Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I'm just borrowing them and will put them back unharmed.
Feedback: Always welcome.
Blame It on the Super Hero
Chapter 1: Discovery
It wasn't the dead victim that brought it all crashing down around her. It was the one left alive. Four years old. Scared. Hiding in the closet.
The soft whisper caught her attention. It wasn't a clear sound. It wasn't persistent. Later, she would not even know why she heard it – except for the fact that she needed to. Hear it.
The sound came after she gingerly turned the brutalized body of Boston's latest home invasion robbery-turned-murder victim over. After the pictures had been taken. After a long wait for the scene to be adequately processed before she could get to work. Lying underneath the man's body – the lovingly worn, blue clad, red caped, super hero action figure caught her attention… and his attention at the same time. "Superman."
Nigel noticed the toy and snapped more pictures for the file as she rose to investigate the sound she wasn't at all sure she had really heard. When she opened the closet door, he was leaning as far back into the shadows as possible. His blue eyes were large with fear and clouded with distrust. She crouched down to his eye level and tried for what she hoped was a smile. "Hi," she breathed. He continued to stare at her with an unfocused gaze. "My name's Jordan," she tried again. "What's your name?" With no answer forthcoming, she returned to where the battered body rested.
Nigel was finishing with the toy, "Nothing useable, luv," he said handing the action figure up to her.
Again she returned to the closet and knelt, looking into the confused depths of those blue eyes. "Is he yours?" she asked quietly indicating the action figure and was acknowledged with a slight nod. She held the figure out to be taken stealthily by quick little hands.
"Will you come out and talk to me?"
A slight shake of his head answered her question.
"Ah, I see. Did he… did your daddy tell you to stay put?"
A nod answered her.
"Be quiet?"
Another nod.
She now found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the open closet door.
Nigel squatted down beside her and whispered into her ear, and she looked over at the criminalist with an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Nige."
"My friend here tells me your name is Owen."
If possible the little boy's eyes grew wider. It was a few more heart-wrenching minutes before Owen was curled up in her lap, clutching Superman tightly to his chest, as she rocked him slightly, speaking soft words into his ear. She kept their backs to the carnage in an attempt to prevent him from witnessing the work being done to prepare the body to be moved.
It had happened in the middle of the night. His daddy had tried to hide him, and had been successful. His daddy had fought to protect him – the evidence was all around them. And, though his daddy had been successful at that as well, the price had been high – the ultimate price had been paid for the safety of his child.
Jordan was a bit surprised to be left alone to continue her gentle ministrations to the little boy. Apparently the detective in charge was more than willing to let her handle this crime scene… complication.
A feeling of relief flooded through her when Nigel approached her once more to tell her that Owen's grandparents had been contacted and were on their way to pick him up.
She would hand Owen over to people who loved him.
She would go back to the morgue and autopsy the body.
She had a feeling she'd end up having a good cry over this one.
And then things would go on, status quo.
It didn't end up being that simple.
XXXXXXXXX
Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud…
Up before the alarm… great way to start the day. Beautiful… spring… morning. Balmy – not hot… not cold – lukewarm. Perfect day for a run.
The thud, thud, thud of his running shoes against the ground was reassuring in its predictability. Woody found comfort in the repetition and allowed his mind to drift as he traveled the familiar path he had taken so many times in the last few years.
Tepid… this weather is tepid. Like our relationship.
Woody mused. Thud, thud, thud… His relationship with Jordan…
Why is it that so many things in my life come back to her… to us?
The past few years our feelings for each other have run the gamut… arctic cold… to lava hot.
No… no… not really…
Not if I'm honest…
Even when I was doing my best to exude that polar chill, I remember watching her…
I had to work… hard… to maintain the stoic bad-ass… I-don't-give-a-damn exterior… while my insides burned.
With her there's always passion… hot or cold… hate or love…
But not with me… not with us… not anymore…
Hate… I can deal with.
Love… I think I can deal with.
It's the tepid, feigned apathy we fell into that… I don't know how to deal with.
So I backed away.
Thud, thud, thud…
All I longed for was honesty – right?
Wrong…
I wasn't really ready to be honest with myself yet. Much less with Jordan.
Our relationship… appeared unassuming.
But, uughh, the sexual tension roiled there
Unchecked…
Unsatiated…
Always just beneath the surface.
I learned to pretend… too well… that it didn't exist…
And every once in a while those feelings… intense…
Something would happen and they'd explode – always at the most inopportune times… always in the most unfortunate situations.
Always leaving the potential of what we could be to be kicked to the curb and left to die an un-witnessed death.
Or so I thought... wanted… needed… to believe…
Thud, thud, thud…
But those emotions never really went away... no matter… how hard… I tried.
I ignored them… denied them… despised them.
But they never truly left… They lay in wait for me... And sprung the trap when I least expected it.
Those feelings we denied for so long – they finally got the chance – and they burned white-hot… for both of us...
He fought the stirrings of his body's reaction to the memory of that snowy night at the Lucy Carver Inn and took solace in the steady thud, thud, thud…
… and scared us both.
I know that now – we were both scared – each in our own ways. And so we parted as friends…
But not nearly as friendly as I would have preferred.
Then came Lu.
Thud, thud, thud…
The Aussie reporter's murder.
Thud, thud, thud…
Again fate… scooped us up… shot the dice… one more time.
We landed on our feet, again a pair – with much too much still churning below the surface.
After we worked so hard and she was cleared of the Pollack's murder.
After I walked away from Lu and her vicious attempts to hurt Jordan. Was it to hurt me? Was it to keep me? I'll never know… doesn't matter…
After all that – neither one of us was willing to step up to the plate… to show our hand… to make the first move.
What is it with relationships and sports analogies? Gambling analogies?
And so this… dance… continues.
Dance analogies?
We're both moving independently again… could we… should we… turn it into a waltz?
At least a s-l-o-w dance… I know we can do that.
Thud, thud, thud…
I don't want to lose her again. I'll wait – as long as it takes.
I'll wait… for one more chance, just one.
If this one doesn't work, I'll walk away… with a clear conscience… no regrets… and not look back.
Again he found himself battling the awakening of his body at the memory of late nights… and slow dances… and a snowy night at a secluded inn… and a dance of a different sort. He had to work harder this time to pull his mind back to concentrate on the solid thud, thud, thud…
Who am I kidding?
Thud, thud, thud…
If one more chance with her doesn't work… I wouldn't really be able to walk away.
I'd just wait… and hope… for another chance.
Thud, thud, thud…
Pathetic. That's what this is… pathetic.
This isn't living… what I'm doing now… with nothing settled between us
But we both say we've moved on.
Has she?
While I'm really just… existing… day to day…
And proving to her that I can live without her.
I wonder if she's convinced? I wonder if anyone else is?
Thud, thud, thud…
Because I'm not.
Thud, thud, thud…
This is ridiculous. I need to get my mind off this.
A hot shower… ummm… a cold shower.
The weekend off – a drive. That's it… I'll take a trip out of town.
Thud, thud, thud…
I wonder what Littleton Village looks like in the spring…