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

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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.

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[Llewellyn returned the electric gun to the table with the other weapons and observes curiously, wondering how well the fabric had stood up against that. ]

I think I get what you mean, so it needs enough power for it to be controlled. Still seems kind of uh— dangerous. I suppose that’s the point of trying to perfect the durability of the material.

That is the idea.

[She grabs the fabric from the dummy and peels it away. Enis puts a piece of tape on it and then replaces it with another piece of fabric.]

Let's do fire next. It's that gun there. You'll want a face shield too. Just for safety reasons. Don't want to burn any of your hair.

[Llewellyn looked at the weapon curiously, he didn’t have to be told twice to grab a face shield. A large part of Toronto had nearly burnt to the ground not more than a year or two ago.]

No, I uh— definitely wouldn’t want that. How does this one work??

[He added, picking up the weapon and doing as instructed.] [Llewellyn looked at the weapon curiously, he didn’t have to be told twice to grab a face shield. A large part of Toronto had nearly burnt to the ground not more than a year or two ago.]

No, I uh— definitely wouldn’t want that. How does this one work??

[He added, picking up the weapon and doing as instructed.]

Point and shoot.

Same as the other but try not to set things on fire.

[It isn't to hard to figure it out. There is an igniter that loops towards the end and a set amount of fuel. So he can't burn everything to the ground.]

There is a set amount of fuel for each shot. So if you just click it once it'll be a short burst.

Point and uh— shoot. Of course, I presume actually setting something on fire is the opposite of what we’re hoping to achieve here?

[He mumbled, eyeing the device before lining it up with the target again.]

So it’s limited then, rather than a steady stream.

[He pulled the trigger, brows raising slightly as it shot a short burst of fire at the fabric before stepping back for Enis to get a look at again. ]

In general, yeah. There is nothing I can do about how flammable hair is. [Whoever is wearing this should be prepared for that if they do come in contact with fire. It'll also smell awful.]

Yeah.

[Enis steps forward after he's done and tugs the fabric off. Nothing caught on fire so that's good. Again, she tosses it to the side and sets up a third one.]

Last one. Want me to do this one? You seem hesitant about regular guns.

I’m mm... not a stranger to using them, I’m just not overly fond of the idea. We don’t actually carry them outside specific circumstances where I’m from.

[He responded, hand fussing with the patch in his jacket sleeve where he’d shot himself. That memory fresh thanks to what the sphere had shared. He was fine with the idea of carrying one in theory, Llewellyn simply didn’t like the idea of using one.]

I uh— believe I’ll pass though, thank you. I believe you mentioned drinks?

I got you.

[She leans behind her to the floor and grabs a bottle of whiskey. Enis then holds it out for him to take.] Here. Relax. I'll do this really fast.

[Enis picks up the gun and shoots at the armor. The shoots are quick, exact and perfectly in the same spot. She is a very good shot and it shows in her movements.]

There. I do have glasses by the way. [She points to the counter.] But I usually just drink out of the bottle.

[Fast seemed like an understatement, considering how quickly that last test went by. He’s impressed, eyeing the target from where he stood holding the bottle in some distraction.]

You’re a very good shot.

[Llewellyn commented, before moving to grab a couple glasses anyway. Even if she wanted to drink out of the bottle, he was more accustomed to drinking out of a glass. Small habits, and he was very habit oriented sometimes. Pouring out some for both of them, he held a glass out for her once she was finished checking the target to see if the material had held.]

So uh, is it passing the tests as you hoped it would?

I am. [She flips the gun's safety and places it on the counter with the other weapons. This fabric gets marked like the previous tests and tossed into the finished pile. She'll go through them later and suss out the data as best as she can. It might be a useless test but the only thing she's lost is time and time is something she has too much of here.]

Mm? Thanks.

[She takes the glass and a small sip before finding a cleared off surface that she can sit on. Sometimes that's the only way that it's possible to find a seat in the lab. One chair is stacked with boxes and the other is holding the test fabric.]

We have to see. I am going to look at the data and see if someone can survive it. Of course, it'll probably still hurt them but living is the general idea. [She shrugs.] And if not, I'll switch protects. This is just for fun.

I have a lot of time

[Llewellyn tended to fidget a lot anyway and sitting could be awkward, so he was just as happy to stand (or lean on the nearest surface as he was now) while they shared a drink.]

Free time is something this place seems to have no shortage of... Finding something to fill it with is a good idea, especially uh— something as useful as that material might be if it works out?

[Enis sips at her drink at a fairly constant pace while speaking, her vibrant blue eyes locked on Llewellyn.]

That's the hope.

I've never been good at being idle but I can learn... or experiment.

What do you do around here to keep yourself busy? Or are you slowly going crazy?

[He considered both questions with a little hum, swirling the alcohol in his glass thoughtfully. He finally shrugged slightly as he started with the second question,]

Would I actually know if I were slowly going crazy?

[He wasn’t sure if he would, all things considered. Taking a sip of his drink, Llewellyn moved on to the easier to answer question.]

The council let me open a private investigation office, I’ve uh— been spending most of my time working on little cases for the locals. Missing items, petty string of thefts. Stuff like that?

[It’s not really enough for his mind, but it would have to do for now. It at least broke up his days a little, and gave him a reason to keep moving.]

[Enis makes a face and then takes a sip of her whiskey.]

I guess not. We could all be going crazy.

[That's probably a topic that they shouldn't think to hard about.]

That sounds cool. If you ever want help, give me a call. Rhys doesn't really need me here. [Hence her little side projects.] I think he originally gave me a job out of pity. Now that we're dating I'm not sure if we should spent ever hour together. I don't know but it sounds bad... right?

[Enis doesn't know shit about relationships, be them friendships or otherwise.]

[Llewellyn preferred to have someone to work with, if only because the other person tended to help keep him a little more organized. He honestly hadn’t thought to see if anyone might want to join him once in a while. People were different here, and genuinely seemed to like him more than on average in his own world.]

Really? Uh... Yeah— Yeah I’ll be sure to contact you, that might be helpful.

[He’s a little awkward on the asking for help front himself, especially considering what had happened to two of the last people who he’d gotten used to working with.

The question on how much time a couple should spend together was one he wasn’t sure he could accurately answer, considering he’d never been in a relationship long enough to know. He had thoughts, but they had been proven false on occasion.]

I don’t know... It seems like it would depend on the people? I think it sounds like it would be difficult after a while? But— I also know two people who are married, and they worked very closely for quite a long time. It seemed to work for them?

Good. If you don't I'll find you and test out a dart gun.

[She grins, making it obvious that she's making a joke. Enis isn't actually going to shot him. It doesn't matter if it won't kill him. She likes him too much to cause any physical or emotional damage.]

Who is that? Did they act the same apart as they did together?

[She really needs to know.]

[The thing was, not all jokes were as obvious to him as they were to others. He’d been told on multiple occasions that his sense of humour was lacking, and it sometimes took a while for him to catch on.]

Huh—?

[His expression does a complicated little series of shifts, brows raising comically in some alarm at the notion that she’d actually shoot him. It settled to something a little more sheepish when he caught side of the grin, laughing a little belatedly.]

Oh, that was meant to be humorous! Of course.

[He hummed a little, thinking back on the detective and his wife. They were both a bit of a mystery as far as he was concerned, they both held very different belief systems sometimes.]

The detective at the station I’m allowed to work at. His wife was the city coroner until fairly recently, and they solved quite a few cases together. I was very surprised when I learned of it, but they’re really quite impressive... I didn’t really know them before they married, but evidence suggests that they both behave in the same manner that they always have?

[Enis watches his expressions shift between a wide range of reactions.] Wow. Yeah. It was a joke. I'd never shot you. [She doesn't want to laugh at him but she can't stop the smile that twitches at the edge of her lips.]

It's okay. I'm not very funny.

[She's still practicing. Mostly, Enis likes nerd humor.]

Ah. I guess, for me, I'm not sure who I was before. Then he was there and... stuff happened. I didn't take it seriously but that fling... didn't stay a fling. [Which is awkward for her. Enis had liked just sleeping around.] I don't know. I hate caring... it makes everything complicated.

Mm... I’m not very good at humour either, to be honest.

[A pause,]

And I’ve been shot at before, so it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise ... though I like to think we’re good enough friends that I can trust you not to anyway.

[Llewellyn did smile though, awkward but maybe a little amused at his own ineptness.

The subject of feelings though? Of caring for other people? Yeah... He gets it, and he can’t even help that he slips into caring about everyone far too easily.]

Caring does make things complicated... Not always in a bad way, though?

[Humming a little, he took another drink and tried to work out the bet way to continue with this line of thought.]

And... While I uh— think it’s important to know where we’ve been... To learn from that past self... Maybe the who we are in the present is more important? We’re all different, always changing, I’m not even sure I’m the same person today who I was yesterday?

[Llewellyn makes a little face at that, he’s tried to have this conversation with George before. He was never sure if he could get the idea out right.]

[Enis considers that and then adds.]

I think getting shot is always a surprise. [At least it surprises the body and sometimes leads to shock, along with blood loss.] I won't. Promise.

[She won't shout it from the roof tops but they're friends... which means that she wants to protect him.]

I get it. I feel that way too. Though... I worry that too much is changing. I can't keep up and I don't want to get lost. If that makes any god damn sense. [Enis takes a final swig of her drink before looking over at Llewellyn.]

Do you like who you are?

Maybe...? [He wasn’t surprised when he shot himself, though he supposed the pain was enough to give him a start. Of course, that was a different situation from being shot at, it might not count.] Thanks for the uh— assurance though. I appreciate that.

[And he really does, a little sad perhaps, but he’s got a terrible track record as far as his dealings with people went.

Llewellyn stared into his glass, again the topic warranted a certain amount of consideration. He... got it. He didn’t like that he did though, or that Enis felt that way sometimes too. Then to ask him if he liked himself was an added challenge for the detective. People generally expected a yes or no, that wasn’t exactly simple for him.]

I think I can understand that... Sometimes its as though you get swept up in the change, good or bad, and it’s mm... Hard to process it, to work out what’s you and what’s the uh— situation or outside influences. What do you keep? What do you let go of? It’s mm... hard.

[Taking a careful sip out of his glass, trying to hold back on that a little longer, he continued.]

Then there are the things we wish we could change about ourselves, but they’re the sorts of changes you can’t make. They’re not... possible.

And mm... Sometimes I think I might like who I am, but other times... I’m not so sure. There are things that I can’t put my finger on, things that I don’t quite understand but I expect must be unlikable and I wish I wasn’t.

[Enis is patient, taking the occasional sip of her drink as she waits and listens to Llewellyn's explanation. She is a curious person by her very nature but she rarely shows interest in another's opinion. Her curiosities focus on histories, texts and hard sciences. People are always changing and surprising... and Enis doesn't like that chance for inconsistency.]

Yeah. It's like that.

[She glances down at her glass and tilts it so that the liquor begins to swirl.]

That's how I feel... It's confusing and sometimes I think it'd be better to lose my feelings entirely, just become a computer.

It does seem easier...

[He certainly wouldn’t blame her, feeling too much was such an overwhelming feeling at times. The overload of it all could make moving forward hard some days. Still...]

I’d be uh— sad though if you lost your feelings entirely, even if I understand the desire? Unsure of who you are or not, who I know you to be is... good company. It’s nice to know someone who gets it [A vague gesture, unsure what the word for ‘it’ really is.] even if I’d rather that we didn’t have to feel that way sometimes.

Yeah.

[She's conflicted and uncertain but she doesn't really want to dump that on Llewellyn. He probably has enough shit to deal with.]

Yeah. I mean, thanks. I think.

Didn't really mean for the conversation to get this deep. Good thing we have something to drink...

[He glanced at the half-finished drink in his hand with a sad little smile,]

Mm... Deep conversation about serious subjects just seem to be the hand we’ve been dealt today.

[Because, oof... It’s been a day for it.]

The drink definitely helps though.

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

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