Chapter Text
Getting to a scene was always overwhelming. The bright strobing lights of police cars, the chatter of Beverly, Price, and Zeller, the enclosed environment of agents and officers crowding the victims, and the flash of cameras to document the evidence. All that is annoying on a good day, but not the worst. Worst of all was the smell.
The putrid odor of decomposition on the body, the sweet tinge of death and coppery overtone of blood, congealed blood, and drowning the entire area. Hydrogen Sulfide gives off the scent of rotten eggs usually coming from a bloated body that has been long past its prime. Putrescine is the main suspect that clings to the flesh of the victim, whether it's human or more so akin to roadkill.
Regardless of how many times Will gets the call from Jack that there’s another body, he’ll never get used to it.
And today was not his day, today felt worse.
Another restless night of nightmares and sleepwalking, dragging himself out of bed and into his office and through his lecture. He had almost drifted off on his lunch break when he got the call.
Two bodies, inside a small town hardware store, no clear relation between the two. That’s all Jack told him over the phone.
When Will arrived at the scene he was immediately met with the same visuals, smells, and sounds overpowering his senses.
“Will, finally. What took you so long?” Jack Crawford asked, judgmental as always.
“I came as soon as you called me, next time I’ll be sure to teleport.” Will responded shortly.
Jack gave him a look, unamused by Will’s attitude, he escorted him into the building, where a brutal scene lay ahead.
“Two victims, one male Micheal Davis, one female Elise Reynolds, no relation to the store or each other as far as we know. The families claimed they had no enemies and were both doing well, held down jobs and no criminal activity.” Jack directed.
Will nodded as he listened and walked through the doorway. The scene before them was no less odd than all the others, two bodies contorted around each other, twisted and turned in unnatural angles. Odd, but far from original.
“Mutilated but everything's all there, no surgical trophies” Will comments as he reaches for the file an officer hands him.
“They were both born and raised in Princeton, New Jersey," He continues.
“They knew each other?” Jack asked
“It’s definitely possible.”
“The families claimed they had no relationship, so are they lying or unaware? Could be a coincidence.” Jack replies.
“Nothing's a coincidence at a crime scene.”
Jack sighed and turned to the scene.
“I’ll clear everyone out, let me know when you’re finished” Jack finished and turned toward the door, disappearing outside.
Will took in the scene and closed his eyes. Envisioning the killer, how he did it, why he did it.
They weren’t killed here, they were planted. Lack of blood splatter and obvious murder weapon conclude that much.
As he attempts to recreate the scene, he realizes how much he’s sweating, dripping down his forehead and pooling above his lip, on his chest, the dip of his back, and his palms are perspiring like never before. A chill runs down his spine and he feels like he’s been dipped in an ice bath. His limbs feel numb and his breath shallow.
Breathe, just breathe. The stag starts to pant in the corner of his eye, black dots dance across his vision, and his world abruptly tilts. Shit.
Black. Nothing but darkness.
Perfect. Just perfect.
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When Will comes to, he’s already annoyed to be met with Jack Crawford and a squad of EMTs looking at him.
“He’s awake” an EMT states, looking to Jack.
“Will, what the hell was that? You contaminated a crime scene... again.” Crawford reprimands, the man is truly such a caring soul.
“I’m fine, I just, uh, lost my balance is all. I’m sorry about the scene I’ll go look right now I-” Will starts.
“Oh no, no, you’re not going anywhere near another scene until you get yourself checked out. You’re sweating like a pig; you look like you haven’t slept in days and I’m pretty sure you’re wearing the same clothes from yesterday.” Jack so kindly states.
“There’s a clinic in town; they’ll take him in” Beverly chimes in, giving Will a concerned look.
“Seriously? I was just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast let me go look at the scene and I’ll-” Will starts and is again, cut off.
“What day is it?” Beverly asks.
A simple question, simple answer of course Will knows it’s... shit. Tuesday? No, he doesn’t have lectures on Tuesdays and Thursdays so it must be...
“BZZT, you took too long, you don’t know do you?” Beverly says incredulously.
“It’s Friday.” He guesses.
“Wrong again, and no breakfast? It’s four o’clock in the afternoon.” Bev replies.
Will sighs and looks to his hands in his lap, resigning himself to his fate.
“I’ll take him it’s only 20 minutes' drive, save the ambulance a trip,” Bev states. Talking more to Jack than conversing with Will.
“I’m an adult, I can’t drive myself now? You think that little of me?” Will all but whines.
“Yep. I’ll have someone get your car for you. Be good for the doctor Graham.” Jack says as he walks away.
Perfect.
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