A/N: Here is a one-shot I got inspiration for out of the blue. I am no lawyer nor am I a forensic scientist, but I did as much research as I could to try and accurately depict all of the stuff I touch on in this. I am not perfect, I know my information will not be spot on, but please enjoy it anyways! I hope you like it.
Also, not to worry! "Business Better Left Unfinished" will be updated in the next few days!
Enjoy, friends.
The morning started out the same way as any other. Oliver Davis awoke at precisely 7:00 AM, without the aid of an alarm. He had been waking up at this exact time for several years now, so his body's internal clock was perpetually set. Unlike most, he did not mind rousing that early. In fact, he thought it to be exceedingly beneficial because it allowed him plenty of time to wake both his mind and body as well as follow a rigid (but efficient) morning routine, ultimately preparing him for a productive day. After waking, he showered briefly, towel dried his hair thoroughly, and dressed himself in his usual stately black attire.
Unfortunately, that was where the familiarity ended.
What he would have given for this to be just any other day.
He made his way downstairs for tea, which in and of itself was standard, but the execution differed drastically. Normally he would find himself in the small kitchen of his apartment in Tokyo, already greeted with the smell of fresh Earl Grey. He would find his stunning, longstanding girlfriend (with whom he had lived with for around a year now) standing in front of the stove tending to a kettle, nearly always the source of his morning tea. He would slip his arms around her petite form from behind and hold her close, planting a small kiss at the nape of her neck to wordlessly express his gratitude; he found it expressed his affection more than simple words ever could. Together they would drink their tea, eat a small breakfast, and discuss their plans for the day before leaving to fulfill them.
It was his favorite part of the day.
But today was different. He found himself in the kitchen of his parents' estate in London, alone. He suspected his parents were just now waking to ready themselves and Mai was fast asleep in her bed, still adjusting from the jet lag. He would wake her up in a bit.
First thing was first: tea. Though, he was not brewing it for himself. He was well aware that his mother would need it more than him. He would prepare a cup for Mai in a short while. He readied a kettle and placed it on the stove, turning on the flames below. Once heated, he prepared two steaming cups and carefully made his way back up the grand stairs of their foyer. He paused by the closed door to his parents' bedroom, listening for movement. He heard their shower running and drawers opening and closing, so he tapped his foot gently on the door. A few moments later, his mother peaked through the threshold, dressed in her robe and slippers, eyes already red from weeping. Or perhaps they were still red from the night before. He was unsure.
"Morning, mum," he greeted in a gentle voice, taking care to leave out the word 'good' as a qualifier. "I made tea. Would you care for some?" He offered her a very faint smile. She wiped her eyes and sniffled, nodding and returning his smile weakly.
"Yes, please," she moved to the side, gesturing for him to come in. He stepped into his parents' room, which was filled with natural light from their large bay window in the center of the room. They both sat on the unmade bed and he handed her a cup. She inhaled the scent deeply before taking a drink to clear the sleep from her throat.
"Thank you, Oliver…" Luella said faintly. He nodded in acknowledgment. They sat in silence for a good while, sipping their tea. Oliver was never the best at expressing himself or offering comfort to others, but he was remarkably better than he used to be. He had paid close attention over the years and knew that tea and silence—and often a good cry—were what Luella needed to find relief. He ventured a guess it would take a bit more than that today of all days, but this was a good place to start.
She sighed deeply and set her empty cup on the bedside table; Oliver followed suit. She scanned his face with puffy eyes for a moment and began to cry again (thankfully silently this time Oliver noted). He knew why: today, he reminded her too much of Gene.
"Oh Noll…" she whispered, covering her mouth to catch her tears. He hated seeing his mother feel this way. He slid closer to her, wrapping one arm around her upper back and pulling her close to him with the other. She leaned her head against his chest and relaxed a bit, finding some solace in his embrace.
"I miss him too, mum…" he whispered gently, feeling a dull ache in his chest that had haunted him for nearly five years. He said nothing more, again finding it best to let the silence speak for him.
After a few minutes passed, they heard the shower run dry; Martin was evidently finished. Oliver gave his mother a final reassuring squeeze before letting her go. She gently placed a hand on both sides of his face, kissed his forehead softly, and turned to begin readying herself for the day. Oliver took his leave, taking the empty cups with him back to the kitchen to get a refill for himself and a fresh cup for Mai.
Oliver carefully balanced two saucers and cups in his left hand, staring at them in concentration as he gently knocked with one knuckle on Mai's bedroom door. He heard the soft ruffling of sheets, followed by stillness. He opened the door prudently, not wanting to startle her. He transferred one of the saucers into his right hand before setting them both on her bedside table. He observed her in silence for a moment, noting how tangled her legs were in her sheets. He knew she had not slept well. He knelt down and brushed a strand of her hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. She stirred slightly.
"Mai…" he breathed. Her eyes opened slightly. "Mai…" he repeated, a bit louder this time. She blinked a few times. "I brought you something." She sat up on her right arm a bit.
"Naru…?" she yawned, bringing her other hand in an attempt to rub away her fatigue. "What time is it?"
"It's 7:30," he answered, grabbing a saucer from the table and holding it out to her. She smiled and sat up to accept it.
"Thank you. Isn't this supposed to be my job?" she asked with a giggle. He shrugged.
"I don't know about it being your job…" he replied. He raised an eyebrow. "Would you make it better if I start paying you to make it again?" He smirked. She whacked his shoulder good-naturedly.
"Shut up, I make great tea," she laughed. She moved to make room for him to sit on the bed with her. "What time do we need to leave again…?" she inquired, voice lowering.
"We should leave no later than 8:45," he responded, taking a sip of his tea. She nodded and then stared into her cup, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. "Are you alright?" he questioned.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine…" she looked up at him. "I should be asking you that… Are you?" He considered the question for a minute.
"Yeah, I am," he answered. She narrowed her eyes, raising an eyebrow.
"You can't lie to me, Naru," she sighed. He took a slow, deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. Mai had a knack for understanding his emotions better than he did, sometimes. He knew he was not okay, but he did not know exactly how to explain it, so he thought it best to let it go. He exhaled slowly out his mouth. "You don't have to be okay, you know."
"I know," he assured her. "I just don't know how to explain it." She placed a hand gently on his forearm.
"Well, just because you can't explain it doesn't make it any less real. Or relevant," she added. He nodded; this was not the first time she had told him this. Over the last few years without Gene, he actively worked to improve his social skills, but he sometimes still had difficulty. Talking and expressing his feelings were two areas he had improved in greatly, but old habits die hard. It did not frustrate him nearly as much anymore, though.
"I just want this to be finally over," he affirmed. She slid her hand down his arm to his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"So do I," she agreed. "We all do," she qualified, referring to not only those in the house but also to SPR back home in Japan. Unfortunately, no one on the team was able to fly with them to London because of prior commitments, so Yasuhara managed the office in their absence and kept everyone informed of the results of their trip. He squeezed her hand and looked her in the eyes. Her face went red. He smirked; after all this time, she still blushed when he looked at her like that. He found it quite amusing.
"I love you," he asserted. She beamed and leaned against him. He did not say it out loud frequently—honestly not nearly enough, he thought—but she knew. It was obvious in just the way he treated her.
"I love you, too," she affirmed.
At 8:40, Lin pulled up the driveway to pick up the Davis household, who were all vested in black. Martin sat in the front, leaving Luella, Mai, and Oliver to share the backseat. Oliver sat in the middle of the two tiny women, each of whom were tightly squeezing one of his hands. His hands throbbed, but he let it be.
The entire ride was silent.
It felt like an eternity had passed before Lin parked in front of the Central Criminal Court. A knot twisted in Oliver's stomach. He felt a familiar rage he had tried to mollify burn in his chest.
After five long years, justice may finally be served.
One Day Earlier
"All rise," the court usher prompted as the judge made his entrance into the court room. A man who looked to be in his mid-60's wearing a short wig and draped in red and black robes made his way down the center aisle to take his rightful seat at the front of the court. Once he was seated, the rest of the court followed suit. Oliver sat silently next to Mai, Lin, and his parents with his eyes closed and arms crossed, trying to block out any outside stimuli from perverting his already preoccupied mind. This was the second day of the trial and it was far from pleasant. He thought he was managing his emotions just fine, but his mother could not stop crying. The whole situation made Oliver sick to his stomach.
It had taken two and a half years for a suspect in Gene's murder to be arrested by the Japanese law enforcement. In those two years, they learned nothing of use; there was nothing the coroner could tell Oliver that he did not already know. In fact, he knew what happened even better than the coroner himself because he was an unorthodox witness to his death.
He did not like to think about it.
When the Davises finally received a phone call from the United Kingdom's Foreign and Commonwealth Office that there had been an arrest in Gene's case, they were overjoyed and thought that perhaps they would finally get their closure. Unfortunately, the court proceedings were anything but simple. It took a year to extradite the suspect (a petite then-22-year-old Japanese woman named Nozomi Fukusaku whom Oliver simply knew was the woman from his vision) from Japan to the United Kingdom, and two additional years for the case to finally make its way into the hands of a Crown Court judge. Since Gene's death was clearly a murder—and an international one at that—the Crown Court was the only court authorized to execute the proceedings.
Once it reached the Crown Court, they were consumed in endless amounts of paperwork and meetings with the barristers to compile their case. And unfortunately, their evidence was rather lacking. Gene's body had been underwater for so long that the most useful evidence had not survived. Estimated time of death became very difficult—if not impossible—to determine. His clothes retained no DNA evidence and his flesh was well into the putrefaction stage of death; they were lucky—though it disgusted Oliver to use that word—that his body had been found in such a deep part of the lake where oxygen levels were low. Otherwise, they might have been left with nothing but a wet yellow sheet and a few bones. Additionally, the naturally occurring mortuary wax left behind in the process of decomposition preserved the damage done to his body. The wounds were consistent with trauma caused by collision with an automobile.
The only reason the authorities arrested the suspect in the first place was because a family friend of Fukusaku came forward after she made a few suspicious remarks while heavily intoxicated one night. She denies ever making those claims, but after further investigation the police found enough evidence—including her old red car, found abandoned deep in the brush of her family's large estate, which had been in their heritage for several generations—to indict her.
Otherwise, there were no witnesses to the accident.
Except Oliver.
Still, he held out hope that justice would soon be served because he did know the truth and there had to be a way to prove it.
He was going to testify.
The court heard from the defendant's barrister first, who actively needed a translator because Fukusaku spoke very little English. They asked about her alibi for the time surrounding Gene's estimated time of death, which she insisted she did not remember very well (it was just so long ago). She made claims about being out of town with her friends (who had driven her) during that time, which she supported with her and her friends' hotel reservations and credit card receipts. Some of these alleged friends testified to validate her claims. Oliver paid no attention to their stories because he knew they were wrong—whether her friends realized it or not.
When questioned about why her car was found abandoned with substantial damage done to the front, she gave a dozen excuses which unfortunately for the Davises all sounded at least slightly plausible. Fukusaku clearly put a lot of effort into her side of the case; she must have had a very high-quality barrister.
After her testimony ended, the prosecution received their time at the bench. The Davises' barrister proceeded with their case just as they had practiced countless times over the past months.
The last person called to the witness box was Dr. Oliver Davis. Before leaving his seat for the box, Mai gave his leg, where her hand had been resting, a reassuring squeeze. She had continued her English education into her university studies, so she could follow the trial with minor difficulty. Even though she herself was not the one testifying, she was incredibly nervous. Gene's death was a sensitive subject to Naru (though he continually insisted it was not), and though they had been together for a few years now, he had never divulged what he had seen in his vision. He always changed the subject if the topic came up in conversation. She very well might get to hear it for the first time, and it frightened her.
With great poise, he walked to the witness box where he was asked to take an oath of honesty. With a fire in his eyes, he swore:
"I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth."
He punctuated the oath by sitting gracefully in the chair.
His family's barrister asked him several basic questions to begin his testimony which he spoke through with ease, but he knew that the worst was yet to come.
But he was ready.
"Dr. Davis," began the attorney, "Is it true you were present at the time of the body's extraction?" Oliver narrowed his eyes.
"Yes, I was present when Gene's body was extracted," he replied, placing great emphasis on his brother's name. He would not simply be a 'body' to this court. He would make sure of it.
"Can you convey to us the events of the day in question?" He took a deep breath before continuing.
"Yes," he answered, "My colleagues and I happened through the area in question. Gene had been missing for just under a year at the point, and this lake was in the surrounding area in which we last heard from him. I believed it would be in my family's best interest to explore every possibility of finding Gene—dead or alive." He heard his mother begin to weep from the dock.
Oliver answered a few more questions similar in nature, establishing a solid motive in regards to why he decided to search the area that day—one that did not include psychometry. The jury seemed appeased.
"I have asked all I need, My Lord," the barrister addressed the judge. He then opened the questioning to the defendant. The defendant's barrister, a petite but formidable woman in her late 30's with brown hair tucked into a neat bun, stood up.
"Permission to approach the bench, My Lord," she requested, her voice steady and smooth. The request was sustained.
"Dr. Davis," she began, glowering at him straight in the eye, "What was your purpose in travelling to Japan at the mere age of 17?"
"Research," he replied simply, "And to locate my brother."
"With what subject did your research regard?"
"Paranormal phenomenon and parapsychology. For my doctoral thesis."
"When you refer to "paranormal," do you refer to ghosts?" she questioned, taking a quick glance at the jury.
"Yes. Ghosts, spirits, demons, there are many names for these phenomena," he elaborated.
"So it would suffice to say that you hunt ghosts for a living?" Oliver paused for a moment. Though his work was highly regarded in his field, he was aware that parapsychology still bore a very discouraging stigma in public media; many believed it was complete bullshit. And judging by the majority of the looks on the jury's faces, they were of that same opinion.
He had been afraid of that.
"I believe it is unfair—" the woman cut him off abruptly.
"That was a yes or no question, Dr. Davis," she folded her arms. He closed his eyes and took a breath. He could not afford to lose his temper right now.
"Yes," he conceded. She smiled and looked meaningfully at the jury. She was trying to rescind his credibility.
"You began the search for your brother on your own, correct?"
"Correct," he affirmed.
"That strikes me as odd, Dr. Davis. Seventeen years old and travelling to a foreign country by yourself to search for your brother—who you assert was missing—without notifying any authorities," she observed, a tinge of sardonic bewilderment in her voice. "Can you explain that?"
Luckily, this was a question he had prepared for with his barrister.
"Certainly," he shifted his weight in his seat, crossing his arms. "I was worried that he was not just missing, but dead. Murdered, to be more precise. And seeing as we are identical twins, I felt it was wise not to display my image to the public. To put it simply," he clarified, "I feared for my life." Several jury members relaxed and accepted this reasoning, to his relief. The barrister narrowed her eyes at him.
"Then why not leave the investigating to the officials from the very start?" He had an answer to this question, but he was very hesitant to give it. He would avoid it as long as he could.
"I…" he sighed, knowing his default answer would not suffice. "I had a hunch."
"A hunch?" she repeated indignantly.
"My Lord, she is badgering my client," his barrister interjected.
"Sustained," the judge ruled. Fukusaku's counsellor took a moment to reframe her questioning.
"Do you firmly believe that Ms. Fukusaku murdered your brother?"
"I do," he replied flatly.
"Despite her having a legitimate alibi and no eye witness accounts?"
"Yes."
"What do you believe happened that day, Dr. Davis?" She placed both hands on her hips.
"My Lord, this is speculation," his counsellor interjected again.
"Overruled. The information is relevant," the judge dictated.
Oliver heart leapt into his throat. How the hell was he supposed to explain this to a room full of strangers that knew nothing of him or his work? For the first time, he felt nervous.
"Dr. Davis?" she repeated.
What choice did he have?
"It is not so much what I think happened that day; it's what I know," he avowed. The jury listened with scrutinizing interest. "I am unaware if the Court is familiar with my line of work, but I am an active researcher for the British Society for Psychic Research."
"My Lord, the client is off topic," Fukusaku's barrister tried.
"Overruled," the judge rejected. "Please continue Dr. Davis."
"I research psychic phenomena. Eugene and I both developed a fascination with this field when we very young: around nine years old, or perhaps even earlier," he shrugged. "Gene's reason for travelling to Japan was because he was requested to perform an exorcism. He was a formidable medium. He could channel spirits," he explained. He watched the jury's faces contort with mixed reactions. He could only imagine their response to what he was going to say next. "I, myself, have psychokinetic capabilities. I can also use psychometry, meaning I can experience moments in the lives of others by touching an object in direct association with their being. Gene and I also shared what we called a link between our minds. ESP, in layman's terms.
"He extended his stay to do some research on Japanese exorcisms and other paranormal phenomena. Around the estimated date of death, I entered into Eugene's room to borrow one of his shirts. And that's when I saw it," he finished.
Mai closed her eyes, bracing herself for the tragic account.
"Saw what exactly, Dr. Davis?" inquired the woman.
"Eugene's death," he replied. Several members of the jury gasped. "I touched his shirt, and I involuntarily saw it," he sighed, hesitating. "I saw everything. For a few moments, I was Gene. I was standing next to a road on the coast somewhere. I honestly have no idea why Gene was there that day," he admitted, almost angrily. "But I heard a car approaching from behind. I turned around to see a red car speeding directly towards me. Ms. Fukusaku's red car. It collided with me," he visibly winced.
"It hit me so hard that I was thrown over the car completely. I remember hitting the front, then the windshield, and finally landing on the road. I was on my back. My arms were twisted at unnatural angles, but I could not move. It hurt very badly. I would venture to guess at that point Gene had several fractured ribs and had broken both arms, at least.
"Glass from the windshield pierced my sides. I bled a lot. I was scared." He clenched both fists tightly, digging his fingernails into his palm. "I tried to call for help… But when I tried to speak, I vomited blood. I was in so much pain. I was not even angry Ms. Fukusaku's car hit me. All I wanted was help. I watched a woman get out of the car that had stopped in front of me. I thought she got out to help me."
He shook his head forlornly.
"She got very close to me. I could only see her from the waist down. I did not get a very good view of her entire figure. I was in a bit too much pain to pay that close attention…" he said dryly. "I tried to call out again; I was still alive! I was still alive," he repeated for emphasis. "When I tried to call out, again, I produced only blood. She screamed and fled back into her car. I felt a bit of hope at that point. I assumed she was calling for an ambulance. But she didn't.
"Her break lights flashed as she started the car again. And then she backed up," he stated. He looked at the jury. "Over me. To make sure I was dead. Instead of helping me, she ran me over again to kill me. But I did not die. I felt my rib cage crush under the tires. It felt like my entire abdomen exploded, to be quite frank," he placed a hand instinctively on his abdomen. "I can say for certain that my lungs collapsed, because when I tried to breathe, I couldn't. At that point I knew I was going to die. She drove the car forward one more time. And thank God, that killed me," he shook his head again. "I mean, that killed Gene. Everything turned a hazy green. The vision did not end there, though. I got to watch as she got out of the car again and throw me in her trunk—or what was left of me; I had exsanguinated significantly by then. It was dark for a while, but then Ms. Fukuyaku wrapped me in the yellow sheet in which we found Gene's body , and she threw me into a lake. It got very cold and very dark. And then, that was it."
The court room was dead silent.
Oliver felt like he might be sick at any moment.
After a moment, he looked around and noticed a few jury members were moved to tears, and Luella was crying the hardest she had since he told her Gene was dead all those years ago. His eyes connected with Mai's; she was crying silently, both hands over her mouth.
Ms. Fukuyaku's barrister broke the silence. She had a wicked smile on her face.
"Would you be so kind as to show us a demonstration of this 'psychic power' of yours?"
Oliver glared at her. Mai did not remember the last time she saw him that angry.
"My Lord, that is out of order!" cried Oliver's barrister, standing up out of his chair irately.
"Sustained," he decided, gesturing for him to sit down.
The woman's smirk did not falter.
"But Mr. Davis, can you prove you actually saw all of this happen?"
Silence.
His hope began to disintegrate.
"No, I can't."
"No further questions, My Lord," she turned on her heels to return to her seat.
The rest of the trial day passed Oliver in a blur.
He spoke to no one until that evening, and when he finally did, he refused to talk about his testimony.
He had not cried once about Gene's death up until that point, and he was not about to start.
Present Day
"All rise," the usher requested for the last time. The judge seated himself, signaling for everyone else to do the same. Martin held Luella, who had finally managed to stop crying, close to his chest. Oliver slid the hand closest to Mai to the small of her back, holding her hand firmly with the other. The judge cleared his throat.
"Members of the jury, you have heard all of the testimony concerning this case. It was placed up to you to determine the facts. You and you alone, are the judges of the fact. You must then apply the law as I give it to you to the facts as you find them. Have you reached a verdict?"
A middle-aged woman stood up nervously.
"We have, My Lord," she replied, voice quivering. "We the jury, in the case of Davis vs. Fukuyaku, find the defendant…" Oliver held his breath. "…Not guilty of murder in the first degree, nor of vehicular manslaughter, on the basis of insufficient admissible evidence."
Luella let out a jarring wail and buried her face into Martin's chest, who in turn buried his face in her hair. Oliver watched in complete astonishment as Ms. Fukuyaku began to weep from relief, exchanging a victorious hug with her attorney. He immediately let go of Mai, shoving her off to the side, and quickly stormed out of the court house.
"Naru!" Mai called after him, standing up in pursuit. By the time she made it outside, his quick stride had carried him several meters down the sidewalk. "Naru!" She called again. He kept walking. She took off after him, grabbing onto his hand and gasping for air when she finally reached him. She made a mental note to get in shape. He stopped, so she took the opportunity to step in front of him. She looked up at him, still trying to catch her breath.
"I failed, Mai," he muttered flatly.
"Naru, no, you did everything you could…" she trailed off. He was looking down at her, his intense blue eyes more defeated than she had ever seen them.
"The person who killed Gene gets to walk free. She murdered him and doesn't even have to suffer a fraction of the pain she caused Gene!" he shouted. He shut his eyes tight. "That she caused me…" he added in a whisper. It was the first time he had acknowledged that he actually suffered throughout this entire process. Her heart ached for him. "I miss him."
She noticed that his eyes were glossy. He reached up to wipe his eyes, only to realize that they were, indeed, brimming with tears.
Oliver was crying.
Mai was truly at a loss for words. In the years she had known him, never once had he cried. She even distinctly remembered him telling her that death was nothing to cry over.
Clearly that had been more of an effort to convince himself more than anyone else.
Mai stood on her toes, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her tight, almost as if his life depended on her very existence.
Mai hugged him close, planting a small kiss at the base of his throat to wordlessly express her sympathy; she had learned from someone some time ago that sometimes silence can express love more than simple words ever could.