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ds_flashfictionTitle: Exile
Author: Teaphile
Category: Gen
Word Count: 894
Summary/Notes: So I thought to myself, what on Earth would induce Thatcher--who thinks Chicago is uncivilized--to take a post up north?
"I'll have you know I'm here under protest." Meg's voice rang out in the large, wooden building, louder than it would have in her Chicago consulate office. She glanced up in time to catch Fraser's wince at her words. That combined with Turnbull's stony face made her regret speaking to her superior officer that way.
Not that she should be speaking to a superior officer that way anyway, but James had been her friend since Depot and he gave her leeway she might not otherwise have.
"I'm sorry, Meg, but there's no one else who could take that post on short notice." She heard his hesitation over the phone lines and knew what was coming next. "And after your little incident with the Czech ambassador…."
"He put his hands on me!"
James sighed. "I know, and it should never have happened, but that doesn't excuse you breaking the man's finger."
"That was completely an accident! He should have learned how to fall properly."
"As a member of the RCMP--."
"I know." There were diplomatic ways to deal with sexual harassment, but his advances had been the proverbial straw on a stressful week. Judo had seemed like a good idea at the time.
"The far north isn't so bad, Meg. You might come to like it, even." She glanced out her window at his words, taking in the near-white-out conditions that had even the dog huddled next to the heater. As if reading her mind he added, "Come spring, maybe."
She'd spent one blissful month in Montreal after leaving Chicago, and now she was in a place where the wine was younger than the jars of pickles left behind by the previous tenants of her house. She hadn't even bothered to pack her formal gowns.
"Anyway," James said in a wrapping-it-up voice, "I'll see what I can do to get you a different post."
"Thanks. I guess I'll muddle through until then." They said their goodbyes and hung up.
"Inspector?" Fraser had come over to her desk at some point while she was trying to will the snow away.
She straightened -- dignity was crucial in a small outpost like this. "Yes, Constable?"
He cleared his throat and tugged at his sleeve. "If there's anything I can do to help you settle in…."
Meg picked up a pen and a random form, just to look like she had work to do. "Not at the moment, Constable. Perhaps later, after the meeting."
Fraser was bareheaded, but he made a gesture that felt like he was tipping his hat to her and smiled. "I'll be here."
"I'm sure you will." At least he wasn't sleeping in this place. The detachment was one large, open room populated by a half-dozen desks and a small prisoner holding area. Even Fraser wouldn't put up with the lack of privacy.
He half turned away, then stopped.
"Was there something else, Constable?"
Fraser met her eyes for the first time since she'd arrived. "I understand what it's like to be in disgrace with our superiors."
So much for word not having travelled. Meg shuffled the pages under her hand. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
After a moment of silence he wandered off to his own desk, which mercifully wasn't in her line of sight. Fraser. She'd been hoping…. There would have been no impropriety, no risk, when he wasn't under her direct command, but now, well, perhaps this was a sign it wasn't meant to be. One of many, it seemed.
A few minutes later she looked up at a wall of red. Turnbull--who was refusing to wear anything other than the dress red--had apparently decided that it was his turn to offer his aid. As if he hadn't done enough with the cake he'd shoved in her hands the moment she entered the building. She still had pink icing under her nails.
He stood at attention, unblinking, and Meg wondered what he'd do if she drew a little cartoon moustache on him. Probably thank her. She suspected that Fraser had convinced Turnbull to come with him because Turnbull made Fraser seem normal. "Yes, Constable?"
"I'd just like to say, Ma'am," he looked her in the eye, finally, but quickly directed his gaze back up over her head, "that I'm honoured to be working under you again, and if you need anything, anything at all, such as a home-cooked meal, for example--although I'm sure you're an accomplished chef--or a foot massage, or perhaps you'd like me to breed you your own sled team--,"
She held her hand up and he broke off.
He re-settled himself after his excitement. "Just say the word, Ma'am."
She was just about to thank him and let him go when she realized what he could do for her. It was risky, and quite possibly dangerous to all of them, but it would keep him busy for a good long while. "As a matter of fact, Constable, there is something you could do. Please see about constructing some interior walls, that I might have my own office. A small one, that is." She'd pay for it out of her own pocket if she had to.
He grinned broadly. "I'd be delighted." He turned smartly on his heel and left the detachment.
Well, at least one of them would be.
Author: Teaphile
Category: Gen
Word Count: 894
Summary/Notes: So I thought to myself, what on Earth would induce Thatcher--who thinks Chicago is uncivilized--to take a post up north?
"I'll have you know I'm here under protest." Meg's voice rang out in the large, wooden building, louder than it would have in her Chicago consulate office. She glanced up in time to catch Fraser's wince at her words. That combined with Turnbull's stony face made her regret speaking to her superior officer that way.
Not that she should be speaking to a superior officer that way anyway, but James had been her friend since Depot and he gave her leeway she might not otherwise have.
"I'm sorry, Meg, but there's no one else who could take that post on short notice." She heard his hesitation over the phone lines and knew what was coming next. "And after your little incident with the Czech ambassador…."
"He put his hands on me!"
James sighed. "I know, and it should never have happened, but that doesn't excuse you breaking the man's finger."
"That was completely an accident! He should have learned how to fall properly."
"As a member of the RCMP--."
"I know." There were diplomatic ways to deal with sexual harassment, but his advances had been the proverbial straw on a stressful week. Judo had seemed like a good idea at the time.
"The far north isn't so bad, Meg. You might come to like it, even." She glanced out her window at his words, taking in the near-white-out conditions that had even the dog huddled next to the heater. As if reading her mind he added, "Come spring, maybe."
She'd spent one blissful month in Montreal after leaving Chicago, and now she was in a place where the wine was younger than the jars of pickles left behind by the previous tenants of her house. She hadn't even bothered to pack her formal gowns.
"Anyway," James said in a wrapping-it-up voice, "I'll see what I can do to get you a different post."
"Thanks. I guess I'll muddle through until then." They said their goodbyes and hung up.
"Inspector?" Fraser had come over to her desk at some point while she was trying to will the snow away.
She straightened -- dignity was crucial in a small outpost like this. "Yes, Constable?"
He cleared his throat and tugged at his sleeve. "If there's anything I can do to help you settle in…."
Meg picked up a pen and a random form, just to look like she had work to do. "Not at the moment, Constable. Perhaps later, after the meeting."
Fraser was bareheaded, but he made a gesture that felt like he was tipping his hat to her and smiled. "I'll be here."
"I'm sure you will." At least he wasn't sleeping in this place. The detachment was one large, open room populated by a half-dozen desks and a small prisoner holding area. Even Fraser wouldn't put up with the lack of privacy.
He half turned away, then stopped.
"Was there something else, Constable?"
Fraser met her eyes for the first time since she'd arrived. "I understand what it's like to be in disgrace with our superiors."
So much for word not having travelled. Meg shuffled the pages under her hand. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
After a moment of silence he wandered off to his own desk, which mercifully wasn't in her line of sight. Fraser. She'd been hoping…. There would have been no impropriety, no risk, when he wasn't under her direct command, but now, well, perhaps this was a sign it wasn't meant to be. One of many, it seemed.
A few minutes later she looked up at a wall of red. Turnbull--who was refusing to wear anything other than the dress red--had apparently decided that it was his turn to offer his aid. As if he hadn't done enough with the cake he'd shoved in her hands the moment she entered the building. She still had pink icing under her nails.
He stood at attention, unblinking, and Meg wondered what he'd do if she drew a little cartoon moustache on him. Probably thank her. She suspected that Fraser had convinced Turnbull to come with him because Turnbull made Fraser seem normal. "Yes, Constable?"
"I'd just like to say, Ma'am," he looked her in the eye, finally, but quickly directed his gaze back up over her head, "that I'm honoured to be working under you again, and if you need anything, anything at all, such as a home-cooked meal, for example--although I'm sure you're an accomplished chef--or a foot massage, or perhaps you'd like me to breed you your own sled team--,"
She held her hand up and he broke off.
He re-settled himself after his excitement. "Just say the word, Ma'am."
She was just about to thank him and let him go when she realized what he could do for her. It was risky, and quite possibly dangerous to all of them, but it would keep him busy for a good long while. "As a matter of fact, Constable, there is something you could do. Please see about constructing some interior walls, that I might have my own office. A small one, that is." She'd pay for it out of her own pocket if she had to.
He grinned broadly. "I'd be delighted." He turned smartly on his heel and left the detachment.
Well, at least one of them would be.
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no subject
Date: 2008-09-15 02:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-15 11:46 pm (UTC)It was supposed to be much longer, with her coming to terms with, and actually almost liking, her post, but I didn't have a story to get from here to there.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-15 02:28 am (UTC)I love Turnbull here, with offer of pink cake, foot massages, and a hand=bred sled dog team. I imagine he thinks he's courting.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-15 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-15 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-15 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-15 06:50 pm (UTC)Judo had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Darn right! Diplomacy, my left sneaker. ;)
<3 Turnbull and cake.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-15 11:49 pm (UTC)Thanks.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 01:54 am (UTC)**She suspected that Fraser had convinced Turnbull to come with him because Turnbull made Fraser seem normal.
Just One More Reason why Fraser ends up with Ray K at the end of the series (and beyond) - she never saw the real him.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 08:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-17 01:28 pm (UTC)Fraser met her eyes for the first time since she'd arrived. "I understand what it's like to be in disgrace with our superiors."
So much for word not having travelled. Meg shuffled the pages under her hand. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
I find it kind of sad that she can't accept his sympathy...
no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 11:35 am (UTC)Thanks for commenting!
no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 02:12 am (UTC)This was welcome comic relief:
if you need anything, anything at all, such as a home-cooked meal, for example--although I'm sure you're an accomplished chef--or a foot massage, or perhaps you'd like me to breed you your own sled team--,"
Ahahaha! And it's SO TURNBULL.
Oh, poor Meg. *sighs*
no subject
Date: 2008-09-18 11:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-20 11:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-22 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-24 11:41 pm (UTC)Yeah, it was supposed to be a longer story with a happier ending, but I had no middle write.