John Jones is a manhunter (johnjones) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-06-21 00:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, irene adler, j'onn j'onzz (martian manhunter) |
How are you? What brings you down here; didn’t you retire?
Who: John Jones and Doctor Irene Adler
Where: Rabinowicz's bakery
What: A meeting
When: 06/17
Warnings/Rating: PG, conversation about death and dead people
Status complete
Most of the mom-and-pop establishments in Santa Ana and Tustin had been pushed out of business, but Rabinowicz’s bakery had stayed open due to the sheer amount of cops who patronized the place. Irene did not consider an afternoon shift complete without a cheese danish from the old couple who ran the place, so she stopped in on her lunch break.
John had been a cop for a long time, and nowadays, he still worked with them to help people. So he ended up coming back to these old places and talking to them, and wandering them. Today, he was there and nomming a bearclaw, and a coffee made right, and he waved at Irene when she sat down. He knew her from the days and from business, and he smiled when he saw her.
“Hey Doc. How’s business?”
Irene blinked, turned and saw a face she knew. “Detective Jones, right? Hi.” The man had been around a long while, and in addition to being a good guy, he’d been a very good cop. “How are you? What brings you down here; didn’t you retire?”
“That’s me. Hi!” He waved a hand at the seat across from him. “Join me?” And he nodded. “I did, went into the philanthropic route with an agency, and I come down to talk, and sometimes to learn of new cases to help on.”
“Oh, nice. So you’re still sort of around, just doing more consultant type stuff?” Irene smiled settling down with her danish. “My business, sadly, is never any less busy. Had an interesting one the other day, though.” She didn’t go into detail; she was never sure how much to talk about, even with cops.
“Yep. Mostly I work with my company, but I still consult and reach out.” He nodded, then raised an eyebrow. “Sounds intriguing. What happened?” His voice fell, since he imagined their neighbors had no desire to hear this.
“Had a girl run over by a car.” Her tone matched his. “The detective thought it was an accident, but when I got an up close look at the contusions, I saw what looked like finger patterns. You’ve seen the bruising patterns, I presume.” Irene chuckled. “I had to fight with the detective for literally a half hour before I convinced him it was a murder. The clearance rate must be low.”
John nodded. He knew that look, that pattern, and he sighed, then shook his head. “All too often, it is. And all too many detectives don’t want to see what makes life harder, or cases harder.” He rubbed his face. “Good people, but sometimes short sighted. I had my bad days too.”
“We all do.” Irene shrugged. “Some deputies are really great cops, and some ... I don’t know, I want to ask how they passed the entrance exam.” She smiled. “I like it here, though. And at least it isn’t like some of the city police departments.” It would never be as bad as LAPD, either - there wasn’t much time for anything except picking up the bodies down there.
John nodded. “Of course. And such is the way of things.” He sighed, then smiled. “I do too. It’s a good group, and a good place to be.” And he worked there now, as much as then, even if he walked a different kind of beat.
"if you don't mind my asking, what made you go the consultant route?" The only answer Irene could think of would be the hours. Cops never worked 9-5, especially not detectives.
“I fell in love and decided to get married, and maybe raise a family. I was always a good detective, but never the best cop, and I found I wanted to give my new family more of myself, and less of worrying that I might not come home at night. So, I looked around, and got a job offer.” John had deliberated for some time on it.
“Probably smart.” Irene smiled. “Congratulations, by the way. Finding a lady who’ll even think about being a cop’s wife is a rare and beautiful thing.” She wouldn’t have done it for all the tea in China. The idea of the man she loved possibly never coming home because of the random choices of some drug dealer or panicked criminal was terrifying.
“I found I wanted a better life. and I found one. And she... she is brave. Her bravery helped me be brave enough to leave behind one life I loved and discover a new one. And now I love this one even more.” He nodded. “We just got married recently. After about nine months of slowly growing closer.”
That brought a genuine smile to Irene’s face. “That’s sweet, Jones. I’m glad. Being a cop isn’t for everyone, either. I’m glad you can find something where you use that talent, though.” She would never do anything else, but she respected that some people did, and some people just burned out.
“I might have continued it all my life if not for her coming into it. Now I help people in other ways, and investigate cases sometimes even more complex.” He chuckled. “It’s a strange life, but a good one.”
“Strange definitely describes this place.” Irene wiped her mouth after a bite of Danish. “Do you have these dreams people are talking about? I haven’t. It sounds bizarre to me.”
“I have. I’ve had quite a few of them. It’s a little hard to believe for most, until they see the weird in action or have their own.” He smiled at her, eyes warm. “Most people eventually dream themselves and come into it on their own. Some are lucky enough to learn about it and believe it ahead of time.”
“Most people?” Irene echoed. “Really.” Interesting. “I’d almost like to know if there’s any kind of medical angle. Cause I mean, really. So many people having weird vivid dreams?”
“Something is causing it, whether scientific, or medical, or magical, and it is somehow spreading with no real explanation that I know of.” John eyed her. “Maybe just maybe you can figure it out.”
“I may try to find out, just in my free time. Call me curious.” Irene chuckled.
“Whatever you say, Doctor Curious. That’ll be one hell of a hobby.” He nodded.
Irene made a face. “Smartass. And I don’t know, it’s not a bad hobby, for someone who cuts up murder victims for a living.” She might have spoken too loud, because a couple at a nearby table openly stared at her, and it was hard for Irene not to laugh.
“I indeed possess the smartest ass in all the land.” He chuckled, then and nodded. “It could be fun, and if I can help, maybe it might be an occasional group effort.” He nodded slowly again, and stroked an imaginary beard. “A knitting circle, of sorts.”
Irene laughed, though she tried to keep her voice quieter. “Solving murders and weird psychological mysteries. All in a day’s work for Dr. Adler, the magic coroner?”
Jones raised his glass to her. "Why not? With occasional help from her friends." It sounded like fun to him.
“I don’t know.” Irene smiled a little. “As long as your wife doesn’t think you’re having an affair or something.” She didn’t want to get in the way of anything Jones had going. “I haven’t had any dreams yet - I never really dream, I don’t sleep that well to begin with.”
“No. She trusts me.” John spoke with an easy certainty. He always told his wife everything anyway, telepathically, anything that wasn’t blocked by confidentiality, anyway. “She knows me as few do.” He smiled at her, then nodded. “It’ll happen in time, I’m sure.”
“I’m glad you’re so close.” Irene smiled genuinely. She couldn’t help but be slightly envious - not of Jones’ wife, but of anyone who was so obviously in love. “And with the dreams, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be able to deduce more about the dreams if I start having ‘em, or maybe I’ll just wind up confused.”
“If they’re anything like mine, you’ll start out the one, then the other and back and forth, but end up with no solid answers.” He mused for a moment, thinking about all those memories, ones he was slowly recording.
“Answers?” Irene echoed, curious at his choice of words. “Do you feel like you’re looking for something?”
“Oh, not anymore, really. I once was quite heated about wanting to know why I dreamed what I dreamed, but now... while I still care, I have come to find myself well willing to accept it as it is.” John nodded, for a moment his eyes showing a wisdom and a knowledge far older than his years.
Irene nodded. “I can understand that. I just wondered about your choice of words. I mean, if you’re not looking for something, you don’t need answers.” She smiled. She might not have been cop-level observant, but she tried. “Still, I’m almost looking forward to it at this point.”
“I’m not now. I was, then.” He chuckled. “When one is being bombarded by memories as alien was mine were, one wants answers.” He nodded.
“I hope yours are pleasant.”
“That’s fair, I suppose.” Irene chuckled. “I should probably get back, but it was good to see you, Jones.” She fished in her pocket, handing him over one of her new cards. “Give me a call or email or something. For the knitting circle.” As he’d called their little effort earlier. “And please, give my best to your wife.”
“Good seeing you, too.” He rose, then and smiled, and took her card. “You have a good day, Doc Adler. And be careful out there.” He smiled as he nodded to her. “I will.”
He winked at her, and as sudden as he finished, he was gone.
No one else would notice...
~fin~