This was inspired by my own little bout with the
green cough syrupy-cold remedy known as NyQuil and the evening I spent
getting very friendly with the tile on my kitchen floor. Takes place
sometimes after Mountie Sings The Blues but before Call of the Wild.
Hope you enjoy! :) :)
Standard disclaimer applies.
________________________________________________________________________

Just The NyQuil Talking?


by Adia

Francesca Vecchio found herself feeling as though she might be sick. No,
not by the thought of that Bounty Hunter woman alone in the same room as
her Frase, but actually sick. Cold sick.
Gonna-sneeze-any-minute-so-duck-and-cover! Watch yourself,
I-just-might-explode-from-all-the-pressure-in-my-head kind of sick.
Lately her voice had taken on an annoying nasal whine that Kowalski was
eating up. Everything she said caused a riot of laughter to come
bursting from him. Then, of course, her eyes would narrow and she'd
stomp away in her three inch heels.
She was bending over the water fountain. Kowalski was perched upon her
desk staring. Watching as her skirt rode up a good two inches everytime
she leaned in for another sip. She turned toward him heading back to
work rubbing her neck. A throat so sore it hurt to swallow. Even to
breath. Kowalski grinned at her, slightly evil. As she passed him she
managed enough strength to waste it muttering, "Perv." And then shot him
a disgusted look.
"Geez Frannie. What was that for?" He slid off her desk and chased after
her with a bottle of thick green liquid.
When he finally caught up to her she shook her head. Stan smiled, "Yeah,
I know. Go away Ray. But really Frannie, I hate ta see ya like this." He
was moving quickly to keep up with her.
Her voice scratchy and full of misery, "Sure ya do." Barely a whisper.
"Well, okay so maybe I do like it just a little." He admitted, a
satisfied grin spreading across his face.
She rolled her eyes and started walking faster to hopefully avoid him,
but did not succeed, "Here Frannie. Just try this. It works, it really
does." He offered her a capful.
She cocked an eyebrow untrustingly at him and asked in a hoarse tired
voice, "What is it?"
"Thought ya might ask that." Stan gave her a wink, "It's the sniffly,
sneezy, stuffy, achy, so you can fall asleep on yer kitchen floor
medicine... try some."
Francesca eyed him carefully. Inspecting him, he appeared to be telling
the truth. She whispered, "Awww, what the hell?" Then grabbed the cap
from him and downed it.
Deifenbaker came tearing by them and rushing straight for Welsh's
office. Fraser soon followed behind. His red serge pressed and perfect,
"Good morning Ray." He nodded then turned to face Frannie, "Francesca."
She croaked out, "Hi Frase." Then proceeded to plant herself only
centimeters apart from Fraser. Her eyes were glazed over and glassy.
Probably from miles away Fraser could smell the alcohol on her breath,
"Francesca, have you been drinking?"
Frannie launched into a full-fledged, uncontrollable, giggle fit,
"Course not, Mountie-boy!"
Fraser looked confused. As Frannie lost her balance Fraser reached out
to grab her only to have her stumble backwards and into the wall.
"Is she all right?" Fraser asked Stan who was chuckling at the sight.
He brushed it off, "Oh yeah Fraser. She's fine. She's been kinda sick
lately so I gave her some NyQuil."
The Mountie grabbed the bottle from Stan, "NyQuil? Ray, this product
contains nearly 90 percent alcohol."
Stan shrugged, "Oops."
Fraser rubbed the bridge of his nose. Neither of them had noticed
Francesca missing.
"You gave her NyQuil, Ray? How is that going to help her?"
Stan found himself a bit amused, "Stop worryin'. She'll be fine
Fraser... soon as she sleeps it off."
"Yes Ray, well, that's all good and well, but what are we going to do
now?" Fraser actually seemed running low on patients today. Almost as
much as he had when they were trapped on that sinking death-trap of a
ship.
Kowalski stood with his hands in his pockets. Fraser set the bottle down
and was alerted by Deif's quiet bark, "What's wrong now? Don't tell me
you're still upset about this morning?"
"Fraser don't talk to the dog. It's embarrassing." Stan followed Fraser
into the squad room while Fraser went about ignoring him.
Standing atop a desk in the middle of the crowded room Francesca peeled
off her top. She hooked her finger around the neck of the blouse and set
it flying. Fraser wouldn't have even noticed anything out of the
ordinary if it hadn't been her shirt that found it's home planted on his
face. Everyone in the room wore the same expression Kowalski did. Their
jaws dropped to their toes. Except for Welsh who was frozen with his
palms over his eyes and yelling, "Somebody get her outta here!"
Kowalski took his leather jacket off and wrapped it across Frannie
scooping her up and off the desktop. Huey and Dewey exchanged a look
then went back to work. With Fraser's fingertips he removed the blouse
from his head and delicately folded it following Kowalski down the hall.
"I'm gonna drive her home." Stan announced to Welsh who reluctantly
opened his eyes. Fraser tucked the blouse into Frannie's bag and carried
it out with a giggling Frannie to the GTO.
"Constable," Inspector Thatcher met him at the car, "We need your
assistance at the Consulate immediately. Turnbull has managed to blow
the stove up and burn most of the hair off of his scalp."
"Oh dear." Fraser licked his bottom lip nervously.
Thatcher demanded an answer, "Constable!?"
"Yes sir. Sorry Ray." Trying his best to apologize, "Maybe another
time." He turned on his heels with a quick nod and marched after
Thatcher.
Kowalski finished loading Francesca into the front seat of the car. When
they finally reached her house he turned off the engine and was about to
get out when she latched onto his arm, "Thank you Ray."
"Welcome Frannie." He shrugged coolly, "No problem."
"No I mean really thank you Ray. Not just for taking me home but for
everything." Francesca took his hand in hers.
He met her eyes, confused by what he saw in them, "You're welcome
Frannie." He whispered quietly. His voice full of warmth and a pinch of
mild fear. Afraid of letting his guard down, of getting close to someone
again. Of being hurt again.
She lifted his hand and pressed the back of it against her soft cheek,
"I love you, Ray."
Kowalski froze. He couldn't move. Couldn't breath. Was his heart even
still beating? His hands were trembling slightly. Only a reflection of
the shaking he felt inside. He couldn't bring himself to control
anything. Was this finally it? The moment he'd been waiting for since
he'd met her at the undercover briefing. Or was it just the NyQuil
talking?
Hoping it wasn't he took the chance quickly. Unsure of how to phrase it,
"I love ya too." Sputtering it out as if it were just the polite thing
to say. Not coming out right at all. For a moment Frannie looked broken
hearted. She slowly placed his hand back down and let out a sigh of
discontent.
"What's wrong?" Kowalski asked concerned at her radical mood change.
Francesca grabbed her bag and let herself out of the car. Still wrapped
safely in Kowalski's jacket prepared to return it at his asking. That is
as soon as she could change back into her shirt. After she turned her
back to him he slammed his head against the steering wheel. He bolted
out of the car and caught up with her. Placing his hand upon her
shoulder he turned her to face him, "Frannie?"
Tears had been streaming down her cheeks and she didn't have the
strength to stop them, "It's nothing okay? Nothing! My mistake." She
angrily began to walk further up her driveway.
Kowalski felt his heart leap from his chest. So she was telling the
truth. It wasn't just the NyQuil talking. He stopped her before she
reached for the door by pulling her into his arms before she could
refuse. He leaned his head on her shoulder and wrapped himself around
her. Surrounding her.
She gave in and leaned against him. Closing her eyes, hearing his voice
whisper, "I really do love you, Frannie."
Suddenly something very cold was pressing against her back. Her eyes
fluttered open. Where'd the leather jacket go and why was she lying on
the kitchen floor in an oversized T-shirt? Then she remembered
everything. Glancing down at the shirt and seeing the stitching on the
pocket. RCMP. It was just a dream. It had been months since she's even
seen Kowalski.
"Honey! Are you okay?" Around the corner came a red suited Mountie to
pick her up off the floor. He's always been there to pick her up when
she was down. Turnbull.
When he was helping her back to bed she spotted the open bottle on the
kitchen counter. Green NyQuil. A NyQuil nightmare. The sniffly, sneezy,
stuffy, achy, so you can fall asleep on your kitchen floor medicine.

The End
(~MDK~)
October 1998