Disclaimer: none of these characters belong to me; they belong to Shoot the Moon Enterprises and Warner Bros to whom I am eternally grateful for the opportunity to take them out for a spin and bit of light humour.
A/N: It's cold where I am, like -30 degrees cold ( -22 for the Americans; still damn cold) and so my thoughts have turned to chocolates and other people being cold...
Francine might have been able to keep a firm grip on her long-held beliefs about 'Other People' if it hadn't been for Barry Metz.
She'd gone to see Doctor Joyce that morning after a night tossing and turning. She liked Claudia – she was very no-nonsense and as the only female doctor on regular staff, she seemed to have a certain sympathy to Francine's position in an Agency full of men. Besides, There was also that bowl of Hershey's Kisses she always had on her desk and if nothing else, Francine had known that would make her feel better. It was just that although she knew she wasn't actually cold, she couldn't seem to convince her brain of that fact, even 24 hours later. She'd tried to sleep wrapped up in her comforter with a hot water bottle, but her dreams of suffocating in that claustrophobic freezer meant that she'd kept throwing it off and waking up even colder. Eventually she had just gotten up at 5 a.m. and taken a long hot bath, which had helped but not enough. So, despite all her efforts, she was now stalking down the Level 8 hallway, dressed in long sleeves and a sweater and still feeling cold. Doctor Joyce had given her some sleeping pills to help with the nightmares and she'd been on her way back to her desk when Dave had come from the other direction, back from Interrogation, leading a very dejected Barry.
Except that when he saw her, the little moron had actually kind of perked up.
"Oh good!" he'd announced happily. "You're okay!"
"No thanks to you," she'd responded bitterly and kept walking.
"Well, I'm glad that big guy got there in time. I thought he was going to rip my head off, he was so worried about you two."
Francine paused mid-step and swiveled slowly to stare at him icily. "Well, you shouldn't have messed with Mrs. King. That big guy doesn't take kindly to people trying to kill his partner."
"Aren't you his partner?" asked Barry, a look of confusion on his face. "I thought she was his sister?"
Francine sighed, unable to believe that such a dumb guy had almost helped poison thousands of people. "No, I simply work with Mr. Stetson. Amanda is his partner." She turned to walk away, but slowed when Barry called after her.
"Well, he was pretty worried about you two all the same." He began doing a passable imitation of Lee's gritted teeth delivery. "Amanda and Francine – where are they?" And the way he went off in his Corvette like a bat out of hell, that was really something – it was like something out a movie. I can't believe he got to you ladies in time."
"He almost didn't," said Francine, now really annoyed by Barry's childlike enthusiasm for Lee's apparent heroics. "And if you hadn't been such a coward, he wouldn't have had to."
Barry looked ashamed and scuffed his toe on the ground. "Yeah, well, sorry. I was afraid of Carla and it all got out of hand."
Francine was done with this idiot. She made a dismissive noise and walked away. A thought suddenly struck her and she couldn't shake it all through her elevator ride upstairs.
"Amanda and Francine – where are they?"
She knew from the debrief that Marvin had told them about Carla taking Amanda hostage – but Barry said Lee had asked where they were. "Amanda and Francine – where are they?" As if he'd noticed she was missing too, without being told.
She stopped dead in the bullpen doorway, thinking about that for a long moment. "…he was so worried about you two." If Barry was right, Lee had specifically asked about both of them, not just Amanda. It was such a mind-altering thought that she almost couldn't process it, and then she'd spun in place, headed for the elevator and the Q Bureau to confront Lee herself.
All the way down the corridor, she replayed those last few seconds in the freezer in her head. He'd been surprised she'd been there when he opened the door… hadn't he? There'd been cold, and then there'd been the sounds of a gun and then Lee had been there, crouching in front of them, hauling them both out and trying to wrap his arms around both of them to try and warm them. He'd looked relieved but not surprised. Goddamn.
Then, before she could even reach the elevator, Amanda had stepped out of it and distracted her with that amazing box of chocolates and then Lee and Billy had shown up and all thoughts of pursuing it further left her brain. Except… she and Amanda had never discussed DeVaronna chocolates yesterday, she was sure of that. The only person who knew they were her favorites was Lee – he always bought them for her birthday – he had to have told Amanda what to buy.
Damn it. No wonder Amanda had been half-laughing at her just now, just like that time with the feather duster. Lee had been the instigator that time – and now that she thought about it, he'd followed that up with chocolates too to take away the burn of the teasing. That was one thing about Lee, he might seem like a macho jerk a lot of the time, but you could always count on him to know just what you needed when you were down.
People are not always there when you need them. You cannot count on them, because people leave.
'But Lee was there' said the annoying little voice in Francine's head, that one that always sounded like Moline when she scolded her. Lee had apparently almost killed a guy and then Mario-Andrettied all the way to the warehouse to save them – both of them, not just his precious Amanda. Her steps slowed as something else occurred to her. Amanda hadn't ever mentioned Lee in the freezer, not even once. She'd said they needed to work like a team. We're stuck here together, and we gotta think like a team. She hadn't been depending on Lee to get her out, she'd simply stated the obvious – they'd needed to work together, until it had become obvious there was no way out without help. And then she'd called her a witch.
Francine couldn't help it – she stopped in the middle of the hallway and actually laughed out loud. An oxygen-deprived punch drunk Amanda King, the nicest person on the planet, had finally peeled back her mask and said exactly what she thought with no filter at all.
And I can't even say she was wrong. I was pretty horrible to her in there.
Her laugh died out as she considered that. She'd been petty and rude and insulting and Amanda had taken all of it and then brought her chocolates. She groaned under her breath. How could anybody be that nice?
She looked up and found a man in front of her, looking back at her with a confused expression. It was that tall skinny guy who used to work in Fabrications, but Billy had moved him to helping with field work. He was supposedly a whiz with computers, but right now his expression was positively bovine.
"Can I help you?" she asked, not sure why he was looking at her that way.
"Are you okay, Ms. Desmond?" he asked, uncertainly.
"Why wouldn't I be okay?" she said defensively.
"Well, you were walking and then you stopped dead in front of me, laughing and talking to yourself, and then you- " He stopped abruptly and gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down like a yo-yo. "You know what, never mind. I just thought maybe you needed help figuring something out."
She started to say something withering and then found herself staring down at the gold box she was still clutching to her chest. Sometimes you're just such a witch. This guy hadn't done anything except show some concern; she shouldn't be yelling at him - especially when she couldn't even think of his name. What was it again? Belmont? Beckman? Oh! Beaman, that was it. Efraim Beaman.
She took a deep breath and tried to channel Amanda. "Well, thank you, but no. I was just trying to-" figure out if anyone likes me… "Figure out a way to get warm. I got just about frozen to death on a case yesterday and I feel like I still haven't thawed out."
"I heard about that," Beaman was nodding now. "Fred Fielder said you and Mrs. King were almost popsicles." He blushed violently and she could see his eyes widening behind his glasses. "I mean, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have repeated that – that's a terrible thing to say. It wasn't meant as a joke or anything, I'm sure."
"Well, it's nothing more than the truth and honestly? I'd be more surprised if Fred hadn't made a joke about me finally actually being an Ice Queen." She hadn't thought this guy could look more awkward until he reacted to that. "Oh, I see from your expression that he did. Typical," she said, her annoyance showing through.
"Ah, well, um, if you're still cold, I can probably find a way to warm you up," said Beaman, nervously.
Francine narrowed her eyes and stared at him, a frown settling on her face. His terror level looked like it increased tenfold. "Seriously? 'I can find a way to warm you up'? Let me guess: a nice bottle of wine? A crackling fire back at your apartment? Sharing body heat? I've heard them all you know – you're not being original."
"Actually," Beaman's voice came out in a strangled whisper as he pointed down the hall behind him. "I was going to say Fabrications has some space heaters we use for quick drying stuff. I could borrow one and set it up at your desk if you want."
"Oh." Francine was almost left speechless. "You literally meant 'warm me up'.
"Yes, I did," Beaman voice was still squeaky. "I mean, if that's what you want."
"A space heater sounds glorious," admitted Francine. "I'd love it." She smiled at him apologetically. "Sorry, I misunderstood."
She followed him down the hall to Fabrications where he wrestled the small heater out of a storage closet, then gave in gracefully when he insisted on carrying it up to the bullpen for her. He looked a little ridiculous trying to fold all six feet of himself under the desk to get it plugged in, but she was too blissed out by the sudden blast of heat to laugh at him about it.
"There you go," he said, straightening up in front of her. "Just give me a call when you're done with it and I'll come collect it. They get pretty dusty, so you don't want to handle it yourself."
Looking down, she realized his shirt was covered in marks from the dirt and dust which he was making worse by trying to brush them off.
"I will, thank you." She realized she was still standing awkwardly, box and files in her arms. "Um, look, I don't normally share this stuff with anyone, so keep it to yourself that I have these but, ahhh, would you like a truffle?" She opened the DeVaronna box and held it out to him.
"Are you sure?" He looked doubtful. "My sister always says not to get between a woman and her chocolate."
"You have a smart sister, but no really, please take one. It's not much of a thank you, but I really am grateful." She smiled at him and then winced inwardly when she saw his reaction to it. Oh God, I was nice to someone for once and now he thinks I like him. "But seriously, if you tell anyone I have these, I'll kill you with my bare hands."
She'd thought the threat might wipe that puppy-dog look off his face, but he'd just smiled back at her and taken a chocolate.
"I'll see you around, Ms. Desmond. You make sure to call me about getting that heater back."
She'd watched him walk away, and shook her head in despair. And that is why I'm never nice to people – they start thinking I'm actually nice. Oh well, I can avoid him easily enough, and I can get Roxanne to arrange to have the heater returned – if I'm lucky, he doesn't mind his blondes coming out of a bottle, and then he can imprint on her instead.
Francine settled into her chair, luxuriating in the warm air coming from the heater, and reached for the chocolate box. Lifting the lid, she carefully picked out a single one, then bit into it slowly to get the full impact on every taste bud, letting it slide around her tongue as it literally melted in her mouth. Her eyes drifted shut with bliss.
God bless you, Amanda King, I needed this so badly today. Her eyes flew open with a sudden terrible thought. God, I hope she hasn't laced them with something as a joke… Francine relaxed back into her chair, shaking her head ruefully. No, she's too ridiculously nice… And let's face it, even if she had, I'd still eat them because death by chocolate is definitely how I'd want to go…
She looked around, making sure no one saw her slip the box into one of the drawers – the one with a lock.
Pity it's such a big box. Desmond, you're going to have spend way more time in the gym this week. You know what they say – once on the lips, forever on the hips.