Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Due South doesn't belong to me.  I'm
just visiting it for some non-profit fun.

Rated PG for implied m/m situations.

*Spoilers for Eclipse.

Clompin'
 by Sylvie Grenon
                                   
Used to be, every night, like clockwork, I'd get all ready for bed and
there he'd go, doing that clompin' thing on the floor up there.  Oh,
sometimes he'd do it during the day too, if he wasn't workin' or anything.
He's a cop, and I know they can work some pretty wierd hours. 

I was starting to get kinda worried, though.  I mean, what kind of guy
goes around clompin' all over the floor, at all hours of the day and
night?  I thought maybe he had an infestation up there, like maybe he
was stompin' on cockroaches. But who the heck stomps on bugs in rhythm?

I should complain about the noise, I guess, but I don't.  It don't disturb
any of the other tenants, just me, 'cause I live right below him.  And
he sure ain't as bad as that Mr. Stanislovski in appartment 2C, with
his tuba, or Mrs. Miller and her yappy poodle.  Actually, I find it kinda
soothing.  Like I told that Mountie I let in there a while ago: I can
just sit there an' get hypnotised for an hour, easy.  He looked at me
kinda funny when I told him that.  I guess I didn't explain it right,
but it's hard to put into words, y'know.  It's almost like music, like
listening to it just takes my mind away somewhere. 

It was the guy's dog figured it out, findin' those fancy dance footprints
on the floor under the rug.  Dancin'.  Well, that makes sense, I guess,
what with the rhythm and all.  Though he never really struck me the kinda
guy who'd be up dancin'  in the middle of the night.  Now that I think
of it, that clompin' always did seem to be a real lonely sound.  Nobody
should haveta dance by themself in secret like that, like it's somethin'
horrible you gotta be ashamed of.  It's just dancin'.

Anyway, I know I probably shouldn'ta let the Mountie into Mr. Kowalski's
appartment like that, and with a dog too, though he was real well behaved
and all. The dog, I mean. There was just somethin' about the guy, all
polite an' proper with his "Please" and his "Thank you kindly". Course,
he ain't hard on the eyes either, that don't hurt.

I've seen him around here a lot since that day. The Mountie, I mean.
Dog too, actually.  And it makes me feel kinda good, knowing Mr. Kowalski's
got a friend now, an' that he doesn't haveta be so alone all the time.
An' the Mountie seems to be takin' good care of him, too.  There's been
a lot less pizza delivered up there, I know that much, and he seems to
be getting a bit more flesh on those skinny bones of his.  

I don't see him very often, just around rent time, and in the hallway
every now an' then, but he seems a lot... happier now. More content-like.
He even smiled at me when he gave me last month's rent.  Boy he's got
a nice smile, that one. Lights up his face just like a Christmas tree.

Actually, I've been thinkin' about raising his rent.  I mean, the Mountie's
up there most of the time anyway, he's practically livin' there. And
the dog, too, though he's real well behaved.  Mrs Miller's been flappin
her gums about him, of course... that he should stay away from her poodle
if he knows what's good for 'im.  I just ignore her though, kinda like
the way I ignore the fact that sometimes the Mountie and the dog don't
go home at night.  It's really none of my business, anyway, as long as
the rent gets paid on time.

And he doesn't keep me up late with his clompin' anymore.  Oh, I still
hear it sometimes, but now the music's not so loud, and there's two sets
of feet.  It doesnt' last as long as it used to either... the feet move
on into the bedroom pretty quickly.

No, it ain't clompin' that keeps me awake any more... but, you know,
I'd rather be kept awake by squeakin' bedsprings than by clompin' any
day.  It sounds a bit more hopeful, and a  lot less lonely.

The end.