The Corpse and the Medical Examiner

Episode One

Living somewhere cold was the last thing that Crowley wanted to do, but the promotion was practically worth his entire apartments rent for three years. So he took the opportunity by the throat, but he did not like the cold. Working for the police wasn't his first idea of life either, but being a ME was a fun job, albeit a little dark. It reminded him of when he was a kid and his ma would call him cold-blooded as he put his cold hands on her, and she would smack them away and scold him with an amused smile.

Anyway, it was fucking cold. So cold that people were out ice skating. He hated wearing so many layers, but he still looked stylish so he let the irritation slide.

Throughout his thoughts he found himself in an isolated little area that seemed even colder than the other areas.

"Shit." Was all he could verbalize without shivering.

When he looked down a few feet away, he could see a shallow area of frozen water. It was the size of a grave, he thought morbidly. It looked frozen for a foot down or so, it was almost unrealistic how much of the little area was frozen. Crowley hums, rapping the large shock of ice. With a tap the ice cracks, which was crazy, because the amount of ice was fucking insane. It seemed strong enough for him to stand on. He jolts backwards and sees another person slam a hand onto the other side of the shallow waters frozen sheath. Oh fuck was this actually a grave?

His breath is fast and shallow, the ice breaks as he is struggling with the sight in front of him.

The ice breaks and crackled, like something inhumane was shoving a sharp fist into it. A large chunk was thrown out of the water. A blond man's head peaks through, death shrouded the others features, the bright blue that was probably once his iris bled through the rest of his eyes like an ink spill. He looked very dead. Circles appeared underneath his icy eyes like dark smears of charcoal. His curly hair was wet and limply laying like dead tentacles with the water of what looked to be his grave. He looks dazed.

The man stared up at him and then blinked touched his face and his hands and says,

"Is it still 1875?"

It was 2019.

Crowley stares for a moment, the dead man is asking about him. The dead man is speaking. He literally walked in a public park and found a grave. Oh my God.

"Uh, no." he sputtered back, and the corpse slowly pulls himself out of the water.

The blond looks down at himself, squeezes water out of his jacket and shivered a little. He puts a careful hand over his chest, where a heart should be. His mouth parts as a soft gasp escapes his mouth. Crowley notices that he isn't decomposed, which he should be a skeleton by now, or a preserved fossil.

"Oh. oh dear. what year is it?"

"Uh, 2019." Crowley says between shivering in fear and cold.

The dead man looks at him up and down, "Are you cold?"

"Well yeah its like, -30 out here are you serious?" he was exaggerating, but still. It was well below freezing.

"Well dear boy you should get somewhere warm. I wish I knew where in the world we were, I used to have a delightful-" his voice was quieter now, as if the words died on his lips and tongue, just as he had seemingly died in the watery grave.

Crowley is halfway between fear, and a small bit of sympathy. The man looks up at him, his eyes full of oxymoron's. They looked so alive, but dead. Emotional but unable to extend it past. Seeing but blind.

"Well. I- I'm sorry I scared you so. you might want to run along before you freeze." Something was unsaid between the two, and suddenly Crowley had a stupid and terrible decision.