This is part of a series relating the adventures of Fraser and Thatcher on a training tour in Disney World. Since all kinds of brand names and corporations are mentioned through the course of this epic, let me make it clear I own none of them, and I have used them purely for the purposes of free entertainment, and will make no personal gain from this. The due South characters belong to Alliance, not me. Disney World belongs to some huge publicly owned conglomerate, not me. I hope they don't sue me for some of the liberties I take in this series. I acknowledge the role of Disney in the American Culture, and recognize it as a national resource.

This series assumes that season 3/4 did not take place; that Ray and the Riv are still around; that Thatcher never cut her hair or got as strange as she did toward the end, but that Fraser's apartment was burned down and he did live for a while at the Consulate.

NOTE: This is the idea that started this series, a result of listening to too many Disney soundtracks. I do not own any of the characters, music, or park rides discussed below. I do not know if there is such an award, although I hope there is, anyway, its my idea.

Rating: PG

Comments: tomato_3@excite.com

"I have never even thought of being a flower. What on earth would be the purpose of imagining such a thing?"

Benton Fraser had to admit that among the multitude of strange experiences he'd had in his life, he had never even conceived of the idea of pretending to be a flower. Looking at the list of 'facts' they were supposed to collect on each other, he was appalled at the thought of even broaching some of these subjects to Margaret Thatcher.

Although deep in the dark, fetid places in his mind, he really did want to know where she was ticklish.

He just couldn't imagine asking her such a thing.

He glanced at his companion as she sat beside him, jostling slightly to and fro as the monorail moved toward The Magic Kingdom. She seemed quite content to sit there looking out the window as they passed the various resorts strung around the big lake in the middle of Disney World. Now she turned to him as his flower comment wended its way into her forebrain.

"Fraser, I have no idea why they put most of those things on that list! I seem to recall that those kinds of questions were big in the 60's and 70's when 'sensitivity sessions' were the rage, according to what I remember from school. If Pete Taylor comes out of that school then we could be in for some uncomfortable times. 'Trust Sessions' were a big part of their team building efforts." She said this with a certain grimness to her tone.

"What are trust sessions?" Fraser had no idea what she was talking about, an increasingly frequent occurrence in the short time that they'd been in Orlando. It reminded him of when he'd first arrived in Chicago, and had wandered around for weeks in a state of verbal confusion, totally bewildered by the accents, the dialect, the nomenclature of the natives. Perhaps he was not as adaptable as he'd always thought.

"In 'Trust Sessions' the facilitator would take two people who didn't know each other and place them in a situation in which they had to rely on the other person. Falling backwards into the other person's arms was one that comes to mind. But if you think I'm going to fall in your arms at a moment's notice, you should think again." She said it before she thought through the implications of her statement, and now blushed like a fire engine.

"Oh I never thought you would fall into my arms that easily." He paused, looking at her, transfixed for a moment with the depth and clarity of her deep brown eyes. Recovering, he added -

"That would be dangerous. I've found that it's usually desirable to know where you are falling before you leap." Fraser said this with his normal preternatural calm, before turning back to review their park brochures.

Meg wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. And if she had heard him correctly, she wasn't sure that he'd meant what he'd said, or that she heard what he meant . . . She tried not to stare at him in shock, but could have sworn that she saw a flicker of that tell-tale dimple that flashed when he smiled. No, gone, or maybe never there. Yee Gods!

Their evening's assignment at the park was to do something that they'd never done before - together.

This concept of togetherness was making Meg jumpy. Intuitively, she knew that there had to be clear boundaries placed on the extent of togetherness that she and Fraser were going to have, or they would end up in the ultimate togetherness situation, a condition in which Meg was not altogether sure that she didn't want to experience, together with Benton Fraser.

~ Oh God, now I'm starting to babble as badly as he does when he's nervous.~ This did not bode well . . . .

Since Fraser had never been to an amusement park of this magnitude, figuring out something that neither had experienced and doing it together should be easy. Meg had been to a couple of amusement parks when she was much younger, but had lost interest in going as she got older. However, once there, she actually was somewhat interested in how they'd arranged and outfitted this paragon of American culture. She was particularly intrigued with the level of behavioral consistency among the park staff. For some reason, it reminded her of the Stepford Wives. She wondered what kind of training produced such regid adherence to cheerfullness. She also wondered what kind of management and discipline strategies Disney used, wondering if she could get some to use on Turnbull.

Disembarking from the monorail at the Magic Kingdom station was comparable to walking into a large wet, hot mattress. The air felt like a solid mass through which the unwary travelers must wade.

"Good Lord. I was really hoping that I'd been mistaken about the heat. I'm very glad that I left Diefenbaker in Chicago. I would not enjoy carrying a wolf around all day in this."

Fraser had a hard time believing that people could actually breathe this air. Unlike the air in Chicago, which could be chewed on an overcast day, the late summer air of central Florida could be worn. He could almost feel the way his clothes began to absorb the increased humidity and began clinging to his body. He immediately pulled out his sunglasses and hat, in the hopes of creating a small pool of shade in which he could pretend to stand.

"I know, it is unimaginable that we are actually subjecting ourselves to this. Do you think it would count if we said that we experienced heat prostration together? Then we could just go home and hide in the air conditioning and make popcorn." Meg asked hopefully, intuitively knowing that Fraser would be more inclined to try the more conventional approach to completing the list.

"That definitely has a certain appeal. However, I think we should try to attempt to experience what they are trying to have us experience before we chose to experience something different, but more enjoyable." He knew what he meant; she decided that she'd have to keep close watch on him to ensure that he wasn't having low level heat seizures. She too donned her RCMP baseball cap and sunglasses. Together they looked exactly like they felt - strangers in a very strange land.

Armed with their park maps, water bottles, cameras, (Ray had insisted and it was a condition of driving Ben to the airport) and brave hearts, they set off to explore the tortured reality of the park.

They'd made it down Main Street and Meg turned to Ben to see which way he wanted to go - Tomorrow Land or Fantasy Land, and saw the glazed look in his eyes. 

~ Time to get this little cold weather boy into some air conditioning. ~ She realized that he was getting a little spacey when she asked him which way to go and he gave her a heading in latitude and longitude. Having decided on a venue for dinner, she looped her arm through his to guide him toward the restaurant in Sleeping Beauty's Castle. Table service, air conditioning, thick walls - who cared if you had to eat with Disney characters!

She knew he was further along then she thought when, as they walked into the shaded plaza under the castle, Fraser reached up and gently patted her hand still holding his arm.

"Ah, a cave, how nice. I hope we don't run into any polar bears." He smiled, looking around at the ornate mosaics on the walls. ~ Oh joy.~

It is likely that the unique circumstances of the day were the genesis of the event. The fact that it was their first full day in the Florida heat, that it was the hottest day on record for that very hot year, that they were both tired and feeling more than a little grimey, and of course that they were in the very unusual position in which they found themselves. That all in all - factors had contributed to the peeling aware of specific barriers constructed to resist just such an occurrence. They were strong individuals, each committed to doing the morally and ethically correct thing. They believed in their own personal strength to resist these urges. . . .

Take Florida heat & humidity + two tired people + stress + boredom + lively imaginations + small, confined, unobserved space + repressed desire = Ball Lightning!

They had been sitting in the swaying cable car for close to 45 minutes, stuck halfway between Fantasy Land and Tomorrow Land, which seemed bizarrely appropriate. The little car had stopped suddenly, suspended between stations and apparently not going any further, at least for a while.

Having expended all of 10 minutes talking about the seminar activities, they had lapsed into silent contemplation of the scene below. Occasionally one or the other would make some comment about the activities going on under their feet. However, most of the time they sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts. The lights came on as the sun set highlighting new aspects of the fairyland below.

The silence was filled by the wafting strains of music drifting from the speakers mounted in the trees below them. They had already heard the complete soundtrack to BEAUTY & THE BEAST, and were working through THE LITTLE MERMAID when the calypso beat started.

"Kiss the Girl" from The Little Mermaid, Lyrics by Harold Ashman & Lyrics by Alan Menken

They both listened for a moment, watching the other's expression in the waning light as the song played. Each thinking that this might actually be a good plan of action, but neither willing to make the first move.

"So are you going to do it?"

She finally asked with a small smile. Lying in bed that night, staring at the now quite familiar leaf shadows dancing on the ceiling, Meg would castigate herself for having started the chain of events. She would berate herself for having asked the question, raising the possibility. Then she'd remember the rest . . .

Before, he might have pondered the advisability of actually executing such an action. He might have felt a little faint-hearted - an astonishing thing to even consider. However, he realized that he had come quite a ways since he stepped off the plane the previous afternoon, and his central nervous system was struggling to compensate for the stress of the heat, of being this close to her, of . . .everything. Now he just smiled in the faint light.

 "I was thinking about it."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I'm trying to determine if this is a sufficient transportation emergency to warrant action." His dimple flashed briefly.

"Ah, well, I would hope that nothing more drastic would be required." She finally said, knowing that she was tempting fate by agreeing with him, but seemingly no longer able to resist. A kind of languor seemed to settle over the small, swaying receptacle as it hung over the sparkling parkland below, suspended in space and seemingly in time, too.

Never taking his eyes from her face, he leaned forward as she leaned forward and their lips met. It is possible that what was intended was a small, soft, tentative kiss and at first it was. However, since neither wanted to stop; since both had been contemplating this for well over a year; since that one simple touch brought all of the startling sensations experienced so long ago right back up to the surface like a bathesphere floating up from the depths of their souls; since they felt that they were strong, resilient personalities, able to manage their impulses - they managed to ignore the little voices in their heads screaming "Danger, Danger Will Robinson!"

~ Yes, yes, yes!!! Oh, my God he feels so good, he tastes so good! More - more - more! ~

Well she knew which side had finally triumphed in her internal debate. She felt as though she had just unzipped the tightest dress that she'd ever worn, the relief sweeping through her was indescribable. One little primal part of her just whimpered.

He knew it was what he wanted, to be kissing her here, or for that matter anywhere. What he wanted and what he should be doing were two different things. But for just this once, he was going to give into his wants, and so he kissed her because he had the opportunity, because he wanted to - perhaps he needed to - because he could no longer resist, either.

The first touch of their lips sealed it. Once started, the kiss ran away with them; neither could or wanted to stop. So, instead of it being a brief flicker of their lips together it grew. His lips pressed more firmly against hers, his hand moving to the back of her head., the tip of his tongue searching for hers. She leaned into him bringing her hands up to his shoulders to steady herself. His arm wrapped around her as her fingers moved to his neck, creeping through his hair. Their desire to increase the 'contact' overwhelmed them. It was if they were body surfing an incredible tide of desire.

First , he moved to kneel in front of her, the better to hold her. Then he moved to the bench beside her, taking her more completely in his arms. All the while never breaking the kiss. Somewhere along the line his lips moved to her neck, stopping first to nibble her earlobe, a small moan of delight escaped her. He had wanted to taste her neck for most of the last two years, to discover that unique taste that was hers alone. It was now permanently engraved in his memory. Giving into to another long-held desire he traveled the contours of that column with his lips.

Somewhere further along she moved onto his lap in order to kiss him more thoroughly, something that had flashed repeatedly through her mind on any number of occasions before. He tightened his hold on her as the sensation of so much contact with her body registered on his heat stressed brain. The slight swaying of the cable car unconsciously reminded both of the train swaying under their feet. Whereas before, it had been cold, as the wind whipped around them at 40 kilometers per hour, now the hot, humid, steamy air seemed to wrap around them, holding them closer, molding their bodies together as if they were globs of Play Dough slowly melting on a city sidewalk.

Neither noticed when the nightly fireworks began, or when the Skyway started up again. They didn't even notice when they entered the brightly-lit station, or when the car bumped and jerked to a stop, or when the attendants opened the door. They didn't notice the family of four from Providence who wanted to get on, but took their picture instead. They didn't notice the attendants trying to get their attention, or when they just gave up and waved the car on, to make the return trip. The man who could hear a beach ball bounce against a car door two blocks away somehow managed to not notice this level of cacophony.

They went through the complete circuit twice more and never noticed, totally engrossed as they were in rediscovering how remarkable it felt to hold each other, to taste each other's lips, to caress the other's body, to let their hormones run blessedly amok for some timeless period. The little voice in each of their heads had given up on trying to gain anybody's attention and was thinking about ice cream sundaes.

The attendants by now had radioed ahead to the other station and were placing bets on whether they'd come up for air before the park closed. The crowd was light tonight - it was off-season and wretchedly humid. There were no waiting lines or the attendants would have had to put a stop to this activity. The attendants did have mild concerns that the couple might take the action beyond kissing; it had been known to happen before. To the degree that they could observe the two, it appeared as though they still had their clothes on; a circumstance some on the evening crew actually found remarkable, given the apparent intensity of their involvement.

Somewhere in the passion soaked recesses of their brains, first Meg and then Ben realized that they'd have to stop. They couldn't stay on their little cable car island forever or even for the rest of the night. While the desire for the other had not abated, (far from it, it was now significantly more intense than it had been before they embarked, much closer to the surface, ready to spring forward at the first little tap on the bubble of their resistance . . .). Anyway, they knew they had to break off. Moving in his arms, readjusting her position on his lap (how had she gotten there?) Meg reluctantly dragged herself from Ben's kiss. If she didn't do it now, she had no idea where this would lead. She also did not want to be arrested for making love on the floor of a cable car at Disney World, regardless of how much she wanted to do that right now . . . .

Their timing was such that they had finally pulled away from each other and rearranged whatever clothes needed to be rearranged as they entered the station. Their eyes, however, had not adjusted as they came to a thumping, bumping stop.

They were greeted with resounding applause from the station crew - impressed by their stamina and powers of concentration. Ben and Meg, having been otherwise engaged with their own activities, had been totally oblivious to the fact that they were being observed. Confronted with reality, they did what those who knew them had come to expect - they blushed crimson and stood there in stunned silence.

Glancing at the paper to determine its content, Fraser was somewhat surprised at the nature of the award. It was one commendation he would never in his wildest dreams have imagined receiving. Folding it carefully, he stuck it in the pocket of his shorts. He thought he'd spare Meg the embarrassment for now. He'd wait until some more appropriate time in the future to share it with her; hoping that there would be a more appropriate future time.

Having reached the bottom of the ramp, she turned to her team partner.

Fraser, ignoring the fact that she look as he imagined she might if she had just awakened, or had just made love, pulled out the list of 70 things the seminar participants were supposed to try and accomplish during the two-week course. He wasn't sure if the something new that they had tried was (a) taking the ride on the cable car, (b) kissing like maniacs while suspended over the park, or (c) playing with fire to see how close they could push things without going up in flames.

What he did know was that they had proved a hypothesis he had posed to himself.

He had suspected that if they should ever kiss again it would be more difficult to stop. While it was nice to get an answer, he was very concerned about the implications. Plotting their apparent reactions on his mental graph paper, he estimated that they were two, perhaps no more than three kisses away from totally abandoning any attempt at self- control, given the apparent rate of decay of their resistance. He would have to ponder this when he couldn't sleep tonight. However, now did not seem a good time to discuss his theory of diminishing self-restraint.

"Come on, Ben. I bet you haven't had a Shirley Temple cocktail before, either."

So, for the second night in a row each of them lay in their beds, staring at the ceiling, pondering the implications of their actions of the evening. Since they had much more to ponder than the night before, their thoughts did not provide a very good foundation for restful slumber. Instead, their dreams provided them the opportunity to relive the experience with the added intensity that only dreams can bring. While quite pleasurable, but essentially frustrating and unfulfilling, that night's sleep did not produce well-rested people the next day.

It should be noted that protracted sleep deprivation contributes to disorientation and erratic behavior.

This was the little vignette that started this whole series. It goes without saying that there has to be more.