up, feeling even worse. Sho, what the hell did you do?
“Mmm?”
The girl started packing the files back into the box. “There’s a Sergeant Matsumoto on the telephone for you.” She raised an eyebrow. “Agent Ninomiya.”
He nodded slowly, getting to his feet. “Thank you.”
“...not some floozy,” the girl was mumbling under her breath as he left, and he rolled his eyes. Finding the telephone receiver waiting on her desk, he picked it up and cleared his throat. He really didn’t need to talk to Jun - especially if Jun knew exactly where he was.
“Ninomiya.”
“Had to nearly beg Takizawa to tell me where you were.”
He didn’t doubt it. Takizawa wasn’t too fond of the LAPD since their various corrupt members kept him working after hours every night. Okay Jun, he thought. Let me have it. Why are you at headquarters alone at this hour? Just what are you investigating?
But Matsumoto had worse news.
“You’d better get up here. There’s been another one.”
--
The cab dropped him off at the station, and Nino wasn't sure whether his stomach was clenching because there was another murder- and therefore another failure resting solely on his hands, crimson and sticky- or because he was going to have to see Jun face to face and confront the demons. It was a tricky thing, a fine line he was going to try and walk, and honestly- well, he wasn't entirely sure if he was going to be able to pull it off.
He had less time than he anticipated to think over his next move, because he took one step out of the cab and was bombarded with the press standing on the sidewalk and cops moving everywhere with hands splayed out in front of them, looking haggard and weary and like they all wanted to be anywhere but where they were. The beams of the flashlights the police were holding were moving quickly across the grass, making loops and circles against the blades.
"The hell?" Nino said, because the activity wasn't press-related, like a bombardment of reporters and photographers eager to know the new details. It was more hurried, more impatient; it was the flurry of activity that surrounded the crime scene.
And someone had brought the crime scene to their front door.
Nino pushed past the officer nearest to him and the throng of reporters. He found Jun standing near the corner, near where the bushes lengthened and wrapped around the brick building just under the window shutters. There were officers there trying to push back the spectators, the growing crowd, and Nino shoved right past them, nearly tripping over the body because he couldn't entirely see it in the darkness.
"What-?" was all he managed to get out, before Jun was there next to him grabbing for his arm, fingers tightening around his elbow to keep him from falling on top of it. And it was only because Nino was going to stumble right down onto the victim that he didn't pull out of Jun's grip immediately.
"Dumped it here," Jun said, as Nino found his footing again and shifted. Jun's fingers fell away from his arm, and Nino could breathe again.
"Here?" Nino repeated. "Are you kidding? It's on our doorstep."
He stared down at the body, covered in red that blended with the shadows. There was a buzzing in his ears that he didn't enjoy, failure pumping through his blood- they'd let another one die. They'd let another die practically right in front of their faces because they couldn't find the killer. More and more were on their consciences now. He swallowed down the bitter sting of guilt, but it didn't completely go away.
"Who is it?" he asked, softer.
Jun stepped aside a little, deliberately not looking at Nino, even without the flashlight beam illuminating them. "Jin Akanishi."
That name stopped Nino cold. "What?"
"He's a singer," Jun said, flipping through some pages and gesturing to one of the officers across the body from them. "Works at Shun's lounge- if Shun hadn't had an alibi already, I would bump him to number one. It's his employee. And remember when we arrived to talk to Shun the first time?"
Nino did, vividly. "They were having an argument."
But that wasn't why the name was ringing a bell in Nino's head. He just couldn't figure out what the real reason was. And standing over his still-warm body next to the very person clouding his mind... well, he wasn't going to figure it out. Not there, not like that.
One of the officers ran over to give Jun something, something Nino couldn't see in the darkness, and it made Jun shift his weight again. His shoulder brushed Nino's and they both jumped; Christ, could they be any more obvious? Nino's heart was in his throat, imagining Jun's mouth against his own, Jun's fingers against the side of his face.
"Sorry," Jun mumbled, without meeting Nino's gaze.
Nino just stared down at Jin's form, chest opened, shirt soaked with crimson life-force. Nino had been so worried about getting into Sho's place when the lieutenant was gone, but for what? So Sho could do it again?
He felt like he'd swallowed a round of ammo.
"He's taunting us," he said, before he realized he was even saying anything out loud. "Damn bastard is mocking us, look at this! It's right at our feet!"
His brain was on overdrive, screaming at him, hissing in his ears- could have saved him, Kazunari, could have saved him if you'd said something, found something, stopped Sakurai.
"God damn it, we could have stopped this!" Nino cried, slumping forward to balance on his heels, elbows on his knees. "Dammit, dammit, we should have stopped this!"
"Nino!" he vaguely heard Jun yelling above him, but he didn't see Jin's pretty, anguished face anymore- it was Mrs. Phillips again, and Erika Toda. "Nino!"
His breath caught in his throat; he should have told someone. He should have told someone about Sakurai, but he'd let him "leave town", he'd let him skip out without knowing his whereabouts, and now another one was dead, all because he'd kept it to himself.
"Kazu!" Jun was next to him, in front of him, fingers warm and wrapped around Nino's wrists.
He had to tell him- didn't he? He had to tell Jun something, anything; the investigation was barking up the wrong tree. Nino didn't have proof, but he had a gut feeling, knowledge that something wasn't right.
No one dropped a carved-out body on the lawn of the LAPD without knowing exactly what they were doing and how to get away with it.
"Lounge singer," he gasped, as Jun's fingers tightened around his skin, almost hurting. "Doesn't fit the pattern."
Jun hauled him up to his feet, steadying him, and Nino should have pushed him away. He should have moved and gotten up on his own, but the other man's presence was steady and solid, something to cling to. And then Nino got another whiff of Jun's cologne, and it made shivers run down his spine to settle at the base.
Staring at his partner, Nino just wanted to kiss him again.
"No," he said.
Jun frowned, confused and tired, lines evident on the sides of his face. "No what?"
If Nino didn't move, he was going to. And he'd lose every semblance of control he'd tried so furiously to gain back in the past day. He couldn't lose it, not standing in front of half the North Hollywood payroll with a dead body at his feet.
He took an unsteady step backwards, hand against his forehead. "Get- get Dr. Ohno. We need a report. A full report. And... Jesus, sweep the area. Maybe there's something here, a clue."
"I'm already doing that," Jun snipped, and Nino didn't know where the tone was coming from- he couldn't raise his gaze to see.
"I'm going inside," Nino told him. "If you find anything, let me know."
Not like the inside of the station offered him anymore answers, but at least he could sit with his arms propped on Jun's desk, and he wouldn't be assaulted with the wave of cologne that colored every thought with memories.
--
He was sick and tired of the press. Maybe freedom of the press was an overrated privilege with the way the flashbulbs had been going off around the North Hollywood station for hours. Dr. Ohno had arrived earlier, and he’d nearly been kept away by the horde of reporters and curious onlookers. Detective Aiba had finally had to pull out his gun and threaten to fire if they didn’t let the doctor through. There were hardly enough men on the force to keep the crowds behind the barriers.
Akanishi’s body was already cooling in the morgue, and it was all Nino’s fault. A trip down Matsumoto and Sakurai’s memory lane had just enabled the murderer to drop the corpse off right on the police steps. Just like he’d been able to drive Nishikido’s car to the El Portal, the guy had probably dragged Akanishi and dumped him like he was a candidate for the drunk tank. It wouldn’t have looked suspicious until someone saw the blood.
There’d been so much blood.
He didn’t really need to wait for Dr. Ohno to finish his slice and dice - it was number five. Did the singer have to struggle? Or had he known his killer? Did Sho simply flash his badge with one hand and stab Jin with another?
He’d been on the phone during all the wee hours of the morning, fielding media calls that Jun wasn’t able to handle, trying to get a hold of Oguri to let him know his headliner was dead. He’d even called Sakurai’s place, but on Jun’s barked order from inside Sho’s office. Of course, Matsumoto expected Nino to relay the very confidential details to his superior - but Nino was more interested to see if Sho was even home.
He wasn’t. Probably on the way back from Monterey. At least that’s what he’d tell Jun. Why Akanishi? Did he know something? It was too much. He had to voice his suspicions, and he had to do it now. Sitting on Sakurai hadn’t been enough - he was just one man. If he went to Takizawa, he wouldn’t have to tell Jun. But Jun would find out.
Takizawa didn’t have anyone to spare anyhow. No matter what, Jun was going to be furious. He was never going to forgive him, and Nino was enough of a bastard to expect that sort of reaction. He’d been the one with unpleasant news to deliver on case after case. But this time it was different. This time it would hurt him just as much.
The sun was already peeking through the blinds - nearly 7 AM, and he’d been out all night. Ohno was still working down in the basement while Aiba had his head down on his desk, long limbs sprawling in every direction. He got up and stretched. The station was pretty much on lockdown, but he had to get out.
The rear station door opened to an alley, and with the body gone, most of the onlookers had headed home. It was quiet as he lit up a cigarette, scratching his head and sighing. If he was a nice guy, he’d go get coffee for everyone. But he wasn’t feeling particularly nice. He had to tell Jun.
And he was going to get his chance. The door opened behind him, and Matsumoto was on the landing, taking the steps down to the alleyway two at a time. He looked away, blowing some smoke.
“Did you talk to Sho?”
“Wasn’t home.”
Jun sighed. “Ugh, he must still be up in Monterey. I could have sworn his bus was getting in around midnight.”
Well, Nino thought. Put the pieces together, Jun. Don’t make me have to do it. I don’t want to.
Matsumoto leaned against the building. “Give me one.” He rolled his eyes, tossing his pack of cigarettes over his shoulder. He heard Jun catch them. “Thanks. Light?”
He turned, knowledge of what news he had to break weighing him down like an anchor. Pulling his matchbook from his pocket, he struck one quickly, holding it up tentatively. Jun’s eyes got him, that stare that was keeping him up every night now. Matsumoto didn’t even blink as he leaned forward effortlessly, bringing the cigarette precariously balanced in the corner of his mouth to the match.
It lit and Nino pulled the match away, shaking it and stomping it underfoot. Damn him. Jun pulled the cigarette from his mouth, blowing out a steady stream of smoke. Just like a fucking movie star. Like those juvenile delinquents that needed two-faced sonsabitches to keep them in line, keep them on the squad.
He tossed his own cigarette down the alley. “Got something to tell you.”
“You didn’t call Sakurai,” Jun answered. “I get it. He’s suspended. You don’t think he should be getting information.”
“I called him.”
“Yeah, I bet you did.” Jun took another drag, not looking away from him. “You’ve been a pain in my ass ever since I’ve had to take over. Using your badge and your FBI connections to run your own little show out here. I’m tired of it.”
“Not like LAPD’s doing a god damn to find the killer. Maybe I’ve already found him.”
Matsumoto laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I bet you have.”
He looked away from Jun, from the cigarette dangling at the edge of his mouth. From the lips he knew and wanted to be far better acquainted with. Damn him. “Wanna know why I was at headquarters last night? Wanna know what I was looking for?”
Jun snorted. “Nothing in those old dusty files will find the bastard we’re after. This isn’t something that’s happened before. There’s never been one like this. No amount of folder browsing and shelf skimming’s going to help you. Can’t use your FBI Academy tricks to turn up this guy.”
He got closer, close enough to see the light mole on Jun’s upper lip. “Flap your gums all you want. Maybe you’re afraid I really have found something.”
“Afraid?” Jun asked, his eyes changing from irritation to something different. “Why would I be afraid? Stop beating around the bush, Ninomiya. I’ve got work to do.”
He didn’t know why, but the pissing contest was making him hot. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was not wanting to lie to him any longer. It was hard to look Jun in the face and lie. It was hard to look Jun in the face and not pull him close.
The sun peeked out over the trees behind the station, temporarily sending Jun’s eyes fluttering, blinking away the light. He thought of the letter Sho had wrote to keep Jun from being booted, thought of the type of man who would put his reputation on the line for some cadet.
He had to ask him about Sho. But he didn’t have the stones to go all the way. Nino stepped forward, pulling the cigarette from Jun’s lips and taking a drag of his own before tossing it to the ground. He could smell the sweat from under Jun’s arms, could see the five o’clock shadow dusting his face.
“Tell me,” he managed to whisper nice and quiet, brushing the pad of his fingertip against the corner of Jun’s mouth, just where the cigarette had rested moments before. “I want you to tell me about the academy.”
Jun’s breath was warm where it escaped from between his lips, a shuddering sigh at the feather light touch. “What?”
“Sometime. I want you to tell me.” Tell him you suspect Sakurai. Tell him you think his hero’s a murderer. Tell him that Sakurai was dropping off a bleeding body on the steps of his own station at midnight. “I wanna know why…even though he’s suspended that you want to call him. I want to know why you trust him. Can’t even do his job.”
Jun’s hand shot out, fingers wrapping tight around his wrist. “Why? You never had someone to trust before, Nino? Never had somebody you stayed up all hours with to crack a case?”
No, he thought bitterly. Not until I met you.
“I just…I…” Jun’s thumb was pressed against the inside of his wrist, against his pulse point there. “Just curious.”
“Only reason Lieutenant’s not here is because we haven’t done enough to help him,” Jun said quietly.
Nino’s body screamed. His brain, to tell Jun the truth. His body, to lie a little longer, find solace in him. He grabbed Matsumoto by his thick, dark hair and pulled him close. Their lips didn’t touch. Jun wasn’t struggling, but Nino couldn’t give in. Couldn’t take what he wanted. He could feel Jun’s heavy breathing, exhaled it right back.
He swallowed. “I don’t know what I want any more,” Nino admitted.
“Want to solve this case.”
“Not what I mean. You know that’s not what I mean.”
Jun’s other hand was on his back, fingers up and down his spine. It was 7 in the morning. “I know. But we have work to do.”
“Yeah.”
He pulled away, shaking like a damn leaf. Why can’t you say the words? Why, when the body count just kept rising?
Nino wondered later just where they’d been standing, where they’d been watching. Where they’d been when they’d pressed the shutter release.