Author's webpage: http://spookeyr.members.easyspace.com

Author's disclaimer: Copyright (HRC 12/99) All characters borrowed courtesy of Alliance, returned, intact afterwards!

Ice Cold

Fraser looked out of the small window that was frosted with the cold of winter. His vision obscured by the streaks of ice crystals that grew across the pane of glass with each breath of air. He sighed - and scratched at the glass with his fingernail to see outside. It was cold out there, very cold. The snow was beginning to drift against the side of the cabin, the wind whirled about - making the snow dance.

Dief lay by the open fire which crackled and made him stir in his sleep. This caught Frasers attention and brought him back into the warmth of the cabin. He rubbed his hands together, they were stiff from writing his report. He lay his pen down on the desk beside the immaculately completed forms. He read over them once more to double check himself for errors - but as usual - there were none. He sighed again, glanced at Dief and stared into the open fire. The shadows cast on the wall by the light of the flames moved earily in time with the movement of each flicker.

As hard as he tried, Fraser could not banish the thought of what he had left behind in Chicago. He had left his best friend, Ray, and the warmth and kindness of Ray's family. They gave him something he had never experienced before - he truly felt as if he belonged there, part of their family. It made him feel warm inside just thinking about it. Then his mind drew on the silence of the darkening day as he thought of Meg.

He would never be able to accept that he had lost Meg, his carelessness, a moment in time that had ruined his one chance of true happiness. At times, Fraser was his own worst enemy. If only he'd listened to his heart and followed his true feelings. He questioned his ability to abide by his sworn duty to the RCMP - was that why he now sat in this tiny cabin, with only Dief for company, filling out a report for the arrest of an emigrant who shot one too many caribou?

Another deep sigh followed. He should never have let Meg go to that place alone. He should, for once in his life, disobeyed orders and stopped her going. She was headstrong - that much was true, but he should have seen the danger. How could he ever live with himself, knowing that Meg had taken the bullet that was meant for him. They were too deeply involved in the case to see what was happening.

He felt a cold tear roll down his cheek. He wiped it away, but another followed. He buried his head in hands, sobbing like a child. His emotion was interrupted by Diefs whining. Fraser lifted his head and wiped his face. The telephone was ringing - this could be the call he had been waiting for.

Meg - was she alive, or would his deepest, most terrifying thought be proved right?

He gave a gentle cough to clear his throat, took a deep breath in, placed his hand over the receiver. Gently he clasped a tight grip and picked it up. He spoke : "Hello, Constable Fraser RCMP"

A voice answered : "Constable Fraser, this is the Consulate - Chicago"

The conversation went on..............Frasers eyes closing half way though, followed by a solitary tear the rolling down his face.

"Thank you kindly Sir. Understood". Fraser was shaking - and slowly he placed the receiver back in its' holder. He paused for a few moments - it seemed like hours. He spoke softly "She's gone Dief. My Meg - gone".

Frasers life had been torn apart.

3 weeks on and it was time for Fraser to attend the Inquest of Meg's murder. It took Fraser back to a time when he lost his Father. Nobody in Chicago seemed to show an interest in finding the person who had killed him - he had to push the Chicago PD into solving the case. It was different with Meg though. The criminals were already behind bars, caught on the scene.

The scene, thought Fraser. He pictured Meg, cradled in his arms - dying. He could hear her gentle voice trying to whisper something. He would never know what she was trying to say - he couldn't hear her or make sense of what was happening. It was still beyond his comprehension that this had happened.

As the taxi cab pulled up outside the court house Fraser could see Ray standing on the steps outside looking at his watch. Unusually for Ray - he was early and was waiting for Fraser. Things normally happened the other way round and it was Fraser who had to wait for Ray. It had been a few weeks since he'd seen, or even spoken to Ray and he was a little unsure of the reception he would receive.

The cab came to a standstill and Fraser took off his Stetson, took some dollars from the inside rim, paid the driver and opened the car door. As his boot felt the pavement beneath it, Ray caught sight of the red uniform and began to walk down the steps towards him. Fraser and Ray just stood silent, infront of each for a moment. Stillness surrounded them and, busy as the court house was, not a soul could be seen or heard to either of them. Then Ray leaned forward, took Frasers hand, shook it, and then gave him a manly, knowing, hug. Fraser returned the greeting. Things were ok with Ray - Fraser was relieved.

They broke from their "unusual" show of emotion and turned to walk up the steps. Not a word needed to be spoken - they knew each other well enough by now to realise the gravity of the situation before them.

Inside, the court house was bustling. People scurring around, in and out of rooms. A gentle buzz of conversation floated in the air. Fraser caught small glimpses of other people's conversations as they strode by him. Ray had wandered off to go talk to some lawyer about another case he was working on, when Frasers attention was suddenly taken to another red uniform standing across the foyay. Turnbull stood silent, deep in thought and emotion as Fraser approached him.

Turnbull stood outside the court room - as if on duty at the Consulate. Fraser acknowledged his presence. He stood infront of the black wooden door, clasped the brass handle, turned it, and opened the door and stepped into the court room.

Fraser was unable to comprehend why a courtroom should feel any different to him than it had done before on past cases with Ray. This time was different. A cold chill went through his body as he walked towards his chair. He sat, cold and lonely, almost oblivious to the goings on of the court. Ray even had to nudge him to stand when the Judge entered and left the room.

He questioned why he had to go through this. He knew how Meg had died, and why. It was his fault - plain and simple. The hours swept by like and ensuing wave of emotion - Fraser reliving every moment of that tragic day, until, nudged in the side by Ray, Fraser realised it was over. He had no interest in the findings of the court, he had no energy to pursue an answer. All he knew was that he had to return to Canada and begin a life without Meg. He frowned at his thought "A life without Meg". She had never been a part of his life, in truth, she was just his commanding officer - killed in the line of duty. He sighed - that wasn't the truth. Meg was his reason for being who he was - she was the reason he woke every morning - his first thought each day. Meg.

Fraser sat in the comforting warmth of his cabin, he finished writing his report and placed it neatly onto the growing pile of papers. Dief was in his usual place, infront of the fire. He gazed out of the window to see the sun breaking between the tree's that surrounded the cabin, the snow, very slowly, beginning to melt away from the laden branches. It was as though he could feel every drop of melted snow as it fell to the ground. Winter was passing - Spring would return again. Thoughts of the past would fade, along with the snow, but one thought would never leave him - Meg. Fraser's mind wandered again - what if he had taken that bullet - she would be here, alive, and maybe, just maybe he could have pulled through and they would have been together now. Maybe; just maybe................................