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“As pleased as I am with the final result,” Ada says, fixing her gaze on Pippa over the rim of her glasses, “I have to say I’m disappointed in you, Pentangle. Going in without backup was foolish, and more importantly dangerous. You should know better than that.”
Pippa nods, sneaking a glance at hecate out of the corner of her eye. She’s sat next to her across from Ada, ramrod straight, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. She stares straight ahead, jaw clenched, and Pippa knows there’s going to be hell to pay.
“I understand. But there was an opportunity I couldn’t ignore. We’ve been tracking this buyer for months and the tip—“
Ada holds out a hand to silence her. “I’m well aware of the importance of this case,” she says. “But that doesn’t excuse your actions. I’m putting you on desk duty until the end of the month—“
“But I—”
“Hardbroom, you’ll work with Drill in the interim.”
Hecate nods stiffly, and Pippa tries not to glower. She wants to argue, but there’s a look in Ada’s eyes she knows all too well, and knows it won’t do any good. Her mind is made up.
Standing, Ada circles the desk and places a hand briefly on Pippa’s shoulder. “I’ll give you two a minute,” she says, closing the door behind her.
Pippa swallows tightly and sneaks another glance at Hecate. Her partner hasn’t so much as glanced at her since she got back to the precinct, and Pippa can feel the tension crackling from Hecate like a live wire.
Biting her lip, Pippa turns to face her, debating what to say as the silence stretches. She needs to be delicate, contrite, to let Hecate respond how she will and then do her best to diffuse the situation.
Instead, she opens her mouth and what comes out is a short, “I’m not going to apologize.”
So much for delicacy, she thinks, watching as Hecate’s eye twitches, her only outward response.
“It was a last minute tip, and there was no time to wait. If I hadn’t gone in, Gullet would have gotten away again.”
Hecate doesn’t move.
“I called for backup, they just didn’t get there in time.”
Nothing.
Pippa huffs. “Are you giving me the silent treatment?”
Hecate clenches her jaw. “I’m waiting for you to say something reasonable.”
It’s the first thing she’s said in hours, and Pippa nearly wilts in relief at the sound despite its bite.
“I am being reasonable. It was a logical decision—“
“Nothing about your decision was logical,” Hecate snaps, still not looking at her. “It was pigheaded and arrogant.”
“Arrogant?”
It’s odd, having a conversation with her when she refuses to turn her head. “You went into a highly dangerous situation, entirely alone, based on an anonymous tip that could have been from anyone. I can only assume you felt confident enough or egotistical enough to believe you could pull it off.”
Pippa gasps indignantly. “I did pull it off!”
Hecate stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor, her voice like a crack of a whip, “You got shot, Pippa!”
“In the arm,” she stresses. “I’m fine.”
Hecate positively glowers at her, and Pippa stands as well, uncomfortable with the way Hecate is looking down on her.
“Honestly, it was barely a graze. I’ve already been cleared for duty.”
“A mistake,” Hecate says tightly, “You should have your head examined.”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same,” Pippa says, and Hecate turns, pacing away from her. Pippa hides her flinch by folding her arms across her chest. “You’d have taken the chance too if you were in my shoes, so don’t play all high and mighty—“
Hecate faces her, arms tense at her sides. “That’s different.”
“Why?”
She falters, opens her mouth then snaps it shut, says stiffly, “I’ve been on the force longer, I know how to take a calculated risk—“
Pippa tries not to let the hurt bleed into her tone. “So you’re saying you’re a better detective than I am?”
“Why must you turn everything into a competition?” Hecate hisses, and Pippa drops her arms, gaping.
“You are, aren’t you?”
Working her jaw, Hecate says slowly, sharply, like she’s trying to reign herself in, “I’m saying you rely too much on instinct and less on hard fact and one of these days it’s going to get you killed.”
Part of her knows Hecate is right, or at least partially. But the part of her that so desperately wants her approval, wants Hecate to be proud of her, to take her seriously, bristles at the accusation, and bites back,
“I can handle myself just fine, but if you’re concerned about it you could always put in for a different partner.”
For less than a second, Hecate looks like she struck her. Then her expression hardens and her lip curls and she snaps,
“I might have to if you continue these asinine stunts—”
“It’s not a stunt! I was doing my job.”
“Badly.”
Pippa winces. She’s seen Hecate angry before, usually smirks and feels varying degrees of pity for the person on the other end of her ire. Hecate can be sharp with her, with everyone, but Pippa can’t remember the last time she was this livid, cutting this deep.
“What are you so angry about?” she demands, watching as Hecate’s eyes crickle and her lip twitches. “Everything worked out fine. We should be out having a toast to putting Gullet behind bars not—”
She stops at the way Hecate’s face contorts, intense hurt followed by a cold, quiet rage that makes Pippa take a step back.
“A toast?” Hecate repeats, her voice so low Pippa almost doesn’t hear, so strained, and she knows she’s put her foot in her mouth, again.
“Hecate—” she starts, but her partner ignores her, marches toward the door. Pippa reaches out and grasps her elbow lightly, then lets go. “Hecate, stop, wait.”
Hecate pauses, stares at her, and her eyes are slightly glassy. “You could have been killed. Do you understand that? I can’t protect you if you continue to run in guns blazing with no thought for your own safety—”
“Hecate—“
“What if she hadn’t been alone?” Hecate snaps. “What if Mould had come back? You could have been outnumbered and outgunned—”
“I wasn’t and I knew that. You may disapprove of my methods but that doesn’t make them wrong.”
“It does when you put yourself in the danger.”
“We put ourselves in danger every day how is this different—”
“Because I wasn’t there!” she cries, voice cracking and for the first time Pippa notices how badly her hands are shaking, the tears behind her eyes, the fear masquerading as anger as she says, “Because you are too precious and too important to risk your life like it means nothing—”
“Hecate—”
“And I refuse to watch you hurt yourself in some desperate attempt to please—”
“Hecate—”
“Did you even think about anyone other than—”
Pippa lets out a short breath and lurches forward, Hecate’s cheeks between her palms. “Shut up,” she says, and kisses her.
Hecate freezes, and for a long, terrifying moment, Pippa thinks she was wrong. That her fear isn’t born out of love, that she doesn’t feel the way Pippa has felt since they were teenagers, dreaming of the Academy. She feels her heart split, knows she’s ruined everything—
And then Hecate’s hand curls into her blouse, drawing her closer, her other hand so soft on Pippa’s arm, like she doesn’t dare push too hard or want too much, and Pippa can’t bear it—her arms slip around Hecate’s shoulders and she opens her mouth and kisses her desperately, hopefully.
Hecate responds in kind, tentative but passionate before she pulls away, breathless, eyes wide.
She swallows tightly and licks her lips.
“Why did you do that?”
Her voice is gravelled and quiet and Pippa softens, brushing her thumb over Hecate’s cheek.
“Because you’re precious to me, too.”
Hecate blinks, clearly startled, unsure and embarrassed and Pippa smiles sadly at the insecurity so plain on her face.
“You really think I don’t feel the same way about you?”
Hecate opens her mouth several times, finally manages, “I—hadn’t considered it, no.”
Pippa kisses her again. “That’s because you’re a big dummy.”
Hecate doesn’t reply, just stares, like she’s seeing her differently, like she doesn’t fully understand. It breaks Pippa’s heart, how little Hecate thinks of herself. How they’ve done this dance for years as far as Pippa is concerned, and Hecate hasn’t even heard the music. Didn’t know there was music to hear.
But she hasn’t let go, hasn’t run away, not this time. She stays, and stares, and finally says,
“I didn’t know. There was gunfire and I didn’t know if you—”
She bows her head, voice breaking.
“I’m fine, Hecate. Look.” She tips Hecate’s chin up, meets her gaze. With her other hand, she presses Hecate’s palm over her heart. “See? I’m perfectly fine.”
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“I can’t promise you that,” Pippa says gently. “You know I can’t promise you that, and you can’t promise me.”
Hecate’s shoulders slump, and for the first time, she looks so tired. “I know.”
Biting her lip, Pippa hesitates a moment, then offers, “What do you say we get out of here? We can get a drink, or go back to my place and talk?”
Hecate panics, stuttering, and Pippa tries not to let the disappointment show. “I—I need to—”
“Okay,” she murmurs, squeezing Hecate’s hand before she lets go and steps away.
Hecate curls her fingers into fists at her sides, like she wants to reach out again. “Pippa, I—I’m not—I don’t know how to—”
Pippa hushes her softly. “Take your time, darling,” she murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”