Disclaimer: I do not own Hawaii Five-O or anything you recognize from it.
Although every man believes that his decisions and resolutions involve the most multifarious factors, in reality they are mere oscillation between flight and longing. — Herman Broch
This is the sequel to "A Refuge for Ourselves", though not a pre-requisite, it is highly recommended so you are introduced to the OC and the character dynamics. I want to say hello to new and old readers and thank you again to everyone whom has been with me from the very beginning: this sequel is for you
Chapter One
Unnamed (The Inconsistencies in the Rain)
Melissa crouched down and watched the white cotton sheet that the medical technician had haphazardly thrown over the remains; slowly ebb into red as the sheet absorbed the residual violence from the carpet. Though it was inappropriate of her to focus on the coppery red leach into the cotton fibres, it was apropos. Considering the white was once pure and unadulterated but now stained by the truth of the world, it was a fitting epitaph to the broken remains. She shook her head trying to dislodge the maudlin thoughts swirling and besmirching her brain.
She leaned in closer and lifted the corner of the dense sheet with her stained gloved hand, and gritted her teeth when the overpoweringly sickly sweet, coppery smell assaulted her senses, and forced herself to breathe in through her mouth. It didn't matter how many times she had seen the dead; seen the remnants of lives brutally taken away by the jarring violence of the world, she still was always slightly shocked by the amount of blood, the brutality and damn, the smells. Some days, if she were lucky, it didn't bother her as much but for some reason, today…it was all she could do not to claw her way out of the rising tide, scream and rage as she tore herself apart.
"Find anything, Jones?"
She looked over her shoulder and let the sheet fall back into place, covering the shrieking nightmare from the gaze of others, and ignored the slight wet, tacky sound it had made upon descending. She stood up and moved away from the sheet, feeling and definitely hearing the liquid squish under her feet. She shook her head and followed Morrissey to the other room where they could speak privately amongst themselves. She had known him since they were both rookies learning the ropes around Quantico and they had grown closer when Summers had recruited them both to his taskforce. He had been away training a taskforce in Chicago when she had been away in Hawaii and had gotten back a week before she had; though they worked together, he was more than a mere acquaintance but less than a friend. And apparently, if she believed both Morrissey and Summers, now her partner. "Whomever did this had rage issues." She quietly stated, peeling off the stained gloves and stared blankly at the wall.
Morrissey rolled his eyes, "Obviously. Do you know what could have—?"
"Something sharp and heavy enough to turn a human being into hamburger." She stated, mentally cataloguing the crime scene.
He grimaced and followed her out of the house, only stopping to peel off the shoe covers and nod to a few officers, "Surprised you came back." He quietly commented.
She walked towards their nondescript FBI regulated vehicle, and refused to think about the fact that she now had a partner…a partner. Though she worked with everyone in the taskforce, Summers had distinctly told both of them that they were better together than apart. Which she refused to believe, she was one of the best…by herself, of course. Morrissey was simply dragging her down. She made another mental note to mention his existence when she got home and phoned Steve; she bit back a smile, just his name created an excited rush and she did not want Morrissey to start poking at her festering wound.
It had been six weeks since she had returned to her old life and she felt good, she felt rejuvenated…but she didn't feel whole. She knew there was something missing in her life and he was in Hawaii, growling at her every time they spoke on the phone. Being amazing, he hadn't demanded she stay behind in Hawaii, they were both pragmatists and he knew that she simply couldn't walk away from the life she had built back in Virginia. He hadn't been thrilled, hell, he'd been the complete opposite of thrilled but he had understood. And that was all that mattered. She didn't want to tell him of her plans she had just set in motion that morning, placing the letter on Summers desk. A part of her was waiting for Summers to phone her and demand to see her, but they both knew he wouldn't. She was an asset and he'd think twice before jumping.
She threw her jacket in the back and climbed in the driver's seat before Morrissey could, "What's so surprising? I have a job here…I made a life here. Just because two people love each other doesn't mean one of them has to sacrifice everything in their lives to satisfy the other." She bared her teeth when he whistled and sped out of Suburbia. She didn't bother mentioning her letter of resignation on Summers desk and if she knew the old knave, he'd let the letter collect dust for eternity before reading it. Bastard.
"Don't sound too cynical now, Jones." Morrissey retorted.
She shrugged, "Its not cynicism, its pragmatism. Know the difference."
He chuckled and leaned back further into the seat, "When will you be ready to give Summers the written profile?"
She quirked a brow at him, "I thought Mr Perfect would do it…after all, Summers said you were the best."
He laughed, "Correction: we're the best. I'll write the report, you do the profiling, since you are already so maudlin right now, can't hurt to get you to think as a psychopath."
Despite her earlier reservations, she snorted, mentally cracking her knuckles, "Want to hear what I have so far?"
"Hell yes."
A good while later, she parked the vehicle and slammed the door, waiting for him to join her as they both walked towards headquarters. "So, you're saying, we have five victims and you're still not one hundred percent sure that the killer is sexually motivated." He shook his head; the woman was good but her worst enemy was her damn doubt.
She rolled her eyes and swiped her identification card in the designated slot and opened the door, "I'm sure but I'm just not that sure."
They stepped into the elevator and he cast her a side-glance, "You know we aren't done talking about Hawaii, right?"
"Its personal, ergo it stays personal." She admonished.
He clucked his tongue, "Its what partners do, they share feelings and shit." He motioned between them, "its how they build up the camaraderie."
She smirked and glanced furtively at him, "We really are partners now, aren't we?"
He chuckled, "What ever was Summers thinking?"
"Oh god." She muttered when he outstretched a fist and waited for her to bump her fist with his. She finally acquiesced and wished she could feel dismay instead of amusement.
"What is your boy going to think?" Morrissey suddenly asked her.
She glanced over her shoulder, shoving down the urge to get all doe eyed at the mere mention of Steve, "What boy?"
Morrissey followed her to the coffee machine, both of them ignoring the sounds of the busy office space Summers' taskforce made, "Cause the way I see it, he might get a little jealous, since you chose to move back here, leaving him in the dust. Working alongside such a fine specimen."
She glanced around, pretending to look for said specimen, "And where might he be?"
He rolled his eyes, "You're looking at him." He deadpanned, "How did you ever pass the Bureau's entrance exam?"
She grinned knowing her needling had annoyed him, "How any man can become jealous because of you, is beyond my comprehension."
He snorted and walked towards his desk, which coincidently was now facing hers, Summers sure moved fast when he wanted to, "And what about him? Aren't you worried he might be feeling a little bit lonely and abandoned?" He raised a brow when she kept looking at him.
"Screw off." She muttered, turning her now black mood to the paperwork that needed to be seen to on her desk and fought the urge to phone Steve. As soon as Morrissey wasn't paying attention, she'd phone Steve.
She knew he wasn't lonely and looking for someone to ease his loneliness, she trusted him explicitly…but damn Morrissey and his scheming ways of making even the most ridiculous thing sound the most logical, and reasonable. She ran a hand through her hair and dug into the pile of paperwork, not really sure if she was doing the right thing or not.
