Just over a week ago Weed asked if I would consider writing an AU Gail & Holly fic. I'm not sure this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it!
Mist rose from the river as the first orange rays of the sun peeked out from behind the cool grey blue skyline of the city you now call home. Traffic rumbled softly by, headlights still glowing in the early morning gloom, as you turned onto the bridge and ran on quiet feet toward the office of the MIT Police headquarters in hopes of getting a jump on the day. Your father had pulled a number of strings to get you this job, and you knew you should be more grateful. So you ran, until your legs turned to jelly, the bitterness seeped out of your pours, until all you could hear was the sound of your feet hitting the pavement, and the beating of your own heart.
The students had arrived with you to a new fall semester, in a new place. You knew it was going to be a hot one today, hotter for this time of year than you were accustom. Sweat trickled down your back and between your breasts as you ran. Breathing in the scent of the river and the scent of salt air from the distant harbor as a soft cool breeze picked up from the East, reminded you that you are so far from home. You shook your head and picked up your pace. There was no going back.
Everything was wrong. You knew you had been a fool, the realization hitting you too late as you heard the disappointment in your father's voice. Your mother still hadn't spoken more than two words to you since the incident, and for once in your adult life you wished that she would. She had been there, sitting taciturnly, at the meeting where you agreed to resign your post immediately after testifying against Ross Perrick, in exchange for not being stripped of your badge and brought up on charges of the wrongful death of a prisoner in police custody due to gross negligence. Somebody had to take the fall for what had happened. You stupidly stepped forward, having listened to your fellow rookies about how being a Peck would save you. Admittedly, if your parents hadn't used all of their political clout, it would have been worse. A lot worse.
And it was worse. Your stubbornness and pride would not allow you to tell anyone, certainly not your family, about your other predicament, although the signs of your current affliction will become evident soon enough. The one person you should tell was unreachable anyway. Nick left you take a deep undercover assignment the week before you were brought before the tribunal, and would be gone with no contact for at least six months. So fuck him! You knew you were being unfair. Everyone, including you, had wanted in on that assignment. Life isn't fair. You also knew that with one phone call to your brother, you could inform Nick of the thing you had only recently allowed yourself to acknowledge. But even with all that had happened, or maybe because of it, you wouldn't let yourself reach out to him. He would, of course, do the chivalrous thing, wanting to do the right thing. Of course he would. He would drop everything for this, and you weren't sure how you felt about that. Nick had a way of disappearing just as things between you got to be intense, and just when you really needed him. He had left you once before, at the altar no less, and you weren't sure if you wanted him back this time. You certainly had no intention of returning to Toronto any time soon.
Although Steve, and Traci, and Chris, had each called you at least once a week in the six weeks you have been here, you kept the conversations short, unable to stand listening to the pity in their voices, and finding it harder and harder to keep your secret. Your parents haven't called at all. No, you are going to keep this to yourself, at least for now.
The last time it had been simple. He had been older, the son of one of your parents' friends, now an instructor at the academy, and married as well. You had never been in love with him. It had been a simple case of mutual lust fueled by the illicit nature of the affaire, and the flattery of his overwhelming attraction for you. As soon as you discovered your accidental mistake, as he liked to call it, you dealt with it as quickly and efficiently as possible. When it was done, you honestly could say you felt tired, and sore, slightly sad, but mostly relieved. After Perrick, there was no way you could deal with any kind of invasive medical procedure. You had panic attacks just thinking about it. Now, here you were in a strange city, in a foreign country, about to become a single mother by default. You had never been so alone in your life.
The city was waking up now. The scent of diesel fumes from a passing bus becoming almost unbearable as you ran down the tree-lined street passed the tall columns and towering architecture of the front of the University. Crossing at the pedestrian light, you finally stopped to stretch on the steps in front of the student center, before flopping lazily on the grass, allowing the cool earth to drain the heat and remaining tension from your body. Shit. You'd been on staff for over a month now, and really should make that appointment at the MIT health services to confirm what you already knew. Flinging a sweaty arm across your closed eyes, you wondered how this is going to fuck up your already fucked up life. Boston was supposed to be your clean break, your fresh start, and your last chance to redeem yourself. Steve said your mother told him as much. A bitter laugh escaped you, as you noted the irony that you couldn't even get that part right.
"This is The People's Republic of Cambridge, not the City of Boston!" Bobby O'Brien, your new partner, informs you on your first day on the job. Bobby reminds you of Oliver, easily deflecting your snark with off color humor of his own, and taking you under his wing, treating you like another daughter. Coming from a large Irish family, with three sisters and two grown daughters of his own, you are sure your early signs of pregnancy have not gotten past him. Although he doesn't ask questions, he guilelessly reminds you that you have great health insurance on the day your benefits package kicks in. God, you miss Oliver!
You sit up and push yourself off the lawn, stopping to run your fingers through your hair in a vein attempt to tame your messy ponytail. Striding the last few blocks to the station, you ignore the growing hunger in your belly. There will be time to take care of that later. With any luck, Bobby will have a full stash of fresh doughnuts from that crazy doughnut place in Union Square. Just the thought of a Maple Bacon doughnut from there makes you walk faster and your mouth begin to water.
Working for the MIT police force is weird. You have a badge and a gun, and jurisdiction in three cities and then some. MIT and Harvard run their own little fiefdom on this side of the river with somewhat of a rivalry with the Boston University Police on the Boston side. And then there are the actual city police forces to deal with as well. It's all kinds of confusing, but at least you still feel like a real cop, not a glorified security officer, as you feared when you took this job.
"Well, if it isn't little Miss Sunshine herself!" Timmy Callahan, a retired Boston Police Sergeant, teases, in his thick South Boston accent, from behind the front desk at the station, "Whadda ya doin' in so early in the mornin'?"
You roll your eyes and give him your very best look of death. It seems to have little to no affect on him. He winks at you as he buzzes you in.
You make your way to the women's locker room hoping it will be empty. It's still before seven as you emerge from the shower, skin glowing pink in the sunlight that filters in through the upper windows, and you have just over an hour to kill before your shift. Basking in the silence of early morning, before the arrival of other officers changing shifts, coming and going, before the day takes hold, you take a minute, just a minute, to be still before it all begins.
The afternoon begins with a call from 2 members of the MIT women's crew team. You and Bobby park your car and make your way down the banks of the Charles to a place where the reeds grow thick. Yup. That's a human skeleton all right. Better cordon off the area, detain the rowers, and call it in to the Cambridge Police. As you await their arrival, a tall geeky woman carrying a red bag, wearing tall rubber boots over her blue jeans, a quilted jacket, and a bored expression breezes past you under the crime scene tape. What the…!
"Hey Lunchbox!" you call after her, sounding annoyed, "You're not allowed down there!"
"Thanks! Appreciate it!" She calls back, continuing on her way, paying you no more attention.
You sigh and try to sound exasperated "I said, " You say louder, "You're not allowed down there!"
"Who me?" She turns, amusement clearly registering on her face.
You gesture at her. Like duh! Who else am I talking to? What is wrong with people in this city?!
"Oh, no, I am." Her sparkling eyes and smirk tell you she is finding this situation far too amusing. "I need to get some samples…."
"Who are you?" You interrupt and take what you hope is a menacing step forward. You look around for Bobby, but he is busy interviewing the students, and isn't helping. In-fact, you can tell that he's trying hard not to laugh at you.
"The Forensic Pathologist." She says in a voice that sounds like she is trying to explain something so simple to someone really dense, but her smile never fades.
"Oh, " You try to brush off your mistake, and move closer, cop swagger fully engaged, "Why didn't you say so?"
"Sorry, " Her voice is dripping with sarcasm as she glances at what you called her lunchbox, "I though it was obvious…"
"Only to nerds." You counter, "Can you come back later?"
Clearly not intimidated, she takes a step in your direction and starts saying something about how you are not up on your medical jurisprudence. You glance at Bobby over her shoulder, who is having a conversation with Cambridge Police Detective Cruz. As she asks you something about if you noticed whether or not the skeleton's femur is still intact, you shake your head. What you do notice is that Bobby and Detective Cruz definitely are laughing at you. Shit. You refocus on her just as she is spouting something about the postmortem interval. She is now looking at you expectantly.
"Why are you saying all of these words?" You scowl menacingly at her.
She simply smirks at you, before turning away to complete her task at hand.
Before you know it, Bobby has volunteered you to babysit the bones at the Cambridge city morgue. This means you will be stuck with this annoying forensic pathologist for the rest of the day. Great. Just what you need. You sigh and resign yourself to it. At least you will have a quiet afternoon. You think to yourself, how bad could it be?