Disclaimer: All Petshop of Horrors characters belong to the esteemed Akino Matsuri. No monetary gain out of it, just my own selfish pleasure.
Jill Freshney sighed, driving her car slowly through a torrential downpour, back home from the precinct.
It was a long day, another long day in another long week. Things were tough, recently. It seemed that in the last couple of years the crime rates went through the roof, and the precinct was staggering under the load. Oh, how she missed Leon. It was odd to attribute the increased criminal activity to Leon's absence – it wasn't like Leon had been single-handedly preventing crime on a regular basis - but Jill couldn't help but feel that the two were linked. Something was gone when Leon left. Something that made the city a safer place.
Something that gave her strength, too.
She missed Leon's optimism, even more surprising in light of all the bitter hardships he had faced in his life. She missed Leon's stubbornness and irritability, his rants about Count D, his passionate accusations, his sincere bewilderment when his favourite suspect was found innocent again. She missed watching and wondering. Missed her own deep-seated belief that Count D wasn't really guilty. There was that moment when agent Howell convinced them that all blame laid on the Count was true, and although she didn't believe it now, it wasn't the same anymore. Even though Leon himself vouched for the Count's innocence and withdrew his incriminations after the disaster that landed him in the hospital and killed agent Howell.
She sighed again.
This turn ahead was the one that took you to the Chinatown. The one Leon would take, should he drive back from work, to his usual destination. Only he wouldn't now. It's been around two years since both were gone, Count D disappearing with his petshop, and Leon leaving to chase him mere months afterwards. He still called his brother from time to time, and occasionally wrote replies to her e-mails.
Once again Jill sighed. Rain always made her nostalgic.
Passing the turn, she couldn't help throwing a glance there.
That's when she saw a lonely figure in the rain.
Leon was always a strong believer in his so-called 'gut feeling', but at the moment Jill understood him. Without hesitation, she slowed down to turn right, her eyes drawn to the person standing unflinching under cascades of water. The person was tall and slender, clothed in something long and bright cerulean – a dress or a robe, – with yellow or green designs. Jill had a wildest guess regarding this someone, but she quenched it violently, slowly driving closer.
The person, mostly facing away from her, turned slightly, throwing a sideways glance at her car. A man then. Relatively wide shoulders on otherwise lithe frame, flat chest, and rather not feminine bend of the back. Not really masculine either, though, definitely unlike the muscular guys at the precinct. A rather graceful pose. Wet hair, possibly dark brown, but most likely black, glinting almost blue in dim light, straight, cut at chin length. So similar, Jill bit her lower lip, the disappointment would be so hard.
She stopped the car, close enough to make out the designs on the man's robe. Chinese dragons in golden and green that had to be embroidered on what had to be silk. Hands folded demurely in wide sleeves. Mandarin collar. Delicate, very white chin and relatively bright lips...
No way.
Jill had been settled for a disappointment. Because such things simply didn't happen for real. She only needed to make sure, because she would wonder forever otherwise. But he looked so, so much like... She was clicking the safety belt open as fast as her fingers would, hoping the person doesn't bolt.
Leon's going to have kittens if it's true.
"Count? Count D?" she called, getting out of the car and running towards the figure.
The person turned slowly, graciously, as she approached, and Jill exhaled sharply. That was him alright. That unforgettable beautiful face, flawless white skin, elegantly folded hands with long nails, regal posture and a slight inclination of his head, probably a habit caused by the curtain of hair he normally had on half of his face. It was plastered to his head now from the rain, leaving the face open.
Jill stopped in front of him, not entirely sure what to say or ask. The Count looked at her with a strange, cautious half-smile and unexpected blankness in his eyes. Both ignored the rain pounding down on them.
"Did you call my name? Do you know me?" Count D inquired in a soft, almost sad polite voice.
Jill was dumbfounded.
"Oh, come on Count..." she started, and then it struck her. Leon said... Leon said there were several of them. Leon had been tricked into believing the Count he knew returned, while in truth it was another person, the one FBI agent Howell was tracking. Leon said...
Leon said look at the eyes.
Jill bore into the man's face sharply. But the eyes were right. Or as right as those weird colours were. Deep amethyst violet, and bright golden yellow.
She relaxed somewhat, but decided to keep vigilant. Leon would know. When he's back, Leon would tell if it's the right one. Jill still had to make sure she doesn't lose track of him.
"You do know me," the man concluded at her scrutiny, in the same soft, strangely detached tone with a hind of sadness. "Would you be so kind as to remind me how we are acquainted?"
"Well, I was Leon's partner... More of a nodding acquaintance with you, but we did meet and talk a number of times."
True, much time has passed, and she wasn't nearly as important to the Count as Leon or Chris, but he used to have a really good memory...
"And your name would be?"
Still dumbfounded, Jill flashed her badge in a trained, almost instinctive move.
"Detective Jill Freshney, L.A.P.D., homicide division."
"A member of law enforcement force," the Count mused quietly, no sign of recognition in his face. Jill frowned in confusion. And frowned even more at his next question.
"Are you a trustworthy person, Detective Freshney?"
"Count? What's wrong?"
She had never seen his smile that bitter.
"What is wrong, Detective Freshney, is that currently the entirety of my personal memories spans over the course of several hours prior to that moment."
Even somewhat used to the Count's manner of speech, Jill wasn't sure she processed the sentence right.
"You don't mean..." she trailed off.
"Amnesia," he stated curtly. "Memory loss. Whatever you call it. I don't remember anything before finding myself on the streets of that city. I tried to gather some information without drawing attention, but hardly succeeded. A few minutes of talking to you provided me with more of it than several hours of prior wandering did."
"Dear god," Jill breathed.
(updated 14.04.2014)