i’m in the business of mystery

Will nodded, impressed, though realizing it was condescending, stopped slowly. He knew Tabitha had a lot of business because of how frequently he saw her in the station; it only made sense she’d have her own space from which to work. As she continued, then, a wry smile tugged at the corner of Will’s lips, her admission granting a trickle of amusement to work its way through him at her choice of words. Tabitha was a very strange thing, yes. One he found, especially after recent events, that he enjoyed. He decided against dwelling too long on this fact, lest she suspect anything about him was amiss. Will was not an innately sensitive person, but there was something about being around Tabitha that forced him to reckon with the idea that maybe, there was more of a fragility to him than he’d imagined. 

But the delicacy of the subject at hand, the way he watched Tabitha slow while she spoke, consideration filling her tone—it caused Will to soften. He considered his own words quite carefully. “Well, I mean—if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this job, it’s that people can surprise you. The world looks the way it does for you because the world you’re in is full of shitty people. But there’s other worlds where people are gonna run into the burning building or stop for the duckling crossings. There’s people that wanna change things for the better, in whatever way. And there’s bound to be marriages that work out, statistically.” He thought about it for a moment, watching Tabitha’s face carefully as he spoke. Gamely, he added, “I hope your friend is one of those. Mostly because I don’t want to deal with the paperwork if I have to arrest you for murdering her husband.” 

People can surprise you. Tabitha bit down on her lip to keep the reply from spilling out of her. Of course people could surprise her -- it was usually not cause for celebration. People were constantly capable of disappointment, and when she thought she’d seen the depths of it someone went even lower. On days when she felt even less charitable, Tabitha could have sworn she’d seen it all, that she understood exactly the human condition, and it wasn’t a pretty picture. That the sheriff of Eureka could have a more optimistic outlook on humanity truly said something about Tabitha’s own opinion of it. 

“You’re probably right,” she said after a moment, finally looking up at him and away from the paperwork she’d yet to complete. “Maybe I’m worried about nothing. I probably am.” Could she help it if she felt protective of Annie? The younger girl had become something of a sister figure and Tabitha felt the same inclination to shield her from harm as she would with her own brother, Ryan. It wasn’t that she thought Benji was bad, or undeserving -- she knew him enough to gauge that he was a well-meaning person -- but the fear that her friend might end up hurt was more powerful than a belief in the institution of marriage. “If anything I should probably be thanking you for not being a pessimist about the whole thing. since that’s kind of my schtick.”

A hint of a smirk formed on her lips when Will mentioned the idea of arresting her for murder. “If I were to murder,” she started. “And that’s a big if. If I were to murder, you’d never be able to prove it was me, let’s be real.” She glanced around at the police office, the officers walking about. “You’d basically have to go based on vibes. Is that how you guys do things in Eureka?” she asked, raising her eyebrow. “Based on vibes?” 

Abundantly nervous, Annie watched Tabitha’s expression carefully, noting the quick shifts. She furrowed her brow slightly, trying to interpret what it could mean. Tabitha wasn’t one to shy away from letting her true opinions known, and it had been exactly what she wanted when she went to her about this pregnancy in the first place—brutal honesty. She’d been so locked in anxiety that she needed the objective opinion of someone who could view things from all sides, someone who was reasonable. She couldn’t imagine why Tabitha might abstain from sharing how she felt now. She let the thought simmer for a minute, focusing on Tabitha’s question. “Uhm…yeah. Yeah, definitely. She’s—I’m so lucky, with her. I’m so lucky. She’s the best. I’m just sort of at this point where I’m like…I don’t even know what questions to ask.“ She swallowed. Finally, her courage to implore what held Tabitha’s tongue had persisted long enough for her to implore her friend for the truth. “You know, you can—you don’t have to bite your tongue, if that’s what you’re trying to do. You can tell me if you think this is, like, a terrible idea, or that I’m not prepared, or…” She stalled, knowing Tabitha well enough to know that she wouldn’t think that way of her. “Whatever. You can tell me.”

She smiled as Tabitha volunteered herself to help. At this point, Annie couldn’t even quantify what she needed. She’d been doing so much research that she was prepared for all that could come, but when it came to actually experiencing the things she’d read about, she couldn’t begin to know what support she might look for. She knew, however, that she could rely on Tabitha for that. She knew that Tabitha meant it when she offered to help. She knew, too, that she could ask for help from Tabitha without being haunted by the pervasive fear that Tabitha might love her less. 

“Oh, a little merbaby,” Annie cooed jokingly, her anxiety thawing slightly in the company of Tabitha. “We wouldn’t have to pay for swimming lessons, or worry about the pool.” Annie, of course, was already worrying about the pool. She considered Tabitha’s query, and how she hadn’t actually gone so far as to conceptualize the child she was so concerned about ruining. “I…I mean, they’ll be Asian, so everyone will probably say they look like me, even if they don’t,” she reasoned, deadpan.

  She’d thought she’d been doing a good job of hiding her thoughts, of maintaining neutrality and remaining disapssionately neutral, to help Annie talk through whatever she was worrying over, but Tabitha caught the worried look on Annie’s face before her friend asked if she was doing the right thing, and she scrambled to pull herself together. “No! No. It’s your decision, and so it’s absolutely the right decision,” she said, adamant. “It’s a little hard to wrap my head around, personally,” Tabitha admitted with a small shrug. “I never wanted children. Just always figured I’d have plenty of time to have kids, if I wanted them, you know?” She looked over at her friend to gauge her reaction. “So it’s all just as ... foreign, to me, as it is to you. But that just means if you need someone to be grossed out with, you know I’m there.” Tabitha shot Annie what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and thought for just a split second about opening up and sharing her own experience of choosing not to continue a pregnancy. Ultimately, Tabitha figured, it wasn’t the right time to divulge a not insignificant source of emotional baggage when Annie was concerned about her own choices. “I mean, not only is that baby coming out of you like in the movie Alien, but then you have to teach them how to be a person ... that’s a big job.”

She pondered a brief moment, and then her thoughts drifted to the inevitable. “And when it’s time for baby showers, you can count on me to be there with detailed plans so no one can hijack the moment,” Tabitha promised. “Even one of those gender reveals.” Her nose wrinkled, her distaste for the parties evident. But if Annie wanted one, far be it from Tabitha to stop her. “Just no fireworks. The last thing California needs is another wildfire. Maybe you could do a balloon thing.”

Annie’s joke about the baby obviously looking like her made Tabitha give a rather unladylike snort, and she continued to chuckle at her frankness. “If they look like you, they’ll be pretty lucky,” Tabitha said easily. “You’d absolutely crush it with coordinating outfits, too.” Another pause, thinking about the baby that never was and the babies that might never be. “I have mostly recessive traits so I don’t think any of my kids would look like me,” she said softly. 

Will let his eyes fall over Tabitha curiously, her words, per usual, hinting vaguely at something meaningful without actually touching it. This is how the pair of them operated: the hollow gesture of familiarity without the commitment to it. This wasn’t a judgment, of course—this was how they both preferred it—but occasionally, Will’s curiosity began its incessant gnaw. He found that the more Tabitha was around, the more interested he was in her, in the parts of her, the pieces of her life that he didn’t see. He wondered, then, what she knew about packing up, moving on, resettling. He knew she was new to town, because he knew most of the people in town, and word traveled quickly among them. Beyond that, however, Tabitha’s life was elusive, a mystery he didn’t have the privilege or right to solve. He knew enough about her so that they may exist with one another comfortably. And he knew, arguably most importantly, that she hated Deb. This was anecdotal, but it formed a good portion of their daily interactions. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare to question the meticulousness of your paperwork,” he offered seriously. “You seem like someone that has a filing cabinet at home. Am I far off the mark in that assumption? I don’t feel as though I am, but…” He shrugged softly with one shoulder. “Stranger things have happened.” 

He pondered. “I don’t actually know many married people,” he admitted softly. “At least not intimately enough to know what type of person they are.” In truth, while he was well-known due to his position in town and thus was aware of most of the people living within it, Will truly knew very few people; those he did, he kept at a healthy distance. He didn’t consider himself innately anti-social, but he hadn’t ever been raised with a plethora of company, and found he preferred that existence. It was safe, in whatever pathetic way a grown man could be. “I always sort of operate on t he assumption that people are…you know. Existing. I won’t say doing their best, because we both know that’s largely not the case, but…” he drifted off, scratching his beard absentmindedly with the back of his knuckles. “I think there’s something to be said for being willing to get married, at least. Though people do tend to like an excuse to have a large party.”

Tabitha scoffed and feigned offense to his guess that she had a filing cabinet in her home -- something that was only untrue because Stevie Nicks would undoubtedly get into it and eat her paperwork. “I have an office, thank you very much,” she replied, shooting him a look, although her eyes crinkled when she broke character and smirked. “And yes, it has a filing cabinet. With locks,” she added. She paused a moment, and felt the need to end with: “So I guess you can add me to your list of strange things.” 

Will’s admission, the sincerity of it, took Tabitha by surprise, and her hand stilled where she was filling out the date. She didn’t look up, but listened and considered his words, feeling acutely the similarity between them she hadn’t given much thought to before. She bit down on her lip and quickly debated the idea of sharing any personal side of herself before letting out a soft sigh and finally looking up at him. “I actually don’t know many married people either. My parents, of course, and Annie, my -- my best friend ... just got married. And of course you want to think it’ll be lifelong and work out, but ...” Tabitha trailed off, looking for the right words. “You see a lot of selfishness in people, when you’re constantly looking to uncover dirty laundry. And sometimes you wonder if it’s worth it, really, when people seem programmed to just hurt each other.” She paused, keenly aware of how much she’d just said, and shoved a hand into her back pocket for lack of anything better to do. 

“Maybe we’re not getting the best sample to draw from,” she admitted after a beat, color flooding her cheeks. “I’m sure there are plenty of happily married people out there somewhere. They’re just not the ones keeping me in business.” Another pause, and Tabitha cleared her throat. “But I’m sure I’m just preaching to the choir,” she said. “I mean, I bet you see all sorts in here, anyway, so I’m not telling you anything new.”

“He’s already a lifesaver with the late night Taco Bell,” Annie mused with a soft smile, thinking fondly of her husband, of his unending enthusiasm and eagerness. No matter what insignificant thing pregnancy brought her way, Annie knew she could tell him, and he’d celebrate it, and embrace it, and cherish it. He’d been spoiling her since they’d found out, and she could only imagine what it would be like when the baby was actually here: how happy he’d be. But that all seemed so far away, now. In the haze of the present, all Annie could manage to do was hang on day by day. 

Annie thought on Tabitha’s words for a moment, letting a gentle silence befall them. She noticed Tabitha drifting, too, and wondered what had consumed the woman’s thoughts, hoping it wasn’t worry for her. “I think…I mean, you’re right. Obviously, you’re right. I…I don’t know how anyone does this and feels like it’s going to be okay. And I guess that’s not a novel concept. Benji’s mom tells me stories sometimes about, like, her pregnancies, or Benji and Flo when they were little, and their dad, and it’s like…very clear that a lot of the process is just going along for the ride, y’know?” Annie stalled for a moment. “And obviously that’s beautiful and I will completely do that and things will be fine. And I do realize that, in some very grand abstract way. I’m far from the first woman to get pregnant on accident. I’m far from the first woman to get pregnant at a really, really inconvenient time, and we are definitely not the first people that don’t have, like, consistent parenting to look to as some sort of guide. ” Annie lingered on the thought for a moment, knowing Tabitha would understand enough of the story as it pertained to Annie’s upbringing, at least; Benji’s was his business to tell, and she knew Tabitha wouldn’t pry; that was the beauty of talking about this with her. She was a sounding board, a nonjudgmental mainstay in Annie’s life. Annie could do anything, say anything, and she wouldn’t fear that Tabitha might do what she expected everyone else to the second she became difficult: leave. And that was the crux of all of it, really— Annie could not afford to be hard to love. It had to be easy for everyone. It had to be easy for Benji. Because she still held the fear that he would come shuttering down like a house of cards collapsed, finally recognizing his grief with the dedication it would eventually demand. She swallowed, not knowing how to mention that insecurity to Tabitha out loud. Much quieter, she continued, “I know things will work out. I do.”

She nudged Tabitha’s elbow with her own, though her lips curled further upward, a genuine grin surfacing. “I did know that can happen, actually, because I’ve been staying up every night reading weird articles about everything related to infants.” Embarrassed to have confessed that out loud, Annie winced slightly, and then her face softened. “…what’s worse is that I know I will still love this baby even if they’re born with a full set of adult human teeth.” 

I’m far from the first woman to get pregnant on accident. 

Tabitha pulled her lips between her teeth to keep from letting out a nervous laugh. If only Annie knew how true that was, she thought, looking down at her feet, moving one in front of the other. As if her whole experience was a private joke that only she knew. It was easier to think of it that way. She let out a slow exhale and then focused on what Annie was saying next, which was most certainly far more pertinent than getting caught up in a life decision Tabitha had made at twenty-two. “Has Benji’s mom been able to answer a lot of questions for you?” she asked. She’d always had Peggy to rely on, for better or for worse, but Tabitha imagined it was difficult to enter motherhood without a mother to use as a walking encyclopedia. “Do you feel like you can go to her with questions, at least?” 

Annie paused at the mention of Benji’s childhood, and while Tabitha wouldn’t ask for information when he couldn’t be there to volunteer it, it did spark curiosity. Had he had an unconventional upbringing? Did he live with the circus? Had he run away from a cult at a formative age? So many questions that she would likely never get an answer to -- Tabitha made a strict point not to google or search any of her real-life colleagues and friends, which extended to their families. Still, Tabitha searched Annie’s face, for any sign that she might be unhappy, whether with her life or the topic of conversation. “Things will work out,” she asserted, echoing Annie’s statement. “You’ve got a husband who is over the moon about this,” Tabitha said, counting on her fingers, “A mother-in-law that you get along with who is happy to help you, a sister-in-law who probably has some hand-me-downs for you ..... well, and me, but I can’t do any background searches on a baby that hasn’t been born yet,” she ended sheepishly. “I’m here, though. For any and everything you want help with.”

“Okay, you’ll love a baby with a full set of teeth, but how about gills,” she teased gently. “Or those webbed feet that people have?” She let out a sigh. “Growing a human is so weird. You think they’ll look more like a Lim or a Hastings?” 

It was odd to be standing before Tabitha in the context they now existed within, though not for reasons Will might have initially thought. They had been their most vulnerable selves with one another, soft flesh and longing, but any of the expected accompanying awkwardness was absent entirely. The only thing Will found himself feeling as he stood before her, gaze lingering perhaps a bit too long on her lips for only a moment, was a sense of ease—ease with the concept of Tabitha being a reliable facet of his life, in whatever way she would always be around. 

“I could leave,” he countered quietly, though she was correct in assuming that would not be the case. His father had died years ago; nothing was keeping him here, in theory. And yet, here he was. He could cite any number of reasons—the rapport he’d built with the citizens of Eureka, or the fact that he owned land. But Will was a creature of habit, and, worse, a creature of comfort. He’d grown up here. What else did the world have to offer him that he couldn’t have right here? 

Shaking his head, then, as if to dislodge that line of thinking entirely and to simultaneously rebuke Tabitha’s words, he shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Not for nothing, but she gets it eventually,” he reasoned, although this was more to rile Tabitha up than it was to defend Deb. FOIA requests were generally as straightforward as they came, but Deb was frequently tripped up on the appropriate paperwork for any given situation, and she also—which was no secret to anyone in the department or to the woman herself—was terrified of Tabitha. This was generally how Will came to know her, and grow familiar with her, and…

Well, sleep with her. 

He backed up to survey the cubbies beneath the counter, grasping for the FOIA form and pulling it out, setting it down in front of Tabitha. “You know the drill,” he offered with a wry smirk. Watching as she leaned over to begin working diligently, he admired her penmanship, then added, “Am I allowed to ask what this is for? I can never remember. I just typically assume it’s a cheating spouse, if I’m honest.”

It wasn’t that Will was an enigma. It was that there was a distinct ease with which she had fallen into physical intimacy with him. It was that it was entirely too easy to connect with him, that it felt safe to do so, even. It was that the nearly ever-present search for red flags subsided with Will Bailey. That was the mystery. That she could feel so comfortable.  

Even now, when he was assisting Deb in busting her chops and slowing her down. 

“Packing up and starting over gets old,” she countered, thinking of each move she’d made as a child, each attempt to cultivate a new friend group, with no real sense of permanence. Making Eureka home had started out of stubbornness, a resolution to make a place her own. Her sense of home had been hard won, if a little arbitrary in the beginning.

She narrowed her eyes in response to his defense of Deb, who in all likelihood was just another person working just another job. “Eventually doesn’t always cut it,” she said evenly, glancing to the side of the room where the older woman had wandered off to. “Eventually can make things late. Too late, even.” 

With another, softer sigh, Tabitha gave a small shrug of her shoulders and pulled her purse forward, rummaging through it for a spare pen. “Actually, it’s the same as last time. I tried to follow up with the DEA and they said that I didn’t fill the paperwork out correctly so they threw out the request. Which,” she said, pointing a finger in the air to punctuate the point she was about to make. “Which I never do. I always have my paperwork in order. So it was complete bullshit. Either they lost the form and didn’t want to admit it, or Deb fucked something up.” She cocked her head to the side and considered each possibility. “They’re equally likely, so it’s anyone’s guess what really happened.”

“Actually,” she added after a beat, “I haven’t had a cheating spouse in a while. I guess I’m overdue, wouldn’t you think? Maybe some double-life action in there too. A little weird, really, how much of that is going on in a city like this. You think there’s any reason for the trend or are married people just assholes?”

she (annie) is everything

Annie couldn’t help but guffaw at Tabitha’s rather disgusting portrait of childbirth, her friend’s typical realism bringing a sort of brevity to the situation that felt necessary. She sniffled, then, rubbing her nose, embarrassed to have made a scene in public—despite their complete solitude. She hadn’t intended to be so…forthright about all of it. She had seen so many videos of friends revealing their pregnancies in adorable and clever ways, and she wanted to be at a point where she could do that. But reaching out to Tabitha, though she wasn’t eager to admit it to even herself, had been something of a call for help. 

Annie squared her shoulders and tucked her hands into her pockets, heaving a deep, steadying breath, and nodded in the direction of the ambling path, a tacit let’s go; Tabitha wordlessly fell by Annie’s side, her small frame shoulder to shoulder with Annie’s. “We took the tests together,” she said, a faint smile playing at her lips at the idea of it, the pair of them huddled together on the bathroom floor, waiting for the timer on Benji’s phone to go off. “He’s so…he’s so happy. He’s so excited. I’ve never seen him this excited before. And I am, too. I am. Just…”

She cast her gaze outward, letting her eyes fall on the variety of foliage, spending too much time focusing on their names. “I don’t know what I’m doing, you know? I mean, I have Connor, but he’s not…he’s not mine. I didn’t have him. I didn’t—I love him like he’s my son, because he is my son, but he’s not…that’s Katie’s baby, you know?” Annie hadn’t spoken this way about Connor to anyone before, hadn’t verbally recognized what she held to be true: while she and Connor shared an indescribably deep bond, she’d never really be what Katie was to him. It was much like her relationship with Candace; Benji’s mom was, in every way, her mom. But she wasn’t…her mom. Candace would be the first person to acknowledge this. “I’ve never delivered a child. I’ve never spent a sleepless night with a colicky baby. I don’t—my body’s never done this, and I don’t know what it’s going to be like, and I know what to expect, but there’s, like, a million extra variables that could go wrong.” Softer, then, she turned to look at Tabitha. “There’s a million things I could do wrong.”

Tabitha fell into step alongside Annie easily, despite the difference in stature. Her legs moved slightly faster to keep in time with Annie’s stride, but the exertion required was minimal. Tabitha listened attentively, as she always did; she considered the pauses in Annie’s speech, what she might not be saying, as much as what she actually did say, and bit down on her lip as her worries settled down around them. 

Her attention slipped, for the briefest of moments, as she recalled a time nearly fifteen years ago, when she’d been repeating nearly the same sentiments that Annie was pointing out now. The maelstrom of anxiety and tension and planning long-term for her life that had only barely begun, and that absolute certainty that she was not ready that propelled her to make a choice entirely different from Annie Lim’s. But it had been her choice, and one that she had not regretted for a single moment. Still, Tabitha wondered idly, would she have been like this? Nervous energy but tentative excitement? 

She wasn’t sure. 

Not that it mattered, she thought, shaking her head the slightest bit to clear those thoughts. What was done could not be changed. 

“I’m glad you have Benji in your corner,” she said quietly. “It’s good that he’s excited. I’m sure he’ll be really helpful, especially when you want snacks late at night. Does Connor know yet, or is he too young to get it?”

“I have no idea if this helps,” she replied after a thoughtful pause, “as I have also never done this.” Tabitha gestured to both of their abdomens. “But .... pretty much anyone who has kids had to be a beginner at some point, you know? So you’re in very good company with the whole first time parent thing.” She reached out and gave Annie’s arm a gently squeeze before she continued. “It’s definitely going to get a little uncomfortable, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s research. I’ll have all the stuff you can expect while expecting so you can feel a little more prepared, alright?” 

Another pause, and Tabitha spoke up again. “Can you imagine if your kid comes out with a full set of teeth? That can happen, you know.” 

Annie hadn’t been the best friend to Tabitha—or to anyone, really—and she felt a heinous guilt about it. Since Colin, Annie had been in little contact with anyone outside the Hastings-Mabry-Dupont family; frankly, even Katie had been somewhat sparse, which she could only assume was Benji’s choice (another thing that had worried her). She had informed Tabitha of Colin’s passing with a text, and they did check-ins, sort of, but generally, they’d existed in their own separate orbits. It felt miserable to be changing that only now and for something so…monumental. She’d missed Tabitha. Being with her was so easy.

Annie had not been prepared for Tabitha’s knee-jerk response, but it didn’t surprise her; Tabitha had always made her concern for Annie clear, putting Annie’s needs in perspective when they felt altogether unimportant. It was of no shock, then, that Tabitha’s first response, when Annie was so clearly…not the joyous, buoyant mom-to-be she should have been, was to offer Annie a way out. Annie scoffed, almost wryly, shaking her head softly while she inhaled a little sniffle. 

“No, no, I—you don’t have to apologize. I understand what I look like right now. I can’t imagine it’s, like, a pleasant or reassuring thing to have that bomb dropped on you when I’m…” Annie rolled her eyes at herself, a huff of frustration accompanying it. She didn’t want to cry. They were in public, for God’s sake. And yet she couldn’t stop her eyes from burning. “I promise I’m not, like, in distress.”

Annie watched Tabitha’s face for a moment. 

“I—I wanna have a baby. Like, that’s—I really do. I really, really do. I just…I feel like…” She straightened her back out, trying to gain some composure, to stop rambling. She wet her lips, thinking. What was there to say? She murmured, then, gaze downcast. Defeated by the very notion of her admission: “I just feel really scared.” 

Although Annie attempted to reassure Tabitha she wasn’t in distress, Tabitha gave her friend a long, searching look as she continued to state how she was now expecting a baby, choosing to bring a new life into the world. The idea that one could be enthusiastic and also scared about being pregnant was entirely understandable even to herself, and so she nodded slowly, the weight of Annie’s announcement sinking in. It was actually a relief, in a sense, to hear that Annie was scared, if only because it explained her emotional state. 

“I don’t blame you for being scared,” she replied, letting out a small sigh. “You’re literally growing something from scratch inside you. It’s like a parasite, taking up all your nutrients until it comes clawing and screaming out.” She trailed off and blushed as she realized she painted a rather grim portrait of pregnancy and motherhood. “But they can also be cute,” she added quickly. “After all of .... that.” 

She hadn’t meant for her own fears and baggage about pregnancy to seep in to a conversation about Annie’s current state. It wasn’t her intention to color Annie’s impression of having a baby so negatively. “What’s -- what’s got you so scared?” Tabitha asked after a moment. Annie was all but Connor’s mother in practice, and she had, from what Tabitha could tell, the nurturing character that seemed present in all the best mothers. She couldn’t see why there was any reason she would be anything less than a stellar parent. 

Tabitha bit down on a thumbnail, and considered her own brief brush with pregnancy as a much younger woman -- all of the fear and anxiety that had come with it. “Does Benji know yet?”