No Safe Haven

Premonition of Civil War

Underneath the leafless "branch" supports of the great room, Bishop stood near the windows, looking down on the city. In the next room, the forensic techs and coroner were sweeping for evidence and chattering away. 

When he'd first entered this room, everything about it - the black painted trees, the branch supports, the crystal chandeliers, even the illusion of stars on the ceiling - had seemed so beautiful. Then Victoria made him go and open that door, and now... Now the room's beauty was forever tainted; Bishop couldn't even bring himself to look at it. All he could do for now was look out the window, and imagine he was somewhere else, like out there, in the rain.  

The clouds which had built up over the course of the day had opened up just minutes earlier. Light sprinkles fell against the windows, but even now he could see columns of heavier rain between buildings in the distance.  

As he watched cars drive down the canyons which crisscrossed the city, slender rivulets of rain streaked lazily down the window, obscuring his vision. When individual droplets meandered down the glass, Bishop was graced with inverted distortions of his face which only served to remind him of the horror in the next room. 

He was nearly out of reasons to stay clear of that room now; the forensic techs should be finishing up, and a reflection in the window told him Victoria was far enough along in her recovery from vomiting to continue their work. 

A gust of wind slammed against the windows as the rain crescendoed from the sound of soothing droplets to a roaring wave; the heavier rain he had glimpsed had finally arrived. 

Victoria walked up next to him, a half-empty water bottle in her hand. 

"The storm is here," Bishop said. 

"I thought you said not to say that because it sounded too ominous." 

"It's not ominous now - it's accurate." A short silence hung in the air. 

Victoria appeared as if she wanted to thank him for helping her out of the apartment, but couldn't find the right words.  

Bishop knew just how she felt. He wanted to let her know he didn't think of her as partner in the strictest sense of the word, she was more than that, but something kept him from doing so. All he managed was a generic reassurance. 

"It's okay, Vee. You know I've got your back." He turned from the window, ready to acknowledge the existence of something besides the outside world. 

As he brought his gaze onto Victoria's face, he found she was already looking at him, a thankful look in her eye. Something else was there too. 

Disappointment? 

A voice came from the doorway of the room Bishop was avoiding. "Ashby? We're good; you can do your thing." 

"Thanks, Isaac," Victoria replied as she turned away from Bishop, their conversation apparently on-hold.  

Few people earned Bishop's respect; Isaac Hoover was one of them. Isaac's knowledge of forensics surpassed even Bishop's own, and Bishop felt that every crime he worked with Hoover was an opportunity to learn something new. 

Victoria turned in the direction of the room but seemed to hesitate before she finally started walking. 

Bishop took a deep breath and followed. Even with large fans brought in to replace the air in the penthouse, it still smelled terrible. With the air most likely completely replaced by now, he suspected the current odor came from objects which had absorbed the stench beforehand and would now always smell of death. 

There was nothing Bishop could do to prepare himself any further for what he knew was in the room, so he walked in and pretended what he saw was completely ordinary.