03.13 - Out of Time
Oh, you know. Season finale. Bombs. It's time.
Vivian stared at the bomb.
She'd seen hundreds of them. But this was the first time she'd really been scared by a bomb.
"Is it good to go, Peck?"
"Yes, ma'am, Lt. Tran." Vivian looked up at her commanding officer. That still felt weird, not reporting to Andy all the time, or even Inspector Seabourne. No. Her chain of command ended with Sue Tran.
A comforting, massive, hand landed on her shoulder. Sgt. Smith. "You got this, Peck." And he jerked his chin.
She nodded and stood up. "Bomb is hot. Repeat, bomb is hot." Vivian swallowed a cotton dry mouth and stepped back, slowly, with her sergeant. Jules. Not Andy.
ETF was the one place where there was no other Peck. There had not been a Peck in ETF since the 1990s. It was much like Major Crimes, where Gail had staked her claim and made her name. Vivian knew she was in a safer place for herself due to her taken matronymic. Heh. Holly always laughed when Vivian called it that, but the term patronymic was inappropriate and inaccurate.
But that meant everything Vivian did not only weighed on her possible future, and yes her goals, but on those of everyone who shared her four letter name. Sometimes it made her wonder what delusion she'd been under when she sought the name Peck. Wouldn't Stewart have been better? In the end, however, no. The sword and spear that was her own name was what she needed.
And this, this work in EDU, with electronics and bombs and running up buildings with a remote control in her hand... it was fun. Vivian really enjoyed it. It was also incredibly physical and draining, and even the best ETF heroes lasted only five or ten years in the hard core physical work.
Take Sue, for example. She'd worked in the field for eight years. Then she'd stepped back and taken a round in management and now she was in charge of them all. There were days Sue still kitted up and went out with them, to defuse a complex bomb or a situation. For the most part, she didn't. Like Gail, Sue sat back and directed others.
Others like Vivian.
"Range is hot," called out Wayne, sitting safely behind the plexiglass. Once she too was behind the bomb wall, Vivian pulled off her helmet. "Peck, honors are yours."
She swallowed and nodded again. "Right." Vivian picked up the detonator. "Clear the range," she said, loudly and firmly.
"Range clear," replied the range master. "You are go."
"Range clear. Safety off." Vivian paused, hearing that repeated and recognized down the range. Ear protection went on.
She counted down from five.
She pressed the trigger.
She waited. Held a breath. Prayed to a god she'd never actually believed in. Prayed to a name she carried like a shield. Waited an eternity, a lifetime, an ice age. Waited less than a second. Waited and held her breath and her voice and her hopes.
The explosion was sound, fury, rage, and light.
It wasn't overly loud. It wasn't supposed to be. It was destructive without destroying everything. It was mostly noise and sight, sending sparks and reflective pops into the air. Balls rolled out and exploded, secondary bursts of special effects that hurt very little.
Oh it was a bomb, to be sure. It could kill. But it was also controlled and limited in scope. It was exactly how it was supposed to be.
It was perfect.
The silence settled and Vivian eased her ear protection off. She glanced at Jules and then Sue. They were impassive. "Cue up the video," said Sue, quietly.
The range master nodded at Wayne. "Can you side by side them?"
"What do you think?" A moment later there were two videos. The grainy surveillance video of the original bomb was beside one of he bomb Vivian had built and they'd blown up. After fiddling with things, Wayne changed the view so her bomb matched the original.
They watched as, frame by frame, Wayne stepped through the video.
Obviously it wasn't going to be a 100% perfect match. That was impossible. But, as they went through it, it was damn close.
Wayne huffed. "We have the train ..." He looked up at Sue. "I'll have Archie run that at the AV lab. But."
Sue nodded. "That, officers and scientists, is a plausible hit." She nodded once, still cool and poker faced. "We have a confirmed design for a Safary bomb." And Sue's face split into a shit eating grin. "Good job, Peck."
It was the sweetest compliment ever.
Skimming the report, Holly smiled. Gail watched her wife's lips turn up slowly into a beautiful, quirky smile. Holly had a million different smiles. While Gail was fond of the ones she saw in private, the half smile where Holly looked like she was grinning or laughing, and just happy. A smile Gail had, at first, assumed was her normal smile, until months later it occurred to her that only she, the cop friend, got that particular look.
No. Holly had a lot of special smiles. The one when she watched Vivian sleep was precious. The one when she lay in bed after an orgasm was soul healing. The one when Gail hit a curveball, finally, in a cops ball game Oliver wrangled her into, that one was delightful. The sweet, tender, soft smile she gave Gail sometimes, when she played with their rings... yeah Gail loved that one.
This particular smile was proud. It was gleeful and boastful and the smile of someone who wanted to sing from the rooftops.
"So. You didn't know?" Gail asked as she closed her laptop.
"No. Wayne doesn't have to clear everything with me." Holly's face stuck on her smile and she looked up at Gail, glasses slipping down her nose. "She recreated one of Safary's bomb models."
"Yeah. The post explosion evidence too. Check out the results."
Holly beamed and scrolled through the document. "Damn, that was clever."
"Sue is thrilled."
"Shit, I'm thrilled." Holly took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. She sniffed and sighed.
Gail smiled. "I keep telling you she's our kid, you nerd."
Her wife nodded and took a Kleenex, blowing her nose. "I know. I know. I just... I feel sometimes like ..." Holly shook her head. "I don't see me reflected in her all the time."
"I know," said Gail, and she walked around her desk to hug Holly close for a moment. "I do. And so does she."
Holly sighed a deep sigh from her heart and leaned in. Gail loved those moments, when Holly seemed to draw strength from Gail just being there. Someone to lean on and carry her for a little bit. And Gail, Gail could do that. "I should probably forgive her for blowing out the wifi at home, huh?"
"Probably, yeah." Gail agreed and pressed her cheek to Holly's forehead. "Tell her you're proud of how smart she is."
"Did you?"
"I did." Actually Gail had sworn and laughed and punched Vivian in the arm since the ETF idiots had stomped into Fifteen, singing her praises. Then they'd all gone off to do something athletic and dangerous. Like rappel off buildings. "They're coming to dinner Thursday."
"Hmm. I'll bring treats from Bita."
"Oh, speaking of... Do they do wedding cakes?"
Holly stiffened a little and leaned back. "Did I miss a chapter? Do I need to freak out that my baby's getting married?"
Gail laughed. "God no! John. The cake guy fucked up."
Here it was October and the wedding was in December. The engagement party (mangni, and that was a fun word) had gone off without a hitch. The bride's family had been delighted that Gail spoke the language, letting her do the translations for people. Holly had sat with the bride's family, looking stunning, as always, and been in charge of carrying the dress back and forth.
Then there was the singing and dancing and laughing. It had been a wonderful night, ending with Gail and Holly sitting out with the stars and candles, watching kids run around. That was when some older ladies, older than Elaine certainly, came up and tied their hands together, calling them silly old married people, and made them dance some more.
If all parties were like that, Gail would have enjoyed them more.
"I can ask." Holly sighed, like a kitten or a baby, leaning in more.
The door opened without warning and Chloe popped in. "You're gonna love this, Gail— Oh. Uh... sorry."
"It's fine," said Holly, and she let go of Gail, sniffling again and fixing her glasses. "Where are they?"
"One Central. Doing assault practice." Gail smiled as Holly kissed her, just the corner of her mouth.
As Holly left, Chloe eyed Gail. "What was that all about?"
"Family stuff." Gail closed the door. "Whatcha got?"
"Fine, don't let me in on your secrets. I have a suspect." Chloe held out a file.
All these years, and Gail couldn't get most of her own peers to switch to all electronic. Well. Old habits died hard, as they said. "Which case of your drug addled idiots has given you a suspect?"
"Maisie."
Gail blinked and stared at Chloe. "Maisie Falls? As in Sadie's Maisie?"
"The very one." Chloe looked positively impish. "Making amends is one of the steps you know."
"Steps... so NA is going okay?"
"As much as one might expect." Chloe tapped her paper. "Remember how she was the druggie at the antique store?"
"The one Safary blew up, sure."
"Maisie said she saw someone suspicious."
Gail read the paper quickly and flipped a page. "Sketch artist?"
"Last page."
It looked very much like Vivian's description. Wow. Gail exhaled. "Okay, unpack that one for me?"
"So Maisie was working at the antiquities store, illegally, and using it to push drugs. Cora was the assistant manager and an addict. They both skulked around a lot, hiding the drugs, which is how they met Safary. And Cora told Safary about the weird stuff that turned out to be human smuggling. When I asked about the Safari Hunt meme, Cora not only knew what I meant, she showed me her account on this weird site."
Gail flipped a page and sighed. "I have got to get you to use your damn tablet, Chloe. And that's an image site, where people post weird shit they take photos of. Or make up."
Actually Gail liked that site, and had spent time on the couch reading it and sharing cute animal pictures, or crazy stupid human ones, with Holly.
"Either way, we found where Cora posted about the fact that the shipping guys were bribing her, which is where she got her drug money by the way. Which was how Safary sussed out that there was human smuggling going on."
"Cora knew about the smuggling?"
"She knew about the dummy."
Gail whistled. "Alrighty then. We got a lead. Got a name?"
"Cindy. Cindy Smith."
With a snort, Gail handed the files back. "That's an alias."
"Probably, but I'm running it down. I need you to authorize me getting the lab to run prints on everything we got from the antiques place, try to find Safary."
"Didn't we do that already?"
"Only the crates. Cora said Safary came to scope the place out."
"That... that is good." She nodded. "You send me the forms?"
Chloe nodded. "I did. Thought you'd want to hear it in person though."
Gail grinned widely. "Oh yes, yes. I do." Reaching over, she spun her laptop around and pulled up the form, quickly signing off on it. "Now. Wanna see my kid do something awesome?"
"Is that why Holly was crying? You shouldn't make her cry."
Rolling her eyes, Gail played the video on her wall. "Chloe. My kid made a Safary bomb. She built it. So once you have your suspect locked in, we can use that information to find where she builds it."
The tiny cop's eyes went wide. "Oh I have got to see this! Do you have popcorn?"
"Please state your name for the record."
"Dr. Holly Stewart."
"Dr. Stewart, what is your current position?"
"I am currently the chief medical examiner for Toronto, and the chief forensic pathologist for Ontario."
The lawyer looked at her for a moment. "Those aren't the same things?"
"No." Holly smiled. "My position as chief medical examiner means I'm the head of forensics and pathology for the city, based out of Police Headquarters. The role of chief forensic pathologist falls under my work for Ontario Forensic Pathology Service."
"The OFPS is responsible for ensuring registered forensic pathologists perform autopsies?"
"As ordered by coroners. Yes."
"But people refer to you as the chief ME of Ontario."
Holly shrugged. "While inaccurate, the implied sentiment is often understood. They're not synonymous." It didn't really bother her any more than it bothered Gail to call her department Major Crimes or Major Cases. The point was roughly the same, and it was nothing to get hung up about.
"So you're in charge of ... all the pathologists in Ontario?"
"Responsible for, yes."
"Which is how you had access to the autopsy records for the Territory?"
Holly paused. "Yes. They fall under my purview."
"And you can examine them at any time?"
Hmm. Holly did not like the road this was headed down. However she nodded. "That is correct."
"Do you make a habit of secretly procuring documents your employees have filed?"
Oh. How nice. He was going to attack her. As Holly opened her mouth to respond, the Crowne's office spoke up. "Y'know, this isn't a trial, so could you stop interrogating the Doc?"
There was muffled laughter in the room.
"It's a hearing," said the lawyer, indignantly.
The judge sighed. "This is a preliminary hearing. Mr. Siegel already confessed. And pled guilty."
"And yet he is still my client. Are you prejudiced, your Worship?"
The judge narrowed his eyes. "Only against lawyers who harass one of the most brilliant scientists to grace my offices. Stop treating Dr. Stewart like a hostile witness. Your real question is, I believe, did Dr. Stewart abuse her position to acquire the documents leading to your client's arrest?"
The lawyer startled and shrunk a little. "Well. Yes."
Everyone turned to look at Holly. "And that would be a no. I called Dr. Grant before I pulled his files. We talked about the case and my suspicions. And I should point out, the job of head of Ontario forensic pathology is not being a boss about the other doctors. It's more like herding cats."
The Crowne's lawyer laughed. "How do you even get to do an autopsy a month?"
"I have a very understanding family and a lab that loves me."
Also, unbeknownst to them, Holly was planning to step down as the chief forensic pathologist for Ontario in the next year. She'd held the position for five years, longer than she'd wanted, and it did mean that when people called her the chief medical examiner in Ontario, they really were right but...
Holly was going to be sixty in eight short months.
Sixty.
And with the death of Lily, it felt even more important to her that she step back a little and spend more time with the people she loved, doing the job she loved. So at sixty, her present to herself was half retirement. She'd keep being the Toronto ME for at least a few more years, maybe five or ten, and then she'd step down entirely and concentrate on writing and gardening.
Even Gail had agreed. After the kids left the cottage, they'd talked about it and evaluated their choices. Retirement. Sleeping in. Doing what she wanted a little more. Gail had even talked about maybe not doing anything in SIU and just taking a break. While Holly suspected that wouldn't happen, she was encouraging of whatever future her wife sculpted for them.
Quite honestly, anything was better than this god damned constant arguing with lawyers.
But their mad killer had a bit of a plea bargain, and as much as Holly hated the very idea of giving him an inch, she did have to admit that there was going to have to be some give and take. After all, he did plead guilty to the murders.
Hours later, when she was free of legal hoopla, Holly dragged herself back to her office, asked Ruth to please keep her free for an hour, and threw herself onto the couch.
It really gave her a headache.
And it was so, so painful to have to work on giving someone a lighter sentence. He was incredibly guilty. He had killed people and been an accessory for more. Ronald Siegel's name was all over death and destruction for Ontario.
Grimacing, she picked up her phone to call the Ontario Chief Coroner, her peer, whom she had not really been keeping abreast of the situation. Not that she had to. Forensics were Holly's work. The coroner handled death in a mundane way, called in her groups for mysterious works, and they generally did a good job handling their worlds.
As professionals, they got along alright. They were very different people, though. Donaldson was a professor, a scholar, and a doctor. He cared about peace and comfort. Holly was a practical scientist. She wanted to get her hands into the dirt, her mind into the puzzle. Teaching by example and demonstration was fine, but the game of crime inspired her.
Once he was caught up, Donaldson asked the expected question. "So. Rumor or truth?"
Holly sighed. "I'm old."
"Sixty is the new forty," he offered. "But I get it, I do. You've had the job forever."
She smiled at that. "A long time."
"When do you want to go public?"
"When we release the plan for the year? And I was thinking... Rodney."
There was a pause on the line. "Frang? Your Assistant ME? Seriously?"
"He's stepping down here soon. I think, laterally, it's a good move. He's a decade younger than I am." Holly wasn't happy Rodney was quitting, but she had to agree it was time. He liked being assistant, but with her double load, he'd basically been the go-to pathologist for the lab for years.
Years. For years Holly had felt she was crazy for doing the job twice. She remembered the day she'd sat with Gail, talking about it. About doing both. Gail had listened, seriously, intently. It had been a good year, while Vivian had still been in high school and before she'd started dating Olivia. The quiet time.
And the offer had come, would she, would Holly like to take over as the head of forensics for Ontario. It was unexpected. Usually people who taught, or worked at hospitals were selected. People who had political aspirations. If Elaine had been a medical examiner, that would have been her direction.
Holly though, she had no such dreams. She didn't need her name to be known to the world, and yet it was. There were tv shows made about her. Papers read around the world. Presentations... well maybe not. But still. Holly's mark was made in other ways than an election.
"What'd Frang think?'
"He was interested. He could do it and teach a masters class at UoT."
The man on the phone sighed. "You know. Yeah. Yeah let's make this happen. You'd keep your credentials and be on call, right?"
Holly laughed. "I'm not quitting my day job. Not for a while yet."
Donaldson laughed. "Let's get the paperwork started today, huh? No matter what."
While it added hours to her day, while it got Holly home well after Gail, it was what she wanted. Holly knew the moment she filled in the papers that it was what she wanted. She walked in her door, beaming.
"Uh oh," muttered Gail. "John said the lawyers were hell. It can't be that."
"Donaldson and I started the paperwork. By summer, I'm done."
Gail looked up, surprised. A flurry of emotions raced across her face. Doubt first. Then concern. But in the end, she stopped on hope. "With... Ontario?"
Holly smiled. "Yes. Just Ontario." Taking off her jacket, Holly tossed it onto the couch and then walked into the kitchen. "It's for real."
Her wife looked back at the stove top, her face flushed. "Oh. Wow... I didn't think you'd do it so fast."
"Me neither, but I was catching Donaldson up and ... He asked about the rumor."
"There was a rumor?" Gail sounded shocked.
"I'm a woman of a certain age, honey. There are always rumors." She caught Gail's displeased scowl in the reflection of the oven door. "You mean you don't know the ones about you?"
"What?" Gail swiveled, splashing her hand with oil. She cursed and sucked the side of her hand. "What rumors!?"
Oh dear. Holly came over to the stove and gently took Gail's hand. "That you're going to move to IA. Or put on a white shirt. Or take over something else. Sweetheart, I've been hearing those since you became Inspector Peck." Soothingly, Holly brushed her fingertips over the burn. It was barely red, but still she kissed it softly.
Exhaling loudly, Gail nodded. "Yeah, but those aren't retiring."
"They'll start soon enough," mused Holly. She held Gail's hand to her cheek. "Is it scary?"
Her wife didn't reply at first. She cupped Holly's cheek and smiled a tired, worn, smile. "Yes." Gail exhaled a deep, heartfelt, breath. "It's terrifying. It's worse than accepting the promotions. To .. to move on. I don't... what will you do with your free time?"
Holly shrugged and pressed her cheek more into the hand, an action which had Gail caressing her cheekbone with a thumb. The real question was what would Gail do with her free time when she retired. "Sleep in a little. Delegate more. Garden. Write. Write a book."
"Yeah?" Gail's perfect lips curved into a smile. "What in? An analysis of an autopsy?"
"Not my best title," admitted Holly. "Maybe diatoms?"
The blonde sighed, this time a happy sound. "Well. That'll beat anything I can do for your sixty." She kissed Holly softly. "Get drinks for dinner? Sounds like a vino night."
"Only if we can eat on the couch."
"Slacker." Gail grinned and patted Holly's face before going back to cooking. "Is it okay that I don't feel ready yet?"
Holly frowned as she got down glasses. "For the couch?"
"For ... doing less work.
"Oh. God, no. And I'm not retiring yet. I think I'd go insane. Kid needs to get me a grandbaby first."
Gail laughed. "Stop pushing her."
"I have never once pushed her," said Holly firmly. "What case excited you today?"
"We have a Safary print, and narrowed down her base of operations, and Chloe's got eyes on those locations so I'm hoping to have her by the end of the month. Sooner if I'm lucky."
That was very good news. "Life is 90% luck, I hear." Holly grinned and looked at the pan. "Is that pork?"
"Mmmhmmm. It looked good. There's rice and green stuff too, don't worry."
"Never." When Gail laughed, Holly amended herself. "Rarely." She poured two glasses of wine. "I don't want to run out of time to do what I want to do with my life, Gail."
Her wife glanced over. "So we're going skydiving after all? Damn it, McNally..."
Holly laughed. Yes. They were going skydiving. And to do stupid things like dance in the rain and get drunk on tequila and find a drive in movie. But they had the time to do all of that now.
And they would. Together.
"Being comfortable in silence is a good thing," said her therapist.
Vivian snorted. "You're a laugh riot."
"You're paying me to sit here. I was thinking about what to make for dinner. You?"
"I... I was thinking the whole living with your girlfriend thing is weird."
Her therapist frowned. "Is it not going well?"
"I think it is? I mean, that's what's weird." Vivian sighed and sunk into the chair. "After this year, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."
The woman laughed softly. "The world doesn't always work like that."
That was part of why Vivian liked her. She was not Vivian's first adult therapist, not by a long shot, and it had taken a year to find the right one. Gail and Holly still saw the man who was their family therapist, but Vivian had found herself unable to talk to him about some things. Finally, after an honest explanation to the nurse/secretary, three weeks of meeting doctors, Vivian had found Marjorie Cooper.
Dr. Cooper was warm and quiet. She was incredibly patient when Vivian got caught up in her head, and had more than once extended a session to let Vivian work out absolutely boring issues. And when Vivian had been shot? Marjorie offered to come over and talk if needed. When Jamie was unconscious, there had been a phone conversation where Marjorie gently calmed her down.
She was good. At least for Vivian. Holly liked the other doctor because she could talk doctor with him. Gail liked him because he gave her shit. Vivian hadn't minded that, but she knew she needed someone she could open up to a little more.
"My moms have these friends, they're cops, and they have a kid who's six years younger than I am. Chris."
In the pause, Marjorie remarked, "You babysat him and ... Jerry?"
"Yeah. Only Chris isn't him. They're non-binary. Which, I mean, I kinda guessed when they were a kid. They're in their last year of school. Senior. And they came over to ask me for advice. Because I'm the queerest cop they know."
"A little daunting?"
"A lot. I... I've wanted to be a cop so long, I'm comfortable with having my teammates out their lives in my hand... but Chris is a kid!"
Marjorie nodded. "And they're not your child, or your family. But you feel responsible."
"I don't think they should be a cop. I don't think they'd like it."
"Could they do it?'
"Oh yeah. Chris is hella smart. But ... they wear their heart on their sleeve. They'll get hurt."
"And you don't?"
Damn it. Vivian scowled. "I do," she admitted.
"Life is not meant to kick you down, Vivian."
"God, I know." She groaned and slouched more. "I have a great family. My moms are amazing, their friends are loving and caring, and my girlfriend is awesome and..." Vivian trailed off. "I'm still really fucked up."
"But you trust her."
"I do." Vivian sighed. "I do. She likes me. And ... I like her." Vivian looked at her hands. "What if she wants kids?"
"Are you against the idea?"
"No. I .. I would want to adopt. Maybe an older kid like me, or a teen. Someone stuck in the system. But... I don't know how my moms did it."
"A lot of hard work."
"I don't know if I can do it."
"You can do a lot of things, if you put your mind to it."
"That's helpful," she mumbled. "I don't know if I want to."
"Well. That's okay too."
"Mom... Gail said to be open to the idea."
"That can mean saying no."
That... that was a good point. Vivian sighed. "I really like Jamie. How... How do I stop being weird about her parents?"
Dr. Cooper sighed and took off her glasses. "That is a good question, Vivian." The doctor studied her for a moment. "It's not all talking about your past to everyone. Sometimes it's accepting you are who you are."
"Awesome. I'm going to be fucked up for life." Vivian dropped her head to the back of the couch. "I don't want to be," she complained. "I want to be normal. Y'know? I don't want to feel all weird around men. I don't wanna be into them, or ... I don't know. Maybe I do. I don't really care. I just want to stop feeling all tense and foreboding. Like they're going to ..." She stopped.
"To what?" Dr. Cooper asked after a long pause.
"I don't know. I wish I remembered what he did."
"That would make it easier, yes. But do you need to?"
"What do you mean?" Vivian squinted at the doctor, curiously.
"Let's say you never remember why men bother you, or what your biological father did. Beyond what you know today. If you never do, does that change anything?"
Vivian looked at the woman and then let her eyes drift up to the wall. "You mean would it fix anything?" The doctor said nothing. "No. Not really. No." Vivian tossed the idea around in her head. "I mean, identifying is helpful, but it hasn't changed anything yet. I still feel like you shouldn't trust men with guns."
"Well." Her doctor smirked a little. "Few things are as terrifying as white men with guns and anger issues."
"Right." Vivian huffed. "Are we back to trying to find coping mechanisms?"
"Is it not working?"
"Mostly. I got yelled at for slipping on the rope last month." Vivian looked at her hands, which had some interesting calluses now. "I'm supposed to be solving a crime. Or the bombs. And I kinda did. But now it's done and I'm back to being a rope monkey."
"Reconsidering being a detective?"
She laughed. "God, no. I'm used to handing crime away. It's just ... it was my first big case. I expected... I expected something."
Vivian was still dwelling on that they next day. When she'd gotten home, Jamie was circumspect and gave her space. They'd talked about it before, how Vivian was often introspective and more silent than normal after a therapy appointment. She just had a lot to process. Having Jamie around did make it a little harder, but Vivian had seen Gail and Holly work with it for years. So she took a leaf from her mothers' book and just told Jamie flat out what was going on. Sometimes she just needed to think.
And Jamie was okay with that. She made dinner, usually something simple, and read. She didn't try to talk to Vivian much at all, except to ask if she wanted a drink, or to suggest they go to bed.
So Vivian didn't tell Jamie about the slightly (totally) vain thought that she should have had some accolades and praise in public for the success of her bomb making skills. And she didn't mention that she felt she should have had some recognition. No, instead she kept her peace and tried to think about why she felt like she should be special. Because that was novel to Vivian.
Growing up, Vivian never felt special. She didn't want to. She wanted to be normal and not stand out. Normal was common and boring and no one asked questions about normal. Normal meant people didn't think about her. Yet here she was, 25, wanting to be, and a little hurt not to be, recognized. That was just plain weird, wasn't it?
With that sort of thought fomenting in the back of her mind, Vivian practiced the ascender and locking into into place. She ran through a dry run with the rest of the second stringers, forgetting her nerves and actually getting everything right for a change. That reminded her the trick of it all. Relax. Zen out. Don't overthink. Never think about winning, think about each move and moment and movement as its own. She knew what to do. She had always known what to do.
As soon as she hit the ground from her last run, Vivian found herself face to face with her boss. "Peck! Not that I'm upset to see your clever face, but didn't I assign you to find Safary's lairs?" Sue looked amused at least.
"They're having meetings till lunch, ma'am. Thought I'd get some practice in."
"Well you would know," admitted Sue. "How's that going?"
Vivian pulled off her helmet. "Uh, I thought Jules— Sgt. Smith would keep you updated."
Sue waved a hand. "That's a report. How's it really going? I always found it frustrating." The grimace that crossed Vivian's face must have been telling. "Oh yeah, you're in the weeds?"
"I'm no Sherlock. Asking me to find the one place where a weird brand of cigarettes were sold..."
"Nah, that's your mother's game. The doc's. It's creepy she can do that shit, you know?"
"They're a dynamic duo when you get 'em on the same case too."
Sue laughed. "Seen that more than once. What's your next step with the locations?"
Vivian sighed. "Well. Chloe— Sgt. Price is chasing down druggie's dreams to try and find locations based on cellphone triangulation. Inspector Peck is following the trail of graffiti and sales. And I ... am going to match those up with samples from the lab. Get a closer lock on where."
Nodding, Sue folded her arms. "Which is work any lab monkey could do, so why am I making you do it?"
Now that she mentioned it... Vivian scratched the side of her jaw. "I'm trying not to ask that one, ma'am. I'm a rook. We don't ask those questions."
The lieutenant smiled. "You, Peck. You're going to be different. Those adrenaline junkies I have, they're great. They're smart, they're talented, and they know how to do what needs doing. But for the most part, they lack vision. Do you know why you were first alternate?"
Vivian shook her head.
"If you look at the numbers, you're the best of the lot. On paper. You're brilliant with engineering. I bet Holly cries that you're not some retro Elon Musk."
"Sometimes," admitted Vivian, under her breath.
"But you don't have experience. You don't have field history. You're not ready to lead." Sue tapped Vivian's chest. "You are, like you said, a rook. But you are also a Peck. And my job is to make sure those two things balance each other out."
Vivian arched an eyebrow. "You are aware I'm adopted, right?"
"I'm aware Elaine Peck took a firm hand in your post high school education."
That was true. After Elaine and Gail stopped shouting at each other, they'd colluded to fast track Vivian in how to be a cop. They'd run her through handling weapons, driving, and above all, the logic games. On top of that, Vivian had crammed her engineering work in, hoping desperately not to disappoint Holly, who had put up with so, so much.
"So ... this is grad school?"
"You're going in with the tactical team when we find Safary."
Vivian felt like she'd been slapped. "I'm not tac..."
"No. You're not. But you are a bomb genius, and you're going to know Safary inside and out, so when tac takes on her secret lair, and she inevitably has a bomb, you will be with them to take the bomb out and keep them safe." Sue tapped her chest again. "So you need to trust you and do this. You need to use that brain and get it all in there so you can earn their trust and your place for real. Now. Can you do this?"
The weight of Sue's words settled on her shoulders and Vivian shuddered a little.
This was what Elaine had tried to warn her about. As a Peck, her legacy was always going to be at the cost of what paths people had walked before her. Vivian was the latest in an unbroken line of Toronto Blue. The name she had taken as shield and savior was now the one she had to bear for others. She had to protect not just the innocent and civilians, but her fellow officers.
People's lives depended on her.
There was only one answer.
"Yes. I can," she told Sue, firmly, feeling a greasy, queasiness in her gut. Fear. She felt fear.
But not doubt.
This was, after all, what she wanted.
Her desk, wall, and much of the floor were covered in notes. The wall was the map, with carefully documented points of interest, all given mathematical probability (as determined by her own daughter) to tell Gail not only where the likely lairs were, but where possible targets lay.
Because Safary was still in the city limits.
Because Chloe had a skel with eyes on the woman from two days ago.
Because right now Gail had a covert ops team watching her.
And damned if the woman wasn't playing it straight.
Oh they could have swooped in and picked her off the street for matching the profile and description of a known suspect. The problem was that without concrete evidence, they'd have to roll her free in 48 hours, and she'd be in the wind. And there was no guarantee they'd have enough to keep her on.
Shit they barely had enough to pick her up with. All they had was rookie cop's description and a possible match from two drug addled idiots in rehab. One idiot. Maisie had skipped town. As expected.
Gail massaged her temples. Right now, she would give a lot to be a simple grunt in a blue uniform, instead of a suit. Well. Jeans and boots and a blazer. She'd only broken down and worn a suit a few times after making head of the Major Case Squad, before telling her bosses it wasn't for her. They hadn't cared. Let her wear what she wanted with a close record like she had.
If only she could make serious headway on the Safary case. This was not the biggest case in her career (that remained the royals), however it certainly was on the top ten, if not five. This was a case spanning a decade with implications in multiple territories.
The Peck in her recognized that solving the case would be a feather in her cap and pave her way for whatever future she wanted. The wife in her dreamed about leveraging it into early retirement and years of relaxing sin with Holly. The mother thought about making the world safer for her child and potential grandchildren. The police officer though...
Detective Inspector Gail Antonia Peck. Mother. Wife. Friend. Cop.
She was, now and forever more, all those things. And she had a responsibility to her family and her city, if not the world, to make things safer for everyone. Long before she'd been a wife and a mother, before she'd been a girlfriend or even Gail Peck, fucked up sociopath, she'd known the value of a life and the purpose of her own.
After all, she was a Peck. Pecks knew sacrifice of self for the world. They also knew fame and fortune, something many of her name desired but most could do without. No, at the heart of things, Pecks really, truly, deeply, honestly wanted to make the world better. Even her more peculiar ancestors, the Howlands and the Fairchilds, had wanted the same.
Gail stopped and stared at the wall. Her lineage bespoke similarities to the Haan head bashers. But her actions and journey took towards Safary.
"She wants to make the world better," muttered Gail.
She knew that. Safary wanted to save people too. The people who couldn't, wouldn't save themselves. And without the shield and barrier of the law, Safary could do anything.
"Boy are you in the weeds," said John, closing the door as he walked in.
"Fuck you too." Gail smiled up at her partner and most reliable right hand man. "How was Mexico and what did you bring me?"
"Enlightening. Mounties in shorts are pretty impressive."
Gail screwed her face up. "Ew. At least my pale is attractive."
John made a show of studying Gail. "I suppose." He shrugged and started to sit on the couch, only to pause and regard the papers. "Seriously? The woman who agitated for use to go paperless has a fuck tonne of dead trees all over the place?"
"History predates computers, hoser." Gail waved a hand. "Just stack those up. They're in my out-box."
"How goes your Safary hunt?"
With a laugh, Gail pushed away from her desk and propped her feet up. "Funny. Apparently she's been using memes with the catch-phrase of 'safari hunt' to find her targets."
John paused his stacking of her papers. "No shit? That's some wild ass crap. My head bashers just have an arrangement."
"How many are left?"
"Out there? Maybe five. We think. The Mounties are collecting their men. A few outliers, retired old ones. They don't need me."
"So you came home for me?" Gail faux simpered. "I knew you loved me."
"Fuck yourself, Gail. My damn wedding is coming up."
There was no animosity in his words any more than hers. They had been partners and friends for an incredibly long time. She had worked with him more closely than anyone else in the world, even Holly. If Gail was lucky, she got one or two good cases with Holly a year. The rest of the time, they worked in related, adjacent, but not touching circles.
But Gail and John? Well. They'd worked together every day for decades. They saw each other day in, day out, and sometimes weekends. They'd slept in the same bed (twice), and they would never speak of it again. They'd spent hours together working an undercover case. They'd solved a hundred crimes.
So Gail knew John quite well. "How's Janet handling all this?"
"Okay. She's not happy. Which is the other reason I'm home." John frowned and leafed through the papers. "It's time to let go a little."
"Please tell me that's not a prelude to retiring. It's weird enough without Steve, and now Holly..." She shuddered.
John sat bolt upright. "She's what!?"
Gail rewound her words and winced. "God, no. Just the Territory stuff. No more chief ME of Ontario as of summer."
"Thank fuck." John exhaled a loud sigh of relief. "Jesus, that's gonna rock the world."
"Probably not." Gail shrugged. "She nominated Rodney for the gig. I think she'll be happier without the paperwork and politics side of things."
"Yeah but... well. She only had the job for like five years anyway. I guess..."
"Closer to eight. But yeah." Gail sighed and leaned back as far as her chair would go. "I can't figure out where the hell Safary is."
John, accepting the topic change for what it was (an avoidance of discussions of getting old), craned his neck and looked at her wall. "Are those ... Are those percentages of probability per location? Who did that?"
"My kid. She also made a working replica, full scale, of Safary's bombs, and Sue has her boning up so when we find the lair, that kid can walk in with tactical assault, defuse a bomb on site, and save the world."
"Hmmm." John frowned. "But no pressure."
"None at all."
"Think she can do it?"
Gail sighed. "Yes. Inspector Peck says yes. Because the kid is fucking smart and talented and knows her shit."
Her sergeant nodded and then stood up. "Components. She builds them in separate locations and assembles them on site. So. What order?"
Without even thinking, Gail gestured. "No matter what, you pick up the least volatile material first. The explosive parts last. Though we blew up one of those."
"You'd have a backup," opined John.
"Sure. Not in the same type of place. Hell, I'd probably have a place to experiment and a secondary location and rotate 'em." Gail swung her feet off her desk and walked over, snatching a wall pen on her way. "Here's what we know." She circled the storage unit and the collapsed shitty apartments.
"We haven't checked the others?"
Gail eyed John. "We're working it. We're following her."
If John had been holding anything, he would have dropped it. "You have eyes on her?"
"Yeah. Prime suspect." Gail pointed at the photo on her wall. "Cindy Smith."
"That's an alias."
"Right. She hasn't done anything suspicious. Yet. So we have UC and some rookies monitoring. Fuller and Aronson."
"They're all you got left," joked John. "Except Hanford... man. What are we going to do with Abercrombie?"
"Honestly? He has his moments." Gail stared at her board. "Hey. Watch the wall, will you?" John made a noise of agreement and Gail snatched up her tablet. The full cell phone records were still not included in her warrants. The judge said it was too broad without any concrete evidence. But she could, and did, get the list of numbers who came to the antique shop. And she matched those with the ones in other areas, like where the bomb components were housed.
And right now, Gail tapped a key to mark the trails of the most visited locations.
John saw the dots and drew lines, linking them up. "What've you got?"
"Some components are more rare than others," said Gail softly. "She has to hit them up all the time. Finish building her bomb parts and then putting them in safe storage. Like that unit the kids found. Make that line thicker."
Nodding again, John thickened the lines with more traffic. "Well. I see where you'll be sending the eyes on units to. I'll go get Chloe."
"Thanks." Gail barely acknowledged his departure, staring at the wall. They had traffic patterns for the cell phone that matched locations for the bomb parts.
They had her. Now ...Now to catch her.
The headline was upsetting.
"Toronto Police Make Headway with LEGO Bomber."
Gail had received the phone call at three in the morning and neither of them had slept since. At five, Holly gave up and made breakfast. Her wife's metabolic system would burn through its reserves quickly, sending the pissed off Inspector well into her most dangerous moods.
By the time breakfast was ready, Gail stomped back down the stairs, half dressed. "I'm going to kill him," she snarled, heading right for the coffee.
Wisely, Holly held out a mug. "You know who leaked?"
"I do. Sam fucking Swarek."
Holly jerked her head back. "Sam!? How did that happen?"
"Apparently he didn't know Marlo's cousin was a blogger for that stupid news site that bought out HuffPo."
Holly felt like she'd sucked on a lemon. "A blogger?"
"Yeah, the cousin was over, talking about stuff, and fucking Sam mentioned his case and how he'd been pulled off it, but blah blah innovative bombs. Damn it. Now she knows! She's gonna fucking rabbit, and I have to fire Sam god-damned Swarek, instead of fucking easing him out, because he screwed over OC!"
Okay, that was way worse. "Doesn't SIU have to investigate?"
"They are, but Sam already admitted fault." Gail sucked down her coffee and eyed the food. "I can't eat."
"Yes you can, Gail." Holly pushed the eggless breakfast sandwich over. "Eat."
Gail scowled and picked up the food to take a bite. With a smile, Holly patted Gail's head. "I'm not a pet," complained Gail around her mouthful of food.
"You are a dear, though. Are you headed right over?"
Despondent, Gail nodded. "SIU is rushing their case. They already talked to Marlo and the blogging firm. Jesus. I miss newspapers."
"I'll remember you said that later."
Gail flipped Holly off. "Point being, by the time I get to Twenty-Seven, it'll be over except the handover." Then she sighed. "Jesus can you imagine the shitstorm if he was still married to Andy? She'd hate me!"
Sometimes the right reply to Gail in a self-deprecating moment was to tease her. Sometimes the answer was a joke or a mocking comment of agreement. Light belittling. Never meant seriously, but as a counterpoint to things. Gail's natural ego would rise and defend herself nine times out of ten.
That tenth time, though, Gail wasn't mocking herself. That time was Gail feeling too much, the cut of bone and blood that came with her name and history. That was Gail shouldering the inescapable fate of a Peck. That was Gail, a scared child, facing death and defamation and destruction. All because no one else would.
The first time Holly had seen it, she'd not recognized it for what it was. How could she know the real reasons behind Gail's freak out in her bathroom? She'd only known Gail a frenetic few months at that point. She knew the woman alright, but not deeply. Not like she knew Gail now.
"Honey," said Holly softly.
She tried to put everything into that one word.
Tell her, with a look, with a voice, with a soft smile. Tell her with a cup of tea and a reminder to eat. Tell her every day. Use the words she cannot say, the ones that threaten to swallow her whole. Use the touch and remind her that it can be said, in an action if needed, or a text.
Remember everything that brought the two here. Remember the disparaging comments, the snide humor, the bitter darkness. The way she rolled through your soul like that first taste of coffee in the morning. The way she became the brightest spot in your life without trying. The way even when one of you tried to leave, it was too too late. Both your hearts were goners.
Tell her.
Just let those beautiful, stunning blue eyes look up with fear and doubt, and then let it all wash away as she basked in the look.
Let her see her eyes reflected.
Let her see what Holly saw every day.
And Gail did.
Gail exhaled and put her coffee cup down. Gail turned, walked only a few steps away, and she stood in the center of their great room, her back to Holly. "Holly... I have to go ask for the badge of the man who cut my tie." Gail's voice was incredibly soft. Scared. She had spoken no louder when she mentioned the inch of her hair that represented Jerry.
Holly put her coffee mug down and walked up behind Gail, wrapping her arms around the blonde. "No one will respect him more in doing this than you, honey," said Holly gently. "No one will be more fair."
Two pale hands reached up to cover her own. "Will he see it that way? Or will he just see a Peck?" Now her voice shook the smallest, teensiest, bit.
"I will see Gail Peck." Holly rested her cheek on Gail's shoulder. "I will see the bravest, toughest woman I know. I will see the most caring person I know. And so will everyone else. Because they know you're the only one who can be the bad guy and the hero in the same breath."
She felt more than heard Gail's shuddering exhale.
"Okay." Gail shifted her weight and Holly let go. The cop turned around and kissed the corner of Holly's mouth. "Thank you."
With a smile she didn't quite feel, Holly smoothed Gail's hair back. "Go put on your darkest jeans, your boots, and the green blazer. Keep the black shirt on. Okay?" Gail nodded but didn't go anywhere. She just leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "You can do this."
Again, Gail nodded. She leaned back, took a deep breath, and went upstairs to change.
It felt like Holly was always adjusting her schedule in a rush, and today was no different. But Gail would need her later, after the work had been done. So Holly rearranged and reassigned things. She quickly handed off her Territory work to Rodney, who handed his Medical Examiner work off to his assistant (and maybe soon to be replacement). They both dumped things onto the desk of the newest in their chain of command.
Then Holly took the time to speak with those who needed to know about her plan, her slow stepping back and Rodney's move. It was not unexpected by the lab, but as Ananda said, it was still unexpected.
"After all, you're a living legend."
That gave her pause.
A living legend. Was that what she wanted to be? It really made a woman think.
Holly was still thinking about it when flashed her ID and swiped her card to walk into Twenty-Seven from the lot. She didn't come by all that often. With Gail stationed at Fifteen, that was the Division Holly considered home. After that was Thirty-Four, where the irascible Sgt. Frankie Anderson was located. But here... Holly's eyes drifted to the wall where the fallen heroes stood in timeless effigy.
Those were legends.
The second row held a face she still saw in her dreams from time to time. Detective Lucas James Callaghan. She'd not known his middle name until months after his death, when she'd finally had energy and wherewithal, and forced Gail to take her to his grave. Luke was why Sam was here. This, Twenty-Seven, was where the disgraced from Fifteen went.
Near the bottom was another face. Detective Josephine Rosati. That face haunted Gail less than expected. For all Gail had seen, felt Jo's brains blown out by a man with a gun, she'd moved past the death fairly well. Jo's son, Joseph, a child she herself had babysat and napped with, was now twenty-two and playing football for a college in Florida.
Time moved ever onward.
How many of the fallen were from Fifteen, wondered Holly. Gail would know. Holly wouldn't ask any time soon. Maybe come summer, when it was bright and warm and they lay on the grass lawn by the lake, watching the birds and fish. Or maybe she just wouldn't ask at all. Did it really matter?
"Dr. Stewart!"
Holly turned and spotted the white shirt of Sgt. Rogers. "Bryce. Nice to see you." She smiled.
"Is there a case I should know about?" The man frowned.
"Oh no, no. I'm here to pick up a, no doubt, very irate Inspector."
Bryce winced. "She's in my office with Douglas and Swarek..." He trailed off. "It's really fucked up."
"Yes," said Holly softly. "It is." She gave one last look to Luke and Jo. One last thought of how they'd impacted her life. And Holly walked away from the wall. "No general inquiry?"
"No, not for Sam. He fessed up right away. I've had his gun and badge since six this morning." Bryce shoved his hands into his pockets. "Place is gonna be weird. Who the hell ... I mean. Don't get me wrong, Doc. There's a lot wrong with Sam Swarek. But he loves this job."
"I know he does."
Bryce swallowed and nodded. They both lapsed into silence until the office door opened and Gail walked out. "Bryce." She jerked her chin at him and came to stand by Holly. "Hey."
The confused look on Gail's face sent Holly back decades. She smiled and brushed Gail's jacket lapels. "Hey."
Gail narrowed her eyes. "You didn't have to come."
"I know. But I also know you need to eat. Go get your bag."
Now she rolled her eyes, but the blonde acquiesced quickly. "Fine. I need to talk to one more person. Five minutes?"
Holly nodded and watched her wife head to the detective bullpen where someone was standing by a box. That must have been Sam's desk. What a stark realization. Holly had helped Noelle box up her desk, but that had been a planned moment.
"Doc," said a new voice, starling her.
She looked up at the burly, hound-dog faced Sam Swarek. Holly nearly called him by his title, her normal reply, only to have the stark reality echo in her heart. "Sam," she replied quietly. "I guess ... Good luck?"
Sam shook his head. "Nah. I'm okay. She made sure of that." He looked at where Gail stood, her back to them, and a quaking young woman. Probably Sam's replacement. "You know... Gail had no reason to do it, but she made sure... She made sure I get a package. That I'm not gonna get dragged in the mud. She said I got a kid goin' to college soon, and I'm still family." Sam glanced at Holly. "But. But you. You expect that from her, don't'cha?"
Holly couldn't not smile. "I do, Sam. I do."
The man huffed. "Wish more people did. She pretends she don't care. That folks not trusting her doesn't cut her. They don't see how much she gives to this job. This city."
None of that was news to Holly. It was part of why she fell so hard for Gail, a woman who was so selfless. Gail would give everything for the blue she'd wear, probably until she died. And she knew Sam knew she knew. "What are you getting at, Sam?"
"Nothing... everything. Maybe... Maybe thank you." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Thank you for makin' sure she doesn't burn out. Giving her what she needs. Deserves. All the shit her family did, she still fought for 'em and bled for 'em." Sam sighed. "And I know you worry about your kid. That she sees all this crap Gail does, and she's gonna get hurt too."
Holly sucked on her teeth. "Sam..." He was right. Holly did, always, worry Vivian would get hurt trying to prove she was as much a Peck as Gail. That Vivian deserved to be a Peck.
"Nah nah, lemme say this and get out before Gail comes back, okay?" He cleared his throat. "Your kid, Vivian, she's smart and good and the most ready copper I've seen in years. And I see her, I know she took Peck and put on blue for the same reasons I did. Trying to run away from what she was." Sam paused. "My old man, he beat me and my mom and my sister. He died in prison. Whatever happened to your kid before you got her, it left the same thing on her it did me. I see it. I know it. But the difference, Doc... She's got you guys. And she's gonna be amazing. Ten years, she's gonna clean this place up."
And there he stopped. He nodded, as if the words were everything he'd needed to say, and he walked away.
Holly frowned a little. So. That 'thing' Vivian saw in Sam, that part of him the girl had never liked, was their similar history. Vivian saw some of herself in Sam, and it scared her. Probably. Not that it was something Holly could ask. That wasn't her place to share Sam's story, not even to Gail.
"Hey, why the frown? I get to be the grumpy cat." Gail had her shoulder bag in hand. "What'd Hound Dog say?"
"Just goodbye." Holly shook her head and took Gail's hand. "Come on, let's get something to eat."
"The market? They have that Indian place. Chicken and mango samosa's."
Holly smiled. Leave it to Gail to default to food in time of need. "Yeah. Let's do that." Food. That was a direction. "Pick up some for the kids?"
Gail rolled her eyes. "How did we end up with three?" But she was smiling as they walked out. A weary, worn smile, but a smile.
The apartment was empty. Clean but empty. And a note from her moms.
"I need to ask them for the keys," muttered Vivian, opening the take out box. "Oh! Samosas!"
Quickly counting them, Vivian determined she could eat three without anyone getting pissed off. Count on Gail to purchase in Gail Portions.
Vivian split the food into three, labeling them, and microwaving her own. Between the three of them, they'd sorted out a way to keep track of chores and food. Jamie had drawn up a chart, listing everyone's work days and hours, and who was responsible for what.
Normally Vivian had charge of cooking. Jamie and Christian took the brunt of the cleaning, and everyone did their own laundry. Well. Christian did his. Vivian and Jamie had slowly started to do theirs together, which was odd. Of course she'd done her laundry with her parents, but once Vivian was old enough to do her own, she'd tended to wash her clothes separately.
With Christian, they had totally done their laundry separately. She didn't want his stinky boy sheets in with hers after all. Not to mention underwear. Ick. And to a degree, she thought she'd feel that way about Jamie's as well. Underwear was private stuff.
The third or fourth time she'd hung up Jamie's stuff to dry, Vivian realized she didn't care after all. It was just clothes. Clean clothes. And it wasn't like she didn't wash her hands after messing with the dirty.
With three people, though, they had to sort out who used the machines and when. Today being the only day of the month Vivian had it all to herself, she did as much of her and Jamie's laundry as possible. But that, and cleaning, only ate up a few hours of a day, and it had been a long time since Vivian found herself with 30 uninterrupted hours of no housemates and no chores. Unless her moms were gone for a long weekend without her (a rarity), and even then Steve or Elaine or Oliver or a hundred other people would swing by to check on her, she'd rarely had alone time.
Now she was an adult. Now Vivian was expected to want to be alone sometimes, to want to reach out if she needed friendship or more. And she did. She knew how to. If she picked up her phone and called Matty, he would ask her to come over while he sewed. And they would laugh about stupid things. He would ask her to explain sports, which Enrico loved, and she would ask him what easy intro to dance and music she could take Jamie to, because her girlfriend still didn't quite understand the reasons.
Or she could go to the gym and run up and down obstacles and stop thinking about everything. The worry about her family, biological and the one she'd made, the worry about how Gail was handling the whole Swarek situation...
God that was fucked up. She'd woken up to Jamie texting her about the news. Everyone, even the firemen, had heard about that one. Had Vivian known? And who was the leak? Vivian hadn't, but ten seconds of thinking told her who it had to be. No one who worked directly under Gail would dare. That meant it had to be someone along the mental capacity of Gerald making a fuckup. And Gerald? No one gave him intel like that.
But Sam Swarek knew. It had been his case, however briefly, and Vivian had been partly at fault for him being kicked off. She told Jamie she suspected someone, and would have to check. Jamie asked if Vivian was okay, and it felt nice. Or something. Andy would probably say it warmed her heart, or some bullshit. But... it just felt nice.
Texting Gail resulted in a similar feeling. Vivian asked her mother if she was okay, only to have Gail reply that it was not Vivian's fault. Or Lara's. For Gail to say that meant that she herself was going to handle the situation. Vivian had winced and considered texting Holly, but instead decided to trust Gail. She told her mother she could come over for dinner, and Gail said maybe. A good sign.
A better sign, when Vivian got back from her errands and her run, was the food. The samosas (mango and chicken? amazing!) meant that Holly was making sure Gail ate and took care of her mental health, so Vivian felt better that Gail didn't ask her to come by. They'd be okay.
Still. That meant she had nothing to do. Ugh.
Laundry was done. Cleaning was done. Errands were done.
"The problem," Vivian said aloud. "The problem is I'm too fucking efficient."
She could watch Netflix or Amazon or regular TV. Movies, sports, or a hundred other things. She could read a book, Jamie had recommended a million after all. Or... Vivian sighed and looked at her tablet.
"I come from a long line of workaholics." She tapped the tablet open and pulled up the schematics on another of Safary's bombs. There were so many models and so many variants, it could take her years and she probably only had days. At best.
If Swarek really had done that, Safary was spooked. Safary had to be. And spooked people ran. So Gail's forces would be scrambling to find her. No... No, Chloe's minions would be. Huh. Vivian looked at the whiteboard where they marked their schedules. Christian was working some secret op. He was working for Chloe. He was watching Safary.
That put a slightly more pressing imperative to her work. Vivian sighed and sat on the couch with her food, her tablet, and the news on the radio. Something to tune out. A night in doing research was what the world needed from her right now.
She woke up sometime around 3am to her phone ringing. "Peck," she mumbled, climbing out of the blankets and a confusing dream about defusing a bomb in order to have sex (seriously, subconscious, what was wrong with you?).
"Sorry for the early call," said the familiar voice of dispatch. Emily. Right. She'd been the night dispatch for years. A wonderful woman, mom of four, she had been a calming voice to hear on Vivian's first foray into the night shift.
"Long time no hear." Vivian yawned and sat up. "How hot is this?"
"Scorching. ETF, tac and EDU, and most of, er, Peck's squad from OC." The amusement in Emily's voice was hard to miss.
"Alright. Rolling out. One Central or Fifteen?"
"Fifteen. Peck and Tran are making a . team. Congratulations."
"Yeah, you've met my mom, Emily." Vivian grinned and hung up. Since Emily hadn't said to be there yesterday, Vivian took time to wash up and make coffee before heading over to Fifteen.
It proved to be the right call. Chloe was just rolling in herself. "Hey, Little Peck. It's go time."
Vivian locked her bike and nodded. While Chloe was, per usual, smiling, the nerves had started to inch up. Did she know enough? Was she ready? Vivian knew this day was going to include her going first (maybe second) into a building to defuse a bomb. "Yeah, yeah it is," she replied.
Chloe, a mom, and a lifelong friend (no matter how much it made Gail bluster), looked like she wanted to sling her arm around around Vivian's shoulders. There was too much of a height gap between them. So Chloe settled for looping her arm through Vivian's instead. "Hey. You know we know you're not ready, right?"
Technically she knew but ... "Wow, way to be sensitive," said Vivian, aware her tone was very Gail in its snideness.
"I am. You're scared because people's lives are going to be on your shoulders. And you should be. But we know you're scared and green." Chloe pinched her cheek. "We're counting on it."
Weirdly, that kind of helped. "Oh..."
"There you go."
"Hey Price, stop manhandling my bomb expert."
They both looked at Sue. "Just grounding her first." Chloe beamed at Vivian. "Feel better?"
"I'd feel better if you let me go," grumbled Vivian.
The familiar scoff of Gail Peck came from behind them. "Chloe. Come on. I've got video."
Chloe ooooohed like a child and dropped Vivian's arm to scamper off. "I love the future, don't you?" The two vanished into the parade room.
When Vivian rubbed her arm and frowned a little, Sue made a noise. "That frown of yours is your default worry face."
Vivian jumped. "Well... Dispatch called me in the middle of the night. Can't say I'm relaxed."
Sue gave Vivian a long look. "I know what you can do, kid. Suit up. Peck's gonna debrief us before we go."
Taking a deep breath, Vivian nodded and went to get in her gear. She could do this.
Sipping her coffee, Gail tried to squelch the slight fear in her gut. "Okay," she said to Sue, managing to keep her voice calm. "What's the video show?"
"One probable. It's a booby trap ten feet in. Here's the penetrating scan." Sue held up her tablet.
Years of practice were the only reason why Gail could understand the picture. The deep penetrating video camera was one of the favorite tricks Sue's team had. It could scan through walls. Sometimes. It was finicky as hell, and it needed time to set up.
That was the only good thing of the current situation. Safary was holed up in her safe house, the one Christian and Jenny had been staking out for a week. They'd seen her go in and, using a telephoto lens, caught sight of her setting up ... something. Like proper cops, they'd called it in. About half an hour later, there was a power surge and Gail was called. Safary was doing something.
Right away, Gail amped up the stakeout, making sure every possible escape route was covered. And she repeated herself a hundred times that use of lethal force was not authorized. They were not going to kill Safary. They were not going to allow her suicide by cop. They were going to carefully, calmly, and logically deescalate.
Which was why Safary had boobytrapped her place.
At least there was no sign of a gun.
That was when Gail formulated the plan and got Sue on board. A middle of the night raid was one thing but an early AM planned takedown was another. This was going to be public, though not as much as the Three Rivers debacle. It certainly wouldn't be as quiet as the arsonist.
"Okay. Can we defuse it without her knowing?" Gail sucked on her lower lip after she asked.
Sue looked over at the tall, slightly pale (though not as much as Gail) Peck. "Without her knowing?"
Vivian leaned over to study the pictures. Her nervousness seemed to fade as she did so. "Can we cut off her cameras?" The girl— the cop tapped the screen, highlighting a line.
"Yeah, that goes to the main junction. She's gonna have eyes on you though."
"Yeah," agreed Vivian. "Can we, I dunno, distract her?"
Both Gail and Sue looked at Vivian, surprised. "Misdirection? While you watch the beautiful assistant, the magician picks your pocket?" Gail grinned ear to ear. "Yeah. We can... Chloe, I'm gonna need you to play negotiator."
Chloe startled but nodded. "Eyes have her over by the north side. Want me to be obvious as hell?"
"Yeah. But watch yourself. Anyone lights you up, I want your ass safe."
Sue coughed a laugh. "Let's send her out with a bomb shield and an ETF jacket. She can play one of us. God knows she's a good enough negotiator."
This seemed to be news to Chloe, but she and Sue went over to kit up in her disguise. Vivian, oblivious to Gail's nerves, trailed them, still studying the picture. Her child was obsessed. Gail sighed and wondered if they had any TUMS.
Instead of asking, she finished her coffee and walked over to the AV van. "Picking up anything?" The AV guys shook their heads. Gail sighed. Okay no spying. She wanted to spy. "Directional mic?"
"Yeah, we got that, but it'll have to be on a different channel than Price."
Damn. That made sense. Gail looked around for inspiration and found it. "Diaz—" She flinched. He wasn't Chris' son, he didn't even look like him, but Christian filled in that void. "Fuller, Aronson, c'mere." Gail gestured for them.
"Ma'am?" Christian looked nervous.
"Do you know what the reward is for a job well done?"
The two looked at each other. "Another job?" Aronson sounded uncertain.
"Bingo. Get headphones. You two are going to listen carefully to our bomber. You hear anything suspicious, I want to know."
"Um. How do we know what's suspicious?" Christian had his hand half raised.
Ah, to be young and naive. Gail wanted to tell them to man up, or whatever, but they were still babies. And unlike Gerald, they didn't need a firm hand to push them in the right direction. No, she bit down on her sarcasm and anger. "You guys have been cops almost three years, right? You know when people sound off. Well... trust your instincts."
"But—" Christian started to protest.
"Hey." Gail snapped. "Shut up, put on the headphones, and use your heads. Training wheels are gone, bucko." And she spun on her heel to walk off. At the other van, where ETF was kitting up, Sue gave Gail a look. "What?" Gail snarled.
"Little harsh there." Sue shrugged and tightened her vest.
"They're not babies anymore, Sue. God knows. You're sending mine in to defuse a bomb, and for all we know Safary has a remote detonator."
"Don't think so," said Sue. "What channel do you use?"
"Usually 7 or 9, but we'll use what you guys are on. This is your show."
And Sue laughed. "Fuck no it's not." She wriggled her earbud in. "You're the boss, Gail. You feeling old or something?"
Gail looked over at the familiar figure of her daughter, wearing a bomb vest, helmet, goggles, and being suited up by someone (Sabrina?) who was checking the fit of it all. "Pretty old, yeah," admitted Gail. She sighed. "Safary knows we're here. She knows we cut off her video and internet."
"Just about to," corrected Sue. "WiFi is down, but we like to hold off on killing cell phones until the last second. There is a land line, if you want to try that..."
"Did you snipe her cell number?"
Sue nodded. "Oh yeah, AV picked that up right away."
Gail exhaled. "Okay. Get Price set up. Have Tactical ready to go in the side. Silent as possible. Make sure there's no silent alarm or tripwires. Get the kid to defuse the bomb. Go in, gentle takedown. No one gets hurt."
"You make it sound so easy," said Sue. She was smiling grimly.
"It's always easy on paper. You run this side. I'm going to be Chloe's backup. If anything changes—"
"I'll make sure you know first."
They looked at each other. They were both women in their mid fifties. They were experienced. They were professionals. They were at the top of their games. This was the work Sue and Gail had been born to do. In Gail's case, raised. There was no need for a hug or a handshake. They just knew.
As Gail turned to go stand with Chloe, she spotted the uniform and nervous face of Lara Volk. Excellent. "Volk, what're you assigned to?"
The girl— the woman (Gail had to stop thinking of them as kids) startled. "Um. Nothing, ma'am. Homicide's backing out."
Hm. Gail looked over and spotted Zettle. "Z, I'm borrowing Volk for my errands."
"Have fun," replied Zettle, not concerned in the slightest, and he went back to coordinating his team's retreat.
They had been flagged 'in case' but also because mustering homicide was a lot faster than Major Crimes. They were used to it, so when Gail needed bodies who could handle a potentially escalating situation, she tapped Zettle and his crew. It bought her time to rapid plan and stage her operation.
Gail turned back to Volk. "Get wired in. You are gonna listen to the Tactical channel and stay here by me. You hear anything I need to know, you tell me."
Unlike Christian, Lara nodded. "Yes, ma'am. High priority only, don't clutter the radio."
Good. Gail smiled, and she knew it was her dangerous smile. It spooked Lara a little. "Gravy. Get a helmet on, too." Confident, Gail walked over to Chloe, Lara scrambling behind her. "You set?"
Chloe held the plexiglass shield up. "This stuff is really light. You sure it's safe?"
"Transparent aluminum," said Gail, at her best deadpan.
Her friend stared at her. Chloe was agape and then giggled. "Oh my god, I am so telling Dov you said that."
"Do and die, Disney Princess." She slapped Chloe's arm. "Go get her."
And she watched.
This was the hard part. Letting the wheels of her plan roll on their own. But Chloe was up to speed on everything. She knew how to talk to people and would be the right choice. Was the right choice. Just like Vivian was the right choice.
Gail turned on her radio to listen to Chloe while watching Sue and her team. Sue was going in with them. That was probably to keel Gail calmer, and she did appreciate it. Chloe asked a quick, quiet, question: was she clear. Thumbs up from Gail was the signal. It was go time.
"Hello in there," said Chloe at her most chipper.
Gail nearly snorted a laugh.
A window opened and a head popped out. "Seriously? This is your idea of a secret raid? Announce it on the Internet?"
"Yeah. Sorry about that. It's been kinda messed up." Gail could actually hear Chloe's smile. "So listen. We got a bunch of aliases on you. I could call you Safary, which is a cool name. I think at least. My boss doesn't. She rolls her eyes, but you kinda have to know her. Beneath her grumpy cat exterior, she's the most loyal person out there. She's the boss you'd move mountains for, and I hated her when I met her."
Safary groaned. "Oh my god, do you ever shut up? What the hell is your point?"
"What's your name?"
There was a long pause. Gail saw all the ETF folks freeze. Incredible discipline. They just stopped.
Maybe, mused Gail, maybe if Chloe nattered on enough, their killer would give up just to make the tiny woman shut the hell up. Of course, maybe they'd just try to take Chloe out. It was hard to tell. But that was why Chloe was behind the bullet proof bomb shield just then. Dov would never forgive Gail if she let Chloe get shot, after all.
Thankfully, Safary answered. "What's yours?"
"Chloe. Chloe Price." There was another pause. Where Gail would have waited, Chloe filled the void. "I'm married. I didn't take his name, which was really more practical than anything else. We didn't get married until our s— our child was seven." Chloe sighed dramatically. "Drove our parents crazy."
"I'm shocked," said Safary, drolly. And then. "S-y-n-d-y. Syndy Smith."
Chloe was probably smiled. Gail dared a look. She was. "Oh can I guess? S-M-Y-T-H-E?"
"Okay. That's impressive."
"Well you spell Safari with a Y so it makes sense," bubbled Chloe. "Nice to meet you Syndy. Do people call you Syn? Like a play on sin? My friends would ..."
Safary— Syndy sounded amused now. "Sometimes. Sometimes I do. Not a lot of friends though."
"Well no. No, you blow things up, Syn." Chloe sounded like an exasperated Mom just then. "And you know why we need to bring you in, right?"
"I don't really care for life in jail," huffed the bomber.
ETF moved again. Men and women with rifles checked themselves at the door, while Vivian herself inspected it. Then the newest member gave a thumbs up and they took off the door. They didn't open it, they just unscrewed and dismantled it incredibly quickly. From the outside. Nearly silently.
Huh. That was terrifying.
"Me neither." Chloe sighed loudly. "But you did kill folks. And even if you hadn't, the millions in property damage to civilians and the city? It's a lot."
"Fuck 'em. They deserved it."
They had spent weeks going over the stupid Safari Hunt, figuring out what was wrong with the victims of Safary's bombs. Many of them had been arrested (discretely) or fined or asked for the retribution money back. And Chloe knew all that. "Because they were corrupt? Hullo, you know I work for the city. Some of the people you hurt weren't all bad. The zoo would have hurt a lot of people. Kids."
"Spoken like a soccer mom."
"Theater. My kid's not an athlete."
"Whatever." Syn grunted. "If I give up, you guys lock me away. But if I die here, fuck, I'm a damn martyr. The one the cops couldn't catch."
"Oh. That's not true at all," remarked Chloe, blithely. "We've had this place staked out for a week. And we know your lairs and, if you read the article, we know how to make your bombs. We know everything, Syn. So you die and we explain how we tried to save you, but you cared more about yourself than your movement."
Gail grinned. Well played, Chloe. Safary clearly wanted her mark to last. And the destruction of it, the history written by those who celebrated the victory, would destroy all of that.
Meanwhile, the rifle-armed swept the room from the doorway, but even Gail could see the bomb.
And that was more terrifying, because her daughter took position in front of the bomb and, with bare hands, started to dismantle it. Someone beside Gail hissed how large the bomb was. They were right. It was huge. This was a bomb to self-destruct not just itself but herself. A suicide bomb.
"Ma'am," said the shaky voice of Lara Volk. "ETF says it's all clear, but the bomb is super complex. They need more time."
Gail nodded and gave Lara a thumbs up. And then she looked away, watching Chloe instead. "Chloe, draw this out," she ordered. Then Gail spoke to Lara. "Volk, go to AV and make damn sure they're clear. No remote detonators. No sidekicks."
Verbally confirming her mission, Lara ran off and Gail concentrated on Chloe.
"Damn, you're cold," said Syn. Safary. What a stupid name.
"Parent. I have to be practical, or the kid takes advantage of me."
That won a laugh. "Besides getting the chance to write my history, what's giving up going to do for me?"
Chloe froze.
Gail did not. This was why Chloe had her full attention.
Quickly, Gail tapped her radio. She'd waited for this moment. "Chloe. Offer her a job. Go straight, and don't you fucking laugh at that."
To her credit, Chloe didn't. "Minimal sentence, if you work with us," said the tiny Portuguese woman. "You want to take down corruption? So do we. You want people who are evil to go to jail? So do we!" Chloe waved her hands, gesturing at herself and then Safary. "We're on the same side, Syn."
It was, Gail felt, a good idea to call her Syn. "Good. Good, Chloe," she said softly. "Keep going."
And Chloe did. "I can't get you out of a sentence, but ... have you ever seen Catch Me If You Can? DiCaprio and Hanks movie?"
"What?"
"DiCaprio played this guy, a con artist, who got caught and went to prison, but ... see here's the part I like. The FBI hired him as an expert. To help them catch more cons."
Safary stayed in her building, her face visible through the open window, but Gail could see her looking thoughtful. "You want me to help you with bombs?"
"Nah, we've got an expert. A Peckspert."
There was a collective groan across the radio.
Safary looked confused. "Well. You want my black market ties?"
"We want to learn how you find these assholes. You'd be a consultant. Ankle tracker, no access to bomb tech of course, limited internet, but ... it wouldn't be a life behind bars."
The bomber sighed. "You have someone at my door, don't you? Picking my bomb apart?"
Chloe froze.
"Tell her the truth," said Gail calmly.
And Chloe nodded. "Yeah. Yeah we do."
"Alright. If he can defuse that, we'll deal." There was a grim set to Safary's face. "But you stay right there."
Gail blinked. Oh shit.
"Whys that?" Asked Chloe, her voice remarkably calm.
"That bomb goes off, your friends in the vans are fine. But you, you're in my blast radius. Chunks of building should cream you. I don't want to kill people, just expose them, but ... this was my swan song. Owner here short shrifted builders. Cheap materials. This building? This is my bomb. Have fun."
"Chloe, try to keep her yapping." Nervously, Gail flipped her radio to ETF's channel. "Volk, switch to listening to Price." When Lara nodded, Gail turned to watch her daughter defuse a bomb.
She knew it was painstaking work. Gail had seen the hours people put in to do that sort of thing. Jesus, she'd sat on a bomb before and nearly blown out her hearing as well as her ribs. But there was her kid, suited up still and apparently calm as ... Calm as a Peck.
"Negative. She's got the mainline running through the house," said Vivian, following a conversation Gail had missed. "We cut power, the reserve kicks in and we go kablooey."
"Well that sucks. How about shunting the power to Rover?" Sue. That was Sue.
"I think that's just as hard as popping it here." Vivian leaned back and lifted her arms up. Stretching. The kid was stretching. "Okay. If I can disconnect the reserve, then we can kill the power."
"Ground your arc," said a man. Oh, wait, Gail knew him. That was Jules.
"To what? The building would complete the circuit. So would the bomb container." While the worlds scared Gail, Vivian sounded relaxed about it. Thoughtful even. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Oh. So you're gonna..." Jules trailed off. "That works at scale?"
"Theoretically." The slight drawl on the word was pure Holly. It came out of nowhere and Gail felt herself calm down. Of course. Vivian knew her science. She had made her own fireworks and rockets. She'd taken little Jerry to see the space launch. She'd spent hours rewriting the house so Gail could play music anywhere from her phone. Vivian just got this stuff.
"Okay," said Sue. "Peck, you do it. We've got your back. Folks, there's going to be a flash and probably a bit of a bang. EMTs on standby."
Gail heard the copy down the line and flipped her radio back to Chloe. "Price. There's going to be some noise. Some light. Don't squeal."
Harassing Chloe calmed her a little, and Gail hoped it did for the other cop. Because the next big thing to happen was a bright flash, a very loud bang, and a spluttered curse from ETF.
Taking her daughter's hand, Holly eyed the bandages. "Well you're off the motorcycle for a while."
Vivian rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Mom."
"Yeah? She fine, Jamie?"
The firefighter grinned. "She's grumpy and ornery and on pain killers. She'll be fine."
Holly frowned and studied Vivian's hand. A streak of red peeked out from the edge by her wrist. "I wish you would wear gloves."
"Would if I could, Mom." Vivian shrugged and let Holly inspect her hand without fussing.
"I wish you wouldn't go in with the tactical team," said Gail, grimly. "But Sue was right."
"Chloe was awesome," Vivian offered. "Can I have a beer and something to eat now?"
"Food first." Gail waved at the waiter. "Pizzas. Just cheese."
Jamie looked amused. "She didn't say how many," said the firefighter to the doctor.
"She never does," admitted Holly. "But they'll know how many to bring. Now. Tell me what happened?"
Reluctantly, Vivian explained that the bomb had been hooked into the electrical system of the house. Which meant if she tried to ground it, she had a pretty high chance of blowing everyone up. Completing the circuit or breaking it was supposed to trigger the explosion, implying that Safary had it set up in a light switch. Which even Gail admitted was smart as hell.
Sadly in order to defuse it, Vivian had to safely discharge a battery in a way that would kill the electrical sensor without setting off the main charge. That was only bad because Vivian had to do something with the electrical charge, and in this case it meant taking the shock of her life up her hand. Vivian swore it hadn't been on purpose.
Intentional or not, Vivian had spent a few hours in the ER, having her hand checked out. "Aunt Lisa says there won't be any scarring," insisted Vivian. "It was low voltage, no serious damage to the subcutaneous layer."
"You just had your hand twitching for an hour, that's all." Jamie rolled her eyes and turned to Holly. "It was just moving on its own, like a lizard tail."
"Picturesque." Holly smiled as Gail took her hand.
Predictably, the cop asked, "Did you get a video?"
Of course Jamie did. She cheerfully showed Gail the video of Vivian's fingers twitching of their own volition. Vivian sighed and picked up her drink, clearly not amused.
Holly grinned. "How are you really feeling?"
"Sore and cranky." Vivian eyed her own hand. "That was not something I'd like to repeat though."
"Saved the day, though."
"No, that was Chloe." Vivian smiled. "I did okay though."
Reaching over, Holly cupped Vivian's chin and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for doing your job, sweetheart."
The blush was visible up Vivian's face. "Mom."
"Say 'you're welcome,' Peck." Jamie beamed and Vivian mumbled a 'you're welcome.' "She takes so much looking after, Holly. Does she get that from Gail?"
Holly laughed. "Oh, did you hear about how Gail's car blew up?"
"Okay!" Gail cut in. "No stories about how we all terrify each other by ending up in danger. We've got a detective, an idiot bomb girl, a medical examiner, and a firefighter. Shit happens to us disproportionately."
Vivian snorted a laugh. "God knows. Hey... where is the hero of the night?"
"She went out to dinner with Dov and Chris," said Gail. "And before you ask, I'm going to grease her wheels. This time next year? Inspector Price."
Everyone always thought Gail wasn't caring or sweet or thoughtful. But there, she had probably set Chloe up just to make sure the woman could get that a promotion to take Chloe off the streets. "Whomever will you lean on for UC work?" Holly smiled and caught Gail's hand again, bringing it up to kiss.
"Oh. She has to train her replacement," said Gail firmly. And she smiled at Holly. The soft smile Holly adored. "Probably Fox, come to think of it." Fox wasn't bad, what little Holly knew of the man, and she made a hum of recognition. "Or Zander."
That was a new name. "Why do I feel like I should know him."
"Alexander Duquaine. Ollie wanted me to TO him if I'd stayed uniformed. He's our fabulously gay undercover hero." Gail took a long swing of her beer. "Ah! Pizza!"
Three pizzas were put on the table and, as one, Vivian and Gail dove for them. "Gail, I thought you were allergic to tomatoes," said a confused Jamie.
"Raw ones. Well cooked and processed are fine." And Gail inhaled half a slice. "So. Good. Holly never lets me have this anymore."
Holly poked Gail and took a slice. "I know, I'm a bitch."
"You're my bitch." Gail grinned.
Doubtful, Jamie picked up her own slice. "Three is a lot. I mean... I've seen Gail eat, but..."
No sooner did Jamie express her concerns, then did the horde of cops descend on the table. Christian and Lara gave Vivian shit and stole slices. Sue harassed Gail for being nervous. Most of ETF had some pizza before they ran out and two more arrived. All in all, they burned through eight pizzas in the two hours they entertained.
It was interesting to see how everyone treated Vivian after this kind of case. Holly had seen them tease Gail for two decades. The core group, Gail's classmates, freely poked fun at her and called her names like Casper and Ice Queen. But they did it with so much love and affection, it was impossible to mistake. And of course Oliver smothered Gail with adoration.
The jokes were different now than they were fifteen, ten, or even five years ago. Some faces had changed, some were gone forever, some were rare. The humor had changed too. It wasn't tempered as much as some might thing, it was still a little raunchy and far from politically correct at all times, but it was family.
Wasn't that the ultimate difference between Holly's friends and Gail's? Holly considered Lisa and Rachel to be like family. But Gail, who really had no proper family, saw them as family. No one could blame her. Gail found something she'd needed, but also these were people who put their lives on the line for each other.
Looking around, Holly saw familiar faces from the lab as well. That was her own fault. She'd dragged Rodney out one night after he'd broken a case and saved Dov's career. After that, whenever cases involving Fifteen and her lab were solved, she made the lab rats come out to play. Now it was common everywhere.
Still, people like Jamie, firefighters and EMTs, were rare. Vivian had been known to go to their bars, but always as an adjunct to Jamie and never as a part of a case that covered both groups. Some things were just never done, and were unlikely to change.
Her phone buzzing startled her. Holly eyed the number. Why was John calling her? Something had to be important. Holly sighed and excused herself, Vivian nodding understandingly, and went outside.
"This is Dr. Stewart," she said into the cool evening air, with no small amount of trepidation.
"So formal," said John, laughing.
"Oh thank god." Holly felt a weight lift off her. "I was sure you were calling to tell me there was another fucking link in this case!"
Her coworker, her wife's work husband, and her friend laughed more. "I just left interrogation with Marcel. We got 'em."
"What!?"
"The last guy we arrested rolled over. We're going to do a four Territory arrest in conjunction with the FBI up in Alaska."
Holly could have flown. "How the hell ... who did you arrest?"
"You'll laugh. It's the accountant."
Holly did laugh. Gail always said that the people who did the paperwork were the week link. With few exceptions (Red from Three Rivers came to mind) were they never hardened criminals. "Oh my god. He gave it all up?"
"Sure looks like. I figured you'd want to hear it from me right away."
That was true as well. "I do. Did. I appreciate this, John."
"Hey, we're a team. I need to go argue with a lawyer now, but it looks like we got it. Everything is looks alright."
Agreeing, Holly hung up and smiled. Everything was really looking alright for a change. She told Gail that when she got back inside and her wife just grinned.
"Of course it is," said Gail, matter-of-factly. "You're awesome and brilliant. No one can stand up to the power of your science."
Yeah. Things were alright.
She lay back on the couch, wincing as her hand brushed the arm of the sofa. "This sucks," announced Vivian.
Jamie snorted and carried over a beer and a bowl of popcorn. "You're not going to loose the nail. Stop being a baby."
Vivian flipped off Jamie and reached out with her other hand for the drink. "It stings!"
"You electrocuted your hand! Of course it stings."
"I just don't want to lose my nail."
The jolt had nearly made her fuck up defusing the bomb too, not that she would tell her mothers that. She'd told Jamie while they sat in the ER waiting for her hand to be treated. Her girlfriend, used to dangerous injuries, had sighed, nodded, and held her other hand the entire time.
Right now, her girlfriend sat on the coffee table, smiling. "You wont." She took Vivian's bandaged hand, carefully, and kissed the outside of it. "You sure you're not exhausted?"
Vivian shook her head. "Adrenaline rush does weird shit to me. I'll be up for hours."
"You should have taken the pain killers."
"Narcotics?" Unlike her mother, Vivian had no problems on painkillers or sleeping pills. "Okay, truth? Opiates give me constipation. Right away. Hate it."
Jamie laughed and shook her head. "How about the sleeping pills?"
"Oh believe me, I'm in there. I've got some non-opioids and a knock out. That's after the shower. But I kinda want my brain to calm down first."
Her girlfriend smiled. "Oh yeah, I get that. Well, games are out. Netflix and chill?"
Vivian leered a little and Jamie smacked her good arm. "Ow! You suck, McGann."
"What the hell am I going to do with you, Peck?" But Jamie was grinning ear to ear. "You're just a pain."
Tasting the popcorn, Vivian thought about it. "You could feed me popcorn?"
"You can eat it with one hand." Jamie dropped onto the couch. "I could take advantage of you though."
"I like this plan."
"We can watch that political drama."
Vivian's face fell. "You are not seriously suggesting we watch that stupid show about the US president who killed the senator, are you?" It was the kind of show Holly liked, filled with intrigue and sex and stupidity. Gail and Vivian found the show idiotic.
"Your phone is in the bedroom." Jamie grinned and held her own up. "I can pick whatever show I want!"
Vivian scowled. Her watch was on her hurt wrist, though. She tapped it with her good hand and turned the lights down. "You wanna play it that way, baby? Cause I'm a tech goddess."
Her girlfriend rolled her eyes. "You're a tech brat. Okay, fine. How about something light and fun?"
"Hunt For Red October?"
"You are so weird, Vivian," said Jamie, bursting out laughing. "How is that light and fun?"
Jutting out her lower lip, Vivian pointed out the practicality. "Suspense, mystery, drama, no love interests, and it has an awesome cast."
"It's a sausage fest! Oceans 8. Suspense, caper flick, and all women."
"Eh, what about the one about the Mars landing?"
"Oh god, no. No way. Matt Damon!?"
"Ew!" Shook her head. "The other one! The colony one."
"Last Daughter of Mars? Eh, it has a love interest."
"Yeah, but it's a queer one."
Jamie laughed again. "So a love interest is only okay if it's gay?"
"Duh," said Vivian in her best Gail voice, and Jamie laughed more.
"So deep, so thoughtful, so simple. Okay, fine. Something queer and easy to watch." Jamie tapped on her phone and scrolled through the videos, getting comfortable on her end of the couch.
It felt wrong.
Hesitating, Vivian turned. "Would you… come here?"
Jamie blinked and sat up straight. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I just… Um. I want to sit with you?"
The firefighter looked at her for a moment that felt like an eternity. Like Jamie was weighing every single past conversation they'd ever had. Like maybe Jamie was wondering if the request came from the painkillers or something else. Then she got up from the couch and walked to the other end. "Yeah," she said softly, a smile Vivian wasn't sure how to read on her face.
Vivian swallowed and held up her good hand. It took a little shuffling, but Jamie sat beside her on the couch, Vivian's injured hand elevated by her arm around Jamie's shoulders. Close. "This… Um. Is this okay?"
Jamie nodded and tucked her legs up, leaning into Vivian and settling the popcorn between them. "Yeah. You good?"
"Yeah. I think I am," she said, with no small surprise.
Her girlfriend picked her phone back up and tapped it, bringing the TV to life. "Tell me if you change your mind. Okay?"
"I will." And Vivian smiled as the TV pulled up the new Batwoman series, which Holly promised had a happy lesbian ending. At least for the season that had aired.
Vivian knew, in her heart, that she wasn't going to change her mind. As they sat still and quiet, Jamie's warmth along side her, the pain from her hand throbbing only lightly, Vivian felt comfortable. At peace.
Much like the times she'd fallen asleep on Gail's lap, this was a moment of calming physical contact. This was safe and warm and protective. Even if she was the pillow, she felt like Jamie was a shield between everything and them. They were just two, but they were safe.
Vivian felt like, for the first time without her mothers, she really was alright.
"Okay," said Jamie. "But I'm not feeding you popcorn."
Yeah. Things were alright.
Everyone has progress in their own ways.
Thus ends Safary. Not everyone wants to shoot it out. She'll be a nice CI for the police. After she serves her time.
BIG NOTE: There will be no new chapter in December. Instead I'm doing a one-off reward for that other thing. After, I'm taking a winter break and posting the five-chapter SEQUEL to Ashes to Ashes. Then we'll be back here on MAY 8 2017. Follow my Tumblr for random posts and details. I'm auntchappy on tumblr and there's a link to details about my other stories.
