Checkmate

"Was it all arranged? Is it all finished, detective?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. There were less than a dozen of us there. But I thought it went…well," was the answer. The two men sat, wrapped in their private thoughts for a moment, before the younger one moved a battered chess set to place it between them.

On the other side of the table his white-haired companion dipped his head once in agreement and helped arrange the pieces somewhat awkwardly with his battered left hand. He did not sigh, but his air was sad. "I always knew he'd get out of here before I do and so he has; I just never predicted it would be thus."

"Yes, sir. Nor I. I always thought of Constable Hodge as … I suppose as a constant, perhaps immortal." William paused. "I know that sounds ridiculous. He was nearly thirty-five years my senior when I met him."

"Romantic perhaps, but not ridiculous. We all have people we idealize."

"Point taken, sir. I made sure he had his badge…. He was laid to rest near family and will have a dignified marker. I think he'd be pleased."

"Thank you for that, detective. And thank Brackenreid for me when he gets back, will you? …For holding on to John's badge for him." He looked down at the board and swallowed. "I believe it is your turn to go first this time. And why do you insist on calling me by an honorific? I am no longer your superior."

"Perhaps. But you still call me 'detective', Mr. Giles."

"That is because you still are a detective, Murdoch! Or shall I say, 'Acting Inspector'?"

"Er ... no, please no. Inspector Brackenreid is on his way back from Panama and I am going to be relieved to have it so. Your move."

"Ah. He will be disappointed he was not able to pay his respects today. He was fond of John as well. That's no secret...unlike others at station No. 4."

William considered that statement and his companion's response on the board between them. "Again, Mr. Giles?"

"I suppose I am waxing philosophical today. Your secrets have not rotted out your relationship with Brackenreid it appears." The detective did not need to answer. "My apologies. John's passing has made me consider my own mortality and thinking about death has made me contemplate life," he said as he moved another piece. "Chess is like life, Murdoch. You can tell a lot about a man by playing him."

"How so?" William asked, privately agreeing but wanting to know Giles' point of view anyway.

"For instance: your play has developed. You no longer assume a more defensive posture. You will occasionally go on the attack right from your first move. Playing me has made your game better."

"Agreed, sir."

"But you always protect your Queen. It is your only flaw in an otherwise brilliant game. You still play your priest, do you not? Are your games with him as competitive?"

"I would say so, but perhaps not as … combative."

"Interesting. Do we not both battle for your conscience as well as for the win?"

"Indeed. I believe Father Clements would characterize it as for my soul … but yes."

"How does one become friends with one's priest? I'd think it would be awkward. Surely there is a conflict of interest?"

"No more than with you."

"I see…. Have you ever wondered how we became friends, if that is what we are?" He saw Murdoch hesitate. "Ah … I didn't think so. I don't imagine you tend towards that kind of introspection. You just accept what is."

"Perhaps you have me right. Check!"

"And of me, Murdoch? What have you learned?"

"Loyalty. Honour. Traits I hope to find within myself."

"No fear? You confessed to me you let Constance Gardner go."

"Yes. I had no idea exactly what I was bargaining for."

"If you'd have known it would cost Hodge his freedom, possibly his life, would you have done so? Check!"

"I don't know. Conscience is a harsh mistress, eh, Mr. Giles? To remain incorruptible in the face of one's own conscience did you not say? -Or words to that effect…."

"Indeed. I'll take your rook. Conscience? I thought that is what your priest is for."

"No. I have confessed to him as well, but I have not sinned. My conscience is clear, in that." William looked up to see a smile steal over Giles' once handsome face.

"Mine as well-in all things. Something we have in common. So your conscience does not bring you here?"

"No, sir. Gratitude. I shall never forget you helped save Julia's life. I am forever in your debt."

He grunted. "There is always Hell to pay, Murdoch, never forget that. I thought perhaps I am keeper of your secrets, like your priest. So, gratitude is why you come."

"That…and for the win." He moved his Queen. "Check mate!"

-END-

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Thank you IdBeDelighted for the inspiration and the beta read. I agree with her that William and Giles have certain parallels. My challenge from her was to write something short and unencumbered with detail. So-Dear Reader: One-eight-hundred -how's -my-writing? I am asking specifically if you like this style of story and any specifics about if you like this format and /or if you like this style better than my usual one. Your words help me get better at telling stories. Reviews/feedback requested & appreciated. Thank you! -rg