Old Habits Die Hard

by ChapstickLez

"But what happened when..." A series of vignettes from the same universe as "Out With The Old," told in non-chronological order, from a variety of perspectives including Steve, Oliver, Elaine, Lily, Vivian, and John. Each chapter is a self-contained story.

10. Kill-Shot

Chapter 10: Kill-Shot

Type: Angst / Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Gail kills a perp. Or did she?

This takes place in the summer before Bill dies, but after Lesbian Bed Death. Vivian's 12.

---

Cordite.

Gunpowder.

You actually didn't smell either of those anymore. Neither were common in modern bullets. Instead you had dinitrotoluene, which she knew was used to control the burn rate of the powder. Ammonia type smells from a mess of amines.

But when she smelled the air, Gail's brain said 'cordite' even though it was wrong.

The sound from the gun faded before the pounding of blood in her veins stopped being so loud. Her vision stopped having that weird hue where everything was too sharp and crisp. Adrenaline. Right. That's what it was. Gail slowly drew a long breath and lowered her gun.

She was on one knee, turned away from her original target who was most certainly dead. To her right was a dead man. To her left was her partner, similarly on the ground. Her hands were stinging with the feeling of having fired her gun, nearly as much as her ears rang from the echoes.

"John?"

No answer. Crap.

She dared not close her eyes, instead letting her senses kick in fully. What did she hear? Not much. Gunshots in an enclosed space were a bad idea. What did she smell? Gunshots, again, but iron. That metallic tang that was identifiable and familiar in a bad-memory way. Blood. What did she see? Gail swept her eyes left and right and there the idiot kid was.

The dead kid had a puffy jacket on, in the mistaken belief that they stopped bullets by causing them to expand... Or maybe he'd thought they were cool. The black jacket hadn't helped him at all against two rounds. Gail studied him for a moment, the gun far away his hand, and turned away to look back the other way.

There was John. Face down on the ground, hands out, gun still gripped in his hand. Gail felt her mind swimming a little, her hands went clammy. Oh god. How could he be shot? The shots came across, in front of her, scaring the hell out of her. John was on the other side. Had she heard it wrong? Three shots. Two holes in the perp. And John was down. Gail fought her panic to remember the other sounds. The sound behind- no after the pop-pop-pop. A thud.

What had happened? She remembered the dead man, barely a man, only just not a child with that face that still had the roundness of youth. He'd not aimed at her or John. She'd aimed at him, but the shots went off and the kid went down and she dropped and turned and fired at … No, not John. John was too far left for that. She'd have had to pivot. She didn't shot her partner.

She carefully holstered her gun and took three steps to crouch by her partner. The back of his head was coated in blood, staining his shirt and coat collars. But John's pulse was strong and there were no bullet holes in his back. Thank god. Her blood pressure went back to normal, making her woozy. Gail eased the gun out of his hand and pulled out her phone, crossing the room to verify that, yes, the perp was dead before phoning in the situation.

It took her a little while to get to Butler, but he listened to her report and said he himself would be there with the Ds and forensics.

Gail tried to think of the last time she'd had to sit like this and wait... Never like this before. She'd waited on a bus a dozen times, waiting for EMTs and other officers. Waiting for someone to collect a body, she'd done that too. Even waiting for someone to help her with a wounded officer wasn't novel.

And yet this was different.

The EMTs got there first, checking John's vitals. His pulse was strong (which Gail had known) and the bleeding was normal for a head lac (again, Gail knew that, thank you Holly) but he was out cold which wasn't good at all. Memories of Chris wrestled with Gail's nerves. Her nerves were frayed before she'd found her partner unconscious and checking him while looking for a perp didn't help. Spending half an hour trying to carefully wake him up, unable to call Holly for help, was tense. But.

Guns had been fired and a man was dead.

Oh, Gail knew too well what came next.

The EMTs checked out Gail too, making sure she was alright except for a little ringing in hear ears. But really everyone was more concerned with John.

"Whoa, is that Justin Kino?"

Gail looked at her boss, sitting in the window sill. "Yep."

"What happened- no. No, don't talk to me. Or anyone." Butler turned and eyed John as the man was carefully loaded into a stretcher. "He wake up?"

"No, sir," grimaced Gail. She almost told him what happened, but SIU would want to have a go at her. It didn't help that she was really unclear to what had actually happened. "Any idea who I'm getting?"

"Fernandez or Allen. How come you don't have any Pecks over there?"

She smiled. "If we retire, we don't come back." Maybe she would, in a million years, though. Seeing as she was breaking every other Peck mold. "You think a Peck could ever be impartial?"

Butler smiled thinly. "Maybe you." The EMTs called him over and Gail was not surprised that he went with them to the hospital, leaving her under Griggs' auspice until SIU came to yell at them for letting John leave. Even though they had his service weapon in an evidence bag. Even though the techs had swabbed his hands just in case, checking for GSR. And even though he was unconscious.

"Fine," grumbled Allen. He was clearly not a fan of anyone right now. "Get her to the big building and no talking to anyone."

Silently, Gail nodded, shoving her hands (which also had been swabbed by the nerds) in her pockets as Allen walked over to get statements from forensics. Beside her, Griggs snarled. "What a prick. You call the wife?" Gail shook her head. "Right. Of course not. She's going to hear you're in her building."

She checked to make sure Allen couldn't see her before replying, "Yeah, and SIU means I can't tell her anything. So unless you're suggesting I just make out with her in interrogation..."

That was funnier to her and Holly no doubt.

Griggs acknowledged the fact as what it was, however, and nodded. Without another word to Gail, he made sure the scene was covered and took Gail to the main building. SIU was ready for her, hustling her off to a room, but she had the feeling Griggs was going to go talk to Holly about exactly what had happened. They were a strange family, the Major Case Squad. They were not particularly close and familiar, they rarely seemed to be interested in each other's lives, but they were all aware of things and made sure each and every person was alright.

She was still like that with her rookie class. Belatedly, Gail realized how much her friends were going to be up in her face checking on her. Crap. She'd almost rather deal with SIU.

"Detective Peck?"

Looking up at Allen, Gail nodded grimly. "I'm ready, sir," she said quietly. Round three with SIU. Round one had been an unmitigated disaster. Two had gone to Gail, through some wild fluke. Three ... Ugh.

"Did you get anything to drink?" He was playing good cop, clearly. She held up her bottle of water, not giving an inch. "Excellent. Let's get started." Gesturing, Allen ushered her into the office. "You've done this before..."

"Twice," noted Gail, sitting down in the offered chair. "But you knew that." She really just wanted this to be over.

Allen huffed, annoyed, and set up the camera. "Don't think I'm going to go easy on you because you're a Peck."

Interesting. "Is that on or off the record, sir?" Intellectually, Gail knew not to poke at people like that. But damn it, it was so much more rewarding than sitting and taking their stupidity. She resolved to say nothing more until the video camera was on, however. There was always the possibility Allen was one of the many anti-Pecks out there.

That had remained the worst thing about her name. The Peck Dynasty was to its end. Certainly hundreds of them had served Toronto, and would continue to do so, but there were less than 25 active Pecks still copping around right now, and the number was dropping. Fewer Pecks had kids, fewer Pecks forced their children into service. Izzy was an artist, her sisters still had no idea. Leo wasn't going to be a cop, he loved computers. Sophie wanted to be a lawyer. Olivia and Vivian were still too young to really consider their future.

She was not raising Vivian as a Peck, that was for sure. At that age, at eleven, Gail not only knew she was going to be a cop, but she knew what that meant. She'd already seen death in uniform by her daughter's age, in a much different way than Viv had. Poor kid. While her adopted daughter had come out of her shell in many ways, she was still a very self-contained person, prone to closing people out. With family and some of her adult friends, there seemed to be a level of comfort and freedom with the adults that weren't there even with her best friend Olivia.

"Are you ready, Detective?" Allen jarred her out of thinking about her family.

"Yes, sir," nodding Gail firmly.

He reached over and turned on the camera, checking everything. "This is Investigator Jim Allen, SIU, with Detective Gail Peck, Fifteen Division, assigned to Major Crimes in Organized Crime." He cleared his throat. "Detective, what happened today?"

Leaning back, she looked at the table for a moment. "My partner, Detective Simmons, and I were working on a joint case with the Guns and Gangs. There's been an increase of guns being pushed at some low rent housing facilities. I have a CI there, reliable enough, so I was assisting as a contact for some pushers. Early this morning, my CI called me saying she had a line on something. It sounded like the guys we were after, so I took the information."

Allen was taking notes. "Your CI... How long have you had her?"

"Just about four years." The SIU man nodded and Gail went on. "We checked with the drug squad, just to make sure there was no overlap, and went to the residence at, ah, eleven fifteen."

Again Allen interrupted. "You're sure on the time?"

She'd had to break a lunch date with Holly. Oh yes, she was sure. "Yes, I am. We got into the car, John's car- Detective Simmons' car, at a quarter till."

"Does he always drive?"

"No. He won the coin toss on Monday."

Allen looked up slowly. "Detective, may I remind you we're here over the death of a civilian?"

"It's not a joke. We had a coin toss bet on Monday. Loser has to buy lunch all week, winner drives." It had been a very slow week, frankly, and it was that or they starting trying to teach Gail about sports. Again.

Studying her face for a confused moment, Allen went on. "You took Detective Simmons' car."

That was her cue to continue. "We arrived at the location and it appeared empty, deserted. My CI had said there'd been a blue Ford SUV jammed in along the side. I found tire tracks matching that description."

"You could tell it was a Ford SUV? And the color?"

"I could tell it was an SUV versus a truck based on tire width and impression depth. The color matched the scrape on the wall for Ford Electric Blue, which was pretty popular a couple years ago for some gangs. The color wasn't very reflective. It was a tight fit, which supported the claim that it was jammed up in there. They would have had to flip the mirrors in on a Ford Explorer." Gail felt her face tighten up into an expression of defiance. Of course she knew how to tell what kind of car it was likely to be. That was her damn job. Be smart. Know what she's looking at. Get enough probable cause that the evidence collection supports the theory and you get a tight warrant.

Allen scratched a note down and nodded. "I see. But the vehicle was gone."

Gail rubbed her thumb against the groove where her ring sat. She'd not put it back on yet. "Right. The SUV was gone, but the tracks were still fresh, so I called in and asked for a patrol to sweep the area while we checked out the residence. John- Det. Simmons went in the front, I went in the kitchen door on the side. Both doors were unlocked and there were shoe prints, but there was too much mud and dirt to see if they were as fresh as the tire impressions. We... I tried to avoid them, so forensics would be less affected."

"Do you remember the layout of the house?"

"Sure. Yes, yes I do." The investigator slid over a piece of paper and Gail quickly sketched out the floor-plan. "I came in-"

"Hang on." Allen picked the paper up and held it to the camera to record it. Then he took a photo on his phone. "Here, use this," he said and handed over a red pen.

That made sense, realized Gail. "Right. J- Det. Simmons came in the front door." She drew his trail. "We could see in the living room from the window, so the plan was to meet in the dining room and explore the back bedrooms together. I came in here," she tapped the back door and paused as Allen adjusted one camera to focus on the paper better. "As I reached the entrance to the dining room, I heard a noise."

"Were your guns out?"

"Per protocol, yes." Without thinking, Gail found her hands miming the way she'd held her gun, finger off the trigger. "The dining room door way into the kitchen was at an angle. I couldn't see the living room, and we - well. I didn't know there was another door to the bedroom hallway from the living room. I couldn't see if from the front window or the kitchen, where I came in." She tapped the pen where she'd stood. "It sounded like a door, so I stepped further in to see if it was John- Det. Simmons."

She paused, bringing the memory up as best she could. The adrenaline had hit a moment after, which did funny thing to how you viewed the world. "It wasn't him, Det. Simmons was just as confused as I was. We decided to go into the back of the house. I went first and I turned a corner to see Justin Kino. He had a gun out. I brought mine up and told him to put his down. We shouted that at each other a couple times, he lowered his gun. And then three gunshots."

"Can you describe them?"

Gail closed her eyes. "One-two-three, in a row, not like a double tap, but like someone jerking the trigger like an idiot. They came from behind me. In front, Kino raised his gun right before them, but he flew back before he could shoot, it was over in a second. It was loud. The room, the hallway had this echo. And I heard a thud behind me. Maybe I felt it. I don't know that I heard anything."

"How many shots did you fire?"

"Two." She could still feel the sting. It had to be psychological. "The rounds from the shooter, the thud, and I turned back to the door. I saw a person backing out the door and fired at him."

Allen muttered something and then asked, "What was the shooter wearing?"

She frowned. "Black— No, blue hoodie. Dark blue, but it had a white zipper. Something kind of American Apparel. Cheap and thin, zipped all the way up with the hoodie on. Blue jeans, medium blue. Sneakers. Black with a white sidewall. Hands were white. Something dark— red on his right hand. Gun was in the right hand, aimed past me, over at Kino. Gun was black-grey. I think it was a Kel-Tec 9-mil."

"Sorry— You could tell the gun make?" Allen sounded dubious.

Gail opened her eyes. "I'm a Peck. Yes, I saw the gun. It's the same as my sister-in-law has." Traci had said it was a Peck gift from Elaine. A nice backup piece, but Gail liked hers better.

The SIU investigator frowned but went on. "And your partner?"

"None."

Allen stared at her. "Sorry. None?"

"You've got his gun. Full clip. He never got off a shot."

"And you didn't shoot at Kino?"

"No. Kino didn't aim at me. He swung his gun to the side, presumably to the guy who shot him. I was in front. My job was not to take my eyes off Kino."

"What if he was aiming at Det. Simmons?"

"He wasn't. Angle was wrong." Gail looked at the pens in the jar and reached over for more colors. "I'm blue, John's black, Kino is green." She drew out Xs for all of them. "John was wide and to the side, coming in so he could keep an eye on the long hallway. I was tight on the wall here, in case some loser busted in the back door after me. Kino was coming from the bedrooms. He was aiming between us, so whoever popped him came from the front door."

"He could have been swinging around-"

Gail cut Allen off. "He wasn't. The gun came up, straight, his feet were flat. He'd have had to turn his whole upper body to peg John. And he was aimed away from me, who was his dead on." She tapped the paper with her finger. "I had to do a full body pivot to get off a clean shot. Kino was even with me."

There was a brief pause and Allen nodded. "Did you try to go after the shooter?"

"No. My first ... I checked on my partner first. Then I called for a bus and checked on Kino. I didn't leave the scene."

They went over the events a few more times before Allen finally excused her and said they'd call her with the results, but to take the rest of the week off. It was hard to say if shooting or not shooting her gun was going to be an issue. In so far as killing a civilian, a ballistics test would exonerate her and John right away. In so far as negligence leading to the death of a civilian, criminal or not...

Gail shoved her hands in her pockets and took the elevator up to the staff offices. She knew where Griggs was going to be, and that was the next conversation she should have anyway. Still, she paused at the assistant's desk out of courtesy (don't burst in on your wife at work). "Hey, Katie. Is Dr. Stewart in?"

"Detective Peck, she's with another detective right now."

Glancing over, Gail was mildly surprised to see the door was shut. "Would you tell them I'm here?"

Katie obliged, telling Holly that Detective Peck was there. She liked Katie. The woman always knew when they were being professional or when Gail was popping by to see her wife. "Go on in," smiled Katie, looking a little concerned. No doubt Holly was tense on the phone.

In the office, Griggs had the couch by the window. "Peck, did you know you can kinda see our roof from here?"

"Yeah," smiled Gail. "I keep telling her to get a telescope."

Holly was sitting on her desk, looking concerned. "Then I'd worry more when you guys ran out on some call."

"We're not firemen," Gail snorted. She rocked on her heels. "I'm on leave the rest of the week. Did anyone call about John?"

Nodding, Griggs held up his phone. "Awake, alert, ten stitches, and a killer headache."

Gail exhaled, feeling relieved. "Good. Will I be allowed to see him?"

"After SIU clears you." Griggs stood up. "Call for a relay back?"

"Yeah, they've still got my piece." The big man patted her shoulder as he walked out, thanking Dr. Stewart for her time, and closed the door. "Hey," she exhaled, looking at Holly.

Her wife was tense but not scared looking. That was a good thing. "The fact that one of your friends showing up no longer terrifies me actually has begun to worry me," sighed Holly.

Gail snorted. "Griggs is Butler's old partner. He's no one's friend, he's just... He's like the ancient cop you have in every horrible TV show."

"Oh so he's your Provenza?" Holly smiled softly and help her hand out to Gail. "Come here." Gail took the hand and stepped up so they could touch foreheads. "You okay?"

"Eh," sighed Gail. "The gunshots scared the shit out of me."

Holly's hand squeezed hers tightly for a moment. "Can you tell me what happened?"

She probably shouldn't, but that rarely stopped them. "Someone hit John and shot the guy we were looking for while I stood there, as useful as a tit on a bird. I got off a shot at the guy, but …"

"I really don't want the other situation," muttered Holly.

It was a little painful that her wife had learned cop shorthand. "I don't want to shoot anyone either," agreed Gail. It was so final, so horrifyingly ending. You shot someone and that was it, their life was over. "I'm a little freaked. I thought John was shot at first."

The soft reply, "Honey," felt like a gentle hug. Those verbal touches were one of the things that drew her to Holly. "We should go to the batting cages tonight," she suggested.

Gail's reflex reaction was to say no, but weirdly it felt like the right thing. "Okay."

Pulling back, Holly looked surprised. "Okay?"

"It sounds like a better idea than drinking," joked Gail, and she leaned in to kiss Holly softly. "Will you get the kid? She'll know I'm tweaking just looking at me."

While Holly didn't argue that, she just asked, "Do you want to stay here? Relax and then come with?"

"No. I'm going to get a relay back to the station, get my stuff, and then ... Go home and cook something I guess."

Holly pursed her lips. "Can I say that I like that?" There was the hint of a smirk in on Holly's face, though a bit chagrined. "I mean, I hate you feel like that, but your cooking gets really good when you're stressed."

Smiling back, Gail shrugged. "I think that's okay." She wanted her gun back, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon. They'd have to check on the building to see if she'd hit wood. She didn't remember hitting the perp, but that didn't mean much. There certainly was no blood trail leaving the building, which meant she'd missed. Damn it. She really wanted to go back to the range and practice, while at the same time she wanted nothing to do with guns for a while.

Her ride back to the station was Gerald, who had learned the common sense not to bother Gail when she was being introspective. But he did ask two things. "You wanna stop and get Timbits, Detective? My treat."

"No," sighed Gail, shaking her head.

"Sure. Sure." Then he dropped the second question. "You okay?"

She eyed him, scowling. "Gerald, just drive."

As she went to collect her things from upstairs, Gail heard Gerald warning the others that she was in a bad mood. He was certain because she didn't want donuts. Upstairs, the room was that odd mixture of silent and hectic that happened when an officer was down. Gail kept her head down, collecting her laptop and shoulder bag, hoping to avoid any serious questions.

"Peck, heard you froze."

Glancing over, Gail saw one of her more annoying coworkers smirking. She shook her head and did not reply. It was hard not to want to rise to the bait, but at the same time Gail did wonder if she froze. Did she miss on purpose? Could she shoot someone? She didn't want to ever have to kill anyone. It was such a TV trope for officers to kill with flagrant disregard for mental health.

She caught a look from Griggs out of the corner of her eye. The big man rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Barry," he said to the other officer.

Shaking her head, Gail zipped her bag up. "Active case," she said loud enough to be heard. "Anyone wants to chat, I'm sure SIU would love a sit down." That clammed the room up and Gail made her way out.

The house was, predictably, empty at the hour. It was too early for the kids to be home from school, after all, so Gail put away her gear, changing out of her blazer, and stared at her laptop. Work was out of the question. The fridge had some notices stuck up, including one that informed her about the farmers' markets on Wednesday and Saturday. They usually made the weekend one as a unit, walking around and trying all types of foods.

She'd never actually gone on her own. Before Holly, Gail saw things like this to be unbearably dumb and hippy. But with little else to do, she grabbed a couple mesh grocery bags and walked down. The weekend crowd was more family oriented, with music and sweet foods. This was a professional chef paradise. Gail saw at least four chefs from the fancy restaurants she loved to go to.

So Gail watched them, studying what they picked, and chatted with the sellers. Those people knew her, recognized her at least, and asked after her wife and daughter. Gail collected a few things she'd yet to try cooking, as well as really awesome looking cheese and spinach pastry. She brought those home for the family. Most of them. She may have eaten one while walking around. Or two.

Just as she put the treasures away, her phone rang. "Hello, wife," she grinned.

"Hi, Mom. We're pulling up outside. Come on out."

Gail peeked out the window and saw her daughter in the passenger seat. "Want a snack?"

"God, yes."

Grabbing the food and drinks, Gail piled into the back of Holly's SUV. "How come I have to ride in the back?"

Vivian stuck her tongue out. "I'm tall enough." At twelve, Vivian finally surpassed her friends in height and was allowed to rid up front. She was also the proud bearer of a permit to use a firearm, though not own one, and had been vocally angling to ride with Gail on the police course. Ever since the stupid assassination case, Viv had wanted to know about Gail's job.

At the same time, the girl kept her thoughts to herself a lot more. There had been a brief couple years where she was chatty, but then she'd shifted into a odd friendliness that did not involve telling anyone about herself. Most of her new Jr. High friends hadn't known she had two mothers until Gail and Holly showed up together one afternoon. They'd not pushed about it, just asking if everything was okay, and Vivian admitted she didn't want to have to be that kid all the time. She hated being the girl who was in foster care or who had dead parents, and just wanted to be a little normal.

"Whatever those are, honey, they smell amazing."

"Spinach and cheese pastries. Came with a recipe." The recipe wasn't even very hard. Gail was sure she could pull it off, even with her limited baking skills. That had been her least favorite part of the cooking classes.

Holly was smiling, though a little thinly. "You need to learn some less fatty cooking," she complained.

At 46, Holly had gotten pickier about her food. More conscious about her weight and health, Holly's concern had washed over to Gail as well. "Hey, those home made cheese puffs were low fat, low cholesterol, and damn awesome," grinned Gail.

Her wife looked up into the rear view mirror and caught Gail's eyes. "You're going to make a low fat croissant?"

"Well. Maybe a less flaky one."

Vivian chimed in, "Why are they so fatty? And can I have one now?"

"Hey!" Holly scowled. "No eating in the car." The car was still new, not even being driven through a winter yet.

Gail and Vivian rolled their eyes at each other. "It's the butter, Monkey. Makes them all flaky and delicious."

Momentarily, Vivian joked, "Is monkey butter the stuff Lisa used on her butt on the bike ride?" It was in impish moments like that, when Vivian was a normal, silly, near-teenager, that Gail forgot about the shell her daughter was developing.

"We should send her donuts," laughed Holly. Lisa had gone on a 100km bike ride for charity with her kind of girlfriend, Kate, and ended up saddle sore and with a numb vagina. The crotch thing had made Gail laugh hysterically, since Lisa had to sit on a donut cushion for days after. Ever since, she teased Lisa by making her donuts.

"Monkey donuts?"

Gail snorted a laugh out her nose. "We can eat at the cage. Holly, that is such an apt name. Cage. Locking me in with a bat, throwing balls at me... This isn't very lesbian."

"We hit the balls with bats," rejoined Holly. "Exceptionally lesbian."

And while Gail would never, ever, not even on her dying day, admit it, she did like baseball. It was cathartic in a way shooting wasn't, and today Gail really didn't feel like shooting anything was a smart idea. She couldn't say that out loud, people would always take it the wrong way, assuming she was scared. But really it was the noise today, she didn't want to hear the echoes. She wanted to and didn't want to shoot.

So she let Holly teach her how to bunt in the slow cages, something they didn't get to do in their league games. And she let Vivian tease her about how bad she was. When Holly flaunted her skills, Gail grabbed her waist and hugged her close, calling her a show off. It was just another day with her goofy family and, as Gail and Holly watched Vivian pound a few balls, she knew she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Happy family or not, Gail found herself wide awake at one in the morning. She wasn't aware of having a nightmare, nothing felt like that, but she was just awake. Holly, per usual, was sprawled diagonally across the bed, though this time only her feet were touching Gail's, while her arms clutched her own pillow and her face nearly off her own side of the bed.

Was it creepy to watch her wife sleep? It was something Gail had yet to tire of, certainly. She loved watching Holly do just about anything. Carefully easing around her, Gail wrapped an arm across Holly's waist and snuggled up as the big spoon. "I love you," she whispered, settling in to cuddle if not sleep. She wasn't having dreams, she was just ... awake.

By five AM, Gail gave up the pretense of sleep.

Holly didn't even twitch as Gail slipped out of bed and went to the living room to play a little Kombat Karnage. It was yet another dumb combat game, like her beloved Death Domain, where you ran around killing aliens and jumping through a horrible traps in an abandoned space station.

When Vivian had moved in with them, Gail had locked all her violent games away. They'd bonded over various, family rated video games, like Mario Kart. It wasn't until Vivian was ten that she asked if Gail had any action games. That led to slowly reintroducing the more grown up games, including the classics, and then the new ones. Of course there had been conversations with therapists about it first, but things had worked out rather well. There was no association with what had happened with Vivian's dad.

And even Gail didn't generally associate video games with the reality of what happened in her day to day life. It was just another game, even today. The mindless, and fake, carnage of dead tentacled creatures was mind numbing.

"You're part vampire," announced Vivian, coming downstairs in her pajamas.

"Hence the skin." Gail smiled and finished the level. "One on one, or team play?"

Vivian grunted and flopped onto the couch. "It's too early, Mom." So Gail played in silence for a while longer. "Was it a bad case?"

Frowning, Gail contemplated lying. "I'm benched for the rest of the week. There was a shooting, civilian died. They need to find out who did it."

Her daughter was quiet for a moment. "Did you?"

"No." Gail scowled as she took hits from the alien and concentrated to make it to the next save point. There, she turned off the game and tossed the controller down. "John got hit in the head. He's in the hospital, but he'll be fine."

Vivian didn't look over. She was staring up at the ceiling. "Was it scary?"

Gail hesitated. "Yes and no. I told you about Snakeface, right?"

"A million years ago."

"I was scared then, mostly of screwing up." She stretched out and settled in her chair comfortably. "You're always a little scared when you do that, when you have to pull your gun out. It's not like TV."

On TV, the cops always did it right, or if they didn't then they went to one psych appointment and were fine. If they got shot, it was superficial and they were fine next week. The idea of years of treatment for the pain of killing someone, or nearly being killed, was foreign. There was no lasting impact.

Holly thought Gail hated cop shows because they were unrealistic. In truth it was the fakery. The shallowness of their commitment to the job, the superficiality of it all, was hard to stomach. Being a police officer wasn't just a job for Gail. She'd been groomed for it from birth, she'd been destined for it her entire life. To be a police officer was an inevitability. At the same time, she had found so much of herself in the job that it was ingrained in her.

The job was she and she was the job.

She looked over at her daughter, thoughtfully. "I'm sorry if it bothers you, Viv."

Hazel-brown eyes met hers. "Mom, you being a cop doesn't bother me."

Gail frowned. "When they told us about you, I worried about that a lot."

"It's not the same thing," muttered Vivian. "I don't know why. But guns don't bother me."

"You have a permit," drawled Gail. "I really hope you like them."

The girl giggled a little. "Thanks for that." The child's permit had been a birthday present. Before twelve, she'd been provisionally allowed on the range only with Gail or a qualified adult like Oliver or Elaine.

When Gail had asked what she wanted for her birthday, Vivian had promptly said the license, which was rather startling. Yes, she'd gone to the range a few times before, but the request to have her own license meant she didn't have to go with Gail anymore. Holly had flipped. That Holly tolerated Gail's guns was one thing; they were a known entity and a part of Gail's life long before Holly had shown up. She didn't like them, but she understood them and the necessity. But to accept a child, their child, as someone who wanted to use a weapon did not go over well.

So Gail pulled out the age old Peck requirements for a gun license, starting with understanding exactly how dangerous they were and moving through responsible use. Should Viv ever, even while cleaning, point a gun at anyone, she lost all privileges. There was to be no bragging to her friends, no showing off, no goofing off. The gun was serious business. Gail did, quietly, eliminate the score requirements of gun usage for Pecks.

The stairs creaked and they both looked up at Holly, curiously making her way downstairs in running clothes. "You guys want to go for a run?"

"Not once, not ever," grunted Gail, but she got up and went to change anyway.

Once Vivian was off to summer school (her choice, she wanted to jump a grade in school) and Holly was off to work, Gail contemplated going back to sleep. She rarely got enough sleep, though most of that was due to chronic insomnia and her brain never turning off.

Which was why she didn't want to go to sleep just then, actually. Gail went into the office and pulled out her laptop. The case notes were still fully available to her, as she'd backed them up locally before the shooting. She may not be allowed to log into the system until Monday, but she could go over the notes to try and figure out who did shoot Justin Kino.

A drug runner, they'd tumbled on to him thanks to Jordan, Gail's snitch. The young woman had become quite useful as a CI, though Gail knew that eventually Jordan would take the offer to get clean and leave Toronto, or worse, she'd fall back into her old ways and end up dead. Those were the lives they chose. These were their paths.

Pushing that out of her mind for the now, Gail re-read the brief. Kino ran drugs, under the radar of the big guys for the most part, aiming at the supposedly smarter targets. White collar workers who needed a little buzz to take the edge off their high stress lives. Yuppies who were in debt to their eyeballs and needed uppers to get through their day. Kids who needed stimulants to keep up their grades and reputations. Idiots, basically, who felt that the only way to feel self worth was via those meaningless achievements.

Said the Peck.

Okay, fine, she could understand the drive, just not the drugs. The one time she'd tried the hard stuff, she'd instantly regretted it. And now after everything she'd been through, the idea of disconnecting yourself from reality was terrifying. There had been one, brief, moment when she succumbed to feeling of drug dissociation, and really all she'd wanted there was to not have to think and be left alone. Instead she'd had Andy being an idiot and then Holly ... Well. Maybe that had worked out for the best.

It was a great niche to aim at, though, the middle class over achievers were a perfect target. Most of the drug gangs in the area, according to Steve, didn't really aim like that. That meant Kino was unlikely to have pissed off other dealers. File that under possible but put it at the end of the list. But if he didn't get shot by a dealer, who did he get killed by?

What she needed to know was more about the bullet and the gun.

Gail grimaced and leaned back. What she really needed was to be back on the case. Even if she asked, Holly wouldn't slip her the notes for the autopsy. Odds were that the weirdo from Montréal would do the autopsy, or one of the minions like Rodney, since Holly was married to Gail. That rarely came up as an issue.

Before Gail could give up, her phone rang and showed the cheer face of Inspector David Butler. "Please give me good news, boss," she said by way of greeting.

"Get your ass back to work on Monday."

She exhaled loudly. She was cleared. "I really hate SIU you know."

Her boss laughed. "You'd make a great addition to their ranks, when you retire."

"Never gonna happen," snorted Gail. "Pompous pricks."

"I thought you liked Mills?"

Gail hesitated. That was different. She changed the subject, "You trying to get rid of me?"

And Butler grunted. "And watch my case closure percentage drop? Hell no, Peck. You're the best investment I ever made."

Thankfully no one could see her blush. "Is John cleared too?"

"He is. And he's probably bored."

That was a hint to go see him. Check. "Seeing as I can't solve the riddle of who shot Kino without an autopsy, I may as well go pick his battered brain."

Butler paused for a moment. "You know, he does have a concussion, so don't make him think too hard."

Gail rolled her eyes. She did understand the sentiment. "He's my partner, David," she remarked.

"Just so you remember it," the Inspector agreed. "I'll make sure you get a copy of the autopsy, Peck, but try and take a day off. Your wife threatened me after last time."

They hung up and Gail called the hospital to check on John. Once assured that she'd be allowed, Gail headed over and was surprised to see an older couple in the room with her partner. The woman had John's eyes, the sharp look that read a person and told you they knew your secrets. Her smile was John's smile as well, the thin line that hid a wry sense of humor. The man looked nothing like John. Of course. His mother and her second husband.

"Oh," she said lamely. "Uh, I can come back." Gail took a half step back.

Her partner's weary face brightened. "No, no. Gail, come here. Mom, Ivan, this is my partner, Gail Peck. Gail, meet my parents, An-Mei and Ivan."

Awkwardly, Gail tried to offer a smile as she extended a hand. "Mrs. Simmons." She'd learned the secret of John's last name a couple years back. That he'd been adopted by his stepfather at seventeen and the man never knew John had run with a gang. "Mr. Simmons."

"Please, call me An-Mei," smiled the mother. It was the same look as John at his most honest. "John's told me quite a bit about you."

Gail paused. "Yeah, that's not making feel comfortable," she decided. "It's nice to meet you." She shook each parent's hand in turn.

Her partner was amused. "So we're cleared?"

"Kinda hard to accuse us of shooting a guy when neither of us got a round off at him," Gail told him, dryly. "I'm back Monday. Butler fears the wrath of Khan."

John smiled. "And how is Holly?"

"Fine. Glad it was you and not me." Pausing, Gail looked at the parents. "Uh..."

"John told us about your wife and daughter," noted An-Mei with a smirk. "You've set an interesting bar. Successful police detective, married, parent..."

"Mom," John groaned.

Oh good. That kind of parental nagging. "It's a struggle," Gail said carefully. "The whole balance thing."

"Isn't it always?" An-Mei eyed her son. "He thinks I actually care how he's happy, as long as he actually is happy."

Grinning, Gail understood that. "I feel that way about my kid. It's weird, but all the parent nagging makes sense on this side."

That led to Gail showing An-Mei photos of herself, Holly, and Vivian. There was even a few of Vivian at the firing range, sporting her new license. They chatted about that, how yes, Gail was scared to have a kid who wanted a gun. But she was reasonable about it. After all, Gail had one at her age. That led to Ivan being interested in how Gail was an n-th generation police officer, and what that was like. The pressure had to be difficult, they remarked.

Through their conversations, John chimed in here and there, mostly giving Gail a little grief. Finally his parents said they had to go, but assured their son they'd be back tomorrow.

"Wow, they talk a lot," muttered Gail, taking Ivan's seat.

"Yeah, I usually just shut up and let 'em ramble." He looked amused and tired.

Gail propped her feet up on the bed. "So. How are you?"

Her partner sighed. That meant not great. "I've had a headache off and on all day. They gave me a shot, so I have to stick around tomorrow too."

Pretty much every cop had suffered through one serious injury or another. And Gail knew quite a few who'd suffered traumatic head injuries, including Oliver. Twice. Three if you counted the fact that he was deaf in one ear, after being a stupid hero at the bank robbery he'd tumbled on years ago. But John was her first and, thus far, only partner as a detective. It was possible this would end his career if it was bad.

"I don't want to ask," she grumbled.

John smiled tiredly. "Yeah, I don't either."

One of the many reasons she like the man, his ability to understand her without any stupid romantic shit getting involved was a big one. Never once had there been a drop of sexual tension from either side. John was never into her, and she never looked at anyone since Holly, which surprised her a little. Not that she'd think about cheating ever again, but that no one really caught her eye as attractive. She'd noticed other people while dating men before, though was never tempted. Just since Holly, it stopped. Her heart knew, even when the brain was being a tool, that she was in love and that was it.

And thankfully, Holly would understand if Gail said that she adored John. Her wonderful, weird, smart, nerdy wife would know that Gail just loved the man like a brother, in her proprietary way. Because that was the reality. Gail did love John like family. He'd become a friend, confidant, and someone she could trust. Like Oliver, she knew he'd be there for her as a cop and a shoulder. He'd been a little hurt she'd not leaned on him back when Holly had been exposed to Luongo River Fever, but that had just been overwhelming, and Gail's mother had stepped up to be a mom when Gail needed one.

"Distract me, Peck. I don't want a pussycat." John had said that more than once to her. He wanted a Peck, not a pussycat.

"What'd you see?"

John closed his eyes. "I saw Kino step out of the back room. I saw your gun go up. Then I heard the gunshots. I smelled the outside. And then ... I was turning and something hit me hard. Do you know what it was?"

"No," sighed Gail. "I heard the thud, but I didn't turn around until after the shot."

"Awesome. Two seasoned cops and we have no clue who killed our guy."

"I got off two rounds, but the fucker was fast," she grumbled.

"He went out the door?" When Gail nodded, John frowned more. "He's damn fast."

Gail frowned and sat up, following the unspoken train of thought. "Where'd you get hit?"

"On the head." When Gail glared, John touched the right side of his head, above and behind his ear.

Bingo. "Damn it! The perp who hit you didn't shoot Kino. Couldn't have. The shot came from the door, but that was on your left!"

"What? Are you sure?" John sat up, wobbled, and lay back, grimacing,

She grabbed the notepad on the nightstand and doodled the room again, showing John the layout. "Dead certain. Two people one hit you, one shot Kino, both gone by the time I turned."

Looking at her curiously, John asked, "Did you freeze?"

That… "I hesitated. I didn't turn until you hit the floor." She could tell him only because she had to tell him. John had to know.

He looked at the paper and tapped a finger. "That shot would have been crazy close to you." When he looked up, Gail nodded. "I didn't shoot."

"You turned first, though." He must have turned. Why else would they hit him? He said he turned.

But John shook his head slowly. "No. No, I remember hearing the bullets and thinking how scared I was and then... I looked at you. I turned to you to see if they hit you, saw you moving… You were dropping to one knee? And then it went black." He had turned towards her. Away from the danger, to check on her. She'd turned towards danger.

Gail groaned and slouched in her seat, pissed she couldn't remember anything useful. "We're shitty cops."

"We're human beings, Gail."

"No. We're not." There was a weird, tense, silence after she spoke. Gail slowly looked up at John again, not surprised to see the disturbed expression on his face. "We go out and people shoot at us, John. They hate us, they spit on us, they lie to us. And all we're trying to do is make the city safer. Get drugs off the streets, stop the, from hurting each other, killing each other. And, yeah, okay, we like the power trip that comes with the job, but damn it, we want a safer place for our family and kids." Gail exhaled loudly. "We're not normal people. We'll never be normal. And we don't get to screw up, be scared, or run away."

He pressed his lips together. The silence hovered a little longer until he said, "Man, you had a real twisted childhood."

"I wasn't the one in a gang," she snapped angrily and regretted it instantly. "Shit, John, I'm sorry-"

"Jesus, Gail, stop." John struggled to sit up until Gail leaned over and pressed the button for him. "You're right. We're not normal, but we're still humans. We're allowed to get scared."

Gail turned away. "Not on the job, not when we wear the badge." She walked over to the window, contemplating how to leave the conversation and not have her partner livid.

"You really believe that?"

"I do," she sighed, pushing her hands through her hair.

Years and years and years ago, Steve had been human. Normal. She couldn't remember the name of the kid, but she remembered the story fairly well. The result of bullying ended with a suicide. Whether or not Steve could have stopped it by standing up for the kid and being his friend, Gail remembered it as the reason she realized she was better than other people. She knew what was right and wrong and while, yes, she was as petty and venal as anyone else, she was different. She really was a Peck, as much as she hated being that.

Normal people let others die. Normal people ran away from being shot at and hid at home. Normal people didn't weigh the options of their actions. Normal people shot and didn't think first. Normal people … Well. She'd never be normal and that was that.

"Did you hit him?" John's voice was soft and worried.

"No blood trail, and they cleared me to go back Monday." She saw his reflection in the window. Her partner had killed a man once. She remembered that, it wasn't even that long ago. Dov and Nick and Andy had all killed people. Oliver had not. Gail had, theoretically, not. Steve had not.

It was a question that interested her, but also one she didn't want to know the answer to. What was it like? But in a weird way, it was like people who asked her what it was like to be a lesbian now. It wasn't something she could explain in simple words, it was just what it was. It changed her very core, her essence was now altered by realizing one truth.

Maybe it was like the guilt Steve carried for that kid from his school. Was that what Vivian held close about her birth family? Maybe it was the guilt she felt over and over for Jerry. That had finally become something she could stomach, something that didn't keep her up late at night often. But it was a fact, a scar on her psyche that would never vanish. Gail rubbed the nearly invisible scar on her forehead, wondering what her daughter was carrying inside that shell.

"You're brooding," John remarked. "You do that, rub your forehead when you're feeling guilty and broody."

"Shut up," she grumbled and shoved her hands in her pockets. Asshole, acting like he knew her.

She saw his reflection smile sadly. "It sucks. It hurts and you feel sick. I felt sick. Like I failed, that it was my only choice, and I know it was right. But God. I hate it."

He did know her. And she knew him. "Didn't save your head though."

John grunted. "Can't do everything, Super Peck."

"Good thing your head's thick." They shared a smirk. "I'm going to get the autopsy report tomorrow or Monday. Keep you in the loop?"

"Please. I'll be at my folks' place by Sunday."

She nodded and clapped a hand on his knee before heading out. It was hard to talk about what she was feeling and thinking with him sometimes. Especially in moments like this when he was incredibly close to the situation. Hell, he was the situation. When it had been Perik it was a lot easier since he only knew about it peripherally. To him, it was just a story that had little meaning save it had happened to a cop.

Explaining it to Holly or Vivian was even harder, since she didn't want to scare them. Which really left her few people to talk to. Two people. Her therapist and her mother. After leaving the hospital, Gail toyed with the idea of asking Elaine about it, about how it felt to have shot someone. She could ask Dov about it and probably get a better answer.

Naturally, Friday morning saw her at her therapist's, sans autopsy report. This wasn't unexpected. Holly told her the autopsy was pending in SIU's hands, but it was completed by Rodney and should be available Monday. After all, they'd cleared Gail and John. But it did give Gail a bit of extra time to ruminate over the events. So, at her therapist's office, Gail draped her arms over the back of couch and stared at the wall tiredly.

"What are you thinking about?" The man's voice was calming. He was her new therapist, good with cop and family drama. Dr. Davies had been a good choice the last couple of years, even Holly liked him. She kept her own, separate, therapist, as did Vivian, but any time they felt like group therapy was in order, they all agreed he was the right one.

Gail looked over and studied his face. "Does hypnosis work?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Didn't you call it hocus-pocus?"

"I did," she smiled. "I was thinking, can it really help you remember something you're repressing?"

"Are we talking about you?"

"Kind of." Gail dropped her head back and looked up. "I was thinking about Viv a little. I mean, God, I'd love to remember more about that idiot who shot at me, or have some cool hypno-juju that helps me realize I totally saw the guy who clocked John, but I saw his reflection in a window, and magic woo woo CSI crap."

They shared a smirk. "If it worked that way, I'd charge higher rates."

"Don't get greedy, buddy. You're paid by insurance."

"Super science aside, you're thinking of your daughter?"

Gail nodded. "She used to be a little more open. I worry about it sometimes. A lot of times."

"More than you're worried about yourself? Or your partner?"

She eyed her therapist. "Yes. Always. I didn't kill anyone. I did my job and I did it right. Viv... You know, I totally get why my mom did stupid things, right? Because I'd do anything for her, just to make her happy and safe."

Dr. Davies nodded. " Is there anything in particular that brought it on?"

Gail gnawed her lip for a moment. "Yeah but it's convoluted." Her therapist shot her a look. "This kid in Steve's school killed himself when he was 17. It was all screwed up, but he was a massive bully and it turned on him, and everyone gave him hell. Wrote nasty shit on his locker, that kind of thing. I was thinking about that, the guilt from it, cause I know Steve knows he could have done something."

When she paused for a long time, Dr. Davies asked, "Do you think you could have done anything?"

"I was nine, so ... No." She waved a hand in the air. "I was thinking how that guy lived with pain for years. Agony. And he kept it to himself until it was too much. And then I think about Viv, what she's keeping to herself. And I worry."

"You think she'll kill herself?"

Gail shook her head. Then nodded. Then shook it again. "I don't know," she grumbled. "I'm way too vain, Holly's too worried about me, Steve's too egotistical, but ... If any of us would, it'd be her. So yeah, I worry. Isn't that my job as a mom? Fear and guilt all the time?"

The doctor nodded. "They are two of the strongest feelings. But there's also pride."

And Gail broke into a smile. "Can you believe that kid got a top score on the range?" Vivian hadn't just beaten her age group, she'd beaten a couple adults. "I guess… I was thinking about how I wish I could remember more, and then I got to thinking about what does she actually remember. She still says she just remembers seeing her dad dead on the floor."

"You think she saw more?"

Gail nodded a little. "I do. I'm … Look I'm a cop, I'm supposed to know how to read people. I hate 'em but I know when people have a thing." She waved one hand by the side of her own head. "Something in there they don't really remember, or don't want to remember, or whatever. And sometimes I see that in her face. Like there's a more she's shoving away."

Dr. Davies tapped a finger on the arm of his chair, thinking. "Is that bad?"

"It'll come out weird. Later. It usually does." She knew that from personal experience. "I know, I should be worrying more about my own head than my kid's. I'm not deflecting, it's just … I do worry about her. All the time."

"So long as you're not neglecting your own mental health again, Gail, I think it's fine."

Again. There had been some stupid times where Gail got caught up in aspects of Peck-dom she didn't even know she was susceptible to. Like over-achievers syndrome. "I think I'm not," she said carefully. "Holly hasn't told me to take a break, and I did take a day off."

"An enforced day off."

Gail felt chagrined and looked up at the ceiling again. "Okay, okay, I should take some real time off. After this case. Viv's almost done with summer session. We can go up to the cabin."

Her doctor cleared his throat. "You should try something else. Something at home."

"Come on, I have zero capacity for boredom."

"And yet you live in a city with a great number of wonderful ways to entertain you. Amusement parks, open air markets, parades, a new cooking class…"

Gail scowled. "You want those muffins again." The man smiled. "Fine. Okay, Peck needs a break. I just never know what to do."

"Then my prescription is to take the night off. For the rest of July. Do something with your family, or not. But no work." Gail opened her mouth to argue, "Unless the case demands it. And I want you to be realistic about that one, Gail."

Damn. "Fine," she grumbled. "Can I go now?"

"Unless you want to talk about your fears of killing someone or your father's continuing lack of communication?"

Ouch, flinched Gail. "Not really."

But she got off easy with just a request to talk about it next time. At home, she rustled up one of the fancier meals she'd been itching to make. Before everyone had come home the day before, she'd tossed a pork loin into some marinade. Now it was ready to cook. She scraped off the marinade and dried off the loin before tossing it into the oven. Setting a timer, she went upstairs and fell onto the bed to process the therapy session.

Some weeks were harder than others. Some months her sessions were barely a check in to see how she was doing. Then this month she went twice. Every session was a little rough. But she'd gone from twice a week to weekly to twice a month and now once a month. So every month someone picked her brain and her feelings and left her wondering what was normal and what was weird and what was Peck, and would she ever become more than she was.

There was a knock on the door. "You okay, Mom?"

"Yeah, just thinking." She hesitated and asked, "How was school?"

"Fine. Liv and Matt and I are all gonna be eighth graders."

Gail blinked. "Okay, I'm old. You're twelve."

"Thirteen in February." There was a thumping sound, rhythmic. Viv was probably kicking the wall, thinking. "What's in the oven?"

"Pork loin. Green beans and carrots. I'll toss a pie in."

Vivian made a noise indicating she heard and the sound of her footsteps retreated. A few minutes later, Gail's watch beeped and she went downstairs to uncover the roast. Her daughter was camped out on the couch with a book and the news on a low volume. Weird child. But she said she'd listen for the meat thermometer, so Gail went back upstairs and lay down again. Vivian was totally trustworthy with the cooking and knew what to do with the meat when it was done.

It wasn't much longer that the garage door went up. Gail just lay in the bed until she felt it dip and a warm arm draped across her waist. "Hey. Our kid thinks you're depressed."

"Kinda." Gail slid her hand into Holly's, intertwining their fingers. "What ifs sit heavy some days," she noted. Holly sighed and squeezed the hand in hers. They didn't need to say anything more. Holly understood.

There was a creak at the doorway and, a moment later, Vivian joined them on the bed, sprawled on Gail's other side. "Meat's resting. I put the veggies in the steamer," she remarked.

Gail smiled and wormed an arm around her kid's shoulder, hugging her. "I'll make a sauce out of the fond."

Normally Viv squirmed when hugged, but today she let her mother hold her close for a bit. "What's the fond?"

"The crusty bits at the bottom of the pan."

Her wife made a very pleased noise. "Can I just say I love that you took those cooking classes?"

"It's all the Monkey's fault," smiled Gail.

After dinner, which Vivian helped make mashed potatoes for, they all made themselves comfortable on the couch. Holly was caught up in the sports game, having won the coin toss for show choice, but Vivian poked Gail's leg and signed a question.

Are the doves singing?

Gail smiled and signed back that they were alright. Her daughter didn't seem to believe that, and asked if Gail was sure. Glancing at Holly to make sure her wife wasn't paying attention, Gail explained in more detailed terms what she was worried about. That she was wondering what would have happened if she'd shot him, if she'd made the wrong choice in not. And she was struggling with how it felt, knowing someone's death, no matter what her choice had been, was somewhat her fault. And then ... Then she was worried about John.

And Vivian seemed to understand, saying she was sorry and asking how she could help. Gail told her to just keep being Vivian, but then asked out loud, "Holly, we should do something this weekend. What can we do?"

"There's a street fair in Greektown," mused Holly. "My new assistant was going on about it."

While food was pretty normal for them, Gail tried to remember the last time she'd gone to a street fair and not been working. "Let's do that. You're good on your homework, Monkey?"

Vivian eyed her suspiciously. "You're voluntarily going to a crowded place with tons of people? Mom, are you sure Mom's okay?"

With a laugh, Holly leaned back against Gail. "She's always very weird, honey. But I like her this way."

The weekend sped by and was surprisingly fun. They ran into some old classmates of Holly's who were thrilled to see their nerdy doctor friend had married and adopted. The classmates actually ran the festival, so they got behind the scenes tours of everything, including the kitchens. Gail's cooking skills came up in conversation and while she admitted it was just a hobby to keep her out of trouble, her wife and daughter bragged that they'd had some amazing French meals. One of the restaurants insisted Gail take a Greek cookbook, their restaurant's pride and joy, and learn that too.

With stomachs full of good food, souls filled with new friendships, they were all soundly in bed by ten, feeling the exhaustion that came from a fun day in the sun. At work Monday, Gail was teased by Oliver for the sunburn on her face. Everyone knew Pecks didn't go out in the sunlight willingly. But that was the end of the happiness and the ease. Armed with her Dad mug, Gail hunkered at her desk and stared at the autopsy report. Rodney had, per usual, done a bang up job on it, but the evidence was slim. The bullet was indeed a 9mil, something Gail filed away as a 'told you so' snap back to Allen in SIU. She knew it.

Okay, so a fairly common, easy to buy, gun, fired by a fairly average, looks like anyone, guy. The evidence was sparse from the shooter. He'd left one bullet in the wall and, looking at the forensic report on trajectory, Gail was incredibly lucky. The bullet that she'd felt whiz by her had been crazy ass close. She shuddered and opened the bullet forensic's file and read up on the grooves. The bullet was in the system for two other unsolved murders. Both were drug dealers. She pulled up their records and quietly read... Huh.

Instinctively, she looked at John's desk to voice a theory and stalled. No John. Not till maybe next week. Gail turned to the side and spotted Griggs. "Hey, Griggs, you got a second?"

The big man nodded and shambled over. "Whaddya got, Peck?"

"Theory." She pulled up the report on the bullets. "Same gun for three dead dealers. All the dealers were hitting up local high end schools."

"Any one school on the list?" There was and Gail pulled up the list of her suspect pool. "Damn that gun's too popular," grumbled Griggs. "Why is Noah Hendrix in your top spot?"

"He's got a record. Petty shit, but he was picked up on a drug charge when he was a senior. Served a little time for selling weed and alcohol to minors at his school."

Griggs pondered, "Misdirected revenge? Dealer with a heart of gold?"

She kind of liked Griggs. "I'm thinking protecting his market. I went to one of those kinda schools, there was always shit."

Nodding, Griggs told Gail she was driving. He was, technically, the second in command to Butler, but Griggs rarely threw his weight around. Gruff, partnerless, a good training officer, and a lifer cop, he was the sort of man who you saw on cop shows. Holly liked to call him their Provenza, whatever that meant. One of these days she'd have to ask.

Borrowing Griggs, they went to the home of Noah Hendrix. His last known address was his parents' house, who said he lived in the basement. It was the usual song and dance. Noah was a good kid who had been caught in the wrong crowd. And no, they were not just going to let the police traipse through the house without a warrant. Even Sam Swarek and his devil may care interpretation of 'plain sight' could swing that one. Gail left her card and stepped outside, scratching her shoulder absently.

If she'd been with John, she wouldn't have had to say anything. He'd just know she wanted to walk around the grounds. With Griggs, she had to voice her plan, though he went along with it. There was, sadly, nothing useful or enough to let them avoid a warrant. Which meant Gail's afternoon would be hunting down a judge.

As they got into a car, Griggs grumbled, "You don't think about things normally."

"Thank you?"

"It's good. You just take a while to get used to."

Gail eyed the man. "Am I getting a new partner?" Griggs always knew things. He had been Butler's partner before that man had stepped up to run their unit.

"David's retiring in the next couple years, Peck."

"Oh." She frowned and drove down the road. "You too?"

The man laughed. "I have three ex-wives, Peck. I'm dying in that chair of mine."

She had to laugh at that. "Well. No matter who we get, I've got your back." But it did fill her with a little fear. She liked Butler. Having a boss who knew how to use her, how to let her wander like this and be free to follow her own path to solve a crime was a privilege.

Griggs gave her a curious look. "How long have you and the Doc been married now?"

"Eight years last month," sighed Gail. "It's weirder that my damn kid is about to be in 8th grade."

"Makes it easy to remember, though. Eight. That's longer than all my marriages combined."

She smirked. "Not something I'd brag about."

"She's successful too, chief medical examiner."

Gail was pretty sure Griggs was fishing for some information, but wasn't sure what. "Spit it out, Griggs," she sighed. She hated playing that game.

"You ever think about being Inspector Peck?"

Gail bit her lip. Her father was the Inspector. "Sometimes. But that's not going to happen tomorrow." She frowned and pulled into the parking garage. "I like OC."

"We need inspectors too."

Oh. "Like hell anyone'd make me the new head of OC." Because David Butler ran more than just their branch. He was in charge of Major Crimes for three divisions, though he ran it out of Fifteen, and headed up OC for them as well. It was a hell of a job.

"Not today, but you should think about it."

Agreeing to do so, Gail shoved the idea into the back of her head while filing a warrant to inspect the Hendrix home. Sure, there were good reasons to want to boot the cops from your home, but ... She also knew the judge wasn't about to approve the warrant without some fieldwork, so Gail went to bug Ollie about getting patrol to canvas the areas around the crime scene as well as the Hendrix home. Her idea was to up the pressure and hopefully he'd ditch the gun.

Meanwhile she got a warrant to run credit and debit cards, though not search the house, and had to start small. Not a big deal. It was a bit odd running it alone, though. You got used to things, like a partner sharing the load when you were frustrated, or a wife who snored and took up half the bed. The difference was one day she'd have a new partner, where as she knew she'd never have another wife if anything happened to Holly.

Gail stared at the suspects, still sure she was right about Hendrix. He felt right. If only she was good at reading people outside of the interrogation room, she sighed. John was good at that. She was good at it when they sat in room, uncomfortable and twitching. That was when she could see their inner selves. Their shadow self. The one that couldn't lie.

Hey, if your scars were going to lay heavily on your soul forever, you may as well put them to good use.

The week slogged through like that. She didn't get enough information for a judge to sign off on a full warrant, so she had to settle for calling the family every day. By Friday, the mother was cracking to Gail's pressure since her son hadn't come home. That was an improvement. Also on Friday, she got a call from John asking if she knew how to check someone for post-concussion syndrome and, if so, would she pick him up for work on Monday before he killed his mother.

God she'd missed his humor. Promising to get a run down from Holly, Gail informed Butler that John was coming back. Her boss made her swear to keep him on light duty. That made her think of something interesting. It was a random association, remembering when she'd been on light duty after Perik and the shooting, stuck working weird shifts and hours. And she always felt like she was sneaking back into Casa Peck...

Instead of going home early, she waited for Dov, who always came in early for the night shifts on Friday. She knew Oliver and Dov would go over all the open cases, make sure everyone was on the same page, so she should take advantage of that. Once Gail explained to Butler that she wanted someone to sit on the house, because if she was Hendrix, she'd be sneaking in at night. Especially if he knew the cops were looking into them, which his parents were sure to have informed him.

So Butler okay'd her talking to Dov and Ollie about a constant watch. Just something to amp up the pressure on the suspect. They had some rookies who would be good for that, something relatively safe. Dov teased her that she liked having a job where she could go home at regular hours, to which she suggested he try marriage. It was an old joke for them now. They knew Dov and Chloe were unlikely to marry, but they were just as committed as Holly and Gail in their own way.

That, of course, made her think about Nick and how he was never going to get married either. He had always claimed he would, one day, even after their disaster. To have had it work out that Gail was happily married with a child and Nick was just living with Andy (finally, he gave up and moved in with her) was funny on many levels. At least everyone at Fifteen seemed to be relatively happy.

True, Gerald had been dumped when he tried to propose to his girlfriend, Salvador was shot and nearly died a few years ago, Andrews had finally retired, and John hadn't had much by the way of a steady anything since Rachel. But they were all somewhat happen to a degree. Mostly Gail knew she was happy.

"Holly, are you happy?" It was the question she asked in the late summer gloam, as the last tendrils of the sunset faded from the sky and the city fireflies danced in their backyard. Gail sat on the swinging bench, watching Holly clean up from their barbecued dinner, cooked by Vivian with Gail as sous chef.

"You know, on TV people ask that as a prelude to a divorce," teased Holly. She gave the table a final wipe. "Yes. I'm happy, honey."

Gail nodded, her eyes drifting to Holly's ass as she bent down to pick up a napkin. "Good. Because I'm happy."

Glancing over, Holly caught Gail in her ogling, and smirked. "Not as depressed?"

"Not while watching your ass, no," smiled Gail, patting the swing seat beside her. Holly nodded but took the refuse inside first, coming back with beers. "What's the Monkey doing?"

"She's on her phone talking to Liv." Holly passed a beer over and sat next to Gail, snuggling into the nest of her arm and side.

In many ways, Liv was more grown than Vivian. She was interested in boys and sex in a more meaningful way than Vivian's clinical view. Not that Gail had escaped the sex talk for older girls. Vivian had been more embarrassed than Gail about it, not really wanting to know semantics or details. But the last thing Gail wanted was her kid being pregnant without wanting it. Besides, Holly was fairly useless when it came to that talk.

Resting her cheek against Holly's head, Gail smiled. Her goofy, nerdy, wife was wildly imperfect, just like Gail was. She didn't handle the sex talk with the kid well, she hated guns and was terrible at driving in winter, and she was really bad about remembering to close the windows when she turned on the air con, which was hilarious because she was a committed environmentalist. Holly couldn't sing to save her life but insisted on doing it on drives up to the cabin while blasting the classic lesbian playlist from her iPhone.

Holly was awkward and self-conscious, never having grown quite comfortable in her own skin when she phased out of the gangly youth stage. She had an adorable side smile that still managed to get Gail out to the batting cages. She geeked out with their daughter, sharing a love for science fiction and conventions that Gail still thought was ridiculous.

This was not the life she saw for herself as a child. Being at peace with who she was, that was a blessing Gail never thought she'd be graced with. Being happy with who she was and who she was with, that too was to be treasured and cherished.

"What's up in that bleached blonde head?"

"Thinking about you." Gail gently kissed Holly's head. "Us."

"Happy with us?"

"Very," sighed Gail. "I want to tell you something you won't like. About the shooting last week." Holly said nothing but pressed herself closer. "The guy I'm looking for got off three shots. Two hit the dealer we'd been after." She could feel the tension in Holly's shoulders. "One hit the wall. And I was looking at the forensic report and matching it up to the thing I drew for SIU. It was real fucking close, Holly."

Holly's back tightened and she reached up to take hold of Gail's hand that hung over her shoulder. "I don't like it, you're right," she groused.

"It gets a lot of weird thoughts going on in my head, Holly," she sighed. "Like worrying about Viv and John and what coulda beens..."

The soft ah from her wife was a relief. Her head was off and on a jumble of confusing, disjointed thoughts. Any time she stopped working, stopped shoving in noise to drown those thoughts, Gail worried. "Honey," sighed Holly, kissing their joined hands and sitting up straight. "I wish I could just make it better."

"You do by being here."

Holly smiled the soft, almost sad smile at her. "You didn't get shot, you didn't get hurt. John is going to be fine."

"Oh, yeah, I need you to give me a run down on post concussion syndrome," sighed Gail. "John's coming back Monday and wants me to keep an eye on him."

Nodding, Holly turned and snugged herself back up against Gail's side. "Sure. Sunday. Today I want my wife, the bitchy one, and tomorrow I want that grumpy face on the softball field."

Gail groaned. "Crap. That's this weekend?"

"You knew I liked sports before we starting dating," smiled Holly.

Putting her beer on the railing, Gail ran her hand across Holly's hip. "I know, but I was blinded by sex," she muttered, letting her breath curl around Holly's ear. Her wife shivered and let go of her hand, putting her own beer down.

"You're trouble, Peck," Holly said quietly and turned to face Gail again, smirking. "You're in trouble, too." Leaning forward, Holly braced her arms on either side of Gail, trapping her.

She knew she wasn't supposed to avoid her issues with sex, but Holly was very firm about that too and since she was not chastising Gail at the moment, this wasn't that. Sometimes it was hard to tell from inside her head. Holly usually had a better vantage point. Right now, Holly's vantage point was the one that let her kiss the side of Gail's neck.

The swing was not the best place to make out, unless you minded being limited to less room than the back of a car. And it was terrible if you minded the regular occurrence of a kid who caught you feeling up your wife. "Moms, I'm going to bed. Can you guys please take it to your room?"

Gail sighed and let her head drop back onto the back of the swing. With one more lingering kiss to the side of Gail's neck, Holly got up. "Night, honey. Charge your phone."

"She's so in charge of us," groaned Gail and she sat up.

"It's good advice, though," Holly smiled and picked up the beers. "I'll put these away." There was a sway to her walk that lit a fire in Gail's body. Holy crap was Holly beautiful. Gail lingered a moment, letting the tingling settle. More than making out, just watching Holly turned her on.

Much to Gail's annoyance, all that wonderful feeling did not help her sleep through the night. Before sunrise she jerked awake, struggling out of a weird darkness where she'd felt her brain burning from the stab, the needle in her neck. Holly's hand was on her shoulder, shaking her into awareness, her warm voice urging Gail to open her eyes.

With a groan, Gail pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. "I'm awake, I'm awake."

The hand squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry, honey," sighed her wife.

"Happens." With a soft sigh, Holly let go and Gail felt the familiar weight of her wife lean across her and there was a click. The lights. Holly had turned on the lights. Pulling one hand off, Gail smiled wanly. "Sorry."

Holly put a finger over Gail's lips. "Stop. Write your dream down. No apologizing."

No arguing. Gail nodded and pick up her iPad, tapping in her dream and then turning the light back off. "It's only four," she muttered to Holly, rolling over and curling up along side her.

"You didn't wake me up," noted Holly, wrapping her arms around Gail and holding her close. "I had to pee."

"How romantic."

"Shut up and go back to sleep." Holly ran fingers through Gail's hair, lingering on the back of her neck in a way that soothed Gail's nerves. So did listening to Holly's steady, solid, heart beat, and the even breathing. And then Gail's eyes drooped and she felt her body get heavier. And she for maybe the first time in years after a nightmare, she fell back asleep easily.

Saturday breezed by, even with the stupid softball game, and as they started a good-natured squabble over dinner, Gail's phone rang. Dispatch. "Peck." Both her wife and child stopped. They knew that tone.

The rookies had spotted their guy, Hendrix, dumping something in a neighbor's trash bin. They couldn't believe he was that stupid. That put it in plain sight and they had found a gun. "I got forensics on the way, don't worry, Peck," promised Dispatch. "Dumb and dumber are keeping watch on the garbage and I won't let them mess up chain of evidence."

"You're gonna make my night if you tell me they have eyes on Hendrix."

There was a pause. A brief pause. Gail could hear Dispatch grinning. "1519 just pulled him over for a busted tail light. Guess who doesn't have a license?"

Gail pumped a fist. "Have them haul that son of a bitch in, I'm on my way to the station." She hung up and paused, looking at her waiting family. "We got the gun. We got the guy. I gotta break him."

Rolling her eyes, Holly shooed Gail upstairs. "Go. Go. Viv, we can sort out dinner, right?"

"I'll make burgers," declared Vivian.

Letting them hash it out, Gail rushed through a shower and kitted herself out in record time. She was grateful that she didn't have to shave for something like this, not like her brother would, and took the time to fix her hair and skipped the makeup (except to cover the hickey from Holly, awesome). Just the basics for this guy. Taking the moment to kiss Holly before she was out the door, Gail knew she was practically vibrating with excitement.

All the long, drawn out, waiting for a perp to show up never played to her strengths. She could monitor a stakeout as well as the next guy, but she hated it so much. When her gut knew she was right, she wanted to call it and be done. At the same time, the idea of breaking someone down in interrogation thrilled her. Who knew she'd be so great at it? For years, Gail thought the grunt of police-work would be her calling. Then, after Perik, she developed a knack.

You had to take what the universe crapped on you and let it make you better.

And those days that the universe deigned to remember it owed you a few favors here and there, well those you grabbed and savored.

She opened the door to hear Hendrix's lawyer tell him they had nothing, and not to say anything. But then Gail sat down and the boy's eyes went wide.

"You!"

Gail smiled ear to ear. "Wanna try that again, Mr. Lawyer?"

The lawyer flustered and blustered, but the young avenger folded like Steve on poker night. His story was stupid and simple. It was a mix between vengeance for getting kids in his neighborhood on drugs, but also shitty dealers poaching his turf. It was almost hilarious if it wasn't so stupid.

As she wrapped up the confession, Dov opened the door and gestured for her to come out. "The judge just faxed in a warrant for the guy," smirked the king of the dorks.

"Nice timing," she snorted. "Signed confession in the bag. I'm even going to be home before dawn."

"Hey, do they make you come in the next day after you rock a case like this?"

Gail grinned but it felt strained. "Butler doesn't." The new guy, whomever it was, may not be as generous. He may not be as flexible as David was about handling a kid and the complexities of a wife who had an equally busy job. He may not be okay with a female detective who had a wife.

For the first time, Gail found herself wondering if the choices she'd taken to make herself happy were going to backfire. She looked into interrogation, feeling a flush of pride for the case closure on her own. This was something she didn't want to give up. Gail loved her job. She loved the work, the thrill of the chase, that awesome rush of success when you got ahead of the losers and won. The feeling of delight from that powerful oomph... Yeah, power was addictive.

She pushed her hair back, away from her eyes, and took the warrant, slapping Dov in the chest. "Those rookies didn't suck."

"Crap, I better not tell them you said that. I won't get anything good outta them for months." He grinned and bumped his fist against her shoulder. "Next weekend I'm off. We should do something with our womenfolk."

Narrowing her eyes, Gail asked, "Are you trying to take advantage of my good mood to get me to willingly hang with Princess Price?"

Dov deadpanned his reply. "Yes. Is it working?"

She smirked. "Yes. Yes it is. Saturday? I'll fire up the grill."

"I've got homebrew."

"Shit, Epstein, start with that next time," she laughed and went in to finish up the interrogation and confession.

It was late, but not terribly so when she rolled home. Vivian was still up, trying to teach Holly the new team combat game. Having watched her daughter school her mother on the appropriate way to win at Mario Kart Super Nova, Gail found it hilarious to watch her instruct Holly on the best way to destroy the aliens on the space station. Mostly because Holly was incredibly bad at video games, but also because her wife was trying as hard as Gail did at sports.

"Holly, press the button with your left index finger right before you shoot," she suggested, heading up to put her gun away.

By the time she came back down, Holly was holding her own ... barely. And it was clear Vivian was going easy on her. Gail squeezed in behind Holly, reaching around her to cover her hands on the controller. "How is this helping?" asked Holly as Gail kissed her shoulder.

"Didn't your dad teach you to dance by you putting your feet on his?" Gail smiled and started to press the buttons and nudge the joystick toggles, her fingers over her wife's.

"Hey, that's cheating," yelped Vivian.

But the married duo managed to eek out a win, laughing far too much about the whole thing. Gail proved she was able to play and sneak kisses at the same time, which she argued meant she was by far the most superior gamer of the house. With a grin, Holly turned her head and her warm fingers found Gail's cheek, drawing her closer for a kiss. Mock disgusted, Vivian tossed her controller into the basket and informed her parents she was going to bed.

"I think you scared her off," smiled Gail.

"I think she's only pretending to find it gross." Holly dangled the controller from a finger. "What do I do with this now?"

Gail rolled her eyes and took the controller, turning off the game and tossing it into the basket. "All done." She rubbed her hands on Holly's thighs.

"How can you make that basket and none on the court?"

Pressing her face to the crook of Holly's neck, Gail made a hum noise. "Who was it that fell off the horse?" She eased her hands up to Holly's waist and pulled her as close as possible. "Don't start this one, Stewart."

And Holly sighed, her voice light and forced. "Start what?" Gail grinned and kissed behind her wife's ear, one hand starting to work under Holly's shirt. "You got your guy," exhaled Holly, her head tilting back to give Gail more access.

"What gave it away?" Her fingers encountered the soft, smooth skin of Holly's abs and Gail grinned as Holly inhaled.

"You're incredibly snugly and a little horny when you catch bad guys," laughed Holly. She reached back and ran her fingers through Gail's hair, holding her head close. "Did you break him?"

"Soon as I walked in," Gail growled and nipped at Holly's neck. "Had his confession before we got the search warrant."

The fingers in her hair paused. "Isn't that out of order?" Holly sounded less distracted by Gail's wandering hand and more confused.

"Well. Can't be helped. I'm awesome." Gail drew a circle around Holly's belly button. That got Holly's attention back on track.

"Humble too," laughed Holly softly. "And very keyed up. Honey it's late."

It was. It was late enough to be practically early. "Take a half-day," she suggested and moved her hands higher. Vivian had a half day and wouldn't be moving before eleven. Gail had no plans to show up before noon at the precinct.

That broke her wife. "You're cheating," whinged Holly, but she wasn't really complaining.

"Taking advantage of my situation," Gail argued, her thumbs brushing some of Holly's more sensitive places. But she really wanted a bit more privacy for what she had in mind. "Bed?"

Holly exhaled and untangled herself. "You are terrible, Gail." But she didn't argue the suggestion and led Gail up to their bedroom.

And they both took a half-day.

---

This went a strange way on its own. It was meant to be different, but I like where it ended, so this is what you get. Just a case and a slice of life.

The guy who hit John was Hendrix's accomplice, and yes, they get him too.