Chapter Text
“Don’t you want to go outside and play with your friends, honey?”
He peered up at the curve of his mother's delicate neck from where he was cradled in her arms. Lately, her skin had been feeling more patchy and stretched thin. A few nights before, his big sister Pink had dragged him out of his bed from their shared room and crept to the top of the staircase, listening to their parents yell.
“You’ve been cooped up inside all week.”
It was about him. Everything always seemed to be about him. He still remembered York’s tearful face when their father snapped at him for not cleaning up his toys. He was just so little, how could he have known?
“Flowery, are you listening to me, doll?”
He remembers a man. Taller than his father, with broad, even shoulders. Trying to conjure a picture of his face felt like grasping at smoke. He remembers a necklace, hard iron. His mother grabbing him by the wrist and running away, hair whipping in the wind.
“I need you to listen carefully to what I’m saying.”
His parents fought again that night. Pink didn’t try to eavesdrop, just sat stone still next to York. There was the sound of something shattering. Soft footsteps. His father quietly opened their bedroom door, and informed them they were moving to New York before the end of the week.
“I know you can hear me! You fucking bitch! I know you can!”
He was twenty-four, and mad at the world. Olivia’s hand was small and warm, but the mottled bruises that ran up her arm were old and ugly. He strode down the hallway of the apartment complex, feeling her stumble a bit as she tried to keep up on her short legs. He was too numb to care. They won’t ever see her again. I’ll kill them if they try.
“Don’t you go near him! Don’t you fucking go near him! You-”
He never really knew what his plan was that night. To tear Olivia from the clutches of his parents and sue them for all they were worth, maybe. Or go to Pink, and convince them to skip cities, just like when they were little. In the end, he never got to decide.
The carpet was red. Scarlet was sopped and crusted into the bristles to the point that no amount of scrubbing would ever fully remove it. He traced the pools of blood to its owners. His father’s face was twisted into limp horror, his eyes pressing out of their sockets. His mother’s lips were still moving.
“Wake up.”
—
With a start, he shot straight up off his desk. He heard a grunt behind him.
“Sleeping on the job again, Floradinn?” His boss, Commissioner Castle, was a rather unpleasant man, but that seemed to go without saying, considering he was the current director of the New York City police department.
Flowery clutched his head, wincing at the resounding aches of pain. “Nope! Just… super deep in paperwork, you know how it is.” He desperately tried to remember what his dream was about, but all that came to mind was a foggy image of his late mother’s favorite necklace. Weird. I think Pink inherited that one, after…
“I’ve been getting a lot of complaints about you, you know. People ‘round here are starting to get a little sick of your antics.” The commissioner glared down at the scattered papers on his desk. “You’re just a detective, dime-a-dozen in this shithole of a city. It wouldn’t be too hard to send you packing.”
He felt a spike of panic and snapped to his feet. “Sir! Swear on my life, it won’t happen again! I’ll do overtime if I have to, but I really need this job!” The last thing he wanted right now was to have to find another job, especially with how much time and effort he’s thrown into the NYPD.
Commissioner Castle sighed. “I hope you don’t think I fucked all the way downstairs just to give you a slap on the wrist. No, I have something I want you to look into. Follow me.”
Flowery fell into step besides his boss. “You don’t usually ‘fuck all the way downstairs’ to give someone a case, either.”
“Don’t give me lip, boy!” He snapped. “Shut your trap and you’ll see in a second why I came to fetch you.”
He shut his trap. Christ, what an asshole. They walked the rest of the hall in silence, then entered the building’s creaky old elevator, brushing by some sweaty intern who was already exiting. The commissioner slammed his knuckle on the button for the top floor, where the slimy higher-ups kept their offices. Just what is this about? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen the top floor before.
His boss grunted, and gestured towards a door labeled NYPD Police Chief Commissioner. “Through here. Siddown in the empty chair and don’t antagonize him.”
“Wha- antagonize who?” He was pushed into the office before he could ask for further clarification. Already seated in one of the cheap folding chairs facing the desk was none other than his coworker and rival, Detective Anthony.
—
“You’re telling me I have to partner with this guy?” Anthony groused. If there was one thing Flowery hated about the man in particular, it was how fast his normal happy-go-lucky demeanor switched to one of a total dick whenever Flowery entered the room. Anthony’s usual detective partner, a rough around the edges man named Spam, only seemed to add fuel into the fire.
“Oh, what’s so bad about that?” Flowery snapped. “Am I not as short as your usual type?”
Anthony flushed bright red. “Don’t you dare! You have no right to be going around gossiping about other people’s relationships, so keep Spam out of this!”
“I never mentioned Spam.” He said with a grin of satisfaction. He knew he was being a jerk, but sue him. The commissioner was well aware they had never gotten along very well to begin with, so why the hell was he assigning them on a case together?
Commissioner Castle massaged his temples from across the desk. “This isn’t up for debate. I’ve pulled you two from your regular work because you’re the best fitted for this job, and you two knuckleheads haven’t even let me tell you what fucking case you’re gonna be working first!” He glared at Flowery. “Don’t forget you’re on thin ice, Floradinn. People have still been filing complaints about your conduct, and I take that very seriously.”
Anthony conspicuously looked away with a smirk. Flowery resisted the urge to leap up and strangle him. Urgh, you spit in a guy’s coffee once and all of a sudden he actually starts using the complaint box. Nobody around here uses the fucking complaint box!
The commissioner reached into the filing cabinet underneath his desk and pulled out a thick folder. “For the record, you’re definitely partners on this one. And if I catch wind of any scuffle between you two-” He jabbed a finger at Flowery, “You’re fired!” He turned to Anthony, “And you can kiss that promotion goodbye!”
Anthony winced. Flowery eyed him. This totally blows. How the hell am I going to be able to keep the peace when I have to work with this asshole? Commissioner Castle cracked open the folder and started spreading its contents out on the desk. Intrigued, Flowery leaned in and studied the various scraps of newspaper and files. There were old newspaper clippings, some dating up to twenty years back, and a couple pictures of grisly crime scenes. In fact, it almost looked similar to-
He slammed down hard on that train of thought and tried to listen to what Anthony was saying.
“Fasinating, truly fascinating. I mean, some of these killings date back all the way to the 2000s! With all due respect, boss, this job seems way bigger than us.”
The commissioner snorted. “You think I want the feds all up on my ass about this? Last time the government got in on one of our cases, they just screwed around and took all the credit for my hard work! It’s not gonna happen again, no sirree!” Point made, he leaned back in his chair with a creak and put his arms behind his head. Flowery rolled his eyes, and caught a glimpse of Anthony doing the same. They quickly turned away from each other.
Flowery started shuffling through some of the papers, pausing when he came across the file for the alleged killer. There wasn’t a ton of information to go off of, but what really caught his eye was the single picture that had been taken of the man. Something about his face looked familiar, but when he tried to place a finger on it, it felt as if his head was filled with smoke. He blinked. Weird.
Anthony peered over his shoulder at the file. “This is the guy? There’s not a lot on him, for such a… successful killer. Is he not on record anywhere?”
The commissioner grunted. “Nope. It’s like this asshole was never even born. A damn miracle we even have that photo, but it doesn’t help us identify someone who apparently ‘never existed’. And quit yer’ whining, there’s plenty of info on him in there. Every single one of his victims and how they died. He had a certain way of taking people out, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. He gets their eyes all buggy and it's like their brains pretty much melt. Our autopsy specialists say they’ve never seen anything like it.”
Flowery turned away. He felt a little sick, which was unusual for him, because he’s investigated some pretty brutal deaths before. Melting brains… eyes all bugged out…
A thought occurring to him, he started quickly scanning all the names that appeared on the list of victims. His parent’s names were nowhere to be found. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Anthony watched him sift through the papers with a weird expression on his face. “Why are we partners on this?” He asked again. “There’s got to be a better pair.” Flowery didn’t look up, but he could feel Anthony’s careful scrutiny. He flushed.
Commissioner Castle leaned back even further in his chair. “I need people with good experience in murder cases for this. Your little partner,” he sneered, “Has only ever worked with theft. Floradinn here is a much better fit.” He flicked his eyes open and trained them on Anthony. “Who knows? If you can manage this job, then I might be impressed enough to give you that promotion you’ve been aching for.”
Anthony looked down, unusually subdued. Flowery crossed his arms. I’m literally right here! I bet the commissioner would sooner eat his own hat than give me a promotion. He sighed, and made a move to stand up. “Well, if that’s all you need me for, then I’m going home. My shift is over, anyways.”
Anthony jumped at the reminder and checked his watch. “Oh no, I’m late to-” He cut himself off, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair and shuffling it on. He paused when he came face to face with Flowery. “Let’s exchange numbers. We’re going to need to if we’re going to be… working together.” He looked miserable at the thought.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited there, Romeo.” He scribbled down his number on the corner of the case file, then tore it off and handed it to Anthony, ignoring the commissioner's exclamation, “Hey!” Anthony stuffed it in his pocket and nodded sharply at him before speed walking out the door.
With a sigh, Flowery gathered up all of the scattered papers and stuffed them back into the folder, tucking it under his arm. He glanced at the clock. I think York is still working right now, I should swing by after dropping this off at home. He turned to bid the commissioner goodbye, but decided against it when he saw that he had taken a phone call, waving him off. As he headed back towards the elevator, he heard a faint, “Yeah, Lance. I’ll pick you up soon.”
—
Flowery stood outside the film studio that he was 98% sure York was working at today. His little brother’s job as a stuntman was pretty hectic, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him a little nervous to hear about it: York usually worked under a contract with some hotshot actor who did a ton of western action flicks, so he always had stories about horseback riding and gun fights to relay. Flowery had already swung by his apartment to drop off the file, so he figured he’d visit while he had a moment of free time.
After their parents had passed in the accident, the question of who would take custody of Olivia arose. Pink had put her foot down and absolutely refused the prospect of putting her in foster care, especially after the full picture of their parent’s abuse of Olivia came into light. Flowery had attempted to take custody, but the courts ruled him as too… unstable in the wake of their parents death. York ended up being the one to look after her, which was probably for the best, considering that after Olivia got released from school, he could pick her up and take her with him to his job.
The cool air of the building was a relief as he skirted a path around cameras and other filming equipment. He saw Olivia sitting on an office chair next to some poor intern, jabbering their ear off about her ‘big sister Pink’.
“Hey, kiddo! Where’s York at?” Olivia squealed in delight at his sudden presence, instantaneously moving on to ignore the intern, who quickly excused themself with a thankful glance at him.
“He’s just over there! He said he’s about to do a cool trick!” She pointed across to the opposite side of the massive room, where York was currently being yelled at by the director. He sighed. This isn't going to be good for my heart.
He took up the empty seat the intern left behind and let his head fall back. “So, how was your day at school today? Make any friends?”
Olivia stuck her tongue out. “Nobody wants to talk to me! It’s seriously so unfair! The teacher keeps telling me that I can’t just force people to play with me, but what does she know?”
He sighed. “You’ll get the hang of it, Livvy. Trust me. And if anyone is ever giving you a hard time, you tell one of us, got it?” She nodded distractedly, turning her focus to someone behind him.
“Now then, this is quite a surprise! I can’t say we were expecting you, dear.”
Flowery hopped up from his seat, startled. “Blake! I didn’t know you were hanging around here! I thought you had a performance tonight? It’s good to see you anyhow.” Blake had been with his brother for the past year or so, and Flowery was getting quite fond of the guy. It was good for Olivia to have multiple pillars of support in her life, he reasoned.
Blake, who was holding a paper cup of tea, smiled good naturedly at him. “Unfortunatley, my show was cancelled due to concerns over the structural integrity of the concert hall. Such is the way of the ballet! I don’t suppose you’re planning on accompanying us home tonight?”
He shook his head. “I’d love to, but I have some work related issues I have to sort out first. Just wanted to drop by and see how everyone is doing!” He ruffled Olivia’s hair.
Blake hummed, and took a sip of his tea. “Well, you’re just in time for the big event! My darling York always does such a fine job on these shots; if I was the director I’d just replace the main actor with him entirely!” He tipped his head towards the set, where York was currently standing on top of a railcar, decked out in a cowboy hat and boots. Flowery stifled a laugh, lest Blake hear him. Another western, I suppose.
“Action!” The director shouted. Flowery looked on in slight anxiety as York leapt from the railcar headfirst then rolled to his feet, all while angling his back to the camera to make himself indistinguishable to the main actor. It was quite impressive, especially considering the fall from the top of the railcar was around 12 feet. He’s going to develop some killer back pain someday!
After someone checked on York to make sure that ‘future killer back pain’ didn’t become ‘present killer back pain’, there was some commotion as people started to pack up camera equipment and clean up the set for the night. York noticed them from across the room and waved cheerily, jogging up. “Hey, guys! Ya’ didn’t tell me you’d be here, Flo!”
Blake pressed a chaste kiss to York’s cheek, ignoring Olivia’s exclamation of disgust. “Yes, Flowery here was just explaining that he’d decided to drop by before departing once again to take care of some other business."
York looked a little crestfallen. “Ya’ don’t want to stay the night, then? We have a pullout couch for a reason, Flo! We could have a family game night!”
Flowery sighed. “You know how much I’d love that, but something kind of urgent just came up at work. I need to sort a few things out with someone tonight.”
York frowned. “Don’t tell me ya’ got assigned another case. Ya’ know how much Pink hates it when ya’ start neglecting to take care of yourself and running around at asscrack o-clock tryna’ get a lead.” Olivia giggled at the expletive. Blake raised an eyebrow at York, who grinned back sheepishly.
Flowery was getting kind of tired just thinking about that conversation. “Look, how about we grab some takeout from that Thai place across the street and I’ll tell you all about it over an early dinner?”
—
Grabbing an early dinner was an absolutely terrible suggestion, he thought, burying his head in his arms amidst Blake and York’s laughter.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Flo! We just wanna know how ya’ got this guy to hate ya’ so much in the first place!” York tried to sneak some stir fry off of his plate, gesturing loudly as if that would somehow make him not notice the blatant thievery.
Flowery slapped his hand away. “I didn’t ‘get’ him to hate me! He’s a total dick, I swear! I mean, who even holds a grudge that long?”
Blake pushed his plate towards York, who had been eyeing it after Flowery shut down his stir fry aspirations. “I don’t believe you’ve told me the full story. From what I’ve heard, this ‘Anthony’ sounds like a rather pleasant man. Why such animosity?”
Flowery glanced at Olivia, who had fallen asleep on the table after wolfing down her food. Probably for the best, this isn’t exactly setting a great example for her. “I mean, he was nice enough when I first met him. Actually, he’s still a real charmer to everyone else in the department except me, which is infuriating, by the way!”
He paused for a second to gauge their reactions. Blake was listening intently, resting his elbows on the table. York, who had surely heard the story by now, was trying to make a card tower out of sugar packets. Flowery cracked a smile. They really couldn’t be any more different…
“Well, it was about a month after I was officially promoted to being a detective. Anthony was always pretty mixed up with this guy named Spam, right? Well, I didn’t know that at the time. I kind of insulted him pretty badly to Anthony’s face-which he totally deserved, by the way-and Anthony just sort of… yelled at me in front of everyone.”
Blake blinked at him. “Well, that’s certainly unfortunate, but nothing a simple apology wouldn’t fix, no?”
Flowery sighed. “That’s where it got worse. Spam caught wind of everything, and started antagonizing me, and then I would kind of spit in his coffee.” He winced at how childish it sounded. “And then, get this, Anthony was super pissed when he caught me doing that once. I think he actually started stealing a few of my lunches? We've had a… healthy rivalry since then.”
Blake placed a dignified hand over his mouth. Initially, Flowery thought he was expressing sympathy to his situation before he realized he was just laughing at him. York flicked over his sugar packet tower and visibly tried to force down a smile. ‘Tried’ being the operative word.
“What? Is there something on my face?” He was absolutely positive there was nothing on his face.
York finally cracked and all out laughed, which in turn made Blake lose his composure even more. Blake finally giggled, “I’m truly sorry for laughing, dear, but this ‘rivalry’ of yours is just so…” He trailed off with a smile.
“What!”
“Juvenille!” Blake made an effort to compose himself, glancing fondly down at York, who was splayed out on the table in a mirror of Olivia.
Flowery huffed and leaned back in his chair. “No matter how ‘juvenile’ it is, I’m still going to have to put up with this guy on my next case! I work way better alone, the commissioner knows that.”
York tilted his head up. “Right, I almost forgot about that. What’s the case? It’s not too dangerous, right?”
“I’ll be fine. We’re trying to track down some murderer, nothing new for my line of work.” He decided to spare York the grisly details. Melting brains… Eyes all bugged out…
York frowned, but nodded. “If ya’ say so. Just make sure ya’ tell Pink at one point, I’d feel way better with her keeping an eye out for ya’.”
He rolled his eyes. Pink ‘keeping an eye out’ for him was about the last thing he wanted right now, but a thought occurred to him. He glanced at Olivia again to make sure she was still asleep before he brought up the shaky topic of their parents. “York, do you remember ma’s old necklace? The iron one, with the garnet set into it?”
The creases between York’s eyebrows deepened. “That’s kinda sudden. Why do ya’ mention it?”
“I’m not really sure. I just… had a thought about it earlier, wanted to know if you had any idea where it ended up.” He scratched the back of his head, feeling like he was doing something wrong, however ridiculous that notion was.
York studied his expression. “I'm pretty sure Pink has it,” he said carefully, “Ma never wrote a will or anything, so she ended up with most of her jewelry, I think.”
Flowery nodded uncomfortably. I thought so. Maybe I should ask Pink about it later.
The cheery mood the table had before felt a little dulled. Blake whispered something to York, who nodded and focused back on him. “Ya’ feeling okay, though? Nothing to report?”
Flowery winced. This was the exact opposite of what he’d wanted. His siblings tended to walk on thin ice with him about their parent’s passing; after all, he was the one who first made the discovery that they had died. His memory was still a bit patchy from around that time, but Pink had told him he’d apparently been insisting over and over again that what happened hadn’t been an accident, and had talked about really disturbing things for days on end. Even now, a part of me still belives…
He shook himself from his thoughts and smiled as reassuringly as he could to York. “I’m right as rain! Worry about yourself a little more, with all your crazy stunts. Speaking of, it's probably about time for me to go, anyways.” He stood up from his chair quickly and pulled a couple bills out of his wallet. “This should cover most of dinner!”
York made a sad face at him. “You could still stay over, ya’ know. We wouldn’t mind!”
Flowery gave Olivia a quick peck on the cheek, careful not to disturb her. “I would, but I have to go talk with Anthony after this, remember?”
York dramatically fell back onto Blake’s lap as if he’d been shot. “I rememberrrr.”
Flowery chuckled, then tipped his head goodbye to Blake. “I’ll call you guys soon, I promise!” Turning heel out of the restaurant, he hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address to his apartment. He really didn’t want to go see Anthony in person again today, so a phone call was going to have to do.
—
For all of his talk about calling Anthony, it occurred to him once he actually stepped foot in his apartment that he was the one who gave Anthony his number, and not vice versa. Real smooth, Flowery. We have off from work for the next two days, too! How the hell am I going to be able to get a hold of him now?
He stared at his phone in silence for a minute before shrugging and setting it down on his countertop. Not like he really wanted to talk to the guy anyway. They could discuss plans for how they were going to catch their perp some other time. What he could really use right now was a cup of tea and a shower.
He set a kettle on the stove to brew some green tea-his personal favorite-and decided to wash up while the water heated up. A bit of a fire hazard, yes, but his stove was barely in working order, so it’d probably take a good twenty minutes to bring the pot to a boil anyway. No harm in multitasking!
He was just about to wash the shampoo out of his hair when he heard his ringtone faintly through the bathroom door. Ugh, I should probably make sure that’s not someone important. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he tip-toed his way back to the kitchen, being careful not to slip. It was an unknown caller ID, but worth checking out just to be safe.
A crackle on the other end, before a voice he was unfortunately very familiar with sounded. “Hello?”
He glanced at the kettle on the stove with a sigh. “Hey, Anthony. I was actually hoping you’d call, I forgot to ask you for your number back.”
“Er, yeah. I was in a bit of a hurry on my way out. I forgot to grab the folder with all of the case info, so I’m assuming you have it. I was just calling to ask if you’d be willing to send me some pictures of the contents so I can start looking into it.”
Flowery sniffed. Doesn’t even seem interested in meeting up to discuss a gameplan. “Uh, I’ll do that in a minute. I don’t want to get the files wet right now.”
“...Wet?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ll dry off in a second, though, and then I can send them over. By the way, we should probably meet up sometime tomorrow to get a jump start on all of this.”
Anthony ignored everything he just said. “Are you showering right now?” He said it like Flowery just told him he was rolling around in dog shit.
What is this guy’s problem? “Do you not shower or something? I just stepped out to answer the phone for a second, and it’s a good thing I did, because we should really meet up tomorrow!”
Anthony sounded scandalized. “You’re not even wearing anything??”
“What’s it to you! Let’s just meet up at the park that’s closest to the station tomorrow, at, ah, around 1. Deal?”
Anthony spluttered for a second. “Wha- fine! I’m going to hang up now! Don’t forget about the files!” He ended the call without saying goodbye.
Flowery flushed. Ugh! That man seriously has a problem! Storming back to wash the soap still dripping from his hair, he felt oddly embarrassed. Oh, whatever. Who even makes such a big deal out of a shower, geez!
He dried off, got dressed, then sopped up the water he had tracked all over his kitchen floor with an old dishrag. His kettle started to whistle, and as he steeped his tea, he ruminated more on what York had said about the necklace earlier.
I’ll drop by Pink’s place in the morning and ask her about it before I go meet up with Anthony. Speaking of Anthony, he still has to go send him pictures of the case files.
He grabbed the folder and spread its contents out on his table before snapping quick photos of each document and texting them to Anthony’s number. He pauses when he comes to the photo of the man’s face. It wasn’t even a very good one, just some old CCTV footage where you could just barely make out some blurry facial features. Unable to describe what emotion he’s feeling, he sends the last photo and places his phone down on the table.
Taking a warm cup of tea to his bedroom, he sets it down on the nightstand beside the bed and sits quietly for a moment. It’s getting late. I don’t want to be too tired tomorrow.
He flicked off the light.
—
“I didn’t think you’d be back.”
His mother is talking to him, but it’s not her words. The sentence is forced through her unmoving teeth as the pale whites of her eyes are bared to the ceiling.
“Have you ever wondered why nobody else ever saw the bodies?”
He’s curled up on the floor, shaking. Pink finds him hours later, and she doesn’t understand what’s got him so upset. When he tells her about the blood, she just stares at him with a furrowed brow.
“They all think you’re crazy. But we know better, don't we?”
She tries to tell him that everything was alright now, that Olivia was safe. That their parents couldn’t get to her anymore. She has no idea how right she is.
“My… I think you’re even stronger than her!”
A car accident, the police officer tells them. They haven’t recovered the bodies yet. Flowery distantly thinks he recognizes the officer from work. He hears the choked sound Pink makes beside him, but the blood is still stained into his retinas.
“This was fun, but you know we both still have work to do, honey.”
The endearment his mother used to call him now sounded unnatural rolling off her stiff tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the iron necklace hanging off the side of her dresser, the stone glinting. None of this is right!
“I’ll see you soon!”
—
His alarm clock blared. He slammed down hard on it and massaged his temples. He was lying in a pool of sweat, and felt rather shaken, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall exactly what he was dreaming about. Wracking his brain, the only image he could conjure was once again his late mother’s necklace. Seriously, why am I getting so fixated on that thing?
No matter. He was planning on asking Pink about it this morning anyways, so he might as well get suited up and drop by her apartment. There’s no rush, he mused to himself as he rode the elevator of her apartment building up. Knowing Pink, she’s probably still in bed. ‘Pink Floradinn’ was a pretty big name on Broadway right now, so she usually had a show to perform every night. Apparently nothing to wake up early for, though.
He took the spare key Pink gave him a couple years ago out of his back pocket and let himself into her apartment. It was much nicer than his, that’s for sure. She had marble tiles, a second floor, and a piano in the foyer. What kind of apartment has a foyer?
A really really nice one, he thinks, as he knocks on the door to her bedroom. “Piiiink,” he singsongs. “Your second favorite little brother is here!”
There was rustling on the other end of the door before she swung it open and blinked blearily at him, still in pajamas. “Are you actively dying? Do I need to call an ambulance?”
He pressed a hand to his chest in mock horror. “Pink! Whyever would you suggest such a thing!”
“Because you never drop in on my apartment, especially not this early. It’s always me hunting your sorry ass down. Ambulance?”
“No ambulance.” He said, smiling. “I actually wanted to ask you for something.”
“Oh, of course.” She grumbled. “Make yourself comfy. I’m gonna go get some coffee before I hear this.”
—
He studied the cityscape from where he was perched on the table of Pink's breakfast nook. Unable to resist opening the window, the crisp air and light breeze was a way better wake up call than Pink’s fancy ass imported coffee could ever be.
Speaking of, she came up to him and set down her mug quietly before shoving him off her table. “Get off of that! People eat there, you know.”
He dragged himself up to sit in a chair instead. “They should be thankful! And you never have company over to your place, anyways!”
She rolled her eyes at him playfully, taking a seat as well. “That’s because I’m trying to avoid houseguests who act like you.”
He ignored her barb and resumed watching the sunrise. Pink did the same, allowing them to fall into comfortable silence.
Neither of them moved, lost in thought. Eventually, she took a long sip of her coffee. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
She sighed contentedly. “Alright, what was it you wanted to ask me?”
“It was actually about ma.” He saw her stiffen. “Do you remember that one necklace she always wore?”
Pink rose to her feet and made a gesture for him to wait, before disappearing into her bedroom. A minute later, she came back out, holding a long necklace made of thick iron bands and set with a square cut garnet. Despite not having seen it for the past two years, it looked exactly the same from his dream. His throat felt tight.
“Yeah, that’s the one. York said you had it.” He swallowed.
Pink nodded slowly, examining the garnet. “It was always too pretty for her. But if you want it, then it’s yours.”
He relaxed, only just noticing that he’d been holding his breath. “You don’t know how much that means to me. I’ve just been thinking about it a lot recently, I don’t even know why.” He watched her flip it through her fingers again. “You sure you don’t mind me having it?”
She handed it to him. “Please, I have like twenty other pieces of her tacky jewelry. I was never really a sentimental person, anyway.” She took another swig of coffee. “How’s work been?”
He groaned.
—
He arrived at the park about an hour earlier than the time he had set with Anthony. It was a nice day, and he wanted to go on a stroll before he had to focus on grisly murders. It was something he did often during his lunch breaks; it was only about a five minute walk from the police station, so it was an easy way to try and clear his mind. The pendant of the necklace thumped steadily against his chest as he moved.
After making a couple rounds of the park, he finally settled down on a bench that was visible to the main road and started absentmindedly thumbing through the contents of the case file, not really reading anything. He was studying his nails when he noticed a figure hovering over him. He jumped.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for too long, I suppose.” Anthony was trying to look casual and failing. His posture was stiff and he was standing a bit awkwardly in the middle of the path.
Flowery patted the empty spot next to him. “It was nice while it lasted.”
Anthony huffed, but sat down next to him. “Could you seriously not think of a better place we could do this at? What if something important blows away?”
“I’ll try my very best not to let that happen! Now, then…” He opened the file to the list of victims and singled out the most recent occurrence. A man was discovered dead by a building inspector in an old storage facility three days ago, only about a 45 minute drive away. He shuddered.
Anthony nodded knowingly. “I put a rough plan together last night. According to the file on the most recent killing, nobody has gone in and investigated the crime scene yet, beyond just removing the body and having it autopsied. It was the same thing as all the other victims: Melted brain and blown up eyes. Nobody knows how he’s doing it.”
“Ew,” Flowery said eloquently.
Anthony ignored him. “Our next best move is probably to go check out that old storage facility. Nobody even knows why that guy was wandering around there in the first place! It’s been abandoned for years, maybe there's a lead we can catch.”
Flowery considered that. “And really nobody’s investigated it already? I find that a little hard to believe."
Anthony snorted bitterly. “You know the commissioner. He was probably just waiting to break the news to us that we were partners before he did a little bit of preliminary research or followed protocol even the slightest amount.”
“You’re right there. I think looking into this facility might actually be a good place to start.” As much as he loath to admit it, partnering with Anthony hadn’t been going too bad thus far. It might be something to do with seeing the man somewhere other than a dingy office, but he could maybe understand why some other people took a liking to him so fast. “You got everything? Let’s go hail a taxi!”
Anthony stood up while angling his head away, but he thinks he saw the corner of a smile. “No need. I have a car.”
His jaw dropped. “You have a car? Why didn’t you just say so? Pretty much everyone else I know just lives off of public transportation!”
Anthony smiled, but it looked a little pained. “Yeah, it’s a pretty nice model, too. Actually, Spam helped me get it. He has a few connections at the dealership.”
Damn! Maybe I should have been a bit nicer to Spam! “Hey, it’s about to make our lives a whole lot easier, so credit where credit is due.”
“Never thought I’d hear you attribute something to Spam, he’d get a real kick out of hearing you say that.” Anthony raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t park too far from here, let’s head on over.”
—
Maybe Flowery really should start kissing Spam’s ass. Describing Anthony’s car as ‘a pretty nice model’ was like calling the Donner party ‘fine diners’. The seats had inner heating and were made of plush leather, and the whole vehicle was a high-end convertible. The feeling of wind in his hair as Anthony carefully drove down the street with his hands at 10 and 2 was a sensation he wished he could get used to. That’s a bit of a weird way to phrase it.
They had been passing the drive by listening to random songs on the radio and not talking, which was fine by Flowery. If anything, he was honestly getting a little annoyed at how likeable his rival was. He tried to watch him without making it obvious. What does he see in Spam? That guy is seriously such a resident asshole.
Anthony’s facial expression remained neutral, eyes trained on the road. He was a careful driver, if nothing else. “We’re coming up on it now, so don’t get too comfortable. I brought some tools we might need to run a couple forensics, too, so if we’re lucky we can pick up some DNA on our guy.”
“It’s a shame we can’t take a look at the body, too. I wonder if we can order a full autopsy report…” He trailed off as Anthony parked in one of the empty spots, checking his mirrors carefully despite being the only car there. The front doors to the facility were blocked off with police tape, and absolutely nothing else. Nice one, commissioner.
“Daylights wasting! Get off your ass and let's check this place out!” Anthony pulled a small box out of the trunk and started on his way to the building. Forget everything I just said about this guy not being that annoying.
He trailed Anthony into the building. All the lamps were busted, so the only source of light was a window on the far side of the wall. He cringed at the smell. There was a white outline drawn on the floor colored in by a pool of dried blood and other little bits he didn’t really want to think about.
Anthony set the box down and started taking various swabs of blood and dust on the floor. Flowery examined the old shelves pushed back against the walls. They worked in silence, until Anthony’s voice cut through the damp air.
“So, what kind of name is ‘Flowery Floradinn’, anyways? I was always wondering what was up with that.”
He paused, feeling a pit in his stomach forming. Oh, what the hell do I have to hide? “My mother was an unusual woman, to say the least. I have a sister named ‘Pink’, too.”
Anthony chuckled. “Unusual, indeed. Where’s she at now?”
“She’s been dead for two years now, along with my father.”
Anthony slowly set down the sample he’d been holding. “Oh. I’m sorry. I imagine that’s hard.”
“Don’t be,” he sighed. “You didn’t know. They weren’t exactly stand up citizens, anyway.”
“Were they criminals?” Anthony seemed to realize how that sounded. “Er! Don’t answer that, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Flowery chuckled, cutting him off. “I wish. They weren’t always so terrible when Pink, York, and I were little, but they… had another kid, around ten years later. A little girl, Olivia.”
“That’s a nice name,” Anthony said awkwardly.
He laughed a bit more genuinely. “Yeah, my father was way better at naming than my mother. He named York, too.” He sobered. “I don’t know what it was, but something just started driving them… crazy, for lack of a better term. They started mistreating Olivia, and by the time I found out, well…”
Anthony, who had silently approached him while he was talking, peeled off his gloves and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you don't have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No, I think I kind of needed to say it. Anyway, now you owe me an answer to one of my questions.” He smirked up at him. “What’s the deal between you and Spam?”
Anthony spluttered. “Hey, I don’t remember agreeing to that!”
“Please? I really want to know what you see in him.”
He flushed and turned back to his samples. “Fine, but don’t expect a good story! I don’t really think ‘together’ is even a good way to describe us. It’s kind of just,” he tried to find a fitting description, “a fling, I guess. You remember that promotion the commissioner was threatening me with?”
Flowery nodded.
“Well, if I get it, which it’s looking like I’m going to, I won’t be a detective anymore, I’d be a sergeant. I wouldn’t be Spam’s partner anymore.” He sealed another sample in a plastic bag. “Spam thinks I should just refuse the promotion when it's offered to me. But I don’t want to be stuck on this stinking job anymore.”
“Yeah, it’s quite a big salary increase, isn’t it? I can’t blame you for that.”
“Thank you! Spam doesn’t get it, he’s always too in the moment, won’t even consider the long term. One foot out the door. If I can get that bigger paycheck, then I won’t be stuck working this dead end job until I’m seventy! Spam just keeps telling me that it’s him or the job, but it’s not as simple as that!”
Flowery raised an eyebrow. “He sounds like a total asshole.”
Anthony sighed, shaking his head. “He butts heads with a lot of people, but he’s not terrible. I just don’t think he’s ever going to be that serious about me. Actually…” He trailed off, before squinting at Flowery. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Who, me? Of course! My middle name is ‘secret’!”
Anthony rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I haven’t told him this, but I’m definitely taking that promotion. If he doesn’t like it, he can deal. You know, he’s always the one saying we’re not even ‘together’ anyways, so why’s it even make a difference if we’re not detective partners?”
Flowery grinned. Why am I kind of happy to hear that? I used to hate this guy! He decided not to question the fact that he was considering his hate past-tense. “Attaboy! You shouldn’t let him hold you back! Anyway, he sounds kind of controlling.”
Anthony huffed. “You’re talking like you can really pick them! What’s your love life like?”
Flowery said nothing.
“Ha ha, just like I thought!”
“Look, let’s just focus on collecting evidence!” He exclaimed over Anthony’s smug face. Argh, what even is it to him? Finding nothing interesting around the shelves, he approached the body outline that he’d been trying not to look at too hard. Surrounding the dried up pool of blood and matter around the head outline, there were also a couple flecks of a black liquid that almost looked a bit like oil. Huh.
“Hey, Anthony did you ever notice the-” He was cut off by the sound of the window breaking. They both leapt to their feet, Anthony’s hand dropping down to his holster.
For a second, there was just dirty glass on the floor and faint sunlight filtering through the now shattered window. Flowery narrowed his eyes. There was a bit of a weird quality about the air, actually. Was it getting more pronounced? It almost looks like-
He gasped and grabbed Anthony’s arm to get his attention. “There’s someone there! Do you see it?”
Before he could respond, the figure suddenly snapped into form and charged at him. He choked. It’s the man from my dreams, the- Anthony whipped out his gun and pulled the both of them back. “Police! If you don’t back up, sir, we’ll have no choice but to use deadly force!”
The Man ignored him. His long, spindly fingers reached for Flowery, for his neck, and oh, it was just like when he was little, how could he have ever forgotten! He hears Anthony shout, but it feels as if time freezes around him. The Man grasps his neck, then flinches back as if he’d been burned. What even- He feels the necklace grow hot on his neck, and when he looks down, the stone is clear and sparkling, despite its usual foggy appearance.
“How could you have figured it out already, you lousy…” The Man pauses, considering his shocked expression. “No, you don’t know, do you? This,” he brings a long finger up to point at the stone, “was just dumb luck. Ha! It won’t be the same next time, honey!”
“Wha-” He’s cut off by The Man leaping at his face, completely passing through before vanishing into thin air. Time resumes its march. He’s face down on the floor.
“...ery! Flowery! Oh God, get up!”
He groans, pressing his hands against the dirty concrete. “G’way.”
“Oh, thank God! Oh crap, here, one second!” The familiar voice sounds a bit closer now. Anthony?
He’s flipped over onto his back. When he tries to rise to a sitting position, he’s pushed back down by warm hands.
“Geez, don’t get up yet! Are you feeling dizzy? Headache? Should I call an ambulance? I should call an ambulance-”
“Ha ha. Oww…You’re the second person who’s threatened to call me an ambulance today.” He shoves Anthony off of him and sits up with a groan, wincing a bit as he rubs the back of his head. I’m going to take this up with whoever chose concrete floors. 0/10, would not recommend.
Anthony jumps at his pained expression. “Does your head hurt at all? Stay still!”
“I think I’m okay.” The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and all that was left was a hollow sense of tiredness. “What, you think my brain’s going to melt?”
“That’s not a funny joke! What if it really is?” Anthony helped him to his feet.
“I doubt you’d notice much of a difference!”
Anthony huffs. “Laugh it up. I’m going to go sweep the perimeter, and you are going to go sit down in my car and regain your bearings.”
“I don’t know how much use that’d be, at this point. I think he’s long gone.” A chill crept up his spine. Can he just appear anywhere, at any time? That doesn’t make sense. None of this does!
Anthony led him to his car, turning on the AC before pointing a stern finger at him. “Don’t die. I’ll be right back.”
Flowery grumbled. “I miss when you hated my guts. Should I spit in Spam’s coffee again?”
Anthony shut the door in response, mouthing ‘I can’t hear you!’. He disappeared behind the back of the building, unfortunately leaving Flowery alone with his thoughts. He leaned up against the headrest, maybe a bit more shaken than he had let on.
Am I going crazy? Where the hell have I even seen that guy before? Why am I dreaming about him? The memory of his mother dragging him away when he was little flashes in his mind. He clutches her necklace, feeling unsettled. How did I not recognize him in the case photo? Granted, it was a terrible quality photo, but it feels a little obvious now.
Just as he’s about to bite all of his nails down to nothing, he sees Anthony approaching the car again, the box of samples they collected under his arm. He tosses it into the trunk before climbing behind the wheel.
“I couldn’t find any sign of him out there. It’s like he just… disappeared. Are you still feeling okay? Think you need a doctor?”
Flowery shook his head. “I’m feeling right as rain. It’s starting to get a little dark, though. We should get out of here.”
Anthony checked his mirrors again in the still empty parking lot before carefully backing out and exiting on the main street. As they drove, he let his eyes stray from the road for a quick second to shoot a nervous glance at Flowery.
“What?” He said, self consciously putting a hand up to his hair.
Anthony shook his head. “Uh, it’s nothing. Well, actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come stay the night at my place?”
Flowery shot up straight, ignoring the lance of pain that echoed from where he had hit his head. “WHAT?”
“Not like that! Not like that! I didn’t mean it like that! It’d just be beneficial to talk about what happened in regards to catching our guy, and I wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on you to make sure that you don’t, like, die or something.” Anthony’s face was burning, taking his hands off the wheel completely to wave them frantically.
Flowery looked out the window and examined the sunset really hard. This guy… “Okay! I mean, yeah, that makes sense. We should probably write a debriefing on the encounter with the killer back there, anyway. You have a couch, right?”
Anthony blinked rapidly, seemingly still trying to shake off his prior embarrassment. “I have a whole guest room. It’s not very swanky, but I wouldn’t have offered otherwise!”
“Okay, sweet! Uh, thanks, by the way.”
Anthony smiled slightly. “I like having company over, makes the place feel less empty. Don’t worry about a thing!”
Flowery fiddled with his hands. “Not just for the room, though I do appreciate it. Thanks for… back there. For uh, being worried. Caring.”
Anthony glanced at him incredulously. “You are the strangest man I’ve ever met, detective Floradinn.”
Why did that feel like a compliment?
—
“I don’t think he’d even believe me!” Flowery exclaimed, flopping back against the dining room chair he was sitting in. Anthony had thrown two TV dinners in the microwave for them when they arrived at his apartment, but they sat mostly untouched besides the debriefing papers they were trying to write.
“I mean, probably not about the whole ‘disappearing’ thing, but who’s to say? This guy can melt brains! Nobody’s thought of a rational explanation for that! Honestly, just vanishing seems way more tame than however this guy’s been managing to kill people.” Anthony tapped his pen against the table thoughtfully.
“Knowing the commissioner, he’d probably just accuse us of making up excuses for letting him get away.” Flowery dragged a hand down his face.
“Okay, you’ve got me there. Let’s just say he got the jump on us, ran out of the building, and disappeared into an alley.” Anthony decided.
“It was a singular building, I don’t think there was even an alley there.”
Anthony waved a hand dismissively. “Semantics.”
Flowery tried valiantly to maintain his annoyed expression, but he could feel it slipping. “We’ll cut the alley bit and leave it there. It’s getting a little late, anyways.”
Anthony clapped his hands together and rose to his feet. “Oh! Where are my manners? Let me show you to the guest room,” he picked up his half-eaten TV dinner and pointed to Flowery’s, “you all done with this? Good!” All cleaned up, he gestured for Flowery to follow him.
Anthony’s apartment wasn’t terribly high end, but it was definitely cozy. Flowery admired the potted plants and ugly rugs as he followed him to a door at the end of the hall.
“Just give a shout if you need anything! I don’t believe we have to show up at the station tomorrow either, so feel free to sleep in. I’ll warn you I’m a bit of an early riser, ha ha!”
He grinned at Anthony. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. Thanks again for the accomodations.” If he told York a day ago that he was voluntarily spending the night at Anthony’s place, he'd probably have a stroke.
The man in question started to walk back to his room before pausing. His smile slipped. “Why do you think you didn’t die?”
“What do you mean?” Flowery said, a bit caught off guard.
“As far as we know, every other person for the past twenty years has died on the spot when they came into contact with the killer. But not you. Not us. Why?”
His heart thumped. He tried not to think about the blood. “I don’t know.”
Anthony looked back at him for just a second, something in his eyes. He shook his head, and then retreated back into the hallway.
Flowery stood still, swallowing. Anthony’s presence had been a balm to the jagged thoughts that had been cutting through his mind ever since he recognized The Man’s face, but the darkness of the hallway seemed thick and empty without his company. Am I going crazy?
—
“To be corporeal! To feel, to taste, to touch! Oh, you don’t know what you have, you stupid little boy!”
His mother isn’t facing him when he finds himself back in that pool of blood. She’s tearing her own hair out, knotting bony fingers into brittle strands and yanking. He thinks he should be more scared than he is, but he just feels an unnatural sense of calm. His chest burns, and he only finds it’s not from a lack of oxygen when he tries to take a deep breath and his heart only burns hotter.
“It’s not fair! It was never fair! Do you know how hard I’ve worked for this? How long? Only for her to show up and then make you and not destroy that wretched thing?”
He looks down to find the pendant wrapped thick around his neck, resting over his heart. It’s painful, but it doesn’t hurt. Am I going crazy?
“Twenty-one years! Long, excruciating years! And what do I have to show for it?”
The Man whips around, his mother’s once beautiful face melting off his. He contorts the remaining flesh on her face into a sick, furious scowl. It’s all so familiar to when he was little. A pang of hollow desperation reverberates through his chest. Please, I never wanted this!
“Absolutely nothing! The quite literal humanity sucked out of sixteen souls, and I’m hardly closer to my dream than when I’ve started!”
He wants to ask what he wants. He wants to wake up. But The Man wouldn’t answer even if he could find the words to speak. Here, he is nothing but his thoughts.
“I mean, what is it about you two that’s so special? I failed to find what it was in her, but you… if I pull you apart, will you show me what it is that makes you able to talk to me like this? That makes you able to wield that?”
Her bony fingers turn towards the necklace. He sits still in the pool of blood.
“Maybe that’s just it. Maybe I just need to take a more direct approach.”
He is nothing but his thoughts.
“I will find it in you.”
—