Warning: There is some sex in this story. I don't own any of these characters so please don't sue me. I am a poor college student. Any comments welcomed at Nerine1431@aol.com Tell me what you like or hate, or just tell me you read the stories. J Without further hesitation here is another installment of the stories based on Constable Turnbull and Fran's relationship.

What possessed her?

The question lingered in Fran's mind as she stood on the busy street outside the large brick building. Fear and uncertainty lingered within her as she stood shaking and her stomach turning. With unsteady, sweaty hands, she pushed a piece of hair behind her ear contemplating her next move. Fran questioned if she should move forward, and if she could be so bold. The answer was always no, but she was here now, her bank account drained due to her spontaneous decision and her luggage lost.

Fran closed her eyes, hoping the darkness would sooth and ease her mind. But her efforts failed; for all she could picture was Fraser looking at her with his large blue eyes as the truth was finally revealed that fatal day......

"Francesca," Fraser grabbed her tightly and forced her to look at him. "I never loved her. I was attracted to her, but it's not the same thing. Her death made me realize that I can't let Ray run my life. I love you and always have. I never acted upon my emotions because I feared I would lose Ray as a friend. However, the thought of losing a family is more devastating. Look at me, Francesca," Fraser pleaded and she raised her eyes. "I do love you. I swear to you. Do you know how often I thought about us with a family?" He asked, with a smile and Fran sniffed back the tears. "I'm sorry I kissed you in the kitchen. I never meant you to feel like an object. I guess it's my awkwardness and inability to express my feelings in an appropriate way." Fraser exhaled deeply, relived that he was finally able to speak his mind. Reaching down, he took her hand and held it gently....

Fran shook her head and attempted to push the image from her mind. She couldn't allow herself to question her motives anymore. Fran second-guessed herself constantly. This would be one instance where she would act boldly and with confidence. Finally, she took a deep breath then ascended the stairs.

Men and women ran around the office carrying files, while a few were yelling at one another. Telephones rang continuously, echoing throughout the room. Nervously, Fran glances around, her strength fading amongst the chaos. She takes a step back, but an officer came through the door, forcing her further into the office. Fran bit her lip, walking slowly she eventually made it to the main desk. She placed her hands upon the desk then suddenly realizing she was leaving a sweat stain on the wood she removed them quickly.

"I'll be right with you," the man behind the desk said, holding a phone by titling his head. "Yes. ma'am. Are you sure? I will send one of our best men out there. I understand the severity of the situation and I would like to reassure you that we will be moving as quickly as possible to help eradicate this problem. No, thank you ma'am for calling." He placed the telephone down and smiled at Fran. "I am terribly sorry, but we had an incident. May I help you?"

"Hi. I'm looking for Constable Turnbull. Is he here?"

The man paused a moment as if he never heard the name before. A chill ran through her body. Had she traveled to Ottawa for nothing?

"He's down the hall, and to your right ma'am." In her haste she did not thank him and walked down the hall.

Fran's heart quickened with each step. Perhaps it was a mistake to come to Canada. What if Turnbull did not want to see her? What if he found another woman? What if she had made a horrible mistake when she refused Fraser? After all he was the man of her dreams. Fran pushed the doubts from her mind.

Fran cleared her throat. Her mouth was dry causing her tongue to feel large and cumbersome. She longed for a cool drink of water. However, glancing around the office she did not see a water cooler.

The young woman was receiving a sinking feeling that her sudden trip to Ottawa was a bad choice. Fran wondered if she should have stayed in Chicago and faced Fraser instead of running away. Perhaps it was her inability to face Fraser that proved she was betraying her true feelings. Maybe she still liked--loved Fraser.

But she loved Turnbull.

That is what Fran continued to tell herself.

Confused Fran stepped back she ran into an officer, causing him to lose his pile of papers.

"I-I'm so sorry," Fran blurted out as the papers fluttered to the ground. The man simply groaned. "What are you doing here?" He demanded, as Fran scrambled to help him pick up the papers.

"I'm looking for Constable Turnbull," Fran muttered quietly.

"Should have known," grumbled the older man, as he yanked the papers from Fran's outstretched arms. "He's right over there. And watch where you're going next time."

"Moody," Fran said to herself as he walked away. She turned around and saw Turnbull sitting at his desk in his uniform chewing on the end of a pencil, looking down at some papers. A tingle ran trough her body when she saw him. Quickly, Fran fixed her hair and uttered quick pray then walked over to his desk.

"Hi."

Turnbull rose his eyes from his papers slowly and looked up to see a woman of small stature before him. Finally his blue eyes settled upon her face but Turnbull had no expression.

"M-Ms Vecchio?" Turnbull jumped out of his chair. W-what are you doing here?"

Fran bit her lip. He was not happy to see her and she bowed her head as she spoke. "I wanted to see you. Maybe I shouldn't have come. I-I'm sorry." Without another word she walked away. Turnbull, in his haste to stop her tripped over his chair, which caused the entire room to turn and look at him. Quickly he recovered and went after Fran.

"Ms. Vecchio," Turnbull said, grabbing her wrist. "I'm not upset to see you. On the contrary," he smiled. "I just never expected you to come here. I'm glad you did, but I'm surprised." Fran pushed a strain of hair behind her ear.

"I wasn't going to but, well", she bit her lip. "I missed you." Turnbull smiled and began to blush.

"I'm glad you came Ms. Vecchio." Turnbull hesitated, unsure if he should hug her or not.

**** ****

Turnbull glanced around the hallway as Fran chattered on. He was not paying attention to her his mind was focused on other matters. Fran slid her arm through his as she used to do when they were on dates. Finally, Fran stopped her one sided conversation when she saw Turnbull was preoccupied.

"What's wrong Turnbull?"

"Nothing," he said, forcing a smile. She knew something was bothering him.

"Constable Turnbull," Ms. Robinson cried running up to him. "I've been waiting for you all night. You are six hours late." Stepping back Fran glared at Turnbull and a nervous laugh escaped him, as he attempted to find the appropriate words to explain the situation to Fran.

"Ms. Vecchio this is my neighbor Ms. Robinson." Neither of the women spoke their eyes were filled with hated as they glared at each other. Realizing the volatility of the situation, Turnbull decided to act quickly.

"We have to go. Good-bye Ms. Robinson." Turnbull grabbed Fran's wrist and pulled her along.

"Tramp," Ms. Robinson muttered, loud enough for Fran to hear. Fran stopped, pulled her arm free and turned around. With her Italian temper rising, Fran boldly walked towards Ms. Robinson.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh no," Turnbull said, fearful of what Fran would do to Ms. Robinson. "Ms. Vecchio, please don't make a scene." Turnbull pleaded.

Ms. Robinson turned and looked at Fran. She gave her a smug smile, which caused Fran to make a fist. Turnbull stepped in front of Fran and placed his hands on her arms. "Please Ms. Vecchio." Fran glared at him, which indicated to the mountie that his words would not ease the precarious situation. Finally, Turnbull decided to take control. With his right hand still holding Fran's arm Turnbull gently tugged her towards his apartment.

"Ms. Robinson, please do not disturb Ms. Vecchio. I do not want to take you to jail. Ms. Vecchio please come with me."

"Who is she?" Fran asked, her voice harsh. She knew that it was not her place to be so forward yet she could not help it. If Turnbull had another woman in his life Fran believed it was her right to know. Turnbull smiled despite his efforts not to. He knew she was serious and angry but the thought of Ms. Robinson and him was humorous.

He fumbled for his keys as he spoke. "She is my neighbor nothing more, nothing less. Well, at times she can be a little friendly." Fran crossed her arms. "No, no, I don't mean that kind of...she is just a nice person but I would never.... I mean she is not my type." Turnbull smiled at Fran as he opened the door, and she pushed her way past him. She started to chew on her lip then realized she could not be mad at Turnbull. It was his right to date other woman if he wanted. Were they in a relationship? One passionate kiss, no matter how good, did not constitute a liaison. Did it?

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to give you an attitude."

"That's OK." Turnbull found her jealously cute. They stood in silence looking at the floor unable to speak to one another. Neither knew what to say to the other. Fran pushed a strain of hair behind her ear and Turnbull nervously started to hum one of his favorite country songs.

"I should go," Fran said unable to handle the awkward situation any longer.

"May I ask where you are staying?"

"Well, I'm not sure. Are there any nice hotels around?"

"There are no good hotels around here. So, you can sleep in my bed." Fran looked up at him quickly. He closed his eyes suddenly realizing his Freudian slip. "I-I mean you can sleep in the bed and I can take the sofa."

"I don't know."

"I insist. I don't trust the neighborhood well enough to allow you to sleep in a hotel room alone. Besides," He added quickly. "If anything happened to you your brother would kill me." Fran opened her mouth to protest the sleeping arrangements but Turnbull was walking towards his room. He emerged with a pile of blankets and two pillows.

"Turnbull I..."

"Ms. Vecchio I insist. Oh," Turnbull threw the blankets on the sofa. "And since your luggage was lost you can wear this." He handed her one of his tee shirts.

"Um thanks."

"Good night Ms. Vecchio."

"Night." The way she spoke made her statement sound more like a question. Turnbull watched her as she walked towards his bedroom.

"God what are you thinking?" She asked herself, as she took off her shirt. "You can't sleep with Turnbull. But if I didn't want to sleep with him why did I spend all this money to come and see him?" She removed her bra, then pulled off her jeans." I did it to see if I love him like I told Fraser." Fran fell on the bed once she was dressed. "If I wanted to have sex I could have done it with Fraser. But I do want to have sex with Fraser. Oh," Fran bit her lip. "I'm too confused to make a choice." She pulled the covers over her head.

Turnbull gazed at the clock; time seemed to creep by slowly. He shifted his weight on the sofa finding it impossible to get comfortable. He pulled a blanket closer to him and let his mind wonder.

Unfortunately for him, Turnbull could not push the thought of Fran from his mind. She was lying in his bed, sleeping in his shirt. She was fifteen feet away from him; and nothing was stopping him from slipping into the bedroom and lying next to her small body and touching her smooth skin. He wondered what it would be like to run his hands over her body, to kiss her and for him to slide between Fran's legs and push into her warm body.

Turnbull closed his eyes, imagining their bodies connected as one, moving together. He wanted to be inside Fran more then anything. His body longed to feel her tight walls holding his hard dick as he thrust in and out of her slowly grinding his hips.

Turnbull opened his eyes, realizing he could not continued to think in such a manner or he would get himself so worked up that he would be unable to fall asleep. As it was now, nature had already taken her course, giving him a souvenir for his dirty thoughts.

"Turnbull."

"Ms. Vecchio?" Turnbull sat up quickly, hoping to hide his embarrassing situation. He stared at her, and realized she looked very attractive in his tee shirt, which rested on her thighs, exposing her lovely legs. Turnbull had to fight the overwhelming urge he had to run his hands up Fran's leg and into the tee shirt......

"Ray, where is Francesca?" Fraser asked as he sat with his friend in Mrs. Vecchio's kitchen. "Don't you find it odd that she hasn't been around all day?"

"Not really," Ray grumbled his mouth full as he ate a meatball sandwich. "I took her to the airport early this morning. She had to go somewhere." Fraser's heart dropped. He was afraid to ask where. "I think she went to Canada somewhere. Ontario, Ottawa, I don't really know, but she said she had to go." Fraser knew where she was and whom she was seeing. Looking down at his glass, Fraser questioned himself. Had he moved too quickly? Did he manage to push Francesca into Turnbull's arms? He cursed himself for not handling the situation in a more appropriate manner. However, he was determined not to lose Fran to Constable Turnbull.

"What's wrong?" Ray asked.

"I have to go to Canada, Ray."