Lost scene - Next of Kin
Apr. 8th, 2012 12:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
genlisaeThis random little side trip was supposed to be posted in December of 2010 as a follow up to the events of Chapter 3, Part 6. Then this happened. The man in the video is my uncle and I just couldn't bring myself to shoot the pics for this anymore. Here it is now, slightly elaborated on to account for the lack of images.
"Next of Kin"
Caliban pushed open the large glass door. The smell of disinfectant wafted out around him. Wrinkling his nose in distaste he stepped inside.
The woman behind the desk looked up with a curious smile as he approached, ''Good afternoon," she said cheerfully, "What can I do for you?"
Caliban took another hesitant step, his shoe squeaking against the glistening tile floor. "Caliban Villega. I called earlier."
''Detective Villega, of course” rising to her feet, the woman stepped out from behind the counter, "Right this way. She is waiting for you in the Visitor’s Room."
Wiping his sweating palms against his jeans, Caliban followed the woman down a cold, clinical hallway. The smell of disinfectant grew stronger with each step. Caliban fought back the urge to gag on the stench. He hated places like this. The walls were too white. Sterility seemed to ooze through the grout between the gleaming white tiles of the floor. The only colour in the whole place came from the labels on bottles of cleaning solution peeking out from behind a not quite closed cabinet door at the end of the hallway.
“She is doing much better,” the woman informed him as they walked.
“Good,” Caliban nodded.
The woman smiled kindly over her shoulder, rounding a corner to follow yet another gleaming white hallway, “That was quite the ordeal she went through, poor girl.”
“Will there be any lasting effects?” Caliban asked, “or will she make a full recovery?”
“Oh, no,” the woman assured him, “It was close, but she will be good as new in no time.”
Caliban nodded but made no comment. It had been very, very close. He remembered the condition she had been in when he had last seen her, just skin and bones, barely able to lift her head.
The woman stopped before a nondescript door, white like all the rest of this place, “In here.” She smiled pushing the door open for him, “Take all the time you need.”
With a nod of thanks, Caliban stepped inside, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. He glanced around the room, not white like the rest of this place, but a soft, muted yellow nearly lost in the sunlight streaming through the window. Light green eyes regarded him intently from an overstuffed armchair by the window.
“Hello,” he said sinking down into an unoccupied chair, “I’m Caliban, one of the detectives assigned to the case of your friend, a young alien woman by the name of Aurura Donovan.”
Green eyes closed briefly as if to acknowledge his words.
Caliban took a deep breath and pressed on, “I’m sorry, she’s dead.”
* * *
The door hinges creaked softly as the woman from the desk stepped inside the room. “Have you made a decision?” she asked, a pleased smile curling her lips at the sight before her.
Caliban ran his fingers through the soft orange and white fur of the cat curled in his lap, “I have.”
“Shall I go write up the paper work then?” the woman asked.
Caliban nodded, “Yes, please. The least I can do is give her a home after all she has been through.”
Light green eyes cracked open as the cat looked up.
Caliban smiled grimly back, “I’ll find the people who did this to you,” he promised, scratching lightly behind the cat’s ears.
The cat stretched, her eyes drifting closed again as she settled her head on her paws. The low rumble of content purring drifted through the room.
“I’ll find the people who killed Aurora,” Caliban promised, leaning back in the chair, his fingers sinking into soft, warm fur, “I’ll find whoever it was that did this to you.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
For those who wondered what happened to the second murder victim's cat, there you go. She is happily sitting on Caliban's counter when he isn't looking and chasing random walk-bys in her spare time. Cal adores her.
"Next of Kin"
Caliban pushed open the large glass door. The smell of disinfectant wafted out around him. Wrinkling his nose in distaste he stepped inside.
The woman behind the desk looked up with a curious smile as he approached, ''Good afternoon," she said cheerfully, "What can I do for you?"
Caliban took another hesitant step, his shoe squeaking against the glistening tile floor. "Caliban Villega. I called earlier."
''Detective Villega, of course” rising to her feet, the woman stepped out from behind the counter, "Right this way. She is waiting for you in the Visitor’s Room."
Wiping his sweating palms against his jeans, Caliban followed the woman down a cold, clinical hallway. The smell of disinfectant grew stronger with each step. Caliban fought back the urge to gag on the stench. He hated places like this. The walls were too white. Sterility seemed to ooze through the grout between the gleaming white tiles of the floor. The only colour in the whole place came from the labels on bottles of cleaning solution peeking out from behind a not quite closed cabinet door at the end of the hallway.
“She is doing much better,” the woman informed him as they walked.
“Good,” Caliban nodded.
The woman smiled kindly over her shoulder, rounding a corner to follow yet another gleaming white hallway, “That was quite the ordeal she went through, poor girl.”
“Will there be any lasting effects?” Caliban asked, “or will she make a full recovery?”
“Oh, no,” the woman assured him, “It was close, but she will be good as new in no time.”
Caliban nodded but made no comment. It had been very, very close. He remembered the condition she had been in when he had last seen her, just skin and bones, barely able to lift her head.
The woman stopped before a nondescript door, white like all the rest of this place, “In here.” She smiled pushing the door open for him, “Take all the time you need.”
With a nod of thanks, Caliban stepped inside, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. He glanced around the room, not white like the rest of this place, but a soft, muted yellow nearly lost in the sunlight streaming through the window. Light green eyes regarded him intently from an overstuffed armchair by the window.
“Hello,” he said sinking down into an unoccupied chair, “I’m Caliban, one of the detectives assigned to the case of your friend, a young alien woman by the name of Aurura Donovan.”
Green eyes closed briefly as if to acknowledge his words.
Caliban took a deep breath and pressed on, “I’m sorry, she’s dead.”
* * *
The door hinges creaked softly as the woman from the desk stepped inside the room. “Have you made a decision?” she asked, a pleased smile curling her lips at the sight before her.
Caliban ran his fingers through the soft orange and white fur of the cat curled in his lap, “I have.”
“Shall I go write up the paper work then?” the woman asked.
Caliban nodded, “Yes, please. The least I can do is give her a home after all she has been through.”
Light green eyes cracked open as the cat looked up.
Caliban smiled grimly back, “I’ll find the people who did this to you,” he promised, scratching lightly behind the cat’s ears.
The cat stretched, her eyes drifting closed again as she settled her head on her paws. The low rumble of content purring drifted through the room.
“I’ll find the people who killed Aurora,” Caliban promised, leaning back in the chair, his fingers sinking into soft, warm fur, “I’ll find whoever it was that did this to you.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
For those who wondered what happened to the second murder victim's cat, there you go. She is happily sitting on Caliban's counter when he isn't looking and chasing random walk-bys in her spare time. Cal adores her.
