Hearts, Love, and Honour (Prompt 03, Thatcher)
Hearts, Love, and Honour
Thatcher, G, 398 words
Meg had always done everything by the book. University, Depot, being one of the youngest officers promoted to Inspector in history - her entire career in the RCMP was exactly how it was supposed to be, how she had planned it and how she wanted it. Her post at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago was a major personal triumph, and one that she did not take lightly. She inherited two men who tested her in unique and infuriating ways along with the post.
Some days, she wasn't sure if she was too much like Constable Fraser, or if they were so far apart in everything they could never understand each other. They both knew duty and responsibility, and they both wanted to play by the rules. But she always did, always had, and Fraser, well - there was a reason that he was working in the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. It was not the honor for him that it was for her, but rather a cruel punishment, an exile from his homeland.
She was drawn to him, though, despite their myriad differences. He was an attractive man, and a good man, and he was committed to all the things that she feared, that she was almost certain she'd lost in the process of being the best, the first. Justice, honor, and truth. Maintiens le droit.
She knew she was underutilizing him terribly, and his diplomatic skills, while untested, were quite remarkable when he had occasion to use them. But she couldn't bring herself to bring him closer, to allow him to be someone that she respected and trusted. Who was her equal.
He was exceptionally good at fetching her dry cleaning and filing paperwork, and she was perfectly able to pretend that she didn't see the look in his eyes when he placed the papers on her desk, or the way he smelled when he raised his arms to hang up her suit on the back of the door. She smiled and he left without being told, and closed the door behind him. The door shut behind him and she closed her eyes, and absolutely didn't remember the way it felt to have his arms around her and his lips pressed to hers, the rush of the air passing around their heads.
When she called, Fraser came back, every time. But he never came close again.
My prompt table
Thatcher, G, 398 words
Meg had always done everything by the book. University, Depot, being one of the youngest officers promoted to Inspector in history - her entire career in the RCMP was exactly how it was supposed to be, how she had planned it and how she wanted it. Her post at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago was a major personal triumph, and one that she did not take lightly. She inherited two men who tested her in unique and infuriating ways along with the post.
Some days, she wasn't sure if she was too much like Constable Fraser, or if they were so far apart in everything they could never understand each other. They both knew duty and responsibility, and they both wanted to play by the rules. But she always did, always had, and Fraser, well - there was a reason that he was working in the Canadian Consulate in Chicago. It was not the honor for him that it was for her, but rather a cruel punishment, an exile from his homeland.
She was drawn to him, though, despite their myriad differences. He was an attractive man, and a good man, and he was committed to all the things that she feared, that she was almost certain she'd lost in the process of being the best, the first. Justice, honor, and truth. Maintiens le droit.
She knew she was underutilizing him terribly, and his diplomatic skills, while untested, were quite remarkable when he had occasion to use them. But she couldn't bring herself to bring him closer, to allow him to be someone that she respected and trusted. Who was her equal.
He was exceptionally good at fetching her dry cleaning and filing paperwork, and she was perfectly able to pretend that she didn't see the look in his eyes when he placed the papers on her desk, or the way he smelled when he raised his arms to hang up her suit on the back of the door. She smiled and he left without being told, and closed the door behind him. The door shut behind him and she closed her eyes, and absolutely didn't remember the way it felt to have his arms around her and his lips pressed to hers, the rush of the air passing around their heads.
When she called, Fraser came back, every time. But he never came close again.
My prompt table