The Drought, a perry mason fanfic

AN: Thanks go to Lajulie24 and valancystirling48 for their help with this one!

It had been incredibly hot in Los Angeles, not that that was anything new. The heat was accompanied by a long drought that showed no signs of breaking any time soon.

Lunch at his favorite little spot, Clay's Grill, was a good way to get out of the office. The heat was making people crazy, and Lieutenant Tragg needed a better lunch break than he'd get if he stayed at the cafeteria at Parker Center. He could even work in a quick visit to see his favorite sparring partner, Perry Mason. Perry worked on the ninth floor of the Brent Building, which also housed Clay's.

The lawyer had been decidedly off the previous day in court, even though he'd won his case. He'd seemed short tempered, like he had no time or energy for his usual grandstanding. He'd stuck to facts, hard and fast, and had talked a circle around a witness so fast, no one had realized it was a trap until the witness had hung himself on it.

Lieutenant Tragg pushed open the door of number 904 and found Gertie Lane rushing to take notes in longhand from the telephone receiver held tightly between her shoulder and her ear.

"Yessir. Yessir. I'll take care of it, Mr. Mason," she promised, jumping when he hung up abruptly. "Lieutenant. What can we do for you today?"

"Just in the neighborhood," he said with a smile that obviously made Gertie a bit suspicious, though she let him stay anyway.

"I'm afraid he's too busy for social calls at this time," Gertie excused. They both looked to the door as Paul Drake entered.

"Della back yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," Gertie said.

"Ms. Street is out?" Tragg cut in conversationally.

"She is," Gertie replied. "Taking care of paperwork for an elderly client in Arizona since yesterday morning.

"Well, that would explain a few things from court yesterday," Tragg said. "Perhaps why Perry was acting like an ahh…"

"Like a bear?" Paul finished.

Tragg laughed. "Now that you mention it…"

"He gets this way every time Della's gone. I swear, it gets worse every time," Gertie gossiped quietly.

"Yes, well," Tragg began, but didn't finish his statement.

Perry knew he hadn't been the most pleasant person all day, and it wasn't because the coffee was weak or Burger was pushy. It was because he'd grown incredibly used to the way his office was run, and used to the person who did the running. Without her firm hand at the till, things were in chaos. How, in the relatively short time of five years, had he come to rely on her so much that her absence could bring the well-oiled machine of his practice to a grinding halt?

He knew the answer to that one. It wasn't because her presence magically made the chaos disappear. It was because she fettered it, sorted through it, only let the least little bit of it reach his desk so that he could handle his own tornados.

Speaking of which...his office currently looked like it had been visited by a tornado. Law books scattered about the table, piles of papers waiting to be sorted or typed or filed, letters that one of the stenographers was supposed to come in and get ready for the afternoon mail...

It was rare that he got these glimpses into just how important Della was in his day, and now that one of these glimpses was sitting in the center of his desk, he was realizing just how badly he needed her.

And not just in the office, either.

Her presence was a calming force, something that recharged his social batteries. Without her, he was depleted. He had it bad for her. Yes, Della was quickly becoming his everything.

As if he'd summoned her with his thoughts, Della entered the office. They shared a meaningful look that said what they couldn't say out loud.

"I have been gone for 36 hours," she scolded, hands on hips, looking around the office at the mess.

"It's been quite the 36 hours," he excused. Perry leaned back in his chair and covered his eyes with a hand, feeling muscles in his back relax. He hadn't even realized how physically tense he'd been without Della there until the tension had released.

"How was Tucson?" he asked in a tone that would sound bland to others' ears, but to Della, betrayed how happy he was to see her.

"Hot," she replied, pulling her coat off. Her taciturn demeanor told him all he needed to know. It had been boring, and she missed being at the center of the action here with him.

"Get the paperwork taken care of?" In answer, Della dropped on his desk a brown envelope held together with an elastic band. It was already labeled for the filing cabinet and was no doubt in impeccable order, with the file copies at the back and the copies destined for another location gathered neatly with a paperclip at the front, ready for her to mail out to the courthouse.

"Paul tells me you've been acting-and I quote- 'like a bear' this morning," Della chided, hanging her coat and straightening her skirt.

"It's my knee. It's acting up. The old Navy injury," he excused, finally sitting up from his reclined position. Perry propped an elbow on the desk and tucked his chin into his hand, content to watch her move about the office, back where she belonged.

"Your knee?" Della said skeptically. "Your knee has pained you into scaring our PI, terrifying our receptionist and half the secretarial pool, and ignoring Lieutenant Tragg, who, by the way, has been waiting in the outer office to speak with you for quite some time. You can talk circles around clients and bluff Mr. Burger til kingdom come. You can lie to all them, Perry, but you can't lie to me. And I don't mean you shouldn't lie to me. I mean you cannot."

Perry sighed and stood, coming around the desk to be closer to her where she stood, arms folded over her chest. "A day in court without you is difficult to endure. But an evening here without you…" he sighed again. He looked into her eyes and wanted nothing more than to lose himself there.

Della shook her head and smiled in spite of herself. "You missed me that much, Counselor?"

He smiled back. "In so many words, yes." Perry glanced over her shoulder at the closed office doors and did something he'd never done while in the office-he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips. She looked like she thought she ought to scold him, but couldn't find the heart to do so.

"I missed you, too. Now. Are you ready to begin?" she asked, snapping back to all-business before his eyes.

"Started on what?" he asked with amusement.

She looked pointedly over at his desk, which still resembled a disaster area. "That."

Two weeks later

Having a lawyer for a client meant one of two things: either they were entirely honest with Perry, holding nothing back, or they were deceitful at every turn. Perry had defended a few of his fellow bar members in cases before, and he'd had both kinds of clients.

Bernard Worthington, he hoped, would be the former. The man, a corporate lawyer a decade Perry's senior, was being held on suspicion of killing his secretary over some spilled secrets that had ended up losing the Worthington firm over a hundred thousand dollars in business.

Bernard had a temper, Perry knew, but stretching all the way to murder...he struggled to believe that. And, as a lawyer with a confidential secretary of his own, he knew about the bond of trust that went with the relationship.

The facts were slim, but the police were sure they had the smoking gun. Bernie had been seen leaving her apartment shortly after the prescribed time of death. His fingerprints were on the knife, which had been left beside her body. He had a bloodstain on his lapel that matched the victim's.

"I won't deny that I was there, Perry. Or that I touched the knife...I couldn't even think, seeing her like that," Bernie sighed, his head dropping into his hands. "I know it's the stupidest thing I could ever do, not just incriminating myself but taking away any evidence the police could have used to find the beast that really did this."

"Why were you at Ms. Scott's apartment so late?" Perry asked, checking his notes. Time of death: 10:45 pm. He mopped at his brow with his handkerchief-even here, deep inside the jail, the effects of the heat and the drought could be felt.

"Evie-Ms. Scott called me. She was nervous about something, she wouldn't say what. With everything that's gone on at the firm, I hurried right over."

"You didn't instruct her to call the police?"

"I wasn't sure it was that serious. Evie could get herself worked up sometimes, just lost in her head. I figured it was nothing, but when I got there, she was...lying there, with her throat cut." Bernard bowed his head and splayed a hand over his eyes. Perry gave him a moment to compose himself. "Perry, there's something I haven't told you, and I think you should know before it comes out in court. There's a reason I asked for you."

"Go on," Perry prompted gently.

"Evie and I...we were more than...she wasn't just my secretary. Not to me, at least."

"I see," Perry said, starting to see where this was going.

"Most people would have scoffed, passed judgement. The age-old thing, a boss forcing himself on his secretary, or her flirting her way to the top. But it wasn't like that. What we had was real. Always had been, from the beginning. That's why things didn't work out with Phyllis and me. Because it was Evie, and it always was. It still is."

Perry nodded, and Bernie rose from the table to pace the small cell.

"We never really talked about it. It was more something we just...understood. Never anything we made public...it was private, between us."

"And you asked for me because of…" Perry began, knowing whose name Bernie would say, because it was always on the edge of his own lips.

"Della. You and Della. I don't presume to know, nor am I asking you to divulge anything. But I've seen the way you look at each other. The way you're always tuned to each other's frequency. I know it well. It's how I was with Evie."

Perry's mind, as it often did, drifted to Della. The way their eyes would meet, the looks they would share that said more than words ever could. The rhythm they had beside each other, how it seemed natural when they were in step to take her arm. Evenings at work that had turned into evenings out which had become evenings in, evenings that usually ended with a few quiet kisses. Absences that felt not like he was missing a part of his office, but like he was missing a part of himself.

He was ready to name it now, in his head if not aloud.

It was love, pure and simple.

"I understand," Perry nodded, closing his notebook. He tried to imagine what Bernard must be going through-what it would be like to be without Della for the rest of his life. "We will solve this case. You have my word."

Perry, Paul, and Bernard were bent over papers on the circular table by the windows in Perry's office when Della pushed the door open and went to Perry's desk.

"It's Mr. Burger, for you," Della said to her boss, clicking the line open and tucking the receiver to her shoulder. "Mr. Mason is here," she said into the mouthpiece before handing it off to Perry.

"Hello? Yes. Is he being charged-dropped? This morning you were ready to throw the book at him. I see. Yes, well, thank you, Hamilton. Good evening." Perry turned toward the three pairs of anxious eyes. "New evidence was found. They had a new suspect, and they picked him up and he confessed."

Paul raised his hands in victory and Della grinned.

"Mr. Worthington, you don't look relieved to have been cleared of the charges," Della said.

"They're bringing him to justice," Paul said, referring to the man the police now had in custody. "Isn't this closure? Comfort?"

The man sighed. "At the end of this, even once he is brought to justice...It won't be enough. Nothing is going to bring her back. It stings that anyone could think I'd do such a thing to her...but it hurts exponentially more to know that Evie is gone forever."

The short-lived celebration became somber. Perry felt Della move closer by a fraction of an inch and he wished he could reach out to her, hold her as much for her comfort as for his own. Instead, he reached into his desk and withdrew the good scotch he kept there for celebrations...and occasions such as these. Della, understanding without words as she always did, withdrew a tray of tumblers and set it on the round table. Perry poured and they each took a glass.

"To Evie Scott. May her memory be eternal," Perry said solemnly. They all mumbled her name and drank the amber liquid.

Bernard stood and collected his things. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone for a while," he excused. "I'll have my office send over your check in the morning," he promised.

"If you need anything, anything at all," Della pressed, "you know where to find us."

Perry walked the man through Della's office and opened the front door.

Bernard paused before walking to the elevator. "I never told her I loved her. She knew, I think. I certainly knew she loved me without her having to say it. But it would have been nice to tell her, even just once. This might be a little presumptuous of me, Perry, but...don't let it happen to you." Bernie gave a pointed look to Della's office door before taking his leave.

A week later, the drought was still raging. The talk of wildfires grew daily, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before a bolt of heat lightning or a carelessly discarded cigarette set off a dangerous blaze.

They had a new case and were up to their necks in work, as usual, but Perry hadn't forgotten about his conversation with Bernard Worthington. He hadn't told Della he loved her yet, not out loud, even though he'd become certain that love was the word to describe his feelings for her. How did one tell another person that one loved them? It seemed anticlimactic to just spill the words out, especially with as busy as they were. They hardly had a spare moment to talk of things other than the case, much less have an important conversation such as this.

But his heart was bursting with it.

He couldn't just keep the words to himself anymore. He had to tell her. Tonight.

It was nearing 9:30 and he was driving her home after another 14 hour day. Perry glanced down the bench seat at Della. She was just within the reach of his fingers, though he kept his hands to himself. It was enough to feel her warmth, smell her flowery perfume.

Though the sun had set an hour ago, there was still light in the sky and he could tell it was growing overcast as he pulled into a space in front of her building.

"Walk me home?" she asked as she often did. It was her polite way of asking him inside so they could share a few kisses away from prying eyes. He shot her a timid smile and followed her out of the car. Her shoes clicked on the sidewalk and Perry realized he had subconsciously taken her arm.

Della fished for her keys when they arrived at the door.

Perry took a deep breath, knowing he was about to take a big step-up a mountain, or off a cliff, he didn't know.

"Something on your mind, Counselor?" she asked, pulling the keychain from her handbag. She knew him so well.

"Della, I have to tell you something. It's...something I've been thinking about for a long time, but I...I was afraid saying something would change things. Between us. I can't keep it to myself any longer." She looked at him with concern, letting her keys fall back into the bag. Perry took her hand. "I've fallen completely in love with you," he admitted.

"Oh, Perry," she whispered. Her eyes closed and her dark lashes fell against her cheeks as she giggled.

For a moment, Perry's heart stopped, and he felt himself plunging off the cliffside. He'd assumed she loved him in return, even if she wasn't ready to say it yet. But to laugh at him...Della's forehead dropped to his chest and her hands tightened in his.

"Oh, Perry," she repeated. She pulled away and he found her smiling that brilliant smile, looking at him with those sparkling eyes. "I love you too, so very much," she whispered, taking his face in her hands and pulling him forward for a kiss.

They'd never partaken in such a public display of affection, but Perry wasn't one for complaining. Every beat of his heart sent blood coursing through his veins, and each pulse seemed to whisper she loves me she loves me she loves me.

They parted suddenly as fat raindrops fell on them.

"Looks like the drought is over," Della laughed as the rain quickly soaked through her thin blouse.

"The drought is over," Perry confirmed, pulling her in for another kiss.

Della's neighbor hurried by, holding a newspaper aloft over her head. The woman sniffed derisively at their wanton display, and Della couldn't help but laugh. Distracted by Perry's lips, she fumbled with her keys, trying to open the door. They practically fell into her apartment when she unlocked it.

With the door secured behind them, Perry was emboldened to kiss her harder, more hungrily. Della responded in kind until they were both breathless and flushed.

"I think custom dictates I give you my fraternity pin now, but I'm afraid that's been packed away in storage for many years," he teased quietly, tracing up the angle of her neck.

"I'd settle for tossing out your little black book," she teased back, leaning into his caress.

"Your name would be the only one in it, if I had one," he promised. "It's been you ever since the day we met," Perry whispered.

Della nodded. "Me too."

Perry couldn't resist leaning forward for another kiss, which she met indulgently.

"We have an early day tomorrow," she murmured against his lips.

He sighed. "I suppose I should get some sleep."

"Win the case tomorrow, and we can celebrate here, with a quiet night in," she promised, ghosting a kiss over his lips to seal the deal. "I love you," Della whispered again, causing his heart to sing.

Perry stood on her stoop in the rain for a moment, getting soaked to the bone.

He smiled and looked up at the black sky and thought, 'she loves me.'