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Thanks for reading J
Flack.
The precinct after dark was a different place. It wound down around ten, except on weekends, when the world got a little crazy. Flack got off at eleven, and by then he had done three days' worth of paper pushing and returned six calls. One to Mac, who had confirmed that he and Stella had made progress. One to Jess's pa, who called him once a month, and who reminded him, as if he didn't know, what tomorrow was. He hadn't forgotten. It was like a rock rolling uphill. Part of him wanted it, hoped it would serve as a milestone, a good one. Part of him dreaded it, the inevitable dragging up that would occur. The kid gloves that would come out.
He'd thought about taking the day off, just to avoid it. Awkward moments when people worked it out. They'd either dance around it and hope he hadn't noticed the date, or they'd think him callous for going on like nothing was wrong. He couldn't win, and he didn't really want to try. Where was the book on how to behave with things like this?
In the end he'd settled for working. Better to be busy, and with any luck he'd spend most or all of the day with people who wouldn't know, or if they did know, would leave well alone.
On his way home, he stopped into St Mary Margaret's on the street above his. He took a candle, lit it and left it burning. He didn't say anything, because he didn't know what to say. But he knew that Jess knew, and he asked her silently to forgive him. For not being there. For not knowing their future when they'd had one. For the little sinew of his heart that had pulled free and was growing apart, putting down roots elsewhere, wanting to move on. The candle's flame bent and recovered as a draft licked around it. Like Jess, a light that would go on through all kinds of darkness. It flickered as he retreated down the aisle, steps echoing on the wooden tile.
Stella
Morning came around so slowly, stretching and yawning its way into being. She was impatient for it, wanting to be moving and among people, not laying still and wishing for sleep.
She was tired, but wide awake, and as the light came around the edge of the drape, smudged into a grey blue wash on the terrace, she got up. Wrapped in a blanket, she threw back the drape and opened the door. The warmth and sounds of the city below were like a favourite sweater around her shoulders. She made coffee, far too early to go to work, and sat outside, head against the wall of the terrace. She loved the feel of the city, the vibrations on her cheek as it shuddered into life one person, one car, one minute at a time.
She thought of Lindsay and Lucy. She knew they too saw a lot of this hour of the morning, and she wondered if Lindsay was at this moment looking out on Stella's city, fatigue dragging at her, trying to be bright and funny for her little girl. Stella imagined that kind of bond, the person you would get up any time of day or night for, who you'd never blame, or leave, or get bored of. It felt so very far away.
She heard her phone bleep. Padding in to get it, she read the message that popped up. Only one person didn't worry about contacting her this early in the morning. Early breakfast with A. Join us? slid across the screen. She smiled. She loved that Mac was happy, and that he was so selfless about it. That the two women in his life fit so neatly into compartments and he hadn't needed to say a word about it. That was the sign of a really genuine guy - no mixed signals, no subtext, one a friend, one a girlfriend, and yeah, they can all have breakfast together, why not.
Not today, though. Thanks, but not today. Coffee later?
Stella showered, and dressed, taking her time. She thought of Adam, and the thank you she owed him that he'd never get. It was all rolled into the same bundle. Jess, the name that repeated in her mind as Adam undressed her, and even as she was surprising herself with the utter peace she felt, Jess was there. It all started with her. One day, she was another cop. The next, she was Don's dead girlfriend. Then before anybody knew it she was the subject of an emotional goodbye. And then glass was flying and Danny was bleeding and everybody, no exceptions, thought for one moment that they were going to die. Four hours later, Stella walked down the steps of the hospital and saw Adam.
The rest, at the time, felt like a history book she'd already read. After Frankie, she had known that the next time would be different. She knew it couldn't be a love thing. It couldn't be something that her happiness depended upon, because Frankie had obliterated the relationship between sex and love and Stella. She needed to rebuild it, and she felt quite certain that the first time she'd mess it up, or run away No. It had to be someone she just liked. A good person, a person she wasn't threatened by, or new to. Someone she could trust to really want her, but not want anything from her. She didn't pick Adam out, but as soon as he was in her apartment, and the door was locked to the outside world, she knew he was right.
She thanked Jess, then. Cursed her when Flack disappeared off everyone's radar. She didn't mean it, but in the moment, as anxiety gnawed, that's where her mind went. Missed her when a new woman detective accompanied her on a case involving a particularly pathetic guy who, when questioned, showed Stella the panties he was wearing . Jess would've given her that sideways smile, mouthed 'oh boy' as the guy whipped out the lace. New girl didn't crack a smile. Now, a whole year, and the wound was bound to reopen. Yes, that woman was everywhere. Stella knew her better than ever.
She shut off the water, dripped out into the bathroom and wrapped herself in a towel. Looked in the mirror, saw her lips in a firm line. No, this was not the time to wonder whether the reason she had thought about Jess so much more since she died was because she had been thinking about Flack a whole lot more too. Pushing that away, she thanked her investigator's brain. The ability to keep things in boxes - very useful.
