Disclaimer:
They're not mine, no matter how much I wish, they don't belong to me, and I cant' have them. NBC and Fontana get that right, but if they're willing to sell…Author's Notes:
First, if you didn't see the homicide movie, you are seriously deprived of one hell of an ending to the best show I've ever seen. I saw the scene on the roof between Frank and Timmy, and it wasn't right. Timmy is not a killer, I will always believe that, and this is my take on how the roof scene could have been done. I don't have direct quotes, so please pardon my paraphrase on some parts. (Yes, there are spoilers. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!)Confession
By Gayle F. Cox
Tim Bayliss stared out through the diamond-shaped wire of the fence that surrounded the roof of his station house. The lights of Baltimore looked so serene from his post. "Can you hear one more confession, Frank?"
Frank Pembleton turned towards his partner. "What?"
"One more confession," Pembleton said nothing, and Tim took the silent cue. "I killed Ryland."
Frank raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"I killed Ryland, Frank. I killed him and left him in the street."
"You didn't kill him, Tim." Pembleton's voice got slightly louder.
"Yes, I did, Frank." He tapped the side of his forehead. "Up here. I killed him up here." Bayliss put a hand over his heart. "Down here, I wish I had really done it."
Frank breathed out heard. "Did you pull the trigger, Bayliss?"
"I killed him."
Frank grabbed Tim's coat and looked him in the eye. "Did you pull the trigger?"
Hazel eyes stared into chocolate ones. "No." Tim breathed in. "But I wish I had." He shook off his partner. "I wish I had shot him. Wish I could take the credit for killing the bastard that slaughtered women in front of an audience. I want him to come back to life so I can blow a hole in his head! I want the credit, Frank!"
"Shut up!" Pembleton's boom echoed across the roof. "Shut up, you son of a bitch!" He waved his arms around in agitation. "You, son of a bitch! Tim, think what you're saying!" Frank grabbed his coat again. "Think, Tim! Think!"
Tim grabbed Pembleton's coat. "I have, Frank! It's all I think about! I think about it constantly! All I want is my chance against the evil that was that man!" He put a hand on the side of Frank's face. His voice changed tone, it saddened. "I don't know what to do. I feel so alone." One shaky, shuddering breath. "Sometimes, I just want to eat my gun."
Frank pulled away, stepping back. "You can't do that, Tim."
"Why not? It'd be the perfect end to all of this. Tim Bayliss, the Zen detective, dead with his own gun. The karma would just be coming full circle."
"Karma is bullshit. If karma worked, half the people in Baltimore would be dead because of the bad stuff they do." The proto-Shakespearean voice was quivering. "you're not wrong here, Tim. You're not wrong."
"I want to kill someone, Frank. Even after he's dead, I want to kill him."
"Do you believe you're the first cop to ever have those feelings? Because if you are, you sure as hell are not going to be the last!" He grasped Bayliss' arm. "After that day I spent in the subway, I wanted to find the bastard that pushed that man and shove him onto the tracks so he could feel the pain! It ate at me, Tim! It's one of the reasons I left. Not just because you took my bullet, not because of all those confessions, but because there was a dark part in me that wanted to kill someone!"
"I've got the same darkness, Frank, and it's not going away." Tim sagged. "It won't go away."
"Yes, it will. I swear to you, it will. It went away in me after I left. After I saw there were places where death wasn't prevalent. It left, Tim. It left."
"That's just it; I can't leave, and it won't leave me." Tim leaned his forehead against Frank's. "I can't leave. No matter how much it hurts, I'm stuck here."
"You're braver than me." Pembleton grasped the back of Tim's neck. "I left because the darkness scared me. You're staying because you want to beat it."
"Really?" Tim's eyes shimmered with tears.
"Really."
"I ran away, though. I ran to the woods to hide."
"Did it work?"
"What?"
"Running away, did it work?" Frank asked softly.
Tim closed his eyes in thought, causing a tear to run down his cheek. "No, I think I made it worse."
"What was it worse?"
"Because…because I did nothing to reverse the feeling. I just stood around and fished."
"How do you make it go away, Tim?" Frank waited for a reply and got none. He shook the taller man. "How do you make it go away?"
"I have to go back to work."
"How will that help?"
"I'll be helping people. Saving people from creatures like Ryland will make the darkness from that bastard go away." Tim sighed, defeated. "I have to go back to work."
Frank clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure? There could be another answer, Tim."
"What answer, Frank? Confession? I don't think that will quite work." He smiled wryly, and got a small smile from his partner in return. "I have to save people, and I have to find the killers."
"Which killers?"
"The killers that kill out in the open. Not the ones that kill here." Tim tapped the side of his head again.
Frank nodded. "You have to catch the real evil, not the evil inside your head. Fight the evil inside your head, but don't let your mind get taken over by it. You're not a killer, Bayliss. You're a killer catcher. Say that."
Bayliss looked at him confusedly. "What?"
"Say it."
"I'm a killer catcher."
"Scream it."
"I'm a killer catcher!"
Frank clapped both of Tim's shoulders. "Yes, you are."
In silence, they turned and headed for the door. Tim chuckled slightly as they reached the stairs.
"What is it, Bayliss?"
"I always wondered what it would be like to get interrogated by you."
Frank's laugh boomed across the roof as the door shut behind the men and the darkness dragging Timothy Bayliss.