Part of the Job
Rating: R/M
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Tragedy/Drama
Summary: For the hc_bingo challenge, prompt "Wild Card (Death)". There were some days when Carter Blake really hated his job. Warning for strong language, deaths of children.
Author's Note: Felt nice to paint Blake as just a little bit of a not-asshole.
Disclaimer: I don't own Heavy Rain. It belongs to Quantic Dream Studios.
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Carter Blake's an ass, and he knows it.
But even he can't manage his basic level of assholery in those moments when he was stuck with the gratuitously unpleasant duty of informing parents of the passing of their sons.
He's stuck with it three times. The first time, it's Reza Hassan. His father's a convenience store clerk, and for once Carter isn't even vaguely tempted to crack an ethnic joke. Not now.
"Sir," Carter's voice is detached, monotone, rehearsed a dozen times silently in his head on the eternal car ride over. "I'm sorry to inform you of the passing of your son. We found his body this morning."
Hassan stares blankly at Carter. His wife lets out a moan, which degrades into breathless sobs as she sinks onto the beaten couch, claw-marked by a currently unseen cat. Carter doesn't say anything just flicks his gaze back and forth between Hassan and his wife.
Slowly, as the realization that Reza is truly dead and not coming home dawns, silent tears stream down the man's face. It crumples slowly, and in constant slow motion, his hands come up to cover his eyes. He sinks down onto the couch, on the end opposite his wife. His body sags, he bends over, elbows resting on his legs and Carter can hear the barest traces of hitched breath, sobs.
Carter looks away. Wants to spare the man his dignity. Ash is the one to finally, gently prod the husband and wife after ten minutes of quiet grieving, informing them of the current status of the case, which is basically we're still looking, we're sorry, we're analyzing all of the clues we have, we're sorry, may we have your permission to ask the coroner to perform an autopsy, we are so fucking sorry that your son's dead and that we continue to have no motherfucking idea who did it-
Two weeks later, another kid named Johnny Winter goes missing.
Four days after, they find him dead.
The second time Carter has to break the news, it's a lady named Lauren Winter. They've dragged her in twice now on prostitution charges, but this is the first time that Carter's ever spoken to her directly. Prostitutes aren't usually his problem. He's reasonably certain they've never convicted her of anything, but that doesn't mean shit.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry to inform you that-"
Lauren starts to scream halfway through the sentence, hands coming up to clutch at her hair. Her wail is soaked with the kind of agony Carter can't and doesn't want to even being to imagine experiencing himself.
"My baby!" She howls. "My baby! My baby! Nooooo…"
Carter finds himself looking away again, wanting to spare her dignity like he did with the Hassans and also because the sheer strength of her horror and grief is almost physically painful to behold.
It takes time for her to calm down enough that they can explain to her the course of the investigation from that point on. Ash sits beside her on the sofa with a hand on her shoulder as she weeps and tries to do it quietly enough that she can hear them speak. She asks for details about Johnny's death, if he died peacefully or if he'd been in pain. He's not authorized to tell her much.
"We won't know until we have the coroner take a look, ma'am. Do we have your permission to perform an autopsy?"
Lauren had nodded tearfully and then fallen apart again. Carter motions to Ash, taking this as their cue to leave.
It's not half a week later when a ten year-old boy goes missing from the trailer park he calls home.
And five days later, another goddamn body.
"Fuck, shit, fuck!" Carter barks, slamming his hand on the steering wheel of the patrol car when the radioed message comes in. It's rainy as all hell, and he has to meet up with that fed flown in from D.C. to muck up their system. But he's not as much of a dick as he'd like to be because of what he knows he and Ash are going to have to do once they leave the scene.
The Bowles's household is tiny, and despite the late hour Carter can see the windows lit up. He groans silently and knows that he's about to give some poor woman the worst night of her goddamn life.
Susan Bowles answers the door in a bathrobe, a bottle in hand. There's a baby shrieking itself hoarse in the background. Her eyes widen when she realizes who they are, but doesn't say a word.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry to inform you that we've located your son's body. We believe that he passed away some time last night." Passed away, passed away, why the fuck had he said that? The kid was fucking murdered, exhausted and drowned somewhere. Little old ladies passed away in their sleep, cats passed away when you euthanized them- Jeremy Bowles did not pass away.
But Susan just stares at him, hand still on the door.
The baby is still screaming in the background.
Carter knows it's a shock, but the look on the woman's face is starting to concern him. "Ma'am?"
She doesn't move. Not even a twitch.
Ash tries. "Mrs. Bowles, may we come in?"
There's another, long pause. Then Susan's eyes roll back into her head, and she collapses backwards onto the floor.
"Shit!"
They call an ambulance just to make sure that she hasn't hurt her head (or anything else). Carter takes trying to revive her over comforting the wailing infant in the bassinet in the living room. Ash, fortunately, has a sister with five kids and knows how to handle babies like a pro. They wait until the ambulance arrives to take her to the hospital. Ash calms the baby- Emily- into silence, loads her into a carrier and puts her in the back of the patrol car so they can follow the ambulance to the hospital.
"Never gets any easier, does it?" Ash mutters, strapping his seatbelt on and glancing over his shoulder to double-check that the kid was secure.
Carter growls and starts the car.
"Sometimes, Ash, I really fucking hate this job."
-End