Fic: Embers (Turnbull, Thatcher, G)
Fic: Embers
Fandom: Due South ( Arch to the Sky)
Characters: Turnbull, Thatcher
Words: 469
Sometimes Turnbull wondered if he should tell Inspector Thatcher that he truly loved seeing her smile.
He had plenty of anger for her. A little bit of hurt, too; those moments when careless cruelty slipped his armor and struck home. Mostly, he was just weary of her.
Sometimes, though...
Sometimes those walls of hers would come down far enough for Turnbull to get a peer in at the warm woman she could be. It was then that he really saw the color of her eyes; they lit up when she felt joy or warmth or amusement not tainted with derision. Hazel, just on the edge of brown.
She was beautiful. Purely, when she shone like that. There was an almost cold, factual beauty to her when she was closed off; it projected age she didn't have at the same time as it served the purpose of projecting experience she did. Turnbull wasn't a man to find women attractive. He just didn't get them, generally. There was no appeal in the fact of her appearance, though it was aesthetically obvious.
Nor was his an attraction in the usual sense. Did a desire to gravitate toward a worthwhile aspect of someone constitute an attraction? Was his interest in her honest depths an equation to some manner of romantic interest? However wistful his internal phrasing, he knew not. Turnbull didn't know from romance. All he truly understood was that he wanted to blow on the embers of that openness wherever he found it.
It unlocked something in her. A free, open expression and a smile that made Turnbull imagine a young girl before Depot with bright ambitions and crushes and classes with friends and all those terribly human things people were when they were young.
He dearly wished she would show it more.
So, he would wonder now and again, whether he should simply tell her so. It was a flight of fancy. He knew precisely the reaction he would get if he did. Still; there was something pleasant in the faint imagining that it would strike some depth in her, some way to make her feel truly special both regardless and including the facade she presented to people at large. Perhaps, at the very least, it would leave with her the sense that someone did care.
He knew all it would leave was the impression of yet another male wanting the pretty officer to be more decorative, and in an effort to strengthen her own armor, she would lash out for his.
No. He would never tell her.
But that open and unguarded smile graced her features now, and if nothing else, he could offer her an open and warm smile of his own.
Fandom: Due South ( Arch to the Sky)
Characters: Turnbull, Thatcher
Words: 469
Sometimes Turnbull wondered if he should tell Inspector Thatcher that he truly loved seeing her smile.
He had plenty of anger for her. A little bit of hurt, too; those moments when careless cruelty slipped his armor and struck home. Mostly, he was just weary of her.
Sometimes, though...
Sometimes those walls of hers would come down far enough for Turnbull to get a peer in at the warm woman she could be. It was then that he really saw the color of her eyes; they lit up when she felt joy or warmth or amusement not tainted with derision. Hazel, just on the edge of brown.
She was beautiful. Purely, when she shone like that. There was an almost cold, factual beauty to her when she was closed off; it projected age she didn't have at the same time as it served the purpose of projecting experience she did. Turnbull wasn't a man to find women attractive. He just didn't get them, generally. There was no appeal in the fact of her appearance, though it was aesthetically obvious.
Nor was his an attraction in the usual sense. Did a desire to gravitate toward a worthwhile aspect of someone constitute an attraction? Was his interest in her honest depths an equation to some manner of romantic interest? However wistful his internal phrasing, he knew not. Turnbull didn't know from romance. All he truly understood was that he wanted to blow on the embers of that openness wherever he found it.
It unlocked something in her. A free, open expression and a smile that made Turnbull imagine a young girl before Depot with bright ambitions and crushes and classes with friends and all those terribly human things people were when they were young.
He dearly wished she would show it more.
So, he would wonder now and again, whether he should simply tell her so. It was a flight of fancy. He knew precisely the reaction he would get if he did. Still; there was something pleasant in the faint imagining that it would strike some depth in her, some way to make her feel truly special both regardless and including the facade she presented to people at large. Perhaps, at the very least, it would leave with her the sense that someone did care.
He knew all it would leave was the impression of yet another male wanting the pretty officer to be more decorative, and in an effort to strengthen her own armor, she would lash out for his.
No. He would never tell her.
But that open and unguarded smile graced her features now, and if nothing else, he could offer her an open and warm smile of his own.