What I Do For A Living (MCR Fanfic)

Nowhere Near

/Officer Frank's P.O.V/   

Slightly messy hairstyle with a hint of earlier red dyes and the roots are growing out,

he doesn't exactly have a job.   

Baggy khaki pants exposing fairly hairy legs, and a bit of his yellow socks with black stripes across the articles,   

he must be close enough with the victim to not care about his outfit.   

Rubber shoes,   

looks like he was just walking from where he was.   

He wore a plain grey shirt that went well with his pale skin.       

And it somehow went well with the red in his eyes from subtle crying as he sits in the ambulance, waiting as the paramedics bring his friend's body out of the house.     

I bet he was the one who called us, the cops, here.   

That might mean he cares for the victim.   

Or maybe, that is what he wants to show.     

He looks at me as I approach him, as I was making possible profiles of him. As a cop, we tend to be rather stereotypical with these sort of stuff, but from what I have observed from the few years of being one, I and my partner Bob weren't so disappointed by our quick, and sometimes bitter, judgements of people who come in and out of interrogation rooms and prison cells.   

What could he be like, this guy I am about to talk to?     

I am finally a step away from him. I sit next to him inside the ambulance, as they take his friend's body into the vehicle. I signal Bob, inside the police car, to trail us as we drive to the hospital.   

The paramedics reel him in with us, as we make room by leaning further back into the seats.     

They had the white cloth over him.  

Oh.     

The caller's face whitens a little more as he tugs a part of the cloth with his thumb and pointer finger, as if subtly caressing who lies beneath.   

The ambulance begins to move and the siren started roaring. The dude's dead, and I don't know why they still want him to reach the hospital.     

Right, autopsy, of course.     

It couldn't be plain suicide, we can't be too sure.   

Which reminds me why I was here.     

"Hey," I started to say as I partially unzipped my dark blue windbreaker to show my badge and I.D in the inner pockets. Only when I was able to show them did he bid me notice.     

"Officer Frank Iero," I courteously began. I may be a cop but I am still a person.     

I got my notepad and undying pen, which isn't mine, proud to say, and faced my whole body towards my subject.     

"Gerard Arthur Way," he says. When most people would stick their hands out to shake, he dug both hands deeper into his pants' pockets.

Alright, cool, fine.

"Who might this person be?"   

Sounds stupid for a cop to ask, but Bob already went into the house earlier and found out his name was "Jude Smith," a college graduate, a huge gamer, and lived alone. His family information would be fished out later. My job earlier was to interview neighbors.     

I am just asking this Gerard to check consistency.   

"Jude Ethan Smith," he answers, staring blankly at the body beside us.  

The ambulance drives on.   

..

I nodded, jotting that down. "Relation to him?" I went on.   

There was an awkward silenced moment between us, the only people putting a gap in the spaces were the paramedics talking science stuff.     

After few minutes, I decided to ask him again, but then I heard a difficult gulp on his end. He lifted his mouth to speak.   

"We're best friends. It is his birthday today and..."   

He trailed off to just those words.

Whoever was underneath meant a lot to him.

"And?" I pressed forward, not too platonically. I was somehow trying to be sensitive. But at the same time, intolerant to any tricks he might pull off. I was balancing my humanity, and all the self-notes I have written in my head from all those years of seeing the dark side of justice- the fact that it could be taken by anyone, even a best friend.     

"I should have come earlier. I should have showed him that somebody did care if he tried to kill himself. But I know there is nothing I can do now, he as taken him."     

My police-senses tingled as I wrote that down.     

"Who has taken him, Mr. Way? Who is this 'he'?"   

He casually looked me in the eyes, meeting my dark green with his dark brown. I sensed that his eyes have seen so much, it reminded me of the first time I have seen a dead body before my rookie years, it was terrible,   

It was that of my girlfriend's.     

Gerard's words went well with how I felt.     

I... I should've had.....     

Not trying to look as shaken as I am truly, I closed my eyes and casted the memories away for a few minutes.     

If it wasn't for her death, then maybe I wouldn't want to be a cop and defend the righteous.     

I needed to get back into the page. Bob was flashing head lights at me from behind the ambulance, I looked out the rear window and gave a reassuring nod.   

He stuck me out a thumbs up.     

He knows how I tend to blank out during interrogations, but he still insists that through exposure comes perfection. He says there is no "practice" in our field of work.     

Which I have to agree.     

"Who took him?" I asked again.      

"The Afterlife, Officer Iero." he answered, biting a lip, like a sudden surge of bad taste ruled his mouth at the sound of the word.     

Geez, the afterlife? Yeah. It comes a little too early for anyone.     

That little fucker.     

Knowing that Gerard was most likely speaking like Shakespeare, I pressed no further at who 'Afterlife' was.     

"Oh," I replied, crossing out his earlier sentence which I had written, scratching out unnecessary information.     

"What could have made him do it to himself?" I asked.     

He stares into blank space in the ambulance again.

And we aren't anywhere close to the hospital.