7. Badges and Boundaries Both Ignored #2
My arm feels like rubber as I reach over and unplug the phone before the bright screen blinds me.
The headache instantly becomes worse, and I drop my phone.
Thankfully, it falls face down on the bed, blocking the blinding beam while I press my fingers into my eyelids.
My head pulses in time with my erratic heartbeat, and it isn’t long until it lands hard on the pillow.
Sleep drags me under, despite the nagging voice urging me to resist. I hurt too much to fight.
The alarm blares on my phone, but I take an extra minute to find it inside the tangled mess of blankets. I swipe the alarm off, enjoying a blissful moment of silence in my success. My head pounds and I have a flash of memory, reminding me I used the last of the vodka in my drink last night.
“Cathy, I hope you’re laughing at my pathetic ass,” I mumble, holding my head between my palms.
I really mean it this time. I need to cut back on alcohol.
Absentmindedly, I peel my clothes from my body and add them to the overgrown pile before hopping into the shower.
The warmth of the water embraces me as I step into the stall, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that I am simply dragging myself through the motions of getting ready for work.
Time melts away as I let the water rinse my sticky skin, but I emerge wishing I hadn’t taken so long.
I should have saved time for makeup. My skin looks dull and patchy, which will only draw more attention to the deep bags under my eyes.
On the ride to work, I scramble through the glove compartment until I finally find the pair of sunglasses Cathy kept for sunny days. If Killian can wear glasses any time of day, then so can I.
Might as well give the guys in the station something else to focus on rather than the steaming pile of shit I look like this morning.
“Aww, look,” James says, putting his hand on my shoulder to stop me the moment I walk in. “They are already wearing matching outfits.”
The sunglasses don’t hide my cheeks, and I feel them heat as I realize the insinuation James made from my act of fashion rebellion.
“No,” I say in a haste of defense before taking a breath to refocus. The pause would have been effective if followed by a quick retort, but my mind blanked and if it weren’t for the glasses, James would have seen my eyes widen as panic crept into my chest.
I can’t think of anything to say.
“Kira figured out sunglasses equal nap time. Didn’t you, princess?” Killian offers, striding up to make us an impromptu group of gossipers just inside the doorway.
“Yet, you let him call you that,” James accuses, holding his palm out, waiting for my next line of defense.
“I taught him right out the gate that I get what I want.” I raise an eyebrow but quickly realize James can’t see it behind the thick, black frame.
James looks into my lenses, and I know what it’s like to have a conversation with your own reflection. There is uncertainty in his expression, it morphs into contemplation and finally lands on a blot of inspiration.
“That’s genius!” James exclaims before heading over to his desk. He rummages through the bottom drawer before shutting it and beginning the search through another.
“Another sleepless night, princess?” Killian asks, turning all his attention to me now that James is occupied.
“Actually, I went to bed early and slept like the dead.”
I step around Killian, finally making my way to my desk.
Rex has already fallen asleep, knowing full well what the rain on the drive meant for his schedule.
A quick look at my empty basket says there isn’t anything new to work on.
I go with Killian’s idea and settle into my chair, allowing my eyelids to flutter shut.
I don’t know why I’m so tired.
“Here.”
I open my eyes and see blank white. Then I realize I am staring at the ceiling, and my mouth is hanging open. I fix myself, sitting up in my chair as Killian stands on the other side of my desk with a steaming cup of coffee in offering.
“It’s almost lunch.” Killian places the cup on my desk, then returns to his.
I give him a smile in thanks once he sits in my old chair, then pull the steaming cup towards me and take a deep inhale.
Even the moist vapors have a revitalizing quality, and, despite the temperature, I take a sputtered sip.
It’s barely enough to coat my mouth, but it is enough to replace the hot, arid landscape with a lush valley.
The door to the captain’s office opens behind me and I have to resist the urge to turn. I feel like I am in high school again, trying to avoid Mrs. Wheeler as we snuck out for daily smoke breaks. I was addicted to nicotine and red flags. She liked to smoke something a little more uplifting.
“Oh, Kira,” Captain says, turning back after passing my desk.
There are bags under his eyes, and his uniform is nowhere nearly as neat as his funeral suit.
It looks like I’m not the only one feeling the exhaustion that has swept the station with the change in weather.
He looks unsure if he wants to continue the conversation or allow it to stop as an unscripted greeting.
“What’s up?” I ask, lacing my fingers together, resting them behind my head.
“The raid,” he starts, pausing long enough for a rush of heat to flow through my body as Ghost pops into my mind.
“What about it?”
“It’s just. Well, in the report…” Captain trails off and I stare at him, this time confused what bone he thinks he is hunting.
“Killian.” I look over only to notice him and all the other officers already watching my exchange.
What can I say? I exist to provide entertainment.
“Hmm?”
“Captain has questions about the raid report. That’s you, right?”
Killian straightens, puffing out his chest in a way that makes his body look too stiff.
Apparently, I’m not the only one channeling their inner teenager.
He strides over to my desk, his back like a rod and his shoulders squared.
He blocks the light with his tremendous shadow, standing beside me and opposite the Captain.
“Is there a problem?” Killian asks.
“Not with the report, no,” Captain says to Killian in a dismissing manner, but Killian doesn’t move. After a moment, Captain continues. “It’s regarding the injury, Kira.”
I look to Killian and then to Captain, neither of them able to see my look of confusion. I take my glasses off for them to get a clue. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You were assaulted during the raid. I want you to come down to Holdings and pick out your man. Make sure it’s added to the counts against him.
There were only three men caught out of the five, so I don’t think it will take up too much of your afternoon.
” It felt like he was trying to handle me with white gloves of fragility; only I didn’t know if he saw me as a glass or a bomb.
“I didn’t see him,” I say simply, not wanting to go down to Holdings to point at a random man to stick with an extra charge he didn’t earn. “I don’t want to press charges, Captain.”
Captain’s eyebrow rises as he narrowly leans in, no doubt inspecting the skin of my neck. It looks just as dull as the rest. He turns to Killian. “Did you or anyone else get pictures of her injury?”
“No,” Killian says, and I see this isn’t the answer Captain is hoping for.
“I’m going to need to redact that part from the report,” Captain says, talking to himself this time.
He looks up and notices the rest of the station, acutely aware of the situation, and addresses them all.
“Remember due process, everyone.” He taps the top of my desk, making waves in the coffee I have yet to fully enjoy.
At least it had enough time to cool off.