Love Between Law and Life

Chapter 14: Ghosts and Mystic chats

            “Hey, hey!” Bobbie couldn’t help the little shakiness in her voice at the terrified look on Florence’s face. So many things were running through her head right now and she didn’t any one of her possible scenarios for the cause of such a reaction to be true. Her own racing heart could take a back seat for now. She softs her voice, ignoring the almost desperate tone. “Look at me, Flo. What’s going on?”

            This seems to snap the psychic out of it, but Florence only turns her head to the side, grip on her hand hardly loosening. Bobbie returned the grip, hoping to give her some awareness of her surroundings without startling her. She didn’t want to hurt her. The psychic is staring at something in the distance eyes unfocused. No… not something in the distance, something right in front of them that Bobbie couldn’t see.

            “Florence, please, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?” Was her heart hurting? Most definitely. She was so close to something, she didn’t even know what, but it wasn’t very important right now. The health and wellbeing of one Florence Lowell would always be more important to her now. She’d gotten to attached. The words seem to get through to the psychic however, as a look of anger slowly spreads on her face, eyes still staring out at the distance.

            A ghost, an apparition, a vision, or something of the sort. Something had a hold on Florence, and she didn’t look the slightest bit happy about it. Her eyes then shift to the sand, the grip on the detective’s hand slacken to something loose before returning firm enough to be more of a comfort.      “You with me, Flo?”

            “Bobbie?” She voice, so horribly small and confused, like she had a million things on her mind and didn’t know what to focus on. She shivered and glanced up to the detective’s eyes for a few seconds before losing her focus again. Confused and panicking, this wasn’t normal, and Bobbie could tell Florence was floundering for something solid to hold on to. “Akamu?”

            Akamu? What did Captain Akamu have to do with any of thi- oh. Oh. Florence had mentioned it many times, the reason she didn’t do heavy psychic work anymore. She needed something to ground her or she starts drifting. Bobbie didn’t know what she meant by drifting, but she had a feeling it was this. This is what it looked like. Florence needed something… someone to ground her and Bobbie wasn’t going to let her suffer like this without at least trying to help.

            “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re with me, Florence. It’s me Bobbie.” She drops her head low enough to reach the younger woman, lowering her voice to a comforting whisper. This catches her attention, enough for her to lean in and press her head in the comfortable divot of her chest and neck. Bobbie goes with it, turning their ‘stand of’ into a firm hug.

She continues talking without really paying attention to the words, pulling context about their surrounding before moving to her rather mundane day at the precinct while starting a slow rocking motion. Bobbie knew it and would be willing admit that her day was so boring because there wasn’t a certain psychic to raise hell with her. The detective tells her about an actual call she got about a pet stuck in a tree and the half hour she spent laughing about it. The possible outing of Kaleo and them to the beach one day.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Florence sniffed and sighed, warm gust of breath ghosting over her collar bones. Bobbie doesn’t stop, giving her the chance to pull herself together by rubbing mindless circles on her back. The smaller woman was cold, freezing almost, there was more to work than a simple panic attack. Especially considering it was still ridiculously warm at the middle of the night.

“Who would have thought?” The voice is raspy and strained, the chuckle wet and choked. Florence pulled back, head bowed low in embarrassment. Nope, nope, nope, Bobbie was not having that. Florence would never and should never be embarrassed for something she could not control, not someone as sweet and caring as her. The detective tilts her head to catch her gaze, raising a finger gently to the other’s chin and lifting her head. Bobbie smiles as warm and bright as she can as she catches sight of that to watery gaze.

The bit seems to work as Florence snorts wets, hand covering her wet nose immediately. Bobbie just grins softly and pulls out her handkerchief with a little flair. The psychic’s eyes slowly get clearer as she distracts her with her antics, the shaking subsiding slowly. With a quick move, she manages to snatch the soft cloth and press it to her nose with quiet apologises about dirtying it. Bobbie shakes her head with a chuckle to silently tell her she had nothing to apologise about.

“Who would have thought what?” Bobbie doesn’t fully pull out of the hug and neither does Florence, both of them staying a slight suspended world where only the other existed. It was peaceful and quiet, and the detective took the time to watch how Florence’s eyes seemed to go through to many shades of brown from the light of the moon and the watery remnants of tears. One of her hand rests on the other’s hip, the other on her arm as a sign of solid support should she want or need it.

“You of all people, being able to ground me.” Florence winces at the sight of blood on the cloth, but Bobbie takes it back anyway before she had to chance to protest about the grossness of it. Bobbie was a detective, a wet nose was hardly a problem, especially when she was more worried about the person behind the wet nose than the cloth itself. “But for some reason, I’m not surprised at all.”

“How are you feeling?” Bobbie definitely wanted to ask her more about what she was talking about. To press questions about what was going on and how she could help but she needed to know if she was okay before she started her gentle interrogation. Unsurprisingly, Florence sees what questions she really wants to ask and smiles at her, a little more genuinely this time and a little apologetic.

“I’m fine, better than I could have be to be fairly honest, but I guess I have you to thank for that.”

“Oh yea?” Bobbie couldn’t give up the chance to wiggle her eyebrows, adding another score to the mental tally in her head as Florence snorts.

“Oh, don’t take all the credit or anything. Just me fighting with my demons.” She rolls her eyes before wrinkling her nose. Bobbie raises her eyebrows questioningly as Florence glares at her feet like they’d done her to much wrong. Yea, the detective could understand how uncomfortable wet shoes were. It was bad enough that they were on sand in shoes, salt water was not much of a bonus.

“How about we call it a night, huh?” Bobbie doesn’t bother asking her what brought on such a sudden attack, figuring if it were important or worrying enough, Florence would tell her. The psychic nods her head a little tiredly and they trot back to the van, shaking sand that had somehow managed to get into odd places.

“I saw Noelani.” Was the only words she muttered as they drove back in comfortable silence, “She wants to talk.”

Florence sighs the detective pulls up at the back of the bookstore, blatantly ignoring the apparition that had taken residence in the back seat. If Noelani kept this up, case be damned, she was getting rid of her under her own power. She was a ghost, Florence had respect for her, but she needed to remember that she was part of the other side now, she couldn’t be putting herself in the situations of the living.

Bobbie taps her fingers a little nervously on the steering wheel as Florence steps out, looking like she wanted to ask questions. The psychic took pity on her… and she didn’t really feel like being on her own, even if she was technically going to have a chat with the supernatural. “You can come inside if you want, you know?”

“Really? I mean, uh, yes, I’d like that!” Bobbie clears her throat a little awkwardly, before starting again. She still seemed a little spooked about what had almost happen, and what had happened on the beach, but she seemed to be taking it all in stride. “I mean, if I’m not intruding.”

“Kaleo doesn’t get back till morning and take it as a bonus.” She shrugs with a grin, “You’ve seen my home, now you’ll see me have a meeting with a ghost.”

“That sounds spooky.” The detective grins, turning off the vehicle and following her up the steps with a curious look. Florence waves her hand vaguely to the couches as she mutters the need to drink something hot as she trudges into the kitchen. Her wet shoes were left on the steps and their jackets hung on the back of the chairs at the table.

It was so domestic and fluid, as if they’d been doing to forever. Bobbie makes herself comfortable, looking through all the knickknacks that where lined on the wooden shelves under the television. Some were glass designs of animals native to the waters around them, others were little crafts Kaleo had built at some point in his school years.

Florence knew there was purposely nothing left of her old home and family, never really able to face them after all this time. Kaleo had never asked, and the psychic just never really bothered. She adds a little sugar to the tea for good measure before taking the pair of cups and settling on the nearest couch with a sigh. She had her life together at this point, she didn’t need to remember those who did nothing to help her when she really needed it.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s so homey.” Almost like a fascinated child, Bobbie glances through the little statuettes one more time before joining her on the far end of the couch with a huff. Florence only chuckles as she hands her one of the mugs, smiling into her cup at the detective takes a sip and practically melts.

“Usually when I make bush water, it doesn’t taste this good.”

“First of all, I resent the term ‘bush water’, that is disrespectful to my existence.” Florence hums arguably, holding out a finger to make her point. “Secondly, making good tea is an art, everybody’s got their own way and last, no, you’re not getting coffee.”

“Awwww.”

“Nope, nope, nope. It’s almost one in the morning, I’d like to sleep at some point.” She furrows her eyebrows in thought, taking another sip of the comforting warmth. “And you’re not going home at this hour. I have a guest room you can use.”

“Awe, you do care.”

“I care about not having to explain to the Captain why his detective got in an accident ‘cause she was too tired.”

“I think the Captain has successfully given up on both of this at this point.” For some reason, this starts a bout of laughter. Bobbie holds her cup tightly as to not risk dropping it, her eyes lit up despite the exhaustion. It gave Florence the confidence to get to the point of their return home.

“So, want to see me talk to ghosts?”

“Haven’t I already?” She isn’t bothered, accepting it already and more curious to see in action.

“Not really. I mean, talking to Erza doesn’t count ‘cause we kinda separated and Kaholo was whole mess by itself.” She reiterates with a wrinkled nose, not to happy her march through the woods. After this, she might just permanently, properly retire from helping the precinct. There was only so much she could handle, being covered in mud head to toe involuntarily was not one of them.

“Then yea, I’d like to see you talk to ghosts.”

“Alright, Ms Rhodes, hand me that pen and pad.” Florence sets the half finishes cup on the table before grabbing the offered paraphernalia. She folds her legs up on the couch, Bobbie watching her silently and quietly, both awaiting any further instructions and curious as to what was going to happen next.

Florence took a moment to meditate, to take in her surroundings and settle any nerves that’d become frayed in the last few hours. Then she focused on the only other living being beside her, recognising the energy beside her and committing it to memory. She used it as a grounding, a place she could fall back in and something to hold on if she got lost in a vision. 

It was interesting, just a few months ago, she wouldn’t have even considered having someone like Bobbie to ground her. Bobbie was a golden retriever in human form, but she was energetic and had a passionate fire that could burn through everything that she touched. She was determined and fearless in the face of danger, she was someone who might rush first and ask questions later.

She was everything that Florence was as a living being and it made their respective energies completely opposite to each other. It’s why Florence had ignored any possibility that the good detective might be able to ground her in a situation, but now was proving different. That fire warmed her cool personality, setting an inferno to her own passion that had become dull in the last few years. Their respective personalities filled in for what the other was missing and Florence couldn’t help but feel a little bit untouchable.

The psychic finally opened her eyes and sighed, taking note of Bobbie’s somewhat restless aura beside her as cue to show her a little action. Noelani, already knowing that she had messed to much with the affairs of the living, sits quietly on the table in front of her. It’s a little disconcerting to have the apparition so close to her face but, not uncomfortable since personal space seemed to be something most people forgot when they died.

“Well?” Bobbie raises her eyebrow and opens her mouth to ask a question before pulling back once she realised that Florence’s focus is actually on a point ahead of her. Noelani knots her fingers in her torn clothes, tilting her head.

“I have found others who are willing to help.”

“Others? Like there are more of you hurt by this guy?”

“Yes, they have been terrified before, but I have convinced them to help those that still might be able to survive.” Her voice is devoid of emotion and raspy, making Florence anxious without her permission. “I have some in their stead to answer, for I have already did wrong. I wish to make it up to you.”

“We’ll come back to that later. How many others are there?”

“Eight more, pairs of course, but one from each has offered to all that they can.” Florence juts down the number, mind to focused on keeping Noelani present to really register the meaning behind it. “They have come to me with visions and words that would be most insightful.”

“And these visions, are they clear enough?”

“They will provide you with enough.” Florence sighs and rests the pad on one leg, taking a moment to once again focus on the silent, curious detective beside her before holding out a hand in an almost meditative pose. Noelani follows and their hands are just inches apart. The psychic flinches as she’s thrown into a chaotic world without much warning. The memories were jagged and loud and moving too fast. The person was terrified, panicked and it bled into her even as hard as she tried to block it.

Her feet were bare and covered in mud, her clothes were stained with the grass and soaked through by the rain. She didn’t know where her husband was, he was going to be so worried, she hoped in the still functioning part of her mind that he was okay. She was gasping hard, to breathless to call out for help. The sound of an engine behind her roared to life, making her cry out in fear. She could see the lights reflecting on the trees. She fell, she didn’t get back up.

He pulled his jacket closer to him. The night was still warm for the most part, it was early, and it was Hawaii, he was only wearing a jacket for the style really. He was tired, he just wanted to get back to the car, his girlfriend was probably worried. Their car had broken down and he was walking the road for anyone passing by, willing to help. He saw his car, a black van parked beside it. He raised his hands and yelled, a figure in a hoodie was the last thing he saw.

They were laughing on the beach, it was a good day. They were having a good day for once and the sun seemed to be shining brightly to celebrate their joy. Her girlfriend looked joyous, her hair all messed up with sand her eyes bright and happy. They were having a good day, and nothing was going to bring them down. The sound of feet crunching through the sand pulled their attention away from the waves. She turned with a frown, watching as the man behind them pulled down the hoodie from his head and lifted his other hand ominously. Green eyes was the last thing she saw.

Florence inhaled sharply as she pulled back, Bobbie reaching out to stabilize her. She leans against the detective for a few seconds to get her bearings, pressing the end of her blouse to her bleeding nose. She didn’t particularly like this shirt after all, so she had no problem used in as a rag. Her head was stuffy but surprisingly, it didn’t hurt. Before the details of the visions could fade in her mind, she notes out the things that stood out to her most.

A figure in a hoodie, easily six feet and built enough to be able to carry a light person. Green eyes, really green eyes, and a tired face. The details were fuzzy, but it was better than nothing. A van with a loud engine and really bright lights – fog lights. Built for off road and painted black, good for hiding in the dark. She ignores the splotchy handwriting and hands the page to Bobbie with the biggest grin she could muster despite her bleeding nose.

She faintly aware of Noelani disappearing as the detective reads through the words with a surprised look, turning back to her questioningly. Her question thought, was both not what she expected and what she should have expected from someone like Bobbie. “Are you okay?”

“Yep, totally.” Her words are a little slurred but, in her defence, she suddenly felt a little too tired. “Some sleep and I’ll be good.”

She doesn’t notice the way Bobbie throws herself forward with a surprise look as she starts listing to the side. The buzzing in her head is growing and she would really like to take a nap now, a short one, just a really short one. The last thing he registers is a voice shouting her name and arms wrapped around her.