06.08 - Uprising

Sometimes you wake up and your day does not go as planned. Things get weird and the dangerous part is safe and the safe part ends up with an absolutely deadly bomb.

Must be Tuesday,


At some point, Gail should have realized she had a lot of weird stories. Especially when her daughter did a double take. "Wait, when were you stuck in prison?"

Holly arched her eyebrows at Gail. "Yes, please enlighten me."

"Oh God... that was after the whole moving to San Francisco thing." Unsurprisingly, Holly glared and Gail sighed. "Okay, we were trying to be friends, someone tried to escape from prison. Nick got held hostage, and I was stuck the whole time in a cell with a lifer."

Two of the four women at the table glared. Jamie looked perplexed. Elaine just shrugged. "I thought you'd told her."

"We weren't speaking much at the time," Gail pointed out, acerbically. "Holly, this was a long time ago."

"And you never once mentioned it."

Ugh. "Nothing happened! Unless you count bad advice to grab someone's ass."

That broke Holly's stern expression, and she smirked. "Sorry. What?"

"We were talking about kids. Since you were basically gone, and I was trying to adopt Sophie."

Jamie half lifted a hand. "Sophie Best?"

"That's how she ended up with Frank and Noelle," explained Vivian, in sotto voice. "Mom wanted to adopt her, Bill blocked it."

"Bill... her father?" When Vivian nodded, Jamie muttered that Pecks were weird.

Really Gail couldn't argue. "Anyway! I sat in the cell, she told me about her kid, and I may have mentioned how there were things I wasn't going to be able to do once I was a mom. I was wrong about most of them, and this is why we don't take advice from criminals."

Holly pursed her lips for a moment. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was the soft, almost apologetic tone Holly used when Gail was a bit sensitive. It was appreciated.

"Because you were leaving," Gail replied. "It was like ... the week before I helped you pack up the last box."

That still hurt. But it wasn't like Gail could blame her. They had really screwed things up. Big time. And she didn't blame Holly for it. At the time, yes she did. She also drank too much, ran miles to try and shake Holly out of her system, and seriously considered taking up her brother on his hook up offer. Thank god she hadn't, as Steve had meant Frankie.

The problem was she never stopped being in love with Holly. Gail fell hard for the weirdo, and it was all over but the crying. And then Holly was leaving, and Gail felt like her life was garbage and she was never allowed to have anything. Ever.

Except she did.

A tan hand took hers and squeezed once. "Grab someone's ass, huh?" Holly smirked.

"Like I said, really bad advice." Gail essayed a smile and was pleased to get Holly's lopsided one in return.

Across the table, Jamie muttered, "They're doing it again."

Vivian sounded positively bored by that thought. "Yep." However, she did ask a question. "Did you?"

Gail blinked and turned to face her daughter. "Did I what?"

"Grab someone's ass? Besides Mom's."

That was not a question Gail wanted to answer, and was trying to figure out a tactful escape, but Holly started sniggering. "Oh my god, is that why Anne called you the ass master?"

Crap. Gail flushed and cursed her pale skin. "I hate all of you."

"Who's Anne?"

"Social worker," explained Vivian. "One of mine, actually." She smirked at Gail. "You pinched Anne's ass? Seriously?"

"It was a dark, dark, time, okay?" Gail threw her hands up, disgusted with them all. And that included Jamie, who was trying very hard not to giggle. "The point! Prison is boring. It's not all riots and escapes. Most of the time it's just routine and people with superiority complexes."

Vivian opened her mouth but said nothing for a second. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

"I don't like that you're going to be in there all day," muttered Holly.

"I'd rather not either," Vivian remarked. "But we can't just let the contractors in there alone, and if you're sending in cops to guard them, may as well be people who know about IT."

"You won't have a gun though, will you?"

Vivian shook her head. "Too dangerous. But it's the low security prison, Mom."

"Which means nothing." Gail waved her fork at Vivian. "You be careful, kid."

"No butt slapping, you got it," replied Vivian, as blasé as possible.

Really, Gail didn't know what else to expect from a kid she'd raised.

It didn't make her feel better when the station got the alert that there was trouble at a jail.

In books and movies everyone always knew exactly what happened and where. The why was always the question. Really, everyone knew why. Prison riots happened when the prisoners were fed up, or when someone was trying to make a distraction. Like almost thirty years ago, when Ross Perik had instigated a riot so he could commit suicide.

Fucking asshole.

For the rest of her natural life, Gail's mind would go to dark places like that. She would always remember him when she was at the Archer Hotel, she would always think of him when she was in interrogations. She thought of him when there was a prison riot. Not a good association.

Gail closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated on her breathing. Seven deep breaths. Sixty seconds. In and out and calm.

She opened her eyes and tapped her computer to life, summoning up the roll out alerts. Prison. Extra crew called...

Tension ran out of her her spine.

It was not the prison where Vivian was working that day.

Gail leaned back and stared at the picture of her mother. A week ago, Vivian had given it a teardrop tattoo under Elaine's eye. A prison tattoo. Vivian had made it when telling Gail about the upcoming assignment.

"Hey, boss. They need extra feet on the street, so I'm sending Nuñez and Trujillo... and are you okay?" John's voice changed tones in the middle of his sentence.

"I'm too old for this, John," she replied without turning around.

"Yeah." John paused and then closed the door. "What's wrong?"

"Viv's at the low security women's prison."

The riot was at the men's. Still. It was a reminder that this was the next ten or twenty years of her life. To worry about her daughter like this. Maybe the rest of her life, actually. After all, Gail had been a cop for an incredibly long time. Since she was in her twenties. Now.

Ugh.

"Think they'll pull her out?" John was sympathetic.

"Don't do that voice. It makes me want to puke."

Her partner laughed.

It was the truth though. Sympathy was weird. Gail likened it to the fakeness people presented when they wanted to be thought of as nice. Like at weddings. Even John's veneer of it was tainted by a profession he'd had as long as she. More or less.

Police officers of any considerable length were given to canned sympathy. Certainly Gail was, a fact Holly would point out when it arose. The only cops she knew who didn't do it were Oliver, natch, and Price, obviously. And also Andy McFuckingNally.

"I used to be jealous of Andy," she told John.

"I'm sure this relates to you having a panic attack somehow," muttered John, but he didn't really object.

"Her parents sucked. Mom ran off, Dad drank himself into oblivion more often than not. Sober now, but turns out he's not even her dad."

John hesitated. "Okay, given your family, I kinda see this making sense."

"Right?"

"So ... connect the dots?"

Gail turned and looked at John. "Do you think Andy's dad worried about her? Doing this?" She gestured to the building.

John looked down, as if he could see through to Andy's office. "Yeah, probably. Probably led to more drinking. All the lies and secrets we keep. They eat at us."

That was, Gail allowed, a good answer. "Holly's going to retire. All the way. Probably in the next couple years."

John nodded. "And you're still thinking about it."

"Yeah."

"Can I... can we help take the stress off?"

Gail arched her eyebrows. "No. It's not the job stress."

Because it wasn't her job being the stressor.

And John nodded again. "Sucks. I wish there was some other non batshit legacy family you could talk to. Martlets are..."

"They make my family look pretty mundane."

"I wouldn't go that far," John cautioned. "You're more backstabby. They're more deceitful."

"We used to be," she admitted. There were a lot of horrible things in her past, her family's collective past. And it was all fading away. People let things die.

John didn't reply to that.

So Gail threw out another thing. "The Mounties offered me a spot."

Dead silence.

She turned and John was actually a little whey faced. "You're serious," he said, his voice a little shaken.

"Jesus, John. It's just an offer."

"You ... would you?"

Gail stared. "What the fuck? Why are you freaking?"

Her old friend shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? You're the ... bedrock of this place. Not just major crimes, not OC. I mean Fifteen."

"Are you day drinking?" She scoffed. "Ollie was the bedrock."

"Yeah, was. But ... look. Who keeps it all going? Who gives a damn when assholes like Swarek fuck it up and get retired?" He took a deep breath. "Please. Don't go be a Mountie. If you've gotta retire, I get it. Seeing your idiot kid go out there, that's got to cut at you. And I know, god, Gail, I know last year was hella hard on you. But ... the Mounties would kill us."

Us. Fifteen. John was implying that Gail was keeping the division together.

Frowning, Gail turned away from John's expression of serious begging. "How the hell is it different? Retiring or ... or SIU or something."

"SIU is us. Retiring is normal. Mounties ... that's abandoning us." He sighed and added. "But promise me not to die with your badge on?"

Gail swiveled. "What?!"

"For Holly's sake," he explained. "Just... you two are this goddamned crazy love story. You know that, right?" When she nodded, John looked relieved. "Holly deserves more of you."

She didn't know what to say to that. Awkwardly, they looked at each other until John muttered he'd go take care of things. Alone again in her office, Gail mulled over the conversation.

At this point in her career, she was rather an institution. She'd been at Fifteen, a cop, for a very long time. Her parents were for longer, but Gail felt like her trajectory was entirely different. People did look up to her. Still weird. People replied on her. Less weird.

If she left to retire, that would ... that would be an end of things. And while Holly was at the place in her life where it made sense to start the walk away, to leave things in the capable hands of youth, Gail did not. Not yet.

If she left for the Mounties, especially without doing that, then Fifteen would feel abandoned.

Gail sighed and picked up her phone, dialing the number of her friend. "Hi, Marcel. Listen... I need to give you an answer about that question you asked me a couple years ago..."


"All I'm saying," said Mel, "is that your family is weird."

"And I am not arguing that," replied Vivian, pulling on her jacket.

Her partner snorted. "You aren't explaining anything either."

Vivian paused. "What's to explain?"

"The rumours, for fucks sake!"

"What? Dr. Stewart is going to retire. Soon." She shrugged. Her parents had told her about that, privately, at a dinner sans Jamie. Holly's plan was for no more than four years. Starting at the end of this year, she was no longer going to do field work. For a year, she'd supervise Pete as he ran the show. Then she'd step back to an advisory and teaching position.

And then.

Her mother would be retired.

It was kind of daunting.

"I meant about ..." Mel stopped and leaned in, hissing. "About Inspector Peck jumping to the Mounties."

Oh. Vivian couldn't help it, she laughed. "Where the hell did you hear that one?"

"Alice."

"Alice?" She actually stared at Mel. "Oh! Martlet?"

Mel's face went red. "Yes. Shut up. She ... y'know, she said her folks met with ..." Mel waved a hand.

"I did not know that hand gesture meant my mother," muttered Vivian.

"What do people usually use?" Vivian extended her middle finger and Mel laughed, dryly, at her. "Seriously. There's been this rumour she got offered a super's spot over there."

Thankfully Gail had told her about that too. Mostly so Vivian could continue her charade of being some secret manager of Peck things. "Yeah, she turned that down."

"What? Why?" Mel sounded shocked.

"I asked her to," said Vivian, coolly.

And that was, more or less, a lie.

John had begged Gail not to, apparently. Sure, Vivian had objected on principle alone (Pecks were cops, not Mounties), but it was John's plea that it would kill Fifteen for Gail to do that what won Gail over. Holly had no opinion on the matter, and just smiled that weird, enigmatic smile that made Gail look all wobbly and in love.

They were so weird. But she loved them. Her dumb ass parents.

The public story, and one John was roped into, was Vivian objected and Gail acquiesced. Holly had promised to just smile about the whole matter, not that anyone would ask her. The doctor was terrible at politics, and no one even tried to talk to her about it after the whole Ben fiasco.

Some good had to come out of that, even if Vivian felt it had sped up Holly's retirement. Her mother had aged rapidly in the last two years. It was as if Holly finally had enough. Her hair was going white faster, she looked tired. She looked old.

Not that Vivian was about to mention that to anyone outside her therapist. The reality was her parents were old. Gail was incredibly young at heart, but she was still getting up there. Holly was seven years older. Her mother had died recently. Her father was ... doing alright. Elaine wasn't. Not really.

One day, they'd all be dead, and while that was incredibly depressing, Vivian marvelled at some things. For example, her mind was able to push that aside and not obsess on the impending doom that would be life without her mothers. She didn't dwell on it. She saw it, she feared it, but she accepted it.

Vivian looked up at Mel, once her kit was in place. Her partner was staring at her. "What?"

"You told your mother not to take a job?"

"I asked," said Vivian, stressing the word. "Put your gear on."

Mel rushed into her jacket. "I won't tell anyone," she said as they headed to the van.

"Hell, tell everyone she's not leaving." Vivian slapped Mel's back. "Come on, lets see what Sabrina has for us."

Their sergeant, a still uneasy in her role Sabrina Suan, was seated at the head of the rows in their van. It was really more of an SUV, but Vivian loved calling it a van. "Glad you could join us, Burr, Peck."

The whole van was tense, and it made Vivian a bit uneasy herself. Be cool, she reminded herself. "You changed my kit on the fly, Sarge. What's the sitrep?"

"Credible bomb threat at the mall."

Vivian whistled and settled into her seat. "How credible?"

Sabrina shot her a look. "Really?"

"That's our Peck," drawled one of their snipers. "Lightening the mood."

Someone else laughed, "Didn't your Doc Mom pop some detective for asking how instantaneous the death was?"

The whole van laughed. Tension washed out of them all. "Kicked him out of the lab," corrected Vivian. "And yes, she kicked Inspector Peck out at least once."

"Once this year," someone joked.

It felt much better now. Even Sabrina looked more relaxed. "We have video of what looks like a man with a bomb in a backpack," explained Sabrina. As Vivian lifted her hand, Sabrina glared. "It could be another clock, yes, Peck."

The last four times had been a clock or a toy. "Playing my odds, Sarge."

"They evacuated the mall, but we haven't found the unsub yet. And there are some people unaccounted for."

Beside her, Mel muttered, "Roots employees getting high in the back again."

That had happened. More than twice. Once they'd set off a smoke alarm. Once they'd actually started a fire. Jamie had been amused, though unhappy for the contact high.

"Actually some kids on a school trip."

There was a collective pause. Everyone was thinking it, so Vivian finally spoke up. "At the mall?"

"Apparently the planned adventure did not go as planned." And Sabrina detailed the plan. It was a by the Numbers, normal run in. It was simple. Blue Team would find the bomb, if there were any. Red Team would look for the kids. Call it a day.

Per usual, the plan went to hell and back when Vivian found herself in the basement kitchen with a sobbing kid holding a grenade.

"Peck, can you repeat that?" Sabrina's voice was shaking.

"Copy. It's a grenade," said Vivian softly. Then she smiled, leaving her radio open. "Hi. I'm Officer Peck. I'm here to help you."

Immediately the chatter changed to people determining exactly where Vivian was, and reassessing the situation. They were coming to help, thank god. But it still left Vivian alone with a terrified kid holding a grenade. So that was no good.

"He said I had to hold it," said the girl, gasping between sobs.

"Okay. That's okay." Vivian put of her best, most calming smile. The one Gail always wore when a kid was scared. The one that said she'd been there. "What's your name?"

The girl stared, tears streaming down her face. "Susie."

"Susie. That's good. My boss's name is Sue. She's the biggest badass, y'know, ever." Someone on her radio laughed. "And you're really lucky today, Susie."

Susie sniffed wetly. "I'm lucky?"

"Yep. I'm a special cop. I can safe that." She pointed at the grenade clenched in Susie's hands.

"What... what's safe?"

"Means I can make it safe. Sorry. Cops are weird, we make our sentences short." Vivian lowered her voice. "Pisses off my teachers."

That made Susie stop crying so much and she almost smiled. Good. She was calming down. "Can you really safe me?"

Vivian did not correct her. "You bet I can. But we're gonna be smart, okay? How're your hands?"

"Hurt."

"Yeah? How long you been holding that?"

Susie shook her head. "I don't know. Forever. The man grabbed me when I was in the ... the hall."

"Ask her if she means the food court," said Sabrina in a low but shaky voice. "We're sending a vest and helmet down."

"Oh? By the food court?" Vivian carefully kept her voice calm. Like this was normal. And in a way it was. She also studied what she could see of the grenade. It was a modern era grenade, no pineapple from the 1940s, which meant it was both safer and more deadly.

Early grenades were clay, filled with caltrops or Greek Fire. Once Vivian had (supervised) thrown a Molotov Cocktail, which was the same basic idea. Fragile outside, danger inside.

By the end of the First World War, the Mills Bomb was both popular and deadly. It was the original pineapple grenade, though not the first grenade (its predecessor was called the Number One Hand Grenade, and was anything but). While the notched exterior did not, as it claimed, aid in fragmentation, it sure looked cool, and was easier to grip. The design was incredibly well received, and still used in the field.

However, there were serious drawbacks to the pin-and-pineapple design. As the soldiers in Vietnam quickly discovered, the pin could get pulled out by foliage. Supposedly it was deemed smarter to duct tape the lever down and discard the pin. Since everyone carried a knife in the jungle anyway, the minuscule lost time was better than accidentally blowing everyone up.

By the seventies, most people had switched over to the apple shaped grenade, nicknamed a baseball, which Vivian felt looked very much like the Ancient Greek design. At least for fragmentation grenades. A concussion grenade looked more like a can. The ones that looked like sticks were rarely seen in metropolitan areas, but they were used to take out tanks. Not that the police had any of those.

Depending on the type of grenade, the fatality distance changed a lot. A baseball was fatal at up to 5 metres, for example. About sixteen feet. Vivian estimated she was 20 from Susie. It'd hurt like hell. And there was no way her vest would protect her enough. But again, it depended on what kind of grenade it was.

Which meant she needed a closer look.

Which meant she needed Susie to be calmer.

"Yeah, I was at the food court. Mom... My mom said I couldn't have a pretzel."

Vivian grinned. "Well, parents are like that." She paused and added, "Mine are, at least."

That seemed to surprise Susie. "Did you ever do anything stupid?"

"Oh god, yes, lots of times." Vivian took a step forward, and Susie didn't seem to notice. "Once I went rock climbing without permission. My Mom was so scared for me."

"Does she get scared now?"

Now? Of course, the job. "Yes. But we, I have a vest here." She rapped on her chest. "And this helmet."

"I don't," Susie said in a tiny voice.

"You will." Vivian checked her map again. Mel was almost there. "I have a buddy, you see."

"Like when we go to the zoo?"

"Exactly! And my buddy, she went to get a vest and a helmet for you. So we are going to get you a vest and a helmet, and then I'm going to take that out of your hands and you and my buddy, Mel, are going to walk out."

Susie faltered. "But then you'll be all alone!"

Kids were pretty cool, realized Vivian. Here was a kid, scared to death, and she still had the bandwidth to worry about Vivian. She smiled. "I won't be. I've got a bunch of people to back me up. Promise."

Thankfully Mel walked in. "Hey, do you know how hard it is to find a pee wee vest?"

The joke worked and Susie relaxed a little. "How do ... I put it on?" The girl looked at her hands, pleading a little.

"Velcro," said Vivian, smiling. "And." She took that last step and covered Susie's hands with her own. "I'm right here."

There was a moment, a pause where Susie held her breath and stared at their hands. She just stayed there, looking at Vivian's bare hands over her own. "You won't let go?"

"Promise," said Vivian as sincerely as she could.

And like that, they carefully strapped Susie into a vest. It was small, but went to her mid thighs anyway. Then Mel put a neck collar on her and a small helmet. No idea where that was from. Susie looked a little ridiculous but it certainly made her act like she felt better.

"Peck," said Sabrina in her ear. "You're gonna have to safe that on your own. We can't get Robby through the hall and the stairs."

Figured. Vivian took a deep breath. "You okay, Susie?" The girl nodded. "Okay here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to put a pin in this, to keep the lever down. Then I will wiggle my fingers until they're under yours. On the count of three, you let go. Mel will take you out and I'll come after you're outside."

Susie's eyes went wide. "Alone?"

"My buddies are right outside," Vivian explained. "And I have them on my radio. Promise."

Susie looked suspicious, but then her eyes went wide as Vivian reached into her belt pocket and took out a pin. She'd never actually had a reason to use it. Most of the items in her kit, she'd never used, but sanity dictated that one stay prepared and have all sorts of esoteric items handy.

The pin she carried was stronger than the default one, and she carefully slipped it into the slot. It made a soft 'ping' as it clicked into place.

Most of Vivian's tension washed out of her back.

Good. "Okay, Susie. Now we do the tricky stuff." This was the actual hard part. Vivian eased her finger to right next to Susie's and then gently pushed under it. Once she had her finger in place, Vivian applied pressure to hold down the lever. "Ready?"

"No," said Susie, her voice shaking.

"I got you," Vivian said with a smile. "I'm going to count one, two, three, and then you let go." The girl nodded. "One. Two. Three. Let go."

Susie's hands twitched and then she let go. A heartbeat passed and Susie wobbled. Mel was right there and caught her as she drooped. "It didn't blow up," she whispered. "He said it would."

Mel and Vivian shared a look over Susie's head. "Okay, how about you and me go outside and you tell us all about that guy. Sound good?"

Vivian waited as Susie was ushered out and then took a good look at the grenade in her hands. "Oh. Shit," she muttered.

"Seriously, Peck?!" Sabrina sounded angry.

"It's not a grenade," said Vivian. "Someone used a hollowed out an Army/Navy decommissioned or replicated device."

The holes in the side indicated the device had been safed before. Not only that, it was done to ensure someone didn't do this, as it was incredibly unstable to try and fill something that was, well, filled with holes.

And there she was, holding it.

Even with the pin in, it was dangerous as hell.

"How bad is it?" Sabrina didn't sound half as calm as she would have as Vivians partner. Wasn't that weird.

Instead of a direct answer, Vivian just asked, "How far away is Robby?"

Someone quoted her a distance and Vivian queued an updated map on her HUD. She loved the heads up display. Not at first, but now. The first time, she'd gotten dizzy and almost puked. Now, though, now Vivian was well used to her display and the overlays.

It was good Susie had stayed still. Shaking the grenade seemed like a terrible idea. Vivian took a deep breath. "We should clear out," she said, decisively.

Sabrina started to argue, but Sue's voice cut in. "Mel, you and the kid are the last out. Once you're clear, Austin will drive Robby as close as he can get."

"We need a couple buff 'uns to carry it," joked Austin. He was short and skinny but was one of the best shots on the squad. When Vivian had taken over Robby's duty, he'd been delighted.

"I've been telling you, we need ATV mode," muttered Vivian. The route was clear, though. And as safe as it was getting. "Okay, I'll meet you halfway."

"Copy that, Peck." Sue was the calming voice of control Vivian kind of adored. The only one better was Gail when she was on point. And even then, Gail could be a little ... Well ... Peckish.

She took a deep breath and started to hum.

It was stupid, she knew, but a song with a nice, chill flow to it helped her keep her cool when carrying a hot IED. This was not Vivians first time. She'd picked up a dozen in the last year alone, tucked it safely into the bomb bot, and walked away. But. This was one of the few times she'd had to carry anything this distance.

Actually it was possibly the furthest distance.

"Is that Hello Angel, by Coopersmith?" Mel was almost laughing.

"Shut up, I like it," replied Vivian.

"Gaaaaaaaaaaaaay." That was Ivan. Who then promptly started singing the backup line.

Having all her squad mates singing a terribly trite, pop gay love song, as she carried the IED down the hall and around the bend was definitely the most surreal part of her day, decided Vivian.


The rare night at the Penny was still something Holly appreciated. She loved it more when someone was capering about and she and Gail could mock them. Tonight, though, the capering was her extremely drunk daughter.

"Do I want to know why she's that drunk?" Holly leaned into Gail to ask the question as quietly as possible when an entire squad from ETF was belting out Coopersmith songs.

On stage.

Her wife took a long pull from her beer. A sure sign Gail was thinking about her words carefully. "You remember how last week I was worried about her going to work at the prison?"

Holly did, indeed, remember that. "A valid fear," she said, agreeing. Thankfully nothing had happened. Vivian called it a nothingburger on her end, as she'd just been there to watch someone swap cables. Technically her job had also been to make sure the cable guy wasn't adding anything like spyware, but apparently it had been very dull work indeed.

"Well. I shoulda worried about her handling an unstable IED in the mall."

That made Holly blink. "Unstable?"

She'd know ETF had gone in on a credible bomb threat that morning, but that was a far cry from an unstable IED. Now, to be fair, an unstable IED usually meant a homemade pipe bomb. And those were rarely safe or stable. Holly had, in her rookie days, processed a young man who'd been killed by one he'd made himself, and was quite appalled at the damage.

But unlike a foolish teenaged boy, Vivian wore body armour. At worst, her hands would be fucked up. And yes, for a lesbian that was pretty tragic. Still the odds were high that, should an IED explode, Vivian would live. That was the good thing. Probably the only good thing.

"Someone took a safed grenade, filled it with homemade explosives, and dragged a kid into a hallway to hold it."

Holly made a face. "That makes absolutely no sense at all. Why the hell would anyone do that?"

"Distraction. He was trying to kidnap his ex." Gail shrugged in the insouciant manner that told Holly the blonde had been a hero.

"You caught him," stated Holly.

"I did. With my own hands for a change," said Gail in an amused drawl.

"Did you now?" And Holly smiled at her wife.

It was a reflex reaction. There was just something about Gail making arrests that was, well, hot? Gail making arrests in uniform, chucking some man out of an ambulance, had been one of the turning points for Holly in her own understanding of what made Gail so goddamned attractive. She was smart, she was drop dead gorgeous, and she was good at her job.

Turned out that Holly was absolutely turned on by competency. She'd always known she'd liked smart people who could talk about things. No big shock there. But beyond that was the esoteric glow someone got when being their best.

She smiled at Gail, picturing how the woman would have looked making an arrest. At nearly thirty years together, it was well past time she should be embarrassed about the whole mess. Women in power were not a turn on, nor was anyone beating anyone else up. But Gail doing just about anything? Absolutely.

And yes, that including vacuuming.

Gail picked up Holly's beer and sipped it, before adding, "But the kid had to walk the IED out."

And there went her hormones. "Oh her adrenaline crash is going to be fun," muttered Holly. The mom section of her brain picked up and asked, "Should we bring her home?"

"She said not."

Holly frowned a little. Gail's hand rested on her knee. "I wish she was ten again."

And Gail laughed a little. "I don't. That was a shitty year. Maybe 19? She was out of the house a lot, and her biggest drama was being a social justice warrior."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," teased Holly, and she kissed Gail lightly. As she learned back, Holly was startled, though not really surprised, by the look Gail gave her.

Over a quarter of a century, and Holly had been on the receiving end of Gail's looks more times than anyone could count. This look, a one of unfiltered adoration, was not unfamiliar to her. It said Gail loved her, which Holly knew, but also Gail was happy and a little proud.

"Your influence," said Gail quietly.

"Yours too." Holly tried to never let Gail forget she too was a good person.

They both smiled and Gail leaned in to kiss her softly. "Can I be a bad person?"

"Sure."

"Let's go home. The kid doesn't need us. I'm too old to want to get drunk here when I could be home, naked, with the most beautiful woman on the continent."

Unbidden, Holly laughed. "Continent? Usually you just say territory."

"Didn't want to be predictable." Gail smirked.

"Let me actually speak with my daughter," decided Holly. "And then you can bend me over a table."

"Bossy."

"I'll even put on a lab coat," she promised, and kissed Gail's cheek.

It wasn't hard to find Vivian again, though tugging her aside for a word involved buying a round for the crew. Well. That was alright. This was Vivian's life, after all. It was hers to live and enjoy.

They waited for the round of mugs, and Holly watched Vivian's face.

Vivian was always so serious. Even when she'd been goofy as a kid, she'd been serious. Leaning on the bar, looking a mixture of tired and wired and, yes, a bit drunk, Vivian was serious. But unlike a number of times before, she wasn't all up in her head.

Still, Holly asked, "Do you want to come over when you're done?"

The young woman blinked and turned to look at Holly, almost perplexed. "To your house?"

How strange that felt. The house wasn't Vivian's house anymore. It had been her home for a long time, but now. Now it was just not. It was her parents' house. That change was so odd. "Well. You're home alone," said Holly carefully, trying not to let the feeling betray her.

For a moment, Vivian just looked at Holly, her expression was thoughtful. "I'm okay, Mom."

"Yeah?" Holly didn't really buy it.

Oh she wanted to. She wanted to think her daughter was always going to need her. At the same time, she was so damn proud to see she'd raised the girl to be able to take care of herself. It was the strange dichotomy of being a parent. Most of the time, a parent spent years worrying they'd given their child enough love and enough tools to handle life. Then they spent the majority of life wondering if they'd done it right and had to sit back and watch.

"Yeah, I'm good." Vivian smiled. "Check this out, the kid? Her name was Susie. I told her about Sue, and when she and her folks were leaving, she asked them to call her Sue."

Holly shook her head, smiling. "Okay, I believe you," she said, and laughed a little. "I'm taking your mother home."

"Yeah, I'm absolutely not coming over," said Vivian, faux seriously. But she smirked.

And damn it, so did Holly.


August was hot and Gail hated it. When it was sticky and moist, even at night, it sucked more. And Gail was a fair skinned ginger so she hated it more than most. It was horrible outside. August just was Gail's least favourite month and that was all there was too it.

Worse was when August was crowded, like it was leaving a loud venue where some aged lesbian rock musicians had entertained the crowed for hours. The beer had been shitty, the music was far from creative, the lyrics banal, and the people a mix of aged lesbian fans (like herself) or weird young kids. It was Gail's idea of a nightmare.

On the other hand, Holly, beautiful and brown thanks to the same sun that turned Gail into a lobster, was happy. As they stepped out of the crowds and turned down toward where they'd parked, Holly extended her arms. It was as if she was soaking in the heat and humidity. As Holly turned, her blouse swinging a little as she did, Gail forgot about heat.

Suddenly Gail didn't give a damn.

Suddenly she had the gorgeous woman she'd married in front of her, and the only thing that mattered. Holly was happy and smiling and spinning a little on the sidewalk.

"That was a nice concert."

"It was," agreed Gail.

"Thank you."

"Any time."

Holly paused and held her hands out to Gail, smiling. "I mean it, Gail. I know it's not your thing."

"As long as you don't give me shit for the earplugs, I don't mind."

With a dramatic sigh, Holly tugged Gail towards her. "You hated it."

"Didn't," said Gail, firmly. "I love being with you."

Holly screwed her face up. "You hate the music."

"Holly, I listen to pop music."

After a moment Holly laughed at her and kissed Gail softly. Someone cheered and shouted for the old lesbians to get some. "Thank you," murmured Holly, sincere and quiet.

"Happy birthday, baby," replied Gail.

It was a small price to pay for Holly's birthday. The band was one of Holly's favourites, they were in town, and it was near enough to her actual birthday that Gail scooped up the tickets and put up with it for a week. Because it was a whole week while Holly listened to every album, non stop it felt like, on repeat.

Really, Gail didn't mind the music so much. It wasn't bad. But it wasn't her favourite thing. There was remarkably few bands they had in common. Holly would listen to anything that lesbian, but she also liked techno and things with thumping baselines and, yes MS MR. Which Gail wasn't really opposed to.

On the other hand, Gail liked jazz and classical music. She liked pop music too, and commonly enjoyed musicians, but usually just when she needed lyrics to chase stupid thoughts out of her head. To relax, or to think, Gail remained old school.

It wasn't something she advertised, especially not back when she'd been a rookie. God, she'd stood out enough and been weird enough back then. All she'd wanted twenty, thirty years ago was to be normal. To be accepted. To have friends.

Via Holly, directly and indirectly, she had that.

So if Holly wanted to go see a stupid rock band, well then, Gail went to a rock band.

The plus side, as she saw it, was they were both getting too old for it to be fun.

"Did you ever see photos of my punk phase?" Holly wrapped one arm through Gail's and leaned on her.

Gail began the slow saunter to their car. "I have seen them," she confirmed. "Studded belt, motorcycle, and I really can't believe that Lisa was along with you."

Holly laughed. "She loved it."

"She wanted in your pants."

"Everyone did." Holly made a noise Gail associated with screwing up her face. "I'm extremely glad we never succumbed to that."

"That would be like me sleeping with Frankie."

"I hope I'm less vain than Lisa," Holly muttered.

"Narcissus is less vain than Lisa."

They made jokes at Lisa's expense for a block. Not that Gail didn't actually like Lisa. She did. It was a long road to get there, but she did. They'd grown up in similar circles, the ones that thought Gail was lower class. Once Lisa found out Gail wasn't, and how much they had in common, they settled on a begrudging association that still involved a lot of insults, but not quite as vile.

After they'd fostered one kid, and later adopted Vivian, Lisa shifted from 'that annoying friend of Holly's' to 'our friend.' After all, Lisa herself was adopted. So was her sister. Their parents were annoying but nice, and when Gail remarked that they'd adopted children like most people did pets, Lisa agreed. That was it. They were friends forever after that.

Gail didn't have time for people who couldn't look objectively at their own faults. It was why she and Andy still got into fights, no matter how much they were friends. And it was why Gail and Chloe got along so damn well, even though their views on the planet were diametrically opposed. It was also why Gail and Dov got into snits now and then, more when they were younger and Dov tried to distance himself from his mistakes.

None of Gail's mistakes let her do that. Her record was marred by mistakes, riddled in fact.

"What's the secret you and Vivian are hiding?" Holly's question came out of the blue. "And Elaine too. I've seen you three. Being all Peck."

Gail sucked on her lower lip for a moment. There was no point in trying to avoid it. Holly would tilt her head and Gail would be putty. Best to bite it off. "I may have gotten you nominated for the Civilian order of merit."

Beside her, Holly stopped in her tracks. "You did what?"

Ouch. Gail winced. "You can decline it, but Mom and Viv and I have been talking to the, y'know, government." Quite a lot, actually. They were positively delighted to have her on their list.

"Gail, it takes years of being nominated to even be considered."

"You have an RVO, babe."

Holly looked blank. "The ... wait, which?"

Sometimes it was wonderful how little Holly cared about those things. The award was ignored because she was more proud of being on the cover of American Forensics. They'd framed that one.

"Royal Victorian Order."

"That was just because of you," said Holly, dismissive. "It's not real."

"Well it's real enough." Even though Gail knew Holly hadn't done anything directly related to the case, the Crown had felt it important to recognize her. Maybe it was byproduct, but Gail wasn't opposed to using it.

Her wife stared at her again. "You're serious."

Gail nodded. "You're retiring soon, I thought, y'know, it'd be a great way to cap it out." But Holly kept staring, silent. Right, so Gail went for a little humour. "You know, Vivian said I should tell you about the statue first."

"Statue?!" Holly's voice cracked.

It was rude, but Gail broke out in laughter. "Oh god, no. No. See she said I should tell you there was a statue, and then you'd be relieved it's just the merit thing."

Holy screwed up her face and then pointed at Gail. "You are absolutely not funny, Gail Peck. Jesus, making me think you spent weeks on trying to make me famous. Asshole." Holly snarled, she actually snarled at Gail, and stomped down the block, leaving Gail to scramble after her. "Fine! Don't fucking tell me what you and your Pecks are doing. See if I care!"

Oh dear. Gail trotted to catch up, pulling out her phone and bringing up a useful photo as she did. "Holly, wait! I'm serious!"

"Fuck off, Gail!"

Ugh. Now Holly didn't believe any of it. Well played, Gail, well played. She found the picture of the submitted paperwork, something Elaine and Vivian had finished. Vivian was making a rock-out face, which Elaine was actually mimicking. Clearly they had found the endeavour annoying.

But Holly was pissed off, thinking Gail was having a joke, so Gail waited. She waited until they got to the car and Holly unlocked it. She wait until Holly threw the keys at her, announcing she was too pissed off to drive safely. And Gail wasn't funny, by the way. And she waited until they were on the freeway.

Then Gail quietly asked Holly to unlock her phone, please, and read the text from Vivian.

And Holly, grumbling, did so.

The grumbles died off as she started to read. "Jesus H Tapdancing Christ, Mom. I am never doing you another favour. This is worse than you sending me home with your soft core porn photos. We got it signed and submitted and Mom's in the running and..." Holly stopped. She looked at Gail who just nodded a little. "Mom's in the running and it only took me 6 fucking hours. You owe me, big time."

"Oliver helped," said Gail softly.

"You roped Oliver in?"

"I made everyone I know with a merit chip in. And every forensic nerd."

Holly was quiet for almost a mile. "Ruth knows?"

"Of course. You think I could do this without her?"

Her wife snorted a laugh. "You're an asshole."

"Honestly, I did not expect you to ... are you mad?"

And Holly shook her head. "No. I ... god, I've been... jealous of you."

The gears spun in Gail's head. Why the hell would Holly be jealous? Holly was way more amazing than Gail. Which ... of course was why Gail wanted her to get the award. "Of me," she said flatly. "Because I got the rewards and renown internationally for stupid cop shit, and you fucking invent science and just get on the cover of ... yeah. I get that."

"I never get recognized like that," she muttered.

"You never said," Gail said, as carefully as possible. Apologetically.

"Because you hate them, and I do too, but ... god, I hate it because they're stupid, and I want one too." Holly whinged, she actually whinged.

Gail started to laugh.

It was stupid and absurd and out of character for Holly. Except it wasn't. It was perfectly normal and expected. Hell, if it was anyone but Holly, it would be totally in character. The fact that it was Holly, who eschewed that sort of thing, was why it looked weird.

Which meant it wasn't at all.

Which meant Gail made the right choice.

Now she had to make it come true.


Hero stuff was a funny business, decided Vivian.

She and Jamie got into a lot of high stress, high risk situations. They got that adrenaline high that came from near death type experiences. They revelled in it quite a bit. They loved it.

At some point, Jamie had explained she liked running into burning buildings because it reminded here she was alive. That terrifying period where all she could feel or think was what her job was, and she didn't have to process anything other than the moment and the second. She ran into buildings to feel.

And yes, Jamie also recognized that she had a chance to really help people, too. That she could do more than save a life. But her drive to be a fireman wasn't the same as, say, Shay Peck.

Like all Pecks, Shay had the insane temerity to believe she had a duty to make the world better.

Even Vivian felt that way.

Unlike her Peck family, it wasn't a rote byproduct of the name. For Vivian, she didn't have a duty as much as a drive to try and make sure people didn't feel like she had. Technically that would be better done as a social worker, but there was a need she had to protect herself.

Or rather, Vivian wanted to stop things like the cops who arrested Jason. Or the ones who didn't arrest her own father.

How could people trust cops.

They didn't. They couldn't. And Vivian absolutely didn't blame them.

Some of her queer friends called her a traitor, for attaching herself to a machine that hated the gay. That killed the gay. And worse.

Vivian remembered clearly the five years Gail and the rest of the force was tacitly not welcome at Pride. She'd supported it then, as she would today if told police and military shouldn't march.

It was a complicated situation and it shouldn't have been. But the reality was a high number of law enforcement types tended to be assholes. They were on power trips. They were abusive. All one had to do was look at the actions of the police and other military forces and how they stuck by the government and not the people, and it was clear.

Personally Vivian would have liked to punt them all out. But she'd need reasons to do that.

"So Dr. Stewart works with the police," said the gentleman across the table.

"As chief medical examiner, yes," replied Vivian.

The man tapped at his computer. "And you, her daughter, are a police officer."

"Yes, sir."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't think you're getting special treatment for being a Peck, young lady."

"Of course not, sir," said Vivian calmly. Pleasantly. "No more than because you're reviewing my mother's case."

And he stared. "Are you implying something?"

Vivian wanted to say it was obvious that he hated cops. The uniform. But she didn't bite. "No, sir. I'm happy to talk about how awesome my mom is, is all." And she tossed out a smile.

That threw him a bit.

The things Vivian would put up with for Holly. She stifled a sigh and went through the questions. Why was Dr. Holly Stewart deserving of this level of accolades? What had she done? What kind of person was she?

And it was the fourth such interview. Vivian suspected they were sneaking in her own MOM potential as well, which Elaine assured Vivian was not going to happen. Yet. She had received a Royal thanks, and that was enough. Vivian would need to do something big for Canada, not the Royals, if she wanted a MOM. Which she did not.

What Vivian wanted was simple. She wanted Holly to have a fat ass reward for decades of work for a nation that celebrated the fantastic. Holly had degrees, multiple. She had pioneered techniques that were used world wide. For god's sake, one of her ideas was used on Mars!

But all that netted was a bunch of quiet awards and recognition from her scientific community. And Gail felt that wasn't enough. So Elaine and Vivian and Rodney and Oliver and everyone else was roped in to help.

When she left the interview room, Oliver was waiting for her. "We need lunch, Peckling."

"Remember the time autocorrect called me speckling?"

"Good times, good times," said Oliver with a big smile.

They went to a small dive restaurant, the sort Celery never let him eat at, and ate greasy foods. "So, why did that get you all grumpy and Gail like?"

Damn the man, Oliver was always astute.

"He doesn't like cops," she said and sighed.

Oliver nodded. "And you're worried they'll judge against Holly because of it?" When she nodded, he sighed. "It might happen," allowed Oliver.

"Thank you so much, Uncle Ollie," she grumbled.

"Hey, lying ain't gonna help," he pointed out. "But that isn't what's got your brain buzzing, my girlie."

Vivian toyed with her straw. "Why were you a cop?"

The man blinked. "Wanted to help people. Do good."

"Even though we're part of the fascist regime?"

Oliver quirked a smile. "God save the Queen." And then he gestured with a french fry. "That's a big question, you know. And bigger for you, I think."

Vivian hesitated. "How so?"

"Your mother, and all your Pecks, are white as white, Vivian," said Oliver baldly. "God bless your mom, I love Gail like a daughter, but she has an advantage and doesn't see it. And Holly ... she's the, ah, right kind of brown to be smart."

Lunch turned into lead in Vivian's stomach. "Seriously?"

The oldest, trusted male in her life shook his head. "Wish it weren't, kiddo. But cops are ... they aren't all good. Never have been, never will be. And you, Viv, you're gonna hit that wall sooner than later."

Her lips curled in distaste. "Can we change it?"

"It's a bunch of lifetimes work," Oliver said, his voice gentle.

"But. You tried."

He nodded. "I did. And Noelle and Frank and Traci too. But you. You will run into Pecks who don't agree."

That was something Vivian had found out already. "And Gail?"

"She'll back you up, but she won't get it, Viv."

Which meant, more or less, Vivian was on her own if she wanted to push things like that. She put down her sandwich. "I hate bullies. And people who aren't accountable. And people who let bad things happen."

"And you also hit back harder than you mean," cautioned Oliver. "You could do this. With the name. But it will cost you a lot." Before Vivian could remark she knew that, he added something she'd not thought of. "This could cost you your girl."

As Gail would say, what the what? "How? She knows who I am, Ollie."

"She knows you, this true blue copper. But does she know the girl who wants to make this her be all and end all? To fix corruption and bad cops? Because that's a lifetime."

And that, Vivian realized, that was food for thought.


Ain't I cheerful? See you soon!

PS: There's not a real band named Coopersmith, sorry.