06.09 - Skeletons
The past is never all that far away from today. Things come back when we don't want them to, others never left at all. When they return to roost, it can be unsettling.
The second Vivian's back stiffened, Gail knew what was going on. Shooting Holly a look, she was pleased to see the telepathy worked and Holly led Jamie inside asking for some young strong muscle help in getting the grill moved.
And Vivian stood stock still, facing the tiny sunroom the real estate agent called a 'breakfast nook' and Gail thought of as Vivian's office. That was where the girl had sat, every day after school, to bang out her homework. Without a word beyond 'yes' or 'I see,' adult Vivian walked into the room and leaned on the two chair table.
It was a peculiar juxtaposition. In Gail's mind, there was a too-small girl with thick brown hair and dark olive skin who complained about French homework. She would flash a quiet, rare, gap-toothed smile and tell Gail that it didn't matter, everyone used English. She wheedled for dessert. She avoided cleaning her room and showers.
But now it was a tall (certainly above average) woman, prone to being far too serious all the time. She wore her hair short, rarely past her ears and yet perpetually in need of a trims. She spoke French better than Holly, though nowhere near as Gail. Ditto sign language. She showered multiple times a day, depending on the day. And last Gail checked, her apartment was tidy and clean.
And yet Gail saw that little girl. The one who'd shown up with all her belongings in a trash bag. The one who called her Miss Gail. The one who had to be coaxed, gently, with eating more food. The one who ate one donut, was satisfied, and rarely finished her cocoa if it was too sweet.
Well. That hadn't changed much. Unlike John, who picked Old Fashioned donuts in order to not fight Gail for the good ones, Vivian actually sought out the plain ones. She tried very hard not to stand out.
Gail waited until Vivian offered a polite 'thank you' and hung up. The young woman was shaking a little. "Hey," said Gail softly. "She died then?"
To her surprise, Vivian shook her head. "No. She's still..." Vivian put her phone down a little too carefully and sat on the window seat. "Husband died, though. Car accident."
"Well shit," muttered Gail, and she sat next to Vivian.
"She wants me to come to the funeral."
Gail hesitated. "She?"
"Lindsey." Vivian rubbed her face.
It was so easy to forget that Vivian had a cousin. A biological one. Well. Maybe it would be easy for anyone else, but Gail remembered with startling clarity the day Vivian informed her of Lindsey's existence.
For years, Gail and Holly had been aware of April Stone (née Green) and her life in Barrie. Gail had reached out a few times, not wanting to deprive Vivian of the potential connection to biological family. But. The more time that passed between adoption and discovery, the more angry it seemed to make Vivian.
Gail understood that anger. It had taken her until she was older than Vivian to come to terms with her own family's psychological abuse. And Vivian was shouldering a hell of a lot more than that. She had to bear the knowledge of witness. That she had seen the outcome.
Which of course explained why Vivian took refuge in the uniform and the order of policing. It was safe for her. She didn't have to let people into her heart, except her coworkers. The citizens they protected, odds were they saw once. Maybe twice. And then never again. They were moments in passing.
And yet, like Gail and all other Pecks, Vivian had put down a root. It connected her to her fellow officers, but also the city. While Gail took perverse pride in making the machine do her bidding, yes she knew she power tripped, Vivian found her joy in literally making it safer.
Holly was easier. She just loved science and discovery and, short of working for some prestigious think tank, law enforcement was the best place to see a diversity of environments. If a think tank offered her a job, Holly would have taken it without a second thought. She just wanted to work on science.
Okay, maybe she'd heard her wife talk about it more than once.
Of course Vivian threw herself into policing a little harder, and a little more permanently, since discovering she had a cousin. She needed to fit in somewhere. She needed to be somewhere. And to make her safe place safer for more people...
"Sometimes I think we did okay with you," said Gail aloud.
Vivian turned to stare at her. "What?"
"You're fucked up in the right way."
Vivian blinked. "What is wrong with you?"
"A lot," Gail said, blithely. "But. You want to fix the world. So people don't feel like you did. Kinda proud we gave you some tools to do that."
A look of understanding crossed Vivian's face. "Oh. I guess," she muttered.
Gail snorted a laugh. "Thanks, Asshole." She shoved Vivian's shoulder and got up. "Go tell your girl what's going on in that head of yours, okay?"
"Would if I knew, Mom." Vivian leaned back against the window and turned to look outside. Gail followed the look and spotted Jamie, putting coals in the grill chimney under Holly's direction.
Pausing at the door, Gail studied her daughter's face. It wasn't an easy question to face. How would Gail have felt if she'd had to keep talking to her father, instead of being cut out of his life? Unlike the rather neat schism with the Armstrongs, who simply informed her she was not welcome at events, Vivian's biological family just kept popping up.
"Why did they call?" Gail wondered.
"I ... I said Lindsey could contact the lawyers." She gnawed on her thumb. "I didn't want to cut her out completely."
That had to be Holly's influence, realized Gail. She herself had no qualms flipping them off. But Holly, and Vivian, saw the girl on the other side, who was what Vivian might have been. "Are you ... jealous of her?"
"A little," Vivian confessed.
"That makes sense," agreed Gail and Vivian exhaled loudly, as if Gail had just released her from a burden.
What would life have been like if Bill had remarried? Gotten another family? Was he jealous of Elaine's success and comfort and family after their divorce? His career went nowhere after the divorce, while she quickly rose to the board of multiple charities, giving back. She dated and had multiple relationships, friends, and more. Bill died alone.
Maybe he was in that boat, and it drove him further and further away. Because his daughter had all the things a Peck deemed success. She was married to a beautiful, intelligent, well respected woman who was a pioneer in her (police related) field. She had an athletic and intelligent daughter who followed her to the force, not that Bill would have known about that. She was a medium to high ranked officer with accolades out the ass.
Gail was the success everyone told her she had to be, but in a way that didn't hurt.
"It's not her fault," said Vivian. "But I have a bit ... I have a hard time separating it all."
"Yeah, that was always bullshit. Compartmentalizations."
"Right?" They both laughed a little. "Okay, lets go before Mom worries." Vivian got up and scooped up her phone.
"Gonna go?"
"To the funeral? Fuck no." She paused at the doorway. "I don't even want to go to yours, if I'm honest, Mom."
"Oh don't worry. No funeral. Have a fucking party at the cottage and bury me and Holly in— "
"An Eco Pod. So you can grow into a tree and be the gayest fucking tree ever, I know." Vivian rolled her eyes and smiled. "I promise."
Gail slung an arm up and over Vivian's shoulders, as much as she could. "That's my girl."
Holly squinted. "Animal," she said confidently, though she made a mental note to schedule an eye exam.
"All of it?" Baby detective Lara Volk gave Holly a skeptical look.
It was a rather large amount, true. "The exemplars here are all animals. It's certainly possible there's a human here or there buried in the mix."
And to be fair, it was a huge amount of animal bones. Like serial killer amounts. Holly had seen that before, a cache of bones in a tiny shack in the woods, where a young man had begun his career in assault and torture. That case had roiled Holly's heart and stomach for months.
That had been when Vivian was a teenager. She was old enough to understand why her mother might be hurt by work. And she was savvy enough to comprehend why her own kind and caring mother in pain couldn't bear to look at her. And she was wise enough to have never asked why.
Thankfully the victims had looked nothing like Vivian. That would have about killed her. And thankfully that case have given Holly the perspective to understand the different types of animal deaths.
Yes, sometimes her job was horrific, but it was a job she loved. She loved the work, the investigation, the science, and everything about it.
"Could it be ... a killer?" Lara was clearly thinking the same train of though.
Holly smiled. "It's never a zebra, detective."
The young woman did a double take. "What?"
"In medical school, and this is more popular in the States, they tell you to never assume the fanciful, farfetched diagnosis. Fascinomas. Instead, look for the common."
Lara nodded slowly. "Right but aren't we supposed to accept that once you rule out everything, what's left has to be true, no matter how crazy?"
"How very Holmes of you," said Holly, amused.
"I was thinking about that old TV show, House?"
It was hard not to laugh. "House. Holmes."
Lara's eyes went wide. "Oh."
"House was a diagnostician." Holly had enjoyed watching the show when she was younger. She, Lisa, and Rachel had spent many nights getting shit-faced playing a drinking game while watching. "A proper differential requires taking the evidence, applying it to the list of everything possible, ruling out what you can, and then making your case." As Lara opened her mouth, Holly pointed at her. "Yes, that's what you said."
Thankfully Lara just blushed. "So ... serial killer is zebra?"
"They're incredibly rare," Holly explained. "Unlike TV, or books, you're more likely to find an abusive sociopath than a serial killer at the end of a dead animal trail."
Lara had the grace to look ill. "But didn't you have that case?"
"One of four serial killer cases I've personally been involved in, over a 30 plus year career. And even that is incredibly high. The Haan case will likely be the only one of its kind, ever, and the only serial killing most of my staff will see."
That thought seemed shocking to poor Lara. Well. She was a kid and knowing she'd already seen the biggest case of her career, and it was ancillary at best, might be depressing. Lara would, odds out, never see another. "I think," said Lara slowly. "I'm relieved."
"Good answer," said Holly, sincerely.
"But... Doctor," she said with emphasis. "What are the cause of death... deaths?"
"Oh, natural causes."
"That was ... okay that's shockingly fast."
It was. Holly smiled. "See here?" Holly pointed at the nearest skeleton, a small bird. She didn't know which, but Gail would probably know the type of bird, and how common it was to the area, because the Pecks were actually insane and made her memorize all sorts of shit. "If this was man-made death, there would be bone trauma. Birds are incredibly fragile."
"Hollow bones?"
"More or less. They would show signs if a human did this. The break pattern here indicates an attack from above. I'd wager killed by a bigger bird."
"Birds eat birds?"
"Raptors do," said Taylor as he walked up. "Boss, we're taking all of this back, right?"
"Alas, yes. Call Ruth. We'll need the motor lab cleared out."
"That'll be fun," he muttered, and went back to the van, phone in hand.
Holly couldn't help but smile. It would be fun. It was the exciting kind of mystery where she got to look at a new part of science she'd previously bypassed. There was just so much science to learn, Holly had never ignored it, but she hadn't studied it all. She couldn't.
Well. Maybe? Could she soon when she retired? Gail would have no issues if she went back to school. Though Holly wasn't certain she had that temperament anymore. The drive to buckle down and study wasn't something she had in her right then. There was too much general junk knowledge she didn't want to sit through.
That was probably Gail's fault. The woman had no patience for bullshit or meandering stories that related everything. Which was hilarious given how she handled interrogation. Gail's rules didn't apply to herself, except the big ones.
The rule that mattered for Holly was simple. Science first. And science right now was delightful. Who would collect dead animals? That wasn't her bailiwick. What was, was to learn how all the animals died. Were they preserved? Were they examined? Studied? Exemplars?
How did they die, and what was done with them?
"Oh my god," muttered Lara. "You're excited."
Holly looked over at Lara and shrugged. "I'm a scientist," she explained.
Sipping her beer, Vivian listened to Lara tell the story of the animals. Jenny was horrified and Rich wanted to know if it was serial killers. But, as Lara explained, it was just dead animals, collected and carefully stored by someone odd. Like a scientist odd.
Naturally that led to everyone looking at Vivian. "What? No my mother does not have a collection of bones at home." When Rich opened his mouth, she added, "Neither of them."
Lara laughed. "Doc Stewart was so excited too, like a kid at the candy shop."
"Not a lot of animal collections," mused Vivian. "She probably called in an ornithologist."
From across the table, Jenny made a noise. "Bird scientist?"
"Yup." Vivian popped the P and then sipped her beer.
"Okay, Peck. You gotta answer this for real," said Rich. "Do you really have an engineering degree?"
Somehow she'd managed to go all those years without anyone ever asking that. Well. The run was over. Putting the beer down, Vivian sighed. "Yes."
Neither Christian nor Lara seemed surprised. He knew, of course. "You use a lot of big words," pointed out Lara. "You ever think about Forensics?"
"Once, when I was like ten," admitted Vivian.
Very few people ever asked her about that. At least, not in that way. Even Holly had never had the courage (or maybe temerity) to ask it. But, like all kids, Vivian had entertained the idea of following her scientific parent into a different legal career. Of course, that was the same year she'd thought about being a social worker.
"Why didn't you?" Jenny poured a refill for the table. "I mean, you've got the brain for it."
"Lotta reasons," demurred Vivian, but caught Christian's baleful look. He'd reminded her, fairly recently, that she had to talk to people a little more. So she sighed and elaborated. "It's too passive. You go in after and get answers. As a cop, I can stop things before they end up there."
And truth, that was the same reason she'd passed on law and social work. And being a detective. People who came after the crime, not during and not before, weren't ... her. She was thankful for those people, who could bear the after effects. But like Jamie, Vivian wanted to change the agony of the now.
Her girlfriend ran into fires to pull people out and save them. Vivian ran into dangerous situations to defuse them, metaphorically and literally. It suited them both. And one day, one day far from now, Vivian would run in to situations where cops needed to be pulled out of danger. She could see it in her mind's eye. Not just making sense of what had happened, but making sure it didn't happen again.
"Sometimes she's just thinking all the time," said Rich in sotto voce.
"Not my fault you don't have more than four brain cells," remarked Vivian, dryly.
They all laughed, even Rich, who knew she wasn't serious about the dig.
Jenny gestured with her empty cup. "Okay, serious now. What was the deal with the animal skeletons?"
"Dunno yet," admitted Lara. "Doc's got the skeletons, looking for absolutely cause. I get to dig into history and people to find out who may have had a cache of creep."
That prompted Vivian to laugh. "That's a good one."
"Silo of Skeletons was my other." Lara smirked at her.
"No, no. This is better."
"On that absolutely horrifying note, ladies and germs, I'm off. Got a date with a cutie." Jenny upended her cup, signalling the end of her night.
"Anyone we know?" Rich almost leered.
"Thank god, no." Jenny shoved his head as she walked by. "Bill me, gang."
It was a rare night, having them all on the same shift and time. No matter how much they wanted to meet up, their different paths ended with the five at the Penny happening less and less. It had been nice, even if just for a couple hours, to have their gang back together.
Did Gail feel that way too, she wondered? Her rookie class was always and forever short one person, and once in a while Vivian noticed the quartet spent a night at the Penny, drinking quietly. But so did Oliver and Sam sometimes. And so did a lot of other small groups.
One day, she realized, her set of five would be four. Then three. Eventually one.
Realistically, it would be her, Vivian felt. She was the surviving sort, after all.
But that was too morbid, even for a night at the end of a long day. No. Especially for that. Tonight was to just be a gang again.
Seemingly of the same thoughts, Lara looked quite melancholically at Jenny's cup. "How did people used to handle rounds?"
"How's that?" Christian frowned.
"Cash," said Vivian. "Or a tab. Historically it was a group tab and you settle at the month end."
"I don't know if a monthly tab would be better or worse," muttered Rich. "I mean. How much do we spend here?"
Vivian actually knew, down to the dollar. But she was Gail's daughter, and that lent itself to a certain precision. What she said, however, was, "Why do you think we order the dollar beer?"
They laughed again, Christian pulled out a trivia game, and they played a round until Rich bailed for a woman and Lara begged off. Alone with her roommate. Christian laughed at whatever expression Vivian had on her face.
"What?" She snarled at him.
"You're so fucking transparent." Christian smiled. "What are you ignoring?"
She flipped him off. "You."
"You'll tell me, sooner or later, Peck. I know all your secrets."
"You can walk home."
Christian laughed and, as expected, wheedled a ride on her motorcycle. He kept teasing her at home, which really was fine. As much as it did annoy her a little, Vivian appreciated the ability Christian had to get her out of her head. He was earnest and honest, a bit of a goofball, but caring.
That was why she kept him around. He was a good foil for a lot of the things that troubled Vivian, in a companionable sort of way. But. The one thing C was not, was a shoulder to unburden her mind. As Holly might mutter, bless his heart, but he'd sunk that ship when he flubbed his idiot concept of love for her.
It was Dov who'd pulled him aside for a long talk. Dov had told her about it after his own divorce. As Vivian had helped him clear out the house, mostly for little Chris's sake, he asked how things with with big Christian. And Dov told her about the time he'd fallen in love with Gail, and misunderstood what it was.
They weren't in love like Gail and Holly. Never like that. But he loved her with all his heart, even today, because Gail was one of the best people he knew. Oh, she was mean and could be cruel, and she was aloof and distant. But Gail was more loyal than anyone else. She put herself in front of the devil for him, and he recognized that if not for Gail, he wouldn't be a cop.
And he knew that his actions were part of why Gail insisted on taking that job for that case.
The lot of them, all of Gail's class, remained close because of that year. The series of events that should have ended with five being four and a funeral being for Gail and not Jerry. But instead, instead they somehow came out alive, and somehow Gail still put herself between Dov and IA, even after he'd betrayed her for his friendship with Chris.
They were seriously fucked up, Vivian knew that. But they were also people. People fucked up. A lot. They did the wrong thing, the stupid thing, and said words in anger. And they hurt each other. God, did they.
But Christian, like Dov, had best interests at heart. So yes, he fucked up and fell on his face and he was still someone who cared about her. Which was why she tolerated his shit giving and teasing, gave some back to him, and at the end of the night, picked up the phone to call someone else.
"My darling dearest bestest friend of all time, it is almost midnight," said a tired, but not sleepy sounding Matty.
"The best time for confessions."
"I am not Sister Mary Clarence."
"You ain't a sister at all, mister," retorted Vivian, and she sat in her window seat. "And you're still at work."
"Did you spy on me?"
"You mean use Find my Foolish Friends? Yes."
"Ass. Yes, I'm at work. We go live on Sunday."
"I know. Moms have tickets."
"All the more reason for me to finish, my dear." Something made a soft fhwump sound. Then a door closed. "What's the drama?"
Vivian closed her eyes. "Remember my cousin?"
"The bitch from Barrie? With the homophobic asshat father and the witch who gave you up? No, not at all."
Oh. So close. "Her dad died."
Matty was silent and then, in his most flippant, declared, "Thank god it's just you and I can shove my feet in my mouth and you won't care."
She couldn't help but smile. "What's a best friend for if not a safe space?"
"I am sorry, though," he added, more seriously. "That ... god. Her father? Does that mean ..."
"I think so. I didn't ask, but ... someone would notify me, right?"
When her aunt died.
One day, her aunt would. She'd run out of luck with her cancer and she'd die and then the only person who knew what horrors existed would be ... her. She would be the end of it all. The one person left who remembered, as fitfully and imperfectly as she did, what had gone on.
In the last few years, since taking the name and donning the uniform, Vivian had begun to piece together more and more. Like she was reasonably certain her father had beaten her biological mother, but never her or her sister. And Kimmy was more than a vague creation with a name, she was a person who hated coconut, except in sorbet, which they had once on a trip to ...
A trip somewhere. That she didn't remember. But she remembered her birth mother's smile and laugh.
Once or twice, Gail had mentioned them by name. Holly sometimes tried to gently encourage Vivian to think of them as her parents. Every time, even today, Vivian couldn't.
They were two people who'd had two children. They were biological, birth, parents, but that was all. The people who read her to sleep, who put a band aid on a skinned knee, who taught to swim were not those two, long dead, individuals. Not parents. No. That honour and respect went to a very childish, but loyal police detective, and a dedicated and somewhat obsessive forensic scientist.
Thankfully she didn't have to explain or unpack any of that to Matty.
"I think so," he said after a long thought. "They did about this, right?"
"That was Lindsey. She called the lawyers."
"Then. I think she will again. Especially if you send her condolences."
"Her father was an asshole."
"Hmm. Was he?" Because Matty's father was an asshole once, too.
Vivian grimaced. "Now I don't know. Dick."
"Not tonight, darling," drawled Matty. "What did Jamie say?"
"Haven't told her."
There was a protracted, tense, silence on the phone. "Darling dearest dumb fuck. Why are you so wrong?"
Vivian sighed and closed her eyes. "I blame Gail."
"Who probably told you to tell your girl on fire."
"It was the night before she went back on shift!"
"Excuse! And I'll bet you'll say you're not telling her when she gets back because she just got off shift." When Vivian was silent, he snorted. "Dumb. Fuck."
"I hate you."
"You love me."
She did. "Talk to Jamie and then send a ... postcard?"
"A short letter of condolences first. Like tonight."
That was reasonable. And her current legal situation did approve of that. Vivian sighed. "Right. Okay. The morning."
Matty made a noise. "Ugh, go to sleep. I want to finish this dress and cuddle my man."
"Thank you," she said softly, and Matty laughed. It was a kind, welcoming laugh. The one that told her she was allowed to ask him stupid things. That they were friends. "I don't know what I'd do without you, sometimes."
"Get another tattoo probably."
Really, what could she say to that?
It was, Gail decided, the day for a shit show. Running a hand through her hair, she re-read the paperwork again.
After a few minutes, a male voice spoke. "What's wrong?" Eli sounded frustrated.
"I don't like it," she replied, putting her finger on the line she'd been focusing on. "This is ... cruel." Gail looked up and over the top of her reading glasses to see her uncle fume.
Well. It was just going to be that kind of a fucking day.
"You could have destroyed the family business."
"Not my business," she said blithely.
Her brother made a noise but did not speak.
"You could have ruined it." Eli was damn stubborn.
She sighed. It was time he found out that so was she. Gail removed her glasses and fixed her uncle with her best Peck stare. "I'm going to speak for Sandy Parretti's parole hearing, Eli." She made certain her voice broached no argument.
And Eli hesitated. Good. It was working. "You can't."
"Can. Will."
"That would violate the trust— "
Gail cut him off swiftly, at the knees. Metaphorically. "She is well in her 80s, Eli. To have her suffer incarceration for theft, which is all this was, is vile. She was going to be black listed from every single museum, internationally, which would have been hard enough. At least let her live out her days in obscurity, outside prison."
Admittedly, Gail had leaned on a certain Mountie and a former spy to get some special allocations granted to Sandy. The woman was old, she was going to live in a little old lady community, possibly even Elaine's. The original court document had her banned from museums until Gail managed to get Roger and Marcel to back her up. Because honestly, it wasn't like Sandy was the one who tried to steal from the goddamned museum.
"You do this, I'll cut you off." Eli's words were a potent threat.
Well. They should have been.
"You can't," Gail retorted.
Eli looked stuffed. "What do you mean, I can't?"
"Well, first. On what grounds?"
"Consulting with known criminal element."
Technically that was a clause in the ridiculous family arrangement for the Armstrong moolah. "I'm a police officer, Eli. There's the exception you wrote in, for my mother."
He fumed a little. "Intent to damage the name."
"Fairchild, not Armstrong."
But.
That was the most likely avenue he would use, and the one with a chance of success. Because technically, yes, Gail had violated the clause to never besmirch the family name, or cause undue notice. Specifically there was a bit about newspapers and interviews.
Now. Gail had not spoken to the reporter herself. She had used the name Fairchild, not Armstrong, and she had intentionally kept that family name out. She'd also not mentioned Peck, not that it mattered.
Taking off her glasses, Gail tossed them onto the papers and spoke firmly, so there was no misunderstanding. "I'm not signing. You may not have my inheritance."
The room rippled a little. Her own lawyer looked like he'd expected that. So did Eli's for that matter.
"You want to take this to court?" Eli was livid.
"You'll lose," Gail said coolly. "But if that's where you want this to end, in public scandal and embarrassment, fine."
"Just because the Peck name is yours to do with as you please— "
"Oh for god's sake, Eli." Gail threw her hands up. "I get it, okay? You're pissed about this, and you feel like it's a personal attack, and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't undo this, even if I wanted to."
"So you did this! You admit it!"
She grimaced. "I don't want it undone, Eli. It saved lives. Including a Princess's."
"Not that she knows."
"Oh my god, we had tea," snapped Gail.
"You did." When her uncle snarled, Gail felt like she'd been slapped by a wet fish.
Was that what this was about? For real?
Well Jesus. That was an easy enough fix, if ridiculous.
Gail pulled out her phone. "We can finish this conversation later," she said carefully, gesturing her phone as if someone had called her. She walked out on Eli's blustering curse, Steve's calming voice, and a couple of lawyers.
Thankfully Roger picked up. "I worry when you call," he confessed.
"I need a favour."
Roger was quiet. "You, Gail Peck, have never asked for a favour."
"I know, and it's not actually one you can do." She sighed and explained the drama with her family.
Thankfully it seemed to be the sort of shit show Roger was familiar with. "So you think they're trying to excise you from the family, and block any of Vivian's possible children from their inheritance, because they're ... jealous?"
"Butt hurt, yeah."
Roger snorted a half laugh. "It sounds right," he admitted. "See a lot of that I'm afraid. Would a public thanks to the self sacrificing Armstrong family be required?"
"God I hope not. I was thinking a private apology."
"Do they know you get Christmas cards?"
"Doubtful. They never slum it at our place."
"Oh, you put the card out? Her Highness would be pleased."
"Feel free to tell her. Hell, I'll send a snap if you want next year."
"It would be nice. They don't get a great deal of appreciation."
Gail sighed. "I'm not sure they'd get any from Eli, to be honest."
"Well. That's that and this is this, my friend." Roger huffed. "Can't one part of your family be normal?"
"Afraid not. Thank you, Roger."
"We aren't even close to even, Gail. You took more than a punch for me."
She smiled, feeling better, as she hung up. And as expected, turned to find her brother. "So?"
"I think the private apology will work," he replied. "I tried talking him out of it, you know."
Gail nodded. "I know, Steve."
They were so awkward around each other again, it hurt. It reminded her of the years they'd been forcibly estranged due to their idiot family. And this, this was that again.
"This is ... this is part of why I've been so mad," Steve confessed. "I want ... I wanted us all to be a family. Not just Pecks or Armstrongs."
And seeing the turmoil within the McGann family didn't help. Yeah, Gail got that. She nodded and touched her brother's arm. "We can't fix all of them, Steve. But we can us. Besides, Lizzie will take over eventually, and she and Vivian will be better."
Her brother smiled thinly. "I hope so."
It had disturbed her lab that Holly's field call, that all the animals were dead of natural causes, was correct. Gail had looked smug, as if she'd made the claim herself, and that was to be expected. Gail tended to celebrate her own wins as theirs, and thus Holly's also as theirs. The only time Gail called a win a solo was when she was trying to score points against her wife.
Those usually revolved around amusing sex things. Not that it changed what sort of sex they had, or anything about it, just that they joked about how the winner got to pick whatever they did. Except that wasn't how it worked either.
Mostly it was to annoy their kid. At a certain point, annoying her had become a more fun game, probably since Vivian was so damn stoic. Parenthood had been such a delightfully odd thing. A person who was entirely dependent on her for all things, who learned from Holly's examples, and who in the end mimicked her humanity based on Holly. Daunting.
Similarly daunting was how much the lab relied her on for guidance. And here, Holly was giving it all up. Rather soon. She'd never give up Vivian, that was a sort of permanent choice for her and Gail. But the job, the job she'd held before they'd adopted, before they'd married, before they'd dated, broken up, and dated again, before she'd even met Gail... that was different.
Her career was never meant to be permanent. It was always going to be what she did for a career, but one day that would end and she would live on. Retirement.
Brian had muttered it was about damn time. He'd mostly retired by the time Holly had married, but still wrote. To this day, he wrote scientific papers on the regular. Which was why Holly wasn't worried she'd be bored. There was no way she wouldn't write.
Which was why she was sitting at the table with the gentleman from the publishing house. "Three technical books," he said, thoughtfully. "That's fine. They sell well. The tell all, I like this best. Are you sure you can't do that first?"
"Legally, I'm sure," said Holly. "Five to ten years, depending on how Interpol and the Mounties feel." She would have loved to write the book about the Haan Serial Killings first, but a deal was a deal. At least she'd managed to have the sole rights to the telling.
That fact worked in her favour at the moment.
"This last one though," muttered the publisher. "That's a risk."
"It's all or nothing," said Holly, summoning her best Elaine Peck. Certainly Gail could menace a lot better. And Vivian had somehow picked up the tactic as well. It was nifty to watch them both loom. Vivian's was more terrifying thanks to her height.
But Holly was solid and stable in her own world. Normally that was science. But as if happened, writing felt like home. It felt like her right place. That gave her confidence. Because she was asking for something a little extra ordinary. Because for all the writing Holly had done, this was the one thing she'd never tried before.
"Alright," the man finally said. "First, at least two of the technical books. Elaborations on the Glessing Technique you perfected, and the bone printing. Is that possible?"
Holly frowned. The bone printing was tied up with the Haan case. "It might diminish what I presume you want as the third."
"Do you think you can write it as a non-required prequel?"
She didn't hesitate. "Yes."
She had no idea if she could or not, but Holly knew she could try. Maybe it would make her or break her, that she had no idea. But she'd figure it out.
To her surprise, the publisher laughed. "God damn you have guts. You really want that, huh?"
"Honestly, yes," she said, smiling.
"What does your rather formidable wife think?"
"She's not here," said Holly, trying not to bristle at the implication she wasn't capable of this on her own. Heteronormativity was so boring. Of course Gail was the man in their relationship. Gail had short hair.
The publisher held up his hands. "Sorry, I just meant this is her cuppa, you know? She's a detective, right?"
Holly blinked, feeling a little embarrassed to have assumed. "She doesn't ... she likes historical fiction. In multiple languages. It's really annoying, actually."
The man made a face. "God. Don't tell me you want to ..."
"Oh no! I barely function in French." Holly smiled, feeling a bit more at ease.
"I like you, Dr. Stewart," said the publisher. "You're smart and I think ... I think you can do this. Six."
"Six?"
"Six books. Plus the extra."
She swallowed. "Six. Well. I can do that."
She had no fucking clue what she'd do for six. Four she had an idea for. She'd been writing about the workings of autopsies for decades, and collecting the scattered ideas into a single piece. There was a prospectus on water in bones, of course. Put in building bones, the Haan case, and now she needed two more.
Crap.
And her fucking wife had no sympathy.
"But two more, that's awesome," said Gail as she made stir fry.
"What the hell am I supposed to write?"
Gail was quiet for a moment and Holly tossed up her hands. Sometimes her wife was impossible. Supportive and caring, yes, but she still got up a tree in her head sometimes. Clearly she had no idea either. Wasn't that perfect.
"Double body, in a crypt," said Gail abruptly. "Frozen guy in a car, which was not your first as I recall. Robbie Robbins. Thumb guy. The Mrs. Klaus case, not to be confused with Mrs. Santa Claus. The puppy mill that had the guy run over by the tractor, and that was karma thank you."
Gail continued as she cooked, listing all the cases, in seemingly random order.
Her wife's phenomenal memory rolled out moment after moment. She rewound mysterious deaths, some that they'd shared, most that they had not. After a moment, though Gail paused.
"Do you want non death too? Because I loved the case you solved from the mortuary that resold breast implants. Grotesque and macabre."
"That was really easy," Holly pointed out.
"For you. Sure. But you had to reconstruct the serial numbers."
"True..." Then she realized ... Gail had listed cases from before they'd met. "Gail... did you memorize all my cases?"
Her wife flashed a smile. "I was planning on using that to win you over, back when we were dating and you seemed dedicated to giving me blue balls."
"Still not a thing." But Holly smiled. "You're actually insane."
"I know." And the impish, irrepressible, inimitable woman Holly loved leaned back and blew her a kiss. "You like me this way."
God help her. She did. "Ass," she replied, smirking at Gail.
And Gail took it as a compliment, as intended. "By the way, Holl, what's the secret?"
"Secret?"
Turning off the stove, Gail nodded. "You're not telling me something about that book deal, my darling dearest doctor. I'll have it out of you."
Keeping secrets wasn't what they did. Holly exhaled and went to get bowls. "I don't want to tell you yet."
Gail made a surprised noise. "Yet. Okay." But she seemed inclined to let it go. "Is it a naked surprise? Will you let me update your photos, Miss May?"
Holly laughed. Leave it to Gail to be a goof.
It was done.
It was signed, sealed, delivered and done.
Vivian beamed and read the letter her mothers had been too nervous to read themselves. "Dr. Holly Stewart. We ..." she paused. "Hey, this reminds me of my college letter."
"You got rejected from McGill," pointed out Gail.
"Bite me."
"God, please just read it, Vivian, you horrible child!" Holly actually sounded scared. She was even clutching at Gail's arm.
How odd it was to know that her mother was scared about something this mundane. That Holly had been jealous of Gail and the Pecks all those years. Odder still, Vivian saw them as an inevitability in her life. She'd acquire some, sooner or later, and have a career of it.
For her own part, Holly was already internationally renowned. Scientists from every country lauded her. Hell, she even had some of her work reproduced by the Mars Station when someone broke his leg. Few people were as gifted with bone work, outside of osteopathic medicine. Holly though, she got it. She understood the age and pressure and aspects of bone growth and deterioration and destruction.
Basically Holly was a gifted scientist. So having her be actually nervous about a silly letter for an award was abnormal. Part of Vivian wanted to tease the shit out of her mothers and drag the letter on. But she caught an eye from Gail, telling her clearly not to pick on Holly. Oh fine.
"Dr. Holly Stewart. We have received your nomination and after careful review of your achievements by and for the sovereign nation of Canada, the United Kingdom, and the Monarchy, as well as the international renown and respect you have bestowed on our native land, have determined that you represent Canada in a manner most becoming. With your lengthy service by and for the country, and recognition from the crown, we therefore are honoured to welcome you as an Officer of the Civilian Order of Merit."
Predictably, Gail pumped her fist into the air. "Fuck yes!" And she planted a kiss on Holly's temple before leaping to her feet
Holly looked a little green. "Officer?"
Vivian skimmed the letter. "Looks like on the basis of your Royal Victorian Order, and the recommendation of the Mounties and the King's service."
"Roger," said Gail, clearly delighted. "I didn't even ask him!"
"I need to sit down," said Holly. She was already sitting.
It was funny. Gail was elated and already texting Elaine and Steve, while Holly looked like she might vomit. "Mom, congratulations," said Vivian gently. "This is awesome."
"I think I might have preferred a statue," Holly muttered. "I really thought Gail was fucking with me."
"That'll be later," she teased, and was rewarded with her mother scowling. Vivian grinned. "Mom, you know we think you're amazing. Mom just wants everyone to know it, that's all. You've done a hundred talks and presentations. You've got all sorts of awards, but no one ever knows. Now you're getting one and everyone will know."
Holly stared at nothing, she just looked out at the living room. "That may be my problem, Viv. Gail, she always gets the world to see how awesome she is."
"Says the internationally renown forensic pathologist."
Her mother made a face. "That's the point, everyone knows the famous cop. Only cops and scientists know me."
"And everyone who watched Netflix."
That made Holly smile. "They don't know its me. Except for that theorist and her blog."
"I'm telling you, if you confirmed her stuff she'd lose her mind."
There was a small community of people who'd sorted out that Holly and Gail's various TV personas were, in fact, them. Or at least the same two people. Thanks to TV being inconsistent and demented when it came to casting, they had no idea which cop and doc duo they really were. Currently the leading theory was a non-romantic pairing of a detective and a coroner in Atlanta, Georgia. Of course, that was upset by the case involving King Wills, since he never went there. Second place was Boston, where a detective was cousins with a coroner.
Sometimes Vivian lurked and read the posts. It was a great laugh.
"You think this will out it all?" Holly looked a little worried.
"Might," said Vivian. She glanced over at Gail, who was on the phone with Oliver from the sound of it. "I don't mind."
Holly scoffed. "Honey, you live your life trying to keep your personal business off the news."
"True." She did have a fond wish to never have herself be the model of a TV show or movie, that was entirely correct. But she also understood something else. "It's not fair if I'm the only one who gets to look up to you," she told her mother.
And Holly froze. Not the scared kind or the mad kind or the angry kind. She just... she stopped. And she looked at Vivian in a way that was still a little incomprehensible to Vivian. Holly was fond, yes, but she also looked like she knew the secrets to the universe in that moment.
"How did we get so lucky with you?" Holly's voice was soft and wondering.
"Bribery, probably."
Her mother smiled. "Sit down so I can hug you, please."
And Vivian obliged, since Holly's hugs were some of the greatest things in the world. "Mom, I promise, this is awesome."
"This is terrifying, sweetheart," said Holly as she squeezed Vivian tightly. "Thank you."
She let Holly hug herself out, tears and all, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Even now, Vivian loved the hugs, but she wanted them to be over quickly. Hugs were too constricting and too much touch all at once. But when she was thirteen, her then therapist had explained that it was both alright to not like the hugs while still lying about them.
Yeah, her therapist had told her it was okay to lie to her parents.
A wild concept, to be sure, but also one that made a lot of sense. Being hugged wasn't always about the hugee. Sometimes it was about the hugger needing to hold on to things. And sometimes, like in the case of Holly's hugs, it was trying to express how much Vivian meant to her.
Of course Vivian had also heard, a million times, how her intimacy issues were obviously related to the whole anti-hugging thing. But as long as her reason for disliking hugs weren't directly related to Holly's hugs, and they weren't, it was perfectly acceptable to lie and tell Holly the hug didn't bother her.
And really it wasn't that much of a lie. The hug itself, yes, made Vivian uncomfortable. But Holly trying to express how much Vivian meant to her, that did not. She could understand the difference now. The meaning behind hugs mattered. Even if it wasn't comfortable for her, Vivian knew when they were needed.
Not to say she'd not told Holly no, she didn't want a hug before. And not that Holly hadn't been terribly careful to ask every time. Even now, when Holly needed to hug Vivian, she made sure it was a choice.
Which was exactly why Vivian agreed to it.
With a deep breath, Holly gave Vivian one last squeeze and let go. "Thank you," she said again.
Vivian shrugged. She'd become an expert at not letting on as to which hugs she wanted and which she tolerated. "I put up with a lot of stupid questions for this," she informed her mother, shaking the paper.
Holly smiled and took the letter, smoothing it before she read it herself. "If it's anything like the one I sat through for Gail, I know."
"Oh I think you were much easier than Mom," said Vivian, confidently.
"I'm considerably less problematic."
Of course Vivian laughed. Nearly anyone would be less problematic, or at least less complex than Gail. "Just remember, Mom, you owe me one of these."
And Holly fixed her with another one of those looks, the ones that said she held the secrets of the universe. Holly just smiled at her.
"Of course," she said, with absolute sincerity. "Any time."
Not all the skeletons in our closets suck.
