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Title: Italian Image
Author: Lys at lystykds@aol.com
Rated: PG, Humor

The swinging doors leading in to the squad room banged open with the hit of Ray Vecchio's palm. He marched on into the room heedless of the man trying to keep up with him and yet maintain some sense of decorum.

The man, the Mountie in red serge, who followed Ray Vecchio took a deep breath and tried once again, "Ray. Ray. Will you please listen to me? I most sincerely apolo...."

Ray Vecchio stopped dead in his tracks and turned so fast that his Armani coat swung around making a fabric snapping sound. "Listen. How many times do I have to say this? Be quiet. Not one more word out of you until I calm down. Can you understand that? Is it simple enough?"

Benton Fraser's jaw worked up and down several times causing his lower lip to seem to open and close soundlessly. He took his Stetson off of his head and held it abjectly in his hands being quite careful to avoid looking directly at what was once a very nice Armani tie still hopelessly tied around his friend's neck. "Ray..."

"That's it. Anyone in this room not hear me request this man to be quiet?" Ray looked around the room with out flung arms. His greens eyes seemed to be on the verge of bulging from their very eye sockets. He challenged each and every member of the room visually.

The Mountie froze in one place; his hat seemed to be the only thing that kept his hands from shaking. His eyes were dark and underscored with smudges of stress colored brown flesh under them and his checks were pale and quivering; whether from concern or embarrassment was hard to tell. He looked vanquished and remorseful and alone.

The swinging doors opened once more with a snapping sound and Francesca Vecchio marched into the room. Her tiny feet made sharp noises on the floor as she approached her brother. "You total idiot!" Her wet, dark curly hair shook with the force of the words coming out of her mouth and water flew away from her head like water off a duck's back. "How dare you?" Her dress was dripping wet; her shoes were sodden messes as water dripped down from them to the floor. "Did you or did you not hear Benton asking you to stop? If you had listened Ray, I wouldn't be soaking wet right now."

It was suddenly Ray's turn to be the recipient of someone's pent up anger. He backed up a step as his sister advanced upon him.

Detective Huey lowered himself to the edge of his desk and hid a huge smile behind a hand quickly thrust up to cover his mouth.

"Ray..." The Mountie tried once again to get his friends attention only to have those large green eyes focused intently upon him once more. He retreated a prudent step or two and seemed stand a little less sure of himself.

"Fraser. I am warning you." Ray took a step closer to Fraser, his intent clearly threatening bodily harm to his friend.

Francesca pulled her lips together and moved quickly between her brother and his best friend. "Ray. It was not Benton's fault. Admit it; it was yours, all your own fault." She put out a hand to try and physically stop the charging form in front of her.

Fraser seemed to find the energy to come out of his stance and put a restraining hand on Francesca's shoulder. "Francesca." He whispered her name softly as if to entreat her to soften her words.

She turned on Fraser and wagged a finger at the man she had always considered the love of her life; at the man who never seemed to understand the depth of her feeling for him. "You. Be quiet."

Ray stopped moving towards his sister and pulled his head back. A quirky sort of smile began twitching his lips. His shoulders relaxed and the energy that had been flying in all directions from his body seemed to visually dissipate. He began to grin as he watched his sister advance a step on the Mountie.

Fraser tilted his head to the right and nearly laid his check against his shoulder as he contemplated the small vixen before him. He cracked his neck and righted his head and watched the little Italian lady point her finger at his chest while she ranted in Italian at him. The only words he clearly understood were the last words she uttered ..."I give up. If you two want to kill yourselves...go ahead. Who am I to stop you? Just don't do it when I'm around OK."

She stood there between the two men with her arms crossed and dripping water from her hair.

Ray, who being her brother, knew better than to try and touch her leaned over and said in a contrite voice, "Franny, I'm sorry." All he got for his efforts was a glare from her dark, brown eyes. He was startled when she reached forward and grabbed what was left of his once beautiful tie.

Huey remarked to no one in particular that he thought it was about time to seek cover as he moved off the corner of his desk and moved away. Several people nearest the trio by the door followed suit, though they didn't stop watching the scene playing out in front of them.

"Ray, I think it would be in your best interest to move away." Fraser commented.

"I'm trying." Ray said through gasps as his little sister yanked on his tie.

"Francesca, I must ask you to stop." Fraser said valiantly. He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, but his training as an officer of the law drew him on to comment, "You are committing violence on your brother's person."

He should have known that that was not the comment to make at the moment. Without even looking over her shoulder, Francesca's free hand whipped out and grasped the Mountie's lanyard and pulled hard. Benton's head was jerked forward until it nearly hit the back of Francesca's wet hair.

"You two have spent the entire morning driving me nuts. I am tired, I am wet. And I want it to stop now!" Francesca turned a gritted tooth smile first to her brother and then to the Mountie, the man who didn't seem to ever notice how much she loved him. She shook her head and drops of water flew at both men's faces. She let their respective ties go and stood a little straighter and dropped her hands to the hem of her rapidly shrinking jacket. She looked down and her shoulders drooped. "This is wool." She looked directly at Benton's red serge tunic. "You do know what happens to wet wool?"

At this point Ray bethought himself of his ruined Armani tie and felt again the anger he had previously felt at being caught in another of Benton's hair brained schemes. Somehow Francesca could feel the anger rising in her brother and she turned a sharp eye back in his direction.

"Don't say it." She openly dared him to open his mouth. She turned back to the Mountie behind her. "And you. The sheer energy I've put into looking my best every day. And do you notice. No. Oh I'll grant you once in awhile I hear, that's a nice color Francesca or is that new? But do you ever say anything more personal than that. No, you don't? I give up. I give up on the both of you."

She turned away and seemed about to leave the two of them to settle their differences. She stopped, her shoes were making loud `ooshing' sounds and she wanted to cry. She heard Ray seem to be taking in another breath preparatory to castigating the Mountie once more. She whipped around and brought her hand up. She stomped her foot and began marching off.

It was at this point that the Lieutenant's door opened and he stuck his head out the door. He took in the scene in one sweeping glance and noted the wet trail on the floor leading from door to Francesca and back. He noted the Mountie and Detective Vecchio standing in stunned silence while the room looked on. He decided the better part of valor at this point might be in not knowing what was going on his in his squad room. He quietly closed his door and returned to his desk muttering about Mounties and Italian's of great sensibilities.

Quite suddenly Benton Fraser, Constable of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police remembered his duty as an officer and a gentleman. He looked quickly at his friend and then the retreating back of his friend's sister. His duty was clear. He stuck his hat on his head and began to march towards Francesca. He put his hand out, nearly touched her sopping wet wool coat, and then thought the better of that idea.

"Francesca, may I escort you home?" She turned wildly angry eyes at him.

Benton blanched but held his ground, "Please Francesca." He held out his hand in a gesture of appeasement.

She looked him directly in the eye and silently dared him to continue. She'd had enough. She'd spent the morning being chased out of the house early so Ray could pick up the Mountie. She'd worn her new coat to impress said Mountie who hadn't batted an eye at it. And now, through no fault of her own, she was drenched. It wasn't raining outside and she was drenched. Her new coat was ruined and the responsibility could be laid directly at the door of the man standing in her front of her. Days, months, and years of pent up frustration suddenly flared deep within her soul. She pulled back her fist and hit the Mountie directly in the chest. "It's too late. I'm through with you; with the both of you." She turned around to march away but couldn't quite achieve the dignified figure she wanted with the sloshing of water in her shoes reverberating in the room.

Benton adjusted his Stetson on his head and again stepped out until he was in front of Francesca, his jaw set like granite and his eyes beginning to take on the color of steely flint gray. "Francesca, I am sure you have reason to be aggravated. However..."

The silence that had settled over the room deepened. Heads turned away from the couple by the door though for Detectives Huey and Vecchio it was like watching two locomotives about to crash and though they knew they should do something to stop it they seemed paralyzed.

At this point Ray knew he was better off getting away from the battle area and he withdrew to his desk and sat down in disgust with the remnants of his tie in his hand. He raised his eyes and watched his sister finally let her emotions completely boil over. He couldn't even say he was the least bit shocked when he saw her hand ball into a fist as she aimed directly for the Mountie's face.

Benton blocked the small fist coming at him and quickly leaned over and in one swift movement gathered Francesca up and over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. His face was red and furious and he turned to face Ray with the kicking bundle placed over his shoulder.

Ray grinned at the sight of his sister so placed on Benton's shoulder and leaned back in his chair, happy for the time since he'd entered the squad room.

Benton nodded his head at Ray and turned towards the swinging doors the led out of the squad room and with Francesca kicking and cursing him he walked out the doors.

Huey let out a long sigh. "Bets anyone?"

The room broke out in a loud burst of laughter. Ray Vecchio sighed and rose out of his chair. He followed the Mountie.

Benton marched down the hallway and to the nearest interview room that he knew that had neither had a see through mirror or listening devices installed. As he walked he didn't notice any of the felons being brought in for booking watching him with widened eyes. He didn't hear or see the jeering remarks of fellow officers as he carried the female form over his shoulder into the interrogation room. He did not notice the fact that he was being followed by her brother. Nor was he aware of the fact that as he shut the door to the interrogation room that Ray moved to lean against it with his arms crossed; a very self-satisfied smile on his face.

He walked inside the room, turned and locked the door and then set Francesca down. While she stood speechlessly looking at him and trying to think of the next comment she could hurl at him, he swept off his Stetson and threw it on the table in the center of the room.

He advanced on her with a glint in his eyes that she had never seen before. She retreated several steps until her back was to the wall. He advanced on her and placed his hands on either side of the wall next to her dripping wet hair and looked levelly into her eyes. She shut up. He leaned forward and pulled her against his chest and lifted her into the air with one arm. He tilted her head up and then kissed her so thoroughly that she thought for sure her knees had turned to jelly.

Ray turned his head so that his ear was against the door and then grinned at the silence in the room.

He set her down, pulled the hem of his red serge down and whirled around on the toe of his right foot and walked over to the table in the center of the room. He retrieved his Stetson and plunked it tightly down on his head. Swiveling with military preciseness he advanced on the door to the interrogation room. He took just a quick momentary glance out of the side of his left eye and noted that Francesca still stood rooted to the floor where he'd set her; the fingers of her left hand absently running over her kiss bruised lips. He grinned and pulled the door open.

Ray Vecchio fell backwards into the interrogation room. He landed on the floor and sat there while Benton Fraser carefully walked around him. Ray caught a fleeting glimpse of his friend's facial expression. He'd never seen that self satisfied expression on Ben's face before. It was enough to make him scramble to his feet and look for his sister.

By the time Ray was walking towards Francesca, she was recovering her wits. Her eyes lost their dreamy look and she snapped out of the trance she'd been in since Benton and put her feet back on the floor. She found her knees still feeling like they would buckle at any second. A hasty glance around the room didn't reveal an image of the red serge figure she loved. Her brother, Ray's, features swam largely before her eyes when she turned towards the door.

"OH my God!" She moved one step hesitantly in her squishy shoes. They hindered her progress so she leaned over and pulled of first her left shoe and then her right.

"Franny..." Ray began in a tone of appeasement.

"Get out of my way." Francesca yelled at him and took off running in her stockinged feet. "Benton Fraser, You get back here!" She ran out the door of the interrogation room nearly knocking Huey over as she moved. She saw the color of the red serge turning into another hallway down the hall. She took off running, "Benton...Ben...wait for me."

By the time she got to the turn in the hallway, a dark haired Stetsoned head leaned out into the hallway. The face above the red serge lit up in a smile as the man who owned it noted the small woman running towards him.

End Italian Image by Lys: lystykds@aol.com

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