(Standard, all-purpose disclaimer) All pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of "Due South." No copyright infringement is intended. All new characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the authors.
Additional disclaimer ... it's a *joke*, people. A *joke*. We're not ragging on anyone in particular ... and, well, we could all use a laugh tonight.
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**MEMO FROM BUFFY**
Katrina is a complete wreck tonight. There she is, huddled in a corner, just looking an absolute fright, refusing to say anything. So I just tossed her a bag of Oreos and a bottle of tequila to cheer her up (will someone please tell me why she's gotten so fond of tequila all of a sudden?), and I decided to finish up this story that she started. She was afraid that some people would get mad at her if she wrote it, but things like that don't bother me in the least ... By the way, I understand some of you have expressed doubts that I actually exist. Foolish, foolish people. When have you ever known Katrina to lie? Remember, she's the good twin. I'm the evil one.
At any rate, there was no way I could do this one by myself. I needed a co-author ... someone who understood the dark, twisted, tortured pathways of my mind. Someone who understood what fun it is to be evil. I immediately thought of Gloria Lancaster, and this story simply would not have happened without her. Like the part about marine biology and pianos, and that's just the start of her contributions.
by Buffy; with invaluable assistance by Gloria Lancaster
Benton Fraser, RCMP, got out of his friend's car. "I'm leaving now," said Ray as he drove away. Ben stood on the front steps of the Canadian consulate, the sun bouncing off his gleaming buttons, his eyes competing with the sky above for blueness. Passersby gathered around, basking in his handsomeness ... he never noticed, being completely oblivious to his incredible looks and charm.
Suddenly, his attention was captured by a woman walking down the sidewalk. Actually, to call her a woman was to fall unforgivably short of the truth. She was the embodiment of all that was lovely and feminine. Her hair cascaded over and around her shoulders in a tumult of ringlets the color of a candle's flame; her face was heart-shaped and of a classical perfection. Her eyes (as Ben could determine from a full city block away, utilizing his keen Mountie vision) were a soft, shimmering amethyst, the color of shy and tender mountain violets kissed by the morning sun and bathed by the morning dew. However, they appeared to change color as the light hit them from different directions, as only happens with the finest, most beautiful eyes.
She was dressed in a simple, tasteful, yet unmistakably expensive gauzy silk dress of a deep aquamarine , which blew around her like a mist of, well, aquamarine silk. As she walked by, her eyes caught Ben's and she came to an abrupt yet graceful stop. She knew at once, as Ben knew, that they were destined to be together. They were two halves of the same soul, divided in some heavenly realm and now to be rejoined. She was the creature who could finally melt his glacial heart. Ben knew several Inuit stories which had some relevance to the experience, and he was ready to tell them all.
Before he could speak, however, the vision of perfection that had captured his red serge-clad heart glided over to him. "Hello. My name is Amaryllis St. Cloud." She extended a small, beautiful hand to Ben, and he instinctively bowed over it. This was not a hand to be shaken ... this was a hand to be lightly, reverently kissed, which he immediately did as he introduced himself.
Not caring a bit that he was abandoning his post, neglecting his responsibilities and derelicting his duty, Ben immediately fell into step with Amaryllis -- with *his* Amaryllis, as he already thought of her. "May I escort you somewhere?"
"Why, thank you," Amaryllis said in a voice that might have belonged to an angel in a celestial choir -- Ben reminded himself to look up the difference between cherubim and seraphim, so he could write a poem about her as soon as possible. "I'm going back to my hotel, and then to the airport."
Ben stopped, his heart breaking. "Are you leaving Chicago?" he asked, his voice trembling manfully.
"I must, I'm afraid," Amaryllis sighed. "My duties as a marine biologist call me back to the Cayman Islands ... I was only here for a week as a guest pianist with the Chicago Symphony. Music is my hobby, you know, but I'm researching migratory patterns of dolphins, which I hope will lead to a way to train them to rescue people who fall off ocean liners. Many lives could be saved."
Ben looked at her in adoring admiration. "A musician, a scientist, *and* a humanitarian!" Without thinking, he fell to one knee and got out his mother's diamond engagement ring, which he always kept handy in case he had to cut some glass. "You are the woman I've been searching for all my life. All the others I've loved -- my boss, the bank robber, my best friend (but we can discuss that later) -- none of them compare to you. Now that I've found you, I have no more reason to stay in Chicago. Will you be my wife and go back to Canada with me and my wolf?"
Without hesitating, Amaryllis took his hands. "Oh, yes, of course! Yes, I'll abandon my career and my music and everything else! Dear, dear darling --" she paused. "Benton, was it? I'll be thrilled to marry you." As they kissed, the crowd that had gathered around broke into spontaneous applause.
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Inspector Margaret Thatcher looked at the tastefully spare, yet unmistakably expensive invitation in her hand. "Oh, well," she murmured to herself. "I suppose there was no way I could ever have competed with someone as beautiful and wonderful as Amaryllis. I'm sure she'll make Ben much happier than I ever could, and inter-office relationships seldom work, anyway." Placing the envelope on her desk, she pressed one of the intercom buttons.
"Yes, ma'am?" Constable Turnbull came in and stood at attention.
"Constable ... you're fired. And I'll need you to escort me to a wedding this weekend."
"Yes, ma'am." He turned and left, and Thatcher continued with her paperwork.
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Victoria Metcalf stood in the crowded line, waiting her turn. In one hand she clutched the newspaper announcement of Ben and Amaryllis's engagement. "Ah, Ben." she mused silently, yet with an aching cry echoing in her heart. "I know now that our love, as deep and genuine as it was, was doomed from the start. I hope you'll be very happy with the lovely, accomplished, incomparable Amaryllis." To occupy her mind, she started reciting poetry to herself as she waited.
"Next, please." The bank teller smiled at her.
Putting the clipping back in her pocket, Victoria got her gun from the other. "Give me all your money, please." To cheer herself up, she shot the teller. As she ran out to the getaway car, she thought, "I wonder what they'd like for a wedding present?"
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"Hey, Elaine, did you hear the news?" Ray asked. "Ben is marrying Amaryllis, and I'm really happy about it. I'll see you tomorrow."
"That's so nice," Elaine thought. "I've never seen two people so perfectly suited to each other as Ben and Amaryllis. I'd better go file something now."
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"WAAAAH!" Frannie sobbed into her pillow. "Now I can probably never marry Ben. Well, at least I know he's in love with someone so utterly perfect that I could never even hope to compete with her. I know!" She sat up, smiling enthusiastically. "I'll offer to cater the wedding for free. That'll prove how happy I am for them."
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It was a lovely wedding, held in the nicest forest glade to be found in Chicago. Amaryllis, with the cool efficiency, attention to detail and unmistakable elegance for which Ben already loved her, had organized the event with no apparent effort. All the guests stood and watched in awe as she walked down the grassy path, the nine-foot train of her silken wedding dress held by several small, perfectly-behaved children she had recruited from a local orphanage. Everyone agreed she was the most beautiful, perfect bride they had ever seen or, in fact, who would ever exist. Perfectly-behaved songbirds twittered above her head.
At considerable expense, Ben had imported an Inuit shaman to conduct the ceremony. Amaryllis had acquiesced willingly after Ben had promised that despite the ceremony, the children (which would surely soon spring from such a blessed union) would be raised Presbyterian.
After the ceremony, Ben and Amaryllis bid a fond farewell to all their well- wishers, and with a song on their mutual lips and joy in their now-mated hearts, they left Chicago forever to create their own life in the far north.
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Ben picked up Amaryllis and carried her over the threshold of the cabin. Diefenbaker went off into the woods to give them some privacy on this most sacred of nights.
"My darling, I have something to show you ... something that will bring great joy and pleasure to your life," Ben said proudly as they stood inside the front door.
"Oh, Ben --" Amaryllis blushed coyly and looked down. "Shouldn't we wait until we get to the bedroom? That would be the proper thing to do, after all."
Ben thought it over and shrugged. "Well, I suppose we could try to move
it in there, but I'm afraid it probably wouldn't fit in the bedroom, my love," he warned her.
"Oh, my." Amaryllis was ready to swoon.
Carrying his bride further into the cabin, Ben said proudly, "It's here in the living room." He set his confused wife on her feet. "I had a piano shipped up here just for you."
Amaryllis clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, dear darling Ben, how thoughtful!" She sat down on the bench and immediately launched into a medley of Chopin nocturnes. Ben listened, enchanted.
Outside, in the trees surrounding the cabin, all the little creatures of the forest sat, entranced. Being deaf, Dief had no idea what they were doing; but this was one wolf who knew a cue when he saw one and he sat down and looked entranced as well. Far off in the distance, a hunter was just finishing gutting the caribou he had brought down ... distracted from his task by the heavenly music he heard wafting over the miles, he sat down on a rock and listened.
Later that night, as the aurora borealis soared and surged above them, and as songbirds stayed up way past their bedtimes to serenade them, Ben and Amaryllis consummated their union as man and wife, secure in their knowledge that their love had touched the heart of God.
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Ben and Amaryllis stood arm in arm, looking with satisfaction at the cabin which Amaryllis had completely redecorated. Since there was very little work to be found in the Territories for either marine biologists or concert pianists, she had taken a job as a contributing editor for _Better Homes and Gardens: Yukon Edition_, and their little cabin was now a haven of calm and serenity. Artfully arranged dried flowers occupied every available flat surface, and watercolor paintings of dolphins and other aquatic creatures adorned the walls. The furniture, the piano and the windows were all draped with acres of floral chintz, bringing a warm summery look to the place even in winter. It was an unmistakably exquisite pastel paradise. Diefenbaker looked up from the pink and blue doggy bed Amaryllis had made especially for him; he adored it, as he adored all things she did.
"Ben, my darling, I have something to tell you. We have created something wonderful and precious from our love." Amaryllis spoke the long-awaited words with a blush staining her perfect cheeks.
"Yes," Ben sighed happily. "The cushions for the new porch swing *are* nice, aren't they? So floral and ... and chintzy."
"No ... dear darling Ben, I meant something else ..." Amaryllis placed a hand protectively over her perfectly flat stomach and continued blushing.
"Darling ... You don't mean -- ?" Ben said in a strong yet shaken voice.
Amaryllis just smiled and blushed again. "Yes, darling Ben. Our union has been blessed, and we will need to build an extension onto the cabin."
"I'll start chopping trees down right away, my love," Ben said as he got his axe. Amaryllis blushed once more for good measure and began looking through samples of wallpaper, trying to decide between fuzzy yellow duckies and frolicking teddy bears.
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Amaryllis and Ben looked proudly down at their newborn daughter. After lengthy debate, they had named her Hyacinth Aurora -- Hyacinth after Amaryllis's dear, long-departed mother who had died in a tragic fox- hunting accident when Amaryllis was but a tiny wee slip of a girl, and Aurora for the night when, well ... you know. Diefenbaker looked up adoringly at all of them.
"I'm going to go chop down some more trees, my darling," said Ben as he kissed Amaryllis lightly on the forehead.
Amaryllis waltzed over to the chintz-draped cradle which Ben had carved for their precious babe. As she laid the tiny bundle into her bed, Amaryllis was alerted by a faint sound far off in the distance. She had become attuned to the sounds of the forest in her brief time there, and she knew immediately that it was a tiny wee baby bear cub in danger.
Motivated by the universal maternal spirit, which drove her to protect all the young creatures of the world, Amaryllis dashed from the cabin to see what she could do to help. As she stood with the squirming cub in her arms, she said, "Ooohhh -- does little pookums want his mama?"
Unfortunately, the bear's mother had apparently not been briefed about the universal maternal spirit.
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Ben was understandably devastated by the tragic loss of his wife. He sent Hyacinth Aurora to Chicago to be raised by Ray's mother, since he had exhausted his own supply of parents and grandparents. Diefenbaker went with her -- if Amaryllis wasn't there to adore, surely her daughter would be the next best thing. For the next five years, Ben wandered the vast forests of northern Canada, doing good deeds and trying to regain his reason for living.
It was five years before he came back to Chicago ... in fact, it was the very day of Hyacinth Aurora's fifth birthday. "It's good to see you, Benny," Ray said as he went out the door. "I've got to go to work now."
As he sat in the Vecchio living room, he was entranced by a wee tiny little girl, a solemn, perfect replica of her dear mother. She danced over to Ben and looked at him. In a clear, piping little voice, she said, "Are you my daddy?"
Ben's heart choked within him even as it came back to life. "Yes, I am," he admitted.
Hyacinth Aurora climbed into his lap. "Doesn't Daddy love his little girl, then?"
"Yes, he does," Ben said as he hugged his unmistakably perfect little daughter. And they all lived happily ever after.