Chapter Text
Sergeant Bianca Grieve was feeling antsy. She was pissed off that she was being made to take a couple of weeks off, when she knew that any ‘mental rehabilitation’ or whatever term the AFP wanted to use, would happen far faster if she were actually on the job. But they had their protocols and processes, and they were still investigating the events of the past few weeks.
Yes, she shot two people – not something she was exactly dancing with joy about – and yes, unfortunately one was fatal, but both were completely justified under the circumstances. She knew she would be cleared once the full investigation was complete, so it’s not that she was worried about that. Ridiculous that she was deemed fine to go back to work the next day after the fatal shooting, but when she had shot Peta, who was in the act of trying to murder Janet’s kids in some sick and twisted revenge plot, the department had decided that she was a bit too close to the events, and ‘needed time.’
Ugh, I’ve had enough, she thought.
It didn’t help that she’d only had the one brief text from Janet since it all went down. ‘Thank you. I owe you so much. Janet’. Burned into her brain, it had arrived the day after it all ended – 12 days ago now.
She had responded, of course. “Just doing my job. Look after those precious kids. And yourself. B”.
But since then, nothing. But she was sure checking her phone twenty times a day had nothing to do with the antsy feeling jangling all her nerve endings. She was also sure that the fact that she thought about Janet another hundred times a day had nothing to do with it either. Her long neck, the softness of her skin just below her jaw where her pulse throbbed when Bianca kissed it… she shook her head to clear it and try to stop thinking about that infuriatingly intoxicating woman.
She flicked the tele on and, flopping on the couch, started channel hopping. She wasn’t interested in motor sports or monster trucks or an old black and white movie or some lame American sit-com from the 90s or reruns of Neighbours - god knew that was bad enough first time around… She stopped briefly to watch the women’s triathlon series from the Gold Coast, but got bored with that fairly quickly. She finally settled on the Food Network and thought how she’d always found Po really attractive, even though she was the complete opposite of Janet. Argh… there she was in her head again.
TV off. She wandered to the fridge. Opened it. Studied the contents. Decided she wasn’t actually hungry – not that there was much in there – but she was, in fact, just bored. Cabin fever, that’s what they called it. She thought about grabbing a beer and going back to Po and her kitchen, but decided she needed to go for a run. Yeah, a run. She hadn’t been for a few days, but thought about 8ks should do the trick. That would take her about 50 minutes with the warm up and cool down and she’d be back in time for the ABC news at 7. Surely that would expend some of the nervous energy flowing around her body.
Now she had found some purpose, she walked briskly to her bedroom, and rummaged through the basket of clothes that she had washed, but not yet put away. She was totally unfussed about fancy running clothes or gym-wear, so grabbed a pair of standard issue AFP workout shorts from the pile, and upended the basket looking for a t-shirt she could run in comfortably. Frustratingly she couldn’t find her favourite ‘teenage hoodlum’ shirt, but caught sight of it on the floor – she must have missed it when she did the washing. Shit, she thought… oh bugger it, she thought just as quickly! A quick sniff deemed it okay; she’d chuck it in the wash after her run.
Heading to the kitchen to grab a drink of water and hydrate before she headed off, she found her RSPCA rescue cat, Moggs, up on the bench licking one of the many dirty dishes that had been stacking up over the last few days. Moggs was one of those cats whose genetic combination of white fur with blue eyes meant he was deaf, so Bianca knew yelling at him to get down would do no good.
Picking him up, he stretched his nose out to touch hers. He was so damned cute that she quickly forgot her anger; instead muttered half to herself and half to Moggs… what is it about blondes with blue eyes that make me so bloody useless? I swear Janet King is going to be the friggen death of me… Huh? How did she jump so quickly from a sink full of dirty dishes and a misbehaving cat to thinking about Janet… again??
She leaned against the bench, hands and legs spread like she was being body-searched and suddenly Janet was standing behind her and kissing her neck. God, the warmth of her soft lips on the nape of her neck was excruciatingly good... STOP! She shook her head for what seemed like the thousandth time today to rid her mind of the visions. She was sure she would eventually rattle her brain loose with all the shaking… and laughing to herself she figured at least then the invasive images might cease.
“Stay off the bench Moggs,” she said turning to the cat that was now sitting on the floor at her feet. “I’m going to clean this kitchen when I get home. And put the washing away. And do a general tidy up… yes I know, you can’t hear a word I’m saying, but we both know how much I hate mess, so it’s time I stopped moping and got my shit together.” She reached down and scratched him between his ears. “See you in an hour.”
The cat blinked unhearing, and turned to walk towards the lounge room. “Great, no love from you either…”
Closing the front door behind her, she tucked her key into the inside pocket of her shorts and started a slow jog towards the park about 200 metres down the road. Reaching the park, she methodically stretched all her muscle groups, before heading off to the running track slowly at first, and then increasing her speed till she had reached a comfortable pace and found her rhythm.
She was in the zone cruising along nicely, music playing in her ears. Talking Heads was the choice of the day, and when she actually tuned in, she laughed ironically at the songs pumping her along – ‘Stop Making Sense’ – she couldn’t claim that anything made sense at the moment; ‘Burning Down the House’– yep, she’d almost done just that with her frustrated energy this past week; ‘Road to Nowhere’ – where was she going with her life after this Royal Commission had turned it upside down? Then the knockout, ‘Once in a Lifetime’ – the thought struck her hard, was that Janet? Every song seemed to be a metaphor for her life right now, and she almost stopped running at the tightness in her chest which she knew didn’t come from being unfit.
Instead she decided she would push through and do the 4 laps around the park that would make up the 8ks, rather than head off on her other route where she did half in the park and half around the suburbs. She’d try and blur the music into the background noise it was supposed to be and focus on the physical.
It felt so good to sweat! A bead trickled down the side of her face, and she could feel it run down between her shoulder blades. She quickened her strides and before long the burn started in her calves and in her quads. She concentrated on holding her core strong and her glutes tight and soon everything was hurting in that positive way that only pushing yourself hard could deliver. She didn’t let up until she was back at her start point.
As she hunched over and started sucking in the oxygen she clicked off the timer on her watch, which she’d check later. Forcing herself to stand tall, she put her hands behind her head and walked up and back trying to regain her breath and slow her racing heart rate. She checked her watch. Wow, she’d taken one minute 20 off her PB without even intending to go for it! Maybe Janet’s lack of communication was good for something after all.
Grabbing a long drink from the bubbler near the path, she started the slow, short jog home. Music went off – she liked to cool down with a clear head after a run – and still breathing heavily, she laughed at what a sight she must look. Her face was still burning from the exertion, and she guessed she must resemble something pretty much like a ripe tomato. She could feel locks of her hair that had escaped the makeshift ponytail she had scraped up that were now hanging down over her ears, and sticking to the sweat on her forehead. Her shirt was showing dark patches down her sides, and she guessed on her back too. When she got home, she’d finish her stretches, jump straight into the shower, watch the news, then do some tidying up.
She was glad she had gone for a run. For the first time in about a week, she felt pretty good. And look – right at this moment she wasn’t even thinking about Janet… well, not much anyway, she thought wryly, the irony not lost on her one bit.