Epilogue 2 - Letting Go

We should begin with Gail Peck's life after being a police officer. Yeah. After. Because she has to let go.

Some funerals, realized Gail, a person was prepared for.

This time, this funeral began with a phone call to Holly, who called Gail and wearily asked her to come home please. Brian had passed away in the night. And weirdly she was prepared for this. Since Lily's death, Brian had been less and less all there until now, finally, he was gone. Even Holly seemed prepared.

That was it, though. There were no more parents.

They went out to Vancouver for the first half of the funeral. All of the various Stewarts lived there, except Holly and one oddball cousin who had, of all things, followed Gail into policing (yes, at Fifteen no less). But he didn't go to the funeral. Neither did Vivian's quartet of quarrels. She decided wrangling the boys and Jamie out there wouldn't help Holly at all, and while Gail agreed, she'd wondered what else was going on with her kid. Still she let Vivian arrange the Toronto side, where Brian's ashes were scattered the same places they'd lain Lily all those years ago.

And then. Then Gail went home and like Oliver warned her, the next day was hard. Because the world was not different for everyone else. Just Gail. She woke up at the usual time, made her coffee and breakfast, got her badge out and stared at it.

Holly, perhaps noticing the change in Gail's routine, came into the office and looked at the open gun case. They said nothing. They didn't have anything to say about it. They'd known this was the end for a long time coming now.

So Gail clipped on her badge, walked into the big building, and filed paperwork she'd never actually thought she'd see.

The entire force knew by lunch. Dov and Chloe were waiting in her office. Traci had retired a few years before, taking a medical after a raid gone wrong. And Andy... Andy's presence was missed. A gaping hole in Gail's heart that she'd never expected. But Andy was dead almost five years now. The same raid that had retired Traci. Nick was also gone, not dead but retired and volunteering for orphaned youths. Frankie had hung it all up around the same time, and lived with Chloe, even if they refused to classify their relationship.

Gail insulted them, as she did. Both were a few years younger than Gail. Both wore white shirts and sat in offices all day. The duelling superintendents. Their divorce had been rough, and then it had been fine, and now it was normal. Expected. They were friends above all else.

And they were her friends too.

They were there when Gail Peck, aged 64 (almost 65), handed in her badge and walked away from the career she was literally born and raised to do.

They helped her pack up her office. They got schwarma and beers and sat out on the roof of Fifteen, watching the children run around and protect the city. They joked about how young everyone was. They discussed their own plans, how Dov wasn't going to retire any time soon, and how Chloe was planning to work for the mayor with an eye towards the PM's cabinet.

They were her friends. Not the only ones, but the ones who survived and walked the line, as she had, for nearly forty years together. It was a fucking hell of a long time.

And now it was over.

"Do you think you'll miss it?" Dov put the last box in Gail's car and closed the trunk.

"No," she said honestly, and laughed. "God, Dov. No. I won't miss telling people their loved ones are dead. Or getting up at the ass crack of dawn to investigate a crime. I won't miss this shit at all." Gail looked up at the building. "I made this shit, though. Never wanted it, never wanted to be it, or do it, I just didn't know what the hell else to do."

She laughed again at the absurdity of it all.

"I don't regret it, Dov. And no. I will not miss the job."

And she knew in her heart she was right.

"Hi, Moms," said Vivian, announcing herself as she walked in.

Gail frowned. She knew her child well. For nearly forty years now she'd known the kid. The woman. God. Vivian was well an adult now. She was mature and grown up. But Gail could tell when Vivian had bad news. And right now, Vivian was the bearer of some shitty news. She was sad. Not that Vivian was ever really effusively happy, but she was withdrawn in a way Gail hadn't seen in years.

The kids had struggled through a hell of a rough year, what with Vivian in IA tackling an insane caseload. It reminded Gail of the hours her own mother had put in. And then to cap it all off Jason, Jamie's father, had suffered a fatal heart attack in the middle of his work day, and just dropped dead in his tracks. It came out of nowhere and had stunned everyone. Angela, Jamie's mother, had taken it terribly, as had Jamie.

Oh.

Gail leaned on the counter. "Well shit," she said to her daughter.

Vivian did not seem at all surprised that Gail had processed all that. "Where's Mom?"

"Upstairs. Do you..." Gail gestured at herself, silently asking if Vivian wanted to talk to her first.

"I really only want to have this conversation once," admitted Vivian.

"Yeah. Okay." She walked to the stairs. "Holly, Viv's here."

"Coming!" Holly didn't sound annoyed. Actually relieved.

Gail chuckled. "If you want to distract her later, ask about her book. She's stuck in the fourth draft. The interrogation part is pissing her off."

"I'll keep that in mind." Vivian managed a slight smile and sat at the kitchen island. She was literally drooping and Gail had no idea what to say there.

A moment later, Holly bounded down the stairs (as much as a woman in her mid-seventies bounded). "Hey, honey. Did I forget a dinner?"

Vivian shook her head. "No, no. I just... I wanted to tell you guys." She paused. "Jamie and I are getting divorced."

The word sat before them, heavy and meaningful. Divorce. Gail watched her wife struggle through a series of faces. At first Holly was shocked, but quickly shifted into crushed and then. "Honey..." Holly didn't even hesitate, she wrapped Vivian into a hug.

"Mom," sighed Vivian, as if embarrassed, but she sniffled and leaned in to Holly's arms. "I'm okay."

"Shush." Holly glowered at Gail, who quickly came over to join the hug.

Vivian sniffed again, but insisted. "It's the right choice, Moms," she explained.

Holly didn't let go yet. "You sure?"

"No," said Vivian with a laugh.

That got Holly to let go, and she laughed sadly. "Okay, I clearly need this story."

Vivian scrubbed her eyes. "It's not much. Jamie's quit being a firefighter, and she's moving in with her mother to run Jason's flower shop."

"What?" Gail felt shocked all of the sudden.

That they were getting divorced made sense to her, after all. Vivian and Jamie had been struggling for the last few years, moving in different directions. Vivian was not about to give her career, and it really was a career, to move to Mississauga. At the same time, Gail had thought Jamie was okay with that.

It was no secret that Jamie was often frustrated by Vivian's obsessive and insular nature. Gail couldn't blame her on that one. Yet... that was the woman Jamie had married. Gail had married an obsessive woman. Holly had married a woman who didn't communicate her feelings well. They'd known and accepted those things.

But... Vivian wasn't them. Neither was Jamie. And Jamie, apparently, was changing who she was.

"Yeah, I may not have been super supportive," said Vivian, guiltily.

"That sounds like a midlife crisis," said Holly. "I'm getting a beer."

"Two," said Vivian.

"Three," said Gail. "Jesus, I thought this was just going to be about you being so die hard copper."

Vivian winced. "I don't want to quit or move to Mississauga."

"What about the boys?" Holly put three bottles on the counter.

"Well... they'll probably stay with me." Vivian took a beer and popped it open. "I mean, Jamie's starting a business, and her mom..."

There was also that. Vivian had never liked Jamie's mother. She tolerated Angela, but Vivian made it no secret that she didn't find the woman to be all that healthy. In a way it was funny. At first it had been Jason who Vivian hadn't cared for, but very quickly he and she became friends. And the boys didn't really like Grandma Angela. Lane kicked up a fuss every time they'd had to go visit.

"Jesus, single mom with two nearly teen boys?" Gail made a face and opened her beer. Tyson had just turned eleven and Lane would be eight soon. Okay, one nearly teen and one kid. "Well you are fucking lucky we're retired."

Vivian blinked. "Moms... I'm not asking for help."

"You are such an idiot," said Holly. "You don't ask us for help here. We're your mothers. If you have to move in with us—"

Her daughter laughed. "Mom, I love you, but the boys would kill each other in one room again."

Without missing a beat, Holly went on. "And we could give up the office. I'm just saying, Vivian, we're here for you."

"I know, Mom. And I love you guys. But... I think, and this is assuming they want to stay in Toronto, I think we'll be okay."

Gail caught on. "You haven't told them yet."

"No. Just you. Well and the lawyer."

They'd called the lawyer first. They were serious. "You could move to the cottage—"

"Mom." Vivian was surprisingly firm. "We'll be okay. I will ask you if I need help, but I think it's more ... it's going to be picking them up and sports and stuff."

"You couldn't wait a few years?" Holly was mournful. "Make Ty drive his brother around?"

Vivian smirked. "Wanna buy him a car? I don't make that much money."

"Maybe. But I want to talk to Jamie," said Holly firmly.

"Mom—"

"Not to talk her out of this. She was married to you for over a decade, honey. She's the mother of my grandchildren. She doesn't get to just ghost us." Holly was at her most firm. "And if you want us there when you tell the boys, we'll be there."

Their daughter sighed. "Thanks."

"Good. Now. Staying for dinner?"

Vivian shook her head. "I'd love to, but speaking of telling the boys, I need to pick them up. Jamie wanted to tell them tonight before she headed out."

She flinched and Gail knew it didn't go unnoticed. "Jamie's moving out already?"

"More or less." Vivian looked around the kitchen for a moment. "She's going to negotiate for the flower shop. I kinda had to get out of the house for a bit."

They let the conversation slide from there. A little. They talked about what Vivian's general plans were. How she was going to make it work with, well, work. Gail joked that Matty should move in with her, and Vivian admitted it wasn't a half bad idea. But then she went to get her boys and break the news.

Jamie was moving out and leaving Vivian with two kids.

"You're mad," said Holly, as Gail sorted out their own dinner.

"A bit, yeah."

"She probably has a reason." Holly eased onto a stool.

She. Jamie. They both knew. "It was probably the last straw. Vivian not picking her over the job. I get it, I do. I'm not mad at Jamie. Or Vivian. I'm just ... I'm mad that my kid can't have this stuff work out."

Holly made a soft 'ah' sound. "You should give her the cottage."

Gail stopped chopping the chicken and eyed her wife. "What?"

"We haven't gone all year. We probably won't. It's too much effort to go up there." Holly leaned on the counter.

"Hey I'm full on retired now, lady," objected Gail.

"And you want to downsize the house and garden with me." Holly smiled. "You know I'm right. We can still visit. Take your room back."

"That's ..." Gail stopped. Because Holly was right. They had barely gone in the last few years. It was a hell of a time getting up there, and it wasn't as fun as it had been. And. "God, we're old."

"We are," agreed Holly. "But I can't think of anyone I'd rather grow old with."

Gail dropped the chicken into the skillet and washed her hands. "Come here, old lady."

With a smile, Holly just held a hand out to Gail, drawing her in for a soft kiss. "She'll be okay."

"She's about to be a single mom with two boys and a full time job."

"And she will make it work." Holly was firm. "And she has us."

Gail sighed and leaned against Holly. "Do you think she'd want it? Now that she's single?"

"I think she might need it more now," murmured Holly. "A place to run and hide."

"A place to heal," Gail agreed. Her arms tightened around Holly for a moment.

She wanted to say a lot. She wanted to tell Holly how happy she was for just having the strange woman in her life. She wanted to tell Holly she didn't regret a thing about their life together. She wanted to tell Holly how much she loved her, how much she meant, how much...

Gail didn't say any of that. She held her wife close, burying her face in Holly's hair, and she sighed. "Life."

"Who needs it, right?" Holly's voice was just as soft and quiet.

"You plan and plan and plan… But it just does what it wants."

Her wife laughed mirthlessly. "Kind of like our kid."

Gail smiled. "Kind of like us."

"It's not a fairytale, honey, but it's what we've got."

Closing her eyes, Gail nodded. It wasn't a fairytale. But she'd take it. It was time to really let go and let her daughter be whatever was next.

The last box was closed.

"I'm going to miss it here," said Holly, attempting to wipe dirt off her face, and only managing to smear it more.

"Me too," said Gail.

The movers would be there in a few hours, but the amount of boxes was smaller than Gail had anticipated. They'd shed furniture and things left and right. All the sports crap had gone to the girls, or rather the boys. Holly had sold most of her memorabilia, as had Gail grudgingly.

Willingly, she'd downsized her guns. Now she had two. A handgun and a competition pistol. Vivian had taken the safe and the rifle and pretty much everything else without question. Of course, Gail still had a taser, but that wasn't at all the same as guns.

They'd downsized books too, comics and albums. After all, while Holly loved the old LPs, the reality was they didn't listen to them. And so, forty plus years in a house was ending.

"Think they'll rip things out?" Holly was looking at the sun room, which desperately needed updating.

"I would, if I had the energy."

Holly laughed. "You are so lazy, Peck." But she was smiling sadly.

"Hey, come here." Gail held a hand out, and Holly eased into her arms. They still fit together so well. It was a blessing. "Remember the first time I helped you pack?"

"Must we?"

"I hated that so much, Holly. I didn't want you to go."

"I wanted you to come with me."

"You know I couldn't."

"I knew it, yes." Holly squeezed Gail close. "I love you."

Gail smiled. "And that's how you got me to help you move to America."

Holly pressed her face against Gail's shoulder. Her safe space, Gail knew. "I would have been back," she whispered. "Every single day, all I could think was how the hell I was supposed to live without you."

Sighing, Gail held Holly as close as possible. "I was going to get drunk, I think."

Deadpan, Holly replied, "Good plan. Played to your strengths back then."

She laughed. That was why she loved Holly so goddamn much. The woman got her. Holly just did. Holly understood Gail, her moods and her dark humour, and didn't run away. Instead, Holly loved her for everything that she was. That Gail was broken in many ways even now, didn't bother Holly. Holly just loved her.

And too, Gail loved Holly. It was a simple fact. The woman was smart, beautiful, wise, and talented. She had a huge heart, a caring soul, and made Gail happy. God, how Holly made Gail happy. Just that smile, or the laugh, or that lip turn that wasn't a smile but was, and she'd do it, and Gail would be absolute putty.

"I'm glad you stayed," she whispered into Holly's hair.

"I'm glad you still loved me."

"I was always going to love you, Holly. I always will."

"That's a long time," mused Holly. "You sure about forever?"

"I am with you."

Holly snickered and kissed Gail's cheek. "You're so weird."

Smiling, Gail managed to catch Holly's lips with her own. "Pot, kettle."

Holly hummed. "Potato, tomato."

They kissed again. It was still so easy, kissing Holly. Everything about it was perfect. The way those lips felt against her own skin, the way Holly pressed against her. Touching her. No matter how much time passed, it still felt like they were supposed to be here, there, everywhere. Together.

"Van won't be here for a few hours," murmured Gail.

"Kid is supposed to be here before."

"Pfffft. She's seen it before." Gail lifted her eyebrows.

"I'm too old to screw on the floor," said Holly, firmly.

"Did you strip the bed?"

They shared a look before Holly smiled. "No."

Sometime later, Holly sighed happily and played with Gail's hair. "I will miss it."

"Hope you mean the house, cause we're having sex at the new place."

Holly laughed and playfully shoved at Gail. "Ass."

Gail just smiled, happy. Being happy, consistently, was her favourite thing about being retired. She didn't have the stress and pain of police work hovering over her head, and the agony that came with being a Peck was gone. Oh, she did some volunteering here and there. She'd tried her hand at writing like Holly and that was a fail. She babysat her beautiful grandchildren.

"Holly, I'm happy," she said quietly.

"Hope you mean about the sex," quipped Holly, clearly still amused by the earlier joke.

"I meant us," clarified Gail. "I'm happy with you. With our life."

Holly was silent for a moment. "Gail." Her voice was tender and Holly's fingers slipped under Gail's chin, tilting her head so Holly could look at Gail better.

Even though Holly's vision was horrific, and she couldn't make out a single one of Gail's features at that distance anymore, her face was filled with that quiet love. It had taken Gail years to understand what the look meant. The kindness Holly showed her was everything she'd thought she'd never get.

She knew she was crazy lucky. After years of having her self worth shattered by parents who did what was expected, a mother who couldn't stand up for herself (let alone Gail) anywhere outside of work, and constantly being told she had to be a thing or she wasn't anything... Gail had this. This wonderful human who loved her. Mess and all, Holly loved her.

Gail sighed and scooted up to kiss Holly softly. To lose herself in being with the one person who got her. Who loved her. "I love you too," she muttered against those lips, and felt Holly's curve in response.

And this time it went no further as the garage door opened.

"Oh, shit," said Holly, gently pushing Gail back. "Houston, we have a problem."

"The kid has caught us so many times now," groaned Gail, but she flopped onto her back.

"No, you idiot. We have no towels." Holly had her glasses on and was half out of bed.

"Oh. Whoops." Gail rooted for her phone, wondering if she could remember what box they were in.

Vivian's voice, louder than normal, cut into her thoughts. "Lane, go look for Boba Fett under the slide, okay? I think you put the Sarlac pit there."

"I aye, Ma'am," announced a young boy. The backdoor creaked and slapped against the frame, and the familiar thudding of Lane Peck resounded into the yard.

"Can't I show gramma my report?" That was Tyson, in his best wheedling voice.

"After you check the fridge. Put it all in the coolers."

"That's no fair," whinged Ty. "Lane's playing outside."

"No, he's digging up action figures. And when he finds his toys, you can both use the metal detector for one last sweep."

"Cool!"

Holly snickered. "She knows them so well."

"Think she knows?"

There was a knock on their door. "I'm tossing in supplies," announced Vivian, and the door opened enough for her to do that. "You're idiots." She said it fondly, though, as she closed the door again.

"Thank you," said Gail, hustling through a very fast shower. When Gail came out, Vivian was standing in the doorway to her old bedroom, hands in pockets. "You okay, kiddo?"

"I'll miss this house," she replied.

"You coulda bought it."

"Seriously? The assholes who own it are asking waaaay too much."

"I'm sure they'd cut you a deal."

Vivian laughed. "Not the right room spacing. We'd be all over each other."

The house Vivian had was the one she'd bought with Jamie. It was smaller than the one here, but the layout was what Vivian called 'functional.' The boys had a small room each, Vivian had the master, and Matty had the attic. There was no more office, Vivian ceding the attic and now just using her own bedroom for that. Every time Gail thought it was too small, it turned out to be just right. Vivian attributed the success to the fact that the boys were near each other but not sharing a wall.

"Matty could use the attic here," noted Gail.

Her daughter turned and arched an eyebrow. "He couldn't stand. Or fit his shoes."

Now Gail laughed. "Oh fine." Then she asked, "Why didn't you take the attic?"

"I like having my own bathroom. He has to share with the boys."

"Possibly the one reason that bathroom is habitable," said Holly, coming up behind Gail and hugging her. "Thank you, honey."

"Hey, gotta have that last fuck," drawled Gail, and Holly poked her ribs. "Ow!"

"I meant Vivian. The actual helpful one with towels and a laundry bag."

Vivian turned and smiled. "You just had to, didn't you?"

"Hey, it's the last day here." Gail smirked. She wanted to joke that Vivian would probably do that herself one day, but given the current state of her daughter's love life (which was to say, the lack thereof) it was unlikely. "Where are the boys?"

"Hunting down lost toys in the yard. They're pretty sure they can find Boba Fett."

"With the metal detector?"

Vivian just shrugged. "Ty loves that thing."

They all three looked out the window of Vivian's old room. Gail could just make out Lane pointing excitedly and Tyson waving around ... that must be the metal detector. Gail sighed. "I don't like this shit where my eyes are old," she muttered.

"Boo hoo," drawled Holly.

"See this is why you lost," teased Vivian. Who had indeed beaten Gail at three straight birthday shootouts, which resulted in the end of any joy in that particular game.

"You're gonna get old too, kiddo." Gail snarled, with no venom at all, and her kid laughed.

"Not before you, old lady."

Gail grinned. That was her kid alright. "I'm not going to do the shootout again," she told Vivian.

"Pay up," said Vivian, and she extended a hand to Holly, of all people.

The older woman scowled at Gail and took out her phone. "Ten dollars, damn it." There was a beep and Gail realized Holly had just sent their child money. "I am disappointed in you, Gail. I thought you'd do it till you won again, and then quit."

"Three in a row wasn't enough humiliation?" Gail snorted. "Fuck off. I'm hanging it all up."

"Keeping your competition pistol, though," pointed out Vivian.

"Just because I can't win doesn't mean I don't practice."

"How very not Peck of you," Holly mused. And she kissed Gail's cheek in the way that indicated her approval.

It wasn't a secret that Holly had never fully approved of Gail's shooting in general. She was a pacifist and a humanist, who wanted to believe the best in everyone. The idea of a gun, needing a gun, was anathema to her being. And yet she had still dated and lived with and married Gail. Because Gail, she said, was worth it all.

Still. Holly must had been relieved to have most of that over and done with. That Inspector Gail Peck was no more. Now she was just a grumpy old lady named Gail, who indulged her grandsons and terrorized her daughter.

Gail looked curiously at her wife, who returned the look with no small bemusement. Did Holly still love her the way she'd loved Gail when they met? When they'd gotten into a stupid fight at the Penny? When they'd decided it was worth trying again? When they'd moved in or married or bought a house or adopted or ... or.

Before she could ask, though, two young boy erupted into delightful greeting. "Grandmas, how come you showered?" Lane galloped into the house, holding a filthy toy, high above his head. Tyson, older and more stately, just rolled his eyes. Oh he knew.

Laughing, Gail knelt to greet her grandsons with hugs. "We were dirtier than your toy there. Who's that?"

"We found Boba Fett!"

"And this," said Tyson, holding out a small metal box. Unopened.

Gail blinked a few times, taking the box. It was an old Altoids box from the look. "Vivian?"

"Not mine, Mom. Where'd you find it, Ty-Fighter?"

"By the flower bed."

"Ah, sorry. I did that." Holly turned a little pink and held her hand out. "It's ... well. Open it."

"If this is more of your mom's ashes, baby, we're having a talk," drawled Gail. But it wasn't Lily's remains. It was a carefully sealed letter. More of a note. "I hope we live here a long, happy time as a family," read Gail. "I hope Gail stays safe. I hope we can adopt Vivian. And I hope we love each other forever."

Behind her, Vivian snorted. "I told you, we should have gotten her her own vest."

"You lack a romantic bone in your entire body," chastised Holly. "Give it over, Gail."

But Gail shook her head. "No... where did we pack the pens?"

To her lack of surprise, Tyson held out a Sharpie. "This okay?"

"Excellent." Gail grinned and kissed his cheek.

"Gail," said Holly, exasperated but fond. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving a note for the next people." And she wrote a simple sentence.

And they did.

She'd been to a million ceremonies like this. She'd sat in the audience for her parents, her brother, her friends as they received promotions. Some were more public than others. Some, like Frankie Anderson, had been handed over in a casual manner. Others, like her own, had been done on a stage surrounded by hundreds of her closest strangers.

And now her own daughter was there, receiving an award for Women in Law Enforcement, and a promotion to Inspector.

Inspector Peck of Internal Affairs.

God, Elaine would laugh her ass off if she was alive.

A hand found hers and squeezed. "Your mother," whispered Holly, "would be laughing."

Gail grinned and looked at her wife. "I know, right?"

"She's going to outrank you one day," mused the doctor, leaning up against Gail comfortably.

"Undoubtedly." Gail wrapped an arm around her wife and listened to the newest inspector named Peck make a speech.

Vivian wasn't Gail. She wasn't Holly. She was her own person. And onstage, Vivian was very much her own woman. She stood taller, spoke clearly, and there was a presence Gail had never had. Never would.

Up there on a stage, Vivian talked about service and dedication. She talked about a world that was larger than herself, and how she'd learned those lessons from her mothers and her grandmother. And how it was with them in mind that she was honoured to be named a woman in Toronto leadership. A representative of law enforcement. An Inspector.

"Was Lane mad you told him he couldn't come?"

Gail smirked. "Livid." She let go to applaud her daughter accepting the award. "This is probably what broke her and Jamie, y'know."

Holly sighed softly. "Gail." That was it. Just her name. And Gail knew what Holly meant.

In the first six months since the divorce, Vivian had done exactly what she said she would. First, she had Matty move in. Then she took the job as Inspector Peck. And now, after almost a year, she was going forward and being the kind of Peck the family always wanted, in a way they didn't expect. And damn if Vivian didn't seem happy about it.

"She's going to be a cop forever," said Gail, her voice a hush.

"Yes, She is."

Gail shifted in her seat. She was not in uniform. She didn't have a uniform anymore. She wasn't a cop, and hadn't been one for over two years. This wasn't her home anymore.

"Do you feel old?" She looked at Holly.

Her wife blinked. "Gail, I can see 80 right there. I am old."

"Yeah but do you feel it?"

Holly leaned back in her seat and looked around the room. "Sometimes. Is seeing your legacy weird?"

Gail nodded. "Super weird."

The room was filled with children. People who Gail didn't know, because they'd joined the force when she'd been on a desk. People she was old enough to be their grandparent. Kids.

A chair at their table pulled back and Vivian plunked down her award. "Hey, Elaine had this one, right?"

"Yes. And that's a hell of a measuring stick, kid." Gail picked up the glass and metal award. "Where is this one going?"

"My office, on the Elaine side."

Vivian, the resident of Elaine's old office, had set up her various awards and documents in an amusing way. All the ones related to Elaine, such as ones the woman had won but also ones in Elaine's name, were on the wall by the framed painting of Elaine Peck. Anything Gail had also acquired was on the facing wall. The one by the door had the collection of things only Vivian herself had earned.

That wall was growing.

Gail was damn proud of the kid.

"I can't believe they gave you Elaine's office."

Vivian laughed. "All the top brass moved to the renovated floor, Mom."

"You know what I mean, you asshole."

And Vivian smiled broadly. "I do, Mom. Thank you."

"Ugh, I don't thank people," grumbled Gail.

That made Holly laugh, and she leaned into Gail. "When can we leave?"

"Uh, I'd wait for dessert. It's creme brûlée."

Gail paused. "Who made it?"

"A good place. I checked them out last week," and Vivian smirked.

Gail turned to Holly and made her eyes wide and innocent. "Can I have desert?"

Her wife rolled her eyes. "You're going to complain all night if I say no."

"She will," confirmed Vivian. "Come on, she's been good, Mom. Live a little."

Holly sighed deeply. "See what I put up with?"

"You love it." Vivian smirked. She pushed her hat back, an askew style that made her look dashing.

That was something Gail was never able to manage. She could look glamorous and sexy and break hearts. She could look like an ice princess. She could never quite manage rakish or dashing. Her daughter, though, had that asshole smile (very much a Peck thing) and that casual dangerous vibe (Elaine's fault), but also an abject honesty and goodness (Holly).

Far more important than all that was the fact that Vivian was there, sitting with them, and happy. All the things that went into making a Peck a success, Vivian had achieved. She had two beautiful sons, hellions but that was to be expected.

Here was Vivian, a success and a respected police officer.

And she was happy, teasing Holly and joking about science. Making a crack about her sons and Matty probably cleaning the house under duress. Reminding them about the time the boys dressed up in drag and sang show tunes at Christmas.

"Hey," said Gail softly. Vivian turned, still grinning. "I'm proud of you, kid," she told her daughter, trying to put all the sincerity she could into the sentence.

Vivian's eyes widened a little and she glanced at Holly. "What brought that on?"

"Nothing, just 40 years." Gail smiled and waved one hand. "I'm proud of you. Of everything. And you should hear that more often."

"She drunk?" Vivian looked at Holly.

"On the mood maybe," said Holly, and she slipped her arm through Gail's, winding her fingers with hers. "You drunk, honey?"

"Yes," said Gail flatly. "You all suck. Why can't I tell my kid I'm proud of her? You make me sound like I'm my parents, never telling you shit."

"You never do it about cop stuff, Mom," Vivian explained, in a tone that surprised Gail. It was Gail's own 'Mom' voice, the one Gail used when Vivian had been a teen and upset about not being normal. It was also the one Vivian had used when Lane was angry.

Gail pointed at her daughter. "Hey, I'm the mom, not you." And Vivian held her hands up, a shield. "Take the goddamned compliment you assface."

And Vivian smiled. It was a rare kind of smile, even now. A slow grin that split her face and lit up the world a little more. Like everything was better. The smile wasn't Holly's and it wasn't Gail's. It was the one Vivian showed them for the first time when she was six and they'd walked through the then-new house.

Holly was looking at the two bedrooms with bathrooms, mulling them over, and asked Vivian which she liked better. The girl had looked confused and asked why it mattered. When Holly explained that they were thinking of buying the house, for all of them to live in, but if Vivian didn't like the house, or the rooms, they could look for something else.

That slow, happy, grin crossed her face. As if she'd never been asked for her opinion and feelings on a big choice like that. Her heart opened up just a little, and Gail remembered the feeling. How nice and warm it was, to just have that scared, insular child trust them, to be happy about being included. To be a family. It wasn't long after that Vivian spontaneously called them Moms.

Parenthood was weird like that. Just filled with random moments where a child changed the world with a smile. Grandparent life was the same way. The first time Tyson put on his glasses and smiled. The first time Lane slept through the night at their place. The first time they walked, laughed, spoke, ran, wrote.

All of those firsts still paled to the first real smile from six year old Vivian.

"I love your smile," said Holly, echoing Gail's thoughts.

"Okay, now you're embarrassing me," Vivian said and blushed. "And if either of you tell me I'm pretty when I smile, I'm leaving."

Everyone laughed. "I think it's a mom thing," admitted Gail. "You know?"

Vivian nodded after a moment. "Oh. Yeah." She grinned a more casual smile that time. "Like how the boys still look so cute when they sleep?"

"Kind of," agreed Gail. "It just ... makes me think we did okay."

"I think we did," murmured Holly, though a little doubtful.

There was a pause, as if Vivian was going to make a flippant joke about the whole thing. But instead, she leaned across and hugged both of them. "I think we did too," said Vivian, softly but fiercely.

Thankfully, deep talk was interrupted by desert arriving.

Later on, as they stepped outside, moderately well fed, Holly posed a different question. "Do you miss this, Gail?"

"Free shitty food?"

Holly rolled her eyes. "Being one of those idiots in uniform."

"Ouch," said Vivian, laughing.

Gail smiled. It was an interesting question. "I don't think so," she replied. "I mean... miss isn't the right word. I feel something about it."

"Saudade," offered Vivian, looking at the line of cars.

"What's that?" Holly frowned and leaned into Gail, curiously.

Gail squinted at Vivian. "You get that from Chloe?" When her daughter nodded, Gail huffed an exhale. "It's Portuguese. Doesn't have a word in English, but it's a ... deep feeling of nostalgia or melancholy, when you miss something or someone you really loved."

Her wife made an unhappy noise. "Oh."

"It's not that either," noted Gail. "It's just. It's what it was." And then a somewhat grotesque analogy came to mind. "It's like heterosexuality."

Both her wife and daughter snorted laughs. "Oh I've got to hear this," insisted Holly, laughter in her eyes.

Gail flipped her off. "It was expected, and it was normal for who I was supposed to be. And then I met this asshole in a forest and went a different way."

The expression on Holly's face shifted from amusement to affection. "Gail," she said tenderly.

"I'm serious. I think, if you weren't here. Both of you, nimrod," she added, pointing at the still laughing-with-her-eyes Vivian. "Without you two, yes, I'd miss it a lot. I'd feel empty. Like there was a piece missing. But now I don't. I feel ... complete. And it's your fault."

Predictably, Holly kissed her. Not a sexy kiss, just a romantic reminder. A confirmation. Holly understood what Gail was saying.

"Retirement suits you," said Vivian, thoughtfully. "I thought Mom would've killed you that first month."

"I thought about it," replied Holly. She was smiling that lovely, soft smile that told Gail everything she needed to know.

That she was loved and wanted.

It may have taken her a long road, but she was there.

Maybe it was because she'd held their mother's hand when Elaine had died, but Gail felt more prepared for her brother.

His wife, Traci, was sound asleep on the couch and Gail sat in the far too uncomfortable chair, reading to Steve from the latest fantasy novel he'd been enjoying before his second stroke.

They'd known they didn't have a lot of time. The treatment for the memory problems that had plagued Elaine hadn't been as effective on Steve, and then the side effects. God. The side effects. Steve had been miserable, worked through the anger issues and the insomnia. Then the tremors and finally the stroke.

That first one had nearly dropped Steve dead. He'd been alone in his office, and thank god his secretary had heard him fall from his chair.

After that, though, Steve had been retired and seemed to enjoy life that way. He played golf, something they all teased him about, he went for long walks. Once Traci retired, they did the things couples did when they'd reached an age. Grandchildren, thanks to Leo, came over.

Steve was young, though, comparatively. He wasn't young like Gail's grandsons, but he wasn't super old. Okay fine, she felt old recently. She felt positively ancient a lot of the time. The doctors she talked to were younger than her daughter, for fuck's sake.

She didn't feel old sitting with Steve, though. There she felt like they were in their stupid twenties again. Maybe they were sitting in Vegas, drunk off their asses, at a strip club. Steve was telling her all about how she'd be better off without Nick, and Gail was trying really hard not to think about how pretty the girls were, and weren't men all assholes.

Funny how that worked out.

She paused, smiling at her brother.

He didn't say anything, and seemed to be asleep again. He looked so thin and sallow. So had Elaine when she was dying. Paper thin, wispy skin, bones sticking out. It was as if he collapsed on himself all at once.

The second stroke should have killed him already.

They still didn't know how long he'd lain in the house, but Holly and Traci had found him on the kitchen floor when they'd returned from one of the kids' sports game. Something Lane was playing with Awn, Leo's daughter.

Thank god it was Holly, as she did all the right things and got Steve to the hospital fast. But even Holly knew how bad it was. How unlikely it was that Steve would be okay. When he woke up, he was immobile on his right side. From there, it was just days. If they were lucky.

Gail closed the book and picked up her phone, checking messages. There was one from Vivian, asking how it was going. And as she contemplated a reply, Gail heard a sound she remembered from Elaine.

She knew she should wake up her sister-in-law, asleep on the couch. It was a moment of selfishness, though. To be there, hold her big brother's hand, and say good bye alone.

"Steve," she said softly.

His watery blue eyes opened and he looked at her. He saw her, for the first time in a while. "Ah," said Steve. His eyes closed again.

Gail shook her head. "Asshole." Then she looked over. Guilt washed over her. "Hey, Traci," she said a little louder. Nothing. "Trace. Wake up."

On the couch, her friend grumbled. "Gail, I'm not hungry."

"Traci," she said again. This time she said it a little firmer. And her friend, her sister in law, sat up.

"Oh."

That was all Traci said. She pulled a chair over and took Steve's other hand.

They'd done this before. They'd sat and watched people die. But this was Steve.

They didn't say anything. They just held his hands until it was over.

After, Traci sat outside the room while Gail handled the immediate situation. What to do with Steve's body, where to send it. She'd prepared the arrangements days ago, and now just set them in motion. All those years running OC had been useful for something at least. It was easy enough to handle things, even if her brain kept screaming that it was her brother.

"Holly wants me to come over," said Traci as Gail walked out of the room.

"She texted?"

"No, but she does."

Gail smiled and sat beside her classmate, her sister, and her best friend. "I think you should, too," she said.

"I should," agreed Traci. "What do we do?"

"Well. Begin the grieving process." When Traci gave her a confused look, Gail smiled. "We get drunk on good stuff and talk about the old days that were better, less expensive, and we were respected."

"Oh, I don't think you were ever respected." They both laughed. "Who's going to come?"

The real question was who was left to come. "Oliver of course. Frank and Noelle. Fucking Anderson. Which means Chloe, sorry. Dov. Andy. A couple asshole cousins."

"Shay?"

"Probably. If she's not traipsing across Asia still." Gail leaned back. "Crap, we need to die soon, Trace, or there'll be nobody at ours!"

Her friend laughed at the dark joke. "I'll have Leo, and you have Viv and the boys."

"Thank god," said Gail.

As much as her kid needed her and Holly for support as she single mom'd her way through a career and a life, Gail felt like she needed Vivian. These days, Vivian was indispensable. She held the family together, showing up magically when Gail or Holly needed her. Just like she'd always known when Gail was having a nightmare, she seemed to be aware of when she was needed.

And as expected, Vivian and the boys were at the house when Gail and Traci rolled in. Tyson was sitting with Holly, playing a scrabble game with Jerry Shaw that was math instead of scrabble. Lane was with Oliver and Frankie soaking up all the old cop stories about Steve. And Vivian had the old guard, Gail's classmates, bossing them around the kitchen and keeping Dov and Chloe from sniping at each other.

For a fleeting moment, Gail felt superfluous.

She watched Chloe envelop Traci in a hug and pull her to the kitchen to please explain to Dov how to slice the fresh bread properly. From the depths of her house, Gail registered the laughter of Frankie and Bibby. How the fuck was he still alive?

"I picked up Bibby," said Vivian, reading her mind and holding out a glass.

"Probably the hottest person he's had pick him up in years."

"Swarek sent his ... well, I'd say feelings, but he muttered about how he shoulda visited." Vivian did a halfway decent impression of the man. "Marlo said she'd make him go to the funeral though."

Gail nodded. "He and Sam were ... well. Steve was ahead of them. Callaghan, Anderson, Bibby, and Peck."

"And apparently some guy named Micky Coatlianno?"

"Now there's a name." Gail laughed. "Micky Coats. Jesus. He's been dead ages. Since you were a baby probably."

Vivian held up her glass. Gail mirrored the action and they clinked. "Oliver was telling Lane about how Micky punched out a pimp."

"It's true," Gail remarked. "Lost the civil case."

"And went off a bridge in his patrol."

Gail snickered. "My god. My father worked that case."

"And got arrested on his undercover night."

"B and E." Gail shook her head. "Fucking, Micky. Ollie tell you how he died?"

"He edited. The boys, y'know." Vivian jerked her chin over to Oliver and, indeed, Lane, who was worshipfully seated at his feet. "I gather it was in flagrante morticio?"

Amused by the wordplay, Gail had to pop the bubble. "Not like that. His girlfriend's dealer caught them, I think from sexts on her phone, and got his guys to kill him outside a strip club. His pants were down, but that was just to throw off the scent. Mom, and I remember this dinner, Mom sneered when she informed us there was no trace that corroborated the implication."

Vivian looked incredibly amused. "Did she say it in that snippy tone like when she busted me?"

"I hardly think catching you borrowing Steve's car was busting you," Gail pointed out. Then she asked, "Was he a good uncle?"

"Sometimes," mused Vivian. "He tried to be a good person, and it showed."

That was good. "He was a good brother most of the time." And then he wasn't. Like when he wanted her to pick Peck over Police. Or when he grabbed Vivian's arm. Or a million other moments.

"He was just hurt a lot, Mom." Clearly Vivian was telepathic. "Same as you. He was too scared to change."

"You keep saying that like I'm brave or something."

"Strong," corrected her daughter. "You don't see it, but you are. And you taught me... you both taught me a lot about going on when it hurts, Mom."

Gail couldn't help it and scoffed. "Steve did?"

"Yeah he did." Vivian looked serious. "He taught me that when the chips were down, you had family. No matter how fucked up. And they maybe won't be people with your name or your blood. He taught me to go to the wall for the people who were there for you." The weight of that hung between them for a moment, and then Vivian added, "Oh and how to use the family name for persuasion."

"Now that sounds like my brother."

It was a solid three days before Gail really cried about it. The day after the funeral, she got up early. That happened more now that she was retired, for no good reason. Holly was sound asleep, her silver hair creeping out from its braid, looking as beautiful as the day they'd met. Gail didn't want to wake up her wife, so she crept downstairs to make coffee and read the news.

Somewhere in the middle of coffee it hit her. A tear rolled down her face without warning. She put the cup down and felt them well up.

Her big brother was gone.

The asshole. The caring man. The crazy guy who ran around his car to shake off nerves. The shitty hockey player. The brilliant detective. The horrible cook.

The boy and the man.

They were all gone.

Gail didn't have her parents or her brother any more.

By the time Holly had woken up, it had passed. Gail made her wife a cup of coffee and read the news. They had such boring plans for the day. Holly was taking a class in pottery, of all things, and joked about how horrible she was. Gail was meeting Nick and Chloe for lunch and then a Successful Ladies in Policing event with Traci as well.

It was just life.

So we begin and end with deaths. How cheerful.