does family matter?

who: brett and december
where: city morgue
when: late

The smell of a morgue never changed, that cold, clinical smell, overlaid with the sharp tang of bleach and disinfectants. Of course, it didn't help that the place was always so damn cold. But Brett was here without complaint - it was part of the job, and if you did the job, you did all of the job. And, right now, his job was to track down the coroner and find out if there was any word on the possible-murder-possible-suicide that had been brought in the other night. Seemingly, homicide had been trying to reach the day coroner since noon to get an answer, but with no luck and so Brett, the new guy, got tagged for a personal visit just as he'd been intending to go out the door.

Well, it wasn't like he had anywhere better to be, his life being pretty much non-existent right now. So, he'd agreed to it, like he really had a choice, and grabbed his coat and hat for a different trip. "Anyone here?" he called as he pushed his way through the doors.

After spending earlier giving out an extensive tattoo for a hand made dragon, December had come in to work in a weirdly good mood--or what could be considered good for someone like her. She was working on a guy who'd landed on the table earlier that day, and the other coroner was a little stumped on. The really weird cases they always shuffled off in her direction. Looking up from her work table, she rolled her eyes. Right. Newbie. "Over here." she said, where she was off to the far left, not necessarily in plain sight.

Brett might have been off the scene for a while, but he was far from a newbie. He didn't recognise this face though, three years ago, the night coroner had been an old man who had to squint through his glasses to see properly and made really poor jokes about the people who landed on his table. "Am here about the Haley case," he said, taking his hat and coat off, leaving the battered, thread-worn suit underneath. He dumped the outwear over the back of a chair and headed over to the girl. "They wanna know if there's any result yet."

When he got closer, December stopped dead and stared for a moment. She'd been ready to dismiss him, tell him the guy was dead, and he wasn't really in any big rush. But they always did that, they sent new people around to deal with her. Only this guy wan't new. Because she recognized him almost immediately. The last time she'd seen him she'd been pretty little, but still. He'd been an adult, and while he looked much more filled out than he had at the time, he was quite clearly her cousin, Brett. And so there was a rare look of shocked surprise on her features as she blinked at him. She got over it quickly enough, but there was definitely a moment there.

"Haley--" she said, turning to look through the files she'd had set aside. "Here." she said, handing it towards him. "Murder. People don't usually don't drown then shoot themselves in the face." she told him, though her attention was more focused on him. She wasn't surprised there didn't appear to be recognition on his end.

Brett registered the surprise, but put it down to entirely the wrong cause, his face clouding over as he assumed that she'd clocked him as being Trent 'the guy in the paper today'. Famous for all the wrong damn reasons, and not wanting it at all. He took up the file and flipped through it. "Hard to register the drowning with the amount of gunshot damage - seems someone wanted to make ti look like he ate his own gun," he said, casual but serious, keeping things strictly business.

"That's generally why people do shit like that." December said, leaning back against the counter as she eyed him. "I mean, sure, I'm sure if you tried really, really hard to come up with a reason for it you could find one, but I'd shoot it down. He had bruising, too. Not around the wrists, nothing obvious, but looks to me like someone had been holding his arms behind his back, right above the elbows. Wrenched back hard." she explained. “Yet another thing people don’t generally do to themselves, though I’ve seen some pretty weird things.”

"Any indications who it might have been?" Brett said, flipping through the rest of the file and realising as he did so that he looked at the facts in a different light now. Now he had far more knowledge of techniques, of the personal styles of some of the people out there. He could picture what might have been done to this bastard, because he'd been there for this kind of thing, and, god help him, he'd done it himself. He'd had to, or else, it would have been him on that slab. At least, that was what he had to keep telling himself.

"Yeah, that's your job, not mine." December said. "I just tell you what happened to whoever ends up on my slab. You guys get to run around and play cops and robbers. It's not like it's been tattooed on the inside of his eyeballs or anything. No one left a note. I can tell you it was definitely a murder, the shot came after he was already dead, and he probably wasn't in a great place when it happened. Whoever did it held him down, I'd say for an extended period of time, which would lead me to believe he was holding out on something they wanted. But I can't even really tell you who the guy is, we don't even have all of his teeth. I'd guess late thirties, but that's all. And if we started going through every guy in his late thirties that goes missing in this town, I'm pretty sure no crimes would ever get solved. So, good luck with that."

Brett looked at her whilst she talked, his face a blank mask against her sarcasm. He waited a few beats after she'd finished, then snapped the file closed. "Thank you - you've been very helpful," he said, his voice entirely lacking warmth. He preferred the old coroner, at least there could be a bit of back and forth with him, this girl just seemed to want to make him feel stupid. He knew full well what her limitations would be, but sometimes there were calling cards in techniques, and maybe she would know some of them. But, clearly not. He'd remember that for the future. Just come in, get the information, leave. He could definitely stick to that.

December rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Brett." she said. She went back to the guy currently on her table, eyeing the wounds she'd been working on before he'd gotten there. She wasn't sure why, but it actually kind of hurt her feelings that he didn't remember her whatsoever. It was irrational, certainly, but it was there.

He'd already been heading out when her comment came, and it made him pause, frowning as he turned back to her. Most everyone round here called him 'Officer' or 'Detective' or, for those who knew who he was the most familiar they got was generally 'Trent'. First names just weren't a huge feature in his professional life. It was all too, well, personal. So the fact that she'd used it, offhand like that, was enough to make him wonder where that had come from.

She didn't look over immediately even if she knew he'd stopped and looked back. "Figures, you wouldn't remember me." she said finally, making her decision. "But then you never actually asked my name, or said hello or anything. Not even a hey, we haven't met. So, whatever. But to fill in that blank for you, my name's December. Trent. As in your cousin." she told him, then looking over at him.

Brett's frown turned confused as she explained, and then he looked a little lost as it actually filtered in. Lost not because what she said didn't mean anything to him, but because he remembered December. She'd been a little girl - they'd asked him to basically adopt her, once upon a time, but he'd barely been adult himself and definitely not capable of looking after a child. He hadn't felt it, anyhow. So, they'd asked him to take custody and he, barely even a rookie cop had refused, wanting to live his own life, not ready to be a father. He'd kept track of her for a while, visited with her from time to time. And then there'd been the fire and he'd stepped away from everyone, hadn't wanted anyone near him.

But this girl, this woman with the tattoos and the piercings and the ascerbic tongue - this was that little girl? "I heard you left town," he said, after far too long a pause. He hadn't really kept up with her, but he'd found that out, some time ago.

December didn't try to fill the pause at all. She let him sort of sink everything in in his own time. When he spoke finally, she shrugged. "I did." she said, tone slightly less abrasive than before. "I'm back. Have been for a while." A few years. She was sort of vaguely surprised he'd heard anything at all, but then again, he could just be saying that. Whenever people turned up missing the first thing people said was 'they left town' even if they happened to know they were on the bottom of the river with brand new cement shoes.

"I've been out of the loop," Brett told her, still not sounding entirely certain about things. This had thrown him, that much was clear. He ran his eyes over her almost constantly, trying to picture the little girl with pigtails he'd known turning into this woman. He could see it, when he looked. There was something about the shape of her eyes, her nose, but still - he'd lived for so long in the mindset he had no family, he wasn't sure what to do with this information now.

"So I've read." She said. "How much of that is true, and how much is bullshit?" she asked, setting down the scalpel she'd picked up since they were apparently talking now. She looked back over at him, sort of eyeing him with the same uncertainty he was giving her. Hers was just more guarded. "Because I don't exactly trust everything I read in the paper."

Brett hesitated - all day long he'd been stubbornly refusing to give out any real information to people who had dared call him on what had happened. He'd stuck firmly to doing his job and avoided getting into anything personal. But this was December - that made it different. Or did it? He wasn't sure. "Eventually, truth will end up being whatever they say it is, so what does it matter?" he said in the end, giving her the brush off, but not half as rudely as he had for the rest.

December shrugged one shoulder, not averting her gaze. "Matters because you're my cousin, and if what happened was true, then you've definitely been through a lot of shit." she told him. "And I don't give a damn about the official record, or what they want to print, or what they say. I’ve seen them print enough lies, where they fudge the cause of death or details in the news. Details I gave them because I did my job, but they want to take the horror out, or something. So, what they say...” she shook her head. “Doesn't make it true. So, you're wrong about that. The truth is what you tell me."

"Why'd you leave town?" Brett asked her, not answering her questions. He still wasn't sure what to make of her and a blood claim wasn't enough for him to open up to someone just because when he wouldn't ever normally do that. "Why'd you come back?"

December smirked faintly. "Right, because you're going to blow me off, then I'm going to answer questions?" she said. She shook her head. "Real fair of you." she pointed out. "Do you care?" she asked. "You dropped off the face of the planet. You were around sometimes, then...you just vanished. And I know there was the fire," Even if she was fuzzy on all the details, she knew he'd been hurt. "But after that you were just gone." She didn't sound like she was accusing him of anything. She wasn't. As far as she was concerned, she hadn't been his responsibility, and maybe he'd had his own life going on. Something like that, anyway. But she'd definitely noticed when he'd stopped seeing her entirely.

Wasn't that the question - did he care? There was a time, not so long ago, where the answer would have been a very certain 'no, not at all'. Now, nothing was quite so certain. He'd begun to discover himself again, and it wasn't just the self he'd been before he was thrown to the O'Malley wolves, it went further back than that, deeper than that. "Life's not fair. And I wasn't the kind of guy anyone with sense would want to be around, especially not a little girl. And - I didn't much want to be around people," he told her, being honest about that. He wouldn't lie to her, or sell her some kind of story about how his actions had been for her own good.

She nodded, accepting that. But.. "You didn't answer the question." she said. In her own mind, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he was the only family she had. Period. Her parents had been gone for so long she barely remembered them, and his parents were gone, their grandparents were gone, so it was just him. She's learned when she'd been traveling that she liked having something like that. She liked having a sort of family. Even if it didn't necessarily adhere to most people's definition. And apparently now there was him.

"It's not that simple," he told her, after a moment or two. He figured she probably wouldn't like the answer, but he was used to that - and at least he would be being honest. "Until five minutes ago, I didn't know I had any family left, at least not where they'd actually be a feature in my life. And I've kind of got out of the habit of giving a damn about people. Used to wonder what happened to you though," he admitted.

"Five minutes ago was five minutes ago." December said. "And I guess, if you want to flounce around, and get all fluffy about things, and him and haw about whether or not you give a shit about your family, you do that. But it shouldn't be a world class debate, even if you didn't think anyone was around or you're out of practice. Family either means something to you or it doesn't. If it doesn't, fine. Just do me the courtesy of sending someone else down here to get paperwork. If it does, fine. We'll...work something out, I guess. Have coffee or something." she suggested, since she didn't know where to start. It wasn't like she was an expert, and she generally didn't make a point of caring about anyone either. And again, her tone wasn't accusing, she wasn't pissed about it. It was a flat, equal opportunity choice for him, without condemning him, or getting all flowery and guilt-trippy. "I'm not the world's best at personal relationships with anyone either."

Brett looked at her for a moment, weighing things up in his mind. "When I disappeared," he told her, since that's what he'd done, at least as far as she was concerned. He hadn't really gone anywhere, but he'd stopped being a feature in her life. "It wasn't just you - I pushed everyone away. Deliberately and on purpose. And I continued to do that. And since then, fuck, my life has been built up and ripped apart in so many different ways. Maybe, for you - for most people - this isn't a world class debate. But for me, the best I can give you right now is an 'I don't know'." He paused. "We can try coffee. If you wanted," he offered.

She looked at him for a long, long moment, for once biting her tongue on what she had to say to that. Eventually she ticked her gaze back to the dead guy in the room. "How about this. When you make up your mind, if you want coffee, get in touch. Til then I'll just consider you still gone." she told him. Because one thing she didn't want was to have him come into her life only to leave it again. And with the less than solid response he gave, she didn't want to count on it. "It's not 'if you want', it's if you want. I already suggested it. So, make up your mind, and get back to me or not. But I'm not going to chase after something that isn't there." she admitted, being honest as well. "Wouldn't be good for either one of us, and I'm not some needy little kid. So, do what you want. And if it means you have to go away and think about it, then do that. I'm just not going to hang around and hold my breath." She'd had him disappear from her life before, she didn't especially want to invite him back in and then have it blow up in her face. He wasn't the only one with issues, though she was wondering if he was one of those types who thought they were the only ones who had it rough.

"You didn't sound too sure about coffee yourself," Brett pointed out to her. "Have to say, not much a social coffee drinker - good for getting me through the day, but mostly, it's just the dark muck that comes out of the brew upstairs. So, if we go for coffee, it's because it's your beverage of choice. Me, I'm more likely to suggest a beer one night." He still didn't know how he felt about her appearing back into his life, and the one person who he would have been able to talk to about it was still gone, but nothing was ever going to change there and he was just going to have to get used to the hole she'd left behind. Going away and thinking about things wasn't going to help him come to any conclusions. He couldn't second guess life, or the people in it.

"So is that you suggesting a beer, or just saying you like it better than coffee?" She asked. She wasn't all that into coffee either, she just knew it was what normal people did. So she'd wanted something neutral. But she could be up for a beer as well. Probably less uncomfortably than coffee.

"That's me suggesting a beer," Brett confirmed for her. he really hoped she wasn't going to be one of those women who needed everything spelled out for her, or who would second guess every intention. If she was, this could be a bad experience for both of them.

"Okay." she said. "Then it'll have to be some night when I'm not working, because you're looking at the graveyard shift girl." she told him. "But, okay." She could do this. Hopefully. She was going to give it a shot, anyway, see what happened. Then she'd have to assess what it meant to her life.

"Fine," Brett told her. He was in no hurry to find out... whatever this would bring. He'd had enough curveballs lately to actually be begging for the next. "Just leave a message at my desk when you're gonna be free." he didn't have a telephone in his apartment, not this one, the one he'd gone back to. The building he'd left had had a full service, but he wasn't living that life anymore.

She nodded. "Okay." she said. A beer with her cousin, who she hadn't seen since she was little. This was going to be weird. And interesting, she supposed. But she guessed she'd have to see how it all played out. "Have fun at the ball." she added, since she knew they were throwing one for him. And she was a whole lot of not really invited. She'd been scheduled to work, probably so she didn't show up and creep out the normals.

Brett shot her an unamused look. "Yeah. Right." The one silver lining about everything that had happened with Eris was that he wouldn't have to step out in society again. And now here he was, having a fucking ball thrown in his honour. He'd tried to talk his way out of that one, but, reading between the lines it was clear that the department wanted as much good press as possible at the moment, since they were getting a roasting over not being able to find the Commissioner's killer. So, they were doing that by throwing a ball for the reason that guy had got himself killed. It was almost ironic. "You wanna come?" he asked her, on a whim. It wasn't like there was anyone else he could possibly go with, and going solo would only serve to underline that loss.

December looked really confused at his response there, she'd not even been being bitchy when she said it. Then she opened her mouth, and shut it again. "They scheduled me to work for a reason." she said, and she made a vague gesture at her face. "They don't want me mixing with the mundanes. I scare people. I'm the little secret they hide in the basement in the middle of the night that they make vampire jokes about."

"I don't 'do' balls," he explained to her as he caught the confused look. "That whole society thing is just a huge pile of bull. That party's not for me, it's a departmental PR campaign and if I could get out of being their poster boy of the day, I'd do it in a shot." He gestured to the piercings. "What's with, anyhow. Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Leaning back against the counters again, she eyed him at that. "You sound pissed about it. But--you're some hero cop now. Don't you want credit for all the bullshit you went through?" she asked, also curious. And because she'd like an answer to her own question, she answered his. "It keeps people at bay. People will cross the street to get away from me sometimes. Beyond that all they see is a freak, and that's what I'd rather than deal with people. I...let's just say I'm antisocial." she admitted. "I don't really like people." Then she gave a mild smirk. “That and I like it.”

"Take what you just said and apply it to me. I don't want to deal with people. I don't care what they think of me - I have nothing to prove to them. I'm not any more or less what I was anyway just because of the opinions of other people," he replied.

"Okay, but what you are is more than your average cop, especially considering some of the jokers they have on the payroll now." December said. "I bet half of them are on the take at least. But you were under cover then took down some big mob family, all by yourself. That's not exactly nothing." she pointed out. "So...actually, yeah, you are more than other people, and they're just recognizing it. I mean, I get it, with being antisocial and that's about as social as you can get, but I don't get you sort of seeming like you're mad about it and you're making yourself out to be no big deal." she said, puzzled on that score.

"I don't enjoy being put on display," Brett told her, trying to spell that out. "It's not about what I did and didn't do, I just don't like that attention. Never had. I don't do the job for medals and honours. And, really - I'd prefer to forget about the last few years and move on. They weren't exactly pleasant for me." Which was more than he'd admitted to anyone else all day.

She nodded. That she could understand. "Could always make them regret it. Or just not show up at all." she said. "If you're that adverse to it, then they can throw their big party, and people will show up anyway, and they can just bite the bullet on it if you don't show. I mean, you won't be popular for it, but you don't seem interested in being people's buddy." she said. And her tone indicated that she didn't fault him for that.

"They gave me the job I wanted on the basis that I showed," Brett told her. And the promotion. It had all been part of the package he'd negotiated. No, he'd go and be a trained monkey for the night. Hell, he even had the suit these days, though that would mean going back to the other apartment to get it. He'd made a deal, so he'd stick to it. He didn't want to risk annoying the wrong person and being reassigned. He might not care about people's opinions, but he wanted to be right where he was.

"Then good luck, I guess." December said, making a light face. She could understand it. But she rolled her eyes. "Bureaucratic bullshit." she said, shaking her head. "But I guess they have to do something to stop a full on revolt in this city. Everyone was so excited for the new commissioner and he didn't even last two days." she said.

"This fucking town for you," Brett said, covering the fact he really didn't want to get into that topic by slipping his hat onto his head and starting to pull on his coat. "Give me a call about that beer," he reminded her. Far as he was concerned, less he said about the Commissioner, the better.

“I will.” December said. “Try not to look to pissy at the ball.” she suggested, quirking a little half smile. Then she turned back to her corpse, and went back to work. It was weird, but not in a bad way, she supposed. She’d see how it went from there.