Entry tags:
*sleepy* ficlet: Criminal Intent
I wrote A.j. Rodgers commentfic. *abuses flist and posts here, too*
Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers = awesomesauce x infinity. (also, now I can mark off yet another female character I've written from my list) (also, also, Rodgers would make an AWESOME and SCARY pirate. Yes.)
It was already one of those days. The kind her anatomy professor used to warn his class of forty that they'd have. The kind where being half-blind from last night's bender, shaking from the lack of food and caffeine and stressed because you knew you were failing this simple true/false exam that was half your grade was just the starter. In her years working with the Metropolitan Police Force in the morgue, Dr. Rodgers had had a few.
They were backed-up, her assistant having up and quit the night before (rumor had it he was running off with his fiancee. Rodgers didn't care, there were six post-mortems he was supposed to write notes up on while she dealt with the two messy ones pulled from the river that morning). And that was before the subway death, the suicide from the building on 34th (that one should have been sent to the 5-10, but no one had listened to her when she'd objected). She'd called a colleague uptown, but the temporary help was taking its time getting there.
Finding Detective Goren lurking outside her door made her grit her teeth. But she could also ignore him. The body in front of her was old habit, by now. Each incision placed with careless ease (too many bodies, she sometimes thought, then forgot the thought in the next breath). Her voice was steady as she dictated to the small recorder she'd propped on the nearby bench.
"Uh, doctor?"
She paused, giving him a moment to change his mind and leave before giving up and lifting the bone saw off the rib cage. "Detective."
He fidgeted. Bobby Goren was always fidgeting, always poking and prodding, searching out things that made her slap his hands away from her corpses. He had an eye for detail, she had to grudgingly give him that. But he was also annoying.
"I just..." he twitched part of the sheet back, head tilting as he looked at the dead man's bare feet.
"Detective." Go away. Her tone of voice said it louder than words could have.
"Just, y'know," he gestured, and that was when she noticed the bouquet in his hand. It was a little crumpled, at that point. He continued before she could ask, though, "I wanted to make sure you knew..." he set the bouquet down, fingers twitching the scraggling leaves straight again, "You were appreciated."
What? "What?" Rodgers resisted the urge to rub her hand over her face. She'd learned that the urge to do so ended up spreading blood and viscera in places she'd rather not clean it from. If she could help it.
"We never say thanks. Much," he amended, shrugging.
Of course, watching a man as large as Bobby Goren shrug was a little like watching Mount Vesuvius prepare for an eruption, "I see." Rodgers raised her bone saw, "Will that be all, detective?"
He shrugged again, then ducked his head and smiles at her. Rodgers got the impression Bobby Goren wasn't much given to smiling. It was not an exactly good expression on his face, mobile though it was. "See you another time?"
"I'm sure you will," she muttered, turning back to her tagged and numbered dead body. She had a mountain of paperwork to get to, once she was through here. It was going to be one hell of a long day. Especially if the Bobby Gorens of the world all decided to come to pay her a visit.
Still, she couldn't help but lean over to sniff the flowers. She even cracked a slight smile as the smell of the gardenias brightened the basement room for an instant before she was knuckle-deep in her next corpse.
Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers = awesomesauce x infinity. (also, now I can mark off yet another female character I've written from my list) (also, also, Rodgers would make an AWESOME and SCARY pirate. Yes.)
It was already one of those days. The kind her anatomy professor used to warn his class of forty that they'd have. The kind where being half-blind from last night's bender, shaking from the lack of food and caffeine and stressed because you knew you were failing this simple true/false exam that was half your grade was just the starter. In her years working with the Metropolitan Police Force in the morgue, Dr. Rodgers had had a few.
They were backed-up, her assistant having up and quit the night before (rumor had it he was running off with his fiancee. Rodgers didn't care, there were six post-mortems he was supposed to write notes up on while she dealt with the two messy ones pulled from the river that morning). And that was before the subway death, the suicide from the building on 34th (that one should have been sent to the 5-10, but no one had listened to her when she'd objected). She'd called a colleague uptown, but the temporary help was taking its time getting there.
Finding Detective Goren lurking outside her door made her grit her teeth. But she could also ignore him. The body in front of her was old habit, by now. Each incision placed with careless ease (too many bodies, she sometimes thought, then forgot the thought in the next breath). Her voice was steady as she dictated to the small recorder she'd propped on the nearby bench.
"Uh, doctor?"
She paused, giving him a moment to change his mind and leave before giving up and lifting the bone saw off the rib cage. "Detective."
He fidgeted. Bobby Goren was always fidgeting, always poking and prodding, searching out things that made her slap his hands away from her corpses. He had an eye for detail, she had to grudgingly give him that. But he was also annoying.
"I just..." he twitched part of the sheet back, head tilting as he looked at the dead man's bare feet.
"Detective." Go away. Her tone of voice said it louder than words could have.
"Just, y'know," he gestured, and that was when she noticed the bouquet in his hand. It was a little crumpled, at that point. He continued before she could ask, though, "I wanted to make sure you knew..." he set the bouquet down, fingers twitching the scraggling leaves straight again, "You were appreciated."
What? "What?" Rodgers resisted the urge to rub her hand over her face. She'd learned that the urge to do so ended up spreading blood and viscera in places she'd rather not clean it from. If she could help it.
"We never say thanks. Much," he amended, shrugging.
Of course, watching a man as large as Bobby Goren shrug was a little like watching Mount Vesuvius prepare for an eruption, "I see." Rodgers raised her bone saw, "Will that be all, detective?"
He shrugged again, then ducked his head and smiles at her. Rodgers got the impression Bobby Goren wasn't much given to smiling. It was not an exactly good expression on his face, mobile though it was. "See you another time?"
"I'm sure you will," she muttered, turning back to her tagged and numbered dead body. She had a mountain of paperwork to get to, once she was through here. It was going to be one hell of a long day. Especially if the Bobby Gorens of the world all decided to come to pay her a visit.
Still, she couldn't help but lean over to sniff the flowers. She even cracked a slight smile as the smell of the gardenias brightened the basement room for an instant before she was knuckle-deep in her next corpse.
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AWESOME.
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