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Portland Nightmare Grimm/Hannibal Crossover Ch 23

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Portland Nightmare

Grimm/Hannibal Crossover

Chapter 23

The drive to Oregon College is just as silent the second time, though the depressing atmosphere is the result of more defined circumstances. Cole’s former fraternity is even more noticeable than it had been before; the red-painted letters now compete with the garish yellow police tape for the attention of the numerous spectators who have been passing by since the barrier was erected. Will and Nick duck under the tape and enter the house to find members of the FBI’s Forensic Science Team, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price, already at work examining the inside. Jack Crawford keeps his usual watch nearby.

Will catches Jack’s eyes and approaches him; Nick follows closely behind.

“I don’t know what I could have to ‘see’ with this one, Jack,” Will says. “I don’t think that there will be anything for me to add.” Though he and Nick have not yet been inside Cole’s room, the actual location of the incident, Will guesses that his “ability” isn’t needed to determine the nature of this death. There will not be a separate victim and assailant; the motive is obvious, as will be the cause; it can’t be classified as a crime. He isn’t needed.

“You aren’t here for that,” Jack says firmly, confirming what Will had suspected. “You’re here because he asked for you. And you,” he adds, referring to Nick.

The two detectives find their way to Cole’s room, two doors from the end of the hall, but they stop short of the doorway, not wanting to interrupt the Forensic Science Team’s work without permission. They are continuing their preservation of the scene that has been set before them, taking photographs and detailed notes.

Beverly Katz currently wields the camera, taking multiple photos of the condition of the room, the angle of the body, and everything in between, primarily for reference. “Pretty much what you’d expect from a college student,” she says, scanning the surroundings with her eyes. “Even in all this mess, it’s clear that he wanted to make sure that a few things would stand out.” She gestures for Nick and Will to join the forensic investigation and see for themselves. “Come on in.”

Beverly is right—most of the square-shaped room is cluttered with the usual artifacts of college life, including a black backpack, miscellaneous textbooks, sheets of stray paper and the like, but the most noteworthy presences in the room are not normal, or certainly shouldn’t be. The corpse is likely by default the most unusual, but what strikes Will and Nick the most is how not dead he looks. He looks like he could be woken up with some effort, but Will imagines that his friends have already tried, and to no avail.

“We’ve checked—no breathing, no pulse. He’s gone,” Brian Zeller says plainly. “It looks like he’s been dead for maybe two or three hours. His body was found by one of his housemates an hour ago.”

“We’re thinking it’s a suicide?” Jack asks, though it’s not really a question. The events of the past week or so support the conclusion that Cole Gaitley killed himself, for reasons the detectives know all too well.

“Without question. There’s an empty bottle of medication, standard issue from one of a million pharmacies, on the bed, and a bottle of vodka under the bed, also empty.” Jimmy Price lists the evidence without his usual banter.

“In the case that wasn’t enough to convince us, he left a note. It’s next to the photograph.” Beverly cradles the camera in one of her gloved hands and guides the detectives to the evidence with the other. “Physically, there isn’t a mark on him, so the damage must be internal. Considering what he appears to have taken, my guess would be that he asphyxiated—choked to death, probably on his own vomit.” She shakes her head slowly as she states her hypothesis. “We can’t know for sure until we open him up, but in most cases like these—“

“No.” The command comes from Jack, who stands just outside the door, positioned in Beverly’s line of sight. “There’s no need for an autopsy. We can see how he did it. He’s telling us why he did it. We’re not going to put his parents through that.” Beverly seems startled by Jack’s insistence, but she doesn’t argue.

Unlike the rest of the room, the framed photo, the pill bottle, and the note are carefully arranged in that specific order, meant to be a timeline of the events that led up to Cole’s final moments. Nick puts on a pair of disposable gloves and then hands another pair to Will before picking up the frame, being careful not to tarnish the precious memory that it preserves. The kids inside the pixels of the photograph are happy and alive; a comparison to their now-permanent realities of death is unavoidable. Fighting an unexpected pang of sadness, Nick returns the photo to where he found it, resisting the urge to place the image face-down.

“Do we know who ‘Alex Gideon’ is?” Nick asks, reading the unfamiliar name on the prescription label that is pasted to the orange medicine vial.

“No; could be another student on campus. His friends might know something more. They’re outside, whenever you want to talk to them,” Jimmy Price says.

“In a minute,” Will says distractedly. He delicately handles the third item of interest on the bed: Cole’s suicide note, hastily written in black ink on a small piece on lined paper. The handwriting is rushed and slanted, as could be expected when considering the circumstances, but is still legible enough to read. Nick views the note from over Will’s shoulder. It reads:

In case there is any doubt: I did this. I tried to listen to all the people who told me that Amelia’s death wasn’t my fault, that they could help me, that it would get better, but it didn’t. Nothing worked, except for this. I don’t deserve to live anymore, nor do I want to. I hope that she can understand. I hope that I can see her again, to apologize, but I understand if I don’t.

To my family and friends: I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I let you believe I was fine when I wasn’t, but I didn’t want help, not just from you but from anyone. This is a choice I have to make, and I hope that somehow you can forgive me.

To Detective Nick Burkhardt and Special Agent Will Graham: I know that when I’m found, they’re going to call you guys. Please don’t waste your lives thinking about how you couldn’t save me. I couldn’t save myself, and that’s no one’s fault but my own.

Please don’t feel sorry for me.


Cole’s name is written at the edge of the paper, his way of finalizing the last known words that he left behind to console his friends and family (and, in a way, Nick and Will) once he is gone. Will sets the note back where it belongs. “We should probably go talk to his friends now,” he says, quietly.

Nick and Will say goodbye to Cole Gaitley and exit through the open front door of the house. The outside temperature has increased a few degrees since the morning, but Cole’s housemates are gathered close together, more for the purpose of company rather than staying warm as they attempt to discern how they are supposed to go on after everything they thought they knew about their close friend was just shattered in the worst way possible. They are only beginning to realize that they were so, so wrong.
I am pleased to submit the twenty-third installment of Portland Nightmare, my Grimm/Hannibal crossover fan fiction. Grimm and Hannibal are two of my obsessions and I can't help but wonder: what would happen if a case led to the combination of both casts of characters? If you would like to read previous chapters, or any of my other works of fan fiction, I invite you to check out my gallery. 
I said this in the description of Ch 22, which I posted last week, but I would again like to thank everyone who reads this story (or has read this story, or any of my work for that matter) for their continuing support. I would, as always, love to hear your feedback, and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this chapter as much as the others. 

R.I.P. Cole Gaitley~
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