This story is written for the private entertainment of fans. No infringement of any copyrights held by Due South c/o Alliance is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story.

Rated G - m/f - Romance & Hockey

Passion Flower
(by Catalina Dudka - Copyright 1996)

Passion Flower ... Passion Flower?!? Where did he get off smelling of Passion Flower, and on duty no less! Margaret wasn't sure, but there might also have been traces of powder shadow on his lids. Now, she thought of Fraser in many ways, some work-related, and some down right unprofessional, but she'd never have pegged him for a cross-dresser. The more she pondered on the matter, the surer she was the damn Detective had a hand in this as well. Enough! Enough about those two. Now was the time to focus. Giving herself a mental shake, Meg stepped onto the ice.

"Hey Thatcher!"

"Hi Meg."

"How ya doin'?"

The welcome from her teammates warmed her. Thank God she'd joined this recreational co-ed league. The rough & tumble camaraderie, physical challenge of aggressive skating, to say nothing of the concentration required to foil one's opponents, was just what the proverbial Doctor ordered. Whether after an energetic practice, or a full-fledged game like tonight, she always felt relaxed and found it easier to cope with life in general, and Fraser in particular. On really bad days, she pictured Vecchio and Fraser as her opponents, but had to be careful as she tended to incur more penalties then.

Returning everyone's greetings, Meg followed Leslie's (the team Captain) lead and warmed up. Gliding smoothly round the net and each other, they begun the customary cheer.

"Who's number one?"

"WE ARE!!"

"Who are we?"

"WE ARE THE ENFORCERS!!"

"WHAT ARE WE?"

"THE ENFORCERS ARE NUMBER ONE!!!!"

Joining in the pre-game war cry with gusto, Meg watched as the visiting team finished it's own version. At the Referee's command, all took their positions. Taking her place as Right Wing, Meg slapped her hockey stick onto the ice, and looked into the eyes of her opposing counterpart... blue eyes... the bluest eyes she'd ever seen ... No, it couldn't be!

"Inspector," Benton Fraser nodded respectfully.

"Constable?!?" she chocked. "What the...."

A shrill whistle set the game in motion, and the time for questions was over.

Out of the corner of her eye Meg saw Katherine, the Enforcer Centre, rush by in control of the puck. Gritting her teeth, Meg pushed by Fraser and followed her teammate.

The next fifty minutes were a blur. Cold air and yells from a few spectators, mingled with the whir of sharp blades on ice and the grunts of players. The score was 3-2 in the Enforcers' favour. Focusing her attention like a laser on the puck and the goal ahead, Meg sped towards the net. She skirted past the first obstacle, but the next was more persistent, and snatched the puck away. Whirling about Meg followed.

The player ahead skated with a familiar grace that almost mesmerized her. Realizing that it was Fraser, Meg roared and surged forward. Her cry startled him. Taking the opportunity, she shouldered him into the boards. She must have misjudged her strength, for Fraser slid down onto the ice. Incredulously, she watched as the Mountie curled up holding his belly, and the Referee's whistle rang in her ear.

"FOUL!" the official declared and helped the fallen man to his feet. "Are you alright, son?"

"I am fine," Fraser coughed.

"You! Two minutes!" the Ref ordered.

"WHAT!?! For a body check?!?" Meg exclaimed outraged.

"Now it's three minutes. Care to try for five?"

Biting off an expletive, Meg turned towards the indicated box, but not before catching the mischievous smile and wink Fraser threw her way.

"That insufferable man!!" Meg fumed. Wasn't it sufficient she had to work with him? Wasn't it enough he invaded her dreams? Did he have to insinuate himself into her free time as well? Practically bouncing on her seat, she groaned as Fraser scored against her team tying the score three to three.

The second her punishment ended, Meg burst back into the game. At that moment Higgins, the Enforcer Goalie, stopped another attempt and with a mighty slap, sent the puck flying. The hard rubber disc slid past Fraser's failed block directly at Meg. With a triumphant laugh, she caught the pass and found the way clear.

Everything slowed to a crawl. She heard nothing but the rush of her own breath, the beat of her own heart. She saw nothing but the neat ahead. Her body clicked into action and every muscle flowed in perfect tandem. Meg pushed forward. As she neared the opposing Goalie, her lips parted in a menacing sneer. Gratified by the fear in the goal tender's eyes, she hit the puck with such force, that the poor man didn't even have time to blink. Just as the black disc slammed into the netting, the end-of-game horn sounded.

Suddenly Meg was back in real time, and within a beat was surrounded by the warm, sweaty loud, celebrating bodies of her teammates.

Taking a grateful drink of water, Meg closed her eyes. Leaning back against the bleacher behind her, she listened as the players dispersed among spectators or down to the locker rooms. The adrenalin still coursed in her blood making her senses sharper than usual, so that she had no doubt as to the identity of the one that approached. She heard the creak of wood and brush of cloth as he sat next to her. Inhaling deeply was a mistake, as the mingling of sweat, Old Spice, and something uniquely his reached her.

"Thank God it's not Passion Flower," she muttered.

"Pardon me?" Fraser asked.

"Uh. Never mind," Meg sat forward trying to put some distance between them, but looked up at his discreet cough.

"Congratulations," he offered his hand. "You skate very well."

"Thank you Constable," she answered gripping his warm palm. Another mistake, she concluded as the heat of him coursed right up her arm causing her skin to flush and shiver at the same time. "What are you doing here?"

"I am offering my congratulations."

"No. I mean, do you belong to this league?"

"Oh, no. I was asked to play as a favour."

"Good," she muttered again, and realized her hand was still in his.

"Actually, I really enjoyed myself. Maybe I should join?"

As he spoke, his thumb rubbed softly against her wrist.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Margaret snatched her hand away as if burned, and immediately regretted it as she caught the hurt in his eyes. Calling forth every ounce of discipline, she braced herself against the desire he evoked. "I prefer you didn't."

"Understood," he nodded.

Unable to take the disappointment in his face, not to mention her own, she stood up. With a cool "Good night, Constable," she walked away, her back ramrod straight.

Keeping her mind completely on the task at hand, Meg changed, packed her gear, and drove home. Arriving at her apartment, her sanctuary, she showered, ate a good supper, and watched a little TV. After a while, she changed into her favourite flannel pyjamas, crawled into bed and turned off the bedside lamp. This, of course, was the biggest mistake of all ... because ... in the dark she was safe.

In the dark there was no one to see. In the dark there was no one to hear, to pass judgement, to criticize. Closing her eyes, she let him in. She let his lips close upon hers, let his arms wrap around her waist. She allowed herself the reward of touching him, allowed herself the luxury of savouring him. She allowed herself the pleasure of inhaling his scent... Mmmm, maybe Passion Flower wasn't so bad after all.

The End

Cat (cdudka@direct.ca)