Chapter I – "how soon is now?"
Note one: Wellow, i comeback, after....two months and three days (i think). In my Ao3 account is basically why i was so late about this, however, I'm just going to drop this and go. Until the next update or any signal of life for my part :D.
New note: happy new year, so i finish to re write this episode, since i didn't like it, i try to synthetize my ideas, so i hope its more understandable and polish, tomorrow i would release the next episode.
The weather was thick and wet in the station, almost like the walls were exhalate the unhappiness of the place. The old vent pipe was spinning slowly, almost like it was copying the mood of people that were in that room.
It was throwing some wind that wasn't fresh. One of the offices in the background was the office of ID Hardy, he was reading some of the files of the case of murdering, that case its driving everyone crazy.
In the background was her: one hand playing with a little stress ball, the other holding her tablet, reading files, walking the room and murmuring to herself, He didn't know when or why she ended up here, she just appeared.
—So that gun was… found on the sand. Hmm— She murmur while keep squishing her little ball.
—It’s not that gun, it’s the gun. In context. —he said, still reading, like the words had escaped him by accident.
—But it is an object. You point at objects with that. —she answered, distracted, already halfway back to her tablet.
He closed his eyes. Briefly. Like someone shutting a door against weather.
—Ye use the when ye know exactly which one ye’re talkin’ aboot. That’s distance. Physical or otherwise. —he finally looked at her— It’s no stylistic choice. It’s grammar.
—I am pointing at it, though. —she lifted the tablet a little, as proof.
A little silence for between them, after some seconds later she returns to her tablet. Alec just looks at her for some seconds more after to turn his head back to the files, not having more to add.
It been almost three weeks since she was added to the team. Three weeks, and she’d managed to make herself noticed. Not admired. Not trusted. Just noticed.
She was good. Everyone could see that.
And she was terrible at knowing when to stop.
—Have you seen the mark in the left ankle? - She asks, passing her tablet of the cadaver over the desk. He moves close while adjust his glasses to see it more clear.
—That one. It’s not damage from the fire. It’s older. A burn. A Circular one.
—Yeah I know —she said, a little too fast— but this one doesn’t match the pattern of the surrounding damage. It was already there. It was old.
—Ye’re no makin’ any sense.
—It’s the four body with the same mark.
Alec opened his mouth, then closed it again, exhaling through his nose.
—You're not hearing me!!.
The room felt tense. Nothing new.
In her head, the mark was obvious. Clear as a fingerprint. She didn’t understand how no one else was seeing it.
—What’s going on? —Ellie intervened from the doorway, coffee in hand, already exhausted by the tension.
Alec muttered something under his breath.
___ sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. —I’m pointing out the burn mark.
—The one of the last body. —Her voice sharpened. —The same one.
Ellie tilted her head, patient but firm. —Pretend I’m five.
A low groan slipped out of her before she could stop it, frustration finally breaking through. But grabs back the stress ball, trying to fix her thoughts.
So she open her mouth talking slower.
—I was telling the Inspector about the mark, i know it was dismissed, that the body was burned.
—....And? —Ellie move her hand
—And it’s too consistent. —She hesitated, squeezing the stress ball harder. —Same size. Same placement. Same depth. Burn damage or not, it shouldn’t repeat like that by accident. An i know tha—
—Okay...Step by step, yer talking but not making a point.
She exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly. Ellie had been the only one, these past weeks, who knew how to slow her down without shutting her up.
—And i don't think this is something random.
Ellie thinks a bit for herself letting go a little "Hmm".
—So yer suggesting that we have a pattern?
—I'm not suggesting, I'm saying that.
Ellie look at her a bit with a tired look, ___Just sigh.
—...Its a supposition if you wa-If you think it good. — She scoffs a bit biting her tongue for not saying things she shouldn't.
—Looking by yer way, i didn't notice that.
Ellie’s comment earned her a small smile.
Behind them, Hardy kept "reading", jaw tightening as he reread the same line.
He finally looks at her over his lecture glasses. Her and her smug gaze. Even if she wasn't talking to him. That uncouth posture make her look more like a solider that a mortician.
—Are ye sayin' that we have a pattern? —He interrupted, while he kept reading the files.
—Inspector Harvey, you should hear me out more.
—....Hardy — He says exasperated, but didn't rise his voice.
She looks at him with that smug expression. He doesn't react to her provocation.
Ellie look at her, almost like a scolding gaze.
___drops her smile and roll a bit her eyes, turning back to her tablet. isolating herself of everyone, by walking out of there.
Ellie moved closer to Alec’s desk. —Look, I know you two don’t exactly… bond.
—But you’re not that different. You’re both a pair of assholes.
This time, he looks at her. Slowly. Squinting his eyes.
As the day pass Alec and Ellie pass a good part of the day discussing about the case. Alec who was of the last off leaving the station. walk slowly out of his office.
—You Finally decided to get out of your cavern? —Ellie whisper, against of the wall. drinking her five or even six cup of coffee of the day.
Alecs turns his head to face her, clearly not in the mood.
—...And why you're stress now?
Hardy think for a few seconds before buffing.
A small, dead silence settled between them. Ellie listened without interrupting, then nodded slowly.
—You need time-to-time to get your mind clear, Hardy.
With that, Ellie walked away, leaving Alec alone. His mind kept racing around the case. He huffed again, dragging a hand over his face, through his hair.
By 9:14 a.m., the station had settled into that familiar, suffocating calm.
The clock on the wall ticked with clinical precision. Tick. Tack. Tick. Tack.
It sounded like a hospital.
Alec Hardy hated a great many things, but routine meetings ranked near the top. Sitting still. Listening to people repeat what he already knew. Watching time crawl while nothing moved forward.
He leaned back in his chair, bitter coffee cooling in his hand, foot bouncing under the table. An anxious habit he hadn’t bothered to break.
Hardy stared at the report in front of him, skimming out of boredom more than interest. To his right, Miller was fighting sleep, chin dipping as the sergeant droned on about technical issues and procedures no one cared about.
The meeting dragged on long enough for everyone to regret every career choice that led them there.
Across the table sat ___.
For once, she wasn’t mocking the discussion or pretending to listen. She was actually paying attention. Notebook open. Pen moving fast. Eyes locked on the sergeant.
Hardy noticed it before he meant to.
—The victims share a burn mark. Same place on the body. —Her voice cut clean through the room. —Don’t you see it? It’s a pattern.
A few officers exchanged looks. Someone sighed quietly.
It was well known: when Méndez talked about bodies, it was because she’d seen something others hadn’t.
That didn’t mean she was right.
But it did mean she was dangerous to ignore.
—Méndez. —The sergeant’s voice was calm. —Explain.
She nodded once. Grounded herself.
—Three men. Similar age range. Similar build. —She spoke slower now, deliberate. —All found in different locations, no obvious connection. But they all have the same burn. Same size. Same depth. Same placement.
She hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to the table, then back up.
—That doesn’t happen by accident.
—Whit are ye suggestin’, Méndez? —Hardy cut in, dry, without looking at her.
—That this isn’t coincidence. —She met his interruption head-on. —It’s not a typical serial pattern either. There’s intent behind the choice. Behind who gets picked.
She moved without waiting for permission, crossing to the laptop.
—Sorry— —not really sorry— —She plugged in her drive, the projector flickering to life.
Photos filled the screen.
—No signs of sexual assault. No theft. No rage injuries. —Click. —Controlled violence. —Click. —Clean placement. Someone with time. Access. Knowledge.
The room murmured now. Uneasy.
Hardy folded his arms. Finally, he looked at her.
—Why did ye no’ bring this up earlier?
—Because until the third body, it could’ve been dismissed. —Her voice stayed steady. —And I don’t talk without patterns, Inspector Hardy.
He blew air sharply through his nose.
The sergeant a big man that with a look can make everyone shut up. Didn't rise his voice.
—This needs looking into properly. No shortcuts. —He paused, eyes moving around the room before landing on Hardy. —From today, Inspector Hardy, you’re leading it.
The sergeant’s gaze shifted.
—And you —he pointed at ___ —you’re assigned to him. You don’t work this alone.
Her mouth opened immediately.
—Excuse me, but if you don’t remember, Sergeant, I was sent here to work by my—
—You work for me. —The sergeant cut her off. His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. —You were sent to follow orders. You answer to Inspector Hardy. And both of you answer to me.
Hardy didn’t look at her. Didn’t react at all. Which, somehow, felt worse.
Ellie cleared her throat gently.
___ sit slowly. Her jaw was tight, fists clenched at her sides. She stared at the floor like it had personally offended her.
The meeting ended on that note. Bitter. Unresolved.
People filed out quickly. No one lingered.
Ellie and Hardy were the last to leave. Through the glass doors, Ellie spotted ___ already halfway across the car park, moving fast, shoulders stiff.
—Try not to strangle her. —Ellie said quietly.
The sky was already grey the next morning. Damp. Heavy. Like it was waiting for something to go wrong.
Hardy stood by the van, coat pulled tight, irritation written into every line of him. He watched ___ , Alone walking around while re reads the files again.
—I don’t need her. —He muttered to Ellie. —You and me work fine.
—You work. She notices things. —A beat. —You’ll survive.
She rolled her neck with a quiet groan.
—Also, you don’t have to do all the paperwork, mate.
She patted his shoulder and walked off.
___ climbed into the van first and took the passenger seat without hesitation.
Hardy stopped, then got in beside her.
—What? —she said. —Whoever gets first gets the better seat.
He sighed, already tired of her.
___ was sat in the front passenger seat, tablet balanced on her knee. Her mouth moving murmuring in low voice.
Hardy watched it for a full minute before speaking.
—That. —He nodded at her whispering. —Sounds like ye’re making a spell.
She glanced down, then shrugged.
—Yeah? —She turns around to seem visibly upset —Well everything about you feels annoyin’ too.
Silence fell hard after that.
The rain started tapping against the windshield, soft at first, then steadier. The road narrowed further, branches scraping the sides of the van.
She take a deep breath, calming herself down then broke the quiet.
—The body was placed. —Her voice was calmer now. —Not dragged. No signs of force. Whoever did it knew the land.
Hardy’s eyes stayed on the road.
—Any connection tae the others?
—None on paper. Different jobs. Different areas. Different lives.
—All of them had a history of domestic violence. One conviction. Two reports that went nowhere.
He turned slightly toward her.
—And no one flagged that?
—Not officially. —She swallowed. —Not until now.
Trees gave way to mud, broken branches, a place people only went when they didn’t want to be seen.
She reached for her gloves.
—I don’t think this is random.
Hardy stepped out into the cold air, rain already soaking into his coat.
Their eyes met. Brief. Charged.
Just the shared understanding that this was going to be difficult.
And it had only just begun.
