Chapter 13: Prove it

Jess took a slow sip of her beer, the cool bitterness hitting her tongue, grounding her in the moment. Lindsay had insisted on a girls' night out—an escape of sorts. As much as Lindsay adored little Lucy, tonight was for herself, a chance to step away from the constant demands of motherhood, even if only for a few hours. So, Jess, Lindsay, and Stella had gathered for dinner and drinks after work. Nothing extravagant—just a moment to unwind, to share stories, to remind themselves that there was still a world outside of the chaos that surrounded them.

But Jess wasn't fully present. She swirled her beer absently, her gaze drifting over the table. She wanted to be here, to enjoy the night with her friends, but her mind kept pulling her back to the precinct, like an anchor she couldn't shake off.

It had been over a week since she'd returned, yet she hadn't been assigned a single case. Not one. The paperwork was piling up, and while it was important, it wasn't why she came back. She was a detective, not someone chained to a desk. She had asked Sophia, the secretary who handed out the assignments, and all she got was a vague response: "O'Bryan's orders."

That didn't sit right with Jess. O'Bryan had been more than welcoming when she returned after her leave. It didn't make sense.

She had everything in order: her psych evaluation was clear, and she'd passed all the qualifications with flying colors. If the department was short-staffed, why keep her tied to desk work? Why make her jump through hoops when she was more than capable of getting back into the action?

Jess scratched the back of her neck, still lost in her thoughts, her frustration building. Lindsay, sensing the shift in her demeanor, raised an eyebrow.

"You okay?" she asked softly, her tone laced with concern.

Jess gave a tight smile, trying to mask the frustration that was simmering just beneath the surface. "Yeah, just… thinking about work."

"Still no cases?" Stella's voice came from across the table, cutting through the haze of Jess's thoughts. There was an edge of concern in her voice, one that Jess appreciated but didn't quite know how to respond to.

Jess took another sip of her beer, hoping it would numb the questions spinning in her mind. "Nothing. I asked Sophia again today. Same response. 'Just wait.'"

Lindsay frowned, her brow furrowing. "That's weird. You don't think it's—" She trailed off, clearly hesitant to voice what she was thinking.

Jess caught her drift. Was Lindsay wondering if it was because of the shooting? That stung more than she wanted to admit. She exhaled slowly, pushing the thought away. "I don't know. I just… feel like I'm being sidelined. No one's giving me a real answer. It's like they're pretending I'm invisible."

Stella leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with that mischievous spark Jess had missed. "Well, if anyone can figure this out, it's you. You've always had a knack for digging deep."

Jess met her friend's gaze, offering a small but grateful smile. "Maybe… but right now, I feel like I'm losing myself. I didn't come back just to do paperwork."

Lindsay placed a gentle hand on Jess's arm. "Maybe O'Bryan's just trying to ease you back in. You know, after everything you went through…" Her voice softened with understanding, but Jess wasn't sure. It didn't feel like just a transition period. Something about the whole situation felt off. There had to be more to it than that.

"Maybe," Jess said, her voice lacking conviction. The doubt lingered in her chest like a stone.

"Or you can just ask O'Bryan," Stella suggested, her tone light but knowing.

Jess smiled, appreciating her friend's offer of support. But as much as she wanted to focus on her friends and forget about work, the uncertainty gnawed at her. "I could," she sighed, her frustration palpable. "He's always been straightforward with me before."

"Then ask," Lindsay encouraged.

Jess nodded, letting the conversation shift. She didn't want to dwell on work for the rest of the night. She listened as Lindsay talked about Lucy, as Stella excitedly shared details of an opportunity in New Orleans to teach a course at the lab for a week. Jess was happy for her friends, but her mind kept wandering back to the unanswered questions waiting for her at work.

"So, when do you need us next weekend?" Lindsay asked, snapping Jess out of her spiral. Her mind was always racing, and now Jess could see the slight nervousness in her friend's eyes.

Jess smiled, the excitement finally starting to break through her thoughts. Next weekend, she and Don were officially moving in together. After nearly a year of being together and friends even longer, they had decided it was time. Jess's place was bigger—two bedrooms instead of Don's one—and a bit closer to work. His lease wasn't up for a few more weeks, but they had decided to go ahead and start the move.

She'd been hesitant when Don first asked, unsure of what living together would mean. But now, the thought of waking up next to him every day, of building a life together, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"Saturday around 2," Jess answered, her heart lifting as she spoke. "It shouldn't be a big move. We're just taking the best of our furniture, mostly mine, and selling what we don't need."

The thought of waking up next to Don every day, of sharing a space where they could truly be themselves, made Jess smile in a way she hadn't in weeks.

The Next Day:

Jess sat at her desk again, feeling the sting of another day without a case to dive into. The hum of the bullpen buzzed around her, but it only amplified her frustration. She tapped her pen against the desk rhythmically, the sound like an annoying drumbeat in her ears. There had been no word from O'Bryan about the lack of assignments, and it was starting to eat at her.

The sound of footsteps approaching broke her concentration, and Jess looked up to see Don walking toward her. His brow was furrowed, his expression weary from the long day. He had just come from the hotel crime scene, the one with a victim gunned down and another still clinging to life in surgery. The details of the case were fuzzy, hazy even, and Don was hoping that running some leads on his computer would clear the fog.

"Hey," Don greeted, his voice casual, but there was something underlying his tone—a subtle mix of concern and relief.

Jess didn't respond immediately. Instead, she pointed to her monitor, frustration painting her features. "I don't get it," she muttered, turning the screen toward him. The headline of a news article blared back at them in bold letters: Compass Killer Still On the Loose. "How does it make sense to have me sitting here while everyone is swamped, and there's a serial killer on the loose?"

Don took a breath, trying to keep his tone level, calm. "I'm sure it'll be sorted soon," he said, offering her a reassuring smile.

"I just don't get it," Jess repeated, her voice tight with the frustration she couldn't quite shake. "You got back after the bombing, Kylie was back in the field after the shooting, the moment you both were cleared, and here I am, stuck at this desk. What's going on?" Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "Why am I being punished?"

Don didn't have an answer for her, though he could feel the sharpness in her tone. He could only shrug, the gesture feeling more like a surrender. He had no idea why O'Bryan was keeping her out of the field. But if he were honest, there was a part of him that was secretly relieved. Jess was safe sitting here, behind the desk. Safe, for now.

"I don't know," Don admitted, his voice quiet. "Maybe it's just a temporary thing.." He wanted to say more, something to ease the tension, but his words faltered.

Jess sighed deeply, the air leaving her like it could drain all her energy in one go. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the feeling that she was being left behind. She hated the feeling of being sidelined.

"Yeah," she said after a moment, her voice softening not really believing it.

Don leaned against the edge of her desk, glancing over the details of the Compass Killer article. He felt his own frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. He wanted to dive into this case—he needed to—but there was something about this moment, about Jess, that tugged at him.

The silence stretched, both of them caught in their own thoughts.

"Look," Don said finally, pushing himself off the desk. "Look just... hang in there, okay? I'm sure it's nothing"

Jess nodded, her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her.

"It'll be okay," Don said softly, his voice lacking the usual confidence. He wanted to hold her, to make the ache in her eyes disappear, but here, in the bullpen, he had to be Flack. She had to be Angell. They couldn't be anything more than colleagues—not here, not now.

Jess gave a small nod. "I'll be fine," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "Go solve your case."

As Don walked away, he caught one last glance at Jess, still staring at the screen. Her mind was racing, but the only thing she could focus on was the one thing she didn't want to admit: being stuck here, without a case, was worse than anything else.

And she hated it.

Jess stood in the breakroom, filling her cup with coffee. The bullpen had quieted down, the usual hum of activity subdued. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed O'Bryan's office door was open. Stella's words echoed in her mind: "Just ask him."

Jess sighed. The last thing she wanted was to confront O'Bryan, but not knowing was starting to eat at her.

With a deep breath, Jess set her coffee cup down and walked toward O'Bryan's office, her footsteps echoing down the hall. She wasn't sure what she was going to say, but she knew she had to speak up.

She knocked on the doorframe before stepping inside. "Hey, sir. Can we talk?"

O'Bryan looked up from his desk, his expression unreadable. "Sure, Angell. What's on your mind?"

Jess hesitated, frustration beginning to bubble under the surface. She took a steadying breath before speaking, her voice edged with impatience. "I want to know why I'm being kept out of the field. I've been sitting at my desk for days, and I'm ready to get back out there."

O'Bryan sighed, leaning back in his chair but not meeting her eyes right away. "It's not about your ability to handle the job, Jess. It's just that I'm concerned."

Jess raised an eyebrow. Concerned? She could already feel the tension building. "What do you mean, 'concerned'? All my paperwork is in order. HR cleared me."

O'Bryan leaned forward slightly, his tone careful. "I just... heard something." He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and Jess felt a knot of confusion tighten in her stomach.

"Heard something? I'm confused," Jess said, crossing her arms. She was starting to feel the frustration rise.

O'Bryan hesitated, clearly unsure of how to continue. "Just heard that last time you were at the range... you were... nervous. Shaky." He paused, his gaze steady as he looked at her. "I can't afford to send someone into the field if they're not steady. You know that."

Jess's mind went blank for a second. Shaky? She racked her brain, trying to figure out who would have seen her like that. And then it hit her. Don. It had to be Don. O'Bryan was trying not to throw him under the bus, but she could tell it was him.

She clenched her fists at her sides. "It's not that I don't trust you, Jess. But if they noticed something—"

"Of course Don noticed something," Jess snapped, her frustration boiling over. "I'm human, O'Bryan. I had a rough day, and he's my boyfriend, who's scared to have me in the field after the shooting." She took a breath, trying to keep her cool, but her voice shook with anger. "He didn't have to say anything. But apparently, now that he did, I'm not fit for the field anymore? Really, sir?"

O'Bryan looked at her, his face softening slightly as if he was starting to understand the frustration behind her words.

Jess took another breath, her anger still simmering but trying to keep her composure. "And honestly, you need to look at the facts, not Don's words. I had no problem completing my qualifications with Willson. I wasn't nervous or shaky then. So what's the deal?"

Her voice was low, but the words still hit hard. She was doing her best to control her temper, but she was seeing red now. Her patience was wearing thin, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep it together.

O'Bryan was quiet for a long moment, letting her words sink in. He clearly hadn't expected the confrontation. "I know, Jess. But it's not just about the qualifications. It's about your confidence right now. If you're still rattled after everything that happened—"

Jess cut him off. "I'm not rattled, O'Bryan. You don't get to make that judgment. Don doesn't either."

She turned to leave, her frustration still burning, but before she could reach the door, she stopped and looked back at O'Bryan. "I'll prove myself. But don't keep me out of the field just because of one moment at the range. Let's go."

O'Bryan raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. "Go where?"

Jess stood tall, her eyes locked on his. "I'm going to prove myself. We're going to the range."

There was a brief silence as O'Bryan processed her words. She wasn't backing down, and it was clear she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Now," she added, her tone firm.

He sighed, knowing she wasn't going to let this go. "Alright, Angell. Let's go then."