By These Hands

Chapter 2

The morning wasn't as quiet as noisy as it could have been, but, as the sun's fingers warmed and lit the windows, the building heard the life outside the walls. Morning buses were missed, because the driver always ran five minutes ahead of everyone's clocks. People busied themselves with many things, but not much in the vicinity of the building. The bass rumble of engines inside the slick shells of vehicles slid through every crack in the building, but not a soul that was regular became agitated at its constancy.

He drummed his fingers on his well-furnished oak desk. Each pattern of five was a reflection of the one previous, until the mood of the officer changed within his mind. His face, though, remained with its inherited solid, stoned features. Slender eyes did not flaunt weakness, but, instead, pushed malice towards anyone that didn't know him well. His hand slid into the hollow between cheekbone and jaw. His elbow found a resting place on top of the files he had pulled out. He sighed. Sometimes, arriving early to work wasn't a benefit. You always received the bad news earlier this way.

And he had.

The report sat on his desk, unopened and unread in its khaki colored folder. It was a new report on the case that he had been assigned, but it would bare no fresh information. Another body had been found, another woman killed in the night. It had been a hard case. There were no witnesses to any of the murders. None of the women killed knew each other or had any social ties. He sighed. The case was getting nowhere. They had no leads.

The door to his office opened, revealing the tall figure of his partner. "Early again, Wufei?" was all he said as he delivered the steaming coffee he had been concealing under the brown sleeve of a well-worn jacket. Wufei stared at the styrofoam cup he held before taking a long drink and replying. "Just couldn't sleep," he said, finally looking up at his partner, "It's disturbing."

He watched as the man brushed his hair out of one eye. Wufei remembered with a flick of a smile the uproar he had caused and the trouble they held with him and his refusal to cut the abrupt thing. The recruiter for SWAT had especially thrown a fit about it, since his partner was very cunning in the situations they faced through their duty. Wufei thought his partner had been the only one who dared to cross him. He had watched the scene unfold savagely as a simple refusal was uttered and the recruiter's face turned the shade of a ripe tomato and he had as much ability to pop as a birthday balloon.

Green eyes settled on the files, registering the new one with a disapproving gaze. "Another body, but no atom of evidence to go with it, right?" he said before draining the last bit of coffee from his cup. He stared into the empty thing. God, I don't need coffee. With a case like this, I need this filled with straight vodka, he thought and threw the cup in the trashcan beside Wufei's desk. Wufei pulled his head up from his hand and shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Barton. I haven't looked at it yet. I figure I don't have to," he said. Trowa closed his eyes and shrugged also. He walked over to the window, parting a space between the blinds. "I don't know who's doing all this, but it seems to bring us many visitors," he watched the members of the press badger approaching officers, "Jesus, it's like herding chickens," he said, dropping the blind and letting his fingers slide into his pocket. While he had been watching the fowl and their flock, Wufei had opened the new file. He flipped through the papers, scanning them only, because the information wasn't ever new. "It was a girl, like the rest. She was nearly twenty, like the rest. I'm afraid this is getting old, Trowa," Wufei grumbled, flipping the sleeve between his fingers as if deciding on whether or not to close it. "That's getting old, and so are you. Do you feel the aching knees yet, Chang?" Trowa asked with a wicked smile. Wufei looked at his partner, raising both his sharp, charcoal sketched eyebrows at the comment. "Trowa, I'm barely twenty-seven," he said. Trowa chuckled. "All the more closer to fifty," he cracked. Wufei rolled his eyes skyward and continued to read the file.

"Adrianna Maxwell. She was nineteen years old… blood was drained, like the rest…" Wufei sighed, skipping over the information pertaining to the case. Trowa peered over his partner's shoulder, hand snaking out to grab his coffee. Wufei raised his hand and slapped Trowa's stealing fingers. Trowa bit his lip and shook his hand to relieve the stinging on his skin. Wufei snickered then took his cup and moved it to the opposite side of his desk. Trowa leaned over, his head resting on his partner's shoulder, much to Wufei's aggravation. "She has blue eyes. I like blue eyes," Trowa muttered and secretly tried to take the coffee from the other side. Wufei saw through this and moved his coffee back to its original place. "Soooo… she worked at the old Maxwell Church," Trowa said, trying to press to him that he was actually reading the file, when he wasn't. Wufei knew the situation and, again, moved the cup of coffee to in front of him, where he could see it… and where Barton couldn't lay his hands on it.

Trowa frowned, and then his face lit up as an idea occurred to him. He took on a look of seriousness and actually began scanning the file. He took a step back and raised his arms above his head. Here goes, he thought and quickly leaned forward, pushing Wufei's head down and leaning over his partner's shoulders, grabbing the coffee. Wufei cried out in surprise and because of the fact that his coffee was being taken. Trowa jumped off Wufei's back and quickly raised the cup to his lips to gulp it down. He did, and then his eyes became wide… just as Wufei stood up to interrupt the consumption of his coffee. Suddenly, Trowa opened his mouth and spit coffee out. "That's freaking hot!" he exclaimed. Then he saw Wufei's angry face… dripping with hot coffee. He pulled a hand to his face, wiped off the steaming liquid, and stared at his saturated hand before turning his gaze towards Barton. "Trowa… tell me something…" he said, calmly.

"What Chang?"

"Why didn't you just go outside? The coffee machine is right outside our door."

Trowa frowned. "Of course. I know that. I just didn't want you eating my cream cheese Danishes while I was gone," he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Wufei rolled his second time eyes for the in five minutes. "You and your pastries…" he muttered. He sighed and sat down. A frown creased itself across his lips and he put a very wet hand to his forehead. Trowa cocked his head to the side. What's up with him? he thought for a moment. Then he put his hand on his shoulder. "Hey, sorry, man. Didn't know it would upset you that much," he said. Wufei remained silent for a moment before he spoke. He put his hand down on his desk, letting it rest on the opened file. A little coffee was getting on the report, seeping in, but he didn't seem to care about it. "It's not you. It's just strange, I can't sleep… just can't close my eyes because that bastard's still out there and we have no way of finding out who is doing this…" he said, shaking his head. "The case is just getting under your skin, that's all. Shake it off," he advised the other man. Wufei shook his head. "Not as easy as you think, Barton. It makes me…" he trailed off, still shaking his head. Emerald orbs settled on the man of Chinese descent. Trowa knew Chang well, he knew he wasn't about to admit that he feared one of the evils they sought to rake from society. "Look, I know what you're worried about. But don't, because Meiran is fine. Your baby daughter is fine. They are safe," Trowa said. He saw Wufei was staring down at the file still. "Don't bring yourself down to this, Chang. The man will be caught, if not by us then by someone else. He's bound to screw up sometime and get himself caught…"

This time Trowa's partner actually moved. "And he already has…" he whispered, holding up two tiny plastic baggies. He turned to his partner with a grin. "They found something… two hairs…" he glanced down at the report. "Lab says they're not the same," he said, his brow furrowing, "it must be a mistake though. We'll have to look at it later." Wufei turned back to the file, reading with interest this time.

Trowa leaned over, trying to read the report this time. "The next of kin is listed as Duo Max– oh shit, not that kid again…" Trowa grumbled. Wufei turned towards Barton and raised his eyebrows for the second time in twenty minutes. "Okay, the name's new to me," Wufei crossed his arms in front of his chest and closed his eyes, "fill me in, Barton," he said. "Son of some priest, but I swear he's the spawn of Satan. He has the quickest lips with an acrid tongue. I think he sharpens it every night or something. We've had our run-ins before, though I could never arrest him," Trowa said. Wufei opened one eye. "Why not?" he asked. It was Trowa's turn to roll his eyes. "Chang, if there was a law against sarcasm, I'd be on Death Row," he cracked. "No lie there," Wufei admitted. There was silence between the two.

"So, we going to go?" Trowa asked.

Wufei stood. "We'd better, or we'll have Chief on our asses again." Trowa harrumphed. "Yes, Chief Howard! Whatever you say, Chief Howard! Sure we'll jump off the Empire State Building for you Chief Howard!" he cracked, picking up his jacket again. Wufei stared at him. "I really didn't think he was serious when that was our assignment," he opened the door to his office and stepped out, "He gave it to us on April Fool's day for God's sake! How could he expect us to take it seriously?"

"True. Who's driving?"

"I am."

"Well, I'm glad I didn't eat breakfast then."

"Barton. Words of advice for you: zip it."

Trowa held up his hands in defense. "Okay, okay," he mumbled and the two started down the hall to the parking lot.

They pulled up in front of the tall church, steeple stretching as high as it could into the clouds. "So that's the Maxwell Church?" Wufei said as he opened the door to the car and stepped out, keeping his eyes on the length of the church. Trowa smiled. "Yep, my old beat when I was a rookie," he said with remembrance of easy work in his voice, "C'mon. I'll introduce you to Father Maxwell."

"The girl's father?"

"Nah, her uncle. He took the kids in after the parents were killed in some automobile accident."

Wufei looked over at his partner. "So you knew the girl and her family?" he asked, nearly sympathetic. Trowa shook his head. "I knew the uncle and I knew the boy, and only by the occasional wave or hard time I was given, depending on who I was talking to. The girl was usually off at boarding school," he said. They stepped up to the double doors and opened them. They parted with creaking hinges sounding their cry along hallows of the church.

The church was lit with candles, ribbons of light reflecting off polished benches and pulpit. Lights hung like simpler chandeliers to light the path right up to the front pew. Through the stained windows came streamed of tinted morning light, in rough images portraying the Saints. On the walls were paintings of the Blessed Mother and behind the pulpit was the wooden sculpture of Christ on a crucifix to recreate that day when Heaven was supposed to cry.

"Nice place," Wufei said. The windows were new, so was the crucifix carving. He wasn't used to seeing it, and hadn't truly seen it since he had married Meiran, who fully practiced Buddhism. They agreed that religion was one's own journey, not that of his family or spouse. They practiced their own religion on their own hours. And, after Naomi was born, Wufei stopped giving up his free time to the church, and, instead, gave it up to being a father. He was a ghost to this place.

Then he saw a figure coming out from a backroom. "Father Maxwell?" Trowa called out. But the voice that answered was not the vocals of the soft voiced pastor that Trowa had known before.

"Not unless I'm a daddy, pigs! Besides, do I look like a decrepit geezer who reads the Bible 'til his eyes bleed him to death?"

Then the form scampered away, sounding its way up the steps like an elephant in a raging charge. Trowa followed the sounds until he heard the final creak of the top step, like it had always been. A harsh and angry hand was slammed onto the keys of an organ. The organ groaned and bellowed out its pain from the youngster's striking it.

"Congratulations Chang."

Wufei raised an eyebrow and blinked at his partner. "And why am I receiving this?" he asked.

"You were the only one, besides myself, to see the soft and gentle side of Duo Maxwell… and live."

"You call that soft and gentle?!"

Trowa shrugged, his coat shuffling with the movement of his shoulders. "Let's just say that I wouldn't challenge the kid to a pissing off contest, if ya know what I mean. He could insult you to the moon and back," he said. Another figure came, following the path of the teenager.

"Duo?" it called.

Trowa smiled. It was Father Maxwell, the aging blue eyed pastor that he wished to speak to. The wrinkled form came closer to the policemen. He squinted at the two, making a thing blue line out of his irises. "Have you seen my nephew?" he asked. His voice wasn't soft when approaching the two men, but it was a voice strong enough to bring friendship to the two gentlemen he spoke to.

"Duo went upstairs." Wufei said.

Father Maxwell nodded his head, then smiled a little, as if Duo's going upstairs was a game r some sort of joke. "Is that why Bessie the Organ bellowed so loud?" he said with a chuckle. Then he took a long look into Trowa's face. "You used to be a policeman here. Ah, you're that Barton boy," he said with a newer smile on his lips. Trowa's face was faltered with a small frown. "I'm hardly a boy now, Father Maxwell," he said.

"Ah, yes, yes. It has been forever since I've seen you anyway," the pastor sat down in the front pew with a sigh, "You're a detective now, I know. And you're here about… about Adrianna, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Father Maxwell sighed. "All right, if this helps catch the devil-induced person who did this, I'll answer anything. What do you want to know?"

As if on cue, Wufei whipped out a miniature spiral notebook and the stub of a pencil, which had been sharpened with a pocketknife and obviously used many times before this instance.

"Did you hear from Adrianna before she was murdered?" Trowa began the interview. The old man flinched at the detective's last word. "Yes, she was here, in fact. She was leaving to meet a friend. She left at about 7 o'clock that night."

"Who is this friend?"

"Some boy she was trying to talk to about drug abuse or that whatnot. Herman or something like that. I can't remember exactly. He was very depressed about things."

"Can you describe him?"

"Yeah, a short fellow. I'm not sure of his age, but he looked young. Brown hair, blue eyes… I think. I've never spoken directly to the boy."

"Did she have any enemies? Anybody that might harm her?"

Father Maxwell furiously shook his head, as if he were a dog trying to clean itself of water after a good soaking. "No, no. There was no one like that," he said. Trowa looked over his shoulder at Wufei, who was scribbling in his notebook like he was feverishly mad. Then he stopped suddenly, putting the notebook in his pocket. Trowa looked down at the priest. "May we speak to Duo?" he asked. Maxwell shook his head again, not as hard this time. "Duo told me he was going up to his room so he could rest. The loss has been hard on the poor boy…" he answered. Trowa's face folded with sympathy for the man and boy's grief. "We'll try as hard as we can to find the horrible person that did this to your niece," he said, putting a comforting hand onto the shoulder of the older man. "Please do that. She was so innocent to this world. She…" his words trailed off. Trowa rose to leave, just to let the man cry his tears in peace.

"Work hard, Trowa. The Lord gives you His blessing," the man said as they turned to leave.

"Thank you. Goodbye Father."

"Goodbye Mr. Barton."

The two walked across the lawn towards their car. Trowa looked at Chang.

"So you think this Herman kid might've done it?" he said.

"Maybe. A depressed drug-pusher could pull anything, even on a sympathetic hand."

"Ain't that the truth?"

The two police officers heard the doors to the church open again, but paid no attention until the person at the door spoke words.

"Sirs?"

Chang turned first, and spoke first to that older nun that was standing there. "Yes Sister?" he said to her.

She stood there a moment, faltering as a wind blew around her figure. Her lips appeared to shake instead of stutter, like she feared the words that were about to come forth from her own mouth.

"There's evil at work here," she finally said.

The policemen looked at her for a moment. The autumn leaves tumbled on the ground around their feet, performing somersault after somersault on the lawn. It was Trowa who spoke.

"Yes ma'am. One of the worst evils is at work here. Good day, Sister," he said and turned away from the house of God. Then they left in their car.

Remember when I said it would be just as dark? Well, forget it. I'm keeping these wisecracking slurpies on the job… Trowa and Wufei the policemen FOREVER! I decided to lighten it up just a little, because Trowa's a jokester. These guys are not the shounen ai I was talking about at the beginning, either. Mr. Wu-man is married, got a kid and the lil cheese-head is HAPPY! Trowa… I dunno… he's just weird. The next chapter will be better. It will be dark. This thing already reeks of angst.