Chapter Fourteen

The visitor that Gail had been dreading more than anyone else, was Luke. It wasn't that she disliked him; really, she liked him a great deal more than she liked most people. It was more so due to the fact that she didn't want to hear him talk about how badly she'd screwed things up.

'You shot a serial killer,' Holly said, pointedly, when Gail mentioned this. 'How is that a screw-up?'

Gail stared at her. Okay, so maybe not everyone thought like she did. 'We could have resolved it without any shots fired.'

More than being shot, the fact that she had killed someone still stung.

A memory jumps out, like the flash of a camera. Her finger, squeezing the trigger. Two shots to the chest. He doesn't make it.

The memories weren't exactly real memories. Her brain had filled in the gaps from what she'd been told by Traci. The fact that Luke hadn't been around yet told a haunting story. He'd called ahead, though, and she knew it was because he'd be wanting her to make a statement.

'Do you want me to stay?' Holly asked. Her hand squeezed Gail's tightly.

'I'm good,' Gail said. It would be easier without Holly there, even though her presence made Gail feel better. The last thing she needed was for the other woman to know in graphic detail exactly what had gone down.

Luke was clean-shaven, which probably meant something, but Gail was too tired, and too sore to care. With not even the slightest shred of shame, he set down a vase of tulips on the small square of free space.

'Hey,' he said, but that single word was loaded with so much more. Pity, and guilt, and, even though it probably wasn't intentional, and it definitely wasn't on the surface, a little bit of anger and frustration and disappointment. Or maybe she was just hearing them because she expected to.

'If this is what happens when I ride with you, I think I'll stick with Oliver,' she said, in what was supposed to be an attempt at a joke, but Luke didn't seem to find it very funny. When his expression changed (was that hurt?), she added, quickly, 'Geez, Homicide, I was kidding. I'm fine.'

'So how'd you make him?' The question was almost casual, but Gail had been a Peck for long enough to diagnose ulterior motives at the drop of a hat.

'Blood under the fingernails.' Her hand clenched into a fist, tiny slivers of pain biting her palm. 'I asked him about Philip Wilder and the fucker threw his bag of cat food at me, and ran.'

'We raided his house – found two more bodies in the basement.' Another pause. 'You did good, Peck.'

'This was my first shooting,' she told him. It might have seemed apropos of nothing, but it really, really wasn't.

'You get used to it,' he said, in the tone of voice that told her that he'd never really gotten used to it at all. 'Just don't knock back all the wonderful psychiatric help they offer you.'

To that, Gail gave a disgusted groan. 'As if last time wasn't bad enough.' Last time, she was overburdened with guilt. This time, she didn't know what she felt.

Shame? Anger? Exhaustion? All of the above.

All she really wanted was to go home and sleep for the next hundred thousand years, but even that was a hard sell; home was a place of constant noise and chaos, and, quite frankly, people that were far too annoying for their own good.

There was silence between them for a long time, before Gail eventually said, 'I'm sorry.'

'Sorry for what? Sorry for getting shot?'

She looked away, eyes fixed on the wall. He was, no doubt, getting used to the Gail Peck thousand yard stare. 'I hesitated.'

'You took him down, that's all that matters.'

Gail shook her head. 'No. I mean…' She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. 'I don't know. I just…I hesitated.' Being honest with people was one thing, but she wouldn't – she couldn't – tell him the truth this time.

'We all have bad days. We all hesitate under fire. You did well, and you're alive. Just remember that.'

Gail nodded. 'Thanks,' she said. He of all people would know the look of someone that thought they had nothing left to fight for, but Gail wasn't that person. Not anymore.

She steeled herself. 'Do you have enough now? For a statement?'

'I think this one can wait for a couple of days. I just wanted to check up on you.'

She gave him a different look, the look that generally preceded a sarcastic comment. 'Oh,' she said. 'Okay then.' A long pause. 'Thanks.'

'Well, I know how boring it gets when you're stuck on your own. And people have to work, so when you're in it for the long haul, you can't expect them to stick around forever.'

'Wow.' Gail grinned at him. 'You're such a wimp.' She paused. 'Hey, that thing I told you before...about living in my car. Is it alright if you...I don't know, don't tell anyone.'

'Peck, I don't have any friends. Who the hell am I going to tell?'

'I wouldn't say you had no friends,' Gail said. 'I like making fun of you, that's kind of the same thing, isn't it?'

He shook his head, seemingly taking her comment for the affectionate gesture that it was. 'Get well soon,' he told her. 'I'm gonna need you.'

...

For a long while, Gail was alone again. The first time, she'd just assumed people hadn't been to visit because of the Jerry thing. This time, they had no excuse. Maybe it was because they really just didn't care. Not that she hadn't brought that upon herself.

But no.

It wasn't as though no-one had been around. The job just kept them all insanely busy.

Her arm ached, and her leg ached, but she wasn't quite tired enough to be falling asleep. Her eyes shot to the stack of books that Holly had left behind, the titles of which were entirely unfamiliar.

It was better, she decided, than The Bold and the Beautiful. Before she could even look at the first one, there was a knock on the open door.

It was Nick.

She stared at him. 'What are you doing here?'

'You got shot; I'm not allowed to be worried about you?' He settled himself in the chair beside the bed, which had most recently been vacated by Holly.

'No,' Gail said, with a tone of finality to her voice.

'You know, I vaguely remember you giving me some advice about not getting shot.'

Gail pulled herself onto her elbows, with some difficulty, and no small amount of pain. 'That was mostly because I was worried about what I would do if you died,' she says, pointedly. 'Since we're not together anymore, it's not really the same sentiment.'

'Just because we're not together doesn't mean I'm not allowed to care about you.'

She almost sneered, but at the last second decided against it. She would have sneered out of habit, rather than from a sense of indignation. The anger that had raged through her at the thought of them together had simmered for some reason.

'All you ever did was leave,' she said, softly. 'And all I ever did was pull away.' She hesitated, not wanting to say the one thing that she'd been afraid to admit to herself for the last two months. Not because she still loved him, but because... 'Maybe we're better off this way.'

He gave a grim smile, but said nothing. Gail's throat was sore from so much talking, but there was something else that she needed to say, and if she didn't say it now, she was never going to say it.

'I'm sorry. For cheating on you.'

'I'm sorry for leaving.'

There was a long silence, but it was much less awkward than it would have been two weeks ago.

'I have a question.'

'Okay…'

Gail opened her mouth. She wanted to ask if he'd ever really loved her, but then she realized that she didn't care. It literally didn't matter to her anymore, because no matter how much she might have loved Nick, she knew that she loved Holly more. She shook her head. 'Never mind.'

'Okay,' he said, again, though this time it was with amusement.

'I'm seeing someone,' Gail told him, in lieu of her original intention. 'She's...You probably already met her.'

'The forensic pathologist?' Nick asked, apparently not even remotely surprised by the revelation. 'Does she eat your Mac and Cheese Puff Pie?'

Gail laughed, and quickly regretted it. 'You aren't allowed to make fun of my cooking anymore. And this doesn't mean I'm going to stop being a bitch to you.'

'Well now I know you're gonna be okay.' He smiled again, but it was clearly a pained one. 'I'm glad...that you're okay.'

'Me too,' she said, and she meant it.

...

Now that she was awake (and apparently less insane than she was before she'd been shot), Gail spent every waking second yearning to leave the hospital. 'It's just limbs,' she told her doctor, with no small amount of snark. 'It's not like I got shot in the head.'

He gave a reproachful look to that, and had apparently grown immune to the bitchings of his more annoying patients.

'It's not that bad,' said Holly, who had come straight from work. Gail stared at her, trying not to let the venom show.

'I have been watching nothing but The Bold and the Beautiful,' Gail told her, a little scathingly. 'If I see one more love quadrangle, my head is going to explode.'

'You do know you can get other channels, right?'

'The remote's broken,' Gail said, stubbornly.

'Uh huh. And you never thought to ask someone to bring you a new one? Or just change the channel manually?'

'Hey,' Gail said, looking up at her. 'There's something I need to tell you.' She pulled Holly down into a long, deep kiss.

'That's what you wanted to tell me?' Holly asked, when they pulled apart. To Gail's amusement, she was looking more than a little flustered.

'No, I wanted to say "I love you," but it kind of got away from me.'

Holly started. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't that. 'You are utterly insane,' she said. 'And I love you too.'