Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Heaven Sent ❯ The Case ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimers: See Prologue

Warnings: Crime scene descriptions.

~*~*~*~

The early morning sun was streaming through the window when Trowa involuntarily opened his eyes, his body protesting; weeks of not sleeping were starting to take their toll. He lay dozing till the buzzer on his alarm clock went off at its usual time, 6:30 a.m.; filling the silent room with an annoying hum, which caused Trowa to fully awaken to reality. Turing the stupid thing off, Trowa looked out the window; the morning sun was streaming threw the curtains filling the room with its soft light and a gentle breeze could be felt coming in through the open window. It appeared to be a wonderful May morning, but for some reason Trowa felt hallow inside. For once in his life he had a dreamless sleep, and it left him empty. After being plague so long by that dream, it had become a part of him. A part he thought he would be glad to be rid of, but now that it's gone he missed it. It was the one constant factor in his life and maybe he had found comfort in knowing that he would always have his dream.

With a heavy sigh Trowa climbed out of bed and started his normal morning ritual. He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, washed his face, gelled his hair and got dressed.

Halfway through getting dressed, Trowa detected a strange odor permeating the room. //What could that be?\\ The smell seemed to be coming for the other room, so Trowa went to investigate. He followed the smell out into the living room and saw its source; Quatre had made breakfast.

~ The small blonde had just set the food on the table when Trowa had come out of his room. He was only half dressed with navy blue slacks and his white shirt was unbuttoned revealing a very tight undershirt. Quatre, himself, was dressed in a warm brown suit with an off white dress shirt and brown and toffee-stripped tie. He didn't much care for the suit but the tailor had said it looked good on him so he had gotten it.

Quatre looked over at his roommate, who had a look of mild annoyance or confusion, Quatre couldn't tell which. //Why is it that everything I do seems to anger or annoy him?\\ The blonde let out a heavy sigh and turned to face Trowa and asked "What?" He had said it with more hostility then he intended, but he was becoming thoroughly annoyed with the taller man.

"Nothing," replied Trowa; he hadn't meant to offend the blonde. It was just a surprise to see breakfast made. Normally breakfast, for him, consisted of nothing at all or something from the vending machine at work.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Quatre asked calming down. He was determined to have a good day and was not going to let some rude brute ruined it.

"Sure," said Trowa and he sat down at the new dining table and watched as the blonde served scrambled eggs and sausage. The food smelled delicious and tasted even better. If anything Trowa could get use to the blonde cooking for him.

They ate in silence and Quatre watched as Trowa stared out the window as he ate. For some reason the taller man did not seem to be himself today //Or is this how he normally is and was yesterday a fluke?\\ The blonde couldn't figure out which was the reason for his companion's odd behavior and didn't feel he knew the man well enough to ask. So he concerned himself with finishing the remaining scraps of food on his own plate.

~*~

After breakfast Trowa went back to his room to finish getting dressed and left Quatre to tend to the dishes. He didn't mind doing the dishes; it was kind of nice to have something to do while he waited for his new partner, who was taking forever to get dressed. He need a ride to work and was hoping that Trowa would oblige but at this rate it might be worth calling a cab. //He takes longer than most girls I know\\ the blonde mused, checking his watch. //I'm going to be late for work on my first day, this can't be a good sign\\ At that moment Trowa emerged form his room dressed and ready to go.

"Why are you still here? I thought you would have left by now?" Trowa asked in a less-then-friendly voice.

"I . . . I . . . don't know were the precinct is. I . . . I've never been to Chicago before," the blonde stammered. He couldn't help but be frightened by the piercing gaze of those emerald eyes.

"And I suppose you wanted to ride with me until you're more familiar with the territory" Trowa said still sounding un-amused by the situation.

Quatre could only nod in response; his voice having left him. He hated the fact that he was so intimidated by Trowa. He really had nothing to fear, he wasn't weak or defenseless, but something in the other man's eyes made Quatre hesitate and cower. He couldn't put words to what he saw in them; he could see the normal emotions that played in them but there was also a darkness, a caged beast waiting to pounce, that Quatre didn't want to unleash.

Trowa let out an annoyed sigh and walked out the door. Quatre took that as his cue and followed him.

~*~

They reached the precinct at 8:27, thanks to light traffic and Trowa's lead foot. The building it's self was old brick, probably form when Chicago was first inhabited. But as you walked in, it was like walking though a time portal for the inside was very modern, from the fluorescent lights and phones ringing right down to the tile on the floor

They took the elevator to the second floor where the Deputy Chief's office was; they need to check in before the meeting that would explain the reason for Mr. Winner's presence at their humble little precinct.

"You're late," was all Deputy Chief Driscol said as the two men walked through the door. Deputy Chief Andrew Driscol was a tall, thin man with chocolate brown hair, which was graying with aged. He had deep set brown eyes and a bushy mustache that graced his upper lip, giving him an appearance of authority that complimented his aura.

"We still had one minute," Trowa retorted, not the least bit pleased about the accusation; for the first time in his career he was on time.

"Not you Barton, you're friend," the Deputy Chief said in an even voice that sounded ragged and tired. Things were chaotic with the Chief of Police on vacation at such a crucial time of the year. Spring and Holidays were always the cop's busiest seasons, and with this new case things were worst than normal. "He was suppose to be here half an hour ago."

"I'm sorry sir, but no one told me where the precinct was so I had to wait for Mr. Barton," said Quatre. Deputy Chief Driscol raised a bushy eyebrow at this information, it was highly unusual for an agent to be sent somewhere and not know where they were going. Quatre sensed this and quickly explained the situation further. "I was met at the airport by Chief Jankin and he told me to go straight to Trowa's apartment and inform him about his new temporary partner and roommate."

Still not completely satisfied with that answer the Deputy Chief said, "Alright, you have fifteen minutes until the meeting; have Detective Barton show you around and help prepare the presentation."

"Yes sir." Both men said in unison. They were preparing to leave when the Deputy Chief told Trowa to halt.

"Oh, and Detective Trowa I want you to be on your best behavior. That means, if you screw up I will personally make sure that they can your ass. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir." He said in his normal stoic tone. With that the two men left the room, the taller of the two men less then happy.

~*~

The conference room was medium size with white plaster walls and one small window. There were rows of desks for the officers to sit and take notes. It was eight forty-five and everyone was ready to go.

Quatre was completely nervous, this was the worst part of his job; getting up and talking in front of people. He was a very shy person and hated all the attention, but this was important and he had to do it; the officers need to know what they were up against and why he was there. But it didn't make it any easier. Quatre was sure that they were all curious about his presence at their precinct and what this new case has in-store for them.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Quatre faced the room and began his presentation. "Hello, I'm Special Agent Quatre Winner and I am here due to a case I have been working on." He paused and waited till the hushed voices settled before he continued. "I assume you have all heard about the killings that have been taking place around the New York area?" He didn't wait for a reply as he continued " The Agency has reason to believe that the killer has moved to this area because of a killing that took place just a few weeks ago. I'm assuming that you already know the details. The killer is believed to be a white male in his thirties or forties. He is very organized and very unusual."

Quatre continued to talk as he passed out copies of the main file to everyone in the room. "His victims are male and female but all are young, natural blondes and all are shorter than 5'6''. The press has taken to calling him the Hallmark Killer(1) due to the unusual markings he carves on the back and over the hearts of his victims post mortem." Quatre set a blown up picture on the stand to show what he was talking about. "The marking on the back has been identified as the Roman symbol for `death'. " Pausing only for a minute to let the gruesome details of the crime sink in, Quatre continued "As you can see there is an unusual cross shaped incision above the heart and is another symbol associated with death. There have been nine victims so far; five females and four males. He kills every third month, the first victim was found the beginning of May and she had been dead for at least a week before she was found, as have all the victims."

The crew looked at the pictures one by one and it was true that the symbol on the back of the victims was truly unusual. It resembled two upside down crosses or two swords forming an `X' and the equal lengths of the arms on the cross incision over the heart were a sight to behold. The bodies themselves didn't appear to be too bad off; all the victims were found dressed with hands folded across their chest and there were no bruises that anyone could see. The victims had the appearance of merely sleeping. Who ever this guy was he was an expert at his craft.

Quatre looked about the room at the shocked expressions on all the faces. This was the reaction he expected, the case was a grisly one and hard to stomach, despite the care taken by the killer to keep the victims looking as pleasant as possible, but he hope they could handle it. He was about to continue when a faint sound caught his ears. He followed the sound with his eyes to a desk in the back of the room. The very desk Trowa was sitting. Apparently the man had fallen asleep during the lecture, this bothered Quatre greatly. What kind of detective would fall asleep during a very important briefing? //I guess I'll just have to give him the information later.\\ Again he let out a heavy sigh and continued.

"The victims," Quatre said, "have been drained of all their bodily fluids and internal organs. It is believed that the perp. has had experience with mortuary science, either working in a mortuary or studying the subject extensively. Unfortunately we were unable to come up with any leads with that information alone. If any one has any question at any time I will be more than willing to answer as many as possible. I thank you for your time and good luck." With that everyone started to file out of the room save a few whom approached the FBI Agent.

A young man of medium build was the first to reach him. "My name is Detective Johnathen Michaels," the man said in a friendly tenor voice, "and I was wondering why you believe he has come to Chicago and why it's not just a copycat."

"Two weeks ago a body was found just out side of the city as you well know," Quatre stated, "and we are certain it was the work of our man. If you look at the last victim in your file," Quatre flipped the file open to show what he was talking about. "You'll see that her name was Eve Carson, age 23. Her body was found three miles south of Chicago along Interstate 94, laying along side the road and the people who had come across her thought she was sleeping. Only after they tried to wake her did they realize she was dead. That is why we don't think it's a copycat; the work is too precise. " Detective Michaels nodded his acknowledgement, thanked Quatre for his time and walked out the door.

The next person to come up to the blonde was an energetic woman with medium brown hair that was pulled tightly into a bun. "I'm Detective Cathandra Ross and why were you sent to our precinct?" She said giving Quatre a smile and bouncing slightly one the balls of her feet. It was obvious that she did not mean anything negative by the comment, but was merely curious. Anyone would be curious and wondering why a FBI Agent would be sent to work for his or her precinct.

"I was sent here because you have the reputation of being the best homicide force in the city," He said actually smiling. "And to solve this case we need the best. Is that all?"

"Yes," She said giving him another smile. "Thank you sir. I look forward to working with you." With that said she walked away to talk to a few more people before leaving the room.

When most of the room had cleared Trowa came walking up to the front of the room where Quatre was still gathering his things. "Nice presentation," He said while fighting a yawn. It was obvious to Quatre that despite his little catnap the man still need sleep.

"Was my presentation that boring or were you just that tired?" Quatre asked, trying not to let any resentment seep into his voice. For some reason this man aggravated him more than anything on earth; working with him would one of the toughest ordeals that he would have to go threw, he could feel it.

Just before Trowa could answer a tall, leggy, raven-haired officer came walking over. Her high heels clicked on the linoleum floor as she stalked over to where the two men were standing.

"Trowa, isn't great that we finally get to work on a case together," she said. To Quatre her voice dripped of velvet and venom, there was something about the woman that Quatre just didn't like. "Oh hello Agent Winner," she said finally acknowledging his existence, "I'm Sergeant Laura Hanson, it's a pleasure to meet you." She didn't wait for him to answer before she turned her attention back to Trowa.

Quatre had a feeling that knew her from somewhere, but he couldn't place her. Just something about her seemed so familiar, but what? He would have to figure that out later. There were more important matters at hand; like the decision to rescue his partner. It was obvious that Trowa wanted nothing to do with her and would most likely give his right arm to get away from her. Quatre found it was rather amusing to see Trowa squirming in her grasp as she tired to make plans for dinner. He contemplated not rescuing is rude partner for a few minutes but in the end decided to save the poor man. "Um . . . Sergeant Hanson I'm sorry to interrupt but Detective Barton and I need to go over some details for the case. It's very important and I'm sure you could talk to Trowa some other time."

Sergeant Hanson glared at the blonde but reluctantly released Trowa from her claws. She stomped off without a word; the sound of her heels seemed to echo through the room as she left.

Once she was gone Trowa let out a sigh of relief. Turning to his partner he merely nodded his thanks and started out the door and towards their new office. Quatre followed wordlessly as his new partner led the way.

~*~

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly; it was mostly going over reports and information, trying to find any new leads on the case. They had less than two months before the killer would strike again and they had to work fast. The next victim they knew would be a guy, due to his alternating pattern; the first victim was a woman named Elizabeth Lawley and then a man by the name of Joshua Ramsden. After him came Ceciel Belmount and the list goes on; Bryan Hunter, Krystal Fergus, Hale Kencade, Racelle Davids, Dakota Garrison and last but not least Eve Carson, the most recent victim. The only thing they had in common was that they all lived in New York, except of Miss Carson, and were natural blondes, other than that there was no way to connect them. This fact was very disturbing and frustrated Quatre to no end, // There has to be something. Something just doesn't seem right, there had to be something else, but what?\\

~ Trowa was looking over the case file he had been given; in all of his years he had never seen anything like this. He had worked in the homicide division since he had been released from the academy, but he had never worked on case where the killer was so clever and had so many bodies in his wake. It was extremely perplexing; he couldn't imagine working on this for over two years and not wanting to kill someone himself. One thing he did know was that this guy thoroughly enjoyed what he was doing and didn't want to get caught.

He set the file to the side and let his thoughts drift to other matters. He hated this assignment, mainly because he hated having a partner. The little blonde was annoying and completely cramped his style and if Trowa was right he did everything by the book and probably didn't have one blemish on his disciplinary report; unlike Trowa who had a report sheet a mile and a half long, if not longer.

Looking over at his 'new partner' he could see that the little blonde was lost in thought. He looked like a little kid with the way he was slouching in his chair, brow furled, he almost looked like he was pouting. // How on earth could a he be a FBI Agent? He looks like a little baby, so young and almost innocent.\\ He looked around the room and the clock on the wall caught his attention; it was five-thirty. //Already? Finally I can escape this hellhole for the rest of the day.//

"Quatre?" he called to the man across from him. There was no response form the little blonde so he called again, this time with a little more force. "Quatre!?"

This time the blonde nearly jumped form his seat. "What?" he said trying his best not to kill the other man.

Trowa merely nodded at the clock and walked out the door. The footsteps behind him told him that the blonde was following. For some reason he felt like he was leading a puppy around by a leash and that's the last thing he needed or wanted, a pathetic little annoying puppy.

~*~

Once home, Trowa headed straight for his room; telling Quatre that he wasn't hungry and had other cases to work on. The truth being that he hadn't had an actual case assigned to him in over two years; ever since the accident. He had been mostly doing paper work and reports for the past two years and it was driving him insane. //Why did it have to happen to me?\\ Trowa wondered as he sat at his desk and stared out the window.

~*~

He had been sitting there for hours and the sun was finally setting when his stomach rumbled and he looked at the clock, 7:30. //Maybe I should go get something to eat?\\ He hadn't eaten since breakfast and he was starving, but he really didn't want to see the annoying blonde, even though he knew that Quatre probably wouldn't bother him. It was just that the small blonde made him uneasy and he didn't know why and he didn't like it one bit. So he opted to stay in his room and work on a nonexistent assignment for the rest of the evening.

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1) I make no claim to the Hallmark name and I'm not trying to offend anyone (I am truly sorry if I did).

Please review!!!! I really want to know what you think about this chapter (I wrote it in kind of a hurry). So do you like? Dislike? Want me to change something? I would really appreciate it. Thank you.

On a different note, Thank you everyone, who has reviewed, you are the reason I kept writing.