Sincerely
Chapter 4: Lev

Deckard followed me out of the food bank and down the street to a café. He was looking around a lot. As if he’d never been to this part of Seattle.

“You don’t get out much, do you?” I comment.

He looked at me, confused. “Not recently, no,” he answered quietly, eventually.

“Do you like coffee?” I asked while we were waiting in line.

He shrugged still seeming uninterested in food or drink.

“What about juice?” I asked pointing to the options in the fridge display.

“I’m really not hungry, Lev,” he murmured.

I ended up getting him an apple juice and a donut for later in case he did get hungry and got myself a coffee and a chicken sandwich.

We got a booth and sat down together.

“Did you end up talking to someone? Are you still not feeling good? Is that why you’re not hungry?” I asked carefully not wanting to upset him like I did before.

He glanced up from studying the apple juice bottle.

“Kind of,” he replied quietly.

“Do you want to talk about it with me?” I ask again.

“I lost someone and I just can’t stop thinking about them,” he murmured.

“Do you want to tell me about them? Sometimes talking about them helps, it’s not a bad thing to think about them, you know, you miss them. It makes sense,” I reason.

“I just keep thinking about how I’ll never see them again. It also kind of feels like my fault that they’re gone. I should have protected them,” he whispered.

“It’s not your fault that they died, you know? You can’t blame yourself. You didn’t hurt them, right? So, why would it be your fault?” I reply.

He didn’t comment.

“Have you tried doing something to remember them?” I asked. “Go to their grave with flowers, or lighting a candle in their memory?”

He remained quiet, I didn’t know if I had said something wrong or if he was thinking.

“Deckard?” I questioned. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, sorry,” he replied quietly.

“Is that why you didn’t want to stop filling orders either? Were you using it as a distraction? I know what that’s like, it won’t help you coup in the end,” I continue.

“Do you want to come over to my apartment? We could light a candle for them together,” I suggest. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to be alone, especially if you don’t feel like eating,” I add.

He seemed to be considering it for a minute before someone entered the café that caught his eye. I followed his eyes to Elias.

We had brought Elias in on minor charges many times, mainly shoplifting, tagging, illegal software downloads and selling and minor drug possessions. He approached our table and I could tell the atmosphere shifted quickly when he saw me with Deckard.

“Everything going okay?” Elias asked.

“Yeah, why?” Deckard commented.

“Just checking, I’ll see you later tonight,” he stated quickly departing.

“How do you know him?” I asked nodding after Elias once he was gone.

“Another long story,” Deckard mumbles.

“Just be careful, some people can be more trouble than they’re worth,” I reply. “So, do you want to light a candle for them?”

“Yeah, thanks. I think he would like that,” Deckard replies giving me a brief smile. It was cute, I wished he smiled more.

“Anytime,” I comment.

I finish off my food and sandwich before we leave, Deckard still having his food in hand. We got back to the food bank and help him pack more orders and take some out to the people waiting in cars or to be stored until the people can come to pick them up in the next few days, seeing as Deckard made us get ahead.

Soon the sun was starting to set and the people slowed to a trickle. The place closed at six but I usually left around five. I would have a lot to check up on tomorrow, the lab and tip line was being monitored but I would still need to be brought back up to speed, nothing major had been found or they would have contacted me.

Deckard showed no signs of slowing so I had to finally tell him it was time to go when he completed the order he was working on.

“Thanks for your help, guys,” Kelsea, the head of the department commented as we pulled our coats back on, I still had Deckard’s beanie from earlier when he had given it to me because he noticed my ears were cold and red.

“You're welcome,” I called back to her.

“Will we see you next Sunday, Lev?” she called after us.

“If I’m not swamped with work, of course,” I reply.

We left after, I headed in the direction of my sedan and Deckard hesitated.

“Come on, let’s go find you a candle to light,” I comment.

He followed me to the black sedan and got in.

“Is there any scent that they liked?” I ask.

He seemed to be thinking, “I don’t know,” he replied quietly, seeming sad again.

I brought him to a candle store I often visited for my mother because she loved candles and smells and the look of a room lit by candlelight. I last visited before Christmas to buy her some gifts. They also sold incents and infusers.

“Hey, Lev, didn’t think we’d see you again so soon. Starting the birthday shopping early this year?” Brianna, the shop owner commented.

“No, Deckard here was looking for a candle, I’m helping him,” I reply not wanting to air it to the world that he was grieving a loss. It wasn’t everyone’s business.

“Hope you find what you’re looking for,” she calls after us.

Brianna had a large selection of candles and I knew we could be here for a while so I didn’t rush Deckard. He went about smelling candles. None of the fruit or more common scents seemed to interest him. He seemed more interested in the forest, wood and book-smelling scents than anything. Maybe the book he had had his head buried in when I first spoke to him meant a lot more to him than a book normally would to a person, maybe it reminded him of this person and that was why he was reading it.

He picked up a maroon-red candle and brought it up to his nose and he seemed to have to smell it for a second time before pausing. I watched him before glancing at the name. Antique Books Scented Candle by Werther & Grey. He held onto it while he smelt and looked at others but he never put it down, it was like he was afraid he’d lose it, and with it his memories of the person he’d lost.

He paused again when he realized he had gone in a full circle around the shop and was back where he started.

“That the one?” I comment.

He held the candle close to him like it was an important treasure.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied.

“You sure you only want one?” I ask.

I figured maybe he’d want some for later to light around Christmas or Holidays or on the person’s birthday when it would be hard to be without them.

“If they were free, I’d probably buy all of them, light them all and lie in a room with them forever,” he replied, “But I don’t want to break the bank so, yeah.”

I went back to the shelf and grabbed two more for him.

“I’ll pay for those two,” I state.

“Lev, I don’t—” he started but I silenced him.

“It’s not out of pity, but I think you will need more than one, especially on the days you miss them a lot, like birthdays and holidays,” I comment quietly.

He went quiet before only saying, “Okay.”

I took him up to the register, he paid for one candle and I paid for the other two. We got back in my sedan and I took him to my apartment. He seemed nervous again

“Come on,” I said gently leading the way. He followed me up the stairs to my third-floor apartment. I unlocked the door and let him in. I set my car keys down and emptied my pockets of my wallet and badge and other things before taking him over to my balcony with the candle. I grabbed a lighter that I kept for the barbecue and nodded outside.

I gave him the candle and he opened it again. I turned the lighter on and lit the candle for him. He watched the flame flicker in the cool night air.

“Do you want to say some words or share some memories?” I ask gently.

He paused, barely looking away from the flame which reflected in his bright eyes. He seemed nervous and hesitant again.

“Do you want some time alone?” I ask gently.

He reached out and gripped my sleeve with one of his hands as if I’d tried to leave.

“No,” he replied with some distress in his voice.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about them? Just something small,” I stated gently.

“He loved to write. I loved reading his stories. I could never imagine writing anything like he did. He had so many brilliant ideas. The way he saw and pictured the world was incredible. He was such a nice person, he didn’t deserve to die,” he started.

“Maybe you should get a tattoo of a quote from his writing,” I suggested.

“I can’t—” he choked out covering his mouth and closing his eyes as if to gather his bearings. “It’s a health hazard for me,” he whispers after.

“Do you need a hug?” I asked gently.

He looked up at me, he set the candle on the railing of the balcony before stepping closer to me, into my arms. I held him gently, I could hear him sniffling, and he kept wiping his eyes.

“I’m crying,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” I reply quietly.

“I’ve never cried before,” he murmured.

I released him a little to get a better look at him.

“Do you feel any better?” I ask.

He shrugged.

“It will take time,” I whisper gently. “It doesn’t go away overnight or even after a week or a month, even after a while, there will be days when you miss him,” I add quietly. “It’s not bad to think about good memories you had together when you do miss him.”

Deckard glances at the clock inside my house on the wall.

“It’s late, I should get going,” he states quietly.

I let him go.

“I’ll see you around,” he comments, closing back up like he did on the day I met him.

I knew it wasn’t easy talking about your feelings, especially around the death of someone, but it was late so maybe he was right. Maybe next time, I would try to be more open with him and my experiences with death, it wasn’t like I didn’t have them with my profession, I saw a dead body every other day, and I was numb to it but I had distanced myself from the victims and rather focused on getting justice for them, so they could get some closure.

I thought back to Huxley and how he didn’t seem to need the android or person or whoever had killed his father to be caught for closure, in fact, he didn’t seem that broken up about it, I knew most people would be furious if a killer had gotten away with killing a family member. Sure, he had implicated the android in the crime but other than that, he was leaving it up to us to catch and prosecute him.

“Yeah, don’t forget the candles,” I called after him as he departed from my balcony.

Where could the android be hiding? Why was he hiding if he hadn’t killed Carlos? Something was clearly missing. What though, I didn’t know.

Deckard slipped out of my apartment and a few minutes later I saw him leave the building and walk to a bus stop to wait for the bus. I realized then that I still had his beanie on. I’d have to return it to him at some point.

At least it gave me an excuse to talk to him again, hopefully in a mood that wasn’t overshadowed by grief.

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