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Undercover
The detective takes another deep breath before actually opening the door and stepping into the warm, dimly lit atrium. He immediately notices the understated decor and decides that whoever decorated did so with an eye toward easing visitors. It doesn't work for him. It's too manipulative. It sets him on edge instead. He isn't here to be manipulated, he's here to be fixed. An attractive Asian woman sits at a single desk inside a three quarter cubicle a few steps from the entrance. She's deep in a telephone conversation and waves him toward the waiting area. Only one door leads further into the building and Ray glances at it before taking one of the two leather seats. The woman on the phone keeps her voice low and her sleek black hair hangs like a curtain, covering the side of her face. Even if he were a lip reader, he wouldn't be able to eavesdrop. Oddly comforted by her natural secrecy, he fidgets in his chair for a moment before snagging the latest issue of Newsweek from the small table. He knows when he picks it up that he won't read a word. Even if he did have his glasses with him. He flips through it anyway to keep from bolting back the way he came. The receptionist's voice begins to rise and he realizes her conversation is finished. Before she replaces the receiver in the cradle, he is at her side. "I'm Detective Vecchio. I'm here for my appointment with Dr. Alston. Eleven O'Clock on the nose." "Yes sir, Detective Vecchio." She hands him a clipboard and points to the only door other than the entrance. "If you'll take these papers and step through that door, you'll see room number seven. Make yourself comfortable and please confirm the information on the forms." She gives him a warm, reassuring smile before standing to walk with him. "Would you like something to drink, Detective?" "Um... no thanks, I'll just go in there and wait. Thanks." She walks away and he mutters so only he can hear. "Jeeze, the Mountie is further under my skin than I thought. Next I'll be saying 'Thank You Kindly' and being the last one through the door." Ray darts into the room marked seven and is immediately thankful he hasn't seen another soul since leaving his car a block away. The set-up is tailor made to protect privacy and he thinks he has made the right decision. If he doesn't do something about the problem soon, he knows he will do something stupid. He doesn't want to live with the consequences of a momentary lapse of sanity, so is braving a visit to the doctor. He glances, then squints at the forms and scribbles out Detective Vecchio's address and replaces it with his own PO box. The file was transferred from the shrink the real Ray Vecchio was forced to see after a shooting and Ray Kowalski is thankful there is no photo attached. He is prepared to bolt at the first sign of discovery. So far, so good. The doctor steps into the cozy room and Ray is on his feet and confronting him immediately. "This is totally between us, right?" His eyes involuntarily narrow and his shoulders hunch while he waits for an answer. He stares the doctor down with his best 'shake, bad guys, shake' look, knowing it's the wrong thing as he's doing it, but still unable to stop. Predictably, the doctor answers him in a low, soothing voice and places a hand in the small of his back to guide him to one of the two overstuffed chairs. Ray allows himself to be led and takes a seat on the edge of the leather chair. He thrums his fingers on the brass rivets, tapping out an impromptu rhythm while the doctor reads "his" file. He stops himself from pacing only when he is already more than half out of the chair. Very cool Kowalski, some undercover you make. Why don't you just walk around with a flashing neon sign that says "nervous" over your head. An image of him as a cartoon character with a dialogue bubble floating above his head flashes through his mind and he prays the doctor finishes reading soon. Weren't you supposed to do that before you came into the room? We only got a 35 minute hour, here. The doctor drops the file onto the low table separating the two chairs and leans forward on his elbows to look Ray directly in the eye. "I'm Dr. Alston and, as you know, there are a few instances where I would have to report you to the department. But unless you're a danger to yourself or others, or breaking the law, this is strictly confidential. We must have a relationship based on trust if we are to work through whatever difficulties you've come to discuss." This time Ray does get up. He looks out the window and across the manicured lawn and garden of the property to the quiet street beyond. How much does the department pay these guys? He turns around before speaking again. "Good, greatness. Just checking, cause you know," he waves his hand through the air, "this is a sorta sensitive... ah... issue." "And what is the issue?" He knows what he needs to say, what he came here to say, just not how to say it. He's never told anyone about his problem before. He wonders if this will be like that time he told his best friend about his crush on the Gold Coast girl - a fact he had kept quiet for months, then once told, he ran his mouth to anyone who showed signs of listening. A big breath and he dives right in, "See Doc, I got this problem." This better not be one of those flood-gate things, he tells himself and can't continue. He goes back to his seat and balances on the edge of the chair, leaning on his hands. The doctor leans forward to meet his eye, attempting reassurance and failing. "Since you're here, I assumed that to be the case. Would you care to elaborate?" "I got this pattern I want to break. It's unhealthy. Unhinged, even." "A pattern?" "Definitely a pattern. This is the third time it's happened." "Detective, if we're talking about a long period of time, three instances doesn't usually constitute a pattern." He slumps back and runs his hands through his hair. "This... this is so big that three definitely makes a pattern." "Maybe you'd like to tell me what "this" is and we'll see if I can help you. That's why you came, isn't it, Detective Vecchio? For help?" The doctor puts down his pad and pen, again leaning forward to meet his patient half-way. "OK. I have an addiction." At the immediate look of sympathy and concern on the doctor's face - a department shrink would immediately assume... He waves a hand in the air, dismissing the mistaken notion as soon as he recognizes it. "No, no. Not drugs or anything like that." The doctor suddenly looks more interested, he perks up before asking, "What is it?" Ray's up and pacing again, not stopping to admire the view. "I um... I um... I um... IFallForMyPartners." The barest heartbeat and the shrink has the answer. That's his job. "That's fairly normal for someone in your line of work, detective. Partners spend a lot of time together in stressful situations and tend to become emotionally dependent on one another. It happens more than you think." He stops his pacing, across the room from where he started. "No, no, not like that. You don't get it. I really fall for them. Head over heels, wanna spend the rest of my life with them type of thing." He makes his way back to his chair and collapses into it, staring at the doctor, waiting. Before the doctor can respond, he's talking again, his eyes and voice both lowered. "The Stella says I'm a skinny puppy who'll follow home anyone who pets me." "And who is The Stella?" "My ex-wife. Or her nickname anyway." "So, you've discussed this with her?" He's off and running again, long strides that eat up the room in a few paces. He doesn't stop to speak. "Are you crazy? Jeeze! I may be damaged, but I am NOT suicidal." He finally stills, looming over his doctor. "Ray, have a seat. I'm sorry, for a moment you sounded like you've discussed this with her." He's back in his chair, all the way in, body slumped over. "In my head I have. She says the same thing every time and it is NOT pretty." "And in this conversation, what do you say?" "Um, can you put down the pen? Thanks. Well in this version of The Talk, I sorta say good bye. You know, for closure. I tell her that I'll always love her but now I'm in love with the Mountie." "And then what happens?" "She laughs at me." "I see." "What? What? Jeeze - this is why I hate you guys." And he's off again, aimlessly wandering the small room. He picks up the vase from the other table, studying it intently, his back to the doctor. "Doc, you can't just say 'I see' to someone. You have to say what you see." "Have you ever had this conversation with him? Your partner?" He's back to his chair, not sitting in it. He gathers his coat, puts it on and slumps back down. "I'm not unhinged, you are. I told you. It's not his problem. It's mine. Why would I dump this on him? Oh wait - you meant in my head, right?" "Correct." "No. I so do not want to go there. Not even in my own head." "This is a pattern, you said. Maybe we should begin there. It says in your file that you've been a police officer for 14 years. How many partners have you had in fourteen years?" Before he remembers who he's supposed to be, he corrects the doctor. "Fourteen isn't right. It's fifteen - the file's off. Just celebrated my anniversary. And, the Mountie makes an even dozen. Partners, that is." "Would you like to tell me about the other times you fell in love with your partner?" "My first was my first." "First man you fell in love with?" "Yeah, that too. No, first partner. Right out of the academy. He was perfect. One of them guys that has it all. Looks, brains, personality. The chicks dug 'em. Sorta like Fraser. Only Fraser's totally different. He's one of a kind. Him, he was like a dozen other guys you knew when you were a kid." It's said. He said it. He never told anyone about his feelings for his first partner. They were kids, 23 years old and then Stella came back for the last time. She stayed until right before he met the Mountie. Matt got a girlfriend and he got over his partner a few months after Matt transferred divisions. "The other two, they were the same. You know, the type of guy everyone wanted to know. But Fraser, he's ah... the Mountie's unique." "But you think he falls into your pattern." "You don't get it. Normal cops do not fall in love with their partners. Especially not three times." "You would be surprised, detective." "I think I'm ob.. ob - obsessed." "Why do you think that?" "Because I can't stop thinking about him. When I first noticed, I could put it out of my mind. But since the thing with his sister, I can't stop thinking about him. Well, before that, actually. If I'm honest - and that's what I'm here for, right?" He looks up for reassurance before spilling the rest of his guts all over the office. "It's been since the day I met him, but it got really bad after the buddy breathing thing and now, since I met his sister and thought I wanted her - it's the only thing I can think about if I'm not busy thinking about something else." "Does it affect your police work?" "It always comes back to that with you department shrinks. Hell no, it don't affect the job. It makes us even better as partners. We're in tune. We're a duet. That's the problem." "Why is that a problem?" "You don't get it." "Why don't you tell me the problem as you see it." "You mean besides the whole he's a guy thing?" "Yes, detective." "That's not the only problem you know. Sure it's a problem, but if that was it, I could deal, you know?" "What do you see as the bigger problem?" "I don't like feeling needy." "Because of Stella?" "No, because I'm a needy fuck and I don't know who I am and I hate that about me. Happy?" "Detective, I'm sorry, but we're out of time. I feel you have a good handle on your situation. I do have a suggestion for you. I assume, as partners, the two of you spend a good amount of time together?" "A lot of time, yeah." "Your assignment for our next meeting is to think about why you've "fallen" for him. Is it, in fact, because he's your partner and you think you fall for your partners, or is it because of who he is." "I already know the answer to that. I've travelled this highway before." "Why don't you take a fresh look, and I mean look closely, and we'll talk about it next week. You do want to come back, don't you?" "Uhmmm... that's it? Aren't you gonna give me any advice? Aren't you gonna ask me anything? You know, like about my um... childhood or something?" "You know how this works, detective. Next week?" "Yeah, sure. Why not? You got my file there, right? Detective Raymond Vecchio, V-e-c-c-h-i-o." "Yes, Ray. You know these records do not get attached to your official file. It says in here that you've been to this department before." "Just making sure, is all. If I can't make it because of the job, I'll try to call. You know how it is." "Yes detective, but I think you should make the attempt to be here - if only to unburden yourself and to find some answers." "I thought that's what I was doin'." "It was a good start detective. See you next week." A flash of bright red from across the chaos filled room and Ray is on his feet, halfway to his partner before he realizes he's moving. "Fraser? What are you doin' here? I thought I was picking you up at the Consulate at 6:00." Fraser's clinging to his Stetson, it's been a year since he partnered with the new Ray and once in awhile, he doesn't feel entirely welcome. The niggling doubt is gone as soon as the smile appears on Ray's face. Sometimes, he doubts his own perception. He prizes that smile, knows he's one of the few able to put it there. He could even make it get bigger... "Ah, you see Ray, the rugs are being steam cleaned today and it's quite a madhouse and when Turnbull stumbled over Diefenbaker and spilled the cleaning solution... ah, it's not important." "You and the wolf been banished?" "For the afternoon, yes." "Good. We can grab dinner early, I'm starved." "Are you sure you should be eating so soon?" "Huh?" "The root canal, Ray. Was it painful?" "Yeah, but I'm good. Little pain can't keep me down." He does a little shuffle as he slips into his coat to show off his goodness and dances down the hallway, calling, "Let's go," over his shoulder. "Ray? Ray? Ray... Ray... Ray!" "What?" "Did you skip your dental appointment? You know, proper preventive dental care is very important to a healthy body. Just recently, a link between dental care and heart disease was reported in the New..." "Fra-ser." "Understood. Where would you like to have dinner?" "I don't care, you choose." "Very well, how about Vietnamese? A new restaurant just opened in my old neighborhood and Mr. Tran from the park raved about their spring rolls." "Vietnamese? Don't they eat dogs?" "Not in America, Ray. And you know, Hindi people would take offense at your eating cow. It's a matter of perspective. And please do not discuss their culinary fondness for canine around Diefenbaker. You know how sensitive he is." "Sensitive, right. I forgot. Silly me." He knows he has a goofy grin on his face, but he can't help it. He's happy. It was his first clue he'd fallen for his partner. Fraser managed to get the happy smile onto his face the first time he met him and it rarely leaves him when he is with the Mountie. He waits for Fraser to round up the wolf and holds the door for them both. This is what he's afraid of losing. This is what he's desperate enough to see a shrink to keep. His buddy. More would be good, more would be greatness, but he can't lose this. He's been taught the hard way - first with his father, and then in a different way, with Stella. If you want more from someone than they are capable of giving, you don't get to keep any of them.
End Un Series #1 Undercover I don't do the feedback thing. It's because I'm unorganized and can't promise to answer it, not a lack of desire to know what you thought. If you can live with that then I'll take it and I thank you in advance. If you can't, it's OK, feedback isn't neccessary. zorrorojo@slashcty.com You can find my website at http://zorrorojo.slashcity.com It's mostly Trek and Highlander slash, with some recs, some image manips and my demented view of the world. |