How The Light Gets In: Chapter Seven

I don't own Rookie Blue.

You are all so lovely and I'm a horrible procrastinator so…enjoy!

Tell me again about the girl whose hands have no colour. Who hands are completely white. This time make them damned, or untouched, or have her open a red umbrella or point at some maple leaves and damned near cry.—Rebecca Wadlinger


By the time Gail arrived at Holly's the next day, she was in a bad mood. Such a bad mood that it felt like it had seeped into her bones, her marrow, and she was a walking, talking, glaring bad mood. She'd caught two buses and walked what felt like an incredible distance to get to Holly's house and now that she was there, she had to refrain from pounding on the door even if that was what she felt like doing. She tapped the knocker once, then twice, and stepped back to wait. And if her eyes fluttered closed and she muffled a yawn, there was no one else there to see it so she could deny it ever happening.

"Gail." The door had flung open. "You're right on time." Holly was surprised and it showed in her raised eyebrows and the slightly uncomfortable pose that blocked the doorway. She had expected the odd girl to be late, for some reason. And now that she was here, on time, and the dining room was messy with Holly's things, she didn't know quite what to do with herself.

"Of course I am," Gail snapped and immediately regretted it. This was her home, she reminded herself. Be nice. But she didn't know how to be nice so she just washed her face clean of any discord and shrugged. "I'm amazing."

"Right, of course," Holly laughed, her expression opening from confusion. "Come on in."

Gail stepped in and dropped her bag in what she considered her place already – the seat she had been given the day before. Then she sunk into the chair and relaxed her arms, letting them hang limp on her lap.

"Do you have any food?" she asked. Her stomach felt like it was chewing itself to pieces. Not pleasant. Then came an extra twinge to her stomach – worry. She didn't want Holly thinking she hadn't eaten. Which she hadn't for a few hours. Or, god forbid, think that she needed something. "I'm paying you for a reason, you know" she drawled.

"Sure. I got some more of those chips because you seemed to like them." Gail was glad the other girl had turned away and couldn't see the way her face flushed red. She hadn't meant to eat all of the chips but she'd been hungry and it just…happened that way. They were good chips though.

"Did you want something to drink as well?" she offered.

Gail stared at her, trying to decide whether Holly was being facetious. Then, when those eyes didn't flutter with insincerity, she nodded slowly. "Water. Please."

"Sure thing!" Holly sounded so energetic and perky and happy that it made Gail sneer automatically. But that sneer slid right off her face after a yawn; she just didn't have the energy or the will to keep it in place. And that had to do, equally, with the fact that she was too tired to keep up the disdain and also that she didn't mind so much when nerdy Holly was energetic or perky. "Here you go," Holly said, dropping cup and bowl in front of Gail. "Hey, are you alright?"

Gail blinked at the girl. "Fine. Are we starting at chapter five?"

Holly nodded and Gail fished in her bag for the book before bending over it. Her arms stayed in her lap. Holly took in the girl – everything from slightly messy hair to eyes pillowed by purple, the slight twitch in her fingers when she reached up to turn the page. "You look really tired," she commented. When Gail froze and looked up at her with hard eyes, she regretted it. She hadn't wanted to put Gail on the spot or question her or anything like that. She just had a hard time keeping her thoughts to herself sometimes.

As for Gail, she had the opposite problem. There were a lot of things she could say, thoughts that hung heavy in her mind every hour of every day but she never once thought of saying them out aloud. Currently, all she could think of was how much she disliked exercise. Mostly, though, she disliked her mother. It had taken Gail almost fifty minutes to run the six mile that morning, which simply wasn't good enough. So Gail had run another two – mother's wishes were her commands. Plus, Elaine had been kind enough to examine Gail's report concerning the obstacle. Her own comments and corrections were written in red, spikey handwriting that near enough covered the seven pages. The range, following that already thrilling morning, was hell on painful ribs and weak arms and missing the target twice was enough to draw pursed lips and disapproving eyes.

But Gail thought it might have been worth it. She hadn't slept, trying to cram as much new knowledge into her brain as she could and looking up videos on the internet had only helped so much and it had hurt her eyes.

"I'm fine," Gail responded after a beat. Holly had to just nod – not wanting to push – but she was surprised. Again. She couldn't get a read on this girl and that was strange. Normally – well, admittedly they'd only hung out twice – but in those two times, Gail had been a touch edgy but never as totally closed off as she had been this afternoon and in this moment.

Holly let the subject drop. She could feel that Gail wouldn't say anything else. And Gail, seeing that Holly had allowed herself to be absorbed in the study of osmosis, let her eyes lightly trace over the relaxed girl, examining her. She picked at the chips. Her hands, still shaking, hurt a little from the kickback of her gun so she wrapped them around the cool of the water bottle and forced herself to focus on the page despite the words slipping to and fro.

Then it was Holly's turn again to examine the other girl and she did, noting the way Gail's hands peeled at the label on the bottle, pressed the fleshy base of her palm against the cold plastic, hunched over her book, and smothered yawn after yawn. Plus, the crease in her forehead and the way that she thumbed under her eyebrows every minute or so pointed towards a fairly severe headache.

"Headache?" she asked quietly. Gail looked up at the intrusion on her study and then down at her book again.

"No," she denied. Oh, and she shrugged. Holly mustn't forget the shrug. It said, no big deal. It said, don't worry about it. Don't worry about me. But the frown was still there and Holly could practically see the way the headache had made itself at home in Gail's head. "Don't worry about it."

Holly contemplated what she could do but it was a small list. She didn't want to push. She didn't want to annoy the girl or drive away a paying customer. But she did want to help Gail. It was certainly a quandary she found herself in. So she sat in her seat and was relieved when the choice was taken out of her hands.

"Oh hello," Gail was greeted after a few moments. "Gail, wasn't it?" Anna swept into the room. She dropped a kiss onto Holly's head and wrapped one arm around Holly's shoulders in a loose hug, front pressed to Holly's back. "Hi darling."

"Hi Mom."

"Hello." Gail had frozen in her seat, blindsided by the presence of Holly's mother. "Nice to see you again." The words shot out from stiff lips. "Thank you for letting me study here," she continued.

"It's not a problem." She ruffled her daughter's hair, prompting an impressive eye roll from Holly, and sat in the chair at the end of the table between Gail and Holly. "When did you get here? I didn't hear a car, I don't think." She looked out to the front door, as if the hallway held her memories, the answer to her question. Or perhaps she understood that eyes fixed on her face made Gail uncomfortable.

"Oh. I, uh, I walked." Gail retreated to her textbook, fiddling with the corner of a page.

"Again?" Her voice and expression registered disapproval and Gail fought against panic. "It's really not safe for a girl to walk by herself. Holly will drive you home tonight." Gail opened her mouth to disagree but Anna beat her to it. "I would have insisted yesterday, if I had known, but you ran out of here so fast. No matter. I'm sure she would love to drive you tonight. Wouldn't you, dear?" she extended to Holly. Anna's eyes made it clear to her daughter that there was only one right answer to her question. Holly's smile made it clear that she had only entertained one answer anyway.

"Yeah, of course!"

Gail stared at the black words in her textbook. They were strangely swimming on the page – this time not from exhaustion but from some foreign moisture in her eyes that was definitely not tears – and she blinked them clear. It was strange, the feeling of warring emotions. Most prominent was warmth. How strange it was that these people would care. Then came annoyance. They might care but she's used to doing things for herself; they shouldn't care because she would be just fine, she's a Peck, and she could take care of herself.

"Right. Okay," was all she managed to say. Obviously there was no way of getting out of the drive unless she called someone to pick her up and she didn't know who would do that for her. She hunched a little more over her book but only read one word in three. They faded in and out a little, making her queasy, and she had to press her eyes closed more and more frequently. Damn headaches.

A click in front of her made Gail flinch. Gun, she thought. Bomb, she thought. Opening her eyes, she saw two little pills and a glass. Stupid internship at the station, she chided herself. Thanks to her background and her job, she was always thinking the strangest things.

"For your headache," Anna said. She sat back down in her chair. Gail wanted to deny it. She couldn't. It was bad enough that she hadn't noticed the woman had left the room: it was bad enough that the other two had noticed her grimaces probably.

"Thank you," she said and downed the pills, chasing them with water. "It wasn't so bad though."

"Tell that to the way you popped them straight away," Holly laughed. She regretted it when Gail blushed and looked down at the table, tracing the grooves there. Holly and her mother exchanged another look, similar to the one they had shared the afternoon before, a mix of confusion and surprise and concern. They found themselves doing that a lot around this new addition. "But hey, why bother suffering through a little headache when we have Tylenol? That's what it's for, right?"

Gail nodded and shrugged. Holly returned to her book and Gail closed her eyes. Just for a moment.

"Hello darling," Anna said, prompting Gail's eyes to shoot open. There stood Lucy, arms wrapped tight around her mother's leg. She was smiling at Gail and the blonde smiled back warmly before she could remember things like polite emotional distance or the people who watched her. "Is it okay if Luce stays with you two for a bit?" Anna asked Holly, murmuring. "I have to start making dinner."

Holly shrugged and nodded. "It is okay if Lucy sits with us for a bit? I promise she'll be quiet," she said with a little grin. Gail nodded and Anna stood, lifting Lucy and plopping her in the seat she vacated.

Be good, Gail recognised in the signs Anna used. They are – and then a word Gail didn't recognise. Her mother brushed a fond finger down Lucy's cheek and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the three girls at the table.

Holly hadn't even looked up again from her books. Gail watched her carefully for a few moments but Holly didn't take a break. Her eyes just devoured page after page and soon Gail felt comfortable enough to turn very subtly in her chair toward Lucy.

She bit her lip and then, Hello, she tried.

Lucy's eyes grew wide with delight and she quickly started signing to Gail but the blonde couldn't keep up. Watching the gestures and feeling perfectly inadequate, Gail had to shake her head despairingly. Slow please I am learning, she signed. It was a phrase she knew she should learn because otherwise the Stewart girls would leave her in their dust.

Lucy used then exaggeratedly slow signs but the way she bounced in her seat exposed how very excited she was that the pretty girl was talking to her the way she was used to talking. And had very clearly learnt – just for her!

Gail was signing how was your day? when a tan hand reached over and adjusted one of her movements. Just a little. Gail jumped, knocking her hand on the table and sending her glass sideways. There wasn't much water in it, luckily, but a tiny amount dribbled out onto the surface, raising a horrified blush in the girl and eliciting jarred movements and a dabbing sleeve to blot up the water. Finally, crisis averted, Gail settled in her chair again and met Holly's eyes. Holly, who was looking at her with curious soft eyes and, having taken in the whole incident chose to ignore it. Holly, who made the gesture Gail had been trying.

"It's like this," was all she said. Gail could see other words bursting against her teeth but Holly swallowed them and returned to her book. "Anytime you want to keep studying…" she prompted, teasingly.

Gail turned back to Lucy, who was making faces at her sister.

I have to – she paused, not knowing the word for study. Learn. Sorry.

Okay. Will you – and then came a few signs that Gail didn't know. She frowned. Then she shook her head and signed for Lucy to repeat the question. She hadn't learnt these signs and so she turned to Holly.

"Umm," she broke the silence. "Holly?" The girl looked up. "What does this mean?" She repeated Lucy's signs and Holly followed them with her eyes.

"Will you draw with me later," Holly translated. Then she smiled, all teeth and happy eyes. "That's all she would talk about since she saw you yesterday. The nice girl drew a dog for me," she said and signed, laughing more when Lucy glowered crankily at her sister, realising what she was telling Gail, and kicked her foot toward Holly.

"So this is draw?" Gail asked, repeating the signs. Holly nodded and Gail tentatively turned to Lucy.

Yes I will draw with you later – and Lucy didn't mind anymore that Holly had betrayed her, had told Gail that Lucy had gushed about her and pinned her drawing to the collection on her wall, she ran off with an identical beaming smile to her sisters into the kitchen, knocking on the wall to announce her presence.

"She has to do that because she's so quiet sometimes," Holly said, noticing that Gail had seen the knock and recognising the curious tilt of her head. "And you know, there's dangerous stuff in the kitchen for a quiet eight year old. Boiling water, knives, fire."

"Right." Gail nodded. "Okay." And, just like that, as if she hadn't amazed and surprised Holly, as if she hadn't let herself relax for a moment and show that she wasn't all hard edges and quick tongue, and that she did actually have a very large soft spot for children, Gail drew back into herself. "Was there any extra reading to do for chapter five?"


A phone call interrupted them, fifteen minutes before the end of their session. Gail delved into her bag, surprised. Not many people called her. The number on the screen made her eyes widen and she stood immediately, answering the call.

"Sir?"

Holly looked up. Gail's tone was professional and curious and surprised. She leant her chin into her hand and watched the girl.

"Yes sir. Of course." A pause. "I'm not at home." She thought for a moment. "I can get to the mall fairly easily. One moment." Gail pulled the phone away from her ear and bit her lip. "Holly? Could you drop me at the mall?"

"Oh." She shook herself into the present and out of staring at Gail. "Yeah. Yes, of course."

Gail smiled tightly. "Thanks." Then that phone plastered itself to her ear again. "It's not a problem sir. I'll be there as soon as I can." A click ended the phone call and Gail dove for her books, shoving them into her bag.

"Oh," Holly said, realising. "You meant right now."

Gail froze. "Is that okay?"

"Yes!" Holly leapt up as well. She didn't want Gail to leave without her. It was stupid, perhaps, but she wanted to extend the time she spent with Gail. She grabbed her car keys and her phone, calling out a brief explanation to her mother. "Dropping Gail off!" she yelled. "Be back soon!" A faint yell came back in reply so Holly shrugged a shoulder at her study partner. "Ready?"

"Yes." Gail paused. "Um, about the money?"

"Oh don't worry about it," Holly waved off. "I know you said we'd talk about it later and now is later and I decree that since I'm pretty much not teaching you anything, you don't have to pay me." She brushed past Gail and opened the door. "After you, partner."

Despite wanting to extend their time, Holly had little to say now that she actually had. And Gail just texted her mother an explanation of her own, then another text to Dov and Chris saying a simple 'still alive, stop bothering me' and then sat in uncomfortable silence. She fiddled with the straps of her bag. Then she thumbed through her wallet and prepared some money. She rolled it into the cup holder next to her quietly and then, when Holly pulled up outside the mall, she dashed from the car.

"See you tomorrow?" she blurted out. Then, appalled that she would actually offer someone any of her time, she said "Or else" and walked very quickly in the opposite direction, disappearing around the corner.

A few seconds later, Holly's phone beeped with a text and she checked it.

Nerd. Money is in the cupholder.

Holly checked the spot, frowning, and shook her head when she saw sixty dollars sitting there.

That's way too much money, she sent back.

No. Two sessions at twenty five.

That's only fifty.

Ten for snacks. I expect premium snacks. You're not a very clever nerd, nerd. Holly huffed an indignant laugh.

And you aren't a very studious student. Skipping out?

Better things to do, Gail returned. Holly watched then as the little phrase appeared. 'Gail is writing' flashed up on her screen. And then it was gone. And then back again. Holly could practically feel Gail's indecision – texting, backspacing, texting what was probably exactly the same message again – and it made her grin and shake her head. She held her phone in her hand and waited. Tell Lucy I'll draw with her tomorrow. And then, If that's okay. Whatever.

Will do, Holly typed back. Leaning over, she dropped her phone into the glove box and pulled her car out of the park. Driving down the street, she passed a police vehicle, which a very familiar platinum blonde head was stepping into. Needless to say, Holly didn't manage to concentrate on her study very well that afternoon. Her mother watched her curiously but Holly just stared and frowned and mumbled to herself confusedly. There were too many questions running through her mind. What had Gail done? Or, worse, was something wrong? Had someone been in an accident? And why did she care so much? Why was the idea of Gail being arrested, or sad, or worried, why did it make her stomach twist itself in knots?

She stayed awake long into the night, staring at her ceiling, and wondering if she was allowed to text the other girl. Tomorrow, she told herself. If Gail didn't turn up to their session, she would text her then.


"Peck," Best called out, seeing the girl striding into the station. She jogged up the steps and into his office, standing at attention. Traci and Andy were with her, and Oliver and an unfamiliar face – 6579, Williams, hard face not unkind, curious, stern – were waiting as well. "Sorry to call you in for the second time today," he said to start.

Gail swallowed. Had she done something wrong? Oliver had been the one to call her, Andy picked her up at the mall, but she wasn't sure what she was doing. Only that she was there to help. "Is something wrong, sir?" she asked. A quick glance to his face to see if she could learn something from his expression. It was thoughtful but not angry so she decided she hadn't done anything too horrific.

"No. We have a situation. There's a kid in holding and we can't get him to talk."

"Torture was made illegal, apparently," Oliver laughed. Best turned a sharp glance on the friendly man, who sighed and held his hands up in surrender. Not a time for jokes. Got it.

"I heard from Nash and McNally that you had a good head on your shoulders. We thought maybe you'd be able to get him to open up."

"You…think he did something, sir?"

"We know that he's part of a gang that has been terrorising shops up and down York. We think he might have been present at a murder the gang was involved in," Best shared. Gail blinked. "Are you up for it?"

"I, what if, but," she was starting to panic quietly. She crossed her arms and gripped her elbows tightly. "I'm not a police officer," she finally said.

"No, kid, you're not. But that's great. We need someone that doesn't scream 'cop' at him, someone who can get him to open up. Maybe talk a little." Oliver nodded to her reassuringly. "And you're the quickest kid on the block. Plus, you've been taught how to do this kind of stuff since you were in diapers, am I right?"

Gail nodded reluctantly. "You think I can do this?" she asked him, very very quietly. She tried to ignore the fact that everyone else in the room could hear her, and focused on his kind eyes with the laugh wrinkles at the edges and those eyes that looked one hundred per cent certain.

"Yes."

"And this is important?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Best shifted in his seat, sitting back to examine the twig of a girl. Williams didn't do anything quiet as obvious in her surprise but she did blink. Oliver clapped his hands and grinned at the girl he felt like he should be adopting. And Traci and Andy shared wide grins of pride – she was their intern – and relief because they did need this done and unfortunately no one else could do it.

"Very well." Best sat up and nodded to Williams. "If you'll go with Nash and Williams, they'll get you wired up. Johnson is in booking," he said to the room in general. "He'll keep an eye out – he'll be in with the computers which is just one room away so if anything goes wrong he can be there quickly. Okay?" Gail nodded stiffly. "Shaw and Williams are on primary for this so they'll be a few rooms down listening to the audio recording. I assume McNally and Nash will be there with them, yes?" He sounded mildly disapproving but understood their desire to keep an eye on the girl they had semi-adopted. "How are you feeling about this, Peck?" he decided to check, one last time.

Surprisingly, Gail firmed her features and gave him a nod. Her shoulders relaxed and her stance look grounded. Steady. Oliver smiled slightly. There was no doubt in his mind that she could do this and it seemed like she had chosen to follow that and put doubt out of her mind. At least in front of Staff Sergeant Best.

"I can do it, sir," she said.

"Alright then." Best tapped the table and a nod dismissed them, sending them spilling out into the precinct.

"This way, Peck," Williams barked. Fetching the wire and tape, she approached a now slightly shaking Gail, who backed away despite herself. Traci, standing right behind Williams, caught Gail's eyes with her own and she looked so calm and confident that Gail shucked her shirt when the woman asked her to and ignored scrutinising eyes and cold fingers. "My name is Noelle," Williams said, tone relaxed and almost soothing.

"Gail," she replied.

"Good to meet you. Good of you to do this too," the woman said. "Couple of things – don't come up with some complex backstory."

"Don't pretend to be someone else. Stick to the truth as much as possible," Gail said, already nodding. She knew that. Williams looked up from where she was weaving the wire through the front of Gail's bra and, was that? Did she look impressed? She looked back at Traci over her shoulder and Traci shrugged.

"I told you she was good. Totally ready for this," she said.

"I'd hope so, being a Peck and all," Noelle muttered, returning to her job. Traci scowled at the woman's back and, looking up and meeting Gail's eyes, she shook her head, silently telling the girl to ignore her. It was too late.

"Right," Gail said. "It's in my blood." It was exactly the kind of thing that her mother would say to her and the thought filled her with dread because if she failed, if she couldn't do this, then she wasn't just failing her friends or the precinct. She would be failing her family and somehow, incredibly, managing to fail despite having every advantage, against every instinct and knowledge that was embedded in her very genetic code, and that made it a supremely crushingly bad failure. And Gail was sure that she could manage that big of a failure.

Noelle left her when the wire was in place, having checked it quickly, and told Gail to get dressed. Traci was to cuff her and take her into holding. Approaching the girl, Traci bent a little, dipped her head so that she could look Gail in the eyes.

"Hey," she said.

"What?" If asked, Gail would say she was getting in character. Bitchy Gail. Stick to the truth, right? Nothing to do with the way her heart was shivering in her chest and her stomach was full of rocks and iron.

"We're really proud of you. Me and Andy. Oliver too." Gail snorted. "Shut up, we are. You didn't let this thing scare you or if you did," she said – too knowingly, Gail thought – "you didn't let that stop you. Andy and I are so glad you're our intern." She leant in. "These other guys got someone – Gerald or Duncan or something and he is just," she shook her head. "Useless," she mouthed, not wanting the comment caught on tape. They shared conspiratorial grins and Traci spun the cuffs mindlessly in her hands.

"Traci?" Gail said after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"If I can't do this," she started. Then she couldn't finish. She let wide eyes and the fear shining through them do the talking for her.

"Then we'll figure it out. This whole thing, this whole operation? It does not rest on your shoulders. We would never do that to you. I'm not going to lie to you – this is important." Gail nodded. "But you don't have to worry. Just do your best, Gail."

"I… Thanks." She felt stupid and vulnerable saying it but Traci gave her a bright smile and a nod and she didn't feel so bad anymore.

"Anytime. You ready?" She placed her hands on Gail's shoulders at the nod, looking down at the girl. "I'm going to put these cuffs," she lifted them and Gail hid a gulp, watching light glint on silver, "on you and we're going to go in through the garage. Then I'm going to put you in the holding cell. Then you do your stuff. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright then." Traci snapped the cuffs around Gail's wrists and then, before her disbelieving eyes, Gail seemed to transform. Not entirely. No, she was 'sticking to the truth as much as possible'. She just…accessed a part of her she tried not to around the station. The her that was a little more off-kilter, a little more wild and less sure. A part of her that was angry and dark. She seemed to pull into herself. She rolled her shoulders and set her face into a hard, mulish expression. When Traci gestured for her to lead the way, then placed a hand between Gail's shoulders to push her forward, Gail glowered at the ground and dragged her feet. Traci would have been amused by Gail's surprising talent at acting if she weren't so thankful that maybe she would rock this whole scenario.

"Hey Johnson," Traci greeted the uniform in booking.

"Nash. What have you got for me?"

Traci sighed and shot Gail a contemplative look. There was another level to it though – a secret, silent agreement that they were going to make a scene. Catch the boys attention. "I caught her pickpocketing. None of the wallets were hers though so I don't have a name." Gail smirked at the floor. "Think that's funny?"

"A little bit," the girl nodded.

Traci sighed, shook her head, and shrugged. "Is it okay if I put her in holding until I find someone who will claim her?"

"Sure thing," Johnson agreed, giving Traci a sympathetic nod and then turned a hard stare on Gail.

"You'll be waiting a long time," Gail taunted Traci. "No one cares about me."

"Someone will."

"Right. Well, when you find them, would you tell them something for me?" Traci waited a beat before nodding, reluctant. "Tell them they're doing a super crappy job at showing it if they 'care about me'," she said, complete with sarcastic air quotes. "Now, could I get out of these?" Gail jangled the cuffs and Traci steered her into the cell, removing the cuffs before locking the door.

"Behave yourself," she ordered her, getting a lazy salute in return.

Traci exited holding – Johnson in booking moved to the next room, working on the computers in there and giving Gail space to work, letting the boy relax without the worry of a cop overhearing – and she ran to the room where the audio was set up. Noelle, Oliver, and Andy were seated around it already. Oliver offered the latecomer a bag of chips and she settled into the chair next to Andy.

"You ready?" He was beyond excited. "I can't wait to see what Baby Peck's got in her."

"Twenty bucks she gets him to confess in less than fifteen minutes," Noelle said with a laugh. Both Andy and Traci raised their eyebrows – they hadn't thought that Noelle had been much impressed by Gail. "What?" she grinned. "She didn't need coddling. She needed some fire put in her," was her pronouncement, leaning back with folded arms.

Oliver, meanwhile, sucked on his teeth. Thoughtful. "You know what, Williams? I will take that bet." Noelle looked surprised that he, staunch supporter of all things Gail Peck, would take it. He grinned. "It's not that I don't have faith in our girl. I just think she's gonna ease into it. Make him think she's on his side and then bam!" He clapped his hands together. Andy jumped. "So. Twenty bucks, was it?"

Noelle sighed. "I think you're right. Dammit."

"Ah but you already made the bet. So bet."

"Bet," they agreed, shaking hands.

"McNally," Shaw called out. "You're witness. Hold her to that when she loses, okay?" Andy nodded quickly at Oliver's order…but then gulped when Noelle fixed her with a glare.

"Uh…"

"Oh relax, McNally, I'm just playing with you." There came a crackle, a sigh, from the audio and Oliver flapped his hands for silence.

"Shh. It's starting!"


Back in the cell, Gail tried to get comfortable. The seats were hard and cold and she was still bruised. Which was probably the real reason she had been asked to do this, she realised. She already looked dangerous and out of control with a bruise splashed across her cheek.

But those were dangerous thoughts. She heard them and, hearing them, pushed them away far enough that then and there they wouldn't affect her, her performance, mindset, whatever. She didn't need it. She sunk back into that mindset she had begun – Gail Peck, juvenile delinquent, badass – and she rolled her head on her neck, trying to crack that annoying tension that sat at the base of her neck. When it made a satisfying pop, she settled back again and folded her arms across her chest, closed her eyes without even looking at him huddled in the corner him, and tried to go to sleep.

She sighed. Scratched her cheek. Looked the epitome of couldn't-care-less and so when he said a gruff, "hey", she just sighed.

"Fuck off."

In the other room, Noelle frowned. "She could blow it," she mused. Three heads shook their instant no's.

"Nope,"

"Not a chance,"

"Peck knows what she's doing," they said, voices overlapping. Noelle blinked in the face of their certainty.

"Okay. But we do need to figure out how much time to give her before taking her out of there."

"As much as she needs," Oliver nodded. "We can hold him for another thirty hours so," he shrugged and repeated himself. "As much as she needs."

The conversation dropped off then and four pairs of ears listened closely to the sounds of rustling clothes and then tentative conversation.

"Hey," the boy said again.

Gail's shoulders tensed and then one cold, angry blue eye popped open. "Do you not know what 'fuck off' means?" she bit out. "Do you need me to say it slow or something?" Spitting out the words, Gail took the time to examine him. He was white. Sloppily dressed, not much older than fourteen or fifteen, a home inked tattoo crawling up his bicep, lank hair swept across his forehead, holding himself like he might be a bit bruised – honestly, he looked like he wasn't having much fun. He looked young and bruised and not at all the tough guy he was trying to project.

"Fine," he muttered. Gail wondered if maybe she'd pushed too hard, pushed up a barrier she couldn't pull down without looking suspicious. But she was in luck. He was young – and lonely, evidently. "What are you in for?" he said after a few minutes of silence.

She narrowed her eyes. Then, heaving a sigh, gestured up to her face. Her lips quirked in a smirk. "What does it look like?" He nods.

"The lady cop mentioned pickpocketing." Gail shrugged. "That's cool."

"That's called paying the bills," she snarked back. His face fell. "What? Don't pity me," she spat.

"I wasn't, it, I didn't mean," he stammered. Gail could practically see him racing to try and fix it. Perfect. He was indebted to her, emotionally at least, if she forgave him the misstep.

"Whatever," she growled. After a minute, "You?"

"Me? Me what?"

"You want to talk about your feelings?" she asked sweetly and he looked at her, shocked still, until her façade dropped to reveal a darkly laughing face and he realised she'd been joking. "Fuck, kid, you're killing me." The crude word felt right there, cracking on teeth and pushed out as an attack against an already near-shattered child. A child that flinched at her words. A little more, Gail knew. Just a little more. "I meant what are you in for?"

"Oh. Oh! Shop lifting." He leant back against cold walls, relieved. "A bunch of DVDs and stuff." Another laugh then made the boy bristle. "What?"

"Nothing. Just, you know, what for? You're not poor," she said with a nod to his watch. In truth, the watch was the only expensive thing about him. Stolen, most likely. But he took that up, what she offered, and ran with it.

"So what? You don't have to be poor to do stuff." He crossed his arms stubbornly. Childishly, really, she thought with a glance at his child-soft jaw and cheeks. "And what would you know anyway? You're not poor." His really were well-trained eyes, scoping out her shoes and cardigan, which were indeed on the higher end of the scale. "What bills would you have to pay, rich kid?"

"Listen here, you little shit, you don't know anything," Gail snarled, sitting up fiercely fast, eyes flashing, muscles taut and neck tense with anger. He scooted away slightly, right into the corner of the cell. Her jaw clenched as she ran through responses in her head and, nabbing one she thought would do, she used it. She let herself back down again. She let herself look down at her feet and rub her sore cheek and sigh. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's okay," he offered her quickly.

"Nah. It's…" she shrugged. "Whatever. You know? It's whatever. Sometimes I'm hungry," she said with a look that meant not that there wasn't enough food in the kitchen or on the table but that she wasn't allowed to eat that food, that food wasn't for her. "And I have to get to school and shit like that so, yeah. Whatever. Got to get money somehow." She closed her arms across her chest, too vulnerable. But she had to keep talking because she felt him wavering on the edge of honest and so she opened up a tiny bit more. Someone in her family. Not her mother, she decided. She was afraid she would be too honest. Make it her father, then. "He doesn't really give a shit about me. Except to make sure that I'm getting good grades. Push yourself harder," she mimicked a man's voice, "Do better. You're a disgrace to this family." She laughed. "Whatever, right?"

He nodded, conciliatory. "My dad tried that shit with me. Gave me a shiner that lasted for like a week."

Gail grimaced. "What did you do?"

"Ran out of there, didn't I? Made some friends," there he touched the amateur tattoo, "and we do alright."

"With shoplifting?"

"Sure. You just walk in and grab whatever you want and walk out again, cool as anything."

"Bullshit," she said after a moment. "You're a twitchy little thing. I bet you're in here for jaywalking or something lame like that," she teased lightly. Let him spill the beans. Let him offer it up to her on a shoplifted silver platter.

"I'm not bullshitting. It's easy."

"So easy you got caught?"

"Well yeah but that was 'cause this guy had crazy security. I've done it a bunch of times before. Usually it's, like, little stores. Groceries and TV stuff and cameras, you know?" He glanced over out at Johnson but the man was swinging lazily in his chair in the next room, too far away to hear. He continued. "But last week a couple of guys held up a liquor store and shit," he whistled through his teeth, "we got, like, a whole bunch of booze and the dude had two, three grand in his safe. It was awesome."

Gail made her face appropriately awed and sat up straight. "Huh." Her eyes skated over the boy appraisingly. "That's pretty cool, I guess." Those words, plus her undivided attention, made him flush and smile hesitantly. "Do you, like, share it or something?"

"Yeah. Two of the guys started our group. Nicky and Jack."

"Brothers," Oliver told the listening rookies. "Nicky and Jack Conrad. Ringleaders of this small time gang."

"They get half of everything but we get to share the rest. I have like ten of these," he said, shaking his wrist with the watch sitting pretty on it. "Bunch of other stuff too. We fence it to these guys whenever. Give us a pretty good deal. You know," he said sympathetically, "if you need to sell something. To get out."

Gail touched her cheek again, thoughtfully. "Thanks."

"They're not family, you know. If they do that to you." He glowered down at his hands. "They think they know everything and they're better than us but they don't know anything. My friends, they get it. They get me. We're a real family, looking out for each other." He scratched at the tattoo again. "They'd never hurt me." He didn't sound all that assured.

"Sounds awesome. Sounds like exactly what I need actually. Maybe I should join up with you guys when I get out of here. Whatever I want, whenever I want. And no one gets hurt," she said lightly. When his face clouded over, she paused. "Kid?"

"My name's Devon," he murmured.

"Okay. Devon then." She stood and very slowly moved so she was sitting on the same bench as him, on the same stretch of wall. Still with distance between them, but closer. She nudged him with her booted toe. "Everything okay?"

In the other room, the officers held their breath. This was it.

Noelle looked down at the timer on her phone. Fourteen minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Fifty-nine. Fifteen minutes. She scowled. Damn.

"Don't."

Gail frowned. She nudged him again. "Don't what?"

"Don't join up with us." He looked up with dark eyes. "People do get hurt." He grabbed her arm and, when she winced, he twisted his fingers into the fabric of her sleeve instead. "I thought…it was okay, you know? 'Cause they weren't hurting me. And it was fine because it was just some watches from a rich guy and it was food from the store and they got plenty more, you know?" Gail nodded. "But then Nicky's like," Devon swallowed thickly and his voice, when he spoke next, was hoarse with strain. "It wasn't enough, you know? I think…" He pulled away and lowered his face until Gail could only see the top of his head.

"Kid?" she asked quietly. "Come on. You can tell me." There was a violent shake of his head no and Gail re-evaluated. Maybe she would have to do the talking for him. "Something bad went down, yeah?" she guessed. He stayed very still. "You know how I got this bruise?" He didn't look up but they both know she was talking about her cheek. "I mean, I got plenty more from all kinds of things. Family," she spat, "included. But this one?" She touched it gently. "I got this one for my friend."

"He hit you?"

"Nah. He was getting beat. Really bad." Gail found herself grinning at the memory of that hulk staring dumb at her and her making him apologise. "I walked right into the middle. The guy popped me one in the face – pow!" she said, miming the punch, "so I grabbed him," she was re-imagining it, embellishing it and enjoying the embellishments all comic-book worthy explosions and dust clouds and block letters bam and smash, "and smashed his face into a wall. And I kicked him in the balls." She could see enough of Devon's face – him uncurling a little to hear her story – to see his wince.

"What happened?"

Gail paused for a moment and allowed fear to creep into her voice. "I got arrested. I got myself arrested 'cause I'm scared to go home." She linked her fingers tight and clutched until the knuckles went white. "I think my da- my father. I think he'd kill me."

"Really?"

She nodded.

"I'm scared," Devon said after they sat in silence for a long moment. "I think Nicky did something bad."

"Is that why you got caught shoplifting?"

He grimaced. "Yeah. I was jumpy. Out of it. I didn't want him to, to,"

"Hurt you?"

"Kill me." Devon's eyes narrowed, focused on something he could see imprinted on his retinas. "I think he would really kill me."

She forced a frown, fought back excitement. "You said this guy, this Nicky. You said he was your real family though."

"Yeah well my real family had no problem kicking me whenever, did they? Why would this one be any different?" he spat. It contrasted with the way he cowered closer to her slightly, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Nicky had a gun. He got it somewhere, I don't know. But when, he kept trying to get more, you know? More money, more jewellery. So he mugged this lady and she started screaming and we told him to let it go, there was no one around, right?" His eyes were wide with please-believe-mes and Gail nodded. "But he wouldn't listen and…just, don't join. Alright? You gotta find a real family. That don't do no crazy shit."

"Devon? What did Nicky do?"

"I think…I was there. Around the corner. I was the lookout." Gail nodded again. Her neck was getting tired, she thought distantly. "And she started screaming and I looked around and Nicky had his gun to her head and he was telling her to shut up and all we wanted was her purse, you know? I don't know why she didn't give it up." Devon swallowed. "He shot her."

In the other room, sighs of relief were shared with congratulations and high-fives.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Gail reeled – this boy, this boy no more than fifteen, had just told her that his pseudo-brother had shot a woman. She had found that out. She had gotten him to talk. She supposed that any minute after that, Traci or Andy would come by to pull her out.

"Devon," she said, knowing that she actually wanted to do something good as well as right. "Shit, man." Words never really worked in her favour.

"Yeah." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't even know why I'm telling you all this."

"'Cause we're both messed up," she said, faux-cheerful. "And locked in a room smaller than my closet. And I'm incredibly good looking." He laughed and Gail didn't comment on the streak of a tear or two. He rubbed at them anyway with the back of a hand.

"That's probably it."

"Alright, pickpocket," Traci called from outside the cell. "You're up. Let's go." Before Devon's eyes, it seemed as though his cellmate transformed. Any vulnerability she had shown with him tucked itself away and she smirked at the officer. He found himself feeling proud, almost honoured, that she had shown him. And so he too found himself smirking at Traci. He was superior. He had seen the real… she hadn't mentioned her name, actually. But he had seen her. The real her.

He, of course, didn't realise that his words were playing back to detectives, or that he was about to be called into an interrogation room and his words would fill the room again, and that he would be asked to speak out against the rest of his gang especially Nicky. All he knew what that an unfathomably pretty girl had sat next to him for the better part of an hour and he felt lighter.

"Hey!" he called out, standing to lean on the bars. Gail turned to face him. "Don't join them!" he told her again. She saluted him mockingly; only, her eyes stayed serious because as much as she might have been playing a role, he hadn't and he cared enough to make sure she didn't make the mistakes he had.

She put it out of her mind, removing the emotional aspect of the job as Traci detangled the wire from her and her clothes and, when they reached the door where tense shoulders had leaned and curious ears had listened to the whole thing, Oliver encased her in a hug.

"Oh my god, Peck! You did amazing!"

"Why don't I ever get a hug, Shaw?" Andy complained. "Oh I see how it is. Only Peck is good enough for a hug." She huffed and crossed her arms but made a point to wink at Gail and give her a nod and a quiet 'good work'.

Gail allowed herself a smile. She'd done police work. She'd done police work and she hadn't been a massive fuck up. Her mother would be proud.

Sorry. I did exactly 2% editing so I'm sure that spelling mistakes and grammar errors abound. My fault entirely. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know – I'm a sucker for reviews. Happy reading, readers :)