Whitechapel

After the Crown and Dolphin

Part Eight

Miles wasn't exactly surprised as he'd already imagined what sort of life Joe led outside of the office: solitary nights spent captured within his apartment, brooding and caught up in some past point that refused to ever leave him … twisting and tormenting him until he sank into unconsciousness and allowed himself some respite and the possibility of another, alternative environment in which he could be given the chance, and choice, he seemed so desperate to be in search of.

All of these grey images had passed through Miles upon first meeting his boss; the flurry of his impatience and the need to prove something, and it had been understandable, of course, but now there had been a dynamic shift, and Miles was pleased and equally relieved for his colleague, and friend.

He shifted once more in his seat as he took another inspection of Joe. The restaurant had become empty but there were a few figures seated and standing to attention before the counter, stragglers devouring chips and meat and contemplating whatever it was their next course of action was to be.

Chandler, however, continued to stare into his lap, eyebrows lowered and an impression of complete resignation resting upon his shoulders. He had admitted, for the very first time to another human, who he was, not only as a man but also as a resident in this part of the world: a permanent and very real individual, who was now ready to shift into the next phase of his existence with Emmerson, there was no doubt, how could there be? He had opened chained gates for Chandler and allowed a mixture of the known and unknown to burst forth and spread themselves all over the world, well, Whitechapel to begin with.

'Joe?'

Miles gently brought his colleague from out of his reverie, reaching forward at the same time and resting his hand on the broad shoulders of a man who had suddenly changed in front of his very eyes.

Chandler tried to gain extra immunity, or strength, from Miles's small hand, eventually raising his chin and rubbing at the wetness in his eyes. Purple stars and black holes formed in his vision, was there something there to be read, or was he finally on the cusp of that last step which the slight dizziness urged him towards? He opened his eyes once more in any case and blinked the patterns away.

He tried to place the red, raw features of Miles in front of him; but they had gone, there was now only an open mouth which displayed yellowish, prominent teeth gathered together to form a warm and encouraging smile. Chandler responded with equal warmth and bowed his head delicately in acknowledgement of his friend's depth of character and the support he was unquestioningly offering.

'OK?'

Chandler nodded, 'Thanks.'

'Alright.'

Miles sat back and gave himself over to the plastic seat again; shoulders hunched slightly as he rubbed his back against the seat, trying to find a comfortable position.

'What's to be done with Kent?'

Chandler gripped the paper cup merely out of habit, but not as firmly as he ordinarily would have done.

'I think the best thing to do would be to get in touch with him once more …'

'Joe,' Miles sounded slightly exasperated. 'You don't have to be so polite. Go and see him. I'll guarantee it's what he would want.'

'You …?'

'Yes, I do think so,' Miles interjected, also reaching out towards his cold cup of coffee. 'This dallying between you two has been going on for months, especially on his part.'

'You knew?' Chandler tried to initiate a flashback within his mind as he sat a little straighter, desperate to alleviate any form of fear that would prevent him from carrying out the one act he knew could be his inaugural attempt at trust and complete acceptance, the one pure gesture that he could possibly venture forth with from this moment hence.

There had been occasions when he had been sure that there was something in Kent's composure that betrayed some inner torment, an inner stirring that could sometimes become audible, as well as visual, particularly in the workplace: a small offer of coffee that contained an attempt at something else, a hesitance in approaching Chandler directly when others were gathered around him, discussing ideas and case witnesses; the constant presence of someone behind him, not lurking, but silently enquiring and … protecting? Now that he thought of it, perhaps that's exactly what Kent had been tending to so diligently this entire time: the gathering and eventual beginning of some kind of protection that was unconditional and one not entirely based on merit either. It was possible. Anything now was.

Miles sighed, 'I wouldn't say, knew, exactly,' he continued. 'It was a question that I'd asked myself from time to time, not that I mentioned anything to anyone else, especially the chap in question!'

Chandler nodded, feeling the door slide open behind him.

'It just seemed that the lad was forever watching over you; I'd even caught him a couple of times glancing in at you while you were nose-deep in paperwork, you know … to make sure you were doing alright, I guess.'

'Waiting to be of assistance …'

Miles nodded this time as he sniffed and shrugged his shoulders.

'I think he was waiting for the right moment … to tell you something.'

Just as he'd possibly hoped earlier in the evening, Chandler thought, jumping back into place behind his desk once again as the wary figure of Kent leant against his office door and picked at the wooden frame as if aiming to find a spare bit of courage in which to initiate something. And that cold, curt order: 'Go home, Kent', as if he were there simply to be dismissed. It was callous and unnecessary.

Hadn't he even, late last night, finally found the one word that defined his colleague as he lay face up in his empty bed and brought forth from the shadows the sense of awkwardness which Kent exuded? It had come to Chandler so naturally, so intuitively that he wasn't quite sure why it had taken him this long to recognise it. Cute. It had sprung at him, and as he lay there staring up at an unseen moment from the day, Chandler grinned and didn't begrudge himself for doing so. Cute, that was Emmerson Kent in one single, sweeping definition, and it suited him profoundly.

'Why didn't you … No …'

'What?' Miles offered.

Chandler reflected for a moment before answering. 'I was going to ask why didn't you say anything, but I'm grateful to you that you didn't, as I'm not sure what kind of response I would have given.'

'It wasn't my place, boss. I knew there was something bothering you, and when I spotted Kent getting up to what he does, it seemed as if you two had either had a row or were avoiding one another over something.'

'I think we were.'

They sat in silence for a few moments, each contemplating the revelations and significance of the situation. The only certain thing that could be ascertained, or perhaps come to be relied upon, as usual, was the fact that in a few hours both men would be reaching out towards squawking alarms and adjusting to the harshness of the morning light in their own unique way, all in preparation for another day of the difficult Ben Salter and his death, which seemed likely to never quite leave them in peace. Both Chandler and Miles could easily relinquish any possibility of a refreshing newness to rise and infect them, they could simply walk away from the open course of discussion that had been proffered towards them on this night and instead tread the same twisted, cumbersome path in the same twisted, cumbersome manner that had been their chosen style of living for as long as they could each remember.

But there was another option, not just for them but for all who came within their orbit: Take the opportunity even if it's not entirely formed, don't stagnate and transform into a gigantic mass of earthly waste. There were always other paths and wider avenues that were simply waiting to be made use of.

Miles swirled the cup and watched the black liquid slosh from side to side, while Chandler released his grip from his own cup and left the now-cold water to itself entirely.

'I'm going to head off, Miles.'

He looked up, a stray wisp of grey landing just above his eyebrow.

'No worries, boss.'

'Thank you for meeting me.'

'He'll be awake …'

Chandler agreed with a grimace, only hoping that he wouldn't be distributing his own sense of alertness from an unhealthy lack of sleep upon the man he now wanted to climb into bed with and talk openly, followed by a day or so of undiluted sleep.

'Will Judy be awake?'

Another shrug of indifference from his DS. 'I guess so. She was asleep when I left her.'

Chandler stood and now placed his own hand on Miles's slack shoulder, wanting to say something to bolster his courage and anxiety over the state of his wife's health, but as he stood and looked down on the familiar light grey head, Chandler realised that nothing needed to be said: his grip on his shoulder signified more than what his mouth could in that moment.

'I'll see you later on.'

'Just be honest, Joe,' Miles said, preparing himself to vacate the restaurant also as he downed the contents of the cold cup. 'That's all I would say.' He stood and began towards the door, walking alongside Chandler back into the night, which was ever ready to claim them.

'There's no point going backwards and forwards, especially when it seems like you've already decided what it is you want to do …'

Chandler burrowed his chin towards the collar of his coat as the two of them stepped outside, tentatively judging the opportune moment in which to turn and begin.