[Original: Drabble] "Heartbeat" [Jones & Howell, G]
Title: Heartbeat
Prompt: writerverse challenge #01 October table of doom, prompt #03 ‘crimson’
Word Count: 548
Original/Fandom: original, part of my Jones & Howell ‘verse
Warnings: slightly-graphic description of blood
Summary: “I can hear your heart beating right now, sir. I’d recognize your against anyone else’s.”
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Heartbeat
I heard a knock on the locker room door, but didn’t answer. I just continued to stare at my reflection in the mirror. I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d gotten there, from the motor pool, when Howell had shoved me out of the car with his usual gruff concern and told me to get cleaned up.
I hadn’t yet.
There was another knock. “Rookie,” said my partner’s voice. “You’d better be decent in there, because I’m coming in.”
“Sir-” was all I could manage, and the door opened.
I wondered if I looked as bad to someone else as I did to myself. In the mirror, I could really only see my face, paler than normal, but my reflection didn’t show any of the blood.
My hands were covered, stiff where it had started to dry, hanging loosely at my sides. There were smears on my shirt and pants from where I’d touched them with bloody fingers, and soaked-through patches where I’d knelt.
None of it was mine.
Everything had been over by the time Howell and I arrived, two officers down and the suspect already gone. We had done everything we could, I knew that, but that didn’t make it feel any better.
“He was still alive,” I said, now.
Howell was somewhere behind me, to the left, but I didn’t turn to look. “Jones?”
“I’ve been a vampire for years, sir, but I never realized… It’s like not realizing that you can hear everyone breathe in a crowded room, or not registering separate footsteps in a busy hallway. I can hear your heart beating right now, sir. I’d recognize yours against anyone else’s.”
I hadn’t really answered the question, but my partner seemed to understand anyway. “Epson was alive when we got there,” said Howell.
I nodded - I’d gone to help the other officer immediately, kneeling in the rapidly-growing pool of blood, but he’d just been losing it too fast for me to help. I had barely touched Epson, wadding my sweater against his most obvious wound, when I’d felt his heart stop.
“And the EMTs checked you out?” my partner pressed.
“Yes, sir.”
Howell rested a hand on my shoulder, and I could see his reflection in the mirror - there was blood on his hands, too.
“All things end, rookie,” he said, softly. “That’s life. Our job, we just see that end up close more often than most people. I’d bet Epson appreciated having one of our own with him, when he went.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t considered that, hadn’t imagined I’d done anything more than fail to help him. “Thank you, sir.”
He squeezed my shoulder and let go. “Get cleaned up, Jones, and don’t take too long, or I’ll come looking for you.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s sexual harassment, sir,” I said. “You aren’t even supposed to be in here now.”
Howell snorted, “Clean up, Jones,” and left.
It took twenty minutes for the water swirling around my feet to run clear, and when I came out of the locker room, Howell was leaning against the opposite wall, with a cup of coffee.
“C’mon, Jones,” he said, “we’ve got reports to fill out.”
I followed him back to the squad room, sipping my coffee and listening to the reassuring beat of his heart.
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow
Prompt: writerverse challenge #01 October table of doom, prompt #03 ‘crimson’
Word Count: 548
Original/Fandom: original, part of my Jones & Howell ‘verse
Warnings: slightly-graphic description of blood
Summary: “I can hear your heart beating right now, sir. I’d recognize your against anyone else’s.”
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Heartbeat
I heard a knock on the locker room door, but didn’t answer. I just continued to stare at my reflection in the mirror. I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d gotten there, from the motor pool, when Howell had shoved me out of the car with his usual gruff concern and told me to get cleaned up.
I hadn’t yet.
There was another knock. “Rookie,” said my partner’s voice. “You’d better be decent in there, because I’m coming in.”
“Sir-” was all I could manage, and the door opened.
I wondered if I looked as bad to someone else as I did to myself. In the mirror, I could really only see my face, paler than normal, but my reflection didn’t show any of the blood.
My hands were covered, stiff where it had started to dry, hanging loosely at my sides. There were smears on my shirt and pants from where I’d touched them with bloody fingers, and soaked-through patches where I’d knelt.
None of it was mine.
Everything had been over by the time Howell and I arrived, two officers down and the suspect already gone. We had done everything we could, I knew that, but that didn’t make it feel any better.
“He was still alive,” I said, now.
Howell was somewhere behind me, to the left, but I didn’t turn to look. “Jones?”
“I’ve been a vampire for years, sir, but I never realized… It’s like not realizing that you can hear everyone breathe in a crowded room, or not registering separate footsteps in a busy hallway. I can hear your heart beating right now, sir. I’d recognize yours against anyone else’s.”
I hadn’t really answered the question, but my partner seemed to understand anyway. “Epson was alive when we got there,” said Howell.
I nodded - I’d gone to help the other officer immediately, kneeling in the rapidly-growing pool of blood, but he’d just been losing it too fast for me to help. I had barely touched Epson, wadding my sweater against his most obvious wound, when I’d felt his heart stop.
“And the EMTs checked you out?” my partner pressed.
“Yes, sir.”
Howell rested a hand on my shoulder, and I could see his reflection in the mirror - there was blood on his hands, too.
“All things end, rookie,” he said, softly. “That’s life. Our job, we just see that end up close more often than most people. I’d bet Epson appreciated having one of our own with him, when he went.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t considered that, hadn’t imagined I’d done anything more than fail to help him. “Thank you, sir.”
He squeezed my shoulder and let go. “Get cleaned up, Jones, and don’t take too long, or I’ll come looking for you.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s sexual harassment, sir,” I said. “You aren’t even supposed to be in here now.”
Howell snorted, “Clean up, Jones,” and left.
It took twenty minutes for the water swirling around my feet to run clear, and when I came out of the locker room, Howell was leaning against the opposite wall, with a cup of coffee.
“C’mon, Jones,” he said, “we’ve got reports to fill out.”
I followed him back to the squad room, sipping my coffee and listening to the reassuring beat of his heart.
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow