Justin Ripley stood in on the pavement, among the buzzing crowd of pedestrians, just staring. It was a cold, icy winter morning and his breath curled up from his numb lips in a swirl of hot steam before dissipating back into the fresh air. The sun was just coming over the horizon, casting a warming orange glow over the street and causing the frost coat to glisten like diamonds. Pulling his hood up a little further over his head, Justin finally built up the courage to cross the road; checking both ways cautiously as he did so. No use dying all over again. The police station loomed above him almost menacingly and Justin froze just underneath the entrance; examining the windows for any sign of a familiar face…for anyone's face. He was sweating despite the cool temperature and the hoodie felt like it was suffocating him as the detective sergeant chewed his lip anxiously; heart thumping loudly in his chest and the sound reverberating around his entire body, rattling his bones. Justin shivered though not from the cold and took another tentative step forward, closer to then double glass doors that promised warmth and security…or did they?
Again Justin stopped, people filtering around him and cursing under their breaths as he ignored their protests and refused to move. It had been six months. Six months since that case. Six months since his death. Six months where everyone he knew and loved had dealt with his death. All of them had gone to therapy-mostly because they were all in the police force-and Justin had seen the recordings, read the reports. It helped to have a powerful family: they had been the ones who saved him, stood vigil over him when he was in a coma, gone through on the months of rehab and his constant frustrations, managed to keep a track of where everyone was so that he was still in the loop. No one had even known it had family; so no one had told them he was dead and so they saw no point in proving them wrong. Benny Silver had seriously mourned his death, probably more so than the others and Justin couldn't help but feel guilty for all the pain he'd caused him. It wasn't much helped by the sudden disappearance of John Luther himself; of which no one was sure exactly what happened and whether he was alive or not. Most assumed he had been chasing Alice Morgan and been outsmarted, possibly murdered; others just thought he'd had enough: having solved the case, lost his DS and apparent best friend, gotten the revenge he had deserved, and then saved his girlfriend.
Justin knew exactly where Luther was, always had. All he had to do was take out his phone right now and call him; but Justin couldn't bring himself to do it. He wasn't sure whether he was satisfied by his friend's quest to avenge his death, more so that he had failed in stopping Marwood from continuing his little crusade and almost getting innocent Mary Day killed in the process. Would Luther even want to talk to him? Justin had heard his confession on tape about how he 'loved' him; after the initial shock of knowing that his boss had been arrested for his own murder that so clearly had nothing to do with him. It had made Justin's blood boil as he sat in his white hospital bed in his private room listening to George Stark and Erin Gray chew him out like just another scumbag. John hadn't had Justin to back him up this time; not like when Zoe Luther was brutally murdered. It didn't matter that Erin had been affected by his death; he had actually laughed when he heard that she had been shot and celebrated when he heard that Stark had got a shotgun to the chest much like himself and hadn't survived. In fact, Justin couldn't believe that he had ever even considered selling John out to them and was so glad that he had recovered the tapes where Justin had proclaimed his innocence. It would have killed him if John had thought he had betrayed him.
In a blink, Justin was suddenly striding confidently through the main reception area; subconsciously bypassing the receptionists without a second thought and heading toward the elevator. The sudden warmth of the building made Justin's skin prickle and he shivered in relief, blowing on his hands as he rubbed them together and revelled in the heat it produced. As he entered the metal lift, he gave a slight nod to one of the occupants who was scrutinising him suspiciously; obviously noticing his rugged appearance and unsettled by his concealed face. Justin pulled the hood a little lower his heartbeat elevating once again as he fought not to be recognised, however unlikely it was. His face had been all over the news for a good few days, not to mention the media covered funeral and numerous interviews. Marwood's infatuation with the media had made Justin's death apparently a public event, with the tape of Marwood's confession to John about Justin's murder becoming viral on the internet in a matter of hours. Justin had been proclaimed a hero and many of the public had come to his gravesite to pay their respects and leave behind tokens of their 'gratitude' including flowers and cards. If Justin was meant to be touched by these apparent displays of affection, he wasn't. In fact he couldn't care less.
The lift dinged noisily as they reached the first floor and the suspicious passenger brushed past and Justin stepped backwards as two more entered in his place. Pressed up against the back of the container, Justin let his head roll back and rest on the silver plating as he absentmindedly looked at the ceiling. The familiarity of the confined space was unusually unsettling and Justin felt a strange sense of claustrophobia as he listened to the quiet conversation of the two officers in front of him. It was meaningless; merely interest in weekend plans with wives and children, things Justin felt he would never miss the lack of. They always just seemed to make life complicated; though Justin's beliefs mainly branched from John's experiences with love and relationships and he felt that maybe he was being a little dismissive of the subject. Perhaps later, he would try; but right now, all he longed for was the thrill of the hunt, the brutal brilliance of his job and the great joy that came with knowing you had saved lives that didn't even know they were in danger. The lift beeped again and Justin pushed himself off the wall, muttering an apology as he squeezed between the other two men and exited onto the accustomed office area.
Whatever happened, Justin Ripley loved his job and would never let it go.