Bishop's Run

by B. D. Gates

  She did what anyone in that position would do, she'd reasoned that first night, as she slipped off her shoes and crawled into the bed. After all, her father had done the very same for her when she'd had nightmares after losing her mother. She pulled Bishop over onto her lap, whispered to her that she was all right, she was safe, and then rubbed her back and shoulders, her non-casted arm until she fell back into a deeper sleep.

  On that first night, while still asleep, Bishop had wrapped her arms around Tess, held her close. More dreams, more nights together had followed. Tess had always stayed awake and listening, her gun and phone on the nightstand, then slipped out of the bed when Bishop was in her deepest sleep, to get ready for the watch change.

  It was only on the nights that Whyte or Fowler were on duty that they'd had to medicate Bishop. Tess was not so sure that the guys would understand the way she'd consoled Bishop when she was alone with her. She truly hated the idea of injecting her with sedatives, drugs that would make her sleep for two days afterward, when she knew that all Bishop needed was a little comforting. She started scheduling the men during the days, taking her turn during the nights, since they had wives and families to go home to. They didn't argue, it sounded reasonable to them.

  Over time, the dreams occurred less frequently as the nurses managing Bishop's pain medicines had begun to use lesser amounts, fewer doses. Tess was glad that Bishop was getting better but sometimes, selfishly, she missed those nights she'd held her. Decreasing the use of the medicine had its advantages, though, as Bishop began to interact more with the detective.

  *****

  "What are you watching?" The voice on the other end of the couch had startled her. "Oh, uh, just an old murder mystery. Is there something you'd rather see?"

  "No, that's okay, leave it. Nothing like a good whodunit, is there, Detective? Besides, I'll be asleep again soon enough, no point in your missing the ending. Who do you think the killer is?"

  Tess had answered that she thought it was the husband. Bishop nodded with her response.

  "Let me know how it ends, okay? In case I miss it."

  As Bishop got stronger, and was now awake more than asleep, they'd started watching TV together in the evenings, Bishop on one end of the couch, she on the other. They had similar tastes in movies and shows, and they'd watched a lot of cop dramas and mysteries. Tess found that she was looking forward to her evenings and nights with her charge. Even though it was her job, that she was on duty, it was still nice to spend time with someone, anyone, in the hours that, if she were at home, she would have been alone. She scanned the TV schedule for the evening's offerings in advance, making note of anything that she thought Bishop might like.

  As Bishop continued to improve, was more aware of her surroundings, and could actually get through the majority of the evenings' viewings without falling asleep, Tess thought she was enjoying the time together, too.

  "So, Detective, what are our screening options for tonight?" she'd asked one evening not too long after they'd seemingly made their TV-watching a 'standing appointment'. Tess informed her of what was on and asked what she'd like to see. Her pick was the one Tess had been most interested in as well.

  One evening, Tess had brought popcorn, popping it in the microwave and pouring it into a bowl that she'd set between them to share. On more than one occasion, their hands had brushed against each other and Tess kept apologizing.

  "It's okay, Detective, you don't need to apologize, really. Besides, you don't have cooties and neither do I."

  Tess had laughed when she heard that. "How do you know I don't?"

  "Well, it wouldn't matter if you did," Bishop replied. "I'm protected. I've had my cootie shot."

  "What?" Tess had asked.

  "Here, let me 'immunize' you," Bishop offered. She reached over and took Tess's arm, turned it over so that the inside of her forearm was exposed.

  Bishop placed her index finger on Tess's skin, moving it as directed by her words. "Circle, circle, dot, dot, now you've had your cootie shot."

  Still holding her arm, Bishop looked at Tess, who was staring back at her, wide-eyed. Bishop burst out laughing.

  "Oh my god," laughed Tess, joining in.

  "Yep. So, you're good. And it works. I should know. I've been 'cootie-free' since 1993."

  Tess laughed again. And then chuckled occasionally when their hands touched in the bowl, glancing over at Bishop, who had a smile on her face as well.

  She'd made a mental note to tell the nurse she could probably decrease Bishop's pain med again. What she didn't know, at the time, was that Bishop hadn't had any medication. She was just 'being Bishop.'

  After the full-time surveillance had ended and Tess had taken to stopping by to perform 'perimeter checks,' Bishop occasionally cooked dinner and invited Tess to join her, and she did, and it had been nice, they'd talked and laughed while they ate. Bishop had once asked about her family, a question that she'd not been asked in ages, or actually maybe ever, since everyone in town knew where her parents were, what her history was.

  After a few seconds, she had answered the question with a quiet "They're gone."

  Bishop had just looked at her for a long moment, then nodded, and Tess was surprised (or maybe not) that Bishop had quickly changed the subject for her, telling her about something silly the dogs had done that morning.

  How do you talk about the ones who aren't here anymore? Talking about them brings them back, only to have them leave again when the talking is done.

  On one occasion, when they had finished eating dinner, Tess, not wanting the evening to end, had done the dishes, had just hung around while Bishop fed the dogs then started a load of wash. Bishop had asked her to see what was on TV that night, and she'd checked her phone for the listings. There was a movie scheduled that had done well in the theaters, with several well-known actresses playing the leads. The movie in question had a lesbian relationship as a major story line, though it was understated and not publicized in the trailers, as Bishop had so informed her.

  "I don't have anything against gays," Tess had replied. "Do you?"

  "Well, no, I don't, since I'm gay," said Bishop.

  Tess had looked at her, surprised.

  "What! Damn, you can't tell?" Bishop, appearing distraught, looked at Tess, who slowly shook her head. "Well, crap, I'm gonna lose my 'queer card' for this. I need to get to the gym."

  Tess just looked at her, puzzled. "You have a card?"

  "No," laughed Bishop. "We don't have cards, we don't have 'national meetings,' and I don't know your Uncle Frank in Idaho."

  Tess laughed, even though she wasn't sure if she should.

  And then Bishop laughed with her.

  "Look, I've seen it, it's a good story, I could see it again, but I should warn you, it doesn't end well."

  "It doesn't?"

  "They never do. I have yet to see a lesbian love story that ends well, that ends with a 'happily ever after.'"

  They'd watched the movie and, as Bishop had warned her, it had not ended 'happily.' As the credits rolled, Tess was outright weeping, the tears were running down her cheeks and she was sniffling. Bishop had gotten up, gone into the bedroom. She returned with a box of tissues, sat down next to Tess, offered her the box. Tess pulled a tissue, wiped her eyes, blew her nose.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not...I don't...I don't do this. I'm sorry."

  "Don't what--cry? Listen, Detective, that's a tough story to get through. It's okay, it's okay to cry, you don't have to apologize."

  Tess looked at this woman. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. All those times as a child, as her father had held her, whispering to her, shushing her, imploring her not to cry, and she'd had to work so hard to do that. She'd learned how to stop the tears that had upset her father, to lock down her emotions. And now, here was Bishop telling her that it was okay to cry, that there was no need to apologize. Tess nodded her understanding as she dabbed at her eyes.

  "So," she'd sniffed, "none of t
he movies that have gays in it end 'happily.'"

  "Well, I know of several with gay men that do, but they're from other countries, I've seen them in festivals, but no, I have yet to see one that lets the 'girl get the girl' and keep her. They're usually like this one. Someone dies."

  "That's awful."

  "Yeah. Yeah, it is. It's more 'real-life,' though, for some of us, than you can imagine. 'Happily-ever-afters' are pretty rare in our world."

  Tess looked at Bishop. Her words had made Tess's heart ache in a way she couldn't describe, had left her wondering what Bishop was referring to, if it was based on something from her own life. She wanted to ask but she wasn't sure how to do that, she felt like she would be intruding, so she didn't.

  Tess let herself into her house, throwing her keys into the bowl on the stand by the door after locking the deadbolt. Her house was her safe haven, the only home she had ever known. After her father had been killed, it had fallen into a bit of disrepair, and Ginnie and Joe, after dropping in on her one evening, had noticed, and immediately took it upon themselves to help her in putting it right, giving it upgrades and updates in the forms of paint, new sinks in the kitchen and baths, new curtains and rugs over the hardwood floors. It was still home, but it was now more hers than her parents' house.`

  Tess walked into the kitchen and stood there, holding the little bear, recalling the night that Bishop had disappeared after softball practice.

  That long, long night that Tess had spent alone in the carriage house with Sophie and Rosie, wondering where the hell Bishop was, if she'd been found by the unnamed person or persons who wanted her dead, if she was even still alive.

  The APB had gone out near midnight and, over the next twelve hours, Tess had monitored the transmissions between the patrol officers and the dispatchers. There were no calls regarding the Jeep, and Tess took some solace in that it hadn't been found, empty and abandoned on a secondary road or at a gas station. She alternated between pacing the living room and holding the dogs, petting them, reassuring them that everything was going to be all right, even though she had absolutely no idea, and thinking about what she may have to deal with if the worst were to come true.

  The sun had come up, the day was well underway when she heard the Jeep. She must have dozed off on the couch, the girls curled up beside her. She jumped up, was heading for the door when Bishop turned the corner into the kitchen. Tess didn't know if she wanted to kiss her or kill her right there, was stopped from doing either when Bishop had begun apologizing.

  The relief she felt, in knowing that Bishop was safe, was standing in front of her, took a back seat to the fear she'd had all night, followed quickly by anger, that Bishop would make her worry like that simply because she "hadn't thought to call." Tess had unloaded on her, had let her anger and frustration take the lead, followed by a few tears released unwillingly by her exhaustion and relief.

  Bishop had taken her hand, no longer clenched in an angry fist and, never taking her eyes off of Tess, pressed the back of Tess's hand against her chest, over her heart. Tess could feel it beat, could feel the warmth of her as Bishop pledged to “never fall off her radar” again, and she had found herself looking into those startlingly blue eyes, her breath taken as Bishop looked into hers. It was a look that Tess had never seen before, it was concern and sadness and pain, and it had left her wanting only to kiss that damn fool. Hard.

  It was the first time she'd felt that Bishop was actually seeing her.

  She had almost leaned in, had almost kissed her, but Bishop had broken off first, stepped away. Tess backed away as well when she realized what she had very nearly done, and how embarrassed she'd have been, she'd let down her defenses, but she'd quickly cloaked herself in her persona of 'Detective' to rein herself in.

  She wondered now what would have happened if she had actually kissed Bishop that morning, wondered where they would be today.

  Tess sighed and put the little bear down on the chair at the kitchen table, opposite of where she normally sat. It had been a long day. Shucking off her jacket, she then unholstered her gun and checked the chamber, slammed the cartridge back into place. She liked being a police officer, a detective no less. She wanted to make a difference 'out there,' in everything she did, every day she went to work. That's what mattered to her, more than anything. She hoped her parents would be proud of her and what she'd managed to accomplish on her own.

  She winced when she recalled the conversation she'd had with Bishop, about being 'lucky,' Tess telling her that it was her chance for a 'do-over,' to create a new, better life history for herself. It was a thought she'd personally had a number of times, to pack up and run off to god-knows-where, start a new life with a new past. While not knowing anything about Bishop at the time, that Bishop had grown up in the system, Tess had gone on and on about inventing a large family with loving parents, holidays and vacations, things that she had imagined for herself, while Bishop had listened, quietly, then offered her own take of reinventing her life, countering a tragic past by becoming a superhero.

  Well, of course Bishop would choose to become a superhero, it was the complete opposite of where she'd ended up, 'in the system' once again, this time as a ward of Witness Protection.

  Admittedly, Tess hadn't known about Bishop's past at the time, there was nothing in her file about her childhood. Frankly, there was not much in her file at all, but she still hated that she might have unwittingly caused Bishop pain.

  Tess showered, then climbed into bed, checked her phone one last time. Her thoughts went back to Bishop, wondering what had happened to her, what had left her unsettled, disturbed. Tess could only wonder, though. Bishop's affect had held her off, kept her from asking any more questions, and that troubled her as well. Whatever it was, Bishop did not want to talk about it.

  She turned off the light, fell fast into a dreamless sleep.

  29

  Sunday morning was very low-key. I spent the morning cleaning up, dusting, the usual household chores. I was in a funk. My thoughts kept turning to Penny. God, I had not meant to hurt her in any way, and I absolutely could not explain what had occurred between us last night. I should have stopped, could have stopped at any time, but I didn't, and that upset me.

  Penny had not wanted any shit in her life, she was adamant about that, but I didn't know how to be honest with her and keep my cover. She had seen through my story and that was disturbing. No one else had found it necessary to press me on the details of my existence, of Lisa Baxter's existence, so I had not really put much effort into selling myself.

  This 'Lisa Baxter' person was alien to me, she really didn't exist in my world as anything other than a character, an idea, but she was me. I was no longer 'Bishop,' I was 'Lisa,' no matter that I cringed when called that name, or hated the story that she had come with.

  How do I become someone else, do it so that it's believable? How do I make a fabricated past my own?

  That afternoon, I sat on the steps while the dogs wandered around the back yard. Miz Maggie, or Jared, had left the Sunday paper on the railing for me and I was making my way through the sections. I had just reached the Sports pages when I heard the Crown Vic pull up.

  Damn.

  I did not want company today. Not even Tess.

  The dogs ran to meet her. She carried a small paper bag from the Pharmacy.

  "Hey," I said.

  "Hey," she replied, smiling, as she passed through the gate. "I hope you don't mind, I wanted to bring you a...just a little treat." She walked over and sat down next to me, handed me the bag. I opened it and looked inside. Two cups of ice cream and two spoons.

  "One is mint chocolate chip, the other is rocky road. Take your pick, they're both good."

  I nodded. I really didn't want anything, but I took the mint chocolate chip, handing the rocky road and a spoon to Tess. The dogs were standing a little too close and I waved them back.

  "Bishop, we need to talk. I mean, I need to tell you something."

  The sound
of her voice, the tone of it...it was different. In all the time we'd spent together, Tess had talked to me, yelled at me, scolded me, but I'd never heard this voice. It was gentle, a little timid almost. I looked over at her.

  She was looking at me, her face soft.

  "Bishop, I...well, I..." she stopped and swallowed, her lips curling up at the edges in a small smile. She cleared her throat, crinkled her forehead, and started again. "I know that we've been spending a lot of time together, I mean, I know at first that it really wasn't a choice, but, uhm, anyway, I think that I've...we've...I've had a really good time with you," she admitted.

  I nodded. "Yeah, Tess, me, too." I dug my spoon around in my ice cream cup.

  "But, see, the thing is...Bishop..." I could feel her eyes on me, and I looked over as they narrowed, as she looked at me a little more closely, then she grabbed the collar of my T and pulled it away from my neck. I jerked away from her.

  "Bishop! What the hell!"

  "It's 'Lisa.' Remember?"

  "All right, 'Lisa,' what the hell happened to you?"

  I didn't answer. I wasn't about to tell Tess anything about what happened last night.

  "Are those teeth marks?" She stopped, knowing the answer. "Good god," she whispered.

  "It's not what you think," I said.

  She was quiet. "I...I don't know what to think," she softly replied.

  I didn't have a reply for that. At least, not one that would not hurt Tess's feelings, and I was really wary of hurting another woman.

  "It's not what you think." I rubbed my eyes. "Look, Tess, thank you for the ice cream, I appreciate it, but I'm really not good company right now."

  "Bishop..." she whispered. She was still as she looked at me, scanned my face. I felt her eyes on me, didn't look at her. She took the hint and stood up, pitched her ice cream cup into the bag and walked out of the gate. I didn't watch her leave. The Crown Vic fired up and pulled away from the curb, headed back toward Main.