Assorted warnings, acknowledgements, etc.

1)  This is a character sketch of Elaine, except that,
given we have been told next to nothing about her, it
is derived from my fervid imagination (if you're 
thinking fever dream, you're probably about right).  If
this doesn't interest you, take this opportunity to explore
greener pastures.

2)  This story does not work into the whole Elaine list
project.

3)  Very few other DS characters appear even briefly here,
so don't be expecting them.

4)  Gracious thanks to my sister, Armida, again, for her
input, devotion, and extreme patience (she's a goddess, 
I tell you!).

5)  These characters (both stated and hinted at -- with the
obvious exceptions) are not mine, and no infringement of any
sort is intended.  Please keep the lawyers at bay.

6)  This story doesn't need to be set in any particular 
time period, although it does, generally, come after "Witness"
(and contains very minor spoilers for it).

7)  Comments, as always, cheerfully accepted at 
GILBERTK@MTC.MID.TEC.SC.US.  Please note that I'll be 
away from computers (and, no doubt, whining to get back 
to them) from (this is my best estimate) Friday, May 10 to 
Monday, June 3, so if I don't acknowledge you, it's probably 
because I'm not here; please don't take offense.

A Typical Day Off

 by Katherine Gilbert

   It had been a very long few weeks, filled with terrorists,
murderers, and barely-thwarted mob wars.  Elaine Vespen's day-to-day
routine in all of this was much the same -- go in, get ignored until
some detective desperately needed (and therefore yelled for) her
technical skills, perform the impossible on cue, receive little or no
thanks, get ignored again.  It could be a tedious process.

   Elaine knew she could -- and had frequently thought about, quietly
-- simply packing it in and taking her skills elsewhere, but it 
appealed to her that she was so needed.  She liked the activity, the
sense of purpose.  Even when she found herself unthanked yet again, she
still knew that her role in keeping the legal wheels turning, in keeping
crime down to the sort of apocalyptic levels Chicago 
had long ago grown used to, was vital.  She liked that knowledge. 
   It was presently 4:45 in the afternoon.  Although she almost
never got to leave at 5:00, like she would if she had a normal job, Elaine
had made it clear that today was going to be an exception, come hell,
high water, or other acts of either God or the devil.  When she had told
Detective Raymond Vecchio this piece of news for the fortieth time, however
(he was only now taking it in, since the first 39 times he hadn't been
trying to get her to do something for him), he acted as though she had
just casually told him she'd blown up his car.
   "Whadda you mean you're leaving at five today?" Vecchio was
sounding rather high-pitched.  "You *never* leave at five! You're always
here.  That's your job."
   "Ray," Elaine said, annoyed, "I've only made it clear to 
everyone for the last week that I'd be leaving at five today.  Now, if
you've got something you want me to do that takes less than 
15 minutes, fine.  If it doesn't need to be looked at until day after
tomorrow, that's fine too, but, if you want me to spend the rest of my
night on this, you can forget it.  I'm taking a day off," she said, putting
her nose within an inch of Ray's and staring him 
straight in the eyes.  "It happens.  Deal with it."
   Ray was a little taken aback by Elaine's confrontational
stance.  He took a step back and, using his arms to underline his displeasure
with the entire situation, said, "What are you taking the day off for,
anyway?  It's not like you have a life!"

******************************************************************* 

   Later, as Elaine was sitting behind the wheel of her new black Lexus
in what seemed to be an endless traffic jam, she started 
thinking about her place at the station.  She had joined Civilian Aid
4 years ago and, within 2 weeks, had become an absolutely
vital part of the detective's lives.  Her computer skills, mixed with
her complete ability to track down information of all sorts, soon ensured
that the entire station seemed to stop functioning 
without her.  She even found herself out helping the officers
at the scenes from time to time nowadays, and, after a while, 
she was only taking days off every third week or so; it put a 
real cramp in her social life.

   Her mother, too, had thought she was insane for putting so much on
herself.  "Elaine, dear, you don't need to work," she had said, "not
at such menial labor anyway.  Spend you time refining 
yourself instead.  Or better yet," her mother had pleaded with
her, "marry young Nelson; he comes from a good family too."

   "Mother," Elaine had sighed for at least the 400th time on this subject,
"Nelson Sissilu is the most boring guy I know."
   "But he's a doctor, dear," her mother had argued.

   "He's a podiatrist, mother," Elaine had answered.  "There's only so
much talk about feet a person can stand. . . Look," she had
continued, "I'm joining Civilian Aid.  It wont put me in the line of
fire; I wont be endangering myself, but it *is* a way to do 
something, so please just learn to accept it."  She remembered
leaving her mother at the family estate that day, hearing her
mutter something about the lack of appreciation some children had. 

********************************************************************

   When Elaine finally arrived back at her apartment building, had tipped
Carl, the parking valet, and had worked her way up to the front desk
of her high-rise, Michael, her doorman, tipped his hat to her as always.
"Good evening, Miss Vespen," he said, as he opened the door for her.

   "How are you, Michael?" she said brightly, as she approached him.

   "I couldn't be better," he said with a smile.
   "Did Mr. Lewis give you the day off next week after all?" she
questioned him, as he continued to hold the door for her.
   "Yes, Miss Vespen.  Thank you so much for talking to him,"
Michael replied, still smiling genuinely at her.

   "Who, me?" Elaine tried to say innocently; she had been getting lessons
in innocent looks lately from watching Fraser.  She tried to keep the
look up, as she walked into the building.  She hadn't gone to threaten
the building owner for Michael in order to be
thanked for it; she just wanted him to be able to attend his
daughter's wedding.
   After Elaine had entered the building and was out of earshot,
a couple of newer residents, who'd been watching askance as Michael had
allowed such a casually-dressed woman to enter the building,
decided to satisfy their curiosity.
   "What the hell was that?" the man asked Michael, as he was
returning to his desk.

   Michael looked a little taken aback but tried to hide it.  "That's
Elaine Vespen," he answered.
   "She lives here?" the man asked incredulously.
   "Of course," Michael answered.
   "But, but she's dressed like a police officer!  How could she
possibly afford to live here?!" the man asked animatedly.

   "Her family is one of the five wealthiest in Chicago," Michael answered
evenly.  "She owns one of the two penthouses here.  She's very influential."

   The man, who, with his wife, had made a concentrated investment plan
for 12 years to be able to afford a down payment on a lower-floor condo
in the building, stunned, answered, "oh."

************************************************************************

   After Elaine had gotten back up to her condo, had listened to her
messages, returned a few calls, and changed her clothes to be ready for
the beginning of her evening out, she decided to make one final call
before she went to meet her friends.

   "Brian!" she said chirpily to her broker, who she'd interrupted over
his dinner.

   Brian sighed; this wasn't a first for him.  "Miss Vespen, what can
I do for you today?"
   "I want you to buy a building for me, Brian," she responded.

   "Are they not giving proper care to the paintings at a museum?  The
waiters being badly treated at your favorite restaurant?  The nearby
hotel hiring illegals at substandard wages again?" Brian
responded.

   "Those were all sound business investments," Elaine responded, then
paused.  "Besides, they were threatening the immigrants with deportation
if they complained."

   Brian's sigh was deeply-felt and world-weary.  This wasn't why he'd
gone into this business.  "Alright, which building is it this time?"
   "Mine," Elaine responded.

   "`Yours'?  What do you mean `yours'?"  Brian asked.  "You don't mean
. . . not your high-rise?"  Brian was beginning to sound a tad shrill.
"Do you have any idea what that will cost?"

   "Pretty much," Elaine responded.  "Why?  You're not holding out on
me, are you Brian?  Not stealing from the till?"
   Brian let out another sigh which suggested that he felt long-
suffering.  "What is it this time, Miss Vespen?  Are they not
allowing your window-cleaners to unionize?" he asked.
   Elaine paused for a second, making a mental note to look into
this.  "No," she said.  "Lewis is keeping the doormen from having appropriate
days off again."
   "And this is a reason to buy a building?"  Brian inquired.

   "Brian," Elaine responded, with a hint of iciness in her voice, "just
do it, and get back to me tomorrow with the details."
   Brian was shaking his head.  All of his other clients were 
trying to renovate neighborhoods by evicting hundreds of people -- that
he could understand, but Elaine Vespen . . . "Of course, Miss Vespen.
I'll talk to you tomorrow." 
   Elaine laughed slightly, as she hung up.  "Brokers," she said
to herself.  "Mother was right.  You always have to keep them
in line."

******************************************************************* 

   By 7:30, Elaine, whose close friends rightly considered capable of
achieving anything, was dressed all in very becoming and supple black
leather and was at one of her favorite hang outs.   Although it had lost
its name along with its sign after the 100th or so fight, Elaine and
her friends still enjoyed it.  Of course, so did several groups of Hell's
Angels.

   Elaine was watching her friends play pool in the back of the bar.
They had long ago stopped letting her play, since she had a tendency
to be a bit of a shark.  Once the cue was in her hands and it was her
turn, she continued to make shot after shot until she had won, unless
she was suckering some poor biker into thinking she was an easy mark
before annihilating him.  It was the ensuing brawl from one of these
games which had lost the bar its sign.

   "Elaine," Serena, one of her friends, said to her, while trying to
make a shot, "I still don't know that I get why you like this place.
I mean, I was brought up in this neighborhood, but you never *had* to
be here.  What gives?"

   "Oh, come on, `Rena," Elaine replied.  "Can you really see me hanging
out in some pretentious coffee bar all day?  I like it here." 
   "I think," her friend Tim put in, "that you just got used to
it when you were dating that awful guy in college."

   "Who, Josef?"  Elaine replied.  "He *was* a bit of a bore, kept going
on about the coming revolution. . . Anyway, I've been coming to these
places since high school."
   "That was pure rebellion," Serena said.  "What's your excuse
now?"  

   "I don't need one.  I like it here," Elaine answered, but, when her
friends stopped playing the game to stare at her, she admitted, "Okay,
so it's dangerous.  How much sense of immediate danger have I had since
the Peace Corps, anyway?  A girl's got to have some fun, you know." 
Her friends resumed the game.

   "So," Jerry, her third companion, said, "what do your cop friends
think of you hanging out at places like this?"

   Elaine laughed.  "Like they'd notice!  I could go into work wearing
nothing but a g-string, and, so long as they got their work done for
them immediately, they wouldn't even see."

   "Their loss," Sherri, her final playmate that night, muttered. 
   Tim looked up from his turn.  "Don't they know anything about you
yet?" he asked.

   "Not really," Elaine answered.  "Of course, there was one time when
Ray," her friends looked puzzledly at her, "you know, the one who keeps
telling me I don't have a life?"  "Ah," they all nodded and returned
to watching the game.  ". . . and Fraser came to get me from home on
my day off to have me help them out, but Ray didn't take in *any* of
the details of my life or put them together, and Fraser seemed to see
nothing unusual about it."  She smiled.  "He was just embarrassed that
he'd caught me in the shower."  She thought over the incident. "You know,
he does have a cute way of saying `Oh dear' and turning red."

   "Whatever happened between you and the mountie, anyway?" Jerry enquired.
"He looked like a real prospect for a while."

   Elaine smiled.  "There was some chemistry there for a while, but it
sort of seemed to dissipate," she responded.

   "Then Chris came back for that visit and everything changed," Sherri
said, putting her hands over her heart.

   "Well, can you blame her?" Jerry piped up, "He's gorgeous!  That shoulder-length
dark hair, those beautiful eyes, those broad
shoulders, those . . ."

   Tim was giving him a hard stare.  "Going any further than that?" he
asked.

   Jerry cleared his throat.  "Well, anyway, he's an attractive guy.
Besides, Elaine," he said turning back to her, "You two had such a history."

   Elaine looked a little abashed.  "Well, it wasn't a *history*, really.
We just spent a couple of years working together in Ethiopia." 
   "So when's he coming back, anyway?" Serena asked.

   "Next month," Elaine answered.  "Then he'll decide if he's going to
go on in the corps or restart civilian life.   He's got an offer at one
of the hospitals here he might take."

   "A doctor with a social conscience," Serena nodded, "Some women have
all the luck."
   A while later, they were approached by some bikers who were 
convinced that Sherri would be an easy mark and offered her a game. When
she had beaten them soundly, the regularly-scheduled fight
began.  Elaine managed to take out three bikers without being hit, get
her friends out and away from the fight (she had to pull Serena away
physically, so much did she want to clobber a biker who'd 
made too strong a pass at her), slip the bartender/owner $1000 for the
resulting damage (she'd made him an offer for the bar before, but it
seemed he rather enjoyed the carnage), and slip out before the cops arrived.
She stayed with her friends for a few more minutes before saying goodbye.

   "So, Sherri, are you coming to the bimonthly try-to-convince-my- parents-I'm-straight
dinner with me?" Jerry asked.

   "Why can't you take Serena this time?" Sherri complained.  "At least
she *dates* men." 

   "Yeah, but I promised Tim here I wouldn't let Jerry cheat on him,
and I don't know that I'd be able to keep my hands off Jerry for that
long," Serena tried to convince her.

   "Look, guys, I have to go," Elaine broke in, "You know I think you
should just tell them, we've had this argument upwards of 200 times,
and I'm going to be late soon.  I'll see you all soon."
   Her friends bid her farewell and continued the debate on the 
sidewalk.

**********************************************************************

   By 10:00 p.m., Elaine had managed to change clothes and was walking
into the posh restaurant which was located on the ground floor of her
building to meet one of her neighbors, an attractive businesswoman named
Sarah, who had brought along a couple to meet her.  When the couple saw
her, however, they both stopped dead.  The gorgeous woman in the expensive
suit was the same woman who had entered the apartment earlier wearing
a uniform.  They looked stunned.

   Sarah ushered Elaine over to the table and introduced them.  "Elaine,
this is John and Mary Smythe.  John, Mary, this is Elaine Vespen." 
   The Smyths continued to stare.

   Elaine smiled at them and extended her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet
you," she said, noting to herself that they were probably the most white
bread couple she had ever seen.  "It's always nice to meet a new neighbor."

   Mary pulled herself back from her trance enough, finally, to nudge
her husband in the ribs and shake Elaine's hand.  "Yes, it's always nice
when people are friendly, isn't it?" she said.

   John finally snapped to and also shook Elaine's hand.  "Yes, uh huh,"
he said, still absentminded.

   "I believe we saw you talking to the doorman earlier," Mary tried
to start the conversational ball rolling.

   "Oh, yeah.  Michael's a good guy.  He has a nice family too," Elaine
responded smiling.

   "Especially his daughter," Sarah chipped in.  "She's a dream." 
   "You've met his family?" John said accenting the last word as though
he were holding a dead rat.

   "Of course," Sarah said.  "Elaine has get-togethers in her apartment
from time to time.  I met them at one of her dinners."

   "You invited them to *dinner*?" John was incredulous.  The metaphorical
dead rat now seemed to be a few weeks old.

   "Yes," Elaine responded.  Then she fixed her gaze firmly on his eyes,
"Is this not something everyone would do?"
   "Um," the Smyths said in unison.

   "I believe the doorman . . ." John went on, trying to avoid the question.

   "Michael," Elaine and Sarah specified.

   "Uh, yes," John continued.  "He said that you come from money, I believe."

   "Oh, not snobs," Elaine thought.  "This was such a nice building before
the snobs moved in."  Verbally, however, she said, "I suppose. My great-grandmother
started a cosmetics company.  Our money passed down along with it."

   "How nice," Mary said, before they all fell silent for a while. 
   Elaine and Sarah managed to keep the conversation going for the rest
of the evening, with a great deal of trouble, since the Smyths continued
to look at them as though they were sprouting extra heads at regular
intervals.  Finally, around desert, when the Smyths were debating what
to do for the last course and whether their diet plan would allow such
an extravagance, Sarah leaned over to Elaine and said, "Next time you
go to that bar to meet your friends, could you take me?"
   "Can you hold your own in a bar brawl?" Elaine asked.
   "I can try," Sarah said.

   Elaine smiled and shook her head.  "I think we'll get you training
at the gym before we try you in the field," she said.

   Sarah looked a little disappointed but nodded.  Then she said, looking
quickly over at where the Smyths were negotiating calories, "What are
we going to do about them?"
   "Don't worry," Elaine responded.  "I have a plan."

**********************************************************************

   Elaine had decided to call it a night fairly early that day but awoke
the next morning ready to attack her full day ahead with vigor. She began,
after receiving and making a few important phone calls, by checking her
computer and answering her email (it had piled up a bit in the last few
days).  After she gave answers to various people on how to bandage a
compound fracture, tune a car engine, rebuild a computer, make safer
stock market investments, and sew your own 
wedding dress, she turned to the list she really enjoyed.  She had joined
it only recently, but they were involved in playing a computer game wherein
she was a vampire.  She was now in the process of trying to get another
competitor (who in real life was a cop in Toronto) to overcome his desire
for humanity and rejoin the hunters.  True, it was only a game, but it
let out her darker emotions, and she enjoyed it.

   After she'd left the Toronto cop a few clues to lead him further into
the game, she turned to the next event of the day.  Jerry had left his
car with her two weeks ago, and she had yet to finish rebuilding his
engine for him.  She wanted to finish it soon before Tim and Serena got
completely sick of acting as his taxi service.

   Stopping on her way downstairs to leave off a handwritten invitation
to Mr. and Mrs. Smythe and to drop off a third wedding present for Michael's
daughter, she went out to the garage and gave her full attention over
to Jerry's engine.  By 2 p.m., she had it fixed and running.  She gave
Carl $100 to test drive it for her and asked him to phone up his verdict,
when he got back.

   By the time she reached her apartment again, her phone was ringing.
When she answered, Brian, her broker, was on the other end with a confirmation
of her buying plans.

   "Are you absolutely sure about this?" he asked.  "You know your mother
wouldn't like it."
   "Brian, do you work for me or for her?" Elaine responded.

   Brian sighed, "Alright, if you're determined, I'll bring the papers
over later this afternoon or early this evening."
   Elaine smiled.  "Thank you kindly, Brian," she said.

************************************************************************

   At 5:00, Elaine's caterers arrived and set up a feast complete with
a large wedding-type cake.  By 6:00, her first guests appeared.
   "Jerry!" she said, hugging him, as she brought him into the 
apartment.  "Now, you're sure about this?"
   "Yes, you're right.  I've decided," he agreed.
   "Okay, then," Elaine confirmed.  "This will be for you."

   Elaine's guests continued to filter in for the next hour.  Included
were Jerry and Tim and their parents, Serena, Sherri, Sarah, the Smyths,
Brian (who had gotten trapped when bringing over papers), Michael and
Carl (who had agreed to switch off at the party with the other doormen
and valets so that they could all get in on the fun) and their families
(including Michael's soon-to-be-married daughter and her fiance), and
all of the other neighbors who felt so inclined.  After she was sure
everyone was there, Elaine tapped on a wine glass and gathered 
everyone's attention.  "Ladies and gentlemen," she began, "Tonight we
are here to honor a good friend, as he begins a new passage in his life.
He is taking a bold new step here today, and we, as his fellow friends
and humans, have come to lend our support.  I now give you, everyone
-- Jerry!"

   Everyone applauded and whistled, as Jerry blushed and tried to prepare
himself to speak.

   "Thank you, thank you," Jerry said, as he tried to motion everyone
to calm down.  When they had, he continued, "Tonight, I have come to
make an announcement about my life.  What I am here to tell you
represents no change in myself but may represent a change in how others
view me."  He cleared his throat a bit before continuing.
"Tonight, I have come here to tell you a simple truth about my life --
Ladies and gentlemen, I am gay.  I have made a promise to myself and
my partner," he put his hand on Tim's shoulder and motioned him forward
slightly, "to no longer deny my love for him in public.  For many, this
may be old news.  For those of you who had been unaware until now," he
said, looking at his parents, "I hope you will be able to continue seeing
me for who I am and not simply relegate me to a stereotype because of
what I am.  Thank you for your support in advance."  He took Tim's hand.
   There were a variety of responses.  Some people cheered; some
looked shell shocked; others simply seemed bored and stared at the food.
Then, in one group motion, everyone seemed to realize who
this was truly being done for.  They all stared at Jerry's parents. To
their surprise, they were both smiling and looking at each other. Finally,
Jerry's mother screamed, "Thank God!"  She ran over to her son and threw
her arms around him.  "We were beginning to fear that you'd never face
it!"  Jerry's parents hugged both Jerry and Tim, welcoming Tim into their
family.  Tim's parents, who had known long before, hugged Jerry's parents
and their two boys as well.  Everyone cheered.

   Well, almost everyone.  The Smyths stood in the middle of the room
looking as though they had suddenly landed in the middle of a 
transvestite alien's strip bar.

   Little by little, however, Mary began to smile, caught up in the wholehearted
good cheer of the other revellers.  John looked at her askance.  "Mary,
why ever are you grinning like that?" he asked.

   "Oh lighten up, John.  These are our neighbors," Mary responded. "We've
spent all of our money on the down payment, anyway, so it's not like
we can leave.  We might as well learn to live with them."
   John shook his head.  "Neighbors," he muttered.

   The party went off swimmingly well.  Jerry now had peace of mind and
a working car, and by the night's end, Mary Smyth had danced
with all of the parking valets and could call them all by name.  Her
husband, too, had fallen, unwittingly, into a deep conversation with
Tim about the finer points of real estate investment.

   "Elaine," Sarah said to her quietly, as she put her arm around her
shoulders, "It looks like you've done it again."
   Elaine just smiled in response.

***********************************************************************

   The next day, when Elaine arrived at work, her eyes still slightly
red from the late-night revels, she was generally roundly ignored as
usual.  Detective Huey did come up to her at one point, however, and
asked how her day off had gone.
   "Oh, pretty typical," Elaine smiled.

   "See, I told you," Ray called from across the room.  "She has no life!"

THE END