Chapter Nine

A little after six the next morning found Gail at the shooting range. It wouldn't do her any good to go out on the streets as edgy as she was. Having an itchy trigger finger was what got people killed.

The first time she failed her re-qualification, Gail spent six hours at the range until she knew, beyond shadow of a doubt, that she could make all of her shots, no matter what kind of distractions were going on around her.

When Traci had been the one that got the Detective rotation, that weekend's dinner had been laden with completely unsubtle hints about how maybe Gail just wasn't trying hard enough. A week after she left the hospital following her abduction, she'd spent a not insignificant amount of time working on learning to get out of strangleholds (and maybe next time, she'd go for the groin before she went for the phone).

If there was one behaviour that her parents had pushed more than anything else, it was adaptation. To forge through every obstacle that life threw at you, to transcend adversity, and become the best of the best.

Or whatever.

Steve was the prodigal son. It wasn't that they thought he could do no wrong, it was just that he never seemed to.

Every single thing her parents had done, was in preparation for now. Nothing was without reason. For the longest time, that attitude had fostered nothing but resentment. Now, though, after so many years, Gail had thought she'd grown up a little.

But, she reasoned, even mature, responsible people were allowed to have a shitty month. She felt conflicted, on some level, in calling it a shitty month. Because sure, some things had left a really unpleasant taste in her mouth, but other things had made for some of the best times she'd had...well, ever.

Her first clip drifted to the upwards slightly. The second clip, she over-corrected just a little bit too much. The third, every shot hit the centre line of the target. Mostly chest shots, a couple to the head, even though they generally tried to avoid that when actually out on the street. Gail had heard enough horror stories from her brother for the skill to be one that she wanted in her repertoire, even if she never actually had to use it.

It was with a little more clarity, and a lot more calmness that Gail left the shooting range. It lasted for about fifteen minutes until there was a knock on the open door of the locker room, and Gail's mood took a sudden nosedive.

It was Nick.

'What do you want?' she said, brusquely, not even bothering to hide the fact that she wanted him to go jump in a pit full of snakes.

'I just wanted to talk,' Nick said. He didn't make a move to sit down beside her, or in any way move closer, but just stood there.

'Go find a mirror; I'm sure you're the only one that can give you the amount of attention you need.'

She made to walk past him, but he put out a hand to stop her. 'Gail.' Nick's hand was on her arm, not quite grabbing, but not really just resting, either. She stared daggers at him until he pulled it away.

'What did you say to Andy?' He spoke with a tone of voice that she'd never really heard from him before. It wasn't the resigned disappointment he'd shown her the night of their break-up.

'Why don't you ask her?'

'She won't tell me.'

'Oh, and you thought I might? Get a grip.'

'Why can't you just let us be happy, Gail?' She couldn't believe that he was putting this onto her. She wasn't the one that kept bringing it up.

'I loved you, Nick. I always loved you. You left me in Vegas, and came back five years later, expecting everything to be okay. And just when things were finally starting to go back to normal, you left me again, and this time, you never really came back. I don't need your sympathy. I don't care, if you move to Moai and have six thousand kids. Just please...stop asking me to be happy for you. You really want me to be happy for you? Just stay the hell away from me.'

She stalked off before he could say anything else, because she really, really didn't want to have this argument right before shift started. They were still canvassing, and the last thing Gail needed was to be so angry while talking to oblivious residents that probably didn't see a damn thing.

Gail felt that she had been markedly reserved, given the circumstances. What she'd really wanted to do was punch him in the face, but her wrist was still feeling tingly from the chemical burns. The conversation had made her time at the range seem pointless, since now her hands were shaking so hard, she felt like she needed to—

Gail stopped.

Holly was standing at the door to the locker room. She gave no indication that she heard any part of the conversation between Gail and Nick, but judging by the look on her face, she knew something was up.

'What are you doing here?' Gail asked, a little more brusquely than she had intended. Holly looked a little startled, and then a little hurt.

'You left your shirt at my place last night,' she said, her voice soft. 'I thought you might...' She trailed off, handing Gail the scrunched up ball of material. Barely even aware that she was holding it, Gail's arms dropped to her side.

'I'm sorry,' she said, shaking her head. She wanted – she needed – to be with Holly, because it somehow made all of that bad stuff seem like it wouldn't be so much of a problem. 'I...Would it be weird, if I came over tonight? I want to...I want to stay with you.'

Holly didn't answer straight away, and for a brief moment, Gail was afraid she was going to say no, that she was going to say that she thought it was a bad idea. A second later, she smiled, and said, 'Of course,' and Gail felt a little of that shakiness go away.

...

The Gods of police work had shined their fortunes down upon her:

Today, she was paired with Oliver.

Generally speaking, he was the person she preferred to ride with the most. He made things interesting, and was a great deal less insufferable than everyone else. He knew where she liked to eat for lunch, and didn't look at her funny when she ordered a hot dog with everything except ketchup, and a donut for afters. He had her back, and he pushed her just the right amount.

She didn't mind working with Dov or Chris, but given that they lived together, sometimes she just needed to spend some time with other people.

After two hours, they had talked to thirty-seven people. A lot of the houses were empty, with people either at work, or apparently not wanting to answer the door when a couple of uniformed officers knocked.

'So what do you think?' asked Oliver, after person number thirty-eight (lived alone, no kids, didn't see anything suspicious, lots of different vehicles go down this street, why are you bothering me at home, slammed the door in their faces).

'I think he was just an asshole,' Gail said, dismissively.

'I meant about the bodies.' He gave a hand wave. 'Any theories?'

Gail gave him a look. Oliver wasn't usually a "theories" kind of person. He was usually a "get the job done" person.

But still. She appeased him in a way she wouldn't for anyone else. 'Some of them have been there for a while, so he's either pretty smart, or pretty lucky...' She paused, considering the point. 'But he didn't exactly go to too much of an effort to hide them, so I guess he's arrogant?' She shook her head. 'I don't know. He clearly knows the area pretty well, which suggests that someone around here probably does know him, even if they don't realize it.'

'You know, Detective rotation's coming up again,' he commented, in that voice of his that said he was pretending to be off-hand about things, but wasn't really. The continuity of the events didn't make her suspicious at all.

'Mmm,' Gail said, in that voice of hers that said she was pretending like she didn't know exactly what he was trying to do.

'You going to apply?'

'You think I should,' Gail answered. It wasn't a question. ''cos I did so well with my application last time.'

'A lot can change in a year,' was all Oliver said to that.

'You can say that again,' Gail muttered, and she knew that Oliver did not have a clue what she was talking about.

...

It was a little after eight when Holly heard the knock on the door. It was forceful, rather than hesitant, which meant that Gail had had either a very bad day, or a very good day. Based on what she'd heard this morning, Holly was betting on the former.

Gail's hair was down, and she was wearing enough make-up than Holly could notice it. Not that Holly had all that much experience with how Gail dressed for casual "not going anywhere" kind of evenings. Most of the ones that they'd had so far had been abnormal circumstances.

The first thing Gail did was pull Holly into a long, almost handsy kiss. 'I have had...' Gail kicked the door shut behind her. 'A phenomenally shitty day.' She pulled off her jacket, and let it fall to the floor. 'Do you know how many people like the cops coming to their door, asking about serial killers?'

'Uh...'

'None.' Gail's hands went straight to Holly's top button. 'The answer is none. Nobody likes the cops asking questions about serial killers. Maybe next time we'll hand out muffins, too.'

While Holly knew that the presence of a potential serial killer had most of the division working non-stop, but she would have at least thought that Gail might have mentioned the other thing that was going on.

Holly had fallen for enough straight girls in her time to notice when they were putting it on. Usually she could tell almost straight away, but Gail Peck was a difficult person to read. Almost walking in on Gail and her ex – that had been brutal, but she still had no goddamn idea what the hell was going on. It was no secret that Gail played things close to the chest.

She hated herself for having to ask it, but she needed to know; she couldn't let herself fall any deeper into the pit if it was going to end with Gail falling back into somebody else's arms.

'I need to ask you something,' Holly blurted out. Gail looked up from where she had started to suck on Holly's neck.

'Um...okay.' Gail frowned, and there was something in her eyes that told Holly she was starting to put things together.

'Do you still love him?'

'Him who?'

'Don't play coy. You suck at lying.'

'Do you really want to talk about this right now?' Gail switched quickly into a harsh defensive mode. It wasn't the affectionate sort of frostiness that Holly was used to, but a cold, dark, ugly thing that was no doubt designed to push people away. The message was clear: she didn't want to talk about Nick with anyone, least of all Holly.

Holly wasn't going to give up that easily. Gail was not the only person allowed to be insecure about things.

'I don't know...I just...want to know where your focus is.'

'You want to know if I'm using you to try and get back at him.'

'Gail, don't put words in my mouth. That's not what I meant, and you know it.'

'Isn't it?' Gail said, stubbornly. 'Then what did you mean, Holly?'

Holly paused. She knew what she meant, and she hated herself for thinking it. Maybe (probably) it made her selfish, but she didn't want to be jealous of someone that Gail wasn't even dating anymore.

She wanted to be the person that comforted Gail, that made her feel loved. More than anything, Holly wanted this to be real, because if it wasn't real, then she was just leading herself straight into disaster.

'I want to know if I'm just your rebound.'

...

'I want to know if I'm just your rebound,' Holly said, and Gail could hear the pain in her voice.

'It's not like that,' Gail said, dismissively, but at the same time, she was hurt that Holly would even think that.

'Then why does it matter if they're seeing each other? Don't you think you're giving them a hard time?' For the first time, Holly's voice was hesitant, as though she didn't quite like what she was saying. Gail felt a stabbing pain in her chest.

'What?' she asked, hoping like crazy that she'd misheard something.

'Come on. Life's too short to get so upset about the small stuff.' The hesitation had increased, but it was too late now.

Small stuff?

Seriously?

Gail bit back on the retort that was sitting in the back of her throat, because the last thing she needed was to lose the one person who she'd thought was going to take her side.

'Hey, I'm not trying to lessen what happened. It sucks, and it sucks that it sucks. But you're living in the past.'

Gail pulled away from Holly's hand. 'Maybe you don't think this is a big deal, but this is my life. I know you don't take those kinds of things seriously, but it would be nice for somebody to give me support.'

There was a battle raging inside of her. Part of her was furious, and yet the problem wasn't that she thought Holly was wrong. The problem was that she knew Holly was right. It wasn't fair on her for Gail to be so caught up on being angry. Unfortunately, the rational, logical part of her brain was so frequently overshadowed by the part that was seemingly intent on martyrdom.

The truth is, you don't want anyone to help you, because you'd rather blame everyone else for your self-destruction.

'Gail.' Gail ignored Holly's voice, and the subsequent pleas for her to stay. 'Gail, please, I'm not trying to–'

She grabbed her jacket off the floor, and stalked out of Holly's apartment, entirely unsure of what the hell she was going to do. Thank god no-one seemed to be around, because she could feel the tears starting to well up at the corner of her eyes. Apparently it wasn't just men that she inevitably screwed things up with. Gail Peck, equal opportunity bitch.

It was late. Way too late for her to doing the whole "walking the streets in angst" thing again. She was tired, and upset, and maybe if she went to bed right away, it'd all turn out to be some horrible dream. That she wasn't the continual agent of her own destruction.

She'd driven there, thank God. There had been enough "dramatic, walking around alone after dark" for her to handle in the last few weeks. Even though every single brain cell was screaming at her to turn around, and have a reasonable, rational discussion, she brushed them aside. The past had sullied her against reasonable, rational discussions, since people always seemed to blame her regardless.

She made it six blocks before she had to pull over, choking back teary, breathless sobs.

Everything she'd thought was good in her life was slowly, but surely starting to slip away.

Please don't kill me now, I'm sure that you'd all much prefer to do it at the end of the next chapter. Don't forget to review.