Author's Note: First time writing fanfic, any feed back would be appreciated. I hope to write this in 10 chapters, and the story will be told non-linearly (Flash backs mostly). The next chapter will be a little less depressing so stay tuned. I'll probably finish withing the next week or two. Just to reiterate, please do review, I need all the help I can get.
The lights had long been out at ZPD headquarters. The offices that bustled with activity during the day lay dormant. Even the janitors had gone home for the night, only a few officers where left to man the phone lines. Only the lights at the end of the halls illuminated the darkened passage ways and cubicles of the department. Despite all of this, a light was still on in the office. Behind a closed door of a corner office a desk light was still burning on the workstation of Detective Nicholas P. Wilde. He sat there staring at the case file that laid before, just as he had the night before, and the night before that.
The manila folders edges were frayed and soft, the central fold held no resistance, most of the papers inside held the circular paintings of a coffee mug. The case file had seen years of work, but nothing had been added to it in all those years, in all those countless nights spent in the office alone with Nick's eyes blood shot and tired. He sat there running through every word, every picture, every lead, every connection, but by this point looking at the case file was just a formality. He knew every detail of that file by heart. Yet he sat there every night, going over every detail again, the fantasy of finally seeing the connection he'd missed for all these years haunting him.
Nick looked away from the file, placing his paw on his now graying muzzle he twist his neck, garnering a cacophony of satisfying cracks. He was only 42 but he looked much older, years of late nights at the offices, and his alcohol problem out of it had aged the once spry fox. After popping his knuckles, and rubbing his tired eyes, he went back to work to be quickly interrupted. The door slid open, and the imposing figure of Chief Bogo walked in.
"What can I do for you Chief?" Nick said in a sardonically chipper tone, not even looking away from the file, he was getting ready for a conversation they'd had many times before.
"Wilde, it's two in the morning what are you still doing here?" Bogo questioned tiredly, he knew exactly what the fox was up to.
"Just working on a case." Nick replied.
"No you're not Wilde, you're working on that case, again." Bogo retorted.
"And what if am, I'm just doing my job." Nick shot back, audibly more annoyed.
"No you're not Wilde, you're chasing a ghost."
"Oh no, he's no ghost, he's out there, and no mattered what you or anyone else says I'm going to find him." Nick replied, with a growing menace in his voice.
"There hasn't been a break in the case for ten years, nothing. Ten years, you've been on the force long enough to know that these cases get hopeless after two days, let alone a decade"
"I don't care if it's been ten years, or ten thousand, I'm not going to stop. I will find him"
At hearing this Bogo let out a sigh, and leaned back on the wall of the office, arms crossed. He was beginning to realize the futility of this conversation, as he'd had it before, and it was going the same way. The buffalo looked down at the fox sitting at the desk, he had already gone back to looking at the case file, searching a specter that hung over him for the past decade. The sight pained him to look at, the once cheeky young fox was killing himself, had been for years.
"Nick"
The detective looked up from his desk, in all of his time in the force, he couldn't remember ever hearing the chief call him by his first name.
"I can't even begin to understand how much this has to hurt, but it's time to face facts, the case is cold, he got away. No matter how long you lock yourself in here, no matter how many times you look at that file, thing aren't going to change that. You're my best detective, I've never seen anyone with your kind of talent in my entire career Nick, but even you can't solve this, not even after ten years. It's time to let go."
Nick looked back down at the file in front of him. He didn't say a word.
"Nick, it's time to let go. You're killing yourself Nick. When's last time you had a good night's rest. When's the last time you took a day off without me forcing you Nick. You've thought of nothing but this for ten years Nick. You think I don't notice the alcohol on your breath when you walk into the office? You don't think I know that when I send you home you're looking at that damn file! You been at this for ten years, but it looks like you've aged twenty. It's time to let go Nick, it's time to live again. You deserve to live life again… She would want to live, she'd want you to move on."
They both sat there in silence. Nick hadn't expected an exchange like that. Working with him over the years Nick had realized that despite his being the hard ass they were more similar than they appeared, neither of them let anyone see that anyone had gotten to them. Nick preferred quick wit, Bogo preferred stoicism, and both maintained a front to make sure no one saw what was underneath.
But Bogo had broken that rule tonight, and for some reason, Nick couldn't keep appearances either. Tears dotted the picture in front of him. Judy. The black and white photo had been burned into his mind day after day. His wife laid in a puddle of her own blood, staring lifelessly into the air. He looked back up at Bogo, stifling sobs that racked his body. He began to yell.
"Let go? You don't think I haven't tried. You don't think that I've wanted to forget this, and try pick up the pieces of this fucked up train wreck and start over again? What do think that I drink for? But I can't because there aren't any pieces to pick up, she was everything, every that I was and ever wanted to be! Every morning I wake up, and I think she's going to be there. I see her on every street, on every corner. And when I go home at night she's there too. I can't sleep at night anymore, because every time I close my eye I see this fucking photo. I see her."
Nick lifted up to show Bogo Judy's body, he turned away. He'd seen it before. Nick put it down. Bogo had remain expressionless through the whole speech. Looking back at Nick, he'd saw an anger begin to well up in him. It wasn't just anger, it was the look of hatred and malice that only someone who has had everything taken from him could have. Nick began to growl, his hair stood at end.
"And you want to know what else I see. I see him, I see his fucking face, and I hear him fucking laughing at me. I see him killing her, killing her right in front of me. I see it every night, every time I close my eyes! Let go? How can I? How could I when I see them both every day! How could knowing that he's still out there, and she's six feet in the dirt! He took everything from me, and I not going to stop until I take everything from him!"
Again the room fell quiet. Nick began to calm down, his breathing began to slow, his hair settled back into its usual position. They sat and just stared at each other, the wall clock ticking audibly, marking the seconds as they went by. Bogo began to move, he opened the door. As he walked out he turned his head to say something.
"Go home and get some rest Nick, don't come into the office tomorrow" Bogo said, but right before he left he said one last thing.
"Take it from me, if you ever do find him. It won't make you feel better, and it won't make you stop seeing them, in the end you'll just feel emptier."
Bogo left the office, leaving Nick alone with his file, and his desk lamp burning away in the dark. Nick was exhausted by what had just happened. His slid the papers into the folder, and shoved it in his bag. He left the office, the last light in the building to turn off.
Nick drove out into the dark city, the nice concrete building of Precinct One slowly turning into the dilapidated brick tenements of his neighborhood. Parking his car, and walking into his apartment his was greeted by a usual sight. Empty bottles and cigarette buds littered the floor. Instead of a television set a cork board with case details tacked on stood, strands of yarn making a complicated web of half supported guess and hypotheses. Stacks of unwashed dished stood in the sink, and the fridge was empty.
Walking into the bed room, Nick threw off his shirt and tie, and opened a mostly empty bottle of a cheap whiskey. He didn't bother with frivolous things like glasses anymore, and he took a big swig of the sauce. That familiar drink burned the whole way down. Nick gulped the rest of the bottle, and collapsed on his bed. A view of the city sat in his window, for a cheap apartment the place had a view, something Nick used to enjoy, but now it only reminded him of something, that the man who murdered his wife was still out there somewhere. Cursing Nick threw the bottle against a wall, shattering it to pieces. He promised himself one more time that he would find that man, and he would pay for all the pain he'd wrought.
Nick crawled into the covers, the bed was always too big, and too cold for him now. Feeling the exhaustion and the drunkenness take him. He reached out on found the picture of Judy that laid on his bandstand. She sat in the setting sun, it was a picnic they had in Bunny Burrow all those years ago. It was a picture he'd taken randomly, but it turned out perfect. Judy had just turn around smiling at him, those beautiful amethyst eyes looking back at him. Nick held the frame in his arms and whispered "Judy". A few tears beginning to fall. In a little while Nick would fall into a restless sleep. Dreaming as he often did of the old days, reliving them in his dreams every night.
Nick hated them, they were always so good, too good. He woke up every morning wishing he hadn't, hoping she'd be there next to him. No, Nick had learned to like the nightmares he had were better. They came almost just as often, and when he woke up, he was ready to face the nightmare he was currently living. They reminded him of his purpose, the reason why he hadn't already gone to his wife, to end it all. They reminded him that he's still out there, that there's something he has to do until he could rest. That he had to make him pay.
Tonight though Nick would dream of the beginning, as he often did. A replaying of a life that seemed ages ago. He'd see how he'd lost Judy.