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Whistler sighed as he stared at the file in front of him. The large room around him was dark and he was alone. All the other officers had better things to do, such as chatting up the receptionist or getting their fourth cup of coffee. Glancing up from the papers, if only to give his eyes a moment of rest, he realized that he wouldn’t be here much longer. This room, that was. He would soon get his own little office. That had been part of the promotion. His own office, a slightly increased pay each month, and an impossible case. That was the case that he had in front of him now.
“Skyler Walker…” he mumbled quietly, turning his attention back to the file. The name was familiar and should be to every cop working in the station to this moderately big town in England. It was the early 1980s and Sky and his small gang were famous. So far only Sky’s name was known, along with two black and white photographs that claimed to depict the famous criminal. It was almost too classic. Something you read about in novels. A criminal and his gang pull off the burglary of the century. Only that this was real life, and Sky hadn’t been caught in over 2 years now.
‘The Walker Case’ laid spread over Whistler’s desk. It was a big file. Lots of burglaries and break ins believed to be performed by Sky and this mysterious unknown gang. Lots of policemen with high ranks had attempted to solve it, to catch this notorious criminal and enter history as the man who outsmarted Skyler Walker himself. All of them had failed. Sky was… illusive at best and invisible at worst. Like a ghost if a ghost often stole jewellery that was worth more than half of what a penthouse would cost. Whistler knew. He’d arrested a criminal that had bought a penthouse once. But that wasn’t really Sky’s deal. Or maybe it was. Hard to say.
Of course, when Sky eventually overwhelmed the best of cops with his stealth and incapability to resist playing mind games with the policemen on his case, the case was passed on. And passed on again and again until it ended up in Whistler’s hands. Some could call him an aspiring young constable, but that’s not entirely true. He was neither aspiring nor particularly young. Truth be told he was nearing 35. But maybe that counted as young compared to some.
With the file on his desk, he was expected to no longer do such trivial things like walk around the street on his beats. Part of him liked this change that the promotion was bringing. He’d have his own office and could focus on cases and criminals that actually mattered. Sure, he had done that before as well, but now it felt a lot more real. Personal, almost. Criminals came and went but Sky was consistent. Sky always had a pattern, it was just a bit difficult to pinpoint exactly what that was. The only thing Whistler knew for certain was that Sky wasn’t like any other criminal he had assisted in capturing or captured on his own, as promotions go.
Whistler directed his attention to the pictures. They both depicted a man, though in different settings. The first one had been taken by a young photographer at some kind of masquerade party. Not Whistler’s cup of tea, but nevertheless. The man in that photo had a very stylish Victorian masquerade mask on and a smug smile on his lips. The rest of his clothes were blurry thanks to some movement in the foreground but Sky’s face was clear. If that even was Sky. He had hair that ended where his neck started, by the looks of it. And it was standing in all directions, yet controlled. That was probably just for show. A very limited set of freckles were visible where the mask ended.
The other picture wasn’t too much help either. It was hard to see if they were even depicting the same person. This one was taken on the street and Sky wasn’t the centre of attention here. He looked to be unaware that the picture was being taken and was smiling much wider than he had been in the previous picture. His hair was covered up by some kind of sunhat and his clothes weren’t visible behind the other people in the picture. The only thing that was similar between the two pictures were those high cheekbones and a few freckles.
Sighing quietly, Whistler stood up from his desk and cracked his back. He had already stared himself half blind on those papers, there was no need to stay and get spine problems as well. His shift had ended almost an hour ago and he should really get home. Carefully placing all the papers back to where they should be in the folder, he took it with him. Normally, he’d just leave it in his desk, but he was moving to his own office tomorrow and didn’t want it to get lost. Whistler knew he wasn’t supposed to bring it with him, but the thought was very tempting. He settled for locking it up in his locker.
Reaching the changing room, Whistler was relieved to find it empty as well. Good. No one would see him locking the case file in his locker, and no one would ask questions which he didn’t have the energy to answer. Whistler glanced at the clock which was showing half past nine. It was late summer and dark outside. Damn, he had been here longer than he had thought. No matter though, really. It wasn’t like he had a girlfriend or wife waiting for him at home. Glancing at the mirror on the opposite wall of his locker, he was met with the same disappointing sight as the day before. And the day before that.
Whistler wasn’t glowing. Not one bit. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him, but it did tonight for some reason. Most of his colleagues were glowing. Mostly his seniors but the amount of people who had found their soulmate and were younger than him were increasing steadily. Whistler had often been called ‘married to his job’, but he didn’t exactly want it to stay that way forever. He sighed and stepped closer to the mirror, looking himself in the eyes and pulling slightly at his collar to expose more of his own neck. His friends had told him that the glow was really obvious. That the first time you meet the one, the room was lit up from the combined light emitted from something just underneath the two people’s skin. And after that, the person would always glow faintly. It was more noticeable in darker rooms and dimmed down when the person was sleeping. Whistler, for his part, remained humanly pale. Not ghostly white since he had been in the sun a fair amount during this past summer, but not even a hint of glow anywhere. Whistler couldn’t help but sigh quietly as he turned back to his locker, straightening out his uniform.
He gently closed the metal door to the small locker, ignoring his clothes that were hanging neatly inside it. They weren’t allowed to be out of uniform while they weren’t working, but Whistler often found that he thought better with it on. He could really use some thinking on the way home. And it wasn’t like any of his colleagues would tell on him, he knew they’d broken far worse rules than just wearing the uniform during the walk home. Normally, Whistler would have taken his bike. He lived near enough for that not to be an issue. Of course he’d take the car during the winters, but it seemed a bit unnecessary. If he wanted to stay in shape, which he did considering his occupation, a walk rarely hurt.
The streets were unusually quiet. It wasn’t that late, Whistler had expected to see a lot more people still out and about, or at the very least on their way home. But maybe a bit of silence wouldn’t hurt. He had a lot to think about after all. With finding his soulmate seeming more and more unlikely every single day, Whistler turned his attention back to his work. Sky and his gang had been quiet for a while now. He could understand that there was a lot that needed to be done when it came to selling the jewellery that had been stolen. And then maybe they didn’t want to endanger themselves by becoming too greedy. They had money to satisfy them for a while, but how much longer would that be the case? The police had to be prepared for everything. Whistler chuckled bitterly at the realisation that the reason this case had been passed on to him was so obvious.
The shiny black shoes kicked a small pebble as he walked, his attention not entirely there. He had walked home to his apartment many times. He knew the way and rarely had to focus on it, so the fact that his mind was slowly wandering didn’t worry him too much. The loud crash coming from an alleyway however, did. The policeman startled and stopped in his tracks, his head quickly turning to look towards where he had just heard the sudden sound. It was a bit hard to see since the street lights didn’t reach that far, but he could vaguely make out a couple of shadowy figures a bit further in. Up to no good, he bet. Well, what the hell. He was still in uniform, wasn’t he? He could at the very least check it out.
“Stop there!” Whistler called, his voice loud and unwavering. The shadowy figures froze as one, clearly not having expected to be spotted. Whistler stood in silence, waiting for something to happen. Anything. Anything that showed that these people weren’t honest people up to nothing good. And that happened pretty quickly. The tallest one gestured for the others to move it, and move they did. With unsuspected speed, the shadows started to climb up a ladder mounted on the wall of the building next to them. Whistler’s feet moved before he had to think about it. He was used to this. He knew how this goes.
“I said stop!” Whistler said, reaching out and grabbing onto the first person he reached. The others, there must have been four of them, had already escaped up the ladder and disappeared over the house roof. Whistler directed his attention to the person he had caught. A man, he could see that much. His shoulders were broad and his cheekbones were high. And that hair was… strangely fluffy.
“Sky?” Whistler mumbled, his eyes widening in surprise as he got used to the dim light. Ginger. Sky was ginger. Whistler should have guessed.
Skyler, for his part, seemed equally surprised that this random copper he’d never seen before knew his name. His mind worked quickly, like always, and connected that this copper must be the new one. He liked to stay updated on who was after him. Sky wasn’t above a good mind game.
Whistler’s hand tightened around Sky’s wrist, not about to let him go. He couldn’t believe his luck. He had found the Skyler Walker without even having been on the case for more than a week. A rare smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, but it was quickly wiped off his face when his eyes finally settled. Not that he got more used to the darkness than before. No, the space around them just got brighter. A lot brighter, as if a light bulb just got lit between them. Sky’s eyes widened even further, his expression shifting into something a lot more akin to dread.
Their eyes flickered down to each other’s chests, settling to the bright but not uncomfortable light being emitted from underneath their clothes. Sky’s glow was green. Whistler had always liked green… He then glanced down at himself. Orange. He wondered if that was Sky’s favourite colour. Judging by the limited knowledge he had of the glow, he would assume so. Their eyes met once more. Now neither of them were smiling. This… couldn’t be happening. There’s no way. Whistler couldn’t believe his luck… finding his glow after 35 years and his soulmate was a blasted master criminal.
“Oh… bugger,” Sky mumbled and pulled his hand away from Whistler’s grip. And Whistler, who had never been one to hesitate from action, found himself struck by how beautiful Sky’s voice was. Low, but not overly so, and that simple word carried a thick southern British accent that Whistler couldn’t help but like. Before he knew it, Sky was gone. He had escaped up the ladder. Where it another criminal, Whistler would have attempted to follow after him, but he knew that there was no point. Sky knew the whole town like the back of his hand. He would escape in the blink of an eye. Besides, Whistler wasn’t even on the clock at the moment. So he pushed his hands into his pockets and turned back towards the street, heading home. Now with even more to think about than before.
Getting home, Whistler got ready for bed. He ate a sandwich and brushed his teeth without looking at himself in the mirror. After locking the door and making sure that all the lights in his fairly large apartment were turned off, Whistler found himself partially undressed on the edge of his bed. The uniform shirt was neatly folded on one of the chairs in his bedroom so that he could wear it the next day. Whistler didn’t think much about that though. His eyes were directed at the skin of his own arm. The bright orange glow had dimmed when Sky had left, but he was still glowing. Faintly. Not enough for the light to keep him awake. But in the darkness of the room, it was there. A soft orange emitted from his skin. It was strongest at his chest and then gradually faded out over his limbs. A soft orange. A nice favourite colour to have, sure, but god damn would it clash with his dark blue uniform…
At the same time, Sky was frantically trying to cover up the green glow that was surrounding him. He was standing on the roof of the gang’s hideout and he knew that the rest of the gang would already be inside, counting the value of what they had managed to get their hands on. Green. God damn it, why did it have to be green? Now Sky would have to start wearing green to hide it and the gang would notice the change, of course. The gang, made up of four women in their 20’s to 30’s, would notice immediately.
“Shit…” he mumbled, hoping in vain that the green glow would be more hidden if he pulled the sleeves further over his arms. “A bloody copper…”
…
Whistler had never thought about the fact that he might like men. To be fair though, he’d barely given the concept of liking anyone much thought. Due to the soulmate thing and the glow and whatever, society had pretty much given up on dating. Scientists were starting to come to the conclusion that the glow didn’t appear until adulthood, so that still allowed for teenagers to do stupid teenager things, but Whistler had barely cared about girls and parties back then either. Strangely though, as he took his bike to work the next day after lunch, he found himself more upset at the fact that it was a criminal who was his soulmate, and the fact that it was a male criminal came as an afterthought and a shrug.
Whistler had barely met any homosexuals. He assumed that they existed somewhere. Clearly they must, if he had unknowingly been one of them this entire time. Most people he knew wouldn't share his simple opinion though, so he knew he better not tell anyone. Might be hard. People would notice how his forearms emitted an orange light as soon as he rolled up his sleeves, which he was very fond of doing while he was working.
Whistler was proven correct as soon as he stepped into the police station. Everything was so much more alive than it had been the night before. People were walking about in the main hall, meeting with people here to leave statements and talking about cases and asking about drinks after work. All of them with their own glow in their own colours. And suddenly Whistler was one of them. He tried to get to the changing rooms without leaving any room for anyone to interrupt him, but that didn’t quite work out. If there was anything he’d learned while working at the police station, it was that people were more perceptive than he’d like them to be.
“Michael!” Whistler froze at the hand on his shoulder. God, he hated his first name. Slowly turning around, he was met with the bright smile of one of his colleagues. Much younger than him, David had gotten his glow at the age of 22. He was the resident sunshine at the police station and Whistler didn’t actually have much against him other than the fact that he seemed to want to talk a bit too much for Whistler’s personal liking.
“You finally got your glow on!” Whistler attempted to give a small smile, appearing more nervous than anything. This had to remain a secret. Not the glow, that would be hard to hide, but who his soulmate was. No one could ever know. Not even his siblings back home in Bristol.
David took his nervous smile as confirmation and grinned even wider in return.
“Lucky you, then,” he said, patting Whistler’s shoulders a few times. Surely this man has some ulterior motives. He wants to suck up to me because I’ve been promoted, no doubt.
“Tell me, Michael. Is she a beautiful woman?”
“Eh…” Whistler trailed off. What was he going to say? He’d lie, of course, but how much could he make up while still sounding realistic. And, most importantly, would he consider Sky beautiful? He had honestly not thought about Sky like that, but maybe he had just kept himself too busy to do so.
“Yeah,” Whistler settled on, unable to hide how a slightly softer look flickered over his eyes for a split second. “Sure. Beautiful. And her green glow really… really suits her.”
“Yours is not so bad yourself!” David, ever the friendly little bastard, said, and Whistler shook his head, forcing his lips to pull into a good-natured smile. At the same time, he couldn’t deny how his back straightened ever so slightly. He would wear orange with pride.