There just isn't enough fanfiction for the Genius books, let alone any with Fiona or Saul. So, having been avoiding my schoolwork with Genius Squad, I figured I'd write a few little missing moments.
Reviews are like revenge and ice cream - all three are served cold and sweet.
Saul had one of those voices: that deep, resonating tone that some men have, threatening and rather frightening when used properly. But that voice also could be the most comforting sound in the world, gentle and reassuring. That voice meant safety. That voice meant protection.
To the rest of the world, that voice meant 'run for your life'.
That was something Fiona figured out very quickly. He was intimidating, sure, and he was strong and commanding and he knew what he was doing, but maybe sometimes that 'run for your life' voice meant he cared. Maybe it meant he was worried or concerned for her safety – and Cadel's, of course. She had developed the theory, in the back of her mind, but she hadn't put it into words.
The day she did was the day Cadel moved in to Clearview house.
After they left for the first time, Fiona stood outside her car, biting her lip and watching as if she'd see Cadel through the windows.
Saul paused with his hand on the handle of his car door. "I can always move his stuff back." Fiona's eyebrows scrunched together as she stared at the detective. "I didn't want him here in the first place." His tone held finality.
"Oh, it's not that." She shook her head. "No, I'm sure Cadel will be fine." Involuntarily, her gaze drifted to the house again.
He watched her with concern. "All right," He pulled the handle to his car.
"I'm doing what's best for Cadel, you know." She snapped, sensing hostility. She was ready to do this, now that Cadel wasn't around. They might as well have it out once and for all. "Not what I 'think' or 'believe' is best."
He rested his arm on his car door, leaning on it almost casually. She'd noticed many times the danger and alertness hidden in his most seemingly normal of gestures. "Really? And how do you know that?" He cut her off before she could answer. "Nobody knows anything for sure, Ms. Currey. Not really. Anything could be turned upside down at any moment. Cadel needs to be aware of that."
"He doesn't need to be worried over nothing! It stresses him and Sonja." She crossed her arms.
Saul sighed and looked down a moment before bringing his gaze to rest on the social worker again. "There's nothing we can do about it. He's in danger all the time, and he has to learn to live with it and understand it. One day he'll calm down." He paused, eyebrow arching. "Unless you'd like to reduce his worry and keep him on a short leash. Though I doubt he'd appreciate being kept out of the loop." Her indecision was obvious. "He can't have it both ways, Ms. Currey. He either knows what to worry over, or he worries about what he doesn't know." He ducked into his car, shut the door with a 'smack', and revved the engine.
Fiona sighed in frustration, yanking open her car door and dropping unceremoniously inside, huffing as she slammed the door shut and fiddled with the jangling keys in her hand.
She finally managed to put the right one in, blowing her hair out of her face, and sat up, leaning back into her seat with a sigh as she turned the key and looked out the windshield.
Saul was still there.
She muttered to herself, putting the car into gear and almost speeding past his still car. She didn't look at him.
Before she even got down the road, her phone rang.
She groaned, reaching to her passenger seat blindly. Finally her hands snagged cold metal, and she brought the phone to her ear, flipping it open with a sharp, "What?"
Sigh. "Just put on your seatbelt. It wouldn't do to have you flying through the windshield." And he hung up.
She threw her phone onto the seat and obeyed.
He'd been using that tone, that 'I'm not going to raise my voice but you will do what I say NOW' tone. She wasn't a child. She wasn't Cadel. He didn't need to be talking to Cadel like that, anyhow.
It didn't hit her until she was passing a wreck on the way home. Someone was lifted onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. The driver was still in the car, barely visible in the distance, but obviously crumpled, falling out the broken windshield.
She nearly stopped the car.
Others stopped to see the wreck, as people tend to do, but when Fiona slammed on her brakes she heard Saul's voice, telling her to put on her seatbelt.
After that day, when he used that tone she no longer heard it as a chastisement or an order.
Prosper English had escaped. Saul's voice crackled over the phone, weary. "Stay there, Fiona. Stay with Cadel. I'll be there in a minute, and then you can go home."
When he arrived, he looked just as tired and worn and worried as he sounded. She argued with him, of course. He leveled his gaze at her, actually trying to keep his tone gentle. "That's all I'm doing – taking precautions."
So she consented, kissed Cadel, and left Clearview House, promising to call and make sure everything was all right. She was entitled to check on them.
She left not because she trusted him with Cadel – she'd always trusted him with Cadel. She left because she knew he hadn't made her leave because she wasn't needed. He'd made her leave because he wanted her to be safe.
"I almost forgot about it," Saul was almost smirking. "But Cadel said something amusing that day I stayed at Clearview."
"And what's that?" Fiona asked absentmindedly, searching for her car keys in her purse. It was night, and that certainly didn't help, and she'd had a glass of wine over dinner, which didn't help either. She wouldn't be surprised if he insisted she didn't drive home.
"You know how he gets bored sitting in a room waiting for things to happen?" She grunted in acknowledgement as they stopped at her car. She sensed him leaning against her car in her peripheral vision. "I asked if he wanted to show me that card trick he showed you, and you know what he said?" He didn't seem to want an answer. "He told me I 'didn't have to call you 'Ms. Currey', anymore, because I know you're going out and I'm not stupid'."
She dropped her purse.
Saul caught it. "It took me by surprise too. Especially when he gives you that face."
She was surprised to be able to blurt out, "That angelic 'I already know so don't bother hiding it' face?"
He nodded. "That's the one."
She rolled her eyes and took her purse from him. "I hate that face." She opened her purse again, frowning down at it. "Where are my keys?"
She stopped searching, looking up at him with an annoyed expression. "You could have just said something. I'm not that drunk, anyhow."
He smiled again. "My, you're in a bad mood all of the sudden. Look in the side pocket."
She never put her keys there. Of course, he probably knew that. She stuck her hand down in the deepest pocket of the purse, shaking her head. "This is a stupid joke, Saul, I-"
Her hand came across something small and cold.
She'd expected the chill of metal, but this was too tiny to be her keys.
"You were right. I do have your keys."
She wanted to slap him, but one hand held her purse to her side and the other was coming out of said purse with something tiny and smooth.
"You always seem to speed off. And for your information, you're just drunk enough. So yes, I am taking you home." He paused, his voice lowering. "Unless you really mind."
She didn't open her hand, but she felt the rough surface of the diamond poking into her palm. Finally, she made up her mind. "I'm not getting in that car until you ask me properly, Saul Greeniaus. And there's no way I'm putting it on my own finger. It's lazy."
She'd expected immediate correction, or even a chuckle or a smile, or a comment on her stubbornness. Instead he kissed her – lightly, but promising. "There've been too many close calls, Fiona. I figured it was about time. Now," His hand clasped over hers, gently dropping the ring into his hand. "How proper do you want this?"