Gray light filtered through the blocked windows of the burned apartment, creating shadows in the empty space. The tablet glowed as Norman held his hand over it, scanning it deeply. He sighed. "ARI comment. Circuits are fried. Hard drive is out. Looks like it was remotely detonated."
There was only one table in the room, and it was covered in fresh blood. Norman had already identified it as Ethan's which explained why the man needed help escaping. A small bloodied stump of a finger lay on the table next to a rusty butcher knife. Had Norman not visited Roman the day before, he would be absolutely confused by the scene in front of him. As it was now, it all made perfect sense. This was a trial.
The killer had been meticulous about the trials as well. There were no fingerprints except those of Ethan Mars, and no clues to suggest anyone else had been in the apartment. Norman leaned over the table, resting both hands on the surface. He was getting good at finding dead ends.
There was a low creak behind him, and part of the sun was blocked from the doorway. Norman felt his heart sink. He ran a hand over his face, smudging the lenses of his glasses.
"The place is clean," he said. "You're not going to disturb any evidence." He leaned off the table and turned to face her as Ashley rested her shoulder against the wall, avoiding his gaze. Most of the other officers had left, and Norman had to sneak his way into the building to avoid Blake's wrath. Finally being alone was the most relief he'd felt all day long, but he could tell that was about to abruptly end.
Ashley looked at him, and Norman's heart quickened as he spotted a hint of her usual wide-eyed expression. "I should have turned you in." She ran a thumb slowly across her bottom lip, analyzing him.
Norman rested his knuckles against the wood of the table. "Why didn't you?" For a while there was only the pitter patter sound of rain against the windows. Ashley tilted her head, staring at the floor.
"I guess I'm hoping you'll suffer something worse. When this is all over." She put her forehead in her hand, and Norman heard her sniff. Then she looked up at him, her eyes tense. "I know you think I'm stupid, useless, I slow the process down," she spoke quickly as if she'd rehearsed it. "I can't find a clue if it were to drop right in front of me with a neon sign. But at least I do what I know is right, and I do it with a clear conscience. I'm not doing this because I want a promotion or a shiny medal, or to get back home to a fancy desk in Washington." She tensed her shoulders as she glared at him. "Just because you're FBI doesn't make you any better of a cop than me. It just gives you a higher paycheck."
She breathed heavily as if she'd been running. Norman was silent as he looked at her, the edges of her figure highlighted in the ARI. The anger in her eyes was broken by the nervous glint, giving her the energy of a child standing up to an adult. Somehow he guessed she'd had this argument before with someone else. He sighed and scratched a nail into the wood.
"It takes more to be a good cop than to have good morals," said Norman. Ashley's eyes narrowed at him. He stepped forward, resting his hand at his side. "It takes courage. Knowing when to break and follow the rules. And putting yourself in danger to save someone else." He leaned so that he was eye to eye with her. "I didn't get this job because of my fancy Ph.D. I got it because I earned it."
She shook her head, folding her arms over her chest. "How the hell," she said quietly, "do you get up in the morning, put on your expensive suit, and not completely fuck up every relationship you have with people?"
Norman felt a pang of anger. He moved away, running his hand along the table. "And what makes you think I don't?" He waved his hand at her. "Look, I don't know how else to say I'm sorry, Ashley. I was a complete dick to you. I threw my opinion in your face and didn't care how it made you feel. I─ I push people away, I isolate myself, and I hate it." He paced back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. "I can't connect with people. You're the first person I've met in years who's been nothing but helpful and… and caring, and I managed to make you my enemy. I can't explain it." He paused at the end of the table. "I don't know why. I just can't explain it."
They were both quiet for a moment. Norman hadn't expected at any point in this investigation to be spilling his personal concerns to anyone, least of all someone he'd only known for a day. Somehow it felt refreshing to expose the side of him that he normally kept hidden. Whether she hated him or not, at least someone knew. He was only going to be in Philadelphia for a few days after all.
Ashley nodded, plunging her hands into her jean pockets. "You can't explain it…" She moved forward, slamming something small on the table. "Maybe this can explain it."
Norman's face went numb at the sight of the blue vial. He raised the ARI sunglasses onto his forehead as Ashley moved against the wall, resting her back and folding her arms. His mind raced as he struggled to comprehend the situation. How did she find one of the vials? He'd been so careful, keeping them hidden in his coat pocket. Then a realization hit him. The vial he'd lost in his office… she must have found it before waking him up. Which meant she'd known about his addiction the whole time.
A wave of shame fell over him. He ran a hand over his face, feeling his chest begin to ache. "It's not what you think."
Ashley breathed a frustrated laugh, shifting against the wall. "Oh, it's not? Well, that's great. You only snort a little to take the edge off or is the FBI into hiring fucking junkies?" She trembled slightly as she glared at him. "You call my department fucked up… I can't put one foot in front of the other without tripping... how could you even look me in the eye and say that with a tube of triptocaine under your desk?"
As much as it angered him, Norman immediately felt his anger give way to guilt. He could argue back. Say it was none of her business. But after what he'd said to her, he felt in a way he deserved this. At the moment, he simply wanted to find closure, even if it meant she'd never speak to him again.
Ashley sighed as she shook her head. "Jesus Christ, Norman…" She leaned off the wall and moved to the door, stopping just under the doorframe and leaning against it with her back to him.
Norman scooped the vial in his gloved hand, pinching his bruised eye gently between his thumb and index finger. "It's to offset the symptoms of ARI withdrawal," he said.
For a moment, Ashley was silent. Then she turned, an unbelieving smirk on her face. "ARI withdrawal?" she repeated.
Norman removed the sunglasses from his forehead, holding it out for her to see. "Added Reality Interface. It's experimental. Only a fifty-member program." Ashley took the glasses from him, staring at the glowing ARI letters on the side. "Experimental meaning they don't know the long term effects of overusage," Norman continued. He held his gloved hand forward, and Ashley gazed at it. She ran a finger over the glowing receptors.
"So they give you illegal drugs to treat the symptoms of an experimental mind-fryer?" said Ashley. She handed the glasses back to him.
"No." Norman stared down at the glasses as he turned them over in his hand. "That I learned from an outside source. It's not entirely prescription, but it does help." He looked up at her, and raised his eyebrow slightly. "You saw the effects of me not taking it when you found me unconscious on the floor."
Ashley gazed at him and rubbed her arm. "How can you be sure it's not withdrawal from the triptocaine, not the ARI?"
He breathed deeply, picking at one of the lights on the ARI. "I can't."
Ashley was quiet as he stared at the glasses. A weight seemed to be lifting off them. Norman couldn't tell if it was good or bad, but it felt better. Someone was finally in on his secrets. He didn't think it was possible to tell someone so much in such a short time, but his trip to Philadelphia had been anything but average. He felt the same, but also different. And that was encouraging.
Ashley sighed, and Norman looked up at her. "I don't think you're a junkie, Norman," she said, her round eyes growing softer. He moved closer to her so that she had to look up at him. With any other person, he'd have felt uncomfortable.
"And I don't think you're a useless cop," he said. A similar sensation floated through him akin to the morning she'd spoken to him in the car. He took the time to observe the details of her face, her wide brown eyes, slightly slanted eyebrows, the sharp angles of her nose and jawline. She ran a thumb across her lip and turned away, face slightly red.
"I guess that means I owe you an apology," she said.
"You don't owe me anything," said Norman. "You already saved my career and Ethan Mars. And if we're lucky, we can still save Shaun."
Ashley smiled, and Norman felt his shame melt away at her wide-eyed expression. "You mean this thing doesn't have built-in luck?" she said, nodding to the ARI in his hands. He spun it casually between his fingers.
"It's got a lot of things," he said. "Unfortunately, luck isn't one of them."
Ashley breathed out heavily, and Norman could sense the force in her seriousness. She looked to the side. "Well… does it have a set of wheels?" She jabbed her thumb towards the window. "They sort of stole my ride."
Norman couldn't stop his smile. He pulled off the ARI glove and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Somehow it felt like things were locking into place. As if this was the way it should be. Shaun Mars was still in a watery hole, Ethan was most likely bleeding to death, and Blake was preparing for a month of gloating. But at least one thing was finally going right.
"Come on," he said, moving down the hallway. "I'll give you a ride to the station."
They were both silent as they left the building and stepped into the rain. A few police officers still wandered the building, rounding up the police tape and speaking with onlookers. Ashley tilted her head back in the rain as Norman unlocked his car, and they ducked into the cab.
She laughed lightly next to him as Norman fastened his seatbelt. "I can't believe you did that to Blake," she said, shaking her head. "You'd better hope you don't run into him again or he might just try to shoot you and say you're the Origami Killer."
Norman drummed his hands on the steering wheel. "I don't know. I kind of miss doing the investigation with him."
"Well." Ashley turned slightly towards him, a look of mocking contempt on her face. "Need me to pick up the slack on the police brutality and narcissism, Norman?"
He laughed, taking his time to start the car and shift the gear. For once in this investigation, he wanted this moment to last as long as possible. "I'd love to see you try."