01.03 - Heart Breakers, Money Makers
It's Fite Nite! Christian is battling for the pride of Fifteen (who hasn't won a Fite Nite since Nick's loss in season 5 - thanks, Gerald). Vivian is helping him train, but has her own problems when her ex-girlfriend shows up. Meanwhile the rookies stumble onto a counterfeiting ring.
PS: Reviews totally welcome :)
"Come on, Christian, one two." Vivian held up the pads in position and nodded. He bobbed a little and swung. Left right. "Again." They did it again. "You sure you were into MMA when you were a kid? Cause you suck at this."
"Actually he's looking much better," said Holly with a smile. She'd not been surprised when Vivian asked her to help Christian train. Apparently Nick had offered, but since he was the beginning of the unbroken chain of loss, Vivian said no in her best Peck way. Gail said that meant Vivian had laughed at Nick and walked away.
But that did mean the kids needed help to get fit in the right way. Vivian had started by dragging Christian out running every morning. He was subjected to what Vivian thought of as a normal workout, including the push-ups and sit-ups and everything else that she did on the cross training circuit.
Back when Vivian had been a teenager, she'd struggled to keep up with Holly and Gail on their runs. They'd gone too many miles for the kid, which Gail used as an excuse to go home early. By eighteen, she was running Gail's ass off and got into doing cross training and some weird as shit monkey stuff. Now in her twenties, with Holly kicking 57, Holly couldn't keep up with her kid at all.
She could, however, train them in boxing. "Vivian, how tall is the guy he's fighting?"
"My height. 185 and change. He's fast, too."
"Hold 'em a bit higher and further apart. Christian, don't go soft on her. Viv's tough."
"She outruns my ass every morning," grumbled Christian, but the thwacks were harder. "This isn't what I did in school." He'd been a boxer in high school, as well as a total MMA junkie.
"Yeah, I've seen your record," Vivian replied with a very Peck smirk.
As the kids practiced, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and Holly smiled more. "How are they doing?" Gail's voice was low and soft.
Holly leaned back against Gail, inhaling the smell that surrounded her wife. It was lemony and peppery with a dash of coffee and leather and something so uniquely Gail... God she smelled good. "Not bad," breathed Holly. "You smell good," she added as a whisper.
"Caught my bad guy," purred Gail, settling her head on Holly's shoulder and sliding her hands under the edge of Holly's shirt.
"Ah." Holly grinned. Gail was almost always handsy after a good case. "Viv, every once in a while, swipe at him with a pad. Christian, honey, remember to duck."
They watched the kids swing a few more times before Gail asked, "Does he actually have a chance?"
Holly nodded. "I think so. Vivian, hit him harder." The resultant effect was, the next time Christian didn't duck enough, Vivian's slap with the pad sent him back a step.
"That's my girl," laughed Gail. "Christian, you can stay for dinner."
"Thanks. I think." He rubbed his shoulder and Vivian grinned.
"Hey, you were on the boxing team in high school. You should be better at this," teased Vivian, pointing at him with a pad. "Come on, don't be a baby." She settled back into her stance.
Gail kissed the side of Holly's neck and let go. "I'm going to fire up the grill. Last chance for requests."
From the lawn, Vivian called back, "You have jerk chicken kebabs marinating in the fridge, Mom."
"Pick a side, kid."
"I pick Holly's side! She's cooler."
Gail threw her hands up, eyes laughing. "Screw you, junior. See if I make you eggplant and garlic bread."
Of course they knew Gail was going to do just that. Holly smiled and joined in, "If we have corn, honey, I'd love some." Gail grumbled, kissed Holly, and went to start the grill.
They sat around the table outside, laughing about everyday things. Christian was less awkward than Chris had been, in Holly's a bit fuzzy memories of the man. It was strange, but she saw bits of Chris in the boy who wasn't his son and who wasn't raised by him. Christian had only seen Chris once in a while for the first eight years of his life. And then Chris had died.
When young Christian came to the funeral, Holly remembered Vivian sitting next to him and talking. It was one of the few times Vivian had spontaneously spoken to anyone at that age, and certainly not about her feelings. Holly hadn't eavesdropped, but that night as she tucked in Vivian, she asked how Christian was.
The eight year old had informed her that he was hurt, and scared, and afraid of who he was going to be. And then she said she kinda understood that. Holly had hugged her daughter close and told Vivian she loved her. No matter who Vivian grew up to be, she'd be theirs and they would adore her.
"What's she thinking about?" Christian asked, eyeing Holly and leaning towards Vivian. "She looks all thoughtful."
Vivian leaned in as well. "Probably me as a kid. If it was Gail, she'd have this really adorable smile." She grinned.
"I was thinking I love you, but not if you're going to be all weird about it," smiled Holly.
Beside her, Gail found her hand and squeezed it. "She's always weird, Holly. She came weird."
"You like my weird," Vivian noted, gesturing with her bread. "Good kebabs, Mom."
"See? This is how I get treated at home, Christian," laughed Gail. "Same as always."
Christian looked down. "Thanks," he said softly. "I mean... That... When I was nine."
At nine, Christian had spent two weeks up at the cottage with Vivian, Olivia, and Matty, under the supervision of Gail and Holly. Gail called it hell and claimed the kids gave her a screaming headache. It had been loud and active, but the kids had loved every single minute. They got up early, swam, ran around like maniacs, ate all the food, and slept like the dead.
"That? That was nothing, Christian," waved Gail. "I wish Denise had let us do more."
"The money for college helped."
That had been Oliver's doing. He and Dov had set up a fund in Christian's name shortly after the funeral, and many of the officers donated a few bucks every day. Holly only knew about because she'd come to the division the day Dov cleaned out Chris' desk. While Gail had sat nearby, Dov said it was his job alone. He'd promised Chris that he'd do this, no matter what. That was when Oliver looked at a photo of a kid and a coffee jar, labeled 'Jerry's Kid' and suggested they do the same for Chris' kid.
Gail lifted her beer. "Thank Oliver and Dov. It was their idea."
"I did," he said softly. "It's... I really appreciate being a part of a family for a change."
Well that was sobering. "You're always welcome here," Holly said gently.
Christian insisted on helping with the dishes before leaving, and groaned when Vivian told him she'd see him the next morning for cross-training. With a cheerful good night, Vivian went upstairs to get some sleep and Holly sighed. Gail was still on the porch, relaxing on the swing bench.
Her wife didn't look almost fifty. But there were facts and one of them was that you couldn't stop time from turning. They were both older. The hair was still reddish blonde, having proven more resistant to grey than her brother's true red or her mother's bottle red. Gail had grown it out, cut it back off, dyed it brown and blonde, but the short look was still Holly's favorite. The skin was still pale and firm, the lips still soft, the eyes a bright blue … The eyes were closed. Holly smiled and stepped out onto the deck. "You fall asleep, honey?"
"Nope," said Gail, holding out a hand. Without hesitation, Holly sat next to her wife and slid an arm around her waist. "What's that big brain thinking about?"
"Thinking I'm lucky. Thinking Viv's lucky."
"I'm lucky too, Holly."
Kicking off a little, Holly rocked the swing back and forth. "Remember when we broke this?"
Gail snickered a laugh. "That was so embarrassing." There really wasn't enough room on it for fooling around, and yet they had tried and broken the swing. The crash had been rather loud. "I had that bruise on my ass for weeks." She had also complained about it for weeks.
"Given how colorfully you bruise, I'm not sure that's as big a deal as you're making it out to be."
"We're doing alright," sighed Gail, leaning against Holly comfortably. "I'm happy."
Holly smiled and closed her eyes. "So am I."
Her parents had made it all look so easy, even though it wasn't at all. Her wife's family made it look doomed to failure, or despair, but that wasn't right either. It was hard, it could be a struggle, and sometimes you said things you didn't mean, or felt things you didn't expect. But they did keep going. And they kept being happy.
As Vivian and Nick headed to their cruiser after Parade, they heard a shout that surprised Vivian and made Nick cringe.
"Nickelpeck 2.0!"
Nick actually winced. "I hated that the first time, Dov," he grumbled. Vivian smiled. So had her mother.
"And I hate that I, as Sergeant of Fifteen, have never won a division boxing match." Dov slung his arms around Vivian and her TO. "Give me good news or the nickname rides again."
Of course, Nick finked on her. "She's not letting me coach."
Dov eyed her. "Peckling."
"No. No, you are not Uncle Ollie." She squirmed away and shoved Dov's arm off her shoulders. "Mom's helping."
The two men looked shocked and pointed upstairs. "You got your mom to help? Did Gail have dirt on some golden glove hero?" Dov was flabbergasted.
"No, I got my mom to help. You know, the one who likes sports?"
Enlightenment dawned. "I forgot. She used to play hockey too."
Technically Holly still did play, though far less competitively than she had when Vivian had been younger. A fifty-five year old playing hard-core hockey was a little impressive in Vivian's mind. Holly was still in great shape, as was Gail, which was a little more remarkable given her antipathy to exercise. "We've got in covered," promised Vivian.
"Good," Dov grinned and clapped her shoulder. "Serve and protect, Nickelpeck."
As Dov got out of earshot, and they got to their vehicle for the day, Nick muttered, "Of all the things he had to learn from Oliver, why was it that?"
"Isn't Nickelpeck a band?"
"Nickelback is a band. A really bad band. That was started before you were even born, Jesus... I'm old."
There'd been a lot of that going around lately. "You should call them Peckstein next time they partner up," suggested Vivian, and Nick grinned evilly.
"I like your evil, Little Peck."
Before Vivian could remark that she was taller than her mothers, Nick held out the keys. "Wait, really? I can drive?" She snatched them before he could answer, much to the delight of nearby officers.
Leaning on the roof of his car, Moore laughed. "Better watch out, Nick. She set a record on the driver's course."
"I've been warned," he smiled. "Going to let yours drive?"
Both TOs looked at Lara Volk, practically bouncing. "What do you think, Volk? You ready to drive?" Duncan Moore held the keys up.
Lara looked at Vivian. "Hell yeah," she said. "Can't let SuperPeck have all the fun."
"I like that one better, Collins. Can I keep SuperPeck?"
"No." Nick laughed.
With a shrug, Duncan tossed the keys over. "Don't leave the keys inside," cautioned Vivian, smirking. "I heard some rookie in McNally's class did that and got the cruiser stolen." Oliver had told her that story about Dov many times.
The reminder caused Nick to almost choke on his coffee as he got into the passenger seat. "Watch it, Peck. We're the ones in 1504," he warned, smiling. 1504 was cursed. Everyone knew it.
"I took the cursed radio, oughta balance out," noted Vivian, getting in and buckling up.
Driving on patrol turned out to be a hell of a lot harder than Vivian had thought. No small wonder Gail was so damn good at doing a million things at once. You had to listen to your partner, keep an eye on everything, know where you were going, where you'd been, where you were, how fast you were going, and do the mapping and mathing to get you to the next place asap.
By lunch, Vivian had a headache.
"Giving up?" Nick smiled as he caught Vivian pushing the heel of her palm above an eye.
"Not on your life," she snapped. In her head, it sounded like Gail. Based on Nick's face, she must have. "I can do this."
Nick shook his head. "Okay, but eat your sandwich." She picked up the sandwich, picked by Nick, and eyed it. Tomatoes. Habit drove her to pluck them off. "Seriously? You don't eat tomatoes?"
"No one eats tomatoes at home," shrugged Vivian. She didn't mind them, but once, just once, she had a salad with them and had kissed Gail's cheek. That was when Vivian really understood how allergic her mother was.
The man who was once engaged to her spunky, spitfire mother looked thoughtful. "Holly stopped eating tomatoes at home before they even started dating." He leaned back against their cruiser.
Vivian cleared her throat. "You know I know, right?"
"Know what?"
"Vegas."
He looked surprised. "I didn't." Nick took a long sip from his soda. "Does it bother you?"
"Only that it means Mom wasn't kidding when she said Fifteen is a soap opera." Vivian took a big bite of the sandwich. "I'm not dating a cop."
Nick laughed. "You say that now, but oh man. Besides, you already dated your boss' daughter."
"Okay, we do not have that level intimacy in our relationship, Collins," she said dryly. Then Vivian laughed and threw her napkin at him.
He laughed back, but any reply was lost when their radio crackled to life. "We have reports of an armed 10-41 in a food truck." Dispatch read off the address and that 1509, Lara and Duncan's cruiser, was on site and needed backup.
Hoping off the hood of the cruiser, Vivian tossed the rest of her food while Nick replied. "Dispatch, 1504. 10-4, we're five minutes out, tops."
"1504, Dispatch, copy that, recording you as en route."
"Go time, Peck," said Nick as he buckled in.
Vivian tried to keep the smile off her face as she sped through the streets, siren on. This was part of the job she knew Gail loved. That moment of power and control. It was easier to stay calm when driving to a scene if only because she didn't have the spare brain power to flip out over the idea of an armed subject. The worse and more terrifying things got, the calmer Vivian felt. Paradox?
They pulled up at the store in question, parking to block the food truck, and radioed in. Within the store, they heard Duncan. "Hear that? Jonas, that's my backup. Now it's going to get messy, so put the gun down, okay?"
There was no one around besides the truck and their cars. Where were the cooks? Didn't food trucks have three people? Vivian tried to remember... Saturdays she and her moms went for walks and Holly always tried to find a new place to eat. It was often a food truck since they frequented the park where they all went running. The best were the Latin ones, in Vivian's opinion, and they were always understanding when Gail's allergy came up.
Nick waved for her to go to the front of the truck and made a sign for keys. Vivian nodded, gun drawn, and slowly crept along the back, keeping out of sight. She opened the door as quietly as possible, listening to Duncan and 'Jonas.' The engine was off, so she eased the keys off the seat and nearly pissed herself. There was a person, hiding in the cab, crammed in between the passenger seat and the dash.
"Sir, you've got to get out," she hissed. "We're here to help you."
The damned thing was she couldn't radio. Andy had her on band, she and Nick didn't have a secondary that she remembered. God, Vivian hoped she hadn't just forgotten.
The man stared at her blankly, not replying. "Sir, I'm the police. Just open the door and get out."
He shook his head and lifted a hand in frustration.
Wait... He was looking at her face intently. And the motion was something she recognized.
Vivian shoved the keys in her thigh pocket and signed, very carefully. Do you understand?
His eyes widened and he nodded. Then he signed back that he was stuck. She nodded, told him to stay there, and stepped back. Could she see Nick? Yes! She waved to catch his attention and pointed to the cab of the truck, giving him the stupid army sign for 'someone's in here.'
Nick's face went flat and he flashed a thumbs up, giving her two numbers and tapping his radio.
Fuck, those numbers better be new. Vivian switched channels and spoke as quietly and clearly as she could. "4727, there's a witness stuck in the cab of the food truck. He's deaf."
"Copy that, 4727." The voice was someone she knew... Sherri? No. Tassie. The new one. It really didn't matter, though. "Can you get him out?"
"Negative. Passenger side is in view for the suspect."
"Roger. Can you-" Tassie paused. "Communicate to the wit to stay still and we'll get him out as soon as we can."
"Copy that," confirmed Vivian. Someone had probably told Tassie that she knew sign language. Creeping back to the door, Vivian relayed that information to the witness who liked like anyone who thought he was getting out of there was an idiot.
The truck rocked a little and Vivian glanced back at Nick. He wanted her to stay there. Then Duncan screamed and all hell broke loose.
As Gail was packing up for the day, John walked in. "Check it out, deep fried dollars!"
She looked up to see him holding up his phone. Squinting at the photo, she sighed and put her reading glasses on. Gail hated getting old. "Someone put money in a … deep fat fryer?"
"Spilled would be more accurate," admitted John, clearly amused. "Also threw hot oil at Gerald."
It was uncharitable, but Gail smiled. "Not badly?" When John shook his head, she shoved her laptop in her bag. "Good. Anything I need to do about the case today?" Her sergeant hesitated. "Give it up, John."
"Well. Your kid was there."
"That doesn't mean I need to do anything, Simmons," she pointed out. In fact, it meant she should try to do as little as possible. "She okay?"
"Oh yeah, she's downstairs translating." Gail must have looked as confused as she felt, because John added, "Sign language. Guy tried to rob a food truck. Apparently the owner had pulled over to take a piss, robber saw the opportunity and knocked him out. The cook, he's the deaf guy, texted 911 and hid in the passenger seat."
Gail grinned. "Nice. And the robber?"
Flipping open his notes, John frowned. "The other rookie, Volk? She tackled him right out of the van after he burnt Gerald."
Tackled. Interesting choice of words. "Well. Good for Volk, but that sounds pretty reckless." She tapped on her watch, texting Vivian to ask if she was staying late or wanted a ride. There was no reply right away. Not surprising.
"I seem to recall a story about a certain blonde flinging a perp out of a an ambulance," noted John, amused. Gail flipped him off. "Go home. I'll follow up on this and let you know if anything needs your attention, but I doubt it."
"Don't work too late. And when do I get to met the new girl?" After years of what Holly had called 'serial monogamy' where he'd break up as soon as it got near the subject of moving in together, John had met a woman and gotten suddenly quiet about it. Gail had a feeling that meant it was a little serious.
John scratched his nose. "Later." He looked back at his notebook, closed it, and frowned. "We don't have a date tonight," he added.
Awkward John was always fun, so Gail half teased him, "How about you tell me her name for starters."
"Janet Mehta." And he held his phone out again.
Gail blinked. "Hey, I was kidding, John."
He shrugged. "I know, but ... You're a friend, Gail."
He shook the phone and she took it, looking at a shortish Indian woman. She was dressed in jeans and a tank-top, laughing at something off camera. Not Gail's type (being neither a nerdy librarian nor Holly), but she was attractive. The name of Mehta meant she might be of Punjabi descent. And Gail wondered if John remembered that happened to be one of the languages Gail spoke.
She opted not to point that out. "Where'd you meet her?"
"You have to promise not to laugh."
"Of all the gifts the universe gave me, John, that was not one," warned Gail. He knew it, but he was still asking. This was about to be embarrassing.
John took his phone back. "We met on a dating website."
Oh. Oh that was going to be worth teasing him about much later. She smiled and tamped it down, lest she scare him off. "At least tell me it's not ," Gail laughed softly. "Seriously, as someone who met her wife at a crime scene, I'm not judging."
And that was the truth. Tease yes, judge no. She and John chatted about that for a while, about meeting people and how hard it was, until Gail got a text from Vivian, saying she'd take the ride if it was still available. Extorting a promise from John to get to meet Janet before summer was over, Gail went down to her car and met up with her kid.
"Thanks for sticking around." Vivian tossed her bag in the back and changed her watch to her smart watch.
"I heard you got a gunman," smiled Gail as she buckled up. The car started with the press of a button, which was still novel after twenty years. She liked the new Ford Detective Package. For years she'd been a firm Chevy girl, but when Gail saw the new Ford, she'd been hella impressed.
Vivian smirked, stretching her legs out in the passenger seat. "I saw Sgt. Simmons. You like the deep fried dollars?"
Yeah, that was her kid alright. "Gave me ideas for dinner. So. Gunman?"
"Lara took him down." Vivian detailed the story, how she'd found the man hiding in the cab of the truck. He'd ducked down to find a lost pen while his partner took a whizz. The rocking in the back of the truck had confused him, so he slid the window to peek in back and realized they were being robbed. The 911 text was how Duncan and Lara ended up there. When Duncan realized the man was armed, they radioed for backup.
The drama with the hot oil was less drama than it had sounded. The robber had struggled with Duncan over the bag of money meant for the bank. In the struggle, the bag was ripped open and the robber fell back, slapping the fryer's handle, splashing Duncan. Much to Gail's relief, Vivian both called Duncan by his proper name (Gerald) and said he was only burnt a little on the arm.
According to Vivian, Lara would probably win the awesome case of the week award. That was something new to Gail, and her daughter explained that Jenny kept track of everyone's work and awarded points for arrests and busts and all those things. Vivian had won a handful of times, all the while insisting she wasn't playing at all.
They got home to an empty house and no sign of Holly. That wasn't unusual. Vivian ran up to start a load and wash her uniform. While a lot of cops took theirs to the dry cleaner, Pecks knew how to wash at home. Because you couldn't rely on others. Gail sighed. It was a terrible reason to know some of those tricks. She pulled out her phone and texted.
Hey wife, you planning on coming home?
The answer was eyebrow lifting.
As soon as the Mounties call me back.
Why would the Mounties be bothering her wife? Instead of asking, Gail started making dinner, including tempura vegetables and fish. The tempura would be fried to satiate her craving but not too oily to incur the wrath of Holly and her diet. Making sure to pick the foods Holly liked best, Gail relaxed into the zen of cooking.
It had done more for her moods than yoga, the cooking had. She still did the yoga regularly, even the crazy sauna yoga with Lisa and Rachel, but the cooking was a nice, every day relaxation. Her family knew it and didn't mess with her when she was zoned out cooking.
That also meant that when Vivian joined her at the prep work, her quiet kid needed a mom a little bit. "Where's Mom?"
"Working late."
"Sucks."
Gail smiled. "It does." She leaned into Vivian's shoulder. "What's up?" Her kid shook her head and washed the rice. "Was it the deaf guy?" Another head shake. "Gerald? He always makes me feel like the planet is doomed."
There was the faintest nod from Vivian. Unlike Gail, who took the world head on and dared it to fuck with her, Vivian sat back and watched. Unlike Holly, who watched and unraveled the mysteries in her mind and proudly presented them to the world, Vivian kept her thoughts to herself. Gail had wondered for a while what kind of cop she'd be. Methodical, patient, smart. She wasn't like any of them. Vivian was not the kind of cop the Pecks had beaten into Gail's head. Maybe Gail would ask her mother if Oliver was like that when he was a rookie. He was so sociable, though...
Why was it so hard to know what to do with your own kid? She was a kid, right? She was Gail and Holly's kid, whom they'd raised for eighteen years. And, yes, they still had doubts about how much those first six would sit on Vivian, they knew they loved her unconditionally. Vivian was a great person. She handled stress and drama, when it wasn't romance related, rather well. She was caring and thoughtful.
Really, Gail's doubts were still that her daughter's soft heart would eat her alive at the job. The agony that kids like Sophie and Alexiane had ripped out of her and Holly was something Vivian would face every day. And Viv's heart itself may still be in agony from her own childhood. It was just unknown.
Finally Vivian spoke up. "It's scarier when it's not you. When you have to be in charge for someone else. Everything happens so fast." Vivian didn't look up, she just busied herself with the food. "And driving is hard."
"It is," agreed Gail.
"You made it look easy."
Gail snorted. "Kiddo, I have been a cop for your whole life. It's easy because I do it ever day."
"Remember the car accident?" Vivian glanced over. "On the way up to the cottage?"
That had been a long time ago. "The hit and run? The guy in those stupid shorts and the bicycle that cost more than your first car?"
Vivian rolled her eyes. "Don't be a dork, Mom. That's still my car."
"I remember," smiled Gail. "What about it?"
The rice maker clicked on. "You remembered everything. The license plate, the car make and model, what the driver looked like, how fast everyone was going. It was ... Cool. And daunting."
Cool? She was cool? "I'm a cop, Viv. I'm supposed to remember all that stuff."
"I can't," Vivian said softly, looking at her hands.
"Not yet," assured Gail. "But one day you will." Vivian looked doubtful. "What? You think I could do all this from birth? Elaine spent many a night quizzing me if I wanted dessert."
Those had not been the fun days of her youth. Gail recalled missing out of Steve's birthday cake one year because she couldn't remember what shirts all his friends wore.
Taking that thoughtfully, Vivian pulled out the mesh scoop for the frying. It was relatively normal for things with her daughter. Gail reacted first and Holly dissected, both usually verbally and noticeably. Vivian thought and didn't share. So it wasn't weird for her to take a revelation like that and process it first.
They still hadn't moved back on to conversation when the garage sounded and Holly came in.
"You both suck," grumbled Holly, heading right upstairs.
Vivian looked surprised. "What did we do?"
The voice of long experience, Gail sighed. "We'll find out in a moment." She dug her phone out of her pocket and tabbed through her work messages. Nothing had buzzed her as high priority which, if this was related to the Mounties, it should have... As she looked at the phone, it rang. The superintendent (aka her boss). "I need to take this, can you...?"
Her daughter nodded and Gail listened to her boss detailed exactly what was going on. It was certainly not what she'd expected. The case was convoluted, but only the Mounties really handled those cases. Gail, being the lead for OC in the Division, was expected to be their intermediary. It didn't hurt that she had a good relationship with the Mounties after all.
"Damn it, Gerald," muttered Gail as she hung up.
"Oh good," sighed Holly, tying her damp hair back in a ponytail. "Because just one of us working a case is too simple."
Gail shoved her phone in her pocket. "Oh, it gets better. I need some cannon fodder to go out for this one."
They both turned to look at Vivian, who had a tempura bean in her mouth. "What?"
Sitting in the third row, beside Christian, Vivian grinned broadly. On their run that morning she'd told him to be ready for an awesome case come the morning. She told him nothing more, so when they walked into Parade and saw Gail, John, and Dov talking to a decked out Mountie, he punched her arm. Then they took their seats quickly before anyone asked what they were doing.
Lara squeezed in on Vivian's other side. "That's Major Crimes," she hissed at Vivian, excited. "My case! I got to talk to them today!"
Leaning around, Christian asked, "Who?"
"The Mountie and the hot guy. He's a total silver fox."
"Sgt. John Simmons," muttered Vivian, trying not to gag at the thought of her mother's partner as a hottie. The Mountie on the other hand was sexy as hell. Once she'd seen the photos of Gail undercover in a Mountie uniform, and Holly's overt feelings on the outfit were clear. At the time, Vivian hadn't really understood and just thought her moms were a little gross. Now she got it. Women in uniform were sexy.
At the front, Dov cleaned his throat. "Okay, settle down." The room fell quiet. "Yesterday, Officers Moore and Volk caught a food truck robber. I'm happy to say that the Hearing Hearos truck will be providing lunch, gratis, at the next softball game." There was scattered applause. "Also for anyone wondering, Officer Moore will be fine. The burns are superficial." Less applause. "The evidence was a bit of a surprise though. Detectives?"
Gail sipped her coffee. "The money recovered from the scene was counterfeit." The silence was palpable. Vivian hadn't known that particular detail, but it explained why Holly had been at work late. "Some of it. OC's been at the food trucks all night and it turns out someone's been using food trucks to launder money. Today there's a street fair down by the lake shore. You guys are going, in plain clothes."
Undercover! Kind of. But still. This was the part Vivian had overheard and frankly she had been looking forward to this all night. "Now I know tonight is Fite Nite," said Dov carefully. "So I want you guys to wrap it up early enough to come support our boy, Fuller, in the ring."
Clearly less worried about that, Gail rolled her eyes. "Some of you are going to be working in the food trucks. Some of you will be patrons. I've worked out who's assigned to what with your TOs. Volk, Hanford, you'll be locals out to try some food. Peck, Aronson, you both will be working the food trucks."
Because Gail knew Vivian could cook. That was fine. "Ma'am, what about me?" Christian had his hand half raised.
"You, Officer Fuller, will be assisting Sgt. Irene Goguen, of the RCMP, while she's here at the station."
Christian's face fell. "Assisting?"
With a smile Vivian knew was trouble, Gail nodded. "Assisting. Like getting her real coffee and not the swill we drink. Speaking of... Irene, there's a great coffee shop down the street."
The Mountie smiled back. "Americano, no sugar, please," she said to Christian. There was a pause and Gail cleared her throat. Vivian elbowed Christian who blurted 'Now?' And then he asked what the other higher ranking officers wanted before rushing out with the list.
"Now, the rest of you, go change. Peck and Aronson, report to Sgt. Simmons. He has your outfits." Gail nodded at John. "I'll be in Sgt. Epstein's office."
While the others filed out, Vivian and Jenny walked up to John. "Peck, I know what you can cook. Aronson, your family owns a restaurant?"
"My aunt and uncle own a Greek restaurant," replied Jenny, surprisingly. She side eyed Vivian, wonderingly.
"Perfect. We have a Greek truck. Peck, that means you get Mexican. You'll both work the front, handling the money. These trucks are cash only and we have a scanner for you to check the bills."
They went through how to check the bills a few times. John made sure they were able to do it quickly and without being too obvious before he handed them the outfits. They wore their own jeans with a shirt for the food truck instead of their own clothes. Vivian toyed with the idea of her own watch but left it in her locker.
"Hey, Peck. Why does Sgt. Simmons know you can cook?"
Vivian hesitated. The real answer was that she'd cooked diner more than once with him there. When Vivian was 20, Gail had broken her left hand, so Vivian had done nearly all the cooking for two months. "He used to date my aunt Rachel," decided Vivian. This was true. It was also 18 years ago.
Simple Jenny seemed to accept that. "Man, do you know all the officers here?"
"Uh, pretty much, yeah," she admitted. "You met Oliver."
Jenny hesitated and then shook her head. "My grandfather was a cop. So was my dad."
That was news to Vivian. Jenny hadn't mentioned it and she didn't know any Aronsons. "Really? In Toronto?"
Nodding, Jenny said a name. "Terzakis."
The name rang a bell. "Nico Terzakis? The..." Vivian stopped. Nico had worked in Fifteen. And been taken down by IA for extortion and money laundering. He'd been funneling money through evidence. The one time she'd hung out with Marlo, at a cops and their families event, Marlo had told her about how that case made her mark in IA. Vivian had kind of liked Marlo. What Marlo saw in Sam was beyond her, though.
"You know?" When Vivian nodded, Jenny sighed. "Yeah. I took Mom's name."
"Don't blame you," agreed Vivian. She'd done the opposite, taking the name that was known, and over the last five years she'd come to regret it. The people who knew she'd taken the Peck name came with two assumptions. Either she was using the name to jump the queue and be advanced by preference, or she did it as a big fuck-you to the Pecks who were assholes.
Neither was the case. She'd had trouble explaining it for years, but it was really simple. The name Peck was the name of people who had survived horrible things. The name Peck was a shield that meant when those things happened again, she would never be alone. It was a safe name. And most importantly, it wasn't Green.
She didn't want to think about that just then. "Wait, that means your grandfather is Stephanos Terzakis. He has the record on parole violation arrests in TwentySeven! Why didn't you go there?"
Jenny shrugged. "I wanted to make up for it... How the hell did you know that? Are you a walking encyclopedia of police lore?"
"No, just a Peck," sighed Vivian.
"Is that why you don't want to play? Scoring your week, I mean. Do they frown on it?"
That implied Jenny knew who the Pecks were, beyond just a name. "You know?"
"Peck is kinda hard to miss."
Vivian shook her head. "They never said anything about it. Not out loud, at least. But they're pretty amazingly silently judgy." It was weird, but maybe this was making friends too? Did that mean she was friends with Rich? Ew.
"Yeah, see that's why I'm not at TwentySeven." Jenny tied her shoes.
Hesitating, Vivian asked, "Why didn't you tell anyone? About me, I mean. I know why you'd keep yourself ..."
Jenny looked surprised. "I dunno… I guess because you get enough shit for that already? I figured either you were a real Peck or it was the universe's most shitty coincidence."
"I don't think you're allowed to be a cop and Peck if you're not actually a real Peck."
They both laughed. "Is there even a station without a Peck?"
Again, Viv shook her head and headed to the door. "Nary a one. And they have to pay a fine if they don't have one. Box of donuts every day."
As she left the room, she heard Jenny shouting after, asking if that donut fine was for real.
They got wired and checked out on the food trucks before heading out to the event. With a dozen food trucks and only two staked out, they were hoping to get lucky. Ninety percent luck, that's what Elaine always said.
John gave them one final run through. "Okay. We'll be listening the whole time. If you get the bogus bills, when you hand them the food, repeat their name and use the code word. Which is?"
Vivian and Jenny looked at each other and sighed. "Order up. We got some hot food trucks!" The words weren't bad, it was just the way they were supposed to pronounce it. Making it sound 'cool.' Vivian was sure that Chloe had come up with it. She had a moronic hot dog chant, which Vivian had heard a hundred times at sports events growing up, that sounded similar.
"Perfect. Serve the food, check the money, don't screw up." John looked torn between amusement and seriousness.
"Yes, sir," they said together and went to their trucks.
The Mexican food smelled amazing. As she took the third seat, Vivian asked, "How are you guys not a million pounds?"
The driver, Felix, laughed. "You'll burn it off today, officer. It gets hot in here and we're hustling."
His partner, Eli, smiled. "You ever worked food before?"
"I help at the annual division barbecue. Have since I was ten." The men shared a look of concern. Vivian couldn't fault them on it. "I do know how to cook. But I'll stay out of your way as much as possible. Work the front, take the orders, serve them out. Trust me, you got the best cop here. I'm way better at memorizing faces. And I can do the math in my head for taxes." She smiled. "Besides, I got an uncle named Eli, so we're basically related now."
The men laughed, seemingly put at ease, and proceeded to tell Vivian all about what the work would be like.
For all Vivian had been worrying the day (and night) before about not being able to do what Gail could, about not handling all the things at once, the hectic pace of the food truck and watching the people and the cash was... Easy. It was easy. It was like she could put half of her brain into working the truck and half into cop, and then she was still able to pay attention to the rest of it. Was this what Gail had meant?
The shifty guy in the Green Bay Packers hat was reported with just a comment about how he maybe shouldn't be such a dick to his girlfriend. The skittish woman in a blue shirt was, momentarily, studied while Vivian passed out four orders and took another. It was all clicking the way it was supposed to. That grove Gail promised she'd fine, where her brain did just pay attention, without needing to be forced to do so, was real.
Vivian felt like a cop.
Then she heard Jenny, from down the row. "We got some hot food trucks!"
The earwig in her ear spoke up. "Eyes on our guy. Name's Noah, jeans, brown shirt that says 1978 in retro letters. Light brown hair, white skin."
"Yeah," said Vivian as casually as she could. "I see it by the waffle truck." Then she took an order from someone else. "Sorry, we're cash only," she pointed out, tapping the sign.
The young woman looked surprised. "Really? Still? Haven't you heard of Square?"
Vivian smiled. "Sure, and we lose 3.5% on transactions, 4.2% plus an extra 20¢ if we have to manually enter it, plus credit card fees, so that $9 you pay turns into $8 or less. But if it's cash, we save money and your credit card fees stay low. There's an ATM around the corner by the blue parasol."
The woman eyed Vivian. "How much would that really be if you manually entered it?"
"Depends what the order is."
"Two carnita taquitos with avocado slaw and a side of the chip mix."
There was something about the tone that was different. The woman was hitting on her? Vivian grinned. "$15.13."
Pulling out a twenty, the woman laughed. "You made that up."
"Did not. Double carnitas, $9. Avo slaw is $3 extra, and another $4 for the chips, which are an awesome choice. $16 total. Minus 67¢ in fees plus 20¢ extra." She turned to the cooks and handed the slip to Felix, "Order in."
"That was impressive." The woman leaned against the truck, smiling toothily.
Vivian demurred, "Just basic math. $16 please, and your name?"
"Ami, with an I." Before Vivian pointed out she didn't need the spelling, Ami scribbled something on the bill and slid it over. "And that's my number."
The voice in her ear laughed. "Rock on, Little Peck."
She was going to kill John later. "It'll be 10 minutes," Vivian replied, feeling abruptly shy. Flirting she was good at. Flirting was fun and safe. This was ... Well. Picking up girls at work was a Peck tradition in a way. She swiped the bill as she got the change and saw the alert light up. Crap. "Four is your change."
"No number?" Ami looked faux disappointed.
"Maybe I'll call you after work," offered Vivian, with a shy smile. Her stomach was in knots and she barely heard the jokes from her earwig.
Felix put an order by her elbow. "Order 29 is up. We're running out of slaw."
With an apologetic look to Ami, Vivian turned to her temporary coworker. "How many servings left?"
"Ten."
She nodded and picked up the order. "Bobby G, order up. Fish and chips, super hot." Spotting the customer, Vivian passed over the food. "Thanks, have a great day."
In between handling the next round of customers, Vivian tucked the bogus bill in the security bag. When Ami's order came up, she must have looked annoyed because Eli spoke up. "You don't like that girl? She looked pretty cute."
"Oh, that's not the problem," sighed Vivian, taking the food. The guys knew the signal. They'd been briefed so as not to be confused. "Ami! Order up! We got come hot food trucks!"
There was a weird silence from both her earwig and the back of the food truck. "Man," muttered Felix.
"That was more than ten minutes," sassed Ami.
"Twelve and a bit, sorry, we had to chop a fresh avocado for you."
Ami smiled brightly and put a toonie in the tip jar. "Smells great." She mimed a phone with her free hand, mouthed 'call me,' and walked off.
If Vivian could have bashed her forehead into the table and not be thought of as insane, she might have done so. God. Of all the luck.
Rarely did Holly make it to Fite Nite. As much as she actually did like boxing in genera, she and Gail had a bad association with the date. This was, after all, the anniversary of their most idiotic breakup. But she had also trained Christian, and her daughter was his corner man. Woman. Whatever. So Holly was obligated to go for once.
Truth be told, she was a little excited. Not that she loved pugilism. Of all the sports she'd played, she liked it the least. Even MMA was better. But to see someone she'd trained have a round was, well, kind of exciting. And Christian was like a nephew to her. When she met him for the first time, it was at Chris' funeral. He'd been so serious and sad. That was when she also met Denise, and feared that Gail might unload on the woman. All the years later, Gail was still mad about how Denise had played Chris for the fool.
But they both liked Christian. As a toddler, he'd been allergic to everything (including grass), but much of that turned out to be Denise having Munchausen's By Proxy. Dov and Gail and Oliver had road-tripped up to Timmins, twice, to handle that, and while they'd never managed to get Christian out of Denise's hands, they had been able to give the boy a stabilizing influence. He knew he was loved, no matter how insane his mother was.
And Christian had grown up into a sweet, darling young man. He was painfully earnest, desperate to prove his worth. While it had been a surprise to Gail and Holly that he wanted to be a police officer in Toronto, Vivian had been writing to him for years and admitted he'd asked her not to tell them. He didn't want to disappoint them if he failed.
Right then, Holly was just happy that her part of the case was over in time. She'd spent most of the night before going over the fact that she had counterfeits. Holly had been surprised when the bills came through the lab. At first, they'd mostly been amused that some of the bills were fried in oil. But then they realized some bills had reacted differently to the oil than others. The ink had inconsistently changed colors in some places.
That turned into them testing the ink in all the bills, and they quickly found a slew of twenties that were all fake. One quick call the the Mounties, who handled counterfeiting, and suddenly she had a mess on her hands.
And the mess was her kid's fault for being involved in that stupid case. And her wife, for not being able to take the major case right away. And the Mounties, for having a person stationed in Toronto. Though Irene was actually very nice, neither she nor Holly had appreciated the idea of giving up the whole night to the work.
Now it was Gail's turn though, finding the counterfeiters. She'd remarked that they'd probably send Chloe and her undercover minions after them if it looked like the right idea. Chloe was still Gail's go-to cop for undercover, and with good reason. Chloe was amazing at undercover work.
Neither Gail nor Chloe were around.
"Holly!" The familiar voice of her sister-in-law cut through the crowd. "You came! Where's the bitchy one?"
"Stuck with Irene the hot Mountie," grinned Holly, hugging Traci hello. "She said the fight was at nine but..."
They both looked up at the ring, where two women were duking it out. "Oh that's ThirtyOne and the Big Building. We have three more fights until our baby boy." Traci shook her head. "Do you know, I won in our year."
Holly nodded. "Peck's told me. Over and over. I think it was one of the warnings they gave Steve when you guys got engaged."
"That sounds like something they'd say," laughed Traci. "I can't believe I'm going to be married eighteen years this fall! How did that happen?"
"Don't look at me," Holly muttered. "Next year is twenty. The mothers have taken over." Lily and Elaine decided that, since they never really had a public ceremony, and since their ten year was just a party at the Penny with Karaoke and friends, they needed a real, big, party. Gail was already protesting.
"Do it once, they'll forgive us for not giving them actual grandbabies."
Holly rolled her eyes. "Hey, I gave them a kid."
"You cheated with a pre-baked child," teased Traci. "Speaking of, where is she?"
"Hopefully with Christian... Where is he?"
"The prep room. Go past the stands where Dov and the white shirts are, Fifteen's is on the left."
Thanking Traci, Holly scooted around the crowd and ducked into the back to find Christian. The young man was sitting on a bench in his trunks and boots, but with a sweatshirt on and his hands not even wrapped. "Christian! Why aren't you ready?"
"Dr. Stewart! I'm waiting on Viv," he explained, looking mournful.
Holly sighed and picked up his wraps. "Give me a hand. Why is she not here?"
Extending his left hand, Christian cleared his throat. "She's getting told off for flirting with a suspect. Except it's not fair! The suspect flirted with her!"
She started to wrap the bandages around his hand, eyebrows raised. "The suspect flirted with her? This was the counterfeiter?"
"Yes, ma'am. We caught 'em. The Mounties are all stoked."
"Good. It was a really clever copy, too. Did they show you?"
As Christian was jittery tense, she told him about the technical aspects of the case, letting the Patented Stewart Babble sooth his nerves. Just as she wrapped his second hand, Vivian came running in, sweating, in her uniform undershirt. "Sorry, sorry, all good- oh thank god, Mom."
"You're late," chided Holly, smiling. "Get him ready." She patted Christian's knee. "You're good. Kick ass."
"Yes'm," nodded Christian at his most earnest, eyes locked on Vivian.
Leaving them be, Holly headed back out and bumped into one of the other rookies. "S'cuse me, you're not supposed to be here," said the young man. He looked like a bit of a dude.
"I'm a friend of Christian's," she pointed out, smiling at the young man. They looked so young. They were infants. Had she and Gail ever been that young? It felt like a lifetime ago.
The young man tilted his head. "Well. I guess that's okay," he muttered. His eyes drifting up and down her. "You're from the lab, right?"
"I am. Dr. Holly Stewart." Had the man played attention at all to things at the lab, like the name on the paperwork, he'd know her name. He clearly didn't.
Extending his hand, he grinned in a way that was supposed to be rakish, she supposed. "Rich Hanford. Pleased to meet you."
It did not escape Holly that his eyes went to her left hand. She'd not put her ring back on after work. As horrible as it was, Holly loved the moments where the rookies who were cougar hunters hit on her, just for the inevitable moment when they realized she was married to an Inspector in their building. "You wouldn't happen to know where the drinks are, would you?"
Rich beamed at her. "I sure do. Are you here with someone?"
"No, surprisingly." Gail had texted to say she was running late, after all. The odds were that Gail would skid in right before the fight. She wouldn't miss this one.
"Let me buy you a drink," he said, not asking it as a question. Oh the poor boy.
Holly smiled. "A beer, please. Thank you, Rich."
He led her over to the drinks, using a coupon (hah!) to pay for her drink. "So what do you do in the lab?"
Clearly he hadn't done anything by way of looking into who ran things. "I'm a medical examiner," she said smoothly, popping the beer cap off and taking a sip.
"Wow, I just saw my first autopsy last month. It was pretty wild."
That was when the name clicked. Vivian had told her about Rich, who had tossed his cookies and then gave her grief for eating lunch afterward. "Oh, the man who died robbing the marijuana dispensary? That was an interesting case. You were the rookie in the van?"
"Yeah," he beamed. "Me and Princess Peck. Pretty cool."
"Princess?" She tilted her head. Her kid was a princess.
"Yeah, she's total police royalty, I guess. Bazillion Pecks around here."
Well. That was true. "I suppose that makes sense," agreed Holly.
Rich must have seen something in her face, as he quickly spoke again. "Oh, but she's actually pretty cool. I mean, she doesn't play it up. She just, you know how some people have advantages 'cause they're born into the right family? That's all."
Before Holly could comment, her name was shouted. "Holly!" Dov bounced down the stairs. "Come here!"
She smiled at Rich. "Sorry, it was nice to meet you, Rich."
"You too, Doc," he agreed and watched her as she went up the seats to the white shirts.
Dov hugged her and whispered, "Why are you letting him hit on you?"
"Because it'll be hilarious when he figures it out," laughed Holly.
"God, you and Gail are terrible." But he wasn't really complaining. "You have the same evil sense of humor."
It was true. "You love us for it. Now, where is my snarkier half?"
"Finishing up. She'll make Christian's fight, but they want the lawyers done so they don't have to work all weekend."
That was a good idea. "Alright. I hate having her distracted all weekend."
"Seriously, she gets all Peckish," agreed Dov.
"Is my kid going to be mopey?"
"Viv? Why should she?"
"I heard she got yelled at for hitting on a suspect?"
Dov laughed. "Oh hell no. No, she got the suspect's number, details on her, and we used that to catch both her and her brother. I'll let her brag later. John was just giving her grief for flirting at crime scenes."
Rolling her eyes, Holly drank some beer. "That's entirely unfair from a group of people who are so incesteous."
"And yet John has never actually slept with anyone at work," the man pointed out.
"Oh fine," laughed Holly.
"Serious question, though. Do we have a chance?" He gestured at the ring. "I need a win. I might lose my wife for a month to this case."
It had been over a two decades since their Division had won Fite Nite. The whole time Holly had been familiar with them, they'd won nothing. She knew Dov took it personally. Add in the stress that came with your spouse vanishing for a case, and he was probably feeling it. "You know, technically Oliver was the sergeant when the streak started. So this is inherited."
Dov shook his head. "I carried it on." He exhaled loudly.
"Why didn't you talk Viv into fighting?"
"I tried, she said no and Gail threatened to make sure I didn't have any more kids." He took a long pull from his beer. "Pecks don't box."
That was interesting. Holly would have to ask her wife about that later.
"Winner, Big Building's Peggy!" The announcer held the hand up for the winner and the crowd erupted in cheers.
Holly broke out in a laugh and covered her mouth. Peggy was a phone operator. No one was going to be giving her grief any time soon.
Finally it was Christian's turn. "Okay, C, you got this," she told him, massaging his arms to keep them loose. "Remember, keep your guard, go for his upper chest and face. As soon as he brings his arms up, solar plexus."
Christian nodded, his eyes wide and a little wild. "And if he turtles, keep hitting his forearms and try for the side."
"You got it, my man."
They really only had one worry. Andrew was fast. He was damn fast. Vivian had seen him move, dancing around the ring and sending jab after jab after jab. He was a speed demon. And Christian, love him, was not fast. He wasn't slow. He had stamina and durability, but he was not super fast.
The announcer's voice echoed. "Final round! Ladies and gentlemen, officers of all ages, our last fight of the night is the oldest rivalry in Fite Nite history. The fighting Fifteen Division has been striving for a win for over twenty years. Is tonight the night they finally take the crown back from favorites TwentySeven?"
The crowd cheered and jeered in equal parts and Christian bounced on the balls of his feet. "Hell yes," he muttered under his breath.
Vivian clapped her hands on his shoulder. "That's right," she said firmly.
The announcer read off the information of Christian's opponent (Andrew the Thunder from the Bay, because he was from Thunder Bay), his height and weight, and then it was Christian's turn. Height, weight, and finally, "Christian, the Timmons Terror, Fuller!"
As the crowd screamed and cheered, they bounded out into the arena. It was a massive number of people, more than Vivian remembered seeing in the last five years. She liked Fite Nite. Once she turned 19, she'd come every year on her own since her Moms didn't really care for it. Gail said it was negative memories. Holly admitted she'd rather be with Gail than see people hit each other.
This felt different, and Vivian wasn't sure if it was because she was working or because she finally felt the pressure of the win. Her whole life with her Moms, Fifteen had never won. She remembered the year when she'd been sixteen that they almost won, but the decision went to TwentySeven.
Vivian helped Christian out of his sweatshirt. "Okay, C. Guard up. Hit hard."
"Don't screw up," he grinned and opened his mouth.
She put the mouth guard in and slapped his bare shoulder. "That's my boy." She had the towel on her shoulder and gripped it right. Gail made her promise not to let Christian get really hurt.
The two men stepped out and glared at each other. As much as Christian glared at anyone. "Okay, gentlemen. I want a clean fight. Touch gloves, go to your corner, and come back fighting."
They tapped gloves and bounced back. Christian gripped the ropes, stretching one last time. Vivian was surprised to see how serious he looked. Not that C wasn't a serious guy, but he had never looked super serious before. His eyes were sharper and narrower than Vivian had ever seen before.
As the bell rang, Christian nodded and pivoted, dashing to the center of the ring, ready. And promptly stopped a fist right in the nose. Vivian winced as Fifteen groaned. But, as Christian pivoted his waist and she caught a glimpse of his face. It was dark and dangerous. Those were things that she had never seen on his face before.
Fierce.
Christian turned from his waist, cocked his left arm, and swung with all the force behind the turn. He used the physics to his advantage. He hit hard. Vivian swore she saw Andrew get lifted off the ground. Holy crap. When Andrew landed, he bent at the waist and Christian swung again with his right, sending a shattering chop down on his head.
Just like that, Andrew was on the ground, the ref was separating the two, and Christian, bloody nose and all, turned back to his corner.
"Holy fuck," muttered Vivian, agog.
The ref counted down from ten. On two, Andrew somehow managed to get to his feet. The ref made him take three steps, checked his eyes, and then nodded, calling to fight on. Christian's guard was up, his head was down and protected, and he plowed in again.
This was his tactic to fight the speed! He wasn't going to give Andrew a chance to rev up his engine. Christian was brilliant. How had she not thought about it before? With his head down, Christian punched from the waist and hammered Andrew, pushing him into the opposite corner. He hit at the shoulder level over and over, like Holly had suggested, until Andrew's guard raised.
It was that moment that gave the win to Fifteen. It was the instant, the second in time that Christian moved just right that changed the world. He twisted slightly, his feet planted wide, his hips turned just enough, and he swung hard from the waist. Right, left, right, left, over and over and over, until a flash of white flew in the air and the ref was grabbing him. Vivian stumbled through the ropes, rushing to grab Christian's other arm and pull him back.
Andrew collapsed to the ground the second the force of Christian's blows stopped keeping him upright.
Fifteen was an uproar. The cheers were deafening. "C! C! You won!" She had to shout into his ear. His whole body was still tense and hot, like he was on fire. "Christian! Fight's over!"
Finally the words broke into his head. Christian spat the mouthpiece into his glove. "Over? Who won?"
Seriously? Vivian eyed him. "You did." She pointed looked at the mat, where an EMT was checking on the barely conscious Andrew.
"Oh..." Christian looked dazed. "But I'm bleeding."
"Yeah, you stopped a fist with your face, idiot." She tugged him to the center. "Come on."
The ref eyed them both. "You okay, kid?" They nodded and the ref grabbed the microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner, with a KO in the first minute of the first round, breaking a two decade drought for Fifteen, CHRISTIAN FULLER!"
The crowd was going nuts. Even TwentySeven was cheering. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up, champ," she told her friend, trying to keep him from noticing she was worried. Vivian had never seen him flip like that. He was awesome, but a little scary.
On the way to the locker room, Dov shouted he was proud of Christian, Holly flashed a thumbs up, Traci and Andy were howling their heads off, and in the way back, a platinum blonde lifted a beer. So Gail had made it after all.
"Where's Andrew?"
"The EMTs are checking him out. He's probably going to checked out for a concussion," admitted Vivian, sitting Christian down in a chair. "How's the nose feel?"
"Broken." He wrinkled his face and winced. "Get my gloves off first? Please?"
Vivian nodded and cut the tape, pulling off the gloves and the headgear before picking up the first aid kit and wiping his face. "It's not too bad. Want me to get a doc?"
The dark haired man eyed her. "You can set it, right?"
Technically, yes. "Yeah, but I'm not a doctor."
"It's a nose."
"Yeah, I didn't go into medicine for a reason, idiot," Vivian pointed out.
Thankfully they were spared further argument by the EMT who came in to check on Christian. After making sure he didn't have a concussion, the EMT set his nose, taped it, and put an icepack on Christian's face. "No drinking tonight, Rocky. Monday, maybe. If you get a headache, go to the ER. Do you live alone?"
"No," muttered Christian. Satisfied, the EMT left after telling them what kind of painkillers were okay.
"I forgot you had a roommate."
"I try to," he grumbled. Christian roomed with a guy from Three Division named Buddy. They had neighboring rooms in the Academy and Christian pointed out he really couldn't afford the place on his own. Sometimes it made Vivian feel weird for not having moved out yet.
She pulled her phone out and texted Buddy, asking him to please keep an eye on Christian that night. "You sure you don't want to crash at my place? You know my Moms won't care."
Christian shook his head. "That'd just be weird. I mean, it's the weekend."
"And I'd get yelled at if I didn't offer," she smiled. Her phone pinged and she glanced to see what Buddy said... Only it wasn't a text from Buddy. It was Olivia.
Mom said I've missed the fight but Christian won. Tell him congratulations.
Christian eyed her. "Who's the text from?"
"Liv. She says congratulations." Before Christian said to tell her thanks, Viv texted that anyway.
"Man, what are you doing, Viv?" He shook his head. "She keeps making those eyes at you."
Vivian blinked at him. "That's been over for a while, C. Nothing happening. And clearly I have Mom's luck with the ladies."
"Yeah, but she got it right in the end."
That was true, Vivian had to allow. "There's a problem with it, Christian. See, every day I see those two, in love, and making it work. So I know what it looks like. And I know when that's not what I've got."
Christian frowned. "We're twenty four, Viv! We're idiots! We are young, hot, twenty something's, with awesome jobs, and maybe you should let your hair down a bit and have fun. You don't have to find 'the one' right away! Hell, we may never! But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy life!"
"How very deep," muttered Vivian, ignoring the return text. It was just going to be Liv again.
"You are too deep. Try being shallow." He stood up. "This is my plan. I'm a hero tonight, so I'm going to play my broken nose up and get some hot girl to want to take care of me, and I'll probably feel guilty or regret it in the morning, but I will have fun. You should try it."
Vivian watched Christian head to the shower and sighed. He made it sound easy. But casual and shallow were things she'd never mastered. She glanced at the phone and stifled a laugh. It was from Gail.
Please find a ride home. Late.
That her mothers hadn't stayed was no shocker. Neither was it odd that they ditched her.
"Go get a drink, Peck," shouted Christian from the shower.
"Waiting for you to have pants on, Fuller!"
"For a lesbian, you're a total perv, Peck," noted Rich.
Vivian eyed him. "I didn't see you falling over, volunteering to help."
Her fellow rookie rolled his eyes. "I was chancing on a fine lady. A doctor."
Oh god. Vivian laughed. If she was right here, it was going to be hilarious. "A doctor? Dr. Stewart?"
His eyes widened. "What the hell? Are you psychic?"
"Yes," grinned Vivian. In her mind, she could envision the look of horror on his face later when he found out who Holly was, and who she was married to. "Look, Rich, if you let anything happen to C, and I mean anything, I will hang your testicles from your locker. You may or may not still be attached to them." Vivian patted his shoulder and walked out.
There were still fights going on, so Vivian collected a beer and found Lara and Jenny. "Hell how mad was the sarge?" Jenny actually sounded worried.
"Simmons? Not at all," admitted Vivian. "He had me call her up and ask her out for coffee. When she went to pay, she used another fake bill, our guy behind the counter checked. Cuffs on before my coffee went cold." With a sigh, Vivian added, "Yet another notch of awesome in the crap that is my love life."
Jenny frowned and said, faux seriously, "Your dates always end in arrests?"
The three women laughed. "Better than mine," joked Lara. "One was an alcoholic. One hit me, once."
There was a pause. Jenny asked, "What'd you do?"
"Broke his arm." Lara said it so matter-of-factly, it was impressive. "What about you, Jen?"
"Cheater, cheater... Shitty sex."
Vivian and Lara both lifted their beers. "Word," they said as one.
"Come on," laughed Lara. "How bad can bad lesbian sex be?" When Vivian grimaced, Lara looked horrified. "But you're both girls!"
It was both Jenny and Vivian who snorted. "That means nothing," Jenny noted. "You bi, Peck?"
"Nup," she shook her head. "Nothing wrong with it, just not for me."
"I hear you," nodded Jenny. They watched a little of the fight and then Jenny leaned around and eyed Vivian. "You know, I don't think we've ever actually talked."
"Peck doesn't talk much," Lara remarked, not unkindly.
Jenny nodded. "She says she's not interesting. Which can't be true. I mean, our sergeant is practically your uncle."
In all likelihood, Jenny hadn't meant for it to sound like a dig, or a pointed comment about her last name. But in a way Vivian had really expected it. Lara looked surprised. "Seriously?"
Vivian shrugged. "Yep." It wasn't a secret. She didn't go out of her way to hide it. But she didn't want (or get) anything special for being who she was, so there was no point to it.
"How uncle are we talking?" Lara narrowed her eyes curiously.
Hesitating, Vivian admitted, "I used to babysit Epstein's kid." Dov also taught her how to shoot a pistol long range, something he was better at than Gail. "He was roommates with my mom for years. They're friends."
"Well that sucks," Lara declared, surprising the hell out of her. "No wonder he's always on your case about shit."
"Seriously," agreed Jenny.
Vaguely Viv recalled Gail telling her how Dov used to give her grief about being a Peck and all the nepotism. Maybe that was why he was so hard on her about stuff. "It is what it is." Her phone beeped and Vivian glanced at her watch. Liv was asking if the fights were still going on. Tapping the 'yes' reply button, she added, "I knew what I was getting into."
Jenny looked amused. "That's what I keep telling myself."
The phone pinged again. As Vivian read the message from Liv saying she was coming by, Lara elbowed her. "Who's this you keep smiling at."
Vivian looked across the room. "Inspector Williams' youngest." She tapped her phone open, telling Liv to turn around.
"Oh! The one you went to school with," remembered Lara, smiling. "Invite her over."
Bounding around the crowd, Liv smiled broadly as she dropped onto the bench beside Vivian. "Hey, you! Introduce me."
Pointing at everyone in turn, Vivian introduced. "Lara Volk, Olivia Best, Jenny Aronson."
Liv rolled her eyes. "Before you ask, yes, she's always been like this. Known her since first grade."
"Hang on," laughed Lara. "Peck has friends?"
"Shut up." Vivian grumbled. "There's Matty."
Smirking, Jenny asked, "Two people? Wait, she's Christian's friend!"
"Technically, C and me are inherited friends. Our parents all worked together." Liv paused when she caught Vivian's eyes and slight head-shake. "Complicated is the watchword of Fifteen. But come on, I missed the fight. Someone tell me?"
Thank god Liv was smart. She understood without Vivian having to explain just then that they were keeping things on the down low. Christian didn't want everyone to see him as the sad son of a kidnapper, or the non-son of a dead man beloved by the division. Vivian didn't want to have more Peck accolades slapped at her without earning them.
They were not their parents' generation.
Christian, broken nose and all, came out to watch the last few fights, happily hugging Liv as he joined them. Medical student Liv made him show her the damage and pronounced it survivable. That led to her explaining how she was studying cancer treatments and cures, and would be moving to San Diego after the summer. Everyone was interested in it, except Vivian who already knew the story.
As the fights ended, Liv went back to where her mother and the white shirts were sitting and Vivian went to sit on the back stairs, finishing up her last beer. She could take public transportation home, or possibly catch a ride, but she wasn't quite sure if her parents were asleep yet. Probably not.
The door at the top of the stairs opened and, a moment later, Liv sat down beside her. "Mom said this is where Pecks brood after Fite Nite."
"I'm not brooding, I'm stalling."
Olivia blinked and then laughed. "You came with your moms?"
"Nah, John dropped me off after work. I come to the station with Mom every day, though."
"That makes a certain amount of sense," agreed Liv. "So. How's it really going?"
Vivian shrugged. "Good? I think. It's hard to tell from the inside." She rolled the beer bottle between her palms. "I like it."
Bumping shoulders, Liv smiled. "That's good. Holly was worried about that."
"She shouldn't be. I knew I wanted this."
"Yeah, but parents." They shared a smile. "So Dad said you were bait?"
With a laugh, Vivian explained the case, and how she'd ended up being hit on by one of the counterfeiters. "Which is really her dumb luck," Viv noted. "Of all the hot girls at the beach, she gives her digits to the undercover cop."
The look on Liv's face was torn between pleased and annoyed. "Hey, but look at you, getting out in the dating pool again."
"Dating criminals, woo," joked Vivian. "Everyone knows, by the way."
Liv looked panicked. "About ..." She pointed between them.
"Oh, no. No, just about me." Vivian finished the last of her beer. "Well. They know I'm gay. They don't know who my Moms are."
Her friend laughed. "You are such a shit. Why don't you tell them?"
"First off, Rich was hitting on Holly."
"Rich the snooty one who looks like a magazine model? Can I be here when Aunt Gail scares him shitless?"
Vivian smiled. "Mom's such an ass," she agreed.
Draining her red SOLO cup, Olivia smiled. "And second?"
"Second is... I don't want them to see me as that Peck all the time."
"Yeah, you knew you were getting into that," admonished Olivia.
With a shrug, Vivian leaned back on the steps. "Doesn't mean I need to encourage it. That's all."
Olivia made a noise of agreement and leaned against the wall. It was nice to just sit and hang out with her friend for a while. That had been one of her favorite things with Liv. The sitting in quiet. The fact that they didn't need to worry about where things were going for a change.
"Do you need a ride home?"
"Eventually." Vivian sighed and checked her watch.
The doctor-to-be laughed softly. "The horndogs never stop, do they?"
Vivian smiled. "Nope, and I hope they never do." It didn't matter how annoyed she was. Her parents were always there when she needed them. They stopped everything for her, many times. Giving them privacy and a chance to reconnect that way was the simplest, easiest thing she could do to say thank you.
"You want to crash at my place? You can use Sophie's room. And my folks love you."
"Your Mom loves me more than you," teased Vivian.
Liv shoved her shoulder. "It's not funny," she laughed. "She totally does."
Grinning, Viv drawled in her best Gail, "Well. I am totally awesome."
Her friend smiled and looked up at the sky. "You won't sleep over." It wasn't a question. "And you won't tell me why." Vivian looked at her feet and didn't reply. What could she possibly say? With a loud sigh, Liv got up and started down the stairs. She paused at the foot. "You coming? If you're going to sit outside a building all night, may as well be your own house."
The ride to her house was quiet. "This seems backwards. Wasn't I always driving you home?"
"Quid pro quo, Clarice," rasped Liv, and they laughed. "Where is the crapmobile anyway?"
"In the garage. Still runs."
Liv shook her head. "That's crazy. I don't blame you for riding to work with Aunt Gail."
"Hey, it's mine. I bought it with my own money, thank you," pointed out Vivian.
"It's a good car," agreed Liv. "It just runs like shit. Took us an extra two hours to get up to the cabin."
"You don't speed in the crapmobile." When he'd sold her the car, Steve made her promise that. Vivian checked her watch again.
Liv gave her a side eye. "What are you checking for? Texts from a hot girl?"
It was a little embarrassing. "You know how Mom's a great big nerd, right?" Liv snorted at her. "Right so, she has this new thing that tracks her sleep and wakes her up gently at the right point in her sleep cycle. But she has to turn it on before she goes to sleep."
Her friend thought about that for a moment. "You lost me."
"It hooks into the family health kit app on our phones. Soooo."
Liv laughed. "Oh my god, you're waiting for an alert to tell you Holly went to sleep?"
"Only way I can be sure they went to bed," sighed Vivian, amused. "I used to wait till the bathroom light went off."
"Do I want to know why it was on?"
"I never asked," Viv smiled. Liv pulled up to the curb in front of the Peck/Stewart house. "Thank you. For the ride." There was a weird tension in the car and Vivian wasn't sure if she liked it. Taking off her seatbelt, her watch pinged. Both she and Liv looked up at the second floor, where a light went off.
Liv cracked up. "Oh that is hilarious."
The timing really was perfect. "What can I say? I know my moms well." She was surprised to see Liv chewing her lip. That was classic nervous Olivia, last seen when giving a Model UN talk about genocide. Unlike Vivian, who always felt nervous and awkward around people when forced to make small talk, Olivia was the extrovert.
As Vivian reached for the door handle, Liv asked, "Can I... Can I come in and talk?"
Okay. That was weird. "Sure, but Gail might come downstairs." Gail often made midnight snack runs on a normal night.
They ended up sitting out on the swing set. Everyone had told Gail that Vivian was too old for it, at ten, but the wooden swing set with a slide was her favorite place to hang out. Even in winter, she'd sit on the top of the slide as if it were a clubhouse. It was too small for her and Liv to sit in there now, being adults, so they sat on the swings.
She didn't push Liv, literally or metaphorically. They sat in their own swing, rocking back and forth absently. Waiting was easy. Viv had learned that from Gail. The art of being patient and relaxed made the other person uncomfortable and want to fill the void with something. Maybe that wasn't fair to do to her friend, but it made sense when she wasn't sure what was up.
Finally Olivia sighed. "I'm terrified," she whispered. And like that, her fears bubbled out and spilled over into a word-vomit Vivian hadn't heard since they were teens. Liv was moving to another country and she was going to work with some of the most brilliant people in the world. She wasn't anywhere near their ability. She couldn't possibly keep up with them. And here she was, moving far away from home to try and be something else. It was worse because Sophie had already gone off to Berkley and come back, so she was a success, and what if Olivia failed?
When it was clear Liv had run herself out of words, Viv dragged her feet to stop swinging. "You know... Failing at science isn't a big deal." Her friend startled. "Seriously. It's called experimental, dumb ass. You're supposed to make mistakes and try again."
"What if I kill someone?"
"As opposed to cancer killing them?"
Liv blinked and laughed softly. "Okay. There's that."
"Look, you're smart. You're good, but yeah, you're the rookie here. You're going to suck, you're going to mess up. It's a given. But it's what they expect."
"Says the Peck. Holly was first in her class."
"Holly had no social life outside of Slutty BitchTits and Rachel, is an actual genius with a disgustingly high IQ, and is a great big nerd." They both laughed. "Holly works her ass off for all this, you know that."
Shaking her head, Liv asked, "So that's your advice? Work hard?"
"Success is 90% luck and 10% timing. You have timing on your side here, Liv. Go grab it."
They sat silently for a moment. "You told me that when I went to Montréal."
"It was the right thing to do," Viv said firmly. "So's San Diego. Weather'll be better."
Liv smiled softly. "How come you know what to say?"
"It's all that training to talk people off rooftops," she replied blithely. Fear was something Vivian understood, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. She knew what it was like to be scared and uncomfortable. The nearly faded memories of foster homes before this one did still linger, but she was pretty sure that wasn't related.
The inside of Vivian's had was a strange place. Things didn't unpack themselves neatly. But all that bottled up mess made it easier to understand people, even if she didn't like them very much.
Olivia reached over and touched Vivian's hand. "I'm serious. Thank you."
The nagging voice of Holly told her how to answer. Vivian smiled, "You're welcome."
And then Liv kissed her.
It wasn't the peck of lips to the cheek like friends did (well, friends of Holly's). This was the inappropriate and unexpected press of lips to her own. This was confusing. This was Liv kissing her like before they broke up. Vivian froze as Liv's fingers touched her face.
She'd forgotten how nice and safe kissing Liv was. It was comfortable. Which was probably part of why they hadn't worked out. Vivian took hold of Liv's upper arms, which Liv took as a sign to lean in more. No. This was a bad idea. "Liv," she whispered, carefully pushing her oldest friend back. "What's going on?"
Liv's face was not what Vivian had expected. It was horror and shock and regret. "Oh god... I don't know... Why did I... I have to go."
And Liv bolted, leaving Vivian more confused than she'd been before.
Gail smiled as Holly wrapped her arms around her waist. "Hello, Doctor," she purred, leaning back against her wife.
"Hello, Inspector." Holly kissed her neck. "Doing the dishes has never looked sexier."
"I think that every time you wash up." Gail shut the water off and turned around to drape her arms around Holly's neck. "You're home early." Both her wife and daughter had gone off to play softball with firemen that morning. Or against. Whatever.
"Game rained out." They kissed softly and Gail smiled.
"Where's junior?" Leaning in, Gail kissed the place on Holly's jaw that she knew gave the brunette shivers. If the kid was going to be out...
Holly sighed and tilted her head to the side, giving Gail a little more access. "Junior... Is not here." She groaned when Gail stopped. "Seriously?"
Pressing her cheek to Holly's, Gail whispered, "I don't want to get cockblocked when you're riiiiiiiight there." The again was unspoken.
Her wife made a frustrated noise. "She went to check on Christian and said she'd be home by dinner. Happy? Can we go be naked now?"
Gail let go and grabbed Holly's hands. "Yes. Provided you're alright with me getting up to check on the roast in..." She checked her watch. "78 minutes."
Looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully, Holly drawled, "That might be cutting it a little fine. What kind of roast?"
"The red wine pot roast from Julia Child's book."
Her wife sighed dramatically. "We'll have to risk it."
Ninety-six minutes later, Gail slipped back into the bed and wrapped an arm around Holly, snuggling close. "Needs another hour or so," she murmured into Holly's ear.
Holly hummed that she'd heard, but didn't move or speak. She was smiling, and that was enough for now. Gail settled in and closed her eyes when Holly finally said something. "What were you doing?"
"Braising the beef." There was a brief moment before they both giggled. "Come on, this was still way better than baseball, right?"
"Softball," corrected Holly, stretching and turning to face Gail. "Much better."
They kissed again and Holly reached for her hip as Gail's phone beeped. "Damn it," grumbled Gail, rolling over to grab her phone. The message was from Vivian, texting to let her know she'd be home in time to watch the game. "What game are you and the monkey watching?"
A hand slid across her bare back. "Soccer. Women's World Cup is soon." Soft lips pressed against her shoulder and then the back of her neck. Fingers played with the hairs at the base of Gail's neck. "Game's not for a couple hours," Holly noted, molding herself along Gail's back.
That felt so good. Gail shivered. "I love it when you play with my hair," she noted.
"Convenient," agreed Holly. "I love playing with it." She kissed the wisps of hair along Gail's neck, a hand sliding back to her hip.
In the two decades they'd been together, Gail had grown her hair out to her shoulders once. There had also been a brief time where Holly had chopped hers to her chin, though that was caused by her hair being set on fire by an errant firework. That had been a terrifying day.
This was not a terrifying day. This was a day when Holly's hands touched Gail. This was a good day, where age was a non-issue. The division had broken its loosing streak the night before, they'd had a great Fite Nite for a change. Normally Gail tried to work Fite Nite, so as not to repeat the mistakes of the past. This year, she'd tried to make it, ended up catching Christian's fight, and then ...
Well. They were married and they had sex. A lot. There was nothing wrong with that.
Afterwards, Holly was far too awake and bounced into the shower, singing off key. Gail lay on her stomach, smiling. Keeping the romance going after all this time was work, but it was well worth it. They were constantly carving out time just for each other, taking advantage of surprise afternoons like this, planning vacations that were just them.
As the shower turned off, Gail spoke up. "Hey, Holly? We should go see your folks for Christmas."
Her wife didn't reply right away. "They'll be out here next year for our anniversary," Holly finally noted.
"S'why we should go there. Don't make Brian fly too much."
The talented fingers of the doctor fluffed her hair. "You are very thoughtful," she told Gail fondly. "Go take a shower."
Gail hunkered down and hugged her pillow. "How much time do I have?"
"Your watch says 18 minutes."
Crap. Gail grumbled and got out of bed. "Fine, but you start the laundry."
They were downstairs and dressed by the time Vivian showed up, sweaty and with grease on her face. "My car sucks," she informed her parents and sat down on the couch.
"Who was it giving me shit about making the couch all icky and gross?" Gail shook her head and grabbed a coconut water out of the fridge for her daughter. "What broke?"
"Radiator hose. I love you, Mom." Vivian downed half the drink. "Is that your world famous pot roast?"
Gail looked at Holly. "I am a celebrated and decorated detective. I have more accolades and awards than anyone else my age. I was the youngest detective inspector in the history of OC. And what am I famous for? Fucking cooking."
With a smile, Holly pulled Gail close to kiss her. "You're an excellent cook." And then she whispered, "And the fucking."
"Not the point." But Gail let herself be distracted by Holly's kisses until the timer on her watch went off.
Holly slapped Gail's butt as she went into the kitchen. "Viv, help me with the table?"
"Can we eat on the couch?" Vivian almost whinged. "I'm tired."
There was something about Vivian's tone that caught Gail's attention. She looked over at Vivian and saw the slumped shoulders. "Couch is fine," she agreed. "Holly, grab the deep plates?" Gail started to slice the meat on the cutting board.
They quietly served up the plates, Gail making two trips while Holly broke out the red wine. "Vino?"
"Por moi, merci," said Gail as she took her favorite spot in her chair. The sport-twins were just going to mess with their spreadsheets. "Et vous, mon singe?"
Vivian waved a hand, "Sure."
The food was a hit, distracting Holly enough that she had to rewind the game multiple times. Weirdly, Vivian didn't make a comment about it. Normally she'd tease the hell out of Holly for being distracted. Instead, she just watched the game and ate, barely seeming to notice what she was eating.
"Oh, honey I forgot to tell you, that dude rookie hit on me." Holly propped her feet up on the table and sipped her wine. "Rick?"
Finally Vivian spoke up. "Rich. Hanford." She sunk further into the couch.
Mopey Vivian. Check. Holly eyed Gail curiously. She'd noticed too. "Right. Two-times. That's the one I knew would," smiled Gail, stretching her legs out so her feet could bump Holly's. "Though Jenny strikes me as someone into a little lady loving."
The sulky rookie muttered, "She's bi, not crazy."
Holly shook her head. "Viv, are you okay?"
"Don't wanna talk about it," Vivian replied, hunching down.
When Holly opened her mouth, Gail cleared her throat. "Desert?" She got up and went to the kitchen. "It's fresh fruit, Holly, don't start." Both women replied they'd like it and Gail brought the bowls over.
"Your fingers are in my bowl," chastised Holly, taking one.
"We've swapped spit, Stewart. Give up." Gail put a bowl in Vivian's lap and sat on her other side. "Who are we rooting for?"
Vivian picked at the fruit. "The ones in blue." She didn't seem all that interested in the sports.
On the other side of their kid, Holly looked a little concerned. Still, when she finished her desert, the doctor kissed Vivian's forehead and told them not to stay up too late. Gail was left alone with her kid. Since Vivian was being uncommunicative, Gail turned on a reality TV show about logging.
Waiting out people was something Gail was good at. She'd found it tricky at first, fallen into it by accident, and then made it her own. She knew where to fill in the conversation, where to leave it empty, and where to let the wanting desperation to unburden one's self take over.
In many ways it was unfair to do that to her family. But seeing as they all knew she could, they knew what they were getting into with these conversations.
"I think I did a stupid thing," muttered Vivian. "Only I'm not sure what part was dumb."
"Okay," mused Gail. That was interesting.
Looking up at Gail, Viv asked, "When you did dumb things when you were my age, who did you talk to?"
"Steve. Sometimes. Mostly I kept it to myself."
Her daughter frowned. "It's complicated."
"You don't have to tell anyone," noted Gail.
"Except my head shrink."
Gail ruffled Vivian's hair. "You know you don't have to go see one anymore, right?"
Her daughter eyed her. "You and Mom do."
"Unlike you," noted Gail, "Holly and I have medical reasons for that." Gail had literal brain damage, and wasn't that a hoot to find out. It did make her feel better for not being able to shake the stupid nightmares, which in turn made her less likely to stress out over it, which had more that once ended with her unloading on people. As for Holly, it was 'simple' depression, which was anything but.
According to all the doctors though, there was nothing wrong with Vivian. Still. She went to her therapist every month. Every once in a while they brought it up, reminding her she didn't have to keep going. And every time, Vivian smiled and nodded and said she wanted to.
Right now, she sunk impossibly low in a slouch that was beyond even teenaged Gail's abilities. "It's easier to talk to someone not ... Connected." When she looked up at Gail, her eyes with the same guarded hope that had been common to the seven year old. Someone who wanted to believe in people, but who knew better already.
Gail sighed. "Yeah. I can see that. That's why I keep Chloe around."
Vivian snorted a laugh and smiled. "I had wondered."
They watched the end of the logging show, saying nothing more. Sometimes it was also okay not to talk about things. Sometimes it was okay to just be.
This case was a stand alone, unrelated to the rest of what went on. Eventually Vivian will have to explain what the hell happened with Liv. Provided she can ever figure it out. I have to throw a house on her first.
That's metaphorical.
Next chapter goes up in THREE weeks, since someone idiot is getting married and apparently I have to go. Drop a review if you're so inclined. They make every author feel better.
