Commission for Ichor & Pomegranate
Art by MadBedlam , Fanfic Art
Chapter 3:
"Fortunately, with Marcia's case still being an active investigation, we've been able to keep the church closed. Only the forensic investigator has been in and out of the building since the initial crews came in." He answered as he handed her the crime scene investigation kit. "If we find the pinecone, I'll let you bag it. I want you to make your assessments like you have been."
"Yes, sir," Jill murmured while she studied the contents of the kit before closing it back up.
The double doors to the church were locked and she watched Wesker pull out a set of keys from his pocket before he paused and glanced down at her.
"Did you bring your tension wrenches?" he asked with another cock of his head.
With her mouth dropping open slightly, "Sir, that's a crime." When his eyebrows went up, she quirked her lips, patted a pouch on her belt, and continued, "Of course I did. May I?"
"You may not, Valentine," his tone was colored with amusement when he put the key in the door and pushed it open. "I just wanted to be certain that my little B&E Specialist was adequately prepared."
She smiled at his back from his usage of her previous taunt back in the car and followed him through the threshold.
The tall chandelier hung a good ten feet from the vaulted ceiling and was bright enough to light the rich textures of the following room.
"Beautiful," Jill breathed into the muted atmosphere of the Nave.
Her captain shifted beside her, but he made no comment on the scenery and was instead looking toward a taped off area to the right.
She followed behind him again as he led her down the row of dark walnut pews. Their steps were muffled on the royal red runner carpet. The surrounding floor was made of tile; the polished surface reflected the many angles of the church as they moved.
"The nave, the main room in churches, were always my favorite," she spoke aloud while she followed. "The design was adapted by the early Christian builders from the Roman hall of justice, the basilica. The nave of the early Christian basilica is generally lighted by a row of windows near the ceiling, the clerestory." She pointed even though he wasn't looking back at her.
"You seem to have a continuous religious theme about you. A passion you follow through on Sundays perhaps?" her captain responded after a moment.
They both came to a stop where the crime scene tape marked the beginning of the tracking site.
"No." she winced when her response came out somewhat harshly. "Frankly, I find the levels of fanaticism... worrying; the spoken word of gospel calls for a lot of unnecessary violence. I've seen groups of people cling to some atrocious things in the name of God. Whether I believe or not is my secret, but I do not attend church."
"Yet, you find yourself clinging to the written word of a polytheistic religion." He lifted the tape and motioned for her to step through.
"And what of you, captain? Do you prefer the stories of the gods, one god, or none at all?" She held the tape for him while he stepped through next.
"I believe in knowing them all."
Jill tilted her head up at him and was somewhat pleased for a little more detail, even if it was rather vague.
"For what purpose?" she asked curiously.
"Stories have always been man's easiest weapon." He removed his glasses and set them carefully into his breast pouch on his vest before jutting his chin toward the stained-glass window on their right. "That was the original purpose for windows like these. To teach the gospel to those who couldn't read. What better power than to teach belief, Valentine?"
Grabbing the CSI kit from his hand, Jill pondered the thought while she cracked open the box and handed him gloves before she carefully donned her own.
The silence rang out and Jill wasn't sure he expected an answer from her. He turned from her then and began to move to where they had noted the pinecone in the picture that hung over to their right.
Stooping low, she watched his tall form lower to a crouch as he glanced beneath the pew in the front portion of the corner space.
"You'll need to grab it from your side; it's still here. Are you capable of bagging this on your own?"
Jill glanced over to see him holding out the tweezers to her. Once more, she met his challenging stare before her gloved fingers wrapped around the tweezers and pulled the instrument from him.
"I haven't let you down yet," she murmured and turned for the task.
"Indeed," he said quietly, now behind her when she carefully knelt on her side of the pew and gazed under the wood.
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