Rendezvous Noir
AN: This is a film noir au which I've wanted since the first time I played Wolf Among Us. ((And yes, this includes Fables characters as well. This is an AU))
So I made one myself. Enjoy
Chapter One
So this is Detective Wolf's office. It is a small, beat down hole in the wall in between a pawn shop and a delicatessen. The dreary, rainy day does not do much to help the office's look. It looks gray, dreary, even a bit sad. But the woman does not seem to care much. She must do what she can and Detective Wolf is her last hope. She takes a deep breath, runs her hand through her raven colored hair, and pushes the door open.
The woman finds the inside of the office to be even bleaker than the outside. The office is dark, the only light coming from a broken lamp. She can spot a desk, filled with paperwork and can smell the strong scent of tobacco throughout the tiny room. She hears footsteps. Then they stop. She focuses her vision to face an average sized man, scruffy and bronze skinned, standing before her.
He wears a stained shirt, once white but now almost yellow, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing hairy arms. His tie is loose and his hat is slipping off of his head. His hair is a deep brown and his eyes are an even deeper brown. He has a cigarette in one hand and wears a frown.
"Are you Detective Wolf?" the woman asks, unafraid of his somewhat menacing appearance.
He says nothing but stares down at her. She is petite with black hair, wavy and flowing past her shoulders. She is dressed in all black and the only contrast to the black is her fair skin and her red lipstick. Her eyes are a beautiful shade of blue and she wears a gold necklace that shines in the small office.
"Depends," he finally replies.
"Depends on what?" Her voice is cold, harsh. The detective raises a brow.
"Depends on who you are."
"My name is Snow White and I mean to make business with you."
"Snow White...you're that Crane man's assistant, aren't you?"
"I'd prefer if you called Miss White, detective." The detective remains silent, staring at her, studying her.
"You're married." The woman looks down at her left hand and stares at the silver ring on her finger. She is married. It is an unhappy marriage. Her husband often comes home late, smelling of cigarettes and perfume that is not her own. He spends the rest of the night on the couch, drinking gin and listening to the radio while she remains in bed, holding onto the pillow for comfort.
"I said I wish you to call me Miss White." The detective nods. "Now, as a detective, you investigate things. Am I correct?"
"Yes, miss."
"We have a murder case on our hands, Mr. Wolf."
"We?"
"Did I stutter?" she asks, raising a full, raven brow. "Yes, we. I'm no detective; I'm only a secretary. I don't possess the skills that a trained, professional detective possesses. Now, will you allow me to hire you or not?"
Silence fills the office for a moment, stifling the two as much as the smoke of the cigarette does. The detective sets the cigarette down on his desk and stares down at the woman. From the look in her ocean colored eyes, he can tell she means business.
Business with him.
"I'll allow you," he finally replies. "Now what murder case are you talking about?"
He stares out of the window, confusion and hatred running through his veins. He can no longer bear it. He can no longer bear this life he has. It is dull, filled with nothing but a wife who sleeps by herself in the coldest of nights. He can no longer bear the silence that surrounds the house. He can no longer bear the chicken and mashed potato dinner his wife cooks every night. He can no longer bear her dark hair or her red lips.
He needs someone else.
The man is notorious for having multiple women in his life and he knows that his raven haired partner knows this fact well. But, like a good wife, she stays with him. For she knows more scandal would be the last thing she and her husband need.
So she remains quiet.
When he leaves in the morning to go off with a Janice or a Lucy, he stares at his wife for a moment. She is in the living room, staring at him with wide eyes that reflect the pain that she silently bears. And he feels remorse. Remorse for what he has done and what he is about to do. He feigns work and goes off with these women, leaving his wife at the mercy of her boss.
She comes home after he does during the week. She is exhausted, trembling, her hair undone. She looks as if she wants to cry. But she does not. She simply walks into her bedroom and changes. She emerges moments later, wiping her eyes.
And he wants to tell her something. He wants to hold her closely and whisper to her that everything is going to be alright.
But it will not.
For he still loves her.
But there is no passion.
And what the prince wants is not the sincere, unconditional love of a wife.
He wants the fiery passion of a forbidden lover.
Her sister.
A prostitute was murdered several days ago.
Decapitation was the cause of death.
The prostitute was found in front of the apartment complex that the raven haired woman and her husband live in.
The prostitute was found by the husband's hooligan son, Jack.
The first thing the hooligan did when he found her was run off, panicking. When his young stepmother heard the screams, she went outside to see what the problem was.
And then she saw it.
"She was just...laying there," she tells the detective, looking down at the office floor, "She looked so young...she looked as if she was going somewhere nice...her hear was all done and...I..."
"Did you call the police?" the detective asks as he pulls out another cigarette from his case. He can tell that the woman is terrified at the moment. She trembles slightly and her scarlet lips are parted slightly. Her face is flushed and her eyes are wide.
"Yes, Detective, I did."
"Are they doing an investigation?"
"No...no, I don't believe they are."
"So you want me to investigate?"
"That's why I came here." The detective smirks slightly. Even in her fear, the woman still manages to be witty.
"What's this girl to you? She's just another prostitute."
"S...she was just left there and no one deserves to die. Not a prostitute, not a lawyer."
"So I assume you want me to find her killer?"
"Your assumption is correct."
The two stare at each other for a moment and the detective slowly nods. He extends his hand for the woman to shake. The woman does so with a small, red nailed hand.
"You've got yourself a detective, Snow."
"It's Miss White."
He lays next to her, tan hands running through the short, red curls. Her perfume is strong and he knows that his bed now reeks of it. Her arms are wrapped around him as he lights himself a cigarette.
His wife can never know. She can never know of the passionate, wild affair that he has with her sister. Her red haired sister with her wild clothes and her wild personality. Her wild sister who is as gorgeous as his wife is-if not even more.
No, she can never know.
It would-
"Break her heart," Charming whispers slowly. The redhead raises a brow and smirks.
"Break her heart? Are you really thinking about her?"
"She's my wife."
"But I'm your lover."
The prince stares at her for a moment and nods slowly, setting the cigarette aside and pressing his lips against her as the passion between the two rekindles once more.
Once more, his hands wander across her body and his mind forgets about the raven haired woman whom he calls his wife.
Miss White.
She is adamant about the name. That is what the detective should call her. And without protest, he does. The woman smiles gently at him as soon as he addresses by her preferred name.
"So, Miss White," he begins, lighting himself yet another cigarette. "You said your...stepson found the body?"
"And the head," she replies, nodding slowly. Wolf can only raise a brow and nod.
"And you said his name was...?"
"Jack. Jack Horner."
"Well, I think the best course of action would be to schedule a meeting with him."
"That would be suitable."
"How about tomorrow afternoon?"
"That's manageable." The two slowly smile at each other, a sincere smile that holds a degree of sadness in it. The woman's smile fades away as quickly as it came. "I'll see you tomorrow, Detective Wolf."
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Snow."
"Miss White."
She stands up and, as mysteriously as she appeared, she disappears behind a thick cloud of smoke without a
sound.
