First-Line Festival Challenge: 'Unofficial Secrets' by leafy22
Title: Unofficial Secrets
Author: leafy22
Pairing: F/K
Rating: PG
900ish words
First line taken from 'Tissue/Layer' by
etcetera_cat
Unofficial Secrets
His life is made of a tissue of secrets. Yet it would be wrong, thought Meg Thatcher, to assume this meant there was anything...deceitful about Constable Fraser. She turned her chair further towards the window, adjusting the curtain slightly so as to get a better view of her subordinate standing outside on sentry duty.
In fact, it was impossible to think of anyone more unlikely to suit that word than Fraser. Everything about him was fair, decent and eminently trustworthy. Sometimes it even seemed as if he was too damn honest for his own good. But, if there was one man you could count on - could depend on - to keep a secret, it would be Constable Benton Fraser.
Fraser had been entrusted with a great number of Canadian secrets, and an even greater number of Chicago-Canadian secrets. He knew the cause for the change of consulate building and the code words to be used if the Queen’s bedroom ever needed suddenly preparing for the monarch herself. Fraser was one of the few people aware of the true reason for Turnbull’s posting in Chicago. Meg huffed out a small laugh at the thought that even if Fraser ever should disclose it no-one would believe him anyway.
Meg sat back in her chair, her eyes fixed on Fraser but no longer really watching him. She wondered if he ever reflected on the secret known only by the two of them - their moment of sun-lit, not-grieving, heart-racing foolishness they had shared on top of that train. She had asked him never to speak to anyone about it and he had taken her completely at her word. They’d been able to return to a professional working relationship without any awkward chats about their ‘feelings’. It was probably all for the best.
On the other side of the road, a familiar shiny black car pulled up and parked. Of course, Fraser also kept secrets for the Chicago Police Department. As she watched Detective ‘Vecchio’ get out and lean against his car door, she thought, not for the first time, that some secrets were more ludicrous than others. Diefenbaker suddenly darted across the road, having appeared from the side of the consulate building and Detective Vecchio bent down, ruffling the dog’s fur and talking to it.
From what Meg had heard, the real Detective Vecchio and his family had good cause to be grateful for Fraser’s silence. Indeed there were probably countless people indebted to Fraser for keeping their confidences and guarding their secrets - with his life if necessary. Perhaps his total stillness on sentry duty was aided by the heavy weight of all this concealment.
But what about Fraser’s own secrets? Were they ever shared with anyone or were they - like a burden to be carried but never inspected - locked away with the secrets of everybody else? There were so many things Meg wanted to know about this honourable, yet often completely baffling, man. Asking personal questions, however, led either to fierce blushing or a deflective and interminable Inuit story. Over the last couple of years, she had been able to piece scraps of information together to answer some of her queries, but there were two recent developments in particular she very much wanted explaining.
What was he doing in his closet when she heard voices coming from in there? Her attempts to investigate this by catching him in the act had so far proved unsuccessful and embarrassing. Choosing instead to adopt stealthier methods, she had lately resorted to going to his office and looking in his closet when he wasn’t there.
That was far easier to do these days - Fraser seemed to be spending less and less time at the consulate beyond his working hours and this led to her other burning question. Where exactly had he been spending his nights recently?
Meg heard the bell from the clock-tower three streets away chime the hour and instinctively checked her watch. Twelve seconds early - another whole second gained since last Monday. She sighed and shook her head. Accuracy seemed to matter to no-one but her nowadays - apart from Constable Fraser, of course, who remained motionless at his post. Across the street Detective Vecchio was making a great show of examining his watch and sighing theatrically at the dog who…well, it looked as if it was nodding its head in response but surely that was just a coincidence or a trick of the early evening light.
As the second hand on Meg’s watch marked the hour - and not a fraction of a moment sooner - Constable Fraser cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders and stepped forward, looking both ways carefully before he crossed the road.
Detective Vecchio clapped Fraser on the shoulder in greeting, but didn’t immediately drop his hand. He had a bigger smile on his face than Meg could ever remember seeing before and it was reflected in Constable Fraser’s expression too. They both seemed happy and at ease with each other. The pair of them - and maybe even the dog too - appeared to be sharing a joke as they got into the car and drove away.
Meg swung her chair back round to her desk and sat thoughtfully for a few minutes, remembering the way the two men had laughed together and the looks they had exchanged. Maybe that was one of her mysteries solved. Well, she decided, their secret was safe with her.
Now for another look in that closet….
Author: leafy22
Pairing: F/K
Rating: PG
900ish words
First line taken from 'Tissue/Layer' by
etcetera_cat
Unofficial Secrets
His life is made of a tissue of secrets. Yet it would be wrong, thought Meg Thatcher, to assume this meant there was anything...deceitful about Constable Fraser. She turned her chair further towards the window, adjusting the curtain slightly so as to get a better view of her subordinate standing outside on sentry duty.
In fact, it was impossible to think of anyone more unlikely to suit that word than Fraser. Everything about him was fair, decent and eminently trustworthy. Sometimes it even seemed as if he was too damn honest for his own good. But, if there was one man you could count on - could depend on - to keep a secret, it would be Constable Benton Fraser.
Fraser had been entrusted with a great number of Canadian secrets, and an even greater number of Chicago-Canadian secrets. He knew the cause for the change of consulate building and the code words to be used if the Queen’s bedroom ever needed suddenly preparing for the monarch herself. Fraser was one of the few people aware of the true reason for Turnbull’s posting in Chicago. Meg huffed out a small laugh at the thought that even if Fraser ever should disclose it no-one would believe him anyway.
Meg sat back in her chair, her eyes fixed on Fraser but no longer really watching him. She wondered if he ever reflected on the secret known only by the two of them - their moment of sun-lit, not-grieving, heart-racing foolishness they had shared on top of that train. She had asked him never to speak to anyone about it and he had taken her completely at her word. They’d been able to return to a professional working relationship without any awkward chats about their ‘feelings’. It was probably all for the best.
On the other side of the road, a familiar shiny black car pulled up and parked. Of course, Fraser also kept secrets for the Chicago Police Department. As she watched Detective ‘Vecchio’ get out and lean against his car door, she thought, not for the first time, that some secrets were more ludicrous than others. Diefenbaker suddenly darted across the road, having appeared from the side of the consulate building and Detective Vecchio bent down, ruffling the dog’s fur and talking to it.
From what Meg had heard, the real Detective Vecchio and his family had good cause to be grateful for Fraser’s silence. Indeed there were probably countless people indebted to Fraser for keeping their confidences and guarding their secrets - with his life if necessary. Perhaps his total stillness on sentry duty was aided by the heavy weight of all this concealment.
But what about Fraser’s own secrets? Were they ever shared with anyone or were they - like a burden to be carried but never inspected - locked away with the secrets of everybody else? There were so many things Meg wanted to know about this honourable, yet often completely baffling, man. Asking personal questions, however, led either to fierce blushing or a deflective and interminable Inuit story. Over the last couple of years, she had been able to piece scraps of information together to answer some of her queries, but there were two recent developments in particular she very much wanted explaining.
What was he doing in his closet when she heard voices coming from in there? Her attempts to investigate this by catching him in the act had so far proved unsuccessful and embarrassing. Choosing instead to adopt stealthier methods, she had lately resorted to going to his office and looking in his closet when he wasn’t there.
That was far easier to do these days - Fraser seemed to be spending less and less time at the consulate beyond his working hours and this led to her other burning question. Where exactly had he been spending his nights recently?
Meg heard the bell from the clock-tower three streets away chime the hour and instinctively checked her watch. Twelve seconds early - another whole second gained since last Monday. She sighed and shook her head. Accuracy seemed to matter to no-one but her nowadays - apart from Constable Fraser, of course, who remained motionless at his post. Across the street Detective Vecchio was making a great show of examining his watch and sighing theatrically at the dog who…well, it looked as if it was nodding its head in response but surely that was just a coincidence or a trick of the early evening light.
As the second hand on Meg’s watch marked the hour - and not a fraction of a moment sooner - Constable Fraser cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders and stepped forward, looking both ways carefully before he crossed the road.
Detective Vecchio clapped Fraser on the shoulder in greeting, but didn’t immediately drop his hand. He had a bigger smile on his face than Meg could ever remember seeing before and it was reflected in Constable Fraser’s expression too. They both seemed happy and at ease with each other. The pair of them - and maybe even the dog too - appeared to be sharing a joke as they got into the car and drove away.
Meg swung her chair back round to her desk and sat thoughtfully for a few minutes, remembering the way the two men had laughed together and the looks they had exchanged. Maybe that was one of her mysteries solved. Well, she decided, their secret was safe with her.
Now for another look in that closet….