Chapter Text
“So, that’s it then.”
The words that usurped out of Tom’s throat came breathlessly and flew with the wind it went. The man found himself seated in front of the lieutenant; separated by a sort of mahogany desk in a room that held a few things: a red and beige antique wallpaper that seemed to paint the walls in a quite delightful fashion, a dark gray carpet that ruffled at one’s feet whenever they walked, and shelves—book-shelves to be exact—alongside locked cabinets that seemed to hold vital information and secrets not yet revealed to the public. There were a couple illustrations too; painted by artists who were probably from the Renaissance era, but Tom was too preoccupied with his case to care about them at all. Not even the windows—which seemed to showcase that it was going to rain, judging by the gray clouds that seemed to shower the clear blue skies with a gloom that was approaching slowly. Perfect timing. The man, Tom, thought blankly, but he then continued with the words from earlier. “No speech, no letter, no nothing?” He debated. Surely they couldn’t close the case like that. They dealt with worse cases like these and they were all solved. The lieutenant gave him a solemn gaze; a rich frown plastered on their face. “No, Tom, I’m sorry.” They whispered; putting a paw on his own. “But we tried everything in our power, and nothing worked. Case closed.” At the statement the lieutenant issued, Tom shook his head, letting his stubbornness sift through his veins like a ravenous fire eating everything in its wake. “No.” He snapped, standing up and slamming his paws on the surface of the desk. “Is there some way you could try and reopen the case again? Surely there’s some clues you missed. Surely not all is lost.”
“I can’t reopen a case that’s already been closed. For goodness’ sake, Tom, you—”
“So what? For all we know, my partner is still out there. You’re just going to stop searching for him?”
“It’s been seventeen months, Tom. There’s no way a person’s missing for that long. By now, your partner is dead and probably never coming back.”
As the words pierce his warm tender flesh, the man, Tom, just stares. A second passes, then a minute. And then some. A sinking weight drops in his chest as he processes the words. Your partner is dead and probably never coming back. “No.” Tom’s voice nearly makes himself jump out of his own skin. “No, you’re wrong.” He closes his eyes; feeling his nerves swell with a somber mass. “If you won’t search for him, I will.” He murmurs curtly, pushing the radish-coloured chair to the side as he makes his way towards the door.. Before composing his leave, he stops halfway ahead of the doorframe; rolling his paws into tight fists. “You owe me 20 bucks if I find him.” A pause. “Mark my words.” Then as his form steps outside, the door behind him slams shut.
The night sky was already glistening overhead by the time the man had descended outside, and the intestines of the town were damp from the pouring deluge that pounded heavily on the pavement. Darkness shrouded his vision as he walked, and the billowing light that casted over his head was a guide leading him blindly towards an unknown destination. As Tom wandered aimlessly, he could feel a swarm of thoughts bubbling in the deepest depths of his mind. Stupid PSCD. Stupid case. Why even bother? A hissy whisper slithered in his mind and he shuddered at its weight. They won’t find your partner, and neither will you. The man could feel a silent anger rile up behind his eyes, and taking keen measures to contain it, a couple of heaved breaths gasped out of his system; forcing him to stay cordial and rational in his situation. Calm down, his monologue instructed, this isn’t what Will would’ve wanted. At the mention of his partner mingling deep in his thoughts, Tom’s ears flattened. Right. He sullenly clears his throat as the cold and unfamiliar wave of heaviness washes over him, and comes to a halt at a nearby wall; giving him time to rest and ponder what he should do now.
…Suddenly, a flash of lightning startles Tom out of his trance, forcing him to unveil a path leading east to an alleyway in his reach; where Tom discovers a pair of dumpsters standing against brick walls, and a couple of stray cats rummaging about the area. Curious as to see what was so interesting about all this, the man decided to investigate the dumpsters that remained in the area.
So he did.
Opening the lid, the man, Tom, finds himself burrowing throughout the mound of things in the bin; mostly plastic bottles, food leftovers, and metal scraps and pieces. There was nothing apart from the ordinary except… hold on. As Tom’s eyes squinted to discard the darkness surrounding his sight, he could make out what seemed to be a head, body, and limbs.
His eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at.
A person. He was looking at a person. There’s a person in this dumpster.
A mixture of confusion and terror crossed the man’s face as he registered the silhouette in the bin. A swarm of questions which met with no answers seemed to circle his head like vultures hovering around a dead carcass. One thing was clear: he had to do something. “Hey!” He called out to the supposed outline in the bin. “You awake?” Despite the shouts that Tom seemed to holler, the person did not stir nor twitch at the noise, and the man’s stoic nature wavered; giving way to worry. Glancing around again to ensure there was an absence of a presence nearby, Tom did what any good man would do: take the person under his wing. He dove into the trunk of the bin, and steadily pulled whoever was in there into his arms.
He looked at the sidewalk in front of him. His head shifted to the east; pondering on his actions.
Take ‘em home. His paternal instinct hushed in his ears. His eyes narrowed at the whisper, and his feet carried him forth on the path.
Home shouldn’t be far off.