Author's Note: Duncan came back earlier, because the idea of grumpy Gail sans Holly having to be a TO to him was too much to give up. Of course, drama is also entertaining. This chapter ends in a place where I get a little wet-eyed when I re-read it, so I'm sorry if I punch you all in the feels.
Sports reminded her of Holly, which did not help her mood with Gerald in the slightest. Him, she wanted to kill. Holly, she just didn't want to think about for eight hours, if possible, and if she was lucky, she could stop dreaming about her too. If she thought about Holly, she'd think about trying to apologize, for real, and maybe some grand romantic gesture to win her back. Or figure out who she was dating and arrest her... That wouldn't go over well either. Better to just work, run, and try to sleep without sex dreams about her ex.
"What's next on the list," she asked Gerald. No answer. Gail looked over and saw he was on his phone. Again. Without warning, she reached over, took the phone, and shoved it in her pocket. "If you touch me, I will break your arm," she growled at him.
Gerald (yes, fine, Duncan) complained, "I was tweeting!" He didn't attempt to get his phone back, however.
"Not. At. Work." Gail bit off every word. "God damn it, this is why you're in trouble to start with. You're not good enough to play on your phone and watch the streets." Gail knew she was, but she'd also been practicing that for years. Her parents bought her the GameBoy she'd wanted, but she could only keep it if, after a three hour car drive, she passed their idiotic tests. "How many cars with out of province plates did we pass since leaving the station?"
"What?" Duncan stared at her and she repeated the question. "Come on," he whinged. "No one knows that."
"I counted fifteen on Queens Quay. And I'm driving, Gerald." She fixed him with a glare. "Where are we going now?" She pointed at the paper and he read the address. St. Clements. Awesome. "This is an all girls school, Gerald. You are not to look, ogle, stare at, or even remotely ponder them. They are off limits."
The rookie grumbled, "What about for you?"
Was that a lesbian dig? He was going to be hurt. "Do you want to fail?" She hated this job, she didn't want to be his nanny. But Oliver and Uncle Al pointed out, rightly, her name was going to protect her from anything the idiot did. She could, freely and clearly, give her opinion and review on him, without fear of retribution.
"No," he whispered.
"Do you want to be a cop?"
He hesitated. "Yes."
God. He was doing this because it was expected of him, just like she did. Except Gail had a complex about failure, and stupid Duncan didn't care. She sighed. "No one likes you, Duncan," she said, intentionally using his real name. "No one likes me either, but I'm a good cop, and they would go to the line for me. You, on the other hand, are an embarrassment." She turned into the parking lot for the school. "I have zero interest in being T.O. to an embarrassment, so you are going to learn what you should have in the academy. I'm not your friend, I'm not your confidant. I'm your teacher, and you will not flunk this class, or so help me, I'll shoot you myself. Are we clear?"
Agape, Duncan stared at her. "Yes... Ma'am. Yes, ma'am."
Gail stopped the car and continued, "Since no on else wants your crap to touch their careers, and I'm the only person who doesn't have to worry about your step-father, I'm your training officer until further notice. You don't touch anything in the car until I tell you to. You don't write anything down in your memo book until I tell you to. You don't talk to other people, you look at me first. You do not tweet, text, Facebook, Instagram, FourSquare, Yo, or any other social media bull while we are on the job until I tell you to, and if you even consider telling people about our cases after shift, I have a cousin in the DA's office who would love to hear that. You do as I "say" not as I "do" and never question that." She paused, and knew this was where Oliver got nice and made a connection of friendship with the rookies. But Gail was not nice. "My job is to keep them safe," she pointed at the people walking around. "And to keep you safe. Which means if I keep your phone hostage all day because it's safer, then you suck it up. Can you do this?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Get out of the car." She flipped on the stupid body camera. "Officers Peck and Moore, at St. Clements." She started down the walkway. "The DB was male, Moore. So why are we here?"
He didn't answer, and Gail checked to see if he was thinking or not. "Because. Forensics said the um, the grass matched?"
"The chemicals used on their softball field matched the ones found on the body. And how did we know that?"
"The, uh, the gardening crew." He hesitated, "How come we're not interviewing them? The grounds people?"
"Because that's an important interview and you are not ready for the responsibility," she said flatly. "What do we want to look for here?"
"Someone who knows the victim!" He smiled, confident.
Good enough. The odds of that happening here was pretty slim, which was why she was here with Gerald in the first place. "Do you think it's a student?"
He looked lost at the question, "I guess. Anyone can poison, and it's a chick method-"
"Bzzzzzz! Wrong. Anyone and everyone poisons. More men use it to debilitate their victims." She rubbed her neck, an unwanted flashback. Push the thoughts back. She was a Peck. "This was anaphylaxis. Not poison." Off Duncan's blank look she elaborated. "He died of an allergic reaction."
"Oh. To ... What?"
"Spermicide." It was great to watch his face turn pink.
The interviews with the staff were brief and uninformative. Gail let Duncan try his hand at talking to the priest, trusting that the collar would keep him in check. It didn't, and after Duncan asked outright if Father Farr was sleeping with the dead kid, Gail cut in. "Okay, Officer Moore, that's enough." The priest looked relieved. "Shut up, sit down, listen, learn."
"Yes, ma'am."
Gail pushed her hair out of her face. "Sorry, Father, he's new. How's it been?"
The priest stared at her hair, then his eyes flicked to her name tag. "Officer Peck." He brightened. "You didn't come to the reunion."
"I told you I wasn't going."
"That was a decade ago, I thought you might have changed."
"Nope, still me." She handed him the photo again. "The reason my rookie was asking you awesomely awkward sex questions was the kid choked to death on spermicide." Father Farr's eyebrows rose up in surprise. "No DNA of course."
"You never believed testimony," mused the priest.
"You never bought mine," she retorted.
Smiling, regretfully, he handed the photo back. "I can give you my word. I don't recognize the boy." Gail watched his face, his eyes, and nodded. "Have you spoken with my younger teachers?"
The phrasing of the question was leading. "Not yet." She studied his face and then asked, "Who would you start with? If it was one of the girls." Seated beside them, Duncan twitched.
Father Farr, who never used three words of one would do, nodded slowly. "I would speak with Mr. Darthan last."
Gail pulled out her notes and looked at the name. The art teacher? Now her eyebrows rose. He wouldn't say the name if he didn't have a gut feeling. The gut was nice, but Gail needed evidence, even circumstantial. "Okay." She handed Father Farr a card. "You know the drill." He looked at the card and nodded.
As she led Duncan down the hall, he asked, "You know him?"
"I went here." She paused and looked at the girls leaving the art room.
"Didn't he say the art teacher would be last on his list?"
"He did," she replied. Her eyes sought a specific badge, and she tapped the shoulder of a short, grumpy, girl. Jerking her chin, Gail introduced herself, "I'm Officer Peck, this is Officer Moore. I wanted to ask you a question about your teachers."
The girl blinked. "Shouldn't I be called to the office?"
"You didn't do anything wrong, don't worry. I just had a question only the Arts Captain would be comfortable answering." Gail gestured at the badge, and the girl blushed. "Is Mr. Darthan the supervisor of the club?"
"Yes, since last year when Ms. Finch started retiring."
"She's still here?" Gail made a note to avoid her.
The girl rolled her eyes. "I know. She's a billion."
"She was a billion when I went here," confided Gail, and won a smile. "How's the new guy?"
"Oh, he's fine. He's a good teacher, but he's weird."
"Weird how?"
"You know how the guy teachers here are always ... Awkward?" Gail nodded encouragingly. "He's not. Not that way, I mean. And not how the priests are. He's just- he doesn't notice."
Gail thanked the girl and let her go. "Rookie, call dispatch and have them run a check on a Mr. Brett Darthan." She pulled her phone out to call Swarek and tell him she had a lead.
At first, not knowing the end of a case bothered her. Over time, Holly accepted that sometimes she wasn't going to get the whole story, and it made her inevitable testimonies easier. With just over two weeks until she left, Holly started to wonder if she'd learn what became of Gail's non-drowning victim, and if she'd have to fly back for a trial later, when McNally showed up again. It was only two days later, and McNally toted all the evidence and papers, in lieu of the courier. Frankly, Holly was surprised.
"You caught him already?"
"Super Peck did," grumbled McNally. "She actually managed to get the rookie to do something right too. Grown up having a fling with a kid, accidental death." McNally shook her head. "It's crazy, right? She's the laziest cop I know, but she's just being freakin' amazing. I don't know how she does it. If all that had happened to me, I'd be ..." McNally stopped and put the box on the table.
All that? Holly didn't ask and signed the chain of evidence paperwork. "I wonder why he didn't call 911," she wondered aloud. "I mean, he died of anaphylaxis, which means it took hours to die, at best. You could drop him off at an ER." Holly realized she was rambling, and stopped, feeling awkward. She didn't really get people as well as everyone seemed to think. Awkward extrovert.
"He actually claims he called 911, and didn't dump the body at all."
Both women shared a look. "Okay, that's weird," decided Holly. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" At McNally's confused look, Holly pointed out, "We have a courier."
"Oliver. He said sending Gail here kept her out of trouble, and since I'm in trouble again, it's my turn." McNally stopped and stared at Holly, recognition finally dawning. "You're Gail's friend." Holly said nothing, but the surprise must have been evident on her face. "Now I remember! You picked her up from the ER."
"Oh. Yes." This was not going to be a good conversation. "We were friends." The past tense in the statement hurt. Still.
"You too? She's a hard person to like." McNally sighed. "I miss being able to talk to her, though. Did you sleep with her ex too?"
Holly was terribly grateful not to be drinking in that moment. "No."
"She'll never forgive me. At least I didn't screw up her last one. That was all her." McNally turned to go and stopped in the doorway. Her body froze and Holly imagined, if this was a cartoon, a lightbulb would go on over McNally's head. "Oh. Shit..." Pivoting she stared at Holly. "You and Gail... Oh oh my god I'm an idiot!"
In any other time or place, Holly might have found the late realization amusing, "I honestly thought all of you knew."
"Ugh, well it's not like Gail talks to me anymore. God, I'm so sorry, just rambling about her and you guys broke up." McNally sighed again, "She really liked you." Before Holly could point out that McNally didn't even know about her, the cop went on. "She was nicer to everyone. Even me. And then three weeks ago she was back to Mean Gail, except she wasn't. She was, she is different. Believe me, I saw her through two breakups. I know breakup Gail. She likes to get drunk and complain. This isn't that."
Holly sighed. "McNally. I'm sure you mean well, but this is not your business." No wonder Gail hated talking about life at work.
"Gail's still my friend," pointed out the other woman. "Even if I'm not hers. And I'm responsible for some of her issues and if that screwed you guys up, then yeah, it's my business too."
"This has nothing to do with you, or Nick."
The dark look on McNally's face chilled her. "No. It doesn't have to do with Nick at all," she agreed. "Just... If she talks to you, please. Listen. Okay?"
Holly nodded, confused, and was relieved to see McNally let it go at that. But she was left wondering what crisis would cause an ex-friend to still care about Gail like family.
"This is just ... wow," muttered Holly, staring at her steering wheel.
"That is an understatement," sighed Gail. Silence fell again, and Gail couldn't look anywhere but out the front windshield.
After the mutual bomb drops, Gail and Holly had walked silently to Holly's car and said very little. Clearly, Holly was still processing, as the car didn't move and Gail finally cleared her throat. "Dinner?"
Holly startled and nodded. "Yes, dinner— Wait. Dinner?" She turned to look at Gail, perplexed. "You still want to have dinner? With me?"
Nodding, Gail leaned back in the seat. "Clearly we need to talk, Holly. About a lot of things." Whispering her agreement, Holly put the car in gear and drove to her house.
Years of Peck Family Dinners had prepared Gail for the painful awkwardness of a dinner were people were on different pages and stages of their lives. Clearly this was not the case for Holly, who nearly dropped the dishes multiple times, until Gail took over and served dinner.
"Why are you calm?" grumbled Holly. "This is insane. All of it's insane."
Gail tossed the truth around in her head a little before being honest, "I have spent my entire life having a dinner with passive aggressive harassment from my parents, Holly. I'm used to this kind of awkward." She caught the pained look from Holly and smiled a little. "Do you want me to start?"
Embarrassed, Holly nodded. "Yes. No," she said, contradictorily. "Did you listen to any of my messages?"
"All four of them," admitted Gail, willing to let Holly set the pace right here.
"Why didn't you call me back?" It was a nearly whinging tone. Pleading.
Bringing the pasta to the table, Gail chewed her lip. "Because I was sure you were going to hurt me again, like everyone else." She pushed her hair back. "It's funny," she laughed softly. "I was so afraid you were going to break my heart, I went and did it myself. And you know, I actually cared for the first time." Gail sat down. "It was stupid. I don't have an excuse."
Holly sat down across from Gail and picked up her fork. "Is that what you wanted to tell me before?"
"In the hall? No," admitted Gail. "I had this whole other thing in mind." Holly didn't say anything to that, and they took a couple bites. "San Francisco? Is that a lesbian mecca?"
The laugh nearly caused Holly to choke. "Portland or Provincetown, I think," she smiled. "It's for assistant chief pathologist. I was going to give you crap for springing the adoption thing on me, but I did the same thing." Holly poked her dish. "I over cooked the pasta."
"Little bit," agreed Gail. "Next time I'll make mac and cheese, with cheese puffs."
"That's a thing?"
"It's really good," smiled Gail. "And you accepted the job."
"I did."
Gail looked at her plate for a moment. So that was it. "I can't quit my job, Holly." She sighed and looked up at her, seriously. "Even if there wasn't Sophie, I can't leave."
"You could transfer," suggested Holly, thinly.
"Not in two weeks. Not to the US." She took another bite. "This, Toronto policing, is my birthright. I can't." It was hard to admit how invested she was in her job, but the truth was she was never going to leave Toronto alive. This was her life. It had taken nearly losing her job to realize how much it meant, how much she wanted this, and how much she had rested on her name.
Now Holly looked down at her plate. "I didn't realize how much I missed you until you said I was the best thing that ever happened to you."
Quietly, Gail replied, "You still are."
"What about long distance?" Holly chewed her lip and then shook her head.
"No. That isn't fair to either of us, Holly." Long distance nearly always ended poorly, and Gail knew one of them would end up mad at the other. They needed to be together to be together.
"This— Is this it?" Holly's voice cracked, as if she was about to cry.
They looked at each other across the table and Gail sighed. "If it wasn't, would you still want to try?"
Holly put her fork down. "Tell me about the adoption."
"Her name is Sophie." Sophie was hard to explain, but Holly listened seriously and thoughtfully. When Gail finally said she knew it would be probably impossible for her to adopt Sophie, but she still felt she had to try, Holly covered her face with her hands. "I know it's a lot to take in," Gail said quietly.
"Jesus, are you insane?"
That stung. "Because I'm a cop?"
"You're a cop, you're single, you're a beat cop! Gail! If you die, she'll lose two mothers!"
"Yeah, I know," snapped Gail. "But a lot of single cops are parents." She was about to use Noelle as an example but she had Frank, and Gail wasn't sure which way that argument would go. "I'm ready to do this."
Holly groaned. "You'd be a great mom, Gail, but really? This is so you. Reckless."
"Seriously? You're acting like I have a monopoly on impulse."
A heartbeat passed and Holly blushed. "That was fair," she sighed. "I don't want children, Gail."
Gail nodded. "Then that's it." Her throat was tight, and she looked away. She wanted to yell at Holly, that asking her to do this was stupid, that the de facto ultimatum was stupid and reckless, and she knew she had no room to say it. Holly was moving and didn't want children. Finally, Gail took another bite of pasta and asked, "Are you going to sell this place?"
Holly almost dropped her glass. "Seriously? That's where you're going?"
Now Gail's fork went down. "I still want to be your friend, Holly. I care about you, and I'd be a really shitty plus one if I can't help you pack, and sell or rent or whatever." And it was true. She wasn't ready to say goodbye yet.
Holly's look softened. "Oh. Thank you." After a moment, they picked up their forks again and resumed eating, talking about smaller things.
They talked about being stupid. Gail for running off, Holly for letting her friends get away with that behavior. It had apparently made Holly start to worry about her own social inabilities, her awkwardness of not being able to always read people (hence forensic pathologist and not living people doctor). Holly also explained why her friends were family (it involved heartache and breakups and family who didn't always agree with choices).
And they talked about fears. Holly was afraid of the move, far away from friends and family. Gail was afraid of not being her parents to a child. It didn't heal the gaping hole Gail felt, knowing that it was, finally, over with Holly, but having her there at all was better than nothing.
It began the hardest two weeks of Gail's life, however. Ever day she spent with Holly, helping her pack and clean and sort out her life into boxes made Gail feel like she was falling apart. She told her therapist how hard it was, how much it hurt and cut into her. It was worse than the time she'd been shot in her vest. Breathing hurt. But she felt like she had to do this, to say goodbye, and to have closure.
Naturally her therapist pointed out there was a difference between closure and masochism, and Gail mumbled that she still cared for Holly. A lot.
"You're not going to magically change her mind and win her back," her therapist remarked.
"I know, life doesn't work that way. But I just ... I just want to be in her life a little while longer. I don't want the fairy tale to be over yet."
So she held on, kept her feelings to herself, and went running every goddamn morning to try and keep her head clear. That was probably why the nightmare scared the shit out of her. It came out of nowhere. She'd actually enjoyed dinner with Holly, sitting on her deck eating out of to-go boxes, drinking a beer. They were down to the last few bottles, and Holly insisted Gail take the last ones homes.
The last thing Gail really wanted was to have memories of Holly floating around her home. Especially not a six-pack from a microbrewery where they'd had a pulled pork pancake at brunch and then some fantastic sex back at Holly's months ago. But she took the six pack and, finding Chloe on her couch, waiting for Dov, handed it over as a present.
"Here, don't say I never gave you anything nice."
Gail locked herself in her small room, mind drained, and curled up on her bed. When Dov knocked to ask of she was alright, she told him to fuck off and she had a headache. That bought her blessed silence, in which she fell asleep.
Until then, most of her dreams had been about Holly, which was embarrassing and uncomfortable, but not horrible. When she dreamed about someone caressing her hair, however, it was long hair, and she panicked. She knew it was a dream, but she couldn't move, couldn't wake up, couldn't see. She felt the hand on her face, knew it wasn't real, that it wasn't now, and thrashed, throwing herself out of the dream and her bed with a thump.
Christ.
She lay on her floor, panting, waiting to hear if anyone would come knocking at her door. Would anyone just break in and pick her up. Holly had. Holly ran to her when she had a nightmare, and stayed with her to make sure she was alright. When no one came, Gail covered her face with her hands and smothered the encroaching tears. Would anyone would ever do what Holly did? Could she ever have anything like that again?
Yeah, so that's depressing isn't it? Gail needs a hug. Sometimes there are obvious triggers to why you freak the hell out and sometimes you'll be walking down the street when it hits you and you want to scream or cry. Those are the worst.
