Chapter 11
Three O’clock in the Mornin’
The porch light was a beacon, and Elizabeth shuffled one foot in front of the other, uncertain of her ability to make it up the four steps and to the front door. So she kept her eyes focused on that light and concentrated on staying upright long enough to reach it.
Eighteen hours. Her legs were shaky, her vision faded in and out, and her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. She wasn’t even sure what had happened at this point. Occasionally, something would bubble just below just below the surface of her thoughts, but she was too tired to form words, even the privacy of her own mind. It was a miracle she’d managed to drive home without having an accident.
Her mind slid away from the reason, was in fact working very hard to bury it under anything and everything else that it could find. The twelve hour rule wasn’t broken on a whim, and there was a very good reason for all of them being pushed to their limits and beyond, but the details were hopefully going to be forever shoved into a closet in her mind, the door firmly locked and - and lots of stuff piled in front of it or something. Away. Never thought of, remembered, contemplated and all those other words that meant she’d have to deal with it.
It was over. Well, for her, anyway. There were people out there for whom tonight would never be over, but those thoughts too were forbidden.
She made it. Her hand was shaking, and it took her far too long to get her key into the lock. Will would be asleep. Or gone. Most likely the second, and she was glad of it. Really. She needed to sleep, and only sleep, and having someone there to cuddle up against would also mean having someone who wanted her to talk, and the first wasn’t worth putting up with the second tonight.
Once inside, she slumped against the door and fought to keep herself from sliding down. That would lead to waking up in her front hall, stiff and sore all over, sometime long after her alarm failed to wake her. And she had to be back at work - she didn’t want to think how short a time she had before she had to be back at work. She did let her eyes close, and the burning behind her eyelids faded marginally. No lights tonight, just straight to bed.
Until the smell hit her. It was faint, but it was there. Her eyes flew open, and for a split second she thought it had all been a dream. That she could yell out that she was home and her mom would stroll out of the kitchen, smiling and asking her how her day had been. But only for a split second. The pain that followed was familiar, but surprisingly not as sharp as the last time she’d had such a moment.
She pushed off of the door and walked almost quickly into the kitchen. It was spotless, but the scent was stronger here. Her stomach clenched, insisting that no lunch or dinner was not what it was used to and would not be tolerated without serious retribution. Maybe that explained all of it, she told herself firmly. The other explanation would be - but no, there was a piece of paper stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet. Hardly enough to count a note, but it meant the smells still lingering in her house were real.
“Had to go. Dinner in fridge. See you soon. Will.”
There was a casserole made up of chicken and rice and mushrooms. Salad that was slightly wilted. And a chocolate cheesecake from her favorite bakery. Which would have been kind of freaky if it wasn’t also the only bakery on this side of town.
She slid the casserole into the oven to warm, put some salad into a bowl and grabbed a bottle of water. She was ravenous. While the dinner warmed, she used some of her newfound second wind to slip upstairs and de-uniform. Will had left a t-shirt on the chair in her room, and she didn’t think about why it seemed the most appropriate thing to wear. She just concentrated on the fact that it was soft and loose and on how good it felt to take her bra off.
Elizabeth didn’t cook, was in fact quite the opposite of a talented chef. If it didn’t come in a box and go in the microwave, and wasn’t delivered by someone in a car with a sign on it, she didn’t eat it. She’d never tasted anything so good in her whole life. She gorged herself. She ate more than she remembered eating in a long time.
Her full stomach was acting like a sedative, her second wind was gone, and she was once again doubting her ability to make it to the bed before going to sleep by the time she’d finished cleaning up after her dinner.
The dinner Will had made her. She couldn’t find words for how she was feeling. Sort of warm and tingly, but with a sliver of trepidation that he would be angry she hadn’t gotten home in time to share it with him. He’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble, and even in the midst of the controlled insanity of tonight’s work she’d hadn’t forgotten the look on his face when he slipped from the room. And he hadn’t been one of the ones called back in to help out when things hit the fan.
She needed to make sure he was okay, and that he wasn’t upset with her for not calling and letting him know she had to work late.
He answered on the first ring.
“What happened?” He sounded anxious, worried even. Crap.
“Worked late.” She yawned, wishing she could manage to sound as alert as he obviously was. “Sorry. I should have called.” She didn’t add that the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind until she’d already been home an hour. Which made it well past midnight. “Also, sorry for calling. I didn’t think about the time.”
He was quiet so long she was already opening her mouth to apologize again when he spoke.
“I’m up. Even if I wasn’t, I’d rather you call.” She heard him suck a breath in between his teeth, then, “Can I come over?”
“Now?”
“There’s - look, I need to talk to you. Not on the phone. We hang up, you call in sick for tomorrow, and I’ll be over in twenty minutes. Okay?”
“I’m not sick.” She also wasn’t tracking this conversation. She yawned again.
It wasn’t until he didn’t answer her that she realized he’d already disconnected.
Who the hell does he think he is? She thought, staring at the phone as if her glare could travel across the line. There was a sudden, intense rush of anger that almost immediately gave way to fear.
That’s not like him.
Okay, so maybe it was like him and just not like he’d been with her so far. Probably thought he “had her” now, and all the sweet, caring and patient crap had been just part of the master plan to get into her life. And the alcohol that first night had been to get into her pants. And she’d fallen for the whole thing.
Somehow, even the cynic she’d become couldn’t believe that. Yet. The thought was there, though, and didn’t that mean something?
But he made her dinner. And bought her cheesecake.
And she’d known, hadn’t she, that something was off with him when he left work?
She dialed again. But if this sick day affected her yearly evaluation she was going to kill him. Slowly and in some way that involved great pain. And she wasn’t getting dressed, either. Or making coffee.
Okay, maybe coffee. But only because she didn’t think she could stay awake until he got here without some. And some sweat pants, because it was cool in the house. And she’d put the rest of the casserole in the oven to warm up, because he had made it after all and it was only fair that he get to have some. What was left of the salad really did look kind of wilty and pathetic, too. So she’d just add a bit more fresh lettuce and maybe slice another tomato.
But that was it. Period. He couldn’t expect more than that at three o’clock in the morning.
She was still muttering to herself between yawns when the doorbell rang.
He looked awful. Well, he was always sexy as all hells, but still - he looked worse than she‘d ever seen him. His eyes were red and puffy looking, like he’d either been crying or gone three days without sleep. His hair was stuck out from his head in curly little tufts like he’d been pulling on it. He wasn’t dressed so much as covered up in a wrinkled t-shirt, worn sweat pants, and gym socks. No shoes. He had a weekend bag hanging from his shoulder and he was frowning hard.
“You okay?” She opened the door wide, stepping back for him to enter.
He tossed the bag the living room and before she could get the door closed he was kissing her, his arms tightening almost to the point of pain around her. She was shocked that even as tired as she was, she felt herself responding to the kiss. It was a long time before he pulled away.
He rested his forehead against hers, panting and out of breath from the kiss. “I’m better now. Thanks for letting me come over.”
“Didn’t really give me a chance to say no.” It came out more amused than irritated, and she wondered where the anger from earlier had gone.
Regardless, he stepped back from her and ducked his head, apparently not noticing that she wasn’t mad. “Yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t have - I’m sorry.” He took another deep breath, and his eyes shot up to hers. “Is that dinner?”
She smiled. “Hey, you made it! You should get to have some of it. Come on in the kitchen before I manage to screw up reheating a casserole and out myself as the worst cook in history.” She was smiling too much, her face and voice overly bright and bubbly in an unconscious attempt to make the frown lines between his eyebrows smooth out.
He tilted his head, looking at her as if he’d never seen anything like her before in his life. “You’re not mad?”
“Um - no. Irritated at the hanging up on me, and the whole ‘you will call in sick tomorrow’ order, but I figure I didn’t even call you to say I wouldn’t home at the regular time when you were waiting at my house so we’ll just call it even and go to sleep. After we eat. And find out what’s got you all weird Will tonight.” She was happy. She shouldn’t be, there were innumerable reasons not to be, and she couldn’t think of a single reason behind the feeling. But she was happy.
Still exhausted - but unreasonably glad to see his face and have him here with her. It didn’t, in this moment, really even matter what was wrong. He came to her.
She wasn’t glad he was upset. Far from it. And in a few minutes she would probably be worrying about him. She may even be angry at him. But right now, she was feeding him, and giving him coffee, and being there for him in a way that he’d already been there for her more times than she was comfortable with.
Somehow, that made it worth it. It made her feel like they were on a more even footing whether that was technically true or not. She was going to be here for him this time. And for the past forever she’d been better at helping other people than accepting help for herself.
This she could do.
He didn’t want to do this. He’d been dreading it all night. It had hovered there in the back of his mind while he planned and then shopped and then planned some more. While he was pulling The Trunk from his life before out of the back of his closet and going through things he’d thought put far behind him. He’d been thinking of her while he cried, and ranted, and punched a fist sized hole in the wall of his living room. And wouldn’t that just go over well with the landlord.
He’d decided that no matter what happened, if she wanted him to he’d call the Captain and back out. Even if it meant getting fired. Because he couldn’t lose her.
He didn’t think he could do this without her. He wasn’t sure he could do it even with her, and he was petrified he’d lose her trying.
She’d sat him at the bar in the kitchen, and was puttering around making him a plate of food and a cup of coffee. She kept fussing over him while he ate, telling lame jokes and obviously trying to lighten his mood. He’d never seen her like this before, though he’d had glimpses here and there that hinted at it.
His Beth was a caretaker. Not in the traditional sense so much. The coffee was really bad, and the casserole he’d put together what seemed like a lifetime ago was now slightly scorched. No, it was her. The way she’d gotten out of bed after a hellish day to do it, even if it wasn’t perfect. The way she kept rubbing the back of her neck and blinking hard trying to hide the fact that she was half asleep. The way she never once suggested going to bed and doing this tomorrow.
The way she had just come up behind and started massaging his shoulders.
“What’s going on?” Soft. Gentle-like. Just there, waiting for him to say what he needed to.
He stood up, then took her hand and led her into the living room. “Let’s get comfy for this, yeah?”
She smiled, and settled herself in the crook of his arm on the sofa, her head resting on his shoulder.
“You’re scaring me a little.” She whispered.
“Sorry.” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable. He felt like pacing, but didn’t want to move that far away from her. “Got some stuff to say. No choice. Don’t much look forward to it.”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me a lot.” She moved away from him, her shoulders stiffening. “If you’ve decided this isn’t a good idea - “
“NO!” He yelled. Didn’t mean to. His heart was beating a mile a minute in his chest at the very thought. “No. Not like that.”
She blew out a breath, and the relief on her face told him more about her feelings about him than anything she’d said. It was nice, to have some sort of confirmation that he wasn’t the only one forming an attachment. He loved her. He knew it. He’d hinted at it to her. The look on her face when he said he wasn’t leaving her was the closest he’d ever gotten to a declaration of her feelings, though.
“So, whatever it is we can handle it.” She said in a matter of fact tone.
“Yeah, well, you’ve not heard it yet. Might be you wants to put an end to things.” He didn’t like the way his voice shook. She just raised her eyebrows at him and waited.
“That bad?”
“Don’t know.” He tried to find the right way to start this. The fact was, this conversation would have been a lot easier if he hadn’t put off the other one. “Lot to cover. I don’t know where to start.”
“The beginning?”
He half-laughed, shaking his head. “I’m thirty three years old, pet. The beginning of this goes back just about that far.” He ran his hands through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Okay, just say it. I’m gonna have to go away for a bit. Not far. And you might see me. But you won’t be able to act like you saw me, yeah?”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Her chin had come up, like she was about a second away from deciding this was the most creative brush off of all time.
“Not actually part of Communications, you see. Long story short, got dumped there years ago after a bit of a muck up. Tried to jump through the hoops at first and get back on the road, but I was still pretty messed up. Couldn’t pass the evals. I let it drop, had what was pretty much an understanding that I’d stay there and that was that.”
“But something happened today. Yesterday.” She’d calmed down now, but she still didn’t snuggle back up next to him.
“Yeah. Couple of years ago I re-initiated my request to be transferred back. Started doing the evals again.” He had to move. He was up and pacing before it hit him he was going to stand. “Passed this time, see. I wasn’t sure I would do it. Thought I just didn’t want all that stuff hanging over my head. I intended to stay where I was, just with it on the record that I wasn’t - well, crazy.”
“Intended?” She sounded nervous now.
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes. “Except Captain over in Vice comes to my place, yeah? Shows me some stuff I can’t tell you about. Makes me an offer.”
“What kind of offer?” Her voice had gotten small. She sounded like a lost little girl, and it ate at him.
“An assignment. Not kosher. Shouldn’t be a possibility. Wants me to go under. The regs are shot to hell with this thing, Beth. I‘ve not been on the road in ten years, never made detective before that. Just patrol, a little less than two years. Shouldn‘t even be a thought of something‘ like this. ” He hadn’t said it out loud yet. The thing that made it impossible for him not to try. “But he wants me to go after the man that killed Dru.”
She just sat there. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. Just pacing, his arms waving frantically around his head and his accent so thick she wasn’t understanding a third of what he said. Most of the time, he sounded almost like he was from California, with only a couple little quirks in his tone and language that gave away his origins. The accent was stronger when he was tired. And stronger still in bed.
But this, now, was the thickest she’d ever heard it. The only word that came to mind as she watched and tried to listen was tormented.
She crossed the room and grabbed at his hands. It startled him, and he looked at her like he’d forgotten for a moment she was in the room.
“You said Dru was sick.” The rest of it was - unbelievable. But this part, this lie he must have told her before, was the thing that kept resounding in her psyche. She felt herself getting angry against her will. She didn’t want to be angry. She was supposed to be helping him the way he’d been helping her.
He blinked at her, processing what she’d said. “Yeah. She was.”
“But this guy killed her.”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t pull away from her. He was blinking fast, his eyes filling with tears that shocked her even though she’d thought earlier he’d been crying.
“Was sick, wasn’t she? Didn’t know what she was doing. Had started talking to stars and muttering on and on ‘bout pixies. Hearing voices. Doctors were giving her medication that worked some of the time if I could get it in her. She didn’t like the way it made her feel. Always trying to sneak and skip it ‘cause she said it made the world all dim or some such thing.”
Oh. Oh. Okay. She nodded. “And the guy?”
“Didn’t know she was still hanging around the guy, you know? I’d gotten into the Academy. Had a good job, with health insurance. It was - complicated, yeah? My family, the uncle I’d come to live with when mum passed, wasn’t a good guy. I’ve got - well, there are connections. Bit of a juvenile record for maybe a quarter of the stuff I’d done. And this guy, we’d known him since we were kids. He’d really got his hooks in her. I was busy, and tryin’ to be this person that was a good man. Thought we were out of it. Got married. Changed my name, everything. Thought it was behind us. Finished.”
He looked at her, his whole body seeming to beg her to understand. “She didn’t know what she was doin’. She didn’t, Beth. She didn‘t even know her name a good part of the time!”
He’d been calling her Beth all night, and she let it pass again. Truth be known, she kind of liked it. A name that was neither Elizabeth nor Buffy. The name of the new person she was becoming with him. She focused on that, and on keeping her face from showing the surge of anger that came at his revelations. She didn’t know him. Not at all. Not even his name was true?
But what was a name, anyway? All of these things, they’d happened when she was in pigtails and playing with barbies. Juvenile was under eighteen. The last time he’d done anything that she might not approve of was at least fifteen years ago. When she was eight. It didn’t matter. She did know him. She might not know everything about him, but she knew him.
“Of course she didn’t.” She was proud of how understanding she sounded. “You don’t have to convince me, Will.” She was slid her arms around him, felt him bury his face her neck. He was shaking, and they just stood there for a minute until he pulled away again, looking at her uncertainly.
“So anyway, got to do it, don’t I?”
“No.” She said it softly. “You don’t have to. It’s perfectly understandable if you don’t want to dig all of this stuff back up again.”
His face had changed, and he was looking at her as if he couldn’t decide if she was an angel, or a cold hearted bitch.
“You don’t think I should.”
“I didn’t say that. I said you don’t have to. Honestly, no. I don’t think you should. For all those reasons that you pointed out earlier. I - I’m afraid of this, and of what could happen. But what I meant was, you don’t have to. If you don’t want to do this, don’t let some idea that it’s your responsibility make you, because it isn’t. Don’t do this unless you want to, Will. Don’t let their emotional blackmail put you into a dangerous situation because they think they can use you.” That was as much as she had a right to say, wasn’t it? They weren’t married. They were too new for her to say more, even if she was screaming inside that this was a very bad idea.
“Can we just rest now?” His voice was almost inaudible. “I can’t even think right now. Just rest, and finish this in the morning?”
Some perverse part of her wanted to point out that it was morning. Technically. But she didn’t.
“Yeah. We can do that.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Picked this back up after a couple of years away from the internet. (yay for the end of personal budget crisis and return to online) This chapter is lots of exposition tried to work into believable conversation. There won't be another break in updates as this story is complete on my hard drive and I'm just going through trying to fix it up for posting.
Chapter End Notes:
What do you think? Be kind, review.