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ds_flashfiction2003-06-16 04:25 pm
jacquez.livejournal.com) wrote in ds_flashfiction2003-06-16 04:25 pm
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wolfshark for the beta. Other notes at the end.
Two Adoptions, 383 words.
He'd been staring at the form - neatly filled out, complete except for his signature - for three weeks. Last time, he'd been interrupted by Denny Scarpa, all cool poise and criminal intent, and it had seemed like the hand of Justice: this, too, is your punishment, a reminder of what you have done.
Not that Scarpa was in the same league as Victoria, not for a moment--and not that Scarpa would ever cause this--this--
"Haven't you signed that yet?" Inspector Thatcher stood in front of the desk, arms crossed.
"I...have not been able to do so," he said, ashamed, tasting the shame like bile in his throat.
Her eyebrows skyrocketed. "Are you going to?" she asked. "If not, you'll need to move out. You can't keep him in your office like you do that dog." Dief barked. "Wolf," she said, "sorry."
For a moment he wanted to crumple the folder and the form, burn it, as if that would make it all go away. Instead he bit his lip and scrawled his name at the bottom, the last place it was required. He capped the pen and set it down, and looked up at Thatcher.
There was something like sympathy in her eyes; it didn't suit her. "I'll fax it for you," she said.
He flipped the folder closed and handed it to her before he could change his mind. "Thank you kindly."
She nodded and turned away, as they all turned away, in the end.
After she had gone, he put his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on the desk. "It was the right thing to do," he said to Dief, who whined. "He's lived with them since he was born. Well, since Victoria--" abandoned his child, her child, their child "gave him up."
Dief barked, twice. You did the best you could, he said. I always made sure my pups went to good homes.
"Yes," Fraser said, rubbing at the ink on his finger, "but I'm not a wolf."
Like hell, Dief answered. Man, wolf. Wolf, man. Same except for your skin. Want to hunt rabbits in the park?
Fraser looked down at him, dropping his hands to the desk. Something tight in his chest eased. "You know," he said, "I believe I do."
----
The End.
Note: This is something I've been thinking of for a long time, but was never quite able to get together. For some reason, this challenge made it *click* in my head. It's based on a nearly-invisible bit of canon - the title of the form Fraser is staring at when Lady Shoes comes up and starts playing cards with him in the Consulate. Pause your tape sometime and look.
wolfshark for the beta. Other notes at the end.Two Adoptions, 383 words.
He'd been staring at the form - neatly filled out, complete except for his signature - for three weeks. Last time, he'd been interrupted by Denny Scarpa, all cool poise and criminal intent, and it had seemed like the hand of Justice: this, too, is your punishment, a reminder of what you have done.
Not that Scarpa was in the same league as Victoria, not for a moment--and not that Scarpa would ever cause this--this--
"Haven't you signed that yet?" Inspector Thatcher stood in front of the desk, arms crossed.
"I...have not been able to do so," he said, ashamed, tasting the shame like bile in his throat.
Her eyebrows skyrocketed. "Are you going to?" she asked. "If not, you'll need to move out. You can't keep him in your office like you do that dog." Dief barked. "Wolf," she said, "sorry."
For a moment he wanted to crumple the folder and the form, burn it, as if that would make it all go away. Instead he bit his lip and scrawled his name at the bottom, the last place it was required. He capped the pen and set it down, and looked up at Thatcher.
There was something like sympathy in her eyes; it didn't suit her. "I'll fax it for you," she said.
He flipped the folder closed and handed it to her before he could change his mind. "Thank you kindly."
She nodded and turned away, as they all turned away, in the end.
After she had gone, he put his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on the desk. "It was the right thing to do," he said to Dief, who whined. "He's lived with them since he was born. Well, since Victoria--" abandoned his child, her child, their child "gave him up."
Dief barked, twice. You did the best you could, he said. I always made sure my pups went to good homes.
"Yes," Fraser said, rubbing at the ink on his finger, "but I'm not a wolf."
Like hell, Dief answered. Man, wolf. Wolf, man. Same except for your skin. Want to hunt rabbits in the park?
Fraser looked down at him, dropping his hands to the desk. Something tight in his chest eased. "You know," he said, "I believe I do."
----
The End.
Note: This is something I've been thinking of for a long time, but was never quite able to get together. For some reason, this challenge made it *click* in my head. It's based on a nearly-invisible bit of canon - the title of the form Fraser is staring at when Lady Shoes comes up and starts playing cards with him in the Consulate. Pause your tape sometime and look.