Title: Material Culture
Author: Nemo the Everbeing
Rating: PG for this part
Summary: Every object has significance. The goal of study is to determine what it is. (Finch/Dominic)
Disclaimer: 'V for Vendetta' belongs to Alan Moore and David Lloyd. The theatrical version of the story belongs to Warner Brothers, the Wachowski brothers, and possibly a few other brothers. I don't own any of it, am not a brother, and write this solely for my own pleasure.
oOo oOo Footnote the Last oOo oOo
Delia is distant, now. Professional. Finch tries to draw her out when he delivers Lilliman's body, but it's the same as she was with Prothero only worse. There is something tired in her stance, something sad. He wants to ask, but they're at work. He would never pry at work.
So they play at pretenses and Finch grinds his teeth.
"I'm sorry, Chief Inspector," she says. "Same basic toxicology as Prothero. You could get these poisons from any house in London."
"Thanks, Delia," Finch says, and wonders if he should just leave. He turns to do so, but her voice stops him.
"Any leads on finding this guy?"
"Honestly, nothing yet." He turns back and sees an opening. Maybe a bit of a friendly gesture will bring her around. "But there's something else you can help me with."
It seems strange, handing her a flower in an evidence bag, like some romantic gesture gone awry. "You studied as a botanist, didn't you?" Thy both know she did, but the prompting feels necessary at this point. He needs to reestablish a level of comfort and familiarity with her, even if he doesn't know why it was lost in the first place.
She looks at the rose, but instead of her smile or a laugh or even some half-joking line about buying her affections with roses taken from crime scenes, she looks worse. She looks haunted. "It's … it's a Scarlet Carson," she says, nearly choking on the words. "They're believed to be extinct."
Finch stares at her, trying to see the problem, trying to get his friend to open up enough to let him in. "He leaves them at the crime scenes." She looks up at him and her professionalism is back so strongly that he dares not press. "I'd appreciate it if you could have a look at it. Any information could be helpful."
"Of course," she says, and she's lying. They both know she's lying, but Finch's phone rings. It's Dominic with new evidence. He's been through the file. Finch has to go. He turns to say goodbye, and Delia is standing, her hands gloved and speckled with blood, with that rose clutched delicately between her fingers.
"Delia," he says, and the weight of the years hangs between them.
Her smile is that of a woman already gone. "Go on, Eric," she says, and for a moment she's his friend again. "Give my love to Dominic. You two go and solve your mystery."