"The brave one is not she who doesn't feel afraid, but she who conquers that fear with undeniable brilliance."
Courage Is A Woman
Chapter 2. Stella
How does one get one's life back on track after a devastating experience that leaves you a changed person? How does one simply 'get back to it'? Stella Gibson had no clue. After arriving back home from Belfast she had turned the key in her door and she'd been utterly lost. She had decided to start by collecting the mail on her doormat, and after that, little by little she had tried to get some kind of control back over her life.
Her job was on the line, her reputation at the Met was absolutely shattered and so was her emotional wellbeing. She had been offered counseling, but she had declined. She had been offered a desk job at a different office by her superior instead of administrative duty, but she'd chuckled sarcastically and left the room. All of those decisions, every decision she had made in the past six months had all boiled down to this moment. Stella Gibson was sitting in her living room, a glass of red wine in hand, holding an invitation to a four-day forensic crime conference in New York. Clearly, the Metropolitan police just wanted to get rid of her for a little while as they still needed to figure out what to do with her. It was a work trip, all expenses paid, so she wasn't about to say no. However she couldn't shake the irony – one of the suggested lectures was about the impact of a defendant's mental or physical injury to a court case. It had been her ultimate downfall (if there had by that point been anywhere for her to fall down to) and although she knew she could learn a thing or two at this conference she didn't like the implications.
Paul Spector had touched her and he had left her wounded like no man ever had. Except maybe her father who, in dying, had left her with the biggest wound of all – a gaping hole in her heart. Ever since that had happened she had vowed to herself not to let anyone get that close ever again. She had faltered and she had failed before, but this was a different kind of pain. It went deeper, it was more personal. He had, after all, read her dream diary which was the most private thing she owned. Now that he was gone the knowledge had gone with him, but still she felt utterly exposed at the thought of someone (let alone a serial killer) reading her most private thoughts and dreams. Since losing it she had started a new diary, but it was always put away in a bag or locker when she was travelling. Only in the confines of her own home would she leave it out on her bedside table. She had always been careful not to let anyone invade her privacy in a way that made her uncomfortable, and she felt like that part of her had been destroyed in Belfast. Not only by Spector, but also by others. Men, mostly, who had in many small ways shown their inability to deal with her as a woman in their masculine, patriarchal culture had one by one said or done things that had hurt her. She hadn't shown it, naturally, but she was very aware of it. Still, she would conquer these little things every single day until one day the accumulation of them had made her yearn for a world without men.
Of course there had been good men, too. Some slightly overcompensating, others too insecure to prove useful in the long run. However, that had also impacted her for reasons she simply couldn't understand. She'd had her desires met and it had become public knowledge and apparently it was a big deal. Now that she was back home she had been reprimanded, she'd expected a demotion (wouldn't that be easy) but she hadn't gotten one, she had simply received a shitload of administrative tasks and small assignments that would keep her busy and off the streets, so to say. Stella had decided to grin and bear it for a little while before working her way back up, because even though she didn't agree with everything she knew she'd fucked up.
Therefore, the invitation to the conference in New York came at exactly the right moment. She needed to get away from under the paperwork and she needed to, literally, stretch her legs. Having visited New York many times before she knew the possibilities, the freedom it would give her and frankly she couldn't wait.
The hotel she had been appointed was every bit as fancy and upscale as she had come to expect. Stella had stayed in her fair share of nice hotel rooms while working for the Met, but she knew it was partially because of her reputation and demeanor that they didn't even ask, they just booked the best rooms for her. She was glad that she still had that, at least – apparently someone was unaffected by the rumors going around, and that someone had booked her this room. It was nice, on the thirty-second floor of one of New York's largest and most expensive hotels. It offered a beautiful city view and even though she wanted to pretend it didn't affect her, Stella still allowed herself a girlish giggle as soon as the door closed behind the bellboy. Oh yes, sometimes it was still good to be DSI Stella Gibson.
She had had a long day of travelling so she decided to call it a night and go to bed early today. She'd be in New York for a week, having added some of her vacation to the trip. Tomorrow would be the first day of the conference and she had decided to go to three lectures instead of the suggested two – she was here now anyway, she might as well put her time to good use. She wanted to research the lecturers a little before going in tomorrow so she put her alarm for an early start, took a long shower and got ready for bed.
Her dream diary made its way into the bedside cupboard and she put a glass of water on the table should she need it – she knew her body and she knew how it reacted to the time difference. She was exhausted so it didn't take her long to fall asleep.
She walked along the green paths of Central Park, a blue sundress flowing around her knees. Not wanting to look she felt a large hand in hers, a clear memory from her childhood. But she wasn't a child, she was a full grown woman holding a hand that was a little too familiar in its usual absence. The hand squeezed hers softly. 'Look, Stella,' a familiar voice said. 'That's the Belvedere Castle.' She smiled and increased her pace. 'Come on,' she encouraged the man next to her. 'Let's go!' Her voice was her own, but her tone was that of an eight-year old.
'Easy my star,' she heard the voice say and she slowed. Still, she hadn't looked, because she knew that would only bring her pain. Somehow her consciousness was protecting her – to look up would mean to know without a doubt that this was a dream, something that would never be a reality. Not looking meant there was still hope.
As they ascended the stairs towards the top of the castle Stella looked around, carefully avoiding the man to her right. The park looked as beautiful as she remembered, leaves had started to change color and the sun was shining brightly across the turtle pond. There was no one around and everything around her seemed to focus on the man next to her.
Slowly but surely Stella felt the world around her shift. It was as if she didn't have a choice; she was going to see him anyway. As she felt the hand slip from hers she tried to close her eyes. 'No,' she said out loud. 'Come here,' she tried to get the hand back in hers. It didn't happen, nothing seemed to work as the dream turned against her. A man appeared in front of her – her daddy, her knight – and he held his arms out to her. 'Come here, Stella,' he said softly and even though she knew she shouldn't, she approached him anyway. Eight-year old Stella had been defenseless against her daddy's charms, and in her dreams, so was fourty-year old Stella. All the armor she had built, every wall she had erected with care wasn't enough to help her now as her father hugged her close. This time she could close her eyes and she allowed herself to breathe him in.
She sighed.
As her arms came around him she relaxed into his embrace, it felt so good to hold her father close again – it was something she missed dearly, his presence, his support.
She was about to give in to the feeling and fully be in the moment when she felt a shift. Clouds gathered and the arms around her tightened. Too late she realized that she was no longer holding her father.
'Hello, Stella.'
Somewhere on a dark New York street, in a fancy hotel room a woman jolted upright.
Cold sweat covered the front of her top and her back, and Stella sighed deeply to try and control her reaction. It was just a dream. She collected her diary from the cupboard and once she had her breathing under control she wrote down what she remembered. It had been a similar dream for days now; she was a young girl but she wasn't and her father was with her but he wasn't. Every time she looked at him he would change into her most recent demon, but the longer she could refrain from looking at him the longer she could be with her father again. It was a torturous game and she cursed her mind for the trickery. 'Saw daddy again – in Central Park this time. I'm wearing the blue dress, the one from my eighth,' she wrote. 'I can't stay with him, I can't look at him. When I do he becomes Spector. Can't remember much more.' She put her diary down again and pulled the damp top over her head; she was used to sleeping with very little to no clothes on so she didn't bother to get up and replace them. Looking at her alarm she noticed it was around 2AM, which in London time would mean time to get up and start the day. Sighing she laid her head back down, pinching her nose against the upcoming headache. Stella hoped she'd still be able to get a few hours of sleep in before dawn. Recently she had been alone a lot, and it had meant that her brain had too much time to process everything. It had come up with multiple cruel ways to torture her about many and all things in her past that she might have regrets or doubts about, and honestly she was about done with the shit it kept producing. Maybe a counsellor or psychologist wasn't such a bad idea after all. She made a note in her phone to check the lecturer's list for any psychologists that she could meet and talk to while she was here before lying back down.
About an hour later she still hadn't gotten much sleep. The city outside seemed to call to her to stay awake. Deciding that if she was going to be awake she might as well enjoy the view Stella got up and opened the curtains. She got back into bed and marveled at how the room was softly lit by the outside lights. She was pretty high up, which meant she got all the beauty but none of the noise and chaos that came with this city. The scale of different buildings looking back at her made for an interesting canvas, so diverse but all coming together as one. Stella found it comforting and she quickly felt herself relax and fall into a slumber even though the city carefully colored her room. She allowed herself to succumb to the heaviness in her head and soon she was asleep again, dreamless this time, while the buildings of New York watched over her.
Stella woke a few hours later at 05:30 and she quickly decided she wasn't going to get much more sleep. She ordered room service and put on a robe before sitting up in bed with her laptop. She decided to start the work she wanted to do before the conference started, and soon she was invested in all the interesting people she was about to meet. A couple of familiar faces crossed the board, but mostly the names were new to Stella. She enjoyed meeting new people so she was looking forward to later today.
Room service came and delivered her breakfast, adding quietly that breakfast was usually served from 0700AM but that they didn't mind the exception. She tipped the delivery boy a little extra for his troubles and ushered him out – they could have just said no on the phone, she thought. However breakfast was nice and it did wonders for her jetlag so she quickly set her alarm for 0700 the next day just to make sure she stayed on the good side of the hotel's service. No more ordering before the kitchen opened.
The hotel had a pool and she debated going for an early swim around 8AM but looking outside she decided on a walk instead. She was on holiday after all, her usual habits could be broken. After ordering a coffee at a nearby Starbucks she strolled off towards the river, trying to avoid the traffic that was New York on a Wednesday morning.
Later that day Stella found herself in front of her hotel room mirror, trying to decide which blouse to wear. She had brought a number of work-appropriate garments, and usually she wouldn't bother taking long to decide what to wear but today she seemed hesitant. It was her first big public event since the Belfast disaster and she was bound to meet people she knew. Those people would undoubtedly have heard certain details and they would have drawn their own conclusions. That's the trouble with the media, Stella thought – she had absolutely no control over what was published about her. She liked to be in control of her image; liked to be able to steer it in whichever way was wanted or necessary at the time, and her recent choices had robbed her of that ability. So for now, standing in front of a full-length mirror deciding what to wear was what she was reduced down to.
Stella quickly decided on a light beige silk mix blouse and one of her wide-legged pants, feminine but not too revealing and the same time. She decided to go without make-up except for her usual mascara and a little concealer (jetlag was indeed happening), and her hair was brushed but left untamed. Looking at herself she smiled. Confidence had never been an issue for her since university, but quietly she feared aging like any woman must. However, she knew that the way she carried herself would always mirror in the way people treated her. As a very self-aware teenager she soon learned the power she had over people, especially men, and she had learned to use that power. She wouldn't abuse it, but she could definitely yield it to fit her purpose. It was an art that she had perfected over the years; to know who to keep close and know who to cut loose. As she was looking at the reflection of herself now she saw that woman again, the one who knew what she wanted and needed and wasn't afraid to go out and get it. She liked that woman – she was a lot stronger than dream diary Stella. Vulnerability was a word she tried to stay away from, even though she envied those who were able to open up – she had always thought it wasn't for her. Although she craved it sometimes, the closeness and depth that would be a stable relationship, it scared the hell out of her as well: Who would want her if they really knew her?
The first lecture was very interesting, as was the second one. It was the last lecture of that day that really caught her attention though. It was the one she had been assigned to in the first place, but the interesting thing was that the lecturer was a woman. A former FBI-agent with experience with the paranormal, whatever that meant. Dana Scully was a very interesting woman to Stella, a conundrum of strength and vulnerability. She was very open about her experiences and how she had seen things she could not deny, but she was also a scientist and a sceptic by nature. Stella thought of how Spector had almost fooled her with his acting, and she thought how helpful it would have been to have someone like Dana Scully on board for her investigation. She had seen it all, experienced people at their worst – she would have seen right through Spector. However, that was all over now, and the goal was to learn as much as possible to avoid a repeat of those events. Stella made a lot of notes and really found the woman inspiring. Also, how was she a similar age and could she have done so much? Medical doctor, pathologist, paranormal investigator, FBI Special Agent, and what else? Stella couldn't help but wonder about her achievements. Also, she saw some little signs of nerves and self-consciousness in Dr. Scully's demeanor. How, she wondered. How could someone so accomplished still have doubts? She felt slightly protective towards her, and she felt she wanted to talk to her. Reassure her, and help her in some way. She made a deal with herself to make time for that somewhere during the conference.
All too soon the lecture was over and Dana Scully disappeared backstage. Sighing, Stella gathered her things and went back to the hotel.
Walking through New York she thought she spotted the redhead FBI Agent a few times. Each time it turned out to be someone else, but it unsettled her how much she seemed to have gotten under her skin. Stella believed that every woman had a right to feel confident, a right to step into their power and own that. Somehow she had seen that Dana Scully was struggling with that and it reminded her of her own situation. Somewhere halfway down Park Avenue she had a fleeting thought – what if this doctor woman was also a psychologist? Would she be the perfect person to talk to?
Arriving back at the hotel she tried to shake that thought. It was always best to have a counselor or psychologist that was an outsider, she knew from experience. That someone would be digging deep into her brain and there were certain people she didn't want to know everything. Personalities who were interesting to her from the second she saw them were always among those certain people. Therefore, even if Dana Scully was the best psychologist in the world, she wouldn't want her to dig into Stella's brain – she might not like what she found there.
Stella rarely went out looking for a hookup, but she had decided that tonight, that was the end goal. She needed the distraction because she would otherwise be tempted to call the number on the card she had received at that final lecture. Now that she was back at her hotel and she'd put some distance between her and the woman that had caught her interest she wanted to put her mind to other things. The conference was done for now and the hotel had a nice bar, she would be free for the rest of the day and she would have plenty of time to try and meet someone appropriate there. The trick was to look for a man who didn't expect her attention. The ones that did were always the ones that had already put themselves above her in their minds and she would have none of that. Stella needed the control, she needed to lead. It was one of the things she liked about New York, people were down to earth and honest.
After heading down to the bar she quickly became intrigued by one of the bartenders, starting a calm conversation with him in between his duties. A few men came up to her and offered her a drink. She accepted one drink off one, told another one to fuck off and a third was ignored as if he wasn't there. The bartender regarded it all with interest and caught her eye more than once – he really was an interesting type, she thought. He didn't come to her rescue because he knew she didn't need him to, but he did keep up the irregular conversation they had been having. She loved the independence he gave her while still definitely being interested.
'I'm going up to my room in a bit,' she told the bartender – Nick his name was – to see if he would be interested. 'I'm staying in room 312.' Nick nodded. 'Okay.' He understood.
An hour later Stella was back in her hotel room, having showered and changed into a bathrobe. Dana Scully had not been on her mind for quite some time. She knew what she was getting ready for and it was exactly what she needed. Being in control of her sexuality had always been important to her, but she knew that she had nothing to fear from Nick the bartender; he would be exactly what she was looking for. He had told her earlier on at what time his shift would end, and that was about ten minutes ago. As if on que she heard someone rustle by her door before knocking.
As she made her way to the door she already knew who would be on the other side. Nick, even though he hadn't been flirty, had made it quite clear that he was interested and she had liked his sweet demeanor – he wasn't the arrogant type, although he was particularly good looking. It was a combination that Stella loved and thought it was too rare, especially in London. As she turned the doorknob and opened the door she saw two warm brown eyes looking back at her. 'Hi,' he said. 'Come in,' she answered and something inside her stirred. It had been a while since she had felt this way.
She hadn't changed who she was, never would she even consider doing that. However, she knew that what she'd been putting out to the world recently had been a watered down version of Stella Gibson. One that conformed more, one that worked by the book more (or even cared about the book in the first place). She had deemed it necessary but she utterly hated it. Being here, in New York, an ocean away from home she felt like she knew no one and that was her salvation. The freedom she had here would help her come back to who she had been. For the first time in a long time she felt like it was okay to again be utterly and unapologetically herself.
Author's Note: This was a lot of establishing where Dana and Stella are. They will meet soon, and I think they will have a very interesting relationship. I'll be honest and tell you I don't know exactly where this is going, but they are going on a journey together – with me. It feels vulnerable and strange as it is the first f/f relationship I'll write but it's such an interesting and natural pairing to me that I just have to try.