Chapter Text
She would have found the alarm clock annoying, piercing even, before it all happened. Before the car chases and gun shots and the day she killed someone, albeit in self defence. Before Jo. But nowadays she felt nothing, unless numb or empty were feelings.
She sat up, feeling the unnatural curve of her spine straighten out as it cracked like a gunshot. Great, just what I need to be reminded of. She climbed off the sofa, only just realising she was in her lounge, not bedroom. Sighing, she ceased the still-vibrating phone’s melody and chucked it into the pile of blankets she had created, spilling out erratically across the floor. Must have fallen asleep on the sofa. Again. Collecting up the wine bottle that was full just hours ago, she made her way to the kitchen and rested her head against the wall for just a second as she collected up any strength she had left in her, which was a much more grinding task than she had expected.
She returned to the sofa with a singular banana, perhaps a little overripe but she didn’t really mind, only to sit on the hard plastic remote. The TV flashed on suddenly and the light was blinding. Covering her eyes from the harsh intrusion of her otherwise shaded and unlit house, she searched for the remote. As her eyes adjusted themselves to the perturbing light, she watched the TV for a moment. Perhaps it would give her a chance to relax, if even for a second. The Olympics flashed on screen. Interesting. I wonder if we’re winning. Kate watched, half intrigued until the UKs representative came on. A short, brown-haired Scottish woman. Great. Thank you world for this reminder. She turned the TV off instantly, her fingers suddenly having no problem with finding the off button.
Jo was everywhere. Everywhere she looked. Everything she heard. Everything she smelt. Everything she tasted. Everything reminded of her. A tartened shirt or someone with the same Scottish tang to their voice as she had or the smell of fresh pastry or the taste of wine. Everything. After very little time as a detective, she had learnt to observe people. Everyone around her was already rather intriguing; anyone one person could be sat next to a serial killer and have no idea. This idea fascinated her but now, all she could do was look at Jo look alikes. She started seeing doppelgangers, once even stopping one poor woman in the street because of her perfectly decorated hair, a masterful style of half up and half down that she had only ever seen done so well by Jo. It was almost like she died. Technically, Kate supposed, she did. There was no longer any Scottish DCI called Joanne Davidson, unless the name was more common than she thought.
Coughing as the cider from the night, or morning she briefly remembered, before still burnt through her throat like acid, she headed to the bedroom. Her bed was as perfectly made as it had been for the last couple nights. Uncreased. Pristine. The bedroom had been isolated from any human contact for weeks now, excluding each morning where Kate would drag herself in to grab some clothes, dumping them on the sofa before heading to the shower. She would have thought it would be easy to get into to her own bedroom, considering how long she stayed up every night, but she never seemed to find herself the next morning in the bed. Perhaps she feared the feeling of waking up when Jo wasn’t by her side. So instead, she found herself either on the sofa, curled up with a wine glass as her only companion or, once or twice, on the floor besides it. She searched through her wardrobe, keeping only to one side of the double doored compartment. The other door contained forbidden items of clothing in it. The clothes she had worn when she was with Jo and she didn’t need more reminders in her life than the nagging voice in her head that already ceased to be silent for, at best, 20 hours a day. She pulled out a rather nice turtleneck, considering it was world’s away from her favourite ‘bee’ (as Jo had dubbed it) turtle neck. She liked things that covered her. Concealed as much of her body as possible. After a while, she settled on only things that were oversized or thick. Anything too tight to the chest or thin was likely to reveal that the only thing between her and the air outside was a singular layer of skin and perhaps half a cell of fat. Eating made her sick. And being sick made her eat. It definitely wasn’t a pleasant cycle.
The water was cold. It trickled down her face as she plunged her hand through her shampoo-full hair. Once, in one of the better periods in their ‘friendship’, somewhere between them being acquaintances and the day when her life shattered into a billion pieces of scrap, Jo had joined her in the shower. She remembered the way Jo made her feel as she ran her hands through her dripping hair. The way Jo could make her feel without doing hardly anything was indescribable. As light as the foam atop her head. Not that the whole of the shower was just intimate relations. There were- other things they did in there too.
Kate spared no effort in her attempt to push the thought out her mind. She was never going to feel that way about anyone again so she might as well stop indulging in the thought of her, next to her in the shower as Jo scrubbed her perfectly fair skin. They had stood in what would be an uncomfortable proximity for most, the shower boxing them in rather closely together which meant their hips couldn’t help but touch. And their hands. And their lips. And their- She sighed. It was never going to leave her head, was it?
She patted herself dry, pausing at her wrist. It was once. You let yourself feel once. But it’s a dangerous game. And you will not do it again. She sighed again as she covered the red streaks with her other hand, unable to endure the reminder. One night, the feeling that generally faded into a clouded haze with the repulsive amalgamation of alcohol and ibuprofen, decided not to. It lingered in her head. And she had drank so much, she was sure it had started to seep out of her skin in place of sweat. So she tried the last thing. Or the second to last thing, technically. If she attempted the last thing she could do, she knew she would never do anything again. But Josh kept her going. Kept her sane. Kept her sober for at least 2 days a fortnight.
She had become a lightswitch with these kinds of things. She was a weeping mess on the floor at home, barely strong enough to get off the sofa. Then, the next second she was at work, basically heading the department or sat at the dinner table with Josh, helping him fill in some of the horrendously strenuous math questions his school kept throwing at him.
"Morning boss.” Chris greeted as she walked into the building. Kate gave him a nod as she passed him and headed straight to her office to hide away from the rest of the team that would be arriving over the next hour. She was quite surprised to see someone in the office so early but out of anyone she expected to see, he was most likely, having taken over Kate’s DI position as she moved to DCI. She liked arriving early. And leaving late. Not that she would ever claim the overtime, she feared what might happen if anyone saw how many hours she really worked in a week. Somehow, work had not turned to hell. Despite being rather hungover each morning, Kate’s masterful disguise of a plastered smile and her secret supply of foundation and highlighter which she used to repaint the areas under her eyes every couple of hours, now a permanent purplish grey, seemed to fool the rest of the team. Which, being detectives, Kate always did find a little odd.
A knock at the door startled her. “Come in.” She confirmed, the door already creaking open slowly. “Just some files for you, sorry.” Chris apologised, handing her a large batch of yellow folders. “Thanks.” She took them, glancing over the names as she placed them on the pile of things to do which, surprisingly enough to Lomax, was completely empty excluding the new editions he had just handed her. There was always work to do. And after that, more work. And more. He couldn’t quite fathom how she had gotten through so much work when the day had barely began but decided not to inquire.
“You alright Boss? We haven’t seen you down at the pub on Fridays for quite a while.” He questioned softly, trying his best not to irritate her. For some people, there was nothing more infuriating than the constant checking of their mental state, especially when it was so obviously failing. “Just busy and it’s a bit weird, ya know, now that I’m your boss.” She replied, her eyes glued to the computer screen, barely registering Chris’ presence from the fear that he would be able to see right through her masqueraded happiness and into the depths of her harrowed soul. “You should. I mean, if you want to. We want you there, really.” He responded, pulling a genuine smile at the end. Kate looked up from the screen. “Are you sure it’s not just you? I’m not sure how much Farida is begging for me to tag along.” Chris looked round, through the window of her office to Farida’s desk, just as she set down her belongings. “Okay. Farida is- well, she doesn’t count and you wouldn’t be tagging along. Its a work tradition and your part of that work. I know you and J-“ The smile that Kate had formed from the Chris’ comment about Farida quickly faded. You and Jo. She sighed. “It’s okay Chris, you can say her name.” She lied, the very mention of her name sending a soul crushing tear in her heart. “Just come tonight. All your drinks on me.” He offered. She smiled lightly, the undeniable joy was most definitely there, however small, at the offer. “I’ll see.” She lied as Chris exited her office, shouting “See you there Boss”, on his way out. Kate really wished he didn’t add that last comment. She cringed at the word. Boss. She would never be boss, not really. That was Jo. And it always would be.
Kate made her way to the board room, hopelessly trying to avoid attention. “Need help setting up boss?” Chris called kindly as he noticed the stack of papers in her arms. “I’m aright, thanks mate.” She replied, heading into the room before closing the door behind her as quickly as she could, sealing herself into another room again.
She took a second to observe the world outside. It was raining, although that was an understatement. Water drizzled down the windows rapidly as more and more rain poured. It was almost midday and every room still had their lights on as the light that should have been produced failed to shine through the windows, barely breaking through the dense leaden clouds. She stuck each piece of paper onto the board, securing it with a pin. Every ID, 3d regeneration, newspaper cutting and every single one of the known links between each person of interest was presented perfectly when the rest of the team arrived in the room. “You all know: New case, new presentation. Chris if you’d like to start with the summary, then any evidence collected so and I’ll pick it up from there.” Chris nodded, barely getting the chance to rise to his feet before the loud clash of the door’s handle and the wall behind it startled the whole group. Kate turned her head to the door to see a woman stood in the doorway, her hair dripping slightly onto her shirt as she looked round the table and it’s occupants nervously. “Hi. Sorry I’m late.” The woman apologised, a beautiful but rather awkward smile spreading across her lips nervously. Cute. “And you are?” Kate inquired, looking over the woman multiple times before their eyes locked. This was a ‘Mother of God’ moment if she ever saw one. Who in their right mind would let anyone be that darn beautiful? “Your new DS, presuming I’m in right building.” She answered, her timidness shining through more and more the longer she stood in the doorway. “DCI Fleming, Kate” She grabbed the woman’s hand and shook it firmly. “DS Manuel, Celeste.”