by Tara Wimble
“Hope!” Janice dodges the people flooding in the corridor. “Hope!”
They haven’t spoken since the awards night, haven’t seen each other since Hope’s eyes bore into hers over Lexie’s anger, but weaving through the mass of people in uniform Janice doesn’t hesitate for a second when she reaches out for Hope. Hope who has blood on her hands. Hope whose face is blank and shaking like she’s trying to stop herself from falling apart in front of everyone here.
“Holy shit. H-What’s going on?” Janice whispers.
Forget it all, she begs, forget it all just for a moment.
“Vianne. It’s Vianne.” Hope utters, her voice is lower than usual, much lower. “She’s-”
Hope is hollow. There’s blood on her face, under her eyes, where Hope has swiped her hand.
“No.” The words are knocked out of her. “Hope, I’m so sorry.”
Chapter 13
She knows she shouldn’t because there’s still a storm raging between them. When Janice looks at Hope, past the blood and the shock, she still feels angry. She still sees the woman at the bar with her ex-husband. Maybe one day she’ll look past that again and see Hope, burning orange and the smell of saltwater but not yet.
Except now she’s sitting on hard plastic hospital seats, tucked in Hope’s large police jacket, holding her hand and watching it turn white from the grip Hope has on it. One of the rookies that she was introduced to at the benefit, Uma, is on her other side. They were first to the scene.
Hope hasn’t said much so what she’s gathered from what happened has come from the whispers of the other officers. Something about this being Hope and Vianne’s new route, taking them into the more dangerous parts of L.A. The kind that involves a higher level of gun crimes.
Someone pointed a gun at them both. Someone made the decision to end someone’s life. Not maybe end it or try to, they pulled out a gun with the intent to shoot someone down. It could have been Hope. It could have been anyone.
But they shot Vianne.
It’s all shockingly real. It’s not that she’s blind to Hope’s job. But before it was a novelty. Her tragic back story in the department was something fit for the movies and it kept her out of harm’s way after Ian Rollins made it his mission to make her unpromotable.
Now Hope is back in the thick of it thanks to her Captain and a shiny new medal. She’s back in harm’s way and now she has another partner in the hospital to show for it.
They haven’t been in there long enough for the doctors to come out to tell them more than they already know; that Vianne was shot in the side and in the knee after Hope pushed her out of the way.
Hope had insisted that Vianne had saved her first. “You should go home.” The silence is broken between them and Janice is taken aback by it so much that it’s Uma who nudges her when she doesn’t respond.
“I’m good.” Janice says. A doctor strides around the corner as if she’s trying to find someone, but passes them by. Hope let’s go of her hand.
“No. You should.” Hope rubs the heel of her hand into her nose before shaking her head and exhaling. Janice can see that the blood in her ear is starting to dry. “I can’t do this right now. This.” She looks at their hands. “I know you want to and believe me- I do but this is Vianne.”
The rejection stings. All she wants to do is sit here with Hope until someone comes to them with news and forget everything that’s passed between them. It doesn’t matter looking at it through the crimson blur. Yet it does matter.
But Hope is right. This is about Vianne. “It’s not fair for you to be here.”
Janice doesn’t need to look over her shoulder to the small army of officers that are there to support Vianne and Hope. Hope doesn’t need her right now. She doesn’t need the added pressure she brings. She’s right. It’s not fair to either of them.
“Okay.” Still she can’t meet the solid gaze Hope gives her. Her heart is beating double time and it’s not because someone’s been shot. “Just, can you let me know she’s okay?”
Hope hears the subtle plea of ‘let me know that you’re okay’ and nods. “Yeah, I will.”
Hope stands when she stands and Janice passes her jacket back. When she’s straightened out, Janice can see blotches of blood against her skin and she instinctually grabs at the front of Hope’s shirt.
“I’m okay. I promise.” Hope reassures.
Janice lets go of where she’s grabbed the front of Hope’s shirt. Her unconscious action leaves creases as the only mark of her concern. Hope touches the top of her head and when she closes her eyes she remembers the first time they spoke to each other, and the echo of Lexie’s laugh in the background.
Hope waves forward another officer. “Uma’s gonna drive you home.”
Janice grits her teeth as Uma places a hand on her shoulder. Before she’s turned away and out of the corridor she finally looks up. “You should call her girlfriend.”
Hope blinks.
Janice accepts Uma’s guiding touch back in the direction of Laurel and the emergency room. “She’ll want to come home.”
***
SHE waits until Janice has gone and then waits five more minutes.
Megan tries to follow her when she gets up but she quickly waves her off and sets off to find the free attendant that walked by. There was no doubt that Hope was who she was looking for.
The doctor, a woman just a little older than Hope, has an intern with her who buzzes around Hope the minute she limps up. They have her in a gown and lying back on a table within a few minutes.
She shakes with the tears she’s trying to hold in as they fish out the bullet that lodged itself in her upper thigh. The one that capped her to the floor and the one that Vianne reacted to by stepping in front of the next one.
“You’re quite lucky that this didn’t have much behind it. We’ve just had someone come in looking a lot worse.” The intern that’s responsible for patching her up runs her mouth stupidly and Hope grinds her jaw until her superior, who’s on hand to watch and help, coughs.
“That would be Officer Sorenson’s partner.” With that comment, she’s done. The surgeon dismisses the intern and takes over, sighing as she does so. “I apologise for that.”
Hope bites back her tears. “It’s fine.”
Dr McLeod’s hands are steadier and Hope feels physically better once the wound is dressed well enough for her to limp back to her brothers and sisters in blue. By the time she arrives, Uma is back as well and she takes her place once again in the waiting room. She itches at the dry blood by her ear but other than that she sits still and readies herself to wait until there’s a sign of Vianne and the thought of Janice’s concern is pushed to the far corner of her mind.
***
HER sister is sworn to a secrecy that she doesn’t agree with. The shock was what riled her and the guilt Lexie carries for lying to her about Robin is what had them talking for three hours in Jeri’s car before her sister drove back home in silence.
In those four hours, Robin apparently confronted Janice and now she doesn’t know where any of them stand. Or where any of them are. Since then she’s been pouring over practice scenarios for the qualification tests that the Bike Shop is putting her through so that she can be officially certified. But her mind is elsewhere.
“Hey-” Lexie looks up from the work she’s not really doing to her roommate. “-Sorry it’s just this is the first time I’ve seen you in a while and- I don’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not.”
Rhetta has her bag slung over her shoulder and Lexie can see the bulky camera in it. Their room has slowly changed in the past few weeks, with Rhetta’s posters being replaced for less pink and less sparkle and more Chicago Blackhawks than Lexie noticed before. She’s mellowed out.
“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I overheard and I know that falling out with friends can suck so-” She teeters on her heels, like she’s steeling herself up for rejection already. “I’m meeting up with
a few girls from my course for dinner and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”
“Thanks but I don’t want to get in the middle-”
“You won’t. I promise.” Rhetta reassures her quickly. “It’s just a couple of us headed over to The Darkroom for food and drinks, for those of us who are totally over 21.”
It’s cheesy and probably motivated by pity but Lexie bites. “The Darkroom? Isn’t that across campus?”
Rhetta beams. “You’re not the only one with a bike.”
What else is there here for her? An evening alone for her to stew over her sister’s voice as she promised that she wouldn’t say a thing to their parents? The fear on Robin’s face? The bubbling anger in when she pictures Janice? She might not be particularly close to her roommate but there’s no one else here offering her a branch.
“Sure.” Lexie puts on a laugh. “Alright, let’s go. Don’t want to make a bad impression on your friends.”
The Darkroom is definitely what it implies. It’s hazy inside and Lexie’s eyes feel heavy the moment they step in. It’s a nice feeling though, like her senses are being dulled from everything that’s going on in her life. A feeling that is amplified when Rhetta introduces her to her circle of friends.
Lexie recognizes Alaine from the videos. Rhetta edits a lot of them on her own and Lexie is accustomed to looking over her shoulder to see that face on the screen. Then there’s Lori and Taryn, Taylor and Adrianna. Lexie is a little thrown off when Rhetta introduces one of her TA’s Inka as well and the accent that comes out is a German one.
Hanging out with them is the most relaxed she’s felt in a while. The Darkroom embraces her, shrugging off the problems on her shoulder, even if it’s only for a night and Lexie finds herself actually laughing along with how Rhetta’s friends tease her relentlessly.
It’s only when her phone buzzes that she gets an ache of missing her own friends.
“Who’s that?” Rhetta asks.
Lexie taps back a response. “Robin. She’s coming to find me.”
Rhetta leans back to Alaine, up in her personal space. “Le girlfriend.” She clarifies.
Robin doesn’t say much about where she’s been or Janice or anything. Just that she wants to find Lexie.
Rhetta makes all the right motions to deflect her own teasing onto Lexie. Her friends play along with it before turning it back on her head and Lexie watches, almost jealously, at how effortlessly they all interact.
Robin arrives eventually to the Darkroom and Lexie sees her zone in on her as she walks to the table where she’s hanging out with Rhetta and her friends. She’s wrapped herself in a zip hoodie and tallies it off with short denim shorts that seem out of place in the bar. Lexie softens at the sight of her.
She doesn’t delay her reason for coming, pressing a kiss to the top of Lexie’s head and before Lexie can even introduce her, she’s planning their departure.
“You wanna stay or come with me?”
It’s not a choice really. There’s a few joking wolf whistles to let her know that they’re okay with her leaving before Lexie puts her coat on. Rhetta’s been sneaking Alaine’s drinks all night so that she’s tipsy enough to hug Lexie on the way out. Lexie thanks her because this is what she needed, even if she didn’t know it.
Robin waits patiently until their outside and unlocking their bikes.
“So where are we going?”
She doesn’t say where or why. She just asks her to close her eyes and not flinch while Robin’s thumbs paint across her cheeks.
When she opens her eyes she sees what Robin has done to her own face, and mirrored on Lexie’s own.
It’s cold and it’s neon, Robin laughs under her breath and tells her orange isn’t her color. Janice’s hair flashes through her mind and she wants to cry in frustration but Robin kisses her over the handlebars of her bike. .
“A neon party? Robin, I don’t-” It’s at some off campus park or house or something and Robin promises the world and more in it. Like paint will color away the cloud of problems she’s wading in.
“You do. You do for me and I promise you’ll feel nothing tomorrow.” Robin pulls her by the waist. “Nothing but me.”
Robin promises an incredible feat. Her sister’s face haunts her and Lexie can’t even think about Janice. It’s not even anger, it’s the inability to understand how this has all gotten so out of hand now.
“Okay.” Lexie resigns. “You win.”
Robin leans forward on Lexie’s bike, covering her hands then covering her lips. It won’t be the last time that night either and bit by bit Robin delivers her the world.
***
SHE plays with one of the petals of the flowers in her hands. It’s weak and rolls between her fingers. The white becomes stained with lead as the pencil marks from her nights of drawing haven’t faded even though she’s washing her hands so many times since arriving.
You have to be clean in a hospital.
“How’re you doing?”
Sara looks up to the doorway and Hope stands there with more flowers. Blue. The question she finds is directed to her, which she bitterly reminds herself that it would be, since the only other person in the room is unconscious. “I’m okay.”
It’s a punishing lie. One that she keeps telling herself. Hope can see right through it.
Hope carefully lays down the flowers that Uma asked her to bring with her. The paper around them makes a noise but there’s no chance of it waking Vianne up. “You don’t look it.”
Sara gives a short, quiet laugh. It sounds like a dry sob. “You’re the first person to tell me that.”
Her eyes are red and blotchy. Her usually clear skin is covered in dried tears and even some faint scratches where Sara has probably dug her nails in frustration and hurt. She’s a mess, dressed in mismatched clothes and a large jumper that she probably threw on at some point during the time she changed flights. Hope’s not even sure she brought luggage with her. Her passport is just laying on the bedside table.
“I think I’d be more worried if you did.” Hope settles on the chair opposite from Sara. They look at Vianne sleeping and fall into a silence. The monitors beep and drip and tell them nothing.
But she survived and the surgery was, for all intents, deemed successful. Not that it would have been obvious from the way her leg is strapped down and the pins that stick out of it. They say she’ll need more surgery.
“Ten hour flight, delays, another flight, another six hours. A cab, another when it broke down-” Sara murmurs, her voice filled with tears she hasn’t let go of since stepping up to Vianne’s side. “She got shot.”
Hope ducks her head.
Sara tears the petal in her hands. “And I wasn’t here.”
“You can’t do that to yourself.” Hope utters. There’s nothing going on in her chest, the guilt and the hollow pain she feels, that Sara isn’t feeling tenfold.
“What am I supposed to do? Blame you?” Sara’s smile is bitter. “She’s doing this stupid dangerous job in this stupid dangerous part of the country and I’m not even there for her to come home to every night. I’m fucking-”
Sara closes her eyes for a second to bring her voice back down. “I’m in Germany riding buses for three hours a day because I want to design buildings? Fuck that.”
Hope sits in silence listening to Sara vent. She’s probably the first person Sara has been able to talk to in this situation. Vianne speaks sparingly to her parents now, their disapproval of her job has left their relationship icy, and Hope isn’t sure that anyone’s even told Vianne’s brother yet. She didn’t feel it was her place to go against Vianne’s wishes and tell them that they were right, that this job was going to get her killed.
“She thinks that it’s my dream.” Sara reaches over the bed to hold Vianne’s hand. Hope watches how her fingers shake over Vianne’s knuckles. “She used to sit and watch me draw for hours and hours, and I never drew anything for my classes. Just this one thing over and over. The apartment I wanted
-”
She chokes up before she can say it but Hope already knows. Vianne has the drawing taped to the inside of her locker, next to a picture of Sara at Christmas, of the apartment that Sara wants them to move into when she graduates. Hope can see the blissful expression on Vianne’s face whenever she looks at that sketch in her memory. It’s easier to think of that then to hear the sirens sounding and see Vianne turning rapidly white while Hope held her hand and told her that everything was going to be okay.
There’s no telling whether that was a lie or not yet.
“My dream is her.” Sara wipes her top lip, dragging tears over her cheek. “Why is it that it takes moving across the globe or a fucking bullet for me to want to tell her that?”
Hope watches Vianne’s face. The words probably won’t reach her through the medication they’re keeping her on to help with the pain but she knows that Vianne knew that all along. That she wasn’t waiting for Sara to realize it because she knew.
“I wanted to thank you as well.” Sara interrupts her thoughts. “For what you did. For what you always do.”
Hope stiffens in her seat with the words ‘she still got shot’ on the tip of her tongue.
Sara shrugs but she’s not shrugging away the reality of it all. Vianne’s knee may never recover from the damage. She might not be able to walk properly ever again. “You always have her back.”
Sara’s hands are red. Her knuckles should be white from the grip she has on the side of the bed but they’re an ugly crimson and black. A mixture of charcoal and paint but all Hope sees is blood.
“I didn’t have it.”
She didn’t have it the moment she stepped out of that car and knew she was stepping into a gun fight. It’s her fault whether no one says it or not because Vianne was the quicker one. The one who saw what was coming and decided that she was going to be the hero this time.
The shot. Hope flinches visibly. She can hear Sara saying something else but the cracking noise whips against her face and a sharp pain goes through her ear.
They weren’t close enough to get Vianne’s knee with the first one. The doctor’s say that her vest took the hit of the bullet to her ribs but on falling, and on Hope reacting to push her behind the car, they caught her knee - closer - with the second one.
