I hate how long this legal bit is. Bear with me, or better yet, skip it except for the thank-you's, if your impatience level is like mine.
You don't need to have seen the episode "You Must Remember This", or have read my other story, "Judgement Calls" to make sense of this story. Really. You don't. You can just read as is... However, if you suddenly get the urge to watch or read either of these, so much the better. This story is rated PG, maybe PG-13 for mild bad words and semi-adult content. Nothing you won't see on your average soap opera, though.
Disclaimers: I don't own these characters or this universe, Paul Haggis, CBC-TV, CBS-TV, Alliance, etc., do. I'm not making any money off this, but that doesn't mean you can repost this story without including this disclaimer and my name, okay? And if you do, do it for free, guys. Oh, except for Newbie. He's my fault. :>>> No, you can't play with him without asking first--- but he's so easy, I'm sure that he'll be happy to frolic in your stories. These disclaimers apply to all installments of this story, not just this one.
Special thank you's to my betareaders: Dianne DeSha, Lizbet Lewis, & Cath Boone, all of whom screamed at me for leaving it a cliffhanger, one of whom stopped me from making it too angsty, one of whom caught my gaffes, and the other of whom just giggled. I'm not saying who.
"That's all we need. Ridiculous odds and just a speck of hope that someday we'll beat them." - Ray, after Suzanne left Chicago at the end of "You Must Remember This"
"Hello?"
"Hi, Ray?... it's Suzanne Chapin."
"Suzanne--- Chapin? Special Agent Chapin?" Vecchio sat down on the stairs, swallowing hard, completely jolted. Thoughts of his interrupted Bulls game went out the window, his former irritation with his sister Frannie disappeared, and his plans for tomorrow's game of basketball with Fraser were lost. He blinked, putting his beer down on the step next to him, and tried desperately to come up with a brilliant remark, totally unprepared to be talking to her. "How long has it been... two years?"
"You remember." The throaty alto on the other end of the line sounded shy, a little surprised, even. "I wasn't sure you would."
"Are you *kidding*?" Ray pulled himself together, and took a swig of his Corona. "You almost killed me. Several times, as I remember."
"True." Her voice became more hesitant, and Vecchio winced at his own bluntness. "Maybe this was a bad idea---"
"No! Don't hang up!" Ray choked on his drink, coughing a little as he protested. "I mean, forget I said that. Bad taste on my part. Really tacky. Just put it out of your head." He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and asked, "So. What's up with you, Agent Chapin?"
A pause, then the federal agent said, "Well, actually... I'm in Chicago. For a conference. It just ended today, but I don't fly out until Sunday; and I was wondering if you'd like to get together for drinks tomorrow night?"
"Tomorrow night?" Vecchio echoed, feeling dizzy. //Zero to sixty in five seconds... she's here in Chicago. I don't believe this. She's _here_. In Chicago! Thank you, God!// "That's Saturday night," he added, just to have something to say.
"I know it's short notice. I was hoping you'd have time to chat over a few beers, though."
"Oh, sure. Not a problem." The adrenaline was kicking in. "But why not make it dinner? Where've you been eating this week, the hotel? Let me take you somewhere decent for a change. Even government wage slaves deserve a break once in a while."
She laughed, and Ray grinned at the sound, exhilaration bubbling through him like soda pop. "Ummmm. Okay. That sounds like fun. Where did you have in mind?"
"A little Italian place I know of over on Taylor. The Rosebud. I'll give you directions---you're at Regent's Park again, right?"
"Uh-hunh. Could we make this about seven-thirty? I'm visiting friends in the city, and I don't think I'll be able to get away before then..."
"Fine. We can do that." He gave her a quick description of the restaurant's location, then added, "It's semi-classy, but you don't have to dress up too much. Great food, but relaxed..." Ray's heard himself babbling, shook his head and clenched his jaw, trying to get a grip. "I'm glad you called." //Great, Vecchio, really impressive...//
"Yeah?" Suzanne Chapin sounded pleased, and a little amused. He suddenly had a mental picture of her, smiling on the phone and looking out over the Chicago nightscape from her hotel window. "Me too. I'm glad you're over what happened two years ago..."
"Well, I never said that."
"Oh?" Wariness entered her voice, and she seemed half-serious when she asked, "Should I be worried?"
"No more than me." Ray fell silent, then determinedly said, "Anyway, I'll meet you there at seven thirty. Hope you'll be in the mood for ravioli and tortellini, because they've got the best. Aside from my ma, of course."
The federal agent chuckled. "I don't doubt it. Thanks for the invitation to dinner, Detective. I'll see you then."
"See you." She hung up, and Ray stared at the phone, still half-believing it was a dream. Carefully, he replaced the receiver in its cradle, then blew out a long breath, staring straight ahead, caught up in memories of the most intense, fastest, scariest, and shortest romantic... relationship? Encounter? What the hell would you call it? A thing. They'd had a thing for each other; and it was never finished, never discussed, it was just there, they both knew it, and then she left.
Two years ago. //Ten seconds. Ten years. Chemistry is chemistry, after all....//
Tomorrow night could be the biggest mistake or the greatest night of his life. Which thought did nothing to calm down the already hyper detective. So he elected not to think about it, since he already knew what he was hoping for, and analyzing whether or not it was stupid to want what he did wouldn't get him anywhere, or change his mind. Ray went back to the Bulls game with only half his attention, the rest caught up in avoiding the impulse to dwell on two kisses and five heartfelt looks that almost made up for all the things that never got said or done.
Suzanne collapsed backward onto her bed, muttering to herself. "I should have just stuck to getting drinks with him." //Too late now.// The federal agent sat up, staring at the phone, running through their conversation in her mind, analyzing the one or two sticky spots: when he'd reminded her that she'd almost gotten him killed, and when he said he wasn't over what happened two years ago. //Did you mean that in a good way, or a bad way? How much are you going to push this, Vecchio?//
She got up and walked over to the hotel closet, biting her lip as she scanned the meager contents of her conference wardrobe. //Do I have anything here that doesn't make me look like a fed? For drinks, I could have gotten away with slacks and a blouse... well, I still could.// But she wasn't going to do that, she knew. //Shopping tomorrow. I can't believe I'm shopping expressly for a date with Ray Vecchio. This is getting more complicated than I wanted it to be....//
"I could cancel," she said aloud, then grimaced. //Fat chance.// "This is not a big deal. He's just someone I owe an apology and an explanation to. That's all. That's it."
//Liar, liar, liar.// But why shouldn't she lie? It's what she was good at. //But I don't think it's going to cut much ice with Detective Vecchio.// He'd seemed to see through her so easily, sometimes. To bypass all the lies and stab her with the truth, confront her with things she'd been afraid to admit to herself.... Like how she felt about him; like why she'd hadn't reported him.
Well, that was fine. She knew what she was going to say, and how he'd respond. All she had to do was stick to her story, get some answers from him, then take it from there. If he screwed up, gave the wrong answers, and turned out to have been attracted to her for the reasons most men were, then she'd say good-bye without any regrets. But if not....
//I wonder if he's still the same.// Suzanne froze in front of the window, staring out into the spring evening, trying to imagine him differently, thinking of what might have happened to change him as much as she had over the last two years.
"Forget this," she snarled, snatching up her purse and hotel keys. //I am not thinking about this for the rest of the night. There's got to be a decent movie playing somewhere in Chicago.// The desk clerk would have a newspaper; she could catch a cab in front of the hotel; pigging out on popcorn and chocolate almonds would thoroughly distract her from her plans for tomorrow. Suzanne knew from experience that once you'd rolled the dice, be it on a case or in real life, you just had to wait for them come to a stop, and not waste any energy on hoping for the outcome.
*
The Rosebud was crowded---as usual---but Ray had gotten there early and put his name on the list for a table, then gone to the bar, trying not to make himself crazy speculating about the incipient date. Why had Suzanne Chapin called now, after two years? What the hell was he going to say to her? //She called you, remember that. Let her make the first move. Don't push her---she'll just leave again.// The one thing he didn't question was whether he'd still feel the same way about her as he had before; the second
he'd heard her voice on the phone, he'd been in trouble. //But then, she always was trouble...// He slowly sipped his beer, leaned against the bar and checked out his reflection again to make sure nothing was out of place. //Christ, haven't been this nervous about a woman in ages.// White turtleneck, dark sportcoat, jeans and boots; casual but classic. //Wonder if she's changed much since last time---ohmigod. She's here.// Vecchio stared at her reflection in the bar mirror, captivated, his fingers gripping the beer bottle more tightly as he looked at her.
Suzanne appeared to be exactly as he remembered; same cool ivory cameo features, same straight bearing almost verging on arrogance, same assessing grey-blue eyes. She was dressed in a dark blue silk jacket and a dress which fell in soft folds to her ankles. It made her look very different from both the would-be terrorist and official federal agent he'd met. All of which inspired the same reaction as last time: speechless paralysis.
Fortunately, she hadn't seen him yet. The usually self-assured homicide detective frantically reached for enough detachment to say hello before she spotted him, taking another sip of his drink while he pulled himself together. Then their eyes met in the mirror, and she lifted one eyebrow challengingly, her lips almost forming a smile.
The edge of mockery helped him get a grip. Taking a deep breath, he swung around and grinned directly at her, watching her smile widen into greeting as she crossed the room. "Ray Vecchio," she murmured, taking his hand and squeezing it gently, "it's good to see you again."
"You too, Special Agent Chapin. Suzanne."
Both of them seemed to stall at the same time, just staring at each other, their hands still clasped. Ray swallowed, and he saw Suzanne's eyes widen a little in nervousness, then he said, "You cut your hair" --- at almost exactly the same moment that she did. Her eyes sparkled, and suddenly both of them were laughing, the initial awkwardness dissolving into rueful amusement. "I put us on the list for a table, it shouldn't be too long a wait," Ray said, letting go of her hand with an effort. "I'm glad you could make it dinner instead of just drinks."
"So am I." Suzanne put her purse on the bar, and said, "Campari and soda," to the bartender, then added to Ray, "I really wasn't sure you'd want to see me, considering how complicated circumstances were the last time we met."
"Complicated is an accurate description, all right. How are things at the ATF these days, anyway?"
"I wouldn't know. I don't work there any more."
Ray drew back a little, surprised. He was about to ask why not when the maitre'd tapped him on the shoulder. "Your table is ready, sir. Right this way."
"Let's go." They took their drinks and followed the host over to a booth by a window overlooking Taylor and the nearby park, and Vecchio refrained from comment until after they'd been given their menus and left alone. The detective opened the huge menu and scanned the selections, commenting, "The ravioli and manicotti are the best, but the spaghetti is pretty great too." Without looking up from the folder he asked, "So why aren't you with the ATF anymore? I thought you said you were in Chicago at a conference. I assumed it had to do with your work."
"I was, and it did." Suzanne sighed a little, frowning down at her menu and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, not wanting to meet Vecchio's eyes just yet. "I transferred to the FBI about a year ago, actually. The conference was for field operative training. Fairly interesting, as these things go."
"Why'd you leave the ATF?" Vecchio shut his menu and leaned back against the dark leather of the booth. She could feel his eyes on her face, and reached out for her glass of water without looking up. Persistent. She'd remembered that correctly, oh, yeah. What she hadn't remembered entirely accurately was the effect he had on her insides. Somehow, she'd blocked out the visceral response that he set off in her hormones, and concealing her reaction to him was taking up more of her attention than she was used to. //He's not _that_ good-looking, damnit. He isn't.// Suzanne sighed, and covertly glanced up at him, then back at her menu. //He's just inescapably sexy on a molecular level.... Forget about it. Answer the question.//
"Lots of reasons. Burnout. Frustration." She shut her menu, lifted her gaze to his, and took a sip of her water, then put it back down, fiddling with the glass for a moment. "And I got sick of the agency. The policies there---are you sure you want to hear this?"
"Definitely."
"Hmmm." Fidgeting uncomfortably, she forced herself to meet his penetrating green eyes, to say what she'd meant to say two years ago. "Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms has a well-earned reputation for an 'end
justifies the means' take on problem-solving. I don't know if it's because of longstanding policy, or the people currently in authority, but I didn't want to deal with it any longer. That's... part of why I called you while I was still in town this week."
"You wanted to tell me you were a G-woman now, instead of ATF?" Vecchio's eyes narrowed. "Now, why should you want to do that?"
Suzanne braced herself for what she was going to say next. //I can never tell how you're going to react to what I say. Or do. Just accept this at face value, Vecchio.// "I owe you an apology and an explanation for some of what happened two years ago." She leaned forward a little, needing to explain, nervous that he wasn't going to give her the chance. But he was just staring at her with an expression of surprise, and something harder to identify. Suzanne ignored it in favor of going on. "Almost all of the mistakes that were made during that investigation wouldn't have happened if two things had been done. For one, if my superiors at the ATF had informed the Chicago P.D. of our operation, you and Constable Fraser wouldn't have placed yourselves in jeopardy, or gotten involved in my case. I can't explain their logic---you'd have to be in a federal agency to really understand all of it---but I want to say that while I agreed with it at the time, I had a lot of difficulty justify ing it to myself later. I'm sorry about that."
The waiter came over and asked for their orders, and Suzanne was grateful for the interruption, needing the time to steel herself for the more personal part of her apology. Vecchio asked for a certain wine to go with the meal, then turned back to her as their server left. The Chicago cop's eyes came back to her face, pinning her to her seat. "Okay. What was the second mistake?"
Suzanne fiddled with her silverware, then squared her shoulders and kept her voice calm as she came to the embarrassing facts. "That mistake was mine. All mine; and I can't blame it on anyone else." She swallowed, and met his gaze with all of her nerve. "I should have found a way to tell you and Constable Fraser what was going on from the beginning. I should have stayed with you after I hit you with my car, and explained the arms-smuggling setup. If I'd done that, none of the rest of it would have happened. I'm sorry I didn't. I hope you can believe me."
He really hadn't expected her to apologize. Justify, maybe; minimize and explain away her actions. But this dead-on recitation of her regrets was completely unlooked-for. Ray had to admire her for it; it took guts to admit to her mistakes. Especially to him. Especially considering how *he'd* screwed up that case. "Sooo," he said slowly, "that's why you left the ATF. You didn't want to be a part of that kind of agency any longer."
"It was more than that one job, Vecchio." Agent Chapin---he couldn't help thinking of her like that, for some reason---made a small gesture of frustration, then began moving her water glass around again. "It was two or three in a row, taking shortcuts to busts, all of them legal, of course. But all of them felt cheap, somehow. I took a break last year, to try and rearrange my priorities." She glared at him, annoyance in her voice. "And then you and Constable Fraser arrested Special Agent McFadden while I was on sabbatical."
"Ahhh." Ray grinned, unable to restrain a touch of malice from creeping out. "Did that bust hit a nerve with you?"
"It hit a nerve with everyone at the agency, Vecchio." Chapin snorted and shook her head. "Having one of our main field supervisors convicted of gun smuggling didn't do much for morale. For me... I suppose it was a sign." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you believe in signs?"
//Do I believe in signs? Oh, honey, you have no idea...// "Sometimes."
"Well, that seemed like a sign to me. An exit sign." She shifted in her seat and let out a long breath, her shoulders relaxing. "I got out. The Bureau has its problems, but they're less politically complex than the ATF's, and we've still got a pretty clean record with the public. It's possible to accomplish more without having to watch every single step." She smiled at him, cocking her head to the side. "And that's how I got my ATF card transformed into an FBI card."
The salads arrived, and Ray turned over what she'd told him in his mind. It made sense that she'd want to explain all of this to him, when she had the chance; if her outlook had changed to a point where the Frank Bodine bust embarrassed her, then Suzanne Chapin would need to make amends.
//Which explains here and now, and how we're having a civilized dinner together.// Vecchio took a sip of his wine, and studied her from behind half-closed eyes. //It *doesn't* cover what happened last time. She could've reported me. Should've reported me. But she didn't.// And he was
pretty sure he knew why. But she hadn't been willing to admit it then; so why should she admit it now?
Before the end of the evening he wanted to hear her say it. Just say it: that she fell for him as hard and fast as he fell for her. That some of her lapses in judgement were because of what she felt for him. After that.... he'd be able to let what would happen, happen. Good or bad, whatever fate had in store. Because this was fate, he knew that, this was it, the second chance he'd been hoping for; maybe even their last chance.
Vecchio seemed to accept her apology, although he never said so outright. They spent most of the rest of the meal---which was delicious, he hadn't been kidding about the food---discussing and arguing about federal versus local law enforcement methods and effectiveness. Suzanne couldn't understand how anyone could be willing to work within the limits of local resources, and that had sparked off a debate about power and its application, the long-term changes possible with federal authority, and the kind of people that were drawn to each branch of law enforcement. It was just the kind of argument that she enjoyed; and Ray seemed to share her belief that civilized, detached debate was for wimps.
"Being a Fed makes you crazy. Or maybe you're all crazy to start out with." Vecchio was trying to get under her skin. She knew that. It didn't stop her from reacting the way he wanted her to, unfortunately.
"I *beg* your pardon," she responded in her best you-better-be-begging-mine tone of voice.
Ray smirked, an expression that made Suzanne want to slap him and kiss him at the same time, rattling her composure and forcing her to take a big bite of manicotti to hide her expression. "Look, all Feds think they're smarter than local cops. That they have more vision, more experience, they've seen everything, they know it all, y'know? They can't handle it when things surprise them. I've seen it happen. They get so caught up in their theories and patterns they forget to work from the evidence. Then they freak when things don't go well."
Suzanne swallowed, unwilling to let him do the teasing without giving him some of his own back. "Local cops can freak pretty easily too, you know. From sheer *boredom*, the same old routine, day in, day out, same people, same political maneuvers---"
"You want to talk political maneuvers? I thought you'd know better than to bring that up."
And so on. Some time before dessert they managed to put the argument on hold, having wound up back at the start of the discussion without having resolved anything except that both of them were passionately committed to their jobs. Ray wanted to make lieutenant some day, but wasn't certain about shooting for a captaincy ("The pension's better---but the headaches are that much worse"); and Suzanne still wanted to end up the head of the Justice Department, even though she was working for a different agency now ("Half of it is political backstabbing, and the other half is pure competence. The competence is the easy part, but I'll stab the ones who deserve it when I have to.").
Waiting for their spumoni, Suzanne realized how much she'd been enjoying herself, and that the evening was almost over. It muted her good mood. She still hadn't asked him the really important question. Her gaze wandered around the room, and came back to her dinner partner only to find him studying her again. She'd caught him staring once or twice during dinner, then looking away fast, and knew she'd been doing the same. //What are you seeing, when you look at me like that? What are you thinking?// Which brought her back to the question that had bugged her throughout their date. //Damn it. I want to know. Besides, I need to know what he was thinking, why the hell he did it. It made absolutely no sense.// She didn't analyze why she needed to know, or why it seemed so important. She just knew that if he gave the wrong answer or wouldn't listen to reason, she was out of here.
"Ray.... tell me something." He went very still, then turned his head to gaze at her with direct, unruffled eyes. It irked her, how calm he was. "Why did you offer to let me go, two years ago?"
"Why didn't you report me when I did?" he shot back.
"I asked you first."
"And I asked you second." Vecchio grinned coolly, and Suzanne simmered, hanging onto her temper.
"I told you at the time. The paperwork would have been a nightmare." Ray shook his head, looking away from her with a disbelieving smile and a roll of his eyes. "Okay. Okay. That wasn't the truth. The truth was, I felt like I owed you."
"You _owed_ me," Vecchio repeated carefully, his attention snapping back to her face. "How did you figure that? Because you didn't tell us what was going on?"
"Yes." Suzanne grimaced. "You didn't know I was ATF. You would have
left it alone if you had known... so that was my fault. And because you didn't report _me_, after you found out, as the hit and run driver. Which you could have."
"I see."
"So. Why did you offer to let me go?"
Ray looked at Agent Chapin thoughtfully, seeing the intensity in her eyes and distrusting it. If he told her the truth, she'd give him an argument or leave again. She might have changed over two years---she was being a lot more honest now than she had been last time---but some instinct kept him from saying "Because I was in love with you." He could see her giving him the same arguments Fraser had at the time; that he'd only had less than an hour's worth of contact with her, that she'd tried to kill him, that she was supposed to be a criminal... all the things she's said then, to deny her feelings and his at the same time.
None of that had mattered. Some things you just knew, on a gut level that went beyond logical reason. He'd been right about her, hadn't he? She hadn't been a crook; hadn't killed him; hadn't turned him in.
Vecchio stared at the federal agent, then felt a grin spread over his face as he told the truth. "For the same reason you didn't report me."
"Excuse me? How does that apply? I didn't report you because I'd put your life at risk and gotten you involved in a case that was out of your jurisdiction. What on earth did you feel you owed *me* for?" Suzanne's jaw was clenched in a mixture of frustration and confusion, her grey eyes showing gathering storm clouds. "I tried to kill you!"
"And you failed miserably, every time. So miserably, it had to be deliberate. The first time was an accident, and then you saved my life; the second time you missed by a mile---and the third time, you wrecked the truck and almost got yourself killed in order to avoid hurting us." Ray shrugged elaborately. "Frankly, you didn't seem like much of a threat to _me_. I figured you had your problems, but I just couldn't turn in someone who saved my life."
"That's not a good enough reason."
"Sure it is."
"You would have let a suspect go, just because she didn't kill you? Are you insane?" Chapin's voice was rising, the usual throaty tone taking on a raw edge.
"Hey, you didn't report a municipal cop for misconduct, just because the guy in question didn't report *you* for a hit and run. Right? Oh, and you were feeling guilty for not sharing interdepartmental information. Seems equivalent to me."
Suzanne opened her mouth, blinked, then shut it, frowning at him darkly, her expression stymied, unsure of whether to believe him or not, and obviously unwilling to dwell on her own actions during the case. "Why _didn't_ you mention the hit and run in your reports, anyway?"
"I figured it hardly mattered, at that point. I thought you were going to report me after your 'you just screwed up five months of work' speech. Anything I said after that would have looked like I was making excuses or trying to cover myself." Vecchio raised his eyebrows and opened his hands in a gesture of defeat, then smiled sweetly at her.
The federal agent visibly gave up on the subject, not getting the answers she wanted. She pushed one hand through her hair as she glowered at him, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "Right. Okay. I guess that's _almost_ logical... It was still extremely stupid, Vecchio. You haven't done anything like that since then, I hope."
Their desserts arrived, and Ray chuckled ironically. "I wouldn't tell you if I had, Chapin."
"Big surprise there."
The spoons were scraping the bottoms of their bowls when he threw his next idea out on the table. //If I'm wrong, she'll call a cab to go back to the hotel. But if I'm right...// "You know, it's still early yet. And I'll bet you haven't seen much of Chicago nightlife this week during the conference."
Suzanne's lips curved upward, warmth coming back into her eyes at the implication. "I've seen some of it... but nothing to write home about."
"Can't have that." Ray shook his head in mock sadness. "When you come to the Windy City, you need to really do the town. Jazz bars. Blues clubs. You up for it?"
"Why not?" She grinned wickedly. "We can't get into any more trouble than last time."
*
It was past nine by the time they made it to the jazz club, just in time for the opening set of the night. The club was too crowded and noisy to do anything other than drink and dance, not that Suzanne minded. She needed the time to sort a few things out.
Like why she was feeling so confused.
She'd been sure that Vecchio would make some declaration of his felings after she'd apologized at the restaurant. Something like the words he'd hit her with last time, right before she left Chicago. //"What do you
think I am, some kind of jerk? Do you think you can just walk away, and not spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you'd had the guts to say it?"// Two years later she finally had a rebuttal to that attack. It was all calm, cool and rational; she'd have been able to point out how little he knew about her, and demand logical explanations for his own behavior. Knowing what he'd say, how he'd respond, she'd mapped out her comebacks to his replies---and then he derailed her completely by not following the plan.
How did he always manage to shake her up? She made a living out of anticipating other people's moves, of thinking her way into someone's brain and then heading them off before they made the winning play. How was it that Ray Vecchio could deep-six her strategies without even trying?
Damn, it was annoying. She'd planned on getting his infatuation out into the open, and counted on his bull-headed insistence to allow her the opportunity to refute all his preconceptions. Suzanne slowly sipped her drink, leaning back against the wall, watching Vecchio out of the corner of her eye. He was still doing it. He wasn't conforming to her expectations; he wasn't pushing her, or trying to get close to her, or showing off for her. He was just enjoying the music, like she was, watching the band and shouting comments on their ability to her when he felt like it.
What the hell was she supposed to make of this?
//Maybe he just doesn't care like he did before, not anymore,// she thought. //Which would be good. We can start from ground zero, and if something's going to happen, it'll be based on reality.// Not that she had time to work on developing a relationship; or even wanted one. But it was a letdown, Suzanne had to admit. The intense cop she'd met two years ago had been intriguing; direct and uncompromising and utterly sure of himself, sure of his feelings and hers. //Reality check: he's had second thoughts. People do. No big deal.// She'd hoped to channel that passion into something more reasonable, less romantic, more controlled and down-to-earth; she hadn't expected it to have completely disappeared, as if the emotion never existed.
Suzanne shrugged and smiled ruefully to herself. //Well, at least we're still having a good time. The evening's not a total waste.// Resolutely she pushed aside her disappointment and tapped her foot to the beat of the music, nodding to Ray in approval when he raised an eyebrow of inquiry.
Ray was improvising, going with the moment, sure of only one thing: the date was not going to end until he'd had a sign from Suzanne. Any indication that she was bored or wanted to be elsewhere would have ended it, but as long as she was enjoying herself, he was going to stay in her company. If he was in her face constantly for as long as she could stand it, then she'd have to give him an opening at some moment of weakness.
Until then, he was getting a lot of fun out of not making any overt moves, despite what it cost him to fake calm toward her. It threw Chapin, he could see it; his date had the faintly dissatisfied look of a woman who'd been promised pate' only to receive generic chopped liver. He wasn't ignoring her---that would have been impossible--- but she had plainly expected him to be more obviously attentive.
He knew what Fraser would have said to this kind of gameplaying; or what comments Angie or Francesca would have made about men and immaturity. //But they don't get it. That wouldn't work with her.// He couldn't explain it, it was just some signal he'd picked up on, that to lay his heart on the table again would have meant losing the chance to get through to her. //Sometimes you can't tell the truth--- you have to *show* how you feel.//
If he kept her out late enough---if they had enough time alone--- maybe, just maybe, she'd get it without him having to say anything again.
"Do you want to leave?"
Suzanne gulped part of her drink and shook her head. "Do you?"
"Kinda. It's getting to be a zoo in here." Vecchio gestured at the wall-to-wall bodies, most of them standing in between tables and against the wall. "Let's go someplace less crazed."
She shrugged, willing to agree to leave as long as the date wasn't over. It was too early to turn in yet, no matter what the clock said.
"Did you have a particular place in mind?" she asked outside the club, walking next to him, not touching him as they ambled down one street and up the next. If it had been anyone else, she might have been already wondering when the date would end, thinking about her flight home; but there was still too much left unsaid between them. She kept waiting for him to say the wrong thing, or the expected thing; the planned-for words, so the date could end either in rejecting him or coming to an understanding,
maybe bank the heat between them. Suzanne looked away from Vecchio, aware that even the guttering streetlamps and neon signs might shed too much light on her expression. Shouts came from a red-lit bar across the street, and she grinned, scenting excitement. Danger. "We could go in there---"
"We could, if it weren't for the fact that they won't let me in the door any more."
"Why not?"
"I got thrown out for bringing too many Mounties with me at once."
She glanced at him, caught the tail end of a grin, and laughed, sparking hilarity from Ray in return. "How is Constable Fraser, anyway? Back in Canada, I assume?"
"No." Vecchio's voice was terse, some of the laughter gone. "The mess with McFadden stirred up some political crap that's keeping him from going back. _That's_ another reason not join the feds, any kind of feds--- you tick off someone in authority, you're branded for life."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well... not your fault. It just sucks. He doesn't deserve it. You should see him pining for the Territories during Christmastime."
Suzanne blinked, trying to imagine a pining Mountie and not quite able to picture it. "You're pretty impassioned in his defense."
"He got a raw deal. He did the right thing and they crucified him! Fraser's one of the best cops I know, if not _the_ best --- aside from me, of course---"
"Of course."
"And half the time he's stuck on visa applications, green card reviews, and guard duty. I ask you, is that justice?"
"No."
"So? There you go." Vecchio grimaced, muttering, "Someone's gotta stick up for him."
The agent looped her arm through his, and leaned against him for a split second. "Well, I'd say he's got a worthy champion in you."
He turned his head, staring her in the face, and their gazes held for a split second; then he smiled, shrugging lightly, letting some of his ferocity abate. "You have to back your friends, you know?" Vecchio squinted down the street, then grinned. "Awright, it doesn't look too crowded--we might be able to get a table---"
"Is this a diner?" she asked curiously.
"Not even close."
"Will you just shoot already?"
Ray didn't look up from his shot, his fingers carefully clasped around the cue stick as he aimed for the seven. "Shut up, Chapin."
"You take too long."
"Quit whining. You'll get your turn.... someday." He hit the seven, sending it spinning off the cushions, only to barely miss the side pocket by bouncing off one of the bumpers. "Damn."
"Ha!"
"Yeah, yeah..."
"Get out of the way, Vecchio."
"Push-y!" The cop backed away from the table, admiring the way Suzanne's skirt hiked up as she bent over the table, measuring the angles with her stick. "Well, are you gonna take all day, or what?"
"Be quiet. I'm concentrating. And while I'm at it, you can get me another beer."
"Bossy, too. God, I love bitchy women."
"I am *not* a bitch," she retorted without looking up from the table, absorbed in the game. They were on their third, the one that was supposed to be the tiebreaker. Ray had a feeling that if Suzanne lost she'd insist on three out of five, which was fine with him, since he planned on doing that if he lost, too. "It's not bitchy to want your turn after someone's taken too long for theirs."
"It's okay, on you it works."
"Vecchio---"
He was already headed for the bar, laughing quietly to himself. The jukebox was playing a mix of standards and recent hits, the dancefloor crowded with mixed of couples and singles, some of them cops, some of them musicians and blue-collar workers. The tables were surrounded by the serious pool players. //I'm brilliant,// Ray congratulated himself. //This is better than another jazz club.// Smoky and informal, Miguel's Grill gave them a lot more time together without putting any pressure on either of them to talk. As he approached the table, he realized that he and Suzanne had acquired an audience of one; and a very irritating one, at that.
"Hey, Vecchio, how's it going?" Detective Jack Newman--aka "Jack Newbie"--- smiled at the other homicide detective and then automatically transferred his gaze to Vecchio's date as Ray returned to the pool game. "Who's your friend?"
"Special Agent Chapin, may I introduce Newbie. Newbie, this is FBI Agent Chapin." Ray smirked at the younger cop, anticipating Jack's next move and looking forward to the outcome. Newbie thought he was God's gift to women; but many of the women in question seemed to think he could use a crash course in twentieth century reality. //She's outta your league, Newbie...//
"Pleased to meet you," Suzanne said absently, and sank the twelve.
"Hey, FBI. That's cool. I heard they were hiring more women."
It was all Vecchio could do not to chortle. Chapin's eyes narrowed, and she softly replied, "Yes. They had to replace some of the testosterone-poisoned men who were screwing up. Please take your glass off the table, I don't want to hit it when I make this shot."
"Oh. Sure. No problem." Newbie smiled nervously and took his highball off the rim of the pool table. "So, Ray, did the State's Attorney tell you what they come up with on the witness in the Myerson shooting?"
"Do I want to know?"
"Probably not."
"Tell me anyway."
"Vecchio?" Suzanne was frowning at the table and sipping her beer.
"Gimme a sec, Chapin, I gotta find out about this. What did Louise say?"
"St. Laurent said the guy has a perjury record in Minnesota, and they need more evidence before they can go to trial."
"Oh, maaaannn... Hey. Wait a minute." Vecchio stared at the table, and the FBI agent calmly aiming her cuestick. "You missed that shot."
"Yes, I did." Suzanne smiled politely, then proceeded to make another attempt to hit the ten into the corner pocket.
"So why are you going again? Chapin!"
"You snooze, you lose, Vecchio."
"Awright, that's it, Fed, you're toast."
"Not until it's your turn again. Which..." Suzanne sank the ten ball, "it's not going to be any time soon."
"That's cheating!"
"Can I help it if you're not taking this as seriously as I am?"
"I'm taking two turns right now. Get away from the table."
"Fine. It won't help. I'm still going to win."
"Then we'll play another game, one where no one cheats!"
Chapin shrugged lazily, leaning against the wall with a contented expression. "If you insist. I'd never have believed you were such a sore loser, Vecchio."
Ray glared at her and opened his mouth for a comeback just as Detective Jack Huey ambled over. "Vecchio. Getting your butt kicked by the Feds?"
"No, I am not getting my butt kicked."
"Yes, he is."
"Shut up, Newbie!"
"Special Agent Chapin, how nice to see you again."
"Kind of you to say so, Detective."
"Especially since you're giving Vecchio a lesson in humility. The man thinks he's Fast Eddie Felsen."
"When did you jerks decide to become the peanut gallery?" Ray glared at his colleagues, irked that his date was turning into a public event. A little schmoozing was one thing, but this was getting stupid. "And what would you know about humility, Huey? You win a lousy twenty off Newbie and you act like that makes you a contender."
"You want to settle this right now? I got another twenty that says I can make you eat felt," Huey offered, grinning widely.
"No, I do not---" Vecchio responded through gritted teeth, only to be interrupted by his date.
"We'd love to."
"What!?"
"Except that Detective Vecchio and I insist that you and Detective Newbie---"
"Newman. Uhh, that's Newman."
"Newman. That you and Detective Newman make it fifty. We don't play for small change." Suzanne chalked her stick and put another quarter in the table while Ray gaped at her.
"Huh-ohhh... you and Ray versus me and Newbie?"
"Chapin, what are you doing?" Ray whispered furiously to the agent.
"C'mon, Vecchio, we can take these guys---"
"Well, yeah, but that's not the point...."
"You don't want to make fifty bucks?"
"I never said that."
"So what's it gonna be, Vecchio? Do we play, or are you backing out?" Huey was setting up the balls as his partner selected a cue stick. "Maybe you don't want to risk this much money---"
"Chapin and I can take you and Newbie without breaking a sweat, Jack. But not at eight-ball."
"No?"
"No. Nine-ball."
"You're feeling generous tonight Vecchio, I can tell. Or maybe just stupid." Newbie smirked triumphantly at Suzanne and Ray, and Vecchio glared back at him. Only Suzanne's steadying hand on his arm kept him from retorting to Newbie.
"Calm down. We're going to kick their assets."
It was sweet. Very, very sweet. She had to restrain herself from gloating too soon, or letting any expression except for mild interest show on her face; but she and Vecchio handily wiped the floor with his colleagues. The whole point of nine-ball wasn't who sunk the most balls, but to be the player to sink the winning one, the nine. Sometimes you had to know when to let a shot go, to deliberately fumble it, in order to avoid a set-up that would be beneficial to your opponent. Huey and Newbie argued over every shot, growing more and more annoyed as the team of Vecchio and Chapin progressed around the table. They barely had to consult each other on the strategy; a nod, a glance at the table, a tilt of the head, and the
next shot would be completed.
When Ray finally sank the nine, Huey rolled his eyes and got out his wallet. "Luck. Pure luck. Nine-ball is a sucker's game."
"You shoulda said so earlier, Huey. Want a rematch?"
"No," the other detective said succintly, laying his money on the table.
"Yes we do!"
"Shut up, Newbie. Agent Chapin, it's been a pleasure." Huey took his drink and walked off, shaking his head in defeat.
"Next time, Vecchio---"
"Yeah, I'm scared, Newbie. Twenty-five dollars, right here, right now, pal."
"Fine. Great. Whatever." The younger man counted out his part of the cash and then virtuously said, "Winning isn't everything, Vecchio. I'm still a better player than you are. Next time I'll prove it."
"Uh-hunh," Ray nodded, putting the cash in his pocket. "I'll remember that, Jack. Now would you mind beating it already?"
"I'm gone. See you around, Agent Chapin."
"Good-bye, Newbie."
"Newman."
"Right."
Ray waited until the other detective was out of earshot before muttering,"Right! Winning isn't everything---"
"---it's the only thing," Suzanne finished with him. He laughed, leaning against the pool table and grinning at her, and she felt herself sparkling back at him in amusement and victory.
Then the moment changed, became something else.... The sounds of the bar around them receded as she remained caught in his eyes, the laughter falling away, leaving behind the connection between the two of them, the feeling of comradeship and understanding. Suzanne wrenched her eyes away, disoriented. //What the heck was that?// She'd had the sudden overwhelming impulse to walk over and kiss him. She never had unexpected impulses like that, she always knew where she was and what she was feeling---attraction was one thing, but this was getting out of hand....
"Want to dance?" The tension was mostly gone, Vecchio's voice casual and undemanding. She was probably imagining the keeness she saw in the green eyes studying her.
"Sure. Why not?"
She wasn't imagining how warm his hands were; or the way her pulse jumped when he put his arms around her. Memories flooded her as they moved together on the dance floor.
//Two kisses, two years ago, do not equal love...//
"What are you doing?"
"What do you think I'm doing?" Ray grinned to himself over Agent Chapin's shoulder, tightening his arms around her as they moved to the music. Oh, and very lightly breathing in her ear. Possibly stroking her back. Nothing really objectionable; but it wasn't like she could just ignore it, either.
"I haven't made up my mind yet," Chpain replied languorously, her head dropping onto his shoulder. She was almost as tall as he was.
"I'm trying to seduce you," he whispered.
"That's what I thought," she murmured.
"Is that a problem?"
"No."
"Good."
"Which doesn't mean you'll succeed..."
"You want me to stop trying?"
"I never said that..."
//Everyone needs a little time away
I heard her say
From each other
Even lovers need a holiday
Far away
From each other//
Suzanne lazily glanced at her watch for the first time that evening. 1:45. God. They would have to leave soon, the bar wouldn't be open much longer... They'd already been in each other's company for six hours straight, why should leaving bother her? Why *didn't* the fact that she didn't _want_ to bother her? Why was she still here with him? Maybe because she felt safe and calm in his arms, like there was nowhere on Earth she had to be for the next millenia. Or it could have been just the awareness of his body next to hers.
It didn't matter. She'd recalculate the odds, plan her next move... after this song was over.
//Hold me now
It's hard for me to say I'm sorry
I just want you to know
After all that we've been through
I will make it up to you
I promise to//
There had to be some other way to stretch out the rest of the evening. Suzanne was melting, softening, Ray knew it; just a little more time, and she wouldn't run if he told the truth. Called what he felt for her by its right name. He'd think of something, some other place for them talk, straighten things out... in a second. After the end of the song.
//And after all that's been said and done
You're just the part of me I can't let go....//
"It doesn't feel that late." They were in the cab, heading toward the hotel. Suzanne watched the cars flash by the window, unable to look at Vecchio, her emotions churning. They'd moved apart after that last dance, neither of them able to say anything significant as they left the Grill. //I'll ask him when we get to the hotel. I'll put it on the line, remind
him of what he said two years ago---and demand to know what he's feeling now.// It lacked finesse, but it was the only option she had left. //This matters. Damnit. It matters to me.// She glanced at Ray, then away again. Sometime in between two years ago and this night, he'd gotten a hold on her heart; for a lot of reasons, many of them logical, some of them instinctual. His loyalty, persistence, and sense of humor all appealed to her. That he never let her get away with her ploys and cheating amused her and made her respect him. And then there was the intensity that would mesmerize her, completely out of the blue....
What she didn't know was what Vecchio was feeling. Or why; whether he was reacting to the same heat she felt, and that alone, spiced with some romantic fantasies... or whether he saw the real her.
"Two thirty... almost time for breakfast."
"What?"
"I'm starved." Vecchio cocked his head, his eyebrows raised consideringly. "Think you could go for some bacon and eggs?"
Agent Chapin opted for waffles while he got the special, and they fell into an easy chat about their lives outside of work. The federal agent lived alone in a house on the Chesapeake, with a golden retriever she described as "bird-brained but brave, capable of leaping large shrubberies in a single bound". She'd grown up in Conneticutt, the youngest of three sisters; gone to Georgetown University; married and gotten divorced even younger than he had.
"Robert was one of my professors. I think he was looking for an adoring acolyte more than a wife. By the time I was doing my graduate thesis it was over." She put down her fork and knife, examining him with questioning grey eyes. "Why did you get divorced?"
"Ah, you know how it is. Job stress. Long hours." He shrugged negligently, then stared down into his coffee. "Angie and I were both stubborn, and I couldn't give her enough, sometimes. The job took more than we could afford--- We met in the Academy, and with both of us being cops I was sure we could beat the statistics..." Ray sipped his coffee, then put it down and smiled sadly. "So you haven't gotten close to getting married again."
"I was close a couple times. Last year, actually."
"What happened?"
"He moved out after three months, claiming I wasn't nurturing enough." Suzanne rolled her eyes for emphasis, her tone ironic.
"Guess you never saved his life, hunh?"
Her mouth twitched, warmth reaching her eyes. "I didn't have the opportunity. Gilbert was an investment banker, he didn't get into many dangerous situations."
"Gilbert? Jeeeez. Gilbert," Ray repeated. "You should've known by the guy's name alone...."
"What about you? Any other close calls?"
"One." He fell silent a second, remembering Irene, bleeding in his arms. "She died."
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
Ray nodded, then took another sip of his coffee. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. He couldn't really delay much longer. Four a.m. was long enough for any date. "Ready to go?"
"Thanks for a great evening."
"I'll walk you to your door."
"You don't have to do that," Suzanne said dryly. "It's the Regent's Park Hotel, not some cheapo place on the southside---"
"I'll walk you to your door," Vecchio repeated, his gaze opaque. Impossible to read.
"Okay," she sighed. "Thank you."
They were silent for twelve floors, and then Vecchio broke the silence.
"So when were you going to admit it?"
Her pulse started to race. "Admit what?"
"Enough's enough, Chapin." He was staring at her again, the paralyzing stare; the one she couldn't lie to. "When were you going to admit you fell for me two years ago? That that's why you called when you were in town?"
"Did it ever occur to you that I might just have wanted to apologize and explain my behavior?"
"No."
"God, you're arrogant."
"I'm not arrogant. I just knew better."
"How could you know?"
"You could have ended this date at midnight. Or at two. Or even right after dinner, but you didn't. Women do not let dates go on this late unless they're interested in more than delivering an apology. It was a sign."
Suzanne glared at the elevator floor numbers, trying to think of a really good put-down. "Okay. I admit to having a great time, and maybe wanting to see you again." He was grinning. She scowled at him. "But that doesn't mean that I *fell* for you. I like you, and respect you as a fellow police officer. Anything more... It's just... sex. Heat. Lust." She smiled coolly, taking the impact out of her statement by projecting matter-of-fact calm.
Her coolness didn't make a dent in Vecchio's assurance. "I dare you to take me to bed, and then tell me it was just sex."
"I'm not going to bed with you because of some childish dare."
"No?"
"No. If I go to bed with you, it's because I want to. Because I want you, not because I'm in love with you, or just to prove that I'm not."
"You didn't write me up two years ago because you had the hots for me?"
"I told you why I did that at dinner."
"I didn't believe you."
"You should have."
"I don't believe you now."
"You're too full of yourself to hear a thing I'm saying, aren't you?"
"I know what I know."
"Which is?"
"You fell for me." Clutch time. Suzanne Chapin didn't panic in the tough spots, didn't back down, wouldn't give an inch. But she couldn't lie to him, not believably, and she hated being called on it. //Time to take this as far as I can...//
"No one falls for someone that fast. It's fantasy, it isn't real---"
"I fell for you that fast." He stared at her, leaning one-handed against the back of the elevator, in her face, no artifice. //That's right, honey. Deal with it.//
Suzanne's breath was quickening, shock darkening her eyes. She swallowed hard, keeping her voice clear and even. "You fell for my looks and the damsel-in-distress you thought I was."
"Nope."
"Bullshit. You did. You didn't know a damn thing about me, and you were willing to let me go because you thought I was some poor innocent who was in over my head. Well, guess what? I never needed your help. I do just fine without you, you know that by now." He could see her rising anger and disappointment; and if that was what she really believed about him, he couldn't blame her for either emotion.
"I knew it then."
"You couldn't."
"Please! You took out two cops, decoyed me and Fraser away from the stakeout, you whacked me on the side of the head after a kiss that knocked me out---lady, you never struck me as the helpless type." He took a step closer. "If I wanted some dying flower, I wouldn't be here with you."
Suzanne tilted her head back and glared at him, her lips firming into a taut line. "Okay. So what? That still doesn't mean you knew me. Anything you felt was make-believe. Pure romance. Nothing else."
"Something else." Vecchio's arms tightened around her, and one palm came up to cradle her face. "I would have bet my soul on you---and I was right." She didn't fight him, just stared entranced as his lips came down on hers; and it was like he remembered, no, better than he remembered.... Fire meeting fire, hunger flaring out of control as her arms went around his neck, body crushing against his...
The elevator door chime sounded for her floor. She didn't care. There was no way she was breaking this kiss, not when she'd been thinking about it all week. Slowly, luxuriously, it melted away, leaving her breathless, staring into Vecchio's equally stricken face. "Say it," he whispered.
"No..."
"Say it."
"Why? Why do I have to say it?"
"Because I said it already. And I wanna hear it from your mouth."
"I didn't fall for you two years ago."
"Suzanne---"
"But I think I've fallen for you now."
*
The obnoxious ringing of the telephone awakened Suzanne out of a dreamless sleep, forcing her to fumble at the bedside table for the receiver. "This. Is Your. Eleven A-M. Wake-Up Call!" stated an electronic voice when she held it to her ear. "Wonderful," she muttered, setting the phone back in place with an effort. She lay there a moment, just enjoying the comfort and warmth of the bed, then sat up grudgingly, folding the pillow behind her back and pulling up the sheets to her torso for warmth.
"When's your plane?" Ray asked softly, without opening his eyes.
The federal agent gazed at the man lying next to her with sadness. She hadn't thought about the flight she was taking to D.C. when they came back to her room. Dawn came and went, and she still hadn't let herself remember it; had only been thinking of him, his body, his kisses and skill, and the unexpected tenderness he was capable of showing. The searing desire and hungry caresses Ray had lavished on her were only surpassed by the unceasing consideration that went with it. They had made love for hours, maybe, in spite of how late it was, and despite the fact that even as they ripped each other's clothes off they were still arguing in between kisses.
"One-thirty," Suzanne answered him, clearing her throat. "I should be there before one if I want to make it in time...." His fingers threaded through hers, and she let her voice trail off as her grasp tightened on his hand. Vecchio's eyes were still closed, his body tense but unmoving beneath the sheets.
After several long, silent minutes, Ray asked, "What are we going
to do about this?"
Chapin closed her eyes. "What can we do? You're here. I'm there." She blinked slowly, and sighed. "Phone calls. Vacation time. E-mail. Letters...."
"I want more."
"Well, so do I. Any suggestions?"
Vecchio opened his eyes finally, shaking his head. He stared at their entwined fingers and muttered, "Long distance relationships suck."
"Definitely."
"You could transfer to Chicago."
"Maybe," Suzanne admitted. "All my work, my friends, though... they're all in Washington. If I want to move up, D.C. is where the action is." Vecchio nodded, and shifted closer to her. "You could move there, they can always use more good cops---"
"My family's here. All my friends, my contacts, my life...."
"I know. I know that." It hadn't really been a question. But she was still disappointed when he reminded her of what she already knew.
Ray sat up slowly and stretched, his face sober but not angry. "Get the feeling we're going to have this conversation a lot?"
Unwillingly, the corner of Suzanne's mouth quirked, and she brought his fingers to her lips. "I hope so. At least until we find an answer we both like."
Ray shrugged, then started to grin as his eyes roamed from her face downward. "So. One-thirty."
"Uh-hunh," Suzanne drawled.
"That gives us about, oh, say... an hour?"
"Try half an hour."
"We wouldn't want to rush...." Vecchio peeled the sheet away from her and leaned in to kiss the hollow of her throat lingeringly.
"I suppose it's negotiable," Suzanne purred, her eyes drifting shut as she slowly stroked her fingers down his back....
Dry-eyed, Ray waited at the gate, watching Chapin get her seating assignment. //What did you think, that she'd stay after one night? I don't see _you_ getting on that plane with her.// Which didn't make it any easier to watch her leave, not when he wanted to be able to see her tomorrow and every day after that. Not when they were living separate lives, in separate cities, neither of them able to give up those identities for the sake of the other.
//Not yet, anyway.// Vecchio pasted on a smile, determined not to ask again. For all he knew, he'd be the one to leave Chicago for her sake. It was too soon to tell, even though he couldn't see it happening. Suzanne smiled back at him, then walked over to where he leaned against a row of plastic seats, her eyes getting more wistful by the second.
"All set?" he asked lightly, taking her hand in his, studying her face.
"Yup." She wasn't looking at him. She was just gazing out the window at the runway, biting her lip, her hair falling across her face.
"Memorial Day is only a little over a month away." Suzanne nodded, still staring out at the plane. "I could put in for some extra vacation time I have coming to me. Maybe... go to Miami. Myrtle Beach. The Chesapeake, possibly...."
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Chapin."
"What?"
"Look at me, damnit."
She laughed under her breath, shakily, then finally faced him, her eyes full of pain. "We might be kidding ourselves, you know. This can't work out, we're over a thousand miles apart---"
"Are you giving up this early?"
"No."
"Did you mean what you said last night?"
"Yes," Suzanne said sardonically, then her face softened. "I meant it. I love you, Ray Vecchio."
"Allright, then." He forced himself to grin. "There's no problem." She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "'No problem'.... Vecchio, how can you be so such a pain in the---"
He kissed her, stopping the exasperated rant from continuing. All thought stopped about two seconds into the kiss, both of them caught up again in the electricity between them; and it might not have ended any time soon, if the boarding announcement for Suzanne's flight hadn't blared over the loudspeakers a minute or two later. Suzanne pulled back, her face full of regret and pain as she leaned against Ray.
"Damnit." Vecchio restrained himself from adding a string of curses onto the single obscenity, one arm tightening around her. Their eyes met, grey to green, and he whispered, "Stay."
"You know I can't," she breathed.
"I know." He shrugged, his voice roughening as he felt his eyes burn. "Couldn't help myself, though..."
"Wish I could." Suzanne's voice was as strained as his.
"Yeah." Ray gazed at her for a long second, memorizing her face.
"Come with me?" she suggested, staring steadily at him.
"Can't. Wish I could..."
"Think about it," she ordered, her jaw hardening.
"As long as you keep Chicago in mind."
"Like I could forget."
The loudspeaker broke into their conversation again. "Last call
for flight 1413, non-stop to Washington D.C., going on to Paris...."
"I better get in line..." Suzanne didn't move, her eyes locked on Vecchio's face.
One last kiss, long and deep, Ray being the one to break it this time; then he tapped her on the chin with a closed fist, whispering, "Get on the plane, Suzanne."
Eyes shimmering with regret, and maybe tears, she nodded, swallowing hard, then picked up her carry-on bag and walked over to the line. Ray buried his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes fixed on her as she slowly advanced toward the door. As the stewardess looked at her ticket, her head turned questioningly to him. 'I love you', he mouthed silently, and she smiled, blew him a kiss, then straightened and took her ticket, walking through the gate without looking back.
Ray waited at the gate until the plane took off safely, then slowly walked back up the concourse. Mentally calculating the days until his next vacation, the cost of a ticket to D.C., and the time it would take Chapin's plane to land in Washington, so he could call her as soon as she got home; feeling old, and cold, and as if part of his soul were gone.
By the time he got out of the airport, he'd pushed the depression away from him, and when he slipped on his shades it was only to block the glare of afternoon sunshine. After all, it wasn't like things wouldn't work out. He knew it; the same way he'd known about her. Some things just *were*, like gravity and time and Suzanne Chapin.
*
Comments, curses, chocolate, psychiatric recommendations go to Christina at vqrw76a@prodigy.com. All welcomed with various degrees of enthusiasm!