Imagine her surprise when she came to work that morning to find that - in her absence - a few officers who were most certainly not forensic scientists were allowed to enter her lab and mess with things. The excuse she received was that there had been some very important tests that needed to be done, and they'd had to grab some of the things from her lab in order to do it. Of course, they had been nice enough to return her items, but they'd put them in the most random of places. And someone had clearly eaten lunch at her desk, because there were crumbs all over it. It had definitely not set her up for an easy day - and as she continued through the day, she'd only encountered more and more issues. It seemed as if the riots had turned them all on their heads - they were missing quite a few people who had been injured, but at the same time it felt like there were too many bodies in the hallway. 

Marlowe had been shoulder checked more times today than she'd been since she moved to Lethford, and of course each time threw her into a spiral of negative thoughts and emotions. The last one she'd received had resulted in piping hot coffee being spilled all down her outfit, so she'd been forced to switch into an emergency pair of scrubs for the rest of the day. She'd closed herself off in her lab after that, refusing to leave and preferring to just re-organize and clean the entire lab. The task had certainly helped her level out her thoughts, and clear away the dark clouds that had started to move in. 

When she'd finished getting the lab in order, she'd collapsed into her desk chair and dropped her face into her hands, letting out a long sigh. She held her face for a few moments before she heard her the door to the lab open, a voice reaching across the space to her. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt whatever you’re doing, but we need to have this analyzed as soon as possible.”

Lifting her head at the sound of the voice, Marlowe blinked in surprise at the figure that had found it's way into her lab. Of course, she knew right away that it was a bomb squad suit, but she still couldn't just act like it wasn't completely ridiculous to see someone in one outside of, well, a bomb situation. Her gaze flicked to the evidence bag he held up, and she pushed herself up to a standing position. "Oh, yeah - I can do that right now." She hated the way she stumbled over her words, trying to shake the fog from her brain. Was it time to go home yet? Crossing the room to the figure in her doorway, she took the evidence bag from him, stepping over to a long, white table with various tools and gadgets on it. 

"Where's this from? The riots?" She hadn't heard about any explosions, but then again she'd been preoccupied by playing doctor when she'd never even gone to medical school. Still, Marley found herself curious about the bomb fragment in her hands. Pulling on some gloves, she opened the bag and gently slid out the fragment onto the white table. She stepped away from the fragment to collect a few different tools she would need, things to test for traces of residue, powder, chemicals. The end game was to be able to tell them what it was made from, and perhaps shed some light on where it was created and for what purpose. Bombs had different uses - was this one meant to kill, maim? Was it for the effect of a large explosion? Knowing the makeup of the bomb would help to narrow down where those supplies could have come from. 

648 words - Roman Donovan   - boop boop this is probs lame sorry Dx

(C) ELLIE @ GANGNAM STYLE

As she worked, Marlowe kept a chunk of her attention on the man in the room. Even though her gaze was focused on the parts, she was acutely aware of his presence and location in relation to her. As he started to strip off the suit, she finally got to get a look at the man inside. Sweaty, but still decently attractive. Polite. Still, Marlowe continued to clock his every movement without actually watching him. "If you're sticking around for results, you can set that in the corner over there." She told him, her tone placid as she nodded in head towards the far corner, near the door, where there was actually some storage space. This way, the sweaty sauna suit would be as far from her as possible. 

She continued to fiddle with the evidence he'd provided her, her hands working automatically so that her brain could wander - and of course, keep track of the other person in the room with her. Being very aware of others' movements was a habit she'd developed due to her horrid marriage. It came as second nature to her now - to always be aware of how close she was to other people, how they used their bodies to communicate. Her attention was so split that she barely caught his question, and watched in silence - lips parting to speak at the last moment - as he approached the fridge they used to store temperature-sensitive tests and evidence. She felt her lips twitch into a half-smile, her brows pulling into a questioning look. She pressed her lips together to stop from chuckling at him, turning her gaze back to the fragments as he carried on. 

Raising her brows, she was happy to meet someone who actually had information for her for once. Knowing that it was a pressure cooker bomb meant half her work was already done. Marlowe nodded her head when he mentioned fingerprints, reaching over to a set of storage bins set on the table and getting out her fingerprinting kit. "Most of the officer sent to bring evidence to me can barely tell me what day of the week it is." She commented, glancing over at him. "Thanks." Stepping back in front of the fragment, she paused as he apologized, tilting her head in his direction. A faint smile played on her lips. "I work late most days, no apologies needed."

Which was entirely true - Marlowe preferred to work until she wasn't allowed to anymore, so she often worked upwards of twelve hours a day, often times longer. Every place she'd moved to since she changed her name had been a short stopping point. The apartment she rented now was no different. She never bothered decorating, and she had a handful of rented furniture pieces that she never intended on actually purchasing. Marlowe raised a brow as he asked how long it would take, considering him for a moment. "For fingerprints? Minutes. I can do that first, and then run the rest of the tests after if those are less urgent. If it's a drink you want, I have a mini fridge under my desk." She nodded towards the desk she'd been originally sat at when he'd first ended, feeling charitable. Normally she preferred to work alone, but he'd been polite so far, and it had been pretty funny to watch him so confidently open that evidence fridge. 

Turning back to her work, Marlowe took the special fluorescent powder they often used for objects such as the bomb fragment in front of her and sprinkled the fragment with it. Using the brush, she dusted the object off. Setting the brush back down, she glanced around the room, frowning to herself. Her black light lamp was not in it's usual spot. And she didn't see it in the room as she looked around. Sighing, Marlowe shook her head. So much for minutes. "Looks like I lied. I'm going to have to find my black light lamp before I can lift any prints." She said, turning her focus back to him, the frustration in her tone obvious. "Feel free to sit." She gestured at the desk chair, before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she turned, wondering where those idiots who'd messed with her stuff may have put the light. It was a regular looking desk lamp except for the special bulb, which was black, obviously. There weren't many places to stash a lamp if it's size, so she was hoping it wouldn't take long to find. God help them if they took it from my lab. She thought, cursing mentally as she strode over to a set of cabinets and started opening them in turn, peering inside each one carefully. 

797 words - Roman Donovan   - boop boop

(C) ELLIE @ GANGNAM STYLE

Marlowe had to admit that she appreciated a man who didn’t mind taking orders. It was a definite change of pace from what she was used to, and she found herself mystified at times when she encountered a man who didn’t immediately start to show off like a peacock during prime breeding season. Marlowe was tired of the men whose masculinity was so fragile that they constantly needed to belittle everyone around them in order to feel manly. ”Thank you.” She said, tone softening as she watched him put away the suit where she’d asked him to. Or, well, told him to.

Flashing her first sincere smile, amused, Marlowe shrugged her shoulders. ”One of the benefits of working primarily by yourself. The only downside is everyone else feels free to come and go as they please, moving all my things.” Her tone was airy, not really complaining but doing her best at making civil banter. She paused when he enforced his previous statement, though she used the fragment as an excuse to drop his gaze and focus on something else. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his words, but they did bring another faint smile to her lips. ”That’s true.” She conceded, shrugging her shoulders. If he was adamant about being apologetic for taking up her time by having her do exactly what she was here to do, then she wasn’t going to stop him. He just kept being a breath of fresh air, didn’t he?

She was relieved when he returned the focus of the conversation to the task at hand - she was much better at socializing when she had a job to do. Casual small talk had never been something she really needed to learn, and she was still parsing out how to go about it. Sometimes. A lot of the time, she found herself exhausted with entertaining the personalities around her. Egotistical men on a power trip, women who are quick to attack any other woman in order to prove their manliness. She’d certainly picked the spot to get her first real job - police departments were no joke. Though, this one was a bit more relaxed.

”Duly noted. I’ll get you what I can.” She assured, trying not to watch him as he located the small fridge and got himself a drink. Of course, she was quickly distracted by the missing lamp, though she still found herself pausing in her search when he mentioned the hospital, giving him a curious look. Not much interested her enough to make her engage in social settings, but the mention of a hospital stay always immediately grabbed her attention. ”Hospital? I hope nothing serious.” She commented, opening another cabinet and glaring into the darkness within.

Marley could sympathize with his next statement - she slept a few hours every night and the rest of her time was spent up and moving. If she stopped, she started to think and remember, and she didn’t like to think about her past. The people she’d thought she loved, the people who had betrayed her when she’d needed them most. She was still staring into that same cabinet when his voice broke her from her thoughts, thankfully enough.

Looking up and over the cabinet door, Marley focused on him. ”Um, maybe? I have no idea where they could have put it.” She sighed, standing up and closing the cabinets, a thoughtful frown marring her sharp features. ”I can’t get the fingerprints until we’ve got it, but I’m pretty sure there’s an extra down in storage.” The basement of the police department was where extra equipment was kept. It was cold, and dim. Definitely not a pleasant place to go, no matter how many lights they installed down there.

627 words - Roman Donovan   - boop boop

(C) ELLIE @ GANGNAM STYLE

Marlowe gave him a thoughtful look when he mentioned installing security cameras. There were cameras out in the hall, but the lab had never been upgraded with security. At the same time, Marlowe preferred to avoid confrontation when she could. Putting herself in the spotlight wasn’t the best idea for her. Since leaving her life behind, Marlowe had grown a backbone - and she could stick up for herself, but she couldn’t at the same time. She had to keep a low profile. Keep her name out of peoples’ mouths. Shrugging her shoulders in response to Roman, Marlowe felt the corner of her mouth tilt up in a faint smile. ”I complain about it, but it doesn’t happen too often. Usually I’m here to fend them off.” She told him. Though it made her feel less dramatic when he told her about his own need to control his work space. Marlowe was truly comfortable in her lab, no matter where she was. Forensic work had given her new purpose - new drive. It was a skill she’d never gotten to explore until she got out from under his thumb.

As he told her about what had led to his hospital stay, she found herself leaning back on her heels and staring at him, hands in her lap. Nothing serious? She was reminded of the many times she’d excused her injuries in the past. ”Sounds kind of serious.” She responded, shrugging a shoulder lightly. ”Makes me happy I chose the job where I don’t put myself into danger every day. I couldn’t do what you do.” Her own easy chuckle accompanied her words, knowing that if the roles were reversed she certainly wouldn’t want to continue talking about her last hospital stay.

He talked about the recovery times, and Marlowe found herself being drawn into the months spent recovering after she’d had her ribs broken. All that she had from that time were scars - carefully hidden with makeup or clothing. The ones marking both wrists were always almost artfully hidden with many layers of makeup and spray that stopped it from rubbing off. She’d spent too long learning how to cover bruises and cuts. She was practically an expert at making excuses.

Memory lane always made her feel strange. Her stomach was tight. Anxious. Marlowe focused on Roman, trying to distract her mind. ”Sometimes there’s only one choice to make. I get it.” She told him, pushing herself back to her feet and crossing the room, opening some more cabinets and peering into them. He mentioned that he didn’t remember much of the encounter, and Marlowe could sympathize with that statement. There were plenty of dark spots in her memory, too.

She flinched at the sudden crackle of the water bottle - cursing herself mentally for letting herself stroll into the past and dredging up bad memories - but quickly recovered, glancing over at Roman. His question had her brow furrowing, her expression thoughtful. ”With those descriptions, I’d say it’s probably most like the stick kind.” There was a lilt of amusement in her words. ”But it’s made like a desk lamp, just with long bulbs. Black. Not much bigger than that one.” She gestured towards the medium-sized desk lamp sitting on her personal desk, though that one was a regular old lamp. Completely useless to her right now.

As he headed for the door, she found herself standing up straight again. He was asking for a picture, mentioning how he could go by himself. ”No, that’s okay. I’m better at finding things than I am describing them.” She told him, closing the distance between them but stopping short a few feet away. ”But I think you’re right. They must’ve taken my lamp, so it’d probably be simpler to just go get the one from storage.” She mused, frowning as she did one more quick sweep of her lab with her gaze.

Marlowe turned back to Roman with a sigh, resigned to her fate. How she hated the storage rooms of this police department. There were no windows, and the air, no matter how clean everything looked, always smelled of mildew. But still, she couldn’t send him off to run an errand for her like that. ”Lead the way.” She told him, nodding towards the hall.

716 words - Roman Donovan   - boop boop

(C) ELLIE @ GANGNAM STYLE

Marlowe let out a soft laugh in response to his suggestion, though the thought of Internal Affairs made her gut twist. She didn’t want that kind of attention anywhere near her - though she’d done everything legally, she didn’t need her past creeping up on her. ”Maybe I’ll just threaten them with you.” She replied candidly. Her lips pulled up slightly as she looked over at him. ”I’ll keep that in mind the next time I take any time off. Which will probably be in a decade.” She quipped, half-shrugging as she spoke.

"Maybe it is. But it‘s in the past. Nothing can be changed. I wouldn‘t want others to do the job I do, so I‘m glad it‘s me doing it."

She thought he sounded really humble about everything. Marlowe was pretty sure if she asked anyone else about that day, they’d paint him like some kind of hero. That’s what happened when an officer suffered an injury in the line of duty - no matter the circumstances of said injury. But he didn’t seem to see it that way - it was just his job. She thought about the way working in the forensics lab made her feel - finally worthwhile. Important. Needed. But she didn’t feel like some kind of hero for pouring powder on things and brushing it off like she was at some sort of dig site. ”That’s a good way to look at it.” She commented.

Of course, as she joined him at the door, he seemed to see straight through her. Was she really that obvious? Trying to look casual, she offered up a rueful smile. ”Claustrophobia.” She told him, which was actually a little true. Marlowe also just didn’t like the fact that it was a basement - they’d always creeped her out. But these days, the windowless square spaces always felt like they were closing in on her. At his request, she gave a quick nod. ”I don’t mind at all.” She followed him out, pausing only to lock the door - the only other key for it being with administration.

She didn’t try to break the comfortable silence as they made their way to the elevators, watching as he pressed the button and waited patiently before beckoning her into the metal box. Marlowe stepped in, her skin already feeling too tight. Her stomach turned gently as they slowly descended. And of course, as the doors opened, the hallway stretching out before them was dark. Marlowe frowned darkly at the light switch, though she tried to be understanding, considering the reason behind it’s non-working status.

Walking behind Roman, Marlowe recalled every incident where she’d had to come down here by herself. Staring at his back, she felt a little at ease knowing there was someone else to commiserate with. She noticed his light flashing upon each sign, and figured she should probably lend a helping hand. ”It’s at the end of this corridor, last door on the left.” She directed, glancing over her shoulder as if there might be some horrible monster lurking just over her shoulder. Her skin crawled at the sight of the dark hall stretching back towards the elevator.

She’d nearly crawled up his back by the time they reached the storage room, focusing so hard on not stepping on his feet that she almost ran into his back, side stepping at the last moment in order to avoid a collision. As the light fell on the storage room door, Marlowe stepped past him and opened the door. ”Perfect.” She murmured, stepping in as her eyes caught the lamp in a flash of illumination. Grabbing the object, she turned back and brandished it at Roman, pleased that they’d obtained what they were looking for and could now quickly depart from the basement. ”Let’s go.” She said tightly, exiting the storage room and closing the door behind her. Marlowe fought the urge to rush down the hall, trying to walk calmly and not whip her head around to look for unseen assailants.

673 words - Roman Donovan   - boop boop

(C) ELLIE @ GANGNAM STYLE

Marlowe was aware that she was acting on an irrational fear, but when you spent your entire life living inside a box, sometimes that mental trauma forms phobias against one’s will. So, she was scared of enclosed places. And it didn’t help that it was dark. But at least she wasn’t alone down there, even though this guy was a stranger to her. He seemed nice. But she didn’t exactly trust her judge of character all that much these days.

“So… claustrophobia huh? Working inside your office most of the day probably doesn’t help. Remind me to never ask you to try on the bomb suit.”

She glanced over at him in the dim lighting, feeling a guarded smile pull at her lips. ”The lab doesn’t bother me too bad. Plus I’m so focused on work that I forget where I am most of the time.” Marlowe found herself explaining, surprised she was telling him anything about her fears. ”But fear of tight spaces aside, I don’t think someone could pay me enough to wear one of those suits for an extended period.” She joked back, a bemused glitter in her gaze. Marlowe shrugged her shoulders in response to his apology. ”Not even a little bit your fault.” She responded. ”If it weren’t you that needed prints done, it would have been someone else. I blame the jerks who took my lamp in the first place.”

The conversation petered out as they reached the elevators, and Marlowe stood anxiously as he pressed the elevator button. His mutter made her straighten her shoulders, her gaze flashing from the elevator controls to him. ”Don’t say that.” She commented, her tone wary as she watched him pull his phone out. The elevator wasn’t coming? Were they stuck? Oh no.

“Maybe I can call some-”

And then the light was gone. As it disappeared, the shadows closed in on her, and she felt her throat tighten. She froze, not realizing how hard she was gripping the lamp in her hands.

“There used to be an emergency exit but as far as I know the staircase was set on fire during the riots. It’s most likely going to be useless but I still want to check it out. You can stay here and wait or come with me if you prefer.”

He was definitely walking away from her. Immediately the ice holding her body in place shattered, and she quickly paced after him, reaching out to brush the wall with her fingertips, everything in her body telling her to draw her arm back to her side and hold it tightly to her body. That someone was going to grab her from the darkness. Fighting back the panic and the child-like urge to reach out and grab hold of the man ahead of her, she tried to keep her breathing even and not to sound as frightened as she was starting to feel. It was just a silly fear.

”If the staircase is out.” She began, her words tight and choked as she tried to work around the suffocating tightness in her throat. ”What do we do?” Marlowe went for casual, but she could hear the barely concealed panic in her voice. She was not going to freak out in front of him, even if it was dark. She needed to get a hold of herself, right now.

She’d been doing really good at not living in fear the past couple of months. Marlowe was starting to feel safer. Like she was finally recovering. But she still struggled with nightmares, anxiety, and of course - she didn’t really like to be touched without warning, and she didn’t like feeling trapped. Which led to an intense fear of tight spaces. If she thought it wouldn’t somehow lead to her discovery, she might have even gone to therapy for it. But no, she’d worked through it on her own. It rarely acted up as often. But these conditions were not ideal for just ‘breathing through it’.

Even still, if she had a breakdown in front of this stranger, she was going to change her name again and run away for the upteenth time. No way was she about to embarrass herself like that. So she took a deep breath as she followed him, clutching the lamp to her chest. ”I was really looking forward to my microwave meal for one after work today.” She tried to joke, ”So hopefully we’re not stuck down here for long.”

She wasn’t sure if she was fooling anyone with her lame jokes, but at least she was putting forth the effort to not sound like she was about to start crying. It wasn’t that serious, or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. Someone would come find them eventually. There were worse places to be stuck, too. Marlowe tried to focus on those thoughts, keeping her panic contained. Barely.

818 words - Roman Donovan - boop boop

(C) ELLIE @ GANGNAM STYLE

As Roman led them to the stairs, Marlowe focused hard on the darkness in front of her. She could barely see more than what was right in front of her face, which was awful. It made everything feel so tight around her. She waited as he went to check on the stairs as an escape option, hating the darkness swelling around them. As he shut the door and reported that they couldn’t go that way, Marlowe let out a breathy sigh. ”That’s not the news I was hoping for.” She admitted, sounding defeated. His comment on them just waiting was like a death sentence. She wanted to curl up on the floor and hide her face, like a child. Thankfully, she had more self respect than that, at least not in front of another person. Roman did make her feel a little bit better about their situation, at least.

And another plus was apparently her sense of humor wasn’t completely dead, as Marlowe heard his chuckle. His offer caught her by surprise, and she felt her brows raising in shock as he spoke. It was probably a terrible idea to agree to - it wasn’t like she was a viable option in the dating pool, after all. But it was just dinner, right? And he was definitely right that after all of this stress, it was probably better to get out and have some company than to go home and have to eat a barely flavored microwave meal. ”Well, I’ll never turn down a free meal.” She replied lightly, feeling a smile forming on her face. She was suddenly sort of glad for the darkness. ”So I’ll take you up on that offer.”

She felt his hand brush her hair, and as soon as he came into contact with her that smile dropped from her face and she jerked back from him, almost tripping over her feet in order to put some distance between them. It was an automatic, knee-jerk reaction out of surprise at being touched, and she winced, trying to throw out a laugh to brush it off. ”It’s okay.” She assured him, her heart racing in her chest disagreeing with those words. ”Startled me.” She explained, making a hand gesture as if to physically brush away his words. She wasn’t sure if he even saw it. ”Should we head back to the elevators?” She asked, trying to change the subject as quickly as she could. Brush it under the rug. That was what she was best at.

433 words - Roman Donovan - notes

(C) ELLIE @ GANGNAM STYLE