Since people are still interested in my fics over here and FFN has fixed a couple (but not near all) of the issues it's been having, I'll start posting my stories here again. This is really against my better judgment and if they screw up so that dashes disappear or the ads somehow get more annoying, then I'm not coming back. It's bad enough they still don't allow tildies for no apparent reason.
I'm posting this in chapter one of all my stories so everyone knows where I can be found. See my profile for the link to my homepage.
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Klavier didn't even register the siren at first. After all, his office was across the street from the police headquarters, and the street between them was a typical route for ambulances and fire trucks. It faded away and he continued work.
That is, of course, until someone slammed against his door. It was loud and sudden enough that the calm and collected rock star almost fell over in his chair, though thankfully no one was around to see it. He went to the door, heard another less violent thump, and cautiously turned the knob. The noises didn't sound like someone knocking, so the most likely explanation was...
If Klavier was any less fit he would have ended up on the floor of his office serving as a landing pad for Detective Skye. Luckily his six-pack wasn't airbrushed and was so he was able to stop the door from swinging inwards when she crashed into it. He was right; the fact that his office was directly across from the stairs was to blame. Anytime someone came running down from the fourth floor or higher something like this would happen.
The detective didn't even stop to pick up her dropped bag, she simply continued on without a second glance. This worried Klavier, though he did not let it show, and he quickly scooped up her bag and closed his office door before joining the small stampede following the snackoo fanatic.
Klavier followed Detective Skye and her small entourage down the stairwell. They both knew the door to the ground floor was being kept open while the security camera at that level was being fixed; combined with the natural echo of a concrete stairwell they could hear the paramedics burst through the front doors.
"There was a call," they heard. "Who's hurt?"
General silence.
"A prank 911 call to the DA's office?" the paramedic said with exasperation clear even from the second floor. "Of all the--"
There was a sudden blast of noise, too jumbled in the stairwell to make heads or tails of it. The seven or so people following Emma Skye slowed as one before picking up a new burst of speed. It was impossible to pick anything out over the commotion downstairs and their own footsteps, but Klavier was sure he heard the same paramedic telling people to clear the way.
As they cleared the last landing, he heard Detective Skye say something to herself about an Andrew calling in warning. Her words him, and it made him think she was the only one who had any clue what was going on. However, she was half a flight away and there were quite a few people thundering down the stairs, so he resigned himself to waiting.
Finally the group burst from the stairwell into the bullpen. Everyone already in the room was gathered by the area devoted to the bane of any prosecutor, defense attorney, or policeman's existence: paperwork. One paramedic was still on the ground while the other ran out of the building, presumably to get a gurney.
When he rounded the corner and finally saw who it was, Klavier stopped dead in his tracks.
"Mr. Justice, can you hear me?" he heard the paramedic saying. "Mr. Justice, you just had a seizure."
Klavier's crime scene sense kicked in, probably because looking at the scene was easier than looking at such a strong person looking so pale. He noted that Apollo probably fell down from a standing position next to the secretary's desk, the one who looked like she might be hyperventilating. The travel coffee cup spilling all over the linoleum floor was likely his, as was the small leather satchel of generic make; Klavier had seen the young defense attorney with both.
He realized that he was just avoiding the center of this scene and forced himself to look at the defense attorney. The young man looked pale and his skin shone with sweat even though the air conditioner was doing its job and then some. He was being propped up into a lounging position by the remaining paramedic, who still hadn't gained a real response. He did show definite signs of life, rolling his read listlessly and softly groaning, but that didn't do much to Klavier's mood right then. He could do nothing more than stand there holding Emma's bag in both hands like a shield as he tried to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.
"NO!"
Almost everyone in the room jumped. A dark-haired woman rushed in from the main doors, braids flying and eyes wide. She dove to Apollo's side and took his hand in hers before the paramedic could say anything. She pressed their joined hands to her cheek and burst into uncontrollable sobs when he looked at her with foggy recognition for a second before his head rolled forward and he passed out.
As the mystery woman fell to her knees to hug Apollo, she dropped something that caught in the updrafts and currents caused by the vents. Klavier watched, in a sort of detached fascination, as the slip of paper drifted up, passed over the prone Apollo and the mystery woman, until it landed next to Apollo's dropped coffee cup. They created an image so perfect the prosecutor could hardly believe it wasn't staged.
The cup was from a deli not far from the courthouse, very popular with cops, lawyers, and court secretaries. The little boxes declaring the beverage a grande vanilla latte with a shot of almond were marked with a wide black marker, but in the corner there was a small set of curved lines drawn in bright and pure red. It formed a messy shape, almost a handwritten 'B' mirrored next to itself, or some strange Greek letter used in complicated mathematical equations. After a moment of confusion the meaning resolved itself, much like the instant you see the magic picture: A crude butterfly. However, while he knew what it was he still didn't know what it meant.
The paper was a sunny shade of creamy yellow, with flowers printed in cheery spring green and soft pinks dotting the border. "Keep Your Heart Happy" was printed across the top in a gold hue not much darker than the page itself. The paper was slightly crumpled and creased, as though someone had clutched it tight, but it was flat enough that the handwritten words were still visible. They were childish letters in all caps, scrawled in the same shade of red as the butterfly on the cup, bleeding slightly as the dark stain of the coffee crept across the page. Even with the blur the large writing was still clearly legible from Klavier's vantage point.
BLACK MOTH BLACK MOTH
WHY DO YOU ROAM
I FOUND YOU A PLACE
TO CALL YOUR HOME
BLACK DIRT BLACK DIRT
BY THE RIVERSIDE
IN THIS PLACE
YOUR HEART I WILL HIDE
BLACK POX BLACK POX
ON YOUR EGGS I SPY
A GIFT FROM THE BEAUTIFUL
RED BUTTERFLY