XX Notes: I wrote this story back in March 2012 when I was taking a break from this site and posting most of my stuff elsewhere. I thought I'd later added it here, but I noticed this morning I was wrong, so I decided to share it with you. I'm not sure what your thoughts will be. There is an OC death here, and it's not a happy story, but I'm very proud of it. It was an experiment in writing a story from the end to the beginning, and I love how it turned out. I'm hoping someone there in ff land will also like it. XX
XXX
Inspector Meg Thatcher was many things. RCMP officer. Woman. Canadian. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Diplomat. Liaison Officer. But she was no longer a mother.
Six months. It had been six months, and it seemed as if no time had passed at all. Every day at two in the afternoon, she expected to hear the Consulate door fly open and the pounding of little feet as they hurried towards her office. At night, sometimes she woke with a wildly beating heart, believing she had heard a child's voice call out in the dark. Little clothes still hung in the closet and stuffed animals filled the bed behind a door she was afraid to open.
The silence in her house was deafening. Day by day, it was slowly driving her crazy. The pain it brought was devastating. It overwhelmed her constantly and she had to fight to maintain a mask that had once been so easy.
And it was all because of him. The empty hollowness inside her. The crippling pain that stole everything she was and any hope for a future. The pain that made it hard to think, hard to listen, hard to see. Her life had become nothing but a heartrending ache, and there was only one way she could see to end it.
An eye for an eye.
The thought had her raising her gun as the man sensed her behind him and turned. It had been years since Meg had pointed her service weapon at anyone but a paper target, but it still felt solid and reassuring in her hand.
Stone's eyes widened and he stilled. Meg knew he must have seen the determined intent etched in her face.
"How does it feel to know you're going to die?" she asked softly.
He just stared at her, his face giving away nothing. She knew he had to be wondering if he could get to his own weapon before she fired.
"Do you know who I am?" she continued, her voice toneless.
"Why don't you put the gun down, lady, and you can tell me."
Meg couldn't keep emotion from creeping into her voice as she said, "You killed my daughter."
He put his hands in his pockets, asking gruffly, "You the cop?"
He didn't seem to be afraid. Meg wanted him to be frightened. "I was. Until today."
"Listen, things happen."
"Shut up."
He glanced into her face, and his words stopped. She saw him tense, his hand inching towards his waist.
Meg absently became aware of three more bodies entering the room. She didn't let them take any of her attention away from Stone. Instead, she studied the man's face, intent on memorizing it. When you murdered someone, you should remember who they were and what they looked like. She had no illusions that this would be anything other than a revenge killing. Meg didn't clutter her mind with any self righteous or delusional lies. She was not justice. She was not even an officer of the law, at least not here. This was an act of cold-blooded, premeditated murder, and the State of Illinois would probably take her life for it. They could have it; there was nothing left of it anyway.
"Don't do it, sir." Fraser's voice floated to her from the far side of the room.
She ignored him and his voice of reason as her grip tightened and she took aim. A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth at the familiar feeling of pulling the trigger.
The shots echoed loudly as they left her gun to bury themselves in Stone's chest. He staggered and slowly fell to the floor.
Satisfaction warmed her briefly, swirling around in the hollowness inside her, filling it, rushing into the empty corners of her heart. And then it was gone, taking with it the burning need for revenge that had controlled her since she found out where Stone was hiding.
Meg let her arm fall numbly to her side as she heard one of the Rays—Vecchio?-yell, "Drop the gun, Inspector."
With the absence of purpose, the pain hit her again. It twisted her gut, almost bringing her to her knees with its strength.
The three men spoke around her, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. Their lips moved, words came out, but they made no sense.
She felt more than saw someone come up and gently take the gun from her hand. "Inspector...Inspector..."
She turned towards the voice and saw Kowalski standing beside her. His eyes were full of compassion, but there was a determined set to his jaw. With no thought of escaping, she held out her arms to him.
"Meg Thatcher, you are under arrest..."
She listened to him speak, but his words sounded like nonsense. The pain beating inside her made it impossible to concentrate.
He stopped talking and took his cuffs out of his pocket. His hands were gentle as he put them around her wrists and asked, "Do you understand these Rights?"
"It didn't work," she told him softly, the composure gone from her voice, allowing the pain to flood it, making it shake. "It still hurts."
XXX
Six Months Earlier
Meg looked up from her laptop to watch her daughter dance around the office. The little girl was always in motion, and her energy was endless.
Meg smiled at Beth's joy, feeling a little of that joy seep into her. Beth didn't do anything with half her heart, and it was one of the things Meg loved most about her.
Beth didn't even notice her mother's eyes on her as she danced with abandon. Her long, dark hair was already straining free of the ponytail that tried to tame it, and her dark eyes were wide with delight. She was in jeans and a t-shirt, of course—Beth hated the restrictions imposed by dresses and refused to wear them—and for once she was completely clean. Meg had never expected being a mother to be so messy, but she liked encouraging her daughter to express herself and explore the world.
Beth finally stopped dancing and asked, "Is it time yet?"
Meg glanced at the time at the bottom of her screen. "Almost."
"Yay!"
Beth danced a little more before going over to her kitten-covered purple bag. She unzipped it and studied the contents for the fourth time that morning.
"Are you sure I won't need Mary Beth?" Mary Beth was her favorite doll.
"You don't want to leave her behind at the zoo, do you?"
"Of course not."
The grown up tone coming from such a little person amused Meg, but she was careful not to let it show in her face. "Then maybe it would be best if you left her home."
Meg's friend, Nancy, had offered to take Beth on their family outing to the zoo. Nancy had two daughters—one a couple of years older than Beth and one the same age—and the three girls were thick as thieves. It was all Beth had been able to talk about for a week.
The little girl sighed. "Okay, but she'll miss the lions. She likes lions."
"You'll have to take lots of pictures for her." Beth had her own Fisher Price camera, and she lugged it everywhere.
Beth's face brightened. "Yeah. I can show you too, Mommy. I wish you could come."
"Me too, Sweetie, but I have to work."
"It's okay. We'll do something together on Saturday."
Meg raised an eyebrow at her. "Who's the mommy here, anyway?"
Beth giggled and came around the desk. Without ceremony, she hopped into Meg's lap, and Meg held her close. She loved how her daughter felt and how she smelled. Like laughter, like happiness, like home. Meg had never been sentimental but, since Beth's birth, she had discovered depths to herself she had never even guessed were there.
She watched in amusement as Beth reached out and started pressing on laptop keys. Meg's formal letter to Ottawa was suddenly full of made up words interspersed with "Beth" and "Mom" and "greatness". That last one, she blamed on Kowalski.
"Are you writing to Ottawa, Beth?"
"Yes. I'm telling them to give my mom a raise."
Meg laughed and kissed her cheek. "A raise, huh?"
"Then maybe I could get a pony...How do you spell pony?"
"P-o-n-y."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Beth had only gotten as far as the 'n' when the Consulate door banged. She stiffened, then jumped off Meg's lap as little girl voices filled the air. They were chattering excitedly as they came towards Meg's office.
The girls didn't even knock as they burst into the room with their mother trailing behind them. Nancy smiled warmly at Meg and Meg answered with an easy smile of her own. Living the challenges of parenthood together had strengthened their friendship, and the two of them talked almost every day.
"Good morning," Meg said as Beth grabbed her bag and ran to her friends.
"Hey. Beth ready?" Nancy asked.
"She has been for days."
Nancy's smile widened. "Kids love the zoo."
Meg nodded and stood, making her way around the desk. "I want you to be good today, Beth."
The girl dragged her attention from her friends. "I will."
"Do everything Nancy tells you."
"Okay."
"Do I get a kiss good bye?"
"Of course."
Meg knelt and Beth gave her an enthusiastic hug and kiss. "Love you."
"I love you too, Sweetheart. See you tomorrow."
"Bye."
Without looking back, Beth and Nancy's daughters raced out of the office.
"Thanks again for taking her, Nancy."
"No problem. Any plans for tonight?"
"I think I'm going to relax in a bubble bath and read."
"Sounds like heaven."
"It's been a long week." Meg grimaced. "And I still have budget reports to do before the end of the day."
"Have fun." Meg rolled her eyes so Nancy laughed. "I'll be thinking of you. See you tomorrow."
Meg was in an exceptionally bad mood later that afternoon. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get her latest set of numbers to balance. She was getting cranky and frustrated. Her body was flushed from it and, in desperation, she had grabbed a horse-covered elastic from her desk and swept her hair up in a messy ponytail.
There was a quiet knock on her door, and she looked up impatiently. Fraser was standing in the doorway, his Stetson in his hands.
"Yes, what is it, Fraser?" she snapped.
He was quiet for a minute, so Meg gave him her full attention. There was something about his posture that was...off somehow.
"Fraser?" she repeated, no longer irritated.
"There's been an incident, sir."
"An incident?"
Something in his tone bothered her, so she studied his face carefully. His features were as hard to read as always. Calm. Expressionless. When she met his eyes, her stomach fluttered in apprehension. There was a look there she had never seen before.
"Yes, sir. It's Beth." His voice was exceptionally gentle.
At his words, Meg sucked in a quick breath. She felt her face drain of color, and she was suddenly light headed. Fear gripped her and she jumped to her feet.
"What happened? Is she all right?"
Fraser didn't answer right away, but the look on his face was answer enough.
"Oh my God," Meg whispered.
"I'm sorry, sir." His voice cracked on the words and, if she had any doubts, this murdered them.
She flashed cold then hot as a spike of pure agony slashed through her and her stomach dropped. Her chest constricted and she couldn't breathe. The room started to spin, and little dots flashed in front of her eyes.
When the screaming started inside her mind, Meg began to tremble. Her body started to sway.
She opened her mouth to deny the truth Fraser hadn't even spoken. Her chest was so tight, she couldn't speak. Just as no air could come in, no sound could go out.
The spinning of the room got faster, and suddenly she was falling into darkness.
XXX
Five Years Earlier
Ten minutes could last a lifetime.
Meg was sitting on her couch, huddled in an old, faded robe with her legs tucked beneath her. The house was quiet, and she felt as if time had stopped. Her emotions were all jumbled. She was afraid and nervous, anxious and excited. Most of all, she was hopeful.
Her mind went back to the morning almost two months before when she woke up feeling stupid and terribly hungover. Too much alcohol had lured her into going home with that Spanish Ambassador and then left her with a splitting headache, a mouth that felt as if it had been filled with cotton, and burning eyeballs. She recalled brief flashes of some disturbing images in the back of a limo and some brazen ones in an opulent hotel room. Somehow, she had ended up home in her own bed, and she had no memory of how.
As Meg glanced at the egg timer again—less than a minute had passed—she thought how ironic her life was. The whole reason she had been that drunk was because she was upset about her adoption application being rejected over the possibility of her being a single parent in a high risk job. Now, here she was, contemplating having a baby.
She knew a baby would change her life, and she had no idea if she was ready. Still, over the past several days, the thought of a child had started filling her with a gentle warmth that slowly replaced her sadness over the rejection.
As the time ticked by, she wondered what her child would be like. Her mind filled with images of birthdays, Christmases, skinned knees, and first dates. Would she be a good mother?
The egg timer dinged, and Meg froze. She was suddenly afraid. Another minute went by as she sat there, unmoving. Finally, she straightened her spine and forced herself to her feet.
The trip to the bathroom seemed a long one, and her emotions swirled violently the whole way. By the time she got there, she had goosebumps.
Taking a deep breath, she went inside and stole a glance at the innocent looking strip.
Meg's stomach flipped as both joy and terror seized her. It was positive. Something amazing was going to come from doing something so stupid. She was going to have a baby.
Overwhelmed by a wave of love, Meg ran a gentle hand down her stomach and smiled.
Sometimes, life was wonderful.
The End