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It was a rather sunny day, -sunny as it can be under the England’s always rainy weather. Just a peak of a sun and people were wearing shorts. So Soap felt like he was cooking in his suit. When the smell from the decomposed body hit his nose, he wanted to hang himself with his tie. He turned to the man in a white crime scene suit with his nose crunched in disgust. “What do we have, Gaz?”
Gaz didn’t avert his eyes from the body. “A dead man.” Soap was about to hit the man’s head with a slap when Gaz started to explain. “A dead man in his thirties. Looks like he died from a blunt force trauma to the head.”
Soap was still looking at the dead man lying on the ground. He was found by a couple walking by, hanged from the tree and dangling like a piñata. Soap pointed to the now on the ground man’s eyes. “Gouged eyes seem deadly enough.”
Gaz shook his head. “No. He was already dead when his eyes went their separate ways. Not enough bleeding. And no, he didn’t die by suffocation because his neck is not bruised enough. There would be a nasty bruise along the neck, almost black. His head is bashed in, it’s blunt force. We can’t be so sure before the autopsy though.”
Soap nodded along and sighed. He knew what he was looking at. And he knew it the second his eyes landed on the empty eye sockets. Gaz turned to leave and patted Soap’s shoulder. “You got yourself another ghost homicide, Sergeant. Have fun.”
The murders started two years ago. Soap was a newly appointed detective under Price’s homicide division and Price sent him on the case, thinking it was going to be a breeze.
It turned into a pain in the ass.
The victim was in the same condition as today’s. No eyes, hanged and skull almost cracked open from the strike to his head. No fingerprints, no DNA, no security cameras. Nothing. Soap didn’t think it as a serial murder at first. Then, three months later, the second body showed up. Then the third and the fourth. Always the same: Nothing left on the crime scene except the body. That’s why people in the precinct called them the ghost murders. They looked like they were killed by a ghost.
Soap’s first case was now settled in his mind and eating his brain away every day. He knew this body was going to be one of them: an unsolved one.
Towards the evening, when Soap was still immersed to the old ghost cases, he got a call from Gaz. “See me before going home, I found something.”
The coroner’s office was 20 mins away from the police station. When Soap arrived, he went straight to Gaz, who was standing at the top of the body’s head and an open chest could be seen from afar. “What is it so important that I had to come here instead of watching Criminal Minds?”
Gaz didn’t raise his head, his attention was on the body. “Glad to hear you’re still work on your education. Come, look at that.” Soap walked right to the head and stood beside Gaz. He was pointing at a bone fracture. Probably. “What am I looking at?”
Gaz made a face before circling around the bone with the scalpel in his hand. “See the particles between the two bones? They’re bloodied, yes, but there’s something there.”
Soap was bending down to see the wound closer and his hands were on his hips. He turned his face to Gaz. “And?” Gaz threw his hands to the air exasperated. “Soap. There’s a residue of an unknown object in the head wound which killed this man. We can probably find the murder weapon from this.”
Soap straightened his back but didn’t take his eyes off the crack. He didn’t want to have any hopes. Not yet. If it was a dead end, Soap wouldn’t recover from this. Neither his career. A deep voice put a halt on his thoughts. “Soap? What kind of name is that?”
Soap turned to the voice and lost the vocabulary of his 30 years of life. His eyes met with the man. He had a tall and broad figure, brown eyes, long eyelashes and a brown hair with an undercut. The man’s gaze traveled from Soap’s legs to his face and stayed on his mohawk. “And why do you have that hair?”
Soap suddenly found his voice. “You literally have the almost same style with more hair. Who are you?”
The man wore a pair of gloves while walking closer to the table. Then he took a look at the notes Gaz was writing. Gaz looked between them and decided to not say something. Soap waited for an answer but it never came. Instead, the man started to examine the body. “Hey. I’m talking to you. Who are you to touch my victim?”
The man looked at Soap with narrowed eyes. “Did you just admit that you killed him? Gaz, call Price. We found the serial killer.”
Soap felt a twitch in his eyebrow. Gaz interrupted them before bullets started flying, cause Soap’s hand was reaching for his gun. “Soap, this is the coroner Simon Riley. It’s mostly his reports you’re reading. He’s my superior. Doc, this is Sergeant John MacTavish. This is his case.”
Simon Riley let out a humorless and short laugh. “And they call you Soap, why? Because you have a clean record of solved cases?”
“No, because I can sweep you out of your feet.” Soap locked eyes with Simon and they stayed like that for a moment. Gaz wanted to leave the room and he didn’t know why exactly. Simon didn’t back down from the staring contest and Soap dissociated until he grasped the meaning behind his response. Or what could it mean. He took a deep breath and prayed that they would think that he was getting red from anger and not embarrassment. “Well, wouldn’t you want to try?” Simon broke the eye contact and went back to working as if nothing happened. Soap told Gaz to let him know if they would find anything and left. He tried to appear unhurried but anyone could see that he was running away.
The rest of the week was almost the same as the first day. Soap went to the station, sat on his desk till it’s time to leave, and knock on Gaz’s door on his way back. It was 20 mins out of his route. He said it was on his way. Both of them knew Soap was lying.
Soap didn’t know the reason, but after witnessing the wits of the coroner, he suddenly wanted to see the process on the victim’s body. Did you find anything, Simon? Gaz told me that you could determine the weapon, did you do it yet, Coroner? Any process, Doc? Is your record as clean as my solved cases? Are you stalling? I have to solve this one, Riley. Give me something. Also did you know that you sometimes look sad? Your brown eyes dripping like honey in tea. And the hair falling on your eyes make you look ethereal. With a shining weapon in your hands and the focused look on your face, almost like you’re killing them again as the grim reaper. Aren’t they lucky to be taken by you?
And Simon mostly threw him different looks. A lifted brow. A frown. Head shake. Narrowed eyes. A sigh. Soap learned what they meant before he could take his time to think about them. And he knew Simon wasn’t trying to dismiss him because a man with his body and his personality would already throw his arse out of the building. So, before Soap knew it, the visits to the coroner’s office and the autopsy room became a habit.
But after two weeks, Soap stopped going. He had his own job to do and England didn’t seem to stop sending dead people on his way. He just closed a case of a 12 years of girl’s murder -it was the girl’s 12 years old neighbor and he killed his friend accidentally- when he heard a knock on the glass wall. Soap raised his head and saw Simon standing at the door. He tried his best to look indifferent and unbothered while his hands forgot where they should be. “Oh?”
Simon lifted the file in his hand before walking in. He stood across Soap and put the file down on his desk. Simon pressed on it with his index finger. “I found something. The particles come from a copper and zinc compound. And the crack on the skull indicates it was caused by someone taller. They had the height advantage, the hit’s force is increased by that. Also it’s something cylindrical.” Soap’s attention was on Simon’s finger, for some reason. He had to snap out of the trance with a shuddered breath. “Like a plumbing pipe?”
Simon shrugged and put his hand behind, then took a pipe out. His grip on it was firm and Soap used his every ounce of power to hold himself back from drawing his gun. “Are you out of your mind? How did you get it in?” Simon didn’t move, but something in his eyes made Soap’s heart jump to his throat. “Relax. You would be dead if I wanted you to be. Just took a sample with me.”
Soap’s hand was still hoovering over his gun, ready to take it out if necessary. Even though he didn’t know why it would be. His gut feeling was on high alert. “Bold assumption. Remember you’re in a police station.”
“And know that I served in the army. I’m not joking when I say you would be dead.” Soap was on his feet now. He slammed both of his palms to the table and stared into Simon’s eyes. “Do you think I was building sandcastles in military? Back down, Coroner, if you want to keep this between us. Are you crazy? Why are you barking around like a dog trying to mark his territory? What’s your problem?”
Simon’s face was calm on appearance, but Soap saw his tense shoulders. He put the pipe on the table, between Soap’s hands. “My problem is you. You left your own territory to make a mess in mine. You brought your stupid mohawk, your blue eyes, your behavior problems, your yapping mouth into my territory. You barked at me first to back me down then you left like I wasn’t left homeless. You’re my damn problem.”
Soap was frozen in place. Their noses almost touched, and Soap didn’t realize when Simon get so close. Simon exhaled sharply when Soap breathed it in heavily. The cold pipe on the desk was touching Soap’s fingers, sending shivers down his spine. Soap was about to do something very stupid when Simon averted his gaze, looked at somewhere behind Soap and stepped back. “Don’t come again. I will send the reports with Gaz as usual. You’re not welcomed there.” Simon left quickly and Soap kept staring at the empty door after his back.
Soap didn’t go again. It caused him a strange pain, it was almost psychical. Whenever he saw a new autopsy report on his desk with a Simon Riley signature, Soap felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room and he was suffocating. It went on like that, till a new victim was left by ghost murderer again.
It was Simon on the crime scene this time, and Soap wanted to turn back and leave. But he was a professional and he wasn’t a man who would feel heartbroken after a coroner that don’t give a fuck.
“Where’s Gaz?” Simon was crouching down next to the body and didn’t pay him attention but his hand stilled on it for a split second. “He has flu.” Enough of an answer it was. Not for Soap. “What do we have, then?”
The time he spent watching Simon’s face paid off when a frown showed itself. It made Soap frown too. “What is it so bad that got you worried like that?”
Simon’s body was covering most of Soap’s view so he couldn’t see anything distinguishing about the victim. Simon got up to his feet and turned to Soap. It was their first time being around each other after that day and Soap felt an urge to gulp. Simon’s eyes were not dripping honey anymore but it was full of poison. “Did you piss someone off?”
Soap didn’t understand what Simon was trying to ask. “I pissed off too many people to count. The last one was you, I suppose.” Simon looked down for a moment but his eyes were on Soap the next second. “You should stay low for some time.” Then he stepped away and Soap saw the body fully.
The ghost’s marks were there. The nonexistence of eyes, the hanging and the hit to the head. But there was also something else. Something different. “Is that… a bar of soap?” Soap saw Simon nodding sharply. “With a knife stabbed into it. Yeah.”
Soap’s coping mechanism haywired. “What did I even do? I couldn’t even find a lead for years. This bastard is hanging people from the trees like lamps in the middle of the city and I have nothing about him. He should be happy that I’m the lead detective with how I’m cutting him lose.” Soap was angry. He felt wronged. He was a failure as a detective but the murderer felt the opposite? What, did he feel threatened by his dumbness? Soap left the field, like a child stomping his feet with annoyance.
Simon spent the rest of the day on the crime scene. His mind traveled to his desk, the locked drawer at the top. He could almost see the photos piling up in it. Photos of little, could be overlooked by mistake, ghost face tattoos. The photos he never included in the files. Then the memories of when he was still in the army flooded his brain. He saw his face on the mirror. The balaclava and the skull mask. He could see The Ghost. Simon squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bury them back. The idea of people dying because of him was unbearable, but the killer specifically going after Soap was crushing. He struggled to breath in the white suit and the mask, but even if he died in there, he wasn’t going to stop if it meant he could protect Soap.
Soap took all the files of the ghost murders and spread them on his desk. He started from the first one, he studied them like it’s his first time. He put the photos taken together, trying to piece them. And he noticed something about the photos. It was crucial to take photos of the body parts and the crime scene. It was the only way to preserve the details. But in each case, there was always a missing body part. A part of a leg there and a finger left out of the focus here. He had missing pieces from the start.
Soap’s heart stopped. Was it Gaz? Or was it Simon?
Soap recalled the last time when Simon threatened him. How did he bring the pipe with him? Why did he deliberately told him that he could kill him?
Soap opened the database from his computer and wrote Simon’s name. He had to take a look to be sure. So he could sleep soundly at night. Then he saw the man with a skull face balaclava. Soap couldn’t take his eyes off of the screen. It couldn’t be true. The coroner, the doc, the Simon Riley was the ghost? He was The Ghost? But also, it made perfect sense. The people he killed were sent to him to perform an autopsy. He could easily hide information and give them just bits and pieces that can’t harm him. But why did he give the murder weapon? Was it also false or did he want to take his attention away from something else?
Soap’s hands were trembling. He trusted him He liked him. Even lov… And he was the serial killer? Right under his nose? Soap took all the files and stormed out of the room. He wasn’t welcomed in the coroner’s office, but he didn’t plan to ask.
When Soap walked into the building, he immediately stopped in his tracks. It was always quiet, but never this quiet. With the folders under his arm, Soap took his gun out and closed the safety. He walked slowly down the hall to the Simon’s office, his gun leading the way. Soap saw the door of his office was ajar and he felt like his heart was squeezed in someone’s hand. He pointed the gun to the office and opened the door wide.
The room was empty. It was a relatively small room and only the essential stuff was inside. Then Soap’s eyes landed on the desk and he lowered his gun. There were six photos. Each one showing a skull face tattoo. Soap bit his lip. He wanted to hear an explanation. He wanted to hear an excuse. Something he can accept and move on. Something that he can convince himself with. Anything. He didn’t even have to hear a plea. He just had to see Simon’s face, he knew his heart would do the rest. He’s innocent. He didn’t do it. Look at his eyes, Soap. Do you think Simon can be targeting you? His heart gave the answer but his mind was connecting the dots. With that last thought, Soap’s whole body shook. Can he be targeting me? But for what?
Soap left the office and went to the other room that they perform the autopsies. There was a body on the desk, his chest was open and Soap could see a knife handle sticking out of it. He had a terrifying image flashing behind his eyes. Is he Simon? Did the real killer got him? His mind and heart was at war and they clawed at each other like wild animals. His mind had fangs to bite down and his heart had wings to fly away. When he saw the photos, then the body, the mind took a big bite out of the wing of his heart.
It isn’t Simon, Soap thought with a relief. The knife was stabbed on the body they found this morning. It wasn’t where it supposed to be, but Soap didn’t complain about little things. He took another step closer and faced the whole scene. Yes, the body wasn’t Simon but the painted balaclava inside the abdominal cavity was the same as Simon wore back in army. Soap was praying to God that he was wrong when everything went dark with a sharp pain behind his head.
Soap woke up in the dark. His head was throbbing with pain. Soap wanted to touch the back of his head but found out he was tied up. His arms were bound above his head, and he felt something dripping down his back. He was bleeding. With panic, Soap tried to see his surroundings but couldn’t. At first he thought it was because the hit he took to his head but then he realized his eyes were tied with a black fabric and gradually calmed down. He probably had a concussion but it wasn’t so bad to make him unable to think straight. Soap listened quietly but couldn’t hear anything to give the place away.
Soap was thinking about Simon and what could’ve happened to him when he heard a creaking sound. Someone opened the door to where he was. Then he heard footsteps and his body tensed with expectancy. Was Simon going to hit him again? Was he the next victim? He tied his eyes so he can’t see his soul? Was he feeling guilty? Did he have a condition to make him unable to stop? “Simon, is that you?”
Soap didn’t plan to speak, but the words came by themselves. Whoever was in the room with him, stopped moving when he heard him. Then Soap heard the footsteps getting closer and closer, till he felt the breath of the other party on his neck. “You think I’m Simon?”
The voice was definitely not Simon’s. Soap felt like crying with relief. He could come to an agreement with lying on the cold autopsy table but not with the idea that it was Simon who did it. He would haunt him. Till Simon die and join him on the other side. So he can beat him up with a stick.
“Not anymore. Who are you?” The owner of the voice didn’t say anything. Then Soap felt the cold tip of knife on his bare arms. “I’m the one who should be standing next to him.” The knife left a burning scratch. “Did you two kiss in your office? I couldn’t see it clearly, I didn’t take the measures of your body into account. Your broad back was covering the entire scene and I wanted to strangle you. Did you kiss Simon with these lips?” The knife was on Soap’s mouth now, the cold surface of it warmed up with his own blood. He tasted twice the iron.
Soap gritted his teeth. “Were you spying on my office?” The knife went a little bit more in and touched Soap’s tongue. “Because you were too lovey-dovey. Detective, do you think you can take Simon from me? In two months! I’m with him for years now! I make him remember who he is. Who he was.”
Soap’s brain started working. The photos. The tattoos Simon hid. The murder weapon. “He knew you were the one committing the murders. He concealed evidence to protect you but he had to give me something after Gaz said he found residue in the wound. Who are you?”
The man was almost hyperventilating. Soap was scared that he was going to die before Soap could throw his arse to jail. He kept quiet but a bad feeling sat heavy on his chest. “What did you do to Simon? Why wasn’t he in his office? How did you break in?”
“I didn’t do anything to him. Ghost just needed to rest, so I put him to. Breaking into the places is so easy. A hood over your head and a lost key. Don’t underestimate me, MacTavish. I was better than Ghost once.”
Soap didn’t find the chance to answer him. His question about his identity was hanging in the air between them and Soap had his answer when the door slammed open. “Roach! Step away.” Soap’s ears perked up to the sound. He didn’t hear anybody else other than him. “Simon?” Soap was blindfolded but he turned his head to the voice. He wanted to be sure. “Johnny, you okay?”
Soap closed his eyes under the blindfold and he almost lost his footing and hurt his shoulder out of sheer relief. “I’m fine. You?” Soap heard a clicking sound. Simon most likely pointed a gun to the guy, he thought. “Will be. In a minute. Right, Roach? We will be okay, because you will lower your weapon and drop the knife.” Simon’s voice was full of authority, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was in the army. He didn’t sound like every other soldier. But Roach didn’t seem used to taking orders because he felt the knife under his chin.
“You’re thinking about him? After all I’ve done for you? After killing your every enemy, cleaning your way back to us? You don’t have to fear anymore! I’ve done it for you.” Soap heard agony, pain and madness in Roach’s voice. He wanted to interrupt them but before he could open his mouth, Roach pressed the knife further down and beads of blood dripped down on his neck. It itched his skin.
“It was never about fear, Roach. I told you, I just wanted to quit. I wanted to stop being Ghost. I had to be Simon Riley again. It was consuming me.” Simon sounded broken and Soap hated it. He hated it so much. Who was that Roach guy to make him sound so sad.
“No. You left me, left us because Roba was after you and you were afraid that they would come after us too. I cleaned them! I killed them the same as they killed people. There’s nothing else holding you back anymore.” Roach’s body was trembling behind him but his grip on the knife and the pressure under his chin never wavered. With Soap’s every heartbeat, the knife was cutting him more. And without his vision, he felt like he was buried alive. His body was telling him to do something but he couldn't.
When Simon spoke again, his voice was softer. He was trying to persuade Roach. “We will always be here for each other, but you need to let Soap go. He didn’t do anything. He doesn’t even know who you are.” These were the wrong choices of words and Soap felt the difference in Roach’s stance. He wasn’t hunching over him anymore. Roach was now standing just like a well-trained soldier, always intent to kill.
Soap thought about struggling, but before he could even form a thought, he felt the sharp edge of the knife slicing his skin. “Si-“
The force of the bullet made Roach drop the knife and the hold on him disappeared but Soap felt the life leaving him. His body sagged forward, only the handcuffs holding him up. Soap wanted to put his hands on his throat but couldn’t and the panic setting in made it worse. He heard a distant scream, then it came closer. He felt a pair of hands on his neck and on his face. “Johnny. Johnny! Don’t sleep. Soap, don’t sleep. Please.”
Soap heard him begging and wanted to wake up. He wanted to put all the blood back in, close the wound and come back alive. He would do so if his hands weren’t tied when Simon put his forehead on his, held the side of his face like he was something could break apart, then kissed his bloody lips like they were the source of life.
Simon took the blindfold off and Soap blinked a few times. The room was dimly lit, the blood loss wasn’t helping either but he saw Simon’s gleaming eyes. He had stars in them. “Si,” Soap had to swallow his own blood, to not choke on it. “I’m sorry.”
Simon’s hands were busy with trying to put pressure on the wound, he used the blindfold as a tampon. He stopped and met his eyes. The stars Soap was seeing was the tears ready to fall. Simon kept the pressure with one hand while uncuffing him with the other. “What are you sorry for? For sweeping me out of my feet?” Simon was smiling and trying to joke, but Soap now could see the shooting stars on Simon’s face.
When he was free, Soap couldn’t carry himself and Simon supported him with his body. Simon took Soap with him to the ground but didn’t let him go. Everything was drenched in blood. Soap was afraid the last thing he was going to see would be blood so he gathered his strength and lifted his head just a little to see Simon. “Roach. Sorry.” Soap gave up on trying to talk and just put his head on Simon’s shoulder. “Stop talking. Please. Just stop talking and stay with me, okay? I’m a doctor, I can save you. I won’t let you die. Not here, Johnny. Not in my arms. You’re not leaving me.”
His one hand was still on Soap’s neck but Soap didn’t see the other one. His vision was full of black dots now, and he stopped feeling. Not pain, not sadness, nothing. Soap wanted to smile but he was probably shedding tears. “Sorry. For dying.”
Simon held Soap till the ambulance came, never once letting his hand or the pressure go. He didn’t move an inch and just let Soap sleep on his chest. He did his best to not wake him up. He was tired and needed sleep, so he would let him. Until the paramedics came, he could sleep in his arms. In where he belonged.
Soap cracked open his eyes and closed them back while cursing. The light on top of him was carving in his brain and burning his retina. He mumbled a complain, then stopped completely when everything came back with full force. His hand went to his neck and found a thick round of gauze. He sighed with relief before opening his eyes and turning to his side. Simon was sitting on the chair beside him but his head was on Soap’s bed. He was sleeping. Soap thought he should let him, but decided against it. If they were to replace places and Simon wouldn’t wake him up, he would put a bullet in his arse.
Soap tried his limbs. He felt like he got run over by several busses and trucks at the same time, but he could use them okay. Soap raised his hand and put it on Simon’s head, he stroked his hair and the prickly feeling of the undercut made his palm tingle. Simon shot up to his feet in an instant and gave Soap a quick heart attack. “What the fuck?”
Soap could only let out a broken whisper but the emotion behind was unmistakable. Simon was still standing with amazement. When Soap looked up to his eyes, he remembered the stars again. The stars in the room with no windows, back where was taken.
They were tears brimming in Simon’s eyes. Soap wanted to kiss them away one by one. He extended his hand to Simon’s, could only reach to his fingers. He held them and pulled Simon down to sit with him. When Simon sat on the bed, he suddenly bent down and hugged Soap. Simon covered Soap’s body with his own and stayed there with his nose resting on the crook of Soap’s neck. The gauze probably tickled his nose, but Soap knew he didn’t care. He ran his fingers on Simon’s hair, then put his hand on his nape. Soap didn’t let him go, even after Simon made a sound to get up. He closed the tiny distance between Simon’s ear and his lips. “Stay.”
“If you die again, I will kill you.” Simon turned his head a little and kissed under Soap’s ear. The heart monitor connected to Soap was going to alert the nurses.
“If you hide anything from me, I will cuff you.” Soap sighed into Simon’s neck.
“I can try that one.” Simon laughed and Soap felt his heart trying to run out of his chest.
“You can’t if this machine keeps beeping and nurses say that I have a heart disease.”
Simon straightened up and put his hand on Soap’s chest, feeling the heart’s struggles. Then bent down again, brushing his lips on Soap’s. He talked into Soap’s open lips. “Loved the way you’re reacting.”
Then Simon kissed him and Soap’s dark sky with stars expanded into a universe.