Chapter Text
The cab smelled of mothballs again. Though he reasoned it was better than having to walk all the way to where they were going, Marco never really liked wandering around at night. The air between Marco and Jean settled into an uncomfortable silence at best. Frequently out of the corner of his eye, Marco would see Jean watching him. While curious, the ex-paramedic decided to leave it be for now.
The driver stopped behind some police cars with their lights on. Jean stepped out, Marco following suit. He took the time to get a good look at what was happening. Police cars had sectioned out an entire area in front of this old house. The house was a pale white, perhaps it had once been another color but now it was so blanched from the sun’s beating rays, one would never know. It looked like it had been abandoned for years.
Jean approached the police tape with confidence enough to display how many times he had done this, though was cut off by a man in some sort of white jumpsuit. The man was about Jean’s height with tousled brown hair and pretty green eyes. Marco hung back a bit after catching the snarl Jean gave to the man before him, “out of the way Jaeger.”
“Ugh, I can't believe Armin invited you again. We have the situation under plenty of control.” Jaeger growled back.
Jaeger snorted and turned his head in a scoff, only to pause on the freckled man behind Jean. He gave him the most confused look Marco had seen on someone in a long time. “Who the hell are you?”
“Marco Bodt.”
Jaeger squinted at him, “what, did the horse follow you home?”
Jean groaned and lifted up the police tape stretching between two police cars, “come on Marco, I don't want what little intelligence you have to be sapped away by this shit.”
Marco ducked under the yellow ribbon of plastic, unsure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. Jean had decided it was best to get a move on, and led the way up the cracked concrete path to the abandoned house. Behind him he could hear Jaeger speaking into a phone, mentioning ‘the horse is here’.
As they neared the splintered door, they were greeted by a surprisingly pleasant enough man. He had blond hair that was currently tied behind him in a sloppy ponytail and clear blue eyes, Marco immediately thought of Krista.
Though despite warm appearances, the voice that came out of the blond was nothing short of irritated and raspy, “who is this?”
“He’s with me” was the only response the blond got from Jean as he pushed his way into the house.
“This is a restricted area, Jean! You can't just bring people in from wherever because you feel like it.” The blond snapped, dismissing Marco for the moment.
“He is a retired paramedic, and with me. Drop it, Armin.”
‘Armin’ let out a loud groan, massaging his temples with rough calloused fingers. Marco desperately wanted to get away, feeling quite like a cockroach in a fancy resturant. He tensed a bit when Armin finally turned and regarded him carefully, before sighing and waving his hand for Marco to go trail after Jean. Though not before forcing him in a white jumper like the one Jaeger had been wearing outside, some sort of forensic suit apparently.
The floorboards resisted every step with a loud creak or moan. Inside the house had not fared any better than the front. Wall paper hung off walls in ribbons, all shriveled up like dried out like worms on pavement. The paint was chipped and worn, and some doors were just outright missing. Marco had to wonder if this was a druggie den, but not a trace of weed was to be smelled.
They walked down the long hall to an open room in the back of the house. It was a tired room, everything seemed lifeless, most of all the corpse in the dead center of it. Marco stayed by the doorframe, watching Jean stride up and peer down at the woman.
Jean circled her, then patter down her body, examined various pieces of jewelry on her and looked at her hands before straightening and turning to Marco. “Have a look, tell me what you see.” He offered, stepping to the side to give Marco some space as he walked over.
Marco squatted down next to her, eyeing the corpse suspiciously as if it would attack him. After being sure she wouldn’t move, Marco began to look at her hands and examined the rest of her. He opened her mouth, frowning slightly at the small amount of vomit that was still there. Possibly a bit of blood mixed in as well, but it was too old to tell right away. Marco trailed his hands down to her fingers, noticing the faint carving on the wood of some word that he didn't recognize. ‘Rache’? His fingers moved up and examined the color of her lips as well as eyes before glancing back up to Jean.
“Asphyxiation, probably from a drug of some sort judging by the vomit in her mouth. It looks like there was blood mixed in too, so the poison caused some form of internal bleeding… And she is certainly dead, probably for ten hours?” Marco replied, feeling rather proud of himself.
Jean rolled his eyes, “perfectly sound analysis, but was hoping for you to catch the important facts.” He held up her wedding ring, “she was in an unhappy marriage and is far from home, judging by her pale complexion. The rest of her jewelry is in great condition, except for this ring. The inside however is perfectly polished, from her taking it off so frequently, our lady corpse here seemed to enjoy sampling a platter of dicks quite often. She is wealthy, obviously, so she probably only stayed in the relationship for the money. Her coat is still damp, so is under the collar, meaning she turned her coat up against the rain. Where did it rain last? Downtown near the airport. She just got here, but didn't make it to her hotel. Why? She had to have been kidnapped, but she shows no bruises or signs of struggle, it was someone she knew or at least trusted. If it was a lover, he would have killed her at the hotel and dragged her here. But she died here, so who could it have been? The real question though is why ‘Rache’?”
“Incredible.” Marco beamed, he had no idea anyone could even be this brilliant. Sure he wasn't the brightest out of his class back in school, but he was no moron. Standing by Jean however made him look like a goldfish.
Jean stared at him, squinting suspiciously, “are you aware you say that outloud?”
It took a moment for Marco to realize that his fawning over Jean could be making him uncomfortable. He blushed and cleared his throat, “sorry, won’t happen again.”
“S’fine.” He replied quickly. Armin clearing his throat behind them caused both men to turn their heads and attention to the blond. “The dead body, lets try to keep our attention on that.”
“Rache, the Russian word for revenge. This could have been her husban-” Jean stood up and shoved his hand in Jaeger's face, mumbling a ‘thank you for your input, imbecile’. “Armin, get me all information you can on her history, including any lovers she may have had. Also, get me her suitcase.”
“There was no suitcase.” Armin hesitantly responded, eyeing Jean.
“Of course there was a fucking suitcase. You honestly think a woman of this level material dependency wouldn't have a suitcase?”Jean snapped, to which Armin gave a shrug. The detective groaned before shoving past Jaeger, “look for a suitcase! Has anyone seen a suitcase?!”
Marco pushed to his feet, watching Jean flee down the hall in search of the elusive suitcase. Jean could move fast when he wanted to, Marco shook his head and carefully pushed his way to the front, shimmying out of the white forensic suit Armin forced on him before stepping outside.
Where was Jean? Marco’s brows furrowed as he searched the area for the over dramatic detective, but found no trace of him. “He already left.” Marco nearly had a heart attack when Jaeger’s voice came from beside him.
“Wh-what?” Marco managed, still coming down from the scare.
Jaeger shrugged, “he always gets like this. Once he has an epiphany thats all he sees, the rest of us are just little obstacles in the way. Thats why he doesn't have any friends, can't be bothered to slow down for them.”
Marco was slowly catching up to the fact that Jean had just left him on the crime scene. Alone. Like an asshole. He sighed and brought his hand up to his forehead to run through his dark hair. Well, shit.
“Guess I gotta take a new cab home... “ Marco mumbled irritably, he couldn't believe that Jean would just leave him there! Was he truly that much of a problem?
“Hey, if you need the cash I can lend you some.” Jaeger offered, already unzipping his suit and fishing into his pants to retrieve a duct tape wallet.
“I… thanks Jaeger, I’ll pay you back.” Marco graciously accepted the cash and stuffed it in his own jacket pocket.
“Eren. Call me Eren and I’ll consider us even.”
“Eren?”
“Yup, its my name after all. Jean just calls me Jaeger because its my last name. And he is a royal dick, but I think you’ve figured that out by now.” Eren laughed, far more jovial than the first impression gave.
Marco was still a little wary, but thanked him again none the less and made his way down the street to a place where he could hail a cab. It seemed that he was invisible though as cab after cab had passed by him without a care in the world. Finally after twenty minutes, he managed to call one and get a ride back to Maria. Unfortunately this cab reeked of mothballs too.
Marco pulled his coat around him and leaned against the window, eyeing the driver silently. He was a middle aged man, slightly balding and seemed pleasant enough. Though something about him left a bad taste in his mouth, Marco kept that to himself though. He was probably just bitter from being abandoned at a crime scene by Jean.
They got to Maria shortly after, Marco handed the driver his pay and headed up the steps to the apartment. The door was already unlocked it seemed. He pushed open the door with ease and found Jean sitting on the leather seat, looking down at a bright pink suitcase that was resting on a coffee table he pulled from who knows where, in front of his chair.
Jean looked up and was immediately on his feet, “I’m not used to people with m-” “Its fine.” Marco briskly cut him off.
Jean’s brows furrowed, unsure what to make of that response, “it was rude.”
“Yes it was. I am going to bed now, I don't really feel like talking to you right now to be honest. I’ll see you in the morning.” Marco stated evenly as he headed upstairs. Marco always did his best to put his best foot forward and forgave others easily, but he never sugar coated things. If someone was being a dick, he told them they were and then would move along as if nothing happened. There is good in everyone, sometimes they just need a little wakeup call to bring it forward. Marco was sure of that.
Plus, he was tired. He stripped down to his black boxers and settled between the white comforter and sheets. They were surprisingly nice given the state of the apartment. Guess Jean never went in this room, which was fine by Marco. Gave him a place to escape the warzone that was the rest of the place.
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Marco blinked the sleep out of his eyes, reaching up a hand to rub the crust out only to feel padding instead of his fist. After a few more blinks Marco realized he was in the kitchen. With oven mitts on his hands, and saran wrap on everything. He slipped off the oven mitts and laid them on the counter next to the stove, staring down at the plastic that was currently stretched across the dials to control the gas for the fire. The fridge as well as the cabinets were squared off with the saran wrap also, did he do that?
He wandered out of the kitchen, still not entirely sure what was going on. The room was cleaner now, less papers everywhere and not a mug to be seen. Instead there were balled up pieces of cloth tapped to edges of the tables and and anything that looked remotely sharp. What?
Eventually Marco’s gaze settled on Jean, who was perched on his leather chair, staring at him suspiciously. “You awake?”
A wave of realization hit Marco, he must have sleepwalked downstairs. He rubbed the back of his neck, “sorry. Forgot to mention I sleepwalked. I hope… I hope that doesn't creep you out.”
Jean shrugged it off, “no. Surprised me though, I did my best to ‘you-proof’ the area.”
Marco laughed jovially, “so you put oven mitts on my hands? And the saran wrap, that was you? The little cloth pieces too?”
The detective looked insulted at his laugh, though ended up cracking a small smile, “well I was unsure what sort of sleep walker you were, and I worked with what I had.”
“Aw, you do care.” Marco teased, laughter still bubbling up from the back of his throat. Both from the sheer ridiculous state the apartment was in now, and the sheer joy that someone had actually done something to try and help. It wasn't much, but no one had ever really tried before. The action alone left Marco with a warm feeling in his belly.
Jean wasn't a bad guy after all.