Fate or Chance

The first thing he had noticed about the place after the peeling wallpaper that had apparently been placed there to cover the cracked plaster was how much it resembled a painting. It was as if an artist had envisioned the house, imperfections and all, then taken up a brush and palette of paints to make it. He could not say for certain if the eeriness of the place, the sense of something just not being quite right, was also part of that artistic vision or just a byproduct of the man currently living there, but then it could very well just be his interpretation of the whole picture; art was subjective after all.

"Or it could be that this entire city just feels wrong," he muttered.

An amused chuckle sounded from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder and around the chair he was in only to find a cup of tea filling his field of vision. Blinking once, twice, to recover and process the image he finally noticed the saucer the cup sat upon and the hand holding said saucer. Long, withered looking fingers curled around the saucer that was ridiculously small when compared to the large hand it was being held in; an artist's hand and perhaps the same one who had painted this house. Never mind that Mephilio was-or at least he claimed to be-a doctor, a surgeon even, though these days he was more of a busy body poking into things that weren't his business and, perhaps, a bit of a pharmacist. Still, no matter what other things he might be the doctor was still a gracious host and he had better manners than to turn the man down.

"Just one sugar, yes?" came the query as he took the cup and he nodded in response before saying 'Thank you.' "Excellent and you're quite welcome. I enjoy having company."

"You've got plenty right now. Don't see how one more makes a difference."

His words had come out colder than he had meant them to which was a problem he had when it came to speaking with people. Even when he attempted to comfort families like the Rochefort's over the loss of their son-still not officially proven, but he had known deep down that this case wouldn't have a happy ending when he met them and heard their story-he could barely summon any warmth for his platitudes which made them far from convincing. He didn't want to be like that but he was and he was unsure of how to change it though this case had been the first one to make him even want to bother. That meant something though he had no idea what and if anyone knew they weren't telling him, but judging from Mephilio's chuckle it seemed he didn't take any offense to it; and it also meant he likely knew something, typical.

"One more can make all the difference in the world, Justin," the man said as he sat down in the opposite chair, his deep voice flowing smoothly over the rim of his teacup just before he took a sip. "By that same token so can one less, but it all depends on the circumstances. Fate has little to do with anything despite what some would tell you, though I'm sure you're quite familiar with that."

"Tch, "fate" is just peoples' excuse to do bad things and get away with it," Justin replied with a snort.

"So cynical. You should really work on that," Mephilio chided before taking another sip.

"And you need to keep your nose out of other people's business unless you want someone to cut it off," he snapped. In this city it was an entirely plausible scenario if evidence was to be believed especially when he witnessed the aftermath of such a scene with his own eyes. "Son of a bitch."

"Another one of those internal monologues, hm?" the doctor asked as Justin pinched the bridge of his nose looking most pained. If only he could read minds-and perhaps he could, who knew?-but even he would not intrude so thoroughly on the detective's privacy like that. "Also, language if you please. There are tiny ears running about, you know."

'Speak of the Devil and he shall come' was the old adage and it was fairly accurate, especially where children were concerned; unless they were being summoned with a purpose. Not that Key was an ordinary child despite looking perfectly like one though Justin still couldn't figure out why the boy was special or why he was unnerved by him. Mephilio was obvious, a case study in unconscious intimidation with his towering height and long, lanky limbs. If there was any less meat on his bones he would look like a living skeleton that just happened to be wearing skin, a condition that his right arm actually had though he still had full use of it; motor functions and grip. Key, however, was just a little boy, dark skinned though fair haired with wide, dark eyes; eyes that seemed to see the whole world and reflected it back as he saw it.

"Where is he?" Justin asked before finally taking a swallow of his drink. He was more of a coffee person but the doctor was not and so he made do when he visited; it didn't mean he had to like it, though.

"Out in the gardens with Kepharel. He's taken to him like a duck to water, two peas in a pod they are. It's rather amusing when you think about it."

An involuntary shudder ran through the detective as he recalled his initial meeting with Kepharel. He hadn't been as frightening as Mephilio and his damned bird-another missing piece in the room when he thought about it-during that meeting, but it wasn't every day that you found an angel tossed into a dumpster like he had been shot down from the sky, all blood and twisted wings and empty eye sockets. Never mind the fact that clearly had not been the case and that Kepharel still refused to speak on the matter or perhaps, as the doctor once theorized, he couldn't. The more he saw of this city and came to know some of its denizens the less inclined Justin became to skepticism and found himself, instead, harboring small beliefs in the impossible. Even so, he still had no idea what Mephilio could possibly mean by finding Key's fascination with Kepharel amusing but he was still also convinced that the doctor was more than a little insane, he just wore it well and passed it off as mere eccentricity.

"If you say so," he finally said with a shrug to accompany the statement. He did his best to avoid Mephilio's two-tone gaze, not wanting to expound any further on the subject and knowing that if he met the man's eyes he'd be forced into it. One way or another, sooner or later, he would figure out what this all meant and perhaps what his place in it all was. Not that he was actively searching for "the meaning of life" or at least the meaning to his own life but the more he uncovered-about the Rochefort's son, Mephilio, Kepharel-the more certain he was that his being here wasn't quite a coincidence which unsettled him all the more because he did not believe in fate. "I need a new job."

"But you do this one so well," Mephilio chuckled out, setting his saucer and now empty cup in his lap as he settled himself into a more comfortable position with one leg over the other; right ankle resting on his left thigh.

"Which one? Investigation or being your personal jester?"

"Now Justin, there is a distinct line between amusement and fascination and while I do find some of your insights," he paused, either searching for the right word or merely for dramatic effect. "Refreshing. Yes, while they are rather refreshing you are more interesting than a mere performer."

"Is this the part where I turn away with a demure smile and flushed cheeks then express my gratitude that such a fine doctor would find such a simple and jaded man like me so interesting?"

"Sarcasm does not fit you well, Justin."

"Apparently humor doesn't either."

"Not everyone is born with the gift for comedy," Mephilio agreed.

Silence fell over them then, as if the exchange had taken more energy than either man had at the moment. It was a likely scenario especially in Mephilio's case because there was no telling what other sorts of things he had been expending his energy on. From performing on the spot surgery to growing lesser demons-in flower pots, as a matter of fact, as Justin had discovered after walking into the greenhouse one day-the doctor was a veritable busy-body who seemed as if he always needed to be doing something because if he was doing nothing he might die; like a shark needed to keep in motion to live. Considering the nature of his abilities and what little grasp Justin had on them thanks in, small, part to Mephilio's own explanations and largely due to Tawny educating him on the matter it might be true. If the doctor was a demon himself, however, it was of no consequence to him especially since the man was also harboring an angel now. Or what was left of one.

"You know, I think I'm insane," Justin finally said, breaking the silence with a statement that should have been full of wonder, something profound. Instead it was announced as if he were reciting what he had had for breakfast that morning. No, 'That's it! I have gone absolutely nuts!' followed by a mad dash out the door but 'I had eggs this morning. And a side of bacon. It was good.'

"I think, in one way or another, most of us are," the doctor said smoothly, not quite indicating himself but not discounting the notion either.

"Of course you would say that because you're the King of the Funny Farm."

"Oh really? A king? And here I thought I'd never rise above medical professional."

"Well when you grow imps in flower pots you get promoted to something."

"Touché."

It was an admission, somewhere between guilt and amusement, but what Mephilio was admitting to was a mystery. Being an investigator made Justin naturally drawn to mysteries with a need to unravel them, to have all the answers, to know the truth. In all the years he's spent in his profession, however, he had learned that often times not knowing the truth was the better route whether for the grieving families or his own peace of mind. The more pieces of doctor's puzzle that he found, the more of them he fit together to make the bigger picture, the closer he was to realizing the full scope of why he was here; to having an answer to settle that gut feeling he had about his place here. So the next question, he supposed, was did he really want to know the answer to that question.

"You could just ask, you know," Mephilio said as he broke the silence this time.

"Who said I had a question?" Justin replied, an automatic response programmed to spit out of his mouth when he didn't want to be bothered. Oddly enough there wasn't much of a bite to his words, not like usual. Maybe it was evidence of Tawny's soothing influence with her listening to him as he paced in the back room of her shop throwing out theories and venting his frustrations at all the circles the city would make him run; literally and figuratively. She had no quips, no witty comebacks, no commentary at all, only a pair of ears with which to listen and a soft smile that just seemed to send all of his negativity fleeing to the shadows. It was magic in its own way, just as Mephilio's gardening skills were some sort of magic, but while he had seen the doctor's feats performed with his own eyes he still put more stock in the invisible magic that Tawny weaved with just a curve of her lips. "Hmph."

"Ah, that is a particularly flattering shade on your cheeks, Justin," the doctor chirped, his lips spreading into a mischievous grin. "No, no, hush, shoosh. No need to get all up in arms, especially not about anything so obvious and, yes, it is. Moving on from that, however, you aren't quite as stony faced as you used to be. You seem to have lost your, ah, what do you call it? Poker face?"

"What do you know about poker anyway?" the detective grumped which made Mephilio laugh.

"Enough to know I could read your hand easily if you don't guard yourself a little better. Or, perhaps, I've just come to know you."

"I hope not," Justin said with a snort. "That would mean I've been coming here too much."

"Too much or not enough?"

He supposed it depended on who you asked but as he took another look around the room, taking in all the peeling wallpaper and cracked plaster and tarnished metal fixtures, he had to wonder if maybe Mephilio wasn't right. On the one hand he knew it was too much-he knew too much-and knowing that made him uncomfortable, prickly. He was like a mouse scurrying around the cat's territory, just the edges, but the danger was there all the same and it would get exponentially more dangerous the further in he went. By that same token, however, the rewards inside were far greater than the crumbs outside and didn't the Rochefort's at least deserve that?

With a defeated sigh Justin slumped in his chair now too tired for decorum and set his still half full cup and saucer on the arm of the chair with only a finger or two to keep it steady. He was in it this far so why not go all in? Especially since he was an open book now, being read by anyone intelligent enough to discern all that he said but never spoke aloud. Perhaps that was another sort of magic these people had and maybe the reason Key troubled him so much. Or maybe he was too tired and jaded and losing his touch at the game. Whatever the case he was here now and for whatever reason so he might as well make the most of it.

"I'm gonna go check on the peas," he said as he stood, setting the cup and saucer on the wobbly side table next to his chair.

"If they're not in the garden check the greenhouse," Mephilio said with a knowing smile. "Oh, I almost forgot! Miss Tawny has kindly invited us across the street for supper. Will you be joining us?"

"You ask that like you don't already know the answer," Justin replied before finally leaving the doctor to himself and his own devices.

"Ah, but you could have said no," he said to the empty chair across from him. "And that would have made all the difference."