Post by Rae on Jun 30, 2008 13:57:59 GMT
It was four minutes past five. It was dark, and cold. A fresh snow had fallen overnight. And I was buried beneath it. The bin bag I had salvaged by tipping the contents into the Severn had provided just a little shelter. And at least it didn’t reek of fish. I woke up with my lips chapped and my eyelids frozen together, and it took me a good ten minutes to thaw them. It was then that I decided to find Jack Harkness.
According to the soldiers at the bridge when she had fallen, he was the man in the coat that took the first bullet, the man that had returned from the dead. The image of my mother’s dead body loomed into my memory again, and I pushed it away. First I would find Harkness, then I would find my father.
I shuddered, rain starting to spit down onto the brownish white earth as I made my way out of the field. I was still covered in dirt, sweat and blood, and the best I could hope for would be a soup kitchen. Thank god it was still that giving time of year.
Bristol city centre was deadly silent, the clock tower reading five sixteen in the morning. So I had risen a little earlier than my usual half past… so something must have woken me. I didn’t pause to wonder about it. I could hear the clatter of what had to be a church hall in the distance.
And thank God it was. I ran to the door, trying to rub my bare arms warm, and pushed my way inside. The electric strip lights shone a lurid white onto the cracked walls and splintered dance floor. At the stage end of the church hall, a few elderly women were handing out soup. Though it seemed at this early hour, they were running out. At six o’clock, I overheard; they would be packing up. And by that time I would have to be gone.
They gave me soup and bread, and let me wash in the bathrooms. It wasn’t easy, cleaning my whole self in a tiny basin, but eventually I made it. They donated an old bomber jacket, a black woollen jumper and a stripy scarf and hat. At least now I could fold my ears out from under my hair. Pulling them through the loose knitting, they would look just like fakes. I tucked my tail under my pigeon wings, safely concealed beneath the jumper and jacket as I went back out into the streets. Five to six.
It was nine minutes past seven. I’d been trawling the streets, questioning every early riser, scavenging newspapers, news, anything I could. Apparently the murder on the bridge had been reported as one committed by a drunken sex offender. What an insult to my mother’s memory. Mind you, it had made the front page:
“Estuary-Born Woman Murdered on Suspension Bridge.” Showing a photograph of the crime scene, and a bland smiling photo of some redheaded girl. But it wasn’t my mum. I would have prayed for more dignity for her, not for it to be plastered over the press the next day.
It was eight o’clock, and I was standing in to doorway to Broadmead Police Station. A single miserable looking desk sergeant glared at me, and returned to his coffee and crossword. I made my way to the desk, clearing my throat cautiously.
“Um…”
“Yes, what do you want?”
I was taken aback by his abruptness, but I continued nonetheless.
“I was wondering if you could help me. I think… I might have some information about the murder last night? The one on the bridge?”
“You gonna have to fill in a form.” He grunted, nodding to a stack of paperwork in the corner. I frowned.
“Actually, can I speak to the inspector?” I asked, and he ignored me. I frowned. I’d slept under a water trough covered in a bin bag, my mother had just been shot and I had only just washed the blood from my arms. All I wanted was response, and getting nothing pushed me to the limit.
“Fine.” I said bluntly, walked past the desk and slammed through the doors.
“Oi! Little girl, that’s against the law!” The sergeant got to his feet, putting his hand on my shoulder. And that was it. I cracked.
“I am the murder victim’s daughter, I want to speak to the inspector and I am fucking seventeen so don’t call me a little girl!” I shouted, my eyes wide with rage. The desk sergeant pursed his lips.
“Go and sit in the waiting room, madam.” He said, clearly not happy with my invasion of his precious area. I didn’t have the energy to argue any more, so I turned, fuming, back to the waiting room.
It was quarter past eight. For the first time since I had been kidnapped my thoughts wandered home. Would Grandpa and Aunt Carmella know about mum? What would Grandpa do? His youngest daughter was dead. And Auntie Em, her sister was gone. She was an only child now. And me… I hadn’t seen my dad for so long. I wondered if, after everything, he was even still alive. I wished he were. I caught sight of my reflection in the glass of the sergeant’s desk, and realised how much I resembled him. More so than I ever had resembled my mother. It seemed all I had gained from her was a hair colour, and a slightly clinical mind. I looked down at the wedding ring on my thumb, too wide, as it was to fit around my skinny middle finger, where my mother had always worn it.
“Are you the girl that said she was the victim’s daughter?” A slightly calmer voice than that of the desk sergeant spoke this time. I looked up into the strange, oddly coloured brown and blue eyes of the inspector, a kind smile on his elderly face. He held out his hand for me to shake, which I did carefully.
“Inspector Daniel Leeming.” He said, and I returned his smile for a second.
“Eve Lancet.” I said, stating my false name.
“You must have had quite a horrible time. I’m so sorry that you had to lose your mother like this.” He said, simperingly. As if he expected me to shed a tear. I was stronger than that.
“It’s better than her going mad, dying in her own pool of piss.” I stated. It was true, and I didn’t care when Inspector Leeming seemed taken aback, and turned abruptly to the sergeant, before looking back at me.
“Could you come with me please?” He asked, and I finally nodded. We walked through the police station to what I guessed was the interrogation room. I’d watched enough cop shows out in Massachusetts. That seemed like light years away from here. Another universe. And for the first time I thought of Lucas. Was he missing me? Did he know what had happened? I bit my lip. Sitting as I was instructed in the offender’s chair. Leeming sat opposite, looking down at me over pursed fingers.
“I understand how you must be feeling…”
“No you don’t.” I said bluntly. “I grew up not knowing my ma, and I finally find her again, and some fucker shoots her in the head. You have no idea how I feel.” I stared back, my own blue eyes unforgiving. Leeming was wasting my time.
“Your mother’s name was… Hannah am I right?” He asked, with the air of someone who knew that they were exactly right.
“No. Her name was Scarlet.”
“Maybe you’re confused. Grief can do that to you. She has been identified as Hannah Louise Heaven from the Severn Estuary. That’s her name isn’t it?”
“I’ve never heard of anyone named Hannah Heaven. My mother’s name was Scarlet Rose Wood.” I said dully. There was a fair amount of clicking and record reading. And Leeming looked back at me with pitiful eyes, like a schoolteacher surveying a brilliant student that had just failed their exams.
“The only Scarlet Rose Wood we have on file is from Weston Super Mare. We have it here that she was pronounced dead on the ninth of June 1993. She was four years old. Maybe you’re confused.” He said, his voice definite.
“Your records are wrong, inspector.” I growled, and he frowned.
“Eve Lancet, you took your father’s name didn’t you?”
“No. The United States Animal Studies Institute dictated my Grandfather find an alias when he joined. Especially as he’d just been controlled to murder his wife and kidnap his daughters.” I was losing patience. “Don’t you have any disappearances on your files? Scarlet and Emily Wood? Jack Wood? Skyler Pinecone. Will Fleet, Rhyder Rocha, David McKeith, Duke Lawrence, to name a few, don’t you recognise any of those missing names?” I shouted, and Leeming continued to look placid as he turned back to the computer.
“All of the names you relayed are those of individuals who have been pronounced dead. Excuse me Miss Lancet but I rather think you’re quite upset.” He said finally. “There’s no such organisation as the United States Animal Studies Institute.”
In an act of something brave that never seemed to show itself in me, I grabbed the computer screen, and pulled it to face me. Leeming shouted something that didn’t register, and I stared at the screen, a state of shock rising as I read what had been typed.
“To: USASI
From: D.L. Leeming, Bristol Metropolitan Police
Eve Lancet, name pronounced on arrival, shows feline ears. Mentioned to be daughter of the dispatched 0013. Will be detained until your arrival at the office.”
I gasped, and stepped back as I looked up at Leeming.
“You shit…” I snarled, digging in my coat pockets. But of course, this wasn’t my coat. My gun had gone.
“You’re wanted, Eve, there’s a price on your head.” He said, with a swift movement clasping my wrists in handcuffs, strangely nimble for an older man. “You’re going nowhere.”
“Wanna bet?” I snarled, falling back against the fists that were pressed into my back as I was directed into a cell. And left.
[/sub]According to the soldiers at the bridge when she had fallen, he was the man in the coat that took the first bullet, the man that had returned from the dead. The image of my mother’s dead body loomed into my memory again, and I pushed it away. First I would find Harkness, then I would find my father.
I shuddered, rain starting to spit down onto the brownish white earth as I made my way out of the field. I was still covered in dirt, sweat and blood, and the best I could hope for would be a soup kitchen. Thank god it was still that giving time of year.
Bristol city centre was deadly silent, the clock tower reading five sixteen in the morning. So I had risen a little earlier than my usual half past… so something must have woken me. I didn’t pause to wonder about it. I could hear the clatter of what had to be a church hall in the distance.
And thank God it was. I ran to the door, trying to rub my bare arms warm, and pushed my way inside. The electric strip lights shone a lurid white onto the cracked walls and splintered dance floor. At the stage end of the church hall, a few elderly women were handing out soup. Though it seemed at this early hour, they were running out. At six o’clock, I overheard; they would be packing up. And by that time I would have to be gone.
They gave me soup and bread, and let me wash in the bathrooms. It wasn’t easy, cleaning my whole self in a tiny basin, but eventually I made it. They donated an old bomber jacket, a black woollen jumper and a stripy scarf and hat. At least now I could fold my ears out from under my hair. Pulling them through the loose knitting, they would look just like fakes. I tucked my tail under my pigeon wings, safely concealed beneath the jumper and jacket as I went back out into the streets. Five to six.
It was nine minutes past seven. I’d been trawling the streets, questioning every early riser, scavenging newspapers, news, anything I could. Apparently the murder on the bridge had been reported as one committed by a drunken sex offender. What an insult to my mother’s memory. Mind you, it had made the front page:
“Estuary-Born Woman Murdered on Suspension Bridge.” Showing a photograph of the crime scene, and a bland smiling photo of some redheaded girl. But it wasn’t my mum. I would have prayed for more dignity for her, not for it to be plastered over the press the next day.
It was eight o’clock, and I was standing in to doorway to Broadmead Police Station. A single miserable looking desk sergeant glared at me, and returned to his coffee and crossword. I made my way to the desk, clearing my throat cautiously.
“Um…”
“Yes, what do you want?”
I was taken aback by his abruptness, but I continued nonetheless.
“I was wondering if you could help me. I think… I might have some information about the murder last night? The one on the bridge?”
“You gonna have to fill in a form.” He grunted, nodding to a stack of paperwork in the corner. I frowned.
“Actually, can I speak to the inspector?” I asked, and he ignored me. I frowned. I’d slept under a water trough covered in a bin bag, my mother had just been shot and I had only just washed the blood from my arms. All I wanted was response, and getting nothing pushed me to the limit.
“Fine.” I said bluntly, walked past the desk and slammed through the doors.
“Oi! Little girl, that’s against the law!” The sergeant got to his feet, putting his hand on my shoulder. And that was it. I cracked.
“I am the murder victim’s daughter, I want to speak to the inspector and I am fucking seventeen so don’t call me a little girl!” I shouted, my eyes wide with rage. The desk sergeant pursed his lips.
“Go and sit in the waiting room, madam.” He said, clearly not happy with my invasion of his precious area. I didn’t have the energy to argue any more, so I turned, fuming, back to the waiting room.
It was quarter past eight. For the first time since I had been kidnapped my thoughts wandered home. Would Grandpa and Aunt Carmella know about mum? What would Grandpa do? His youngest daughter was dead. And Auntie Em, her sister was gone. She was an only child now. And me… I hadn’t seen my dad for so long. I wondered if, after everything, he was even still alive. I wished he were. I caught sight of my reflection in the glass of the sergeant’s desk, and realised how much I resembled him. More so than I ever had resembled my mother. It seemed all I had gained from her was a hair colour, and a slightly clinical mind. I looked down at the wedding ring on my thumb, too wide, as it was to fit around my skinny middle finger, where my mother had always worn it.
“Are you the girl that said she was the victim’s daughter?” A slightly calmer voice than that of the desk sergeant spoke this time. I looked up into the strange, oddly coloured brown and blue eyes of the inspector, a kind smile on his elderly face. He held out his hand for me to shake, which I did carefully.
“Inspector Daniel Leeming.” He said, and I returned his smile for a second.
“Eve Lancet.” I said, stating my false name.
“You must have had quite a horrible time. I’m so sorry that you had to lose your mother like this.” He said, simperingly. As if he expected me to shed a tear. I was stronger than that.
“It’s better than her going mad, dying in her own pool of piss.” I stated. It was true, and I didn’t care when Inspector Leeming seemed taken aback, and turned abruptly to the sergeant, before looking back at me.
“Could you come with me please?” He asked, and I finally nodded. We walked through the police station to what I guessed was the interrogation room. I’d watched enough cop shows out in Massachusetts. That seemed like light years away from here. Another universe. And for the first time I thought of Lucas. Was he missing me? Did he know what had happened? I bit my lip. Sitting as I was instructed in the offender’s chair. Leeming sat opposite, looking down at me over pursed fingers.
“I understand how you must be feeling…”
“No you don’t.” I said bluntly. “I grew up not knowing my ma, and I finally find her again, and some fucker shoots her in the head. You have no idea how I feel.” I stared back, my own blue eyes unforgiving. Leeming was wasting my time.
“Your mother’s name was… Hannah am I right?” He asked, with the air of someone who knew that they were exactly right.
“No. Her name was Scarlet.”
“Maybe you’re confused. Grief can do that to you. She has been identified as Hannah Louise Heaven from the Severn Estuary. That’s her name isn’t it?”
“I’ve never heard of anyone named Hannah Heaven. My mother’s name was Scarlet Rose Wood.” I said dully. There was a fair amount of clicking and record reading. And Leeming looked back at me with pitiful eyes, like a schoolteacher surveying a brilliant student that had just failed their exams.
“The only Scarlet Rose Wood we have on file is from Weston Super Mare. We have it here that she was pronounced dead on the ninth of June 1993. She was four years old. Maybe you’re confused.” He said, his voice definite.
“Your records are wrong, inspector.” I growled, and he frowned.
“Eve Lancet, you took your father’s name didn’t you?”
“No. The United States Animal Studies Institute dictated my Grandfather find an alias when he joined. Especially as he’d just been controlled to murder his wife and kidnap his daughters.” I was losing patience. “Don’t you have any disappearances on your files? Scarlet and Emily Wood? Jack Wood? Skyler Pinecone. Will Fleet, Rhyder Rocha, David McKeith, Duke Lawrence, to name a few, don’t you recognise any of those missing names?” I shouted, and Leeming continued to look placid as he turned back to the computer.
“All of the names you relayed are those of individuals who have been pronounced dead. Excuse me Miss Lancet but I rather think you’re quite upset.” He said finally. “There’s no such organisation as the United States Animal Studies Institute.”
In an act of something brave that never seemed to show itself in me, I grabbed the computer screen, and pulled it to face me. Leeming shouted something that didn’t register, and I stared at the screen, a state of shock rising as I read what had been typed.
“To: USASI
From: D.L. Leeming, Bristol Metropolitan Police
Eve Lancet, name pronounced on arrival, shows feline ears. Mentioned to be daughter of the dispatched 0013. Will be detained until your arrival at the office.”
I gasped, and stepped back as I looked up at Leeming.
“You shit…” I snarled, digging in my coat pockets. But of course, this wasn’t my coat. My gun had gone.
“You’re wanted, Eve, there’s a price on your head.” He said, with a swift movement clasping my wrists in handcuffs, strangely nimble for an older man. “You’re going nowhere.”
“Wanna bet?” I snarled, falling back against the fists that were pressed into my back as I was directed into a cell. And left.