by Cabe Sparrow
It unnerved her how calm he looked, hands resting on his stomach as he looked at the ceiling, as if he was back in the bullpen on his couch instead of a holding cell.
At least he got his own cell.
She could't even imagine the damage he would cause psychoanalyzing a bunch of criminals awaiting bail. He seemed so unperturbed that it made her more upset than angry. She absolutely despised moments when she felt like she could't reach him. It was no surprise that it was usually something that had to do with Red River Killer.
Her resolve weakened slightly and she looked at him for a moment, "Seriously Eric, what were you thinking? You are off the case, we are off the case, you could't just do what you did."
"Yes I could." He countered, eyes still trained on the ceiling, because he knew if he looked at her, his facade would crack and he'd end up more broken and vulnerable than to begin with. She shouldn't have forgotten that he made his family a promise, which he intended to keep by whatever means possible. Even if that meant spying on Harper and his team while they did a shit job of following leads.
"Why? Why could you? Why do you think you're such a goddamn exception?" Her voice was rising, but he still didn’t dare look at her.
He could sense the tension in her every move and look even from this far away, could feel the reverberation of her angry words bouncing off the walls of the cell. Still he didn’t move, didn't say a single word. It seemed futile to argue his point by now.
He knew that if he did look at her and see how much distress he caused her, he might actually feel sorry for what he did. That was something he could not face, because it would mean he felt guilt for doing something he'd always planned to do.
He had only one goal and it was catching Red River Killer. She should know that by now. She must know that he cared for her, but that this had to come first.
"You not only made a fool of yourself, Turner." She sounded different now, less hurt in her voice, more of that hardened tone she used with suspects, "You also made a joke out of my team and me. You embarrassed me in front of Harper and his unit, so thank you for showing me where your loyalties truly lie."
There was silence and he thought she might leave, but when he let himself look in her direction, she was still there, her gaze trained on him, trying to conceal hurt.
"You're a good agent, Natalie. My actions do not reflect on you, but if they did, I don't really understand why Harper's opinion of you would matter. Unless of course, there's some of that residual unrequited love left over from your days as his apprentice."
Each word felt like a stab to the chest.
She could tell he knew he was deliberately saying untrue things to hurt her, to make her go away, and as much as she didn’t want to give in to his demands, he was making it abundantly clear that he would handle all this himself.
Despite her desire to tell him he was being an idiot, everything about his false tranquility frustrated her to the point that she no longer wanted to fight him. If he wanted to rot in this cell until Harper saw fit to release him, then he could.
"Harper's opinion is not what matters to me and you know it." She replied curtly, a last ditch effort to break through.
"Maybe, maybe not." Turner countered, suddenly sitting up and stretching slightly.
His flippant attitude made Watson want to smack him, or at least wipe that smirk off his face. “But, you could't say I didn't warn you."
"Warn me about what? That while I was testifying in court, you would grab the first opportunity you could to break into Harper's office and try to make copies of the files he had on Red River Killer, is that what you warned me about?"
"No, but this is a mere stepping stone for me. You know, you have always known that I'll to stop at nothing to find him. The Red River Killer is mine." Usually, his eyes invoked a sense of comfort, but now the icy blue stare just sent unpleasant goosebumps down her bare arms.
A small, regretful smile stretched her dry lips, "Well, then I definitely won't stand in your way, but you should get comfortable where you are, because if you are successful I will arrest you for murder. I won't hesitate."
Her eyes were ablaze; her voice is bitter and detached. She put on such a convincing act, Turner almost believed her. Actually, he did believe her.
He knew that while it might destroy her, she would arrest him if he got what he wanted. He sighed, pressing his knuckles against the bench he was sitting on.
"Rules are rules, Watson. You live by them and I break them. "
"Yeah, almost as good as you break trust." With one lingering look, she was gone.
A few minutes of silence went by and then he was lying on his back again, staring at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night.
Her nerves were still on edge and her hands a bit unsteady when she walked into PPB headquarters. She knew she should go home, but she had one stop to make.
She charged past her team, all three of whom including Ng, watched her with wide eyes as she glided past them, knowing which door she was about to knock on and expecting the mother of all confrontations.
The older detective opened the door as if he had been expecting her, "Watson."
"Harper, a few words?"
He stepped aside so she could walk in then closed the door.
The bald man opened his mouth, ready to defend his actions, but she just waved him off, "You did the right thing, Sam."
He raised his eyebrows instinctively, but then softened, obviously not expecting her to concede so quickly.
It annoyed her; because the man who taught her nearly everything she knew about honest police work should have more faith in her rationality. Instead of being angry at Turner for making her look bad, she hated that Harper still could't look at her like an equal.
"I'd just come back from interviewing a potential witness and found Turner in my office, all my files on Red River Killer neatly stacked on the desk. I had to do something."
It was amusing to see someone of Harper's stature and intellect resolve to excuses to defend his actions. "Yeah, you could have called me though."
“Why?”
"Because, Sam. Turner is a member of my team; I should have found out you arrested him from you, not Cranston. I think you owe me that much respect." She crossed her arms and leaned against his desk.
"This is not about respect, Natalie. When are you going to realize that Turner is not a part of your team? At least he doesn’t think so. What kind of respect is he showing you if the first chance he gets, he satisfies his self-interest. He wasn't thinking about you when he was here, why are you thinking about him now?"
She isn't sure what hurts more. The fact that what he's saying makes perfect sense or that even Harper could tell what's going on.
"Don't make this personal, Sam." Natalie spoke defensively, but the older man just sighed, as if he was as tired as she was.
"Don't make this personal? My god, Natalie you make this personal every time you bail that fraud out of trouble. Can’t you see that he cares nothing for protocol or rules?"
She knows what Harper's really saying is "can't you see that he doesn’t care about you?" But she's had enough.
"I've heard it all before, Sam. Trust me. This isn't about Turner though. This is about the lack of respect I got from you, what does that say about you as a professional?"
"Don't bring me into this, if you want to discuss secrecy, tell me why I should have notified you when you didn't even bother letting me in on your plan to out your psychiatrist." Her mouth drops, she almost wanted to laugh. It was ridiculous really, the sheer amount of male egos she was surrounded by.
"So is this some sort of payback?" She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but Harper remained cool, probably from years of stone-faced interrogations. "No, and I don't like that you think of me as petulant."
"Oh please, you could't deny it gave you overwhelming joy to cuff Turner and here you are riding on your high horse. This is just a battle driven by ego and testosterone. You could have han
dled it differently. You could have called me, could have notified Rodrigues, but you didn't, so please don't tell me Turner is the only one on a personal witch hunt alright?" Seeing the shocked look on her former mentor's face, she felt her heart beat faster then ever before.
Over the years, Harper and she had a turbulent relationship, but an all out confrontation, laced with so many unsaid things was a first for them. While he stood with his mouth opening and closing, searching for a response, Watson felt the weight of everything that's happened begin to sink in. She knew that if she didn’t get out of there, she might actually break down.
"I have to go." She said in a small voice, so different from the preaching declaration from moments before.
"Natalie, I -" Harper reached out to place his hand on her shoulder, but Watson shook it off.
"Save it, I’ll see you tomorrow."
She left his office, walking right past the bullpen, not even noticing her team's poor attempts at pretending not to eavesdrop as she pushed back all thoughts of Turner alone in a prison cell.
"Did you escape?" She asked as soon as she flung open the door.
Turner could tell by the expression on her face that if he didn’t play his cards right, he might not even make it inside the apartment.
"What? Watson, you wound me." He replied, placing his hand on his chest as he leans against her doorframe. Damn him and his sexy smirk.
"I'm serious, Turner. If you escaped, I refuse to be an accessory; I'm not hiding you from Harper." She quipped back, arms crossed over her chest. That's when he noticed her shirt was half unbuttoned and there was a color in her cheeks. He frowned immediately.
"You're either trying to throw off my skills of keen perception or you've got a man upstairs." Turner said, his tone betraying his calm exterior.
Watson looked awestruck by his suggestion, and then seeing the way his eyes darkened, clearly not pleased with the prospect of someone being in her bedroom, laughed openly. Turner raised his eyebrow and slid past her, shutting the door.
"You're a piece of work you know that." She murmured, amused beyond measure. Watson took comfort in the easy way they always seemed to bounce back to their old selves after a disagreement.
"So why are you so flushed, hmm?"
He stared around the room, glaring at his surroundings suspiciously with his hands on his hips, and all she wanted to do is throw her arms around him and tease him mercilessly for typical male behavior.
However, there was still a less full bottle of vodka in her freezer and she still had a nasty dispute with her perfectly rational coworker over Turner's antics. Most importantly, she still felt that tiny, perhaps irrational, twinge of betrayal every time she looked at him. Instead of gratifying his question with an answer, she deflected.
"Are you going to tell me how you got out or are we going to have to wait for the police sirens?"
"I did not escape, dear Watson. I promise."
"Oh c'mon Turner, be serious. Tell me, did you hypnotize Potts into giving you the keys to the cell?"
"No, I considered it, but then one of Harper's cronies came in and released me."
“What?” She wasn’t sure if he was playing some game with her, but she didn’t like it.
"Yeah, I came here to thank you. Whatever you said to Harper worked like a charm." The smile on his face was sincere and grateful, but Watson just stood completely shocked, then her jaw clenched.
"I didn't go talk to him to bail you out; I still think he did the right thing."
"I don't believe that," Turner countered, taking a few steps to approach her. Instinctively, she backed away.
"Believe it. You should have spent the night, learned what it's like."
"Wouldn't have changed anything, I'm not going to stop."
He said it so nonchalantly, she just wanted to scream, rip her hair out, do something to get a rise out of him, make him see just how unnerving it is that he is so calm about this.
"You've made that abundantly clear. Could you go now?"
"I came to say thank you."
“You're not welcome, could you please leave?”
"Do you really want me to go?"
His voice was soft and he walked towards her in a predatory way. His look was anything but hardened and his body inched closer to hers, bringing with it promises of all the things she'd been craving after such a stressful day.
She refused to give in; it was his fault she had been on this emotional rollercoaster.
"It occurred to me while I was a captive man," Turner began when Watson didn’t say anything for a while, "Something good did come out of this whole debacle."
"Oh really? Please enlighten me, because as I see it, you embarrassed the unit and yourself."
"You trust me." He interrupted her rant.
"What?"
Watson looked at him with a confused expression and Turner smiled, closing the space between them and brushed a lock of hair from her face, "You said before you left that I break rules almost as well as I break trust, which means you trust me."
Watson frowned, “trusted."
"I don't believe that." He whispered, already closing the distance between them.
"You should."
She ran her tired hand across her face and in a moment of vulnerability, he felt a stab of guilt for a reason that had nothing to do with his quest for vengeance. For the first time, Turner noticed how exhausted Watson was. Her eyes seemed duller, her shoulders were slumped in defeat.
He knew if he made a few more choice comments she would crumble in his arms simply because she was so tired of holding it all together. Out of respect, he didn’t budge or move to comfort her. He didn’t want to be the reason why she needed a crutch, even though he usually was.
"I could't be sorry for what I did. I've told you over and over again what my plans are, what I intend to do, and for me Harper is just a minor obstacle, easily removed." He didn’t mean to sound so detached and as he speaks, he could feel her falling further away from him.
With every word, she straightened up more and more, and she looked him more directly in the eye, a worthy competitor and not backing down anymore.
"That's the thing with you; you view everyone either as an asset or as a detriment. None of us mean anything to you. The job means absolutely nothing to you and therefore, your disregard for rules comes so easily-..."
"You're wrong, Natalie. You do mean something to me. We both know that."
"No," She shook her head, "no, no we don't. At least I don't. If you cared, even a fraction, you would have talked to me first-..."
"You would've stopped me."
"Hell yea I would, it was stupid what you did. It would never have given you what you needed. You did it because you were desperate, Turner, and it only pushed you further away from your goal." She could see the weight of her words passing through his seemingly impervious facade.
He ran a hand through his curls and this time she wasn’t even distracted by their red hues, in fact his appearance was the last thing on her mind as she watched him struggle with a response. In some ways, it was a personal triumph to see that she had finally gotten some sort of reaction out of him, but the aftermath was heartbreaking.
Getting thrown in jail and threatened with a permanent suspension didn’t faze him, but a few words from her were making him into a nervous wreck. It was nice to see some of the power imbalance shift, but the part of her that ached for him and wanted him to be better hated this, hates that his past keeps getting in the way of their future. "I don't know what you want me to say."
He looked at her and all she could think is broken. He looks broken.
The creases around his eyes were more pronounced than ever and his frown marred the usually playful features of his handsome face.
She wanted nothing more than to hold him, give him comfort, warmth, anything to make him the vibrant man she is used to know. If there's anything Watson had learned over the years is that self preservation goes a long way and as much as
she wanted to give over a piece of herself in order to save him, her instincts kept her rooted to the ground.
"I don't think there's anything left to say."
Their eyes meet and she swallowed hard, because they both know it was not supposed to be this way and yet it was. They stood in her kitchen silent, no longer a supervising detective and her advisor.
They were just two people at the precipice of something extraordinary with an even greater force holding them back...
Chapter 8
Eric Turner was no stranger to sin.
Through the years, he's been guilty of quite a few things, made several poor choices, indulged in far too many forbidden fruits, and now finds himself still reeling from the aftermath. He was quite amused by the fact that whole of human vice could be grouped into seven categories and still retain legitimacy.
He thinks perhaps pride is the one he identified with the most, because from an early age his father taught him to be proud of his perceptive abilities, nurture them, and not think of himself as an average boy. He could see and sense things that others couldn't and with careful practice and time, he could use his skills to promote his own self interests.
Turner wanted to think he rid himself of that arrogant and slightly false belief, but sometimes, when he closed a case and still got a few raised eyebrows in return, he felt the tiniest bit of pride for finally contributing his skills to something important.
By the same token, he was well acquainted with anger, particularly because the only case he wanted to close, the only murderer he wanted to catch, had eluded him for over five years now. Everyday Turner wrestled with anger and guilt for his painful past, for the two loves he lost.
Driven by greed, Turner used his talents to generate wealth, indulged in things he had mistaken for happiness. He had ignored his wife's warnings and his daughter's pleas to spend more time with him.
