[Original: Drabble] "At Midnight" [Zeke Jones, PG]
Title: At Midnight
Prompt: writerverse challenge #33 quick fic #11 (‘midnight’ & ‘in the snow’)
Bonus: past tense
Word Count: 877
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Warnings: not-very graphic talk of violence
Summary: I should have known Howell would find me, even if I’d gone out of my way to be hard to find.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
At Midnight
I should have known Howell would find me, even if I’d gone out of my way to be hard to find. Maybe part of me actually wanted him to find me, because I wasn’t even a little surprised when I saw our squad car stop on the road below.
The Laurel Hill Cemetery was high enough ground that I could see him coming, but I stayed put, leaning against the base of an angel statue gravestone. The wind picked up, and I pulled my jacket a little tighter against it, shivering a bit. My breath condensed in the air, and a light dusting of snow fluttered down around me, barely catching on the grass.
I wasn’t sure exactly how long I’d been out here until I heard the bells of the Presbyterian church ring midnight.
Howell trudged up the cemetery path, his usual scowl in place, and stopped about a foot away.
“Hey, sir” I said, twisting to look up at him. “You want a drink?”
If I hadn’t been more than a little tipsy, I would have known it was a bad idea to offer him the bottle, but as I was, I continued, “It started out as… as, um… but now it’s mostly tequila.”
Howell took the bottle, and held it out of my reach. “You couldn’t have saved her,” he said, straight-forward as ever.
I scowled. “You don’t know that.”
“I do know that,” he replied. “The coroner’s report came in twenty minutes after you disappeared on me. Eleanor Chapman was dead at least three hours before her cousin ever made a missing persons report. Even if you’d found her five minutes after you knew she’d been kidnapped, she’d still have been dead when you found her.”
“Damn,” I muttered, wishing he hadn’t taken my bottle.
I drew my knees more tightly to my chest and rested my forehead against them. So, maybe my partner was right, and nothing I could have done would have saved Ellie Chapman. But that didn’t erase the image of her body, lying in a pool of blood on the floor of an abandoned warehouse, dead eyes staring at the door like she’d been waiting for us to come. Didn’t erase the crime scene photos of the three other women who’d died exactly the same way, left on the side of the turnpike.
A sudden warmth made me look up, to see that Howell had plopped down beside me. Silently, he poured the last bit of alcohol out of the bottle at the foot of the next grave over. “I think you’re too inebriated already for the conversation we need to have.”
“Right,” I said.
“I put in my transfer tonight,” he said, without preamble.
My foggy brain struggled to make sense of that. “Oh. Oh. I understand, sir. Really.”
To my absolute astonishment, he laughed. “I requested a transfer back to a regular patrol beat,” Howell told me. “With my new partner.”
“Um…”
A large hand landed on my knee. “My new partner, who was recently taken off probation.”
That took me slightly longer to figure out than it should have. “Me?” I squeaked.
Howell nodded. “But if we’re going to be partners, Hezekia, we need to get a few things out in the open.”
I’d been dreading this conversation for months, but now that it was here, I was almost relieved. “Yes, sir,” I said. “Then I should tell you the red stuff in that bottle wasn’t grenadine.”
He snorted. “And I don’t get the full moons off because I have seniority.” Howell paused. “When did you figure it out?”
“By the second month, I had guessed,” I answered. “But I needed three to know for certain.”
“You’re a smart kid, Zeke,” he said, and his use of my nickname made me look up again. “And that’s why I know you’ll be okay. This was a bad case, one of the worst I’ve seen, and I won’t pretend it won’t give us both nightmares. Or that we won’t run across worse someday. But there are days when we catch the bad guys, and rescue the damsel in distress, and it all seems worth it.”
I leaned back against the angel statue, leaning sideways against Howell’s shoulder. “Will you repeat any of this tomorrow when I’m less drunk?” I asked.
I couldn’t see his face anymore, but I felt the rumble of his laugh. “Not a chance. But I’ll get you home and set the timer on your coffee pot.”
He stood and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. I shivered again, dislodging snow from my jacket and hat. Howell rolled his eyes and pulled off his heavier coat, draping it over my shoulders. It was six sizes too big, and warmed me to the core.
The next morning, I woke with a world-class hangover, to the smell of a new pot of coffee brewing. I dry-swallowed the two aspirin on my bedside table, then opened the fridge to find a fresh pint of blood and a pound of smoked sausage.
I made a mental note to stop at the butcher’s in Reading Terminal Market, once my head stopped pounding. A few pounds of fresh-cut pork would be a good gift for a vampire’s werewolf partner.
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow
Prompt: writerverse challenge #33 quick fic #11 (‘midnight’ & ‘in the snow’)
Bonus: past tense
Word Count: 877
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Warnings: not-very graphic talk of violence
Summary: I should have known Howell would find me, even if I’d gone out of my way to be hard to find.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
At Midnight
I should have known Howell would find me, even if I’d gone out of my way to be hard to find. Maybe part of me actually wanted him to find me, because I wasn’t even a little surprised when I saw our squad car stop on the road below.
The Laurel Hill Cemetery was high enough ground that I could see him coming, but I stayed put, leaning against the base of an angel statue gravestone. The wind picked up, and I pulled my jacket a little tighter against it, shivering a bit. My breath condensed in the air, and a light dusting of snow fluttered down around me, barely catching on the grass.
I wasn’t sure exactly how long I’d been out here until I heard the bells of the Presbyterian church ring midnight.
Howell trudged up the cemetery path, his usual scowl in place, and stopped about a foot away.
“Hey, sir” I said, twisting to look up at him. “You want a drink?”
If I hadn’t been more than a little tipsy, I would have known it was a bad idea to offer him the bottle, but as I was, I continued, “It started out as… as, um… but now it’s mostly tequila.”
Howell took the bottle, and held it out of my reach. “You couldn’t have saved her,” he said, straight-forward as ever.
I scowled. “You don’t know that.”
“I do know that,” he replied. “The coroner’s report came in twenty minutes after you disappeared on me. Eleanor Chapman was dead at least three hours before her cousin ever made a missing persons report. Even if you’d found her five minutes after you knew she’d been kidnapped, she’d still have been dead when you found her.”
“Damn,” I muttered, wishing he hadn’t taken my bottle.
I drew my knees more tightly to my chest and rested my forehead against them. So, maybe my partner was right, and nothing I could have done would have saved Ellie Chapman. But that didn’t erase the image of her body, lying in a pool of blood on the floor of an abandoned warehouse, dead eyes staring at the door like she’d been waiting for us to come. Didn’t erase the crime scene photos of the three other women who’d died exactly the same way, left on the side of the turnpike.
A sudden warmth made me look up, to see that Howell had plopped down beside me. Silently, he poured the last bit of alcohol out of the bottle at the foot of the next grave over. “I think you’re too inebriated already for the conversation we need to have.”
“Right,” I said.
“I put in my transfer tonight,” he said, without preamble.
My foggy brain struggled to make sense of that. “Oh. Oh. I understand, sir. Really.”
To my absolute astonishment, he laughed. “I requested a transfer back to a regular patrol beat,” Howell told me. “With my new partner.”
“Um…”
A large hand landed on my knee. “My new partner, who was recently taken off probation.”
That took me slightly longer to figure out than it should have. “Me?” I squeaked.
Howell nodded. “But if we’re going to be partners, Hezekia, we need to get a few things out in the open.”
I’d been dreading this conversation for months, but now that it was here, I was almost relieved. “Yes, sir,” I said. “Then I should tell you the red stuff in that bottle wasn’t grenadine.”
He snorted. “And I don’t get the full moons off because I have seniority.” Howell paused. “When did you figure it out?”
“By the second month, I had guessed,” I answered. “But I needed three to know for certain.”
“You’re a smart kid, Zeke,” he said, and his use of my nickname made me look up again. “And that’s why I know you’ll be okay. This was a bad case, one of the worst I’ve seen, and I won’t pretend it won’t give us both nightmares. Or that we won’t run across worse someday. But there are days when we catch the bad guys, and rescue the damsel in distress, and it all seems worth it.”
I leaned back against the angel statue, leaning sideways against Howell’s shoulder. “Will you repeat any of this tomorrow when I’m less drunk?” I asked.
I couldn’t see his face anymore, but I felt the rumble of his laugh. “Not a chance. But I’ll get you home and set the timer on your coffee pot.”
He stood and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. I shivered again, dislodging snow from my jacket and hat. Howell rolled his eyes and pulled off his heavier coat, draping it over my shoulders. It was six sizes too big, and warmed me to the core.
The next morning, I woke with a world-class hangover, to the smell of a new pot of coffee brewing. I dry-swallowed the two aspirin on my bedside table, then opened the fridge to find a fresh pint of blood and a pound of smoked sausage.
I made a mental note to stop at the butcher’s in Reading Terminal Market, once my head stopped pounding. A few pounds of fresh-cut pork would be a good gift for a vampire’s werewolf partner.
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow