Home of the Blues
There was a spot, just between her shoulder blades, that had turned in one constant ache. And she could feel her pulse in the top of her head.
It had not been a good day when it was just another day, and by five minutes into hour thirteen Elizabeth was ready to scream. At least she wasn’t on the phone. The radios weren’t much better, though, what with having a grand total of fourteen officers - all already doing something - and twenty seven calls waiting. It was easy, on a phone day, to curse and spit and pretend that it was all patrol’s fault that it took forever to get anywhere. On the radio it was far too obvious that there really wasn’t anyone to blame, and somehow that made it worse.
There were only so many officers, and she wasn’t sending anyone anywhere by himself. These were her officers, and she didn’t believe in super-cop strutting around without back-up. Not that her belief would have mattered, but luckily for her state of mind the brass actually agreed with her on that one.
Her eyes were getting blurry from staring intently at monitors for too long without a break. And sometime soon, her bladder was going to actually explode. She’d put in a request for at least a quick relief a bit ago, and was promised one within ten minutes. She could manage another five minutes if someone didn’t clear their call soon. Hopefully.
At least it kept her from thinking about that. Him. She’d avoided him for two days now, trying to come to terms in her own head with not only what had happened but the vague almost promises she’d made him before parting ways.
Yeah, busy was good.
She jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder. But it wasn’t Harris. Oh shit, had she missed something?
“Sir?”
“You’re at the limit, get out of here.”
She glanced at the pending calls, at the way the way the board was lit up on the other side of the room and the almost dead looking faces of the people answering the phones, and felt vaguely guilty. She looked up at the grim face of her Sergeant.
“I can -”
“No. You can’t. Go. I’ve got it.”
She sure as hell didn’t feel guilty enough to quote him the reg saying that the twelve hour rule could be suspended by - well, him - in the event of an emergency. And that the way the city seemed to have exploded tonight seemed pretty much an emergency to her. Actually, as soon as the thought struck her, she started briefing her boss on her radio as fast as she could manage to talk. Just in case he’d only forgotten, and would take away her reprieve if she wasn’t fast enough.
He was a fast talker anyway, and didn’t seem to notice that she usually wasn‘t, just nodded his head and took over.
Fighting off the slight temptation to hang about for five minutes or so and watch him work - he really was good at it, unlike some of the others who hadn’t touched a radio in decades - she headed out before he could change his mind.
She literally ran out of the building. Well, except for the brief stop at the ladies room.
Some things just couldn’t wait for home.
There was a slight breeze outside, and three steps out the door it felt like that soft brush of wind had sucked every ounce of energy she had left. She blinked, then stared out into the parking lot.
‘Don’t be stupid, Summers’, the thought didn’t help. She knew the kind of things that were happening between here and her house. The vague nervousness was only natural. ‘Innocent bystander’ wasn’t something she ever wanted to be, and sometimes it struck her what a risk it was to get behind the wheel of a car. Or walk down a sidewalk after dark.
Or cross an empty parking lot.
It came out of nowhere, and made her feel like a coward or a crazy person for a few minutes.
Nothing to do for it. Take a deep breath and wait for it to pass.
“Summers.”
She screamed, spinning on her heel and striking out with her right fist. He dodged it, only just, and glared at her.
“What the hell is your problem?”
“Don’t do that!” She hissed at him, glaring around the parking lot just in case someone had seen her overreaction. “You scared me to death!” He was still glaring, and inwardly, she cringed.
He shook his head, “Sorry. You startle easy, though. That’s the second time I did it without so much as tryin’.”
“Oh, yeah. You weren’t being sneaky stalkerish at all.” He’d grabbed her arm, and for some reason she’d let him and was following along behind him. He ducked around the corner into a slight recess in the building where the street lights didn’t reach, and her stomach twisted.
“Well, you’re the one wanting to be all ‘none of anyone’s business so they sure as hell better not find out’. Was trying to be - what’s the word? - discreet.”
She pulled her arm free and fidgeted with her the straps of her bag.
“Yeah. Right.” She took a deep breath, trying not to look toward him. “About that. Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I just don’t have the time or the energy to -”
He stepped away from her, and she had to fight not to look at him. It didn’t matter if she’d hurt his feelings, didn’t really even matter that she’d said one thing two days ago and was backing out. She couldn’t worry about whether it was fair to him. She had herself to worry about.
“So, what caused the turn-around?”
She shrugged, and decided that the hangnail that’d been pestering her all day was a lot more interesting than whatever expression he was wearing. If she looked hard enough, maybe she could see it in the dark.
“I think you could at least tell me. After all, last we talked, you were saying something about me getting to decide. Doesn’t sound like something a girl who didn’t enjoy herself would say.” His whispers were starting to gain a bit of volume, and she really didn’t need to have this out in the middle of the parking lot at work. It may be true that no one had seen them yet, but if the yelling started someone would surely hear them.
“I never said I didn’t enjoy myself.” She snapped. Her headache kicked up a notch, and all she wanted was to go home. “This isn’t an appropriate place to be having this conversation.”
“Well, it’s the only place I can see you, innit?” He stepped closer, and she finally looked up. He was only a vague shadow, and outline of a person, and she was desperately grateful that she wasn’t being forced to really see him. “You haven’t answered your phone, and we sure as hell haven’t had time to say anything in there.” He gestured vaguely, indicating the whole of where they spent so much time.
“Fine.” There was a pressure behind her eyes that told her she would be crying soon. She should have been home by now. She cried at home. Not at work. Ever. And the arrogant jerk would probably think it was about him. “There’s your reason. I can’t do that and this - whatever this is - too. I just can’t.” Her voice shook, and it just made her angrier at herself.
The silence stretched, and she felt a hand brush down the outside of her arm.
Oh, God. Not now. She started to shake.
“Holy Hell.” He moved even closer, dipping his head and now she could see him. See his eyes boring into hers. Worse, she knew that he could see her. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die, she was so embarrassed. She wanted to crawl inside him and drain him of the comfort that she was afraid was the only thing she wanted of him. She felt - weak.
Then he was there, all around her, a wonderfully strong hand rubbing circles on her back. “It’s okay, I’ve gotcha.”
“You most certainly do not.” But her voice was all shaky, and she thought she heard him snicker in her ear.
“Well, no. Not yet. But I’m working really hard at it, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I just don’t know why.”
“Why not?”
“Please.” She didn’t know what she was saying please, to. Please leave her alone, please stop acting like she could have something she knew better than to dream about, please take her at her word and walk away or please don’t go. She just didn’t know.
“Okay.” Oh. Okay, maybe he knew. “You’re not driving like this. Come on.” He was moving, and as much as she wanted to be left alone, she didn’t have the energy to fight him on it anymore. So she just let him lead her to his car, usher her gently into the passenger seat, and start off into the night.
She rolled the window down so the wind would hit her face, then leaned back and closed her eyes. Minutes passed in blissful silence.
Then, “You do realize I haven’t the slightest clue where you live, right?”
She giggled, and told herself it was hysterical laughter because she was exhausted and stressed and just - tired. She was always tired these days.
“Yep.” She answered, giggling harder.
His answering sigh sounded like relief.
“My place it is, then.”
The giggles stopped. No. Absolutely not. She was on the edge of going back on a decision that had lost her hours sleep as she wavered between the instinct for self-preservation and the thought of someone there who wasn’t her.
“Revello.” She said, looking back out the window.
Spike pulled into a convenience store and turned around in the parking lot. She hadn’t even noticed they’d been moving in the wrong direction.
“So, are you going to talk about it, or was that more of a private breakdown that just happened to be in front of me?”
Elizabeth straightened in her seat. “I did not have a breakdown. I don’t have breakdowns.”
“You’re bloody well coming apart at the seams and you know it.”
She closed her eyes. Terrific. And he out-ranked her, too. What if he told someone at work about her little episode? It didn’t affect her job. Had never affected her job, she made sure of it.
“I’m just tired, Will.” she whispered. “I promise.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she pretended not to notice.
“Right then.” He was on her street now, and she directed him to her house. Something about the light being off on the front porch threw her for a minute. She tried to remember to leave it on when she left.
She found herself fighting back more tears.
“Your apartment in the back?”
She felt her lips twitch a bit. “I don’t have an apartment. It’s my house.”
He raised his eyebrows at her, and she shook her head, trying to come up with a way to get rid of him without seeming rude.
“Don’t try it. We’re both going in, we’re going to relax a bit, and then you’re going to tell me what changed since this weekend.”
She glared at him. “You just don’t know when to quit do you?”
“Nope.” He was around the car and opening her door before she finished gathering up her things.
“I have to be back at work by six.”
“Me too. Best get on with it, then.”
He didn’t know why she was fighting him so hard, but there was no way he was going to leave her alone. Not after what he saw.
He knew her. She wouldn’t admit it, and he had no clue why it was true. For years, she’d simply been there. Around. And then, a few months ago, it was as if he’d suddenly seen ]her.
And then he’d actually spent an evening talking and touching and now he was frighteningly close to requiring her. Not need. Not want. Almost like love, but not yet. Maybe not ever. But for now, she was requirement. Like air, or food, or water. He couldn’t stop fighting to stay around her, because he had been graced with what like an almost supernatural knowledge that she was important. Necessary. He didn’t have an explanation or facts, just a niggling feeling that he couldn’t leave her alone.
And damn, how’d the hell she get a house like this? It was decidedly middle class, and not the lower end of middle class that could be explained if she were five or six years older. He didn’t care how much overtime she worked, there had to be something else there for her to own a place like this. Maybe she was an investment whiz or something.
He followed her inside, and felt something he only vaguely from when he was very young. This wasn’t a house. Elizabeth Summers had a home.
“Go change. Get comfortable. Point me toward the kitchen and I’ll put a kettle on.”
She nodded, flung one hand out in the direction of the coffee pot, and told him which cabinet to look in for the necessary supplies. She took the stairs slow, her shoulders slumped, like walking in the door was enough to cut the puppet’s strings.
Something in the general vicinity of his chest ached with seeing her, but he didn’t turn toward the kitchen until she’d disappeared from his sight.
He was in too deep. If there had ever been a chance of keeping himself from falling, it was gone now. And he didn’t know why.
Maybe it was the way she seemed embarrassed by being human. She didn’t cling, didn’t whine, just continued on with what looked to be the weight of the world on her shoulders. She hadn’t figured yet that it was actually heavier alone.
He started the coffee, then started to fidget. This was foreign territory to him. He finally settled on a bar stool, watching the doorway and waiting for her to come through.
When she did she was wearing jeans and a heavy sweatshirt and her hair was still up in its tight bun. He could have sworn he told her to get comfortable, not just out of her uniform.
“You really don’t want me here, do you?” It wasn’t an accusation, as much as he wanted it to be.
“It’s not that simple.” She got cups out, put sugar and a splash of milk in one then looked the question at him.
“Black’s fine.” He suddenly felt very tired himself. “And it is that simple, Elizabeth. If you let it be.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” The resignation in her tone made him feel like something cold had wrapped itself around the base of spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “We have to work together. It was a mistake, Will. A really nice mistake, but still a mistake. I just can’t do this now.”
“You keep saying can’t, but I keep hearing won’t.” He was trying not to snap at her, doing his damndest to sound understanding and all those ‘sensitive man’ things he was supposed to be sounding like right now. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to just reach out and strangle the stubborn bint.
“What you hear isn’t my problem.” She poured the coffee, slammed the cup down so hard in front of him that hot liquid splashed over the sides. “Drink. Go. Hate me if you have to, but stop pushing. Please.”
For a while, they just drank coffee and only looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes. It was a tense silence, uncomfortable, and Will fought the urge to make a bad joke.
“Here’s the thing.” And this wasn’t pushing. It truly wasn’t. “Do you do anything other than work, ‘lizbeth?”
Her head snapped up. “What did you call me?”
He blinked. Thought back. Oh. “Sorry. Don’t like nicknames?”
“No, it’s just - I’m Elizabeth.”
“Yeah.” What direction did that conversation just go? “Still haven’t answered my question, luv.”
“That’s because it isn’t any of your business.”
“What I saw tonight makes it my business. You’ll go crazy if you let that place take you over. You have to know that. And part of that is thinking you can’t do anything else. Yeah, it gets hard with the hours, but believe me, you’ve got to have something on the outside or the outside’ll turn into just more of the inside.”
Her lips twitched. “That sentence made absolutely no sense whatsoever.”
“Now that’s bullshit, luv.” He stood up. He was never one to sit still long. It was the hardest part of the job for him, having his movement restrained for hours on end. “You start to forget that your whole job is to deal with everybody else’s worst day. You get a skewed view of the world. Those things you hear, they don’t happen to everybody every day. They’re rare. Once in a liftetime type things most of the time. But you get ‘em one after the other, constant-like, and if you don’t do something outside of work you’ll start to see the world that way.”
“Did you want to date me, or psychoanalyze me?”
“You know what I want. But tonight, this isn’t about what I want. No pushing for that, except for you to think about it some more. No promises about tomorrow. But this, now, this is about you answering my bloody question. You tell me one thing you have that isn’t work. Name it.”
“Get out of my house.”
She meant it. Her chin jutted out, and her eyes flashed at him. Bloody hell, but she was sight like that, her tiny little fists clenched tight and her chest pushed out.
“That answers that. I’m your friend. And I’m not gonna watch you drown in this. You don’t want me, I won’t like it but I’m not a complete prick. I’ll deal with it. Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I’m goin’ away. You’ll just have to live with that.”
“What?” She seemed to deflate, and suddenly she looked even younger than she was. “I don’t need help. I don’t.”
“Well then, there’s really no reason for you turn down a chance at somebody to hang out with. Can’t say you don’t like me a bit. Already admitted to that.”
“I can’t be friends with you.” She was nervous. “I need you to go away.”
“You want me to go away. I think you need somebody who doesn’t.” The words just came out, he didn’t even know he was going to say them.
There was absolutely no way he could have anticipated their affect.
Elizabeth crumpled. Between heartbeats she went from standing in front of him and sprawled on the floor, shaking, sobs racking her body. And he knew. The thing he’d recognized in her, because it was so much a part of himself. The thing his heart had to have seen all along, that made him not notice her until he was ready for her.
She’d never had anyone not leave before.
She was like him.
She woke up on the couch, feeling like her head was stuffed with cotton and completely disoriented. She was wrapped in the afghan from the back of the couch, a throw pillow under her head. And she remembered.
She’d made an utter and complete fool of herself. One minute she was fighting with Will, trying to get him to see that it was a total and stupid mistake for them to try to have anything outside of working together, and the next he was holding her and - had he been humming?
Elizabeth groaned, and tried to work up the courage to look around for her houseguest. Maybe he’d realized just what a mess she was and gotten out while the getting was good. No, there he was. He was sprawled across her living room chair in his tee shirt and uniform pants. He’d shed his boots and belt, but still didn’t look very comfortable.
His eyes opened.
“You’re awake.”
“What time is it?” Her voice sounded scratchy.
Will shrugged. “Late. Don’t know, really. Could find out if you want.”
“Have to be at work at six.”
“Not six yet. Set the alarm on my cell for four, just in case.”
“I’m sorry.” That seemed to confuse him.
“For what?”
“All of it.” She shifted, scooted up the couch until she was half sitting. “You seem to be around every time I fall apart.”
“Didn’t fall apart.” He reminded her. “You don’t do that.” She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He noticed - he seemed uncannily gifted that way - and went on, “You just hit a wall. Happens to all of us sometimes.”
“I doubt very seriously it would happen to you.”
“Just proves you don’t know me like you think you do.” He sighed, then rubbed a hand across his eyes. “That whole Spike thing? Just another kind of wall, pet. Wanted to feel something that was good, had a couple of other issues goin’ on, and I let it get out of hand for a while. It was a long time ago, but I remember it. Hell, everybody remembers it. You weren’t even around then, and you remember it.”
She winced. “So you think I’ve got some serious problems going on.”
“No. But I think you could, if you don’t remember that you’re just as important as the rest of the world.” He took a deep breath. “Elizabeth, do you really not want to try with me, or do you just not want to go through it falling apart?”
She sighed, “See, even you know it’ll fall apart.”
“I don’t know anything of the sort.” He said it very quietly, then stood up and crossed until he sitting beside her on the couch. She began to get uncomfortable. It was nice, when he was safely on the other side of the room. Now it was too much, too close.
An arm wrapped around her shoulder, and she was pulled closer until her head was resting against his chest.
“Just this. Easier to talk this way, yeah?”
And it was. She told him about her mother. About all the friends she’d had in high school who disappeared when her mother died and she had to grow up overnight. About the almost friendship she’d managed to form with Rosenburg but couldn’t seem to really feel, no matter how much she genuinely liked the other woman. How she hadn’t talked about her mother with anyone since the funeral. She told him about her father who disappeared when she was twelve and returned only long enough to make a hard time harder before fading into the woodwork again.
She talked, and he listened, and he even told her a thing or two about growing up in England until he was fifteen and had been sent to live with a distant cousin after his mum died. She found out he’d been married, which she'd never heard before, but not much else other his wife had died years ago. He said he was too young to try marriage anyway, but she could tell by the way he hedged around the subject and kept turning the conversation back to her that it still hurt him to talk about it.
They talked until his alarm went off, and she went to shower while he drove to his place and dressed before heading back to pick her up.