03.01 - The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

Welcome back, gentle readers, as another season begins. It's January, mid month, so it's only a few weeks after the last chapter. Everyone's still happy, more or less.

Someone was recently promoted and there's adult business afoot.


A year ago, Gail had wondered why anyone would do renovations in winter. Now she was talking with Inspector Sebourn, Lt. Tran, and Sgt. McNally about allocating the right amount of space. Just for shits and grins, newly minted Inspector Epstein was there as well. Because why the fuck not.

"Patrol needs the cars," Andy said firmly.

"We're keeping most of our gear at the big building. I'm just talking about a corner of the Pit." Sue ran her hands through her hair.

"A corner of a pit for a van that's the size of a party bus."

Seabourn gave Gail a tired look. "I get why you said no to this gig."

"And yet," she replied. Gail sighed. Because she was still there. "Andy, Fifteen is down by half a squad. You have the space."

The sergeant huffed. "Only if I give up two cruisers."

Dov, the voice of reason, pointed out the obvious. "Two cruisers that are older than my kid. You can scrap them for parts."

"Not the point."

"Jesus, what is the actual point, Andy?" Gail snapped. She knew she should be nicer, but it was exhausting. "We need to move a ready team from ETF into each field for faster deployment. Fifteen is the hub of Center. It's the right fit, you know it. We're not gonna get recruitment like we had when our parents were cops. So let's use the space properly."

Her friend pressed her lips into a thin line. "I'm going to lose four more of my patrol officers this year. Volk is gonna get tapped for detective, and you know Peck's going to try for ETF. We don't have replacements. We didn't get them for Steve. Just how understaffed do they think we can be and survive?"

Seabourn cleared his throat. "We'll be going out to schools and job fairs. Pushing recruitment. Open up the stations again, once or twice a year, for welcoming the public. And Fifteen is getting a transfer and a rookie come spring." He spread his hands out. "We can't make people apply, McNally."

"So I'm supposed to lose and make do?" Andy jutted her chin out, angry.

"We're all making do," Dov pointed out. "Every division is suffering low numbers, Andy. I can't prioritize my old home over other people." He spread his hands out, palms up, pleading. "This reorganization is to help us balance out the needs of the city with the resources we have."

"How political." Andy snarled now.

"Jesus, Girl Guide. You sound like me." Gail muttered to herself. They needed a break. Something to get their heads out of their asses. Thankfully her daughter showed up, looking highly apologetic.

"Excuse me, ma'ams, sirs. Uh, I need Sgt. McNally for a situation?"

Everyone turned to look at Vivian. "We're in the middle of something, Peck. Can't someone else?" Andy sounded so terribly frustrated, it was almost funny.

Vivian bobbed her head. "Yes, ma'am, I know. Except..." Vivian trailed off and looked at Gail. "She asked for Detective Barber."

Tension rippled through the room. Except for Sue and Zeke. The old guard of Fifteen shared a look. Dov recovered first. "Peck," he said softly. "Why does that translate to Andy and not a psych check?"

Clearing her throat, Vivian glanced at Gail again, and then Andy. "I know, sir. But Hanford didn't know who ... Who Jerry was, so he said we didn't have a Det. Barber, and then the woman started crying and saying how Fifteen went downhill since he died, and that only McNally every gave a shit about her."

"She." Gail startled. "What's her name?"

"Falls. Sadie Falls."

Andy's head snapped up. "Sadie? Taller than me? Blonde? Skinny as a rake?"

"Not super skinny, ma'am. But yeah. She's with Fuller in the comfort room."

Swearing, Andy started to leave and then looked back at Zeke and Gail. "I'm sorry, Gail..."

"I got it. Go see why our historical hooker needs a hand." Gail waved and watched her friend head out. "Stay here, Junior." Vivian blinked and nodded. Ignoring both Vivian and Dov's pained expressions, Gail took a breath and explained. "Zeke. Sadie used to be Det. Barber's CI. When he died, she needed some help and McNally took it upon herself to jump in. Twice. About ... God, twenty years ago? She was dealing drugs at rehab. But she's clean now." Gail shook her head. "Why's she here, kid?"

There was a pause before Vivian spoke. Gail could see, clearly, the thought process where Vivian was trying to edit to remove any more mention of Jerry, or the cause of his death. "Her daughter's missing."

That was right. Part of why Sadie had finally cleaned up for good was the birth of her daughter, Maisie. Maisie would be about eighteen or so now. But apparently old habits died hard. Maisie had been in and out of the system since she was twelve.

"I arrested her once for drug trafficking," Dov said, thoughtfully. "Maisie, I mean, not Sadie. She's seventeen."

A minor. "Well. If it's that again, it's my guys. Junior, go grab Nash Peck." Gail pushed her hands through her hair. It was getting long enough to sweep back behind her ears. Not long enough to touch her neck. Absently she laced her fingers behind her neck, pressing her palms against the veins as best she could. It was then she realized Vivian had not left yet. "Viv... Go."

But the young constable hesitated. She glanced at Dov and Sue, then Zeke. Obviously Vivian wanted to say something. "Yes, ma'am," said the girl softly, but her hands moved, signing a question. The question Gail and Steve always asked. The one Vivian picked up on as a child. 'Are the doves singing?'

Gail sighed and shook her head. They were not. But when she spoke, she belied that feeling. "It's fine. Go." Reluctantly, Vivian headed back to the main building.

"I didn't think anything could distract her from ETF," muttered Zeke in her wake. "What don't I know about Det. Barber?"

"A lot," said Dov, in a tone that brokered no further discussion. "Gail. I'll take care of this."

"No, it's fine, Dov. Andy is going to have to ride point, anyway. That should give her something to gnaw on and she'll get over it. We have to do this."

Sue frowned. "We can hold off until summer."

"No, we can't." Gail shook her head. Thoughts of Jerry could wait. "Look. The responses we've been able to muster for large events, like the gangs, like a shooting at a parade and a concert, like the fires. We barely get there in time. The old idea of having a central housing for everything, having two fields, it's not keeping up. Criminals are taking advantage of it. We need to do this. And putting it off leaves us vulnerable."

Both Seabourn and Sue nodded, the latter reluctant, and went out to talk semantics. Dov lingered. "You know. I forget how much you care about the job," he told Gail. "I was always bad about that."

Gail arched an eyebrow. "Shut up, Dov."

"I mean it. I ... No one cares about this like you do." He shook his head, seemingly at a loss. "Why aren't you working for the Super?"

Ah. Gail sighed loudly and looked at the ceiling. She knew the answer. "Remember how I used to snake wins from you?" Her friend nodded. "I don't like that me. And... That's the me I'd be if I was there."

The man looked at her for a long moment and then, at last, Dov nodded. He'd seen the Pecks in action over the last few decades. He knew them at their worst. He knew her at her worst. And yet. Dov was still there. Still her friend.

"Come on," said Dov. "I'll try to find something to make McNally happy. I'm the one who stuck her with this gig."

"Oh good, it's your fault. I like that."


Sometimes it was easier to give boys the keys and let them drive. Vivian had learned that from her mother. Boys were simple creatures and easily distracted. So when Andy told her to swap out with Aronson, and knowing Christian was still sullen from the last year, Vivian tossed him the keys to 1519 and settled into the shotgun seat.

"So who is Sadie to us?"

Vivian winced. "Sadie used to be one of Jerry Barber's CIs."

"Oh. Wow, she's still a CI?"

"No. She stepped out of the game, got clean, fucked up, got clean again, and ... Well she's okay now. Maisie was born when she was in between fuckery."

"Ever met her?"

"Maisie? No." Nor Sadie for that matter until that morning. She only knew about them from stories. Traci and Oliver were seen as the only ones who would talk about Jerry, and even then never around Gail. And that never really made sense to Vivian, since she knew Gail would freely talk about Jerry if someone asked. Somewhere along the line, Gail had stopped thinking of his death as her fault.

That was something Vivian had asked. They'd been sitting on the dock at the cabin, watching the sunset together. Holly was coming up the next day after court, but summer break from college was still summer break. And that was the time for Pecks to abscond, so they'd packed up and driven out together. It wasn't the first time she'd gone to the cabin with only one of her moms, but sometimes it felt like Vivian never got to go with just Gail. She reveled in those days, where one or the other Mom was hers and hers alone.

They'd had the freedom to talk about all sorts of things that made Holly uncomfortable. Like guns, of course, but also they candidly discussed the dangers of the job Vivian wanted. Gail told her, frankly, what being shot at was like. She told Vivian about the time Chris was stabbed and how she'd been terrified. The times she'd not been able to save people from themselves hurt more, though.

Finally, as the sun set and they drank beers on the dock, Vivian had asked if the deaths hurt more. Gail had exhaled loudly and then said that the ones that stuck around were generally the ones that weren't her fault. When Vivian asked if she meant Sophie's mom, Gail surprised her and said it was Jerry.

Gail had liked Jerry. He was a good guy, a little stupid sometimes, and prone to being lazy, but good. He was a good detective. A good person. And no matter who had been kidnapped, he would have died. It had never been Gail's fault, and while it had taken her years to accept that, she did now. But that hurt, Gail said, because it was tangled up in everything else that Perik had broken in her. The drugs, sure, but her parents not being there when she'd needed them, Nick not really being there either.

In a word, a clusterfuck.

Christian fell silent for another few miles, mulling over the little he knew of all that drama. Maybe he was piecing together his own strange map of the history of Fifteen. "Okay. Can I change the subject?"

"Sure."

"It's not fair. You got to be undercover twice and I haven't gotten to do anything except the scavenger hunt! You did the scavenger hunt and the hookers and the arson. McNally never picks me for anything like that."

Vivian sighed. He had to change the subject to that, didn't he? It had been C's rant du jour since he'd gotten back from vacation. "You remind her of herself."

Her friend and roommate stared at her for a whole red light. "What?"

"You heard how she choked as a hooker and screwed up on the hunt?"

Christian hesitated. "Wait... What? No!"

Ah. Vivian nodded. "Apparently she was really bad undercover. Like epic. And Mom, Holly, said its probably because she's so earnest. Y'know? An honest open book."

Her friend snorted. "Except that she didn't tell anyone about her dad."

"How the hell..." Vivian startled. "How do you know Tommy McNally?"

"I heard some of the older D's talking about it. They said that Andy never went for Detective because it drove her old man to drink."

Vivian exhaled loudly. "Maybe. Yeah." Provided one didn't know that Tommy probably wasn't Andy's dad. Vivian wasn't supposed to know probably, but she'd put snippets of conversations together over the years. A comment by Holly about punnet squares. A remark of Gail's as to how Andy was testing her blood discretely. The fact that Tommy hadn't come to Andy's promotion party when she made staff.

Yeah. It was messy.

"Not like you can know for sure," Christian said, fairly. "But. I'm too earnest?"

"I think so."

He huffed. "Damn. Your closed off crap helps, doesn't it?"

"As long as I'm playing a petty criminal, sure."

They passed a few more blocks in thoughtful silence. "I thought you'd be different with a girlfriend."

"Huh?" She blinked a few times. "What, you meant like Moms?"

"Kinda," said C, sheepishly. "But you're not, and Jamie seems pretty cool with it."

Vivian frowned. Immediately her mind went to the reasons Pia and Skye and others had cited in breaking up. They liked her, but she was too self-contained. Would Jamie feel that way too? Did she want to be all up in Vivian's personal space? "Shit."

"Hey, whoah, I didn't mean to, uh, make you self-conscious... Um. Look, she's over all the time."

"Yeah, I know. But... I'm not cuddly."

"Maybe she's not that kinda girl?"

Vivian sighed and wanted to agree, to point out that Gail wasn't. Except Gail was. With Holly. Ugh. And it wasn't like Vivian didn't know why Gail wasn't huggy and touchy-feely. Gail was the incubator baby who was never hugged. She didn't really get how to connect. Except she'd clearly wanted to since she glommed on to Holly like mad.

And Vivian? Well. She was pretty sure she'd not really been held much as a baby. Hell, there were barely any baby pictures of her. The odds were that she was the accidental baby, and one that her parents hadn't really wanted.

"I wonder if Maisie's like that," she said absently.

"Huh?"

Vivian flushed. "I wonder if Maisie's rebelling and doing stupid things because Sadie didn't really parent her."

Giving her a side eye, Christian huffed. "Your brain is an incredibly weird place, Peck."

"Tell me something new."

He laughed. "Okay, so you think her record is her rebelling?"

"That or we're all doomed to be the kind of idiots our parents were."

With that wonderfully grim thought, they turned down the road to see if they could find a missing nearly adult child.


"Dr. Stewart. Dr. Angler is running a little late. He had an emergency come in."

Holly arched her eyes at the assistant. It must have been some crisis to happen without the chance for a call to her. "How late? I can reschedule."

"He said fifteen minutes at most."

"Oh..." Processing that, Holly tried to think about a shorter session. "That's fine. We can sort things out if not."

The assistant looked painfully relieved and Holly sat down on the stiff chair in the waiting room. She checked her email, texted her mother a meme that had been going around, and popped on to see what social media was up to.

Unlike her wife and daughter, Holly adored social media. As a young, budding lesbian, she'd been on LiveJournal, writing embarrassing fanfics of her crush on Claudia Christian from Babylon 5. From there she migrated to reading terrible smut online, to Tumblr, Twitter, and all sorts of places where she was hidden by the veneer of anonymity.

Medical school took away the free time she'd had devote to things like that. Working in the lab had kept it difficult. But at some point, before she'd met Gail, Holly had created a persona online and cheerfully dipped her toe into fandom again. It gave her a needed outlet. Gail was very much not that sort of nerd. Oh she loved comics and Star Wars, but in a very casual way. Gail's nerdiness was supremely focused in her work, which was certainly a bit of a character flaw. The Gail she'd started dating hadn't really understood the idea of hobbies outside of work that weren't drinking and sex.

Today's Gail would tease the hell out of Holly to know what her online alter egos got up to, though, make no mistake. And Holly was careful not to let slip her real profession (she worked in medicine, was a manager over people, and sometimes things were rather grotesque), or where she lived (somewhere in southern Ontario). That she was a grown up lesbian, married to a woman, with a child, though, that they knew.

Holly felt it was important for the kids, some as young as fourteen or even ten, to know that there was a future. She'd candidly told them once how she'd never thought she'd get married. Lesbians didn't do that. But then her curmudgeonly wife blew her mind and things changed. When they asked things like what it was like when Ellen came out, Holly felt her age but answered honestly.

"Doctor? The doctor will see you now."

Holly pulled her head out of the latest drama with a singer who'd divorced her wife and smiled. "Thank you." She turned her phone to silent and dropped it in her purse. As she walked into the office, she smiled at her doctor. "Hello, Charles."

"Holly," said the man, smiling. "I think she insists on calling you Dr. Stewart for fun."

"Can you blame her?" More than once, the look on people's faces when a doctor was called to see the doctor was hilarious.

"No, not really. Sorry about the running later. I understand if you want to reschedule."

Holly shook her head. "Having been your emergency on more than one occasion, Charles, I'm possibly your most understanding patient. You know that."

"I try not to press my luck. Water?"

"Please." She sat down on her favorite chair in the office. Intellectually, she knew Gail liked the couch. Then again, Gail tended to make herself at home wherever she was. Holly preferred the comfortable chair. It was enough to make her relax (something she'd had a devil of a time with when she'd started therapy) and yet keep her on the ball with things.

As Charles poured them both a glass of water, she looked around the room. It tended to change with the seasons, something Charles said helped with reinforcing the passing of time. Time was an important part of therapy, as Holly had learned.

Charles put the water glass down near Holly. "How was Christmas? Get snowed in?"

She rolled her eyes. "We did. With my mother-in-law and her boyfriend in the house."

"Yikes. Did Vivian get out okay?"

"Oh, she was there too. And yes, with her girlfriend."

Charles grinned. "Glad you haven't downsized the house yet?"

"I told you, I'm holding out for grandchildren." Holly smiled sheepishly. "Is that silly?"

"No," said Charles, sipping his water and jotting something down. "Not at all. Have you told Vivian that?"

"God no." Holly shook her head. "She has enough pressure already. Besides, Leo might have some. Or Sophie. And I can kidnap them." She sighed. "Babies used to terrify me."

"So did marriage, as I recall."

"Well that was because marriage was synonymous with men." She clucked her tongue at herself. "So were babies, I guess. Well that and pregnancy. Bleck."

"Maybe Vivian will follow in your footsteps there."

"Oh, god, don't remind me. She's applying for ETF." Holly winced. "Which … I get why. She's a cop, and she loves playing with mechanical things. It's a great fit. But I just got used to her in uniform."

"Gail … Gail said you were still much calmer than she was about it."

Holly nodded. Gail had said that at their last shared session. They still did those once every few months, just to check in. Vivian showed up for a few after moving out, mostly as a follow up to how they all were after the change, but now she didn't at all. Which was fine.

"I don't think I'm calmer as much as ... It fits into a slot in my brain. I think Vivian will handle Jamie getting hurt better than Jamie handled Vivian... But maybe not. I guess she took Vivian being shot at pretty well. Maybe that's because of her history." Holly paused and frowned. "Did I tell you?"

"A little."

"Right. Anyway. I don't think I'm calmer at all. I can just process it and work with it. I still worry more about Gail though, and that's weird."

"Is it?"

She was tempted to stick her tongue out at Charles. Asshole. "Yes it is. It's not like I think Gail is less capable or anything. And I know it's not that I think one of them dying wouldn't wreck me." Holly drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, thinking. "I had time to get ready for Vivian. Gail ... I was thrown into her life, with shootings and drama and fighting and danger. I was ... I've always been a little unsettled by Gail. In good ways."

Holly smiled fondly. Gail threw her apple cart into disarray and Holly had to admit that, as a whole, she reveled in it. The blonde was a storm, well and aptly named if the homophone joke was made, and Holly often did. Vivian was very different. She tried hard not to make people's lives disruptive. Vivian wanted, desperately, to be normal and average.

Maybe that was it. Vivian had nothing to prove. Vivian didn't run into danger just to seek something. Vivian didn't act carelessly about her own life.

Unlike Gail, Vivian grew up from six on, knowing she was loved and adored and wanted. A choice had been made to have her in the lives of her parents. She was a part of a family, as weird and broken as she was herself, and they were there for her always.

Holly didn't have to worry about Vivian as much because she wasn't the kind of person one had to worry about. By some miracle, or twist of fate, they'd raised a good, honest, kind, and caring person. Sometimes, yes, Vivian's heart and head tripped over themselves. But mostly she'd taken the lessons from her mothers to heart.

That was a legacy to be proud of, realized Holly, and she smiled more.


"And hold. And breathe."

Gail closed her eyes and relaxed into the pose. She ignored the sweat running down her back, the sound of other people breathing, and the slight ache in her calves. Just breathe. In and out. In and out. There was a twinge in her shoulder and Gail adjusted her stance, feeling the pressure change and fade slowly into a minor strain on her muscles, but nothing more.

"And arms in, step together. Namaste."

Okay, so the hippie dippy part of yoga made her want to roll her eyes, but Gail returned to the stance, put her hands together, and bowed like everyone else. It was stupid, yes, but it was what it was. The instructor directed them to sit with their spines straight and relax, ending the day with a little meditation.

That had been the hardest thing to get used to at first. Meditation. Relaxing while sitting still. Gail had a devil of a time getting her brain to shut up. Eventually, one of the instructors pulled her aside and said it was clear Gail had been hurt. Of course, given the look of her face after Perik, no shit. Blithely, Gail said she was a cop and was fine. The instructor had given her a droll look and offered to help teach Gail some alternative relaxation methods.

The first was to count. As asinine as it sounded, Gail found that simply trying to count to 100, without letting other thoughts in, was insanely hard. After a few weeks of failure, Gail complained that she just wasn't cut out to relax, and she'd just have to be edgy for the rest of her life.

But that stupid, annoying, probably hitting on her, instructor stuck by Gail for a year, pushing her. It had been a fuck of a lot more helpful than the therapist her mother had picked. And yoga was practically exercise, so Elaine couldn't complain there. Slowly, eventually, Gail had mastered the art of meditation. She learned how to tune out and relax and feel the universe, as trite as it sounded.

It was an astounding feeling of peace. Oh, it never managed to chase away the demons entirely. Gail still slept like shit and worried and doubted and screwed up, but she also felt more like a human. More complete and whole. It helped. When she woke up from a nightmare, sometimes she could coax herself back to sleep just by breathing. Rarely.

Later on, after meeting Celery and coming over at one in the morning to help with a panicked Oliver, Gail had walked through her oldest friend through the breathing lessons. It had calmed him down, enough that he was able to wrap his jangled nerves in a blanket and fall asleep on the couch while Gail watched some stupid documentary about how stupid shit was made.

That had been when she and Holly had been on the 'we're friends saying goodbye' level of a repaired relationship. Gail watched a lot of weird ass documentaries then, trying to keep part of the doofy, nerdy woman with her. Because Holly was leaving for San Francisco, and they couldn't be them at all. Because the love of her life, the one person who got her, was walking away like everyone else.

And, as Oliver snored loudly, Celery came and asked Gail when she'd learned to meditate. Gail had been horribly embarrassed and tried to deflect, but Celery just smiled at her and talked about how she'd tried to teach Oliver and failed. After a moment, Gail explained that he'd have a hard time. The point of meditation was not to think of nothing, but to let the weight of thoughts disappear and to not react to them. But when the thoughts were fear and terror and rooted firmly in fact and burned into memory, it was much harder. Gail had always found it easier to dismiss the problems with her classmates or fellow rookies than it was to put aside the ingrained institutionalizations of her name.

Celery had listened and then asked what had really happened with Holly.

God help her, Gail broke down and told the woman, still mostly a stranger, the whole story. From the bones to the coat room to the Penny, to interrogation, to screwing it up, to realizing she was in love, and to it all being far, far too late to do anything productive about it. Gail was losing the one person she'd ever really loved, and she wasn't going to even have Sophie. Oh, yes, she knew that she was a long shot, but she felt in her bones that it was impossible.

The strange Wiccan ushered Gail to the kitchen, made a cup of mint tea, and told her that the universe sometimes acted like a dick. Sometimes it threw challenges a person didn't want or need, because sometimes the bigger picture meant someone else mattered more. But that didn't mean there wasn't a place for Gail in the universe. It meant the universe knew she could survive the shit.

It was all Gail could do not to cry at the thought. Wise Celery said nothing more about it, nudged Gail into drinking the tea and then asked her to help haul Oliver to bed. Once he was tucked in, still wrapped in the afghan, Celery walked Gail to the guest room and hugged her.

"It will all be alright. I promise."

Gail remembered that moment for years. Especially the day she told Celery that she'd married Holly, and the woman had just smiled and nodded. Like she'd known all along how that would end.

But today, now, in the afternoon, in a hot as balls room surrounded by women who were nowhere near as sexy as her wife, Gail's mind went, blissfully, quiet. All the thoughts about how she'd become good at meditation sped through her brain between one breath and the next and then, like magic, departed. She thought about breathing and counted to one hundred and nothing more.

The voice that told her she was never going to be good enough shut up.

The voice who nagged that she was a failure for stopping at Inspector took a hike.

The voice who promised one day Holly would leave her vanished.

The voice who warned her that she wasn't fit to parent anyone absconded.

The voice who recommended she give it all up was gone.

There was just Gail. And there was just a moment where she could just be.

Things made sense now, decades in. She didn't have, nor did she have to have, all the answers. But Gail knew the path. Her feet had taken her on an unexpected journey, but now it was well worn and safe and understood.

Originally, Gail had planned to run away while in Europe. That had been the grand plan she'd come up with while napping off her hangover (alcoholic and emotional) following Nick leaving her at the altar. Steve thought she'd been sleeping, but it had all been a plot. Ask Elaine for five years. One to go to Europe and four to vanish.

The damned thing was Gail didn't do it. She'd had the ticket in hand, ready to trade it in and go to Austria and then beyond... And she didn't. Because after two months of hostels and shitty food and seeing the shit people did to each other, Gail felt like she really didn't belong anywhere. If she wasn't going to belong anywhere, it may as well be a place where she knew the rules of the game.

Being a cop, Gail knew the rules. She tripped and fell and screwed up, but being a cop was safe and easy. That was something she'd never tell Holly, that being a cop was safe. But for Gail it was. It was a steady rock, a reliable one, that she could hold fast and lean on. As much as it might have pained her to admit, Gail's parents served that purpose for her. They made it safe.

And now Gail got to do that for others. She was the reliable rock for her kid and that whole class. Officers and sergeants leaned on her. Everyone looked up to her, to Traci, to Dov, to Andy even. Hell, they looked at Chloe and Nick. And maybe the others understood the responsibility of their positions, but Gail suspected she was the only one who bore the full weight. After all, Andy's dad topped out as a detective. Maybe Chloe...

Okay, Chloe got it. Her mother had backed out of the job as a rook. Just like Gail, Chloe's policing lineage went back generations. They both grew up hearing the true stories. But where Gail had cautionary tales and death, Chloe had the best stories. The glory of policing is what Chloe heard. The tragedy was for Gail.

Pecks, man.

All too soon, the class was over. Gail sighed as the instructor lead them through one final pose, to reinvigorate them, and then dismissed them. She silently wiped off her mat, not engaging with the myriad soccer moms, and instead letting her thoughts come back to the here and now. The voices kept their distance as Gail allowed herself to process the real world.

Today was Holly's therapy session, so Gail should make her dinner. Rarely was Holly in a chatty mood after (fuck, no one really wanted to talk after all that feeling and talking), and she liked to just process. Sometimes her wife wanted to be alone, sometimes not. It was impossible to predict. Gail flipped her watch back to normal mode and saw a message from Holly saying she'd picked up some cookies from Bita's bakery.

She smiled.

Today was clearly going to be a together evening. Probably some good, deep couch sitting together, watching some dramady on the tube. Maybe a documentary.

Those were some of Gail's favorite evenings. Alone, together, not talking, and just being. And Holly? Well, Holly was the only person Gail saw herself being alone together with, and she was glad she'd found Holly.


Sometimes, even at her own apartment, sleep eluded Vivian. It was frustrating and annoying when it happened. Exhausted from her shift, she'd fallen into bed after a shower and dropped right to sleep, only to wake up not even an hour later. God fucking damn it.

Vivian stared at the ceiling. How the fuck was it still Tuesday? She should have slept for hours and maybe woken up at three or four. Maybe. Then she could at least go to the gym and climb the cliffhanger or the transverse wall. The rope climb.

It was barely eleven PM.

For fuck's sake.

After trying to sleep for a couple more hours, Vivian gave up. She picked up her phone and checked it for messages. Nada. Vivian sighed and texted Jamie.

You were right.

Because her girlfriend had suggested she go for a run or something after work. Get the last bit of energy out, tire her brain and body, relax, and then she might sleep soundly. Jamie understood Vivian's insomnia quite well, as it turned out. Better than Vivian seemed to know it herself, which was a little tragic when she thought about it. But Jamie's advice had been ignored and Vivian had tried to sleep and it was a total, total, failure.

Her phone vibrated in her hand.

I want to revel in my rightness, but that feels disrespectful.

It would be annoying.

Jamie sent a sad faced emoji. Vivian replied with an eyeroll. About ten minutes later, her phone buzzed again.

How about you unlock the door so I don't wake up your idiot roommate trying to pop the chain?

What? Vivian blinked and slipped out of bed, padding down to the door in the dark. She checked the peephole and saw the sheepishly smiling face of her girlfriend. And a new haircut. Sliding the chain off, Vivian opened the door. "You cut off all your hair," she said, stupidly.

What Vivian wanted to ask was why Jamie had shown up at almost midnight. Or maybe how she'd gotten here so fast. Possibly how she always knew what to say. And instead, Vivian winced as the damned 'here's your sign' moment popped out of her mouth and there it was. But Jamie had an adorable, short, totally tomboy haircut.

And Jamie just grinned, walking in and hanging up her coat. "I lost a bet."

"Huh." Vivian closed the door and locked it, trying to sort out how she felt beyond the the general adorableness. "It's like ... Did you go to a barber shop?"

"I did not!" The firefighter bounced on her toes and grabbed Vivian's hand. "Come on. I want to wash off the cut bits."

Feeling slightly stupider than normal, Vivian let Jamie drag her down the hall to her own room. "I feel like I'm starting in the middle of the fourth episode of a series," muttered Vivian.

"I lost a bet about the last call we took, so Jake did this at the station. We were going for beers when you texted, and I thought you'd like it..." Jamie paused and turned, suddenly looking concerned. "It's hair. It'll grow back."

Was this how Holly had felt, looking little dumbfounded when Gail had hacked off all her hair? For Vivian's life, Gail's hair had never passed her chin. The only proof she had that Gail had ever worn her hair long were photographs. Of course, they also showed a Gail with brown hair, black hair, pink hair, and countless shades of blonde and red.

Had Holly boggled at the sudden, unexpected, change? In her retellings of that night, Holly often blushed and gave Gail an embarrassed look. A shy look of remembering a difficult night that had irrevocably changed their lives. A snip of scissors, a drunken choice, and then a kiss that was a promise.

Not that Holly described it like that in Gail's presence. Even at her best, Gail was inclined to make fun of romance. She certainly loved Holly, but she wasn't the most in tune with her feelings. Not in the way one expressed them, at least. Which was why, when faced with romance and caring about people, Vivian went to Holly and asked what it was like. What liking someone was like. What falling in love was like.

Frankly, Vivian still wasn't sure she understood any of it. She had grown up seeing her mothers adoration for each other, the smiles and simple touches, reassuring the other that they were still present, wasn't something that came naturally to Vivian. Of course it wasn't for Gail either. And that worried Vivian when she noticed that, even with Jamie whom she certainly liked a great deal, she was not cuddly.

Then again, Gail had craved the compassion and contact of others. Holly had lived her whole life never knowing the arms-length distance that people could hold you, keeping you away from them and their hearts. And for Gail, Holly was a safe harbor, a place to heal and grow and become the person she'd always meant to be.

What was Vivian? What were she and Jamie? Who was she, who were they, and who would they be?

Chewing her lip, Jamie fell silent and waited. Nervous. Shy. Hopeful.

Just like Holly could be.

Just like Gail could be.

Just like Vivian could be.

Whatever this was, whatever they were, Vivian definitely didn't want it to end any time soon.

Vivian tilted her head and studied Jamie's bangs. "It's short," she remarked, trying not to grin. "Your helmet is gonna slide around."

Self-conscious, Jamie touched the top of her head. "Yeah... I'll wear a bandana or something."

"It's cute," said Vivian in her most deadpan.

Suddenly Jamie exhaled, relieved. "You are such a shit, Vivian."

"Yeah." She shrugged and reached over to run her hands through Jamie's hair. It was a little greasy and bits of hair stuck to her hands. "Ew... Okay, go shower. What the hell did Jake cut your hair with?"

"Dog clippers." Jamie sighed and Vivian kissed her softly. "How the hell are you so good at a poker face?"

"Practice." Grinning, Vivian closed her bedroom door. "Shower."

Jamie rolled her eyes and did as directed. Taking the time to wash the bits of hair off her hands, Vivian dug out the clothes Jamie liked to wear when spending the night. She fished Jamie's wallet, keys, and phone out of the jeans that her girlfriend had dropped on the window seat, almost absently tidying up.

"You know, you don't have to do that."

Not glancing up, Vivian put Jamie's phone on the nightstand to charge. "I know. But you're a slob." She grinned, trying to be dismissive, and then looked over.

"You like me." Jamie smiled, already half into her sleepwear, her hair sticking up all over the place. "The hair is really okay?"

"It's really okay." Vivian climbed into bed and wriggled her feet under the sheets, kicking them out for some freedom. "I kinda get why Mom loves when Gail gets a haircut."

The brunette joined her with a 'huh' sound. "You make your bed with fucking hospital corners."

"I do." Vivian switched off the light and stared at the ceiling. Her body was exhausted. Her brain simply refused to shut up. Jamie kissed her cheek and settled in to bed right away on what had become her side. She could hear Jamie's breathing quickly even out into the dead calming rhythm of sleep. Clearly the firefighter was exhausted.

The easy, natural, comfortable feeling with Jamie aside, Vivian sensed the tendrils of doubt inching their way across. Christian had mentioned it. Vivian hesitated and then rolled to her side to look at Jamie. The other girl slept on her side, curled and compact, as if used to sleeping in a small space. From others, Vivian knew she herself slept protectively wrapped around a pillow, blankets often discarded, feet and legs stuck out.

Which was why she always kicked the foot of her blankets free.

Vivian hesitantly reached over to touch Jamie's shoulder. The firefighter made a soft, pleased, sound. That was promising. She tentatively moved closer, wrapping an arm around Jamie's waist, snuggling close, trying not to be stiff or awkward.

"Wha're you doin?" Jamie's voice was thick and sleepy.

"Um. Cuddling?"

Jamie made a thoughtful noise. Then she asked, "Why?" When Vivian didn't answer right away, Jamie shifted and rolled over to look at her. "Hey, did you have a bad case?" Unspoken was the question of if that was why Vivian couldn't sleep.

Vivian shook her head and scooted back. "No. Well. Kinda weird. Convoluted. Complicated historically."

"Is Fifteen always like that?"

"Sometimes." Vivian sighed. "And ... Some of it's not my story. But... There's this woman, she used to be a CI. Criminal informant."

"I know what they are. I watch crime TV."

Vivian rolled her eyes a little. "Her daughter's been in and out of the system for years. Drugs. Prostitution. That kind of thing. And she's missing right now. And a minor. So we were out looking for her."

Her girlfriend huffed. "Okay." She studied Vivian's face in the dark. "You're not a cuddler, Peck."

With a deep sigh, Vivian shook her head. "I am not."

"So why are you trying?"

Vivian chewed her bottom lip. "Because... Um. Girls like cuddling?"

There was a weighty silence in the room. A little heavy. Vivian winced. Well, there went that relationship, she told herself.

And yet Jamie laughed softly, pressing her face into Vivian's near shoulder. "You are so weird, Viv." But it sounded like a good thing, a good laugh. A healthy laugh. And Jamie took pity on her. "I figured out you weren't the cuddling kinda girl pretty early on."

Scrunching up her face, Vivian mumbled. "Oh." Then she hesitantly ran a hand through Jamie's shorn hair.

Jamie sighed happily. Contentedly. "It's part of your mystique. Quiet. Broody. Not a huge touchy-feely kinda girl."

"I don't really get how those are good qualities," admitted Vivian.

"You do all these little things. Charge my phone. Fold my pants. Cook. Hell, you did my fucking laundry when I had that stupid ten day shit storm." As Jamie went on, Vivian frowned. Of course she'd done those things. That's what a person did for someone they liked. "You memorized my schedule practically right away, and not just so we could have sex. And yeah, I'd like it if you'd remember to call me after weird work shit or being shot at, but... I don't call you after every fire or cat up a tree."

"Do you really get cats out of trees?"

Jamie poked her ribs. "Not the point. You're a pretty awesome girlfriend. And I like that you're not a cuddler."

"Oh." Vivian frowned. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"I am not." Jamie's fingers found her face in the dark, caressing Vivian's jawline. "I'm going to kiss you, and I'm going to sleep because I'm dead ass tired."

"Okay, but—"

And Jamie kissed her. It was sweet and soft and calming. "Your brain needs to turn off," she said softly. "Hush."

Vivian closed her eyes and sighed. She knew that. She knew Jamie knew. This time Jamie didn't say anything. She kissed Vivian again, on the cheek, and the bed shifted as Jamie settled back down. Then Jamie reached over and took Vivian's hand, rubbing the muscles and tendons gently.

And then ... Weirdly then Vivian felt her eyelids get heavy. And she yawned. And she fell asleep with Jamie holding her hand.


The boring part of cases was going over the notes for trial. Sometimes it was awesome and Holly got to be an expert and flaunt her brilliance (yes, flaunt). Most of the time though...

At least doing it was Shay Peck was more entertaining. The firefighter was like Gail Light. Less snarky, less bitchy, and not nearly as dark and morbid. Privately, Holly wondered what would have happened if she'd run into Shay first. Probably nothing. Shay was too happy all the time. A Peck who'd been let loose to be herself by her parents, who grew to be herself.

Shay was practically Gail's age. In some alternate universe, they would have grown up as near sisters, navigating the perils of Peck together. Maybe they would have gone to Europe together for that backpacking trip Gail took after the fiasco with Nick. Maybe there would never have been Nick. Maybe Shay wouldn't have been quite so ostracized by their family for being gay.

That was a story Shay had told Vivian, who had asked why Shay rarely came to the few Peck events that Gail deigned to attend. The innocent child had asked if it was because the Peck was firefighter, and Shay had laughed. It was because Shay had come out as a lesbian at the age of twelve. That was when Shay knew, with unerring certainty, that she was totally gay. And eleven year old Vivian had looked at Holly, perplexed, and pointed out that no one cared about Gail and Holly being gays.

It had taken a while to untangle things and explain that times had changed. Shay helped by pointing out that Gail's father never showed up at the events primarily because Gail was in love with a woman. Vivian had sneered her disapproval of such narrow thinking, declared it stupid, and asked Shay if she knew how to play basketball, because her moms sucked at it.

The simplicity of children.

None of that really mattered. Holly liked the Peck she'd gotten. Seeing Gail grow into someone else while not losing an ounce of herself had been beautiful and wonderful.

Also Gail handled court a hell of a lot better. Holly pressed two fingers to her head. "Shay, you have to give it to them concisely."

Her cousin-in-law threw her hands up. "But you asked a complicated question! You know how many times we had to rebuild that stupid fire starter! And why do I have to explain it if your stupid kid came up with it?"

"You're the expert," said Holly, wearily. "And two bucks in the jar for using 'stupid' twice."

Shay cursed, a little more inventively, and dropped a toonie in the cup. "How much am I out?"

"Total? $33. You really should be more imaginative." Holly smiled. "Captain Peck, can you please explain how this, so called, trigger was invented?"

Flipping Holly off, Shay closed her eyes and recited the information. "Officer Peck came up with the idea of a fire starter created from the parts of Volvos being retrofitted for clean fuel. A trigger."

Four hours later, after she and Shay were prepped by the detectives, the crowne's office, and everyone else in the free world, Holly was starving, almost $50 richer, and wanting a nap. And there was a knock at the door. "Dr. Stewart? There's someone here to see you."

Holly groaned at her administrative assistant. "Ruth, unless someone's dead, I'm busy." Beside her, Shay snorted.

But Ruth cracked the door open and stuck her hand in, holding a box. No. Not Ruth's hand. She knew that pale, pale, hand. "Shay, did she eat?"

"Nope." Shay popped the P just like Gail did.

With a grin, Gail poked her head around. "I come bearing lunch for both of you. Thanks, Ruth."

Shay stood up. "I'll take mine to go. No offense, Doc, but my head hurts." Taking her lunch and her coat as she passed by Gail, Shay said something quietly in French as she ducked out.

As the door closed, Holly frowned. "Shay speaks French?"

"She's the second smartest Peck," said Gail, dismissively. "Third, after Viv." Gail tilted her head and studied Holly curiously. "Thank you."

Holly blinked. "Me? What on earth for?"

"Shay's shit at court. She said she feels okay about this one." Gail put the food down and opened it up, letting the smell of fresh cooked lamb fill the room. Fresh vegetables. Greens. A balanced brain meal.

The growl from Holly's stomach made her blush. "Oh well." She reached over and took a piece of meat and popped it in her mouth.

"Don't dismiss it, Holly. You're pretty awesome."

"I'm pretty cranky. I just want to go up, tell them the answers, and off to the Penny for celebratory drinks. The prep work is boring."

Gail sighed. "God I know. And it's a mess on my side too." Startling slightly, Gail lifted her wrist to read her watch. "And it's still a mess."

"I take it this isn't a meal with me?"

"Mm. No, this is me making sure the smartest woman in the province has been fed." Gail leaned over the arm of the couch and kissed Holly's cheek. "I've got to talk to Swarek."

Holly sighed. "Lucky you. Can I get a real kiss?"

Gail's eyes brightened and she obliged, her lips lingering long enough to warm Holly to her toes. "Better?"

"I'm not cranky anymore." Holly smiled up at Gail. "Go solve crime."

"If only. It's the ETF shuffling. TwentySeven wants to be the call center, and Sam's making a pitch that the Safary bombings happen more in his territory." Gail rolled her eyes and plucked a piece of lamb from the carton. "Fucked up."

"Safary. I thought he left." Holly had worked a handful of the mad bomber's cases over the years. He wasn't inventive, though most bombers tended to use their tried and true methods for rather obvious reasons. Don't fuck around with bombs.

"Eh. He comes and goes. Remember the bomb at the zoo a couple years ago?" When Holly nodded, Gail went on. "That was him. No tagging, but he doesn't when it's a demo bomb."

"A bomber who does proof of concept." He was incredibly precise and reliable. How annoying.

Gail nodded. "The Mounties figured he was using Toronto to test out new plans. The actual bomb that matched that one was in Mississauga though. Close enough."

Holly sighed. "Well. Anything good? Like have you found Sadie's daughter?"

"Nope." Gail got up and stretched. "It's weird that I'm not freaking out about this?"

Because two years ago, Gail had freaked out about Vivian who wasn't missing at all. And here was a girl who was missing. "I think Vivian wore out your worry parts."

The blonde looked thoughtful. "Don't that beat all. Okay. Try to do something sciencey this afternoon. You'll feel better."

"Go solve a crime, honey." She watched Gail head back out and sighed. So many reasons to adore her wife, and right now Holly was enamored of the fact that Gail had brought her lunch.

It really was the little things like that what made her day. She smiled and tucked into her lunch, enjoying the hell out of the good food. Was this the secret to longevity? A long life and happiness from someone who did the small things. The secret of life. Or a healthy relationship. The proof of a life well lived.

Absently, Holly looked at her desk and smiled at the photos of her family. She'd put a new one up, of adult Vivian at Gail's fiftieth birthday with her arms around Gail and Holly, mugging it for the camera. That had to be the right answer. The surest sign of a good life was the mark a person left on the universe. Holly's was there, in Vivian, but also in the hundreds of cases she'd closed over the years.

Of course... There was that one. Holly glanced at the bookshelf, where she had a whole row given up to the unsolved. A poisoning, a stabbing, and of course that stupid head bashing case. Holly sighed and put the fork down.

That case. It haunted her, and not in the sexy/cool artistic way. That case never woke her up in the middle on the night and it didn't linger like the painful memories in Gail's past seemed to. But still. It bugged the hell out of her.

Holly shook her head and slumped on her couch. Her lack of empathy had contributed to her choice in medical careers. Not that Holly didn't care about people. She did. She just didn't seem to have it in her to empathize with people who did stupid things. Her ER rotation had been a blast.

In a way, that was why she loved Gail so much. There was a woman who hated people and yet cared about them so much she continued to give her life for them. For people who often hated her too. The dichotomy of it all confused so many people, but for Holly it made sense. She cared. And she gave. And she did it entirely on her own terms. Holly loved her for that. For just the magical ability to be Gail amidst every single storm and remain herself while changing and growing.

Growing.

Changing.

Holly sat bolt upright.

"What if there's more than one active at a time?" She jumped to her feet and skidded around her desk, bumping her hip as she caromed off the side. "Holy shit. That could explain why we can't find a solid fucking time line."

Firing up her computer, Holly re-ran the dates for the attacks, the deaths, and their presumed weapons. The timeline for head bashings just got a whole lot messier.


The nights Holly locked herself in their office to think were much odder now that Vivian had moved out. Before, Gail had been able to distract herself from wanting to distract her wife by being a mom. And she didn't want to distract Holly, she just wanted to know what her wife was doing and thinking and why. The problem with that was it drove Holly up the wall.

So when Gail came home and found the office door closed, she suspected her wife was deep in the middle of something. Instead of bothering her, Gail locked her gun and badge away in the smaller safe in the bedroom and went downstairs. She was perfectly capable of entertaining herself for a night, even three when the situation called for it.

Tonight wasn't one of the nights Gail really wanted to be alone.

She hadn't been taking the Maisie situation personally all day. Sadie had never been one of Gail's CIs, and in fact she'd barely spoken to the woman. The fact that Sadie had been one of Jerry's CI, and had run into trouble while Gail was still in the hospital, had just been what it was. She never dwelled on it.

As she packed up and headed for the day, Gail had run into her own kid up on the third floor, talking seriously with Trujillo about the court case for the arson. It struck Gail in that moment by the realization that her kid was who she was because of her.

And it was stupid. Of course Vivian was formed by Gail's influence. That was practically the definition of parenting. But then and there she was held tight by a bit more memory than she'd expected. Had Maisie followed Sadie's less than reputable footsteps? Was Sadie's constant slipping in sobriety due to the removal of Jerry's influence? And was that Gail's fault? Instead of talking to her daughter, though, Gail had half smiled and left the young cop to do her job. Her plan had been to talk to Holly when she got home, but that was decidedly disrupted by her wife's dedication.

Not that she'd blame Holly for that. Hell, Gail loved Holly for her devotion and obsession to her work. That keen mind and sharp wit that never stopped putting puzzles together was beautiful. Even when that puzzle was named Gail Peck, Holly cared a great deal and put her back together again every time she broke.

Her watch vibrated, startling her out of her thoughts.

I need a drink without spouses.

The text was from her sister-in-law and best friend. Gail smiled sadly. Of course Traci was also thinking about Jerry today.

Holly's locked in the office.

Perfect. I'll meet you at the Oyster.

Gail left a note for Holly, and a reminder to eat, and went out to the Oyster Bar. Which never served oysters. Or fish for that matter. It was a quiet bar, one the detectives frequented now and then, but it wasn't a cop bar. It was a grown up spy bar, or at least that's how Gail thought of it. No one who wasn't some kind of non-uniformed investigator was amongst the regulars. Arson, drugs, Mounties, the random FBI and CIA agent... It was a safe bar. No unis allowed. No wives either.

Seated at a booth was Traci, halfway through a glass of red wine and with a plate of fries and mini burgers waiting. "Trace, if we weren't married to awesome people, I'd marry you right now." Gail dropped into the other side of the booth and inhaled half of a burger. "So good," she mumbled around the food.

"Holly's still got you eating super healthy?"

Gail rolled her eyes and swallowed the rest of her food. "Mom's second heart attack hasn't helped. Doesn't matter my cholesterol is fucking awesome."

Traci smiled. "Elaine scared the hell out of Steve. He's still running every morning. You know he's in better shape then when he was a cop?"

"Not like it takes much."

"The both of you are so incredibly immature and lazy." Traci laughed and bit into her burger more demurely.

"School of Peck. We rebel how we can." Gail inhaled a second burger and sighed happily. She rarely got the chance to eat greasy bar food in peace.

Her friend rolled her eyes but they ate and sipped decent red wine in silence. Finally they made it through the plate and Traci huffed. "You're not going to ask."

Gail shook her head. "Do I need to?"

Traci shook her head, though not the same way as Gail had. "Andy mentioned it."

"She would." Gail sighed. All this time and Andy still had blind spots when thinking about death. Then again, no one that close to Andy had ever died, had they? Not a fiancé for sure. The closest she came to death was Nick dry firing a gun. "I was there when the case came in."

"Keep me off it on purpose?"

"We don't do missing persons, Trace." Gail picked up a fry and gestured with it. "I should have told her to shut up."

The other detective looked down at her glass of wine. "It still hurts, thinking about it."

People always thought that Gail was the cold fish who kept herself bottled up. But really, Gail wore her heart on her sleeve and it was Traci who blockaded hers from everyone. When Jerry died, Traci had only one friend to lean on. One friend who turned out to be able to push past her own pain and be a friend.

Okay, so Gail was trying to avoid dealing with her own issues, but still. That one afternoon had forged a friendship between them that would probably withstand everything. They didn't have to talk. They knew the agony.

"What Sadie did isn't our fault," Gail said quietly.

Traci blinked. "Huh. I wasn't..." She stopped and looked thoughtful. "It is, though." Before Gail could deny it, Traci pointed out a sad truth. "I barely got out bed for days, Gail. I left Jerry's briefcase in my car—"

"No. Jerry left his briefcase in your car."

Because Jerry was the one who couldn't figure out the fucking iPhone. And Jerry was the one who didn't radio in an address. And Jerry was the one who would have done it for anyone, any officer, walking into the unknown without backup on a hunch.

Because that's exactly who and what Jerry was. He would give up everyone and everything to save a friend.

Traci exhaled and nodded. "I know."

"I know," mimicked Gail. "That's my song and dance, Trace. Stop stealing my moves."

Her friend's lips quirked up into a sad smile. "Sorry."

"Good." Gail chomped down a fry. "I miss him, too."

"I just keep thinking, you know? If Jerry was alive, Sadie wouldn't have gone back to dealing. And maybe Maisie..."

Gail shook her head. "I can't believe this, but I got you beat here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Cause my kid followed me."

Confused, Traci stared at Gail for a while. "Oh," she said, surprised. That was one of the best things about Traci. Gail didn't have to spell it all out. "God, I'm glad Leo went into computers."

"Wish Viv had," said Gail in a quiet admission. "But. Our kids do what we do. They see us, they learn from us."

Traci snorted. "Dex is useless, Captain of the Universe is ..." She trailed off and looked shocked. "Oh my god. Steve is good with computers."

"I think," Gail said slowly. "If he hadn't been a cop, he'd do something like Leo." Growing up, Steve had been a computer nerd. Not the kind who locked himself up and pretended to be a goblin queen. No, Steve loved screwing around with videos and security systems. It was enough like Peck business that their parents had allowed it.

"Makes sense why he likes his new job."

Gail winced. "Good." Her heart wasn't in the word.

Of course Traci noticed. "You miss him a lot."

"My whole life, Trace. He had my back. Every day. Every step of the way..." She sipped her wine. "After..." Gail waved a hand to indicate Jerry and Perik. "After, I used to go sleep on his couch instead of at home. I'd go out with Nick, and then be terrified of sleeping at his place."

Traci reached over and touched Gail's hand. "Gail."

"I know. This is about him, Trace, and I'm fine with it. Just ... Did you realize I'm the oldest Peck on the force now?"

She watched the wheels turn in Traci's head before shock settled across her friend's face. With a 'cheers' motion, Gail lifted her drink. Traci winced, and said, "Shit... I better retire before you."

Gail nearly snorted her wine out her nose.


"How does a junkie get a job at an antique shop?"

"It's an auctioneer's." Vivian blew on her hands, replying to Rich out of rote, as opposed to actually thinking about what he said. That was the best way to deal with Rich, she'd learned. And of all the rookies, she probably got along with him the best. How terrifying.

Rich leaned on the counter. "What's the difference?"

Looking at her partner thoughtfully, Vivian registered that he was asking sincerely. "Well. An antique shop doesn't haggle for one. They just sell old shit. An auction house is where people bid on weird stuff that may or may not be old." She tilted her head. "Why don't you ever just google this stuff?"

"It's easier asking you." He shrugged. "You're pretty smart, Princess."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Asshole."

"What? You're like having a search engine that doesn't need a good signal. You know bits of everything." He nodded, as if sure he was complimenting her. "Bet you're a demon at Trivial Pursuit."

She was. But that was Dov's fault. He loved those stupid games, and she remembered many nights with him and Chloe playing trivia. He'd often double her babysitting fee if she could beat him.

Thankfully she was spared having to divulge that as the owner came up. "Officers. Sorry about that. Maisie isn't here today. Which ..." He paused and frowned. "Is this about her being underage? Look, I know it's technically illegal, but I never let her work a full week."

Vivian and Rich shared a glance. He nodded at her. "You knew she was underage?"

"Yeah." The owner winced. "Look, have you met her mom?"

"Can't say as I have," said Vivian calmly.

"Sadie's a piece of work." He shook his head. "That kid has been in and out of trouble since I met her, trying to nick some jewelry. I told her she could work here if she stayed clean."

That part, Vivian knew. She'd checked Maisie's record. "Awfully nice of you. Hiring her off the record."

It had taken them two days to even figure out that Maisie had a job. They'd only twigged on to it when they tossed her room and found the money and card. Frankly, Vivian had guessed Maisie was stealing from them, or worse. This was positively mundane.

The owner shrugged. "My old man ... Well." He shook his head. "Maisie's a good kid."

"She's missing," said Vivian softly. The man's eyes lit up, worried. "Underage kid, secret job, drugs... You see where we're worried." And she waited.

He nodded, almost dumbly. Then he panicked. "Wait a second! You don't think that I...? Oh hell no, come on. I'm not into kids like that!"

While people joked that those who protested too much were guilty, this was often not the case. There was a look people got, one Elaine had drilled into Vivian from long before the time she'd publicly announced her intentions to be a cop and a Peck. The look of liars, the look of the scared, the abused, the venal, the entitled.

This was a scared, innocent, man.

Vivian exhaled and nodded at Rich. Her partner looked suspicious, but nodded back. After the idiocy almost two years ago, Rich always deferred to her in the field. "Do you work with her a lot?"

"Cora works with her more. She's my assistant manager."

"Can... We'd like to speak to her, then." Recently, Gail had gotten on her case about asking suspects things. Don't ask to see things, tell them things. Tell, don't ask. Though every time Gail said that, Holly would snicker. They were old enough to remember "don't ask, don't tell" whereas she was not.

The owner nodded and brought them to the back, where Cora was as useful as a fart in a storm. Her go-to answer was "I don't know" with a dash of "Gosh!" Eventually the owner left them alone to try and help her remember anything that might possibly be relevant, but so far it was useless.

As she landed on Vivian's last nerve, Rich spoke up. "How long have you been using?"

Vivian's head snapped around. What the what?

But Cora turned bright red.

Well damn.

Cora twitched in her seat. "It's not what you think."

"We know Maisie uses," Rich said calmly. "She's been in and out for years. She your supplier?" Silent, Cora nodded. "When's your next drop off?"

In a small voice, Cora replied, "This afternoon."

Rich nodded. "We'll be here."

It was definitely a reversal of their roles, and it worked. Vivian left Rich to watch Cora while she called the detectives to explain the situation. The agreed to let the two low-key stay on site to pick up Maisie for dealing, as having backup might scare her off. In order to keep a low profile, they hid in the office with Cora and waited.

"Remind me again why I thought this life was glamorous?" Rich handed over the sandwiches he'd picked up. Since Vivian had to escort Cora to the bathroom, he had to do food runs.

"Television and movies. Same as Lara." Vivian checked her turkey club sandwich and removed the tomatoes.

Rich grunted and sat down. "You allergic?"

"Nah. Just not a fan." Glancing at Cora, who picked at her chips, Vivian smiled.

Her partner pushed the sandwich closer to Cora and spoke. "You should eat. You'll feel better."

Cora eyed him. "Really?"

"You're not high now. You can't be shaking yet. Get some food in you."

Later, Vivian was going to have to ask Rich why he knew so much about drug users. It was like Gerald. The man had unexpected depths.

Vivian was distracted from that thought by Cora's phone buzzing. "I got it," said Vivian softly. She picked up the phone and read the text. "Bat time?"

The junkie manager nodded. "She means same Bat time, um. It's an old show—"

"Batman, the 1960s show. Yeah I know." Vivian gestured to the phone. "What's the reply?"

Cora sighed. "Roger Robin." When Vivian waited, she frowned. "Lower case roger. I use the red bird emoji. Then I delete it. Happy?"

"Thank you." Vivian tapped the reply and put the phone in her pocket, on silent. She wondered why they didn't use burners, but criminals were, apparently, stupid. "What time is bat time?"

"Half past. I meet her by the loading docks. This is when the trucks are all out, see... We have the schedule." Cora pointed at a piece of paper.

Vivian took a photo and sent it to the detectives, not terribly sure it mattered, but impressed nonetheless. "Finish up your sandwich, Richie."

"I'll save half for later."

"Where? In your pocket?" And her horror, she watched Rich put the half of his sandwich, wrapped, in a thigh pocket. "You will never get the smell out."

"It's just turkey club." Rich smirked and Vivian rolled her eyes. "She's right, Cora. You should try to finish."

Cora shook her head. "I'll puke. How can you two joke?"

Shrugging, Vivian swallowed the last of her lunch. "We do this a lot."

"Arrest people and make them turn in their friends?"

Vivian glanced at Rich. "Arrest? Did we?"

"I didn't. What would we arrest her for?"

The assistant manager looked lost. "For ... Buying drugs?"

"Hearsay," said Vivian, firmly. "Inverse bravado."

Rich nodded. "I mean, you don't have anything on you. And we're just dropping you off at rehab later, right?"

In silent, Cora looked from Rich to Vivian and back again. Finally she spoke. "Oh." Her voice was soft and low. "We should... Go."

They walked out to the back docks, Rich and Vivian lingering a bit behind. It wasn't like they were looking for a hardened criminal, after all. And, as expected, Maisie barely checked the area before coming out to talk to Cora.

The moment she did, Rich and Vivian stepped out. "Hey, Maisie," said Rich.

"Shit!" Maisie turned to run, only to find herself facing a grinning Vivian.

Finally, she'd managed to pull off a Gail move! "Don't run. There's no point." But Maisie started to move. "For crying out loud," said Vivian, under her breath. "Maisie, come on." She grabbed Maisie's arm, holding it in a vise grip.

"I'm not goin' to jail!"

Rich rolled his eyes. "You know, I'd be more upset that your mom's gonna kick your ass."

"You called my mom!"

The hilarity of it would entertain the division later. Vivian shook her head. "Your mom called us. Give me the drugs, Maisie. We'll go the Division, you go to rehab, everything's fine."

They could get away with that. They'd cut Maisie off before she'd said anything about selling the drugs, which meant they didn't have to arrest her. Evidence of carrying was one thing. Selling was different (and worse).

Maisie kept arguing though, as Vivian tried to steer her towards their car. She barely listened to the delinquent. Instead she was distracted by a smell. And that wasn't the sort of thing she'd tell Rich, who would tease her like hell for it. Still, there was a funny smell. Vivian frown and sniffed the air. She couldn't quite place it. Gail had teased her about being a super sniffer kind of person, which she wasn't, but she could smell 'something' that was tickling a memory. Scent memory. Burning. Metal.

Shit!

The smells clicked.

Vivian grabbed Maisie, drugs spilling out of her purse onto the ground, and dragged her away from the building. "Rich! Call in 10-45! And get the fuck out of there!"

Her partner stared at her, dumbfounded, and then moved. God bless him. "Dispatch, 4765. 10-45, repeat 10-45!"

They each shoved the drug addled woman, Vivian holding Maisie's arm firmly while Rich grabbed Cora. They had just cleared the loading dock when the explosion stunned them all, sending the quartet to the asphalt.


Destruction. Wanton destruction.

The building had come down in chunks and pieces and flakes and broken antiques. Well. Antique was clearly in the eye of the beholder, she realized, stepping around a case of hitherto unopened ... Was that Canada Dry? Oh it was the original bottles, too. Who the hell saved that?

"Man that is a lot of loose investments," muttered Ben.

"Makes me glad I invested in a house," said Holly. She looked around, taking in the measure of things.

Ben huffed. "Is it true your wife blew up a car once?"

That memory, for some reason, didn't haunt her as much as it should. "True. Most stories involving Gail tend to be." She frowned to herself. Why did that not bother her any more? At the time, she'd been so overwhelmed it had taken weeks to break down about it. Now it was just a story that ended with an eyeroll and a smile.

"Sorry," said Ben, maybe sensing a misstep. "I shouldn't... I mean, that's your wife."

"Oh, and that was my kid." She pointed back to where Vivian sat by the ambulance, quite alive. "You get used to it, I guess." Holly shook her head and walked over to the ETF group. "Hello, Sue. Are we clear?"

Lt. Sue Tran was dressed in her normal gear, no extra padding or protection. A good sign. "Hey, Holly. Almost. I want to be safe enough that I'm not fearing the wrath of Peck." She paused. "Your kid was not my fault."

Waving her hand, Holly dismissed her friend's concern. "If anything she's my fault. I'm the one who insisted we became foster parents." That was an old joke at home, often whipped out by Gail when Vivian was being particularly stubborn. Usually related to showers. "How much longer?"

"Couple minutes." Sue grinned.

"Alright... Ben, stay here and watch our kits."

Her field tech nodded, confused, and Holly walked back towards the ambulances. There sat her kid, dusty and relatively unharmed, talking on the phone to someone. Holly arched an eyebrow as she came up, catching Vivian's eye. "Oh, hang on a sec?" Vivian tapped her phone and then spoke directly to Holly. "Hey, I'm fine. Should I call...?"

"I think she'd appreciate it." Holly paused. "Wait, who are you on the phone with?"

Vivian stared at her phone for a moment. "Jamie?"

Not terribly long ago, Gail had wondered aloud as to when it might be that Vivian called someone else first. What a strange feeling to have that become a reality. Well. At least Vivian had learned from being shot at. "Then yes, please tell your mother that you're alright."

Sheepish, Vivian nodded. "I will, but I'll be right over as soon as Mac takes Maisie in."

"Oh! You found her?"

"Yeah, saved her... Can you wait a second?" When Holly nodded, Vivian tapped on her phone. "Hey, sorry. Dr. Stewart is here... What? Well I'm at work!"

Holly rolled her eyes. "Honestly, just tell her it's me." As Vivian ignored her, Holly texted Gail, informing her their child was fine. Right away, Gail replied that Sue had told her already. Holly smiled and told Gail that Vivian was talking to Jamie. That got a thumbs up from Gail, but that was all. The detective was probably neck deep in drama already.

Vivian snorted. "Yeah, well, just for future reference, your boss is Lt. Peck, not cousin Shay when we're in the job. I'll call you later? ... Uh huh, as long as I'm not stuck here all day. Okay, bye." Her daughter hung up and tucked her phone away. Holly cleared her throat. "Oh. Sorry." The phone came back out and Vivian tapped in a message.

"Really? You're not calling her?"

"No, she already knows. I mean, Trujillo's over there already."

She was? Holly looked over and saw Lucinda Trujillo, one of Gail's relatively new young favorites, talking to ... Oh. "Ah. Abercrombie has two ladies over there."

Without looking up, Vivian explained. "The twitchy, skinny blonde in handcuffs is Maisie. The short brunette is Cora, her ... Associate. Rich is trying to get Cora into rehab."

"Dare I ask why Maisie is in handcuffs?"

"Same reason I'm over here." Vivian held a hand up, lightly bandaged. "She bit me. Mac gave me a tetanus shot." Holly smothered a laugh, causing her daughter to look indignant.

She was spared having to apologize by Rich coming up. "Hey, Peck. Mac wants both of 'em to go to the hospital. Oh... Dr. Stewart." Rich straightened up and tried to look taller. He was barely an inch over Vivian. It was hilarious.

"Officer Hanford. Are your, er, arrestables alright?"

Vivian wrinkled her nose. "Cora too?"

"Yeah, the DT shakes are gonna kick in soon. Trujillo wants one of us to ride back with the them." Rich glanced over at ETF and smirked. "I'm not into bombs."

"And Lt. Tran is married."

"Yeah, but Trujillo isn't." Rich made finger guns at Vivian and walked back to the ambulances.

Holly couldn't help it. She laughed. "Oh my god, I'm having a college flashback. Lisa used to do that."

Her child startled. "Aunt Lisa used to do finger guns?"

"The '90s were a dark time, honey. How are you getting back?"

Vivian pulled the keys from her belt. "You don't think I let Rich drive?"

Actually Holly had always wondered how cops decided who would drive and who wouldn't. She had long assumed Gail intimidated most of them, or was too lazy to care. Probably both. "You beat Gail's score on the closed course," said Holly, thoughtfully and she started walking back to the others.

Grinning ear to ear, Vivian fell into step with her. It was not unnoticed by Holly that Vivian altered the length of her stride to match Holly's, even though she had a couple extra inches. Vivian had always been quietly considerate like that. Like Holly. "I did. I did beat Mom's score." With a grin that was pure Gail, Vivian added. "It's still the top score. Mom tried to beat it last summer."

That was news to Holly. The part that Gail had tried again, at least, was news. "I'm not surprised. You have better reflexes." The rookie looked like she was on cloud nine from the compliment.

Sue did not look surprised to see them as they walked up. "Peck and Stewart ride again."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Be glad you're not suffering through a triple Peck." Sue looked suitably scared. "Building clear yet?"

Recovering nicely, the ETF head nodded. "Yes, building is solid as a rock. The damage was mostly to the crates on the dock and ... Well you've got to see this." Sue led them over to the docks. It was worse there.

Ben looked back. "How the hell did stuff get blown out all the way to the front?"

"Shockwaves. The blast was a sculpted one. Shaped to take out two directions." As she spoke, Sue gestured with her hands. "First, the primary direction would be here, on the loading dock. It blew down two crates, shattering and ..." Sue pointed down. "Well. Revealing."

Looking down, Holly startled and stared. "Are you kidding me?" The dock was covered in drugs. Baggies and baggies of drugs.

"The pills over there are from Maisie. The baggies though... High end stuff." Vivian had her hands on her belt, looking exceptionally nonplussed.

Ben swore. "I'm calling for backup."

"Good idea..." Holly shook her head. But Sue was still grinning. And Holly knew her way too well to let that slide. "Okay, Tran. What's the punchline?"

Sue pointed at one half blasted crate. "See for yourself."

Trusting the scene was clear (neither Sue nor Vivian were dumb enough to incur the wrath of Peck), Holly slipped on shoe covers and stepped around the drugs to the last crate. "Huh," she said softly, seeing the body within. "Why is a crash test dummy inside a packing crate with a shitty footstool?"

In the tone of absent correction, learned from Gail, Vivian spoke up. "It's early American. 19th century. Averages $1000 each right now. Not super expensive, and kinda popular." When Holly shot her a glare, Vivian shrugged. "I googled it."

"Show off." Ben grinned and tossed Vivian some booties. "You guys contaminate our scenes?"

"No, the drugs we spilled before the bomb." Vivian gestured. "I was trying to get Maisie off the docks." Sue looked thoughtful and gestured for Vivian to continue. "I smelled the bomb, we called in the 10-45, we got over by the dumpster. That was when Maisie bit me. She was trying to make a break for it."

"Smelled?" Ben frowned. "You smelled the bomb?"

Vivian nodded. "Not the explosives... The way you make a bomb, y'know, it has a unique scent. The oils have to be different so you don't accidentally trigger it. You can't not use some, since sparks are bad, and so is heat, so they smell real unique."

There was a long, thoughtful, look from Ben. "Shit. Can you tell the components here?" He pulled out a device called the Cyranose 200 and waved it at her. "Tran, I'm borrowing her."

"She's not mine, she's Trujillo's." Sue smiled. "Where is our detective?"

Vivian jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Trujillo's with the owner and the staff. She wanted one of us to follow the bombs." She paused. "Would it help the case?"

Shaking her head, Holly pulled on her gloves. "No, but Ben may try and kidnap you later for sniff tests." She poked at the dummy, trying to figure out why the hell it might be there in the first place. It didn't look like it was packed the same way as the bomb. The material didn't match at all.

While she poked and prodded at the evidence, she heard Vivian speak. "Lieutenant, are you sure the charge was shaped?"

"Got a better explanation for the blow through?" When Vivian didn't answer right away, Sue went on. "Charge was set for minimum loss of life."

"A considerate bomber," said Ben quietly as he took photos. "I'm glad motive isn't my job."

Vivian scratched out notes onto her logbook. "How long until we know what kind of bomb it was?"

Picking up a bit of shrapnel, Holly shrugged. "The wood muffled things, causing more internal damage. But I think you're right, Sue. The bomb was for show. It was meant to bring attention rather than kill." Holly glanced up and saw Vivian pressing her lips tightly together. She had a thought and was trying valiantly to keep it to herself. It reminded Holly of what she'd do when faced with similar circumstances.

"Wonder what the show is." Ben looked thoughtful.

"Well that's for Trujillo," said Sue, firmly. "Scene is clear, when you have it all in the lab, I'll come by and help you nitpick if you need it. You stay here, Rookie, report to Trujillo."

As Sue left, Vivian scratched the back of her head, scowling just like Gail did when frustrated. "Don't let it get you down," said Holly, smiling.

"It's not that... Something about the bomb feels funny. Off. Like ... Like I should know it."

Holly shook her head. "Honey. This is just the first day of the rest of your life. Don't rush it."

With a deep sigh, Vivian nodded.


It had taken years of practice, but Gail could throw a pen over her shoulder and hit the same spot on the photo of her mother that hung on the wall. In her defense, Elaine hated that photo and suggested the game one afternoon, working in Gail's office Gail on an old case.

Rarely did Gail work on cold cases, but that one had been an unsolved murder her mother had picked up in her detective days. Gail had stumbled onto it when the murder weapon was found in a home remodel, stashed in the wall behind the insulation. They called in the original detective and, for the only time in their lives, mother and daughter worked on a case together. And solved it.

Still, Elaine had been horrified to see the picture, and one of Bill, hanging on the wall. When Gail had gone to get lunch, she'd come back to find goofy glasses drawn on both her parent's pictures, and blacked out teeth. After she stopped laughing, she asked Elaine what she was supposed to do now, and Elaine suggested target practice.

And so it was.

Not that Gail did it often, but when she tried to understand some cases and they eluded her, well, target practice was it.

"Nice shot, boss," said Trujillo, hesitantly.

"Practice." She stood up and pulled the pen out from Paper Elaine's eye. "Run it again. Start with the drugs."

There was a pause and the sound of someone tapping on a tablet. "The drugs have been traced back to a case Swarek's running. Looks like they're the missing shipments, which he's followed up the chain to the shipping company. They were clean before, so he thinks they were lying."

Gail nodded. "Let him chew that bone." Sam was good at that sort of thing. No point in impeding him. "And the crash test dummy?"

"Dr. Stewart found shock patches on it. Her current theory... Um ... " Trujillo stopped.

"Yes?"

"It's just... I mean. She didn't tell you?"

Gail shook her head. "Haven't talked to her today." Not about the case, at least. They'd chatted about their daughter and her birthday presents and her girlfriend. Holly hadn't felt the need to unpack her head. "Also this is me wanting to see how you think, Lucinda Maria. Diga me, por favor."

Her young detective nodded. Lucinda Maria Trujillo was barely older than Gail had been when she'd earned her gold badge but, unlike Gail, Lucinda was a little more nervous around a boss. "Okay. So ... Right. Dr. Stewart's theory was that someone was testing either what happens when you ship a person or what happens when you blow them up. And she said, ah, the how is her business. Why is mine."

That was Holly, alright. She rarely cared why people committed crimes, and in fact was happier not knowing motives. "Okay. So given those two possibilities, what do you think?"

"Human smuggling versus bomb testing?" Trujillo frowned. "I think it's a trifecta."

Gail arched her eyebrows. "Go on."

"The drugs we know are related to Swarek's case. The trace on the dummy isn't back yet, but I think once we exclude everything local, all we'll find is the bomb, and that's a red herring." Trujillo sucked her lower lip. "I think the owner was doing a dry run."

"You think the bomb was unrelated?"

"To the dummy. But it's something Peck said. She said..." Trujillo tapped on her tablet. "The way the charge blew, it was aimed at the shipping. Lt. Tran thought it was shaped, but Peck said it she thought it was aimed somewhere else. If they'd wanted to blow the box with the dummy, to see how much damage you could do to a dummy, then you'd want it closer."

It was a sound theory. "So Peck thinks the bomb was meant to ..."

"Reveal the dummy? It really depends on what the trace says."

"Well." Gail sighed. "So what's the point of the dummy?"

Lucinda Trujillo exhaled. "Larry Smith. All his staff are young. Like 20s. They're all college dropouts. Half are on drugs. Low key shit. And he's from Eastern Europe."

"With a name like Smith?"

"Name used to be Saar. Estonian." Trujillo smiled. "And they're having a revolution."

Interesting theory. Gail leaned back in her chair. "Where was the dummy shipped from?"

"Georgia. The country."

"Similar... Okay. You hunt that down. Give Simmons all the information on the bomb." When Trujillo looked disappointed, Gail smirked. "He's got a lot more info on bombs, Lucinda. You figure out what they were shipping, he'll help you queue up why it got blown. If the bomber was going after Smith at all. If they were going after the drugs, John's right for cross divisions. Go. Write it up, gnaw that bone down."

It didn't seem to excite Trujillo much. "Yes, ma'am."

Ah. Children. Gail didn't take Lucinda's despondency too seriously. She was probably on the best part of the case anyway. The owner was definitely shady.

Gail shook her head and opened her email again, checking into see what new information had popped in. There was a background check on the owner, complete with financials, so she read that first.

After two pages, Gail was sure he was hiding something. She pulled up the complete financials and started to follow the money. It was always smart to follow the money. The dreaded accounting class her parents had made her take was finally paying off. Maybe she'd tell Elaine about it. Gail sighed and put her glasses on, taking her time and jotting down notes.

Not that Gail didn't trust Trujillo to sort out the case, the financial forensics weren't her forte yet. Hell, they weren't even in her skill set basket. No, the reason Gail grabbed Trujillo right away, snatching her out of uniform the second she passed the basic tests, was because Lucinda had John's 'people' knack. The woman could pick up on vibes like nobody.

Of course, Trujillo had few vibes herself. She was practically opaque. Holly had mentioned that her senior tech, Ananda, had a crush on Lucinda. And Gail was unable to tell Holly if there was a chance. Not that Gail had much of a gaydar so to speak. Neither did her kid. Probably that was related to their issues connecting with people.

Which had nothing to do with her case.

Why was the owner shuffling money like that?

Gail scowled and carefully followed the bank transfers until she lost them through an Internet proxy based out of the Caymans. "How common," said Gail, sighing. She let her glasses slip to the end of her nose and got up. "Hey, Trujillo."

Her young star looked up, confused. "Ma'am?"

"He's smuggling money. Shunting it to the Caymans. Come here and I'll show you—" Gail was cut off by her desk phone ringing. Glancing down, she saw her wife's name. "Damn. John, can you walk her through...?"

Her erstwhile sergeant smiled. "Sure thing. Come on, Lucinda. The money stuff is weird but fun." Gail missed Lucinda's reply as she closed the door, but John's assertion that Gail following up on the case was a good thing came through.

It was true, too. Well. John could explain that Gail bought Lucinda's theory and ran with it, rather than she was questioning its validity. Picking up the phone, Gail immediately spoke. "If this is about Kinkaid wanting to kidnap Viv for sniff tests, he'll have to ask McNally."

There was a pause on the phone. "No, and hello to you too, detective."

"You're calling me on my desk phone, Holly. My keenly honed detective sense tells me this is about work."

Holly huffed. "It is. And it's kind of about Vivian."

"Oh and her super sniffer?"

"Also her observation skills. The bomb was moved."

Gail blinked. "What?"

"Moved. It got jostled and fell on one side. We thought the metal was just filer, but it was a brace to hold it in place and aim it in a specific direction. Ben figured out it was meant to aim at the box holding the dummy."

"Good?"

"Gail." Holly was exasperated. Clearly there was something she expected Gail to just 'get' right away.

"You gotta unpack this one, Doc."

"We figured out it was directional based on the hooks and the marking on the inside."

There was a long pause. "The ... Inside of the box?"

"Yes! It was labeled on the ... Didn't you get my notes?"

"It's Trujillo's case, Holly. I'm letting her run with it."

Her wife made a very annoyed sound. "She didn't—"

"Holly. She was just in a confab with me. So if you just sent it, she hasn't had a chance to look. How about you tell me what it was?" She tapped up her email though, seeing an alert from the lab. "Okay, I have the notes. What am I looking at?"

"Wood."

"I can see that," she said dryly.

"There're words on the shrapnel. Scroll down."

"Safe Shipping. Far Distance. Yearly Fees." Gail frowned. "Well that's random as shit—"

"Gail, you don't understand," said Holly seriously, nearly snapping. "It's Safary. Safe - SA. Far - FAR. Yearly - Y. He's back."


DUN DUN DUN.

Safary was mentioned as a serial bomber back in season one of this fic. The one who 'tried' to blow up the zoo? Yeah. That one.

It's no secret I suffer from depression, like a lot of artists. Mine is seasonal, which means the more winter drags on, the worse I get. I'm actually in the bottom doldrums right now, my lowest creative ebb, so reviews are extra welcome today. Especially since I'm looking at a day that ends with up to three feet of snow. What the actual what the fuck, as Gail might say.