JT was pissed.
Pissed because they'd gotten dragged in on a case at five in the fucking morning. Pissed because it was cold as balls. Pissed because his bad knee was acting up again. His car needed gas and he needed coffee, but they'd both have to wait because some poor bastard had up and gotten himself murdered.
If Gil were there, he'd probably have given JT a once over and sent him home. Or at least back to the office to get lost in some paperwork. But Gil was working a case out of town as a favor. And the bastard had taken Dani instead of him. So, JT was alone.
"Morning JT!" Bright billowed towards him in a long coat. "I'm looking forward to working a case with you" He chirped, a touch too optimistic for the situation.
Oh. JT very much would have preferred to be alone.
"mmhmm." He nodded, hoping the conversation would be short.
Instead, Bright took the nonplussed reaction as a sign of disapproval.
"I mean, I think it's a great opportunity! We haven't worked as a team very often. Or ever, really. Not on a whole case. Not as partners. Well, we're not technically partners. But I don't expect any problems." Bright grimaced, and pulled his coffee cup to his face; drinking like physically restraining himself from talking was the only way he could get himself to stop.
JT sighed. It wasn't the kid's fault it was too early and too cold and JT was too old for this shit. They both seemed a little lost without Gil. But now he had the beginnings of a headache to add to the list of things he was pissed about.
"I just shouldn't have said anything. By drawing attention to that it's implying I do see it as a shift from the norm. I've made it weird and now it's just…awkward."
"Awkward indeed." JT raised his eyebrows.
Bright took the hint and stepped out of his way. "After you."
The body was in the kitchen; small, face down, and skewered with a butcher's knife. Blood streaked along the floor, but there wasn't much to suggest there had been a struggle. Apart from the single bloody handprint on the refrigerator door, the kitchen was immaculate. Almost sterile, in a rich and tasteless kind of way. Bright could probably guess what tax bracket these people were in just by looking at the cabinets. JT was tempted to ask him
But any acknowledgement might encourage him. And JT had gotten enough vicious lectures from Gil to know that encouraging Bright always turned out badly.
"Oh! Balloons!" Bright clapped his hands, head tilted towards the pale blue bunch of party balloons tied to the back of a kitchen chair. "JT look!"
There was already a pair of officers in the kitchen. They'd been talking animatedly, but whatever the conversation was, it died in Bright's wake.
"What are the balloons for?" Bright asked by way of introduction.
"Um." The shorter officer flipped her notepad shut and looked up. "Hi?"
JT stepped forward and offered his hand. "Detective Tarmel."
"Officer Mandal." She shook firmly, pretending not to stare at Bright.
The tall one didn't even try to hide the fact she was staring. "Officer Fielding. Is he with you?"
That was Bright's que to quit staring at balloons and introduce himself, but he missed it. Either unaware or unbothered by the stares. The silence stretched on until JT cleared his throat.
"Profiler." He muttered. "Ignore him."
"Huh." Fielding gave a kind of mocking huff that might have been a laugh. "And he's with you, huh?"
JT grimaced. "Wish he wasn't." He'd meant for that to sound good natured. Instead, the words came out flat and angry—like he really meant it.
Bright was still blissfully unaware or stubbornly unbothered.
"The balloons?" He asked again, undeterred. Bright could be deterred by no force known to man.
The women shared a look, and officer Mandal flipped through her notes. "Birthday celebration, as far as we can tell."
"Do you think our killer is trying to send a message? With the color?" Bright had the nerve to look at JT, as if he'd have the foggiest idea how to answer that.
"Or maybe the knife?"
"Well, we'd need more forensics to be certain. But it's likely that it came from this kitchen." Mandal chimed in.
Bright's gaze snapped to her. "Why?"
JT found himself shooting her the don't encourage him look. But it was too late.
"It matches the others in the drawer." She pointed.
Bright crossed the kitchen in two quick strides, digging gloves out of his pockets as he went. He pulled open the drawer next to the sink and lifted up a knife. At a glance it looked identical to the one buried in the body. "It's expensive cutlery."
He turned the knife this way and that, like it would reveal some secret if caught by the right light. "But not polished. They've let them fall into decay. Maybe a family heirloom? A hand-me-down?"
When it was clear Bright didn't actually expect anyone to answer, the other officers went back to tagging evidence.
JT moved to peer over Bright's shoulder into the silverware drawer. He was right, the stuff looked fancy.
"A status symbol. But they've let themselves go." Bright had his thinking face on.
JT saw it coming. The gears were turning. Clouds of dark thought gathering across those sky-blue eyes. It was like a lightbulb turning on.
Bright had an idea. A profile was forming in that head of his.
"You th—HEY!" JT jumped back a bit when Bright whirled to face him, knife and all. "Before you say a goddamn word, put that knife back in the drawer. I'm not having a repeat of Brownsville."
The image of Bright standing there, knife in hand with an idea forming was more than enough to keep JT up for a week.
"Oh." Bright laughed, bordering on a giggle. "Right. of course." He slid the knife back quietly and closed the drawer.
"Well, who did it?"
Bright didn't answer.
JT had seen him on enough cases to expect that; Bright was in profiler mode now.
He mumbled "I have to check something" and swept past JT like he was invisible.
Bright dropped all pleasantries when profiling. That's why he did his job so well, also why he pissed off anyone and everyone who got in his way. And sometimes passed out in meetings because he didn't understand he couldn't run on pills and coffee alone.
Tunnel vision was his selling point. Also, his weakness. Bright would do anything for an answer. He'd fistfight the Pope if he was sure it'd get them their man. But it meant he stepped onto crime scenes like tornadoes tore through towns. Chaos guaranteed. He churned up otherwise calm waters around him. Caused waves; like a speed boat. Or a drowning man.
Actually, JT would have preferred a literal drowning man as his partner on this particular day.
To his credit, JT did stay sane longer than he thought he would. He held his tongue when the profiler started to circle the kitchen table like a shark that had learned to pace. He stayed out of Bright's way. He fielded the stares from strangers. Put his head down and got to work. It was only when Bright opened the refrigerator only to immediately close it again for the third time in as many minutes that JT snapped.
He snatched Bright's collar and yanked him backwards. The fridge doors fell shut with a soft thump.
"Stop. Moving." JT growled.
"I was just—!"
"Save it. Don't make me tell Gil that you didn't behave."
That worked. They were both smart enough to be afraid of Gil.
After that Bright fell silent and stayed silent. Shrinking back like someone with the chosen last name of Bright could become a shadow. When JT let go of him and went back to work, Bright swayed where he was, treating stay put like an order.
JT left him there, crossed the kitchen, kneeling down to examine the body. It was grosser, up close. Older than JT had first guessed, both in age and time spent rotting. The clothes were striking only in the sense that they were so plain. There was a chance it was a uniform of some kind, but impossible to tell when he was positioned face down like that. Maybe he'd been moved here.
He wore a smart-watch on one wrist, and an expensive looking analogue on the other wrist. Each were distractingly…tacky.Bright would no doubt have something to say about that.
"Hey—" JT looked up to ask him, only to find Bright still rooted to the spot on the other side of the kitchen. Attention fixed squarely back on the balloons.
Maybe JT had touched a nerve. That wasn't difficult, not when it came to Bright and his thick skin made entirely of nerves. But JT did feel a bad. A little bad. Not bad enough to jeopardize the blessed silence. Not when it was finally quiet enough that he could hear himself think. It was heaven, even if it was short lived.
The sound of a balloon bursting broke his concentration.
Bright let out a strangled gasp, hands flying up to his ears. The motion launched his cellphone up into the air then clattering back to the floor. JT silently prayed a thankyou to anyone that was listening that he'd made Bright put the knife down.
"Fielding I swear to CHRIST" Mandal snapped, turning on her partner.
"I didn't touch it! I swear! Fucker just popped by itself!" Fielding fired back, retreating from the balloons.
"oh" Malcom gave a fake laugh. "Oh. That was loud."
"Wasn't me!"
"Like you expect me to believe that!"
The two launched into a "was not/was too" back and forth that rivaled JT and Dani on the most boring nights of stake out. God, he missed Dani.
The bickering only ended when Mandal stooped to retrieve Malcom's phone from the grimy kitchen floor.
"Look," she held it out to him. "the screen didn't even crack."
Bright didn't move.
"Are you…alright?" Fielding's voice was soft, cautious.
Bright's hands hadn't left his ears. His eyes stared nowhere, chin ducked to his chest. JT recognized the stance as a way Bright stood when he wasn't really in a room anymore. Mandal reached for Bright's shoulder—she moved slowly, but it still wasn't enough time for JT to get a warning out.
"Wait—"
At the touch, Bright jumped as if he'd been electrocuted. He lashed out at the unexpected presence, even though she'd been standing right in front of him. His elbow caught Mandal square in the face, sending her stumbling back with a yelp. She fell heavy onto one of the kitchen chairs, blood dripping from her face.
Shit.
There was one shocked moment of silence. One singular, very silent moment of shock. That was how long JT got to process the scene that had very quickly become his problem. Bright looked horrified. Out of the frying pan to get burnt at the stake. Mandal tipped her head back, pinching her thumb and index finger over a bloody nose.
Fielding looked from Bright to her partner and back before lunging at him.
Triple shit.
Malcom saw her coming and bolted away, his abandoned cell phone skittering underfoot.
"HEY!" JT shot to his feet.
It was barely a fight. Bright by no means went quietly, but Fielding had a score to settle and a couple inches over him. She clearly hadn't been expecting cornered animal levels of panic, but she had him pinned in about four seconds flat.
"I'm sorry" Bright screeched, flailing wildly. He might have been lucid enough to genuinely be apologizing, or just begging in the hopes he'd be let go of. Either way, he sounded scared.
"sorry sorry im so sorry"
JT and Bright had been in plenty of scary situations before; with killers and kidnappers and unspeakable acts. Bright had waded into the thick of it with a winning smile and a cup of coffee. JT had never heard him sound like that.
"Son of a bitch!" Fielding had managed to loop just one of Malcom's wrists with a zip tie, but not before he'd almost headbutted her.
"Let him up." JT barked, stepping closer. He was trained to make quick decisions in the field. And getting Bright out of this nightmare was a quick and easy decision to make. He didn't even have to think about it. One look at the glassy, hollow quality in those usually expressive eyes was all it took. On instinct alone JT would have done anything to get Bright to stop looking at him like that.
"He assaulted an officer!" Fielding shouted at JT. "Goddamn LUNATIC."
She had more to say, but it was cut short by Bright throwing elbows again. She ducked it and shoved his arm down, hard. There was a short scramble of motion, a muffled cry of pain and oh christ there was fresh blood splattered onto the kitchen floor.
"I'm sorry!"
"Lettem go!" Mandal ordered, voice muffled by the way she pinched her nose. In any other moment it would have been funny. But there was blood dripping off of her chin and Bright still wouldn't stop apologizing.
"Don't make me repeat myself." JT stepped closer and leveled fielding a look that had intimidated serial-killers. "Let him up."
Fielding glared back at JT like all the chaos was his fault. For a moment, she didn't move. In that time JT was cycling desperately through something anything for plan B. Before he could think of anything good, she broke eye contact and released Bright.
The second he was able, Bright bolted. Like a magic trick, he was gone. Disappeared.
It was like he'd evaporated into thin air. JT spent a long moment trying to understand how that was possible. That was, until he caught sight of him.
Under the table.
Under the table. The poor fucking bastard had managed to cram himself into the space beneath the table. Back flattened to the wall, wedged into a corner. Shaking like a shelter dog and crying.
Not for the first time that day, and certainly not for the last; JT wished Gil were there.