AN: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. They are property of Stephenie Meyer.
This is my first fan fiction. I am having lots of fun with it and hope you enjoy reading it. I have some fun ideas for this story. If you have any suggestions or comments please feel free to review and tell me. I accept all feedback- the good, the bad and the ugly.
**Please note, this chapter was edited on 3/7/09. The wonderful amesynth was oh so kind, and edited my previously unedited chapter... :) Chapter two was edited on 3/12/09...It should be all pretty now!
**Oh and special request! If someone knows Italian and could correct my spelling/word choice I would greatly appreciate it. Google Translate can only go so far.
Great.
I began to unzip the bag, noting the burnt popcorn smell. It really didn't bother me anymore. Wonder if I should start to worry.
I had originally thought this internship would last only a summer, give me some good experience for Med School. Now, after nearly 3 years of being a low paid slave, I couldn't see myself doing anything else. That scared me.
I peeled back the stiff plastic, and began to remove the contents. All 300 pounds of him.
"This dude was pure genius." I said aloud to no one.
I hated being alone down here. I still could not get used to it. That prick, Dr. Kox, never did any of the work, yet he got all the glory…of course, only after the crimes were solved. He could never trouble himself to come in during a weeknight. Or weekday. Or weekend, for that matter. He would much rather spend his time with his bottle of whiskey in his office. Sometimes he would peruse the secretary's ass if he was sober enough.
I looked at the man on my table. "Seriously? Head in the oven? Did you not realize it wasn't gas?" Lucky for him he had downed a bottle of sleeping pills prior to his stupidity. He had been in the oven for over 8 hours by the time his wife came home. He was nearly cooked through. Well, at least his torso was. I shook my head.
I reached for my iPod. I was going to need some "fun" music to keep me focused. It was going to be a long night, I could already tell. There was Mr. Popcorn in front of me, the lady who was found out near Mercer Island, the man who had been in his apartment for a week with his 10 hungry cats, and of course the 12 possible murder victims. Boy, Seattle knew how to make my day. Or night. Whatever.
I pressed play and gathered my tools. I loved this song. It could shake my fears away. Actually, most music could. I rocked my head a bit to the beats as the base thumped in my ears.
I worked quickly to remove the scalp. My scalpel cut easily through the receding hair line with a single incision. It reminded me of peeling an apple in one long peel.
I already knew what the brain would look like. Heck! This guy literally cooked himself, but of course I couldn't put "Cause of death: roasted and glazed for 8 hours." I doubted the family would find my joke funny. I reached for the bone saw and was just about to start the fun part when Travis walked in.
He brought a friend.
I saw his mouth moving but I couldn't hear him. I looked at him quizzically. He said something again, then pointed to his ears. Oh, yeah, ear phones. I popped them out.
"Victim lucky number 13 for you, Ash," he said with that sick little twinkle in his eye. He rolled his friend in with him. Another black body bag entering my lab.
"Found him behind a club on 6th," Trav stated. "The club owner heard some noises and went out to see what was happening. He actually saw the guy standing over the body. When he ran out to chase the guy, he just 'disappeared'." He shivered. "The look on that guys face said it all; he was terrified."
I really didn't want to deal with Trav tonight. After 3 years of working here and him hitting on me, then me turning him down, he still had not gotten the hint.
"Thanks Trav. Umm…put him over here." I pointed to the other side of my current client.
"You here alone, Ash?"
"Yeah, Dr. Kox left for the night. I still have 14 others to work on, not including this guy," I pointed to Mr. Popcorn. "Do you think the police are any closer to catching this guy? Do they have any leads?"
The fear of having another serial killer on the loose so soon after the massacre a few years ago was frightening. Not just because of the fact that people were dying but, because I would be on overtime indefinitely.
"Don't know. All I know is that when ever anyone sees the guy, he disappears. The dog's haven't even been able to find a scent to follow." He said leaving the new tenant to come to my side of the exam table.
Strange. It was all just so strange. But I was in no mood for Trav's tricks tonight.
"What the hell happened to that guy!?!" His nose started to scrunch up. Yea, I should be worried the smell didn't bother me anymore. Maybe I was truly a freak.
"Ah, well, he took a Jacques Pepin recipe but modified it. Instead of a duck, he put himself in the oven." I giggled. I was a freak. I could tell by the disgusted look on Trav's face. I should have felt bad, but I was strangely happy to see the twinkle being replaced with horror. Finally!
Maybe tonight would be the night he would learn to leave me alone. If my Jacques Pepin joke worked, I was going to have to come up with other inappropriate jokes to tell him. The horror on his face was better than love-spell eyes.
"So…Ash." He started, looking at me with puppy dog eyes.
Crap. The joke didn't turn him off enough.
I started up the saw and swiftly worked my way around the skull. Bits flew everywhere. I secretly hoped some would hit Trav, then maybe he would be so grossed out that he would have to run away to puke.
I put the saw down.
"What's up?" I asked as I popped off the cap. Yup, I was right, cooked through and through. I finally looked up at him, again hoping to find horror in his eyes. Nope. Just those damn lovey puppy eyes.
"I was wondering. My band has a gig. Would you come and hear us play?" I could hear the plea in his voice. He would never give up; I was starting to realize that.
"Sorry, but I'm busy."
"I never said when it was though. How can you be busy next Tuesday? Can't you re-arrange your schedule?" It all flew out in a panicked tone.
Damn. I need to learn to hear when things are before I say 'No'.
"Well, see my cat…Mrs. Bigglesworth? Um…well.." I was struggling to figure out something he would believe. He wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, so I hoped it would work in my favor.
"She..uh.…she has to go in for surgery tomorrow…for…um…a stomach reduction? Yeah." She was a fat cat, and frankly, if they offered it, I would get her in for that surgery. "And..uh…and when she's done I have to spoon feed her every 2 hours. Yeah. Sorry, the vet said it will be like that for about a week."
GOD, if you are listening, Please, Please, Please let him buy that! I whispered to myself as I looked up at him.
"Oh. Sorry to her about that. Maybe next time?" Still having hope in his voice.
Really? He bought it? Geez. And he still thinks something will happen. Do I have to become a Super Bitch so he'll stop? By looking at his big blue eyes, I made the biggest mistake.
"Sure. MAYBE next time."
Why? Why am I such a sap that I can't seriously hurt this guy? Sure he's hot. Sure I could totally see myself having a good time with him. But he is still annoying as all hell! UGH!
"Hey, I gotta get back to work, Trav. I have a lot to do." I pointed to the crowd behind him.
"Right, I'll see you later." He again threw me the sad eyes. Damn him. He started to walk toward the door.
"Oh wait!" I shouted. He stopped immediately. I could see the smile appear on his face even with the back of his head to me. "I need that paper work." I quickly threw off my gloves and walked swiftly over to him. The smile wavered as I got closer. I stood next to him as I signed the release forms for our "Lucky 13". I watched out of the corner of my eye as he leaned over a bit to smell my hair. He quickly lurched back. He hadn't learned. I spend my life in this lab, and with that, I spend my life in the lovely smells that occur in the Medical Examiners building.
My hair hadn't smelled like roses in months, if not years.
Maybe that would teach him, I said to myself.
Persistent little bastard. I handed back the papers he needed and sent him on his way.
I turned my attention to the newcomer. If he was a possible murder vic, then there should be similar markings on him. Odd, crescent-shaped wounds. Pale skin. Cold to the touch. That would describe the other twelve.
I walked over to the black plastic bag and began to unzip it. He didn't smell. That was a nice change from Mr. Popcorn. He actually smelled ok. Nice, even. I really am sick.
Once the bag was open, I could see he was nicely dressed. His hair was a perfect tousle. I have a freakin' Runway Model on my table. Chiseled face with perfect features. A slightly muscular build. He was hot, to say the least. One thing that made him look ugly was that his eyes were still open. The first responders were usually kind enough to close them. I didn't like seeing their eyes if I could avoid it.
They were black. Empty. They were his eyes. I pulled his lids down.
I took a step back and surveyed the scene in front of me. I crossed my arms in contemplation. Is he really dead? If I hadn't felt the coldness of his skin, I would swear he was just in a trance. I foolishly checked for a pulse, just to make sure. Nothing there. Yep, he's dead.
He really didn't seem like he was dead, though.
I began to look for the crescent-shaped markings consistent with the others. I checked the neck, having to brush aside the collar of his expensive tweed jacket. I rolled up his sleeves as best as I could and checked his wrists and inner elbows.
I was dumbfounded. I couldn't see anything. How can he be our 'Lucky 13'?
When I was about to turn away to look deeper into the paperwork he came with, something caught my eye. He did have the crescents. They were just…Healed.
What?
They were sort of sparkling in my exam light. In fact, he was sparkling under my exam light. I stared at him completely confused. My brow furrowed. What happened to you? My finger brushed along one of the crescents. It was in nearly the exact spot as the others. Hmm…That is odd.
I realized I still had Mr. Popcorn on the table next to him. I should finish one project before getting started on another. Plus, it felt wrong to just 'dig in' on this art piece of a man. He seriously looked like he could give David a run for his money in an art gallery.
I pulled out my iPod and opted for some rock. I felt jittery for some reason and hoped that I could get some aggression out while listening to my favorite band. I walked my way over to Mr. Popcorn. The smell hit me like a dump truck with a full load. It didn't smell nearly as fresh and made my nose crinkle. Yuck!...Hmm…I am normal. I chuckled to myself a bit.
The rest of the exam only took me 1 hour. That was quick considering the extent of his 'well-done' nature. I put the stomach contents in a jar and sent it up to the lab, along with what little blood sample I could find that wasn't congealed. It was the tech's problem now. My assessment would most likely be finalized as an overdose on sleeping medication, not an experimental dinner recipe.
I turned my attention to Lucky 13. What am I going to do about you?
I walked over to the bag and started to move him to my empty exam table. He was like stone. Geez. For being a fit looking guy, you are heavier than the last guy. It took me a few tries to pull him across to the table. Once there, I knew I wasn't going to move him back. I stopped and caught my breath.
Maybe Trav would be back with another vic and I could persuade him to do it. I decided it was pointless to try and move him to get his jacket off. As much as I felt it was a crime to cut such nice clothing, I had no other choice. I am so sorry Mr. Jacket. If there was any other way, you would live and hang in my closet. I went to get my heavy duty scissors. Used only in emergency. The tiny dissection scissors could barely get through a tendon, let alone fine Italian fashion. I turned away and walked toward the supply drawer.
I suddenly felt like I wasn't alone in the room anymore. I smirked.
"What did you forget this time, Trav?" I removed one ear bud to listen for a response. Silence.
I slowly turned around and saw him. The smile faded from my face.
He was just standing there, looking at me like a deer in headlights.
He wasn't dead after all. But he couldn't be alive.
I gripped tightly to my newly acquired scissors and hoped my summer Kickboxing experience would be able to help me. My heart rate began to quicken. You'll be ok Ash. Stay calm, I thought hoping to calm my nerves.
He put his hand up, "I'm not going to hurt you Ashley."
What? How the hell did he know my name? I thrusted my weapon in front of me.
"Don't come any closer!" I slowly started to retreat back to my supply drawer, hoping to find something more intimidating.
"There is nothing to be afraid of. This is a terrible misunderstanding." He took a tiny step forward. I think. He moved so swiftly and quickly, I couldn't tell. But I knew he was closer to me.
I reached into the drawer behind me. I gently caressed each instrument until I found the one I was looking for. Ouch! Damn it. I had sliced my pinkie on a scalpel.
"You don't have to hurt yourself. I'm not going to hurt you either." He was looking me up and down.
How in the world did he know I hurt myself? Could he read minds or something?
"Yes, I can." He said with a slight smile.
My eyes were nearly popping out of my head.
Then read this. Get the fuck away from me!
He started to laugh. I couldn't believe it! He was laughing at me, at my threat. He took another step forward.
I suddenly felt electricity running through me. As I stared at him, his face looked at me with utter confusion.
"Why are you speaking Italian?" He asked as he took a step forward.
What? I wasn't speaking Italian. I don't know Italian. Spanish, yes. Italian, no.
Why is she denying that she was just speaking Italian? I just heard her. Proteggimi. She specifically said 'Protect Me'. Am I going crazy? I heard a man's voice in my head. It was his voice.
Maybe just a little. I responded sarcastically. Good to know I still had a sense of humor even when scared shitless.
"What did you just say?" His voice said with a slight panic.
"You asked 'Am I going crazy?' and I responded 'Maybe just a little.'" Is he not paying attention anymore or what?
How could she have heard that? I didn't say it aloud. I heard his voice again.
You mean how can I hear you now?
He had a shocked look on his face. "WHAT?!"
You hear me and I hear you…yeah, I guess that is a bit strange. Hey! Get back! I told you not to come any closer.
I gripped my scissors a bit tighter. My unoccupied hand finally found the Butcher's knife I had been looking for. Blood was slowly trickling down my hand. A large droplet fell off the tip of my finger and hit the floor.
Fight the thirst, Edward. Fight the thirst.
Thirst? Thirst for what?
I'm not here to hurt you. He took another step forward at this thought.
The electricity running through me intensified. It felt like it was radiating out away from me. I looked up at him. I could see he was slowly being pushed back by an invisible bubble.
Proteggere mia figlia
Protect her.
My head felt fuzzy, and my eye lids began to sag. Blackness hit me as I heard my mother's voice.