1.05 - A Good Shoot
This is the much awaited for 'will Vivian ever remember more about the Greens?' chapter. And yes, she will. I'm not even going to screw with you and build up too much. We're going to dive in head first and deal with the fall out.
The night before it happened, Olivia had called to explain why she'd run off. It was a relief to finally have that answer, after two whole months of wondering what the hell Vivian had done to piss off the planet. And in a lot of ways she didn't mind knowing they weren't getting back together. It felt like a relief to have that settled on both ends. To hear Liv say she was sorry, but she shouldn't have kissed her, it was wrong and inappropriate, was kinda painful though. Because while that was true and Vivian totally agreed, hearing it was weird.
But the running off... Having the girl you'd once liked, like really liked, kiss and then run off was confusing enough. Liv's apologies had helped, and more it had helped Vivian to realize that she didn't have those kinds of feelings for her former bff. Not anymore at least. Gail had been right, too, saying that getting back with exes was a great way to stomp all over your own heart.
Even so. When Liv said that she was seeing someone and that was why it was wrong, well it hurt. That was a little bit of an unexpected emotion. Vivian felt like she was gutted to hear not only had Liv moved on, but she was actually with someone when she'd kissed Viv. It was fair, though. It had been a long time. Finding out you were the other woman was not fun, though she didn't really feel like she had much right to be too vocally upset about it, since she hadn't kissed Liv.
At least not until Olivia said it was with a guy.
Why that was so exceptionally painful, Vivian wasn't quite sure. Holly had once mentioned the fact that most of her exes were straight after breaking up with her. Gail had joked all her exes were still into women, but they were also all men. But then there was Liv and a guy and it was stupid. Liv had dated guys before. And girls after, as it turned out, but this one, this person who she'd been dating just had to be a guy. And it hurt like hell.
Her ex slash best friend had kissed her because the boy she was in love with had been noncommittal about moving to San Diego. And Olivia, scared and thrown off her game, looked for a moment of comfort in her friend. Which was wrong because it hurt Glenn. Not Vivian. Glenn. She already hated him. A lot. Glenn could die in a fire right now.
Maybe that was why it hurt so much. Not only had Olivia chosen someone else, which was totally fair, but she'd picked them and taken their side and cared more about him than her in this moment. On the one hand, it was totally fair. On the other, Viv and Liv had been best friends for over a decade before things had gotten stupid. Now she was just anyone else. And all the protestations that Liv had needed a friend before she moved to the States felt forced. Olivia had Glenn. Vivian was thrown aside.
Confused and hurt, Vivian called Matty to unburden herself, only to have serious advice given to her. Walk away from it. Olivia was clearly not worrying about Vivian's feelings, so Vivian should protect herself and stay out of it. Good advice, but it didn't make her feel much better. Sometimes Matty was great for sympathy. Apparently asking for sympathy the week before Matty's big costuming project was due was a bad idea.
That made for a fucking awesome night with very little sleep. It made for a subsequent morning avoiding her moms, since either one would know in a second that the diagnosis was drama. Thankfully, Holly was called in early on a case and Gail always slept in on those days. Without Holly to drag her out of bed, Gail could be insanely lazy. Vivian timed her escape for before Gail's alarms (plural) went off, going to the division's gym and trying to bike her feelings out.
She was getting dressed at her locker when Lara and Jenny came in with cookies. Jenny smiled, holding up a Tupperware box, "Peck! Snickerdoodles?"
"Oh you have no idea," muttered Vivian, pulling her black t-shirt on. "Today's going to be an 'eat my feelings' kinda day." She snagged a cookie and bit into it, sighing happily. They were good.
"Yikes, the Peck has feelings," joked Lara. "You're here early, too."
Vivian sighed. "Didn't feel like getting an earful from my folks."
Opening her own locker, Lara looked surprised. "But I met your mom, she's nice."
That was still funny. For wherever reason, the fact that Vivian was a Peck and the daughter of Detective Inspector Peck hadn't filtered through the rookies. It helped that there were two other Pecks in their class, though one was at Twenty-Seven and the other was way the hell across town. Still, Vivian and Gail were making bets on when they'd figure it out. It was enough that they knew Viv was in the chain of Pecks. Not even Jenny, who knew who the Pecks were, connected Vivian to Gail. Sometimes it helped, not looking like her mothers.
"You met my mom? When was that?" She was tempted to ask which mom, since neither tended to hang out on the main floor of Fifteen anymore, but Lara cheerfully went on.
"Dr. Stewart was at the murder I caught last month," explained Lara with a bit of pride. "The skull bashing? She did my autopsy. Isn't she your mom?"
Vivian smiled. "Oh right." That night, after Lara's first autopsy, Holly had told her how Lara passed out. "I heard about that. You passed out."
Predictably, Lara looked worried. "She told? Wait, so she knows Christian! Is that why she came to Fite Nite?"
Vivian nodded, a little confused. "Uh, yes. Actually ... God, you know, I don't want to know how I came up as a topic of conversation." Vivian took another cookie.
Of course Lara went on. Again. She always did that when Vivian didn't want her to. Lara was just ... She was really friendly and that was weird. "McNally was talking to her about how the sergeant's always on your case to know stuff."
Oh. That made a little sense. "Well. Yeah," grumbled Vivian, pulling on her uniform shirt and tucking it in.
"Your mom is the chief medical examiner?" Jenny looked surprised. "That's so cool! Why didn't you do that?"
"I don't like the smells that much." Vivian grabbed her belt and tugged it on. Taking two more cookies, Vivian went to get her gun and some coffee before parade. Naturally she was with Nick, which was fine. He was so accustomed to her mother's mercurial moods - to Gail's moods - that he took her being quiet in stride.
She was not as talented as Gail at paying attention to everything at once. Gail could memorize license plates at speed while driving and singing along with the radio and talking to Holly. Vivian could do it while driving or talking, but not both. Singing only if she knew the song really well. That made it hard to work with Nick's quizzes about cars and traffic and alternate routes while she was mulling over the fact that none of her fellow rookies had connected her to the Pecks, and Olivia was moving to San Diego with some guy in her chemistry class.
And frankly that meant she probably wasn't in the right frame of mind when they pulled up the domestic. It sure as hell meant that when the man grabbed his hunting revolver and started aiming at his wife, Vivian freaked a little.
All of the sudden, her brain kicked over into a weird, hyper awareness. The world took on a weird sharpness, like someone was screwing with her photo filters. Things were way too crisp as she and Nick drew their guns and started to shout for the man to stand down.
It was his surprising move, his sad look at Vivian, that hit her hard. He moved in slow motion, swinging the revolver, its long barrel, up to under his chin and firing up through his own head, eyes locked on her. The look froze her, but the smell was what really did her in. She'd smelled guns a hundred times before. She liked using guns, shooting them with Gail and Elaine was a fun after-school treat when she'd been a teenager. But behind the sound of the gunfire, the wet, sickening noise of a bullet crushing bone and body, the smell of the gun and the blood and brain...
Vivian remembered.
Reeling, she didn't have a memory holstering her gun, but she knew she did it. She didn't remember leaving the room. She didn't even remember puking. What she remembered was looking up at her father who had the same, sad, look in his eyes, and who pulled the trigger. She remembered the look in his eyes and the way his long arms swung the shotgun, tucking it under his chin. She remembered the sound of the shotgun blast, the sound of blood and brain and bits of bone splattering on the ceiling and the wall behind him. No. No the mirror on the wall behind him.
How could she forget that?
How did she, at just six, block out seeing her father blow his own head off with the shotgun?
And then she was sitting on the bumper of the squad, with Nick hovering. He had his hand between her shoulders and was telling her to breathe slowly. She looked up at him, confused. Why was he whispering? She could barely hear him and had to read his lips, which she really wasn't very good at anyway.
Finally someone else's words cut in. "What happened?" That voice was familiar, even though it came from a million miles away. Traci. Why was Aunt Traci there? Oh right. Of course. It was a homicide.
"The husband shot himself right in front of us," explained Nick. He sounded like he was down a tunnel. They kept talking about the case as the world came back into auditory and visual focus.
Vivian swallowed and asked, "Why does my mouth taste like crap?"
"Hey," said Nick, gently. "You tossed your cookies."
"Oh." Vivian blinked a few times. "Those were good cookies." She straightened up slowly and startled when Nick cupped her face to look at it. "God, stop that," she growled, shoving him away.
Sounding relieved, Nick said, "She's back." He handed her a bottle of water.
Traci eyed Vivian quietly. "I need to get your statement, Viv," she said calmly. Calm was good and Vivian nodded. They went over the facts careful, just getting a statement. It was just like they had rehearsed in class, or like Vivian had practiced at the dinner table with Gail or Elaine. Holly hated when they did it, and chastised them, but to Vivian it was fun.
Remember what was seen. Remember what wasn't seen. Learn how to put the pieces together. She'd wanted to learn how Gail did it after they'd seen a car accident heading up to the cabin. Everything had been a jumble to her eyes, and when she'd told the police office that, he'd nodded. Holly's version of the events weren't much better. But Gail, oh man, she'd just known everything. Make and model and license plates, driver wearing a hat, estimated speeds...
It had blown Vivian's mind that her goofy, childish, impish, parent was brilliant. She'd never seen it before, except in Gail's weird talent at languages. That police work had been amazing, and Vivian demanded Gail explain how she did it. Really, that was the first glimpse Vivian had into what it actually meant to be a Peck at work. She thought she'd understood with the gun training and the cases that room Gail away at all hours, but the memory skills, the whole awareness, was incredible.
Of course, Elaine had pointed out that Gail had a phenomenal memory anyway, and just needed the push. Holly too had an amazing memory. She had to for her job. But it was Gail's application that drew in Vivian. Yeah. Vivian knew she'd wanted to be a cop for a long time.
And she knew it still.
Taking the lessons from Gail and Elaine and Holly, she calmed herself and did what she'd been practicing for years. Remembering. Let the back brain fill in the facts and colors, let the front brain sketch the borders.
Traci's partner was impressed at least.
While Vivian had driven them to the scene, Nick drove them back to the station in silence. To her surprise, Gail was downstairs, waiting at the sally port. "What the hell, Nicholas?" She snapped at the man, thumping her fist into his chest. Without waiting for an answer, Gail shoved past him and held Vivian's chin, studying her face.
"Please, stop," grimaced Vivian.
"Shush." Gail turned her face side to side. "Are you alright?"
She started to nod, but paused. Then she shook her head. "No."
And right there, in the middle of the sally port, Gail pulled her in for a hug. It was a real Gail kind of hug, the sort that made a person feel safe and protected, like she'd make sure no one hurt you. It was not something Vivian expected at all from her mother. Gail rarely hugged in general, and never in public. This was the hug she got at home for being brave enough to help Matty when he was being beat up. This was the hug when she'd gotten accepted into the Academy. This was the hug when she was home from that disastrous trip to Montréal. This was the hug that made you safe.
"Okay," whispered Gail, holding her tight. "It's okay. You did fine."
Vivian sniffled a laugh. "I puked." She didn't want to cry, but she knew if she did, it would be safe.
"That's okay," insisted Gail. "It's totally okay."
"Okay," nodded Vivian, stepping back. "I'm okay."
Gail frowned. "You don't have to be. Don't get all Super Peck on me, Monkey."
"Jesus, Mom." But she laughed. It made her feel a little better. What she really wanted was to talk to Olivia, the only person she'd really unburdened herself to before. But that ship had sailed. "Thanks," she added.
"I'm working right upstairs and I have zero problems using nepotism." The simplicity of a threat Gail would never make good on helped more than Vivian would have thought. She smiled at her mother and nodded. This was okay. Gail was telling her this was normal.
There was no nepotism involved with Vivian (and Nick) being benched the rest of the day. There was a little parental fawning over her when she got home, but nothing really out of the ordinary. Oh they did fuss, Holly picking up cupcakes and Gail cooking one of Vivian's favorite meals. But still, they took her quiet attitude in stride, not pushing her about anything.
That was how they always were. They cared, they were close, and they let her go when she needed to be free. After dinner, Gail and Vivian played the new Mario Kart while Holly worked on an article. It was normal life for them until Gail finally decided to talk about the day.
"Holding up okay?"
"Yeah," nodded Vivian. "I froze."
Gail smiled. "My first real case, we were going after some guy named Snakeface. He jumped out of a window right by me, and I just watched him run off."
"Why did you do that?" She remembered the story. She knew it by heart. But sometimes she wanted to hear it again. To feel normal.
"Noelle told me to stay where I was. And I choked." Gail laughed. "God, I was so not ready."
Vivian laughed a little as well, feeling better for being reminded that even her mother had screwed up at her age. She chewed her lip. "Mom, have you ever shot anyone?"
Gail shook her head. "At. A couple times. Never hit anyone. Never killed anyone. Dov and Nick have, though. So has Andy." When Vivian didn't say anything more, Gail added, "Most cops go their whole lives without shooting or hurting anyone."
Nodding again, Vivian concentrated on the game for a moment. "Can I ask something ... Um ... Not happy?" She caught Gail's raised eyebrows out of the corner of her eye, but her mother said that it was always okay to ask about anything. "Okay. I know, ah, I know you still have flashbacks. To- to Perik." After a moment, Gail nodded slowly. "Do certain things ... Do you, like, smell things and it hits you?"
The game froze and Vivian blinked. Gail put down her controller. "Yes," she replied carefully. "Sometimes it's a sound. Right before I met your granddad, I heard someone with shoes like Perik had. Set me off for days."
Vivian put her controller down and looked at her mother. "Do you remember new things?"
"Not so much anymore. Most of the time it's remembering the same things." The look Gail was giving her was knowing. This was a place Gail had been before and she could see it in Vivian now. With a sigh, Vivian nodded. "You don't have to talk about it," Gail said gently.
"Does it help you?"
"Sometimes." Her mother looked ruefully over at Holly. "Sometimes I just get more mad." They both knew Gail's situation was different. Vivian just had memories. Gail had actual damage preventing her from forgetting.
Vivian rubbed her face and lay down on the couch. "I remembered what happened. When I was... When they... I remember." The house felt suddenly silent. Not even Holly's typing and paper turning was heard. Vivian realized her other mother was listening to them talk. "I ... Remember. The guy, today, he had a hunting revolver. But my dad... He had a shotgun. And- I came in the kitchen. I didn't have a key. But Kimmy told me about the hidden key in the backyard. It was under the fake rock by the steps. So when Mary's mom dropped me off, I went to the back door like it was normal. It was normal."
That was the first time Vivian had remembered her friend's name. Mary. Mary Rogers. She'd had the best birthday party of their class, and everyone had gotten to sleep over in the living room. The cake had been strawberry, which Vivian thought was gross, but Mary loved it. Mary was the only person she'd ever known who honestly liked Neapolitan ice cream. Absently, she wondered where Mary was now... Did she remember strange Vivian Green?
Neither mother said anything. They were patient and Gail was never patient. Rarely patient. Often patient with Vivian and Holly when they were working through drama. Everyone else could fuck themselves. "He was in the living room. The- there were doorways from the back. Left was the dining room. Straight ahead was the living room. And he was standing there. With the shotgun in his hands." Vivian swallowed. "I wasn't afraid. I was confused. I didn't understand why my dad was holding the gun. And ... He turned it. Not at me. He looked at me and shot himself."
Vivian closed her eyes. There was the smell again. Guns, but not the clean smell of Gail's well cared for and treasured weapons. Blood. Brain matter. It was the combination. She fell silent, not having anymore words for it all or how it felt.
"Sit up," instructed Gail, nudging Vivian up and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. That was all Gail said. They just sat there, Vivian leaning against her mom who was gently stroking her hair. After a little while, Holly snuck in next to Gail, but she too said nothing.
She was held by her moms and it was okay for a while. It was okay to be scared and to feel broken. They were there for her. Vivian sniffled, once, and then the tears started. She pressed her face into Gail's shoulder and just gave into the tears she should have shed 18 years ago. The agony and horror threatened to smother her, and all Vivian could do was sob.
There was no way to know why her father left her alive. There was no way to ever understand what thought went through his head before the shotgun fired. All she could ever know was that he killed them all. He looked at her, and then he killed himself. He left her. It was like Gail said at her father's funeral. And they were left standing.
Gail's arm held her close. That protecting, comforting, grip around her shoulders gave her a rock to cling to in her storm. Another hand touched her back, gently rubbing before Holly wrapped her arms around them both and shielded her. It was their way to let her know that, yes, Vivian's father had left her alone, but they were here.
She wasn't alone now.
After Vivian had finally gone to bed, with the help of two sleeping pills, Gail popped open the safe and pulled out her copy of the files. Holly closed the office door quietly. "Do you have to?"
"No," admitted Gail. "But it's the right thing to do." Because if it ever came up again, if it ever opened up again, they'd need to know. She didn't want to look at them ever again, but she'd kept them handy just in case a day like this happened.
"Let me write it down. Your handwriting is chicken scratch."
Gail pushed the legal pad over. "Says the lesbian doctor. You should really have worse handwriting."
Her wife smiled and wrote quickly. "Don't distract me, Peck."
Letting Holly write, Gail read over the case notes of the death of the Green family. At this point, she should have memorized every detail but she hadn't. Gail had actually never made it through the whole thing in one sitting. It hurt too much. Looking at it today, Gail spotted the parts Viv had told them today, and the parts she didn't. Like Vivian had called 911, which she still didn't seem to remember, and she'd had a key on her. Everyone had assumed she just had the key normally, and she'd let the EMTs in through the unlocked front door.
Gail flipped through the photos and found the one of the back yard, where the door was open, and there was a little rock to the side of the stairs. Just like Vivian had described. And net there was a photo of Vivian, pointing at something inside the house. "God," sighed Gail, putting the photo down.
Her wife looked up and sighed at the photo. "Oh." Holly picked up the photo and ran her thumb over it. "She was so young."
In the photo, Vivian was young and small. Undersized even. She was a little hollow too. A look in her young eyes that no kid should ever have to wear. Gail pushed over a second photo. "This was the photo that made me think we had to bring her home."
Holly picked up the photo. It was the one where Vivian was alone, sitting on the EMTs gurney, holding her backpack filled with clothes. She was so stone faced, so hurt, so jaded already. Gail saw that wise, sad, face and wanted to give it a place where she could grow up and be safe. "I'm glad Anne called us," Holly said softly. "Here."
Picking up the legal pad, Gail made a few minor corrections in comments at the bottom. Then she dated the paper and signed it next to Holly's scrawl. It wasn't going to hold up in a court of law, but they had it and if necessary, they would be able to use it. "Thank you." It felt weird to say, but it was how Gail felt at the moment.
"Do you think the case will ever be reopened?"
"By whom? Her grandparents are dead. Her aunt made it clear she never wanted to be reminded of the Greens."
That was the one thing Vivian still didn't know. They'd known for years about her paternal aunt, the sister to Vivian's suicidal father. When Vivian went into the system, the aunt signed a document excising herself from any obligation, and specifying that she would never be contacted. Not even to save her own life. And in turn, they were told to keep the confidence. Gail felt it was bullshit, but her lawyer said it was binding enough not to risk. Which meant they knew Vivian had an aunt, and they were legally prohibited from mentioning it. Gail hated that.
Holly frowned and echoed Gail's thoughts. "God those grandparents..."
How evil, how hard must they have been to make their children act that way? The information Oliver and Steve had dug up on the child abuse was galling. Broken bones, cigarette burns, black eyes. And on top of that, Vivian's father with his mental issues. "I'm kind of sad her maternal grandparents died before she was born," muttered Gail. "But then we wouldn't have her."
They had sounded like decent people. The maternal grandmother had passed away at 30, having bumped her head getting out of a bus. Gail had a copy of that report as well, tucked in the back of this one. The poor woman had slipped getting off a bus in winter, bumped her head on a step, and died less than 48 hours later of a subdural hematoma. The grandfather died of pancreatic cancer between the births of Kimmy and Viv.
"A lot of bad luck." Holly put her hand over Gail's and moved her chair to look at the photos better. "If they'd been alive, would any of this have happened? Or would it have been worse, more hidden, and still happened?"
"Would we have had her? Would we have been needed? It's like... All the bad things brought us all to the right place together." Gail pushed her hands through her hair, slicking it back. "Is that good or bad?"
Unable to answer that, Holly leaned against Gail and shook her head. They flipped through the ones of the house until they saw Vivian's father, dead on the floor. "It matches what she said. Why didn't they notice that?"
"They did," allowed Gail. "Description says he was facing the back door. They just thought it happened before she got home."
Holly sighed. "She didn't step in the blood or even try to check if her father was alive ... I can't tell if Vivian was terrified or a genius."
"Well. She's our kid. So both." Gail laced her fingers with Holly.
They'd looked at the photos a thousand times, mostly before Vivian had moved in. Gail had memorized the house's layout, the way the sister, Kimberly, was curled up in her bed, one leg sticking out, almost how Vivian still slept. She hadn't stirred in bed, probably sleeping through her father coming in and killing her. The way Vivian's mother was tangled in the sheets, hinting that she was the second death and tried to get up. Of course, Kimberly, Kimmy as Vivian referred to her, could have slept through things. Children had that weird ability.
No one heard the shots. Or no one thought anything was weird about them. Probably the former. Three blasts from a shotgun. Difficult to pull off the last one, but Vivian's father had her long limbs. There was the mystery of Vivian's height, solved in part. Gail couldn't remember looking at it like that before. He'd blown his own head off. Of course Vivian hadn't checked her father's pulse. His brain was splattered against the wall, the couch, and a mirror.
The number of times Gail had seen death was rather high. It came with the all her years as a cop, Gail had seen people die before her eyes. More or less. Jerry was different. But he wasn't the only death (or near death) that weighed on her soul. The ghost of Sophie's mother still haunted her. Some days, her father did.
Collecting the photos, Holly closed the folder and pushed it away. "Put them away, honey. I don't want to see them tonight."
Gail tilted her head. There was something in Holly's tone that reminded Gail of her wife's sordid past. "Thinking about Luke and Andrea?" Her wife nodded glumly. Because Holly too had seen someone die in front of her. Twice. But Luke by a gun, and now they knew Holly shared that with their daughter. Gail slid the folder away from the doctor and put a hand on Holly's, comfortingly.
"It's not that I don't think about it," said Holly. "I always remember it. I just don't think about it all the time. It was… It was a thing that happened. And someone died. And I guess my brain compartmentalized it."
The unspoken 'just like Vivian' hung in the air. "You were an adult." She laced her fingers through Holly's and sighed. "It's not like it's a thing that gets easier. It just … it is what it is. It made us who we are."
"Death," said Holly. "Death is very final."
"It is." Gail kissed their laced knuckles and leaned over to put the file back in the safe. One day they'd show it all to their daughter. Not today. "You know she can probably crack the safe."
Holly laughed softly. A puff of air, barely a sound made as she stood up. "She won't. Somehow we raised a really good kid."
Gail locked the safe and used it for leverage to stand up. "I'm old, Holly," she complained.
A pair of hands took hold of her waist and drew Gail in close to kiss the side of her neck. "Every day you get older with me is another day closer to spending the majority of your life with me."
Smiling, Gail tilted her head. "When I say that it sounds romantic, right?" Her wife made a hmmm noise and kissed her again. "When you say it, it sounds all clinical and mathematical."
Smothering a laugh in Gail's shoulder, Holly complained, "We can't all be gifted at rhetoric, Gail."
"Ironic for someone who hates public speaking," said Gail with a smile. But that fear was long gone now. Now she was so inured to it, it was normal.
"Hated. Past tense." Holly kept one arm around Gail's waist and led her to the door. "Go shower. I want to make sure the kid is really out."
"Uh, fact check, Doc. You gave her those sleeping pills. She's down for the count." None of them particularly liked sleeping pills. They gave Gail a nasty idiosyncratic reaction that resulted in sleeping without actually getting any real rest. Holly took them once in a great while when she couldn't sleep after long cases. Vivian had taken them once or twice after managing to make herself so tired she couldn't sleep at all.
That night, Vivian had drooped but been unable to cross the line into actual sleep. When Holly had suggested she take something, Vivian only asked if Gail thought she'd have nightmares. Which was probably why Holly wanted to check in on her.
As Holly creeped into their daughter's bedroom,Gail lingered by the master bedroom, watching. A moment later, Holly was back out and smiling. "Sleeping like the angel none of us are."
"Thank god she can sleep on that stuff," Gail said, not really thinking about it. And then she winced. She'd been trying not to bring up the last month of her own insomnia. Nightmares. Ever since that one stupid night where they'd thought Vivian was out all night.
Holly stopped by the door and gently cupped Gail's cheek. "I wish you could too," whispered the brunette, and she kissed Gail softly.
Frowning slightly, Gail looked at her wife. "That's it?"
"I'm not the one who doesn't get any sleep, honey." Holly steered Gail into their bedroom with a hand on the small of her back. "I just... I hate that this still happens to you. I hate we can't make you feel better."
It had been a while, admittedly. A long while. "I'm sorry," muttered Gail.
The hand on her back tensed. "Honey. It's not your fault. And it's not Viv's and I know it's not mine. It's what it is, and it's what it will be. I am still here. I still love you."
That was their thing. It was a good thing. It did help to hear the words. Because she didn't always feel like someone worthy of love. Even now, twenty years of Holly sticking around and fighting for each other, the nagging doubts of the first half of her life lingered. "Fifty-six," she said, abruptly.
"Fifty-six?"
"When I am fifty-six, you will have been in my life for half of it," mused Gail. "From then, every day I spend with you will mean more time with you than without you."
Holly breathed out an 'oh' softly and pressed herself against Gail's back. "You're right. When you say it, it sounds more romantic," her wife decided, wrapping her arms around Gail and hugging her close.
Gail covered Holly's hands with her own. "I'm very romantic."
"Think you can sleep?"
Weirdly, Gail did. "I'm here. I'm safe with you. Our kid is safe with us. She's not alone."
"I meant more the part where you worry about her all the time."
"Well, I just have to get used to letting her go."
Holly's breath was warm on her neck. "Do I make that look easy? Letting her spread her wings?"
Ew. That was a terrible way to ask. "Two things. One, never say it like that again. You sound like a Hallmark card."
The doctor laughed. "Noted. What's two?"
Item the second was harder to say. But after decades, she knew she had to say what she thought, and that the honesty would be okay here. "Two, yes. You do."
Her wife was quiet for a long minute. "It's not," said Holly quietly. "Remember when I taught her how to ride that bike?" Gail did. "Letting go of the seat to let her take off down the sidewalk? Scared me to death. Every time she ran off to play soccer or hockey, I was sure she was going to get crushed by all those kids. She was so small."
Gail smiled. "Especially compared to that brute." There had been a very large boy on one of the opposing teams. Gail had been sure he wasn't actually eight.
"Oh, God. He was a tank!" But Holly laughed a little. "But that all scared me, honey. I hate it. But..."
When Holly trailed off and stayed quiet for a long time, Gail tugged her hands to loosen them and turned around. "But?"
"But." Holly looked very sincere and her eyes were wet. "But that look on her face. The day she got into the Academy? That look is so, so wonderful, Gail. She gets so damn happy. I would do anything to see her like that."
Gail remembered the look. She'd looked like that again the day she graduated. They had the photo framed. It hung on the wall next to Gail's more dour graduation shot. The photos were staged similarly: the graduate in the middle, holding the diploma, her parents on either side. Where young Gail's face was solemn and serious, Vivian's smile was wide and delighted. It was like everything the young woman had wanted was finally becoming real.
"Kind of makes Elaine make more sense," replied Gail. She was confident that Holly would understand what she meant.
The other woman nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Guilt and fear. Everything is guilt and fear."
Kissing Holly, Gail closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to her wife's. "We're doing good. Come on. Shower. Sleep."
They could keep on keeping on and it would be alright.
Like it or not, Vivian had the next day off. It was what it was. Even though the sleeping pills had helped her get a good night's sleep, she still felt like crap. Like she'd been run over. Waking up from a night on the pills made her body feel rested. Her brain was rested, too. She just felt groggy and sore all over. Maybe it was unrelated to the pills, maybe it was just her body's reaction to the mental trauma. Maybe it was the collective angst and stress of the history of it all.
Gail worked from home, which was annoying, but Vivian did understand why. Being alone would probably not be great. Still, Vivian slept away most of the day, migrating from her bed to the couch in the living room, and finally the couch in the office. At last her mind felt clear and not pained. It was as if the blast had blown out the cobwebs and allowed her to finally see her past clearly. Vivian's mind was unlocking.
More memories had filtered in since the night. She remembered a road trip. She remembered Kimmy learning to ride a bicycle. She remembered the fights. The sound of a hand hitting skin, her mother's skin, finally sorted itself out. Vivian was not surprised to remember her father hit her mother. But she still had no memory of a hand touching her. Not for a hug or a spanking.
The only recollection Vivian had of a hug was from her sister. At least until she met Gail and Holly. Even the social workers and the first foster homes had allowed her to remain standoffish. And Gail ... Gail hugged Holly and let Holly hug her, but rarely anyone else. It somehow clicked in Vivian's head that those hugs were safe.
She remembered very clearly the first time she'd hugged Holly. It was at the hospital, when the doctor had finally been released from her space tent of isolation. While Vivian couldn't remember why she'd felt it was so important to hug Holly just then, she remembered that feeling so well. Suddenly she got why people hugged. It was to express a feeling they had no words for. It was to say they loved each other. And Holly, Holly was so good at letting her hugs say so many things.
As she lay there, finally relaxing and feeling more together than she had in years, Vivian listened to Gail type. Gail, the storm, was safe. Gail always protected everyone, from her family to the city. A storm and a shield. It was safe to be broken and to heal with Gail there. Vivian put her tablet down and concentrated on the noise. She could tell from the keystrokes that Gail was excited about the case. "Do I get to know about the case you're working on?"
"Gangs," replied Gail. "We had a bit of a breakthrough on the Three Rivers case."
Now she was awake. "Seriously?"
Gail waved a hand at a box beside her desk. "We didn't buy comics for ourselves, junior."
That was tacit permission. Vivian got up and opened the box. "Who's Tintin?" She glanced at her mother, who was covering her face with her hands. Whoops. She'd made Gail feel old.
"Read The Secret of the Unicorn, will you?"
And that was a weird request. Vivian found that issue and settled back on the couch, reading it slowly. It was a cute story, complicated and yet understandable. After reading it once, she flipped back to the beginning and read it again. She studied every panel, every word, and thought about every meaning. "This was written by a Frenchie," she told her mother.
"Belgian," corrected Gail.
"So. Even stupider hats?" Vivian peeked at her mother and caught the smirk.
"Keep reading."
Right. Vivian studied the massive panel of the sword fight on the desk, which was one of those things that had people dying without a lot of blood. But there really were a lot of layers to the page. But it didn't give her any hints. Then she got to the end and blinked. "Are you shitting me? Three papers? Three brothers?"
Gail didn't look up. "Back when you were a baby, before your mom and I were dating, Oliver and I arrested this guy, Bobby Zanaro. He was one of the lieutenants for Three Rivers."
"He has two brothers?"
"He has sisters. But he also has two uncles. Your uncle is hunting them down now."
Vivian re-read the poem. She'd gone for runs once a week out by the Don Rivers. Eagles and crosses. That could be a clue. The run was by the science center. Not a lot of eagles. Crosses... Churches? Vivian got up and went to her room for a notebook, coming back to scribble ideas. After a bit, she felt eyes watching her. Gail was watching her. And smiling. "What?"
Gail shook her head. "As your superior, and head of OC, I need to remind you that if you go haring off to investigate this yourself, you could end up in a mess of trouble."
She knew that. "And as my mom?"
"If you go throw yourself into the middle of this shit, I will lock you in your room until you're thirty." Before Vivian could point out that both ways meant she was in trouble, Gail added. "But both ways, I'm proud you're thinking this all out. It's good copping."
Vivian wrinkled her nose. "Policing." Her watch buzzed a reminder that she had an appointment with her therapist. Like Gail's therapist, a call to say she'd seen a shooting and needed be squeezed in had amazing results.
"Potato, tomato," smiled Gail. "Do you want a ride?"
Shaking her head, Vivian put the comics. "No. But can I take your car?"
"Sure. We can ditch tonight if you'd like, or just you."
"Maybe."
That night was Wednesday, which meant Holly usually dragged them all to the batting cages. In talking to her doctor, she mentioned she wasn't sure if she wanted to go. The weight of what she'd learned and become felt oppressive. He didn't offer answers, which was kind of why Vivian liked him. He let her dump everything and then gave her suggestions on how to cope.
When Vivian returned from her appointment, Holly was already home and willing to skip. But Vivian insisted on a moment of normality in their crazy life, which seemed to make Holly smile more. Even Gail chipped in and did her best to hit the ball well. Once in a great while, Gail had a good day at the cages. That night was a good day and it was Gail who won the standing bet of hitting the home run sign first.
In her usual goofball self, Gail did a dance to celebrate her awesomeness. Which worked until she slipped and fell on her ass. Then they all laughed. That was, actually, Vivian's favorite thing about her mothers. They were so much fun and they just enjoyed life. And they had never once made Vivian feel like an interloper. She was family from day one.
The next day, Vivian had an appointment with the division therapist.
It wasn't special treatment and she knew it. Everyone had to do it after seeing someone die, or worse, killing someone. Dov was more of a hardass about it than other sergeants, as was their inspector, Noelle. With good reason, Vivian knew, but still it wasn't like she didn't know what was going on. So while Vivian seethed a little about having to go, she knew Nick was going too, and that was what it was.
Of course, it was possible that it was special treatment that Vivian got the first available appointment. It was early enough in the morning that she could even go to work after lunch, if she was cleared. And everyone naturally thought she would be cleared right away.
Predictably the therapist knew who the Pecks were, identifying Viv's parentage quickly, and asking very simple questions. Vivian had been going to therapy most of her life. For almost 20 years she'd talked to someone at least once a month about her feelings. At first it had been court mandated, but even after the adoption, Gail and Holly kept her going. They all went to therapy after all. Around the time she started college, Gail had made noises that it wasn't something Vivian had to do anymore. It still felt like something she should do, so Vivian kept going.
That also meant Vivian knew how to talk around a problem and make herself sound perfectly sane. She wasn't terribly worried about the evasion, since she had seen her own therapist already. When she got out, Steve was waiting with a lunch bag and a smirk. Clearly her family expected her to be cleared. "She got tagged for a triple out by the mayor."
"Thanks," mumbled Vivian, embarrassed.
"Look, I know. Okay? So you need anything at all, call me. You can take today off."
"I really just want to get back to normal," Vivian told her uncle.
"Yeah. I get that." There was no hug in the hallway of the division, just a squeeze of her shoulder and Steve left Vivian with her lunch, promising that Gail had made it. She eased into the break room, empty, and started to slowly pick her way through one of her favorite lunches. Falafel. Rich and Lara sat on either side of her.
"Hey," grinned Rich. She and Christian still found him thick as a plank. Maybe he should have gone boxing. Knock sense into him.
"Hi, Rich." She picked at the food. Gail never gave a person food without a reason. She probably needed the energy. Sticking her hand in the bag, she pulled out a box of mini Smarties and grinned. Yeah, that was her mom alright.
Lara cleared her throat. "You okay?"
That was the first time anyone from her class had asked her how she felt about it. "Yeah."
Lara glanced at Rich. "I mean... That's terrifying."
Vivian shook her head, "Look, Lara, I appreciate it, but can I not talk about it right now?"
And Lara totally caught the clue. "No, totally. I get it. If you, uh. If you need to talk, though." They both looked at Rich, balefully.
"I just wanna know why the Detective Inspector from Guns and Gangs was checking on you!" He held his hands up.
Vivian rolled her eyes. "Jesus, you're an idiot," she snapped, and bit into her sandwich. Pita, sliced falafel, hummus, tahini, with salad and no tomatoes. She'd not eaten a tomato at home ever. Sometimes when they went out she'd have them, but she'd learned not to get the juice near Gail after seeing the back of her hand break out in hives one dinner.
Rich looked confused while Lara started to smirk. "This is why no one likes you, Peck," he muttered. "You get favoritism and cronyism and all that shit. No one else gets a day off after a bad day—"
"Shut up," snapped Christian, sitting down next to Vivian. "You're an idiot."
"Said that," Vivian grumbled.
Lara gestured at Vivian. "This is Vivian Peck you moron. And you're asking why Detective Inspector Peck is checking on her? Seriously? How the hell did you pass the exams?"
Chiming in, Christian added, "And we all have to take a day off and talk to psych after crap like that. They made Collins do it too."
"There are, like, a brazillion Pecks in Toronto," snarled Rich. "That one looked nothing like her!"
"So?" Lara scowled. "She's allowed to have cousins."
"He's my uncle," sighed Vivian, picking at her fries.
The group fell silent. "Wait, seriously?" Lara looked surprised.
"It's not cronyism either, Rich. My mom asked him to drop off lunch because she's busy on a ... Thing." Vivian knew what case it was, too.
"Your mom makes you lunch," sneered Rich.
"Sometimes. She also does my laundry." Vivian studied his face. Fuck it. "I live at home with my parents, Rich. Who are Pecks. Yes, those Pecks. Got a problem?"
"Man, your mom cooks and cleans and married a cop? I bet she's some dowdy old lady-"
"You bought her a drink at Fite Night," drawled Lara. She continued while Rich looked lost. "Hold on. Steve Peck is your uncle uncle?"
Nodding, Vivian sipped her soda. "He is. Taught me to do donuts in cruisers."
"But... His sister..." Ah. So Lara knew. When Vivian nodded, Lara fell silent again.
"I bought your mom a drink?" Rich's hamster had not made the connection. That was okay and still a little funny.
Beside her, Christian frowned and took a french fry. "He did?"
"He did," smiled Vivian. "The other one. Stop stealing my food. I know we're friends, but we are not fry-friends."
Before Rich could argue, Lara shoved him. "Her mother is the chief medical examiner, you idiot. Dr. Stewart." As Rich looked flummoxed, Lara added, "But Steve Peck... I mean, he's cool. But he has a sister."
"I'd ask how you knew that, Volk, but I think I don't care." Vivian slid her food away from Christian. "And yes."
Lara eyed Christian. "For real?"
"S'true," confirmed Christian. "She used to babysit me when I was a baby, too."
"Under duress," Viv smiled, absently.
Lara waved her hands, "No way. You and your moms?"
"Yeah." Vivian eyed the other woman. So what that she and her moms were all gay? It wasn't related. At least she didn't think it was. It was hard to tell on the inside. She was pretty sure it had nothing to do with them, since they'd just made sure she knew it was okay to love however she loved.
It was Rich who asked the obvious. "You have two moms?"
"I do," confirmed Vivian. God he was dense. "They've been married a million years." Nineteen was a million, right?
Rich started to turn a weird red hue. "Wait... So when I bought Dr. Stewart a drink at Fite Nite ... She's married to ... A woman?"
"Mom's too nice to be a jerk about it." Holly really was too nice to the kids. Gail had been amused as hell. "Just don't do it if Gail's around."
"Gail. Peck …" Now Rich paled. "Gail Peck. The head of Organized Crime?"
"Only three divisions." Vivian sighed. Gail often complained about being pressured to take it all over, but she wasn't interested. Yet. That might change, especially if Uncle Steve did actually retire.
For some reason, the idea of having been hitting on the wife of the head of Organized Crimes set Rich into a panic and he left he room, flustered and muttering about how he was a dead man. "Crap, V, we should have told him ages ago," Christian remarked.
"Where's the fun in that?" At times, Vivian knew she was Gail's daughter, through and through. Lara hit her arm. "Hey!"
"You shit. You didn't say our Peck was your mom!"
"No one asked which ones I was directly related to," muttered Vivian.
Christian shook his head. "Think he'll tell?"
Given how Rich had been hitting on Holly, Viv suspected not. "Don't care either way," she sighed.
"I won't," said Lara, firmly. At Vivian's surprise, she explained, "You already have this massive amount of pressure from being a Peck. And then your mom and grandmom are like the most famous women on the force in forever? Oh my god, and your aunt! Traci Peck is, like, my hero. She's so cool! I read about how she stopped that serial rapist years ago!"
That was a million years ago. "I wasn't- I didn't know her then," muttered Vivian. Those cases, rape and child abuse, were ones her family never talked about. Adults being mean to adults were generally fair game, but those two topics were verboten.
Lara chewed her lip. "Can I ask...?"
"I was adopted," she supplied. And then she added dryly, "Which is why I actually have melanin as a Peck."
That made both Christian and Lara laugh. Christian smirked and leaned in, "Seriously, they're all vampires. What's up with that?"
"They are vampires," she deadpanned. "They're cursed with eternal life. Two hundred years ago, a Peck died saving a gypsy witch. She brought him back to life and tasked him and his children with protecting the city-" she stopped when Christian shoved her shoulder and laughed.
Smiling, Vivian felt weirdly comfortable talking to them. Maybe Lara actually could be a friend. She seemed to pick up on Vivian's reluctance to talk about things before the adoption and just asked what it was like to grow up around the Division.
Friends. Huh.
One of the things you gave up, being married to a Peck, was the idea that nepotism was always a bad thing. There was no way she'd be able to avoid all Peck related cases, especially not now that her daughter was one as well, so Holly tried to be circumspect and open.
Like everyone knew the chief did at least one random autopsy a month. Holly quickly set that rule, refusing to exclude herself from the grunt work part of her career. Everyone got crappy autopsies. They were pulled pretty much at random, to boot. All Holly knew was that her name was on the docket for anything that had slipped in the last two days.
When she got to the morgue, she picked up the file and stared. The assistant on staff was nervous, and that was abnormal. "Is it really smelly?" Holly didn't mind the smells.
"No, ma'am. It's ... Hank Gorsky."
The name meant nothing to her. "Are any of the officers coming by?"
"Um. Just Officer Collins."
Nick? Holly's eyes hit the preliminary cause of death and she looked up. "Oh. This is from the shooting." She pushed her thumb between her eyes and sighed.
The assistant nodded. "Yes'm. We can... I can... Do you want to swap out? I have a stabbing from a mugging. It's the mugger, not the, er, muggee?"
"As interesting as that sounds, I'm fine," she smiled thinly. "Also it would be his intended victim. Muggee isn't a word." Patting the assistant's shoulder, Holly stepped into the autopsy room and started to kit up.
The door opened and Nick came in. "Hey..." He sounded surprised.
"My turn is my turn, Nick," she reminded him. "Where's your rookie?"
"Dov has her on desk duty the rest of the week. She didn't argue, so he's pretty sure it was the right call."
It probably was, mused the mother of a cop. The wife of a cop thought it was a bad idea. You should get back out there. Either way, Vivian's quiet acceptance would not last long. "She seem okay to you?"
"Yeah," nodded Nick, sitting down on a stool. "Doing most of that thing where she turtles up and won't tell me what she's thinking. How the hell is she so much like you two?"
Holly had expected that to be a comment about how Vivian was like Gail, not both of them. "Us?"
Nick nodded again. "Yeah, if it was just Gail, she'd snap at me for asking her any questions. But she's got a brain, like you. She thinks before she spouts out what she's going to say." Hesitating, Nick added, "Not that Gail's not smart, but she's ... She was really impulsive and angry at Viv's age. I get the feeling I'm seeing little you in there, tempering."
"I have a hard time seeing Gail as impulsive at twenty-three," smiled Holly, pulling her gloves on. Rookie Gail had been, as Gail described herself, scared to death of screwing up half the time. Angry, though, yes, Holly knew that Gail. Angry and prone to shoving people away before she got hurt. Impulsive never really sounded like her Gail though.
"She went out with me again." Okay. Nick had a point. "Anyway, I think Viv's okay. I'm keeping an eye on her."
"Just... Let her fail if she's going to, Nick. Let her learn." Her mother had told her that when she'd been fired as a teenager. Sometimes when you fall you hit the ground. Sometimes when you fall, sometimes when you fall, you fly. "Tell me about Mr. Gorsky here. What went on?"
Accepting the change in topic, Nick pulled out his notes. "We got the call about a domestic. Man shouting at his girlfriend. When we got there, Gorsky opened the door with the hunting revolver on the table."
Holly broke out a measuring tape, checking the arm length. "How long ... Why am I asking?" Shaking her head at her own stupidity, Holly looked at the criminologist's notes from the scene. Schienbaum was nothing if not meticulous. "Holy crap that's long." The barrel was incredibly long.
"Oh yeah, aren't they freaky? Can you believe people hunt deer with those?"
"I'm very glad Gail doesn't hunt," she muttered. Bringing the rifle up to the cabin had seemed silly for years. Then one winter a moose had taken out a car and was roaming the area. Holly had still felt it improbable that the moose would show up near them. And then the moose showed up right in their back yard. Gail had not shot it, or even at it. She'd waited on the balcony, on the phone with the local authorities, telling them where the moose was headed. But she said as it wasn't bothering her, she wasn't going to do anything about it, and they seemed fine.
Later on, when Holly asked why Gail hadn't shot the moose, she said the most interesting thing. Gail had pointed out that taking a life, any life, was a final act. You could never go back from that. You could never undo it. Even for a moose. It was easy for others to forget that her wife had such a soft heart for everything. Except stupid adults.
Nick laughed. "Of course not. That would be too messy." They both chuckled softly. "So, ah, Gorsky yelled at us that everything was fine. And then his girlfriend- oh right, the initial 911 call said it was his wife. They're not actually married, but they lied on the lease. Anyway, she came out of the back with this big shiner. V- Officer Peck asked if she was alright and gestured for her to come over. Soon as she- Viv- Peck got near Gorsky, he grabbed his girlfriend's arm and yanked her down. She fell."
"A charming man," Holly said dryly. Good on Viv for trying to get the woman out of there.
"He was in the army." Nick's voice had a flatter tone.
Shit. Foot well and truly in mouth. Holly looked up. "I'm sorry, Nick."
"It's not an excuse, or an explanation," he insisted. But it was what it was. "He grabbed the gun as the girlfriend hit the floor and started waving it 'round. We drew our guns. He pointed it at me and Viv was crazy calm at that point. She just kept cool and kept telling him it was okay, put the gun down. And he lowered it. I thought, y'know, thank god. Then he lifted it again, looked right at Vivian, and ..."
They looked at the body. "Well this certainly wasn't done by your guns," Holly noted. "Stippling, GSR, and trauma size are inconsistent with 22s."
Back when Holly had been a rookie, as it were, she'd had a hard time telling the various gauges apart without a ballistics check. In a way, that was why her speciality was knife wounds and blunt force trauma. Matching to the unknown was easy for her. But now, after all those years with Gail, she knew what size and shape the majority of calibers were just by sight. This was life married to the Pecks, she'd come to understand. The other married-ins whom she'd met had all learned similar things. They'd all mastered police work, from the teacher and nurse down to the TV producer and accountant. Once Gail teased and said it was osmosis.
Nick pushed his stool closer. "Can you really tell caliber from the entry wound? That's so weird."
"And the exit," she smiled. "It's easy to tell the basics. A rifle has a different look than a small caliber or a large. Of course, this handgun was firing rifle slugs, which I find rather terrifying."
"So do I," admitted Nick. "Even the new vests don't do much to stop them."
Once in their time together had Gail been shot. She'd been wearing her vest, thank god, and took the hit to her center mass. Vivian had been seventeen and freely admitted to being terrified about it, but Gail had been fine. A massive bruise to her ribs but no breaks. She'd shown off the bruise to a curious Vivian, who had teased Gail for being so god damned pale, and how that just made it look worse than it was.
That night on pain killers had been the worst part. Somehow, Holly had slept through Gail's rather predictable nightmare. She woke up at three am to a full bladder and an empty bed. When she came looking, Vivian and Gail were sitting on the living room couch, talking about normal things. They didn't see her, so she let them be and waited up in the bedroom until Gail eased back under the covers. She couldn't hug Gail close then, it would hurt her wife too much at that moment, but Holly held her hand the rest of the night and whispered that she loved Gail. She hoped it had helped.
With that memory in the front of her brain, Holly muttered aloud, "I wish they were illegal. Not that it would help."
Nick snorted. "That would just put them into the hands of more criminals. I say we tax the hell out of bullets."
Smiling, Holly took her measurements of the bullet holes. "That hasn't stopped cigarettes."
"Neither has ticketing people for smoking outside." Nick flipped through his notes. "Should I ..." When Holly nodded, he went on. "Right, so he shot himself. Just looking at Viv the whole time, which was hella creepy. And she booted. Got outside, though. Didn't contaminate the scene. And the girlfriend passed out. So I called EMTs and the Ds and then that was that."
He didn't have to tell her about what Viv did. It was nice that he did. She worked through the autopsy, finding nothing suspect in the body, and all evidence pointed to the suicide. "I wonder what he was thinking," sighed Holly, taking her gloves off.
"Was he on drugs?"
"Labs aren't back yet." It used to be that people would push her to speed up results. Nowadays, with Gail's muscle backing her, people were understanding of the time it took for science to process. Holly suspected Gail threatened people, and she was perfectly okay with that.
Thanking her for time, Nick headed back out. Holly texted Vivian to let her know the autopsy was done and got a reply back right away.
Anything special I can know and mess with Nick?
That was her kid alright, she smiled and replied.
Quid pro quo, Clarice.
Her daughter replied right away.
His name wasn't Gorsky. Fake ID.
Well that was interesting. A fake ID would make it hard to track down the information on the gun.
GSR indicates Teflon coated bullets.
Vivian replied with a thank you, and a reminder that she loved Holly best. She was always saying that to both of them, though. It was clear to Holly that she did love both of them. Best was a momentary passing.
Tucking the supposed Mr. Gorsky away, Holly started back for her office. As she dropped off the papers, Wanda Ury called her name. "Dr. Stewart, do you have a minute? It's about the pot shop case."
"Of course," smiled Holly, changing course for the mass. spec. room. "What've we got?"
"Fentanyl."
Holly blinked. "And marijuana?" Wanda nodded. That was rare. Fentanyl in powered form had only hit the streets about twenty years ago. Holly suddenly felt old. "Well that's fun. Is it related to ... Er ... Rainbow Happiness?"
"Rackham's Vibes," corrected Wanda.
As far as Holly knew, Gail hadn't wanted to get a court order or a warrant, fearing she'd tip off the place. They must have gotten a legit fake prescription for someone and sent them in... But. That was interesting. She hadn't known they'd found the doctor connection yet.
"Well," mused Holly. "That's good. Organized Crime has been looking for that. What's the problem?"
"It's not a match."
Shit. "At all?"
"It's not the same batch. I mean, it's the same drug, but it's not the same ..." Wanda handed over the tablet computer. "Here's this batch, on the right. The left is the batch from the Unicorn place."
Studying the images, it was clearly obvious. They were not the same, and Holly sighed. They were very similar, but not enough. "I'll call this in for you, if that's okay?"
Wanda looked relieved. "Please. I don't want to explain it to Steve Peck again, he's getting snippy."
"And no one does snippy like a Peck," smiled Holly. She sent the files to her own account and went up to call her brother in law.
"Hello, beautiful sister in law," sang Steve. "Please tell me good things."
"Define good?"
"Tell me I found the doctor?"
Holly thought about that for a moment. "How did you pull off that? I'm guessing you sent out a bunch of undercover officers to get prescriptions from a hundred doctors?"
"Close," drawled Steve. "We sent out a couple guys to the list of doctors that had Unicorn and Rackham in common."
"Oh see, that's smart."
"Thank you. Tell my sister I'm smart, will you?"
"You want me to lie?"
Steve laughed. "You've been hanging around Gail too much. I liked you much better when you were nicer."
"Well, you're smart, but you're unlucky. It's not the same Fentanyl." Her brother in law swore. "Sorry."
"Not your fault," he groaned. "Crap. How the hell is it not the same?"
Holly sighed. Steve was going to be difficult, she could just tell. His voice had the same tone as Gail at her most stubborn. Unlike with Gail, where she could babble the science to calm her, Holly went the direct route. The route that warned Steve he was being stupid. "Steven, do you know how humans are related to chimpanzees but we're not the same?"
He hesitated, perhaps sensing his doom. "Yes."
"It's related like that." The groan across the line told her Steve understood. "Now that doesn't mean he didn't change his formula," she pointed out. "Maybe if you find the third shop?"
"Yeah, it just makes it hella hard to tie it in to, y'know, Unicorn. And we need to find the last shop."
"Rainbow isn't it?"
"Weirdly no. It looks... Well that's funny, now that you mention it. Did the lab test all the pot at Unicorn?" Steve had a bone to chew.
"We did." She hesitated. "I did not personally check if the Fentanyl was all one batch though." And the idea struck her that Unicorn might have been using two doctors and two batches.
She could hear her brother in law's grin. "Would'ja? I would love you forever and you would be my favoritist sister in the whole world."
"I'm telling Gail you said that," laughed Holly, realizing her day just ran away with her. "However yes, I will do so for you." After all, she'd agreed to call him about it. By the laws of the lab, it was her responsibility.
It took much longer than she would have liked. It involved her writing up a tech for not actually doing all the work he said he did. It involved meticulously re-running labs. It ended up getting her home nearly at midnight with a pounding head, an aching back, and a slightly stomach upset to have eaten takeout instead of Gail's food.
At home, Gail was draped over the easy chair in the living room, reading. By contrast Vivian was sound asleep on the couch, her face smushed into the pillows, her tablet precariously perched by her face. "Hey," smiled Gail.
"You waited up?"
"After yelling at my brother." Gail put down her book and shoved Viv's shoulder with a foot. "See? Mom's here. Go to bed."
Sleepily, Vivian gave Holly a hug and stumbled upstairs. "Night, Mom."
Holly eyed their daughter's trail. "What the hell?"
"She wanted to wait up."
"Why?" Holly was bewildered. It was late, her kid had suffered a series of rough days. She should be asleep.
"Well." Gail stretched. "I think she's a little needy about making sure we're here."
Ah. Holly sighed. "Well shit. Now I feel guilty."
Gail stretched and got up. "Don't. She knew where you were. And I was here." As Gail stretched her arms high above her head, her tank top rode up and her baggy sweats slouched down. In a word, Gail was incredibly sexy. And all Holly wanted was eight goddamn hours of sleep. Gail seemed to know that and smiled, taking Holly's bag. "Come on. Shower, sleep."
Letting her wife take her bag, Holly followed Gail upstairs. "Why did you stay up?"
"I like seeing your pretty face," mused Gail, carrying the briefcase to their office.
That seemed like the only answer she was going to get out of Gail, so Holly went to their bedroom and stripped for her shower. Gail wasn't back by the time she got out, and Holly fell onto the bed, face first. She was getting too old to do that kind of lab work all day. "I'm too old for this shit," she told Gail as she heard the bedroom door close.
"Why didn't you ask a tech? Assuming you're talking about being bent over a workbench all day. And not in the fun way."
Holly snorted a laugh into the pillow. "I am. And because they fucked it up already."
"Oooooh," chuckled Gail. "You swore. It must be bad."
"You have no idea."
"Tell me about it?"
Grimacing, Holly shook her head. "I just want to hurt less and sleep, honey."
The bed dipped and suddenly Gail sat on Holly's upper legs. "Well. How about I help with that." Her voice was soft and warm and just a little suggestive.
"Gail," groaned Holly, and not in a good way. The last thing she could deal with right now was an amorous Gail. Not that she didn't love that or want that, but everything hurt at the moment. "I love you but I am so wiped out - oh!" The sensation of warm oil hit her back, followed by Gail's warm hands kneading it in. "Oh my god," she managed, this time groaning with relief.
The pressure from Gail's hands was finding the knots in her lower back and pushing them out and away. "You're tired, I know. But you will toss and turn all night. Did you take some pain killers?"
"Uh huh," mumbled Holly, closing her eyes as her wife massaged her. "Two."
"Good." Dear god, Gail knew her so well now. Sometimes Holly wondered if Gail knew her better than she knew herself. "Do you want to tell me about the lab?"
It would help distract her brain, which had a tendency to want to twitch her away from the massage. Holly always had a problem relaxing into a massage. "Yeah," she sighed. "So. The techs who ran the pot for drugs didn't run everything. I mean they didn't run all the samples. Nor did they do it properly."
"By properly do you mean won't hold up in court or not to your exacting standards?"
"Second one. I had to re-do all of it with Wanda."
"Ew," agreed Gail. "Did you and Dr. Cougar Hunter find anything?"
"She's going out with people closer to her own age now, Gail." Holly smiled.
"That's only because she's closer to 40 now," sassed Gail.
It had been over a decade but Gail still liked to harass Wanda about asking Holly out. And, yes, Holly let it go every time. Mostly. "Stop it."
"Sooooooorry," laughed Gail, pressing a particularly tough knot.
It popped and Holly exhaled loudly. Relief flooded her system. "God, you are amazing."
"You're welcome." Her wife was so cheeky. And really good at getting the knots out of Holly's back. Oh god.
Holly practically purred. "This is really what I needed," she noted.
"Good." The heel of Gail's hand pressed below her shoulder blade, dragging down towards her butt.
As the tightness in her back eased, Holly was able to relax her limbs. "We found two different strains of Fentanyl, common to all three shops."
Gail made a noise. "Two. Awesome. Multiple doctors."
"That's your bone to gnaw, detective," sighed Holly.
This time Gail didn't reply. She concentrated on easing out the pain and tension and basically turning Holly into jelly. Eventually, the massaged lightened and became Gail gently sweeping her hands on Holly's back and shoulders. Less of a rub and more an affirmation that Gail was there and Holly was loved.
Moments later, Gail was jostling her awake. "Holly, come on, you need to get a shirt on," cajoled Gail, helping her into her sleep shirt. "There you go." The comfortable weight on her legs was gone and the light went off. Then the bed dipped again and Gail was snuggled up alongside. "Good night. I love you." Gail's lips touched Holly's forehead.
Too tired to reply, Holly smiled and hoped the sentiment was understood.
"Martin Badondo."
Nick looked up. "The name for me in your novelization of our life?"
"No, that's Crawlins." Holding out the tablet, Vivian explained, "Badando is the real name of our Mr. Gorsky."
Her TO screwed up his face. "I'm not sure which name is worse. Batando?"
"Badondo. Two Ds." Vivian sat on the edge of Nick's desk. "Gorsky was in the army, died in the last dust up with Russia. Badando was drummed out as a recruit for conduct unbecoming, which is a fancy way to say he was in a fight with an officer and decked him. When he got back, he used Gorsky's info to get an ID and tried to live as him. His girlfriend never knew."
Taking the tablet, Nick studied the file. "Poor guy," he muttered. "How did he know Gorsky?"
Vivian grinned ear to ear. "He didn't."
Nick eyed her. He looked a little nervous. "Jesus stop looking like your mother. It's creepy enough when Gail does it. What do you know?"
She checked her nails, buffed them on her shirt, and grinned more. "I know a lot of things, Officer Collins." He scowled, clearly frustrated with her, and she leaned in a bit. "I'm a Peck. I know all about guns, I know about cars, I can pick locks, and I know a forgery when I see one."
The older officer's face changed. "What?"
Taking her tablet back, Vivian tapped and pulled up the evidence photos. "That, sir, is not Gorsky's original ID. That isn't an ID with a swapped photo. That is a fake, and out of date, ID. They changed 'em this year. The background of any driver's license made in the last 7 months should have the King's seal there."
Nick sat up. "That could be..."
"His SSN isn't Gorksky's either. It's some kid who died as a baby. I pulled up Badondo's ID from before the army, which was at another base by the way, and here. That one there is Badondo. Here's Gorsky from the same time."
They looked at the photos. The men looked nothing alike, had never met, and had only a tenuous connection. "And here I was feeling sorry for him," muttered Nick.
"Because he was in the Army?"
Nick nodded. "Well. Let's go talk to Dov and the Ds." Vivian pointed at herself, surprised. Lately all the talk with the detectives had been just Nick. "Yes, you too. You're ready." Pushing away from the desk, Nick added, "Three coffees. Me, Dov, Traci."
"Four?' She held up four fingers and poked her thumb at herself.
"Four."
Vivian had to keep herself from skipping as she went to get the coffees. Good ones too, not the swill they had in the station. On a whim, and a weird memory from Noelle teasing her in her first week about not brining coffee, she Peck'ed it up and picked one more. Soy latte, no sugar, one stevia, extra shot.
As she hustled back into the station and to Dov's office, she spotted Noelle's desk empty. "Little Peck. One of those better be for me," called out the sassier inspector. Noelle was standing in the doorway to Dov's office.
"Yes, ma'am," grinned Vivian, bounding up the stairs.
"Suck up," coughed Rich as she passed him.
Throwing out her grandfather's favorite quote, Vivian sang, "Chance favors the prepared mind!"
Noelle held Dov's door open and plucked the coffee with her name on it off the tray. "You know, I ain't going easy on you just 'cause your parents are white shirts."
"My mother never wears a white shirt. Too much of a target. And technically it's a white lab coat."
"I bet you think you're clever," smiled Noelle.
"Frequently."
She sighed and pointed to the desk. "Dov, was our little Peck this much of a pain in the ass as a rook?"
Dov smiled, "Not quite as smart mouthed, I think."
Handing out the coffees, and taking her own, Vivian smiled. "I'm a rookie, ma'am. I'm just here to listen and learn, that's all." And she took up a stance of innocence on the wall.
"Anyone believe that?" Traci smiled at Vivian. No one raised their hands. "Right. You're here because you spotted the forgery before the lab. Report just came in. Want to explain how you knew that?"
Vivian looked at Nick. "The seal was missing. It's... Um. Elaine has weird hobbies?" Her erstwhile grandmother had a copy of every single iteration of the Province ID since forever.
"And you memorized them?" Traci looked actually surprised. In all her life knowing the detective, Vivian had never seen her surprised before.
Her mothers were brilliant. Holly kept all her science information in her head but she considered Gail the genius who memorized conversations. Vivian couldn't really do either, not like they could. But she did remember pictures, the way things looked. It was probably from all the diagrams in her engineering classes. "Apparently?"
The experienced officers exchanged looks. "I didn't know Pecks did embarrassed," chuckled Dov. "It's good work, Peck."
That was good. Right? "Thank you, sir."
"Now. Shut up and listen."
Smiling, Vivian did exactly that. The older officers talked around the case. Traci had some people in on a counterfeiting ring, which this was probably related to, but she was short on undercover people. "Everyone's tied up with the pot lacing case, so I'm happy to give you guys a D to work on this, but you're going to have to supply your own UC... And I need a favor."
For a fleeting moment, Vivian had a dream that she'd get to do real undercover work. Better than the food trucks. Something real.
What she got was sitting at a desk going over ID after ID as she looked for patterns. Because she was good at patterns and diagrams. "I think I got played," she muttered to Nick, seated next to her.
"If it makes you feel better, I wanted the UC too." He flicked through the pages on the tablet.
She frowned. "Is this because of Tuesday?" Tuesday they'd seen a man blow his head off. Tuesday had weirdly been the opening shot (hah, that was a Gail joke) of this debacle.
Her TO looked up. "God. I hope not." Then he glanced at her. "You good?"
Nodding, Vivian tapped an ID and highlighted it for the Ds. "I am, apparently, really good at this," she sighed.
Nick leaned over. "Wow. Okay, so you're going to be a detective?"
"Eh, never really wanted to. I want... Okay, can you promise not to laugh?"
"May I fall subject to Gail's ingenuity again."
That would do. "I wanted to be a cop like Oliver," she said softly.
The man looked at her. "Huh. Yeah, okay. You know what, I'm thinking that's alright."
But Nick didn't seem to notice that she'd used the past tense. What Vivian wanted now was not what she'd wanted at thirteen. That was normal, though. Gail was always saying what she'd wanted as a teenager, and a young adult, and a grown adult, and a married mother, they were all vastly different.
They said nothing more about it until lunch. Which was how long it took them to fulfill Traci's favor. Then and only then were they able to move on to another part of the case. Refueling the detectives. "Okay, Nick, I really think they're doing this on purpose," she grumbled, pulling in the Sally Port with the food order.
"Dov said not," he sighed. "You know it's normal to be benched for days after a shooting."
"We didn't shoot him." Yes, it was terrible. And yes, it had fucked her up in many ways, but ... Damn it, work was easier than anything else for her right now.
"It was your first death."
Oh. It wasn't, but how were they to know? She scowled. "Nick. We're cops. Why can't they let us be cops?"
Her partner sighed. "You are Gail's kid alright." He shook his head.
"You're not worried about me," Vivian said, with a sudden realization.
"You? No. Your folks'll do that. They're ... Y'know. They're good people."
Having no reply to that, Vivian sighed and carried the boxes into the bullpen. Then she brought the last box to Noelle in her office. "Can I bribe you?"
Noelle stared at her, confused. "That's not subtle at all."
"Giving me and Nick grunt work, matching IDs. That's analyst work. That's for rookie detectives. And I know Traci's got one." She put the box down and tried to project her best Gail. "I'm a street cop. This is stupid. Let me be a cop."
Putting her pen down, Noelle opened the take out box. "I do like noodles," she mused. "Do you know why you and Nick are being kept inside?" She had a guess, but Vivian shook her head and Noelle pointed at the door.
"If it's about the Greens," she said carefully, closing the door, and then stopped. She didn't know where to go with that. "I'm fine." She wasn't. Not really. But focusing on the work was easier than anything else at the moment.
"It's not. Or at least Dov thinks it's not. He doesn't know."
Vivian arched her eyebrows. She knew Dov didn't know about her birth family in detail. Gail had promised that very few people knew. But that he didn't know anything was a little surprising. "Uh, he knows they're dead."
"Yeah, and that's all he knows. They're dead, you weren't home, you got fostered and adopted." Noelle was very firm about that.
Chewing her lip, Vivian said, "But you know." There was something in the way Noelle spoke that made it a certainty about things. She knew something.
Noelle nodded slowly. "When your moms got ready to foster you, they talked to me and Frank and Oliver about how to make sure you were comfortable. Safe."
It really felt raw and galling to have a boss who knew that. Even though Vivian knew Noelle didn't know the whole story, she knew more than other people had a right to know. "You're not why ... Are you?"
"No! I thought getting you back out there right away would be better. Shrink cleared you. Dov though... "
"He shot that kid when he was new," realized Vivian, the story jumping into her head. "But this isn't the same!"
"I know. And if you weren't someone he loves like a daughter, I doubt he'd react like this." Noelle sighed. "So. I can't put you on the ID scam case. But I can ..." She tapped on her computer. "I need someone to do some leg work. Go look for birds."
Vivian blinked. "Birds?"
"Yeah, your Uncle Peck wants to know about eagles and their habitats."
"Eagles? In Toronto?"
"Back in 2014, a pair of bald eagles started nesting in High Park. We have some bird nerds-"
"Ornithologists." When Noelle glared, Vivian smothered a smile. "Sorry. Blame Holly."
"Oh, I will," sighed Noelle, but she was smiling too. "You and Nick go talk to him. Dr. Bishop. Here's the address." She handed over a slip of paper. The UoT Ornithology department. Eagles. Uncle Steve. The connections clicked. This was the pot case. Vivian grinned ear to ear. "Thanks, Noelle. You're the best."
"I bet you say that to all the inspectors," smiled Noelle, starting to eat the noddles. "Shoo."
Vivian bopped out of the office grinning. She got to help research the case. She could help find the third, mystery, brother. Or the Eagles Cross. This could be great. It could be nothing. It was better than staring at papers all day.
Her daughter was chatty.
That rarely happened, and it was quite unexpected after the week she'd had, so Gail let it go and listened to Vivian wax on about how she and Nick had spent the afternoon looking up birds. Birds. Vivian was over the moon about birds. As the youngest member of the household mixed the ingredients for potstickers, she explained how she and Nick had gone bird watching.
"Bald Eagles, right, they like water. Lakes. Oceans. Marshes. And yeah, rivers. So we told Dr. Bishop we found eagle shit on the shoe of a river worker, and wanted to know where the likely possible locations could be."
"Okay, that's pretty smart. Who had the idea?" Her kid beamed at her. "Nicely done. Heard about the IDs too. When did you learn that?"
Vivian shrugged, not dismissively but genuinely unsure. "Second year of college, I think. Remember I was taking that insane mechanical engineering class with two labs? He wanted us all to just know those stupid shear force diagrams by week two?" Gail nodded. She'd seen Vivian's wall plastered with them for study aides. "I think getting all those in me did it."
Smiling, Gail broke an egg into a shallow bowl. "I actually meant when did you memorize the IDs."
"Oh, they're in a book at Elaine's. I was over there for your last birthday."
That had been Vivian's idea, all her own. Gail refused to feel guilty about it. "And you just read random books?"
"Well. I don't know if you noticed, but Elaine's kinda old, Mom. She fell asleep so I tucked her in bed and had to kill time somehow." She paused. "Noelle knows about that too, huh?"
"Well..." Gail paused and then laughed, recognizing the speech pattern. "Sorry. Yes, she does. She was awake when Holly picked you up." That was so long ago, if felt almost like another life.
Vivian nodded and was thoughtful in her silence for a while. "She said Dov didn't know."
"He doesn't." As soon as Gail had read the file the first time, she'd done something she hated. Something she'd sworn never to try. She'd used her name and her family to push the courts. "They've been sealed since you were six, Viv." Her daughter stiffened but started to fold the potstickers. "I told you. The only people who've seen what's in them, at Fifteen, is me and Noelle."
The hazel eyes looked up in doubt. "Steve and Traci?"
"Nope." Gail leaned on the counter and took a deep breath. "Viv. I didn't want everyone to know and look at you like they used to look at me. They know in general what happened. They don't know the details and they won't from me. And they won't from Noelle."
The eyes blinked wetly and Vivian went back to making food. "Thanks."
Gail nodded. "You ... You sound okay. You know you can tell me anything. As your mom."
Her daughter nodded again, but stayed silent for a long moment. "I'm relieved," she finally said, quietly. "I feel ... I feel better. Whole. With a w."
"Good clarification." She smiled at the younger Peck. "If you need anything, sweetheart."
"Honest, Mom. I'm .. I'm better." That didn't sound like avoidance either. Gail exhaled and nodded. "I think work helps."
Gail nodded and got two beers out. "I hear ya. But just be careful." When Vivian nodded, Gail smiled. "Anyway. Tell me about the eagles, will you? You think it's birds?"
Her daughter looked relieved. "We matched up their nesting areas to places where three rivers crossed."
It was a nice idea that Vivian though the rivers and eagles were literal. Hunting that down kept her out of trouble at least. Gail just felt that river was an analogy for brothers, and had finally gotten Zanaro to agree to be interviewed. She sent Pedro, her youngest rising star, off with John for that one. John grumbled it was because he'd not actually brought Janet, his girlfriend, over to meet the Peck/Stewart clan, and Gail had ended up trapping them at a restaurant in order to meet her.
Of course it wasn't. John was smart, good at his job, and a great teacher. And anyway, Gail liked Janet. She was a professional chef and had won an episode of Chopped Canada when she was younger. Right away she and Gail had started talking about cooking. After that, they'd had her over for a dinner that the two cooked, much to the delight of Holly, John, and Vivian.
In Janet, she saw a change in John. Maybe the things he'd learned from Rachel had put him in a place where now, years later, he was ready for more than just dating. Maybe.
She wasn't going to push him.
They were done with the first batch when Holly came home. "Can I be done with long days, Pecks?" She fell into a stool at the kitchen island.
Gail got her a beer. "Mine are up next, I'm afraid," she warned her wife, kissing her temple.
"Do I want to know?" Holly popped the cap off the beer and took a long swing.
"I sent John to New Brunswick."
Holly eyed her. "Are we back on the people part of your investigation?"
"And apparently an ornithological angle. I'm sure Vivian will be collecting bird poop for you soon enough."
"Rodney will enjoy that," said Holly decisively and Gail laughed. "Can I eat one now or is that gauche?"
Vivian pushed the plate and sauce over. "I never get between Mom and the food," she joked. "I'm making the rest into satay." As Vivian turned back to her cooking, she asked, "Gauche means left. Why is it used to ask if something's socially derpy?"
The doctor shrugged. "Don't ask me, I'm not the linguist."
Pulling a stool closer to Holly, Gail wrapped an around around her wife's waist and picked up a potsticker. "It was considered the height of awkward and social gracelessness to be left handed." The food was great.
Holly leaned into her and made a pleased noise. "Feed me, wife."
"So pushy," teased Gail, but she did dip one and fed it to Holly. "How's your back?"
"Much better," smiled Holly. "Viv this is really good. But why are you cooking?"
"Mom beat me at the range."
They'd gone to the range after shift with Noelle, having a normal night of shooting. Gail hadn't intended to make a competition of it, but Noelle asked if Vivian threw the competition last November, so they had a bit of a shoot out then and there. Gail pulled her phone out and showed the targets to Holly, who laughed.
"Honey, have you learned nothing? No one beats your mom at target competitions."
Vivian flipped her mothers off. "I can beat her on long distance," muttered the child.
It was true, too. "You need to work on your rifles," she mused, smiling at her daughter and feeding Holly another potsticker. Gail needed glasses to read now, and she was dreading the loss of any more visual acuity. Needing glasses to shoot wasn't insurmountable, but it wasn't good. She'd already talked to her eye doctor about prescription shooting glasses.
"How come you never come shooting?" Vivian added more potstickers to the plate.
"I don't like it," replied Holly, reaching over to pick up a potsticker and feed it to Gail. "I did it once, though."
Vivian eyed Gail who nodded. "Huh. You're so different. Sometimes I wonder how you guys ended up together at all."
Kissing Gail's cheek, Holly replied, "I wonder too." Gail smirked and pinched Holly's side. Holly slapped her shoulder. "Do you have to go to NB?"
"No," smiled Gail. She let go of Holly's waist to rub her shoulder. "John's just working with Pedro and interviewing."
"Lucky," yawned Holly. "Can we eat on the couch?"
It was Vivian who sassed, "Yes you may."
Holly, the grammar snob, sighed. "I deserved that." She took the plate of potstickers to the coffee table.
"Fine, but we're not watching that stupid show about the opera singer," complained Gail. They ended up watching a political drama about a UN ambassador who was embroiled in a scandal with a country who had an embargo. There was some side plot about how the aide was sleeping with another ambassador who was married, but they all ignored that.
They were all in their rooms before eleven, and one presumed their beds. Gail was certainly in the bed and curled up, ready for her wife. When Holly slipped into the bed, Gail's toes found she'd shaved, and the blonde ooooohed appreciatively. "Remember when you asked me why I shaved my legs if I was a lesbian," teased Holly.
"Remember when I didn't shave my legs for a winter?" Gail slid her bare legs along Holly's.
"How did I get you to start shaving again?" Holly grinned and turned the lights off.
"You bought me that flannel dress." It had been a shirt, but Gail had worn it as a shirt dress, which had proven the point to both of them. Shaving did not make her any more or less butch than a flannel shirt. Gail shaved, and Holly appreciated the style choice.
Holly nestled into the bed, swarming over two thirds of it. "The only flannel you own," she teased.
Smiling, Gail closed her eyes. "I have those pajama pants. Besides, you look better in flannel." A pause. "And out of flannel." Holly laughed and poked her arm. "Night. Love."
Her wife stretched and put her head by Gail's shoulder. "Love," she replied. "Sleep."
It used to be weird, falling asleep with someone. Now it was weird not doing so. Now the normal was a house with a wife on her side, breathing deeply. "Yeah," smiled Gail. "Love."
Somehow Jenny had convinced the owner of the Penny to put their scoreboard up on the wall. And someone had filled in information for all of them. All. That meant Vivian was included. As she read off the points allocated for the week, Vivian realized it was Traci's handwriting. Damn it. That was tacit approval by the Pecks that counted.
"Thirty?" That was Christian, holding out a beer.
"I think it's for the forgery. God knows we came up empty on bird watching." She'd been so sure, too. The brothers in the story, the modern brothers, were the Bird Brothers.
Her friend huh'd and looked at his score. He'd been helping surveillance while the experienced officers tried to buy fake IDs. "Ten. Well. I sat in a van with Rich for seven hours. How did you not kill him?"
"The bane of having my moms, I know I'd be caught."
"Yeah. That would suck. How's the gang thing going?"
Vivian made a face. "Fuck all. We've checked a bunch of eagle nesting ground, and Noelle said we get to do it all next week too."
They walked over to the rookie table. "So you're playing now?" Rich was such a jerk.
"I didn't fill it in," shrugged Vivian.
Jenny slid into the seat beside her. "Traci and Steve Peck did. They're nice." Sharing a nod with Vivian, Jenny added, "Which I guess is approval?"
"From the Pecks who matter. You know he's my uncle, right?"
The other rookie shook her head. "Steve's your uncle? So ... Wait..."
Turning, Vivian spotted Gail. "The blonde sitting by him is my mom. His sister." Jenny peeked around and startled. "Yes," sighed Vivian.
"Holy crap, no wonder you didn't want to play." Jenny looked apologetic.
"I doubt she actually cares," Vivian mused.
"Yeah but she's... I mean, she has a freaking OOM!"
Rich frowned. "OOM?"
"Officer of the Order of Merit," explained Christian. "Just of the police, right? Not the other one?"
"Yeah, she has to wear it when she's in her blues." Vivian had been present to that ceremony. It had been back when John and Chloe got their MOMs, and Gail had gotten bumped, much to her annoyance. "I think the RVO bugs her more." When Rich opened her mouth, she added, "Royal Victorian Order. For personal services to the King."
He stared at her. "Bullshit."
So Vivian pulled out her phone and tapped into the police article. There was a photo of Gail and Holly and herself and the King. "I was fifteen when she got it."
"That is a lot to live up to," muttered Jenny, looking at the photo. "Also you are incredibly short for fifteen."
Vivian rolled her eyes. "Late bloomer." She took her phone back. "You can look up the case of you want."
The annoying man shook his head, looking actually scared for once. Twice, if Vivian counted the time he'd seen the dead guy in the pot shop. Three times. On Thursday he'd been scared about Gail as well. "She's going to kill me, isn't she? For ... For hitting on your other mom."
"Unlikely," smiled Vivian.
"Totally likely," said Christian.
"She didn't kill Ger- Duncan. And he was her rookie for a while." The fact that Duncan used to be called Gerald was a secret Vivian kept for him. He didn't need the help with his rep. Duncan was not well respected as a TO.
Over at the old guard table, Gail was leaning around Traci to point at Nick. It was different to watch it now, from all the way over at the rookie table, knowing she could go over and she'd be welcome, but she would feel out of place. It was just the first steps really away from her parents.
Gail caught her look and lifted a beer at her. There was nothing said. Nothing needed to be said. They understood each other well. They always had. As much as it pained Vivian to admit, Holly was right. Vivian had a different connection with Gail. They'd been alike from the very start, loath she'd been to admit it at six. No, back then she remembered not trusting anyone, not even the goofy blonde with a weird sense of humor. Not the smiling brunette who was all kinds of awkward around her.
That first year they'd all walked on eggshells until Holly got sick. Then ... What Vivian remembered most was seeing Gail put her first. It didn't matter how much pain Gail was in, and yes, Vivian could see it even then. No matter what, Vivian came first. Really, no one in her memory had done that before. So, spotty as she knew it to be now, Gail firmed herself up as someone who could be trusted. Relied on. If they wanted Vivian.
Funny how things changed in eighteen years.
Her mother made a face and signed 'turn around.'
Taking the hint, Vivian focused back on the conversations at hand. Rich wasn't paying attention either, though, which was interesting. She leaned towards him and asked, quietly, "Hey, Rich. You know ASL?"
He blinked at her. "ASL? Uh, no. Why?"
"Your dad."
Rich's eyes widened. "Don't-" He stopped and looked at Vivian in surprise and then guilt. "Oh." Rich looked beyond Vivian and over at the other tables.
She nodded. "So I know ASL. A little LSQ. Both."
The rakish, I'm-so-cool look faded from his face. Rich was just another guy. "Can't lip read?"
"Not well. I never needed to." Vivian shrugged. "It's cool though. Noelle was impressed."
"Not really a cop thing, though," muttered Rich.
Ah. He had that stigma. "Neither is running a marathon or being able to re-wire a radio," pointed out Vivian. "But they are. That's the stuff that makes us smart, y'know?"
Rich pointed at the old guard's table. "What can she do?"
"Linguist. Gave me all kinds of shit for flunking a French test once."
"Yeah, but that's useful!"
"Oh and lip reading wasn't?" Vivian beamed as Rich went silent. Boo yah. "She cooks too. My other mom's the sporto. Hockey."
Rich snorted a laugh. "My dad's a ballet dancer."
"That's cool. What kind? Russian? French?" A deaf ballet dancer was a wild idea, but from her fling with Skye, Vivian knew that a lot of artists were deaf.
She and Rich talked about that, ballet and the arts, for much of the night. Jenny joined in, having an appreciation for classical music. It was, perhaps, not the expected conversations folks might have at the Penny, but it was fun. It was entertaining.
The next morning, Saturday, Vivian was up at six. Gail was sitting downstairs with coffee and her iPad, looking surprised to see her. "Why are you up?"
"I could ask you the same thing," smiled Vivian, pulling on her running shoes. "I'm meeting the ETF guys at the park."
Gail screwed up her face. "Ew. Have fun."
"And you are up because..."
"Hot flashes. And your mother is snoring."
"Ew," laughed Vivian, kissing Gail's forehead. "I'll be back by lunch."
"You say that like it means I'm supposed to do something," Gail said, teasingly.
Of course, Gail would do something. Probably make a lunch for Vivian as well as herself. It was just what Gail did. She just didn't make a fuss about it.
Stretching outside, Vivian squinted at the sun. It was still hot and sticky in September, but the air had that quality that said it would change soon. The wetness was different. More earthy. What did Holly say? No, it was from Doctor Who. The smell of the earth after the first drop of rain. Petrichor.
She thought about nothing more than words and meanings as she jogged down the street and over to the park. The park near their house had been reinvented a few years back. It used to be a normal, dingy sort of park that pre-teen Vivian wasn't allowed to visit on her own. Then the neighborhood started having Farmers Markets in the spring and summer. The money from that led to an outdoor pool being built, and then an ice skating rink. Most recently they'd put in exercise sets, like adult jungle gyms. Gail called it the American Ninja Warrior phenomenon, which was having a nice resurgence.
And that was, actually, what the ETF guys liked to do. Ivan, Eric, Duane, and Sabrina all wanted to be on the show and regularly made plans to drive to Pittsburgh or Detroit or New York for try-outs. So far they'd never made it to the course, but Eric had camped out a week in the standby line. Two of them, Duane and Sabrina, were already at their favorite part of the park, playing on the monkey bars.
"Aren't you guys a little old for that?" They were only a few years older than she was, but she'd been running with them since Sue invited her along on an ETF run when she'd been 19. Gail still thought they were all insane.
"Shut up, ya rookie," laughed Sabrina. "Quad Steps to the monkey bars. Swing across to the uneven logs. From there do the tire swing to the free rope. Climb to the top, transfer to the pole, slide down, ten ten sit ups, then sprint to the gate."
Dryly, Vivian noted, "I bet you spent all night thinking that up."
Duane, who shared an apartment with Sabrina, muttered, "She did. Mapped it out and everything."
But it was, Vivian had to admit, fun to do. There was no friendly water to land on here, nor comfy pads. It was just dirt and wood chips, which Holly had dug out of Vivian's legs and arms on more than one occasion. She'd been a klutzy, filthy, sporto for years, it was true, but she had fun, and she couldn't knock that.
Vivian's chances for fun were still few and far between. She was always going to carry the ghosts of her birth parents around with her. They would always haunt her doubts and fears. At the same time, she had two amazing guardian angels in the form of her mothers. They loved her in an open way that was healing. They defended her, protected her, and let her go out on her own.
In that way, she felt like she was making progress as a human. A good person. A person who could have fun.
We inch along with the case about the Three Rivers gang. To be honest, it wasn't a plan for them to come back when I finished OWtO. This evolved as I sketched out the plot for this storyline, so it remained.
Vivian's weird hobby is a melange of Gail and Holly. Individual like Gail, sporty with friends like Holly. And yes, from the very start this was what happened. There are minor details that are forgotten, but Vivian was witness to her father blowing his head off. As for her mysterious aunt... For now, she can't know. Or rather, Gail and Holly can't tell her.
Of course it will be a secret they will regret having to keep. This is a drama.
