Don't grab, Don't clutch, Don't hope for too much
Characters: Justice (extantlaw) and others to be added.
Date/Time: Backdated to LAST Saturday/Sunday - any time you like
Location: Justice's Office/Break Room, Medical Island
Rating: PG13 for language
Summary: This is a backdated log for the folks that Justice wants to talk to about Truth's death (namely Stoneface, Bastet, Phoenix, Kazahana, Geranium and Chapel.) Yes, I know I phail - work is kicking my ass this week, and I am very sorry. If any of you want to assume/handwave that is TOTALLY FINE, but I said I would put this up as a coupel of people wanted to tag in and so I will, dammit! Quicklog format may be best - but pick a day/time Saturday or Sunday and we'll figure something out.
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Justice had shaved and taken a shower before making his way back to Medical, but he was still dressed in the same clothing he had been wearing when he answered the door to Kazahana the night before. The faded, button-front jeans, white shirt, and plain grey, linen jacket somehow reminded him of before... before Truth had been killed, and before Kazahana had brought the news. And, when he had spent half an hour sitting on his bed and attempting to summon the will or the energy to dress... they were also the path of least resistance.
In the distance was the Farmland, lush and green after the late spring rains. He didn't notice it, his attention fixed impassively on the faint reflection of himself that he could see in the glass.
It should have been me.
The conviction of that fact burned in him, sharper with every passing hour. It had become his focus, the only thing that had made any sense since he had seen Truth's body the night before.
In the end, he and Kazahana had not gone to the Aquarium - instead being intercepted in the Park by a younger member of the Guard with a folded piece of paper from Bastet. It took him three attempts to process the information - a hurried but businesslike note to inform them both that Truth's body had been taken to the Clinic and that the investigation would resume in daylight. Silently, he had handed it to Kazahana before turning back towards the Marketplace and Medical Island.
Truth's body had already been already half-undressed when he arrived, an envelope with his personal effects pushed silently into Justice's hand as he stood over the corpse of his friend. He didn't look up, his attention completely fixed on Truth - impassively inspecting the gaping, torn hole in Truth's chest and the blue-whiteness of his skin and lips that spoke of asphyxia or exsanguination.
He had almost turned away, but there was some small impulse that stopped him - that made him reach out a hand even only briefly, brushing the fingers of Truth's upturned hand that lay by his side. His flesh was cold, and Justice knew - the finality of it pressing down on him like a weight - that Truth was gone. There was a vague awareness that he should be sick, or should weep, or shout, or any other of a thousand responses to this kind of event that he had read of in the journal - that he should do something. But instead there was just the numbness - it filled every part of him the more he looked at Truth's ruined body and remembered those bright blue eyes that he might never see again.
This morning he had visited the Aquarium as soon as it was light enough to see by, returning home afterwards to feed Diego. And then he was too restless to sleep, but too tired to think, so he had returned to the Clinic, to await the results of Lezard's autopsy.
Closing his eyes against the sunlight, he glanced back to his desk, and the small envelope that rested on the polished wood. Around his neck, under his shirt, was the unfamiliar weight of the locket.
Date/Time: Backdated to LAST Saturday/Sunday - any time you like
Location: Justice's Office/Break Room, Medical Island
Rating: PG13 for language
Summary: This is a backdated log for the folks that Justice wants to talk to about Truth's death (namely Stoneface, Bastet, Phoenix, Kazahana, Geranium and Chapel.) Yes, I know I phail - work is kicking my ass this week, and I am very sorry. If any of you want to assume/handwave that is TOTALLY FINE, but I said I would put this up as a coupel of people wanted to tag in and so I will, dammit! Quicklog format may be best - but pick a day/time Saturday or Sunday and we'll figure something out.
------
Justice had shaved and taken a shower before making his way back to Medical, but he was still dressed in the same clothing he had been wearing when he answered the door to Kazahana the night before. The faded, button-front jeans, white shirt, and plain grey, linen jacket somehow reminded him of before... before Truth had been killed, and before Kazahana had brought the news. And, when he had spent half an hour sitting on his bed and attempting to summon the will or the energy to dress... they were also the path of least resistance.
In the distance was the Farmland, lush and green after the late spring rains. He didn't notice it, his attention fixed impassively on the faint reflection of himself that he could see in the glass.
It should have been me.
The conviction of that fact burned in him, sharper with every passing hour. It had become his focus, the only thing that had made any sense since he had seen Truth's body the night before.
In the end, he and Kazahana had not gone to the Aquarium - instead being intercepted in the Park by a younger member of the Guard with a folded piece of paper from Bastet. It took him three attempts to process the information - a hurried but businesslike note to inform them both that Truth's body had been taken to the Clinic and that the investigation would resume in daylight. Silently, he had handed it to Kazahana before turning back towards the Marketplace and Medical Island.
Truth's body had already been already half-undressed when he arrived, an envelope with his personal effects pushed silently into Justice's hand as he stood over the corpse of his friend. He didn't look up, his attention completely fixed on Truth - impassively inspecting the gaping, torn hole in Truth's chest and the blue-whiteness of his skin and lips that spoke of asphyxia or exsanguination.
He had almost turned away, but there was some small impulse that stopped him - that made him reach out a hand even only briefly, brushing the fingers of Truth's upturned hand that lay by his side. His flesh was cold, and Justice knew - the finality of it pressing down on him like a weight - that Truth was gone. There was a vague awareness that he should be sick, or should weep, or shout, or any other of a thousand responses to this kind of event that he had read of in the journal - that he should do something. But instead there was just the numbness - it filled every part of him the more he looked at Truth's ruined body and remembered those bright blue eyes that he might never see again.
This morning he had visited the Aquarium as soon as it was light enough to see by, returning home afterwards to feed Diego. And then he was too restless to sleep, but too tired to think, so he had returned to the Clinic, to await the results of Lezard's autopsy.
Closing his eyes against the sunlight, he glanced back to his desk, and the small envelope that rested on the polished wood. Around his neck, under his shirt, was the unfamiliar weight of the locket.