Title: Material Culture
Author: Nemo the Everbeing
Rating: PG-13 for plot and references to sex
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 Suppressor oOo oOo
They went to work the next day as though nothing was different. And really, while they were working it was easy to forget anything had changed. They were professional, and they were focused on the case. It ate at them both, and in the office nothing mattered but that case.
Dominic's wingman-contact in the Finger came through again a few weeks later, and when he entered the office with a twirl of his finger, Finch knew what he wanted. The suppressor had been used more and more during this investigation. The Finger must have known about their frequent blackouts. There would eventually be an investigation, but that was a foregone conclusion. The case was closing in on them both from all sides. The use of the suppressor was a negligible offense compared to the things they talked about while it was on. The leads had piled up, and they'd had no time for anything personal since that first night but one frantic kiss in the car when no-one was looking. It wasn't prudent to spend too much time together while they were under such intense scrutiny, but it didn't stop the notion driving Finch to distraction when he wasn't focusing on the case.
Was Dominic different now at work? There was an ache in the air whenever they stepped too close to one another, but in all ways the rest of the lads could see, they were the same as ever. When they were alone, they were perhaps a bit closer, but it was still nothing that would spark suspicion. There would be hours on end without even thinking about themselves, and then brief moments of intense want before going back to work.
With the field up, Dominic didn't bother with his own computer, but hovered close to Finch as he slipped a data disc into the drive and they started sifting through the details of three former Fingermen who had died or gone missing the day after Saint Mary's. One of the names was familiar. A look through Finch's email inbox told him why. It was an invitation. An offer of information. It was a fucking trap was what it was, and Finch was too old and too careful not to know it.
Of course they had to go. They were cops, and they had to know. Finch folded up the suppressor and they left.
oOo oOo oOo oOo
Dominic is right, the Saint Mary's memorial is fucking ominous. There's no better way to describe the stark black walls with the names of the dead ringing the bronze statue of children playing. It all seems morbid, and worse in the dark.
Rookwood is already waiting for them. He's got a bag, a cane for the blind, and his very own suppressor. Must be the week for them. Everyone has one. "That's close enough, Inspector," he says, and sets up the device.
The voice is familiar. Finch wonders if they haven't met. The Finger and the Met don't usually travel in the same circles, but paths do cross.
"We're not wired," Finch says.
"I'm sorry, but a man in my position survives by taking every precaution."
"You've information for us."
"No," Rookwood says, "you already have the information. All the names and dates are inside your head. What you want, what you really need is a story."
Finch knows this type of man. Slippery and smart, they are, and not the sort he wants to play games with. He keeps his own statements direct and unambiguous. "Stories can be true or false."
"I leave such judgments to you, Inspector." Finch says nothing to that, and Rookwood settles into his bench a bit. A born storyteller, that one, or at least a man who likes to hear the sound of his own voice. "Our story begins, as these stories often do, with a young up-and-coming politician. He's a deeply religious man, and a member of the Conservative Party. He's completely single-minded and has no regard for political process. The more power he attains, the more obvious his zealotry, and the more aggressive his supporters become. Eventually his party launches a special project in the name of national security. At first it's believed to be a search for biological weapons, and it's pursued without regard to its cost. However, the true goal of this project is power: complete and total hegemonic domination.
He shifts a bit, as though his back pains him, and continues, "The project, however, ends violently. But the efforts of those involved are not in vain. A new ability to wage war is born from the blood of one of the victims." He leans forward, and he stares at Finch as though he can see and the glasses and cane are just a deception. "Imagine a virus, the most terrifying virus you can, and then imagine that you and you alone have the cure. If your ultimate goal is power, how best to use such a weapon?
"It's at this point in our story that along comes a spider. He is a man seemingly without a conscience, for whom the ends always justify the means. It is he who suggests that their target should not be an enemy of the country, but rather the country itself. Three targets are chosen to maximize the effect: a school, a tube station and a water treatment plant. Several hundred die within the first few weeks. Fueled by the media, fear and panic spread quickly, fracturing and dividing the country until, at last, the true goal comes into view. Before the Saint Mary's crisis, no one would have predicted the results of the election that year, no one. But not long after the election lo and behold a miracle! Some believed it was the work of God himself, but it was a pharmaceutical company controlled by certain Party members that made them all extremely rich. A year later, several extremists were tried, found guilty, and executed, while a memorial is built to canonize their victims."
Finch looks around the memorial and feels as though he hasn't seen it before. If Rookwood is even half right, Finch is standing in the midst of a travesty even greater than he'd let himself imagine. He'd thought this to be the work of someone inside the government, yes, but people so high up that they built their entire empire on these lives? He feels soiled and wants nothing more than to stop his ears and wait for the storm to pass. He doesn't, of course.
And Rookwood keeps talking. "But the end result—the true genius of the plan was the fear. Fear became the ultimate tool of this government, and through it our politician was ultimately appointed to the newly-created position of High Chancellor. The rest, as they say, is history."
Finch can hear Dominic's ragged breathing behind him, can feel himself shaking. To have all his fears confirmed and all his beliefs in the justice of his government destroyed in a single gesture is choking him. "Can you prove any of this?" he asks.
"Why do you think I'm still alive?" Rookwood asks, and Finch needs no other answer. Rookwood does have it. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he has hard evidence.
Finch looks at Dominic, who appears simultaneously suspicious and worried under his professional mask. "All right," Finch says, "we'd like to take you into protective custody, Mr. Rookwood."
Rookwood laughs as he collects his things from the bench. "Oh, I'm sure you would. But if you want that recording, you'll do as I tell you to do: put Creedy under twenty-four hour surveillance. When I feel safe that he can't pick his nose without you knowing, I'll contact you again." All his things gathered, he ambles away, not bothering with the cane. "Until then, cheerio."
"Rookwood!" Finch cries after him. Rookwood stops and turned around. Finch waits until he knows he has Rookwood's attention before asking, "Why didn't you come forward before? What were you waiting for?"
"Well, for you, Inspector. I needed you."
Then he's gone, and Finch is torn between the need to chase after him before he vanishes for good, and the desperate urge to leave this memorial behind him. But if Rookwood good enough to survive this long knowing what he knows, Finch will never catch him in this darkness. He walks away, Dominic trailing behind, covering his back while he's lost in thought. They have so much work to do, and no guarantees. All he can do is follow through for Rookwood, and hope Rookwood will follow through for him. As for what will come after such a revelation hits their case and subsequently the media, he doesn't dare think.