Some Things Fall Away (Blue Bloods Fanfiction)

↞ Chapter Five ↠

Season Six, Episode Two

It is difficult to speak to victims.

Nearly all of them have this air about them, as if they will never be happen again, never move past what they've been through. I couldn't blame them, and as I knocked on Clark Levine's door I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the conversation to come.

The door rattled, opening to show me the face of a woman.

"Hullo," I smiled softly, pulling my badge from my inside pocket to show to the woman. "My name is Detective Inspector Jethro Howards, I'm looking for Clark Levine."

The woman scrutinized my badge, and took it quickly when I offered it to her. "What do you want with my son?" Her voice was not harsh, just inquisitive.

I answered in a voice that was just as soft as before. "I want to speak to him about the assault last year, at Morningside Heights?" I knew that she had not forgotten about the assault, but I still felt the need to clarify the specifics.

Mrs. Levine nodded, opening the door all the way and handing my badge back to me. "He's through here." She led the way, and I followed treading lightly as I looked around the room. "Clark? There's a Detective here to speak with you."

The man in question looked empty when he looked up at me. I smiled in a way to appear less threatening. "Hello Mr. Levine, my name is Jethro Howards, I'm a Detective Inspector with the NYPD-"

Clark interrupted me, "You sound like you should be from Scotland Yard." His voice said it in a joking tone though his face did not match the emotion.

I chuckled, an attempt at easing the attention. "I use to work there." Silence fell between the pair of us, and I turned to Mrs. Levine, "Do you mind if I speak to him alone?"

She seemed to falter, glancing to her son who nodded lightly before leaving.

I sat on the armchair across from Clark, noticing how he did not avoid looking directly at me, the edge of a scar appearing just under his hairline despite his attempts to cover it with long bangs. He wore a turtle neck, and had a blanket around his shoulders and across his lap.

"What do you remember?" I would make no attempt to hold up pretenses.

Clark took a moment to respond. "The first time he hit me, I blacked out, and when I came to, I was in the back of his car." He shut his eyes tight, lifting a hand up to brush against his forehead. I nodded, despite the fact that he wasn't looking at me.

"Did you get a look at his face at all?" I pushed away the anxious feeling that I was getting from the situation.

"No." Clark answered without hesitation, "My injuries knocked out some of the memories-" It sounded all to familiar. 

I hummed, nodding once again, "Did you recognize anything about him? His voice? Anything particular about the way he spoke?" The psychology degree was not helpful in this moment, I needed to appear personal, and I wasn't doing as brilliant as I hoped. 

"He didn't talk, he just laughed." Clark's voice broke slightly, "There was music, classical. It was like he did it to set the mood, he was into it."

This was a detail that I hadn't expected, and I found myself cringing slightly. I opened my mouth to ask another question but Clark spoke before I could.

"I've read about these other men and women, and I know I'm supposed to feel lucky that I survived. But I don't." His voice was flat and emotionless, he looked ready to cry. "I haven't slept since it happened, I'm afraid to go out, afraid that he is going to come back."

I noticed a tissue box on the table beside me, I asked one more question as I offered it to the young man in front of me; "Can you remember anything else about him? Even the slightest detail can help us find him." It was the truth, I'd caught my last serial killer because the daughter of the victim remembered his red shoes.

Clark hesitated, "I remember his eyes, they were just blank." He shook his head, dabbing just below his eyes with a tissue. "The more I cried and begged for my life, the more he seemed to enjoy it."

I had no sympathetic words to speak, my mind feeling rather numb as Clark continued to speak.

"He dumped me just off of the highway, left me in the rain." Tears poured freely down the man's face, "I've been told he probably thought I was dead. Ironically that's what saved me."

I shook my head sadly, "I am so sorry Mr. Levine."

Clark's words turned to ones of anger, he lifted his bangs quickly, the four point scar on full display as he practically shouted. "My skull was fractured in five places! I still get headaches!"

He mouth clicked shut audibly, and I sighed in a sad way, standing and offering my hand to the man. "I'm sorry Mr. Levine," I wanted to leave, but felt compelled to say something else, "I believe you can make it through this Clark."

It was the truth, and I could see the smallest amount of comfort in the man's face from my words. I nodded to him, muttering a 'thank you' to both him and his mother for letting me intrude on their day. I felt the need to leave as quickly as possible, the after affects of this conversation and Jameson and I's conversation last night, I was easily on edge.