Title: Heaven
Fandom: due South
Rating: Teen and up
Length: 860

Author's notes: Although this is rated teen and up, it's really fairly innocent. And if anyone wants to see the dance where Stella fell in love, here it is: Dance scene from Top Hat.

Inspired by desireearmfeldt's discussion in comments on Boots


The first time she saw Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire dance, Stella was in love. With both of them, which confused her, because she was eight, and wasn’t she supposed to fall in love with one person, and wasn’t he supposed to be a man?

It was both of them though, the way they were together. The lightness of their movement, the way they defied gravity. It wasn’t just Ginger’s feather dress floating out, or Fred’s old fashioned charm, which reminded her of Daddy at a function, it wasn’t even the music – it was just them. Together.

She watched Top Hat three times at the cinema, even though it was black and white, and an oldie.

Later, she tried talking to Mother about it, which was, as usual, a huge mistake. Mother had been going through a good phase lately, not spending all day in bed, rarely drunk before noon, and had been very solicitous of ‘her little Princess.’ Stella forgot about the bad times when things were good, so telling Mother why she was flouncing round the house in her frilliest dresses, trying to dance seemed sensible at the time.

Not, as it happened, one of Stella’s best ideas. Mother got into a terrible rage. “I didn’t go through forty-eight hours of labour to give birth to a lesbian.”

This was not a good start. For one thing, the length of Mother’s labour varied, according to how angry she was with Stella (Daddy told her it was actually just under twelve.) Forty-eight hours was the second longest so far, (on one horrid occasion it was seventy-two) so Stella was definitely in a lot of trouble. For another thing, Stella had no idea what a lesbian was, and when she was told to look it up in the dictionary she was no wiser. Didn’t all women love other women? She loved Mother, after all. What was wrong with that? Did that make her a lesbian?

Those questions earned her a face-slap, and she was banished to her room. Cheek stinging, she snuck into Daddy’s library, and checked all his medical books. She sat cross legged on the floor, reading everything she could about female sexuality, and got more and more confused. She had a clitoris? Where?

She checked. Oh, good grief. She did have one. It was tiny. Was it meant to be that tiny? What on earth was it for? Did she pee out of that? Was it like a boy’s willy? She touched it and winced. That felt nasty; she definitely wasn’t touching that again.

Then she read further, and realised that, ugh, she really did have an opening. She could put her finger right up it. Double ugh. A baby was meant to come out of that? Mother had told her they came out of your belly button.

Still, it was sort of interesting. She had a secret pocket. Maybe she could hide things up there. Little things. Really little things, like pocket money, or marbles, or rings. Nobody would ever look for them there.

She carried on reading.

Orgasms sounded disgusting. Maybe it was like when Eustace at school had an epileptic fit. Stella really hoped she never had an orgasm.

Virgins on the other hand sounded very sensible. She vowed then and there to be a virgin for life.

When Daddy came home Stella put all the books back in order, and ran to her room. She could hear his soothing voice following Mother around the downstairs. Kitchen, to lounge, to dining room. Stella knew already that he would calm the situation down. Eventually, not knowing exactly what her parents were saying was too much, so Stella crept out, and sat at the top of the stairs, peering through the bannisters. This was her perfect spot. She could see and hear, but she couldn’t be seen, and could make a speedy getaway back to her room if needed.

“… you’re completely overreacting,” Daddy was saying. “She’s a little girl, and from what I understand, she said she loved them dancing. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Mother sniffled. “But she said she loved Ginger Rogers.”

“Well, who doesn’t?” Stella heard a laugh. Daddy started singing, in his sweet tenor voice. “Heaven, I’m in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…”

Mother was laughing now, and Stella glimpsed her parents dancing through the hall, dodging the aspidistra and the coat tree. “…and I seem to find the happiness I seek…”

Mother was leaning against Daddy, and swaying with him, dancing backward in her high heels, just like Ginger. She was smiling, and singing along. “… when we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek.”



“You know, Stella sweetheart,” Daddy said, later over dinner, “Your mother and I were thinking maybe we should get you dancing lessons.”

Stella’s heart leapt.

“It’s a good idea,” Mother said. “I’ll take you shopping for some nice dancing shoes, and some pretty dresses. A lady needs to dance, and perhaps you’ll meet a suitable boy.”

A boy like Daddy, Stella thought.

“What do you say, Honey?”

“Thank You Daddy. Thank you, Mother.”

Daddy patted her head. “My good girl.”