02.07 - Class Dismissed
The final episode of a popular school-based tv show is being filmed. Maybe you know the show? But not all the fans are taking the end of the show very well. Whatever it takes, right?
Also snarcasm318 wrote a little one-off that takes place between last chapter and this. It's absolutely canon and I declare it so.
The number of times the theme song played on the speakers was slowly driving Vivian insane. Degrassi! Now! had lasted thirteen seasons. She'd actually watched all of the originals (from 'Degrassi Junior High' through 'Degrassi High' and into 'Degrassi: The Next Generation', back to 'Degrassi' again, then 'Degrassi: Next Class' on Netflix, and on and on and finally the current incarnation). But all the same, any time the kids weren't acting, they kept playing all of the various theme songs.
It had gotten to be a bit much, even for a fan. Vivian wasn't surprised that her partner was fed up. "I could hate this show," said Christian, darkly.
"You love this show." Vivian rested her hands on her belt and watched the kids run by, laughing. They'd watched a few episodes together. She knew damn well Christian had been enraptured by the whole Zig plot line.
"I hate the theme song. Especially this one."
Vivian tilted her head. They were playing the one where the choir was singing. "Season … two or three? Degrassi TNG? It's catchy."
Christian groaned. "Why are we here?"
"Because someone made death threats about the show ending, which is stupid."
The threat was credible, though. And since Degrassi did keep kid-actors playing kid-roles (more or less), the fact that there were children involved put the cops on high alert. Vivian had joked to Gail that if it had been adults only, they may not have had such a presence. Gail had smirked and admitted that was probably true, but only if the threats had been made at Drake.
"How would killing the actors keep the show going?"
Vivian shrugged. "I think it's a publicity stunt, personally. Spur interest. The ratings have been terrible."
"I worry that you know that." Christian eyed her. "How do you know that?"
"I like Degrassi. Mom and I used to watch it. When I can't sleep, it's pretty much always on."
Her roommate frowned. "How have I not noticed this?"
"Because you're asleep? Dunno." Vivian certainly slept better than she had as a child, but there were still nights (or afternoons, depending on shifts) where sleep was weirdly elusive no matter how tired she was.
Christian huffed. "Well. I noticed your girlfriend."
Vivian winced. "C, not only can I hurt you in ways you've never imagined, but I'm my mother's daughter. Don't start this shit."
While he did pale a little, Christian pointed out the obvious. "You're over at her place a lot is all. Why don't you bring her over more often?"
Honesty. She was supposed to be working on being honest with her friends, or so said her therapist. Not that she lied, really, but she just left things out. "You. And my parents."
Christian held up his hands. "I won't tell Gail. Shit, she scares me. And you know I won't make fun of you." Then he added. "But … I mean, she does come over but you're always watching movies and shit."
Vivian took a moment. "Okay, I know you grew up with your mom, C. You know there are times of the month when women just don't want to have sex, right?"
"Sure."
"Right. It's a little more complicated with two women. Timing issues." She shrugged and watched his face contort as he worked out that Vivian had just told him that her menstrual cycle didn't match Jamie's.
It was kind of priceless.
"Man, that extra sucks." Christian shook his head. "If there's anything I can do make it easier... Just tell me when to ditch and I'm totally cool with it."
She hesitated and then nodded. "Thanks." His response was unexpected. That his first out-loud thought was for her was bewildering. When did people start doing that?
"And no, I will never ask to watch. That's … besides the fact you're gay, and I'm pretty sure the point is no penises there, that's just rude."
Vivian laughed. "Thank you for not being a dude, C." The absurdity of it all made her feel better.
"No problem. Now. Which ones are our age so I can know who to flirt with."
"Oh my god, I take it back. You are such a dude."
Their radios interrupted them, asking someone to check out the back of the school set. "I'm on it. The teachers, right? They're fair game?" Christian smirked. "Dispatch, 4711, I'm on it."
Rolling her eyes, Vivian went back to watching the kids run back and forth. The original Degrassi kids, like Spike, Snake, and Joey Jeremiah, had all been really wonderful people to meet. And the oldest kids from the reboot had, similarly, been interesting and nice. The show was coming full circle, ending with Emma and Spinner's teenaged son (Sean, named for the character who'd died off camera in an earlier season) attending Degrassi as the newest freshman.
Admittedly, Vivian had a closer tie to the plot than most of her peers. She was the latest Peck on the streets (more or less, there were a few of them in her class). In passing, she'd mentioned that to Snake the morning before when they'd been getting coffee. He'd asked if she was a fan of the show, she'd said at she and her mother watched together, even now. Of course he had asked what her mother did, and then he'd laughed.
Right now, though, it was the senior class prepping their big scene for the dance. A two hour TV movie to wrap everything up.
Vivian sighed. She'd miss the show. Give it five or ten years and it might come back, but would it be the same? It was a damned miracle that they'd come this far with so many of the original people involved. And the fact that the show felt the same while being relevant to kids in each generation was astounding. In a decade, would those warriors who fought for Degrassi still be there? Who knew.
Thinking about Degrassi was easier than trying to process what was going on with Chris Epstein, though. After his run in with drugs (which was just holding), she made a point to check on him a couple times. It was surprising, to her at least, what the kid was sorting through. Outside her wheelhouse, and sadly outside most everyone she knew. All she could do was be a sounding board and offer to help in whatever way was needed.
Joining her on her guard duty, Lara nudged her shoulder and jarred her out of her thoughts. "Who's that old guy?"
"What? Why are you asking me?"
"You're the Degrassi fan." She gestured at a cadre of the OG TNG (as some half wit named them).
Vivian rolled her eyes and looked over. As it happened, she did know the guy. "Oh that's Jimmy." When Lara gave her a blank look, she sighed. "Drake."
"Drake. The musician?"
"That'd be the one, yeah." She grinned. Gail always called him Jimmy. "Hey, did you know that we had a criminal once who used dead kids from Degrassi as his aliases?"
But Lara wasn't interested in that. "Drake? The Grammy winning musician is here?"
The only reason Vivian even knew Drake had a Grammy was because Gail found it hilarious. "Yeah. He's just another old dude, Lara." Personally Vivian was more interested that Stefan Brogren had shown up. Actually she was a little impressed that he was still involved in the show. The only actor to have been on it in every single incarnation. Also she liked Snake. He was cool.
"Holy shit. Was everyone who has ever been cool been on Degrassi?"
"Uh, if they were child actors, yes." Much like people joked that everyone in New York was on Law & Order, pretty much every Canadian child actor from 2001 to now had been on the show.
Lara sighed. "That is so cool."
"Did you really never watch it growing up?"
"I never really watched TV. I mean, I never saw me on it."
Vivian thought about that for a moment. "That's funny. My moms like this old movie, The Breakfast Club, because it was the first time they saw themselves in something like that."
"That's a great movie! Yeah, it's too white, but that's part of it."
"Degrassi's not really like that," mused Vivian. "They have everything and everyone. Gay, straight, trans, black, white, Asian, every religion. And they don't always work together. They get in fights, predictably. They react like stupid teens. They jump into sex and have consequences. It's kind of nice."
Lara stared at her. "Wow. That is the most I've heard you talk about anything besides work."
Blushing, Vivian gripped her belt. "I like Degrassi." She did. It was one of the things that made her feel normal. And it was the only television show she watched in realtime. Maybe Chris would like it, too. God knew normal was neither of their watchwords.
"I think it's adorable," teased Lara.
Vivian rolled her eyes, digging for composure, when someone screamed. "That wasn't in the script," she said out loud. They'd gotten to look at the scenes for the day, so they'd be prepared for any noise. There was no screaming.
"Holy shit," muttered Lara. "What's the code for a fire?"
What!? Vivian snapped her head around. Smoke. "10-78." That was actually a needs-assistance. There wasn't a call for arson, not really. When Lara froze, Vivian slapped her radio. "Dispatch, 4727. I have a 10-78, possible fire on set."
That snapped Lara into action and they both ran towards the fire. "I hate fire," muttered Lara as they rounded the corner and found the front of Degrassi High covered in smoke from a trash fire.
"Hey, everyone, let's get away from the building," shouted Vivian. Her radio squawked back at her, asking to confirm. "Dispatch, 4727 confirm. Got a trash fire on set, clearing the area."
"Copy 4727, do you need a bus?"
"Probably, yeah. Got some smoke inhalation." Vivian looked around. "Yo! Fuller! Clear the kids, will you? Volk, make sure the power's off."
The two fellow officers followed her lead, while Vivian collared a guy with a fire extinguisher. No. Not a guy. Stefan Brogren. "It's to put out the fire," protested Snake. Stefan. Whatever. He was being followed by a camera man, to boot. Probably filming the behind the scenes stuff.
"Good idea, wrong method. We don't know what started the fire, and the chemicals could react." Vivian looked around and spotted a sand bag. Perfect. "Stay back here, sir. If I let Snake get hurt, I'll never hear the end of it back home."
While the actor laughed nervously, Vivian hefted the sand bag to on her shoulder and hurried into the smoke. Not wasting time, she sliced the bag open with her knife, thank you Uncle Ollie, and dumped it on the fire, safely controlling it.
Coughing, Christian guided the last kids away from the fire. "Nice job with the sand," he said to Vivian.
Part of her brain was cognizant that there was a camera aimed at her. But the only thing that Vivian could possibly think of to say was stupid and trite and a little funny. Her inner Gail was in charge. "Hey. Whatever it takes."
"Whatever it takes." And the camera froze on her daughter, smudged and dirty.
"Well?" The director was bouncing on his toes.
Gail sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "When I asked if you had footage of the fire, I meant so we could use it to determine who set it. Not so I can see how witty Officer Peck is."
Admittedly, Gail found it hilarious, and would show it to Holly later for some laughs. But that was family and this was work.
The director deflated a little. "I…" He paused and looked at Gail's nameplate and then at the video again. Peck. Gail could actually hear the wheels spinning in his head. "We can cover up the name tags in post."
"That's not the issue, here." Gail swept her fingers down her face. It was part of the issue. "Do you have earlier footage and can we have it?"
"Sure, yes, of course. But… no one was hurt, Detective."
"Mr. Franklin, the whole reason we had police presence on set was that you received death threats. And I quote, 'Bring back Holly J or Degrassi burns.' Well, we've had a fire."
The director muttered under his breath. "Charlotte Arnold was booked. At least we got her for the 500th episode."
"And we're all greatly saddened by that turn of events," Gail said, continuing. "But the point is this. Someone threatened to burn down the set. Lives are at stake here. Children's lives. And if you have footage that might possibly help us, you could really change lives."
"Well… We probably do. We were running footage pretty much constantly. For the Deluxe Collectors' Editions?" He scratched his neck. "It's a lot to go over. And we don't want the plot to leak."
It was then that Gail realized how stupid TV people were. "Alright. Let's start with everything that had that prop trash can in frame from the fire back until you don't have it anymore. See if we can use that. We'll have forensics study every piece of garbage people throw into it. You can have one of your techs sit with ours as they go over the footage, and we'll sign a waiver to ensure we don't leak the plot of Sean and Emma's baby going to school." She barely managed not to roll her eyes. "But in return I want access to any footage we deem related."
The director hesitated. "This could be a big PR boom," he noted.
"Probably," sighed Gail. Andy had used them as the Social Media Video of the day already. It had been Duncan playing hoops with some of the kids and Jimmy— Drake. He was always going to be Jimmy to some people. "Do I really need a warrant?"
After a moment the director sighed. "No. No, you're right. This is the right thing to do. I mean, shit, I spent my life making a tv show that tries to help kids understand the right thing to do. I can do it myself."
An hour later, Gail had a stack of micro drives with a copy of all the footage, labeled and organized. She carried the lot down to the main floor. "McNally! I need Peck, Volk, and Fuller!"
Andy's brown head popped up from a desk. "Two outta three? I sent Peck to follow up with Arson."
Gail paused. "Yeah, that'll do."
"What do you need them for?"
"AV lab. I've got the footage of the front of the school with the trash can in it. Since they were on the scene, I want them to go over the tapes."
Andy smirked. "Disks."
"Fuck that. Drives. Whatever."
"Doesn't it make you feel old?"
"When they started making 3D movies we didn't need glasses for, then I felt old." It was a lie. She felt old the day Vivian saved Matty's life. Or maybe the day she turned 49 and a half, and had been a cop half her life. No. It was the day Jordan Lewis threw a slushie on her. She was, in that moment, old.
"Well you're fifty, Gail," teased Andy, who was two years younger, and she went to the break room to get the two officers.
Gail waited while the two baby cops came out, trailing a third behind them. And Gail knew exactly who the third was the second she saw the tie-wearing rookie. Avery Goff. From ThirtyFour. "Goff."
The young man paled. "Inspector Peck, ma'am."
Surprised, Christian looked from Goff to Gail and back again. "Inspector. You've met my shadow?"
Arching her eyebrows, Gail looked at Andy. "When did that happen?" While Gail didn't pay that much attention to the patrol officers in the other divisions, she was well aware that Avery Goff trouble. He was an idiot, and Gail had accidentally called him Gerald the second time she met him. But there was more than that.
"Temporarily as of this morning." There was a bit of tension in Andy's tone. "Goff's shadowing Fuller."
Hm. Gail nodded. "Fuller, Volk, since you were on site yesterday, I want you to hit up the AV lab and go through all the video." She held up a small box and paused before giving it to Volk. "Take these and your sidekick. I need to talk to Fuller for a moment."
Wisely, Lara took the hint and hauled Goff off. Once she was around the corner, Gail pointed at Andy's office. "Uh, did I do something wrong, ma'am?"
"Not you," assured Gail, closing the door behind Andy and Christian. "Goff is on my watch list."
Andy looked mildly surprised. "You have a watch list."
"Why is he here, McNally?" Gail's counter was met with a frown. "Christian, I need you to watch him."
Looking between Andy and Gail, Christian frowned. "For ... For what?"
"How he takes notes. Who he calls. Who he talks to." She hesitated. "Did you ever hear about how Steve pretended to be on the take to get information?"
Christian nodded slowly. "Yeah. Um. Yes, ma'am."
"Well. Right. Sometimes we tap kids in the academy to dig deep into that shit. And Goff? He's not that kid. But he feels like he is. So I want someone to tell me if he's a fuckup or on the take or what. And you? You are unflinchingly honest."
Again, Christian nodded. "Okay... Okay, ma'am. How, uh, how do I report it to you?"
"Swing by. Now go spy."
It took a second, but Christian nodded and went back out. Andy sighed loudly. "If I'd known, I'd have turned them down."
Gail frowned and sat on the couch. "Yeah. What did they tell you?"
"They made it like he was Chloe and no one wanted to work with her."
Nodding, Gail leaned back. "I'm sure that's true. He's a nimrod. Or he's faking being a nimrod and is really evil." Then she asked, "Did you ever think Gerald was an evil genius?"
Andy looked thoughtful. "Yes. When he recorded me on his phone." Then she winced. "Oh I see."
"Something about him. I don't know. I warned David. I'm pissed he didn't pass it on to you."
In full agreement, Andy fired up her computer. "I'm going to kick his ass later. Should I talk to Seabourn about it?"
"Probably," shrugged Gail. She closed her eyes. "Who the fuck set Degrassi on fire?"
"An older cast member, pissed off they weren't invited back?"
"Fire seems pretty low PR way to get their attention."
Andy made a noise. "So glad I didn't go detective." Then she paused. "Hey I have a weird question."
"McNally, if you ask me which Degrassi I had a crush on, I will stab you."
Instead Andy asked a truly unexpected question. "My father isn't my father. Is he?"
Gail's eyes popped open and she stared at Andy. "What?"
"My mom said something weird last week about stuff. You know how my dad had that tumor?" When Gail nodded, vaguely remembering that from a few years back. "Well, he may have another, and he might need a new liver. Not surprising, right?"
"Honestly? No." Everyone knew Tommy McNally drank too much. Andy learned to pick locks to get inside when he locked her out, forgetting she wasn't home. Steve and Gail learned because they didn't get desert until they picked a lock... Parents.
Andy nodded. "So I mentioned that to Mom, and she said he should get on a list sooner rather than later. Like me donating wasn't even an option. And ... You're my honest friend, Gail. And Holly is the smartest person we know. So... If anyone would know, you would."
Blessing Elaine for teaching her how to keep a poker face, Gail sat up straight. "What did Nick say?"
"After all that shit with Finn last year, I didn't ... Haven't." Andy sighed.
Gail exhaled slowly. And she remembered what Holly had said years ago at Bill's funeral. Holly pointed out that Andy had blue eyes while her parents did not. She didn't say that, or that there was only a 20% chance Andy was Tommy's daughter. "I don't know." As Andy's face crumbled, Gail grimaced. Her friend wanted to know. "Look. Andy, there's an easy way to know for sure. You're both cops. Our DNA is in the system. So..."
"That is such a Peck idea. Did you background check Holly?" Andy was bitter and waspish as she spoke, and Gail understood why.
"No, but I think my mother did." Lacing her fingers together, Gail studied the face of the woman who had been her nemesis for years. "McNally, remember when I caught you and Swarek kissing when he was our TO?"
Andy blinked. "Yeah. Jesus, Gail that was a million years ago."
"Do you remember that day?" Immediately, Andy started to say she did, but then she stopped and stared at Gail, curious. "We have a lot of ways we can screw up being who we are and who we will be, Andy. And we can't let our feelings get between us and what we want all the time. But sometimes we have to trust our guts."
What she'd said back then was to be careful. Now Gail had more words to use to explain the depth of the situation. That there were rules, but there were always exceptions to rules, and always a heart to protect.
"Would she... Do it on the quiet?"
"If she won't, I'll find you someone." But she was pretty sure Holly would help them out.
"I'll think about it," said Andy at length.
Gail nodded. She rarely promised things like that. But, loathe as Gail was admit it, Andy was a friend.
"I'm not keen on this running into fires habit you've developed," said Holly as Vivian walked into the lab.
"Twice is not a habit, Mom," replied Vivian. "Coffee?"
"Thank you. Are you off the clock?"
Her daughter, still in uniform, frowned. "No. Should I be?"
"You called me mom, dear."
"You acted like a mom." The youngest Peck shrugged. "I'm meeting Kelly from Arson to check into the trash fire. And since the Chief Medical Examiner is married to one of the more pesky detectives, I thought some caffeinated bribery was in order."
"Do I want to know what your mother is up to?"
Vivian grinned. "Footage of the fire. But she gets to meet Snake so I think she's okay with it."
"If Caitlyn shows up, let me know," said Holly, smiling. "As it happens, I was meeting Kelly from Arson as well. He wanted an experienced eye, and I owe him a favor."
The cop rolled her eyes. "Losing the home run derby is not what I'd call a favor," but she held the door open for Holly as they went down the hall.
Kelly was always called Kelly from Arson, to differentiate him from Kelly the traffic cop and Kelly who worked in the lab. All three of whom were men. Then there was Kelly (first name) the EMT and Kelly (also first name) in dispatch. Once in a while Gail referred to them as 'Wanna Be Pecks' even though they weren't related.
Kelly from Arson and Holly had been the final batters in the softball home run derby that year, and Holly had lost by one run. He jokingly told Holly she'd owe him one lab favor. That morning he asked her to double check the arson case for him, that he had a bad feeling about it.
"Doc!" Kelly was sitting on a stool. "How good is Dr. Ury?"
"She's one of my best," replied Holly, smiling.
Vivian raised her free hand. "Hey, Wanda." When she'd done a summer working in the lab, most of her time had been spent under Wanda's supervision. They got along incredibly well.
"Hey, trouble. Did you really save Snake's life?"
"He was going to use an extinguisher... What was in the fire?" Vivian looked interested.
"Sand was the right choice," said Wanda, approvingly. "Check out the chemicals." She tapped the screen and pulled up the analysis on the wall monitor. Vivian bounced over, delighted, and started asking about various things.
Holly sighed.
From the stool, Kelly chuckled. "She's got a brain, that one. Still wish she went into science?"
"No, the way she runs around, she needed something active." Holly watched her daughter for a moment. That was the truth she'd known since seeing her daughter after the first week at the academy. Yes, Vivian was crazy smart and gifted. But she also was the kind of person who had to be physically involved in her job.
"She'd have made a great firefighter."
"Bite your tongue." But Holly smirked. "She'd be an astronaut or deep sea diver. Something adventurous."
"Man, I can't even begin to deal with that. Kids. Adult kids."
From the monitor, Vivian spoke up. "I can hear you, y'know." She shook her head. "Kelly, did you compare the scan to the one from the flop house?"
Holly blinked and eyed her daughter. "When did you look at that one?"
"Couple weeks after," replied Vivian, somewhat confused.
"The spikes here and here," said Wanda, tapping the display on the wall. "Check this out." She pressed some buttons on the keyboard and a second mass spec scan lit up. There was obvious overlap.
Walking up to the screen, Holly pursed her lips. "Put up the evidence we grabbed from the abandoned apartment, the fire on Dunn, and those other cases you worked on with Simmons, please." Her voice was quiet and thoughtful.
As Wanda did so, the screen became more jumbled. "If I highlight just that..." Wanda muttered to herself. "Okay, isolating the chemicals in all the scenes and... Here we are."
It jumped out. "Well shit," said Kelly, angry. "Why didn't we see that before?"
Vivian had the answer. "The fake garbage in the trash at Degrassi was uniform. It was the first time we could really see the oddities, without all the other crap. Trace."
Marveling at it, Holly reached over and changed parameters. "The first fires he was using the supplies from your dealer. After that... Wanda, isolate what you can and we'll search the database. See if he has a pattern or if he's using what he's got."
Kelly sighed. "I'll stick here, then. I can pull up the common supply list." He eyed Vivian. "Little Peck... You go work with Simmons. Tell me why the hell he'd torch a TV set."
"Maybe he was a die hard Charlotte Arnold fan?" Vivian shrugged, but she was already headed out. "I'll call as soon as we have anything."
They all watched Vivian truck out. "Man, she's way into this," muttered Wanda. "It's nice having a rookie who gets what we do."
That was true. "She loves her job." Holly scratched her neck. "It's the arsonist." She was certain of it in her gut. The pattern made no sense to her, but that wasn't Holly's bailiwick anyway. John and Gail would have a field day connecting those dots. Probably Vivian too.
"Probably," agreed Wanda, a little more circumspect and cautious.
"Who spotted that anyway," asked Kelly, tapping information into his tablet. "You or the kid?"
There was a pause before Wanda spoke. The pause told Holly everything. "Peck spotted it. She's got an eye for this stuff."
"She does." Holly shook her head. "Get me the science to confirm it, Maximoff."
Wanda laughed and turned to Kelly, talking about the results as they started to check things, and Holly went back to her office. She had enough other work and trusted her staff. Wanda was more up to date with arson investigations than she was, for one. If there was an autopsy, Holly was still one of the best.
But.
It was strange to think that her skills were not going to keep up with the technology. And that would happen sooner rather than later. Time was going to catch up with her and she'd be good but not great for the practical aspects of her work. The theoretical, well Holly still could think rings around the next person. There was a reason she was sought after to speak and publish and guest lecture.
The back of her brain was dwelling on her inevitable decrepitude as she finished up. The house was quiet when Holly got home, even though Gail's car was parked. Not always a good sign. Not always a bad one. Holly eased the door open and spotted Gail sitting on her yoga mat in the middle of the great room. There was actually low, calming music playing on the speakers. Interesting.
Closing the door quietly, Holly stepped to the stairs in the hopes of not bothering her wife, but Gail spoke. "Just finishing."
"Don't rush on my account, honey."
"I was timing it on your commute." Gail leaned backwards until she was looking at Holly and Holly had a delightful view of Gail's cleavage. "Hi."
"Hello," smiled Holly. "Nice rack."
"How was the arson work?"
"Well it's related to your serial fellow, so John is delighted." Holly paused, her mind wandering off the topic and into marveling at the fact that even though Gail was fifty, her breasts weren't saggy at all. She loved Gail's breasts. She loved watching sweat roll down between them. She loved how they felt in her hands, how it felt to rest her head on them, and a million other things. And right now, she could just see the swell of them under the sports bra, nipples hiding under the thicker fabric.
And of course Gail laughed, making them jiggle. "Holly, please confirm existence."
"Sorry..."
"Are you distracted by my tits?"
"Very much so," admitted Holly. Gail laughed again and straightened, her back to Holly, her arms raised high to elongate her spine and neck. Jesus. She was still so amazing. And Holly was still so gay. "I need a cold shower," she sighed. But hey, at least she wasn't dwelling anymore.
The blonde rolled forward and stood up. "I don't think that's necessary."
Holly blinked as Gail strolled past her, up the stairs and towards their bedroom. "Oh." On the top step, Gail paused and looked over her shoulder, eyebrows arched. The invitation was clear.
One shower later, Holly didn't have to rely on her memory of Gail's breasts. Or anything else for that matter. She mapped out the freckles and the scars, the stretch marks (because they were inevitable for everyone), and the very few hairs that were finally conceding to age and turning grey. Holly's hands lingered on the skin that was still firm and toned. Her wife never had distinct ab muscles, but her stomach was smooth and soft. Strong.
And as much as she loved touching pretty much all of Gail, it was reciprocated in kind. The blonde lavished attention on every part of her, with hands and lips and eyes. Gail adored her and wanted her to know it. Gail celebrated her and wanted her to know it. Gail loved her. And she loved Gail.
"That is much better than meditation," mused Gail, caressing Holly's bare back.
Holly, who hated meditation and yoga, hummed her agreement. "I should ogle your boobs more often." She closed her eyes, resting her head on Gail's chest.
Her wife laughed softly. "You have tacit permission to ogle me at any time."
"Noted." Holly listened to Gail's heartbeat and the deep, calming, breathing. The cares of the day had melted away into quiet lassitude. Limbs heavy, she relaxed and let herself drift in a not quite asleep sensation.
All too soon, Gail gently shook her shoulder. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get some food."
Holly sighed and oozed off of Gail, watching the blonde as she tossed something into the laundry. Probably their clothes. They hadn't really paid attention to placement on the way in. "Can we order in?"
"If you want. The chicken can marinate another day and be fine."
Chicken? Holly reached for her glasses. "What's the marinade?"
"Jerk spices. I was thinking I could toss it on the grill with corn and maybe toast some bread."
"How the hell do you have the energy for that?" As Holly groaned, Gail laughed and walked into the bathroom to shower. Lying on her side, Holly watched Gail and smiled. Life was good.
Her phone buzzed. Vivian cracked one eye and pulled it over, smiling at the message.
Hey, movie star. Get me an autograph.
Instead of texting, she tapped the phone icon. "Hey," said Vivian as soon as it picked up.
"Hey yourself. Did I wake you up?"
"Nah, I was trying to pretend I was asleep." Vivian yawned. "My schedule's all screwed up, but I thought you had four on."
Jamie laughed. "I do, but it's quiet."
"That's good. No more set fires, please."
Morose, Jamie pointed out, "Not my Company. I'm so jealous. I would kill to meet Imogen."
"Really? That's your crush? Whack-a-do Imogen?" Vivian teased as she sat up and stretched.
"Hey, I was a kid!" Then Jamie asked, "Is this sleepy voice Vivian who just woke up?"
"Mm. Is my cranky voice a turn on?"
"It's kinda cute." There was a wistfulness in Jamie's tone that sent up a danger flare for Vivian. Because Jamie had not been there when Vivian had woken up. Because sex had still always been over at Jamie's.
This was dangerous grounds, Peck. "Christian made a point of telling me he'd be willing to skip out to give us some privacy," she offered carefully.
"Oh." Jamie sounded surprised.
"Or not. If ... You'd ... I mean, if you like it at your place, I totally understand that. I do. I just, you know, I have no idea what I'm saying. Sorry, stupid-"
"Hey, Viv?"
Vivian stopped. "Yeah?"
"You're adorable when you babble."
She felt her face heat up. "Oh. I get it from Holly," she offered, lamely.
"Yeah? That's cute." Jamie laughed softly. "We're on opposite shifts again, though."
"I know." Vivian sighed and rubbed her face. "I asked for a shift adjustment, though. I think Andy'll let it fly."
"That's so weird. You call your sergeant by her first name."
Vivian chuckled. "Not at work. But I've known her since I was six, so y'know, she's basically family." Really it was Nick who was family, and he brought his girlfriend along. But before that, Gail still had been friendly with Andy. "Imogen, huh? Cristine Prosperi hasn't been on set yet, but they only give me the day's sides."
"Do you get to keep them? Also how did you know her real name! I don't even know that!"
"I'm a Peck. We play memory games for fun." She yawned and rolled over to get out of bed. "And no I don't keep the sides. They just don't want us to get surprised when people shriek or cheer."
"Which is why you guys knew the fire was legit. Station 162 is calling you a bad luck charm."
"Bad or good? No one's died from fire."
"I kept out of the argument… Uh that sounded horrible." Jamie started to verbally backpedal. "I mean, they kinda have a point, but so do you, and it would look weird if I started just defending you—"
"Hey, hose monkey? I get it." Vivian grinned. She did, too. "And we'll still kick your ass at the next softball game."
"Oh seriously, you play?"
"Hello. Lesbian? Softball? Kinda required."
"I'm dating a stereotype," teased Jamie. "More serious note. Did you pick up the case or are you free tomorrow?"
"Picked up the case. They've got me looking for motive and guarding the kids who were closest to the fire." Vivian stretched and wandered towards her bathroom. "Wait, why tomorrow?"
"I was thinking I could swing by after shift, but I'm off at noon and you'll still be working, huh?"
Vivian grimaced. "Can I hate our schedules?"
"Toss in our cycles, sure. Not that I mind movie nights but..."
"Twilight not your thing?"
"Hah, I will never understand why you like that shit, Peck. I'm going to let you get ready for prime time. Call me if you get free?"
"Sure will." They hung up and Vivian tossed the phone onto her bed to wash up and wake up. She liked talking to Jamie, or not talking, as the case might be. They talked around things, touching on them, and then they were able to be content and silent. Hanging out with her was just easy.
In fact, that was how the conversations about themselves went all the time. Jamie seemed to pick up on the fact that she could, safely, ask Vivian questions and they would be answered honestly, if briefly. She also seemed alright that Vivian just didn't often offer up things without being asked, but the few times Viv did, the look on Jamie's face was precious. In return, Vivian found herself actually curious about Jamie's life outside of their shared social service. There were things she noticed Jamie would talk around, like why she wasn't that close with her parents, or why she and Ruby had been living together since they were nineteen.
Since there were things Vivian didn't want to talk about either, they seemed to be mutually alright with that. They didn't push to much when the other clammed up, even though she could tell Jamie really wanted to know why Vivian rarely stayed the whole night and, when she did, she didn't seem to sleep. When Viv joked that she was a vampire, and to prove it showed a photo of her pale, pale mother, Jamie laughed appreciatively and teased she was only raised vampire because she was adopted. That led to a conversation about vampires and how they're all adopted converts because you can't be born a vampire, which led to jokes about the Twilight books, which led to Jamie in hysterics when she found out not only had Vivian read them, but she'd watched all four movies.
Actually all five.
The last one being two parts, see.
One date night they watched the first movie at Vivian's, giggling hysterically at the acting and the plot. It was the first time Vivian really recognized bits of Gail in Jamie. The firefighter had the same sarcasm and caustic negligence towards stupidity in people, as Jamie vented about how the movies just make people think that these one-sided abusive relationships are normal. In a moment of daring, Vivian asked about Fifty Shades of Gray and was rewarded with an epic rant. But under the rant she detected some private pain. She didn't push at it, because that's not what they did.
What they did do was 'it.' The sex was phenomenal. It was always at Jamie's since, even after moving, Christian shared Viv's schedule most of the time and managed to walk in on them on the couch a few times. On the other hand, Ruby was out. A lot. Jamie theorized it was the price of being a doctor. When Vivian had asked Holly about the schedule of a med student over a family dinner the month before, the theory was confirmed.
Shit. Dinner. Toothbrush jammed in her mouth, Vivian scooped the phone back up and texted Jamie that it was the Thursday she had dinner with her mothers. The amusing reply of 'D'oh!' entertained her. Damn it. One more night she was booked. And tonight was softball.
Vivian tapped on her phone and pinged Gail.
How hurt would Mom be if I skipped the batting cages?
Of course Gail's reply was amusing, teasing her about a hot date. But it also told her she was off the hook, since she'd see them at dinner the next night, and they both knew she had a case.
The truth was Vivian really wanted to see Jamie, but she knew she'd just end up working.
Ugh. No wonder her parents were always complaining of their schedules. And they had pretty tame conflicts. Vivian and Jamie's work schedules were positively insane.
"Hey, coffee?" Christian's voice came in from the hall.
"Yeah, please," sighed Vivian. "I'll be down in five."
"Cool. I'm done with the washer."
"Thanks." Vivian hustled into her clothes and grabbed her laundry. Her roommate was sitting in running shorts and tank top. "Did you already run?"
"Yeah, and you look like you're headed right to work?"
"Nah, the gym first. I'm on set from noon to close tonight."
"Lucky. I'm still on AV duty. How come you don't have to? You saw it too!"
Vivian grinned. "Luck of the Pecks. The actors asked for me." She'd been incredibly flattered that Snake had specifically asked her to stay on set. "Besides, Simmons can abuse my family ties." That was a double edged sword.
That was the unspoken burden of Peck, the thing Elaine had warned her of. Because she was a Peck, people expected excellence from her. Dedication, loyalty, though perhaps not honesty, we're all hallmarks of her name. And from that came the reliability of someone who would work the extra hours and monitor the actors of a TV show to see who was and was not the target of a killing.
Who would set fire to Degrassi?
Was the show the target? Was it an actor or maybe someone else.
Vivian frowned as the analytical part of her brain picked up and started to process the case. Maybe it wasn't the show at all.
Gail skimmed John's report. "I'm kind of sad it's not about Charlotte Arnold," she admitted.
"Pervert," replied her partner. "I've ruled out every single cast member though."
"Incredibly fast. You sure it's not some actual musician who wants Drake dead?"
"Are you still mad that he left Degrassi?"
Gail rolled her eyes. "I'm mad he tries to act like he was never on it."
John snorted. "Well I'm sorry to say, Drake does not appear to be the target. Nor does the show." He had accidentally caught the angry letter writer, who turned out just to be an angry man, living in a basement apartment filled with collectables, who was sad the only constant in his life was ending.
On the other hand, after hours and hours of video review and evidence analysis, it was becoming clear that the target didn't seem to be the actors or the set. AV was still trying to figure out when exactly the incendiary device had been dropped into the can, of course.
Which reminded Gail of a case a million years ago, when she'd first met Frankie Anderson. Well now. That was an interesting idea.
"Hey, John, what if it was intentionally unintentional?"
"You lost me, boss."
"Well. What if he stacked up items that, when combined, self-immolate, but don't have to be added together like an IED or a bomb?"
John frowned and looked up at the wall, thinking. "Clever as fuck, if that's the case. Is that even possible?"
"Sure. We had an explosion in evidence back when I was a uni, happened because too many things were too close."
Her best partner looked delighted. "Oh I like that. I need more footage though."
"All my footage is belong to you." Gail waved a hand and watched John head out to hunt that theory down.
As much as she wanted to dig into the case, Gail had actual work to do. And in this instance she had to sort out the changes to ETF. The detectives would all have to move up to two. Which meant the Organized Crime heroes would all be up on three. All of that would work, except for one thing.
It meant ETF would be ready to open up and accept a couple rookies. One or two from each division. And that meant once she moved the detectives, Inspector Seabourn would accept applications.
Ugh. Probably not till January at the earliest, but still.
"You look like you need a drink," said Traci as she let herself in.
"ETF and homicide are going to accept transfers next year. Provided all you guys move up to three and the murder squad takes two. Which means applications start soon."
Traci was silent for a moment. "Shit. Already?"
Gail like looked up. "Which part is making you feel old?"
"The part where those kids will be trying to be detectives."
"We're doing the in-uniform shadow," promised Gail. That was what she had done by necessity back when she'd transferred to Major Crimes. It turned out to be a boon, getting her used to the work without shoving too much responsibility on her at once.
Traci sighed and sat down. "I wanted to talk to you about this mad bomber."
That was novel. "How'd you run into Safary?"
"That's his name?"
"He tags shit where he places his bombs. Or he used to. But he keeps a pretty low key right now."
Nodding, Traci leaned back. "That bomber earlier last year, the fake one at the zoo, that was his?"
Gail wasn't surprised at all that she got there. Her sister in law was as smart as they came. "It was. It was." Gail leaned back in her chair. "How'd he come up?"
"We were looking into possible gang sources for the fire supplies. Couple off things came up, including red flags on pipe bomb supplies."
That was an interesting path. "He's buying bomb supplies through gangs?"
Traci nodded. "Less obvious than keeping a stockpile or buying in bulk, I guess. It might be related. Who should I work with?"
"John, technically, but he's tied up on my arson with Kelly. Mind working with Chloe?"
"Not for years," laughed Traci. "Doesn't she work arsons too?"
"They may trade off. John has my three big cold cases right now. Head basher, arson, and bombs."
"Makes sense. Why tap Anderson? Or is she not up to speed on it?"
That meant Traci already saw the crime crossing the division territories. Interesting. It usually did, but that Traci saw it already was good. "She isn't, but get Chloe to spin you both up and let you loose."
"Works for me. I expect it'll dead end though."
"Honest? It usually does."
"What are you going to do about the ETF spot?"
Gail winced. "It's up to her, Trace. I'm letting her be an adult."
She tried to keep that thought with her as she got home to make Thursday dinner the next night, because that was when Vivian brought it up.
"Mom, is Sue really moving in to Fifteen?"
Gail sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "How did you even hear about that?"
"The guys were at the gym," explained Vivian, putting the groceries on the kitchen island. "So it's true. And that means they're opening up slots."
"Yes," said Gail slowly. "That's also true." She gnawed her lip.
Her daughter bounced. "So? Think I have a chance?"
"Viv. That's not my call, kid."
Vivian rolled her eyes. "I'm asking my mom what she thinks, not Inspector Peck."
Gail sighed and leaned back against the wall. She took the time to form the right words. "Okay. Your mother is scared shitless about it. I'm as terrified as when you actually did go to the academy, and when you put that uniform on the first time. And… I don't really think I can tell you not do to this, Viv."
That seemed to weigh on Vivian in a surprising and unexpected way. "Mom..."
"Kiddo, I'm human. And I love you. And part of me wants to wrap you in a box so no one can hurt you, break your heart, god forbid shoot at you. And here you are, wanting to run into buildings and shoot people?"
Vivian shook her head. "Woah! Mom, no way!" She held her hands up. "I want to do the remote control stuff. Robots and defusing bombs. Yeah, I'll have to learn how to do all the other shit, but... Mom, I'm good with computers and tech and being cop. Isn't this the best place?"
Gail stared at her for a moment. "Which is why I can't say don't. You're right. And it's still going to scare me to death."
Sighing, Vivian looked down. "Is this one of those things I'll understand when I'm a parent?"
"When? Jesus, don't say that in front of Holly. I swear, she'll transform into her mother." Gail glanced up the stairs where Holly was ostensibly in the office finishing something.
Vivian had to chuckle. "Seriously… Mom. I think I could be awesome at it. ETF. Not the other thing."
Relenting, Gail nodded. "I know you will be," she said softly. "I've watched you for almost twenty years, Viv. You're smart, you're responsible. Your heart gets ahead of your head sometimes, but you really mean well all the time. You're a good person, and you're braver than I am. I know you can do this."
When her daughter been cut loose, Dov had called Vivian brave. But now, hearing Gail say she felt Vivian was braver seemed at once terrifying and calming to the girl. Yes, here was her mother who saw something deep inside the rookie, the thing she'd hoped she was and could be. Overwhelming and yet grounding all at once. Could Vivian tell that yes, this was success felt like? Gail tried to express that with her eyes.
"Oh," Vivian said quietly.
Gail sighed. Good. She knew. "Yeah, I know."
They were still standing in the kitchen in silence when Holly finally made it downstairs. "I'd ask what you two are talking about, but I'm a little afraid…"
"ETF will probably have a slot open in the next few months," said Vivian, quietly.
Holly sighed and reached up to ruffle Vivian's hair. "Please cut your hair before then, okay?" Then she walked past Gail, kissing her cheek. "What are we drinking?"
"Pinot noir or a rose." Gail leaned into her wife for a moment. "Almond crusted halibut, sautéed greens, roasted mashed potatoes with the skin on for the kid."
"Rose, please," said Holly, and she went to get the bottle. "You up for that, mini human?"
"I'm taller than you are, Moms." Vivian shook her head. "Half a glass. I'm too tired for more."
Holly made a noise. "Okay, can I ask something awkward?" When Vivian looked up, the doctor leaned forward. "How cool is the set?"
While Gail laughed, Vivian kicked her calf and proceeded to tell them all about the set and how cool it was.
The body smelled weird. That had been the note Wanda left and Holly had to agree. For an exhumation, it was an odd scent.
"Did they use a different kind of formaldehyde in the 1900s?"
Holly eyed her assistant. "Brett, I will hurt you if you make it seem like 1990 was a long time ago."
Of course it was getting up there. But thinking of her own youth as being 'old' was unwelcome. And yet it was more than half her life ago. Fuck, as Gail would say.
Brett held his hands up. "It smells... Sweet. Almost nutty. Like fruitcake. Diabetes?"
"Not after this long." She raised the table and began the Y-incision, explaining to Brett why she did what she did.
He wasn't her newest assistant, but he was the only one who had expressed interest in being more than an assistant. Brett was even still going to school. A year back, he'd interned with Rodney. Now he was studying under Holly for half a year. After that he'd get Wanda, and then another one of the senior MEs and so on until he sorted out what he was after.
Most of the time that kind of training worked. Holly had improved on it a few times since she'd been promoted. The Toronto forensics department had a higher retention rate than a lot of the other major cities in Canada these days.
"Okay, that's cool," announced Brett as they cleaned up after.
"Cool?" Holly smiled and returned the table to its default, not in use, settings.
"Yeah, it was my first exhumation! It's totally different, the way the skin and organs are cut. That was... Cool. Educational and cool."
Holly laughed. "Do you have any questions about it?"
Brett shook his head. Then he nodded. "So. It's a cold case, right?" When Holly nodded, he frowned. "Don't the cops come for these?"
"It's not like TV," explained Holly, pulling her lab coat back on. "The detective in charge is Sgt. John Simmons. He and I are very familiar with the case so he knows I'll call him if anything needs his immediate attention. Rather than waste his precious times watching me teach you, he's off investigating other aspects of the case. Most of the time, the police show up to watch for rookie training or if they think it's something particularly strange."
"How often does that happen?"
"Few times a year." And that brought a memory of a case of greasy, smelly bones, over twenty three years ago. Holly half smiled. "Anyway. This simply confirms a theory John and I had about a series of murders spread across ... Oh, a hundred years now, give or take."
Brett looked astounded. "The same person?"
"Unlikely." Holly ushered him out. "Now. I want you to write up a report on this. We'll compare it to mine and see what we get."
Her assistant eagerly rushed off. Holly texted John to let him know that the autopsy confirmed the injuries were as they had suspected. This was not a victim of their serial head basher. One more down, fifteen more to go, depending on when and if John could get exhumation warrants.
Holly grimaced and rubbed at her lower back. Age was catching up with her. Maybe... She pulled her phone out and tapped a well used name.
As soon as the phone picked up on the other end, the warm voice of Celery Shaw greeted her. "How's your shoulder?"
Smiling, Holly walked down the hall. "Actually it's my lower back." While she had hurt her shoulder moving a body more than once, it wasn't her normal point of pain.
"Oh dear. You didn't pull it again, did you?"
That had been the worst part about old age. Holly's back had slowly gone from moderately annoying and well into frustrating. A twinge here and there back in her 30s and 40s were absolute agony in her 50s and 60s. A few years ago, she'd slipped a disc opening a car door. Other than being horribly embarrassed, it had passed relatively quickly and without much drama. But after that, Holly found herself prone to backaches. While Gail was wonderful about massages, sometimes a person needed more.
"No, but it's starting to hurt the way it did last time."
"Did you try the oils?"
Holly winced. The oils were aromatherapy and the very idea of that made her skin crawl. "Yes. Gail rubbed it in the other night." As stupid as she felt it was, Holly knew the massages did help, and Gail was a godsend with them. And maybe, yeah, okay maybe the scents helped.
Celery made a sound. "But you need someone professional. How about... Are you busy Sunday afternoon? I can squeeze you in for a session with Kristof."
Tomorrow was Saturday. Holly had nothing planned Sunday and she was pretty sure she could survive two days. "That would be wonderful, Celery. I owe you."
The older woman laughed. "Holly, please. We're family. I'll see you at two PM."
It was useful, Holly had to admit, having Celery as family. "Thank you. Two PM." Hanging up, Holly texted Gail with the new plan. Her wife replied with a frowny face.
What she really wanted was a hot bath and maybe she could cajole Gail into another massage. Instead, Holly found the results of the full scan from the Degrassi trash can in her inbox. It was another three hours before she had some kind of understanding as to what had gone on. That resulted in a call to John that their theory of items added one at a time to cause a fire was likely, and she had to call Kelly to present the plan to him as well.
That got her home at nearly eight, and the house was incredibly calm. It just felt and smelled calm and welcoming. Gail was in the kitchen with the steamer, working on something. "There's a hot bath, baby. Go get a shower and soak."
Holly exhaled and leaned against the door. "Seriously?"
"I don't want you to herniate again, Holly. Seriously." Gail put the lid on the steamer. "Your fluffy robe is clean too. Shoo. Shower, soak. I'll bring you some wine."
She took a moment to collect herself before going upstairs. This was one of the best parts of being married to Gail. Screw romance, pampering was the greatest show of love anyone could give. It did make her think she was slacking off a little though. Holly mused on that as she showered and eased into the tub. As the hot water eased the tension out of her back, Holly tapped on her phone.
I need to thank Gail in a big way.
The reply from Lisa was prompt.
Sex not cutting it?
Shut up, Bitch Tits.
That's Dr. Bitch Tits. I didn't go to Titty Medical school for nothing.
You're a dick, tits.
What'd you do this time?
My back, again. Yes, I'm going to chiro on Sunday. But Gail had a hot bath waiting for me and she's cooking.
Damn, I should have hit on her when I had the chance.
Was that before or after you called her Blue Collar?
Fine. See if I help you sweet talk your cop.
Damn it, Lisa!
LOL. Okay, take her out to a fancy dinner. Do you have tickets to the ballet?
We do not. Opera and orchestra.
Perfect. Kate has tickets we can't use. Surprise her with that.
It seemed awfully fancy though. She arranged for the dinner date though, since Holly knew Gail would love it. But it was harder to do little things for her wife. Gail was still, after all these years, stubbornly self-sufficient. All those years as a Peck punching bag had left an indelible mark on Gail's soul.
Holly sighed and put her phone aside, sinking into the water and closing her eyes. The door opened and there was a clink as a glass went down on the tile shelf. "You look more grumpy than relaxed," Gail said, chastising her.
"I'm a shitty wife." Holly sunk lower in the water, so only her nose stuck out.
Gail sat down on the edge of the tub. "You're not, you know."
Squinting at Gail, Holly wondered about that. She floated up a little. "You're always doing things for me."
Her wife looked confused. "Like a hot bath and dinner?"
"And a photo collage and massaging me."
"I like looking at you, and I adore touching you," Gail replied.
"I know. But you have all these... These little things you do that tell me you love me. And I don't."
Gail laughed softly. "You're here, stupid. You didn't leave me when you got scared, and I didn't scare you off being messed up. You stuck through my idiot family and the whole internal affairs case... You taught me how to be a better person, Holly." Leaning down, Gail kissed Holly's head. "Those are the little things I care about."
Sighing, Holly took a breath and sunk back down. Gail didn't say anything, not even after Holly came up for air. "Summer's over, huh?"
"It's August." Gail paused. "It's okay to just be unhappy, Holly."
"Oh." Holly sighed. "I don't think it's depression, honey. Doesn't feel like it. I just mean it feels like the bright happy days are ending and it'll start raining."
"I'm not sure what to say to that."
"Nothing. Just thinking."
"Okay." Gail picked up Holly's wine and sipped it. As Gail put the glass down, Holly reached up and tugged her belt. "Hey! Don't you dare!" But Holly did dare and pulled Gail into the tub.
Watching Jamie sleep was oddly fascinating. She remembered Gail telling her one afternoon up at the cottage that she loved watching Holly sleep. At the time, Holly was lying on a blanket on the lawn behind the cottage, a book on her chest. It didn't make much sense at the time, but now it seemed obvious.
The brown haired firefighter was soundly asleep, the blanket sliding off her shoulder to reveal the smooth skin and curves. Jamie's mouth was slightly open, eliciting a light snore now and then as she breathed. It was totally adorable. Dorky, but adorable.
Sighing, Vivian leaned over and tugged the blanket up higher. There was only a half hour before Jamie had to be up and getting ready for work. Vivian was due on set in another six hours, and really should have been sleeping. Instead, she was at her girlfriend's apartment, and Vivian regretted nothing.
"Creeper," mumbled Jamie. "Do you ever sleep?"
"No, I'm part vampire." Vivian smiled and propped herself up on her elbow.
Jamie yawned. "Having seen photos of your mother, I'd buy it." After a moment, Jamie opened her eyes. "Four on."
"I'm working the weekend anyway." Stretching, Vivian sat up. "I'm going to head home. Get some laundry done. Bat nap."
The other woman laughed. "Bat nap. Cute. What scenes are they filming at night?"
Vivian arched her eyebrows. "I'm not supposed to talk about that." But Jamie gave her a dry look. "The last school dance."
"You'll tell me if Imogen's there, right?"
Laughing, Vivian swung her legs out of the bed and picked up her shirt. "Maybe. What am I getting out of it?"
Jamie tugged the blankets and made a cocoon around herself, snuggling in. "I'll let you see my boobies."
Vivian laughed. "I've seen them. Recently, in fact." Vivian pondered over her clothes. Shower now or at her place? Since she hadn't brought a change of clothes, it made sense to just get dressed and shower at home.
Behind her, Jamie was thoughtful. "I've decided I like your ass. It's really nice."
"I run up walls. Good for the glutes."
There was a pause. "That wasn't a Peck Joke. You're serious."
Vivian blinked and buttoned her jeans. "Yeah. Yeah, I do parkour. Free running."
Jamie sat up, still burrito wrapped in her blanket. "Holy shit. That's cooler than MMA. Can I come sometime?"
"Sure, but they will try to get you to join." Vivian pulled her riding jacket on and paused. "Four on. Four off?"
"Three off. Then three on again. Friday night? Dinner, dancing, d... dirty sex?"
Grinning, Vivian rested one knee on the bed and leaned in to kiss Jamie slowly. "This plan I like. And I'll call if Imogen shows up."
At eight that night, Vivian eyed the new script. Of all the people to show up, it was Shane Kippel (Spinner) and Adamo Ruggiero (Marco). At least it was cool to meet Adamo, who was the first regular homosexual character on the show. His character was back as a teacher and had been for the last five seasons. Based on what she'd read of the script, Vivian was sure that he'd be the principal and school superintendent Snake would retire.
It was oddly reflective.
It was very close to home.
On her break, Vivian sat with a burrito from the food truck and texted the photo of herself and Adamo to Matty. He'd appreciate it.
Girl! He is so cute!
Vivian laughed.
It's midnight, why are you awake?
Working on my new designs for La Traviata.
Fun times. I'm watching people play pretend.
Wishing you were with your sexy sexy fire lady?
OMG. Could you be more weird, Matthew?
So that's a yes?
Fuck off.
But it very much was a yes.
Matty was the only friend besides Christian who knew about Jamie at all. And yes, Vivian felt guilty about that.
Of course, Holly kind of knew that Vivian was regularly seeing someone. Though that was probably not true. Gail always knew that sort of thing, but she was generally kind enough not to poke at it. Since Gail had so few boundaries, she respected her daughter's if no one else's.
The family dinners like the night before was a scheduled event, too. They had agreed on the third Thursday of the month before Vivian moved out, which made Gail laugh and Holly blush for reasons that they never explained. Just like the cat metaphor, her parents kept some secrets of their past to themselves.
Not that Vivian didn't go over for dinner more often than that. At the end of shifts, Gail would ask if Vivian wanted to come over. Sometimes she did. Other times she didn't. The subtle changes brought of Vivian moving out became more obvious as the weeks turned into months, and spring to summer, when she did the dishes and her mothers sat on the porch with beers. That part was normal. They always did that. Except they used to always take advantage of the semi-privacy of the porch to make out. Living alone again gave them a different, easy sort of companionship where they have no rush or need to make the most of every second alone. When Vivian hugged them goodnight, she caught the look of undisguised want in Gail's face. Maybe her mother forgot Vivian could see her, but Gail was looking at Holly as if they had just first started dating and she couldn't believe her luck.
Vivian knew that feeling because that was kind of how she felt when she looked at Jamie. Even when they hit on the awkward moments of Vivian not explaining why she couldn't sleep, they wanted to be together. Their schedules really didn't allow for much of it. Jamie had a set schedule, firm and determined for a year. Vivian maybe knew a week or two ahead of time, if she was lucky. That meant they made the most of every chance they got. It also meant that she was the most sexually frustrated she'd been in a while. She'd gone longer stretches of time without it, but there was something about knowing just what she was missing that ... burned.
So yes, she very much wanted to be with Jamie just then. And it didn't matter that they'd had sex earlier that afternoon. It was probably because Vivian knew it would be seven days before she got to see Jamie, let alone kiss her again.
Of all the stories her mothers had told her about their youthful romance, awkward scheduling had not been a predominant tale. Then again, this was as if rookie Gail was dating newly hired pathologist Holly. That would have been a wildly different story. Would Gail have dated Chris? Did that mean Chris would have died his first year? Maybe Gail dated Dov instead, stumbling along her way to humanity. That was what Gail called it at least.
A crash shook her out of that amusing daydream. Looking around, Vivian watched the crew hustle back and forth. Someone had dropped an expensive bit of technical whatever and was getting reamed out. The tech (lighting tech perhaps, based on what he was picking up) was shaking. Odd. Vivian had seen a lot of minor accidents on set. People dropped things, the kids ran into things, and basically life happened. But above all, they were professionals.
Tossing her burrito wrapper, Vivian walked over to the man as he picked up the broken shards. "Hey, can I help?"
He startled. "Oh. Oh no, no, I can't. You can't. You have a job."
"Lunch break." Vivian smiled the calming smile she'd mastered. The one that made kids feel at ease. Squatting, she pulled on evidence gloves and picked up a shard of glass. "Been doing this long?"
"My- my job? Or here?" The man was incredibly skittish.
"Either." Vivian tossed the glass into the box, just like he had. "This is my second year on the job," she added. "I still feel like I'm dead weight half the time." That was a lie.
He looked relieved. Like the comfort was something he could understand. "Yeah. This was my first big show. I've only been here four months."
"You like it so far?"
"It's all I ever wanted to do," he admitted, sheepishly. "I'm Hector. Hector Rivera."
"Vivian Peck. This is all I ever wanted to do."
Vivian studied the man as they cleaned up. He was a jock, in the way Rich tended to be, but also a little thuggish. Tattooed on his neck and hand, Hector's nose had been broken a few times. One ear was swollen. Burn marks on his arms were probably from cigarettes. But he also had fingernail polish, dark purple with sparkles. And there was a soft roundness to his body that spoke of a beginning of a dad bod.
"How old's your kid?"
He startled. "Three and a half. How'd you know?"
"The fingernail polish," she admitted.
"Oh man." Hector laughed. "I'm the tea party and tutu dad. Boy and a girl. Twins." The joy of parenthood bubbled over and he explained as to how both kids wanted tea parties, but they had to include Star Wars characters and My Little Ponies. Darth Vader rode a blue pony named Bubblewing.
The back of Vivian's brain made a note to tell Holly how much she loved the Star Wars toys. The front tried to figure out what had Hector so scared. He was a bit younger than she was, a high school graduate but not much else. So for Hector, a job like this was sheer luck and majesty.
Finally she led him to the right place as they finished the last shards.
"You know," she said as she stood up. "I love this show. I always thought I'd watch it with my kids."
Hector looked around. "Really? I always thought the kids got over shit too fast."
"Well they're kids. They're resilient."
"Not all of 'em. They shoulda had more bullied kids snapping. Not just Rick." He shook his head. "Thanks, Officer. I owe ya."
Vivian watched him leave and processed what he'd said. Based on how he moved, she'd never peg Hector as the bullied. He looked like the bully. But the name Rick... Rick Murray was the bullied kid who was also abusive, put a girl in a coma, and then ended up shooting the school. Her eyes drifted over to the parking lot where Drake's car was parked. Rick had crippled Drake's character.
What significance did Rick have? Was he the only person on Degrassi who had lashed out after being bullied? Gail would know. Vivian frowned and scratched her neck. The dead were all dudes, guys who were like Rich and popular. Or bullies. What did they have in common besides that? Huh. What if Hector was the target?
Finding the head of the staff organization was mildly complicated, and cut into her lunch break. They had more layers than Gail's crepe cake (27 fucking layers of crepes piled up, with jam in between, and sooooooo fucking good). "Excuse me," she said, finally finding a thin, neurasthenic woman. "They said you were in charge of the staff. I was hoping you could help me out?"
The woman nearly snapped. She had that look. "I'm not a fucking secretary— Oh. Sorry, Officer ... Uh ... Peck." Her eyes widened. "Oh, if this is about Hector, I'm sorry. He's been tweaking since the fire."
Vivian arched her eyebrows. "How's that?"
The woman sighed. "I don't know. He's my best guy for lighting pyrotechnics and suddenly that fire? Wigs him out. I guess it's the uncontrolled aspect or something, but ..."
"I was actually wondering if he was okay," admitted Vivian. "He looked shaken up. Shook up... Sorry, not an English Major."
That got her a laugh and a look up and down. An appreciative look. "Yeah? What do cops major in?"
Pulling out her deadpan, Vivian replied. "Engineering. Minor of criminal justice." It was worth it to see the shocked expression. "Pyro is pretty neat. You don't get a lot of call for that on Degrassi, though."
"No, but he will. We will. We're picking up that new superhero show."
"That's cool." Vivian made a note to tell Holly, who would be delighted. She loved Ms. Marvel. "But I actually have a question... Do you have a copy of the crew schedules?"
Nodding, the woman tapped on her phone. "Sure. Can I text it to you?" Vivian recited her digits. "And if I wanted to ask you out for drinks after we're done filming...?"
Whoops. Vivian smiled. "Flattered, but I'm seeing someone."
"Well. If that doesn't work out, I'm based out of Toronto." The woman smiled in a way that reminded Vivian of Frankie.
"I'll keep that in mind." She lifted her phone. "Thank you. Good luck with your filming."
"Hey, whatever it takes," joked the woman. As Vivian turned to go, she called out. "It's Tammy, by the way. Tammy O'Malley."
Vivian grinned a smile she didn't feel and nodded. Normally she was what Gail called distressingly obtuse about women flirting with her. Certainly Vivian had picked up on this one but, for the first time in ... Well for the first time she could remember, she really didn't want it, or even feel flattered by it. Even when she'd gone out with Pia, when girls had hit on her she'd kind of liked it.
Well. That was something to think about later.
The schedule of Hector Rivera placed him right in the location of the fire.
Huh.
Tapping her phone, Vivian opened her email to forward the schedule to John. It was almost three AM, he wouldn't see it till she was sending for a few hours. Chewing her lip, Vivian typed out her thought. Hector was skittish and was planned to be in the area of the fire. He was a former cholo, by the look of things, and certainly a bully in school, currently making up for it by being his kids' perfect daddy.
But he'd also spoke. Specifically about high school. In a way that set off Vivian's warning signals. The ones from a forgotten foster home... What had their names been? Franklin and Debby Tupolev. But they'd been alright people, at least according to her adult interpretation of her childish memory. While Franklin had bothered her, Vivian could see now that it was just her fear of men betraying her. No. No it was the older kids, they'd pushed her around to establish the pecking order.
Kids like Hector.
John didn't need those details. But he did need to know what high school Hector Rivera went to, and could he find out if it the same as any other victim. She also laid out a theory that, if Hector was the target, perhaps it was related to his school based on his behavior.
Likely she'd get an earful that rookies weren't supposed to have theories. But it was worth it.
Staring at the reports, Gail swore. "How the fuck did we miss they all went to the same school?"
"They didn't," said John. "Not directly. May I?"
"My tech is your tech." Gail sat on the edge of her desk and watched John put up his working suspect chart. The dead people ringed a mystery person with a question mark for their face, grouped based on location.
"We have a college and a high school and seven victims."
"Seven? You're including college boy? He went to UoT and was strangled in that stupid free internet, ID scam plot."
"I am. College boy also to the same college as our first vic from last summer."
Gail frowned. UoT wasn't on the wall. Queens College was. "Unpack, Simmons."
Her sergeant smile. "College is not the weird connection. Hector, the fellow your kid spotted, he went to the same high school as Dale Taft, the strangled moron. But Hector's BFF was Marius Grey. Son of Wentworth."
It took a moment for the names to align themselves. The homeless man. "Hoo! Hang on, Wentworth was the target because of his son? And Dale?"
"Dale was just a coincidence. But enough to throw me off." John drew lines. "Everyone dead ties back to Hector's high school. Where he was a bully. Everyone dead was the child, parent, spouse, or an attendee. And all were connected to a bullying incident seven years ago, when the entire debate team had their lockers vandalized and paint dumped on them."
People never changed. Gail sighed. "How bad did it get?"
"A couple kids were beaten up. Not as bad as Matty had been," he said. John had helped 'solve' that particular case. A former gang runner himself, John often had an affinity for people who had been stupid.
"When are you bringing Hector in to find our unsub?"
"After filming. They're wrapping on Wednesday. No sense messing with that."
Gail pursed her lips. "Provided no one kills him between now and then."
"Ah, he has a shadow." John smiled. "The crew have been informed it's a threat against their company, and they're more than happy to have our rookies guard them."
Nodding, Gail studied the connections. "Do we have a list of everyone on the debate team?"
John tapped the keys and a list popped up. Faces of high schoolers beside their adult selves. Mostly women, five of them, and two men. "None of them were into science."
"Neither am I, and I know how to make a fire, John."
"You're a Peck." He shook his head. "The preliminary check has them all low on my suspect list." X's went through three faces. "They've moved, two to the States, one to France." That left four. "I'm starting checks on the rest, but I want to talk to Hector first. So far, no red flags."
Gail sighed. "Well. I trust you to your pace, John, but I really could use a good close. This year has been filled with some annoying long ends."
Her best fellow nodded. "I know. Arson, bombs, head hunters. If this starts to bear fruit, I'll pull in Price."
"Only if she's done with handing off the bombs to Traci."
"Good call that. I'm pretty tapped."
"It may be useless. That's such a dead end. And who knows what Swarek'll say."
"He's been grabby about it." John reached to wipe the screen and Gail asked him not to. "I'll update it as I go."
He left the door open a crack as he left, and Gail studied the names. Actually she studied the faces. A good detective could read the faces of suspects and know who they were looking for. What kind of person were they? Always Gail had been able to peg the runners, the criers, the reluctant, the ones who would give up, but only when she saw them in person.
Twenty years of detective work later, she could tell by their faces alone. The four remaining suspects were two men, two women. As teens, they all had the face of people used to punishment and maltreatment. None had records of systemic abuse. There were no strange ER visits or notes of bruising, which implied that there was nothing about their home lives.
Absently, Gail dismissed one of the women. She'd gone into historical research, writing history books. The look on her face was familiar to Gail, a nerd who loved her work. The other woman would likely be dismissed due to her job. She traveled a great deal and would probably turn out to be out of the country.
That left the men. John had already sent their faces to the recognition software, running it against the massive amount of video they had from the set of Degrassi. Gail absently tapped the screen, highlighting the paler, thinner of the two. There was something about his look that bothered her.
She tapped up his work history and stared.
Converting old gasoline powered cars to solar electric.
"Volvos." Gail swallowed and tapped John's notes on that aspect. They still couldn't make the igniter work the way Vivian had theorized. Oh the lab had gotten close, but the trigger had eluded them. In talking with Sue and the lab, the theory was that they were missing some critical ingredient that was getting consumed completely.
Which was why Chloe was digging into the supplies with Traci. If they could find a full list of supplies, something Gary the Meth Head didn't have, then they maybe could figure it out. Gail eyed the list of supplies. She couldn't make heads or tails of it herself, but it wasn't her forte anyway. What she needed to do was clear her head. Printing up a list, she shoved it and her laptop in her bag and went out.
John looked up as she passed his desk. "Want company?"
"No, I need to concentrate."
He nodded and went back to his files.
Sometimes getting her brain into the right frame of mind was harder than Gail wanted it to be. Gail walked down the stairs, trying to blank her brain out. She checked in at the range, kicking her bag under a cubby on the end, and checking her service piece.
Gail closed her eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Calm. Every week since she'd been a child she'd done this. At least once, maybe twice, she came to the range and relaxed. It was better than meditation in many ways, probably since it was so familiar to her. The one family trait that had done her well over the years.
At some point between rounds, another person joined her at the range. Their shooting pattern was familiar. Gail sighed and, at the next changing of targets, leaned back and saw a tall form. In her delay, the other shooter leaned back and smiled sheepishly, signing a hello.
Pulling her ear guards off, Gail frowned. "Why are you here?"
Vivian pulled her own off. "Coincidence. Swear to god. I've been busy all week."
Gail sighed. "Oh fine." She went to re-seat the protection when Vivian spoke up.
"Wanna go head to head?"
No. She wanted to clear her head. But the impish smile on her daughter's face was irresistible. "Fine. Untimed, twelve shots. Best count wins."
That had been her first shooting challenge with Vivian. Never once had Gail let her win. The scores had been close many times, and Vivian had outshot her mother on a few occasions, but never had Gail thrown a match. Not even when fifteen year old Vivian raged in tears in the car on the ride home and shut herself in her room. Holly had worried, but Gail knew the truth was that Vivian needed to learn there would always be people better than she was.
Of course, after that Gail entered her in a youth shoot, and Vivian mopped the floor with the competition. It was all about perspective. Now that Vivian was an adult, she was a more than passable shot, better than a good half of the officers, but... She wasn't a child who had disappointed her parents with a loss, ever. She didn't have the same burden Gail and Steve did in order to win. The pressure was different.
It was a wonder Gail actually liked shooting. With all the crap her parents threw at her for it, she should hate it. Much like being a police officer, it was indelible. Ingrained. It was who she was, for better or for worse, and who she would always be. Gail was always going to be a little broken. She would always have dreams that reminded her of what she could not control. She would always carry the weight of her name, her family past.
That evening, Vivian gave her a run for her money. Youthful sharpness matched well against aging eyes. It was simultaneously delightful and depressing. How had she gotten old? As Vivian teased her about their scores, Gail wondered if her daughter found it easier to be, to exist, when she carried the name Peck. Was that Vivian's secret? That the weight of the unknown, the pain of loss, was protected from her heart by a name.
Maybe Gail should have taken Stewart. Protected herself from her own name?
No. There was only so far she could go. It was worth the rest of Gail's life to redeem the name she'd been born with, and that was that.
She thanked her daughter for the shoot, feeling no closer to answers about arsons or bombs or gangs or a million other cases that sat under her purview. Vivian didn't make a big deal about it, and stuck around for a little more practice on her own. That was as it should be. Gail had managed to go her career, thus far, without shooting anyone. She wished the same for her daughter, but both knew that the confidence that allowed one to not shoot came from familiarity and understanding. Perhaps Vivian would always know, more than Gail, the true nature of death. The finality.
By the time she got home, Gail was far less melancholy but still deep in her own thoughts. Opening the door from the garage, Gail blinked and felt quite dissonant. The house was clean. Sparkling clean, top to bottom, and a little damp actually. She took her shoes off and put them on the shoe rack. "Holly?"
"Upstairs! Don't look in the kitchen!"
Of course Gail turned to look. There was a mess half-cleaned. Huh. "Ooooookay. Can I come up?"
"Please!"
Gail shook her head and came up the stairs. "What's going on-" She stopped and stared at her wife, dressed more classy than normal. Almost court wear, if the court encouraged that much cleavage. And that sort of makeup. Gail's thoughts derailed completely.
"You okay there, champ?"
Jiggling her head, Gail fought for a word. Words. "Holly, I can't talk. I'm having a gay."
Zipping up her trousers, Holly smiled. "You should put away your gun."
Holly's hair was down in flowing cascades, curled just a bit, and she had on her fancy glasses. Good god in heaven was Holly her type. Gail was actually agog at her wife.
After a moment, Gail nodded. "And change. Clearly... Did I forget a date?"
"No." Holly kissed her cheek. "Spontaneity is the spice of life."
Gail swallowed and went to the office, stashing her gun and badge away. Why was Holly dressed up like that? Back in the bedroom, there was no Holly but two outfits on the bed. A dress and a pair of slacks with a shirt. Gail hopped in the shower and quickly shaved (as well as neatening up other things) before wriggling into the dress. She forwent stockings and simply stepped into shoes that wouldn't pinch, fixed her hair with a bit of cream, and slapped on the barest of makeup.
Thirty minutes.
And when she was downstairs, Holly had set up a rather romantic dinner for two. Candles and everything. There was no attempt to explain why. Holly just smiled at her, set out plates of chicken and wine, and sat across from Gail to eat. They didn't talk about work or children. Holly told her she looked amazing and asked how Gail was liking the books Holly's parents had sent.
It was calming and familiar and disconcerting all at once. Mostly calming. At least until desert. The desert blew her mind. A chocolate mug and handle, filled with some kind of cream. Creme freche? No. Something else. Something wonderful. "Oh my god..." Gail spooned into it and took a bite, her eyes closing involuntarily. "Oh Jesus, this is almost as good as sex, Holly."
"We'll have to see about that," said Holly, teasingly.
Gail looked at her wife and blinked. Whatever the hell she'd done to deserve this day, may she do it again.
Her plan had been to pamper, seduce, and lavish Gail with attention and adoration. That had mostly worked. Gail had drifted off, following a massage that became sensual and sexual and then relaxing, Holly had slipped back downstairs to tidy up. When she'd come back to the bedroom, a rumpled and satiated Gail looked at her with hooded eyes from the bedsheets.
That was when the plan took a bit of a left turn and Holly found herself quite willingly at Gail's mercy. She didn't really mind. She minded a great deal less when Gail's intentions were made clear and they both enjoyed themselves. That was how sex, how life was supposed to be. A balance between things, a sharing, and a bit of togetherness.
As she drifted off a second time, Gail mumbled that she'd no idea what she'd done right, but please let her know so she could keep doing it. Holly snuggled alongside her wife, smiling, and said nothing.
Sadly her other part of the plan involved sleeping in, and that didn't happen.
Holly's phone rang at two in the morning.
"Stewart," she said sleepily, pleased to find Gail still tucked close to her. They had a tendency to drift apart in their sleep, but often found their way back by morning.
"Sorry to wake you, Dr. Stewart," said Wayne, the head of her evidence lab. "But we got the trigger to work."
"Trigger?"
"For the fires."
The fires? Holly scowled and rolled to her back. "The arson? Wayne, why can't this wait?" She paused. "Why are you at the office?" He didn't do night work any more, none of the leads did.
"I couldn't sleep. And Clark figured out the order of the ingredients, based on the video. Using that, I was able to find the missing components, plural. We're missing the actual fire starter, but we isolated enough that I'm sure we'll have it soon."
Slowly, slowly the gears in her brain clicked and whirled. "You mean the components ... The items Chloe- Sgt. Price needs to know so she can pick the right gang?" Beside her, Gail stirred and Holly gently caressed her hair.
"Even better, we have a clear shot of the people who dropped the items in the trash... Is, um, is Inspector Peck awake?"
"No she is not," Holly said softly.
"Yes she is," replied Gail, grumpily, and holding up a hand. The conversation was brief, mostly consisting of Gail saying "Uh huh." and "I see." Finally the detective sighed. "Send it to Peck in Guns and Gangs, Price, and Simmons. Thanks, Wayne. Goodnight, Wayne."
Reaching past Holly, Gail put the phone back on the charging mat and rested her head on Holly's chest. "Break in the case. Five people dropped off parts of the arson thingy. Probably were asked to throw things away. Clear shots, so we'll bring them in and ask, narrow down who did it. John will look into it." Gail all but nestled in against Holly and sighed.
Holly stroked Gail's hair, closing her eyes. "Sorry about that."
"I knew your job when I married you." Gail yawned. "I was having this amazing dream that this hot brunette made me an amazing dinner and then we had a desert she got from a bakery I'm not allowed to visit. Didn't know they did deserts like that, by the way. But then, to cap it all off, some fucking fantastic sex."
Smiling, Holly toyed with the hairs at the nape of Gail's neck. "I'm glad you liked it."
"You're amazing, Holly."
"You deserve it."
Gail hummed softly and grew heavier. She really was like a cat. "I love you," said Gail softly. Shyly. Timidly. Like she was still expecting a rejection after all these years.
Not even Holly could erase the scars and fears. She sighed and squeezed Gail close. Saying the words seemed pointless. The words never seemed to make Gail feel any better. Instead, Holly caressed the nape of Gail's neck, stroking the bare skin of her back, down the swoop of Gail's spin to the base, around the curve of her hips and ass. The words 'I love you' might never be enough to quell the doubts that would always surround Gail, but maybe the words and the action, the proof of a promise, would help.
"I love you, Gail," said Holly, her voice a whisper.
Hours later, in the actual morning, she rolled into the office with an extra cup of coffee for Wayne whom, as she'd expected, was still there.
"Boss..." Wayne bit his lip.
"Drink this. File your reports. Go home. If I see you here before 9am next Monday, I'm going to be upset in ways that will involve a formal reprimand." She put the cup on his desk and then asked the question she didn't want to. "Wayne... I come from a long line of obsessive people. I married one. I get how this job eats you. So ... I have to ask this. Is everything okay?"
Her long time lab chief sighed. "I don't know." Wayne picked up the cup and sipped it. "There's something about this case that's just ... It's eating at me. The more I dig into it."
Obsession. It was like how Oliver told Gail there would be a case that cut at her heart, for the people in the labs, the cases were ones that kept them up. They needed to find the answers and the solutions. They had to be the ones who put the puzzle together for the police to make the arrests.
Unlike how the failure of cases hovered over police officers, the lab techs bore a weightier pain. Their work was on hundreds of cases. They couldn't get them confused or misplaced. They constantly had to be precise and exact. Often they had all the evidence in the world and no results, and it hurt. It was agony sometimes. And worst of all, they were expected to work normal hours and let go at the end of the day, never knowing the face of the victims. Except they did.
Holly sighed. "Wayne. This is why we're a team. Ananda is going to take this over, okay? When's Simmons coming?"
"An hour."
"Good. I will help her." As she spoke, Wayne's eyes lit up. "What? I'm great at arson cases. I'm going to go over her work, and you are going home to sleep. Do you want me to call your wife?"
Wayne shook his head. "No. No. I'll call her."
Nodding, Holly squeezed his shoulder and stepped out to the hall, listening to make sure. Sometimes being a boss was like being a mom. She had to cajole and lead and trick her staff into behaving. They needed to be shown how to be functional adults.
Absently she texted her mother, asking when she'd become an adult. It was three hours earlier there. Lily was probably sound asleep, enjoying retirement. In another ten or twenty years, that would be her. Retired, sleeping in with Gail, enjoying lazy mornings and long snuggles.
Holly pushed that out of her head and went to talk to her secretary, rescheduling her day and Ananda's so they could cover for Wayne. She made it back to the evidence lab just in time to read up on the case notes and how they'd changed in the last few months.
Still she was unprepared for the news, in person, from John.
"First, whatever you did last night, thank you and I hate you."
"You're welcome?"
"Gail is Super Peck today. She knocked out a cold case before her second coffee. It's fucking nuts."
Holly smiled. "Sorry, but I'm really fond of her."
John shrugged. "Second, do you want the good news or the bad news?"
Beside them, Ananda spoke first. "Bad." She turned to Holly. "Sorry, boss. I like shitty news first is all."
"Hey, it's your lab." As soon as she said it, the temporary head of evidence brightened a little.
"You nerds are all weird. Bad news. Our main suspect is dead."
Yep. Holly was not prepared. "Uh. Good news is you know who the firebug is?"
"Close." John smiled. "We had a theory it was someone bullied in a specific school. And of those kids, one was particularly ... Well, he was the kind of kid I'd expect to see in a clock tower with a rifle. He's been dead for a few years." The smile faded. Holly sighed and nodded. John didn't need to say suicide. "But! We caught the faces of everyone who dropped parts of the fire 'kit' in the trash. I'm making rookies follow them backwards through their day, recording everyone they interact with and take things from. And! We have found our suspect."
Without thinking, Holly said, "Caucasian male, five ten, wearing a hat and generic clothes?"
"Nailed it. But here is my good news."
Ananda looked surprised. "What? There's more?"
Beaming, John nodded. "Check this out." He held up his tablet and showed her an image. "So?"
Holly adjusted her glasses and leaned in to see a clear image of a bare hand. And falling from the hand was a rubber glove. "Unless we have that glove-"
She was cut off by John holding up an evidence bag. "Fuller found it. Matches the color and no one else on set had 'em."
"That is one fuck of a long shot." Holly was cautious.
"You're Dr. Holly Stewart," said John, the voice of reason. "You are Canada's preeminent medical examiner. You refined the lab here to the point that they made a damned TV show off of you-"
"It was a short series," pointed out Ananda helpfully. "Netflix." She stopped when Holly glared.
That stupid show was worse than the made-for-tv-movie about saving King Wills' life, when one considered the personal inaccuracies. TV Holly was straight, for one. And white for another. Stupid television. She'd filed a complaint and had her name totally scrubbed from the project, which turned it into 'based on' ... But the damned thing had aired three, short, seasons. Fourteen episodes of stupidity.
"The point! If any lab on the planet can get a print and have it be clean, after I had rookies dumpster diving for a day, it's you." He beamed. When Holly hesitated, he added. "I have a photo of Fuller covered in garbage."
Smiling, Holly shook her head. "One of us has been hanging around Gail too long."
Ananda laughed and took the evidence bag, scanning it in. "I want the photo. We have a collection." As John startled, she explained. "Every time you guys bring in evidence, we like to see how messed up you can make it. Fuller covered in garbage will be fun."
Sighing, John looks at Holly. "I think all of us are hanging with Gail too much."
But he sent the photo.
I know I backgrounded some case development. The arson case is not actually on Gail or Holly's front burner. It should be, but you readers know things they don't. Like you know a writer bringing things up multiple times means something.
I had to quickly rewrite a little about Degrassi after "Degrassi: Next Class" season 16.
