Standard disclaimers: All characters in this story, with the exception of Nina, are property of the folks who created due South, and it's their own fault I'm borrowing them for this little adventure -- they made 'em too durned interesting and down-right fun to ignore! I'm not making any money off this, Lord knows, and it's all in the name of good clean fun, so I hope they don't sue me. ;-)
For anyone who has a problem with the intimate details of sex between two loving partners, this carries an NC-17 rating for m/f, ah, interaction, as well and a teensy bit of strong language (not much -- Fraser wouldn't let me). Feel free to either delete it now or simply stop before the second section or so of Part Three, and the second section of Part Four. : )
My thanks to the creators of due South for providing such a wonderful playground, and the actors for such delightful characters. Also, my "Sis", Monica, for getting me into "dS" again, and Meredith Brooks, Graeme Revell, and several other artists for giving me such great and Muse-inspiring music.
. . .And Winter Disappeared
© 1996, Grace Macy
Part One: Nina and Benton
Blame it on the Mountie. My schedule changed as soon as he showed up -- or I showed up, depending on how you look at it. He was at the Consulate before I moved to this part of town.
It was mid-November, it was maybe 20 degrees Fahrenheit, and I get to the office for my first day of work and see this Mountie standing sentry at the Canadian Consulate, the breath from his mouth making clouds around him, his face unmoving. And it wasn't from being literally frozen. I marveled at the sight for a moment, then went in to work. When I came out for my lunch break four hours later, he was still standing there. I mean, that's not human! Not just to make a man stand in the freezing cold Chicago winter air for four hours, but for said man to look perfectly at ease with it. Simply not human. I told him as much, crossing the street to say hello and receiving a smile two minutes later when his shift ended and he could respond. Of course this was after four days of observing and working up enough courage to actually do it.
I looked up into the bluest pair of eyes I'd ever seen and smiled, knowing from observation that his shift ended soon. "You must be freezing!" I said sympathetically. And received not so much as flicker of response. Right, I told myself; sentry-duty like the guys at Buckingham Palace. I glanced at my watch and saw there was a grand total of about two minutes and 3 seconds until his shift ended. I was impressed.
"Well, I don't know about you," I continued blithely, "but I don't really think it's the right weather or time for coffee, so how about some hot chocolate?" Still nothing. "One blink for yes, two blinks for no." There was a long pause, then, almost as if it was against his will, he blinked. "Was that a yes blink or a natural blink?" I asked. Nothing, then those incredible eyes shifted a fraction towards me and I smiled. "I'll take that to mean it was the former," I chuckled. "Okay! Be right back!"
I ran across the street to the deli and bought a cup of hot cocoa, with marshmallows, and then ran back. (Well, I couldn't very well let him freeze his red-uniform-clad tukus off, now could I? And don't give me that look! The fact that it's a very nice tukus, whether clad in a red uniform or not, had nothing to do with it!)
My timing couldn't have been better if I had tried. He stepped out of parade rest, took the offered cup with a smile and said, "Thank you kindly, ma'am."
I laughed. "I think I'm a little young to be a ma'am," I told him, watching as he blew on the hot liquid and then took a cautious sip. I could almost see the color returning to his face. "And it's no problem. I've seen you freezing for four days now; my maternal instincts have been screaming at me like crazy."
He smiled, his eyes dancing. "I appreciate it. It is a bit chilly."
I stared at him. "Chilly?" I echoed in disbelief. "Good lord, you really are from way up North, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma' -- ah, miss." Then his teeth chattered a bit and a faint flush rose to his cheeks.
I laughed, caught by the ridiculousness of it. "Nina," I introduced myself. "Would you like to go inside?" I raised an eyebrow and added impishly, "It's a bit chilly out here."
He chuckled. "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police," he returned. "And yes -- I do have to sign out."
I decided then and there to talk to whoever it was who was in charge of assigning people to four-hour shifts in freezing weather. I followed him inside the Consulate and waited for him to sign out, then shook my head as the next unlucky Mountie took his place outside. "Next time I'm bringing two cups of cocoa," I determined out-loud, not quite aware I had said it until Benton gave me a strange look. "What?" I asked him as we headed back outdoors.
Benton just shook his head and smiled. "Nothing," he answered, holding the door open for me. I shivered as the cold air hit me. I have never gotten used to Chicago winters, and I've lived here all my life. "Would you rather stay indoors?"
I shook my head, my teeth already chattering. "I'm on my lunch-break. If I go indoors, it's going to be to that nice deli across the street." I looked at him and he looked back, both of us a little uncertain. "Ah, would you like to join me?"
He smiled. "I would," he said. "If you wouldn't mind."
I chuckled. "If I minded, I wouldn't have asked," I pointed out. He blushed again and gave me a slightly sheepish smile. It was replaced by a courteous one when we got inside the deli and he helped me with my coat, automatically, as if it were natural. Maybe it was; from what I'd heard from the deli-owner and a few people at the office, he seemed to be that kind of guy. Then he took off his own coat, and his Stetson, and I had to stop myself from gaping.
I don't know how or why, but somehow I had thought that he seemed so tall and broad-shouldered because of the coat and hat. It wasn't. He was. His hair was thick and coal-black, striking contrast to his pale skin with cold-reddened cheeks and, of course, those so-blue eyes. He was, in a word, incredible. And sitting there across from me, chafing his hands a bit to warm them, he seemed a lot more real. I suddenly found myself wondering just what the hell I was doing.
***
What the hell was I doing?
I sat across the table from her, and caught her gaze, and I felt as if I was waking up from a dream. It was a most peculiar sensation, because it seemed what I was waking to was an even better dream.
Her cheeks were flushed from the cold air, her eyes deep chocolate brown, sparkling at me in silent laughter. Brown hair almost as dark as her eyes, subtly streaked with paler shades (what did Francesca call it? 'Frosting'? Whatever it was, it looked lovely on her), fell around her face and shoulders in loose curls, one lock falling halfway into her eyes. I almost reached out to brush it away before I realized what I was doing, and firmly settled my hands in my lap. It suddenly hit me that Nina looked a lot like Victoria, and yet nothing like her at all. I tried to decide why that was and realized that it was the laughter, the warmth, I saw in her eyes. I found myself smiling without knowing why.
And I was still wondering what I was doing.
I had vaguely noticed her for the past few days, a glimpse now and then through the crowds, but as soon as I saw her crossing the street towards me I knew exactly who she was. And when she stopped in front of me, looking like a china-doll all bundled up in the large black coat, and smiled, I had to fight incredibly hard not to return the expression. Harder than when school- children dropped spitballs on my boots or a woman had to drag her dog away, convincing it in barely enough time that I wasn't a fire-hydrant. Those occasions were child's-play compared to the challenge of not responding to her smile. "One blink for yes, two blinks for no," she had said, and I had almost, almost!, laughed. And then, when she told me her name, the first thought to cross my mind was that Nina was the most beautiful name I'd ever heard.
I was glad Ray wasn't here now. He'd be laughing himself to death.
"So," she said now, her gaze -- was I totally misreading? She couldn't possibly be. . .shy? And a little nervous? Well, certainly not as nervous as I was!
"So," I echoed, wondering what to say.
Nina laughed suddenly, a ripple of sound that chased away every doubt as she abruptly said, "How on earth did a Mountie land in Chicago?!"
***
Oh god. Tell me I did not just say that!!
***
I laughed, taken by surprise and relieved to have been given a guideline for what to say. It wasn't until much later, when she actually told me, that I recalled seeing the faint flush that crept up her cheeks after she said it. Just then, I was too busy telling her exactly how I had 'landed' in Chicago.
Her eyes stayed fixed on my face throughout the story, and she surprised me again when tears shone in her eyes as I told her about my father's death. She laid a hand on top of mine on the table. "I'm so sorry," she said, squeezing my hand, and I was startled, and warmed, by the genuine sympathy in her eyes. She saw my expression and misread; she frowned and hastily started to draw her hand away. "I'm sorry," she said softly, apologizing for her 'lapse', I realized.
Without thinking, I turned my hand and grabbed hers, stopping her. "No!" I blurted. "It's not -- it's just that -- well -- I'm not used to -- well -- that is --"
With a slow smile, she rescued me. "To Americans being nice?" she supplied.
I blushed, ashamed at my lack of manners. I started to apologize and she laughed, shaking her head. "I was born and raised in Chicago, I know how rude we can be."
I smiled. "Not you."
Nina smiled, that same slow twitch of her lips that made me want to run my thumb across the perfect bow, feel the softness of that mouth against my skin. . . I shook myself.
"My grandmother was very strict about manners," she continued, and I focused on her voice, hoping it would let me calm myself. As Ray would put it, fat chance. I found it as intoxicating as the rest of her and I wondered if this was a sign that I had been too long without . . . that. It was entirely possible; I was human after all.
Before I knew it, an hour and a plate of pasta each had passed. We had talked about a number of things, from Inuit culture (Ray would undoubtedly say that was no surprise, given my familiarity with the subject) to the opera, then Nina glanced at the clock on the wall behind me and her eyes widened. "Oh, fuck!" she gasped, surprising me. She hadn't seemed the type to swear. She looked back at me and blushed; apparently I was right. "I'm late," she explained.
I frowned and apologized as she hurriedly popped one last piece of pasta into her mouth and swallowed. I watched her with a faint smile, not even aware of the expression, thinking how lady- like she was as she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and told me that there was nothing to apologize for. "I had fun," she said, and I stood and went to pull back her chair as she grabbed her purse. She stood and turned her head toward me with a brilliant smile as I held up her coat for her to put on. She chuckled. "You are just too cute," she said, and I felt myself freeze in place as our eyes met.
After a long moment, she stepped away from me and buttoned her coat. "Well," she said, blushing.
I smiled slightly and nodded. "Well," I repeated. Then I cleared my throat and made a far safer jump than the one I wanted, which would have been to kiss her, taste her as deeply as I could, hold her tight against me. "Thank you again for the cocoa."
Nina smiled and tossed her hair over her shoulder, adjusting her purse-strap. "It was my pleasure." Her eyes met mine again and she added softly, "Maybe we could do this again tomorrow?"
I nodded slowly, barely believing I was doing it. "I would like that."
***
He said it and I couldn't believe it.
Hell, I couldn't even breathe.
I forced myself to concentrate enough to get to the door and open it, knowing I was grinning like an idiot and not caring in the least. "I would like that." The words repeated over and over in my head as I walked back to the office. And the way he had said it -- soft, his eyes shining just as soft. . .
It had been the furthest thing from my mind when I crossed the street at 2:58 PM, or when I'd bought the hot chocolate, but I'd managed to make him like me. I felt like a teenager, thinking that, not a twenty- seven-year-old architect, but I couldn't help it. He liked me! Those amazing blue eyes were smiling at me, telling me he wanted to see me again. And tomorrow he would. . . I was suddenly, incredibly happy, more than I'd been in a long time. The winter wind suddenly didn't seem all that cold at all.
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