Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.
If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave. No sex, and maybe a tiny bit of romance in this part ... we're getting there.
Givemecookies: Thanks for your kind review. I think you mean "The Persistence of Memory", the picture with the floating clocks. /feels, too, very smart/ But to be honest, I looked it's nameup on Wikipedia. ;)
ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE
No. 6: Beware of the cat!
by Dare
"Do you think Edward Sykes could have murdered someone?" The large tiger had taken an interest in him, and he tried to push him away. His suit had suffered enough today.
The cat was persistent, took a leap and ruined Scotty's clothes in the most efficient way possible: it stared to purr and curled up.
"You don't like cats?" Mrs. Lewis asked, slightly amused.
"I like them, but my suit doesn't. Well," he and the cat exchanged a glance. "Doesn't matter now."
Mrs. Lewis smiled, then continued. "Eddy? I don't know him well enough to actually judge that," she said. "But my feeling says 'no'. He was a strange man, but something tells me that he would have done something to himself rather than to another person."
"This doesn't sound as if Edward Sykes is our murderer," Scotty said, when he opened the car door for Lilly.
"Maybe he is," she speculated. "Maybe he couldn't believe what he did – and so he tried to dissociate himself from what he did by telling Tanaka it was someone else."
Scotty was about to answer when he cellphone started to ring. "Excuse me. Yes?"
Tess the secretary was on the other side. She sounded extremely cheerful, as usual. Scotty tried to ignore the desire to strangle her. "Valens? Where are you?"
"Currently, I'm at Anabelle Lewis' house. What's up?" When he saw Lilly's raised eyebrow, he silently mouthed "Tess" back at her.
"Are you finished over there?"
"Pretty much. Why are you asking?" he wanted to know.
There were some muffled voices in the background. "You have a visitor: Marie Trent is here – she wants to talk to you and Agent Sharma and Orson aren't available."
"Marie Trent?" Scotty asked, taken completely by surprise. He searched for her name in his inner library. "Diana Trent's mother?"
"Yes. She doesn't have much time," Tess said. "You should hurry."
"All right." Lilly got into the car and he walked over to the driver's door. "I'm on my way."
"See ya then." Tess ended the connection.
"Marie Trent – that's interesting. Why would she want to talk to us?"
Scotty started the car. "We'll see about that. She didn't seem to be that co-operative during earlier interviews. And I wonder if her husband's with her."
"Jonathan Trent, if I remember correctly," Lilly said.
They were welcomed by Tess who shoot Scotty a friendly smile and Lilly an even friendlier one. "I lead her into the Conference Room, since it's currently empty," Tess informed them. "Have fun."
"Nice girl, isn't she?" Lilly said absent-minded.
"Yeah." His voice was gruff. He looked over his shoulder and watched Tess disappear in Rydell's office. "Nice girl."
Lilly didn't seem to notice Scotty's tension; she carefully opened the door to the Conference Room – and the small, thin figure of a tiny woman with bleak eyes was revealed.
"Mrs. Trent?"
The woman looked up – and Scotty was met with the hopeless, desperate stare of a mother who had lost her daughter to a madman. She looked as if she had cried – and when Scotty finally noticed all the handkerchiefs in her purse, he knew he was right. This wasn't a woman anymore – it was just the spirit of a once beautiful creature.
He looked over to Lilly and realised that she had noticed the same things about Marie Trent – but suddenly he knew that she had also done something else: during one single second he saw something in Lilly's eyes – was it longing? For what? For Marie Trent's pain? For her sorrow?
No, he realised. Lil was longing for a mother that would do anything for her daughter – something Lilly's mother had never done for her. Scotty knew Lil had had a difficult childhood – and that her family had been poor, but the relationship with her parents had remained somehow clouded.
"My name is Lilly Rush and this is my par --," he noticed her stumbling over the word that was to come. "My colleague, Scotty Valens."
"Marie Trent," the woman sniffed.
"Yes, we know. So – how can we help you?" Lilly asked.
"My husband is currently away – he spends several days in Boston meeting a business partner of his," she explained, but then shook her head, realising that this probably wasn't relevant information. "Anyway, if he would have been here, I would not have met you."
Scotty frowned and detected a seriously damaged marriage. "Why do you think that, Mrs. Trent?"
"He --" She shook her head. "If Jonathan discovers –" She looked up and it was the first time there was something else than desperation in her eyes. She sounded determined, even through her tears. "I want you to find the murderer of my daughter. I want you to find him and bring him to justice, no matter what."
She searched her purse and presented the detectives with a business card. "Talk to her. My husband sometimes visits her and I don't know who she is, but she knows something."
"Mrs. Trent ..." Lilly started, but Marie Trent side-stepped her immediately.
"I can't tell you anything else, I'm sorry."
"Warren Sanatorium," Scotty read aloud, after Marie Trent had left. He turned the business card and a messily written name covered most of it's back side. "Juliette St. Claire. Hm. A woman regularly visited by Jonathan Trent, Diana Trent's father." His eyes met Lilly's. "Where are all those cues leading us? First James Tanaka who presumably received the business card and the necklace from Edward Sykes and now Marie Trent – and Juliette St. Claire."
Lilly leant back in her chair and rubbed the back of her nose. "We'll see about that – we'll see." She sighed.
That evening they drove back to Scotty's apartment in silence. Scotty cast his current roommate some glances – she was tired, he could tell. She stared out of the window and her eyelids were heavy. Her fair complexion was somehow dull now – it was lacking of it's usual glow.
He parked in front of his apartment complex and elbowed her slightly. "Lil – we're there."
"Hmm?" Not until then she realised where they were. "Oh, right."
"Are you sure you're fine, Lil?" Scotty asked.
Lilly shook her head. "It's probably just the jet lag," she said and tried hard not to yawn.
No Miss McPhee when they entered the building, something Scotty was thankful for. The surroundings were not as inviting and cosy as Scotty wished them to be, but it could have been worse.
"Wanna shower first?" he asked her and received a barely visible nod. She went into the bathroom and only a few minutes later, he could hear the water.
Staring down the hall towards the wooden door Lilly was currently behind, he wondered if he could do anything for her. He walked some circles, rubbed his neck and finally decided to christen his brand-new sandwich maker.
When Lilly left the bathroom, dressed in a grey, baggy sweater and way too large, marine-coloured pants, she found her former partner in the kitchen, humming to himself. She stared at his back for a few seconds – and for the first time since ... well, since Patrick, she wondered what it was like to come home and find someone else besides her cats.
He turned, when he finally noticed her presence. "You look like hell," he told her with his most charming smile and offered her a sandwich.
"You think you look any better?" she asked and shook her head, when he tried to hand her the plate. "Thanks, but no thanks, I'm not hungry."
"What have you eaten today?" he asked.
She opened her mouth, but he was faster. "A bagel and practically nothing for breakfast," he answered for her. "And that's definitely not enough." He shoved the plate into her hands. "Eat. Please."
"Scotty, really – that's very nice of you, but I'm not hungry," she tried to tell him, but he was adamant.
"Don't force me to take critical measures," Scotty said and lead her towards the living room.
"Like what?" She tried to sound imperious, but failed miserably: being barefoot, she was even smaller than usual – her make-up had disappeared and her hair was completely dishevelled and wet – she looked like some stubborn college girl; and for a moment, she looked painfully like Alyssa – someone who fed the urge in male admirers to protect her; the problem with Lilly was: If you tried to protect her and she found out, you were in serious trouble.
"If you don't eat up," Scotty said. "I'm going to tell Stillman – and I don't care for the consequences."
Lil rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch in front of the malfunctioning TV and the stubborn DVD player. "Oh, now, I'm really scared. What do you think Stillman would do?"
"Consider yourself warned," Scotty advised her. "I'm going to shower and hopefully, your sandwich is gone when I'm back." He waved over his shoulder and disappeared.
No battle of wits, no playful banter, he realised, when he shut the bathroom door behind him. She must be really tired.
The room was full of stuff that didn't belong to him: several bottles of shampoo and shower gel, antiperspirant and a pink toothbrush. He stared at the thing and couldn't believe it belonged to someone like Lilly Rush. Grinning, he wondered what Vera would think about it.
He kinda liked the view of his toothbrush next to hers.
Wrapping his towel around his body after he had showered, he heard some foreign noises coming from the living room. He quickly dressed up, walked down the hall – and was met with a strange sight.
The TV was switched on and the empty DVD box of some old movie of his lay in front of it on the parquet. Lilly was fast asleep on the couch, the plate on her lap, the sandwich half-eaten.
Scotty just stared at her, then back at the TV and the DVD player, who were obviously functioning. He checked the backside of the TV and discovered various cables who looked as if they were correctly attached to both TV and DVD player.
Again, surprised and baffled, Scotty looked up towards Lilly – who seemed like the last person able to install electronic equipment. He knelt next to the couch and stared down at her.
She was an enigma – he never ascertained if Lilly ever felt anything else besides professional friendship towards him. He remembered her outburst when she found out that he had an affair with her sister, Christina, of all persons – but her anger; was it directed towards Christina or towards him?
He had been defensive about her accusations – and his reaction hadn't been the best, but had hers?
He looked down at her – sleeping, looking all innocent, not like someone who hunted for murderers every day. He moved a strand of hair from her forehead and dared to touch her cheek. She moved and mumbled something in her sleep.
He wondered if anyone had ever cared for her – would've done anything for her – and how anyone could hurt her.
He removed the hand as if her cheek had been sizzling hot. Feelings started to wake inside himself, feelings, that were completely inappropriate and – given Lilly's polite, friendly, but nevertheless professional and platonic signals – would most likely break his heart if he started to imagine things.
He got her a blanket – and squeezed her hand.
Thunderstruck, he dared not to move, when he felt her squeezing back. Her mouth opened slightly and he stared down at her, at her pink lips, trying hard not to do anything stupid.
C-C-C-C
Lilly was woken by the smell of pancakes and coffee. Her back hurt – couches weren't the most orthopaedic piece of furniture there was.
When she tried to sit up, every single bone was protesting again, and she grimaced. Suddenly, she missed her cats dearly – they were the kind of things you hugged when you felt like this.
When she got up and padded towards the kitchen, she could already see Scotty preparing the breakfast. He seemed to be in a good mood and his smile grew when he noticed her approaching.
"'Morning, sleepyhead," he greeted her. "Coffee?"
She nodded and sat down at the table. "What time is it?" she asked.
"You have," he glanced at the clock on the wall. "twenty-nine minutes to shower and get ready for work," he informed her. "How are you feeling?"
"Miserable – like always in the morning." He presented her with a pancake, that had a grinning face on it. Lilly raised her eyebrows and then looked up at him. "I didn't know you could cook."
"Well, if you'd like to call it that way," he smiled. "I have a bunch of nieces and nephews," he explained. "They like there food staring back at them."
"Tastes good," she informed him.
"I aim to please," he drawled and placed a plate with a mountain of pancakes between them. "Thanks for looking after my TV and the DVD player."
"You're welcome," she said and smiled. "If you try really hard, this place will look really nice some day. How about some pictures?"
"I already have pictures."
"Something besides Chagall and Dalí," she said, while taking a sip from her coffee. "There are lots of empty walls in here. And, of course, the ultimate accessory for an apartment are cats." She grinned at him.
"I'll think about it," he called, when she was already on her way to the bathroom.
While Scotty felt like some desperate housewife, cleaning the table and placing the cups into the sink, he wondered if he could call it a sign: Lilly advised him how to furnish his new apartment.
Some time later (and much earlier than he had anticipated), Lilly left the bathroom, completely dressed and ready for work. Scotty already stood by the door, doing his mental checklist ("Have you seen the keys?"), when he noticed something.
There, in front of his door, sat a tiny, little something, made out of marble. He expected it to be a cat – and in some way, it was a cat, but a big one. It was small, green lion, possibly made out of jade.
"Another one," Scotty noted. He turned it several times. "That's weird. I thought you had sent me those."
"I have send you what?" Lilly asked, coming from the living room, waving with his keys.
"Those." He held up the small lion. "I found one in the carton from my desk back in Philly. But it was a cat, not a lion. Strange, isn't it?" He stared down at the sitting lion. It felt cold and smooth.
Lilly stared down at the thing with a look that made Scotty feel uneasy. "Mrs. McPhee gave you something. Do you still have it?" Her voice was strange – in a way completely devoid of emotion.
"The pieces of something she found it the cellar," he said. "Yes, I have." The small bag Mrs. McPhee had given him was still on his desk. He opened it and managed to fish a tail and half of the head of a cat out of it. When he came back to the door, Lilly's face told him something he didn't like. She was deep in thought, obviously, and he could see information dancing behind her eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked. There was something personal about these marble cats, he could tell. "Do you know these things?"
"Yes." Lilly nodded. "Yes, I do. Where's the cat from Philly?"
"In my desk, at the office," he said. His confusion grew. "I don't understand – what's up? What's wrong?"
"We are going to visit someone," Lilly said, solid determination in her eyes. "Eric Orson's former partner – the one that was obsessed with this case: his name was Frederick Zimmer, right?"
"Yes, that's right. Do you know him?"
"Yes, I do." Her eyes were practically glowing. "Yes, I most certainly do." She shook her head, apparantly mad at herself. "I should've known," she whispered, while stomping out of the appartment.
It was something personal, Scotty figured. And that was, in Lilly's case, always the worst.
# end part 6
All right, now thingsare gettinginteresting: The only persons which are still missing are the murderer of poor Diana Trent, and, well, Christina Rush.
Thanks to: lillmissbubblz, Tiantian Wang, pealee, Abby909, kawaii-peach14, Annica, XdareXDevilX, AthenaIceGoddess, Becky Greenleaf, Mellie Erdmann, Nix707 and givemecookies. Thanks a lot, guys, for all your kind reviews. :)