Free to Love: A Second Chance Romance

by Cabe Sparrow

  "Come in," Watson called out instinctively, her anger cooled when Ng stuck his head into the room. His glance danced between the two detectives.

  "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got a case."

  His words were music to her ears, granting her the escape she needed. Watson stood up right away, accepted the folder Ng gave her, as he tried very hard not to smirk at his boss's eagerness to get on the case.

  After Watson perused the file and gave him directions to round up the team in the bullpen for a debriefing in five minutes, he nodded and slipped away, thinking he didn’t want to be in the middle of the rest of that conversation.

  "We'll pick this up later?" Harper stood up and looked at her rather hopefully, and despite the anxiety Watson felt, she knew she had to make a decision now, consequences be damned.

  "I don't think that will be a good idea." She said softly and Harper immediately narrowed his eyes at her, a brief flash of hurt crossing his features.

  "Natalie."

  "I think from now on our conversations should be strictly limited to anything work-related, everything else, any concerns you have, you could go to my superiors."

  She was probably as shocked as Harper is that she even uttered those words, but it seemed to have the desired effect. The older detective straightened up, looks directly at her and nodded, then he wished her good luck and walked out of her office.

  For a moment, Watson felt at a loss, defeated, and mad at herself for being so harsh. At the same time, she was angrier at her older mentor for not having faith in her. Isn't her current position enough proof that she was a competent police officer?

  Apparently not, she thought with a bitterness that was new and unwanted. Watson knew she had a job to do and she began gathering her things, clipping her badge to her belt, and making sure her sidearm was secure.

  Her mind was in disarray, she could't quite comprehend what had just happened, what her motivation was for practically severing ties with one of her oldest colleagues and friends. She sat down for a moment, trying to gather her wits before facing her team, but got the unusual feeling that she was being watched. Watson looked up then to find a pair of concerned sea-colored eyes looking at her through her open office door and she didn’t look away.

  Turner gave her a small, discreet smile, aware that they have an office full of people separating them. That small gesture, just his little way of letting her know that he understood the unpleasant interaction she just had, made all her trepidation disappear.

  Unlike Harper, who looked at her with thinly veiled doubt, she saw admiration in Turner's eyes, a look of respect and confidence that had nothing to do with their life outside PPB walls. A look that has been there since the first case they worked together.

  She returned his smile and walked into the bullpen, realizing that all the respect she needed and wanted is that of her team and the incorrigible advisor who stood firmly behind her. A protective force that reminded her that above all else, inside this building, she was Senior Detective Natalie Watson and who she was at home, with him, was no reason for anyone to undermine her.

  Chapter 16

  Eric had learned so much about the team he worked with over the last couple of years. He knew their habits, their quirks, and could anitipate their behavior with sharp accuracy.

  For instance, he didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Cranston was currently slumped at her desk, releasing heavy sighs, as she tapped her pencil against the edge of the computer monitor, chin resting on her elbow as she swiveled from side to side on her chair.

  Turner also didn’t need to look at the rest of the analysts in the room to know that Barnes was playing with a Rubix cube and Ng was in the middle of a particularly intense scene in one of his science fiction novels, judging by the way he flipped each page with more fervor than the last.

  Sight was a powerful sense, but Turner had found that hearing was an invaluable skill. It's also quite cumbersome that his was so keen, because it not only alerted him to the frequent movement in the bullpen, but also reminded him of the lack of sound coming from Watson's office.

  He tried to distract himself by focusing on the activity around him, but his ears still strained to hear something from behind her door, anything to give him a sense of what's going on inside. Still, he heard nothing, nothing that would indicate that a heated argument was taking place.

  Though his rational side told him that it meant nothing, his irrational, unruly side told him to worry. It gave him an unwelcomed feeling of tightness in his stomach that he wasn't sure how to handle. Eric Turner didn’t get nervous, he didn’t worry. He was confident, perhaps to the point of arrogance, charming to the point of frustration, but never insecure, and never uncertain about an outcome.

  He definitely didn’t spend his time wondering if somehow, while he was lounging here on the couch and seemingly without a care in the world, behind a closed door, Sam Harper was slowly but surely breaking down Watson's defenses and taking her away from Turner. The ache that accompanied that thought was overwhelming. It threatened to consume him, destroy him faster than any vengeance he could or does feel for this faceless beast who tortured and killed his family, destroyed his world six years ago.

  It occurred to him in a split second that if Harper succeeded, if he somehow persuaded Watson to sever personal ties with him, Turner wasn't sure how he would manage to survive that. He had channeled all his hurt over the loss of his family into justified revenge, a path of retribution to be achieved by any means possible. That was the Red River Killer. That was a cold blooded killer with an agenda and a sadistic appetite for suffering.

  Even if he could rationalize his dislike for Harper, he could never hate him, could never channel the hurt from losing Watson to a hatred of Harper, because in the deepest crevice of his mind, in that part of him he hadn't dare explore yet, Turner knows Harper is right. He's right that in being with him, Watson ran the risk of losing her credibility and of getting hurt, because like an unspoken weight between them, the issue of Red River Killer still lingers, reminding Turner that they're still on opposite sides of this moral battle.

  That particular thought sent goosebumps down his spine, a coil tightening around his heart as he thought about the outcome of actually catching Red River Killer. He thought about it for months, ruminated on this very issue from the very first kiss they shared, but he could't bring himself to think about the 'after'.

  The fear that he could lose someone he cared for so much in the process of avenging the death of his loved ones had the power to destroy all his best-laid plans. Turner was somewhat grateful when Cranston accidentally dropped her pencil, because the sound unintentionally tore him away from his thoughts.

  He sat up, eyes open and sight clear. The day was bright and it was a welcomed relief that despite the darkness of his mind, the rest of the world seems untouched by his anxiety, by the torturous games his psyche played on him from time to time. His eyes only briefly fell on Watson's office, his ears straining to hear something again. Silence.

  His shoulders slumped just a little, but he quickly recovered, smile plastered on his face like he was going into battle, while constantly telling himself that he shouldn't expect anything. After all, Harper and Watson are the two most calm and polite people in this building so it's no wonder that whatever showdown they're having in there, it would be handled with as much discretion as possible.

  The thought actually perked him up considerably and he sidled into the break room, set on making himself a cup of tea. Cranston was already in there before him and offered to put the kettle on for him. Turner nodded wordlessly and watched her, detecting her slightly deflated posture and the crease in her forehead.

  Considering that it was close to the holidays and their workload had dramatically increased, if Turner had seen any other officer in this way, the sight would not be unusual, even so early in the morning. However, if there was one thing he learned about the analyst in front of him it was that even if she was tired she
would never show it. If she was having problems in her personal life she'd never let them creep into her workplace.

  When she finally handed him his cup of boiled water, not trusting herself with dunking the tea bag just right, Turner decided to probe, if only to distract himself from his own anxiety. "Everything alright, Grace?" He asked softly, but it still caught her off guard.

  She looked up at him, eyes a bit wide, no doubt uncomfortable with the idea of Turner knowing anything about her moods. Regardless, he gave her a megawatt smile and slowly, she softened under his gaze.

  "Oh, I'm fine, Turner. Thanks for asking though." She poured herself a cup of coffee from the percolator and added the perfect amount of cream. Her back was suddenly a bit straighter and her frown was less noticeable, as if she detected why Turner realized she was upset.

  "You know," Turner took the opportunity to slide closer to her, "just because you've corrected your posture and minimized the look of anguish on your face does not mean I believe you." He took a tentative sip of tea and watched Cranston narrow her eyes at him suspiciously, the slight blush rising on her cheeks was an amusing sight to the advisor.

  Sometimes, he found that getting a rise out of the younger analyst was far more entertaining than annoying Watson, if not for any other reason than that the rookie still hadn't gotten used to his snooping. At times, it almost felt like Watson played up her part, already expecting his teasing and constant determination to make her blush, whereas Cranston still seemed genuinely shocked when he identified things about her that others would seemingly pass by or ignore.

  "You're going to have to try harder. Or you could tell me what's on your mind. I could be quite the ear piece."

  His lighthearted tone and strategically placed grin didn't fool Cranston, as she rolled her eyes and moved away, actually walking out into the bullpen with a smile on her face. Turner trailed behind her, determined to weasel the information out of her. For all her skittishness, Cranston didn't seem too disturbed when she saw him perched on the edge of the desk in front of her.

  Her annoyed sigh and slight frown didn't deter him, if anything they encouraged him and he hummed playfully, sipped his tea and watched her, waiting for a response.

  "Okay." She exhaled loudly and set her mug to the side, "Do you really want to know?"

  Turner nodded enthusiastically, "I wouldn't have asked."

  Cranston actually smirked, taking a leisurely sip of coffee, "Yeah, right. You're probably just bored."

  Turner pretended to be offended, but shrugged shortly after. “

  So what if I am? I still care. I think of you as a reminder of my youthful days and you don't seem as bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual today, hence I'm concerned."

  Cranston raised an eyebrow at him, but the speech earned him a cautious smile, "alright, 'grandpa' Turner-..."

  "Hey, I'm not that old." He interrupted, but Cranston just rolled her eyes, slightly more alert now that she had gotten a rise out of the advisor, instead of the other way around.

  "What ever you say," She replied, but Turner didn’t relent.

  "Are you going to tell me or not?"

  "Fine, fine." Cranston sighed again, as if reminded of what put her in such a sour mood this morning. "Promise you won't laugh?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Barnes had stopped paying attention to his Rubix cube and was watching the pair with a slightly suspicious eye, his face unconsciously lit up whenever Grace spoke. The observation distracted him for a moment, but he returned his attention to Cranston, and nodded in agreement.

  "Okay, well my parents called early this morning. Apparently all airports within 50 miles of their town are snowed in; all the flights are either canceled or delayed, which means I probably won't be able to make it home for Thanksgiving and it'll be the first time I'm spending the holiday without my family."

  Turner was momentarily speechless, a stab of something, some emotion he hadn't felt in a long time nicking his chest unexpectedly. He felt genuine concern for Grace now, sorry that he tried to make light of the situation when she had a legitimate reason to be upset. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn't spend the holidays alone, but that standard shouldn't transfer over to Cranston, especially when he saw the disappointment swimming in her eyes.

  She mistook his silence for something else entirely and rolled her eyes, trying desperately to keep composure, mumbling something under her breath about being foolish for telling him. Turner snapped out of his daydream just as Cranston moved away from him, and he placed his hand on her shoulder.

  "Hey, I'm actually really sorry. Holidays are an important time to be with family and believe it or not, I could understand how upsetting this must be for you, Grace."

  He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as Cranston looked up at him with kind, emotional eyes. She's sad but smiling, almost appreciative of his words but before she could say anything, Barnes popped up beside Turner, having overheard the conversation. His eyes locked with hers and Turner felt like he was almost intruding on a private moment between the two but his natural curiosity and lack of anything to do kept him in place.

  "That’s rough." Barnes agreed, hand twitching at his side to comfort Grace properly, but restraining himself under Turner's prying eye, "if it's any consolation, my mom decided to spend Thanksgiving with her boyfriend's family in Wichita, so I'm alond for Turkey Day too."

  Turner really wasn't sure if it was Barnes' presence or his commiseration that perked Cranston up but when her smile finally reached her eyes, and it seemed that things were on the upswing. He was about to slip away when Ng spoke from behind his paperback, "At least your dad didn't abandon you for a singles' cruise like my mine did."

  Ng's monotone voice and position behind his book don't change, which added to the humor of the situation. Cranston could't possibly stifle the giggle that escaped her mouth, even as she tried to conceal it with her hand, "Well even older people need excitement in their lives, right Turner?" The teasing only amplified the humor and even Ng could't help the smile forming on his lips after Cranston's jab. Her laughter was infectious, because soon Barnes was chuckling and Turner found himself grinning widely.

  The atmosphere became so light-hearted, Turner almost forgot about what was going on in Watson's office, but was quickly reminded when the fax machine beeped and Ng, being the closest to it, retrieved the protruding document.

  He surveyed it quickly, but it was obvious even before he looked up at the remaining team that they just got a case. Almost immediately, he was on his feet and headed to Watson's office, reminding Turner that unlike himself, Ng not only wasn't very aware of the importance of the conversation going on inside, but also had a legitimate reason to interrupt it. Above all else, they were both certain Watson would drop everything for a case, even the dreaded confrontation with her mentor.

  Turner watches as Cranston prepare to leave her desk and Barnes returned to his to collect his badge and gun, but all that seemed irrelevant as his eyes trained on the door of Watson's office. It seemed like hours later, but Ng walked out, announcing a debriefing in five minutes and Turner panicked for a moment when he realized that no one else followed Ng out.

  However, the door remained open and he didn’t even know he was holding his breath until Harper walked out and the frown on his face, told Turner everything he needed to know. The older detective looked defeated, and although Turner felt like a complete asshole for reveling in Harper's dejection, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. It was obvoius now that whatever Harper planned did not succeed, which could only mean one thing.

  Suddenly a pair of soft, green eyes were on him and he couldn't frown if he tried.

  She looks tired and drained, but there was an air of calm around her, as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders and Turner couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

  They were standing mere feet apart, a room full of people separating them, but the energy between them, that crackling electricity was unmi
stakable and he knew she felt it too. As she walked into the bullpen, a smile of returned confidence on her face, a sense of relief washed over him. It was a sensation so prevailing that Turner shut his eyes for a moment. He was not naive, knew happy endings were reserved for fairy tales and fantasy worlds, but there was also a sense of triumph he could not shake.

  She was still here, still that powerful force, who obviously saw something to salvage inside of him.

  Although Turner still considered himself beyond repair, he could not deny that if they had overcome Harper, a hurdle that threatened their stability, he had hope that maybe the ultimate test, the completion of his master plan, might not be as devastating to their bond as he originally thought.

  As the day progressed, Watson felt the enormity of her conversation with Harper sink in more fully as each hour went by. The reassurance that all she needed was the confidence and respect of her team wavered as the clock ticked by and the case became more and more complicated. Then, when things could not get any worse, she received an unexpected phone call that put her in such a foul mood, she skipped lunch and locked herself in her office, head on her desk, mentally berating herself for running out of aspirin.

  Her brother was apologetic as he explained his predicament, and of course she understood, but still, she was left feeling bereft and vulnerable. She was hoping to speak to him, seek his support on the matter when she saw him in a days' time, but now that wouldn't be possible and she didn’t feel like communicating her insecurities over the phone.

  She hung up with him and gave herself a few minutes to sulk, knowing that if her team didn’t notice her less than spirited attitude, Turner surely would and that was a conversation she'd prefer to save for later. However, when she heard a knock on her door, a very light, barely audible sound, she knew her self-imposed isolation would not last and murmured, "come in," hoping it was anyone but Eric.