M/F, rated PG. This mini-story is just for fun--a little dalliance with characters from Alliance. I wrote it for Katherine E. Fox, who has never been in denial about where the Thatcher-Fraser thing was headed on due South.
"Loyalty binds me."
Motto of Richard Plantagenet
Duke of Gloucester, Ricardus Rex III
He stood to attention as they entered the room and walked up the steps of the dais: the Ambassador first, of course, as he was the guest of honor; then the Canadian Consul, the Trade Officer, and the Inspector.
He was proud of her. She looked composed and remote, as she usually did. He alone of those present knew her as she really was; only he had been allowed to penetrate the steely defense that for years had shielded her from the unwelcome attentions of male coworkers, not to mention the unwarranted assumptions by male superiors regarding the abilities of women police officers.
The hot, humid atmosphere of the September day outside seemed to have found its way into this room; although ceiling fans lazily stirred the air, he could feel sweat rising under the red serge tunic he wore. He looked over at her again: she was wearing an ice-green suit today that made him think of ice floes in a cold river under a white winter sky. His ice princess, she was, her skin as pale as snow against her dark hair.
On second thought, her skin wasn't so much white as pale green--the same color as her suit. His mind had barely formed the thought before his body was moving, sprinting out of the ranks of onlookers as the Consul's speech welcoming the ambassador droned on, leaping up to the dais to catch her as she swayed and then sank into his waiting arms.
"Good heavens!"
"What's the matter?"
"What on earth--?"
"Is there a doctor in the house?"
"She's fainted!"
"Call an ambulance!"
"Not necessary," he said, breathing hard as he picked her up. "Make way, please. I'm taking her to her office."
"What shall I do? Should I alert the Chicago police? Is this an assassination attempt?" Constable Turnbull, eager as ever to be helpful, and hopelessly off course in his theorizing, followed hard on Fraser's heels.
Ovitz, her secretary, appeared with a cell telephone. "I'll call a doctor! The shellfish at lunch may have been bad."
"No. Turnbull, if you would be good enough to open her office door...Ah! Thank you kindly. Now, Mr. Ovitz, if you could please get her a glass of water...Turnbull, if you could find a light blanket or something to put over her...it's just a faint. Not serious a-tall."
"I can get some brandy. Shouldn't she have brandy?"
"No, Mr. Ovitz. A glass of water will be sufficient. She doesn't need brandy."
He laid her gently down on the sofa. Turnbull reappeared, carrying a blanket that looked like standard RCMP issue, and handed it to him.
Fraser knelt beside the sofa and felt Meg's pulse. It was steady. He detected the flickering of an eyelid: if she were regaining consciousness, it was imperative to get the others out of the room at once.
"The best thing you can do right now, Constable Turnbull, is to go back to the conference room. If anyone asks, say the Inspector was suddenly taken ill but it's nothing serious. I'll stay with her."
Turnbull took the glass of water from Ovitz, who had reappeared, and handed it to Fraser. "Should I shut the door so you can lock it, in case suspicious characters may be lurking in order to try something else?"
Fraser shut his eyes and uttered a brief prayer to the God of fools. "Yes, Constable, would you please shut the door. The Inspector needs quiet."
The door shut and they were--mercifully--alone. Meg's eyelashes fluttered. Then she took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Still kneeling beside her, he looked into her face. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"That you're...with child."
"Because I wasn't sure, myself, until this morning. I took one of those home tests. It came out positive."
She stirred restlessly, throwing off the blanket. He helped her to sit up, handed her the water, watched while she drank a sip or two.
"Ben, help me stand up, please. I can't believe I fainted. How embarrassing!"
"Anyone can be taken ill suddenly. The room was too hot."
She smiled faintly, resting her hand on his shoulder. "What did you tell them?"
"Nothing. Meg...what are you doing to do?"
She looked up at him. He found it difficult to read her expression: neither happy nor sad. Resigned, rather. Resigned? Why?
She turned away, and sighed. "Common sense tells me that I should...well, I should not let this continue. An ambitious RCMP officer has no business being in this condition. My head tells me I should take steps immediately... to...you know, end it."
He shut his eyes. It was her life, her body, her decision. He felt as if he were being stabbed through the heart, but he loved her, and whatever decision she made, he would support her in it.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Meg had turned back to face him. "But my heart tells me that I want this child. It's part of you, Fraser. Whatever happens between you and me in the future, if I have this baby, it's something of yours that I can keep. I'm almost thirty-six. I've never wanted what most women want--marriage, children, the cottage with climbing roses, all that."
She looked away. "But I want our child, Fraser. I know it's going to be difficult, but I've made up my mind to deal with whatever happens. Somehow, I'll manage."
He moved closer, tipped her chin upward with his hand so that she would look him in the eyes. "You know, there is another option. You could marry me."
She stared at him then, searching his face, as if trying to see into his very soul. "I can't think of anything that would make me happier than marrying you. But not this way. I won't make you a hostage, Ben! I don't want you to marry me just because you feel sorry for me!"
"Meg, for the love of God!" He grabbed her by the shoulders. "Why should you think I want to marry you just because I feel sorry for you? I love you! I want to marry you because I love you. What's so difficult to understand about that?"
Her dark eyes widened. "If you love me...why haven't you asked me to marry you before this?"
His hands dropped away, and he lowered his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? You're an inspector, I'm your subordinate. I have nothing, Meg. I don't even have a car. You've seen how I live. All I have is my pay, a half-built log cabin in the Territories, and a couple of thousand in savings." He smiled slightly. "And a disobedient wolf. How could I have asked a woman like you to marry me?"
She said nothing, simply continued to look at him.
"All I have to offer you is my love, my loyalty, and my life. If you marry me, you'll have all three of those. Forever and ever, until death do us part."
Meg smiled. "Ben...if you give me those, why would I need anything else?"
He pulled her into his arms . "Then...will you marry me, Meg?"
"Yes, I will."
Their lips met in a kiss that lasted until there was a discreet knock on the door. Before they could break apart, the door opened and Turnbull entered.
"Ma'am, I checked the ventilation system for poison gas and found nothing. Oh, ah, Fraser! Sorry!"
"Constable Fraser has been rendering a little mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, Constable. Thank you for checking the ventilation system. Dismissed!"
The door closed again. Fraser looked at her. "If we have a big wedding..."
"....I can't bear the thought of Turnbull at our wedding, Ben! Let's elope."
"Understood."
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*Copyright September 1996 by Diana Read on all original story content. Not meant to infringe on copyrights held by Alliance Communications, or any other copyright holders for DUE SOUTH. Please do not reproduce for anything other than personal reading use without written consent of the author. Comments welcome at scribe@his.com.