Some Kind of Fix
Word Count: 2,938
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Linden/Holder
Spoilers: up to 1x13, just to be safe.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just break things.
Summary: He wants a fix. She's got somewhere to be. Neither of them expected this.
Author's Note: I am both surprised and somewhat scared at the response to the original snippet and this continuation. I expect it will most likely die down after there's more Killing fic available, but I guess I should have put in something in the first chapter to to say that I don't write sex scenes. There will be no detailed sex scenes in this story. It's not something I can write. I will imply plenty, but I don't write it.
I changed a few things for the sake of this story. Consider it AU, if you like. Mainly... Linden doesn't know that Holder used a doctored picture, and Jack's father stuck around. Okay, that's about it from me.
Some Kind of Family
"That has to be Jack."
Holder lifted his head, looking over at the offending noise. Linden's cell phone had been going off nonstop for the past fifteen minutes, and it was one hell of a mood killer. He'd tried to ignore it, she'd tried to ignore it, but that wasn't working. It wouldn't quit.
"Might be Sonoma."
The instant the words were out of his mouth, he regretted saying them. Bringing up Sonoma was sure to make her run off. He'd almost gotten a second round out of her, and he couldn't say what that made this thing now. The sex had been good, good enough for a repeat, and this might have been his last chance to do it again, but that didn't make this something else, something other than a hook up.
He didn't even want more than a hookup, did he? No way in hell he was cut out for that family crap. She already had a kid, and even though Holder liked Jack well enough, he knew that he was no father. Some role model he made. Look at what he'd done to his nephew.
"He wouldn't call," Linden said in a clipped tone. She moved away from him, going over to pick up the phone. She looked at it, nodding absently, and finally called her son back.
Holder sat back, running a hand through his hair. His fingers were starting to twitch again. Damn, he wanted a fix. He hadn't thought about it since she walked in his door—she was one hell of a distraction—but now he did. He shook his head and reached for his cigarettes, lighting one up.
"Jack, where are you?" she demanded. Damn, she sounded pissed. Like back to her usual PMS pissed. "What do you mean you went with your dad?"
Holder didn't like the sound of this. He went back into the bedroom, grabbing his clothes. He couldn't remember when he'd last done laundry, and everything in the room was probably about as clean as the stuff on the floor. He pulled on his t-shirt and pants, put a sweatshirt over the tee, and bent down to find his shoes. He picked up a sock and winced, throwing it back. That was rank. Damn, he didn't think he had any clean socks.
He was still under the bed when she spoke, and he hit his head at the sound of her voice. Ouch. He hadn't realized that frame was metal. Shit. "My son is with his father."
Holder crawled out from under the bed, rubbing the back of his head. It still hurt like a bitch, and probably would for a while. He forced himself to ignore it. Pain helped take his mind off a fix anyway. He looked at Linden. "You going to kill him?"
She smiled a little, shaking her head. Nice to see his pain amused her. "I need a ride."
Holder found himself thinking he'd take her anywhere she wanted and frowned. He gestured to his outfit. "Now I look like a chauffeur?"
She studied him for a minute, exaggerating the whole thing, like it was some kind of mystery. Then she shook her head. "Maybe the driver of a gypsy cab."
"Cute."
She shrugged, turning to leave again. "I'll call a cab."
"Nah, I'll take you. Geez, Linden, doesn't anyone ever give you crap? No one dares give you a hard time, that it? Learn to take a joke," he told her, squeezing her shoulders for a moment as he passed by her, moving back into his kitchen where he thought he'd left his keys. She followed him out, watching as he looked for them. They should have been on the counter, but he couldn't seem to find them for the life of him. He started looking in all of the cupboards and under the sink. He'd been known to put them in the weirdest places when he was high. Not that he had been. He was clean. That didn't mean he knew where they were, though. "You could help, you know."
He heard something jingle, and when he looked back at her, she was holding up the keys. "Nice. Did you have them the entire time?"
She didn't answer, moving toward the door. Great. She probably thought she was driving, too, and they weren't on her case anymore. She didn't get to push him around. He wasn't learning anything from her, if that was what he'd been doing the last time. He wasn't really sure what had gone on between the two of them during the Larsen case. They weren't exactly friends, maybe partners, though it wasn't all that equal, either. She didn't explain jack to him, and this was the crap he was supposed to be learning, right? How to be a homicide cop? Wasn't that what Oakes wanted? Hell if he knew.
"You going to stay there all day, Holder?"
"Just trying to decide if we need to pick up a body bag on the way, that's all."
She laughed.
"What are we doing?"
She looked away from the road for a moment, studying him. It was a loaded question. Sure, it could be simple. It could be as simple as him asking her what she plans to do about her son, if he was going to be involved in it. That was almost simple. But if he was asking about what is going on between them, then that was not a simple question. She couldn't answer that at all. None of this was supposed to happen. She should be in Sonoma right now. She should be with Rick. Rick had asked her to marry him. She had said yes. She had quit her job. She had been prepared to leave and get married and never look back on Seattle. Then the Larsen case had come up, and she hadn't made it on the plane. She kept missing every single flight. Rick had interpreted that one way, so had Holder. Hell, everyone did. Even Jack's deadbeat father had asked if she'd let Rick in, really let him in.
She couldn't say that she had. Maybe this thing—the marriage—would never work. Maybe it was doomed before it started. Maybe she should take the missed flights as a sign, too. Was she just being stubborn, trying to prove them all wrong by going after Rick? What happened if she married him and they tried to settle into the life he wanted?
She had no idea.
She turned her eyes back to the road. Holder was... What was he, exactly? When she first met him, she'd figured him for a nuisance. He was someone she had to take along with her, someone she didn't really trust with the Larsen case, and she'd even thought he'd leaked information. She certainly hadn't thought he was a partner—she didn't work with partners, and he didn't know what he was doing. Somewhere in the middle of the investigation, though, something had shifted. Probably about the time when she was freaking out about her son, she'd realized that she no longer saw Holder as some guy she was stuck with who couldn't hold his own weight. He had surprised her.
She could have stayed partners with him, but she tried to leave. She could even have been friends with him, but she'd gone for Rick. She'd turned her back on everything that Holder offered her. Then she'd really screwed things up by sleeping with him last night. She'd almost done it again, would have if Jack's calls hadn't interrupted them.
She didn't know what the hell this was.
"Yo, Linden, you go deaf or something?"
She shook her head, looking over at him again. "Not deaf. Just thinking."
He shrugged. "Told you we should grab the body bag."
"You planning on helping me hide the body?"
He thought about it for a moment. "Depends. Which body we talking about? 'Cause I don't know if I want to do all that heavy lifting, you know?"
She laughed a little. She didn't understand why he could make her laugh like that, why he made her smile. He wasn't her, type, that was for sure. Knew you didn't want to get on that plane. Damn him. He knew her, didn't he? Because he was right. She hadn't wanted to get on that plane. She didn't want to reschedule the flight. She didn't want to prove that point. Let them be right. All of them. She didn't care anymore.
She sighed, gripping the wheel again. She had a life she wanted, didn't she? And her spot was gone. Holder had her job. She was done here. Rick had a place for her and for Jack in Sonoma. That life was going to be good. It wasn't about a point. She loved him.
Didn't she?
Damn it, she had thought she knew exactly what felt for him before, and she had thought she knew what she wanted. She hated what this had done to the Larsen family, didn't want the girl's killer unpunished, but why did she have to land this case? Why had it forced her to rethink everything? Why had she missed the flights?
She was confused, and she didn't like confusion.
"Green means go, right?"
She looked up at the light and cursed quietly as she started driving again.
"I could drive. I do have a license," Holder reminded her. She shot him a dirty look. He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine. Just pay attention to the road. I kind of like this car."
"I don't know why."
"Dude, why you gotta hate on my ride? It works. You don't even have one."
"I used a department car, but after I turned in my notice, I gave it up. It was reassigned."
"Huh," he began, and she looked over at him. "Was there anything in your life that wasn't disposable? Anything you couldn't leave behind?"
"Jack."
Holder gave her a look, and she knew he wasn't satisfied with that answer. She didn't like what he'd pointed out, either. He was right. She didn't have any roots, anything to tie her here. Reggie was the closest, but Reggie wasn't family, and after the last fight they'd had, maybe she wasn't even a friend. It was hard to know. Linden should talk to her. Was Reggie back from that trip yet?
Linden wasn't sure she would have bothered to try if she had gotten on that plane.
Holder had to wonder if Linden's ex was some kind of rich guy as they got to his hotel. The place where Linden had stayed was a dump, not much better than Holder's apartment, but this place was one of those five star joints, right? Exactly how had Linden shacked up with this guy? Was he married when she knew him or what?
That wasn't fair. Maybe he got rich after he left her. That happened, too. Or maybe the idiot was just showing off for his kid, didn't really have that much money. It didn't matter. None of it did. Holder told himself that he didn't care. This wasn't his kid, Linden wasn't his girl, and none of this meant a damn thing.
"You want me to wait with the car?" Holder asked, hand on the door handle. She looked over at him, and for a second, he wondered if she'd forgotten that he was there. "'Cause I can wait with the car."
"You're not a chauffeur."
He wasn't really sure what she meant by that, but he shrugged, getting out to follow her inside. He thought that Jack's father had left when Linden told him off, but he was wrong. The guy must have been hoping for more than what she'd given him—and he hadn't expected her to get on that plane, either.
Linden went into the hotel, walking like she knew where she was going. Maybe she did. Wasn't like she would have told Holder if she didn't. That wasn't the way it worked. She didn't tell him anything. Still, if she thought he hadn't noticed her reaction to his question earlier, she was kidding herself. He wasn't that big of an idiot. He'd asked a simple question, and she had pretty much freaked. It was the quiet sort of freaking out, the sort that happened all in the head. She was worried that he wanted more, wasn't she?
Problem was, he wasn't so sure he didn't. He'd tell her that he didn't—tried it once already—but he'd probably be lying. He shook his head a little. This was a mess. He wanted a cigarette, and he almost took one out, but he had seen a bunch of no smoking signs around. He doubted Linden's ex had a smoking room. He had to make it good for the kid, right? So the kid would think that he was a good guy, nice guy, perfect guy who didn't smoke.
Probably didn't eat Funyuns, either. Holder should have picked up a bag on the way. Might have softened the blow for the kid. Linden was going to tear him a new one this time. He wasn't supposed to be here, and she'd almost killed him after the first time. At least this time the kid had called.
Linden knocked on the door. The ex opened it, letting them in. He gave Holder a long look, and he folded his arms over his chest. Jack looked at the two of them, then at his mom, suspicious. "Are you working again? I thought you said the case was over."
"I'm just a sucker with a car," Holder muttered, and Jack seemed relieved. "Think I'll start running a gypsy cab on the side, make a buck or two."
Linden looked at him and the ex. "I need a minute with Jack."
"I'm going to find a snack machine," Holder told her, wanting to get out of the room. It was so damn tense in there it felt like a closet, not a suite. He didn't need that. He needed a cigarette, bad. He walked out of the room and looked for the nearest exit.
"She's going to chew you up and spit you out, you know that, right?"
Holder looked back at the ex. Maybe he figured that if Linden was going to yell at her son, better let her do it in the room. "I gave her a lift. It's my ride that'll never be the same."
"She pushes everyone away. It's what she does."
"Do I look like her damn fiance? No. That ain't me. I'm just the guy that gets her from point A to point B. End of story."
The ex didn't seem all that convinced. Holder shook his head. He needed a cigarette, had to fight the need for a damn fix. This thing was getting out of control. He was going to have to make time to hit a meeting or two. Anything, though it would be a hell of a lot easier to give in. Good thing he didn't have any money.
"She's just using you."
"You think I don't know that? Hell, I should charge her for the gas."
"That's not what I meant. You're the reason she'll push the fiance away. Work didn't work, or she would never have gotten engaged in the first place. Isn't she supposed to be somewhere else now? So why is she here? Why is she with you?"
"I'm irresistible," Holder said with a grin, and the ex shot him a look. "The hell do you want from me? I don't have to explain myself to you. I don't need your warnings. I might have met her two weeks ago, but I bet I know her better than you do."
"She had my kid."
"Like that was planned," Holder scoffed, and the other man gave him another dark look. This could get ugly. "Look, you don't know crap about me or her, and you can lay off. You don't want me near your kid, that's one thing. Say that and get it over with. Don't bother with the rest of this bullshit. I don't care what you think of our chances. You see me with a flower going, 'she loves me, she loves me not?' Hell, no. It's not like that, no matter what you think."
He moved away, looking for the vending machine. Was this place too rich to have one? Nah, they had to have junk food even for the people with money. Unless it was all in the mini bar. Damn, he hadn't thought of that. Linden's ex had distracted him.
He did find a vending machine at the end of the hall, and he had to grin when he saw that familiar yellow bag. He put a rumpled dollar into the machine, then another, getting two packages, since they were small and overpriced.
Heading back to the room, Holder passed the ex again, but the man didn't try to speak to him this time. The door to the room opened, and Linden came out with her son. Holder tossed the kid one of the bags.
Jack smiled. "My favorite. Thanks."
The ex frowned. Had he not known that? Linden shook her head. "Holder."
"What? Condemned man deserves a last meal, right?"