thesphererp | Memory Share - Everything can be lost in the blink of an eye

Entry tags:

Memory Share - Everything can be lost in the blink of an eye

It was the second day in a row that Llewellyn had been brought into the station house for questioning concerning the events that had lead to the death of Nigel Baker, concerning his inconsistencies in the story he had given them about what had taken place. He thought that he had turned things in the right direction with his testimony, that he had explained them away well enough as he stuck by his accounts of what happened. Of course Murdoch would have to dig deeper and find someone who was present during the investigation of Daniel’s case. “I should have told you.”

“You replaced the thumb mark.” Murdoch’s voice has a harder edge to it today, tinged with confusion. The man wants to understand what would have possessed him to take such a huge risk on a case for someone he supposedly didn’t even know.

“It wasn’t difficult... The victim’s corpse was still in the morgue.”

“Clearly a bit more difficult than you thought. You replaced it with the wrong thumb.”

Hunching a bit in the seat (it was so uncomfortable, his back was already protesting after having spent most of yesterday in the awful chair), he smiled a little, it’s a wry and almost sad thing. “I get left-right mixed up. Same with East-West. Up-down, North-South I’m mm... quite good at.”

“Why would you take such a risk? To the case? To yourself??”

Swallowing thickly, Llewellyn’s face turned dark and heavy with guilt. “Because it was my fault. I was the one who told Constable Baxter to leave his desk.”

“To aid with the mêlée outside?”

“... Baker’s boys had started it, obviously. It was an idiot trap, and I was the idiot I had to make it right.” Picking up the cup off the table, Llewellyn leaned forward uncomfortable. “It wasn’t right— of course. It destroyed the case. And it’s now destroyed my career.”
———
Murdoch left him there, to the silence and his own thoughts only to return hours later with the most damning evidence yet. A photograph that he dropped on the table and slid over to Llewellyn. The man giving a light start at the sight of it, rising in his seat and straightening his posture as much as he ever did. It’s the photograph. The only one that had been taken when they were young. Three boys stared up at him. Hubert, Daniel, and himself. “I... remember this. It was taken shortly after I moved in.”

“You lived with the Marks twins?” Murdoch’s tone is harder still, perhaps upset that Llewellyn had kept this secret. That he’d lied.

“The landlady’s family took me in after my parents died.” Not necessarily a woman who had been mother material in the traditional sense, but she had a good enough heart to not let three boys end up in an orphanage or in one of the boy’s homes. Mrs. Young had taken in the Marks twins before him, and then when his sister had disappeared she had taken him in as well.

“Odd that you didn’t mention it.”

“Well— I knew what you would think.” There’s tears in his eyes now, nerves starting to get the better of of him. Feelings rising as everything started to fall apart.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“That I had reason to kill Nigel Baker.” And he had so many reasons to.

“Did you?” Murdoch’s tone is clipped, all business. None of his usual soft approach or delicacy left.

“Did I have reason?” His voice breaks, emotions finally getting the better of him as he struggled to not leap from the seat. “Nigel Baker tortured and killed a man I...” Swallowing a sob down, Llewellyn frowned and lowered his voice. It still trembled as he continued, “A man who was in every way my brother. Someone who deserved my protection! I had ample reason to kill Nigel Baker! But as I have already made clear, I didn’t recognize him! So did I kill him with intention? No! Am I sorry he’s dead? No— I’m not.” Llewellyn pulled back away from the edge of the table, trying to calm himself and regain a little composure. “To be honest, even if given the chance to exact my revenge, I’m not sure I’m capable of it.” A distressed shake of his head, “Obviously, my philosophy rejects the very idea. ...No one asks to be the way they are, not even boys like Nigel Baker.”

It’s a slip up, and Llewellyn realized it immediately. Another strike against him. Murdoch jumps on his words immediately. “Boy? You knew him as a child?”

“He was the same age as Hubert and Danny. Lived a few doors down on William Street.” Llewellyn gets a far away look on his face, memories coming to the surface unbidden. Things he tried to not think about, things his subconscious had tried to repress. “Even then, you could tell there was something wrong with him. Most bullies have a purpose in their torment. They seek status— protection... Nigel Baker was only happy when he could cause pain. He delighted in it. And boys like Hubert and Danny,” Boys like himself, “They were fodder for his cruelty.”

“You were their protector...” Murdoch’s tone had shifted again, not exactly forgiving of his blunders and the secrets kept. He was gentler about the question though, not as forceful as he had been.

Llewellyn ducks his head, looking away. “When I could be.” He had never been much for fighting, too much of a pacifist. Often as easy a mark as his brothers were. But when he could redirect Nigel’s attention? When he could jump in and give them a chance to escape? He did. It was worth the pain and the fear. He never regretted coming home injured if it meant they were safe. “I reported his deeds to his father, but Mr. Baker could never accept the truth about Nigel.” And how that had stung. For his words, his pleas for help, to fall on deaf ears. All because Nigel’s father loved his son too much, was so blind to how cruel and destructive the boy was.

Picking up the photograph, Llewellyn looked at it tenderly. “Poor sweet boy...”
———
Llewellyn was rolling the cup back and forth with a pencil, resting his head in his arms on the table when Murdoch returns next. All quick and to the point, a renewed sense of urgency in his words. He came with a question about how many gunshots had been heard, only for Llewellyn to absentmindedly ask if this were some sort of riddle. Frustrated, Murdoch’s hand snaps forward to grab the cup and slam it down firmly on the table and asking if he could explain it. Explain why there were reports of three gunshots that night. Murdoch continued to counter all his explanations with growing irritation. Like a dog with a bone, he wasn’t going to let it go. The detective accused him of tampering with the gun, of removing the original empty bullet casing and firing off sequential shots to hide the original.

Murdoch suggested a hypothesis on what really happened after that. One of Llewellyn getting a call at his desk from Hubert, his brother informing him of his intention to kill Nigel for what he’d done to Daniel. The story playing out to the effect that Llewellyn hadn’t arrived in time to stop his brother, but had covered the crime up after forming a plan to give Hubert enough time to get away.

It wasn’t entirely wrong, of course. Llewellyn had gotten the call and hadn’t arrived in time to stop Hubert, but his brother had already fled the scene. Llewellyn didn’t know where Hubert was, and as worried as he was, he knew it was better that way. You couldn’t divulge a secret you didn’t know. He had still panicked and covered it up, of course. Shot himself, shot again to mimic a struggle for the weapon even though Nigel was already dead. Hubert wouldn’t be blamed for this, he wouldn’t allow it. Not after he’d failed both his brothers so much already... Even if sticking to the story meant going to prison... Even if it meant hanging for the crime. It would be the one thing he did right by his brothers.

Moments later, Llewellyn loses his temper when Murdoch hits a particular nerve. He’s so tired of the world as it is, and that even Murdoch would stoop to suggesting his brother were incapable of feeling guilt in the situation, that they could take a chance on the court finding Hubert mentally incapable and send him to an institution instead. It hurt to hear such a small minded opinion from someone so like himself.

He snapped out a challenge then; if Murdoch really believed that Hubert had committed the murder and not him? Then he would have to prove it. Llewellyn picked up a book off the table, opened it to a random page and refused to look Murdoch in the eye, unwilling to say another word.
———
It’s a while before Murdoch returns again. When he does, it’s with a mixed expression. One Llewellyn can’t quite read... So he focuses instead on his book. “So? Am I to assume you have your proof?” A small gesture, a waggle of his finger. “You had a theory.”

“Oh... I’ve since changed my theory. I no longer believe Hubert Marks killed Nigel Baker. No, that was you.” His tone is softer this time, resigned in a way.

“Well... Good. That’s what I’ve been saying all along.” Finally, what ever development had occurred, it meant that the case seemed to be heading back the way he wanted it. Suspicion would move away from Hubert, and back to him where it belonged.

“But I don’t believe it was self defence. It was murder.”

Looking up from his book, Llewellyn can’t help the confusion bleeding into his tone. “What?”

“We found this in a shed near where you confronted Nigel Baker.” Murdoch responds, sliding a picture of a bloody footprint into his line of sight. Llewellyn picks it up as the other detective continued, “I believe you were there that night. You’ve since changed your shoes, but that’s your bloody footprint.”

His bloody footprint? Now that made no sense, Llewellyn had never been in a shed that night. Had never stepped in blood, aside from perhaps his own after wounding himself. The question popped out, quiet and confused. “Whose blood?”

Murdoch is silent, instead sliding another collection of pictures across the table to rest in front of him. Llewellyn’s stomach dropped, everything falling into place. The reason he hadn’t seen Hubert that night, the reason that he hadn’t been seen since that night...

Anyone looking at the photographs would think that these were from Daniel’s case. The sheer volume of blood, the gashes were so close to those that had marred the man’s form when his murder had been discovered. Llewellyn knew better though, he had always been able to tell the difference between the Marks twins.

No, this was Hubert and he was dead. Everything had been for nothing.

Llewellyn’s jaw quivered, sifting through the photos before shoving them away in a rush. “No... No. No! NO!” Sobs wracked his body, drawing his arms close and thrusting his hands in front of his eyes, as though not seeing the images would somehow make them untrue.

He doesn’t even hear Murdoch leave the room, too wrapped up in his sorrow.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( So, listen. There's a lot to unpack there, but Eddie's also pretty sure he would claw his own eyes out of he'd been made to reveal something so personal over the network, let alone actually talk about the thing. As much as he wants to ask – of course he does, he's painfully nosy at the best of times – Eddie restrains himself.

Instead he just opens up the fancy little connection, and tries not to sound too curious as he asks: )

Hey, uh– where abouts are you?

[Llewellyn is currently wherever other people are not. As soon as he realized this particular low point in his life had been broadcasted, he might have had a panic attack for a variety of reasons. How do you repress bad memories if they get splattered across a public network?

The answer? You can’t.

It’s the first time the detective decided to utilize the texting feature on the network, but it feels necessary at the moment. Either Eddie is curious about this, and he‘ll have to be patient with the kid’s questions; or he was contacting him because he needed something. Maybe he hadn’t seen the broadcast? One could dream.]

Here and there, as usual. Is there something I can help you with, Eddie?

[Surprise, Eddie. He’s an idiot who is going to pretend everything is fine, and hiding behind text messages seems to make that so much easier.]

( Oh so that's how this is being played. It makes sense, Eddie thinks he'd probably do the same thing, but it doesn't mean he's exactly happy about it. Still, he's used to this – Eddie's the practical poster child for repressed issues. Hell, Richie is his best friend. This is what he's used to.

So he mulls it over for a bit, but ultimately ends up using the text function to reply. )

No, I just wanted to chat. Did you know they had movies on? One of them was about cops. There's a whole joke about his notebook, it's pretty funny. Also there's some really weird shit in the markets, I never really looked properly but it's kind of interesting.

( just friends chatting about normal things and definitely not ignoring the memory shaped elephant in the room )

[Eddie was smart, he had caught on quickly. It didn’t surprise Llewellyn, but it was a relief. He would take advantage of this for as long as possible.

The elephant in the room would, of course, be ignored. It wasn’t going to go anywhere, and honestly it hadn’t in the half a year that had passed since the actual event had happened. It was simply that Llewellyn was a champion at avoidance. His problems were largely handled by burying them under a massive pile of work, other people’s problems, and what ever else he could find to distract himself.]

A joke about his notebook? Notebooks are actually quite important, Eddie.

What weird stuff have you found in the market? ‘Suspicious weird’ or the more generic ‘other world/era weird?’

Very important of course. I think you'd find it funny too, it was a good joke. Good movie actually, I guess there's some funny stuff coming in the future. Also police wear weird hats in England and I think you should get one.

( Obviously, ideally, Eddie would just dig in. Not least of all because Llewellyn has very recently been helping Eddie chew through some incredibly difficult topics, and he'd like to return the favour, but also just because that sounded like it sucked, quite frankly, and everyone deserves to get that sort of thing off of their chest.

But he's learning not to push. Slowly, but he's getting better about it. Maybe being present can be helpful too? )

Not suspicious. I have been keeping an eye out though, I still think everyone is shady. But you can just like buy stuff it's cool, like no one's going "oh no you can't have this you're a kid". I wanna go and get a bunch of stuff, find a hobby or something y'know?

[Eddie should be proud of himself, that message got a small smile out of him.]

I’m not sure what the weird hats of the future look like, but before I was promoted to detective I had to wear a whole uniform as a constable. It was mandatory that I also wear what I expect you would consider a ‘weird helmet’ if you saw it.

[Llewellyn hadn’t ever really had anyone to talk with to get these things off his chest with before. He had colleagues but... They had their own lives, and he spent very little time with them outside work.

Not only that, the cases of both his brother’s murders were something that he needed to keep secret. The first time to avoid arousing suspicion that Hubert and him had tried to fix the evidence that had been tampered with. Now he couldn’t talk about it purely because the station wanted to keep his name out of the papers, to keep him from being fired for his many mistakes. Not only was it a complicated mess, it was another whole part of his life that he couldn’t talk about.]

Hobbies are an excellent idea. They’re a good way to engage your mind and keep you busy. What are you thinking of trying your hand at?

Sounds like you need a friend, a drink and a hug. Where are you?

[Alex was on the mark with her guess, he absolutely needed all three. If pressed he would only agree to needing one of those things, however. Llewellyn wasn’t sure he felt like he deserved the other two, and he still wasn’t accustomed to the idea of people checking in on him. It was a new experience over the last couple months.]

At my office; but I’m fine, Alex. You shouldn’t trouble yourself on my account.

Don't be absurd. I'm coming over. Do you mind a dog? I have a dog now, but he's pretty well behaved.

[She hopes he likes them, because she's already on her way over toting a bottle of whiskey, her dog and some various desk snacks that she could manage from her supplies in her office, because she knows him, and she knows that he's going to want to eat as well.]

[Oh— This was happening rather fast. He knew that tone, and he knew how stubborn Alex was when she made a decision to do something. It was something he generally liked about her, that stick-to-it attitude was a good quality in his opinion.

This time it was less than ideal, she shouldn’t have to come over and check on him. This was all his mess that had been spilled across the network, after all. There were more important things she could be doing, he was sure.

Llewellyn sighed, he was going to have to pull himself together. Put on a good face and push forward.]

If you’re really sure... I don’t mind if you bring a dog, if he is new it probably would be best to not leave him alone.

The door will be open.

Of course I’m sure. Also everything is better with puppy kisses and Apo is good with puppy kisses. Even if he spoiled.

[And he’s big. Huge actually. When Alex shows up its with a bottle of scotch and a large gray pitbull with blue eyes and a red collar. While he has a leash, he doesn’t really need one because he’s kind of glued to Alex’s side. When she gets there she knocks before opening the door gently.]

Hey.

[Llewellyn was sitting at his desk, pen tapping away at a blank piece of paper as though he intended to write on it. Honestly it was just a repetitive motion at this point, he couldn’t seem to focus on what he was doing. This was all a lot, and he was feeling incredibly exposed. More so than he had with the confessions. No one was supposed to know about this where he was from.

And now here, everyone knew.

He drops the pen when Alex knocks, looking up and between the two of them. A little more withdrawn than he was usually, he awkwardly offered a greeting.]

Hello Alex... and Apo, was it?

[There's concern evident in Alex's face, and it's etched all over it. The dog just looks to him and then back to Alex before he chuffs softly and gingerly and very politely sniffs the man's hand before giving it a little bit of a lick. It's the Apophenia form of the hug that Alex very much wants to give him, because jesus he looks like he needs it.

Normally Alex wouldn't ask, but today she does, that concern even more obvious in her voice than it is is in her expression. All of this is a lot and Alex knows it and she can't imagine going through all of that with someone who was basically his brother. Forming it not quite as a question, even if the lilt of it is there in her voice Alex just offers softly:]

I think you really could use a hug and a drink right now.

[And then she's just going to wait for him to either let her give him one or to refuse it.]

[There was that suggestion again, a hug and a drink. Llewellyn’s expression is very conflicted as he considers it. Societal etiquette, what was proper and what was not, were very different in his time. Still, he’d seen very close friends or family hug in times of both sadness and happiness. Of course, he hadn’t had anyone there to offer such comfort when the event of his memory share had occurred.

There was no one left to.

A squeeze of his shoulder from the other detective, and then it was time to move on, he had drunk himself to sleep that evening and then proceeded to throw himself as hard into his work as he could the following weeks and months. Helping with or taking on any case he happened upon. It had made him terribly reckless, just trying to stay ahead of all that hurt.

He gently pats Apophenia’s head, before glancing at Alex again with a smaller, awkward tone.]

Are um... Are hugs acceptable in the situation, then?

[Alex just looks sad and worried for him, because she'd never seen him like this before. It's something soft and sharp and painful in her chest for a moment, before she just gives him a sad smile and a little nod.]

I think they're always acceptable if someone needs one, actually. But I would definitely say that you definitely need one in this instance.

[And then very quickly, Alex just wraps her arms around him going up onto her toes to do it.]

audio | @e.kaspbrak

Text - un: detwatts

—» text

no subject

no subject

no subject

private audio

Private Text

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

audio:bellsareme

Text - un: detwatts

audio, private

Text, private

Text, private

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject