011 | Saffron City | Action;

[worktodo]

[So here's Albert.

Since coming to Johto, Albert's seen a lot of wacky shit go down. He's seen people mutating into some kind of hideous hybrid creature from an airborne mutant virus. He's seen ledges that defy the laws of physics. He's seen dragons and dinosaurs and aliens. He's seen people who claim beyond a shadow of a doubt to be actual ponies. He's been yelled at by a teenage Viking. He's been flown all over creation on a bird with clouds for wings and carried forcibly around by a giant green sparklegrizzly and endured patently stupid roadtrips that involved caves and forests and god only knows what else. He's been taunted by ghosts. He's been assaulted with puppies. He's fallen in a really big hole.

He's survived the freaking Armageddon and still didn't let it ruin Christmas.

And now, here on the third day of this latest bout of flagrant insanity, in his quiet home in Saffron City with a brand new swimming pool sparkling in the yard and a snarling levitating three-hundred-pound flesh-eating snowflake snapping at the end of its chain near the outhouse, he is stepping outside to collect himself with a cup of coffee and a moment's peace—

...

And there is a BIG DAMN TREE TRANSPLANTED RIGHT INTO THE MIDDLE OF HIS FORMERLY PRISTINE SIDEWALK, and WHEN THE HELL DID THAT GET THERE and WHO THE HELL EVEN RIPS UP A TREE AND—

...

...

Silently, Albert sips his coffee.

Just another day in Johto, apparently.]

Comments

[worktodo]

[He should've pulled that one. If he were going to tell her, he should've led into it a little better, made it a little softer. And yet even as he stands there solemnly, watching her react to it, he doesn't regret it, precisely. She should be horrified. Not because she deserves to be punished with the knowledge that there's another body added to the count, but because dammit, these kids, they're dying and for what, for what, and somebody ought to be horrified but that's not Albert's job. Albert's job is to get the answers, catch the murderers. He can't weep for any of these kids because if started with even just one he'd never stop.

But it does make him angry, and it's going to bother him for a long time. He's going to carry the memories of Laura Palmer and Maddy Ferguson with a particular weight to them, the same one that some other victims have piled on before them (whose names and faces he remembers, when they'd had names and faces remaining to attach) — because if not for that incident, Ben Horne and Doc Hayward and Harry's fists and Cooper's deadly calm, if not for that he would've caught it. He could've had the killer sooner.

It means he didn't do the job the best he could've, and that leaves him feeling like he's failed them, these girls, these kids, because they got justice but it was a hollow sham of what it could've been.]

Yeah. She came to town to visit. Helping out your folks, I think it was.

[His voice turns a little softer.]

The two of you could've been twins.

[nowherefast]

We would pretend, sometimes.

<sub>[She says this quietly because the memory is immediately tainted with the knowledge that Maddy's gone and because if BOB killed her then Laura figures it has to be for that very reason, because they look so much alike. But unlike someone else Albert knows she's not going to blame herself for such a thing - it just makes her feel even more sick when she thinks about BOB. It's a mix of coiling hatred, shame and fear. Amplified because of Maddy and Ronette.]

[She wishes so much nothing of this had ever happened to her. She won't take the blame, none of BOB's crap is her fault (even if a lot of other things are), but she understands that she's still the center. And she hates it. She hates it so much.]

[Some of that is bound to be showing in her face, the fist she's making against her thigh.]</sub>

[worktodo]

Come sit on the porch steps.

[It's a repeat of the question before, but this time it's an imperative. A little gentle direction might settle her down, draw her back; in Coop's worst moments, he'd done the same thing. Simple, easy, uncomplicated instructions. Drink this coffee. Go take a nap, you'll feel better. Sit here, eat this. No need to think; just to function.

Maybe this is a good warm-up, since sooner or later she's going to have to hear it about her father.]

You've got questions you want to ask me, don't you?

[nowherefast]

_{[She still stands but it's not because she's stubborn. The way she lowers her head just slightly means yes, but also that he'll have to do it first, to show her so she can follow. She doesn't really want to move onto his side of the playing field without him showing her there's no danger in doing so.]}

Yes. _{[She is drawn back by that question, if she wasn't by the request, the suggestion before it. It's a surprisingly easy thing to admit, the next thing she says, probably because she knows distantly that this isn't real enough to stay with her when she disappears. There's no need to waste time. That, and he speaks without masks, so then she can too.]} But I'm scared to ask.

[worktodo]

[Yeah. Okay, he can do that. He'd kind of had it in his head to, anyway, and when she doesn't immediately move that just cements his resolve to leave his coffee cup on the railing and take up a seat on the steps, hands resting lightly on one drawn-up knee and the other outstretched, relaxed, making contact a few steps lower.]

I don't blame you.

[He offers her a look that, if it'd been in his shoulders instead of his eyes, would've been a shrug.]

But are you ever going to get the chance to again?

[nowherefast]

<sub>[She hovers for a while before she sits and she picks a spot lower than him, careful not to touch him, careful to be able to watch him. It probably speaks about the abuse she's known, about the people she surrounded herself with.]

[Mixed in with that is naturally the topic at hand. But he's right, and she already knows she's going to ask about everything. She just needed that moment to admit to herself (and someone else, maybe that was just as important) how daunting it is.]

[She's still thinking about Maddy, but the question could mean either of them, when she does ask it after a moment of silence.]</sub>

How did it happen?

[worktodo]

[She's like a squirrel, or a chipmunk, or some other little fuzzy woodland creature. Cute, skittish. Brave enough to put its flight instinct away to come over and snatch scraps if it thinks you've got something it wants. And you don't want to let it bite you, 'cause it's probably rabid.

Sounds about right.]

You were found wrapped in plastic on the shore of a lake by a guy named Pete Martell. Maddy was found on a golf course — same M.O., wrapped in plastic. It's not the first time our office has chased a signature like that. We've seen other girls wrapped in plastic before, too.

Neither one of you died where you were ultimately found; you were both moved. You'd been tied up; she hadn't. Your killer probably had more time with you than he did with her, both in planning the murder and in — pun intended — executing it. From what you've told me here, my conclusion would follow — you knew your death was coming. She didn't.

You both died of blunt force trauma. For her, it went fast. He cracked her head open right here. [He taps his face, between the eyebrows and above his nose.] For you, it didn't go so fast. You suffered multiple wounds, and no single one of them was enough to do you in. Assuming the guy knew what he was doing, and given who we're talking about I expect that he did, that all suggests to me that Maddy's was an impulse killing, targeted toward the goal of seeing her dead as the desired endgame. You were someone he wanted to see suffer, so he made sure to make it last.