36. Chapter 36

Life became a series of lawyers.

Their adoption case had now morphed into a criminal case, so Simon Gillespie was constantly on the phone, updating them on charges and investigations and the increasingly disturbing details of what was apparently a conspiracy to kidnap Jamie and take her to Florida.

They had to wait and see how the state wanted to handle Dawn Ferguson, her common law husband, and Carina’s attacker, which meant they had to wait and see if Carina would need to go testify in court.

And then there was Maya’s hearing. The reason Carina woke up alone to a cold bed and a racing heart.

Everything seemed to always happen at once. They’d spent hours on the phone with Simon the night before and now it was barely seven in the morning and apparently Maya was up and out for a run. She needed to report to SFD by noon and Carina had watched in supportive silence as her wife turned inward, as she became quiet and distracted.

Maya was still attentive towards Jamie. But her movements were almost robotic – Carina could tell she had daily checklists in her head that she was following to a tee. Sometimes Carina wished she could make checklists in her head too.

Because she wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation. Her instinct was always to find the good. She wanted to buy champagne, she wanted to plan a celebration regardless of the hearing’s outcome. Maya had waited for so long, she’d struggled for so long, win or lose, Carina wanted to mark the occasion.

But Maya did not always take kindly to that attitude. And before Jamie, Carina would have been in for a sullen, angry spouse who’d insist on space until the angry part of her burned away.

Jamie changed things. Maya couldn’t be a sullen, angry mother. She didn’t want to be, and Carina had no doubt that her wife had been fighting herself, the parts of her that just wanted to run and withdrawal with the parts that wanted to tickle Jamie’s feet and kiss her little tummy until the baby laughed and laughed and laughed.

Carina groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Why couldn’t they have normal problems? Babysitting difficulties. Food poisoning. A flat tire.

Instead, Carina was lying in bed trying to figure out what to do if the Seattle Fire Department fired her wife. Or if a psychopath from Florida might find a way to hurt her family. Again.

The sound of the door opening forced Carina out of bed and away from her worries. She wanted to be as present for Maya as possible, in whatever way Maya needed.

As she slipped into her robe, she grabbed the baby monitor on Maya’s bedside table, but did a double take when she realized the crib was empty.

If Jamie wasn’t in her crib…

Carina walked into the living room just in time to see Maya push Jamie’s jogging stroller through the doorway. Her wife was red, sweaty, though the tiny running shorts were enough to temporarily distract Carina from the fact that Jamie looked a little windswept herself.

“Did you buy her a sweatband?” Carina asked, staring at the impossibly tiny headband around Jamie’s head.

“Yeah. Didn’t want sweat to get in her eyes.”

“Maya…are those Nikes?” Carina didn’t know they made running shoes so small.

“I still get a discount,” Maya huffed, trying to catch her breath.

Carina lifted Jamie from the stroller and bit her lip to keep from giggling at her rosy cheeks and the way her hair was tangled like a bird’s nest.

“How fast were you going?” She laughed, realizing Jamie’s onesie was also Nike. Her baby looked like the world’s most adorable endorsement ad.

“Could’ve gone faster.”

Carina looked at Maya, taking in her distracted expression. She’d yet to make eye contact.

“Do you want breakfast or…” Carina started to speak, but decided instead to let Maya do what Maya wanted to do. And what her wife wanted to do was apparently strip.

She yanked her sports bra up and over her head and then finally seemed to realize that Carina was there and talking to her.

“Shower,” Maya said, “and then…the incident report…and then…yeah, shower, incident report, iron my shirt, shoes need shining…”

Maya walked away as she spoke, disappearing into the bedroom, which left Carina and Jamie alone, staring at each other in surprise.

“She’s crazy, but we’ll keep her,” Carina said with a shrug, laughing again when Jamie raised her eyebrows and then scrunched up her nose, a facial expression that was pure Maya Bishop.

~*~

Maya looked at the lieutenant badges on her collar and frowned.

She smoothed the hair at her temples, ensuring not a single strand was out of place and as she stared back at herself in the bedroom mirror, she felt like she was observing a stranger.

Something about her demotion made her feel like she’d failed an exam. Like she’d come last in a race.

And the hearing felt like being called to the principal’s office.

Not that Maya Bishop had ever been called to the principal’s office.

She played by the rules. She memorized the rules. She could recite protocol in her sleep.

So who was this person about to sit in front of a room full of superiors and face the charge of insubordination?

Carina slowly opened the door, though Maya didn’t move. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Carina stepped into the bedroom and took her place by her side. She smoothed the shoulders of Maya’s Class A uniform and then straightened her tie.

“I like when you wear this,” she said, licking her lips, her eyes sweeping over Maya open in open appreciation.

Maya forced a smile. It would be so easy to grab onto Carina and hold her. To tell her that she was scared her career was over. But Maya didn’t want to do that. She wanted to be strong and brave and she wanted justice.

More than anything, she wanted justice.

She squeezed Carina’s hand once and then straightened, grabbing her hat from the dresser.

“I should go,” she said, not wanting to be late.

Carina settled her palms on Maya’s shoulders. “Are you sure you do not want me to drive you?”

“No. I’m good. I’ll text you when it’s done.”

Worry and disappointment flashed across Carina’s face, but Maya couldn’t think about it. She felt herself building walls, laying foundations. She felt the ice form around her heart again, bolstering her. And she also felt how unfair that was to Carina.

Before leaving, she walked into the nursery, quiet to avoid waking Jamie from her nap. She stared down at the baby, finding it difficult to maintain the icy indifference because Jamie’s eyebrows were so light that Maya could not stop herself from reaching out and tracing one with her fingertip.

“I’m sorry,” Maya whispered, unsure where the apology came from, but needing to say it nonetheless.

I’m sorry for being so cold, for not picking you up and holding you. I’m sorry for not kissing Mama before I go…I’m sorry that we’re all in this mess because of me…I’m sorry this world treats women like trash and I’m sorry you may find that out someday…but I will do everything in my power to make it better for you…to make your world better than mine is or was or will be.

Maya left without another word.

~*~

An old familiar voice rose as Maya drove to SFD headquarters. She could hear him as if he was in the car beside her. And for once, she didn’t push it away. She didn’t fear it. She embraced it.

Eyes forward

Each red light. Each left turn. Maya paid attention to her breathing, she paid attention to her racing thoughts and calmed each one.

The only way out was through. She could not control the result of her hearing, but she could control every word that came out of her mouth.

And no matter what happened, Maya knew she was right. She had done the right thing. She had zero regrets. She was right.

The parking lot was busy, but Maya’s focus was absolute, and she didn’t let the extra time it took to find a spot bother her. She’d arrived early. She was calm. She was right.

She was also great.

She knew she was great.

“I’m great,” she whispered to herself, still seated, still holding onto the steering wheel.

She was also anxious because she didn’t know who she was without the job. She didn’t know who she was with the SFD badge on her chest. And she didn’t want to find out. She was so tired of fighting, so tired that she wished Carina was with her to hold up some of her weight.

No. Eyes forward.

She could hold her own weight. She didn’t need anyone. Or anything.

A quick glance in her rear-view mirror put a dent in that philosophy. Because Jamie’s wolf stuffy was lying on the backseat, apparently forgotten alongside an impossibly tiny sock.

Maya stared at it for a moment before reaching back and closing her fingers around its grey fur. She held the plush toy in her hands, feeling the ice melt, feeling the truth…

She could hold her own weight, but it was so much easier when Carina helped her do it.

She needed Carina.

She needed Jamie.

And they weren’t here because she’d kept them at arm’s length. She’d frozen them out and kept her eyes forward and…

Maya tossed the stuffy on the passenger’s seat and opened the door, hopping out into the warm afternoon sun. The uniform was hot and itchy, but it made her stand tall and she would be damned if she walked into that building with anything but her head held high.

The sidewalk was crowded as it usually was in front of SFD, which is why it took her a second to realize that she recognized the group of people standing by the door.

Jack waved and Vic did too. Theo was with her and so was Travis. Ben and Andy and…

Robert Sullivan.

Maya swallowed hard, her icy resolve shaking.

“You’ve got this, Bishop,” Jack said. Andy nodded, her eyes intense, but kind.

“I…thank you for being here,” Maya didn’t know what else to say, she was shocked to see her team, she was shocked anyone cared.

“Bishop,” Sullivan began, taking one step closer to her, “you were a great captain. And you will be a great captain again. I know we’ve had our differences and I know today could affect my career and yours. But I have always been proud to serve next to you. That hasn’t changed.”

Maya had to force herself not to stare at the man in shock.

“Thank you, Sullivan,” she managed.

They all wished her well, all of them, with open smiles and reassuring pats on the back. When Maya turned to finally go inside, she was again surprised to find that she recognized the people standing in the lobby.

“Captain Dale?” She stuttered, overwhelmed by the sight of her former-captain and Donna smiling widely at her.

“The rest of the team sends their best,” Dale said, “but someone had to stay back and put out fires.”

“I…I mean…how did…”

“That wife of yours is very convincing,”  Donna laughed.

Of course…

“Bishop,” Captain Dale’s kind eyes and her reassuring smile did much to calm Maya’s nerves, “no matter what happens today, hold onto the fact that you’re an exceptional firefighter. You have a team that showed up for you and that counts for a great deal. And you also have a wife who’d give you the moon if she could. That’s a lot to hold onto, Bishop. You’re a wealthy woman.”

Captain Dale’s words echoed as Maya stepped into the elevator. In five minutes she’d gone from following the path Lane made for her to realizing that she’d long ago left that path behind and forged her own.

It was a path dotted with friends and colleagues. With pain, true, but also companionship. There were people beside her, cheering her on, guiding her. She didn’t need to go alone. No matter what happened next, she didn’t need to go alone.

Guilt surfaced immediately as she remembered how cold she’d been with Carina in the morning. She checked her phone, noting the time, wondering if she’d have a moment to at least send a text. Her lock screen showed Carina and Jamie in a moment of shared contemplation – Jamie learning Carina’s face, Carina watching Jamie with equal fascination.

If her friends were beside her, Carina and Jamie were in front, compelling her forward, urging her on. They were her finish line every single time and they would be until her dying breath.

Maya inhaled, straightening her back, confidence flooding her system as the elevator dinged indicating she’d reached the correct floor. She found herself in a long marble hallway lined with benches. People milled about, most in SFD uniforms, many with comically large moustaches, and Maya forced away the memory of her wedding night. The mad dash to MacCallister’s office…

She turned a corner, concentrating on room numbers, when she found herself once more shocked by what she was seeing.

Because somehow Carina was there. Carina and Jamie.

Carina rose from a bench, Jamie in her arms, and she offered Maya a shy smile, clearly worried that she’d overstepped. The sight of her family alone was invigorating. Maya’s doubts, her fears, her worry evaporated as she nearly jogged to Carina’s side.

Jamie was wearing a navy-blue onesie she’d never seen before, the SFD logo on the front. But when she twisted to look over Carina’s shoulder at a loud noise, Maya felt her eyes well at the name printed across the back.

DeLuca-Bishop

“Very clever, Dr. DeLuca,” Maya said, wishing she could sweep her wife off her feet and kiss her. She had to settle for taking her hand. At the sound of Maya’s voice, Jamie turned again, her fingers finding Maya’s nose in greeting.

“Baby T-Rex, I need that,” Maya laughed, taking the baby from Carina. She kissed Jamie’s forehead, nuzzling her cheek against the softest hair, as she looked at Carina with more love than she knew what to do with.

“I know you said you wanted to be alone…”

They were in public and Maya was about to be called in for the most important moment of her career, but she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and gently kissing the small band aid beneath Carina’s jaw. She raised the hand she was still holding and pressed a kiss to Carina’s knuckles before they both sat down, waiting together.

Carina’s fingers were strong and Jamie’s palm brushed against Maya’s lips and when a door opened moments later and her name was called, Maya stood proudly.

She looked at her child, healthy and happy. She looked at her wife, beautiful and vibrant.

And she decided to take her life back once and for all.

~*~

The room contained two long tables.

Maya sat at one and across the room, three men sat behind the other. She watched them shuffle papers, reading their name tags, wondering if their white hair and their mustaches would bode well for her.

Battalion Chief Edward Adams

Captain Max O’Reilly

Battalion Chief Len Backowitz

Three old white men held her fate in their hands. Maya wanted to roll her eyes. Instead, she linked her fingers on top of the table and waited.

Battalion Chief Adams cleared his throat, finally looking up at her.

“Lieutenant Bishop,” he began, “you are aware of why you are here.”

“I am, Sir,” she said.

“Today we will review the circumstances surrounding your demotion and subsequent hearing. You will be allowed to speak. We have also reviewed the…I must say…copious number of witness statements. At the end, we will make our decision regarding today’s outcome. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. In your own words, could you please describe the events of June 1st, 2021?”

Maya took a centering breath and nodded.

“There was a housefire. Station 23 was present on the scene, so 19 took charge of rescue operations,” Maya said, remembering the call that had haunted her every day since. “There were a number of civilians unaccounted for, which caused a great deal of confusion. But we had everyone out, except for a young boy, Zaza Delgado. Our aid car was unavailable, and when Zaza was found, he had extensive full-thickness burns.”

Captain O’Reilly scratched his cheek. “And why was the aid car unavailable?”

“It was used to transport another patient. Zaza’s mother did not realize he was in the house until after the aid car left. When I called for another car, I was told none were available.”

“Can you describe the child’s condition at this time?” Chief Backowitz didn’t look at her as he asked, his eyes remained firmly on the papers in front of him.

“To be blunt, he was dying. He needed immediate attention and without the aid car, there was little we could do for him. That’s the choice I had to make. Let him die or break protocol.”

“Chief McCallister clearly told you not to use the engine. Do you agree?” Chief Adams clicked his pen, his dark eyes making her nervous.

“I do, Sir,” Maya said, “I know it’s against protocol. But protocol does not state what to do when response times plummet, when there are no aid cars available. I chose to save a child’s life. Was I insubordinate? According to protocol, I was. But protocol would have left that boy to die. As Captain, I made a choice. I stand by it.”

There was a series of muffled conversations, whispered words, and Maya remained very still, watching. Wondering whether she’d helped her case or just destroyed her chances.

“Is it true your station participated in a rally for the Black Lives Matter movement?” Adams leaned forward, his brow furrowed.

“I cannot dictate what my team does in their private lives, Sir.”

“True, but did you not have a run-in with SPD that led to the arrest of members of your station?”

Maya grit her teeth, cursing the day Dixon was born. “That is true. Police offers brutalized and arrested two of my crew without merit. They proceeded to antagonize us…so, yes, members of Station 19 chose to march in a protest after hours, out of uniform, as private citizens.”

“You as well?” O’Reilly asked.

Maya nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“According to the report, you were demoted on June 3rd, 2021. How were you notified?”

“By email. Though I didn’t see it until much later in the day.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I was getting married,” she said, thumbing her wedding ring.

Backowitz raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, just to be clear, June 3rd, 2021 was your wedding day?”

“It was.”

“And from what I understand, you had a confrontation with Chief McCallister that evening, as well?”

“Yes. He threatened to dismantle 19 and send Captain Herrera to another station if I did not step down.” Maya clenched her fists, trying to keep the furious tremor from her voice. The demotion, McCallister’s sexist dismissal, the image of Carina, stunning and graceful, standing behind her, holding her up on what should have been their day.

“So you stepped down pending investigation in order to keep Captain Herrera at 19? But she was transferred to 23.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Backowitz frowned and Maya hoped he realized that McCallister had essentially forced her hand, that he’d treated her like a chess piece. That he’d exiled Andy just because he could.

“Let’s move on to your hearing. Again, can you describe in your own words the conversation with Chief Ross that took place on March 7, 2022?” Backowitz asked.

Maya shuffled in her chair. “Chief Ross asked to schedule a meeting, which I did. On the day of she informed me that we could have a conversation in the barn, which is when she told me that I was not going to get my captaincy back.”

“Did she provide more explanation?” Backowitz continued.

“She said I’d put my crew in danger,” Maya said.

“And did you?”

“With all due respect, Sir, she compared me to a soldier in Afghanistan whose entire unit died due to his negligence. My crew was literally in the suburbs of Seattle.”

O’Reilly bit his lip though Maya could see a smile trying to break through.

“And after this conversation, how would you describe your interactions with Chief Ross?”

“Chief Ross made it clear that I was not her favourite person,” Maya said, trying to bite back on sarcasm, but failing miserably.

Adams tilted his head, surprised. “Oh?”

“I was sent to District Six in Castle Rock with no explanation. And I’m sure Chief Ross would say it’s because I was a good fit for the job there, but zero consideration was given to my family or how it would affect us. My daughter had to have emergency surgery and I almost missed it. She could’ve…”

Maya’s voice shook, so she stopped speaking. Not wanting to utter the word. Not even wanting to think it.

“Ah, yes, that was after your week-long suspension?” O’Reilly circled something on the paper in front of him, as if reminding himself of an important detail.

“Yes, Sir.”

“The official report states that your suspension was due to insubordination. There seems to be a theme here, Lieutenant Bishop.”

“Again, with all due respect, Sir, Chief Ross said something deeply offensive, and I reacted. Maybe I reacted poorly, but I doubt anyone in my position would have done differently.”

“Can you elaborate on that?” Adams asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Maya hated that the discussion was turning so personal. She wanted to keep her family in one box and her work in another. But she also knew her worlds had intertwined long ago. Carina was practically a board member of Station 19. She was also surprisingly good at rolling hoses…

“Chief Ross accused me of letting my personal life cloud my judgment. She said…” Maya took a steadying breath, “she said I was responsible for the death of a civilian.”

“You’re referring to the DeLuca incident, correct?” O’Reilly tapped his pen again.

The DeLuca Incident

Nothing more than a footnote. Three small words.

“Yes, Sir,” Maya said quietly.

“And how is this connected to your personal life?” Adams asked.

“Andrew DeLuca, the civilian who died, was my wife’s brother. My wife…we weren’t married yet, but…Carina was present that day too. Chief Ross implied that my actions resulted in Andrew’s death and that my wife could have easily died as well.”

The anger was still there. The flippant, effortless way Ross had tossed out her claim.

With a shrug.

With a wave of her hand.

Oh, Carina could have died, what’s for breakfast, Bishop?

Maya bowed her head, trying to hide her pain. She wanted to appear strong and impenetrable. The last thing she wanted to be was a woman crying in front of three old men. It’s what they’d expect.

Fuck their expectations.

“Lieutenant Bishop, we have spoken extensively with witnesses from that day, including the FBI. From what we have found, you did not break protocol, nor were your actions tied to the incident in the train station,” Backowitz spoke kindly, almost in reassurance.

Maya raised her head, surprised. It emboldened her. Maybe they were on her side? She studied her interviewers for a moment, noting that each of them wore a wedding ring.

“I was suspended because I refused to allow Chief Ross to disrespect my wife.  I doubt any of you would have behaved differently if you were in my shoes,” Maya said, raising her chin, ready for whatever homophobic, patriarchal garbage was about to come her way.

She could take it. She would take it. There was no backing down about this. Ever.

There was more murmuring as all three men leaned in towards Adams, and again Maya wished she could decipher what was happening. 

She took in Backowit’s receding hairline and O’Reilly’s beard and Adams’ sideburns and wondered what it would take to change the department that was obviously so averse to change. She wondered how Natasha Ross couldn’t see the opportunity she had. How she didn’t see people like Maya and Andy and Vic as the future, as a way to smash the glass ceiling to pieces so small that it could never be rebuilt.

Natasha Ross wasn’t a monster. Maya respected her ambition. She respected her success. But she could not respect someone who tossed women under the bus, who climbed the ladder and instead of reaching behind her to help the next person up, she kicked down, blocking the way.

As always, Maya’s thoughts then drifted to Jamie. Because what would Jamie face in her life? Would she have to fight just as hard as Maya did? Or would the world be more open by the time Jamie stepped into it?

“Lieutenant Bishop?” Adams sat up straight, and Maya knew without a doubt that the committee had come to some sort of decision.

“Yes, Sir?”

“We have spent many weeks reviewing your case, talking with witnesses, reading victim-impact statements from the Delgado family. We’ve spoken with the FBI, numerous medical experts, and firefighters from multiple jurisdictions. Without a doubt, McCallister was correct when he accused you of insubordination.”

Maya’s stomach dropped. She clenched her jaw, ready to defend herself, ready to throw it all away because no…no! This was not happening.

“However,” Adams continued, “we also feel that the punishment far outweighs the crime. Your record is exemplary, Lieutenant Bishop. We have testimony from your team, from the team at District Six, there is no reason that we can see for you face further demotion.”

Wait…wait…

“We would like to reinstate you to the rank of captain. You’ve more than done your time, Lieutenant Bishop.”

Maya opened her mouth to speak, but found she could not form words. After a year of fighting, after a year of feeling like she was drowning, something had gone right. 

“Station 77 is in need of a captain. Their lieutenant is quite green, but shows potential. Under your leadership, 19 had the best response times in the city. We’d like you to bring that skill to 77,” Adams said, which gave Maya pause.

Because there was always a catch.

“Station 77?” She asked, though she already understood what Adams’ words meant.

“Yes. We understand that leaving Station 19 is a decision you will need to make, but 19 is not in need of a new captain, 77 is.”

Maya gulped, but forced herself to appear neutral despite the strange mix of joy and sadness she was experiencing. All three men stood, and she rose too, sensing the meeting was over.

“We will need your answer by Monday. But for now? SFD would like to extend its congratulations, Captain Bishop.”

They saluted her, those ancient bastions of what remained a boy’s club, saluted her, and Maya saluted them back, her head held high as she did.

“Thank you, Sir,” Maya said, an old familiar feeling flooding her body. A feeling she still craved.

She’d won.

She’d crossed the finish line first.

She’d won.

They were playing the national anthem and she was highest on the podium.

She’d won.

Carina was still sitting on a bench with Jamie as Maya left the room, but she stood up at the sight of Maya, her face etched with worry.

The worry gave way to happiness when Maya smiled, when she beamed at her wife and baby. She crossed the hallway in one quick stride and wrapped her arms around Carina before tipping their foreheads together, her smile so wide it made her cheeks hurt, and they both breathed out in relief.

“Mia capitana,” Carina said, cheeky, and Maya felt it too.

The confidence. The swagger.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about leaving 19. It was something she’d need to discuss with Carina. But for once, Maya decided not to jump ten steps ahead. She wanted to stay in the moment, in Carina’s arms, standing in a marble hallway filled with people going about their day, unaware of the bittersweet joy radiating from the little family huddled together in their midst.