06.01 - Open Windows

And we're back! It's been a minute, hasn't it? Well. It's about to be Holly's 62nd birthday. And for those of you keeping track, it's a 14 months since the last chapter.

Yes, this is a time jump. Holly's 62. Gail will be 55 at the end of the year. Vivian turned 29 a few months back (Jamie is 28). Now you're all caught up.

What happened in the year? Oh, normal stuff. Promotions. Crime. It was blissfully not insane.


"It's your fault," said Vivian, as the truck rolled to a stop.

"How is this my fault?" Jamie wiped her forehead and leaned on the back of her truck.

"You said it was nice that it was so quiet." Vivian exhaled and put her hands on her hips, catching her breath. "It's so nice and quiet up here. It's peaceful. Nothing ever goes wrong."

Jamie grumbled. "Just tell me you know the number of a good mechanic, asshole."

She didn't. At least not in town. There was a mechanic but he was an idiot. His nephew was better, but he was at university. Vivian went through her mental Rolodex and swore. "Not anyone that can get here. How good's your insurance?"

"Not that good," Jamie admitted, clearly adding up the distance it would be for a good tow.

Vivian looked up at the sky, sweat trickling down her back. Pushing her girlfriend's car up the hill to the house had been decidedly not the way she'd planed on getting all hot and sweaty for the weekend. They had the house to themselves for three days, in summer. Her parents weren't even coming up until it got cooler, choosing instead to stay in the city for Holly's birthday.

So much for Vivian's plan to slip up to the cabin, have sex and eat food and hike for three days, come back for Holly's birthday, and then go back to work and not have to clean up after the party. Because work.

Jamie had liked the plan. It also let her parents have a good excuse to not stick around a long time. Because oh yes, they were coming to Holly's birthday.

"Our parents are getting too chummy," said Vivian absently.

"That doesn't fix my truck, Peck."

"Ugh. Aren't you all butch? Can't you do this?" Vivian ran her hands through her hair and stared at the small work shed.

"Sorry," snarled Jamie.

Why was there a shed? Oh. Bill, Gail's father, had used it. No, wait. Bill's brother had used it. He'd had a hobby restoring old cars, something he and Bill liked to do with Gail's godfather, Santana. But that was in the city. Why would they have one up at the lake? It was probably the remnants of the old trapper cottage. Which was the work shed from where the bones of the house had been built. By hand. By Pecks.

Oh. Oh ho ho.

"You know what Elaine told me once?"

"I'm actually afraid to ask..." When Jamie paused, Vivian turned to give her an eyebrow. "Oh fine. What did the almighty Elaine Peck tell you once?"

"Don't have faith in God, have faith in family."

Jamie frowned. "That seems a bit odd for a group of historically backstabbing nutjobs."

"Ah, she didn't mean good-faith, baby. She meant have faith in Pecks to be Pecks. And Pecks don't rely on other people, because folks betray them. Come on." Vivian waved her hand and walked over to the work shed.

Her girlfriend balked. "I don't like spiders, Viv."

"Really?" Vivian didn't mind bugs. That was probably Gail's influence. Holly disliked them, which was funnier considering her job. "Well. I have no idea how it looks in here. Never been in."

"Seriously? I thought you explored everywhere here." Jamie sounded amused but followed Vivian over, keeping a good distance between them.

Vivian tried to open the door and was less than shocked to find it locked. Mechanical. She had a lock picking set in her shoulder bag (Gail called it a man-purse). She wouldn't need it. This was locked to prevent theft, not usage. The lock was well used, which meant someone went up there and used things. Probably old Will. And a combination would have to be something Gail and Will wouldn't have a problem remembering.

Their shared relative's birthday? No. That would be too obvious. So would Bill's badge number, and that was only 3 numbers anyway. But. Normally a Peck lock was randomized. That was for weapons. Gail didn't regularly change the lock on her paperwork safe, because Holly needed it, and she complained—

No. Holly used to complain. She stopped when Vivian had been nine or ten— Twelve! After the case with the King (Prince). Holly had only known the passcode for the gun safe by luck. She'd complained to Gail about that not being smart, and they'd set up an app. An app that Vivian was added onto later, when she became a cop.

"Time's a-wasting, Peck," teased Jamie. "You gonna show off your lock picking skills or what?"

"Why pick a lock when I can use my brain?" Vivian smirked and pulled out her phone.

The app was one she actually approved of, being secured and not stored in a public cloud, but a private one they'd set up for their own data. Vivian just didn't trust Apple or Google type companies to do the right thing.

And the app absolutely did have the code for the shed.

She opened the lock.

"Looking up the code is not using your brain," Jamie pointed out.

"Looking up the code when you don't know you have it sure is," retorted Vivian. "Hold this." She tossed her phone over and swung the door open.

The work shed was not a shed really. It was a storage facility. The outside had been wood, a billion years old. The inside was reinforced steel and plastic, ready to withstand a bomb. Oh.

"What the hell?" Jamie had come closer and peeked inside. "The door is metal."

"I think someone in the '50s had a freak out." Vivian looked up at the ceiling. Curved. Yeah, that was a fucking bomb shelter.

"You sure it's not Gail from 2017?"

Vivian smirked. "I'm sure. I was living with them by then. She made me read Anne Frank and a bunch of other stuff about how to survive an apocalypse."

"Your moms are insane. What are we looking in a bomb shelter for?"

It wasn't a bomb shelter anymore. Which was the point. Vivian let herself take in the room. Woodworking tools were on one wall. All manual. The other wall was general tools. On the back was plumbing. On the front, she craned her neck, was crap she didn't recognize. And there, in a corner, was a toolkit for boat repair.

Bingo.

"Well, hot stuff, it turns out I have a degree in this shit."

Jamie was skeptical. "Engineering and car repair aren't the same."

"No. But your father has a few annoyingly good traits. And one is that I know for a fact he put a copy of your car's repair book in with the tire changing shit."

Her girlfriend's eyes widened. "I'm so telling Dad you complimented him."

"Hey, you can walk home," said Vivian, flipping her girlfriend off as she went to figure out what the hell happened to the truck.


It was a good story, Gail decided, giggling as Jamie described Vivian getting a face full of oil.

"You're an asshole," complained Vivian, somewhat sulky as she sat on the steps on the back porch

"But," said Jamie, and she draped her arms around Vivian's neck and shoulders. "She did fix the truck."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Mom, the corn needs rotating."

The girl was still uncomfortable with being praised like that. At least she'd gotten over it with regards to work. Vivian's most recent promotion had been both expected and deserved. So had Jamie's for that matter. Gail grinned and rotated the corn as Jamie pinched Vivian's cheek and teased her.

"Is Jamie that much of a pest when you cook?" She turned to where Jamie's father, Jason stood.

"She didn't used to be," mused Jason. "It's almost as if someone taught her how to cook."

Gail gave him her most innocent look. "I wonder who'd do that."

Jason chuckled. "Thank you."

"She's a good kid," Gail said sincerely.

"That's all her own doing," replied Jason.

Gail glanced over as Vivian was carrying Jamie, piggyback, over to the swing-set. They were laughing. "I think that about Vivian too. It's what happens when they have to deal with all that shit at a young age."

The florist made a surprised sound. "That go for you too?"

"Hah. You know my father. My parents were absolutely not saints. Or even good parents."

Jason looked at the inside of the house, where Holly, Angela, Steve, and Elaine were prepping the rest of the food. "Your mom's in there. With your brother."

"Hmm. Yeah. She is." Gail looked in and absently wondered when Traci would be back. She and Chloe were finishing up a case.

"Gives me a bit of hope Jamie'll really forgive her mom one day."

Ah. That was the crux wasn't it? How had the Pecks rebuilt themselves. "Elaine wanted to change. She had a choice, and she picked me." Gail checked the chicken and flipped it. "That's after she illegally fucked up Holly's visa, nearly ruining her career, just because Elaine didn't want me to adopt a kid. Not to mention the meddling with my job, where she cock-blocked my promotion and transfer."

It was gratifying to see Jason double-take.

Too many people who knew the Pecks didn't think the evil was abnormal. They just nodded and accepted it and moved on. That was how the Pecks were. Except it wasn't.

Jason took that in quietly. "It's weird to know bits and pieces about adults who are going to be a part of your life for a while."

They both looked at their daughters. Jamie was on a swing laughing about something. Vivian was hanging by her knees, upside down, pointing at the slide. Probably she was telling Jamie about the time Matty got his pants caught on the slide and pulled off. Or when Holly and Gail had fallen off the swing. Or when Vivian had leapt off the swing and done a full flip.

That had been a great moment. The girl had called for them, asking them to watch. Something rare enough. So they'd gone out and Holly had grabbed Gail's arm so hard, she left bruises. Gail had caught it on film. Metaphorically.

But Jason's point was valid. The four of them, parents, were abruptly thrown together into an uncomfortable group. All because those two kids had met, fallen in love, and became a unit. That kind of meet, the as well-established adults, was often harder. They were, all four of them, quite set in their ways and established.

Maybe it was easier for Gail, since she'd met Holly when she was relatively mature. Okay, Holly had been mature. Gail was still a hot mess back then. It was in meeting Holly that she became mature. Not because of Holly, but because Gail wanted to be better. Mostly, it was because Holly had left her.

"When did you and Angela meet?"

Jason blinked. "Oh. Wow. At the gym. She was dating one of my sparring partners. We met, I knew she was the one for me. Spent three years trying to get her to see me like that." Then he frowned. "You know, back then I thought it was hella romantic, but damn if it doesn't sound creepy as hell."

"That depends on if you won a fight against the other guy."

"Nah, can't compete against your own gym members."

That made sense, when Gail thought about it. "Holly apparently watched one of your fights. Bouts. Whatever."

The man smiled. "I was pretty good."

"She said you won your rookie year or something?" When Jason laughed, Gail stuck her tongue out. "I'm not the jock."

"No, that's your kid." He gestured with his soda at Vivian, who was currently perched on the roof over the slide. Jamie was hanging out the window of it, looking at something in the back of the yard. "This is an amazing house."

Gail grinned. "Wouldn't've got it if someone hadn't died in the yard. Murder drives down sales."

"See that— that's like insider trading." They both laughed. "How'd you meet Holly?"

"At a crime scene. She was sassy, I was bitchy. We ended up friends and then shit happened and we fell in love." Gail shrugged. "It's a stupid romcom, y'know."

"A happy ending."

"Not a fairy tale, that's for sure."

They clinked their drinks together and the door opened. "Gail, dear, would you mind going inside?" Elaine's voice was clipped. "Steven ..."

That did not sound good. "Sure. Jason, you mind? My brother's probably being a dick to my wife."

"Have fun." He took the tongs and cheerfully turned to Elaine. "So. I, uh, saw you on the news. Charity for runaway youths?"

Elaine brightened and began to talk about that as Gail went inside.

And found her brother being a dick. But not to Holly, no. He was being a dick to Angela.

"If you want to eat it like you cook, you can go home—"

Gail didn't wait. "Steven," she snapped. "Out."

Her brother froze. "Gail—"

"No. Don't care. Out." She waved at him and signed that they'd talk.

Being a detective for decades, Gail knew how to read a scene. She knew how to gauge a situation with a look. Angela was defensively angry. Holly was actually livid. And Steve ... was defending Holly. Well. Okay, he wasn't a total dick. It was just that it was Holly's birthday.

Steve hesitated and then walked out the front door. There was a creak. Good. He was sitting on the front railing. Traci would see that when she walked in and hopefully calm him down.

Even though Gail was pretty sure Angela had started whatever the hell fight was going on, Gail used the calm-everyone-down tactic and apologized for the man. "Sorry. My brother's a jerk."

Holly's eyebrows shot up.

Angela did not seem to notice that Gail was, totally, lying. Oh, Steve was a jerk, but he didn't pick fights. Like Gail, he was incredibly loyal and honourable. His loyalty was to Gail and, by extension, Holly.

"He's an insufferable know it all," said Angela, her voice as clipped as Elaine's had been.

"Can't pick family," said Gail with a shrug. Now. How to finish defusing, she wondered.

She was saved by Chloe. "Gail, I brought pastries from Bita's."

Gail threw her hands up. "Seriously, Holly? You let Chloe go there and not me?"

"You would eat us out of house and home," said Holly, a little more tersely than normal when teasing Gail about that.

She sighed. No doubt Holly would explain it all later.


Frankly, it was a stupid thing to get mad about. Intellectually she knew that. But Steve and Angela had just gone to town about tomatoes, of all things. As Holly recounted the drama, Gail listened very quietly. They were making hors d'oeuvres and Angela insisted the ones they were making would be better with tomatoes. Steve said they didn't have any, Angela offered to get some, and the two just got super snippy.

Her wife sighed. "I don't know what's wrong with Steve."

"Honey, he's always had anger issues," pointed out Holly.

"Yeah but how fucking hard is it to tell her I'm allergic?" Gail grimaced. "And at your birthday? Dick."

Holly smiled wanly. "It was."

Then Gail surprised her and asked, "Which made you so pissed?"

She'd been mad, yes, but at the both of them. "It doesn't matter."

Gail gave her a droll look. "Babe, it matters."

Holly shook her head and sat beside Gail on the couch. "It doesn't. I was pissed they were making a stink and neither of them have an ounce of self control."

She'd been more mad that Steve and Angela had picked at each other all night. And her wife, without knowing the story, played peacemaker and asskicker. In the end, Jason had somehow managed to turn Angela's mood on him instead of Steve, bearing her attitude with stoic silence.

"God, poor Jamie," said Holly, finally recognizing that the girl had been distraught and withdrawn in a way disturbingly similar to how Vivian sometimes reacted. "I can't imagine growing up and just not knowing if your mom is going to go all weird like that."

Gail said nothing for a while. She just looked at Holly thoughtfully. "I forget your parents were normal," she said at length.

Sometimes Holly felt a little guilty about being normal. And other times, like Just then, she didn't. She felt lucky, and not just for Jamie. "I kind of worry about Jason now," she admitted.

"So does Viv." Gail reached over and slipped her hand into Holly's. "I'm sorry they fucked up your birthday."

"Oh you know I don't give a rat's ass about that," Holly said, dismissively. And she really, truly, didn't. A date was a date. "You used to be pretty bad about remembering dates," she abruptly recalled.

"Oh." Gail's lovely pale skin turned pink. "It pissed off my Mom."

Holly laughed. That was so very, very the Gail she'd met and fallen in love with. The one who fought her parents in weird ways and yet remembered Holly's birthday. And other important days. Simply put, she love Holly and it showed. "You." Holly shook her head and cupped Gail's cheek with one hand. Her wife gave her a quizzical smile. "I'm going to kiss you."

"Alright," drawled Gail. Her lips curved as Holly's touched them.

When Holly pulled back after the fairly tame kiss, Gail's eyes were half closed, and she was still smiling. "Do you think the kids are okay?"

"Hm. Vivian's a big girl," Gail said softly and she leaned in until her forehead bumped Holly's.

While that was true, Holly didn't like the fact that they had inadvertently put Vivian up against Jamie like that. For Gail, it was a no-brainer. She would always pick Holly over Pecks. But Vivian liked her parents and was more likely to pick them.

What an unfair situation, to ask one's partner to chose them over family. It was impossible for many people, because they truly loved their parents and family. Even Jamie, who didn't always get along with her family, certainly loved them. And Vivian, who saw a lot more than she let on, wouldn't even consider the possibility of Jamie choosing Vivian.

Holly sighed and leaned her weight into Gail, and they quickly settled into a comfortable snuggle on the couch. She didn't want to think about that sort of mess.

"How about we watch the ballgame?" Gail gently ran her fingers through Holly's hair.

"Is that because it's my birthday?"

Her wife laughed. "Yes. A bit. And also because it's the Jays versus whatever the hell Cleveland is named now."

"I like it better when they play the Vancouver team," grumbled Holly. All the baseball expansion teams had made the season a little longer, but once they ended interleague games, it was no worse than it had been at the heydays of 2015.

The World Series being played in November was just plain wrong.

Well. It was what it was. She reached over and picked up the remote, turning on the ballgame. Third inning and Toronto was up by 2 runs.

"I'll talk to Steve tomorrow," said Gail, settling back on the couch with her feet up.

"Be nice," Holly cautioned. "He's been having those side effects."

Gail made a grumbling noise. Poor Steve had not been doing all that well with the medication meant to help his memory. While Elaine's side effects were mild and left her unable to drive or shoot, that was an eventuality they'd all been prepared for. Elaine was, in a word, old.

Steve was only a year older than Holly. He should be as full as vim and vigour as she herself was. Instead, Steve's hand eye coordination was for shit, as Gail put it. He also seemed to be lapsing back into his old anger management issues. Holly wasn't quite sure how much Bill took out his own issues on Steve, but certainly Steve had stepped between Bill and Gail in many ways.

Sometimes Holly wondered how much Gail was aware of that, even now. That Steve had shielded his little sister from their crazy family. While Gail did know about Harold's physical abuse of Steve (and Bill, and probably everyone else), she may not have thought about how the son often followed the father.

Then again, Gail did call her own father an abusive asshole, and she was well aware of the psychological damage. Extending that logical thought wasn't beyond Gail. it was just harder to see, sometimes, when it was one's own family.

"You're up in your head, Doc Stewart," drawled Gail.

Miffed, Holly craned her neck to eyeball her wife. "How do you always know?"

"You didn't say anything when that fan chucked the ball back in."

Holly blinked and turned to the TV, where the event was being replayed. Indeed, a fan caught a home run by their opposing team and had thrown the ball back. "He almost hit the right fielder," complained Holly.

"I arrested someone for that once," Gail remarked.

"Throwing a ball back?"

"Mmm. Assault. Beaned the first baseman with a foul ball."

That sounded familiar, realized Holly. "Wait. Wait, that was all over the news." Because it had been during the playoffs. "Gave him a concussion?"

"Yep." Gail popped the P loudly, as she was wont to do often. "Cleaned his clock, laid him out, and I got to slap cuffs on her."

That was right. Because at high profile games, the cops often showed up. "My hero," teased Holly, and she kissed Gail's cheek. "Ah, look, he's being escorted out."

Gail nodded. "Automatic ejection from the— Oh."

They both sat up straight. The player had picked up the ball and hurtled it back.

"This won't end well," said Holly, grimly. And predictably, the benches cleared for a brawl.

Gail was quiet for a moment. "Popcorn?"

It was inappropriate and terrible to be entertained by the ensuing tussle. And yet, Holly found herself grinning at her wife. "With extra butter."

If a person couldn't be terrible with their spouse in the privacy of their own home, when and where could they?


The worst part about her promotion to third rank constable was that Gail ruthlessly dumped more Queer Pride crap on her. And that meant Vivian had to go to meetings. And meetings sucked.

Hours of talking about representation and did they need a union rep who was queer or could they train a non-queer. Who was going to head the parade, whose turn was it to host the float! Who was the softball team host. What should they do about the accusations against one of the gay men.

Vivian hated every second of it, probably because she realized she'd be doing the job for the rest of her career.

Career.

How odd was it to think that, for Vivian, being a cop was so much more than just a job. Her mother didn't feel quite the same way. Oh, Gail was great at her job, no questions asked, but Gail was still a cop because she was supposed to be one, not necessarily because she wanted to be one.

On the other hand, Holly was who she was because she wanted to be a medical examiner with all her heart. It was the job she loved, had dreamed about, and was excellent at. Even though Holly was retiring, step by step, she was always going to have that as her career.

Funny, her mothers always thought of her to be more like Gail, when it was Holly she felt like. At least in blue. Even Jamie saw Vivian's job as an extension of Gail's. That was odd, since if anyone should have been able to separate parent from child, it would be Jamie.

Well. Maybe not. That had weirdly been the crux of the recent argument, following Angela's behaviour at Holly's birthday. Jamie had apologized about it, first of all, but then she'd gotten upset.

And then Vivian had gotten a story. A story that was very similar to the one Steve had told her about Bibby, his friend who'd beaten the shit out of his sister's abusive boyfriend. A story similar to the situation of a cop who hit his boyfriend. That last story was not ending the way Vivian would have liked. She wanted to run the cop out on a rail, toss him in jail, and lose the key.

That wasn't what happened.

Which was why, after a whole afternoon in a stupid LGBT Task Force meeting, she got on her bike and drove to a flower shop in fucking Mississauga.

"We're closed," said a familiar male voice, when she opened the door.

Vivian hesitated. How did a person start this conversation anyway? She cleared her throat.

"Sorry, but we really are..." The voice trailed off and Vivian spotted Jason McGann, in an apron. "This is not your jurisdiction." He essayed a smile.

"They don't approve of me riding around on my motorcycle in uniform," joked Vivian, and got a real smile. "I can send you some pictures of me all suited up, if you'd like."

Jason shook his head. "I'll leave that to my kid." Then he paused. "This isn't about my kid is it?"

Her presence was clearly unnerving him. Which made sense. "Sorry, it is and it isn't." Vivian scratched the back of her head. "I should have called but ..."

"Are you about to ask for her hand in marriage, because that'll piss her off."

Vivian blinked. She almost said, as Gail did, a serious 'what the what?' But ... "Duly noted. But no." She shook her head. "No, I'm .. Do people really get married that fast?"

Jason arched his eyebrows. "How long have you been living together?"

Okay, that was a fair point. "Speaking of... Uh. So today was weird."

"Oh Jesus, you're breaking up?"

Vivian blinked again. "Uh. No. No, I don't think so."

"Surprise pregnancy?"

She stared at Jason. "Do you think I'm in a TV drama or something?"

"My kid's girlfriend shows up, unannounced, an hour drive away, and tells me her day was weird," Jason replied, dryly. "For all I know, you're transgender."

"No, just tall," she muttered. "Jamie told me. About ... Angela."

And Jason slumped.

It wasn't that she hadn't pieced most of it together anyway. She was smart, she was raised by smart people, and she was encouraged to be clever. Between Jason's half-joke about Angela and Jamie's veiled comments, Vivian had sorted out the reality of the situation.

But instead of jumping into that, she rewound. "Today, a cop who hit his boyfriend got off with a trip to therapy." That made Jason look up at her. "IA said, since it wasn't really provable, they can't do much more. Which is horseshit. But men don't like to report crimes like that."

"It's really not like that."

"You get how your records are public, right?" Not that she'd read them. But she didn't have to.

Jason sighed. "It's really not like that."

But it was. It was exactly that. And Vivian was sure he was going to do what everyone always did in those moments. "I understand a lot more than you think I do," she said gently.

The florist snorted. "You're twenty six, kid. You really don't."

She scratched the side of her head. "My biological father shot and killed my mother and sister. So y'know, Jason, I do. I really do."

The room felt heavy and silent. "I think we need a drink," said Jason at length. He walked past her, flipped the sign to closed, and locked the door. "Come on back."

They sat in Jason's back office, Vivian on the edge of the coffee table, Jason in his chair, and she told him. Not all of it. Not even as much as Jamie knew. But the bare bones. The simplest amount Jason needed to know to make the connection.

It sucked. Gail could have told him without revealing of her own past. Somehow. Gail would have spun a yarn that was maybe about her and maybe not, and Jason would confess all his sins. But. Gail was older. And even she hadn't mastered that skill until she was nearly thirty, or so she claimed. Vivian didn't think Gail had cause to lie about that one.

Maybe the trick of it all was in having lesser secrets to tell. All Vivian had was heavy ones. So she sipped some of Jason's gin, which wasn't her favourite, and she told the fourth person in her life a story she didn't like.

Jason listened, quietly, and said nothing until the end. "Jamie knows?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I told her before she moved in."

"And she told you ...?"

"About the times Angela hit you."

There. It was said. Much like saying her own biological father murdered the rest of her family, saying the words made it real in a different way. Didn't Holly once say that coming out was like that? The words were said to make them real to the speaker.

Well. Vivian had made it real to Jason that she was in his world too.

"It's funny," he said softly. "How we all find each other."

"We know what to look for. And what we see." And Vivian hesitated. "You never hit her."

Jason shook his head. "No," he said under his breath.

"But you told the cops that."

"I did, yeah."

"Even though you had a record. And it landed you in jail... you could have lost everything. Why...?"

Jason looked at his empty glass. "I love her, Vivian. Angela, I love her."

That made no sense. "Man, my parents are in love, and I'm pretty sure neither of them would go for that."

The man looked up at her, with sad eyes, familiar eyes. They were eyes she'd not seen since she was five and a bit, getting into a car. Her biological mother kissed her forehead, told her to be good, and looked at her with sad eyes.

Eyes that would never leave the man who hurt her.

Not that Vivian had understood that, twenty years ago.

She did now.

So she asked, "Who hit her?"

Jason sighed. "She hit herself. With the phone." He gestured at the wall. "Jamie was screaming, just normal kids being colicky and shit, but it was driving her crazy. Angela yelled at me, that it was my fault. Being gone all day, and I wasn't being a good dad. She basically threw Jamie at me and said she was going to kill herself."

"Jesus..."

"Post partum depression. They still don't talk enough about that shit." Jason shrugged. "Funny thing, me being in jail meant child services was over three times a week for the single mom with a baby and an abusive husband. So she actually got the help she needed."

That could have backfired terribly. "You were lucky. Jamie was lucky."

Jason nodded. "We were. I know." He rolled the tumbler in his hands.

"But... why? You could have gotten her the help and kept Jamie yourself."

Shaking his head, Jason put down his glass. "They'd lock her up. Take her away for a long time, and a crazy mom doesn't get kids back. Or her life. I was just a boxer. I knew it wasn't forever."

"Yeah but—"

"Look. You don't get it because you're parents are idiots and in love. They're amazing people, but this... This is part of the greater good thing."

"Letting people think you hit your wife?"

Jason nodded. "It is. Because sometimes this is being the bad guy for someone you love."

It didn't sound at all like the world her mothers lived in. The world they presented. But Jason had a point. Her mothers weren't normal. They had this one gift, this one grace of love. They loved each other and that one thing had worked out. They'd weathered deaths and fights and arguments and disagreements. But in the end, over and over, they chose each other.

And here, Jason was saying that sometimes, only one person chose the other. Only one.

And he'd chose Angela every time.


Sweat was gross. But Gail ignored it and held her pose. Her posture, she knew, was perfect. Her hips were aligned properly and her arms burned a little from the effort, but it was perfect.

There was a soft tone that rang through the room and Gail shifted, raising her hands above her head.

Gail exhaled and concentrated on the physical. She thought about the way she had to hold her body. She thought about breathing. She counted the breaths. One for in, one for out. And she just felt the world through her body for a little while. Just breathe. Just feel. Just be.

Another tone, another pose. Another. Another. And then the three tones that rang for the end of the class. Gail sighed and brought her hands together. And breathe. And relax. And count. And done.

Done.

Gail blinked and saw the room again. It was like pressing the volume button on a tv, or turning off a white noise machine. Sound and motion and world came back. People were laughing and walking, rolling up their mats and turning on phones and being normal.

She stood there for a moment, quietly watching and letting their actions flow around her. As much as she wanted to be back home with Holly, where the world was right and safe, Gail wasn't willing to leave the quiet place inside herself just yet.

"Rough case?"

Her yoga instructor tilted his head and startled her out of the quiet.

Damn it.

"No." Gail shook her head and bent to pick up her mat. "Just a day."

The instructor was a cop adjacent. He'd been an EMT for years and knew too well when Gail was full of shit. Which was why she kept coming back to his class. At her reply, he clearly smelled something deeper, but let it go.

Still, the world was back and Gail had things to do. She stalled, wiping off her mat and packing up her things, and then sat in her car. Thinking.

She sighed and tapped her phone, calling the number that used to be the first on her contacts.

"A whole week," said Steve, by way of greeting.

"Yeah, asshat. A week."

Her brother laughed, self deprecating. "Remember when you didn't talk to me for a month?"

"Good times," she drawled.

They were quiet for a moment. "This is easier in person, isn't it? Like breaking up."

She wanted to tell him off, but he was right. "Holly's not pissed at you."

"Well. She's a good person."

"And Viv sorted shit out with Jason."

"Clearly takes after your wife."

"You know what I gotta ask, Steve," said Gail quietly.

"Yeah. I do." He sighed and there was the sound of a laptop closing. "I pulled a Dad, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," she confirmed.

Her brother exhaled loudly. "What the hell kinda life is this anyway?"

Someone else might hear that and think Steve was suicidal. Gail heard her brother, frustrated at his life, wondering how he'd gotten then. And she was about to make it worse. "Steve. I don't want you to come over again. Not until you go to a therapist or a psychiatrist."

She could actually feel the anger over the phone before he spoke. "Oh fuck off, Gail! Just because you've been going to them forever—"

"Since a serial rapist and killer tried to make me his next victim?" She kept her voice flat, even, and firm. And Gail cut the legs right out from under her brother. Because the question she wanted to ask, he couldn't answer. He had no idea why he lost control like that. He had no idea why he was so angry.

"Damn it, Gail, I didn't mean that."

"Really? You didn't mean because I was fucked up? Because I'm more screwed up than you? Because I'm broken? What did you mean, Steven?"

He hesitated. "You're not broken," he said softly.

"And you're just as fucked up as I am, Steve," she replied. "And you know what? We are broken."

"Gail, come on. Therapy? That's such bullshit."

"It's really not, Steve." Gail pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look. I get it, you're angry about shit and you don't know what to do about it. And I'm telling you, talk to someone about this. It's gonna hurt you worse if you don't."

"Says the perfect family," snapped Steve.

Yeah. He was mad. So was she. "Yes, Captain Idiot. I have a great life, and a wife, and a kid, and I'm happy for a fucking change. Wanna know why? It's because I dealt with my shit!"

Her brother snarled. "Oh you have no idea how hard it is—"

"Fuck you," said Gail, cutting him off harshly. "You're so full of it, Steve."

"Really? You're the one who thinks just because it works for you, it'll work for me. Or anyone."

Gail closed her eyes tightly and struggled to grab onto the calm inside her. She took a breath. "Steve, I don't know if it'll work. But what you're doing now sure as shit isn't. So I'm telling you. Get your shit together, or don't come over."

"You don't mean that." He was still angry, but Gail heard a trace of the pleading little boy he'd been. Her brother. The boy who broke his arm on the tire swing at the cottage. The man who let her sleep on his couch when she was shattered after Perik. The brother who'd had her back her whole life.

And she was the bad guy here. She was the asshole who was pushing him away.

She had to. He wouldn't heal unless she did. Traci loved him, but for some reason she let him keep being this way. Maybe that spoke to why she'd ended up with Dex all those years ago. Why she'd been desperate for a connection.

Fuck, Traci could use a dose of good therapy herself, probably.

"I love you," she told her brother, gently. "You've got to take care of you, Steve. Traci deserves it."

It was a low blow and she knew that.

"Damn it." Steve's breathing was harsh, almost staccato. "I'm pissed off, so I'm hanging up."

"Alright," she said. There was a pause, a mumbled good night, and Steve hung up.

It was a good half hour before Gail felt safe to drive home. She was pissed, not so much at Steve but at her family. All those idiotic burdens they'd dropped on his shoulders. On hers, yes, but his more so. A lot of that was a stone Steve shouldered of his own volition, protecting her. And god, that made all of it so much worse.

The house was quiet when she got home. In the kitchen, a light was on and a meal was waiting for her, along with a note to please make Holly go to bed.

Gail smiled and shook her head. No doubt Holly was writing something. As much as she wanted to go upstairs and annoy her wife, Gail had to eat first. Stupid metabolism. She sighed and ate the chicken dish Holly had made (which was great) and went upstairs to their office.

Along the way, Gail paused and looked at Vivian's empty room. Mostly empty. Gail had left up the posters and Holly had arranged the toys on the bookshelves, which still housed the young adult and children's books Vivian had liked. It was nice having a bit of their daughter with them still.

As she walked into the office, Gail almost laughed. Holly had three pens shoved into her sloppy bun, her glasses held in place by her frown, and she was furiously typing. Instead, Gail just watched the woman she loved.

"You're really creepy," said Holly at length. "Did you eat?"

"Yeah. Thanks for leaving that out."

Holly smiled and glanced up. "Oh, you went to the last class? I thought it was a case."

"Hmm. No. I needed to clear my head before I talked to Steve."

That caused her wife to pause. "Honey." She sighed and closed her laptop. "You didn't have to do that alone."

Gail didn't worry about having distracted her, as Holly wouldn't have spoken if she wasn't in a stopping place. "I know, but I think— I thought it would be easier for Steve if I did."

Holly pursed her lips. "Was it?"

"Maybe. Depends on if he gets his ass to therapy or not." Gail shrugged. "I don't know why Traci hasn't kicked his ass about that shit yet."

Holly's diagnosing face kicked into high gear and she absently reached back to pull the pens out of her hair, not even mildly surprised to find three pens. "He's got high walls, just like you, honey. I think he only feels safe enough to let them down when he's with you. Us."

"Well that sucks," grumbled Gail. But it made sense. "I told him not to come over until he sorted out his shit."

Holly's expression softened. "I wish I could tell you that was too harsh. But."

Gail nodded, morosely. "It's just not healthy. He's mad, I get that, but for fucks sake, it's not my fault."

Both of Holly's eyebrows popped up. "Excuse me?" Her hackles raised, clearly prepared to defend Gail against her brother.

"Oh he got all shitty about how I don't know I'm lucky, and therapy is bullshit. Just stupid Peck stuff."

Holly said nothing. Instead, she got up and crossed the room, wrapping Gail into a hug.

The tears that she'd somehow evaded or withheld all evening started to leak out. "I reek, Holly," she whispered.

"I told you, you didn't have to do that alone," Holly said fiercely.

Damn it. Gail was supposed to be the strong one here. She was supposed to be protecting her wife from her idiot brother. And here, she was the one crying on her wife's shoulder. All because her brother was being a dumb ass and wouldn't take care of himself.

And yet. Here she was.


By the time Holly got out of the shower, Gail was sound asleep. Well, that was to be expected. She'd had her ass kicked at the range, trying to drive out the lingering Peckish guilt about her brother from earlier in the week, and then Holly had dragged Gail for a run, and before they made dinner Gail started to droop.

An early night wouldn't hurt any of them at this point in their lives, mused Holly, and she tossed her towel into the hamper. It was a mildly warm night, but Gail was sprawled out, bare ass naked, with the sheet on her hips. Holly smiled at the image and turned the fan on low. Gail was always more temperature sensitive, which made sense, her being an actual ginger.

As hot as it got, Holly couldn't sleep without a shirt on. It just didn't work for her. One exceptionally hot summer, early in their relationship, Holly had given in to Gail's nude preference and found out two things: her boobs felt extra sticky without a shirt on, and she wound up having some of the more erotic dreams of her life.

It had practically been embarrassing, though Gail hadn't complained at all the next morning.

She wasn't sure if the dream was heat related or naked related or sleeping next to naked Gail while naked related. Holly just didn't sleep in the nude anymore.

Dressed for bed, Holly reached down to smooth Gail's hair and tug the sheet a little higher. Now that the fan was on, Gail would cool down quickly and, in short order, want a blanket as well as a sheet. It didn't matter how beautiful Holly found Gail's perfect, pale, skin, the woman was a ginger, and all the trouble that came with that was hers.

Gail burned easily in the sun, she acutely felt temperature shifts, and she was incredibly resistant to pain killers. Of course, Gail also had an idiosyncratic reaction to narcotics, thanks to her over-exposure to ketamine and ACP plus the same lightweight flaw of her mother and brother, which meant when she did get hurt, Gail was stuck on OTC pain killers that barely took the edge off.

Basically it meant Gail was incredibly grumpy, in pain, and couldn't do much about it. After a quarter century, helping ease Gail through whatever was going on was second nature to Holly. And she liked it. Not the doing so much, but there was a certain joy that came from helping someone she loved. Probably her maternal nature leaking out.

That thought amused Holly, she who'd announced as a child she'd never get married or have children, because she didn't want to be a part of the heteronormative, toxic-masculinity universe. She'd been... what? Five? Six? Boys had been gross, a stage she'd never fully grown out of, and men were worse.

As Holly peeled back her side of the covers, her phone lit up. It would only ring at night for certain numbers, one of which was a person she was always ready to talk to.

Smiling, she picked up the phone and stepped out of the bedroom. "Hi, Dad," she said quietly and closed the door to the bedroom.

"Hi, honey. It's not too late, is it?"

It was a little after ten, which made it seven for her father. A semi reasonable time. "No, I wasn't asleep."

"You were in bed," lamented Brian.

"Dad!" Holly laughed. "How are you?"

Her father hesitated. "I'm good. Good. Just been a few days since I heard your voice."

Holly smiled and leaned against the wall. "Sometimes those three hours suck."

"Less now that you're working less, I hope."

"A bit, but I can't sleep in." Holly had always been an early riser.

Brian laughed. "Not even with that lazy slug of a wife? Gail'd sleep till noon."

"She'd sleep till dinner if I let her," joked Holly. Once, up at her parents, Gail had slept for fourteen hours solid. Holly refused to bother her, pointing out Gail was exhausted.

"How's she handling your retirement?"

"I still have a full time job," Holly said, peevishly. "And she's happy. Our schedules match up better."

"I can't see how," Brian teased. "Gail's famous."

Holly chuckled. "Oh so that's why you're calling?"

"She was in the paper! Why didn't you tell me about the award?"

"Uh, you hate flying, Dad."

That wasn't why. Gail had been annoyed at the award and tried to get out of the ceremony multiple times. It didn't work. She was forced to put on her dress blues and parade on stage, and even give a speech.

It was meant to be a celebration of her years as a successful woman in law enforcement.

Gail had hated every second of the event. It wasn't the worst of the ones she'd been through. There was no vomiting on the drive home, no nightmares or shakes. It was just still something that brought back every single one of Gail's doubts and insecurities. She was reminded of being the Pale Fail.

"Gail's family. I would have come."

Holly deflected. "I'm hurt. I thought this was a call to say hi to me, but noooo it's all about your favourite daughter."

"Clearly me saying not to come out for the holidays is going to fly like an albatross."

"They can fly over 16000 kilometres, Dad."

Her father paused and then laughed. A good laugh. "I love you, Holly."

She smiled. "I know, Dad. Are you spending Christmas with family at least?"

"Yes, your cousins want me to come over, since their mother passed away."

That was right. Her uncle had died ages ago, but his wife had survived three bouts with cancer, only to succumb to death by slipping on a banana peel.

Holly had found it hilarious. Gail had too. They weren't always good people.

"We'll miss you, Dad. Are you sure you don't want us to come over?"

"I'm sure, honey. Besides, where would you stay? I only have the one spare room, and you wouldn't like sleeping on an air-mattress."

"We could stay at a hotel, Dad." But there would be none of that. Stewarts stayed with family. "How do you like the condo? Still good?"

Her father made a sound Holly was familiar with — he shrugged. "I mean, it's filled with old people."

Holly giggled. "Dad, you moved into a retirement community. What did you expect?"

"Oh shut up," he said, laughing. "I'm by the ocean, so you know what, I'll put up with these old SOBs."

"You are one of then, Dad," she teased.

He laughed again. A good laugh. The one she remembered from growing up, which had been so, so rare since Lily's death. "You know what? I am!" He laughed more. "Okay. It's late. You want to sleep. I want to read your book."

"Oh my god, Dad. I'm not even through the outline."

"Well. When you are, I want to hear how you solved a hundreds of years old mystery."

"I promise, Dad. Good night."

"Night. Love you, baby girl."

"I love you too, Daddy." She smiled and tapped the button to hang up her phone.

Sometimes she wished her father understood that using a phone, to text or email, was just as personal as a phone call. But it had taken him years to feel like a phone call was personal, versus seeing someone in person, so Holly doubted that particular hurdle was one Brian would overcome in his lifetime. Even Vivian's attempt to explain that texts made sense for some people had only gone far enough that Brian stopped grumbling about Holly and Gail doing it with each other.

How much of a relationship would she have been able to have with Gail if they'd not figured out non-verbal communications? Not much of one. Gail had enough trouble texting her feelings back in the day, but saying anything out loud? Hell no. Even now, Gail couldn't always figure out how to express herself properly in words when it came to her emotions.

But. There were hundreds, thousands of ways for a person to show love without the words. Taking out the trash, doing the dishes, folding the laundry, cooking, and most importantly, just being there. Gail did all of that, easily, because the one emotion she had no problem displaying was her loyalty.

Holly eased the door back open and found Gail curled up under the sheet and blanket. She smiled and slipped into the bed, taking the big spoon spot and wrapping an arm around her wife.

Gail sighed and snuggled back into Holly's warmth. "How's Brian," she asked softly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"Hmm. Phones. Cop." Gail's fingers found Holly's, lacing them together.

Holly kissed Gail's shoulder. "He's fine. Says hi. Just wanted to chat."

"Good." Gail's voice was still thick with sleep, and her body was already relaxing back into its slumbering state.

"I love you, Gail," Holly said gently, her voice barely a whisper.

Gail didn't reply. She didn't have to. She was there and that was, as always, enough.


A "gentle" start to a new season.