Stuck with Me - 8/10
Author: Daniela
Fandom: The Killing
Pairing: Stephen Holder/Sarah Linden
Rating: PG13
Category: Angst, Romance, Humor
Series/Sequel: Oh Snap!
Summary: The world is crashing down on them.
Warning: Adult Fanfiction, Spoiler for season three and four
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm writing for free.
Feedback: You feel me?
Email: daniforblue@yahoo.de
Word Count: 8206
Released: September 2018
Beta: lilysmum
The day started with dazzling sunlight and a visit to Adrian's school. They couldn't talk to little man just right away though - they had to wait for the psychologist to give them consent.
He and Linden were easy around each other, though they didn't talk about last night. He wasn't surprised she didn't ask about him leaving during the night. That was after all her usual way of handling things. Sure, he could have said something himself, but he didn't know what exactly. Hey. I got a bad feeling and had to leave. Nah. That sounded downright cruel. Better to shut up and say nothing. Keeping things under wraps. Maybe that was the best way to handle such things anyway. Let sleeping dogs lie. That way you don't get hurt.
"So, how long is it gonna take for Dr. Spock to do his mind-meld thing before we can see Picasso?" he said, disgruntled with the prospect of hours of waiting.
Linden just gave him one of her looks and sat down.
"We're gonna be here all day," he realized. Oh snap! Sitting next to her, temptingly close, it couldn't be worse. He was already on the edge with the bitter feelings about Bullet.
"It's okay. I got patience. I'm a patient man," he sighed.
"He saw the man who killed his mom, Holder," she said. "And he's remembering more and more."
How could he argue against a little boy who had suffered enough? Not at all. That's how. He just sat down, fighting his feelings for her, the urge to lean in and drown in her scent. Take shallow breaths, damn it.
Just then she got a phone call from Kallie's mom Danette. Joe Mills had showed up at her trailer, beaten her, and stolen her money and car.
Okay. Here we go! Anything was better than the torture of sitting this close together doing nothing.
Danette was pretty messed up. He wasn't sure if he snapped at her because of his concern for Bullet or his longing for Linden, a woman who mirrored his own failures in life and used him whenever she needed him, not giving back one fucking thing. Maybe he just wanted to hurt someone, because he hurt so much himself. One stern look from Linden, though and he stopped.
Danette told Linden about an old storage unit she kept in Rainier Valley. A lot of Mill's stuff was put away there.
"I ain't rooting around some damn storage unit, Linden," he said, getting into the car. Enough was enough. He was done taking part in her shit.
"It's got his maps... all of his whole backwoods topographical maps, every place he ever camped, hunted, fished," she argued.
"Alright, then. I mean, you could have just said." He started the car. Damn. He'd have never thought he would've been that guy. The guy going to any lengths for one woman.
Arriving at the storage unit she was doing it again. "Actually, give me a smoke."
"No." He was fucking ready to pay her back. Right now he was ready to pay every woman back.
"What do you mean 'no'?"
"I mean, no." You hear me? I'm done being your errand-boy. The day you don't need me anymore it's bye, bye, Stephen, ain't I right?
"Seriously?"
"Yep."
"Oh, it's fine. I get it."
No, you don't. "All I'm saying is, you know, you buy a pack or two, reciprocate the love every now and then, and, you know, we're back to being BFFs again." Yeah, babe. I got my pride. I just don't show it often enough.
"Whatever. I gave you one. You gave it to Bullet."
She'd touched the sore spot. He grimaced.
"What's going on? You two break up?"
I did, yeah, because of you. Everything because of you, damn it. "She's unreliable. Can't trust her no more." But I won't tell you that. Figure it out by yourself. You're the clever one, right?
They came to the door with the number 55. He knocked. No answer. Linden opened the lock and they went in. The room was cramped with various stuff. In a corner they discovered a sleeping berth. Damn. Mills must have holed up in here the whole time.
Linden hunkered down and plucked a cigarette from the overflowing ashtray.
"Seriously, Linden, I was just playing with you back there. If you need a fix that bad..." He noticed then. The cig was still smoking. The guy had been here just moments ago. Shit!
He and Linden rushed back into the corridor, their guns drawn.
"I'll head it off! You cover the back!" he shouted to her, running off. They would catch that asshole today. They would make an arrest. Forgotten were smokes, Bullet, and feelings of any romantic sort.
Exhilarated, he hunted a couple of stairs down, eager to nail the bastard, but then he heard her scream. "Holder!"
He stopped in his tracks with his blood running cold. Fuck! "Linden." He sprinted back up the stairs, through the corridor, gasping. Not fast enough. Not good enough. Damn them addiction years. His shitty past made him move in slow-mo. Linden was the one paying the price for his mistakes.
"Holder!"
Hang on! Hang on! He ran himself breathless and didn't care. She was in danger. She needed him.
"Holder!"
The guy was on top of her, beating her, crushing her.
He gunned the jerk down using his whole body weight, and then he hit him, over and over again. After that he held Mills in a tight grip and let Linden kick him a few times more.
She looked awful. Her face was bloody and swollen, her hair a mess. Mills got her good.
Shit! He should have been faster. Linden kept on hitting Mills.
"Hey," he said softly. Killing Mills wouldn't help them. The bastard shouldn't go free because of police brutality. "Hey, come on."
Linden came to her senses and leaned against the wall, breathing harshly.
Oh snap! That had been a close one. He handcuffed the guy and got up, trying to take care of her.
She flinched out of his grip. "I'm okay. I'm fine. Call it in."
"Linden..." Since when did she push him away like that?
"Please, Holder." She touched his arm, pursing her lips. "The girls need to be found."
"Alright. Chill, Linden." He took a step back and called it in. Let's be cool. Let's ignore her anemic face, and the pain in her eyes. "Okay. Done."
The backup arrived minutes later, swarming the place like busy bees craving for honey. The medic took care of Linden and Skinner took the lead.
He joined the squad searching the place and struck a second success. Mill's cab down at the ground floor. Hallelujah! Finally a breakthrough. He informed Linden and the others who were searching the place upstairs over the radio.
"We're about to check it out. Think he's got another body in the trunk. We found blood all over the bumper."
The officer with him tried to pry the trunk open. "It's stuck."
He couldn't wait anymore. "Give me that thing." He smashed the side window in and pushed the trunk release inside the car.
That's when Linden rushed in. "Holder! Don't open the trunk!" She was out of breath. Her expression was shocking.
What the fuck? Had she been running the whole flight of stairs down here? Was she out of her mind? She shouldn't been running with a head trauma.
"What?" He was a bit scared now.
"Just come over here," she said softly.
He looked at the trunk. What the hell? What's going on? What's inside?
"Please, Holder. You don't need to be here."
Why was Linden begging him? Begging, for god's sake. No, no, no. He wouldn't listen. He was a guy. He'd do what needed to be done. He was no coward, was he? He could do this. He looked at Linden. You hear me? I'm man enough to do this. Why do you worry anyway? You never worry about me, right?
"Holder, please, don't."
No way I'll let this be done by others. Linden and I arrested Mills. I won't stay down. He walked to the open trunk to take a look. And there she was. His little girl. The one he had thrown out into the dark. The one he never wanted to see again. She wouldn't call anymore. She wouldn't play him anymore. She was cramped into a trunk. Dead.
*****
Mills was lucky that Linden didn't leave his side, lucky that her presence was keeping him in check. That he wasn't allowed to interrogate Mills himself was also for the better. The hate for Mills was cutting through him like a samurai sword through tender meat. And it was nothing compared to the hate he was feeling for himself. He did this. He delivered Bullet to Mills. He was the one to blame.
"What'd the coroner say?" He was the one responsible for her death.
"Same C.O.D. as the other 18," Reddick said. "She was dead less than 12 hours."
She died last night when I rolled in with Linden. Fuck. When I sensed that something bad was happening. Why didn't I call her back? Why did I behave like an asshole? I got her killed, not Mills.
"She fought back, right!" I want to kill you, shithead. I want to erase you.
"Yeah," Reddick agreed. "Broken wrists. Dozens of defensive wounds. She didn't go quietly."
That didn't make him feel better, just worse. She had been a little girl fighting a maniac, alone and uncared for, abandoned by everybody including him.
"You know, report says this sick prick resisted arrest," Reddick rushed on. "Doesn't look like it to me. You? Hmm? Five minutes, no witnesses? No questions? Just say the word."
Yeah, sure. That would feel good. For a minute maybe. Only he would kill the guy. Better to leave, and let Linden and Reddick handle that scum. He aimed for the door and almost ran into Skinner. The bossman. Linden's boyfriend. The guy who had it all.
"Holder." Skinner stared at him.
For a few seconds he stared back, getting a strange vibe, and then he got out. He had enough. He needed space. He needed to mourn over a girl he had barely known. He skipped the reporters crowding the street outside of the station.
"Stephen!"
Ignoring the outcry he got into the car.
Caroline jumped in right after him. "Hey. I heard what happened. Oh, I'm sorry."
He didn't look at her. Go away. Leave me alone. Don't you see I don't want anyone near me? Don't you know me at all?
"But you know the reality," she went on. "The... the danger these kids put themselves in every day."
"Yeah. It's their choice to be out on the streets. It doesn't really matter if she died. It's just another statistic." He couldn't breathe and wanted to hurt someone - anyone.
"That's not what I'm saying."
"You think this tattoo..." He pulled his collar down and pointed at his chest. "Do you think it's cute?" He remembered how funny the name Serenity sounded to her; like a stripper's name, how hot she thought the tattoo was. Keep it, she'd said.
"What?"
"Do you even know what it means?" he snapped. Damn. He got her now. She had no idea. No idea who and what he was. She didn't know him. She didn't get him. She never would. What does she want from him anyway?
"I'm an addict! A tweaker. I shot meth into my veins every day."
Good. He'd done it. She turned mute chewing on the shame.
"Just get out! Just get out!"
And she did. She got out of the car and out of his life. He got what he wanted, what he deserved. The just price for a loser who lured girls into the hands of a killer. The pied piper. A piece of shit. He slumped over the wheel.
*****
At home he didn't get better. He smoked like a chimney and drank a lot of beer. He filled himself to the brim with drugs, but never felt emptier than on this hellish day. Yet not enough. He listened to Bullet's recorded message on his phone. "Holder. Look, I know I messed up, man, but I got something for you, for real. Call me back as soon as you can. I know who he is."
Over and over again. Yeah. He had her number logged, the number of a girl he'd pretended to give a shit about. She'd wanted to tell him something important but he'd been too busy, too fucked up to listen. Eager to save the one girl, he'd lost the other one. He'd sent her into the night and she got killed by a monster. She had been dying all alone. He remembered her screaming at him, loaded with anger and fear. He'd known he had hurt her. He'd known right away he was wrong but couldn't admit it then. He behaved like an asshole and sent her to a horrible death. He couldn't imagine how much pain and fear she must have felt that last day in her life. He couldn't imagine what she must have thought about him not calling her back, no matter she was begging. Was she begging taking her last breath? Was she screaming? Shit! He blinked rapidly. He should go and jump from a bridge. He didn't deserve any mercy for what he did. He swallowed hard, holding back the tears, when a soft noise drew his attention to the door. Someone unlocked it from the outside. What the fuck?
The door opened and Linden came in. She held the spare key in her hand. "Green flower pot," she said. "You weren't gonna answer the door if I knocked."
He had forgotten he'd once told her about the secret spot. Whenever had that been? A hundred years ago? What did it matter? She was here now. Not a chance to make her go away. She wasn't like Caroline. He couldn't scare her off. Well, if there was one person allowed to see him like this, it was Linden. He took another sip from the beer and threw the empty can away.
She put the key on the shelf, took her coat off, and sat down right next to him. She didn't mind he wore only sweatpants and a wife beater. She wasn't the sensitive type.
He didn't mind as well. This was Linden. Nobody knew him better than she did; good and bad. He looked at her sympathetic expression, and then shoved his pack of smokes over to her. He exhaled.
She fished one cigarette out and lit it. They smoked and leaned against the backside of the couch. Five seconds of peace.
"It's not your fault," she said, and nailed his feelings just in those few words.
He didn't agree. "Did you ever talk to Adrian?"
"Yeah. He ID'd Mills, but Mills was out of town the night she was killed, so... Adrian lied."
Great. One more dead end. "He must has seen him on TV. You know it's everywhere now. He was just trying to make you happy." Yeah. Don't we all?
"No one knows... that Mills was out of town except Danette. So... I could still use Adrian's testimony to get Seward a stay. It won't hold up, but..."
He exhaled. What did she want him to say to that? Just to speculate about such a thing was wrong, was it? Yeah. But never before had it seemed more right, either.
"...it'll buy me some more time, at least."
He looked at her. "You'd be burying evidence."
"Yeah, but Ray Seward's gonna die tomorrow if I don't." She sighed, and leaned forward.
He exhaled. A broken sound from the bottom of his damaged soul. This was all his fault. They could have caught the bastard yesterday. Bullet said she'd known who he was. Instead he'd ignored her and that's why they were fucked. "I should have picked up."
She turned to him. "Don't do that." She leaned into him. "Don't do that."
"I should've called her back."
"Don't do that. You want to sit here and die?"
Maybe I do. Yet the compassion in her eyes pulled him back from the abyss. Jesus. The warmth of her body thrilled him to the core.
"It's not your fault. It's not your fault," she whispered urgently.
All those feelings coming from her were too much. He couldn't hold back anymore and made the second worst mistake in the last fucking two days. He leaned in to kiss her on the lips. I want you. I love you. I-
She shunned him by dropping her chin.
He missed the point in the most embarrassing way possible. A fucking disaster. Hell is a place on Earth.
She patted his knee.
What else could she do? What else with an idiot like him? No shit. He fucked up and she tried to save what was left of his dignity. Jesus. What are you doing to me? How can I survive you? "Mm. I'm sorry," he pressed out, and avoided looking her in the eye.
"It's okay. It doesn't matter."
Nothing I do matters to you. I got that. But everything matters, you know. Every choice in our life, every move we make, turns into a blessing or a burden. He buried his face in his arms, hiding from her scorn. He wished she would go away and leave him alone, yet he wished she would stay forever.
"It's okay. It's okay," she kept saying like a litany. Empty words of solace.
Nothing was okay. "Oh, I'm sorry." Bullet was dead, Seward was about to be executed, and he had ruined the one good thing in his life. The friendship with his partner.
"It's okay. It's okay," she repeated, and then put her hand on his back.
The small gesture ruined him completely. He started crying. Oh God. Little B. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean the things I said. I didn't mean for all that shit to happen. I didn't meant to get you killed. I wish I could change that shitty day, that fateful moment. I wish I could change who I am and where I came from. He sobbed like back then in the past, when he was a little boy taking another beating from his dad, sobbed like the pathetic loser that he was, a loser who destroyed everyone getting close to him.
"It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay," she kept murmuring. "It's all gonna be okay."
He kept his face buried, too ashamed to look at her ever again, but sensed the warmth radiating off of her. She turned silent but stayed with him until he had cried himself raw and empty. The light in his dojo had dimmed out. It must be late. In the semidarkness he slumped to the right resting his head against a pillow. That she was still here gave him the solace no words could have. He could feel her getting up and then she seized his legs and put them up on the couch. He coiled up, squeezing his eyes shut. His shame was gone, leaving only grief behind.
She covered him with a blanket. "Try and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
Something tender like butterfly wings was grazing his forehead, and he was not sure if the sensation was real or just wishful thinking. He just knew he felt even more depressed with her leaving and the prospect of waking up alone. For seconds he considered calling her back but didn't dare. No way could he talk to her after what he'd pulled. He then briefly considered calling Caroline. No. Not a chance to talk to her, too, after he'd treated her like shit. Who else was there to call? His sister? Nah. She would give him a lecture for being stupid once again. So? Where could he go? Where couldn't he disappoint people? He tossed and turned around. What place was safe? Hey. What about the morgue? Bullet deserves a visit, don't you think? Bullet deserves your last respects. Right. He pulled himself up. At least he couldn't harm anyone there.
The short trip cost all his energy. Upon arrival he hovered over her covered body and kept doing nothing but that for a long time as if his penance would make any difference. She was dead and she would stay dead. She was with Jesus now. That one thought gave him some solace if anything at all.
Jablonski came in, picking up the girl's personal effects, and shared some information he didn't ask for. First that Bullet's real name was Rachel Olmstead, and then Jablonski made a stupid joke about her being a boy. He could barely hold himself back from punching the jerk in the face, but then Jablonski put his anger elsewhere by revealing that Bullet called the station a bunch of times last night, asking for him, and Reddick had known about it.
Fuck! He raced to Reddick's house - he deserved a beating much more than Jablonski. He rang the bell, and as Reddick opened the door, he didn't wait for an explanation. He just punched Reddick without reserve. "You talked to her? You talked to Bullet?"
"I called you, damn it?" Reddick raged just the same, fighting back.
He didn't care. "You son of a bitch! You could have helped her!" He hit Reddick again, and again, didn't even stop as his wife and daughter were coming to the door, screaming.
"I tried, damn it!" Reddick shouted, bleeding from his mouth.
"You talked to her and you didn't help her?" he kept raging on. Just as the wife attacked him he let go of Reddick. He wouldn't hit a woman. Never. He turned away, back out into the dark, looking for cold comfort, though he was sure he wouldn't find any.
*****
He drank all night long, trying to drink himself into an early grave. No such luck, though. The upcoming day was the day of Seward's execution. The time of death taking lives wasn't over. Well. Was it ever?
Linden called him from the prison, asking him for the Seward File, but he didn't take the call. He didn't know what to say to her. He couldn't face her. The shame of his failures tormented him. Bullet. The stupid attempt at kissing her. The attack on Reddick. His life was entirely fucked up.
He kicked the table and it went flying through the room. The damn thing hit a wall and broke apart. A piece of trash. Whatever. He was done ruining his dojo. He grabbed his hoodie and went out. He needed space to let his anger and frustration erupt. He needed his faith back.
So he went to church, praying for forgiveness, seeking the needed solace in Jesus. Today he didn't find any peace, though, which made him feel even more alone. He got up and walked to the pardon screen with nuns sitting behind it, singing.
"Where is he? Huh?" He hit the screen. "Where is he? Where is he? Huh?" he whined at them. The nuns went running away, scared.
What's your plan, Jesus? Why did those horrible things happen? Why for fuck's sake? He knocked his head against the screen.
"Where is he?" He started crying with his face pressed against the screen. Who am I? Where can I go? Who should I talk to now?
He stayed there, drowning in his misery for a time before roughly wiping his face dry. He left the church then, driving to the prison. He had to face her eventually, not only because he couldn't bear the thought of never seeing her again, but also because this wasn't about him anyway, but Seward. If the man was innocent he deserved a chance. He couldn't let a man die in vain because he was a coward and a washout.
He arrived in the waiting room and there was the boy. Seward's son. Adrian had come here with his foster mom to see his father for one last time. He was depressed already but the sight of the little man made him feel worse. He texted Linden to come out and get her goddamn file. He wanted to be out of here. He wanted this to be over and done.
As expected she came out in no time. "Hey! Where have you been?"
The file. That's what this is about. Not you. He didn't look at her but at the shitty plastic table. "Out."
"Have you been drinking since yesterday?"
"Yeah."
He could feel the disappointment radiating from her. The contempt for his actions. His existence in general.
"You know this is a long shot, right... I mean, scratch on a ring? You really think the state's gonna give you a stay for that?" He didn't want to ruin her hopes, no, but come on, nobody would let Seward off the hook for such a trivial thing. "I mean, they don't even do that with DNA." He looked at her now and the fierceness in her eyes made it clear that she wouldn't back down. Wasn't that the reason why he loved her, why he came here no matter what? Why he wouldn't leave her, even though he could never have her? He turned his attention to the boy. He sighed.
"Gonna talk to him?" he asked her.
"You do it. You're good with kids."
I'm not. I chased a girl to her killer. "How's Seward?"
"He's fine, considering." She took the box with the files. "I have to go back in."
"Yeah. I'm here, you know, whatever you need... smokes and whatnot. I got the party pack." Nah. He wouldn't leave right away as he'd planned. Not that he was surprised; being close to her always made him change his mind, though not always to his advantage.
She didn't reply and went back in.
He didn't look up to see her expression; he knew her long enough to sense her frustration. Well, how could she like him if he didn't like himself right now? She needed him strong and confident, instead he was whining constantly, begging for her compassion. He wasn't the partner he should be, no man to lean on or trust in. Jesus! He needed a smoke, like right now.
He went out to a small courtyard, feeling dogged by bad luck. The boy was there, too. Adrian, the killer's son, playing with his game-boy.
"Want a smoke?" he offered.
Adrian kept playing, walking through a puddle of water.
"You don't smoke?" Clever kid. "Hey, you messing up your kicks, your ma is gonna get ornery."
"She can't tell me what to do."
Ah. The little ones. So defiant and naive. "Oh, you the big man? You buy for your own stuff with your five-finger salary?"
"You're acting drunk," Adrian pressed out, annoyed.
"Ain't acting drunk, I am drunk." Yeah, I'm filled up to the brim, waiting to fall into an abyss. "About to go get re-upped. Got to keep that buzz going, serial chiller that I am." He smiled.
The silly joke made Adrian smile back.
Hey, Linden is right, I am good with kids. Just a second later he realized he was talking to a kid whose dad was gonna get executed in a few hours. Really, man? Making jokes about killers? Are you that fucked up you don't know when to shut up anymore? Just go, okay? Give this boy some peace. He threw the cigarette away and left the courtyard and the prison to get more beer. He craved beer. He still wasn't drunk enough to make it through this day. He still was too aware of all the shit coming down on them.
Coming back he drove past the prison graveyard. Seeing all those neat white crosses with their numbers but no names made him realize how lucky he was. He was neither dead nor in prison. He had a life and yet he dared to act like a child about a woman who'd rejected him? So what? His life wasn't over. Bullet's was. For her sake he had to go on and try everything to find her killer. He owed it to her to make a life for himself to honor her. Little B.
Shit. Close to crying again he opened a can and threw it against a cross, spilling its harmful substance. He smashed them all, making them burst apart, one by one. Finally he kicked the whole box to hell. He was done drinking. He was done feeling sorry for himself. Linden needed him. A man on death row needed him. If Seward was innocent he deserved to share more time with his son. The right thing to do was to help Linden to make justice happen. He swallowed the pull of tears and got back in the car.
He had just arrived at the parking space in front of the entrance when Linden stormed out of there. She was smoking.
Uh-uh. Not good. "Yo." What the fuck? What happened now? "Hey! Where you going?"
"He played me. He lied. He's been lying all along." She was running past him.
"Woah, whoa, hold up. What are you talking about?"
"I shouldn't have come here." She sounded on the edge of tears. "It was a mistake. He was there in the apartment. He killed his wife, end of story." She leaned against the car.
"What about the ring?"
"You said it yourself. It could be anybody's. It doesn't mean anything."
"What, so you're just leaving?" He tore the car keys from her hands. "You can't. They won't let you see him again."
"Give me them back."
"No." Damn it, woman. I didn't pull myself together so you can lose your shit.
"Give them to me, Holder!"
"No. After all this, you just walk away? There's lots of reasons why he could've been there. He lived there."
"Then why did he lie about it?"
"I don't know. Go in there and ask him! What about Adrian?"
"I'm done! I'm done! Give me the keys!" She reached out for them.
He ignored the usual demanding gesture. "This is like a pattern with you, you know that? You always leavin', runnin' - you never stay..."
"You're drunk."
Sure, babe. "...'cause if you did, then you'd want it. You'd need it. And then you could get hurt..." He put two fingers against her chest and shoved her. "...and left...or not left. What the hell happened to you, Linden? Why you always taking off?"
"Why don't you just shut up and take your own damned advice." She threw her cigarette away and got into the car.
"Yeah, maybe I should. We never stay, and in the end, we lose everyone."
He approached the side window. He knew he had to say it. The one thing to clear the air. The cruel mistake that tainted their partnership. "I'm not gonna try and kiss you again, Linden. Keep dreamin'." I can live with you not wanting me, but I can't live with you hating me. I can't lose you too.
She rolled the window shut, but her hard expression mellowed.
Ah. Look. The shadow of a smile surfaced, betraying her. "You hear me? I'm not gonna kiss you again, Linden. Unh-unh. You missed your chance, Linden." He snorted a laugh. Oh, yeah. He got her, he'd breached her shell. He wouldn't give up now.
She smiled and looked at him.
His aching heart mended a bit. Smiling back he opened the car door. "Come on!" He had her. He wasn't her lover, but at least he scored some kind of success on and off.
Then her phone rang. She didn't have to say who called and what he said. Her face told him the bad news. No pardon for Seward. The execution would take place on time. He turned to go back into the prison. He shouldn't have trashed the carton of beer. He definitely needed a drink right now.
Linden went back talking to Seward. He agreed to talk to Adrian in the meantime. As expected the little man was nervous. No shit. He couldn't even imagine what Adrian must be thinking about. So young. So much pressure. So much pain. He wasn't surprised when the boy fled into the bathroom. He followed to see if he was alright, unsure of what to say. So he was making silly jokes again. What was he supposed to say to a kid whose father was to be executed in a few hours anyway? Keep your head up, everything is gonna be all right? Is there a textbook with a fitting phrase?
"My hair looks dumb," Adrian said, combing his hair with his fingers in front of the mirror.
"It looks fine. He don't care." Why should he? He's gonna die tonight. "You need gel or something. It's not gonna stand like that. You're looking like Dennis the Menace." He fetched some liquid from the soap dispenser and rubbed it gently into the boy's hair. "Yeah. That's it."
Adrian smiled at him.
He smiled back. "That's what I'm talking about, little man. Huh?" He put his hands on Adrian's shoulders. All good. Ready to meet daddy, before he got sent to hell. Jesus! Now he'd made himself cringe.
In the end all was in vain anyway, because the bastard of a prison warden followed the book to the letter. Visiting hours were over. He denied Seward's last talk to his son. The next second Seward went berserk, shouting death threats, while Linden argued, and the boy sought shelter in the arms of his foster mom.
He was just standing helpless in the midst of the shitstorm coming down on them, knowing just one thing for sure. This was over. Done. Seward was going to die and they had to leave.
Linden didn't let go yet. She took her phone out, making a call to the District Attorney. She didn't realize that Adrian was suffering listening to her complaining. Okay. Enough. Everyone had suffered enough. He grabbed her phone and switched it off. "It's over."
"What?" she said, her face a map of pain. Then she looked at Adrian.
"It's over," he said again, hurting to take her away from here.
"He..." Then she got it, and was turning away, crying. Adrian was crying too.
Jesus Christ! He turned to the wall, at a loss for anything to say or to do.
After what felt like an eternity but was only minutes in reality, Linden got a grip on herself and asked Adrian to come with her. She said she and Adrian would stand outside the fence where the windows were that Seward would walk by to the execution room. So he could see his son for one last time.
He was surprised the foster mom agreed to that plan. Maybe she was as exhausted as they all were. He camped himself against the wall until Linden and Adrian returned. Linden asked him to take Adrian and the foster mom home. She would stay and attend the execution. He couldn't talk her out of it. She said, she had to. She couldn't let Seward go through this alone. Yeah, well, he got that. Yet he couldn't do the same.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, feeling like he was leaving her out in the rain.
"It's okay. I can do this."
The drive back to town was a silent one. Adrian and the foster mom didn't talk, and he had nothing left to say.
Home, he stayed up, smoking way too much, counting the seconds. Finally, she called.
"It's over."
"Good." Rest in peace, man.
"His neck didn't break. He suffocated."
"Jesus, Linden," he breathed, hurting for Seward and those dear to him.
"Tell me something, something to make me forget."
"Like what?"
"Like... like where have you been yesterday?"
"Church." The shit with Reddick. That he wouldn't tell her about. Not today.
"Church? I thought you were a Buddhist."
"Same thing. Thirty-one flavors all made out of milk."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"That's because I'm a mystery wrapped in a conundrum."
Silence. Just when he thought he said the wrong thing, she startled him with the one big question.
"Do you think Jesus has forgiven him?"
"Sure he has. He's Jesus. He's better than us."
He heard her sniffle. He wanted to hold her until she fell asleep, wanted to take her pain away, but he forbade himself to ask if she would like him to come over. Not after his stupid come-on move yesterday. She wouldn't understand this was not about sex but comfort. At least here and now. Okay. Chill. The fact that she'd called him was better than leaving him behind on the streets or keeping to herself.
"It wasn't your fault, Linden. Give yourself a break and get some rest."
"You too." She hung up.
I'll try died on his lips. He took her advice, though and went to bed. He dreamed about kissing her, about sweetness turning into passion, about a place that felt and tasted like paradise. A dream exciting and at the same time devastating, because it would never happen. He promised not to make another move and he was dead set on keeping that promise.
Whatever it takes. I won't let her down again.
*****
In the morning he went to Bullet's funeral. It was a bitter duty, but he wanted to honor her memory. Rachel. He wasn't used to her true name. In his mind she would always be Bullet. The picture of her wearing braces made everything so much worse. The benches were almost empty, only a few people attended, including Kallie's mom, Danette, sitting down next to him. At least to her he admitted Bullet had been his friend, someone he liked a lot. The little pit bull, who did everything to protect her friends. She had been better than him.
When Danette started crying, he got up and fled. He had nothing left to give, no energy to comfort her, or himself. All he wanted to do was to go to Linden, to run to her.
Yet he went to the woman who'd given him strength and warmth in the last year first. He had to make it up to her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I messed up."
Caroline just pulled him close, rubbed his shoulder, and hugged him.
Jeez! He didn't deserve her. For seconds he embraced her desperately, and then his damn phone started ringing. He exhaled, frustrated. No. Damn it. Not now. He didn't take the call. "I...I should have told you about my past. You're a step up for me, okay? And I'm a step down for you. I'm... I'm like five steps down for you. And I ju... I just wanted you to see the good stuff."
"That is what I see," she said softly. "But this is not all there is, right?"
Shit. This is harder than I thought. "I'm just a piece of shit like my dad."
"No, you're not. Why are you saying this?"
"Because of what I have to say to you. Because of the choice I have to make. Between you and her."
"Well, Stephen, it's about time, and I agree. We should end this charade."
"Caroline, nothing happened..."
"Oh, Stephen. That's not what I meant. I know you didn't sleep with her. I'm talking about the way you feel."
"As if that matters. She doesn't want me."
"I had a different impression on Valentine's Day when she came to your apartment, and wasn't happy to see me there too."
"Uh... Why did she push me away then?"
"Well, maybe because you had a girlfriend?" She sighed. "Anyway, I can't be with a man who is in love with another woman."
He snorted. "I didn't even like her when we started. I still remember some of the awful things I said to her." Shit. He wouldn't cry in front of Caroline. He wasn't that kind of a jerk, was he? "Today I can't even imagine my life without her being a part of it."
"That's what I meant."
"I'm sorry. You deserve better."
"I do." Once again Caroline put her arms around him. "But you do too. You're a good man, Stephen. You deserve to be loved."
His phone started ringing again.
"Answer it," she granted. "They're just gonna keep calling you."
Damn. "Yeah, Detective Holder," he snapped. One more time he couldn't do Caroline justice. "Yeah, I'll be there. All right, just tell him to wait for me." He turned to her and made a helpless gesture. "Clock never stops."
"I know. So, I'll see you around, okay? No reason we need to become strangers."
"For real?"
"Yes, Stephen. We had a good time, and though it's over we shouldn't regret we'd met, should we? Things happen." She leaned into him. "And for what it's worth, you were actually a half-step up... for me."
He smiled. "You must have been hanging out with some real losers before me."
"Mm. Lawyers."
Hey. She wouldn't share his life anymore. They were done. He hugged her once more, suddenly devastated by the fact of losing her. She had been good for him. He'd miss her, damn. He'd miss the love she'd given him.
"Okay. Okay." She pushed him off her. "One bit of advice. Freshen up before you talk to her."
He cringed. "Sorry for that too."
"It's fine. Take care, Stephen." She walked away, not looking back.
For a few seconds he remained on the spot, feeling wasted. Have I done the right thing? I'll be alone now. Shit! Better to go to do some work to keep from brooding. He didn't rush to the crime scene, though but took Caroline's advice, not expecting the surprise waiting there, approaching him from behind.
"You're late," Linden said, snippy.
He turned around slowly, bracing himself. He had just broken off with his girlfriend, for Christ's sake. He was feeling pretty edgy.
"I thought you'd be half way to Chicago by now."
She smiled, and lifted the evidence bag in her hand. A bullet was in it.
"45. Two more in the backseat. Fire was probably set yesterday afternoon. Guy who opened the yard this morning found it. Fireman called us when they found the body."
"They don't got no security here?" He circled the burnt trash car, looking inside.
"Not on Sunday, apparently. Not sure whether we got a John or a Jane Doe. Coroner's en route."
"You interview the guy who called it in?"
"I thought I'd wait for you."
"Oh." He strolled around like a tomcat in heat, watching her, feeling much better than he had in weeks, with his hair washed and shaved clean. He'd even put on fresh clothes. "So, this is for real then? Detective Linden. You're not gonna peace out on me, leave me to crime-fight with junk-ass Jablonski?"
No shit. That she decided to stay was the best news since she'd asked him to stay over. He was delirious with joy. Nah, this was the best news in a decade. Nothing could go wrong now.
"Well, you're my ride, so... I guess you're stuck with me."
Aw. He almost melted into a freaking puddle.
"Good. I mean, not that I need you."
He could feel a profound warmth pouring out from her. "But it's good." Maybe there was a chance to save their partnership after all. Maybe they could be BBFs again. That was more than he'd hoped for. He could live with that, right?
"You look nice. I see you changed your... thingy."
"Mm-hmm." My delay paid off then, huh?
"And shaved. Kind of."
"Yep. Even got a shower. Got to keep fresh." He looked at her, reveling at the pure sight of her.
She was still smiling. "One step at a time."
Okay. Got it. Back to work. A body in a trunk. A crispy critter. Bullet's killer was still not officially accused and he wouldn't rest until that monster was brought to justice.
"Let's do some work," she said, intuitively agreeing with him.
"Yeah."
*****
Later that day he apologized to Reddick, who'd asked for a new partner. Brass put Reddick in with Jablonski then. Oops. Shit happens! He wasn't gloating, nah, he was ashamed and remorseful. He didn't mean for that to happen. Reddick was an ass, but Jablonski. Jesus! Reddick called him a fat Hitler. Reddick wouldn't file a complaint, though, he wouldn't rat out on him. Reddick was not that kind of guy. He was lucky to have people like Reddick in his life. He was lucky he had any people left at all.
Humiliated but grateful he went to get Linden to go back on the streets and overheard a conversation between her and Skinner in his office. He couldn't resist eavesdropping no matter that he knew he'd only hurt himself. He needed to know if he ever had a chance to be more than her BFF. Yeah, well. He had none whatsoever.
Yet in the car he worked up the courage to razz her just to be sure. If she would shut him down once more he would never make a move again. He would let her be happy with who she wanted to be.
"So, um... what up with you and the boss man?"
"Nothing. What?" she said, but her eyes told the truth.
Ah. Got you. "Going to the lake? Making a fire?"
"I don't know what you're talking about?"
"Oh, come on, Linden. I mean, I don't got to be my sleuth par excellence to see that the cat's got the hand in the jelly jar. And it ain't the first time, neither." He laughed. Yep. He kept his tone light. She shouldn't know how serious he was, how desperate for the answer he wanted to hear.
She smiled, her soft expression filled with affection. "We worked together, we were partners, and…"
Oh. Partners. What the fuck? You do have a goddamn weakness, woman. "And... and... and..."
"...and we..."
"Oh!"
"Don't... don't do that."
"Snap!" He honked the horn. Yeah. Silly. But better than to show her how much he hated the thought of her and Skinner banging again. He never liked the guy anyway, but this was the worst. A severe blow to his ego.
"Don't do that. Don't look at me like that."
Why? How do I look, huh? "How many times? One time? Two times? Three times?"
She grimaced, wriggling in her seat.
Woah! He had never seen her as awkward as right now. "Stop me at any time, Linden. Four times? Five times?"
"You're such an idiot."
"You are a human being," he countered, though she was right. Yet he couldn't stop no matter that he was hurting himself.
"Aaaw."
"You're actual flesh and blood."
She beamed at him.
Jesus. What is happening? "I mean, I'm just as surprised as you are."
"You jealous?" she said softly, looking straight into his eyes.
Ouch! Okay. Didn't see that coming. "Oh, well played, Detective Linden. Well played." Sure, I'm jealous. Jealous as fuck. I would show you how much if I hadn't make that damn promise. As embarrassing as this was seeing her giggling like a schoolgirl was worth it. Oh man, he'd never imagined how wonderful that sound was. Seeing her as happy as she was now let him feel the sweetest sensations. That was worth the whole damn blow to his ego.
She chilled a bit. "It's not your business, but all that is in the past." She didn't look at him, but kept her eyes at the dreary landscape passing by outside. "Skinner and I are done."
His heart skipped a beat. Damn. Don't say such things and give me hope. "Whatever you say."
"Okay, now that we've cleared that up I'm gonna do some work if that's all right with you?"
"Do your thing, 1-900." He grinned in spite of his doubts. Over, huh? Are you sure? I saw you cozying up in the office. It's obvious you still have feelings for the guy as well as the bastard having feelings for you. Ah, whatever, this day looked like a bright day, one of the brightest days in his damn existence. That was her doing. Hers alone. He needed her to know. He cleared his throat. "Linden."
"What?"
"Everybody thinks I'm a piece of shit tweak-head. You seem to think I'm something better?"
"Yeah, you're a 1-900 rock star." She gifted him with a radiant smile.
"Aw." He gulped. Holy shit, woman. You don't do lukewarm flattery, do you? He gripped the wheel tighter and put the gas pedal to the metal. One of the best days ever.
Fuck dead bodies. Fuck that spark of hope burning in his heart. Fuck the promise he'd made.
How could he keep his word if she wouldn't stop making him feel alive and inspire a love that made him forget the horrors of the world?
