A/N: This took longer than expected, and the next three parts would be a bit difficult for me, but after that I hope for smoother sailing :)
Warning: This part mentions abuse in general terms. No graphic details.
He's getting increasingly worried as the days pass, but he doesn't admit it. He's concerned - an ex, a colleague, his partner's best friend, his own partner of three years. He is concerned, not just mildly. With his gut and the beeping - he didn't have a good night's sleep in weeks.
He cannot be worried - he moved on. She did not want to give him a second chance, he got her cue and moved on. The fact that she wasn't where he thought she was got nothing to do with it. Her coming back won't change the fact -
It's over.
The phone charger he keeps at work stopped working earlier that week, so his phone's been dead for the last few hours of the last few shifts.
(He keeps forgetting to get a new one, being cooped-up, going through a court case. He barely sees the light of day.)
It's fine. That's what a landline's for, right?
He arrives home opting for a beer and a game, maybe.
(He's fooling himself- all he's gonna do is stare at the screen and try to infer where McNally has gone to.
They haven't cornered Frank yet, but Collins' tale-
It has him alarmed.)
There's a charger in the kitchen, and he plugs it in, turning the phone on while fishing the last of the weekend's six pack out.
The screen lights up - new voicemails. Probably Ollie ranting about, well, something that gotta do with his friend's dead phone. Shaw called the office and that was the conversation starter, so.
Entering the code, he puts it on speaker, and debates a snack.
You have two. New. Messages.
"Brother, you really have to do something about this. I can't keep calling Nash: She keeps me on call waiting while she talks to Leo, and then there's..."
The rant goes on for a minute there and he doesn't mind. It's good entertainment.
Nachos. He's feeling like nachos.
The second message, well, he should have expected that.
"You remember that weekend next month, right?"
It's Sarah. And vaguely.
"Let me remind you - Anniversary. Weekend getaway. Three nephews in need of their uncle. Sounds familiar?"
Yes. That.
"Anyway, you have the early shift Thursday, say thank you-"
"Thank you," he raises his beer, nodes with a smile.
"- and get yourself down here by eighteen hundred hours at the latest."
More like 8 pm, really.
"I know you sign off at four, so don't get any ideas."
Or not.
"Love you," he can hear the ruckus of kids entering a class room and she hung up.
On the other hand, he can always plead a case.
"You know sis, it would be much appreciated if you wouldn't choose my vacation days for me, or at least consult me beforehand."
(They talked quite a bit the last couple of weeks. Many texts and even a phone call - She's trying to draw him out, make him talk about his life. Other than work, of course.
Gets deflected every time. )
She's both surprised and not, that this is what on his mind.
"As if you would spend your vacation days any other way."
(It's true. He rarely spends his vacation time without them. They're his only family. The Shaws get him on his days off. Well, they used to. Things with Zoe are not going so well)
"I still wish to have some control over my personal time, not entirely, just some. Control freak," he says that, and his voice is barely laced with humor. Loving humor.
"Stop whining. You have no demands on your free time except us."
"Sarah, you know that I'm seeing someone. Maybe I'm saving vacation days so we can go somewhere?"
(Oh, she knows. The only reason she knows is because, a few weeks earlier:
"Did my brother patch things up with his rookie?"
"Nope, he has a new girl now, Marlo. You'll love her," he replied in sing-song, sarcastic.
Oliver Shaw is a ray of sunshine)
He sounds perturbed and exhausted. Her brother always sounds perturbed, but this feels different. There's an underlining of something that transforms perturbed to troubled, tired to exhausted.
They talked the previous week - there were no mentions of never-ending cases or long days at the barn, he is no longer training rookies. Why is her brother exhausted?
"If Marlo is exhausted as you sound, you two would be sleeping away those vacation days. How is she, anyway? Do you see her much?"
All she got was a name, and this is only their second phone call since she learned of the woman existence - she's bound to be curious.
"She's a beat cop. And she's fine. And I'm also fine. It just been a long week," she can hear it in his voice already: he's trying to mask his tiredness and deflect her inquiries at the same time.
She lets him.
"Are you sure you'll even be up for the task? You know, this is a tornado trio, I should remind you."
"We'll be fine. And they are not a tornado trio anymore. They're a crew."
(He dubbed them 'the crew'. she wanted a pair, a duo. He knew that. So once Owen came along - it's a crew.
Well, they were the tornado trio for a while, but since nothing has been broken for the last few of their solo-weekends with their uncle, they're a crew again.
They don't have a goal or a mission, he explained, but they go through the storms together.)
"As long as you're sure," she's unconvinced.
"I miss them - I'll be there," he assures. "Stop worrying so much."
She's his older sister, she's allowed to be worried. That's the whole idea behind this 'weekend' scheme. She figures if there's a new woman - they should really talk about the previous one, about the rookie. Otherwise her brother is leading on someone else other than himself.
Luce broke her arm a few months back. Playing, if witness reports are to be believed, an aggressive game of basketball.
She's his niece alright.
The situation called for a parley with her mom, trying to downplay his role in this whole thing. He had an alibi, and it wouldn't have been enough.
Their first conversation in months (other than the weekly 'I can't talk right now, I'll call you back' which he didn't, but his sister was content enough with hearing his voice, apparently, at least for another week )
He has to cut her right off the bat: "How are you? How's your rookie? Is Every-"
"It's over. We're not talking about this right now."
Or ever, if he can help it. He can't foresee a future when this whole fiasco with McNally doesn't hurt like a bullet in the vest.
A breath. "How's Luce?"
"Gets everybody she meets to sign her cast. She's very proud of it, you know." The slight anger in her voice was enough for him to know this wouldn't be a mess he would get out of easily.
"Aside from that, if you want to hear stories-" she baited him, "-you come down and visit."
So he did.
Sarah tried to sit him down for a talk after the kids went to bed, Mark made himself scarce. (You gotta give it to him, the guy knows where his allegiance lie).
Now, he did explain himself and his basketball doctrine, and Sarah demanded he'll tone it down a little (he did).
But, of course, that's not all off it.
'A Talk', usually means Sarah trying to instill in him normal rituals of mental health, i.e. if it pains you, talk about. If it's over, talk about it. Mainly she wants him to reflect on ended relationships, so she would know he's okay, that he's not hurting.
(Maybe she's also trying to make sure he's not a douche.)
It's one thing to do it when he's not, in fact, bruised, pained. He sometimes obliges. It's a whole new ballgame when he's crushed. So-
It didn't take.
He knows she had to give it a chance. It's what big sisters do.
She tried to get him talking about the house. That's usually a sure way to get her brother's mood up.
('The house' is what used to be labelled a 'fixer- upper', by its owner, and a 'dump' by almost everyone else. He didn't have a 10 year plan, maybe a window. Luckily working off his aggression in the past few years shortened it to a seven-year-project. It's closer to a masterpiece now.
3 floors, a backyard and a basement. It is in no way, shape or form, a bachelor pad. Except for the fact the idiot is waiting for all his tasks to be finished so he can find the interior decorator within him, i.e. acquire furniture.
Oh, and it's all paid for. UC work is a lot of money.
Sarah recalls there's only the deck left. But it requires warmer temperatures, so it won't be finished in the next few months.
She hopes this might egg him on to actually furnish the place. )
It was a no go:
"What about the house?"
"Almost done."
'Almost done'? There isn't even a spare bed, just an armchair, (It's not even a lazy boy) and an old couch (which actually used to be hers. Her brother really doesn't like shopping).
"You didn't by any chance buy a bed for the guest room or, I don't know, a couch?"
"No."
"So how exactly is it 'almost done'?"
(The man won't set foot in a furniture store if you paid him.)
There was no waxing poetic about the merits of building your own furniture. The ruse he was going to use this time to get Ollie's help. His vision for the deck. Nothing. So-
There's a small red flag, planted in a small corner of Sarah's mind. (If he won't talk about the house, he actually saw glimpses of shared future in it, and he haven't made peace with-, he haven't let it go yet.)
She knows a relationship is truly over in his books when he actually talks about it. When he stops deflecting her questions, gives straight answers, actually engages in the conversation. 'We weren't on the same page', 'we didn't think it's a good idea', 'It ran its course' - Gives her a reason. Then she knows: it's over and done, history.
She might be the only person he does talk to about his love life. All Ollie gets to do are side remarks, with no immediate response or acknowledgment.
He doesn't come to care for people easily. Love? Romantic love? That's an endangered species. Only rumored in legends of college and youthful stories of old.
They need to talk.
They don't always talk about his love life or safety -
Sarah was against the undercover stints from the get go. She even started a campaign, once he finished paying off the house. Enlisted a seven-year-old Luce and a three-year-old Owen, both in the prime of their adorableness, to convince their uncle he should 'stay home'.
(He still remembers Owen chanting the words until they lost their meaning, the cry distorted into 'ay! Om!')
It was tough.
If he recalls correctly, his sister let out a little squeal of delight when told her brother will not be going undercover ever again
They actually talk about things that matter, from time to time. They have a long continuous discussion with Mark about the appropriate age to tell a child that his grandfather is in jail and why. Do you tell them why straight away? Do you wait a few years to see how they deal with it? Do you wait until they are all fully grown adults?
Sarah and Mark had consulted with a children psychologist. A couple of those, as a matter of fact.
Disclosing abuse to a third party, they first wanted to advise the abused parties. He had a few notions, important ones. Mainly that they should wait.
They haven't told the kids yet. Jake knows that Jay is in prison. Doesn't know why, doesn't know about the hell his grandfather made of the life of his immediate family. They don't want to risk the results of a teenage tantrum.
Luce and Owen haven't a clue.
The bit about his house? That was how she knew the rookie wasn't just a colleague. That, if and when they get together, the gal wouldn't be just a fling.
The rookie, whom he hasn't named, and for some odd reason, neither has Oliver Shaw, was all her brother could talk about for the first few months after said rookie busted him, throwing eight months down the drain.
No, that was actually Jerry. (As usual, Ollie spilled the beans.)
At first, there was anger, rage.
Then appreciation. A bit of their adventures. Then nothing.
"Did you finish the guest bathroom already? Jake has a vested interest, you know."
He was there for a quick visit. One following many phone calls of 'get yourself down here'. Sarah was making up for lost time.
"Why does a thirteen-year-old have a vested interest in a guest bathroom he barely visits? He's not going to get back here from a-. Yeah, you know what, why don't you tell me about Luce's adventure as a fourth-grader-something?"
She managed to navigate them back to him, to his life.
"How is your rookie?"
"Not a rookie anymore," with that squint.
She knows that squint. It whispers of repressed pain and faint traces of anger.
"Oh, really?"
(Now, the healthy answer would have been - 'yeah, she was just cut loose', and then another story of said rookie misadventures, laughing eyes and incredulous smirks.
That's not what happened.)
"Yup." It was clipped. He wasn't looking her in the eye, acting as if something drew his attention outside for a brief moment.
And it's not like he wasn't in the mood for talking.
(He rants. He always rants about his work life.)
Shaw and the family, Jerry and his rookie girlfriend, and what bugs him about- pretty much everyone in Fifteen.
Except the rookie.
Sarah took note, and carried on.
Sometimes she thinks she should have been a detective.
The rookie has continued on being an exception. He just didn't talk about her. At all. Neither did Ollie, but she always asked: "how's your rookie?"
And she would only get one liners, sarcastic to the point of bitterness.
"Moving in with her golden boy."
"Engaged."
"Trouble magnet."
And then, there was a slight shift:
"Did your rookie tie the knot already?" She wasn't snooping, she just never known her brother like this - he should have moved on by now. Greener pastures.
"He cheated," he was not gloating. A bit angry, maybe a bit relieved. But just a little bit.
He actually started answering questions. By this point she was so used to 'Bambi' and 'rookie' she haven't bothered to ask for a name.
Slowly, she found traces of hope. But then she got a phone call: the idiot was going back under.
"Going under? What about your rookie?"
"What about her?" He has that tone in his voice. She knows that tone. She hates it. Even though it's one of his tells and provides her with means to win a round or two of poker.
"Nothing, nothing. Be careful."
"I will."
He wasn't.
She came home to find Mark there, back early from work. Picked up Jake and Luce on his way. That wasn't in their schedule. Something was up.
It was only a couple of hours, but it stuck with her. It stuck with them, as a family.
She knew he was safe, injured but physically whole.
The parts of the story which reached her were sans the worst parts. She knew he got made, and that was enough for her.
Does anyone need to know anything passed 'He had a brush with death'?
The rookie played a part. She knew that, too.
Owen didn't know a thing, of course. So, she didn't push right away for a visit. Sent Mark with their eldest up to Toronto that weekend. It was a brief visit.
A week later, her suspended brother haven't showed up yet, and wasn't taking any of her calls.
She left voicemails.
"...you won't come down here because you got hurt. You forget I know you, brother mine - you don't want us to see you broken. It's ok. I just want to see you."
"...I know it's difficult, but maybe we can help?"
It went downhill from there.
"...get your ass down here as soon as the swelling is down. Shaw is keeping me posted so don't you dare..."
But it did the trick:
He was surprisingly forthcoming, once he did come. When he concluded the abridged version of the whole case, she only managed to come up with -
"She just left?" And surprise in her voice.
The following conversation is the only open conversation they had concerning this woman. It was also brief.
A couple of months later, the rookie came back and they were dating, she heard.
Yet she knew her brother got burned by this woman, more than once. He would be keeping his distance for a while.
The thing with teens? They have their own phones. That's how he found himself in a day-long text conversation with Jake, two weeks before he was supposed to take the detective exam.
'We're done with school'
'Might maw lawns or something, get a job'
'Aunt Daphne not gonna come'
'It's fine'
His nephew hasn't matured into subtlety yet.
It was not fine. Summer is probably the only time when they get to see her. Two whole weeks she dedicates to her only nephews.
'I'll see you guys in a few days.'
And of course -
Sarah was at it again. And he had enough:
There was a lull in the conversation. Jake was out with friends, Luce probably reading in her room and it was past Owen's bedtime. They were sitting in the kitchen, he told her about his work with the Ds and the exam. It seemed like she was taking it all in. Her brother is no longer a beat cop. He's not going undercover ever again.
It was a lot to take in. But then-
"How's your rookie?"
"Why do you care?" He exploded. The entire concept of compartmentalizing is to keep those thoughts away, stow the agony and anger. He was not ready. He won't be ready. Why doesn't his sister get that?
"She made you happy," she replied with a firm voice.
There was not the slightest chance he was staying for another round of this.
"We are not getting into that," he said, getting up and moving to place his half empty coffee cup in the sink. "I think I'm gonna head out, I have to study."
He wondered how long this thing gonna last. When is she going to give up?
He was already seeing someone else. Not that Sarah heard of it, but still.
How long?
She came up with the scheme after his last visit. It's a trap she's luring him into: let him spend the weekend with the crew, they'll soften him up a bit. He can't deny them anything. If they ask he usually answers, within the range of reason. She'll arrive on Sunday night, and rip the rewards. It's also a deadline - if they don't talk then she's pulling out the big guns. She'll connive with Shaw, maybe send Jake as a mole.
She'll go to Toronto if she'd have to.
He works on his deck and hears the beeping.
He started working on the deck, finally. It's a warmer weather, and he needs to vent on his days off. All by his lonesome, thank you very much.
He's having trouble focusing at the task at hand. He buys the wood, but lets the guys at the lumber yard cut it for him. These are good guys. One of them actually drives back with him just to make sure the measurements are correct.
Another one drills him for 10 minutes, through the steps of the task at hand. Twice.
They know a distracted carpenter when they see one.
(Nobody just transfers. It's not something that happens in Fifteen division. Coppers who were trained in these streets, who rode side by side, day in, day out. People don't just leave. You say goodbye. It's the nature of the job - you might not see these people ever again.
You say goodbye.
He has hard time understanding how Frank let that happen. And he has no other explanation for McNally's empty locker. Frank says he did not sign any transfer papers. And the only loan forms he signed were those for project Dakota. Two sets - one for McNally, the other for Collins.
But her locker's empty.)
He lets them. He lets them because: one, it's the first time he replaces a whole deck and two -
they won't sell him the lumber otherwise.
Ollie comes by to situate the wood in the shed. There's plenty of sanding and painting to be done before the actual replacing.
Both are silent, but they don't have any doubt about whom is on the other's mind-
McNally.
(Her father wasn't exactly a 'Do it yourself' kind of guy. They went camping, Tommy showed her how to pick locks. He taught her how to survive. It was necessary. )
She was so excited every time they started a new task together. She loved working with her hands, learning new skills.
(He has no idea how she meant to flip the toilet factory without said skills. Feels like he should have read between the lines -
Five years is enough time for two people to flip an apartment.
He was in her plans.
He's not anymore.)
He can't stay for long periods of time in the parts that she helped him with.
It hurts too much. And talking about the house in general - it stings.
Jake is one thing. All he cares is that there would be a room, where he can sleep in alone and a basement, where he can watch TV uninterrupted.
There are.
Minus a TV, a couch, and a bed, of course.
(Furniture stores are local venues for torture. The salespeople were Spanish inquisitors in previous lives.
He just didn't have the time to go through all those sharing groups on social media and find something that'll fit.
Now, he just doesn't have the energy. Or the conviction.
His mind is too occupied. A pandemonium with a single connecting string.
On a second thought - he might actually need Jake's help.)
Sarah, Sarah is a menace. Somehow she convinced herself that if he doesn't talk about the house it has a deeper meaning. Except for the part where his sister and he don't see eye to eye about furniture.
So he just doesn't talk about the house.
This has nothing to do with the helper which doesn't reside in his bed or is even a figure in his life anymore.
Not one bit.
She talked to Ollie when she came up with it, the scheme. Is there any way to secure a Thursday through Sunday? He said he'll talk to Nash.
"Who's Nash?"
"The one that has your brother's back these days. He really doesn't tell you anything does he?"
"Not since Jerry, no."
(The week Jerry died, they were with the in-laws in Boston. She hadn't heard anything till she got back, and her brother wasn't picking up - she called Oliver.
She was crying with him, on the phone.
It's not something that would have happened with her brother.
Knowing her brother - he needed space. And she let him have his space.
She hoped his rookie did the same. She desperately hoped.
She knew Oliver was staying with him, so she wasn't worried. Sent her brother a text once a week, making sure he was still breathing, a filler to see if he was ready to get out of his cave. She only got texts back, which read 'I'm fine'.
(Who exactly did he think he was fooling? When he's fine, he talks to her. She knows that, he knows that. Idiot brother.)
When he finally risen back to the surface, i.e. her communication with her brother grew to more than two- sentence conversations her concerns took form in reality - they broke up.
She saw it coming, but she dearly hoped she'll be mistaken. This was no fling. He loved her. Sarah knew that. Cursed her brother under her breath for letting the girl slip away instead of opening up to her).
He tries, as much as he can, to only take Sarah's calls when he can actually focus on the conversation. Meaning, he's not wrecking his brains out about a case at work, or about McNally at home.
He's afraid he might let something slip. Admit something that will make it infinitely harder to keep it together and actually function.
She didn't even say goodbye.
They talk 3 times in the following weeks.
She reminds him about the weekend, starts asking about Marlo and herself answering questions about everyone and everything, so it seems (she's walking on eggshells, she wonders if he'd notice). Yet she has no explanation why her brother mood keeps deteriorating.
Gradually she decides to give him an out, maybe a weekend with the crew would be too much.
"...If you can't make it - it's ok. We'll figure something out, talk with Daphne or something. She's back from the internship and she owes you one."
"It'll be fine, don't worry."
"Baby brother, what is going on?"
Apparently her tone was worried enough, because-
"We're missing a-" He blurts it out. Then he stops.
"You're missing a what?"
"An informant. We're missing an informant. We don't know if they ran away or got spooked and laying low. I fear that they took an initiative and it's a rabbit hole I'm not sure they can go out of easily."
At first it throws her off, but then -
He caught himself.
That wasn't he brother spilling his beans, it's him telling a story. But the concern in his voice is real.
She'll find out next week anyway.
He doesn't share his theories with Nash, or anyone for that matter. First, he doesn't want any misguided remarks about the state of things left between McNally and him (Peck is a smart girl and keeps her distance, Ollie has other concerns at the moment - divorce is not easy.)
Second, talking about his assumptions, his theories - makes them tangible. They can be scrapped as improbable (when he would rather stick with them) or be made plausible by the notions of another person (who unintentionally hangs up a banner reading 'Welcome to your worst nightmare').
After his slip up on the phone with Sarah, his dreading the upcoming visit all the more.
It's his first visit since his sister learned about Marlo (he has no doubts regarding the traitor identity). Sarah and Mark leave Friday morning, so if his sister plans to ambush him, it's either going to be Thursday afternoon or Sunday evening.
He's a detective now - he can't pull the early shift card. A date with Marlo might work. Of course, his sister doesn't have to know that it isn't actually a date (or that Marlo and he had never been on date, casual as they are.)
It's not that he doesn't want to talk, put the past behind him, at least McNally wise. But with the incessant beeps and the toll his worry takes on him, he thinks this might do more harm than good. Especially when he feels like he can't exactly.
Breathe.
He can't exactly breathe.
(She- she sold the apartment.
She sold her apartment, as in it was sold on her behalf. The realtor, the one that assumed them to be potential buyers? She called to inform them the place was sold. No, she hadn't met the previous owner and resident - the place was still furnished but vacant of people, when she got the file. The furniture just disappeared at some point.
She only met a man in his early sixties.
No, she doesn't know if they're related. She can look his name up if they'll provide a warrant.
Things don't add up.)
As if exhaling would necessarily mean a slip up, one he cannot walk back, one he might not even be aware of it happening until it's over.
He's afraid his sister might be that aforementioned 'other person' and burst his bubble. Or worse, give him the silent treatment for weeks (actually that's not such a bad idea. But the chances of this specific outcome are slim).
Yeah, he's going to plead a case for Thursday and give her the slip Sunday afternoon. Otherwise he thinks he won't be fit to work the next couple of weeks. There's a limit to the amount of personal days one can take without spilling one's beans to one's superior. He'll surely cross it
A/N: OK, so in this part we met Sarah and her family. Apparently big sister is on Sam's case even more than Oliver.
Sam having a fixer- upper house used to be a thing. There was even a fic where it had three-stories. All I'm saying is - I didn't come up with it, but it's a headcanon I accept whole-heartedly. I really don't care the show implied otherwise. (Same goes for basketball.)
Merci pour votre commentaire !
Thank you for all your lovely comments! It's really encouraging.
Next up : weekend with the crew!
Until next time,
totheboats