ds_flashfiction | Double Take challenge

estrella30.livejournal.com posting in

Title - She
Word Count - close to 3000
Pairing - Stella, Fraser, Stella/Vecchio, F/K implied
Rating - Not dirty! No cursing! (yes, it really is estrella here *g*)

Thanks as always to

brooklinegirl for beta, as well as emailing me a RL story which I turned into a Vecchio line. Thank you, darlin!

She

She may be the song that summer sings.
From She, by Elvis Costello

“Can I get you another cup, ASA Kowalski?”

Stella looked up from the notes she had spread out on the table for the McKinnon case. She and Ray had only been back in Chicago for a few months, but it was funny how easy it had been to slip right back into her same, old patterns. Getting up bright and early every morning, heading out for a coffee at the same swanky little café that she’d always gone to. She was still one of the first customers there every morning, sitting at her same little table on the outdoor patio, under the giant, white umbrella, sipping her coffee and going over her case notes.

After six months away the café was the same as it had always been, but the waiter was different. Stella briefly wondered if she had known this waiter from when she used to come here and forgot, or whether one of the older staff members told him who she was before he came over to her table. Then she wondered how long it was going to take her to start remembering to answer to “ASA Kowalski” again. She’d actually gotten used to being plain old “Mrs. Vecchio” when she and Ray were in Florida. ASA Kowalski seemed like a whole different person to her now.

The waiter looked at her expectantly, and Stella smiled, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes. Another cup would be fine. Decaf, please.”

A light breeze blew against her face, and the waiter nodded his head and made his way back inside the café. The newscasters said to expect the weather to hit close to ninety by this afternoon, but now, just before nine in the morning, the air was only warm and sweet. Stella slid her feet out of her pumps and curled her toes over the soft leather, watching as cars sped down the street.

If Stella was still in Florida it would be Ray getting her another cup of coffee right now, and she’d be sitting on their back patio, wearing her slippers and her long, silk robe. He’d be on his way out of the kitchen – probably complaining about something the whole time – and then he’d top off her cup and kiss her on the head, and make some silly comment about the coffee being sweet but nothing was as sweet as she was. He’d sit down and start rattling off names and dates and places about the bowling alley, or who said what down at the little Italian restaurant they went to for dinner nearly every night. Stella would watch him and smile to herself, and when Ray would ask her why she was smiling she’d just smile again and say, “No reason.”

But that was then. Stella and Ray weren’t in Florida anymore, and this wasn’t her patio she was sitting at. They were back in Chicago now, and she was at an outside table on Main Street, in her good Tahari suit, drinking coffee that wasn’t as good as the coffee Ray made, smelling car exhaust, and hearing too much noise.

“Here you go, ma’am,” the waiter said. Stella looked up to thank him, and as she did she turned instinctively toward a flash of red she saw from the corner of her eye. By the time her brain realized and processed what she was looking at she flinched, but she had already made eye contact with Constable Fraser, and it was too late to look away.

The only thing that kept her from feeling too guilty about wishing that she’d never seen him was the fact that he looked twice as distressed at seeing her.

A long time ago, back before she and Ray left for Florida, Stella might have played out this scenario. She might have drawn the constable over for an awkward conversation of her choosing, or been sure to catch his eye, and then outwardly ignore him as he made his way over to her to exchange pleasantries. Make a few jokes and watch him sweat and squirm for a bit.

But it wasn’t then, it was now, and with the circumstances the way they were, all Stella really wanted to do was avoid speaking to Constable Fraser. At all. Forever.

Things didn’t quite seem to be progressing that way though, because the waiter – god bless him – had witnessed the recognition between herself and the constable, and was right then, pulling out a chair and hustling off to get procure a cup of tea.

“Honestly, sir, I can’t stay” Constable Fraser was saying, all the while tugging on his collar and flushing to the roots of his dark hair. Stella had to look away to keep herself from laughing out loud, because if she was merely uncomfortable, Constable Fraser was mortified at the thought of sitting with her.

“Here you are,” a different waiter said, as he appeared from who knew where, complete with a tray holding a small teapot, tea cup, and creamer. He placed it on the table with a flourish, and Constable Fraser looked desperately down at the tray, then across the table at Stella’s face, and she lifted her cup and took a small sip, nodding toward the empty chair.

“Well then,” he said, and took off his hat before sitting down. “Thank you kindly.”

The two waiters smiled widely and walked away. Stella put her cup down and crossed her arms over her chest, watching as the constable fiddled with his tea and the cream, picking up his spoon and stirring over and over again before taking a sip.

“So you’re back,” Stella said.

Fraser put his cup down and smiled at her tightly. “I am, yes,” he said slowly. “As are you.”

Stella sipped her coffee. “As are we.”

A car horn blared in the distance, and Stella idly wondered where the constable’s wolf was when she felt him watching her. “Ray is well, I take it?” Fraser asked.

She nodded, her right hand falling instinctively to rest on her abdomen. “Very well, thank you.”

Fraser watched her silently for a moment as he sipped his tea. Stella leveled a gaze back at him, then slid her feet back into her shoes and reached to straighten out her files. “You were able to get your position back at the State’s Attorney’s office?” he asked.

“I was, yes.” Stella’s briefcase was just under the table, and she reached down and grabbed it, opening it up on the chair next to hers. “I was lucky, I guess. We weren’t even really gone long enough for them to find someone to fill my spot.”

“I see,” Fraser said, taking another sip of his tea. “That would make sense. You were both gone only, what. Six? Seven months?”

“A little over six.”

The waiter came back and dropped the check on the table. Stella picked it up it before Fraser could; she wanted this conversation over, and she wanted it over now. The quickest way to accomplish that would be to get her wallet, pay the bill, and leave.

“And Ray?” Fraser asked, as Stella was pulling her wallet from her purse. “Please,” Fraser said, reaching across and taking the check from her other hand. “Allow me.”

“No, really, I—“

“I insist,” Fraser said, smiling. Stella gave up. “Fine. Ray is fine,” she said, pushing her chair back and smoothing out her skirt. “Looking for work but he’s doing well. Happy to be home.”

“Home is the best place to be,” Fraser said. “I agree.”

And what would Constable Fraser know about that, really, Stella though to herself. He’d just…left here. Started running around Canada in the snow with her ex-husband. Stella actually figured that it was good for the two of them, Ray and Fraser, to be off in the Canadian wilderness, building igloos and snowmen, or doing…whatever it was that they did together. The two of them could have stayed up there for the rest of forever for all she was concerned, while she and her Ray came back here. That would have been fine. Perfect. No awkward situations or weird feelings.

But no. Now they were all here - in Chicago - and apparently Stella couldn’t even sit outside and have a cup of coffee in peace.

Fraser was pulling money out of the brim of his hat, and Stella grabbed her briefcase and stood up. “Well. It was lovely seeing you, Constable.”

“Likewise, ASA Kowalski,” he said, smiling up at her slowly. “Please pass along my greetings to Ray.”

*

Stella had been sitting on the edge of their jacuzzi tub, staring at the stick in her hand, when Ray got home, talking from the minute he walked in the door.

“Best thing we ever did was buy that alley, Stel,” he called, and she heard – yep, there it was – the thump of his suit jacket being tossed on the bed. The heels of his loafers as he walked across the wood floors in their bedroom. She hadn’t closed the door to the adjoining bathroom all the way, because she’d only expected to be in there a minute or so. Take the test, see she wasn’t pregnant, toss it in the trash. Four, five minutes tops.

That was close to half an hour ago, Stella figured, though she couldn’t say for certain.

“So this afternoon was league day,” Ray was saying, and Stella knew she had to get up – had to say something. Ray was coming closer and closer to the door; his voice was getting louder. “And the Boca Beach Babes show up. I’ll give you one guess how old these babes are, Stel, and if you guess anywhere under sixty, well, you lose.”

Stella stared at the line on the stick – both of them. There were definitely two lines. She lifted the box from the sink, and reread the directions printed on the back.

Two line means Pregnant!
One line means Not Pregnant!

That was two lines she was looking at, right?

Right. Definitely two lines.

“So then I said,” Ray pushed open the bathroom door, and Stella looked up, still holding the stick in one hand and the box in the other. “Hey,” Ray said, leaning against the door. “Whatcha got?”

Stella looked down at the box, then reached out and put it down on the counter. “Pregnancy test.”

She looked up at Ray. Ray was still standing there, smiling. Stella kept watching him.

Ray’s smile started to slowly fade.

“Wait a second, lemme see that.” Stella handed Ray the stick and then pushed her hands through her hair. This was just – how was it even possible? She never – it’s not like she ever –

“Is this yours?” Ray said, his voice alarmingly high.

Stella narrowed her eyes. “No. I stole someone’s pregnancy test on the way home from the grocery store.”

“No – I mean – it’s just,” Ray swung his arm around, and just barely missed cracking his knuckles into the antique light fixture in the ceiling. “How did this happen?”

“You were there, Ray.” Stella stood up, the bathroom tile cool against the soles of her bare feet. “I’m sure you understand the basic principles—“

“No, I mean – the pill,” Ray flailed. “You’re on the pill.”

“Yeah, well, I guess the pill didn’t work,” she snapped, pushing past him and back into the bedroom. She pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it on top of his jacket on the bed. “It’s not always a hundred percent,” she mumbled. “It must have been an accident.”

But it wasn’t, not really, even if she didn’t exactly plan it this way, Stella thought to herself. She’d heard stories about mixing medications, and how sometimes they lessened the affect of birth control. She knew that, even as she was taking her prescription strength Dramamine on the cruise ship on their honeymoon. She knew it, and she did it anyway. What did that mean, exactly?

Now it was happening though (Two lines means Pregnant!), and Stella wasn’t – she just wasn’t sure. She rubbed her hands over her face, shivering as the central air clicked on. Ray walked up from behind her, and she leaned back against his chest as his arms circled her waist.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his breath stirring her hair. “I didn’t mean to—“

“No, it’s all right.”

“I was just surprised. I mean, we never really talked about it—“

“Really, Ray,” Stella interrupted. “It’s all right.”

Ray breathed in deeply behind her, and Stella closed her eyes as she felt him kiss her hair. “We’ll figure it out,” he said quietly. “You and me, we’re good like that.”

*

Later that night as they were both lying in bed, Stella lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling with her hand curled over her belly.

She knew it was crazy – she was barely pregnant, and had only actually know that for a few hours – but as she was lying there she felt pregnant. She could feel that she had a baby, she felt like a mom.

Stella huffed out a breath and blew her bangs away from her face. Right. Completely crazy.

“I ever tell you about my family,” Ray said quietly from next to her in the dark. He wasn’t sleeping either. Stella should have known. “My family was…really fucked,” he continued.

“Ray—“ Stella rolled onto her side to face him.

“No, hey. It’s okay,” Ray said. “I’m not telling you to make you feel bad. I just…” he reached out and ran a hand over her hair, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “My dad was an alcoholic. Big time boozer. And my ma…she’d just… It’s the way he is, Raymond,” Ray said in a high pitched, Italian accent. “He don’t mean no harm.”

Stella leaned forward and kissed him softly, closing her eyes as he pulled her close against his side.

The air clicked on and off through two cycles before either of them said anything else. “We should move back to Chicago,” Ray finally said, when the room was silent. “We’ve got friends there; my sisters and my ma. It’ll be better for the baby.”

When he reached over and took her hand in his, she pressed it against her belly, wishing he could feel what she felt. “Okay,” she finally whispered.

The air clicked on again a few minutes later, but Stella still heard Ray when he said, “I could do this.” His voice was soft. “I could be a dad.”

Stella squeezed his hand. “I know you can.”

*

The heels of her shoes clicked against the cement sidewalk, and Stella hefted her briefcase to the other hand and ducked into the nearest store in hopes of cooling off in their air-conditioning. The weather guy was right and wrong it seemed: definitely hitting ninety, but at about ten AM instead of mid-afternoon.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

Stella looked over and there was a plump, middle-aged saleswoman standing next to her, watching her curiously. Stella looked around, and realized she was in some swanky, high-end boutique and shook her head.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Stella said, gesturing vaguely around the store. “I’m just going to…”

After the saleswoman nodded and wandered away, Stella really looked around the store, walking slowly from display to display, wondering who on earth had any use for anything they sold here.

Solid gold letter openers…diamond-encrusted picture frames…genuine birthstone lipstick cases…

Stella rolled her eyes and was turning to leave when she spotted the rattle.

It was sterling silver and about five inches long, and Stella looked right past the one with the baby blue satin ribbon tied around it, surrounded by little plush baseballs and toy trucks. Instead she reached out and ran her fingers gently across the light pink ribbon tied around the rattle right next to it.

“Does Ray know?” a voice asked quietly from beside her.

Stella picked the rattle up, and curled her fingers around the smooth silver. “I should think so,” she said, never once turning to look at Constable Fraser. “He is the father, after all.” She shook the rattle once, listening as the tiny beads inside rolled around.

Fraser cleared his throat. “Actually, what I meant was—“

“I know what you meant, Constable,” Stella said, turning to face him. “And no, I haven’t spoken to…” she faltered for a second. Because what was Ray to her now - her ex? Ray Kowalski? Stella looked at Fraser, at his grey-blue eyes that were watching her so intently. “Your Ray,” she said quietly, after a moment’s pause. “I haven’t seen your Ray since we’ve all been back.”

“Ah. Well then,” Fraser said. He cleared his throat. “I imagine he’ll be—“

“I imagine he’ll be fine with it,” Stella interrupted.

The funny thing about it though, was that she actually did think he’d be fine with it. Ray had Fraser now; he didn’t need her anymore. It was time she started remembering that.

Stella shook the rattle again, and smiled at Constable Fraser as she reached down to pick up her briefcase. “Tell Ray I said hello, Constable,” she said. “And that I’ll be seeing him soon.”

“I’ll do that,” Fraser said, smiling back.

Stella moved past him, heading for the register, when she felt a light tap on her arm. She turned back to face Fraser, and found him clearing his throat. “And if you don’t mind my saying so,” he said, gesturing to the rattle, “I’m sure that when your daughter is older she’s going to appreciate that very much.”

She, Stella thought to herself, and then she nodded, and smiled.