Out of the box
Disclaimer:- Don't own them just borrowing!
Episode:- None
Pairing:- Jean/James
Rating:- K+
Achieve:- http(:/) . /group/rebeccafrontlewisffarchive/
Summary:- I know because I would trust him with my life, all of it good and bad including the box of secrets now back in it's rightful place absorbing the chill in the air until the next time I need to feel it's icy metallic sting whenever that might be.
Author's Note:- In answer to the "secret object" challenge to write a fic in which there is someone in a character's office/on their desk that has always been there but is never discussed until another character asks about it. Hope you enjoy and reviews would as always be lovely.
The small brushed silver box always feels cold, even on the hottest day of the year when the office takes on the qualities of a Turkish bathhouse it seems to cling to the only bit of cold air in the room and capture it inside. It holds its secrets well, the red velvet lining absorbing those things I no longer want to face and keeping them safe for those moments when I know I need to be reminded. It's a paradox in itself that little box logic would say put it away, hide it somewhere that I can't see every day but I need the reminder that its contents still exist for the moments when I feel like I've lost perspective on what we do here and why we do it. It sits on the corner of my desk there but not and no one ever comments, no one every asks, until now that is.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." The thing is I know he means it, I know he would never push me to give more than I want or am able to. Our relationship is one of tentative steps right now and he is more empathetic and considerate of the invisible lines I draw without even realising I'm doing it than anyone else I've ever known. The thing is when these moments come, when he asks something or wants something that I would normally shy away from sharing it's like a test, not from him he would never be so crass but for me, a test I give myself and so far I've always passed. So far I've surprised even myself with the things that feel natural with him, I'm been constantly amazed by the fact that I seem to love him a little more with each passing day so now we're here again another test one I know already I'm going to pass because the cold metal of the box is searing through my hand willing me to open it.
"I want to tell you it's not something I share, I've kept it on my desk as I've moved from rank to rank from pokey desks in the corners of incident rooms right up to this office because sometimes when this job gets too much when I feel like I spend more time on politics and paperwork than on real police work I need to be reminded why I started doing this in the first place." I've opened the box and lifted the two yellowed newspaper clippings and one old photograph dulled from time and laid them out on the desk in front of me.
"Sweetheart if this is too hard it's not something you have to do, I'm not prying I only asked because I never remember a time when that wasn't there and I've always wondered what you kept in it but they are your memories, memories of something that clearly upsets you I don't want you to do anything that will bring the sort of sadness I see now to your eyes." God I swear I don't know what I did to deserve to be so loved by him and the love and acceptance in his voice only makes me more determined to tell him.
"I've never told anyone about this, not even Richard and the senior officers in the case are all long retired probably dead by now." I've handed him the clippings and the photo to illustrate my point as I take a deep breath prepared to put into words something that I haven't spoken of in almost 30 years. "I was fresh out of training I'd been in uniform for three weeks when the case hit my senior officer's desk, he was old school didn't even really believe women should be in the force let alone working in a murder squad but I'd been fast tracked and he was stuck with me. So he decided the best way to get rid of me was to have me thrown in at the deep end on a case of child abduction."
"Bastard." For younger officers like him, used to women in senior positions I know it's hard to imagine what the force was like in the early 80's but to his credit he's restricted his comment to that single word before handing me back the cuttings and waiting for me to continue.
"it was a three year old girl, at first all the evidence pointed to her having been taken by her father there was a custody battle on going and even though he had a cast iron alibi for the time she went missing my DI was convinced it was him."
"But you weren't?"
"No, no I was sure that he had nothing to do with it but I couldn't get my point across no matter how hard I tried. We wasted 4 days chasing our tails before he was prepared to let the father angle drop and by then it was too late. We found the little girl's body the next morning she'd been dead less than 24 hours, had he not been so fixated on what he was sure was the answer to the exclusion of all other things we'd have found her in time. She'd been taken by a family friend, a woman who'd lost her own child and thought she was doing the right thing removing Amy from the middle of the custody battle and her parents constant arguing. She'd never meant to kill the child she'd assumed we'd find her sooner and it would give the parents the shake they needed. She'd left us a string of clues that lead straight to her but they were all sitting in evidence bags waiting to be looked at while we chased our tails with the father. Amy had, according to Susan Willows, been fine for the first day, she thought she was on an adventure but as the days went on and she wasn't being taken back to her mother she got more and more distressed. Willows claimed that she gave the girl a sedative to calm her own on the second day and it worked but as the days went one it worked less and less on the night that my DI finally decided to give up on the father and that the next day we'd start perusing new leads she gave Amy twice the adult dose of diazepam and this time she didn't wake up."
"None of that was you fault Jean, you did what you could you were a uniformed WPC in a situation where you weren't listened to." He's come round to my side of the desk and knelt in front of my chair turning it so I'm looking him in the eye. "Are you hearing me? I know it must have been awful but it…."
"I don't keep the clipping and Amy's picture because I believe it was my fault James." This is the bit I know he will understand, when I tell him why I know he'll see exactly where I'm coming from because it's not a feeling that's exclusive to me. Any good police officer, and he's a great one, feels the same sometimes. "I keep them to remind me that there is always another option, that getting too fixated on one suspect too soon leads to disaster. When we are working a case and we're all getting a little too single minded, when we are trying to prove something to the exclusion of everything else I look at those and I remember the obvious answer isn't always the right one."
"Well then I think it's a good idea to put them back in the box and close it again for another while don't you?" He's carefully folded the things and put them back in the box before closing it and putting it back in the exact spot it always stays in.
"Thank you." I can't think of way to make him realise just how much it means to me to have finally shared the contents of that little box with someone and how glad I am that that someone is him. As he smiles at me though gently gripping my hand and pulling me to my feet before turning off the desk lamp as we leave the office I know I don't need to say it. I've passed another of my self imposed tests, I've proved to myself and by proxy to him that I love him enough to trust him with my deepest secrets and I've never felt my lucky to have anyone in my life as I do right now. The secret is no longer mine alone I've finally let it out of the box and shared it with him and I know he will hold it as tightly as I have all these years. I know because I would trust him with my life, all of it good and bad including the box of secrets now back in it's rightful place absorbing the chill in the air until the next time I need to feel it's icy metallic sting whenever that might be.