Fic - Bloodstained Hands
Title: Bloodstained Hands
Fandom: Motive
Rating: Teen
Genre: Angst, Femslash
Word Count: 1,722
Warnings: Mentions of suicide
Spoilers: Spoilers for 1x06 - Detour
Pairing: Angie/Betty
Summary: Angie can't forget what happened in Toronto, no matter how hard she tries.
Author's Note: Whee, this looks like the first fic for this fandom! I'm so happy I finally finished this!
Bloodstained Hands
Angie stared out the window of her home, trying to lose herself in the reflection of the moon off the water while at the same time not allowing herself to doze off. It had been only a day since she had gotten back from Toronto, and she supposed her body was still trying to adjust to the time difference. That, and the fact that she had barely slept in 48 hours.
She drained her coffee mug before setting it back on the table, both enjoying and hating the quiet house. Manny was out, gone to the movies with his girlfriend (or his guy friends, he hadn’t been entirely clear as to which), and she knew that barring an emergency, he wouldn’t be back until the morning. So she was alone. Alone with the moonlit night and her dark memories. No, they weren’t dark. They were stained bright red, and that made her stomach churn.
A sudden knock on her front door jarred the detective from her thoughts, and as she hurried to answer it, she prayed she wouldn’t find one of her fellow officers on the other side.
But no uniformed man or woman greeted her when she opened the door. Instead, she was surprised to see Betty standing on her front porch. “Hi,” Angie said awkwardly, not entirely sure what to make of the unannounced visit. They normally arranged their meetings carefully, to make sure things stayed quiet.
“Evening, Angie. You gonna make me stand outside all night?” While Betty’s tone was light, there was a sadness in her expression that set off alarm bells in the detective’s mind.
“Not unless something happened to Manny that I should know about,” Angie responded, and was relieved to see the other woman shake her head.
“Nope, haven’t heard a thing. Out having some fun, huh?”
Backing up a few steps, she let the doctor in and closed the door behind her, answering while the other slid her coat and boots off. “Yeah, he went to the movies.” She would have said more, but Betty was pressing a finger to her lips, silencing her.
When Angie lifted an eyebrow, Betty stoked the side of her face and murmured, “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I heard what happened in Toronto.” The detective took a step back, looking away while she tried to come up with a witty remark. Nothing.
“Thanks.” There was that awkwardness again, and she hated it. They were closer than this, she should be able to open up more, but she couldn’t face those crimson memories and she didn’t want to see the sting of disappointment on her lover’s face.
Her eyes widened a moment later as Betty cupped her face with her hands and made Angie look at her. On a normal night, she would have resisted more, tossed out a joke or something, but she was just so tired and thus didn’t fight back. They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Betty leaned in and kissed her. It was a gentle, loving kiss, and so she closed her eyes and enjoyed it, wishing for it to never end.
But it had to, and when they parted, Angie allowed herself to sink into her lover’s embrace, turning her head slightly to nuzzle Betty’s neck. The faint odour of chemicals and blood told her that the other woman had come straight from the morgue to see her, and while she could usually stand the smell of death, tonight it brought back unpleasant memories. She didn’t change position though, simply held still and tried to ignore the thoughts that threatened to ruin the moment.
Betty must have sensed something however, for she pulled back and looked at Angie intently. “When was the last time you slept?” she asked quietly.
“Last night.” For about an hour, anyway.
“Before that?”
“On the plane.” Well, she wouldn’t describe it as sleeping, but she had rested during the flight. Disturbing the other passengers should she have a nightmare hadn’t been high on her list of things to do.
Her lover clearly wasn’t buying it, so Angie straightened up and did her best to look alert. It didn’t work, for Betty sighed, smiled and then nudged her towards the stairs. “Upstairs missy, before I have to carry you there.” Having no desire to be manhandled tonight, she frowned in return before grabbing her lover’s hand and marching up the stairs. Somehow she doubted sex was what Betty had in mind.
She must have been more tired than she realized, for the sight of her (rather messy) bed triggered a wave of exhaustion, and she barely managed to make it under the covers before sleep claimed her.
- - -
The smell of coffee woke her up, and while it felt like no time had passed since she went to sleep, she figured it must be morning if Betty was already awake. She felt better now. Sort of, anyway. The images constantly popping up in her mind since Toronto were still there, but the colours seemed dimmer now, the pool of blood spreading out beneath Barry Ketchum’s body not quite as bright as it had been before. Angie lay there, considering the impact of a night’s rest when she realized that she wasn’t alone in bed. The soft rustle of paper as a page was turned mingled with Betty’s steady breathing, indicating that her lover had returned to bed after making the coffee.
Cracking open an eye, she confirmed that the bedside lamp was on, and she assumed that her friend had spotted something interesting among Angie’s collection and was reading that. Their bookshelves, like their closets, were free game whenever one of them stayed over at the other’s place.
Rolling over, she rested her forehead against her lover’s hip and slid a hand over her thigh, noticing that Betty had showed at some point between last night and now. She then wondered how the following conversation was going to go. Oh, there was definitely going to be a conversation, that much was certain. Betty had no doubt come over last night to talk her through what had happened, but due to Angie’s exhaustion, the chat had been postponed until now.
“Morning, sweetie,” Betty said, closing whatever book she had managed to find and sliding down to join Angie under the covers.
“Hey Bets. What time is it?” She had no idea where he phone was, and she was too lazy to look at the clock on the bedside table.
“Fairly early, at least if we were regular people,” her lover joked, giving her a quick kiss before drawing her into a loose hug, her chin resting on Angie’s head. “But we’re not regular, are we?” Normally their positions were switched, but the detective figured that she could use some cuddling after what she had gone through.
“Tell that to my son,” Angie joked weakly, getting a chuckle for her efforts. She then closed her eyes as Betty began to run a hand through her hair, her fingers somehow not snagging on the tangles she knew had to be there.
“I’m sure Manny’s proud of you,” her lover murmured, and she smiled, knowing it was true. Silence fell between them for a minute, and Angie took the time to fully wake up while she waited for the inevitable. Betty’s fingers eventually stopped combing through her hair, her hand sliding down to rest on her shoulders. This was it.
“You want to talk?” Betty’s tone was soft, but there was a hint of steel in her words that indicated there would be a ‘talk’ even if she said no.
“…I guess,” Angie answered, doing her best to keep from squirming. Was this how suspects felt when she confronted them? “What do you want to talk about?” If she was going to be forced into a conversation, then damn it, she would do it kicking and screaming.
“About what happened in Toronto. I know what you’re like around dead bodies.”
The words Toronto and dead bodies made her freeze for a moment, and Betty pulled her closer until the panic faded and she could think clearly again. And then she spoke, the words slow as she tried to explain what she was going through.
She had blood on her hands again. Yes, again, because while she had certainly been forced to shoot suspects in the past, they had been a threat to herself and possibly others. Some had even died. This time was different. This time, she had forced a man to kill himself by chasing him half-way across the country, driving him into deep despair which ended with him dead on the floor of his own police station. In a sense, she was as guilty as if she had pulled the trigger herself. And she wasn’t sure if that blood would ever come off.
Betty listened silently throughout the following minutes as Angie revealed this, and then held her while she let the tears out which had been building up since the shooting, murmuring softly that everything was going to be all right. She accepted the comfort the words gave her, even if they weren’t true. All right meant counselling, and she didn’t want some stranger picking through her brain and analyzing her feelings. But that might have to happen, especially if her bosses thought she needed it.
Her lover handed her the tissue box once she had calmed down, then gave her a quick kiss before leaving to get them some coffee. While she was gone, Angie took the time to clean herself up and change into a pair of pyjamas before climbing back into bed. She wasn’t particularly in the mood for sex, even if it would provide some physical comfort.
“Feeling any better?” Betty asked as she came back into the room, two steaming mugs in her hands.
“A little. Thanks.” Accepting the coffee with a smile, she inhaled its rich scent for a moment and snuggled up to her lover as the other woman settled down beside her. “Thanks for everything.”
“You’re very welcome.” As Betty shifted to slide an arm around Angie’s waist, Angie smiled at her. It would take some time and a lot of work, but with Betty there to support her, maybe everything would turn out all right.
Fandom: Motive
Rating: Teen
Genre: Angst, Femslash
Word Count: 1,722
Warnings: Mentions of suicide
Spoilers: Spoilers for 1x06 - Detour
Pairing: Angie/Betty
Summary: Angie can't forget what happened in Toronto, no matter how hard she tries.
Author's Note: Whee, this looks like the first fic for this fandom! I'm so happy I finally finished this!
Bloodstained Hands
Angie stared out the window of her home, trying to lose herself in the reflection of the moon off the water while at the same time not allowing herself to doze off. It had been only a day since she had gotten back from Toronto, and she supposed her body was still trying to adjust to the time difference. That, and the fact that she had barely slept in 48 hours.
She drained her coffee mug before setting it back on the table, both enjoying and hating the quiet house. Manny was out, gone to the movies with his girlfriend (or his guy friends, he hadn’t been entirely clear as to which), and she knew that barring an emergency, he wouldn’t be back until the morning. So she was alone. Alone with the moonlit night and her dark memories. No, they weren’t dark. They were stained bright red, and that made her stomach churn.
A sudden knock on her front door jarred the detective from her thoughts, and as she hurried to answer it, she prayed she wouldn’t find one of her fellow officers on the other side.
But no uniformed man or woman greeted her when she opened the door. Instead, she was surprised to see Betty standing on her front porch. “Hi,” Angie said awkwardly, not entirely sure what to make of the unannounced visit. They normally arranged their meetings carefully, to make sure things stayed quiet.
“Evening, Angie. You gonna make me stand outside all night?” While Betty’s tone was light, there was a sadness in her expression that set off alarm bells in the detective’s mind.
“Not unless something happened to Manny that I should know about,” Angie responded, and was relieved to see the other woman shake her head.
“Nope, haven’t heard a thing. Out having some fun, huh?”
Backing up a few steps, she let the doctor in and closed the door behind her, answering while the other slid her coat and boots off. “Yeah, he went to the movies.” She would have said more, but Betty was pressing a finger to her lips, silencing her.
When Angie lifted an eyebrow, Betty stoked the side of her face and murmured, “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I heard what happened in Toronto.” The detective took a step back, looking away while she tried to come up with a witty remark. Nothing.
“Thanks.” There was that awkwardness again, and she hated it. They were closer than this, she should be able to open up more, but she couldn’t face those crimson memories and she didn’t want to see the sting of disappointment on her lover’s face.
Her eyes widened a moment later as Betty cupped her face with her hands and made Angie look at her. On a normal night, she would have resisted more, tossed out a joke or something, but she was just so tired and thus didn’t fight back. They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Betty leaned in and kissed her. It was a gentle, loving kiss, and so she closed her eyes and enjoyed it, wishing for it to never end.
But it had to, and when they parted, Angie allowed herself to sink into her lover’s embrace, turning her head slightly to nuzzle Betty’s neck. The faint odour of chemicals and blood told her that the other woman had come straight from the morgue to see her, and while she could usually stand the smell of death, tonight it brought back unpleasant memories. She didn’t change position though, simply held still and tried to ignore the thoughts that threatened to ruin the moment.
Betty must have sensed something however, for she pulled back and looked at Angie intently. “When was the last time you slept?” she asked quietly.
“Last night.” For about an hour, anyway.
“Before that?”
“On the plane.” Well, she wouldn’t describe it as sleeping, but she had rested during the flight. Disturbing the other passengers should she have a nightmare hadn’t been high on her list of things to do.
Her lover clearly wasn’t buying it, so Angie straightened up and did her best to look alert. It didn’t work, for Betty sighed, smiled and then nudged her towards the stairs. “Upstairs missy, before I have to carry you there.” Having no desire to be manhandled tonight, she frowned in return before grabbing her lover’s hand and marching up the stairs. Somehow she doubted sex was what Betty had in mind.
She must have been more tired than she realized, for the sight of her (rather messy) bed triggered a wave of exhaustion, and she barely managed to make it under the covers before sleep claimed her.
- - -
The smell of coffee woke her up, and while it felt like no time had passed since she went to sleep, she figured it must be morning if Betty was already awake. She felt better now. Sort of, anyway. The images constantly popping up in her mind since Toronto were still there, but the colours seemed dimmer now, the pool of blood spreading out beneath Barry Ketchum’s body not quite as bright as it had been before. Angie lay there, considering the impact of a night’s rest when she realized that she wasn’t alone in bed. The soft rustle of paper as a page was turned mingled with Betty’s steady breathing, indicating that her lover had returned to bed after making the coffee.
Cracking open an eye, she confirmed that the bedside lamp was on, and she assumed that her friend had spotted something interesting among Angie’s collection and was reading that. Their bookshelves, like their closets, were free game whenever one of them stayed over at the other’s place.
Rolling over, she rested her forehead against her lover’s hip and slid a hand over her thigh, noticing that Betty had showed at some point between last night and now. She then wondered how the following conversation was going to go. Oh, there was definitely going to be a conversation, that much was certain. Betty had no doubt come over last night to talk her through what had happened, but due to Angie’s exhaustion, the chat had been postponed until now.
“Morning, sweetie,” Betty said, closing whatever book she had managed to find and sliding down to join Angie under the covers.
“Hey Bets. What time is it?” She had no idea where he phone was, and she was too lazy to look at the clock on the bedside table.
“Fairly early, at least if we were regular people,” her lover joked, giving her a quick kiss before drawing her into a loose hug, her chin resting on Angie’s head. “But we’re not regular, are we?” Normally their positions were switched, but the detective figured that she could use some cuddling after what she had gone through.
“Tell that to my son,” Angie joked weakly, getting a chuckle for her efforts. She then closed her eyes as Betty began to run a hand through her hair, her fingers somehow not snagging on the tangles she knew had to be there.
“I’m sure Manny’s proud of you,” her lover murmured, and she smiled, knowing it was true. Silence fell between them for a minute, and Angie took the time to fully wake up while she waited for the inevitable. Betty’s fingers eventually stopped combing through her hair, her hand sliding down to rest on her shoulders. This was it.
“You want to talk?” Betty’s tone was soft, but there was a hint of steel in her words that indicated there would be a ‘talk’ even if she said no.
“…I guess,” Angie answered, doing her best to keep from squirming. Was this how suspects felt when she confronted them? “What do you want to talk about?” If she was going to be forced into a conversation, then damn it, she would do it kicking and screaming.
“About what happened in Toronto. I know what you’re like around dead bodies.”
The words Toronto and dead bodies made her freeze for a moment, and Betty pulled her closer until the panic faded and she could think clearly again. And then she spoke, the words slow as she tried to explain what she was going through.
She had blood on her hands again. Yes, again, because while she had certainly been forced to shoot suspects in the past, they had been a threat to herself and possibly others. Some had even died. This time was different. This time, she had forced a man to kill himself by chasing him half-way across the country, driving him into deep despair which ended with him dead on the floor of his own police station. In a sense, she was as guilty as if she had pulled the trigger herself. And she wasn’t sure if that blood would ever come off.
Betty listened silently throughout the following minutes as Angie revealed this, and then held her while she let the tears out which had been building up since the shooting, murmuring softly that everything was going to be all right. She accepted the comfort the words gave her, even if they weren’t true. All right meant counselling, and she didn’t want some stranger picking through her brain and analyzing her feelings. But that might have to happen, especially if her bosses thought she needed it.
Her lover handed her the tissue box once she had calmed down, then gave her a quick kiss before leaving to get them some coffee. While she was gone, Angie took the time to clean herself up and change into a pair of pyjamas before climbing back into bed. She wasn’t particularly in the mood for sex, even if it would provide some physical comfort.
“Feeling any better?” Betty asked as she came back into the room, two steaming mugs in her hands.
“A little. Thanks.” Accepting the coffee with a smile, she inhaled its rich scent for a moment and snuggled up to her lover as the other woman settled down beside her. “Thanks for everything.”
“You’re very welcome.” As Betty shifted to slide an arm around Angie’s waist, Angie smiled at her. It would take some time and a lot of work, but with Betty there to support her, maybe everything would turn out all right.