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.

This is my very first fanfic, Due South or otherwise, so consider yourself warned ;)

Rated R - m/f - Erotica / Romance

White as Snow
(by Catalina Dudka - Copyright 1995)

Dawn tinged the sky. The sounds of early morning snowploughs seeped through the open window. The travelling wail of a siren mingled with the annoying whine of a car alarm. Standing at the window Benton Fraser inhaled deeply as he pulled suspenders on. The myriad of smells and sounds emphasized anew how far away he was from home. With a sharp "woof" Diefenbaker pushed past Fraser, leaped over the window sill, and trotted down the snow dusted fire escape.

"Good morning to you too," Ben muttered to the departing wolf. Stretching his arms overhead, he approached the sink, splashed his face, and lathered his jaw. Brandishing his father's straight razor, Ben began his morning ritual.

As he scraped the whiskers off his left cheek, Ben felt the warm whisper of her breath on the nape of his neck. She pressed soft lips there, then nipped playfully as her arms circled him from behind. The press of her breasts against his back was like an electric charge. Ben's body hardened in response. Her long, graceful fingers reached up to the neckline of his sleeveless undershirt, then moved down, exploring his chest, rubbed the nubs of his nipples, continued over his abdomen, paused teasingly at his waistband, then dipped lower to palm his ...

Benton inhaled sharply and his eyes refocused to see the well of red against his skin where he had nicked himself back to reality. Leaning against the sink, Ben took deep, calming breaths to ground himself and disperse the signs of arousal brought on by his all too vivid imagination.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he mused. "I've only just met her ... God...," he sighed. Looking up Benton watched as his reflection was superimposed by her soft oval features, framed by long ebony waves. Deep, dark eyes, whose iris and pupil were almost one, beckoned him. His treacherous body reacted again. "Only one cure for this," Ben resolved. He grabbed a towel and headed for a very cold shower.

Fraser shut the door to his office. He sat at the desk, pulled a brown bag from the drawer and reached for his new purchase. On the way to work he had been captivated by the window display at a local bookstore. Through the softly falling snow flakes, he saw her face, a black and white study surrounded by copies of her latest book entitled simply 'North'. He purchased a copy resolving to wait until his lunch break to examine it. And now the time had finally arrived.

Taking a bite of his tuna on rye, Ben opened the cover. "North. Photographs and text by Rowan Ashe," he read and flipped to the dedication page. There she was again. This time the photograph was a playful portrait of Rowan and a sandy haired man. Both laughing as they struck a ridiculous yet intimate pose in front of imposing snow covered peaks. Their faces wore matching grins and wind burn. The caption below read ...

"In memory of Lucas Ford.
You'll be in my heart always.
R."

Ben was unprepared for the sudden stab of jealousy that twisted his gut. Quickly he turned to the following pages and was soon lost in magnificent vistas of rugged mountains, ancient glaciers, intermingled with more intimate portraits of the Inuit and other dwellers of the Far North. He turned one more page and froze. Blinked twice to make sure, but the image he saw remained the same. There, in stunning black and white, was his father's cabin. The photograph captured the forlorn melancholy Benton always felt when remembering. However, this photo, along with its companions also served to relieve somewhat the homesickness that had been plaguing him of late.

Suddenly, the door opened, and in walked Marc Belieu, the chief inspector' assistant.

"Hey, Fraser. Do you know where-- What's this?" Marc asked grabbing the book from Benton's desk. "Oh, it's miss Ashe's book. Very nice," he murmured while scanning the pages. "When did you get this?"

"I bought it this morning," Fraser replied. "I was curious."

"Boy, she is talented," Marc commented surprised. "Who'd have thought she is ambassador's sister. He is such a dull man."

"I don't think it's our place to--"

"Hey, this must be him," Marc interrupted pointing at the dedication portrait.

"Who?" Ben asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"You don't know the story?!"

"No."

"Well, let me tell you, it's a doosie!"

"Go on," Fraser encouraged, hating himself for listening to gossip.

Marc perched on the corner of the desk and proceeded.

"It seems this guy Lucas Ford was miss Ashe's pilot and lover. They travelled and worked together over the last few years. Then, shortly after their engagement was announced, tragedy struck. They had been flying to Aklavik, got caught in a freak blizzard. The plane went down and it was three or four days before they were found. It was too late, however, miss Ashe was barely alive, but Ford here froze to death shielding her from the cold. It happened over a year ago, it seems she took a long time to recover. This trip to Chicago is her first public appearance."

Marc looked at Fraser expectantly.

"Umm. Yes, that's definitely a tragic story. Now, what was it you wanted?" Fraser replied eager to get rid of Marc and contemplate this new information.

"Oh, now I've forgotten. Well, I'm sure it will come to me later." Marc answered and strode out the door.

Ben's finger caressed the curve of her cheek on the page, then , with a, resolute breath shut the book.

Fraser stood at the edge of the ballroom, unaware as usual, that he cut quite a dashing figure in dress reds. His clear blue eyes swept over the mingling, dancing crowd. Searching. There, there she was. Rowan looked even lovelier than he remembered attired as she was in a dark red velvet gown of a medieval cut. The colour an style served to enhance her ivory skin. The midnight waves of her hair held back at the nape by a silver filigree clip. Soft tendrils escaped here and there to rest softly at temple and neck. The willowy movements of her body as she danced. The curve of her lips as she smiled at something her partner said. All this created an aura of demure allurance that drew him against his will. Ben's heart skipped a beat as Rowan caught his gaze and smiled in greeting. He nodded back and watched as she continued to play the hostess.

As the evening wore on, Fraser performed his duties, making sure that wives, and other guests not involved in the political or diplomatic discussions of their companions did not lack for dancing or conversation partners. For, after all, embassy balls were rarely only about entertaining.

Turning to seek a new partner, Benton found himself not two steps from the object of his fantasies. Rowan spotted him and approached with a relieved smile.

"There you are, constable Fraser," she said, then addressed her more that slightly rotund companion. "I'm sorry, your excellency, but I have promised the next few dances to constable Fraser."

As she spoke Rowan took Benton's arm. "I owe him my life, you see. It's the least I can do."

Rowan pulled a startled, yet delighted Fraser onto the dance floor. Just then the music switched from a jaunty foxtrot to a slow waltz.

Not one to miss such an opportunity, Ben took her in his arms and steered them to a smooth glide along the soft music. With a quiet sigh Rowan relaxed against him and followed his lead. Ben's hand moved against her lower back as he guided their steps for a couple of turns.

"Pardon me, miss Ashe, but I don't recall ever saving your life?"

"Please, constable, call me Rowan. And you just did, well, save my feet at least. I've already danced with his excellency four times this evening, and I don't think my feet will ever recover."

"Yes, miss A ... Rowan. I have noticed that what his excellency lacks in skill, he more than makes up for with enthusiasm."

Rowan chuckled, turning her face to his shoulder. Her hair brushed his cheek. A fresh scent reached him, a heady combination of wild herbs and her own unique flair. Ben tightened his arm around her waist bringing their bodies into a more intimate contact. His thumb rubbed the centre of her palm.

Rowan looked into his eyes and was immediately lost in their depths.

Ben held her gaze for a lifetime, then caught the movement of her mouth as it parted. She trembled against him as they slowed to a graceful sway at the edge of the room. The music paused.

She escaped his embrace, exiting through the french doors to the balcony outside. After a couple of heartbeats, Ben followed.

Through the balcony had been swept clean, the rest of the city was under a thick blanket of crisp, white snow. The sky was clear and the sharp December air honed far away stars to a painful brilliance. Rowan stood with her back to him, leaning against the stone balustrade. Fraser moved to stand right behind her.

"I would like you to call me Ben."

She turned startled to find him so near. Rowan stared straight ahead, afraid to meet his eyes, but all she could see were powerful shoulders and neck bedecked in the handsome red tunic. Did he have any idea, she wondered, how dangerous he was. She forced her gaze up only to find her eyes snagged by the chiselled beauty of his lips that even now curved sensually into a twist of a smile. Oh, my, this only served to confound her further, causing her heart to race.

Ben smiled as he watched her luminous skin blush a delicate shade of pink, but inhaled sharply as her lips parted in response. He leaned forward so that their bodies just touched, lowered his head and Rowan tilted hers. Halting as their lips barely brushed, they savoured the mist of each other's breath. No more.

Benton braced his arms at either side of her. Then snowed flakelike kisses on her cheeks, nose, eyes, brow ...

"Ben," Rowan whispered "Please ..." her body quivering with chill and desire. "Please ... stop"

Ben froze, pulled back, eyes searching her face and finding a deep well of pain and sadness.

Rowan's hand reached up of it's own accord. It was all she could do not to touch him. Her hand clutched the cold air by his cheek, then was forced down.

"Please," she pleaded once more, choking back tears, pushed past him and reentered the ballroom.

Ben looked up,
filling his eyes with the ice of stars, forcing his heart to slow and his body to quiet. Then, after a while, he returned to his duties.

Rowan did not know how she kept on. She spoke, smiled and laughed in all the right places without having heard a word. She sensed the heat of Ben's eyes throughout the night and did her best to hide among the guests, even going as far as dancing with his excellency, twice.

"I should have known better," she thought. "I'm not ready for this. I'll never be!" Her thoughts chased each other in circles, egged on by the turmoil of emotions and desires she did not think to feel ever again.

At midnight, the last of the guests departed. Fraser lingered while giving the caterers a hand with the clean up.

"Constable Fraser."

Ben turned to find that he was being approached by ambassador Ashe.

"Sir," Fraser nodded.

"You've done a good job, as usual."

"Thank you, sir."

"I would like to request one more favour."

"Yes, sir?"

"Would you drive my sister, Miss Ashe, to her hotel?"

"Yes, sir."

At that moment Rowan descended the stairs to her brother's side. "Excuse me Stephen, Constable, I just wanted to say good night before I call a cab."

"There is no need, dear. Constable Fraser has agreed to drive you."

"Drive me insane," Rowan mused, but said, "I'm sure the constable would rather go straight home after such a long evening. I can take a cab."

"Rowan, don't argue. It's not safe for you to travel alone at this hour."

Before Rowan could object once again, Ben interjected. "Miss Ashe, I would be delighted to drive you, and the hotel is not far out of my way."

"Oh, alright." Rowan conceded gruffly. "I'll go get my wrap."

As she stalked off, Fraser shook his head.

"Exasperating, isn't she?" commented Stephen Ashe. "She must be worn out. Usually she puts up more of a fight than this."

"I heard that, Mister Ambassador," Rowan muttered and gave her brother a hearty hug good night. Stifling a yawn, she walked to the front doors. "Wipe that smirk off your face, Constable, and drive me home."

"Yes, sir!"

Once in traffic, it was all Ben could do to keep his eyes on the road. They kept returning to the rear view mirror to contemplate Rowan's profile.

"Would you mind if we make a quick stop before I take you home, Miss Ashe?"

"Rowan, call me Rowan. I hate 'Miss Ashe'," she answered absently.

"I beg your pardon ... Rowan ... would you mind?"

"Sorry," she shook herself back to the present. "Where do you want to stop?"

"At my apartment," Fraser answered.

"Why?!" Rowan interrupted suspiciously.

"There is someone who wants to meet you. I showed him your book and he loved it."

"Who?"

"Diefenbaker, my wolf."

"Your, wolf??!?"

"Yes, he thinks you have captured the majesty of the North perfectly in your photographs."

"He does...?"

"Yes, he does. And he also appreciates the use of black and white, since he, along with all wolves, is colour blind."

"Okay, I'll bite. Sure we can stop to meet your wolf. I wouldn't miss it for the world!!"

"Thank you kindly."

Rowan closed her eyes and threw her head back in defeat.

Rowan followed Benton up the rickety stairs and down the narrow hallway. Ben stopped at the far door.

"No lock?" she questioned.

"It was stolen," Fraser replied. He pushed the door open and waited for her to precede him. Rowan's breath constricted as she edged past him. The tight dimensions of the corridor did not leave much room and her shoulder whispered across his torso sending a shimmer of desire over her skin. Ben followed, his strong hand brushing unconsciously over the corresponding spot on his chest.

Once inside her eyes took in the small spartan space. Everything in its place, perfect hospital corners on the bed. As her eyes were pulled back to the bed, she noticed the wolf. It was white as snow, and its crystal eyes held her gaze. She sensed its power and welcome.

"Diefenbaker, meet Rowan Ashe. Rowan, this is Diefenbaker, an avid fan of your work."

Rowan knelt down and held her hand out. Dief approached her, sniffed her hand and allowed her to scratch his ears and head with a goofy wolf grin. With a questioning whine, Dief rolled on to his back to grant Rowan the pleasure of rubbing his belly. She giggled and proceeded to do so.

Ben watched standing behind them. Her laughter swept over him, his groin tightening at the warm sound. He reached out to feel the silkiness of her hair, but snatched his hand back as she turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling in delight.

"That's enough, Diefenbaker," Ben muttered.

The wolf leapt to its feet, barked a jolly good night as it trotted out the door.

Ben held out his hand.

Rowan took it, as he pulled her up, she was ensnared by the way his eyes darkened with desire. Ben reached behind and shut the door. He brought her hand to his chest and pressed the palm to his heart. The deep vibrations of its beating coursed up her arm to the melting core of her.

Rowan gave in.
The yearning of the past few days won out. The hunger of the past few hours triumphed.

She clutched the fear and forced it into the deepest part of her. That spot that held an ancient glacier that once had been her heart. Rowan watched Ben through her lashes as she brought his palm to her mouth and pressed her full lips to its centre. Her tongue flicked out to taste him.

With a groan deep in his chest Ben closed his mouth over hers, his hand cradled her head as his lips crushed hers with bruising yearning. She moaned against his mouth allowing his tongue free access.

Their hungry kiss deepened as his arms tightened around her with a force Rowan thought was lost to her forever. The gold buttons of Ben's tunic dug into her flesh as his hands memorized the contours of her back. He cupped her bottom pressing himself against her, leaving Rowan in no doubt as to the sate of his arousal. She rubbed against his body answering the primeval call of their desires. She pulled back and with a sensual smile began to unbutton the tunic.

Taking the hint, Fraser undid the ornamental belts. Soon both tunic and belts lay discarded on the floor.

Reaching up Rowan trailed fingers across his shoulders as she walked around him. From behind she pulled Ben's suspenders down so that they hung from his waistband.

Ben couldn't believe it, just like in his dream Rowan tasted the back of his neck and her hands roamed down his chest. She grazed the hardness of his nipples, sending a schism of liquid fire throughout his body. Her hands continued down to his waist, then slowly tugged his shirt free, pushing it up. This time the contact was skin to skin.

Ben pulled the shirt off impatiently and pulled Rowan round to face him. Muscular arms wrapped around her again, his mouth crushed hers in delicious, bruising punishment. Her lower lip bled at the assault. Sucking it softly, Ben soothed the wound.

"Now it's my turn," He murmured turning her.

Rowan's skin shivered as he brushed aside the loose mass of her hair (somewhere along the line the silver clip had vanished). Ben pulled the zipper down, then followed with lips trailing down her spine. His arms reached around and cupped her breasts. She gasped as his hands squeezed firmly and circled her nipples with calloused fingers. Ben's teeth tugged at her ear lobe, as he pushed her dress off.

Rowan stepped away, clad only in pale rose satin panties, she knelt on the bed facing him. "Let me see you," she coaxed sitting back on her heels.

Ben filled his eyes with the sight of her. Smooth skin white as snow, full succulent breasts, hair the colour of night cascading down her back, made him realize how uncomfortable his pants had become. Not wasting anymore time, he whipped the remaining garments off.

Rowan's eyes widened at the sight of his glorious nakedness. Her heart doubled its pace as he strode towards the bed. She lay back and Ben followed trailing a path of wet heat down her throat to centre on her nipple.

Rowan arched her back in sweet surrender as Ben suckled and nipped slightly, first one side, then the other. She moaned his name, and a sharp ache of satisfaction ran through him.

Ben slid off her panties and caressed her inner thighs. She gasped as his strong fingers found the heart of her hunger and stroked her there.

"Oh Ben" She gasped again as he brought her to the brink. "Now, Ben, now!" she pleaded.

"Yes, now," Ben agreed his voice harsh with wanting her. He entered her with a smooth thrust. After a heartbeat they began to move together. Sensation took over. It felt so good. No thoughts, no worries, just the rhythm,
and the thrusting,
and the feel of each others flesh,
and the sounds of each others pleasure.

Ben kissed her again a deep, wet, open mouthed kiss. Swallowing each others moans, they climbed higher and higher. Their arms and legs wrapped around, their bodies pressed so close straining to occupy the same space. Together they climbed the highest peak and leapt, soaring to a climax of ultimate fulfilment.

As their ragged breathing slowed, Ben rolled to lie at her side, covering them both with blankets.

Rowan snuggled against his chest, weaving her fingers through the fine hair there. Looking up at him, she smiled mischievously and said "Thank you kindly."

Ben burst into laughter pulling her up to kiss softly.

"Go to sleep Ben," she commanded and Ben did, smiling.

Rowan listened to his regular breathing, inhaled the tang of sweat and unmistakable maleness. Slowly the tears came. Seeping from the corners of dark, dark eyes. The core of ice inside cracked, as if spring was around the corner. Fear and pain held at bay rushed out to numb her once more, from the inside out.

Ben woke feeling lost. He reached for Rowan but she was not there. Sitting up his eyes scoured the room, but no sign of her remained. If it hadn't been for his uniform folded neatly on the chair instead of hanging in the closet, he would have thought the whole episode another dream. A noise at the door made his heart leap in hope. "She's come back!" his mind exclaimed only to find Dief back from his nightly rounds. As Ben returned to the cold bed he noticed the silver clip under the table and a scrap of paper atop it. He picked up the clip. Following its intricate design with his thumb, Ben read the note.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this."

Ben crumpled the note, pressed the hair clip to his lips, and felt something crack inside,
as if spring was around the corner.

Rowan watched the snow covered streets blur by outside the taxi window, and noticed his reflection behind hers. He smiled, that wonderful smile, and she almost forgot the blue tinge of skin and lips, as well as the thin layer of frost that dusted his sandy hair, almost but not quite.

"Go away Lucas," she muttered tiredly.

"Did you say something, lady?" asked the cabby.

"Sorry, no. Just thinking out loud. I tend to do that when I'm tired, just ignore me," she babbled.

"Sure, sure. It takes all kinds."

"But you don't want me to go, Rowan," said her dead lover matteroffactly.

Rowan shivered as his icy breath flowed over her.

"I miss you, Lucas, so much. I don't know how to go on," she whispered.

"Ro, there are people all around that care about you. Your brother ... the mountie?..."

Rowan spun around and faced the apparition. "Don't! Don't bring him up. He was just a diversion A way to forget about you!" she rationalized.

"Yet, here I am," Lucas grinned spreading his frost bitten hands.

"I love you," Rowan sobbed.

"And I loved you, but I don't belong here anymore. Let me go Rowan," his voice faded as did he.

The cab had stopped. "Lady, here's your hotel."

Rowan rushed through the lobby, up the elevator, into the anonymous room. She tore off the gown, showered and climbed into the anonymous bed. She curled into a tight ball, hugging knees to chest. Then, only then, did Rowan shut her eyes, but all she could find behind closed lids were a red tunic and clear eyes the deep blue of a glacier's core.

The next couple of weeks passed by uneventfully. Fraser went to work, walked the wolf, hung out with Ray, saved a few lives, and narrated several Inuit stories when the occasion called for them. Just average days. But the nights, the nights were pure torture. As soon as Ben turned the lights out, every detail of that night came rushing back. Every touch, every kiss, every moan. It all replayed over and over in his mind as Ben sought understanding. "What did I say? ... What should I have done? ... Why did you leave? ..." not even his dead father could provide any insights.

Ray couldn't take it anymore. "Alright, Fraser, spit it out!"

"What? I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You look like hell Ben. Have you been getting any sleep lately?"

"Yes, yes ... no, not a lot lately," Benton admitted.

"Well, what's wrong? What's eating you? ... Wait a minute it isn't Victoria, is it?"

"No, Ray, it is not Victoria," Ben answered with a bitter twist to his mouth.

Ray observed his friends face. "But it is a woman, isn't it. Benny, you sly dog, you've been holding out on me?!"

"Not intentionally."

"What's going on then? Who is she?"

"I'm sorry Ray, but I can't divulge her name. And I wish I knew '*what's going on*"

"Ahh ... "

"I can't sleep. All I do is think of her," Ben confessed.

"Isn't that a song?"

"Pardon me?"

"Never mind. Have you talked to the woman, asked her ... whatever?" Ray suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

"No I haven't Ray."

"Well, why not?!"

Ben hesitated. "I am afraid Ray," he murmured at last.

"Benny, Benny, Benny," Ray squeezed his friends shoulder. "There is no reason to be scared. What could be worse than what you are going through now?"

"Nothing, nothing Ray. You are absolutely right!" Fraser straightened up, some of the old energy coming back.

"Atta boy, Ben! Go get her!"

Fraser nodded to Ray and took off down the street at a medium jog. Ray caught up and matched his pace.

"Hey, Fraser, where are you going?"

Benton halted abruptly. "I don't know."

"Man are you screwed up. Come on I'll buy you lunch," Ray chuckled.

"It's not funny, Ray."

Vecchio laughed even harder and guided the Mountie to the nearest diner.

Fraser began the day with new resolve. Now that he had a clear goal in mind, things looked better. They improved even further by way of a summons from the Ambassador on his desk.

Outside the office Fraser tugged at his jacket before knocking on the door.

"Come in ... Ah, Constable Fraser, good morning."

"Good morning, sir." Ben stood at attention.

"Constable, I need to ask you another favour. As you may have heard, my sister has recently been through a long convalescence."

"Yes sir," Fraser nodded.

"She was doing fine, but lately ... I don't know ... something is not right," Stephen Ashe continued. "In any case, she is scheduled to do a book signing in Milwaukee this weekend and insists on going no matter what I say. Rowan refuses to listen to reason, but at least has allowed me to provide the transportation. With all the uncertainty about the weather, I would like you to drive her. You'll use the Range Rover. What do you say, Constable?"

All that Benton could think was that the fates were on his side, so without hesitation he agreed.

Waking from the first good night's sleep in over a week, Fraser felt both elated and full of trepidation. The fact that he would spend an entire weekend with Rowan thrilled him, but her reaction to him as her chauffeur made him feel uncertain.

Fraser announced himself at the front desk. After a few minutes, the elevator doors opened, and there she was.

"Good morning, " Fraser greeted, but Rowan's gaze slid over him as if he wasn't there.

She handed Ben an overnight bag and strode to the front doors.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," Ben said to himself.

This was going to be harder than she thought. Just seeing Ben again made Rowan want to cut and run. "I've climbed the highest mountains, braved the harshest winters, hung at the edge of precipices to capture just the right image. Why can't I face this man?!?"

Rowan figured that Ben would be her driver, and tried to brace herself, but nothing could have prepared her for the impact of his presence. Rowan walked up to the Range Rover and waited for Fraser to open the door. She climbed into the back and, before he was even at the wheel, she'd fumbled on a pair of earphones, turned on her portable CD player, and began listening to her favourite recording. As Vivaldi's "The Four Season's" washed over her, Rowan closed her eyes and pretended to relax.

Ben had observed her hurried movements. He also noticed the marked paleness of skin and mauve shadows under her eyes. "Maybe she does care," he thought and allowed himself a slight smile.

They arrived in Milwaukee without incident. Fraser followed the directions provided and found their destination. It was one of the new wave of bookstores that were sprouting all over the US and Canada, a combination of bookshop, coffee house, and lecture site. Rowan was greeted with awe and enthusiasm by those present. She introduced Fraser impersonally to her agent and the bookstore's staff, then was ushered away to prepare for her talk. Benton found himself a seat at the back of the lecture room and waited.

"Wow!! What a hunk!!" exclaimed Marge, Rowan's agent while the female staff members agreed twittering amongst themselves.

"And he's a real mountie?" asked a petite blonde.

"Yes, he is," said a slightly annoyed Rowan.

"How come he's not wearing that cool red uniform?" someone asked.

"That is their formal attire," answered Rowan. "He is wearing their everyday uniform."

"I bet he looks good in anything he wears suggested the blonde. "Is he taken?"

"You'd have to ask him that," Rowan bit out, barely suppressing a savage urge to tear the blonde's eyes out. She gave herself a mental shake and fully concentrated on the speech ahead.

"Oh my God ... he'll be there listening!" she realized, but then it was too late, as her agent began the introduction.

Fraser listened to Rowan's speech attentively. She was entertaining and witty. The audience was captivated by her anecdotes. Rowan faltered only once, when their eyes met as her gaze swept the room. As Rowan took questions from the crowd, Fraser was tempted to bring up the photograph of his father's cabin. But resolved to leave it until later, when they would be alone.

Rowan congratulated herself on her composure. She managed to endure the trying day without running amok, despite the way that the fates seemed to be working against her. Though the sight of the blonde snuggling up to Benton during the obligatory photo session almost broke her restraint.

Finally the day was over. Due to a blizzard warning, and the fact that Marge had booked a suite at a near by hotel, they did not attempt to drive back that night. After checking in, Rowan bundled up into her coat and announced, "I need to clear my head. I'm going for a walk."

"May I come along?" Ben replied to the first direct words she had uttered to him all day.

"Suit yourself," Rowan shrugged and preceded him to the elevator.

The ride down was accomplished in total silence. She walked out of the hotel, across the street, into a quiet, snow covered park.

Benton followed with hands in pockets.

The snow fell softly all around. Soon all city noises were muffled by the thick, cold blanket. The flakes grew in size, Rowan lifted her face up allowing the frozen motes to kiss her cheeks, nose, eyes, brow in a way that reminded her of ... She shoved the memory aside, but it was too late for at that moment she became trapped by those eyes.

Ben stopped a couple of paces away and watched the play of emotions on her face. She looked like a deer that had been caught in a predator's sight. One wrong move, and she'd be gone.

"You photographed my father's cabin," he stated.

"I did? Yes, I did," Rowan replied, instinctively knowing the image he was speaking of. "There was something about that place that spoke to me," she recalled, "It seemed that it should have been full of happy memories, but wasn't."

"It was burned down a while ago."

"I'm sorry ..."

"One day I'll return and rebuild it."

"And fill it with happy memories?"

"Yes."

Ben took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips.

Rowan's heart skipped a beat or two as he then kissed the centre of her palm.

They slipped into each other's arms smoothly. The fit was perfect as he kissed her again and again, afraid to allow her even a moment to change her mind._

"Don't run away this time," Ben begged against her brow.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to," a breathless Rowan replied as his arms circled her in bands of inescapable iron.

Their mouths met once more in a deep lingering kiss that turned Rowan to liquid inside.

Ben felt as if his heart would burst. Supporting each other they walked back to the hotel, and up to their suite.

In the flickering light of the gas fireplace they stripped each other's garments, slowly, savouring each moment, rediscovering each pleasure. With every kiss, every caress, the layers of ice over Rowan's core thawed one by one. By the time they joined in the eternal rhythm, the heart of her lay exposed. An open wound that was soon flooded by the soothing balm of Ben's love and caring.

Ben woke to an empty bed. Before he could panic, however, he heard the sound of running water. He paused at the bathroom's door, and observed Rowan standing in the shower. Her face tilted up to receive the cascading water over eyes and mouth, almost as if hiding ... something.

Rowan felt cool air kiss her wet skin as Ben enterer the shower behind her. He pulled her back against him into a warm, protective embrace, and his lips caressed her temple. Picking up the sponge, Ben began to soap her body slowly, lazily, from top to bottom. Then he lathered her long hair, now as smooth and slick as sea slate. His strong fingers massaged her scalp radiating waves of intense hunger with every movement.

Ben delighted in this leisurely exploration of Rowan's body. Every sigh, every little moan aroused him even more. Once she was rinsed, he turned her slightly and ran his hand down her body.

Rowan gasped as Ben's hand cupped her just so, and began to stroke her. His fingers knew a magic that brought her to ecstasy over and over.

His patience exhausted, Ben picked Rowan up and buried himself inside her. His mouth closed over hers with a new eagerness as her fingers burned their imprints on his skin. Their cries intermingled with the sound of rushing water and the rapid beating of their hearts.

"Marry me," Ben whispered against her heart as they descended from the heights of mutual fulfilment.

Rowan pulled his face up and silenced any further entreaties with rough, hot kisses.

Ben wasn't sure, but the taste of salt seemed to linger in the shower water that streamed down Rowan's face.

At the exit gate Benton gathered Rowan in his arms. After a long lingering kiss, he tried to persuade her once more. "There is no need for you to go. Stay."

"I have to go. I have to ... lay my ghosts to rest before I can go on ... Don't you see?"

"Yes, I understand. Come back to me. Promise?!" he begged.

"I'll try," she whispered against his mouth.

Rowan turned and waved. Ben watched as she proceeded through the gate.

"Will she come back, dad?" he questioned as he lowered his hand.

"I don't know, son," replied the ghost.

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE A

Ben lay on his bed. Another night in over a week that sleep eluded him. To pass the time, he turned on Mr. Mustaffi's short wave radio and listened absently to news from home.

Suddenly, one of the announcer's statements cut through the fog in his mind. Ben turned up the volume and listened avidly to the rest of the item.

"Finally the search has ended. Search and Rescue has discovered the remains of missing photographer, Rowan Ashe. She is survived by her brother Ambassador Stephen Ashe ..."

Ben allowed the words to fade to background noise. He curled into a tight ball, hugging knees to chest, shut his eyes, but all he could find behind closed lids were, skin white as snow and eyes dark as midwinter's night. Ben felt something shatter inside,
and spring would never come.

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE B

Benton returned from a long walk with Diefenbaker to find the door to his apartment ajar. The wolf trotted inside without concern, and barked a jolly greeting. Ben followed more slowly. As he faced the bed he saw her. Rowan sprung up and threw herself into his arms. They rained frantic kisses all over each other's faces as Dief jumped around them barking happily.

"I'll marry you, if you'll still have me?" she said.

"Only if it's forever!" Ben laughed swinging Rowan around.

They marry with Ray as best man, and Dief as the ring bearer. Fraser quits the R.C.M.P. and they move to the cabin. They support themselves with Ben writing Inuit stories and Rowan illustrating them. Their family grows by seven children, 4 girls and 3 boys. Four of whom are adopted. They rebuild the cabin and add on to it as needed, though Rowan insists on proper plumbing and a full ensuite early on.

Over the years Ray visits often, with and without lady friends. All of Ben and Rowan's children are educated through home schooling and the Internet. They all graduate with honours and go on to attend the prestigious postsecondary institution of their choice. And, by the way, they all lived happily ever after.

THE END.

P.S. I did say this was a faerie tale.

Catalina (cdudka@direct.ca)