by A. C. Henley
"Miles Ivan?"
"You are or you are not, which is it?" Quin asked with a smirk.
The man nodded quickly, "I am. I am." He confirmed.
"Nice to meet you Mr. Ivan. I'm going to ask a favor of you. I assure you that I'm good for this favor, and you may call it due anytime you like. Do you understand me so far?" A quick nervous nod, "Of course, if you don't want to grant me this favor, we have nothing to discuss, although I can't guarantee that my future behavior will be," She paused searching for the correct word, "proper." The word left plenty to the imagination.
"What do you want?" The man cautiously asked.
"Drop the Angel of Justice bit. There is no such person."
"But Scott Peers…" the reporter protested.
"I found Scott Peers."
A few blinks, "But Donald Peterson was…."
"He caught me on a bad day." Unapologetic smile.
Silence. Raised dark brow.
"I could name you."
"And I would deny anything you print, so will the police." That's an over confident assumption McKee, she thought to herself.
"What exactly do I get in return?"
"There will be a time in your life when you will need a favor above and beyond anything friends or family can provide. I will be able to grant that favor." Quin said as she took the man's notebook from his tightly clutched hand. She scribbled a few lines and held the book up for the man to inspect what she wrote, "Do we have a deal?" She watched his eyes dart from the notebook then to her steady gaze. She knew his decision had been made as he took the notebook from her hand. Quin watched as the reported tore the page from the notebook, folded it, and then placed it safely in his wallet.
He looked left than right then directly at Quin. "Deal."
Tom Ross had quite literally escaped from his neo-natal parental duties by volunteering to go to the store. Some would say that he had literally jumped at the opportunity to do this mundane chore. Witnesses would have seen him go from a prone position on the floor in front of yet another Blues Clues episode — a marathon it seemed and his three-year-old son would not be swayed to watch anything else — to fully upright, with shoes on, forgoing any socks for time was of the essence if he was to make his escape to the outside adult world without complications of tag alongs. His wife had supplied him with a list and a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. In his rush he nearly forgot his keys and wallet, and literally frowned as Ruth pushed his cell phone into his jacket pocket. "The store." She had said to him in that no bargains brokered tone that meant he shouldn't deviate from the plan set before him. He had simply smiled and nodded and skipped to the car basking in the sunshine and cool autumn air. Freedom was his, and he would do as he pleased for the next hour. He was off to find some adult companionship, and what better place than the precinct house.
His gleeful childlike smile faded as he entered a deserted detective room where ringing phones went answered by voice mail after the pre-requisite six rings. A movement off to his right caught his eye as one of the many task chairs swiveled around to reveal one Quin McKee.
"Ruth get tired of you, or did you run away?" The brunette asked already knowing the truth.
"I'm going to the grocery store." Tom said with a smile, "This is a shortcut."
"If you give me a dollar, I won't call your wife."
"If you call my wife, she'll no longer be focused on my little detour, but on the fact that the MIA patient of the week is calling her. You'll only buy me more time, and if you think she's pissed, you should talk to your girlfriend." Tom retorted as he sat in his own wheeled chair and scooted closer to the now frowning PI.
"Girlfriend is an inadequate term." Quin thought out loud.
"Might not have to worry about the terminology my friend, ‘cause you are in deep trouble. I fielded seven phone calls, and two visits myself from the honorable Sgt. Detective Walsh. The only reason I am able to be here today to speak with you is because I told her I made her the guardian of my six children if something were to happen to me." His toothy smile surfaced once again, "That put an end to her threats, not that I had a damn clue where you'd gotten off to." His brow narrowed and his lips pursed, "You could have least called." The detective could feel Quin's anxiety, it radiated off her.
"I'm sorry for that. I know I've been an ass about shit like that." Quin said with a sigh. "Do you think she's so pissed she won't have anything to do with me?" Her voice wavered doubtfully. Quin had spent the better part of the last thirty minutes going over the details of her bad behavior the last three days. What she concluded was that she nowhere near deserved the likes of Vivian Walsh, and that whatever may come as way of fruit of her recent past, she would accept that, even though she hoped beyond hope that Vivian would at least like to remain friends with her.
Tom scooted closer and grabbed the scraped and scarred hands that trembled in Quin's lap. He held them gently, "I think she is in love with you, and I think that you need to talk to her, and I think that you have to stop this self destructive shit, and I think you need to get into counseling to deal with all the crap life has handed you, and most of all, I think you need to let people help you: People like me and Ruth, and Teddy, and Quang, and most certainly Vivian Walsh." Wow, thought I would never get to say half that to Quin McKee. Tom thought to himself. He looked around the deserted detective room, "Where is everyone anyway?"
Quin sniffled and raised an arm to wipe her tears on a convenient sleeve, "Press conference." She replied, happy that Tom gave her a moment to deal with all he had said without pushing for anything further from her.
"Ahhh, well…" Tom paused and looked around then grinned at McKee, "Wanna rifle through some desks?"
Quin couldn't help the giggle that fluttered up. She sniffled and swatted his broad shoulder, "I've already done it."
Tom snapped his fingers, "Rats! I'm always too late for the desk rifling."
The tension eased between the two just as people began to fill the room marking the end of the conference and the return to work for the detectives. Tom noticed that Quin's attention had left him for something happening over his shoulder. He followed her gaze to see Vivian and Maggie entering the room together engaged in animated conversation. He had a fleeting moment of envy not to be participating in this epic case. He watched as Vivian took notice of either him or Quin, and a thin smile appeared and disappeared in almost an instant. A quick glance at the PI indicated she too had caught this tiny display of happiness and discontent. He shook his head and childishly spun in his chair causing Quin to give him a lopsided grin as she shook her head from side to side dismissing his behavior with a roll of her eyes.
Vivian's eyes locked onto Quin's as she made her way to her desk. She broke eye contact just long enough to answer an insistently ringing phone. She turned and regarded her best friend and her lover as Ruth Ross gave specific directions to her incase she saw her husband who was not back from the grocery store yet and, according to Ruth, had time to go and return home twice since he left. The sharp click of the phone being unceremoniously hung up caused Vivian to raise a blonde eyebrow in the direction of the AWOL father who was engaged in a slap fight over a paperclip caddy that Maggie was trying to retrieve from her desk. Vivian sighed and walked over to the scene of playground activities that was really just a side effect of paternity leave cabin fever. She ignored Tom and Maggie as she sat on the nearest desktop to Quin. "Simon Days and David Gentry huh? How in the hell did you find them?" Vivian asked while smiling at Tom's antics. He had secured a rubber band between two pencils and was taking aim with the few paperclips he was able to wrestle from Maggie at an unsuspecting desk sergeant who was bent over the water fountain in the hall.
Quin looked over her shoulder and grimaced at the pain it caused. She decided turning the chair was a better course of action and was soon facing the object of her love and desire. She smiled softly and sighed, "I have friends in very low places."
"You should be in a hospital."
"I know
."
Vivian blinked twice at the admittance. That was not the smart-ass response she had expected, "Then why aren't you?"
"Excellent follow up question Detective Walsh." Tom snickered as a masculine yelp echoed down the hall, celebrating his successful hit on the uniformed officer's rear.
Quin craned her head just enough to scowl at Tom Ross. "I'll go back. I just wanted to finish." It came out a pathetic childish grump.
Vivian slid off the desk and offered her hand to the PI, "I have it on good authority that they won't have you back, so you're coming with me." I have you now Quin McKee! She thought to herself as she shook her hand at the passive brunette. "Come on. I'm way past done here for tonight." A soft smile edged her face as Quin's smaller hand fitted into her own. She gave a small heave, lifting Quin from the chair to stand beside her. Then using her free hand she cuffed Tom Ross in the back of the head, "Your wife said to tell you that if you aren't back by the hour, she will have to take drastic measures to assure your continuing cooperation and performance of parental duties."
Tom stopped in mid aim of Maggie's rear, and cocked his head to the side, "That doesn't sound good."
"Her exact words were, ‘Tell him to get his ass home now or else.'"
The silver-headed detective placed his hastily constructed toy on a near by desk and stood, "I was leaving anyway. I'll walk you two out." He hooked one arm over Quin's shoulder and the other around Vivian's offered arm. The threesome made their way silently out of the precinct into the cool, evening November air. Vivian and Quin sent Tom off. Quin watched his mini van pull out of the parking lot as she settled into the front seat of Vivian's car.
"Do you think we should follow him to the store?" The PI joked as Vivian helped her to fasten her seat belt, knowing somehow that she was less than able to pull the strap herself.
"Naaa, he'll be a good boy. He doesn't want to tangle with Ruth." The detective fastened herself in with a soft laugh that was echoed by her car mate. "Are you hungry?" She asked as she started the car.
"Not really."
"When did you last eat?" The car backed smoothly from its space.
"I had some coffee that I filched from the detective room about thirty minutes ago."
"It's a wonder you're standing." Vivian mumbled getting a little grin from the PI.
"I've had worse." Quin rolled her head and shoulders the popping noises quite audible in the small car.
Vivian studied her passenger for a long moment before pulling into traffic. She looked so small and vulnerable for just a second as the pain registered across her pale features. The headlights and taillights of the traffic going by illuminated the car in a muted shifting light. Without much thought she put the car into park and leaned over to Quin, turning her head gently and kissing her lips softly. They shared a few breaths before Vivian spoke, "You're in trouble. You know that right?"
Quin nodded slowly.
"If you're good for the next few days, I might be compelled to forget that I'm pissed at you. The department Psych has put me on leave for a week, so guess where I'm spending it and with whom?"
The brunette's eyes looked out the windshield as her lower lip found its way under her front teeth. She then blinked as she brought her eyes back to stare into those marvelous blue depths, "At my house, with me?"
"You're very smart Quin McKee." Vivian punctuated this statement with another soft kiss.
"Thanks, I think." Quin said softly in a pleasurable haze from the delicious kisses, her eyes had fallen shut. She felt Vivian's thumb brush across her lips.
"Not your color sweetheart."
Quin's eyes fluttered open as Vivian scooted back to her own seat and pulled the car into traffic.
PART 11
SHE COULDN'T SAY what exactly woke her from the deep warm sleep she had been enjoying. There didn't seem to be any noise except for the soft whisper of the ceiling fan above. Quin stretched her limbs one by one then she had herself a languid body stretch that was topped off by an enormous yawn. As her muscles contracted and relaxed her eyes took in the room around her — her own bedroom, in her own house. She remembered arriving, and she remembered the chicken broth that had been expertly warmed in the microwave by Vivian. After that everything became kind of fuzzy. She sat up slowly on the side of the bed and was pleased at how little pain she experienced. A pair of sweats and a t-shirt was folded neatly on the nightstand. She stood and grabbed the clothes on her way to the bathroom.
Vivian peeled a green apple, one of ten large green apples that she would need for the apple pie she was making. She heard the soft thumps come from the room directly above the kitchen, and the shower start. Part of her wanted to go up the stairs and get into the shower with the brunette. Then there was the part of her that was still a little mad at the PI, and that part was going to stay right where she was, peeling and slicing apples for her first ever apple pie. She had just finished her last apple when the shower was turned off. The crumpled and now wet directions she was trying hard to follow were once again queried. She never imagined that a pie had so many steps, and was regretting the decision. Ruth had been very patient on the phone giving her the secret family recipe, but Vivian was pretty sure that the pie crust was supposed to stay together. What lined the pie pan in front of her was more like a dough patch work quilt from hell. Her blue eyes tracked back to the ceiling as soft thumps indicated more activity from the room above then the eyes landed back on the recipe in her hand. She was rolling out the top crust just as Quin's wet head poked around the kitchen doorjamb. "Do you know how hard it is to keep pie dough together?" She asked as she took a deep breath and prepared to top the heap of apples that were waiting patiently in the pan.
Quin edged into the room, "I've never tried to make a pie."
"Me either until about an hour ago." Vivian's tongue slipped between her lips as she tried to move the quickly deteriorating rough circle of dough. A slow growl passed her lips when it fell apart in her hands, leaving two ragged pieces that mocked her in a silent rebuke. She looked up at Quin expecting to see that smug grin the PI flashes when she's amused by something. Instead she found gray eyes contemplating her hands with thoughtfulness. Then if by magic Quin's smaller hands joined her own, together they reworked the dough in a new ball then rolled it into a new flat top crust. Quin maneuvered her smaller frame to stand with in Vivian's longer arms as their four hands gently picked up the crust. With their joint breaths held, they moved the crust to drape the apples and then exhaled softly as it settled into place without so much as a tear. Vivian took Quin's hands into her own and smiled. "Wow." She felt Quin shrug her shoulders.
"We make a good team." The brunette offered in way of explanation of their success. Silence from the woman behind her made her look up and over her shoulder. "Or maybe not."
Vivian's smiled faded as she released Quin's hands allowing the woman to turn and face her. "I think we could make a good team."
Quin's heart just about stopped in her chest and her limbs became heavy with dread of what was about to come out of the blonde's mouth next.
Vivian noticed the change immediately. Quin looked defeated. She looked resigned. A decision need to be made at that moment, and it was easy for her to choose. She raised her hands, even though they were covered with flour and dough, and framed Quin's face. "I think we can make a good team. With practice." She leaned forward and gave Quin a reassuring kiss. "And communication." Another small soft kiss. "Lots of communication."
Quin accepted the third kiss and felt the sense of darkness lift. It was her turn. "I'm sorry. I should have called."
"You should have stayed your scrawny ass in the hospital." Vivian countered.
Quin's dark head nodded slowly, "I should have stayed my scrawny ass in the hospital, and I should have called you with the information I had."
"And?" Vivian urged.
"And I… " Quin paused thinking of what else there could be and decided to just pick something from the last forty-eight hours that was
inconsiderate, "… I shouldn't threaten reporters, and I should turn over guns that I acquire through less than proper channels to the police at the station instead of mailing them fed-ex to the Captain."