Who: Gus and Justice What: The ‘welcome back asshole’ conversation Where: Gus’s house When: Thursday morning Rating: High for language?
It hadn’t been a good two-weeks for Justice Cooper. If pressed, that general description could probably be applied to her entire life, but at the moment, it was the last two weeks and whatever amount of days that she was especially focusing on. Two weeks of shit-poor business at the Cellar. Two weeks of sour brooding over being thrown to the wolves by the man she was closest to, without so much as a courteous ‘heads up’. Two weeks of being under surveillance, by the local police and undoubtedly more, now that she’d been publicly named a suspect in Babylon’s recent triple homicide. Regardless of a shaky alibi, there was no evidence, but the damage had sure as hell been done. There were eyes on her everywhere.
That’s why she didn’t run to his house the second she found out he was back in town. Gus hadn’t so much as sent her a return text in more than half a month. All the shit he’d left her to deal with, honestly, she could handle it - and if she couldn’t handle it, at least she’d try. So long as he didn’t come back. Not knowing what he’d fled off to Michigan for, Justice tried to concentrate on the fact that he’d gotten out - bittersweet as that thought was. It hurt. It hurt like fuck, but it was what was best, right?
But no. He came back, and still refused to answer her text or voicemail. The anger tasted as sour as the sense of betrayal firmly lodged like a brick in her stomach. The same that was constantly telling her to stay away.
Of course, she couldn’t. It was difficult to say if she’d been followed, but maneuvering herself in a maze of indirection just to be sure gave Justice enough sense of security to bring herself to Gus’s door - his back door - where she promptly pounded on it with a closed, white-knuckle fist.
Gus hadn’t had a great two weeks, either. He was still technically on leave - bereavement - but he hadn’t said anything to anyone. It was all just a bit much to swallow after so many ups and downs close together, and suddenly his life was in total upheaval. The inside of his home was still stacked with boxes, and the couch had a pillow and rumpled blanket on it - he wasn’t going to make his daughter sleep on a damned couch.
Thankfully, Kim was at school. He had been leaning against his kitchen counter, sipping a coffee that was nearly cold, when the pounding on the door snapped him out of it. He was a bit scruffy when he answered, a little baggage under his eyes, but otherwise he looked all right.
Seeing Justice immediately reminded him that there were still things going on in Babylon. Things he’d have to jump back into soon.
He’d left without even sending her a text about her being a suspect. Gus opened his mouth to apologize.
Justice cut him off before the first word could get out.
“Before you say anything,” she said quickly, her voice low and tight with more emotion than she wanted. Her hands were at her sides, then in front of her, then in her pockets, wanting a cigarette more than anything and having nothing to do in the absence of one. “--tell me your kids are alright.”
She had to make sure. ‘Family Emergency’ was vague, and the first thing her mind went to, naturally, was his kids. She wasn’t going to scream at him if something had happened to one of them.
Gus had flinched when she cut him off, and he nodded slowly at her question, unconsciously glancing behind him before he added any words to the vague nod.
“Yeah, the kids are okay. Sort of,” Gus said. He was hesitant to add more, and he tried to apologize again, “Justice-”
“You gonna let me in or we doin’ this out here?” she asked, again cutting him short, again with more emotion than she could filter out of her voice. Her anger had flared anew when he assured her his children were fine, but flickered again with the additive. Either way, she was getting more and more nervous the longer her back was to the open.
“Uh, yeah,” Gus said uneasily, unable to hold her gaze. He’d fucked her over a little bit, and while it still would’ve happened had he stayed in Babylon, being broadsided wasn’t exactly ideal, “Sure, come on in.”
He stepped back inside and held the door for her, closing it to keep the chilly air out. The sink was half-full of dishes, nothing like the usual sparse bachelor pad he maintained. While there were no boxes in the kitchen, it was clear something about his living situation had changed.
Having learned his lesson, Gus waited for Justice to continue. He could say his piece, however belated and useless, once she was done.
There was plenty bottled up inside, just waiting to spray like shit hitting the proverbial fan, but silence continued, stretching as she stepped into the kitchen. Her hands on her hips, again for lack of something productive (or destructive) to do, the way she averted looking at his face inevitably sent a glance around the place. More questions clogged the internal monologue she was ready to unleash. Everything was getting mucked up, and her tight expression betrayed it.
Finally, she squared her shoulders at him, locked on his eyes. Her brows knit up above her narrow nose, as if that would help decide where to start.
In the end, all that she could get out intelligibly was a higher pitched, “What the fuck, Gus...?”
“I know, I know,” he said, hating her tone, how packed with hurt it was. He felt emotionally raw, and this was hitting the big hearted Sheriff even harder than it normally might, “I should have given you a heads up, and I’m sorry. You were fingered by someone, and we can’t ignore leads. We had to investigate you. I don’t know anything else beyond that, though, Justice. But I’m sorry as hell you didn’t hear about it from me first.”
It didn’t undo anything, but he was sincere. A defeated type of sincerity, but sincerity nonetheless. He considered adding his reason for leaving so abruptly, for not answering calls, but he didn’t want to seem like he was trying to invalidate or diffuse her anger. She was right to be pissed off.
Justice might be a hot-head in situations where it was both good and very bad for her health; she had triggers like everyone else, the difference being that her ammo was usually a hell of a lot more potent than the average Joe. Her pension for giving in to small vices and temptations and anger-management issues was, so far, pretty well known (and now, a matter of public Babylon record), but for all of this, there were things that could cut through the fog of rage and instant-gratification. That was the martyr’s side of her, as Dad put it. The human part. And it latched onto the honesty in Gus’s eyes and voice and poured vinegar all over the chemical burn that was her emotional state.
That didn’t mean it stopped hurting.
She rolled her lips and looked back out at the living room and it’s city of boxes. She shifted weight from boot to boot, and looked down at them. “Do you have any idea what has been going on here? Are we even friends anymore?” she asked, still cut by her own word choice.
“I haven’t looked at anything since I’ve gotten back, Coop,” Gus said. He’d been wondering if it was possible for him to feel any lower - he could, it turned out, “And I... I think we are. Hell, I don’t know, Justice. I didn’t know what was going on with you before I left, and I sure don’t know now.”
It wasn’t very decisive, but Gus had no idea how to come at this head-on.
“I’ve still got another two weeks leave before I’m back on duty,” he said, “So if you want to fill me in, I’d be grateful.”
Honestly, Gus didn’t think he was up to dealing with this, but he’d made his bed. No sense putting off lying in it.
“What’s been going on--” she started, meeting his eyes with her brows lifted. Her expression was as much hurt as it was aggressive; something Justice didn’t know how to turn off. “I’ve been singled out - on TV - as a ‘prime suspect’ for a triple homicide in a town of fifteen hundred people. I’ve got an empty bar, a mailbox full of death threats, and twelve slashed tires.” Not to mention that hard-to-explain knowledge that she was being watched all. the time. Just waiting for an open shot. “I haven’t been able to leave the Cellar for more than an hour,” in daylight, “and my one friend who could’ve had it handled like a fucking professional skips town - then comes back without a single word. That’s what’s been going on.” Justice held her hand up, a clear gesture that she wasn’t done.
“So I get you’re sorry,” she added with a slight change in tone. She was angry, yes, but it was so much more complicated than she could get away with by just raging. Raging would’ve been so much easier. “What I need from you, as one last ditch effort or final hooah to whatever friendship we had is the ‘Why’. Tell me why you let me dangle in the wind.”
He was quiet for a moment. Extra sorry’s wouldn’t fix that being a suspect had royally fucked up her life, at least until she was exonerated. Even then, it was a lasting stink, one not everyone was able to scrub off. He’d already apologized, though, and he wouldn’t insult her by piling on more. Of course he was sorry. Even moreso, hearing how bad things were.
“Francine was killed in a car accident,” he said, “Her husband’s in a coma. The kids are... they’re doing their best. Eddie’s just staying at college for now but he’ll come to Babylon on summer break. I thought Kimmy might stay with my mom and finish up this year, but... she wanted to stay with me. She’s miserable, and I told her she didn’t have to go back to school right away, but...”
Gus rubbed his face and shook his head.
“Her funeral was last week,” he said, sounding dazed, “It’s been a lot to deal with, and really hard on the kids.”
He wasn’t sure how to communicate just how thrown off he’d been by the entire situation, so he didn’t try. The last thing he’d thought about Francine before he got the news was what a wretched harpy she was. Now she was dead, and her husband, the man she’d cheated on Gus with, was probably going to join her. It was so sudden, so pointless almost. He hadn’t really cared for either of them, sure, but he didn’t want them dead.
And just like that, brick by brick, any conceptions and ideas of what might have happened crashed out like broken windows. He could probably watch the color drain from her face, not just because the ordeal he’d gone through was horrific - though that was a factor - but definitely when he disclosed his daughter had come back with him. Justice repeated the words over in her head, three times, making sure she heard him correctly. The boxes. The dishes. It all fit, and she swallowed the ball of wire in her throat.
Lifting her hand to wipe at her nose and mouth, she couldn’t look at him. What the hell did she do now?
“I’m sorry,” she managed to mutter, feeling every word. Even more so, the ones that followed, given with her sincere gaze that was just on the verge of breaking. “You should’ve stayed in Michigan. You should go back.” Take her with. Don’t look back.
Gus wasn’t sure how to react to the abrupt turn around. He nodded in thanks about the sorry, but the rest, going back to Michigan? What was that about?
“Things are too crazy to think about a big move right now,” Gus said, “I’ve got to get things back in order at the department, so I can’t just leave. I’m am elected official, and I... I don’t know, Justice. Going back to Michigan just doesn’t feel like the right move. Not right now, when everything’s still up in the air.”
He scratched the thick stubble on his jaw and shifted his weight.
“I think Babylon will do Kimmy some good,” he said, “There’s a hockey team, and nobody here knows that her mother’s dead. And she was kind of thrilled about not having to wear a uniform to school.”
Gus’s smile was an awfully thin thing, but he was taking whatever good stuff he could right now, however small.
While he was desperately grabbing at the silver lining, if there was one at all, Justice’s expression belonged to the likes seen in hospital waiting rooms. Or funerals. Her stomach twisted and tried to digest itself, having already burned off every scrap of righteous anger she had left. Left in it’s raw wake was something she’d been contemplating for a long while now. Questioning, in deep, dark depth, exactly how much fight she had left for this.
How did the world in general feel like such an easy burden to hold when the weight of keeping this one, single man safe was crushing her? Justice had run out of words. She could see it in his face, on top of every perfectly logical reason given, that they weren’t going anywhere.
“I’m sorry for her loss,” she finally said, sandpaper emotion in her voice that she couldn’t smooth out. She shook her head at her self. “And yours...” Justice forced herself to look at him one more time before heading heavily for the back door. “Keep her safe.”
“I will,” Gus said. Like he’d picked up in their last few conversations, there was always heavy dark matter in Justice’s words. He couldn’t actually detect it, but there was more there, beyond what she was saying.
“Once I’m back on duty, Justice, I’m going to try to get this investigation back on track,” he said, “I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll at last make a statement about harassing others the way you’re being harassed isn’t exactly in line with the law, either.”
Not that it lessened the impact of anything they were talking about, but he did want to try and fix things. He just... had other things to fix right now, and unfortunately, he had to prioritize. Right now, getting his daughter settled in was at the top of the list. Christ, this was awkward. He didn’t even know what else to say. Were they ever going to have a conversation that didn’t end on an awkward note from here on out? It’d started going downhill after the incident in this very rental, and now Gus was worried he was going to lose one of his closest friends, and lose them because he just had no idea how to rebuild the parts of the bridge that had been set on fire.
“You want a coffee or something...?” he attempted. Gus had no idea what they’d talk about, but shit, he’d drink in dead silence if it helped.
A step and a half away from the door, she stopped. It wasn’t because he promised to rein in the shit-storm surrounding the charges against her; that ship had sailed and there was no getting it back. Not in the ways she knew about; the target on her back was now a bright neon sign, and being exonerated (even if she was involved) was not going to fix that. His offer for coffee was what gave her pause. One part of her thought of it as a genuine peace offering, the other was imagining a bone throne to a starving dog.
After a long moment and a hard sigh, she finally nodded in acceptance, but didn’t say anything. The only movement she had any confidence for was to finally dig into her back pocket for her smokes.
“Uh, not in the house,” Gus winced as he poured two coffees, “Come on, we’ll go out on the back porch.”
It was chilly, but the chill was fading, and warm coffees would help fight it. Gus shrugged a coat on and stepped into some boots without lacing them up. Previously he hadn’t been too bothered about people having smokes in the house, but that was when it was just him. Things were different now, and he took setting a good example seriously, especially when things were so fragile.
“For all I know she smokes a pack a day,” she said apologetically, taking solace in talking about his children as he always did, “But I don’t want her thinking I’ve taken it up.”
Justice had no issues with smoking outside, so long as she could keep her back to a wall. In his garage would’ve been preferable, knowing the sigils she’d managed to put there without him knowing. Back when things were still complicated, but a hell of a lot easier. Without a word, she accepted the coffee and set her back on the siding, sinking down to her rear on the deck. First thing was always first - she set the mug by her hip and cupped her hands around the cigarette in her mouth.
Smoke dissolved quickly in the breeze, after she’d held it in as long as possible. Addiction, maybe, but the burn was grounding. Familiar. Constant. Probably the only thing left so in her life.
Gus just sipped at his fresh coffee in silence, looking out at the postage stamp of a backyard. Right now Kimberly was okay with things, but he couldn’t really provide the same lifestyle her mother had. He was worried she would lash out, or want to go back to Michigan to live with Francine’s parents, and that didn’t even cover how he felt about Eddie dealing with his mother’s death all alone at college.
And now he was back in Babylon, and Justice’s life was royally fucked right now, and there was just so much going on. Gus didn’t even know where to start.
Maybe this was what he needed to do with Justice, though. Stop trying to work it out with words, at least for now, and just let things be. When they were just silently sharing a drink together, he didn’t feel so ill at ease and out of his depth. It felt comfortable and familiar, and he needed that more than ever right now.
And so it was, for several minutes. Justice went through her coffee and the two cigarettes that book-ended the drink before she even thought about giving voice to some of the things in her head. It was a cool-off period; time to let the water settle and hopefully clarify. Unfortunately, things were never that clear cut - they hadn’t been for her, regarding him. Not ever, even in her normally very black-and-white existence.
At least, however, when she did speak, things felt a little more neutral. The addition of Kimberly in his life trumped all the shit she was holding onto. Didn’t make her feel any better about it, but at least it gave her a direction. Still didn’t feel likely that anything Justice said would change Gus’s mind about staying in Babylon. In that moment, as she sucked on the last dregs of the second smoke, she realized nothing she’d ever said to him had that effect. Here she’d been, tied in knots because of him, and she hadn’t had any influence at all. It was a sobering thought, indeed.
“This town,” she said finally, still not looking at him and busying her hands with yet another cigarette. “It seems small and quaint, like it comes with all the little-town benefits and little-town problems...” She lit the smoke and took a drag, speaking through the haze that spilled from her lungs. “It’s not. It’s not good for you here.”
“Justice, it’s a lot better here than me trying to live somewhere close to where Kim was going to school,” he said, frowning. He was still nursing his coffee, and he wasn’t sure if he ought to be offended by her urging him to leave town or not, “I sure as hell can’t afford a gated community, and you’d be right if you guessed Francine’s parents aren’t too eager to pay the freight.”
Disgusting group of people, them, but he’d thought they’d at least support their goddamn grandchildren.
“I can’t afford private school, either. Not without living in some Detroit tenement, anyway,” he shook his head, “It’s better here than it is there. Why are you trying to get me to leave? I like this town. I care about the people in it.”
Justice, still not looking at him, just closed her eyes. Her head hung from her shoulders after resting against the house. Of course she knew how vague she was being, the problem lie in the fact that she’d been so cautious with such matters her entire life. It was always a major risk being straight forward, difficult even with strangers to which she only had the most general responsibility to. It was near impossible, now.
“Do you think I’m crazy, Gus?” she looked at him directly now, squinting into the sun at his shoulder. “Seriously. Because if not, consider the logical reason why I would be constantly trying to get the one person I really trust in this town as far away from it as possible. Doesn’t leave many options. Maybe, just... for once, you could really listen to what I’m tryin’ to say to you. Maybe you could consider the possibility that I am trying to help you.”
Gus watched her, listened, sipping his coffee, and wondered if maybe she really was crazy. Mysterious wounds, ex-boyfriends kicking the shit out of her (or so she claimed), and a local business owner, no matter how unpleasant, having a legitimate reason to suspect her for being even passingly involved in a triple homicide.
And now she just wanted him to leave town?
Justice was easily the most complex and confusing person he’d ever known. Sometimes it was great, but times like these... he didn’t know what she expected of him, or if she was even attempting to be realistic about what she was asking.
“You don’t really follow a lot of logical reasoning, Coop,” he said, and without a scrap of humor or sarcasm. Seriously. She was a goddamn mystery to him lately, and it was very disconcerting. No matter how many of their conversations he poured over, he had yet to find the cipher that made it all make sense.
Well--after that statement, being ‘straight forward’ was thrown out the window. So he thought she ‘wasn’t logical’, which was just a friend’s way of saying she should probably be committed. Talk about demons and angels and prophecies of the end of the world centered in small-town Iowa wasn’t going to get her very far.
Justice felt like someone had just shit on her grave. There’d been low points in her life, lower than this without a doubt, but it was starting to gain a good amount of significance. She sighed, tried to rework her angle of approach, and again found herself at a loss. He may’ve thought he was listening, but there was a wall there that nothing short of seeing things through her eyes would knock down.
“There is dangerous shit here, under the surface... You know there’s more to this berg, Gus, without a shadow of a doubt, you know it. Consider the possibility that I know more.” She watched him directly, unblinking, grave honesty flooding every word. “I’m a lot more than a head-case ex-Marine, and just like there are reasons why you share the details of your life, there are reasons why I don’t.” Justice used her two pinched fingertips and the cigarette to point at him, emphasizing all the meaning she could into what could possibly be digging her own grave even deeper.
“Think. Put it together.”
"The mother of my children is dead, and all you can do is insinuate there's some... fucking conspiracy?" Gus hadn't expected to snap, but something about the way she was talking to him... he could either accept it or reject it, and his gut reaction was the latter, “I’m trying real hard not to be insulted by this, Justice. I tried really hard not to question finding you chewed up and spit out on the side of the road, and I tried really hard not to notice all your mysterious injuries. I’ve even been trying not to wonder what the hell it is that’s so goddamn awful that you can’t tell me about, but...”
He set his mug down and shook his head, raking both his hands through his hair. Although he was keeping a handle on it, he was very clearly livid. It wasn’t a natural state of being for Gus.
“Every town has its problems, Justice, and unless you’re going to give me something fucking solid, drop it right now,” he said, “It’s bad enough that you have the shakiest goddamn alibi for a triple homicide. Now you want me to leave town for reasons I’m supposed to figure out on my own?”
Gus shook his head.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” he said. Simple, quiet, but still framed with barely restrained anger.
His anger wasn’t unfounded, and though it wound her insides even tighter, Justice couldn’t blame him for it. She could scream and kick inside all she wanted, it did no good, and she stayed quiet and still as a private being reamed by a drill Sergeant. For all the things that jumped to her lips, there was nothing he would take as anything but the psychotic ramblings of a paranoid trauma case.
That’s when it really hit her, with the implied question he barely got through a jaw she could hear was clenched. I just want you to be safe. Even that wouldn’t come out. Nothing she could say would make this right, or better, for either of them.
Justice got to her feet, and set her empty mug on the patio table so he wouldn’t have to bend to get it. She looked at him, the dropped her gaze with a shake of her head.
“I’ll leave you alone,” she breathed, pulling her coat closer to her ribs and feeling the twelve inch long spike of ancient bone in it’s hiding place, heading off the deck.
Gus could only watch. He would regret not saying something later, but for now, he needed to be alone with his thoughts. For Kimberly’s sake, if not his own, he needed his shit together before she came home from school.