Sam paced inside Asten's office, waiting for the director of the Los Angeles County Coroner's office to arrive for the day. He didn't relish being the one to tell Dr. Robert Asten that his chief deputy medical examiner and friend was in the morgue on one of his own tables. For as much as Asten and Quincy could argue, Sam knew the love and respect that was between them; losing Quincy would tear the director apart.
The door to the office opened then, and Asten walked in, surprised to see Sam Fujiyama waiting for him. He was about to comment upon it when his eyes met Sam's and Asten knew something dreadful had happened. For a long moment, the two men stood frozen, staring at each other, fear the only moving force in the room. Slowly, Asten set his briefcase down on a chair and walked over to Sam.
He couldn't cover the apprehension in his voice, "Sam, what's wrong?"
Giving voice to such a truth was even harder than Sam could have imagined, and although he tried desperately to hold back his tears, they spilled down his cheeks. Asten felt the blood ice over in his veins, and his brow crinkled, as he put a soft hand on Fujiyama's shoulder.
Sam's voice shook with emotion, "Dr. Asten...it's Quincy..."
Asten swallowed down a lump in his throat, although he tried desperately to keep his timbre matter-of-fact, "Well, what about him?"
"Dr. Asten, he's downstairs..."
Relief flooded him. "Well of course he's downstairs, Sam, he works here--"
"--N-no," Sam stuttered, "Dr. Asten, you don't understand..."
And then the truth of it hit Asten. "Oh my God, you mean he's downstairs on a table..." Sam nodded his head, and tears spilled down his face as a sob choked off in his throat. Stunned with shock, but understanding that it was up to him to stay calm, Asten squeezed the younger man's shoulder gently. "Take it easy, Sam. Do you know anything about the circumstances?"
"No sir," Sam managed to answer, "I told Mark to keep the lab closed and then came up here to wait for you. I haven't looked at his personal effects or--" But Sam's voice broke, unable to say anything more.
Asten pat Sam's shoulder and slid his arm around him. "You did the right thing. Come on, let's go down there together..."
Asten walked slowly up to the table, and as Quincy's still face came into view, a bullet hole in his forehead, Asten felt the moisture sting his eyes. Blinking back his tears, he stepped closer, placing a soft hand on Quincy's forehead; and the senseless violence of the gunshot wound in his friend's skull made Asten shake with anger.
His voice was barely a whisper, "My God, who would do this to him?" Asten swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat. "Why Quincy? Why?"
"Why what?"
The familiar voice that sounded from behind him drained what little color was left in Asten's face. He turned just as Sam burst into the room, clutching a wallet.
"Dr. Asten--" Sam stopped and stared at the chief deputy medical examiner. "Quince? Oh Quince!"
Sam moved to Quincy, gripping his arms hard, tears welling up in his eyes. Not understanding the emotionality of either Sam or Asten, Quincy stared from Fujiyama to the director.
"What the heck's the matter with the two of you? You'd think I'd just come back from the dead or something."
Asten started to respond, but Sam waved him off, handing him the wallet, which he inspected as Fujiyama moved Quincy toward the door.
"Sorry Quince, it's just been kind of a rough morning," Sam offered in explanation.
"Well what's--"
Asten put an arm around Quincy's shoulder, moving him through the lab doors. "--I'll tell you all about it, Quincy, but up in my office. Can you give me about ten minutes? Just wait for me up there..."
Quincy stared into Asten's dark eyes, which were slightly wet with tears, and he frowned. "Are you all right, Dr. Asten?"
Asten nodded at him. "I'm sorry, Quincy, yes, I'm all right now." Uncharacteristically Asten cuffed the medical examiner behind the head, patting him gently. "I'm all right now." He let go of Quincy and turned to Fujiyama. "Sam, a moment please..." Quincy watched in fascination as the two men moved off and he started back for the lab door, but Asten bellowed at him, "Quincy! Stay out of there. Just go to my office and wait for me. That's an order."
The medical examiner muttered as he turned for the elevators, mimicking his boss, "Stay out of there...that's an order...hmmph..."
Asten turned to Sam. "I need you to run the victim's fingerprints, stat."
"Dr. Asten, his driver's license said--"
"--I know what it said. Look, I need a confirmed identity before I talk to Quincy. No sense putting him through this without the basics."
"Yes sir. I can get it pushed through, no problem."
Asten was pacing in the main lab when Sam walked in with a report. "It's a positive ID, Dr. Asten. Fingerprints are a match with the national database. The decedent's name is Michael Quincy." Asten looked hard at Sam until the man continued, "An identical twin, Dr. Asten?"
"I never knew Quincy had a brother, much less a twin. Has he ever mentioned it to you, Sam?"
"No sir."
Asten nodded, and headed for the elevators, wondering where he'd find the strength to get through the next half hour.
