by Cabe Sparrow
There were so many questions she wanted to ask, so many things plaguing her mind, mostly what this could mean for them and for their relationship outside of work. However, perhaps because work had always been a defense mechanism of sorts, something to hide behind, her mind seemed to compartmentalize her feelings, put them on the back burner in favor of analysis.
After all, she had seen what a messed up lead had done to Turner before, and even just as his colleague, she couldn't bear to see that disappointment again.
"How do you know the Red River Killer didn't just kill the kid when he saw him? His only leverage against us had always been his identity."
Her words pulled him back to just a few hours earlier, when he lay beside her thinking how she surprised him every day, because her current reaction was nothing short of what he expected. Watson may not always be an open book to him, but he knew this was the only way she could deal with something of this magnitude, and he couldn't blame her. More than anything, he was just a little afraid of how much he could divulge until she reached her breaking point.
"I considered that as well, but Corey said she remembered the teenager when she ran into his mother at the grocery store. Apparently he moved away, but is still very much alive. His mother wouldn't tell her more."
"And you found him?"
“Yes, yes I did."
"I see."
He watched as she seemed to revert into herself, sinking further into the chair, averting her eyes from him, hands nervously fumbling with the tie of her robe. Turner wasn't used to seeing her like this and there was a foreign ache in his chest when he realized that he had something to do with this.
His rational side refused to feel guilty for accepting Corey's lead but his heart was too distracted by the vision of Watson looking so lost and vulnerable to care about any possible ways he could catch the Red River Killer.
He felt like he was being split in two, still unable to reconcile the two sides of himself.
However, the anxiety seemed to grow with every second that Watson kept her glance away from him, refusing to leave him, "Natalie, I-..."
"I don't need an explanation Turner, just do what you have to do."
Her head snapped up as she interrupted him, brave green eyes trying to hide the hurt and disappointment swimming beneath. The way she tried to conceal how she truly felt was almost too much to bear, so he was almost glad when she pushed back her chair and stood to walk away, mumbling something about going back to bed. As soon as she moved into the shadows of the living room, his mind seemed to catch up with what was happening and he almost sprinted after her, grabbing her wrist not too gently to twirl her around.
"What do you want?"
The question came out much colder than she intended, almost like a territorial hiss, but she couldn't be this close to him without her emotions getting the best of her and perhaps it would be easier if she disguised her pain with anger.
"I want you to come with me." Turner said, still holding onto her, afraid she would slip away again. There was a brief moment of silence as Watson took in his appearance. His body radiated warmth and his blue eyes searched for understanding, but she was still cold and for once wanted to be selfish, not be understanding, just because it was expected of her.
“Don’t ask me that, Turner.”
She swore he flinched when she used his surname. Within these walls, he was always Eric to her.
“Don't put me in this position.” This time, she didn’t hide behind anger, she felt it. It coursed through her veins, fueling the icy words as they spilled from her lips.
How dare he?
How dare he make her choose between her obligation to her job and her devotion to him?
This was Harper's investigation, not his and she didn’t want to be part of this, didn’t want to drive a deeper rift between her and her former colleague while violating professional boundaries. She knew this couldn't be easy for Turner, saw the indecision and guilt swimming in his bottomless blues, but there was still an inkling of self-preservation that simmered inside her, and she clung to it like a lifeline.
Turner could almost visualize the wall she built between them, brick by brick, and felt himself powerless to stop it.
"This is what you wanted, Natalie. You asked me to include you in my plans."
He knews it was a foolish statement, witnessed the damage it did as her green eyes flashed with fire, indignation at his audacity to throw that in her face. Of course, he was grasping at straws, anything to keep her from walking away, because he needed her.
God, did he need her...
He needed her support, needed her to be the pillar that had been unknowingly holding him up for so long. "You think this is what I wanted?"
Each word was perfectly enunciated, drenched in sarcasm, and with a twinge of disbelief. The advisor, always full of wit and equipped with a sharp tongue, stood mutely before her, more exposed than he had ever been and unable to predict what she would do. As perceptive as he might be, in that moment Turner was blind...blind as a newborn and equally as vulnerable.
It was almost pathetic how one moment he was in control and the next, he relinquished all of it to her. Even then, Watson felt like he was somehow putting her on the spot, asking her to make the decision for him. She was not sure she was strong enough to make the right one, which left her feeling bitter and resentful, two emotions she would never associate with the man standing before her.
"God, I can't even look at you right now."
Suddenly, the air in her cold living room seemed stifling and Turner's touch on her wrist felt like it was scalding her skin. The instinctual thought to flee consumed her, eyes falling on the large winter jacket she shed as soon as they arrived home.
She grabbed it off the armchair, slipping it on while trying to ignore the look boring into her back as she walked towards the front door.
"Natalie, where are you-..."
Watson cut him off, refusing to turn around, knowing the look on his face would be enough to make her change her mind and she couldn't afford that. She needed to regain some footing, find some balance in her world, which Turner had thrown off kilter with just a few words.
Her hand wrapped around the doorknob and she almost hesitated, but even the tone of his broken words, the slight panic as he spoke, couldn't stop her.
"You said what you needed to say, Turner, now let me do what I need to do."
And then she was gone, the metallic sound of her car keys echoing through the room as the door closed behind her, left Turner stranded in the darkness alone. For the first time he was aware of just how cold it was in Watson's home, especially without her there...
Chapter 20
There was only one place that Watson considered her refuge, one place where she didn’t question herself, didn’t think about her shortcomings, her unfavorable personality traits, or life.
Only one place where everything she worked for, all that effort and diligence were on display. While she may not have a huge family to celebrate the holidays with, and could probably count the number of her closest friends on one hand, she still had something others didn't.
It was not just a workplace, not just an office with a desk, revolving chair, and sparse other furnishings.
Her team was not just made up of subordinates and her superiors and associates weren't just colleagues to be respected and admired at a distance. Despite her strong views on keeping one's home life out of the bureau, she realized a long time ago that the PPB was her home.
Everyone she worked with was her family and she had grown to be fiercely protective of them. Perhaps it came with the territory of spending most of her life being the caretaker of three younger siblings, but sometimes she thought it was more than just her intuitive complex to shield others. Sometimes, she thought it was instinctual because she has come to love each member of the PPB she worked with for various reasons and together they became her little dysfunctional family unit.
Even in the wee hours of the mo
rning, way before anyone would even contemplate coming in to work unless they were obligated to, Watson sat in her pajamas, a robe, and winter jacket behind her desk, not even bothering to shrug the heavy parka off, devoid of all energy, exhausted from not having enough sleep this past week.
It was Saturday morning, which meant that aside from weekend security, who all knew her by name, the headquarters were dead and empty. The only sound was the movement of the water in her half-empty plastic bottle as she rolled it back and forth on her empty desk. The immaculate condition of her workspace was a rare occurrence, but one she managed to accomplish by completing all the paperwork on the three-hour drive home yesterday.
She was lucky she was alone. Lucky that there was no one meandering, no pending cases that needed the attention of another unit. If Harper were here right now, even in a middle of an investigation, despite how upset he must be with her for their last conversaiton, he would still ask her what was wrong and regardless of their recent falling out, Watson knew if he did, she would tell him everything.
Hell, if anyone asked her what was wrong, she would tell them. She couldn't be bothered to be strong right now. Perhaps it was a good thing she was alone with her thoughts, because if Harper knew even a fraction what had just transpired between her and Turner, she knew the damage to her and Turner's relationship in any capacity, would be irreparable. Turner would consider it an ultimate betrayal, not just because the Red River Killer was technically Harper's responsibility now, but also because it was Harper, the implications of which were too vast and complicated for Watson to think about at the moment.
Instead, as the water oscillated between one end of the bottle and the other, her thoughts invariably returned to Turner. As soon as she stormed out of her house, the feeling of anger dissipated completely, but the sense of uncertainty, the sense that she lost her footing had only intensified. Now even as she sat in the one place that had always made her feel stable, always helped her regain her balance, whether from a personal disappointment or a professional hazard, the feeling of solidity eluded her.
She knew what she should do. Especially now that she found herself in her office, the crossroads she was at had become clearer in her mind.
As an officer of the law, as the protector and believer of everything she stood for, she should go to Harper right now and tell him everything she knew. Despite the ramifications that would have for her and Turner, it would be the right thing to do...
If things were that simple, then she wouldn't be here at five in the morning, trying to understand how she got to this point, because in truth, not even her logical mind, her sound judgment was making her lean toward the "right" option.
Instead, her mind, her heart, and her instincts all told her that she needed to go home and tell Turner she would go with him, and try her best to buffer any damage the meeting may cause. That was precisely what left her feeling so uneven, so helpless against the two roads she had to choose between. Those roads would never, ever converge.
It was frustrating that even in the place that should represent all the reasons why she shouldn't partake in Turner's side plans of revenge, she fould herself actually leaning in that direction. If that was not a testament to how deeply she felt for the man who had become simultaneously the bane and joy of her existence, then she wasn’t sure what was.
In spite of the blinding anger and frustration Watson felt initially, she could still see in the darkness of her living room how upsetting the whole ordeal was to Turner; how painful it was for him to tell her everything. Though she wanted to be selfish, wanted to be offended and livid, any ill feelings she may have been harboring for him seemed to evaporate on the drive over.
She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation, feeling the first signs of an impending headache, but it didn't stop her thoughts, didn’t stop the swirling emotions that took a hold of her insides and threatened to squeeze any rationality out of her.
She was completely and utterly conflicted. There had never been a time before where she had to face such a daunting task. Despite the fact that others think she was being slowly manipulated by Turner to do things his way, Watson knew deep inside that she still had her principles, still had her beliefs, and morals. Just because she might every once in a while bend to his suggestions, did not mean she could compromise her stance on the Red River Killer if she ever had to.
At the same time, if she consented to accompanying Turner, it could be just the beginning of the end and that was something that terrified Watson to her very core. It hurtd like hell to realize that there was no such thing as a happy medium in this situation. She could either listen to her heart and go with Turner, fulfill the promise she made to herself to support him as much as she could. Or she could do what's logical, what's fair, what was just and report the findings to the team in charge.
However even as she weighed the decisions against one another, Watson already knew the latter wouldn’t happen. As loyal to her job as she was, there was a factor here that stood out, something that shouldn't be considered when there was a potential link to a serial killer at stake, but was. It was Turner.
Unfortunately, her whole decision hinged on the fact that she was completely and utterly head over heels in love with the insufferable advisor.
Though she has known this for some time, Watson had never said it aloud, but even in her mind, the thought weighed heavily. She spent months trying to be optimistic, for the first time in her life not evaluating every decision she made; she almost gave up being self-critical all the time, and chose to let fate take its course, just wanting to enjoy her time with the Turner. However, now she couldn't prevent the irony from leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.
She should have known better. Should have never let her guard down, should have been a bit more cautious. Maybe if she did that, her heart wouldn't be constricting so painfully and the familiar feeling of dread and anguish wouldn't be taking hold of her.
Naively, for months she tried to trick herself into escaping reality, not knowing that in choosing to live in the moment, allowing herself to feel genuinely content, she would leave herself completely vulnerable to an attack from the very entity she was trying to escape.
While others would be completely elated by the realization that they were in love and that it was very likely reciprocated, Watson sat in her office, completely at a loss for what to do both with her feelings and the decision she had to make.
As angry as she wanted to be with Turner, the more she thought about it, the more she began to understand his perspective, She remembered the words she attacked him with when he got himself arrested and the promise he made to her on their first night together. Of course he would think this was what she wanted. She never once told him to stop his plans, and he didn't even willingly seek out this information, it just sort of fell into his lap.
She remembered Corey Farrow, remembered her reluctance to believe her ex boyfriend had been a brutal murderer, but Turner managed to gain her trust, so Watson was actually not surprised tjat Corey went to Turner as soon as she remembered something. When Watson truly thought about the information, there was a faint flutter of hope at the pit of her belly. As a detective, she could already feel the potential of this link to the Red River Killer, if it was handled appropriately.
Watson realized that secretly she wanted to go with Turner. She may not be as hell bent on revenge as he was, but she was still a cop and she wanted to catch the bastard as much as anyone else did.
As the moon began to retreat, giving way to the first rays of sun, it became clear that the decision had already been made long before she thought about it. She couldn't make Turner go to Harper with this information, but she could do something about making sure whatever information they could get on the Red River Killer was retrieved in a proper way.
She was no longer just Turner's partner and friend; instead she was his counterpart, his significant other, the title of which lead to expectations that not even they could escape. While the
thought terrified her somewhat, made her feel just a little claustrophobic, the inner elation she felt at being that person in his life, despite how damaged he may be, overpowered any misgiving or doubt Watson had about being in a relationship with the widower.
It struck her a bit odd, but it was also reassuring that despite everything she uncovered tonight, there' was no regret about being this close to Turner. She wouldn't change their relationship for anything. If there was something she yearned to change, it was his stance on how to punish the Red River Killer, but that was something that she may never alter. So really, Watson knew her choice was limited. Turner would go with or without her help and that was something she knew going into this.
It didn’t make it any less painful, but at least he didn't shut her out, like he promised not to. Now it was her turn to carry out the silent vow she made to them both. She had not given up on him yet...and she was not planning on doing that now.
The sigh of relief that filtered through her lips was unexpected but welcomed. She was nowhere near being okay with this, still felt the angel and devil both watching her back, but at least she was closer to being okay with her decision. Not okay by much, but enough to get out of here, go home, pray Turner was still there, and try to talk to it out with him.
Surprisingly, the thought that Turner was alone in her house; probably beating himself up for springing this on her in the middle of the night didn’t make Watson feel guilty. She refused to feel bad for taking this time to herself, to think. After all, God knows how many restless nights Turner had spent ruminating on this very issue. He could't be upset with her for this.
However, some of the things she said, Watson was certain cut far deeper than Turner would ever let on, and that left an uncomfortable feeling of shame within her. She was right to be angry with him, but she shouldn't have said some of the well executed and sharp words, and that didn’t sit well with her.
Before she realized what she's doing, she was up from her chair, dumping the water bottle in the trash bin as she decided to leave, but something halted her in her step. She paused at her desk as she met a pair of blue eyes boring holes in her even through the sparse light in her office.
