Chapter Text
Upon entering the apartment, Mickey noticed the high ceilings, the many paintings hanging on the walls, the luxurious furnishings carefully arranged in the rooms, and the many photos in which the owner of the place was exhibited alongside influential people or in extraordinary places.
Although Mickey usually paid very little attention to this sort of thing, it was impossible for him in this case to get over it, and the reason for coming here made him pay all the more attention to the smallest details.
There was no doubt that the owner of the place had money and that he was not trying to hide it, quite the contrary.
Mickey let out a small chuckle when his gaze fell on the many pieces of equipment on the kitchen counter open to the living room.
This guy must have spent a hundred times more money on kitchen equipment than Mickey in his entire life. Very little difficult feat in reality since the only element making up Mickey's kitchen was a microwave too old to function more than 3 minutes without exploding.
Although it was not the most reliable and up-to-date piece of equipment, it was more than enough for him since he had never eaten anything other than a ready-made meal since he moved into this apartment.
Mandy rolled her eyes each time she was in his kitchen, swearing to anyone who would listen that her brother would end up obese and diabetic before he turned 40.
Unfortunately for her, until now Mickey had managed to make her lie, maintaining a perfectly decent weight, and surprisingly good health.
He knew he could thank his job for it, and that the day he stopped running right-to-left all day on top of his regular workouts, he would have to seriously question his way of life..
A small noise behind him drew him from his thought, reminding him at the same time of the reasons for his coming.
He continued to walk into the apartment, taking a careful look around him.
Entering the bedroom he immediately saw Myles, but quickly his eye was caught by something else.
At the foot of his colleague and friend was a huge red pool staining the carpet.
“Fuck!”
Myles was amused by Mickey's immediate and genuine reaction, which summed up the situation rather well. He knew they would have been entitled to a lot more curses if Mickey had arrived before the body was removed.
“The body has just been taken away and the suspect is waiting for us at the station.”
Mickey frowned in surprise that they already had a suspect in custody.
He had been called an hour earlier, leaving very little time to investigate the crime scene and find a suspect.
Living on the other side of town he couldn't have made it any quicker, leaving Myles to make the initial research.
Of course he had every confidence in his colleague to start working without him, but if he managed to wrap up his investigations so quickly when he was not by his side he would end up having questioned the need to his participation.
Myles knew that if Mickey was silent it was because his brain was busy, a theory quickly validated by the frown he displayed.
While Mickey couldn't really be considered a naturally talkative person, under certain conditions he was. Firstly when he was drunk, letting some information leak out without realizing it, but also when he was working.
In this second scenario, Mickey had gotten into the habit of commenting on everything he saw or came across to make sure nothing was left out.
"The suspect was found here, just near the body, covered in blood."
Taken from his reflection by his friend's statement, Mickey let out a small laugh, reassured by the idea that Myles' advance was ultimately more due to fluke than a better thinking in his absence.
"I was afraid for a second, I thought you had become a good cop."
Mickey laughed even more when Myles answered him with a bombastic middle finger.
Their first meeting had been most chaotic, each having trouble dealing with the character of the other.
But since then, Myles had been much more open to what he still called Mickey's linguistic exuberances and Mickey learned from his colleague that it was sometimes easier to obtain the desired information by avoiding swearwords and above all if the witnesses did not feel threatened.
Although he was proud of his work and what he had become, Mickey still hoped that no one around him would be around when he cheered his usual character to copy Myles's.
"You could have taken care of this investigation on your own then. Why didn't you just let me sleep?"
“You’re right. And I could even have brought you breakfast home and massaged your feet after I finished the investigation.”
Mickey was torn between fun and disgust at the mention of this hypothetical situation.
He wouldn't mind having breakfast delivered to him at home, but he couldn't see himself letting Myles put his hands on his body, even if it was just his feet.
He tried to push the disturbing idea out of his mind before his imagination ran too far and he could never erase those images from his memories again.
"Who is the victim?"
“John Wells, 56, psychiatrist.”
“A shrink?”
“Psychiatrist and shrink are two different things.”
“Tweedledum tweedledee.”
Myles just rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Mickey would never admit he was wrong.
“I think we can go talk to our suspect. The places have already been photographed from all angles, everything is in the report. ”
Mickey nodded absently trying to record everything he could see into his memory.
He tried to memorize the location of each object, the possible exits, but also all the small details that would allow him to better understand the victim and perhaps undermine a false alibi.
Knowing all too well that Mickey had it for a moment, Myles just walked past him out of the bedroom.
He quickly got out of the apartment, giving some additional instructions to the officers remaining at the scene, before descending to his car to make himself comfortable.
Although at first glance Mickey seemed far from the typical portrait of the good cop, he was much closer to it than many of the men and women Myles had worked with.
Certainly he was not perfect, he was rude, sometimes too virulent or violent, but every day he tried to do better than the previous one and to erase a little more the bad habits he had acquired before entering the police.
He forced himself at each investigation to examine the crime scenes himself, even if the scene had already been inspected by many officers and recorded in the file. He thus hoped not to miss any decisive clue.
Myles turned on the radio, letting an air of jazz fill the cabin of the vehicle and closed his eyes hoping to use this moment to catch up on some of the sleep he lacked.
He opened his eyes again when he heard Mickey sit next to him. The radio was now playing a very different song, but still far removed from the likes of Mickey who turned it off quickly.
They hadn't found any music they both liked, their tastes being too different, forcing them run with the radio turned off every day.
Myles started the car and pulled the car into the traffic.
“Let me do a recap since you were late… John Wells’s brother was supposed to meet him at the hotel cafe next to the apartment. He didn’t come and the brother got worried. He knocked on his door but got no answer, however he could hear his brother's phone in the apartment. Worried he called the janitor who opened the apartment, and they found our suspect still asleep next to the body. "
"Sleeping?!? Who commits murder and falls asleep next to the body? ”
“I know it’s strange… But there is quite a bit of evidence against him. The blood stains on his clothes, the knife with his prints… ”
“I dunno… I feel like it's too simple.”
Myles let out a small laugh.
“Sorry our investigations didn’t live up to your expectations. But I understand what you mean. ”
It was very rare to find the murderer, murder weapon and evidence directly next to the body, and in this case the only thing missing was a big knot above all of this evidence served on a platter.
However, they could not exonerate their suspect just because the case seemed too simple.
* - * - *
"And here's m&m's coming up."
Mickey took a deep breath when he heard one of his colleagues repeat for the thousandth time the same joke, always so stupid and racist.
Although he would never agree to confess it with those terms, Myles was as short as he was, and had the misfortune of being surrounded by racist colleagues.
Myles must have restrained Mickey the first time he heard someone call them that, and time hadn't helped him endure the mockery anymore, especially since he had come to know and appreciate Myles.
“Don’t pay attention to them. You know very well that they are only waiting for it. "
Even though he hated to admit it, Mickey knew Myles was right and that taking it out on these guys would be the worst idea in the world and that he would certainly lose his job if he did.
No one would ever bet to find Mickey Milkovich in a police station other than in custody, and yet he liked his job.
After being arrested for damage to private property, Mickey was surprised to discover that the car he had vandalized belonged to a judge.
The latter had come to see him at the police station and offered him a deal he never thought he would hear. Become a cop or suffer the repercussions of his actions.
Mickey looked at the judge in astonishment, unable to accept what she had just offered him. Reaction which had all the more comforted Lyn in her choice.
She wanted to become a judge after witnessing the young people in her neighborhood driven by poverty to commit crimes without anyone helping them find other solutions.
She had seen in Mickey the same look she had seen in these young people and had not wanted to abandon him.
She had been positively surprised to learn that he had already reached the 60 semester hours required to enter the police academy. And she had used her connections to help Mickey get all the other conditions despite his past, and was relieved to see Mickey complying with her demands.
Several times Mickey had thought about giving up, but each time he had held on, remembering that Lyn was one of the only, if not the only, person who wanted to help him.
He had already had someone by his side to motivate him and believe in him. It was actually that person who had pushed him to do that first year of college. But it was also the same person who had made him give it all up and let off steam on whatever he found, including Judge Lyn Paolo's car.
Now that time was far behind him.
Since then he had managed to get into the police force and prove himself, at least to Lyn and Myles. He had also succeeded in becoming an inspector, by happy combination of circumstances and the support of his new friends, and had been able to officially team up with Myles.
Myles grabbed the file held out by the agent in front of him and opened it to study the details, letting the man give them a summary of the situation.
“The guy you arrested had no identity papers with him but his fingerprints were recorded after an arrest. He had been arrested by colleagues but escaped trial when his family pleaded insanity. ”
Myles lifted his head from the file to fix his gaze on the young cop and ask intrigued.
“Insanity?”
“He's bipilar or something like that-”
"Bipolar."
Mickey felt two glances fall on him, but he preferred to remain silent rather than explain to them how he knew about this disease, which all too quickly reminded him of someone he wanted at all costs to forget.
Easily realizing that Mickey would not continue, the young policeman resumed his explanation, a little embarrassed after being corrected in this way.
"He's a weirdo. He started having a crisis when we started questioning him, struggling and screaming that he hadn't done anything. We couldn't get anything out of him. All we know is the guy who died was his shrink. They probably did a session at home and that went wrong."
Mickey fixed his gaze on the young policeman, obviously proud, and stayed that way until the latter looked down and muttered a few words before stepping away from them.
Myles looked up from the file and finally noticed their colleague's departure before turning to Mickey accusingly.
"What?!?"
"Nothing... I just wonder why you don't have more friends here with your lovely behavior."
Mickey chuckled and scratched the tip of his nose with the back of his thumb before pointing out to Myles that he hadn’t more friends here than him.
Having nothing to say, Myles just smiled sadly.
Mickey still didn't understand how a guy like Myles couldn’t have any friend among their coworkers. At least if we took out of the equation the fact that many of these cops were racist and that those who were not did not want to denote in front of their colleagues and therefore preferred to imitate them.
“Do you know this disease well? Bipolarity? ”
“Just the basics. Patients have enormous ups and downs… Much like everyone else, but in a much more difficult version. Like total depression with attempted suicide. Or when they think they can do anything and lose balance with reality. Like crossing the country with your kids and leaving them on the edge of the sea road to continue the adventure with a truck driver you have just met and you think are your soulmate. "
Myles stared at Mickey for a few seconds, who immediately understood that it hadn't been very smart of him to cite such specific examples.
"Can they be violent?"
"Yes, it can happen. They are not more violent than others, but can hurt themselves or others without realizing it."
Mickey's response was swift and final. He had seen with his own eyes what this disease could do to someone and what that person could do to those around them if they did not treat themselves.
“To the point of killing someone?”
"If they are not treated maybe... If they are treated the medication should calm their moods enough so that it doesn't happen."
Myles closed the suspect's file and said with a confident voice.
"Okay. We're going to have to request access to his medical records."
It was the first time Myles had heard of this disease.
Mickey seemed much more in the know, but looked very reluctant to share his sources, which would force him to do some research.
He didn't want to presume this man's guilt, but after finding him at the scene of the crime, his clothes stained with blood, his fingerprints on the murder weapon, the odds of him being innocent were very slim.
"Good cop, bad cop?"
“I guess I'm playing the god one...”
Mickey grinned at his friend's remark. They had once tried to switch roles and it had been a fiasco. Myles was not credible as a bad cop, and Mickey's annoyment manifested too quickly for him to pass himself off as the good cop.
Myles smirked as she thought back to the same memory as Mickey, vowing never to do it again.
He took a deep breath, trying to hide all his emotions before stepping into the interrogation room. Even if he had to make the suspect believe he was on his side, he couldn't afford to let any information shine through.
He opened the door and smirked as he walked into the room, leaving the door open for Mickey.
"Mr. Gallagher, I am Detective Myles Holland and I am in charge of the murder of John Wells-"
“I didn't kill him!”
If Mickey still had doubts, after hearing Ian's voice he could no longer deny the facts. The man in that room was the man who broke his heart.