Free to Love: A Second Chance Romance

by Cabe Sparrow

  She looked up to meet a pair of inquisitive sea-colored eyes and felt like sinking into her chair, completely unprepared to deal with Turner's probing. He had his game face on, only slightly fractured by the look of genuine worry, which she was certain would not overpower the curiosity he had about her conversation this morning.

  Suddenly, she felt irritated with him and he hadn't even said anything. Watson knew she was being irrational, but that didn’t stop the scowl forming on her face or her hands crossing over her chest in a protective manner.

  "Can I help you?" she asked, tone slightly colder than intended.

  Turner raised his eyebrows, a look of surprise crossed his features and Watson felt only a little guilty for being stern enough to put off her advisor.

  "You know," he began, taking a seat across from her, "You get hangry when you skip lunch, so I suggest you take a break and grab some food."

  "Not hungry," Watson replied curtly, "we've got a case to solve."

  Turner countered her with a narrowed look of his own, but it was not as intimidating to her. He was obviously trying to read her, but Watson didn’t move a muscle, didn’t flinch, hoping he would give up.

  "Right, well you seemed to be doing a whole lot of investigating when I came in."

  The comment, paired with his innocent smile, and shifting glance should have pissed her off even more, but if anything, it reminded her how exhausted she was, how much both her interaction with Sam and the unpleasant phone call had really strained her. Despite her deepest desire to tell Turner off and throw him out, Watson sank deeper in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair.

  Turner seemed to notice the change in her behavior and quickly moved around the desk, leaning against it as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hey," He said gently, fingers tracing over her collarbone just barely, "what's going on? Talk to me."

  The playfulness in his tone was gone, but her stubborn streak was still very much in place and even though it was Turner, she was still a bit wary about opening up, unsure that she could stop at just a brief explanation of what was bothering her.

  "I'm fine, just a crappy day that's all."

  She didn’t look up at him; knowing just one glance into his blues would make her want to start talking and never stop. Yet, the bustle outside her office reminded her that they were in the middle of an investigation and now was definitely not the time to prove Harper right and let her personal life interfere with work.

  Turner seemed to sense that she was no longer annoyed by his presence, but more uncomfortable with it, so he moved his hands off her shoulders, but didn’t move away.

  "If you tell me what's wrong, it won't interfere with the case, maybe it will make you feel better, more focused?"

  His words were tempting and being so close to him, even when he wasn’t touching her was enough to make her want to crawl into his arms, settle herself in his lap like she did sometimes at home when they were watching TV or just lounging on the couch after a tough day at work.

  The distinct ring of a phone somewhere in the bullpen brought her back to the present and she raised her eyebrow at him.

  "More focused? I don't think so. Let's just get back to work."

  She made the move to get up but Turner stopped her, his hold on her arm wasn't stern or painful. Instead it was gentle and Watson found herself looking over her shoulder at him, no longer avoiding his deep blue stare, as it seemed impossible to do so.

  "Tell me what's wrong." He said straightforwardly, and if she wasn't so emotionally drained, she'd laugh at the situation. He always told her how stubborn she was, but in reality, he took the prize for being as persistent, with the current situation being merely one example. "I know it's not just Harper, what happened?"

  For the second time today, Turner found himself inquiring a woman about her mood, but this time there was so much more invested, so much more at stake. He spent all day anxious to speak with her, but knew from the beginning of the case that it wouldn't be a good idea to talk about personal matters with Watson in the middle of an investigation.

  However, when she locked herself in her office, he'd had enough and decided to talk to her anyway. Now, he wasn't leaving until she told him what was wrong and frankly, despite his assertion that Harper was not at the root of the problem, that fear still lurked in the back of his mind. It was entirely possible that despite the disappointed look on the older man’s face earlier this morning, Watson was still contemplating whatever Harper said.

  After all, it's not like Turner knew exactly what they talked about.

  That thought alone sent a jolt of anticipation through his entire being and he almost wanted to shake the answer out of Watson. Instead, he settled for the soothing touch on the inside of her elbow, stroking her skin through the thin material of her shirt.

  Meanwhile, Watson found herself chewing uncharacteristically on her lower lip, torn between telling Turner to go away and telling him everything. He looked so worried, so uneasy, and she realized suddenly that although she knew what happened between her and Sam, Turner didn’t.

  For all he knows, she was trying to find a way to let him know that he was being transferred to another team or worse, Harper was going to Rodrigues and they would have to choose whether his job with the PPB was more important than their relationship.

  The thought that he had been wrestling with all day made her anxious to dispel all his worries, "Don't worry about Sam. You were right as always. He's not going to tell Rodrigues, at least I don't think so." she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping it would alleviate some of the tension in his face, but his look remained the same.

  "You think I came in here to find out what the outcome of your conversation was?" Turner asked, incredulity permeating through his words.

  “Yes? Why else?"

  Turner almost rolled his eyes, his face breaking into a half-amused, half-annoyed smile.

  "God, you could be so dense sometimes. I came in here because I knew something was wrong with you. I already told you Harper wouldn't tell Rodrigues anything, didn't I?"

  His self-assured words didn't sit well with her for some reason. He made everything sound so simple, so black and white, when it really wasn't. If anything, her entire existence was filled with shades of gray and was anything but simple.

  "Yeah, you did." She replied dryly and this time when she slipped away from him, he didn’t stop her. He only watched as she moved to the chess set on the table, fingering the pieces on the board absentmindedly.

  Silence fell heavily on them, Turner found himself at a loss for words, unsure of what to say. It felt like they created unnecessary tension between eachother and he was not certain how to fix it. For the first time since he got himself arrested, they were arguing about something personal, not even really arguing as the most important things were left unsaid.

  He remembered the complete feeling of dread and loneliness that engulfed him for those few weeks before he showed up on her doorstep after her date and although there was no immediate danger of losing her, Turner couldn't bear the idea of feeling that way again.

  He stood up and walked up behind her, whispered her name against her hair to get her attention without startling her. She flinched ever so slightly, but turned around, looking up at him, green eyes shining with unshed tears, long black lashes vainly concealing the hurt and exhaustion swimming in her gaze.

  He wrapped his arms unconsciously around her, heart constricted at the sight of Watson so upset, Everything else, especially his childish dislike for a certain older detective faded away as he engulfed her in his warmth, also allowed himself a brief moment of comfort as Watson let her guard down.

  Her heart was beating frantically against his, but he didn’t move, prepared to be the one that kept it together for her, letting her know that despite whatever hell awaited them both beyond her office door, he wouldn't ever be too far from her, at least not as long as he could help it.

  "I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywher
e. I know something is bothering you, but you don't have to tell me. I could just hold you for a few minutes, okay?"

  His warm breath tickled her ear as he spoke intimately to her. It felt as if she was his entire world, and although Watson had never been a romantic, being in Turner's arms always reminded her that there was a sort of magical feeling associated with knowing that you were a part of someone else's world. You could be important to another person, in a way that went beyond simple need or circumstance. Most of her life, she had been needed by others simply because fate had dictated it that way.

  When her mother died, her father and brothers needed her. When her father died, her brothers learned to rely on her even more. In her career, others depended on her because she proved to be trustworthy and competent, but she never had someone truly want her not for what she could offer them, but just for who she was, not some role she had to fill.

  However, at this moment, she felt it somehow that with Turner, she didn’t have to be anyone other than herself, anything beyond the woman she was, jagged edges and all. He accepted her, wanted her, sometimes in his own ridiculous way. Even though others may think he should appreciate that despite his obsession with a sociopathic serial killer, she still chose to be with him, Watson was grateful that Turner had chosen her.

  She understood their relationship wasn't perfect, that both of them come with a truckload full of baggage she didn’t even want to touch, but there were other things that caught her attention too, instillled a sense of hope in her.

  Such as the fact that despite how vague she was being, Turner was still here, still holding her, his blue eyes watched her with a hint of adoration in them. That alone made her wrap her arms tighter around him, cheek brushing against the smooth fabric of his vest as she let him hold her for a few moments longer, before speaking.

  "It's not Harper. You don't have to worry about him."

  "I wasn't worried." Turner lied, sweeping her bangs from her face.

  It was completely untrue what he said, but figured that for the time being, some things were better kept secret. Watson fixed him with a pointed stare, the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. Her look screamed 'liar', but she didn’t press him about it, one of her qualities he appreciated.

  She might be impatient when it came to case work or the long line at the supermarket, but with him, she was always willing to wait and that was one of the things he admired about her most. "It's just that," She hesitated, disentangling herself from his arms, "my brother Daniel called today. He finally got approved for a grant to do an archeological dig in Morocco."

  Turner didn't interrupt her, understood that she would be overjoyed at her brother's success, not near tears over it.

  "It's great. I'm really happy for him and all, but he leaves tomorrow morning from Denver, which means he won't be able to make it for Thanksgiving, and since Luke is with his wife's family this year and Tony on a ship somwehere-..."

  "You'll be spending Thanksgiving without your brothers again." Turner concluded and Watson looked up at him, nodding.

  "Yeah"

  Suddenly, everything became clear. Although Turner felt somehow less burdened that Harper wasn't the one upsetting Watson, it still hurt to see her so upset, especially about something like this. He knew despite how dedicated she was to her job; Watson was even more devoted to her brothers. After all, they were the only family she had and the only people that could relate at least partially to everything she had gone through in the past.

  Although their busy lives didn't allow for much face time, with each one scattered across the country, Turner knew Watson made it a point to speak with each one at least once a week. She also sent gifts on birthdays and holidays. He also knew she was closest to Daniel, not only because he was the closest to her in age but also because both didn’t have families of their own and found it easier to relate to one another.

  He finally realized he should have known all along that the only thing that could put Watson into such a depressed mood was anything going wrong with her family. He just wished he could something about it.

  "I'm sorry," Watson sighed against his shoulder again, "I shouldn't distract both of us with this. We have a case to work on." Maybe he could do something about it...

  When Watson tried to pull away from him, Turner grabbed her hand and sent her a preemptive apologetic look. Watson returned it with a surprised glance, especially when she saw the expression on his face.

  He looked a little wild, as if a light bulb had just went off in his head. She had seen this look plenty of times before and it never lead to anything good, usually reprimands from Rodrigues and disgruntled suspects filing complaints, but before she could object, she felt herself being whisked out of her office.

  The only thing that she comprehended as Turner literally dragged her into the bullpen was the quick "don't kill me" that escaped his lips before he gathered the team's attention.

  "Guys, stop for a second what you're doing. Watson and I have an announcement to make."

  Barnes looked up from the file he was reading, Cranston tore her eyes away from the computer, and Ng put down the phone, all looking at her and trying not to appear confused as hell.

  "I've just informed Watson that all of your plans for Thanksgiving have gone awry. As it turns out, we're all in the same boat. So, Watson has graciously decided to host dinner at her place on Thursday. Shall we say, at four-ish?"

  He shot Watson a side-glance, waiting for confirmation. He was obviously giving her a chance to back out, and she was about to, furious that he put her on the spot like that, but then she caught sight of Cranston's face as it lit up at the mention of Thanksgiving dinner together.

  She knew Grace didn’t have many friends in the area, and if she wasn’t going home, she'd likely spend it alone. That seemed to warm Watson up to the idea just a little bit and ultimately cemented her decision.

  "Yeah," she exhaled slightly, refusing to look at Turner for fear that her desire to shoot him would overpower anything else, "Four is great. You guys know where I live right?" Cranston nearly squealed in delight as she jumped from her desk and attacked Watson with a hug.

  The sight was humorous as the older woman, not used to so much affection from the rookie, stood uncomfortably in the embrace. Cranston pulled away eventually and Watson gave her a weak smile.

  "So it's settled then. Thanksgiving is back on." Turner clasped his hands in triumph and Watson had the strangest urge to drag him back into her office by the lapels of his vest and beat some sense into him. However, when she looked at her team, seeing each of their excited faces, Watson felt herself enveloped in a shell of warmth she only ever experienced when she thought of her loved ones. In that moment, she was reminded that her team was just as much her family as her brothers were.

  While Turner had inadvertently reminded her of that and lessened the weight on her chest, she was still uncertain whether she wanted to kill him or kiss him senselessly. Oh, well.

  She supposed that decision would have to wait. For now she had a Thanksgiving dinner to plan. Oh, and a murderer to catch.

  Somehow, the first task seemed more daunting...

  Chapter 17

  Two days later her decision was cemented when she found herself in an overly crowded supermarket wheeling a cart filled with enough items to feed a small army. As Turner debated between sweet potatoes and yams, Watson debated between either shooting him or just knocking him out with the sixteen pound turkey currently rolling around in her cart.

  The vision of Turner being bludgeoned by frozen poultry distracted her for a moment, uplifting her with dark, morbid humor; but then, as a woman walks by with a screaming toddler in tow, Natalie slumped herself against the railing of the cart, for the umpteenth time wondering how she allowed Turner to rope her into this.

  Oh yeah...by appealing to her sympathies and ambushing her with the hopeful faces of her team. Damn him.

  Apparently, her scowl deepened because Turner stopped contemplating be
tween two different kinds of cranberry sauce to look at her, "Are you frowning so profoundly, because I'm not including you in my selection of Thanksgiving staples?"

  She raised her eyebrow in response, her face showing just a hint of annoyance as she pushed the cart, "I'll be at the check out line."

  She made the move to go but unsurprisingly Turner didn't let her; soft touch on her arm and she turned around. She wouldn’t leave but it didn’t mean she wasn't going to be defiant every step of the way. Turner almost kissed her in the middle of the canned food aisle when he saw her huff and cross her arms over her chest. He didn’t though, fearing she really might smack him over the head with something if he did.

  She was not a fan of public displays of affection, never had been, and though he was wearing her down slowly, today is not the day to do it.

  They closed the case a few hours ago and he could see the fatigue weighing her down, so he could't begrudge her the frown, but he also wouldn't let her go. "Oh come on, don't be so grouchy. Here I'll let you choose the cranberry sauce, this one or this one."

  He gave her a brilliant smile while holding out the two cans of cranberry sauce. At first, Watson looked at him in disbelief, angry that he was trying to act so oblivious when he knew how exhausted she was. After all, it was technically his fault that she was here instead of at home in the bath or on the couch.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man walking with a little girl, no more than six, and when she saw Turner look at them with an unmistakable longing in his eye, Watson instinctively reached out and pointed to the can in his left hand.

  Turner looked back at her, the vulnerability in his glance replaced by an amused glint as he weighed the can in his hand, "Hmm you chose the heavier one."

  Watson went back to being annoyed.

  "So now you're going to criticize my choice?" she asked, hands suddenly on her hips.

  Turner smirked at her, approaching a bit closer. Seconds later, the detective found herself trapped between the cart behind her and the man towering over her, smiling knowingly. "Don't think I don't know the murderous thoughts you're entertaining about me."