Alfred sat at his desk in his small cubicle at the station, his feet propped on the desk as he tossed a ball up and down above him. He just wanted a case! Why did he have to write out repots all the time? That wasn't what he signed up for, isn't that what secretaries were for? He sighed; it was going to be a slow day. Maybe he could pull out another U file and make the headlines again. His last case had been the solving of a three-year-old drive-by that had been left to rot. None of the other guys did the heroic stuff like that. They had told him the second he started the habit that his heroics were futile. Their tune changed once he solved the case. The oldest he had taken on was a five-year decayed assassination on the mayor. Not only had he confirmed it had been assassination, but also the man, or more correctly the woman, responsible for it. He was hailed from this little town where he had grown up to the nearby city. And now he was a legend: The Cold Detective, bringing solace to those who have had their lives destroyed and bringing the criminal to justice so they would never hurt anyone else again.
Ever since Alfred was a kid, he had a strong desire to help others, bring them peace of mind. What triggered it, he didn't know anymore. Too many years of the urge made it feel like he had been born with the constant nag. He sighed again, this time a little more exaggerated and throwing the ball so hard it bounced off of the ceiling.
'Three, two, one . . .' he thought to himself before movement to his right grazed his peripheral vision.
"Jones! MUST you be so immature!" the Brit shouted, "You are an adult! We aren't in science lab anymore!"
"The good ol' days, right Fairy boy?" Alfred laughed as his friend glowered. Arthur Kirkland and he had been together since they were tykes playing at the park. Arthur matured much quicker after his dad, an officer before him, got killed on duty. Alfred had felt bad for him, so had kept his childish behaviour to help his friend stay his age at certain points. They went to primary school together, sticking close by up to high school before parting ways to college. Neither saw the other again until Alfred settled on being a police officer in his hometown. That was when the two met back up and had stayed close ever since. Even closer than Alfred was to his older twin brother Matthew who had moved up to Canada and became one of the Mounties. The two didn't see each other often, but they still kept in sporadic touch. The nickname was derived from the fact that Arthur was obsessed with mythical fairytales and it was just adorable!
Arthur threw a paper wad at the American, "You bloody git! Can you not let me live that down?"
"Nuh-uh," the other laughed before looking at the clock, "We're off in twelve, wanna do something afterwards?"
"Like what?" the British man pouted, his arms crossed childishly.
"I hear the town's pride and joy of a singer is holding a performance at the theatre tonight. Wanna go?"
"You don't like Opera."
"Yeah, but she has a rock band with her! Can you get that! Opera with a rock band! Dude, she is seriously a genius for coming up with that one man! Gotta hand it to her."
Arthur rubbed his temple and sighed, "I should have known there would be a catch."
"Come on! I hear she's amazing, and it would look great for the police department to be there and supporting the town," Alfred grinned slyly.
"Fine. But you are buying the tickets."
"As long as you buy the food."
"Bloody hell Alfred!"
Alfred laughed heartedly before pulling his glasses onto his face and getting some of his work done. Stupid report, but Arthur made it fun.
"So what's this girl's name again?" Arthur asked settling into his seat and pulling his sleeves out of his heavy coat. It had started snowing outside before the concert; how fitting since the concert was called Memories in the Snow.
"Yekaterina "Katyusha" Braginskia. Oh wow, did you know her little sister painted all the art she uses? That's some damn good painting. I literally thought it was photographed or something," Alfred gawked, looking at the pamphlet of the production. The artwork on the front was a large sunflower standing in a blizzard, at the bottom of the leaflet were the small printed words 'Dedicated to our brother who was stolen by the winter'; it kind of made Alfred's heart clench at the thought of a young man disappearing forever in the snows. He leaned over to his friend, "Hey, look here. It says-." But the lights dimmed out and Arthur promptly hissed at him to shut up. Complying, Alfred sat back in his chair and waited for the singer to step out.
Yekaterina wasn't an overly tall woman, but nor was she really short. She was a healthy five-foot-six with a large bust. Alfred felt a nosebleed coming on. He didn't know they could get that big! Her hair was ashen blonde and cut to her chin with slight bangs in the front. In her hair was a headband with a small sunflower pinned to it, which looked really nice on her. What Alfred didn't get was why all the sunflowers. She wore a form-fitting black dress that reached the floor, though plain with no decorations, it was somehow elegant.
Applause broke out and she smiled sweetly, waving politely and bowing in generosity. Slowly, she stepped to the microphone, "Good evening everyone," she addressed her audience. Cheers erupted and she smiled even wider. He voice had a light accent that Alfred couldn't place. "It's so nice to be back home after all these years. I'm sure some of you remember what happened twelve years ago to this day and in honour of my younger brother, I will be singing the songs he wrote as that little child we all loved listening to on the street courner in front of Mr. Bonnefoy's bakery. Before I get started, I wanted to thank some very special people who have helped my sister and I through these tough years. Firstly, I'd like to show my deepest gratitude to Mr. Francis Bonnefoy, the son of that wonderful baker from all those years ago and the one who is paying for the lights tonight."
Chuckles swept through the crowd and even she giggled at the joke as the man stood up from the front row and took an extravagant bow. "Next, I want to thank my dearest little sister for her support and her beautiful artwork. Vanya would be proud." Applause as a young woman stood and from the front seats and bowed politely, also wearing a black dress with little décor to it. "To cut this short, I want to thank the police department and Police Chief Djavakhi Pavneli for his help and support to my sister and I and all the work you went through to try and bring our brother back to us. We thank you deeply." Even more applause and this one made Alfred's heart swell with pride. So the Police Chief knew these two personally, that made it even better that he'd come with Arthur. He was part of the Police Department, was he not?
"This song has been titled Dead Boy's Poem by Ivan Braginsky." She closed her eyes as soft music played. Her face fallen. Suddenly she looked up in the silence.
"Born from silence, silence full of it
A perfect concert my best friend
So much to live for, so much to die for
If only my heart had a home"
Sing what you can't say
Forget what you can't play
Hasten to drown into beautiful eyes
Walk within my poetry, this dying music
- My love-letter to nobody
Never sigh for a better world
It's already composed, played and told
Every thought: the music I write
Everything: a wish for the night
Wrote for the eclipse, wrote for the virgin
Died for the beauty the one in the garden
Created a kingdom, reached for the wisdom
Failed in becoming a god
Never sigh for a better world
It's already composed, played and told
Every thought: the music I write
Everything: a wish for the night
A lonely soul
An ocean soul"
Applause erupted throughout the auditorium. Even Alfred was clapping madly. He voice was unbelievable, other worldly. Simply beautiful. It was as though her brother had written the song just for her . . . perhaps he had. Nonetheless, it was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing Alfred had ever heard. And the other songs were equally beautiful. For the final song she addressed the audience once more.
"I know your performance pamphlets said that the next song would be Over the Hills and Far Away. I have decided to change it to a song he would play on the piano at home while I practiced my singing. This has never been played anywhere else before and I hope it brings back those fond memories of Vanya." A piano started playing a tune that could easily have been taken for a lullaby.
"The winter left her blanket
here this morning
A soft and gentle coverlet of white
Unfolded in the shadows of the dawn
It Sparked in the early morning light
You would have loved this
You would have loved this
This was your favorite time of day
The greenery is laid across the mantle
And ornaments are hanging on the tree
And cradled in the windowsill's a candle
A beacon in the night
to call you back to me
You would have loved this
You always loved this
I know you loved this time of year
And though I understand
One day again I'll see you
I long to touch your hand,
hear your voice, feel you
You would have loved this
You always loved this
Oh, how you loved."
Alfred was not tearing up. Alfred F Jones does NOT tear up because of a super beautiful song that just made his heart quiver to pieces. It was silent in the sudden mood that made everyone stiff with the sheer power of her voice. Suddenly, Arthur stood up and began clapping ethusiastically, tears rolling down his reddened cheeks. In the front row, Francis Bonnefoy and Natalya mimiked the gesture and soon even Alfred was up and clapping madly. Then the whole auditorium thundered in the applause.
A soft noise caught his attention and Alfred turned around to see a small child dressed in rags fleeing the room in tears, his hair the same ashen blonde.
A/N: The songs are sung by Tarja Turnen. The first is when she was still with Nightwish and is what forced this story to be made. The second I found right as I was writing the scene and I was crying at how well it fit the moment. Please review. It makes me depressed when no one does.