To all my American readers, I do hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving!
"Detective Bullock! Detective Bullock!" Edward said, tapping persistently on Harvey Bullock's shoulder with the rounded tip of his pen, "Do you give up?"
Detective Bullock spun around to face him, a grimace stretched across his face.
"What?" he snapped. Edward lowered the pen slowly.
"My riddle!" he chirped enthusiastically. Harvey's face dropped as Edward continued, "A man has to cross a river with a wolf, a cabbage, and a goat—"
"—Ed, please…what's the time of death?" Harvey interjected, barely turning to look at him.
Edward glanced down at his notebook, flicking through the pages.
"The examiner pegs it just before three this morning—but he's a bit eager with his coagulation markers, so I'd say closer to one," he said, watching Detective Bullock frown as he stooped next to the railing.
"Killer left her identification for us. Amanda Hastings 21 years old…"
"She comes from money…"
"Hmmhhhh," Edward said with a nod, jotting down another note.
"And I'm guessing she was the oldest in her family…"
Edward paused his note taking, pursing his lips as he glanced up at the Detective.
"Why is that…?" he said more quietly, his brows furrowed slightly.
"The Goat always kills the first born. It's all the same. Same MO, same victim choice, presentation it's all the same. We've got a copycat," Bullock huffed, standing with his head down and his hands in his pocket. Typically, Edward could not exactly say he prided himself in his ability to read people, but even he could recognize level of distress he saw in Bullock.
"Are you alright, Detective?" Ed ventured as his he regarded the seemingly flustered man.
"No, I'm not alright!" he snapped, "I already solved this case…"
Edward furrowed his brows, looking at Bullock with slight concern. Sure, the man was always angry…but this time it seemed a little different.
"Where's Gordan?" Bullock said, looking down at his phone. Edward's expression lightened.
"Apparently he's not answering his phone," Edward said, a smile stretching across his face as he chuckled softly.
"He's not answering his…you mean, I'm on the clock before the boy scout?"
"It would appear so," he said with a slight nod and smile.
"This is freaking ridiculous…" the detective muttered with a swear under his breath.
"Fine, I'll tell you the answer—" Edward chimed enthusiastically, "so the man crosses the river with the wolf and the cabbage, he leaves the wolf, and he goes back—"
"—Ed." Bullock holds up his hand with a grimace, phone up to his ear. Edward's smile drops and his eyes fall back to his notebook with a frown. He continued to examine the scene for the next few minutes. Eventually, Gordon had found his way to the scene. Bullock turned to Edward as he began the trek to his car.
"And Nygma, let me know when they're set up for the autopsy…"
"Anything in particular you need me to look for—"
"—Just CALL ME!" Harvey cut him, off, moving off the scene with Gordon by his side.
Edward's smile slowly faded, his hand falling stiffly to his side while the other tightly clutched his notebook to his chest.
Their loss. He thought bitterly as he watched Bullock and Gordon storm off. With his help he was sure they would solve the case in no time. Of course, there was only so much he could do on his own without the extra resources. He'd prove them wrong though; he would find the missing link in this case, and Bullock and all the other ignoramuses they called officers would finally see his genius.
/
When he eventually found himself back at GCPD, he paced restlessly, moving from his corner of the forensics lab to the nook that Bree typically occupied. He clamped his hands together, rubbing them pensively as he approached her empty desk with a heavy sigh.
His thoughts were jumbled, bouncing around in his head at lightning speed. He wanted, no he needed to say them aloud to hone them, to focus them into something more useful. However, every time a new idea sparked inside his head, he found himself rushing over to Bree's desk only to be reminded of her absence once more. His hands found their way to his temple, rubbing vicariously in an attempt to soothe his restless mind.
He had no problem with this before. Perhaps he had gotten too used to the delight of sharing his ideas with an actual willing listener. Going back to the silence was nearly deafening; doable, but rather more difficult than anticipated.
However, he just had to try. The real question was who might listen. He tapped the empty desk pensively before he snapped his fingers, a smile stretching across his face as he thought of a certain strawberry blond that worked down in archives. That's it!
He nearly skipped down the stairs at the prospect of wooing her with his intellectual insight about the case at hand. He found himself fighting the urge to run down the stairs and through the hallway to the archival room. A goofy grin graced his features as he reached for the knob and pushed the door open.
He walked in just as she spun around to head out the door. She slowed to a stop.
"Mr. Nygma…"she greeted him dryly.
"Ms. Kringle," he said with a smile and a polite bow. She held the files tightly to her chest as she walked forward, her heels clicking softly on the marbled floors. Edward couldn't help but to lean forward and try to catch her scent as she passed. He sighed softly. Lilac.
He notice her reach for the doorknob and he realized he was about to lose his window of opportunity.
"So, I'm just looking for all the information you have on the Goat murders from ten years ago," he began, slowing to a stop next to a file cabinet. He yanked out one of the drawers. "Don't you find it curious why someone would resurrect the myth of a centuries-old boogieman?" he said, his fingers skimming the tops of the files.
"And what is it about the Goat that has made two separate people kill in his name?" he asked, gesturing with his hands and giving a shrug.
"No, I don't find it curious…" she said pointedly, looking back at Edward with a light frown. She turned back to the door.
"I think I would like your parents," he interjected, before she grasped the knob.
"Excuse me?" she turned back, regarding him with narrowed eyes. Her horn-rimmed glasses glinted in the florescent light. He smiled.
"Kringle, such a rare surname…most people changed it generations ago, out of embarrassment," he said, turning and propping his arm atop the file cabinet, "But not only did your parents keep it—they called you Kristen. Kristen Kringle. They must be very humorous people.—Humor is so important, don't you think?" he said with a large smile. She stared at him a moment, and blinked as she looked away.
"Remember, you have to sign out any evidence you pull…" she said quietly.
"How do you find anything at all in here? I mean, organizationally speaking, this place is in shambles…" he said, looking around the room. Suddenly, her demeanor shifted, her eyes narrowing as she slowly strode back up to him.
"I am warning you, Nygma. I have everything exactly where I want it. I know where everything is….understand?" she remarked lowly, a thinly veiled threat laced in her tone.
"Naturally….but, I can help you…Kristen Kringle," he said, folding his hands in front of him as she moved closer to him. His heart fluttered slightly as she neared. Oh, she was close enough to touch!
"I doubt that very much…" she said, her eyes flickering up his form before meeting his. With a light whip of her ponytail, she turned and sauntered to the door. His gaze followed her as she pushed it open.
"There really is a better way to do this…" he muttered to himself after the door clicked shut. He figured when she had first gotten the job the previous file keeper had handed the disorderly files down to Kristen and she had never bothered to fix it. Poor thing, having to learn where everything was in such a unkempt fashion.
Just then an ingenious plan sprung about in his head. What if he were to take the time and arrange her files in a way that made systematic sense? Perhaps mathematical? He pondered this a moment before swiftly tossing the idea. No, he figured she may prefer a more organic, hierarchal approach.
"Aha! Lateral expansion!" he snapped, smiling giddily at the prospect of earning her affection through such a considerate act.
He plopped down on the floor and began his work…
/
The delicate click of the door made his ears perk up and he swung his head towards the sound. He looked up as he heard a sudden gasp and the dropping of a stack of papers. He grinned, meeting her gaze.
"Oh, my god…" she muttered.
"I'm improving your system! Implementing a rhizomatic index, with your case files classified by subject, but arranged more like the way a peat moss organism gross. You know…laterally."
He smiled and gestured with his hands, spreading his fingers outward.
"I had this entire room organized…" she said, still clutching the box of files as she crept forward.
"Yes, but now it will be rhizomatic…lateral," he made his hand gesture once more.
His smile fell as she dropped the box with a loud thump.
"What did I ever do to you, Nygma! What did I ever do that makes you come here with your endless notes, and suggestions, and riddles, my God—the riddles!" she shouted.
"Are you trying to get me to quit?" she asked softly, her brow furrowed. Edward muttered a no, scrambling to his feet. "You can't want my job…"
"No, no, no! I want you!" he said, flinging his arms desperately. Her face contorted in a mix of anger and confusion, and Edward stared at her with wide eyes.
"….to keep your job….and to have it, here….for working," he finished, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips as he tried to save his poorly-timed confession. His lips pressed into a tight line as she closed her eyes, folding her arms tightly across her chest. He felt a pang of remorse and he swallowed stiffly.
"Okay….I'm getting the sense….that this was somehow….inappropriate," he ventured carefully. She looked up at him, frowning, and her hand clutching her sweater across her chest.
"You are so…odd."
He looked downcast as he shuffled over a pile of files.
"I'll just take my non-hierarchical data paradigms out of your hair….and leave you to your work," he said quietly, stepping over the stacks of files. He tripped over one pile as he passed her, causing her to jump slightly. As he reached the door, he looked back once more, his lips pressed into a tight line. She didn't even bother looking up at him. His eyes flickered to the floor and he took his leave.
"You are so….odd."
His tight-lipped frown deepened as he closed the door behind him.
That didn't quite go as planned…
He mused silently, his tall frame hunched and his eyes downcast. His throat bobbed as he gave a hard swallow, trying to mask his disappointment. Wordlessly, he made his way to his small corner of the forensics lab, avoiding eye contact with everyone….Not that they said a word to him anyway. Every step felt a little heavier than usual, his mind clouded by her words.
"You are so…..odd."
He slid his glasses off of his face as he sat down in his little dim lit corner, and rubbed his forehead. He reached down and idly knocked the small metal pendulum perched on the desk, watching the tiny spheres collide against each other. Yes, he knew he was a little different than everyone else, but it wasn't as if it was something he could help. It was simply how his brain was wired. Yet….he always tried so hard; trying to gain the approval of Kristen, of his peers…. of everyone.
A light rap on the door made him freeze. He raised his head, glancing at the door.
"Come in…" he said flatly. He saw the knob rattle slightly before the door cracked open. A familiar face peered through.
"Edward?" Bree chimed, leaning inside with a smile. He reflected her smile dimly, it not quite reaching the crinkles around his eyes.
"Ms. Taylor," he said softly with a nod. Bree's smile slowly faded as she stepped inside, letting the door close behind her with a soft click. He saw her eyes flicker across his face with scrutiny as she stepped closer, her arms crossed across her chest.
"Ed…are you okay?" she asked as she stopped next to him, grabbing the rolling chair from the counter beside him and plopping down. Her dirty blond tresses fell in a disheveled halo of curls, illuminated softly by the soft fluorescents as she leaned forward, concern painted across her features. For a moment he was slightly taken aback by her question. It wasn't her question that was innately surprising….but the simple matter that for once it was directed at him.
He smiled softly, the light catching the shadows on his face, exaggerating his features.
"No…"
"What happened?" she asked.
"Whoever said something happened?"
Bree shrugged.
"No one, but judging by your reaction, something did, didn't it?"
His lips twitched upward a fraction, genuinely this time.
"I tried to impress Kristen…"
Bree's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh no…what did you do?"
He sighed.
"I just…tried to reorganize her filing system. I was trying to help! I arranged it more in the way a peat moss organism grows, you know….laterally," he said with an elaborate gesture of his hands. Bree chuckled, her head falling in her hands as she groaned lightly.
"Edwaaaaaard…you can't just do that!" she said, looking back up at him. He frowned.
"Well, I know that now, evidently," he muttered admonishingly, "Even if my system would have been far more logical."
Bree snorted a short laugh.
"I bet it would, but would it be for her, if she didn't know how it was organized? It would take forever to find anything; she wouldn't know where to start!"
"I could show her."
"I bet you could…but how did she react?"
He frowned again, reaching down and grabbing his glasses.
"She…was rather cold in her assessment…" he said flatly, his lips pressed into a tight line. He slid his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and glanced at the question mark mug perched on the edge of his desk. Bree was quiet for a moment, and when he looked back at her, her eyes flickered across his face. She looked down, tapping her knee pensively.
"You know….you're never going to please everyone. There's always going to be somebody that you have to deal with that may not like you. That's just how it is. But…the way I see it, there's no point in hanging around people that don't make you feel good about yourself," Bree said softly, a small smile creeping across her face.
"And maybe…you don't need to waste your time with people like her."
His brows rose slightly as he regarded her as if she was some strange creature from another world.
"Then who should I waste my time with? People like you?" he inquired. Bree shrugged with a small smirk lingering on her lips.
"That depends, do I make you feel good about yourself?" she raised an eyebrow challengingly.
He stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge her.
"Yes….I…I suppose you do."
Bree smiled. She slowly moved to stand.
"Well, there you have it then," she said, giving a light wave of her hand as she turned and walked towards the door.
He cleared his throat softly as he watched her take her leave. He didn't look away until the door swung shut behind her.
"Yes….there you have it," he said quietly to himself, a grin slowly stretching across his face as he reclined back in his chair.
/
Later, he found himself pleasantly surprised and in good spirits when Detective Bullock asked for assistance in narrowing down the suspect pool of the Goat murders. He hummed light heartedly as he took a sip out of his new favorite mug and sauntered over to the autopsy table.
"Raymond Earl," he quipped with a smile, taking a sip from his mug. His chest swelled with pride as the detectives moved out to hunt down Earl. They had gone to him. Could it be that they were finally beginning to recognize his brilliance? He smiled as he moved from the autopsy lab towards the main precinct. An idea swept into his mind.
He found himself jaunting up the stairs just in time to see Bree standing from her desk, pulling her long coat around her shoulders, readying to leave.
"Do you think that it's interesting that two different people would resurrect a centuries-old buggy man and kill in his name?" Edward chimed, walking up to her desk. Bree half-gasped in surprise before raising her eyebrows questioningly.
"Ed! Well, yes, it is rather curious by nature," she said with a laugh, a small smile.
"Those were my sentiments as well," he said in a tone resembling relief. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug.
"Oh…hey, there," she chuckled, into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his lean form. She let him hold her for another moment before she gently tested his grip.
"Edward…I do have to go home now," she said delicately, her voice muffled by his suit. He muttered a quick sorry as he released her. She smiled.
"See you later, Ed," she said, wrapping her scarf around her neck and grabbing her bags.
He smiled softly as he watched her leave, his fingers idly tracing the chipped wood of her desk.
"Well, there you have it…" he said quietly.
This is certainly an experimental chapter, playing around with Edward's point of view some, since the last chapter was lacking an abundance of Edward. Sorry for any grammatical errors, I finished this at an ungodly hour in the morning so that is prone to happen.
Thanks for all of the awesome reviews! Keep it up, I love hearing from you all!