03.09 - Big Nickel

Against all odds, science prevails and breaks open a case. Meanwhile, two generations of Pecks are on Pride Parade, and it's finally time for Vivian to take her next step as an adult.

After the shooting at last year's pride parade, and the concert, Toronto's been stepping up for safety. This had the result in pushing back Pride Week to August. Because if there was a way to make Gail hate the goddamned float even more, it would be by having it in fucking August. But August it is and so we have the parade.

Don't worry. No one dies this year.


Watching Andy McNally, the absolute most earnest fuckup Gail had known in her entire life, wrangle the division into some semblance of order was kind of hilarious. No one really controlled the officers. Even when Gail had been uniformed, it was a chaotic mess that Oliver had controlled with his charm and wit. Andy, lacking those tools, did a pretty impressive Mom Glare (for someone without any children) until things slowly calmed.

As the group settled down, Gerald's voice was heard a little too loudly. "I just don't get why Major Crimes is involved."

"Seriously, Gerald?" Gail couldn't help herself. His old nickname popped out and she was surprised to see almost every rookie (actually everyone new for the last decade...) stare at him. "Yes, he's Gerald. I named him that. Shut up you nimrods."

A brief rumble of laughter ran through the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, Inspector Peck," said Andy, smirking broadly.

Gail rolled her eyes. Admittedly, Gerald had a point. After the shooting the year before, though, Organized Crime had taken point on the pride parade. And with Gail being a big ol' queer, she was in charge. "Sgt. McNally."

Hopping off the table she'd been sitting on, Gail walked up to the podium. "Actually it's OC who is in charge. Organized Crime does not mean mobsters. I know you know that. After the escalation of crime at Pride the last few years, we moved Toronto Pride to August. It's hotter, it's sweatier, and yes, I will be on a fucking float in the same idiotic cotton-poly bullshit blend as the rest of you." Gail glanced around. "Three of your officers will be with me, representing Fifteen patrol. Aronson, Peck, and Grant. Peck will be walking. That was her choice, I don't make anyone walk in the sun, it's evil. The rest of you half wits will be guarding us. Which is why we're here. We're going to go over proper escalation and handling of high stress and emotional situations."

There was a pause and Hanford slowly raised his hand. "Ma'am, what exactly does that mean?"

Sharing a look with Andy, Gail cleared her throat. "It means any one of you dipshits hurts a civilian, I will personally take away your badge and shove it up your ass."

And she proceeded to go over the proper handling of high stress situations with large numbers of civilians.

In the last twenty or so years, public awareness had heightened regarding the behavior of police. Slipping up in public was just not acceptable. Making human mistakes was one thing when the worst that happened was a black eye. When it was a dead man, it was a whole different level of hell.

OC and Major Crimes had slowly taken the point for ensuring the public actions of any organized police 'events' were controlled. The stupid concert ticket event where Vivian had gotten shot had been an OC event. Sometimes Gail joked that it stood for Organized Chaos these days. It was less and less of a joke as time went on.

Gail had given a talk about this many times before. She'd even gone to the academy for a lecture on it, though for Vivian's class she sent John instead. The information had to be shared. It had to be taught and it had to be repeated. Mistakes that cops made could be fatal, and that just had to be avoided.

Early on in her detective career, Gail had seen the horrific events unfold in America. She'd been present for a screaming match that she shouldn't even be at the parade, as a cop. That had been a fun day. There was no possible way to 'win' those arguments either. Both sides had points. Gail had, as one of the representatives of the LGBTQ police of Toronto, argued that they shouldn't voluntarily withdraw from the parade, but abide by the decisions made.

Then the police had been excluded from the parade, and the paramedics and firefighters took the cops' side. And then all the shit in America had happened. Those were days and months she never got back. It brought the worst Peck in her out for the world. And frankly it had all happened so close to Holly and that fucking Lungo River Fever event, that she really didn't give a fuck.

Eventually it was sorted out. The police still marched and still protected. Some were assholes, some were not. But her job now was to help make sure the assholes were kept far away from the event. On both sides.

In the years since, the only person killed at Pride had been a priest.

Elaine, watching it on the news, noted that the PR from Gail holding JP as he died was phenomenal imagery. As galling as that was, Elaine had a point. Elaine often had a point, though Gail was loathe to mention it. The more anyone praised Elaine, the more she slipped back into her old habits. Of course the same could be said of Gail. At least they were both self aware enough about the situations.

After running the parade crew through the likely scenarios, Gail dismissed them for a more physical refresher in handling unruly crowds. It used to be the Noelle class. These days it was taught by a young officer named Hari Bandari. Young. Hah. He was thirty. Gail was old.

"Think it'll help?" Andy looked thoughtful as she asked.

"Fuck if I know, but maybe they'll think about things."

Her friend sighed. "We've just been really lucky."

"Fifteen has," agreed Gail, leaning on the podium. Twenty-Seven had not; a young man died in custody. Thirty-Four hadn't either, when a woman was shot and killed at a routine traffic stop. But of all the things possible, Fifteen had the luck and hadn't killed anyone in a suspicious way.

"Its funny isn't it? We've had two shooters in the damn building, and I think we're lucky."

Gail tilted her head. "Dov was the sergeant for the second one."

"Yeah." Andy paused. "Why was Frank transferred after Ford?"

"Because he handled it well." She shrugged. "Chloe, Sam, Ollie, Marlo, and everything. High stress and he didn't crack or slip, he just did it."

Andy looked surprised. "I always thought ... Huh."

"Lots of people did." Gail ran her hands through her hair. "It was a good promotion. A little PR move. And it let us get Ollie off the street."

Andy's expression turned a bit grim. "He never really got back to be the same as he was."

"Do we ever?" As Gail spoke, Andy's expression went guilty. "Oh come on, McIdiot. If you hadn't come back early, no one would have known I was missing for hours."

"That's not... So you know how Volk is starting her D rotation?"

"Uh, duh. Yes."

"Zettle starts his rooks reading up on famous crimes at Fifteen."

Gail looked blankly at Andy for a moment. "So?" Then she blinked as the conversation thread organized itself and sorted itself out. "Oh. Seriously? He's got her reading that?"

Andy nodded, morosely. "I didn't think about it. Don't they clear that stuff with you?"

"Not really. Zeke, and he wouldn't really think about it. It's old news to them." Gail sighed. "Well. Whatever. They should learn from that shit."

"You really think that?"

Pausing, Gail looked at Andy. The other legacy cop was studying her thoughtfully. Deeply. "Yeah, I do."

Andy exhaled loudly. "You are such a fucking Peck sometimes, y'know."

"Heard that before."

Andy smirked. "I like you. You're a good friend. But I would not be happy if it was me."

Gail scoffed at the woman. "Uh, fact check, Girl Guide. Your escapade with Swarek is on curriculum." When Andy winced, Gail went on. "So is you fucking up with Gerald. And I'm pretty sure your human smuggling snafu too."

"Hey that last one, I'm the damn hero!"

"Yeah. You were." Gail smiled, a honest smile, at Andy. "You were."

The sergeant sighed. Andy may have been a hero, but she was also nearly strangled to death by the head of the smuggling ring. She'd somehow managed to break herself free and shoot the man in the knee, but when they'd found her, Andy had finger marks on her neck. Holly had printed them, ensuring the smuggler went away for as long as possible. "Scared as shit, and nightmares for years. Do they ever go away?"

"Yes," said Gail. It wasn't a lie. Her's didn't. Wouldn't... Couldn't. Andy eyed her, doubtfully. "What?"

"I'm not stupid, Gail," she said quietly. When Gail didn't say anything, Andy went on. "Remember that UC op six years ago?"

"Sleeping in a van was not a UC op, McNally. We were staking out that pedo." Andy had been on a short stint in juveniles, a job Gail would never in her life try.

"You had a nightmare."

Even though Andy said it without any rancor or implications, it still rankled. Damn it. It hurt her, of course, because it was her life and Gail would forever wear the scars. But... "You know, you're weird, Andy. Half the time you want to protect me from even mentioning that Perik drugged me and kidnapped me. The other half, you wanna deep dive into my psyche. It wasn't your fault."

Andy blinked. "What?"

"It wasn't. Your. Fault."

"But... I should have—"

"No. If you'd been there, he might have done the same thing. Maybe he'd have waited until I left in the morning. Maybe he'd have killed someone else. You showing up? Saved my life. And you know it."

Andy looked at her feet. "Dumb luck. That whole..." She trailed off.

"I know," said Gail, agreeing sincerely. "It was stupid, stupid luck."

"I should have made Sam listen," Andy said in an incredibly soft voice.

"What?" Gail frowned. She'd not heard about Sam in any factor except being screwed up that his best friend died.

"I thought it was a car, the guy behind Perik. I knew it. And... Sam backed me up, but we let Jerry push us the other way and he went alone. We should have been with him. Then he'd be alive and you wouldn't have been locked in a trunk—"

"Andy!" Gail snapped and cut her off. The other officer stared at her. "Have you told anyone all that before?" Andy shook her head, helplessly. "You ... You get its been almost twenty five years, Andy. Right?" And Andy nodded.

Jesus. Twenty five fucking years and Andy had never tried to properly deal with her guilt. She probably hadn't talked to anyone about Luke or Sam or Nick or anything like that. Andy just kept it all inside. No wonder she'd flitted around so many positions on the force. She was still trying to find herself. And Gail knew that was not shit anyone could do on their own.

Gail sighed and picked a pen up off the podium and scribbled a name and number down on the scratch paper. "Here."

Andy took the paper without seeming to think. "What... Who's this?"

"A therapist. He's on our insurance and he gets cops."

Now Andy stared at her. "This... You ... Still?"

Gail nodded. "Yeah. Look..." She sighed. "I'm a lot more fucked up than a serial killer, Andy. And ... So are you. Our folks did a number on us. So call him. Talk. Get your head straight."

Staring at the paper, Andy nodded. "Thank you," she said softly.

Gail nodded again. There was nothing else she could do, but she could do that small bit.


"Are you sure you won't be too hot?"

Gail gave a droll look. "Do I have a choice?"

Smiling, Holly reached over to adjust Gail's tie and dust off her badge. "I'm just saying its a cotton-poly blend."

"Which is of the devil." Gail sighed and put her hat on. "Get my neck?"

"I got it before you put your button down on, honey," said Holly, but she checked again because getting to touch Gail again was not a bad thing. "Okay. I have bottles of water and coconut water. More sunscreen. Pain killers. Anything else?"

The cop shook her head. "Are you really wearing that?"

Holly looked down. She had on shorts and a t-shirt with a rainbow flag that said 'Property of the Medical Examiner's Office.' She also had on sunblock as a matter of course. "You want me to put on my softball jersey? That shitty flannel you bought me?"

"I'm just saying... I'm all dressed up."

"First of all, you burn. Second of all, if I put my lab coat on, you and I both know we're not leaving the house."

Gail grinned ear to ear. "I see no flaws in this plan." She reached for Holly's waist and pouted when her hands were slapped away. "I don't wanna go," whined the woman in blue.

"You are the highest ranked openly queer police officer in Toronto. It's your job." Holly kissed Gail's nose. "Come on. We'll march, we'll throw beads, you can tease Vivian. Then I'll take you to brunch."

"I hate you," said Gail, but she followed Holly down to the cars. "Why isn't Vivian here?"

"Because Jamie has today off, so they were making up last night."

That had been the best news, of recent days. Jamie and Vivian sorted out their shit. After the pain and death, Holly reveled in the moment of joy watching Jamie and Vivian at dinner. They had a different aura of shy about them, a tentative set of smiles that were half wonder and half hope.

Holly remembered the look, the same damn look, on Gail's face when they'd gotten back together. Raw, unfettered, hope. It was so rare for Gail, even now, to trust the world like that. But even Gail spotted the look the week before, when Jamie had come over for dinner. The couple had been sitting by the grill, keeping an eye on it quietly. They could be seen from the kitchen, and Gail had simply remarked that it was good to see.

So at the reminder of her daughter's success in the moment, Gail smiled. "I'm glad," she said quietly.

Smiling back, Holly got into the car. "Me too. Now let's go have a nice mommy, mommy, and daughter day in the parade."

"Can we get pancakes after?"

"Yes, Gail, we can have pancakes after."

That was all it took to successfully wrangle the grumpy Peck into the car and out to the parade. The early morning wrangling was all done with the patrol officers, most of whom were on a break when they walked up. Vivian, interestingly, was nowhere in sight.

"I bet she's in a coat closet," said Gail under her breath as she sat on the edge of the float.

"You are aware I was adopted, right?" Vivian popped up from the other side, adjusting her vest. It surprised Gail enough to swear, which made Holly crack up. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey." Holly beamed and kissed Vivian's cheek as soon as she came near. "Were you just waiting to terrify Gail?"

Vivian smirked. "No. I was talking to Duncan about last year." The girl hopped up to sit on the float bumper. "Are we doing breakfast after? I'm gonna be starved."

With a snarl, Gail poked back. "That's what you get staying up all night having sex, and then walking the fucking parade. Why are you walking anyway?"

"And where's Jamie?" Holly smiled, intentionally taking the edge off Gail's snark.

"Jamie's on the fireman float, which is number 32. I'm walking because two Pecks on the float is just silly." Vivian shrugged.

Holly shook her head. "You're walking because you're a jock, Viv." She leaned towards Gail, nearly falling until she was caught by Gail's absently placed hands on her waist. "How did we raise a jock?"

"It's your fault," said Gail seriously. "You run."

"You do yoga," countered Holly.

"I like seeing pretty girls all sweaty in minimal clothing," said Vivian, in her best Peck deadpan.

Both Gail and Holly stared and then broke up laughing. "Your daughter." Holly pointed at Gail. "You're the perv, Peck."

Gail rolled her eyes and tugged Holly closer. "Whatever. I like your boobs."

They kissed, chastely, and Holly peered at Vivian. Long gone was the time where the girl would make faces or gag when she caught them kissing. Or worse. Now she just took it as a matter of course. "Viv, are you wearing sun block?"

The young officer startled. "Uh. No. Why?"

Now Holly rolled her eyes and picked up her backpack. "Tan you may be, my child, but skin cancer knows no limits. Come here."

One of the other cops laughed as Vivian was manhandled into sunblock.

Too soon it was time for the actual parade march to start. Holly watched the police officers attach a rainbow band to their badges, even a few of the ones working the parade instead of being on the float. She attached Gail's for her, reminding the blonde that she loved her a lot. In return, Gail put a rainbow pin on Holly's collar and smiled a little queasily.

While Gail was generally fine with public speaking now, she hadn't always been. According to Traci, Gail would play sick and face the wrath of Elaine to avoid it back in the day. By the time Holly had come around, Gail strongly disliked it, but was somewhat resigned. These days, she was on the TV at least once a month at some press conference. But Gail still had her general malaise about being the center of attention.

A news reporter was waiting as their float approached the start line. Gail, with a dramatic sigh, took a moment for a sound bite with the young reporter.

"This is my eighteenth year on the Toronto Police Float, and my twenty third as a member of The LGBTQ Task Force. I'm very proud of our city's commitment to the community, and thankful that through all the difficulties we've had over the decade, we are all able to come together and remember that this parade is to celebrate the hurdles we've overcome, provide support for the future, and stand as people the next generations can look up to."

Holly had heard variations on Gail's little blurb before. The cop always practiced it at home, asking advice the first time from Lisa. After all, Lisa had been to more parades than anyone else. The boob doctor used to go to four a year, just in Canada, and she'd often hop the border to NYC. This year, Lisa was marching locally only with a doctor group. Lisa's thought was that if Gail was brave enough to go back out there, then everyone should. Including Kate, her girlfriend who had never marched before, and Rachel's dads, who hated the spectacle.

And then the man had a follow up. "Inspector Peck, you were a witness to the shooting last year. Do you feel that was a hate crime?"

The entire float stiffened. Hell. The organizers did too.

But Gail calmly leaned over. "Son, you should do your research. The incident last year was a personal vendetta on a man who had tried like hell to redeem himself, but had made mistakes. Father JP was a friend of mine, and the world is a smaller place without him. But a hate crime? No. It wasn't about race or sexual preference at all. It was just anger and rage that one person felt, and he was unable to express it in a healthy way." Gail looked over at the camera. "You may want to cut the video. I'll be contacting your company later."

The silence reigned as the float began its slow passage down the street. After a block, people started to laugh. "Damn," said one of the detectives from Four. "He's a moron. You really gonna call his station?"

"You bet your ass." Gail had her phone out and was texting. "Okay folks. Smile, wave, toss some beads. Remember, we're here, we're queer, and last I checked, we all get a free beer at the Penny at the end."

Holly laughed and took Gail's hand, ready to face one more day on parade.


The box of donuts was odd. Vivian eyed it on the podium as she took her seat.

"Wow, you got tanner. I didn't know that was possible." Jenny slipped in beside her.

"I had on sunblock too." Vivian shrugged. "How'd you like working Pride?"

"Eh, super weird. My mom was happy though. She loves that shit."

"That makes one of 'em."

Jenny laughed. "Inspector Peck hates it, doesn't she?"

"Vehemently. She can't wait till I'm at least a second rank constable so she can dump the float on me."

Sitting down beside them, Duncan shook his head. "Not till you have a white shirt. Santana was always on her about that."

Vivian made a face. "I forgot."

"Santana? The old chief of police?" Jenny eyed Duncan.

"My step-dad. Cool guy."

"My god-grandfather. I agree." Vivian shared a smile with Duncan. It was rare. "Speaking of white shirts, you ever gonna step up?"

The older officer shook his head. "Not me. First rank constable is all I needed."

What would that be like? Being a constable in blue all one's career? Vivian huh'd thoughtfully.

"Why do you have to have a white shirt?" Jenny looked confused.

"Propriety." Duncan shrugged. "Someone with a white shirt tells the people that not only do we have queer officers, which y'know, duh, but we have 'em in charge willing to stand up. It's better if its a woman, or a PoC, though. Then it's a big middle finger."

Everyone stared at Duncan. Even Vivian, who knew him for longer than anyone else in uniform, was surprised.

"Thank you for that unexpectedly deep opinion, Duncan," said Andy as she walked in. "And thank you everyone for a successful pride parade." There was applause. "And a huge thank you to the LGBTQ Task Force. It was through their efforts and presence that we received a sizable donation this year."

Vivian huh'd and clapped. Sooner or later, Gail would make good on having Vivian join the task force, which was such a stupid name. Calling it a task force made it sound like there really was a gay agenda. If there was, they'd never sent Vivian any sort of pamphlet or hand out. Still, she knew her mother did an annoying amount of work with them, and would have to ask how she'd managed to raise money. Then again, it was totally possible it was a little Peck money laundering from the Armstrong side to the force.

Better not to ask, she decided.

"With that, we have a new class through the academy. Gagnon, hold on to your tie. You have a bit more to do. Collins will take you to the range for your shoot. And, hopefully, I will have one less rookie on my hands in time for the fine that Station Fifteen will be facing for the foreseeable future."

A rumble went through the room. Vivian stared at Andy. A fine. Donuts. Not... No. "No," she whispered.

Lara elbowed her.

"Peck. Front and center."

No. Vivian gaped and then stood up. She had no thoughts in her head as she walked to the center of the room. "Ma'am?"

The brown eyes of a woman she'd known for almost twenty years were smiling at her. Andy McNally, someone her mother regularly teased and harassed, but also sat up with when Andy was stabbed, and stood by in a divorce, was smiling. It was the sad smile. The one Elaine had when Vivian graduated the academy. "For the first time since its inception, Fifteen will be paying a donut fine," said Andy, quietly but firmly.

It occurred to Vivian that she had no idea who actually paid the fine... Was it her or was it the division? "I'm sorry," she replied.

"Makes me wish we'd kept Wet Peck," Andy said with a deep sigh. "Report to ETF, Peck. You'll be with Jules in EDU until they cut you loose and you come back to split time."

Someone in the back piped up. "That's Sgt. Smith!"

Vivian grinned. Of course she knew Sgt. Julian "Jules" Smith. She'd run up a dual warped wall with him more than once, literally. They'd been on the same team for the group challenge at Ninjymnastics. Vivian had wanted an all girls team, but that was always hard to float. And none of that mattered. He was her sergeant now. She was in ETF working under EDU! Explosive Disposal Unit!

Okay, yes, split time. No one was permanently assigned to ETF except the sergeants and on up, but even then everyone but Sue ended up on patrol now and then. There (thankfully) wasn't enough call for full time squads. As soon as Vivian passed her probationary period with ETF, at least a third of her time would be patrol work again. That might be a half year or more, depending on how well she did.

Because she was in ETF! Vivian wanted to squeal.

"Yes, ma'am," said Vivian to Andy. She tried to put as much sincerity as she could into it. Because this was Andy McNally. This was the woman who was there for her first collar. Andy had been there when her tie was cut. As a mentor, a TO, and (as much as Gail might bluster) family, Andy was a part of her life forever.

Andy sighed softly. "You've been working for this from before you put on uniform, Peck. Knowing what you want and going for it, being top of your class in the right ways that are helping you towards you goal is laudable." The sergeant looked thoughtful. "Though. If you come to Parade and you're not on patrol, the donuts are on you."

Everyone laughed. "I'll remember that, ma'am," said Vivian, trying not to grin ear to ear.

"Good. Serve, protect." Andy paused and leaned into Vivian's face, with a smile that was pure Oliver. "And don't. Screw. Up." With a wink, Andy leaned back. "Assignments are on the board. Dismissed."

The day was downhill from there, sadly. Vivian had some idea that her first day would be spent doing something useful. Instead, she spent three hours filing paperwork and picking up her new kit and being interviewed again by one last person at the Big Building (some fellow named Dodge who had Elaine's old office, and seemed to have some relationship with Gail). Then she was sent back to Fifteen to move her gear to a new locker in the ETF side.

Sgt. Smith was pleased to see her organized, at least, and told her to grab lunch before he would run her through the new status quo, but he handed her a thick notebook. Lunch. Right. And more paperwork she was expected to read and memorize. It would probably be a week before she got to kit up.

Ugh. The dull shit. She put the last of her new gear in her new locker, only to have Gagnon come in with a paper bag. "Um. Are you a ma'am yet?"

She blinked. "No. Still Peck. What's that? More books?"

"Oh. No. No, it's from Inspector Peck. She said you're Bomb Peck now?" He held out the bag.

Reflexively, Vivian took it and looked in. And laughed. Her mother sent her lunch. Gagnon made a curious noise. "Nothing. Thanks, Gagnon." She then eyed him. "How'd the shoot go?"

He winced. "I have to try again this afternoon."

Ah. She smiled. "80% of rooks fail the first time."

The younger man looked relieved. "That's what Sarge said."

"Yeah, McNally passed on her first go." And when Gagnon's face fell, Vivian laughed. "Cheer up. You'll make it."

Taking her lunch into the break room, Vivian spread out the ringed binder and started to make her way through it as she enjoyed the lunch from her mothers. They both knew, of course. They probably knew before she did, and that was okay.

Now, though, now Vivian had to read the brand new docs on how rapid deployment from a division (which was different than the way they'd worked from the big building). Smaller teams. It was still new.

"Hey, random question?" Lara dropped into a seat beside Vivian.

"Wow. I don't even get a congratulations?" She marked her place and closed the notebook.

Her friend smirked. "That too, ETF Peck. But I have a detective question."

Vivian eyed Lara. "ETF me. Detective you. What's the deal?"

"They've got me revision old cases, copy cat killers and serials, so I can kinda get a feel for the weird shit." Lara hesitated. "I was reading up on this guy last night. Ross Perik?"

Shit. Vivian stared at Lara for a moment and put her burger down. "Who the hell is making you read about him?"

"So it ... I mean. The cop?"

There was no way around it. Crap. Lara was going ask about Gail. "Which cop?"

"The dead guy. Jerry Barber? That's the cop Sadie was asking after back in January, right?"

Oh thank god. She wasn't asking about Gail. "Yeah, he's the one Perik killed. Why are you..." Vivian trailed off. Because Lara had a total hero crush on Traci, and Jerry had been her fiancé. "Oh. Yes, he was."

Lara shook her head. "Jesus, how could she just go back to work? And as a D?"

Vivian shrugged. "Dunno. Even I'd been adopted then, I would have been like a few months old." She paused and waved a fry in the air. "Want something weird?"

"It gets weirder?"

She smiled. "Remember Jordan Lewis?" Lara screwed up her face and then nodded. "Traci's first day back after all that, she and Mom met Jordan and Father JP."

Lara looked impressed. "That's the priest who died last year? Jesus, small world."

"I always thought Toronto was huge until I went to New York." Vivian had been thirteen and in awe. After putting up with Holly and the lectures, she and Gail played tourist and even walked up the Statue of Liberty. "That's something about Fifteen, though."

"Oh?"

"It's a small world. We're going to meet people who are legacies and who tie into our lives over and over." Vivian picked up her burger again. "The criminals we see, the crimes too. They all tie back to the beginning of time."

With a thoughtful look, Lara leaned back in her chair. "You tell Jamie yet? About the gig?"

"She's on today, so I didn't want to distract her—" Vivian yelped when Lara slugged her shoulder. "Ow! What the hell?"

"Text your girl and tell her you're in demolitions." Lara scowled until Vivian pulled her phone out and texted. "Good. You know, for a lesbian, you know shit about girls."

Vivian snorted. "My trail of being dumped is pretty damming evidence of the truth of that one." And Lara laughed at her. "Shut up!" But Vivian laughed too. She was finally starting to get things right.


Chloe walked in and closed the door. "I'm hiding here."

Gail blinked. "Okay? Did you bring me anything?"

"Fear, doubt, and guilt?"

She blinked again. "What's wrong with the family? Your mom okay?" Gail knew Chloe's mom had been sick off and on over the last few years. Cancer would likely never be cured entirely.

"No. It's ..." Chloe stopped, groaned, and sat on Gail's couch. "You've never had sex with Holly on the couch, right?"

"Not that couch, no." There was no point in denying that she had messed around in the precinct as a rookie. Her daughter didn't, though Gail had caught the girl kissing Jamie at the parade. "Oh! Did you catch Chris on the couch with someone?"

Chloe stared at Gail, her eyes narrowing sharply. "Someone?"

The what now? Why would Chloe zero in on that word? Why did 'someone' matter unless... "Oh don't tell me he's queer and you have a problem!"

Both of Chloe's hands shot up. "Not me!"

"I will kick Dov's ass for him—"

"No. That's not... Gail. Chris wants to be a cop."

Gail frowned. "So? Viv is. It's a pain in the ass, but you can survive it. And I'm saying this on the day my kid joined ETF."

"And..." Chloe trailed off, looking worried.

"And what?" She stared at her friend and tried to think of what would upset Dov but not Chloe, and yet inspire the muppet to hide with her. Gail kicked her brain and parsed the words Chloe had said oh so carefully. She was a fucking Peck, and Pecks memorized and processed and deduced. The key word was 'someone' and Chloe had said her son—

No. She had not. She said Chris.

Suddenly, Gail felt for Lily, which made her heart ache. But when Lily had been faced with the unexpected, a gay daughter, she'd faltered. Here was Chloe, facing a world she'd been unprepared for. When she'd become a mother, Gail's world had changed. For her own, Vivian's homosexuality had not been a surprise. Gail had seen how the girl reacted around men for too long, and how she'd blushed in her pre-teen years when seeing Sue or Frankie or, god help them all, that amazing woman who'd made it to Stage Three on the Ninja Warrior series.

Oh yes, Vivian possibly had it in her to be bisexual, but privately Gail suspected whatever scars had been left on her by her father were insurmountable. And frankly, it didn't matter in the slightest to Gail. Her daughter, the one she'd chosen and cherished, was her daughter. And Gail adored her and would move heaven and earth for the girl. Just like Lily. Had Lily had a friend who understood, somewhat, the unexpected? Maybe there would have been less pain between Holly and Lily for those years.

Gail sighed. Chloe was staring at her own hands, so Gail just asked. "How come you're never come on the float?"

Chloe's head snapped up. "What?"

"The Pride Float. I mean, you're married, but you're still a bisexual, right?" When Chloe nodded, Gail gestured with one hand at Chloe and then herself. "So am I. You should be on the float next year. And you should come to events."

Chloe looked dumbfounded. "But you're married. To a woman! And I'm married to Dov, and— wait. I thought you said you were a lesbian!"

"Eh. I dated men, nearly married one, and I have a more than theoretical interest in them." Gail shrugged. Mostly she just liked confusing people. "You tell my mother I said that and I'll shoot you myself."

Holding up her hands, Chloe essayed a smile. "But ... still."

"Oh my god, just because you date men, you're still a bisexual, you moron!" Gail threw her hands up. "My god, you're an idiot sometimes."

One hand covered Chloe's mouth and she nodded. "Yeah." Her voice was thick and wet.

Gail narrowed her eyes. "Are you crying?"

Of course she was. "I'm not gonna ask you to hug me," said Chloe, but it was with a soft, thankful voice.

With a sigh, Gail got up and sat beside Chloe on the couch. She said nothing, but awkwardly held her arm up. After a heartbeat, Chloe fell into her, crying. It was a mixture of relief and fear. Recognition was always rough, and Gail still remembered how it had felt to have other people notice and accept her for who she was.

Right now, Chloe just needed a friend. Preferably one who well understood life. And they had, them and Andy, been the sides of the triangle. Three legacy cops. Two queer, one oh so straight. Three different career paths. Three women who understood the burden of their own names and ancestors.

"So. Will ... Will she still be Chris?"

"They."

Gail blinked. They? Wait, no, she knew what that meant. Gail kicked her brain for the memory of the first time she'd heard that. It was before she'd met Holly. Someone they'd arrested. Andy had been on her little vacation after getting caught banging Swarek, so Gail and Traci had been hanging out a lot... And they'd picked up a kid for shoplifting.

Ah there it was. The kid dressed like a boy, had a license that said female, and firmly stated they were neither.

Years later, when Holly introduced Gail to an old friend from college, she'd surprised the doctor by knowing exactly what the term was.

"Chris is non-binary?"

Chloe sighed. "Apparently."

"So. They and them?"

Her friend nodded. "Yeah."

"Huh," said Gail. She squeezed Chloe around the shoulders and then let go, reclaiming her own personal space.

Chloe wiped her face with her sleeve. "It's going to take some getting used to," she admitted.

"Yeah, it will." Gail stretched her legs out. "Won't be the first one who's cop, though."

"I know." Chloe sighed and picked up the box of Kleenex. "Not even first at Fifteen."

"Hah, Chris at Fifteen? I've seen hi- their grades!"

After a heartbeat pause, Chloe smiled. "You know what? You failed your exam!"

"I threw my exam, there's a difference." Gail huffed and Chloe cracked up. "Are they still going to college?"

Chloe nodded. "Yeah. At least a couple years. I don't know if he— they need a degree."

"We have them, Andy doesn't. Consider our career versus hers."

With a laugh, Chloe pointed out the obvious. "Traci doesn't have one."

"No, but she got a GED, graduated early, and did two at Junior College, night school." Traci was, Gail readily agreed, a badass. "Anyway, if they start living openly like that now, they'll be more used to it all in two or four years. And we'll still be here."

"Oh? You think so?"

"Yeah. Four for sure. Five or six maybe not." Gail got up and went back to her desk, picking up her warm coffee. "And maybe college will make them change their mind. There's a lot more to our work than uniforms."

Chloe looked hopeful. "Mom's going to talk to them about that. I think they'd be better for social work but... It's their life, not mine."

Gail sighed. "I know."

"You don't still wish Viv went into science?"

"Every day. But it's her life, like I said." Gail shrugged. "Holly's mom flipped out when she went into pathology and forensics."

"What?"

"It's true. It was kinda more about not being as okay with gay as she thought she was, and they worked it out, but y'know... I think about the years they lost. And the ones I lost with my mom. Never got 'em back with Dad."

The waif like detective studied Gail's face quietly. "Thank you," Chloe said at length.

"Welcome. And if you need help with Dov, I'll kick his ass."

Chloe snorted. "I'm the one freaking out about my baby being hated by people."

"He is too," said Gail firmly, fully aware of things that went unsaid about Dov just then. Trouble in nerd paradise. "Just in a Dov sort of way."

"So an asshole."

Gail laughed. "Yeah, an asshole sort of way."


"Thank you for the cupcakes, Mom," said Vivian.

"Oh good. I worried Christian might eat them."

Her daughter snorted over the phone. "He wouldn't dare. Between you and Mom, he's terrified of you."

Holly laughed. "Possibly. Did Jamie like them?"

Vivian paused. "Was I supposed to save her one?"

"Vivian!"

"Mom! She's working fives right now. I won't see her for two more days."

Cracking up, Holly bumped the door to the laundry room open. "Did you at least tell her you got the spot?"

"I did. I texted her, and we're doing dinner when she's off and caught up."

"Well that's an improvement. Talking in person."

"Mom, we're okay right now." Vivian sighed loudly. "I mean it. We're okay."

"Hmm." Holly opened the dryer. "I'm your mother. It's my job to worry."

"I know. And I love you for it, but we're talking. About lots of stuff."

There was a strange pause. Nervous. Holly smiled. "Yeah?" She folded one of Gail's shirts. Why would Vivian be nervous. Well. Why else. "You know, I totally flubbed romance, asking Gail to move in with me."

Vivian groaned. "How the hell ..."

"I'm a mother. Apparently it's a power we gain."

"Ugh. I hate you."

"I know." Holly folded another shirt, giving Vivian time to grumble. "So. I was complaining she always had to go home to the frat house and get a uniform. And it would be easier if she lived with me."

Her daughter made a disgruntled noise. "Her roommate is moving out. So she kind of needs a place to move. And I only know because Ruby told me. But it's really fucking awkward to ask her since we just made up." She groaned. "I hate being an adult. Why was I in a rush to grow up?"

"Sex probably," said Holly sagely, and laughed when Vivian complained. "Oh come on, monkey. Tell her Ruby told you and ask her."

"I don't want to be in the doghouse again, Mom."

"Tell her. Communicate. Don't lie."

"Ugh. Fine. I will when she's off fives. Don't fuck with the mind of someone who runs into danger."

Holly snorted. "Is that a warning to me, my demolitions expert?"

Vivian laughed. "No, Mom. Unless I'm about to run into a building to cut a wire and save the mayor."

For some reason, Holly remembered Gail's panicked head shake and step back right before they went in to save Oliver. Oh. For years Holly had wondered what it really meant, what Gail really meant by it. And here was her grown up, comfortably lesbian (at least as comfortable as she ever got) daughter saying roughly the same thing. Cops had their zone, same as anyone else. And unlike Holly, who would be frustrated and have to start over, they had jobs with guns and bombs. Actual danger. Discombobulating them was very risky.

But all Holly said was a Mom reply. "I promise not to yank you out of the zone by mom washing your face, you filthy hoyden."

"Hah, Rich is filthy. He was on your grave digging detail."

Holly smiled. "Did he tell you he fell in?"

Vivian guffawed. "No. Is that really what happened? Did he compromise the evidence?"

"He did not." Holly smiled. "He fell into a prepped grave though."

"Please tell me you videoed that."

"It's possible," Holly said demurely. Laughing brightly, Vivian told Holly she loved her, to give Gail a kiss, and good night.

Speaking of Gail. Holly tapped her phone and checked where her wayward wife was. Work. Texting the detective, she asked when Gail might be home. It was rare that Gail's work kept her hours and hours away anymore. Gail perfected the ability to go home 'on time' a decade before. Still, sometimes work was work, and normally Gail texted to give Holly an update.

Instead of a reply, however, Holly heard the garage door.

"Well that is one answer," she told herself, and finished sorting the laundry. "Hey, honey. Did you eat?"

"Nope," grumbled Gail, and she thudded up the stairs.

Hm. That sounded bad. Holly followed up the stairs. "Let me put this away, and I'll feed you. Go shower."

From the office, Gail made a noise that was probably agreement. Work ended poorly, and Gail was likely to have to work later. With that in mind, Holly pulled out the fixings for hamburgers. This level of distracted Gail was often akin to not having her around at all.

"I hate paperwork!" Gail shouted as she came back down the stairs.

"Word," Holly shouted back.

"And people!"

"Same!"

Then more quietly, Gail said, "I'm glad I married you."

Holly grinned. "Get some wine?"

"Sure. But..." And Gail tapped her shoulder. "I didn't say hi yet." Carefully putting the spatula down, Holly turned and smiled, kissing Gail gently. "Hi," said Gail, softly.

"Hi. Bad day?"

"Eh. I got caught up checking on the bylaws of gender identity, employment, and self identification at work."

"Wow," said Holly, surprised. "That sounds like nothing but paperwork. Did someone come out?"

"Yeah, Chris Epstein." Gail got out the wine. "They're non-binary."

Were they just getting around to worrying about that now? Well, Chris was starting university next year. Maybe it was all just starting to feel real. "And...?" Holly trailed off when she noticed the glare from Gail. "I wasn't supposed to know?"

"How the fuck did you know?"

"Uh, I have eyes?" Holly checked the meat and flipped it. "Honey, I've watched Chris grow up. It's like being shocked that Vivian was gay."

"Which you were."

Holly snorted. "Was not. Just surprised she had a crush on Liv."

"Potato, tomato."

"Anyway, Peck! Chris, non-binary, totes spotted that. Next you're gonna try and be all shocking and tell me Jerry's pansexual."

Gail's laughter was bright and warm.

They didn't talk about serious things for the rest of the night. That was alright. They talked about a movie they wanted to see, and the rumors about a tv show they liked. They joked about Vivian eating all the cupcakes and how they'd have to send more when Jamie was back. They made plans for the next operas and ballets to see. They cuddled on the couch and watched a sports game.

They had a normal night.

The next day was, for Holly at least, abnormal.

She stared at the tomb in her table. It had taken her until lunch to get it out and ready. But there, finally, was her first exhumation for her head basher case. Technically the exhumation had been the day before. They'd worked through multiple bodies over the last year, carefully selecting ones to investigate. But finally they had one that looked like it was indeed the body they were looking for.

Pulling up the mortuary notes, Holly skimmed as she went through the routines. The only difference from normal was her two rookies. A wastrel named Goff whom Gail promised was just an idiot and a Mountie named Brice. The Mountie was in charge of the cop side of things, and had told Goff to shut up earlier.

"You boys might want to put a mask on," said Holly. "I'm going to crack the tomb now."

Brice picked up a face filter and put it on. Only when Holly did the same did Goff realize how serious she was.

Back in the old days, they needed heavy cranes and pry bars to open the coffins. As of a few years back, they advances in science had made it easy. Holly had a machine that did it all and a technician who operated the machine. She beamed, watching the lid be carefully removed. A waft of death flowed out, sucked up by the air filter.

Holly didn't dislike the smell. She didn't like it, but it didn't offend her. It was, simply, the smell that was there with death. It was the smell of her work.

"Dr. Stewart, the machine is yours." Her technician stepped back.

Legally, she had to perform the final action. It constituted tapping a button. The lid swung away on the predefined route and was settled onto the second table. She grinned at the casket. "Alright. Dr. Holly Stewart, beginning autopsy. Confirming cause of death as blunt force trauma." Holly ran through the setup by rote. She did this work weekly. At one point it had been daily. It was her bread and butter for years.

The camera on the track followed her as she used the machine to carefully remove the body and began to process it with her three assistants. They removed the clothes, inspecting and tagging everything. Each item would be reviewed individually. Evidence had waited for years, and now it would be processed. But first they had to get it off cleanly.

Finally, though, the body lay naked before them. "Alrighty," muttered Holly. "Dr. Ames, the clothes and coffin are yours."

Ananda rolled her eyes. "Yippie. Enjoy your smelly body, Dr. Stewart."

Holly grinned. Ananda had drawn the short straw when it came to the evidence collection. They did not expect anything useful from the clothes or the liners, but those still had to be gone over and reviewed. Hairs and prints and anything abnormal had to be catalogued. That was how science and forensics worked. Record everything.

On the other hand, Holly had the fun job of going over the dead body, top to bottom. Or bottom to top. Holly liked to start at the feet. After all, she had confirmed the cause of death already, so now it was a chance to see how exact a job the mortuary had done, cleaning the body.

Part of why they'd picked this body was the history of the particular mortuary. Cost cutting, cheap funerals. They'd been shut down by Frankie for improper disposal of remains. So when Holly saw their name on the list, she'd fast tracked this body. Starting with the feet, which were hidden from sight even in a viewing, she checked the soles and then between the toes. Clean.

Damn it.

Meticulously, Holly worked her way up, checking ever inch and crevice (yes, every single one). She photographed, zoomed in, and plucked debris from knees and elbows. Finally she made it to the head however. Thus far, everything had been obvious and distressingly clean. But the head... She frowned.

"Taylor, does that look weird to you?"

Her assistant, Taylor Glinta, blinked and looked over. "Is that putty?"

"Yes. That's normal. It's this... Paper?" Taylor handed it over and Holly placed it under the dead man's head. She picked up a comb and ran it through the hair. Flakes of dirt came out.

"What the fuck... They washed his feet but not his hair?"

The putty was, as Holly said, normal. Often a putty was used to pad out a head injury like they had. Wool was more common, but it depended on the era. The filthy hair, though. "What color was his hair?"

"Uh, says grey/black." Taylor sounded unsure. "Okay. So maybe it got dirty after?"

"We'll have Ananda run a sample," Holly said firmly. "We have the dirt from the coffin. She can compare it to the trace inside and out."

"I'm on it, Dr. Stewart." And Taylor obediently took the sample, catalogued it, and labeled it for what was needed next.

Holly pulled over the high resolution magnifier and studied the wound. "I believe I have a bone chip..." She picked up tweezers and carefully extracted a sliver of what she felt confident in identifying as bone. "Look at that color."

"Brown? Is it old?" Taylor was inquisitive.

"Yes, but one of the officers had an idea. Theory. Treating the bone to make it more durable. Less friable."

Taylor made a noise. "Well. If I was going to do it, I'd use wax."

"What?" Holly blinked and looked up.

"Rub the bone with wax. Or maybe oil. It would discolor it, though, so I guess that officer's right." Taylor shrugged and held out a sample jar. "Doesn't match the patina on the skull bone. Man, these guys did a shit job on making the head look normal."

Filing away the idea of oil and wax as something to experiment on later, Holly nodded. "They apparently had a closed casket. The putty was a failed attempt."

Taylor's face fell. "Talk about compromised evidence."

"Well." Holly smiled and raised the table to get a better look. "That's interesting," she muttered and got fresh tweezers to extract a grey fiber.

"Looks like wool."

"It happens."

"On a man who died in August?"

She shared a look with her employee. "There's winter and summer weight wool."

"It could be another attempt to fix the skull," essayed Taylor, carefully.

"Grey?"

"It's a stretch, Doc."

"Here's another. Test these against the samples from anyone else we have with a toque."

Taylor looked nervous. "You really think we can follow toques and bones to find these guys?"

Holly canted her head to one side. "Yes. I do. I believe in science and patterns, Dr. Glinta, and so do you."

With a deep sigh, Taylor nodded and labeled the sample. "What should I test that against?"

Frustrated, Holly bit out her answer. "The other toques—"

"No, sorry. That." And Taylor gestured at the head. "By his ear?"

Ear? Holly stared at the skull and then blinked. Something didn't match. She turned the light up and saw. Long whiteish hair... All the hairs on the head where white, but this one was just slightly off. "Jesus... What the hell is your vision, Taylor?"

"20/20. But my color acuity is pretty awesome. I can see extra colors."

"You're tetrachromatic? Shut up!" Holly was delighted. "Put that shit down on your skills, Tay!"

The pathologist blushed. "That's blonde, right?"

"You bet your ass it is." She carefully extracted the hair and sucked in a breath. "And that's a tag. Son of a bitch."

"Holy fuck," said Taylor. "Here." Taylor stuck out a sample jar. "I'm expediting this one."

A new voice spoke up. "Excuse me, doctors. But what exactly did you find?"

Holly looked up at the young Mountie. "A hair with a skin tag still attached." She paused. "Do I need to explain why that's important?" While they could run DNA checks on hair without skin tags, it was chancy.

The young man shook his head. "But... Do you have anything to compare it to?"

And there Holly beamed. "Besides CODIS?"

"I mean... You don't have another sample do you?"

"We have DNA from fingernails, actually." It was worth it just to see the look of shock on the man's face. "The first body we exhumed, before we really knew we were on to something, had some skin under the nails. It dates from the same time period as this gentleman, so I'm hoping to find a connection between them."

Of course it was a long shot and Holly knew it. Everyone knew it. There were four identified individuals in that time frame already, which gave her at best a 25% chance. Reality was worse.

Between the bone fragments and the hair, though...

There was nothing else to note in the autopsy itself, so Holly signed off on the samples and watched Taylor whisk them away. Once the body was back in storage, Holly washed up and went to her office to file her own report. It was anticlimactic at this point. She had to wait for results, and she just wanted them now.

It was not until the end of the day, right as she was packing up to go home, that her email pinged with the alert of lab results. Holly hesitated a moment before opening her email.

The first page was of the bone chip, for it indeed was human bone, and it did not match the body. External. The murder weapon, mostly likely. They would compare it to the leg bones found in other locations. The second page held data on the grey fiber. It was wool, as she'd thought, and it was a match to some of the toques they'd collected on other bodies.

God. They'd found the pattern. They were right. She had picked, of all the possible bodies, the right one.

Holly scrolled to the last pages. The ones about the hair. The ones that said the samples had not degraded too much. The tag was viable. They'd processed it and fast tracked it against the skin found under the nails of another dead man.

Holly held her breath as she read the results. Yes. Yes. Yes. It matched.

One hair. One, single, solitary hair. It matched the body. One hair left in the fabric of a toque shoved onto a man's head. A blonde hair that was long and didn't match the color of the dead man. A hair that early forensics would not have known what to do with, and likely would have thrown out.

One damn hair.

And it matched the damn skin sample.

And now they had a name.

They had a match. They had a name. They had two killers' names now. Two people.

Heinrich Hann, the man who killed Bethany Mills, and now Rene Peya.


Stretching out in her bed, alone, felt weird. Vivian draped herself over the bed diagonally, how Holly normally slept, and tapped her phone. The last message from Jamie was that afternoon. The crew had taken a call, it was a small fire, Jamie was fine but was planning on sleeping at the station as long as possible.

Still, Vivian checked with her own police app to see what the status on everything was. Could anyone blame her? Gail would probably have advice on how to better sneak some information. So would Elaine.

Hm. Vivian tapped her grandmother's number and texted.

I made ETF. And I'm thinking about asking Jamie to move in with me.

Her friends made fun of her for using proper grammar, punctuation, and spelling when texting. The truth was that her grandmother would never reply unless she did. So, in order to communicate with her family, Vivian got used to it and by the time she was an adult, it was second nature.

The phone pinged a reply.

I know about both. My spies told me.

Which Mom leaked?

Neither. Oliver.

That asshole! Who told Ollie?

Probably Gail. You should ask Jamie. I like her.

It's a big ask.

What does your roommate think?

Good point. I'll ask him.

She rolled off the bed and padded down the hall. Christian was watching a basketball game. "Hey, C. Quick question."

The man looked up. "I bought more detergent. The good stuff."

"Not that." Vivian paused. "Um. It's about Jamie."

Christian frowned. "Did you break up?"

"Jesus! No!"

"Oh good. I like her." Christian took a moment and then asked, "Are you kicking me out so you can have a sweet, lady lovin' pad with her?"

"Uh. Funny thing. No." Vivian grimaced and sat on the couch. "I want to ask ... Uh. Her. To move in. Here." She glanced over and saw her friend smirking. "You are an asshole, C, you know that, right?"

The dark haired cop burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you are adorable when you try to girl."

"Bite me," she snapped.

"No, I like my nose where it is." He quickly held up his hands for protection. "Serious, though. You want her to move in?"

Dismissing the idea of punching him, Vivian nodded. "Yeah. I am. And I'm not, y'know, asking you to leave."

"Oh! It's like the frat pad Gail and Dov had!"

"God, you... Frat House, and ... Maybe?" Vivian grumbled. "I hate this conversation. I'm going back to my room."

As she stood up, Christian grabbed her shirt bottom and tugged. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm just... You don't usually get all girl like this, and it's really nice to see how much you like her."

The blush went right up her neck and warmed her ears. "I do."

It wasn't like books (or Andy) described falling in love. There wasn't an overwhelmingly powerful feeling, where she felt something for Jamie that she'd never felt before. Certainly Vivian had seen hundreds of attractive women. In fact, it got to the point that she thought her mothers had some sort of deal with a devil to only have highly attractive friends. And it wasn't that looking at Jamie made her feel any different (just gay).

No the difference between Jamie and the other girls she'd dated was how Jamie made her feel when they were together.

Vivian desperately needed her own space in bed. Not like Holly the bed hog, who really wanted to cuddle or touch. And not like Gail the premie who hated touching except when it was someone she trusted. No, Vivian just didn't like being held, or crowded up on in bed. It was one thing to be in the bed with her parents. They drifted together and gave her space. The various girls she'd dated tended to cuddle.

And God bless her, Jamie just understood the space thing. She didn't mind, she didn't press. She just accepted it for what it was and still liked Vivian. There was no need to try and explain the comforting feeling of someone there and around without being smothered.

Christian just grinned at her. "Viv. You like her. If she's cool with living here with us, I'm for it. If she wants me to move out... Well. Gimme time to find a new place, right?"

She blinked at her friend. "Why are you being this cool?"

"Because. I fucked up our friendship, and that was 100% on me, and ... Make this my big grand gesture?"

"This is the bromance version of a boombox over your head?"

"Dude, I'm your LezBro."

"Ew. Never say that again!" She swatted at Christian and he laughed. "Okay." Then she added, quietly, "Thank you."

Christian nodded. "Welcome. Can I ruin this tender moment?"

"God, please."

"How's ETF?"

Vivian grinned ear to ear. It actually, physically, hurt to smile. "Boring," she said quite honestly. Thus far it had consisted of being reminded of rules and regulations, while being told over and over that she was the rookie and not to screw things up. Vivian had yet to do anything substantial. "I get checked out on Rover tomorrow, though."

"That the robot?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "It's safe for rookies, y'know."

Her friend snorted. "It's also crazy hard. Do you get to pilot the drones?" When she shrugged, he laughed. "Give up, you are not Gail. That is not her shrug. You are nowhere near as cool as your mom."

"Who is?" Vivian laughed as well. "Yes, I get to pilot the drones, and yes it's cool."

The next day, though, instead of running right into more drone training, Vivian was dragged into an office with Sue and Jules (no one called him Sgt. Smith after the first week, and even he encouraged Vivian to use his nickname — they were a team).

"Boom Peck. McNally's office," shouted Jules as Vivian walked in to Fifteen.

"Boom Peck?" Lara smirked.

"Boss Peck, Nash Peck, Wet Peck, Boom Peck," said Vivian and she shrugged. "I kinda like it."

"What do they call your cousin the fireman?"

"Fire Peck, what else?" Vivian grinned and trotted into the office, still holding her motorcycle helmet. "Ma'ams, sir."

Jules was draped over the couch while Sue perched on the desk itself. "Peck, I have heard you're familiar with the Safary case," said Jules, sternly.

"Uh. Somewhat, sir."

"You and Volk found the storage cache? Identified it as bombs?"

She nodded quickly. "Oh, yes sir."

"And you met the woman?"

"Yes, but —"

"And you and Volk tracked things down for Swarek?"

Vivian hesitated. "Yes, but we were following Sgt. Swarek's lead, sir."

Jules waved his hand. "I'm sending you the bomb breakdowns on Safary. I want you, Duane, and Sabrina to know her markers inside and out."

"Me?"

Sue sighed. "Peck, by happenstance, you've run into more of Safary's cases than anyone else. That bomb in the zoo?"

That was news to Vivian. "Oh. Wow. That was ... Um. Okay."

"And you worked with Holly— Dr. Stewart on the reproductions." Sue shrugged. "The only concern we really have is nepotism. Since Gail's taken over the case herself."

Now Andy spoke up. "Gail's pretty good at that, though. Not being a Peck like that." The sergeant smiled. "If you don't think there's a problem in ETF with it, we'll be okay."

Sue smirked. "You kidding? They all watched this idiot scale the wall like she had suction cups on."

Vivian said nothing to that. It had been the regular wall at the training center, and it was a simple wall. It wasn't even a grade three, and frankly Vivian had been seriously climbing since she was thirteen and didn't really understand why Holly went and got somewhat freaked about it. The free soloing over the lake up at the cottage had not, in retrospect, been a smart move. She'd been a pre-teen and a little invincible.

On her first day, they'd dragged her to the main building with her new kit and told her to scale the wall and set a shaped charge. It was just a show-off thing, to prove she earned her spot. Everyone had done it. Vivian remembered when Duane did it and bragged until Sabrina beat his time.

While Vivian had not bested Sabrina's top time, she demonstrated technique and set a new rookie time for a first attempt. For someone who'd been clambering up the insane obstacles Ningymnastics came up with for over a decade, a wall with windows and spots to avoid was a walk in the park.

Today wasn't that day. Today was up and down and up and down over and over until she was ready to puke. Then it was papers and studies and reading. And then then wall again. It was to do everything, all at once. Learn everything, train in everything, excel at everything. Or at least as much as she could in a ten hour day. And it was draining.

Dragging herself home and dropping her gear on the floor, Vivian grimaced. She needed a shower and a nap and some food, she had to clean the house and do laundry and probably go shopping since it was her turn, and she wanted it all to be magically done for her.

Why did she think moving out was a good idea? Gail and Holly made everything look so easy and effortless. They'd never hired a cleaning service (except up at the cottage), they just took care of life. They cleaned on the weekends, and some weekdays. Vacuuming regularly, sweeping, mopping, doing the laundry. And they just made it look like anyone could balance life and work and things they had to do.

Right now, Vivian was so tired, she wanted to give up and move back in.

Except.

There were shopping bags on the counter and Christian and Jamie were laughing about something.

"Uh, what day is it?" Vivian eyed the kitchen.

"Told you she was baked," said Christian, knowingly.

"First week is the worst." The firefighter sounded understanding. "My first three on crew? God, I wanted to sleep a week."

"Yeah? What'd you do?"

"Came home and found out we'd had a break in and some fuckface stole my laptop. Spent my whole off time dealing with that." Jamie held up a glass of something that looked nasty. "Come on. Drink this, shower, and go to sleep. You'll feel better."

Vivian walked in a stupor over to the breakfast bar. "I'm very confused."

The drink went down in front of her and Jamie hoisted herself up to lean over and kiss Vivian softly. "We had a really quiet couple days. I asked C how you were holding up and decided you needed a hand."

"It's Wednesday right?" Vivian picked up the drink and sipped it. "Oh my god this is disgusting!"

"It's from Celery."

Vivian stared at her girlfriend. "You went to Ollie's house?"

"Can you think of anyone better to help with a grumpy Peck?" Jamie looked far too pleased with herself. "Desert is on the counter. Celery says you should come have a massage. And she offered me a free one. Totally taking her up on it."

The world felt a little odd. "Jesus..." Vivian sipped the drink again, gagged a little, and then said, "Life is going to be so much nicer when you move in."

And the room went silent.

Oh. That's why Holly wanted to kick herself for how she asked Gail to move in. The feeling of stupid just settled over Vivian. Her ears burned. This was not the way a person should ask their girlfriend serious questions. Her mouth worked, trying to figure out what the hell to say, but she came up with nothing.

Jamie turned to Christian. "Is she for real?"

"Oh, yeah." Christian nodded. "She's been overthinking the hell out of it for like a week. I think she asked Miss Elaine."

Vivian covered her face with both her hands. "Oh my god," she muttered.

"She did so well giving me a key," said Jamie, amused.

"How did she do that?"

"Christmas present."

"Oh," said Christian. "That's good."

The stool beside Vivian moved and she heard Jamie sigh, amused. "You are amazingly bad at this stuff."

"I'm aware." Vivian grimaced and did not look up. A hand gently tugged at one of hers. "Can I try that again?"

"You sure you want to risk it?" Jamie was teasing her. Even though Vivian had just fumbled the question so terribly, it was Andy McNally levels of historical stupidity, Jamie was still there, still smiling, with a face that said no matter how badly Vivian phrased herself, the answer was going to be yes.

Vivian shook her head and took her other hand off her face. "I would ... Um." She stopped and looked at Christian. "C, could you, y'know ... Go?" Her friend held his hands up and retreated to his room, throwing her a thumbs up as he closed the door. "Okay. So I know we only just got back together. But. I like you. And I'm pretty sure you like me. And I'd like to try us living together."

Jamie arched her eyebrows. "I think the first one was better. Have you considered something like 'Jamie, move in with me' or anything less rambled?"

"No," admitted Vivian. And the words tumbled right out. "Every time I think about it, I get tangled up in these long explanations. Like... I don't like cuddling, or people all up in my space, even in bed. And then, I kind of like the couple mornings when I'm not really awake, and you're asleep, and there's this ... This haze. This really comfortable feeling where you're there and it's okay and we're an us... And I like that. A lot. I'd like to keep it."

Reaching over, Jamie covered Vivian's mouth with a hand. "Stop there. That was good." When Vivian nodded, Jamie grinned and took her hand back. "What about C?"

"He offered to move out."

Jamie made a face. "That's stupid. He should stay. We'll be all Three's Company. He can be Larry."

Vivian blinked. "I have no idea what you're saying..."

"Oh, my sweet TV ignoramus," she said, before sighing dramatically and kissing Vivian languidly. "I'm saying yes, I'll move in. And Christian should stay. God knows he's already heard us having sex."

"Sorry about that," muttered Vivian. She was actually a little embarrassed about that, seeing as he'd not been home when they'd started, but things had gotten rather loud.

"I'm not," said Jamie, firmly. "Thing is, he isn't all straight dude about it. So ... Yeah. Let's do this."

Slowly, uncertainly, Vivian broke into a smile. Yes. She said yes. Jamie said yes. This was them, successfully progressing to adult. Vivian was still smiling when she leaned in to kiss Jamie. "Okay. But I'm not drinking that nasty thing."

Jamie laughed. A bright and cheerful laugh. A laugh Vivian hoped she'd get to hear for a long time to come.


Yawning, Gail covered her mouth. The morning meetings were killing her.

"Peck, sorry we're boring you," said the head of OC. "Care to update us?"

She rolled her eyes and did not rise to the bait. "I have a few cases of note," Gail said in her best drawl. "The murder of Dr. Gray Kettler, astronaut, was closed on Monday. Sgt. Anderson got a confession. She's also thinking about hanging up her badge, so if we want to keep her, we should consider a little sweet talk." She glanced at the Rep from Thirty-Four who nodded. "I took over Safary from Swarek at Twenty-Seven. We've got some leads but she's organized as fuck so it's slow. Still I've got a couple theories and I've sent the unis to hunt them down. And... Sgt. Simmons is working on our whack-a-moles. Dr. Stewart ID'd a second attacker on Wednesday, which was confirmed last night as the killer for six of the victims. Simmons is triangulating the data to see if we can connect them."

A murmur ran through the room. The news about the head bashers was a surprise. Gail smiled a little evilly at her boss, pleased to see him flush in anger. "Damn it, Peck. I should know not to poke the bear," he muttered.

"You really should," said the head of homicide, this close to laughter. "Damn, Peck. That family luck is insane."

"Chance favors the prepared." Gail wanted to sing the words, but settled for just smirking.

"I'd accuse you of sniping Safary, but ... How many hands has been on that case?" The head of OC scowled.

"Most of 'em. Swarek played too heavy," she explained.

Everyone looked at the rep from Twenty-Seven. "SIU checked and cleared him, but recommended he be ... They recommended he be eased down."

The room winced, collectively. That meant be fired. Across from Gail, the IA rep sighed. "I'll follow up. He's old enough to make it a normal retirement in six if we play it right."

"Will he?" The rep from Sam's station looked unsure.

"He will." That was Superintendent Dodge. Gail's man now, which had made Elaine laugh so hard she wheezed. The very idea that Gail had started collecting minions to do what she wanted was hilarious to the former Super.

Well. That was that. The rest of the meeting went by without issue, but as Gail headed out, Dodge caught her eye. "Something on your mind, Dodge?"

"Swarek. He did you guys a solid when you found that body last year?" He didn't need to say which one. "How tight is he with Fifteen right now?"

Gail frowned. "Not really. Before he left, he was on the edge, but he burned his bridge."

Dodge nodded. "But you two are okay? Historically?"

"He cut my tie." Gail lifted her shoulders. "He's an ass, but yeah, we're okay. Why?"

"You want to be there?"

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Did Gail want to be there when Sam Swarek was encouraged to retire, lest he be fired. "No," she said firmly. "It's not personal, but if I'm there, it will be."

Dodge nodded. "Thought I'd ask. It'll be next quarter though. No point in rushing."

"Talk to Three Four, Dodge. He's not even OC, so he's not mine."

It wasn't really true though. Swarek wasn't in her cadre of minions, he'd done that damage himself. But at the same time, he'd been Fifteen's. The day the transfer was announced, Oliver had come over and sat with Gail on her porch. The then Inspector of Fifteen had wanted to cry. Sammy was one of his. A good man, a good cop, and yet he'd somehow walked astray.

Oliver blamed himself. Maybe if he'd been a better example, Sammy wouldn't have screwed up. And Gail carried her own guilt. Should she have told McNally sooner? She could have approached Swarek when Holly had expressed her doubts, because God knew Holly wasn't often wrong about things. Maybe it was even older than that... Maybe if Jerry hadn't died...

Everyone carried scars like that.

As they'd talked, though, that day years ago, Holly had come out and sat with them. Taking Gail's hand, she quietly said that Oliver had been why Sam was so good. Why Gail was so good. He'd taken two broken people, two young adults desperately seeing validation and terrified at the pain of rejection, and turned them into functional adults who could carry the weight of the world.

Gail and Andy and Dov and Traci and Chris had all carried their demons with them. Oliver had helped them overcome. He'd done the same with dozens of cops. In no way, Holly said, had Oliver failed with Sam. No, Oliver had done an amazing job. Sam had made his choices.

What would Oliver say now? What would Holly say?

Retreating to her office, Gail closed the door and dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Hey, darlin'! Your kid is adorable."

Gail blinked. "Why do I think you know something I don't?"

"That's 'cause I'm a more experienced dad."

"Pretty sure I'm a mom."

"Pretty sure your mug says otherwise."

Grinning, Gail picked up the mug in question. "Alright. What'd she do?"

"Her girlfriend called me about asking how to get you picky Pecks to feel like folks cared." And Oliver explained how Jamie had been sure Vivian would be overworked and exhausted. She wanted to do something nice, something she'd wanted her first turn on a crew, and that was cleaning and food. But. What would be best for Vivian.

Part of Gail was hurt that Jamie had called Oliver and not her or Holly. The greater part of her recognized that Jamie already caught on how to get Pecks out of trees. And Jamie knew what Vivian needed. And Jamie wanted to do what Vivian needed.

What had Holly said? It was like her heart had flown away.

"How'd it work out?"

"Your baby Peck called to tell me thanks."

Hm. Gail would have to check in. "She's been dithering about asking Jamie to move in."

Oliver made his happy-dad noise. "She should. Jamie's adorable and sweet and cute. Celery approves."

"Well hell, if your witchy wife approves, we all should." Gail laughed.

"It's true! It's true." Oliver sighed. "So what's the bad news?"

Gail winced. "How do you do that?"

"You're calling me before lunch on a day I know you're working, my darlin' petulant one."

With a sigh, Gail put her feet on her desk. "This is between you and me." Oliver made a zip sound. "Sam. We're gonna be asking him to hang it up."

Oliver sighed deeply. "It's the thing with that bomber, huh?"

"Yeah. And ... He's been weird since the Hill gang folded. Obsessed. It's coming out bad."

"You gave him Safary to let him chew out, didn't you?" When Gail didn't reply right away, Oliver sighed again. "You did that for me, huh?"

"No," she admitted. "I did it because... Sam was the first one, besides you, who didn't see me as a Peck. He listened when I talked."

"Huh." There was a clack of a mug. "I remember, years and years ago, seein' you in his truck."

"Oh. That was about McNally actually," said Gail, sheepishly. "And what do you do after being ... Um ..." She paused. "That was after I was suspended, Ollie."

Her friend, her oldest friend on the planet, made a sound of understanding. "After you've been disgraced? Yeah. I wish I'd beat you to that."

Because it was Gail who'd been kidnapped first. It was Gail who'd been suspended and disgraced first. So while both she and Oliver had been absolved of any wrongdoing, they both felt the lingering shame of it all. And Sam? Sam Swarek lived his career on the edge of acceptance. He was always doubted and untrusted and edgy. So when Gail had been ditched by Nick for that stupid UC op, and she'd been allowed to stay a cop by a technicality, the only person to turn to for advice was Sam.

"Kinda glad you didn't, Ollie. You'd never let me go if you had."

He sighed. "It made me a better cop, you know. Made me think about different things."

Gail did not share the sentiment, but didn't challenge him. "Think you'll be able to help Sam? I kinda don't think he'll take it well."

"Yeah." Oliver agreed, his voice quiet and restrained. "Yeah. I can. I will. When?"

"Couple months probably. But it's for certain."

"No point in rushing," said Oliver, echoing Dodge. "Thanks for giving me a heads up."

"No problem—"

"Hey. Gail? Say 'you're welcome' okay?"

She smiled at the phone. "You're welcome, Ollie. Thanks for being there for me."

"You're welcome, kiddo. You're my favorite."

"Love you too, Ollie."

They hung up and Gail grimaced. She hated being an adult sometimes. Why couldn't she be twenty something, get drunk, play video games, and be generally awesome? Well. That Gail was also a moron, self involved, egomaniacal, and a right asshole. A bitch. And not in the good way.

Maybe she could convince Holly to play Mega-Death Dominion with her. Holly wasn't great at video games, though, and Dov had stopped playing them years ago. Once in a while, Steve would want to play, but he was so out of practice it was an easy ass kicking. No, the only decent challengers were Leo (in Texas now, and happy), Gerald (not gonna happen), and Vivian.

If Gail called her kid, it would be to ask if Vivian had actually asked Jamie to move in. Or it would be about the Safary case. Which she was supposed to be working on. Gail grimaced and looked at the photo of her mother on the wall, currently sporting a pen out of her left eye.

What would Lucky Elaine Peck do? Superintendent Peck ... No. Detective Peck. Or maybe Detective Armstrong. She'd made detective before the name change. Though after the marriage. Huh.

In that moment, Gail realized her asshat grandfather probably denied Elaine's use of the name until she made detective. What a fuck face. He'd screwed up his kids so much. God. Maybe if her father hadn't had his emotions emasculated and ripped out, he'd have had an actual relationship with Gail, with Steve, with their wives. And Elaine... Elaine had worked so damn hard to win everything and just turned away and gave everything up for them.

It was a strength of will that Gail didn't know if she had. She'd like to think she did, that if given a choice between losing everything but making her kid happier, she'd pick the kid every time. But unlike Elaine, Gail knew Holly would be right there beside her. That kind of drive, the push to be better not as an example for her kid but to make a better world for her to live in, that was something Gail only felt after Sophie.

That had been her watershed moment. Suddenly she wanted the world to shit on kids less. While Gail was still narcissistic and self absorbed and greedy, she stopped putting herself first in all things. And just like being chosen second by Nick pushed her to really think about what love was and what it meant, watching Sophie lose everything to some morons made her realize how much the world needed people to make things better.

Both of those moments made her the person who could love Holly and deserve the reciprocation. Holly would probably disagree and tell her that she deserved everything. Then again, Holly loved her for everything she was. All the sharp and broken bits, Holly adored. Unlike everyone else, Holly saw past them and saw the real Gail, the one Gail hadn't even known was there, and loved her. Holly chose Gail first. And that made Gail the better for it.

She was inspired by Holly.

What inspired Safary?

What made someone target but (generally) not kill people? What were the common points of the companies and groups? Oh sure, they all were somewhat evil and untrustworthy, but how did someone find them!? The circus was easy, everyone knew they mistreated animals. That was still not nationally banned, the use of animals in circuses.

When Vivian had been ten, she'd asked about going to the circus. Holly had refused, citing the horrible living conditions of the animals. That led to a conversation about the zoo. Gail adored the giant heart that came with Holly, the caring soul. It was the soul that inspired, but it was Gail's mind that directed it.

Who directed Safary? What inspired her? What connected the disparate targets? How did they get picked? Of all the horrible places and companies in Canada, why these? Was it a person? Was it a group? Why the tagging? If she labeled things then she wanted to be noticed. She wanted someone to see what she did and use it to change the world to the better.

"Attention seeking anonymous. Kinda reminds me of those idiot hackers," she said to herself.

That felt like a million years ago.

"Okay. So if I can't find why, I'd better narrow down where."

Gail turned her wall on and threw the map up. Look at things from a new angle. That's what Elaine would do. She would look at the places they'd found, filled with evidence. A storage locker on one side of town. A barn on another. The sand was taken from yet another location. She clearly used multiple locations for construction.

Build the electronic components in the storage room.

Build the stuffing from the straw and sand.

Where did she find the deodorant and paintballs in mass amounts?

Gail tapped that into her tablet, sending a request to the forensic accountant to dig into paintball and deodorant purchases. Then she tapped up paintball parks on her map and bulk warehouses. Another tap to get the storage unit. They'd already tried tracking her truck, the one she'd used at the barn, and that had been ditched in the middle of nowhere important... There. She tapped the wall to mark it.

Assume common trucks, like the one ditched. Their radius was 800 kilometers, generally speaking, but that was unladen. Drop it down to 600 and that was still a huge amount. But being pulled over with that load was something to be avoided. Instead it would have to be something closer, tighter, and easier to get to.

If it was Gail, she'd avoid the cctv cameras. Then again, Gail knew where they were throughout the city. That bit of intel had been easier to keep in her head when she'd been a rookie. Now, she cheated and used the police app. No doubt some enterprising people had crowdsourced the same results. Gail had to admire their ingenuity and sent an email to the tech labs inquiring about the possibility of some open sourced app that mimicked their own. She got an immediate reply listing four on public systems, three that used Googles API, and seven on the dark web that also tracked police movement.

So odds were high she could easily avoid cameras. Gail closed her eyes. "Hey, Siri. Map me a route from ..." She stopped and snorted. "Future ain't there yet." Picking up her smart marker, Gail circled the locations. Then she threw an overlay of the cctv cameras, and played a maze. It took her three tries to get it right.

"That looks smart," said John, opening her office door.

"That looks like a route I'm sending some unis on, to see if anyone has parking cameras and can spot us tapes."

"Good luck. Low income spots."

That usually meant the cameras were for show. She sighed. "Remember the look on Pedro's face when the guy told him he was using VHS." Gail laughed unkindly, and so did John.

"Swear to god, didn't know they still made 'em." John smirked. "O'course, they were making Betamax until 2015 or something. That's Safary, ain't it?"

"Ain't? Who are you and what did you do with John Simmons?"

"We got a lead on the head bashers. Looks like four of 'em were members of the same defunct men's church club. St. Columbanus. Slogan is "Men for Men." Which is kind of weird."

Gail frowned. "Who the fuck is St. Columbo? Patron saint of slovenly detectives?"

Her sergeant laughed. "Didn't you go to catholic school?" She flipped him off. "Columbanus. And motorcycles apparently."

Motorcycles.

"Well shit, John. I'd call that a bonafide lead."

"Except for the defunct part, but I've got a trail." The man was smiling though. "Thought you should know that Dr. Stewart's work was the opening. She got an ID on a killer from old ass evidence."

Gail snorted. "I expect no less from her, John. She's been after this case since we were just friends."

But after John left, still grinning, Gail found herself happier than she was in her own headspace. Because how could she not celebrate and enjoy the marvelous woman that was Dr. Holly Stewart? It was just impossible.


This chapter was a late addition. A breather chapter to slow things down and give a break from the rather crazy pace of the season. A little case progress, some big life changes, and finally sending Andy to therapy. This chapter covered a lot of smaller plot angles, much like the original episode of the same name.

Next chapter, a bomb, a fire, a hospital, and a cottage.