DISCLAIMER: Anything and everybody associated with due South belongs to Alliance, so please don't sue my sorry butt. TYK! WARNINGS: angst, lots o' angst! Don't ask me why I love it! Snapshot...Peg O'My Heart copyright 1999 by M. Megan O'Neil "Do you have any ideas as to what happened?" "No sir, none at all." The handsome young man ran a nervous finger over his eyebrow, still somewhat shaken up over what he had done. "The house was already ablaze when I got there. The woman was dead--" "From the fire?" "No sir. From what I could tell, it looks like she hit her head." Papers were shuffled as a report was filled out. "How did the fire start?" "I saw a broken kerosene lamp on the floor by the woman's body. Maybe it was knocked over when she fell." The older man grunted as he wrote in Sean's comments. "Did you find out any information about them?" The younger Mountie nodded, his face somber with the information he knew. "From what Jack Ellis told me, the family is dirt poor, not much different than anyone else in this area. He said MacBride worked off and on as a miner, drank to excess, and is pretty well known for abusing his wife. And sir, her face was cut and bruised." Sergeant Stephen Dell gulped his Scotch. "Damn! Sean, I hate cases like this! It's bad enough an innocent woman had to die, but now we've got a kid involved." Constable Sean Thatcher looked down before shifting his glance to the bruised dark-haired little thing Elizabeth Dell was rocking in her arms. The little girl looked like a tiny Dresden doll, her big smoky eyes too large for her face. She wouldn't stop shaking and she couldn't stop crying. Her thumb in her mouth was her only source of comfort. Elizabeth stared at her husband and his young second-in-command. "What's going to happen to her?" Stephen looked back at his report, uncomfortable. "She'll be picked up by Child Services within the next few days." "Stephen!" The Moutie looked at his wife in anger. "What would you have me do Liza? She has no relatives! She's an orphan! She needs a home!" Elizabeth Dell ran a soothing hand over a small back. "But she's so young. And the system is so crowded already." Sean walked over to the little girl huddled in Elizabeth's lap. "Hey honey. Are you alright?" She was silent, still sucking on her thumb. Her other hand was wrapped around a ridiculous piece of costume jewelry which had ripped off her mother's dress when Sean had been forced to literally tear her away from the woman's body. He had heard what Liza Dell had said. The system was already overcrowded. No one was going to adopt an eight-year-old child. He looked up at the older woman. "I'll take her." She smiled, relinquishing her adorable little bundle. "You can put her to bed in the spare room at the top of the stairs." "Thanks." He turned to his commanding officer. "Sir, may I stay with her tonight? She may have nightmares and I'm the only one she's even come close to talking to." He didn't notice a speculative gleam in Dell's eyes. "Of course Constable. Carry on." "Thank you sir. Good night. Good night to you ma'am." He walked out, cradling the little girl as he whispered soothing sounds. **** Stephen Dell looked lovingly at his wife. "You've really fallen in love with her, haven't you?" She crossed the room to sit in his lap. "Steve, you should have seen the cuts and bruises on her. I think the father beat her as well." She hugged him, shuddering at the thought of a maniac who could inflict such pain on a small child. "She'll get lost in the system." He ran a soothing hand down her back. "We'll think of something." **** Stephen Dell looked lovingly at his wife. "You've really fallen in love with her, haven't you?" She crossed the room to sit in his lap. "Steve, you should have seen the cuts and bruises on her. I think the father beat her as well." **** Sean tucked her under warm quilts, rubbing her back in a soothing motion. She was still sucking her thumb, probably some form of comfort. He sat next to the bed, drying the tears that were brimming over in her dark eyes. Not having a child, he wasn't quite sure what to do. Something his mother used to do came back to him. Thatcher smiled, brushing away a dark wave. "The guy who helped me said your name was Margaret. Do you know they have a song named after you? Would you like to hear it?" It was an eternity before she slowly nodded. He smiled and picked her up, laying on the bed and letting her sit in the safety of his arms, singing in a beautiful Irish tenor. As she fell into a nightmarish sleep, he took the brooch out of her small hand, placing it on the nightstand. He hoped to God he could think of something before they came to take her away. He didn't want her passed around like an unwanted pet. Margaret was shivering. Sean Thatcher hugged the little girl tightly and continued to sing "Peg O'My Heart."