Usual disclaimer. No warnings needed. Cop, Wolf and Mountie-free story. With thanks to Desi for writing "Remembrance of Things Past," which got me thinking about Elaine and Jack in the first place.
For Cat.
Elaine stared at the fresh load of files on her desk. She looked up in irritation. "Again, Huey?"
Huey seemed on the verge of ignoring her; but he turned back around and said, "I need copies made of the Hansen depositions. I thought you could take care of it for me."
Sighing, Elaine got out of her chair. She stood toe to toe with Huey and pointed to her chest. "What does this say?"
"Excuse me?" Huey finally managed to blurt.
"It says 'Civilian Aid'." Elaine spoke slowly, enunciating the words as clearly and distinctly as one would to the hearing impaired or the exceptionally, profoundly stupid. "I -- aid -- civilians. *Civilians*, Huey. That means that I help people who *aren't* cops. I am not your secretary, and I am not your maid, and I wish you'd stop treating me like I was." She gathered the files in her arms and shoved them at Huey, who just barely managed to grasp hold of them before Elaine turned on her heel and walked out of the squadroom.
Huey gaped after her. He dumped the folders on the nearest desk and went after her. Catching up on the stairway, he said, "You never seem to have any problem doing it for Vecchio."
"That's different." Elaine sounded defensive. "With Vecchio, it's easier to do it than listen to him complain about it for three weeks. It's like dealing with my little brother again." She started going down, Huey close behind.
**Yeah, right.** Jack thought it, but didn't say it. What he did say on the way down was, "Then how about Fraser? The Mountie doesn't complain, does he?"
Elaine stopped on the landing. "No. He says 'Please, Elaine,' and he says 'If it's not too much trouble, Elaine,' and he says 'Thank you kindly, Elaine.' Maybe you should try it sometime."
Huey leaned agains the banister. "Why?"
"Why?" Elaine repeated incredulously. She threw her hands in the air. "Why. Why do I bother?" She went down the last few steps and turned to go to the records room.
Hurrying to keep up, Huey followed her. "Well, pardon me for not being the model of courtesy that you seem to expect, Elaine."
"And why do you think I expect *anything* out of you, Huey?" She slammed the door in his face. He stared at it in outrage, then opened it and went inside. He slammed the door himself -- it felt good.
"What is your *problem*?"
"Problem?" Elaine, shuffling through the file cabinet, kept her back to Huey. "Why would you think I have a problem? Just because you treat me like an inbox with legs? Just because you look right through me every time we pass in the hall? Why should that be a problem?"
Huey opened his mouth to argue with that. Realizing that he couldn't, he closed it again, and just stood there, staring at her slender, angry back ... at her thick, dark hair ... imagining the shadows of her long eyelashes against her cheeks. Imaging all the things he saw every time he looked right through her.
"Elaine?"
She turned around, not quite meeting his eyes. "Yes, Huey?"
"Why don't you ever call me Jack?" he asked quietly.
She stared at the wall over his left shoulder for a few seconds ... then she looked directly at him and started smiling. "I just might try it sometime ... Jack."
Katrina Bowen -- kbowen@willowtree.com