better late than never, I guess?
ps: song title from Breathe (2 AM) by Anna Nalick


"This better be good."

Four fucking AM. She's going to kill Henry.

"I just admitted Elena to the hospital."

She opens her eyes. Takes a heavy breath.

Tasha had done everything she could to keep herself and her brother away from any sort of drugs while growing up. She'd been good at it up until it came to Elena.

Their next door neighbor. The girl with a decent dad and no mother. The girl with hazel eyes and plush lips.

She and her brother did not do drugs, but Henry was addicted to Elena and Elena was addicted to painkillers.

"Did she OD?"

"Like usual. She's in parole though, so that's nice."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck."

"Is she gonna make it?"

"Probably."

"Are you going to wait to find out?"

"Probably."

"How is it you always seem to copycat me?"

She remembers Reade. Remembers not knowing what was left or right and not knowing when hate and desperate love had become such a perfect mixture.

"I came up short with the forgiving part."

"Elena always comes back to you."

"I don't want her to, not anymore." He pauses. She hears his jaw working, has learned to identify it, by now. He's overthinking. That must run in the family. "You know Jessica, from work?"

"The one who works directly in front of you? Yeah, I know her."

"She's single. And funny and kind and very good at Jeopardy. She likes me and I think I can like her too. She's also uncomplicated."

Claire makes sense.

Maybe Jessica does, as well.

"No one is uncomplicated."

"She's a kind of complicated I can deal with. The usual kind."

"Yeah, she probably is"

Tasha stands from her bed, taps barefoot to her kitchen. She doesn't get hangovers anymore, however, she does get dehydrated.

"Oh, if mom could see her handiwork."

"Dark."

"You always get screwed partnerships and I've been moping over a girl for the last fifteen years."

"Fuck you."

Her phone goes onto speaker while she drinks her water. It sounds as if he's stepped onto the street. She worries not waiting for Elena to wake up might not be the wisest idea, but she's tired, too. She's tired of seeing Henry kicked to the gutter.

"It's true, though."

"You don't get to talk about my partners any more I get to talk about your weak ass HR job."

He laughs. Truly laughs. That's why he always calls her. That's why she always picks up. She has superpowers, as they used to call it. She can make him let go of his self-indulgent guilt.

"Do you think she'd stop using if I got a job as a cop?" His tone is lighter and oh.

Oh.

Oh, no, he didn't.

He couldn't have.

Tasha doesn't reply. She puts her water cup in the sink and waits for his brain to catch up with his mouth.

"Fuck." Henry mumbles after ten very patient, very calculated seconds. (On her part). "Sorry."

"You're a jerk faced moron."

"Agreed."

That's why he calls. That's why she picks up. That's why she doesn't go off on him. It's a safe place, this thing they have between them. He can let go of his guilt and put his foot in his mouth and she stays neutral. He's the only one she knows how to be like that with.

"I'm sorry about Elena."

"It's not like I ever expected us to be the perfect suburban family. I just wanted us to make it."

"I swear to God, if you ever make me drive to a Suburb to see you, I'll hurt you."

"Do you honestly think I'm cut out to water fucking gardens?"

She smiles. Poor, good, broken-hearted Henry.

"I love you, okay?"

"Love you too, baby girl."

"Go to hell."

"Bye."

He hangs up just as suddenly as he'd called and she's left standing in her kitchen, feet in the cold tile and eyes still sticky from sleep. She sees Claire's name in her log and sighs, finger tapping on the counter.

Tasha's afraid she's not cut out for a lot of things, too, but she can probably mold herself, can't she?

°°•°°

Claire seldom stays in a bad mood for a whole day.

The last time around she was pregnant and Matt had been selfish and an idiot and insisted on being present in the delivery room.

The time before that had been the day she got pregnant. A family get away with her mom, her sister, Nana and Pops.

Val had bailed at the last minute, of course, so the extra seat in the car and bed on the rented cottage had gone to Matthew.

Her mother had drunk a little too much a little too soon, and Claire was a little too sober. That was never a good mix. So they fought. And fought and fought.

By 9PM, Claire had dragged Matt to the local bar and filled a table with shots. She thinks Sam was conceived somewhere between 1 and 5 AM on the deserted (she hopes) ladies bathroom.

The other days she spent in a funk were when she was a teenager.

So Claire Pierce being in a bad mood for more than four hours straight is a rarity.

Then again, so is having a grandmother gift a toy gun to a four-year-old.

"Val, I'm not kidding. You need to get here, now. "

She is trying very hard to keep her voice leveled. She is trying very hard not to bolt out of her room and rip the freaking nerf gun out of Sam's hand.

"Pops is taking a shower, sis, it'll be at least another half an hour."

"I'm going to kick her out, Valerie."

"Would you tell me what she did?"

She hears adult footsteps and then a knock. Twenty minutes is a long time just to change out of PJ's and her mom knows it.

"You'll see it when you get here." Claire hangs up and stands slowly from her bed. She opens her door, makes sure to look her mother in the eyes. "Yes?"

"Everything okay?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know. I'm trying to figure out what set you off."

The scream in her throat never hits the surface. Claire steps to her right, clearing the doorstep, motions for the woman in front of her to get inside.

"And I'm trying to understand how you thought giving Sammy a gun was a good idea."

"It's a toy, Clairie." Her mom says it with an exasperated laugh in her lips and Claire really fucking hates that nickname. "One that has a lot to do with our family."

"I don't condone what our family does, mom! I never served. I think the war is a waste of lives. I specialized myself in tactics so less people were killed in the ops."

"That is your shame, don't put your prejudices on the boy."

"He's my son." She was pissed before. She's livid, now. "I am the one raising him and I do not want him thinking that shooting people is a game."

"And you think he doesn't play cops and robbers with his friends?"

"He's four years old, so yes, I would like to think his teachers don't let him play that sort of thing."

A few seconds, her mother crosses her arms, shakes her head once, twice and there's a turmoil inside Claire's chest, spinning faster and faster because this woman is everything she wishes not to be and she's cruel and ignorant to others' feelings and wirings. Claire has no idea how she could be so undoubtedly opposite to the person who gave her life.

"Fine, I'll take it back, exchange it for something else."

"Unbelievable."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Oh, Hannah is exasperated again. Claire's chest is on fire and she wishes she could unleash the flames.

"I wanted you to understand boundaries." She lets a breath go. Muffles the blaze. "I wanted you to be the slightest interested in how I'm trying to raise my son."

Her mother stares with icy eyes to counteract her fire. It doesn't work. Sam's call of her name does, however.

"Forget it, mom, I'll figure something out."

Claire goes to her boy, finds the dinosaur blankie he asks for and spreads it on the ground for him to put his figures on top.

Sam is sweet and caring and young. She prays to God for him not to lose that along the way. She prays to God for her mother's traits to not just be skipping a generation.

°°•°°

She does not realize how much she's missed being close to Claire until the blonde shows up Monday morning with a soft expression, two cups of coffee and mumbling a tune under her breath.

It's refreshing to be able to look at the woman and let her eyes stay there, to not have to rush away with a scowl.

"Good morning." Her partner smiles, handing Tasha her Macchiato.

"Morning." She responds, taking a gulp.

After Henry's call, she'd decided to go running, instead of sleeping for an extra hour. Her brain had woken up with the steady pace of her feet against the pavement and it had stayed that way for a while.

Now, however, Tasha can feel her eyelids getting heavier.

"How did it go with your mom?"

Claire groans, her forehead frowning and her jaw tightening.

"Let's just say I'm grateful the weekend is over."

"That bad, uhm?"

"You have no idea." The blonde walks past Tasha towards her desk and Claire is so close right then, closer than they used to be comfortable with and she feels like a teenager, with a skipping heartbeat and rush of blood to her cheeks. "How was yours?"

"Okay, I guess." She says, sitting at her own chair. "Babysat the neighbor's cat and went over to see Reade on Sunday."

Ah, Tasha has missed that as well. Claire's smile. Big and unprotected. Eye contact to a full extent.

"And how is he?"

"Anxious to get home." The sentence is said with a sigh, but she chuckles, can see Reade's perfectly dressed figure walking around the office again. "So am I, to be honest."

"He'll be back next week and you'll finally have your gang back together."

"It'll be complete, now." Tasha looks into the blue, blue, blue orbs and she knows her partner got what she means. "Don't let him hear you saying that, though, 'cause I'll never live that down."

"You're not all thorns, Zapata, accept that." Claire's smile turns into a smirk and fuck it, she wants to kiss that away.

"You do know that defamation is a crime, right?"

God, the laugh that comment inticess wakes her brain up more than any cup of coffee could. The laugh is rich and discrete and Jane shows up out of nowhere.

"Have you guys finally kissed and made up?"

Claire tucks her chin to her chest and makes a visible effort not to blush.

"Curious much?"

She arches a brow, wonders if Jane can be considered a close friend.

"Just relieved to see Tweedledee and Tweedledum together again."

"Two days ago you didn't remember how to tie your own shoes. Shut up." Claire is clearly over her embarrassment.

The tattooed woman rolls her eyes, shrugs and seems to remember what she was walking towards before interrupting them.

"Glad everything worked out." Jane brushes her hand on Tasha's shoulder and yeah, maybe the woman is a friend, indeed.

Her partner takes a file stacked at the joining of their tables, shakes her head like everyone is unbelievable.

"Seriously what is it with that nickname?"

"Let's never wear matching striped shirts, okay?"

Claire laughs again and Tasha hides her smile behind her coffee.

Her Wednesday starts in ice cold silence and ends in soft, beautiful calls of her name.

Jane has her jaw set all the way through a new case and its conclusion.

Granted, they work quickly, so the whole thing is done by noon, but it is still weird.

It is weird how Nas seems to make herself invisible around the office when she usually steps with certainty.

"I think she found out about them." Claire sighs while they wait in line for their food.

"She hadn't, already?"

Everyone had to know, by know. About the plot twist, about the power couple being the FBI and the NSA, instead of Sandstorm. Everyone had to know, because there had been sweet looks and simultaneous arrivals and urgent desperation when Nas had disappeared and they were all agents, for fuck's sake, they should be able to pick up those signs

"I don't know." Claire shrugs, puts her phone to her ear when it rings. "Hi, honey."

Tasha loves it when her partner smiles. Loves that wide, caring smile that always comes out when Sam's involved.

It tides them over for a while, Claire's son. The blonde tells her about how the boy's dad was supposed to be away for a month before his contract had fallen through and Sam had been over the moon to spend two weeks with the man.

It tides them over until they arrive at the office. They get to their floor and Tasha almost forgets about the drama between her teammates. Almost.

They step outside the elevator and everyone in the common area has their faces discreetly turned to Kurt's glass room.

He's inside. So is Jane. So is Nas.

The three of them stand in opposite corners and she knows Claire's theory was right.

Weller is red in the face, Nas has her arms crossed, is leaning against a table. Jane is crying.

Tasha walks towards her desk, Claire by her side and they look at each other, try to decide on what to do, if there's any excuse they can use to interfere. There are none.

So they sit down, unpack their lunches. Claire is unrolling her fork and Tasha is picking at the chips that fell out the container and into the bottom of the bag when a fire of words comes all of a sudden.

She snaps her head up in time to see Nas rushing out of Kurt's office. The man is still inside, palm on his face, covering his eyes and Jane is walking closer to him, extending a hand to touch his arm. He distances himself from the woman as if she's poison.

"Don't eat my croutons." Claire warns, standing and following Nas. She had not seen it coming, her partner's friendship with the NSA agent, the same way Jane had probably not seen herself losing Weller.

Tasha had defined Jane as her friend, too, so she should go to the woman, console her.

However, when she makes her way to the glass door, the taller brunette pushes her way out, sends her a dirty look, and maybe it's not the time, maybe Jane doesn't deal with her problems right off the bat. Tasha can relate.

Kurt is her friend too. Kurt is like Henry. Stubborn, caring, broken.

She locks herself inside his office, waits, blocking the way because he is like Henry and he needs to vent.

"What the fuck did she expect? After all the bullshit she pulled? Did she really think I'd wait around? That it would work out? That it wouldn't always be stained?"

Weller paces, Tasha stays silent.

"God damn it, I love her but I can't be with her. I can forgive her and work with her and keep loving her, but it's not the fucking same." He's mad, he sends a glare to the outside agents and she turns slightly to watch as things go back to their rushed places. "We're done. We had our chance. We blew it. And she's mad ? And hurt ? Well, too bad, we're not it anymore. She's not the one, anymore."

"Was she ever the one, then?"

Kurt stops, looks at her.

"You don't believe in that true love shit."

"I believe you love her just as I believe you love Nas. And I believe they both have baggage. It's just a matter of whose past you're willing to make room for."

It's such a sad thing, to see something strong being brought down, so when Weller sits in his chair, lets his shoulders sag, it is almost like seeing the Empire State cracking.

"Love triangles are better in movies, aren't they?"

The man opens his eyes to glare at her and that is her cue.

Later, when their shifts are done, Claire gets into her car suddenly and Tasha pauses.

"I'm coming over." Simple and to the point.

So she drives, makes her way out of the parking lot and towards her building

"We didn't lose our chance, did we?" Her chest is on fire when she asks it. Because she can just see it, how she ends up just like Jane.

"No." Claire says, looking at Tasha and she does not dare to take her gaze away from the road. "We didn't."

°°•°°

She is very aware of how much she enjoys sex. Just as much as she's aware of how long it's been since she last slept with someone. Nina had been the last and that had been well over five months ago.

Claire's kept her head up, her mind leveled and, a lot of times, her hand down her pants. There had been too many things for her to handle to add anyone else into the mix. Her captain's suggestion, her job transfer, Sam, Valerie.

She's very aware of how long it's been since she had anyone pulling her shirt off of her. Having Tasha pressed into her on a Wednesday night is not how she imagined she'd get back in the game.

Well, she had imagined it, once, but the thought had come and gone and she ignored the memory, the impossibility.

She's still standing in the woman's hallway, leaning against a wall, her fingers framing the back of Tasha's neck.

Their first kiss had been needy, tempting and filled with unknown and unexplored feelings. This one is hot and messy and urging.

God, it's firm and seeking and making a liquid heat form and slide inside of her.

Tasha's got short fingernails, barely there at all, but Claire feels them prickling against the skin above her hips. That only makes the heat grow hotter and lower.

She guides her hands to the suit jacket the brunette wears, pushes her fingers between the garment and the blouse underneath. Tasha understands her point, pulls away to take off the thing and it gives them a moment to breathe.

How had it happened, exactly? How had they decided to go to the senior agent's apartment, how had desperation clung to their chests? She thinks it's got something to do with the showdown between Jane and Kurt. She thinks it's got something about not wanting to let their window shut, about not wanting to wait their opportunity out.

That is probably how, but Tasha comes back to her, a thirsty, soft look in her eyes and Claire knows this can last, she knows she's falling fast and out of reach for her partner and she knows it can and very likely will break her in tiny pieces.

She kisses Tasha again, either way. Hot, blinding light behind her eyelids. Soft skin under her touch and Claire feels them turning, feels a slight pressure guiding her backwards, to the right.

Claire kisses Tasha and wraps her arms around the neck she'd framed. Their legs tangle, their training kicks in, they keep standing.

"Bed." A mumble. A warm palm sliding down her waist, her hips, stopping mid-thigh, squeezing a bit and she starts bending her knees, Tasha following her, lips still on hers and Claire feels the mattress underneath them, giving away slightly at their weight.

It's a slow unpeel for their work attire to be off and dear Lord, she looks up and there's brown hair and dark skin and dark underwear taking over her vision.

Their bodies are almost bare, touching, moving. Claire wants to see Tasha. Wants to see all her tones, all the scars their job has given her. She wants Tasha, so she flips them around slowly, both of them looking, both pairs of palms brushing.

God, Tasha is beautiful and finally, finally, finally in the moment. Claire wants to see all of the woman underneath her and she can finally notice trust and openness. It shatters a little glass in her mind. The one she had been looking through when she imagined a life, a future with her and Sam and someone else. The one that always made anything related to Tasha being her home seem like utopia.

They go at it slowly. She shakes and pants three times. So does her partner.

When it's done, the woman beside her pulls her into another kiss and that little fear tucked in beside her heart settles. She'll most likely be broken some time before the year is over, but there's Tasha against her and it feels too damn good to ruin it with probability.


thank you so much for your patience and for reading, I know I've been gone for a very long time. also, I'm really inclined to finishing this story soon and maybe turning it into a series. Let me know if you'd like that.