Rhapsody for Two #7: Calling All Angels (Beach Remix)
TITLE: Calling All Angels (Donnie Darko remix)
AUTHOR: fixomnia
PAIRING: Flack/Angell
RATING: It's an M. Adults dealing with adult things.
SPOILERS: Various Flack/Angell scenes from Season 3-5, and Flack's season 6.
The final snippets from the storyline in which Jess lives and our heroic duo rides off into the metaphorical sunset.
---------------------------------
Chapter Six
---------------------------------
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
Calling all angels,
Calling all angels,
Walk me through this land,
Don't leave me alone...
- Jane Sibbery, "Calling All Angels"
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
After three interminable days testifying in a stuffy courtroom at the height of a New York July, with hours of case review and preparation after each days’ session, Flack was finally released as a witness at the Friday lunch recess. He made a beeline for Jess' apartment, willingly but exhaustedly, as limp and damp as his once-starched shirt, and wondered how much of a help he'd actually be to her. Even with a good AC unit, packing up an apartment in summer was hot, fussy and emotionally draining.
Arriving, he found Jess frankly stripped down to her camisole and panties, and an icy-cold Sleeman's in her outstretched hand as she greeted him with a grin. He kissed her and felt reborn. He quickly shed all but the essentials himself, and they chatted and passed the bottle, surveying the work still to be done, and laughing together like excited kids.
"Day this hot, when we were kids, we'd be out in the back yard with squirt guns," he said, as they resumed packing up Jess' bedroom. "Maybe I shoulda brought us a couple."
Jess gave him an affectionate grin, complete with nose-wrinkle - she'd been doing an awful lot of that lately, which gave him a nice case of adolescent giddy flutters.
"Loaded with chocolate syrup?"
He blinked. "Oh, now that's going on the list."
"You wouldn't say that it if was your damage deposit on the line." she pointed out, sensibly.
"I dunno, Jessie. You, dripping with chocolate on my dining table, versus my deposit? I might have to shell out for a couple silver candlesticks. Fancy tablecloth. Make it worthwhile, you know? Hell - " he grinned, getting into the spirit of the thing, "I'd wear a tux for that."
Her eyes had grown wide and dark, but she managed to summon up a half-hearted, "Forget that I outshoot you more often than not, Flack?"
His grin became a little more wicked. "Everybody wins."
She threw a neatly-rolled pair of socks at his head, and he chuckled and ducked into the back of her closet.
"You got a guitar? You never said." He lifted the case down onto the floor, and opened it to reveal a pale blonde semi-acoustic. He whistled softly. "A Gibson?" he asked. "I didn't even know you had a guitar, and you got a Gibson? You play this thing?"
Jess looked up from within a horseshoe of packing boxes with a rueful smile.
"Not much anymore." she said. "I used to be pretty good. My brother Martin passed that on to me when he got his electric. I fooled around with it for a couple of years, but you know how patient I am." She sighed. "Just something I always thought I'd get around to doing more of. I'll see if Martin wants it back for his kids. Cal's hitting thirteen. He'd probably be into it."
At the sight of the guitar, a slight shadow had fallen over her face. Flack took in her expression for a moment, and straightened up. "You sure?" he asked. He shoved a box aside with his foot, to sit with her against the wall. "Looks to me like you're not done with it yet."
"Yeah." She shook her head thoughtfully. "I think it's just the thought of all the years I've been here. All the stuff I thought I'd do. I did want to practice more. And I wanted to run the New York Marathon by now. And have more courses done for school. That, and I don't want all my crap to crowd you out of your apartment. Gotta start thinking like a responsible married lady."
"You still got a few months left of single life," he said. "And it's our apartment. You're on the lease and everything now."
She leaned into him, and he tugged her closer to kiss her softly. He pulled back to look at her for a moment, and then kissed her again, rather less softly. After a token protest about it being too hot, and the piles of stuff still to be gone through, she smiled and melted against his chest, her tongue finding his eagerly. The sensation of her skin against his never failed to get him going. And the way she moved, showing him where she needed his touch most...
"Missed you," he murmured, into the curve of her neck.
He found the hotpots down her spine, under her ribs. She writhed under his fingers, her pleasure escaping in breathless little pants. With barely a thought, he skimmed her camisole over her head. She wriggled out of it and went for his mouth in a reckless, hungry kiss that left him dazed.
"The packing..." he muttered, teasing.
"It's been three whole days," she said. "Fuck the packing."
He ducked his head and licked along her collarbone to her throat, salty-spicy and intoxicating, blatantly feeling up her soft breast and enjoying the hell out of it. She arched closer, pushing him down to the floor and stretching out over him.
"Now who's being irresponsible?" he asked. His mouth closed over the peaked nipple she teased him with. His cock pulsed at the pleasured sound she gave, her smooth thigh sliding between his.
"You started it."
"Did not. Who's been prancing around in her underwear this whole time? Tell me you didn't plan it." He snapped the elastic at her hip. She pulled back and stuck out her tongue at him. He laughed. "Gimme that."
She did, kissing him all too briefly, and smiled to hear his grumble as she pulled away. Her soft tongue and nibbling teeth over his sensitized skin struck white-hot sparks of desire like flint on steel, and his mind fuzzed over as she took his mouth again. Then her nails dragged lightly up the front of his bare thigh and she traced his hard length through his shorts with a finger, and squeezed, and he stopped breathing.
"God," she said, "I've been going fucking crazy. You remember those last few days before we got together? Like that. All over again."
God, yes, he remembered. And he vividly remembered that first night together, in this very apartment. Stumbling in from the hallway. Crashing together against the wall, half out of their minds after a year of looking, teasing and wanting. The taste of her mouth, her skin, and the sure touch of her hands on him driving him crazy. Falling upon her bed, seeking every inch of skin, drinking in every response. His fingers twisting and curling up inside her, her back arching, his mouth on her nipples teasing and tasting till her climax broadsided her into a keening, gasping mess, and she grabbed at his shoulder, his arm, anywhere she could reach, till he filled her in one shattering thrust, nerves sparking and muscles twitching with the intensity. Finally coming back to earth together, bared to the cooling air and each other, keeping each other awake, giving and taking and giving more, till there was a streak of light over the eastern sky...
He groaned at the memory, as fresh as if it was yesterday. His seeking fingers brushed over her panties.
Christ...
"Jess, you're wet through."
She liked lighter touches best, as he well knew, but today she shied like a deer and gasped at the slightest contact. He gaped in sudden realization. "Oh, Jesus. You shaved."
No wonder she'd been preoccupied. This was new...
She arched into his curious fingertips, her teeth bitten into her plush lower lip. Her eyes opened and fixed on his, black and hazy. "Prends-moi."
He rolled over and pulled her to her feet, tugging at her panties as they moved toward the bed.
Much later, they lay stickily and contentedly together, enjoying the evening breeze from the open window on overheated skin. She lay drowsing on her stomach, replete and hollowed-out with pleasure, right where she'd tumbled after he'd finally taken her, thoroughly and completely, on her knees. He trailed his fingers idly up and down the rose-trellis that ran from between her finely-carved shoulder-blades to the small of her back.
"You know," he began softly, "Maybe you should hold onto that guitar. Maybe someday you'll want to play again, you know, for the kids. Not Cal and Annie. Ours. One day."
She went very still for a moment, and then rolled her head on her arms to look at him.
"I hadn't thought of that."
"Bit scary."
"Scary-good. But still scary. I know if it happened sooner than we planned, we'd make it work out. Somehow. But Donnie, I'm not there yet."
"Me neither. We're in enough deep water as it is, getting married so soon."
"D'you think it's too soon?" she asked seriously, "I mean, we've got all the time there is. Living together's going to be a big change as it is. Having you go through all my closets and back corners is freaky enough, even if I know there's nothing horrible in there."
"I like your back corners. And I already know where your naughty drawer is," he teased her. "I should thank your mother for teachin' you to share your toys."
"You do, and I'll tell her which ones you like," she returned, without much concern.
He leaned over and smacked her gently but squarely on the ass, and she shrieked in umbrage, and giggled.
"Jerk," she said fondly, as he kissed the sting away.
"Yeah," he admitted. "Seriously, babe, I don't gotta know every little thing to know you're who I wanna be with."
She rolled over at that, and snuggled against him. "Me, too," she said, looking up. "And I have to admit, even if my sense of independence is taking a hit at the thought of moving into a guy's place - I do feel like it's already home. You always made me so welcome there, right from the beginning."
"You always were," he said, "'Specially if I'm gonna come home to you pullin' stunts like that. Holy shit." He blew out a breath. "That's gonna come back to me at the worst possible times, you know."
She grinned. "So it worked for you, huh?"
"You have no idea."
"I actually think I do." She kissed his shoulder. "Nap for a bit? Then a bit more packing. It won't be so hot after dark, and I still want to get a bit more done today."
"Work, work, work," he agreed happily. "Hey, Jess? What do guys do when they wanna spring a surprise like that on their girlfriends?"
She thought for a moment. "I don't really know. Appear at the door in a nothing but an apron and a cowboy hat, and say 'Honey, I made dinner and did a couple loads of sheets and towels?' I know that'd get some girls going...but you? I mean, I'd love it, but it's not your style of sexy." She kissed him and smiled. "You'll figure something out."
"Count on it." he said, lazily nuzzling down between her breasts.
"That'd be more of a Danny-and-Lindsay thing, I think," she continued thoughtfully, stroking his hair.
He froze. Then felt the peals of laughter erupting from her belly before she even made a sound.
"Evil," he muttered.
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
He didn't know the man's name. There hadn't been time to search for ID, let alone scout around for mouth shields and resuscitation pumps, and all that stuff they were supposed to use. Less than four minutes had passed since the man had been sent flying by a taxi, and the ambulance pulling up - two hundred and thirty seconds in all - but it felt like he’d been breathing for the guy, with Danny keeping him locked in a C-spine for stability, for hours.
He stood up with a creak in his knees as the EMT’s took over the work. Danny came to stand beside him, silent for once in his life, smelling of the blood he was covered with. Three techs deftly strapped the man onto a spine board and slid a stretcher under him. They barely looked at the detectives as they loaded the man into the ambulance, but one flashed them a peace-out through the rear window as they took off, sirens blaring.
He and Danny let themselves be driven to the back of the precinct in an unmarked car. There was no point in walking around looking like they'd just left a massacre.
He was scrubbed clean as a schoolboy, in a fresh suit, and frowning at a blank incident report form on his computer monitor, when Jess came striding around the corner and headed straight for his desk.
"You heard," he sighed, sitting back.
"Yeah," Jess smiled, sadly. She perched on the edge of his desk, as usual. "Donnie..."
"The guy died." Flack intuited, sitting back and regarding her.
"Yeah. His name was Mark Dolan. He was a Master's student at NYU. You guys did everything right, Don. There was nothing anyone could've done to save him. Stella's on her way back now. Case opened and closed."
His shoulders slumped a little. "Just crazy, it all happening right there in front of us. Like we were all meant to see it, or something."
"You getting all existential on me, Detective?"
He smiled at that. "Maybe? Who knows. I tell you, though, one thing kept going through my head. I know we gotta do everything we can to save 'em. I know that. But I knew he was dying, right there. And I know he knew it, too. I just wanted to stop all the messin' around and hold his hand or something, you know? Give him some peace and quiet on the way out."
Jess nodded seriously. "Rick and Ash say that all the time. But it's not our call when someone's time is up. How do we know if they might've been saved unless we've exhausted all the options?"
He regarded her for a moment, and reached to twine his fingers through hers, resting on top of her blue-jeaned knee. She tilted her head to one side, curious, and waited. Unsure of how to begin, he started anyway: "Say, Jess..."
She was a step ahead of him, as usual. "We should go over our living wills. Soon. I know you've got one. My parents have a copy of mine."
"Yeah. All that stuff."
"There's no rush," she reminded him, ignoring the interested glances of the officers around them. "We can work out all the details before the wedding, or we can just figure it out along the way."
"I know. But days like this make me want to get everything sorted as fast as possible."
"Then let's get as much sorted out as we can, so we can get around to enjoying the rest."
"Yeah. If anything's ever gonna happen to me, I want you listed on my life insurance before it does. And before we start racking up any major debt. I know it sounds fatalistic."
"It's prudent. We're cops. I have those same thoughts." She leaned forward and said, in a mock-serious voice: "If you're gonna leave me with three kids, two dogs, an SUV and a mortgage, you better believe you're ponying up child support, even if you are dead."
He chuckled wryly at that, knowing the grain of truth that existed within her words, and squeezed her hand before letting go. "Done deal, Detective," he told her. She flipped him a look that clearly said: You did good today, and sauntered out. He sat and watched her go, feeling the familiar rush of gratitude for the presence of her in his life, and for pulling him out of his head when he needed it.
He realized he was smiling wistfully after her when Hanover snorted.
"Seriously, man? You guys are too much to be real," Hanover said. "Can't imagine what it's gonna be like after you're married."
Flack looked up and thought for a moment. "We pretty well are," he replied, shrugging, and picked up the phone to call Stella.
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><
"You trust me, don't you?" Stella asked, a pout in her voice.
"With my life," Jess agreed, "But this is my wedding we're talking about. Either we've been driving in circles, or we're somewhere in Jersey by now. Or Pennsylvania? I'm pretty sure Don isn't shipping me back to Montreal."
Stella merely made a comforting sound, and checked Jess' blindfold again.
"Isn't kidnapping still illegal?"
"Ye-e-es," Stella agreed. "However, I don't think there's any case law that covers this particular scenario."
"Which is?"
"Sit tight, kiddo."
Jess grumbled something rude in French, and sat back against the car seat. From the front, she heard Lindsay and Danny conversing quietly, and then the tones of a cellphone call being placed.
"Yo," Danny said, "It's us. We're five minutes away. Package is - " he shifted and turned to look back at Jess, "Conscious, responsive and pissed off. Recommend red wine and chocolate of some sort upon arrival."
Lindsay giggled, and in her car seat between her Aunt Jess and Aunt Stella, little Lucy clapped her hands and giggled too, though she didn't understand what the grownups were talking about.
Jess heard a laugh on the other end of the phone, which she recognized.
"Rick!" she called, "Jean-Richard Augustine! Faites-tu en partie?"
Danny must have held up the phone, because Jess heard her eldest brother’s childhood Chiac, "J't’aime ben, ‘tite - we’ll see you soon!"
A few minutes later, the car slowed and stopped. "Stay there," Stella instructed her. "We have some things to move first."
Jess sighed and gave a resigned little wave. She heard everyone climbing out, and then Danny unbuckling Lucy, and she was sorely tempted to rip off the blindfold.
The thought hit her that Don was so getting blindfolded himself tonight, in retaliation. Any irritation quickly evaporated. Rather, she sat quite happily and thought up various things to do to her fiancé, both tonight, and approximately thirty hours later, when he would be her husband...
They'd planned to hold their September wedding ceremony in the Angell's maple-frocked garden, where Cliff and Chérie hosted their regular Sunday drop-in brunches. It would be a small, casual affair, with close friends and family. Her four brothers, their wives and various kids were either already at the house, or would be driving in for the day. Their police colleagues would attend either the ceremony or the reception as time and cases allowed, and since both families understood cop-time very well, dropping in and out would not be problematic. They would just enjoy what time they had together.
The only wrinkle had been contingency-planning in case of a Flack blowout: Nathan, Sam and their parents were all planning on attending, which could end in anything from polite but chilly greetings to a full-on Irish row. Given the small forward steps they had been taking on the past year, Don just hoped they'd all behave themselves for his mother’s sake. To that end, Cliff had offered to invite a few of Jess' honourary uncles in the NYPD, retirees who also knew Don Flack Sr., to collectively whisk Flack Sr. away to swap war-stories if he became difficult.
Tom Grady, who was to officiate the service, merely smiled and reminded Don that he'd known them all for a long, long time, and if he as a priest wasn't worried, then the groom shouldn't be, either.
"Okay, Jessamine, I gotcha. Viens-toé."
It was Rick's voice and hand reaching for hers, her eldest brother steadying her as she climbed out of the car, sliding her fingers along the doorframe to orient herself. She stood and twisted her spine from side to side, cramped from the long ride.
"I hear the sea," she said faintly. She thought she remembered the particular scent of the air around them, but then, ocean beaches often smelled the same.
"Oué," he said, with an audible grin in his voice. "Martin, aides-moé."
Her big brothers wrapped an arm around her from each side, and led her along a hollow-sounding wooden path.
"Shoes off," said Martin. "Trust me, you want to go barefoot here. Two steps down."
"Okay..." she kicked her sandals off, and felt warm sand under the soles of her feet as they continued.
A few steps later, they stopped. Jess felt, rather than heard, the others nearby, and as her brothers stepped away, she felt Don's arm around her shoulders. He bent to kiss her cheek.
"Ready to see?" he murmured in her ear. She nodded, with a sudden rush of excitement.
Don slipped her blindfold off, and Jess blinked. And her mouth fell open.
They were at Aislin's parents' property in Rockaway Beach, an original 1800's colonial house with a semi-private beach, and a wooden boardwalk that ran above the sand-line, linking several houses. Small-craft marine piers jutted out at regular intervals, some with small sailboats or motorboat bobbing quietly at anchor. Under an early September sunset, pale amber sand rippled in smooth undulations from the boardwalk down to a quiet lapping sea.
At the edge of the sea stood a shelter - not a pop-up storebought one, but an honest-to-God little breezy wooden pavillion, with pine boards laid on the sand for a floor, and others leading to it. The supports and flat roof were twined with ivy, and sheer white drapes drifted in the sea breeze. The back of the pavillion looked towards the sea, and on the beach, on either side, were a couple dozen white patio chairs and blankets for guests to sit upon or children to sprawl upon.
It was as simple, natural and elegant as Jess hadn't even dared to dream of, having given up her fantasy of a beachside wedding in the practical reality of a perfectly suitable parental garden.
"You in a comfy white sundress, barefoot on a warm beach, I think you said?" Don asked, with such a pleased smirk that she could only pull him down for a kiss. "I know you already got the dress, but at least I could give you the beach. Or borrow it for you." She grinned and kissed him again, more than a little choked up, and heard murmurs of fond approval from around them.
"Ash - " she looked around for her sister in law, who was standing with Rick, a small blonde form beside his towering self. "This is - Oh, my God, this is perfect! How did you - no, never mind, I don't even want to know yet - thank you! Just thank you!"
"You just wait for the wedding, honey," Aislin said, hugging her tightly. "Now look, we wanted you to see it the way it'll be tomorrow, but we're going to pack up some of this onto the porch overnight. We've brought the rest of the gear down from your folks' place already. They're going to drive down in the morning, and the other guests will start arriving around two, just like we planned for your parents. You and Don have the beach house tonight and all of next week if you want it. It’s all stocked up. We know you're going to Ireland next year but we wanted you to have some sort of honeymoon right away."
"We're staying in a B&B further along," Martin said, gesturing at himself, Rick and their wives, "And Dom and Jerome's crew are staying at Dad and Maman's. If you really want to do the whole stay-apart-before-the-wedding thing, we’ve got plenty of room with us, but…"
“No, no,” Jess managed, “’S’all right. We were going to take over Maman’s guest room anyway tonight. She’s the only one who might have cared.”
“Even our priest knows we’ve been living together for months - I think that ship sailed.” Don added.
“We figured as much. We’ll get out of your hair. Try and get some rest!”
Her brothers nodded cheerfully and began stacking the rows of folding chairs, chatting with their wives, eager to enjoy a rare weekend off together.
"And we just came for the roadtrip and to help kidnap you." Lindsay said, squeezing her hand before scooping up a squealing, sand-streaked Lucy - and the little sundress that Lucy had quickly shed and was now trailing behind her in one hand. Stella waved cheerfully as they returned to the car. “See you tomorrow!”
Jess, still breathless and gaping, could only wave weakly as she and Don were suddenly left alone. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her back against his chest. "Was it worth being kidnapped?" he murmured in her ear.
"Oh, my God. So worth it. It felt like we were driving in circles - but I guess we really did do a big circle, coming all the way out here," she observed. "Wait, we're here overnight? Do I have any stuff?"
"Everything you need," he assured her. "And Stella will pick up anything else you want if I forgot it. You didn't notice I had an extra bag in with me when I went to pick up my suit, couple days back?"
"I guess not..."
"That's my calm, rational, not-at-all-crazy bride," Don said, and kissed the top of her head.
Jess twirled the satin blindfold around her finger, turning to face him, "Careful, now," she murmured so that only he could hear, "You like me crazy, don't you?"
She felt him shiver as she ran the satin over his lips.
"And just so you know," he said, leaning down to whisper, "Ash tells me there's nobody to hear us anywhere nearby, this time of year."
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
Jess approached the small table on the bistro's sidewalk patio. Cast golden in summer sunshine, Stella looked up from her phone, with the same friendly grin that Jess remembered from their first meeting.
"Hey!" Stella said. "Perfect timing. I ordered you white, okay?"
"Thanks," Jess said, sitting across from her. "Ready to order? I'm starving."
"So nice to eat with another girl with a healthy appetite," Stella said appreciatively. "May our shadows never grow less."
Jess glanced at her quickly, but Stella was only looking for a server.
Not needing to consult the menu in their favourite luncheon spot, they quickly ordered. Stella sipped her wine and looked across at her. "Okay, spill it. You don't just call for a drop-everything lunch date for no reason," she said. "What's up?"
"Well. It looks like I'll be graduating sooner than I thought," Jess plunged in, toying with the stem of her glass. "You know I've been taking a couple of courses a term? It's going great, but it's way too slow. So I'm taking leave for a year and a bit, to finish up my Crim degree. Maybe more if I get into grad school right after. It's all arranged. I've talked to HR, and Sythe is signing off my leave request as I speak. I wanted to tell you right away."
Stella looked surprised, but pleased. "Wow," she said. "I'm impressed. Probably a great time to do it. You always said you wanted to get out of the field and switch to policy work before you started a family. I mean, maybe I'm assuming..."
"No, you're right," Jess agreed. "That's it exactly."
She took a breath, and took a sip of water, to stall for a moment. This was the hard part. She knew Stella would be genuinely happy for her, but she also understood a great deal that Stella left unsaid about her own life.
"See, if I go full-time for the next term, I'll be able to do the rest of my degree from home, online, and that's why theory courses are so great, because I'll be able to finish them - "
"While you're on Mat leave," Stella breathed, her eyes widening. "That's it, isn't it?"
Jess nodded madly, grinning like an idiot. Stella took her hands and squeezed hard, grinning back.
"Oh, honey, that's great news! Lindsay’s due any day now, and now you! But you can't be far along. Anything bigger'n a peanut would show on you."
"Peanut is exactly what the OB-GYN said yesterday," Jess said, "Seven weeks. I know everyone says to wait till the second trimester to tell people...but I figure, I'm ridiculously healthy, and if anything goes wrong, you know - I'd want my close friends to know what's going on. I'd want that support. But I'm not worried."
Stella let go her hands, looking more than a little misty. "Whatever you need. Anything. But you're right, I don't think a person could get any healthier than you. And Don? Is he over the moon?"
"Oh, well past Jupiter," Jess grinned. "He wants a whole hockey team."
"Nothing wrong with that, except we'll miss the hell out of you if you keep going off on leave."
"I wouldn't worry. I told him since I'm housing the factory, I say we build one and see how it goes. Two or three, I'm game. Maybe four. And don't you even think about missing me."
"You better believe I'll be there, kiddo. Every step of the way."
Their lunches arrived. Jess' stomach rumbled hungrily, and then lurched, as she looked down at her colourful plate. Her turkey club on a baguette was nestled, open-faced, alongside a generous green salad with plain dressing on the side, as she'd requested. It looked perfectly delicious except...
"Okay?" asked Stella.
"Yeah. I guess Peanut doesn't like bacon anymore," Jess grinned wryly, performing a quick operation on her baguette. "Here. Eat this quick. It's the smell."
Stella nodded in rapid understanding, and munched obligingly. She gestured to Jess' untouched glass of wine. "This calls for a toast," she said. "You need something else. Juice?"
"Green tea, and a ginger-ale, I think," Jess said, pulling a slight face.
"That bad, is it?"
"Not so bad, but smells seem to trigger it. Coffee's out - which would be fine, except that it's everywhere in this city. Red meat sets me off. And now, apparently, bacon's out. I mean, really - " she nibbled tentatively at a sprig of arugula. "Can you imagine me and Don with a vegetarian, herbal-tea-drinking kid?"
"Maybe just to rebel..." Stella mused. "So, is Don reading every baby book there is?"
"Worse. He's been grilling Danny and Lindsay all morning. Lindsay's not at all shy about real-life delivery details, which has been great, actually - but I honestly thought Don was going to ask to be there when she delivers next. I stepped in and suggested we take Lucy for baby day instead. A few Messer-sized tantrums should bring him back to reality."
"For a while, anyway. You know he'll just teach Lucy to swear in Gaelic."
"Oh, he’s done that already. Called it his first duty as an Uncle."
<<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><
"Isaac Frederick Ambrose," said the Chancellor.
Isaac grinned and blushed, looking closer to twenty than thirty-two, and got up to march to the podium.
"Hamish Dougall Andrews."
There was a smattering of catcalls as Hamish strode across the stage, very obviously sporting a kilt and sporran under his robe.
"Jessica Cécile Angell."
Twelve steps to the podium. Twelve years of high-speed momentum, from excited raw teenaged cadet to Detective, wife, mother of two and Master of Criminology. And yet, she thought with an inward grin, the uppermost thought in her mind was thank God for nursing pads. Feeding time was drawing nigh and her breasts were starting to ache.
The Chancellor shook her hand and congratulated her as she accepted her degree. She thought she heard Don and Cliff give a muffled cheer from their seats in the crowd, but surely they were too reserved to do such a thing in public?
She began to breathe as she walked off the stage, and into the curtained-off section at the side. It was done. She had her Master's, and unlike her last Convocation three years ago, during which Sadie had cried nonstop and had to be carried out, neither Sadie nor three-month-old Tommy had so much as whimpered. This time, Sadie and her Grand-mère were quietly busy with a new colouring book, and though Tommy was fast asleep, strapped snugly against his father's chest, he'd wake soon, and he'd be hungry.
Convocation protocol stated that she should walk around the back and retake her seat from the rear of the stage, but nobody would mind if she didn't. They knew she needed to get back to the baby. Don would come find her in the University botanical garden, as they'd planned.
She pulled off her graduation robe, folded it over her arm, and kept walking, behind the great bowl of the outdoor amphitheatre, and under the rose-covered arched entry into the garden. Roses and thorns, she thought. She recalled how thoroughly world-wise her younger self had felt, as she had been tattooed around her wrist and down her back, lessons of sweetness and pain combined, and she shook her head, smiling. She'd been young and arrogant - but she hadn't been wrong. And she'd been incredibly lucky.
She sat down on an ornate wrought-iron bench, enjoying the quiet and the June sunshine, and thought how strange it was to have nothing to do for a while but watch her kids grow and enjoy being married to her best friend. No more school for six months, when her current maternity leave ended, and she took up her new position in Criminal Intelligence Analysis. She'd have plenty of reading to do, then, a lot of modules and seminars to take through the Academy, and hopefully, a year or two of solid mentorship from both the officers and civilians in the department.
It hit her that she hadn't slowed down, ever, since she was four. Intense was how she functioned best, and she knew she'd be more than ready to return to work when her leave was over, but just at the moment, it felt like a rare gift of breathing space. Everyone around her was safe and healthy, and they knew without doubt just how much she loved them.
"Mommy, look!"
She opened her eyes and laughed. Sadie, her tempestuous small clone, clutched her grandparents' hands and launched herself into the air between them, her short curls flying. Don followed with a wriggling Tommy on his hip. Tommy squealed and held his arms out to his mother, kicking his sleeper-clad feet. Jess lifted him on to her lap, as her daughter swarmed up onto the bench beside them.
"Tommy's hungwy and I am too," Sadie announced, patting Jess' shoulder for attention. "My tummy's making wumbly noises."
"We can fix that," Cliff teased her, "I got my tools in the car."
"No, G'andpa! Tommy needs mommy mi'k. And I need a cheesebu'ger," she insisted, her toddler's lisp crashing into her strong New York vowels. "With f'ench f'ies an' eve'ything. Ab-so-lute-ly eve'ything."
Don howled with laughter as Jess levelled a finger at her father, "That is so your grandchild," she said. Cliff shrugged and looked innocent, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
"Proud of you, Jessamine," he said. She grinned, and Cliff and Chérie took Sadie to chase bugs around the garden so Tommy could feed in peace.
Her son, concentrating on his lunch, regarded her seriously with his clear blue eyes. Don sat beside them, an arm draped loosely over her shoulders, and for a moment, she just breathed.
His cellphone chose that moment to ring, and they shared a rueful grin. "Sythe," he mouthed to her. "Yes, sir?"
Within the space of a heartbeat, the pause ended, and life snapped back to normal.
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
Dear Reader,
And so we leave the family Flack on the cusp of a lifetime of shared adventures. It's been great fun weaving this tapestry around the bits of canon we were given, and I thank each and every one of you for reading along. Like Jess, I am off to full-time studies, after several years of night school on top of work (though unlike Jess, I'm not expecting anything more than a shiny new degree), and so after a rather long hiatus, this little tribute to two of the NYPD's fictional finest comes to a close. (Really, this time.)
Scribble on, maniacs.
fixomnia
October 2015
AUTHOR: fixomnia
PAIRING: Flack/Angell
RATING: It's an M. Adults dealing with adult things.
SPOILERS: Various Flack/Angell scenes from Season 3-5, and Flack's season 6.
The final snippets from the storyline in which Jess lives and our heroic duo rides off into the metaphorical sunset.
---------------------------------
Chapter Six
---------------------------------
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
Calling all angels,
Calling all angels,
Walk me through this land,
Don't leave me alone...
- Jane Sibbery, "Calling All Angels"
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
After three interminable days testifying in a stuffy courtroom at the height of a New York July, with hours of case review and preparation after each days’ session, Flack was finally released as a witness at the Friday lunch recess. He made a beeline for Jess' apartment, willingly but exhaustedly, as limp and damp as his once-starched shirt, and wondered how much of a help he'd actually be to her. Even with a good AC unit, packing up an apartment in summer was hot, fussy and emotionally draining.
Arriving, he found Jess frankly stripped down to her camisole and panties, and an icy-cold Sleeman's in her outstretched hand as she greeted him with a grin. He kissed her and felt reborn. He quickly shed all but the essentials himself, and they chatted and passed the bottle, surveying the work still to be done, and laughing together like excited kids.
"Day this hot, when we were kids, we'd be out in the back yard with squirt guns," he said, as they resumed packing up Jess' bedroom. "Maybe I shoulda brought us a couple."
Jess gave him an affectionate grin, complete with nose-wrinkle - she'd been doing an awful lot of that lately, which gave him a nice case of adolescent giddy flutters.
"Loaded with chocolate syrup?"
He blinked. "Oh, now that's going on the list."
"You wouldn't say that it if was your damage deposit on the line." she pointed out, sensibly.
"I dunno, Jessie. You, dripping with chocolate on my dining table, versus my deposit? I might have to shell out for a couple silver candlesticks. Fancy tablecloth. Make it worthwhile, you know? Hell - " he grinned, getting into the spirit of the thing, "I'd wear a tux for that."
Her eyes had grown wide and dark, but she managed to summon up a half-hearted, "Forget that I outshoot you more often than not, Flack?"
His grin became a little more wicked. "Everybody wins."
She threw a neatly-rolled pair of socks at his head, and he chuckled and ducked into the back of her closet.
"You got a guitar? You never said." He lifted the case down onto the floor, and opened it to reveal a pale blonde semi-acoustic. He whistled softly. "A Gibson?" he asked. "I didn't even know you had a guitar, and you got a Gibson? You play this thing?"
Jess looked up from within a horseshoe of packing boxes with a rueful smile.
"Not much anymore." she said. "I used to be pretty good. My brother Martin passed that on to me when he got his electric. I fooled around with it for a couple of years, but you know how patient I am." She sighed. "Just something I always thought I'd get around to doing more of. I'll see if Martin wants it back for his kids. Cal's hitting thirteen. He'd probably be into it."
At the sight of the guitar, a slight shadow had fallen over her face. Flack took in her expression for a moment, and straightened up. "You sure?" he asked. He shoved a box aside with his foot, to sit with her against the wall. "Looks to me like you're not done with it yet."
"Yeah." She shook her head thoughtfully. "I think it's just the thought of all the years I've been here. All the stuff I thought I'd do. I did want to practice more. And I wanted to run the New York Marathon by now. And have more courses done for school. That, and I don't want all my crap to crowd you out of your apartment. Gotta start thinking like a responsible married lady."
"You still got a few months left of single life," he said. "And it's our apartment. You're on the lease and everything now."
She leaned into him, and he tugged her closer to kiss her softly. He pulled back to look at her for a moment, and then kissed her again, rather less softly. After a token protest about it being too hot, and the piles of stuff still to be gone through, she smiled and melted against his chest, her tongue finding his eagerly. The sensation of her skin against his never failed to get him going. And the way she moved, showing him where she needed his touch most...
"Missed you," he murmured, into the curve of her neck.
He found the hotpots down her spine, under her ribs. She writhed under his fingers, her pleasure escaping in breathless little pants. With barely a thought, he skimmed her camisole over her head. She wriggled out of it and went for his mouth in a reckless, hungry kiss that left him dazed.
"The packing..." he muttered, teasing.
"It's been three whole days," she said. "Fuck the packing."
He ducked his head and licked along her collarbone to her throat, salty-spicy and intoxicating, blatantly feeling up her soft breast and enjoying the hell out of it. She arched closer, pushing him down to the floor and stretching out over him.
"Now who's being irresponsible?" he asked. His mouth closed over the peaked nipple she teased him with. His cock pulsed at the pleasured sound she gave, her smooth thigh sliding between his.
"You started it."
"Did not. Who's been prancing around in her underwear this whole time? Tell me you didn't plan it." He snapped the elastic at her hip. She pulled back and stuck out her tongue at him. He laughed. "Gimme that."
She did, kissing him all too briefly, and smiled to hear his grumble as she pulled away. Her soft tongue and nibbling teeth over his sensitized skin struck white-hot sparks of desire like flint on steel, and his mind fuzzed over as she took his mouth again. Then her nails dragged lightly up the front of his bare thigh and she traced his hard length through his shorts with a finger, and squeezed, and he stopped breathing.
"God," she said, "I've been going fucking crazy. You remember those last few days before we got together? Like that. All over again."
God, yes, he remembered. And he vividly remembered that first night together, in this very apartment. Stumbling in from the hallway. Crashing together against the wall, half out of their minds after a year of looking, teasing and wanting. The taste of her mouth, her skin, and the sure touch of her hands on him driving him crazy. Falling upon her bed, seeking every inch of skin, drinking in every response. His fingers twisting and curling up inside her, her back arching, his mouth on her nipples teasing and tasting till her climax broadsided her into a keening, gasping mess, and she grabbed at his shoulder, his arm, anywhere she could reach, till he filled her in one shattering thrust, nerves sparking and muscles twitching with the intensity. Finally coming back to earth together, bared to the cooling air and each other, keeping each other awake, giving and taking and giving more, till there was a streak of light over the eastern sky...
He groaned at the memory, as fresh as if it was yesterday. His seeking fingers brushed over her panties.
Christ...
"Jess, you're wet through."
She liked lighter touches best, as he well knew, but today she shied like a deer and gasped at the slightest contact. He gaped in sudden realization. "Oh, Jesus. You shaved."
No wonder she'd been preoccupied. This was new...
She arched into his curious fingertips, her teeth bitten into her plush lower lip. Her eyes opened and fixed on his, black and hazy. "Prends-moi."
He rolled over and pulled her to her feet, tugging at her panties as they moved toward the bed.
Much later, they lay stickily and contentedly together, enjoying the evening breeze from the open window on overheated skin. She lay drowsing on her stomach, replete and hollowed-out with pleasure, right where she'd tumbled after he'd finally taken her, thoroughly and completely, on her knees. He trailed his fingers idly up and down the rose-trellis that ran from between her finely-carved shoulder-blades to the small of her back.
"You know," he began softly, "Maybe you should hold onto that guitar. Maybe someday you'll want to play again, you know, for the kids. Not Cal and Annie. Ours. One day."
She went very still for a moment, and then rolled her head on her arms to look at him.
"I hadn't thought of that."
"Bit scary."
"Scary-good. But still scary. I know if it happened sooner than we planned, we'd make it work out. Somehow. But Donnie, I'm not there yet."
"Me neither. We're in enough deep water as it is, getting married so soon."
"D'you think it's too soon?" she asked seriously, "I mean, we've got all the time there is. Living together's going to be a big change as it is. Having you go through all my closets and back corners is freaky enough, even if I know there's nothing horrible in there."
"I like your back corners. And I already know where your naughty drawer is," he teased her. "I should thank your mother for teachin' you to share your toys."
"You do, and I'll tell her which ones you like," she returned, without much concern.
He leaned over and smacked her gently but squarely on the ass, and she shrieked in umbrage, and giggled.
"Jerk," she said fondly, as he kissed the sting away.
"Yeah," he admitted. "Seriously, babe, I don't gotta know every little thing to know you're who I wanna be with."
She rolled over at that, and snuggled against him. "Me, too," she said, looking up. "And I have to admit, even if my sense of independence is taking a hit at the thought of moving into a guy's place - I do feel like it's already home. You always made me so welcome there, right from the beginning."
"You always were," he said, "'Specially if I'm gonna come home to you pullin' stunts like that. Holy shit." He blew out a breath. "That's gonna come back to me at the worst possible times, you know."
She grinned. "So it worked for you, huh?"
"You have no idea."
"I actually think I do." She kissed his shoulder. "Nap for a bit? Then a bit more packing. It won't be so hot after dark, and I still want to get a bit more done today."
"Work, work, work," he agreed happily. "Hey, Jess? What do guys do when they wanna spring a surprise like that on their girlfriends?"
She thought for a moment. "I don't really know. Appear at the door in a nothing but an apron and a cowboy hat, and say 'Honey, I made dinner and did a couple loads of sheets and towels?' I know that'd get some girls going...but you? I mean, I'd love it, but it's not your style of sexy." She kissed him and smiled. "You'll figure something out."
"Count on it." he said, lazily nuzzling down between her breasts.
"That'd be more of a Danny-and-Lindsay thing, I think," she continued thoughtfully, stroking his hair.
He froze. Then felt the peals of laughter erupting from her belly before she even made a sound.
"Evil," he muttered.
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
He didn't know the man's name. There hadn't been time to search for ID, let alone scout around for mouth shields and resuscitation pumps, and all that stuff they were supposed to use. Less than four minutes had passed since the man had been sent flying by a taxi, and the ambulance pulling up - two hundred and thirty seconds in all - but it felt like he’d been breathing for the guy, with Danny keeping him locked in a C-spine for stability, for hours.
He stood up with a creak in his knees as the EMT’s took over the work. Danny came to stand beside him, silent for once in his life, smelling of the blood he was covered with. Three techs deftly strapped the man onto a spine board and slid a stretcher under him. They barely looked at the detectives as they loaded the man into the ambulance, but one flashed them a peace-out through the rear window as they took off, sirens blaring.
He and Danny let themselves be driven to the back of the precinct in an unmarked car. There was no point in walking around looking like they'd just left a massacre.
He was scrubbed clean as a schoolboy, in a fresh suit, and frowning at a blank incident report form on his computer monitor, when Jess came striding around the corner and headed straight for his desk.
"You heard," he sighed, sitting back.
"Yeah," Jess smiled, sadly. She perched on the edge of his desk, as usual. "Donnie..."
"The guy died." Flack intuited, sitting back and regarding her.
"Yeah. His name was Mark Dolan. He was a Master's student at NYU. You guys did everything right, Don. There was nothing anyone could've done to save him. Stella's on her way back now. Case opened and closed."
His shoulders slumped a little. "Just crazy, it all happening right there in front of us. Like we were all meant to see it, or something."
"You getting all existential on me, Detective?"
He smiled at that. "Maybe? Who knows. I tell you, though, one thing kept going through my head. I know we gotta do everything we can to save 'em. I know that. But I knew he was dying, right there. And I know he knew it, too. I just wanted to stop all the messin' around and hold his hand or something, you know? Give him some peace and quiet on the way out."
Jess nodded seriously. "Rick and Ash say that all the time. But it's not our call when someone's time is up. How do we know if they might've been saved unless we've exhausted all the options?"
He regarded her for a moment, and reached to twine his fingers through hers, resting on top of her blue-jeaned knee. She tilted her head to one side, curious, and waited. Unsure of how to begin, he started anyway: "Say, Jess..."
She was a step ahead of him, as usual. "We should go over our living wills. Soon. I know you've got one. My parents have a copy of mine."
"Yeah. All that stuff."
"There's no rush," she reminded him, ignoring the interested glances of the officers around them. "We can work out all the details before the wedding, or we can just figure it out along the way."
"I know. But days like this make me want to get everything sorted as fast as possible."
"Then let's get as much sorted out as we can, so we can get around to enjoying the rest."
"Yeah. If anything's ever gonna happen to me, I want you listed on my life insurance before it does. And before we start racking up any major debt. I know it sounds fatalistic."
"It's prudent. We're cops. I have those same thoughts." She leaned forward and said, in a mock-serious voice: "If you're gonna leave me with three kids, two dogs, an SUV and a mortgage, you better believe you're ponying up child support, even if you are dead."
He chuckled wryly at that, knowing the grain of truth that existed within her words, and squeezed her hand before letting go. "Done deal, Detective," he told her. She flipped him a look that clearly said: You did good today, and sauntered out. He sat and watched her go, feeling the familiar rush of gratitude for the presence of her in his life, and for pulling him out of his head when he needed it.
He realized he was smiling wistfully after her when Hanover snorted.
"Seriously, man? You guys are too much to be real," Hanover said. "Can't imagine what it's gonna be like after you're married."
Flack looked up and thought for a moment. "We pretty well are," he replied, shrugging, and picked up the phone to call Stella.
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><
"You trust me, don't you?" Stella asked, a pout in her voice.
"With my life," Jess agreed, "But this is my wedding we're talking about. Either we've been driving in circles, or we're somewhere in Jersey by now. Or Pennsylvania? I'm pretty sure Don isn't shipping me back to Montreal."
Stella merely made a comforting sound, and checked Jess' blindfold again.
"Isn't kidnapping still illegal?"
"Ye-e-es," Stella agreed. "However, I don't think there's any case law that covers this particular scenario."
"Which is?"
"Sit tight, kiddo."
Jess grumbled something rude in French, and sat back against the car seat. From the front, she heard Lindsay and Danny conversing quietly, and then the tones of a cellphone call being placed.
"Yo," Danny said, "It's us. We're five minutes away. Package is - " he shifted and turned to look back at Jess, "Conscious, responsive and pissed off. Recommend red wine and chocolate of some sort upon arrival."
Lindsay giggled, and in her car seat between her Aunt Jess and Aunt Stella, little Lucy clapped her hands and giggled too, though she didn't understand what the grownups were talking about.
Jess heard a laugh on the other end of the phone, which she recognized.
"Rick!" she called, "Jean-Richard Augustine! Faites-tu en partie?"
Danny must have held up the phone, because Jess heard her eldest brother’s childhood Chiac, "J't’aime ben, ‘tite - we’ll see you soon!"
A few minutes later, the car slowed and stopped. "Stay there," Stella instructed her. "We have some things to move first."
Jess sighed and gave a resigned little wave. She heard everyone climbing out, and then Danny unbuckling Lucy, and she was sorely tempted to rip off the blindfold.
The thought hit her that Don was so getting blindfolded himself tonight, in retaliation. Any irritation quickly evaporated. Rather, she sat quite happily and thought up various things to do to her fiancé, both tonight, and approximately thirty hours later, when he would be her husband...
They'd planned to hold their September wedding ceremony in the Angell's maple-frocked garden, where Cliff and Chérie hosted their regular Sunday drop-in brunches. It would be a small, casual affair, with close friends and family. Her four brothers, their wives and various kids were either already at the house, or would be driving in for the day. Their police colleagues would attend either the ceremony or the reception as time and cases allowed, and since both families understood cop-time very well, dropping in and out would not be problematic. They would just enjoy what time they had together.
The only wrinkle had been contingency-planning in case of a Flack blowout: Nathan, Sam and their parents were all planning on attending, which could end in anything from polite but chilly greetings to a full-on Irish row. Given the small forward steps they had been taking on the past year, Don just hoped they'd all behave themselves for his mother’s sake. To that end, Cliff had offered to invite a few of Jess' honourary uncles in the NYPD, retirees who also knew Don Flack Sr., to collectively whisk Flack Sr. away to swap war-stories if he became difficult.
Tom Grady, who was to officiate the service, merely smiled and reminded Don that he'd known them all for a long, long time, and if he as a priest wasn't worried, then the groom shouldn't be, either.
"Okay, Jessamine, I gotcha. Viens-toé."
It was Rick's voice and hand reaching for hers, her eldest brother steadying her as she climbed out of the car, sliding her fingers along the doorframe to orient herself. She stood and twisted her spine from side to side, cramped from the long ride.
"I hear the sea," she said faintly. She thought she remembered the particular scent of the air around them, but then, ocean beaches often smelled the same.
"Oué," he said, with an audible grin in his voice. "Martin, aides-moé."
Her big brothers wrapped an arm around her from each side, and led her along a hollow-sounding wooden path.
"Shoes off," said Martin. "Trust me, you want to go barefoot here. Two steps down."
"Okay..." she kicked her sandals off, and felt warm sand under the soles of her feet as they continued.
A few steps later, they stopped. Jess felt, rather than heard, the others nearby, and as her brothers stepped away, she felt Don's arm around her shoulders. He bent to kiss her cheek.
"Ready to see?" he murmured in her ear. She nodded, with a sudden rush of excitement.
Don slipped her blindfold off, and Jess blinked. And her mouth fell open.
They were at Aislin's parents' property in Rockaway Beach, an original 1800's colonial house with a semi-private beach, and a wooden boardwalk that ran above the sand-line, linking several houses. Small-craft marine piers jutted out at regular intervals, some with small sailboats or motorboat bobbing quietly at anchor. Under an early September sunset, pale amber sand rippled in smooth undulations from the boardwalk down to a quiet lapping sea.
At the edge of the sea stood a shelter - not a pop-up storebought one, but an honest-to-God little breezy wooden pavillion, with pine boards laid on the sand for a floor, and others leading to it. The supports and flat roof were twined with ivy, and sheer white drapes drifted in the sea breeze. The back of the pavillion looked towards the sea, and on the beach, on either side, were a couple dozen white patio chairs and blankets for guests to sit upon or children to sprawl upon.
It was as simple, natural and elegant as Jess hadn't even dared to dream of, having given up her fantasy of a beachside wedding in the practical reality of a perfectly suitable parental garden.
"You in a comfy white sundress, barefoot on a warm beach, I think you said?" Don asked, with such a pleased smirk that she could only pull him down for a kiss. "I know you already got the dress, but at least I could give you the beach. Or borrow it for you." She grinned and kissed him again, more than a little choked up, and heard murmurs of fond approval from around them.
"Ash - " she looked around for her sister in law, who was standing with Rick, a small blonde form beside his towering self. "This is - Oh, my God, this is perfect! How did you - no, never mind, I don't even want to know yet - thank you! Just thank you!"
"You just wait for the wedding, honey," Aislin said, hugging her tightly. "Now look, we wanted you to see it the way it'll be tomorrow, but we're going to pack up some of this onto the porch overnight. We've brought the rest of the gear down from your folks' place already. They're going to drive down in the morning, and the other guests will start arriving around two, just like we planned for your parents. You and Don have the beach house tonight and all of next week if you want it. It’s all stocked up. We know you're going to Ireland next year but we wanted you to have some sort of honeymoon right away."
"We're staying in a B&B further along," Martin said, gesturing at himself, Rick and their wives, "And Dom and Jerome's crew are staying at Dad and Maman's. If you really want to do the whole stay-apart-before-the-wedding thing, we’ve got plenty of room with us, but…"
“No, no,” Jess managed, “’S’all right. We were going to take over Maman’s guest room anyway tonight. She’s the only one who might have cared.”
“Even our priest knows we’ve been living together for months - I think that ship sailed.” Don added.
“We figured as much. We’ll get out of your hair. Try and get some rest!”
Her brothers nodded cheerfully and began stacking the rows of folding chairs, chatting with their wives, eager to enjoy a rare weekend off together.
"And we just came for the roadtrip and to help kidnap you." Lindsay said, squeezing her hand before scooping up a squealing, sand-streaked Lucy - and the little sundress that Lucy had quickly shed and was now trailing behind her in one hand. Stella waved cheerfully as they returned to the car. “See you tomorrow!”
Jess, still breathless and gaping, could only wave weakly as she and Don were suddenly left alone. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her back against his chest. "Was it worth being kidnapped?" he murmured in her ear.
"Oh, my God. So worth it. It felt like we were driving in circles - but I guess we really did do a big circle, coming all the way out here," she observed. "Wait, we're here overnight? Do I have any stuff?"
"Everything you need," he assured her. "And Stella will pick up anything else you want if I forgot it. You didn't notice I had an extra bag in with me when I went to pick up my suit, couple days back?"
"I guess not..."
"That's my calm, rational, not-at-all-crazy bride," Don said, and kissed the top of her head.
Jess twirled the satin blindfold around her finger, turning to face him, "Careful, now," she murmured so that only he could hear, "You like me crazy, don't you?"
She felt him shiver as she ran the satin over his lips.
"And just so you know," he said, leaning down to whisper, "Ash tells me there's nobody to hear us anywhere nearby, this time of year."
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
Jess approached the small table on the bistro's sidewalk patio. Cast golden in summer sunshine, Stella looked up from her phone, with the same friendly grin that Jess remembered from their first meeting.
"Hey!" Stella said. "Perfect timing. I ordered you white, okay?"
"Thanks," Jess said, sitting across from her. "Ready to order? I'm starving."
"So nice to eat with another girl with a healthy appetite," Stella said appreciatively. "May our shadows never grow less."
Jess glanced at her quickly, but Stella was only looking for a server.
Not needing to consult the menu in their favourite luncheon spot, they quickly ordered. Stella sipped her wine and looked across at her. "Okay, spill it. You don't just call for a drop-everything lunch date for no reason," she said. "What's up?"
"Well. It looks like I'll be graduating sooner than I thought," Jess plunged in, toying with the stem of her glass. "You know I've been taking a couple of courses a term? It's going great, but it's way too slow. So I'm taking leave for a year and a bit, to finish up my Crim degree. Maybe more if I get into grad school right after. It's all arranged. I've talked to HR, and Sythe is signing off my leave request as I speak. I wanted to tell you right away."
Stella looked surprised, but pleased. "Wow," she said. "I'm impressed. Probably a great time to do it. You always said you wanted to get out of the field and switch to policy work before you started a family. I mean, maybe I'm assuming..."
"No, you're right," Jess agreed. "That's it exactly."
She took a breath, and took a sip of water, to stall for a moment. This was the hard part. She knew Stella would be genuinely happy for her, but she also understood a great deal that Stella left unsaid about her own life.
"See, if I go full-time for the next term, I'll be able to do the rest of my degree from home, online, and that's why theory courses are so great, because I'll be able to finish them - "
"While you're on Mat leave," Stella breathed, her eyes widening. "That's it, isn't it?"
Jess nodded madly, grinning like an idiot. Stella took her hands and squeezed hard, grinning back.
"Oh, honey, that's great news! Lindsay’s due any day now, and now you! But you can't be far along. Anything bigger'n a peanut would show on you."
"Peanut is exactly what the OB-GYN said yesterday," Jess said, "Seven weeks. I know everyone says to wait till the second trimester to tell people...but I figure, I'm ridiculously healthy, and if anything goes wrong, you know - I'd want my close friends to know what's going on. I'd want that support. But I'm not worried."
Stella let go her hands, looking more than a little misty. "Whatever you need. Anything. But you're right, I don't think a person could get any healthier than you. And Don? Is he over the moon?"
"Oh, well past Jupiter," Jess grinned. "He wants a whole hockey team."
"Nothing wrong with that, except we'll miss the hell out of you if you keep going off on leave."
"I wouldn't worry. I told him since I'm housing the factory, I say we build one and see how it goes. Two or three, I'm game. Maybe four. And don't you even think about missing me."
"You better believe I'll be there, kiddo. Every step of the way."
Their lunches arrived. Jess' stomach rumbled hungrily, and then lurched, as she looked down at her colourful plate. Her turkey club on a baguette was nestled, open-faced, alongside a generous green salad with plain dressing on the side, as she'd requested. It looked perfectly delicious except...
"Okay?" asked Stella.
"Yeah. I guess Peanut doesn't like bacon anymore," Jess grinned wryly, performing a quick operation on her baguette. "Here. Eat this quick. It's the smell."
Stella nodded in rapid understanding, and munched obligingly. She gestured to Jess' untouched glass of wine. "This calls for a toast," she said. "You need something else. Juice?"
"Green tea, and a ginger-ale, I think," Jess said, pulling a slight face.
"That bad, is it?"
"Not so bad, but smells seem to trigger it. Coffee's out - which would be fine, except that it's everywhere in this city. Red meat sets me off. And now, apparently, bacon's out. I mean, really - " she nibbled tentatively at a sprig of arugula. "Can you imagine me and Don with a vegetarian, herbal-tea-drinking kid?"
"Maybe just to rebel..." Stella mused. "So, is Don reading every baby book there is?"
"Worse. He's been grilling Danny and Lindsay all morning. Lindsay's not at all shy about real-life delivery details, which has been great, actually - but I honestly thought Don was going to ask to be there when she delivers next. I stepped in and suggested we take Lucy for baby day instead. A few Messer-sized tantrums should bring him back to reality."
"For a while, anyway. You know he'll just teach Lucy to swear in Gaelic."
"Oh, he’s done that already. Called it his first duty as an Uncle."
<<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><
"Isaac Frederick Ambrose," said the Chancellor.
Isaac grinned and blushed, looking closer to twenty than thirty-two, and got up to march to the podium.
"Hamish Dougall Andrews."
There was a smattering of catcalls as Hamish strode across the stage, very obviously sporting a kilt and sporran under his robe.
"Jessica Cécile Angell."
Twelve steps to the podium. Twelve years of high-speed momentum, from excited raw teenaged cadet to Detective, wife, mother of two and Master of Criminology. And yet, she thought with an inward grin, the uppermost thought in her mind was thank God for nursing pads. Feeding time was drawing nigh and her breasts were starting to ache.
The Chancellor shook her hand and congratulated her as she accepted her degree. She thought she heard Don and Cliff give a muffled cheer from their seats in the crowd, but surely they were too reserved to do such a thing in public?
She began to breathe as she walked off the stage, and into the curtained-off section at the side. It was done. She had her Master's, and unlike her last Convocation three years ago, during which Sadie had cried nonstop and had to be carried out, neither Sadie nor three-month-old Tommy had so much as whimpered. This time, Sadie and her Grand-mère were quietly busy with a new colouring book, and though Tommy was fast asleep, strapped snugly against his father's chest, he'd wake soon, and he'd be hungry.
Convocation protocol stated that she should walk around the back and retake her seat from the rear of the stage, but nobody would mind if she didn't. They knew she needed to get back to the baby. Don would come find her in the University botanical garden, as they'd planned.
She pulled off her graduation robe, folded it over her arm, and kept walking, behind the great bowl of the outdoor amphitheatre, and under the rose-covered arched entry into the garden. Roses and thorns, she thought. She recalled how thoroughly world-wise her younger self had felt, as she had been tattooed around her wrist and down her back, lessons of sweetness and pain combined, and she shook her head, smiling. She'd been young and arrogant - but she hadn't been wrong. And she'd been incredibly lucky.
She sat down on an ornate wrought-iron bench, enjoying the quiet and the June sunshine, and thought how strange it was to have nothing to do for a while but watch her kids grow and enjoy being married to her best friend. No more school for six months, when her current maternity leave ended, and she took up her new position in Criminal Intelligence Analysis. She'd have plenty of reading to do, then, a lot of modules and seminars to take through the Academy, and hopefully, a year or two of solid mentorship from both the officers and civilians in the department.
It hit her that she hadn't slowed down, ever, since she was four. Intense was how she functioned best, and she knew she'd be more than ready to return to work when her leave was over, but just at the moment, it felt like a rare gift of breathing space. Everyone around her was safe and healthy, and they knew without doubt just how much she loved them.
"Mommy, look!"
She opened her eyes and laughed. Sadie, her tempestuous small clone, clutched her grandparents' hands and launched herself into the air between them, her short curls flying. Don followed with a wriggling Tommy on his hip. Tommy squealed and held his arms out to his mother, kicking his sleeper-clad feet. Jess lifted him on to her lap, as her daughter swarmed up onto the bench beside them.
"Tommy's hungwy and I am too," Sadie announced, patting Jess' shoulder for attention. "My tummy's making wumbly noises."
"We can fix that," Cliff teased her, "I got my tools in the car."
"No, G'andpa! Tommy needs mommy mi'k. And I need a cheesebu'ger," she insisted, her toddler's lisp crashing into her strong New York vowels. "With f'ench f'ies an' eve'ything. Ab-so-lute-ly eve'ything."
Don howled with laughter as Jess levelled a finger at her father, "That is so your grandchild," she said. Cliff shrugged and looked innocent, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
"Proud of you, Jessamine," he said. She grinned, and Cliff and Chérie took Sadie to chase bugs around the garden so Tommy could feed in peace.
Her son, concentrating on his lunch, regarded her seriously with his clear blue eyes. Don sat beside them, an arm draped loosely over her shoulders, and for a moment, she just breathed.
His cellphone chose that moment to ring, and they shared a rueful grin. "Sythe," he mouthed to her. "Yes, sir?"
Within the space of a heartbeat, the pause ended, and life snapped back to normal.
<~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~><~>
Dear Reader,
And so we leave the family Flack on the cusp of a lifetime of shared adventures. It's been great fun weaving this tapestry around the bits of canon we were given, and I thank each and every one of you for reading along. Like Jess, I am off to full-time studies, after several years of night school on top of work (though unlike Jess, I'm not expecting anything more than a shiny new degree), and so after a rather long hiatus, this little tribute to two of the NYPD's fictional finest comes to a close. (Really, this time.)
Scribble on, maniacs.
fixomnia
October 2015