Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-04-02 12:36 am
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-04-02 12:36 am
Steele/Stella - No Good if Dead
Fandom: CSI:NY/Conviction
Title: No Good if Dead
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Characters: Jim Steele/Stella Bonasera
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
csi50 Prompt: 012. spirituality
fic_variations Prompt: thankful (#3)
Content Warning: Spoilers for the pilot (Conviction) and "Grand Murder in Central Station" (CSI:NY)
Summary: Steele and Stella talk after Mike's funeral.
Author's Note: This is part of my Tip of the Scale series. I really like this Amnesty Month idea forfic_variations. Just saying.
For Reference: CSI:NY and Conviction. If you have a question, don't be afraid to ask, I don't mind answering.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY or Conviction. They're owned by CBS and NBC.
Jim had always been a bit of a skeptic of the spiritual aspect of his life. Even when he was child and he was railroaded into going by his parents, he never saw it as something he enjoyed. It was almost a chore at times, being forced to get up early every Sunday to go through the ritual just to make sure he didn’t have his mother’s guilt for him when she got home. The Catholic priests were pretty good at laying on the guilt—that was basically what the whole religion seemed to be for these people, making you feel guilty—but nothing in his mind could top his mother, bursting into tears, heartbroken that her son didn’t want to share her faith. That kept his ass in the pew every Sunday morning, but once he had moved out, he had dropped it entirely. The only reason he ever went into a church was for a funeral of a close friend, and he tried to stay as little as possible.
But when it was Mike it was a completely different story. He was there for Joanne for whatever she may have needed, even when it came down to making the arrangements at the church. He was early for the ceremony, a pallbearer, what ever was needed. She had expressed her thanks to him later, but he didn’t really feel it was needed. This was Mike. Jim had been the best man at his wedding. To him, it went a bit further than close friendship. This kind of response was what was expected of him. Or at least what he had expected of himself.
What he hadn’t expected was not that Stella had actually shown up—but that she seemed to have a bit more of a spiritual background than he had expected. He had been watching her throughout the course of the service, but they didn’t get a chance to speak until afterwards at Hogan’s Place, when he was proceeding to drink himself blind, and she had slid into the booth across from him.
“Hey, Jim,” she said with a smile, “How ya doin’?”
“This is my second scotch,” he said, holding up the glass, and she frowned slightly.
“Is it your last one?”
“It can be—if you decide to make me.”
“It can be arranged,” she nodded, taking the bottle of scotch and passing it over her head to a different table. One of the ADA’s tipped his glass to her and thanks, and she gave him a smile, before turning back to Jim. She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at him, “Gotta stop now.”
“I was drinking that,” he whined, watching it as it got passed around the table.
“I think you’re drunk enough, Jim,” she whispered.
“I disagree,” he said, starting to take on the face that meant he was going to use lawyer logic on her, and she shook her head.
“I’m the one who has to make sure you get home in one piece,” she replied, “I’d prefer you to still be able to walk somewhat. I don’t feel like dragging you.”
“But—”
“I know Mike just died,” she said softly, “And I know you two were good friends. So if you still want to get plastered, I’ll take you home, and make sure you don’t kill yourself.”
He looked up at her, and gave her a small smile, “Thank you, Stella.”
“You’re welcome,” she nodded, before pointing to his plate, “Now eat something.”
“Not really hungry,” he replied and she shook her head.
“Not good enough. Eat.”
He gave her a look, before picking at his food, “You gonna just sit there and watch me eat?”
She gave him a look before reaching forward and picking some of the appetizers off his plate. “Feel better?” she asked, and he smiled at her before starting to eat with her.
“I didn’t know you were religious,” he started, and she looked up at him, startled.
“I’m not.”
“You used to be though,” he said, looking down at the plate, “I was watching you through the service, and you didn’t skip a beat.”
“The service is easy to follow,” she replied, “That doesn’t mean—”
“Stella, I am one,” he stated, looking up at her, “I know one when I see one.”
She looked down slightly, “The orphanage—it was run by the religious. Lay people mostly, but they still made us play by the rules.” He nodded that he understood, but didn’t say anything. She still pushed, “What about you?”
“My mother,” he replied, “She was an expert in the Catholic guilt trip. Her faith was the most important thing in her life, so likewise she forced it on me.”
She nodded, “You moved away from it because you couldn’t enjoy it?”
“For any spirituality,” he began, popping the last of the food into his mouth, “It should be about the connection, not the obligation. If you can’t feel moved by it, how can you really appreciate what’s happening in front of you?”
“Very good point.”
“I am a lawyer.”
She nodded slowly, “I guess we have more in common than we thought, huh Steele?”
“Guess we do, Bonasera.”
“I know I’ve been avoiding your calls as of late,” she sighed, “It’s just—with Aiden gone—”
“I know,” he nodded, “Don’t worry about it. When’s the new CSI come in?”
“She starts Monday. Mac pulled her out of some town in Montana.”
He raised an eyebrow in interest, “Sounds like that’s going to be an interesting mix.”
“Danny’s ecstatic about it,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Not that he was happy about Aiden being fired to begin with.”
“I heard about that,” he nodded, and she looked surprised, and he gave her a smirk, “Contrary to popular belief, my ears do still work and I do hear things.”
“Hard to believe,” she replied.
“I also heard why Mac fired her,” he continued, “And I have to say I support him.”
“You didn’t have to work with her day in and day out,” Stella stated, her face changing from amused to defiant, “You weren’t her friend.”
“Maybe,” he said, pushing the plate away, “But I still wouldn’t have supported falsifying evidence. That’s a crime, Stella. It could have gotten a lot worse if Mac hadn’t caught it, or she hadn’t stopped herself and it had gone to court.”
“I know,” she nodded, before he reached for her hand and squeezed it lightly.
“If you don’t want to make sure I don’t kill myself now, I’d understand.”
“No,” she said, looking up and giving him a smile, “I’ll still make sure. Besides—you still owe me dinner.”
“That’s very true,” he nodded, “I’m not good for that if I’m dead.”
“So—does that mean we’re getting out of here?” she asked, and he nodded before sliding out of the booth, and guiding her ahead of him.
“I’m thinking a smaller venue might be better—”
Title: No Good if Dead
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Characters: Jim Steele/Stella Bonasera
csi50 Prompt: 012. spiritualityfic_variations Prompt: thankful (#3)Content Warning: Spoilers for the pilot (Conviction) and "Grand Murder in Central Station" (CSI:NY)
Summary: Steele and Stella talk after Mike's funeral.
Author's Note: This is part of my Tip of the Scale series. I really like this Amnesty Month idea for
fic_variations. Just saying. For Reference: CSI:NY and Conviction. If you have a question, don't be afraid to ask, I don't mind answering.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY or Conviction. They're owned by CBS and NBC.
Jim had always been a bit of a skeptic of the spiritual aspect of his life. Even when he was child and he was railroaded into going by his parents, he never saw it as something he enjoyed. It was almost a chore at times, being forced to get up early every Sunday to go through the ritual just to make sure he didn’t have his mother’s guilt for him when she got home. The Catholic priests were pretty good at laying on the guilt—that was basically what the whole religion seemed to be for these people, making you feel guilty—but nothing in his mind could top his mother, bursting into tears, heartbroken that her son didn’t want to share her faith. That kept his ass in the pew every Sunday morning, but once he had moved out, he had dropped it entirely. The only reason he ever went into a church was for a funeral of a close friend, and he tried to stay as little as possible.
But when it was Mike it was a completely different story. He was there for Joanne for whatever she may have needed, even when it came down to making the arrangements at the church. He was early for the ceremony, a pallbearer, what ever was needed. She had expressed her thanks to him later, but he didn’t really feel it was needed. This was Mike. Jim had been the best man at his wedding. To him, it went a bit further than close friendship. This kind of response was what was expected of him. Or at least what he had expected of himself.
What he hadn’t expected was not that Stella had actually shown up—but that she seemed to have a bit more of a spiritual background than he had expected. He had been watching her throughout the course of the service, but they didn’t get a chance to speak until afterwards at Hogan’s Place, when he was proceeding to drink himself blind, and she had slid into the booth across from him.
“Hey, Jim,” she said with a smile, “How ya doin’?”
“This is my second scotch,” he said, holding up the glass, and she frowned slightly.
“Is it your last one?”
“It can be—if you decide to make me.”
“It can be arranged,” she nodded, taking the bottle of scotch and passing it over her head to a different table. One of the ADA’s tipped his glass to her and thanks, and she gave him a smile, before turning back to Jim. She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at him, “Gotta stop now.”
“I was drinking that,” he whined, watching it as it got passed around the table.
“I think you’re drunk enough, Jim,” she whispered.
“I disagree,” he said, starting to take on the face that meant he was going to use lawyer logic on her, and she shook her head.
“I’m the one who has to make sure you get home in one piece,” she replied, “I’d prefer you to still be able to walk somewhat. I don’t feel like dragging you.”
“But—”
“I know Mike just died,” she said softly, “And I know you two were good friends. So if you still want to get plastered, I’ll take you home, and make sure you don’t kill yourself.”
He looked up at her, and gave her a small smile, “Thank you, Stella.”
“You’re welcome,” she nodded, before pointing to his plate, “Now eat something.”
“Not really hungry,” he replied and she shook her head.
“Not good enough. Eat.”
He gave her a look, before picking at his food, “You gonna just sit there and watch me eat?”
She gave him a look before reaching forward and picking some of the appetizers off his plate. “Feel better?” she asked, and he smiled at her before starting to eat with her.
“I didn’t know you were religious,” he started, and she looked up at him, startled.
“I’m not.”
“You used to be though,” he said, looking down at the plate, “I was watching you through the service, and you didn’t skip a beat.”
“The service is easy to follow,” she replied, “That doesn’t mean—”
“Stella, I am one,” he stated, looking up at her, “I know one when I see one.”
She looked down slightly, “The orphanage—it was run by the religious. Lay people mostly, but they still made us play by the rules.” He nodded that he understood, but didn’t say anything. She still pushed, “What about you?”
“My mother,” he replied, “She was an expert in the Catholic guilt trip. Her faith was the most important thing in her life, so likewise she forced it on me.”
She nodded, “You moved away from it because you couldn’t enjoy it?”
“For any spirituality,” he began, popping the last of the food into his mouth, “It should be about the connection, not the obligation. If you can’t feel moved by it, how can you really appreciate what’s happening in front of you?”
“Very good point.”
“I am a lawyer.”
She nodded slowly, “I guess we have more in common than we thought, huh Steele?”
“Guess we do, Bonasera.”
“I know I’ve been avoiding your calls as of late,” she sighed, “It’s just—with Aiden gone—”
“I know,” he nodded, “Don’t worry about it. When’s the new CSI come in?”
“She starts Monday. Mac pulled her out of some town in Montana.”
He raised an eyebrow in interest, “Sounds like that’s going to be an interesting mix.”
“Danny’s ecstatic about it,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Not that he was happy about Aiden being fired to begin with.”
“I heard about that,” he nodded, and she looked surprised, and he gave her a smirk, “Contrary to popular belief, my ears do still work and I do hear things.”
“Hard to believe,” she replied.
“I also heard why Mac fired her,” he continued, “And I have to say I support him.”
“You didn’t have to work with her day in and day out,” Stella stated, her face changing from amused to defiant, “You weren’t her friend.”
“Maybe,” he said, pushing the plate away, “But I still wouldn’t have supported falsifying evidence. That’s a crime, Stella. It could have gotten a lot worse if Mac hadn’t caught it, or she hadn’t stopped herself and it had gone to court.”
“I know,” she nodded, before he reached for her hand and squeezed it lightly.
“If you don’t want to make sure I don’t kill myself now, I’d understand.”
“No,” she said, looking up and giving him a smile, “I’ll still make sure. Besides—you still owe me dinner.”
“That’s very true,” he nodded, “I’m not good for that if I’m dead.”
“So—does that mean we’re getting out of here?” she asked, and he nodded before sliding out of the booth, and guiding her ahead of him.
“I’m thinking a smaller venue might be better—”
no subject
no subject
Re: Hey!!!