Standard Disclaimer: These characters belong to Alliance Co and not me. Nor am I making any money off this story.

Author’s Notes: This is an AU story about how I thought Perfect Strangers SHOULD have ended. You want sap? Oh, I got sap. I got more sap that you can shake a stick at. Rated PG for some grown-up silliness.

Dedication: For Honey-mustard and second chances.

The Process

        Ben started for his office/ bedroom but couldn’t bear the thought of entering it. His father would be there, his father who had done his level best to help Ben believe. . . Believe that she thought enough of him to have a family with him. Helped him believe that she loved him enough. Helped him believe that there was an end to the lonely, just around the corner. Helped him believe that all he had to do was comb his hair, buy some daisies and say yes and then ‘presto!’ a wife, a family, a home. Little girl’s with all their mother’s intelligence and beauty. Little boys who would love and protect their sisters the way Ray Vecchio had.
        Ray Vecchio. The force of that name sent Fraser crumbling onto one of the benches in the foyer of the consulate. It hit him like a tsunami all at once. A month and a half ago he lived in a tidy little apartment with neighbors who trusted and cared for him as he cared for them. He had a best friend who was more like a brother to him. And that brother came a surrogate family with whom he ate dinners, attended parties, laughed with and celebrated holidays with. And every day he went to work with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. They worked side by side with cool efficiency until the most unexpected moments when he would trip her up with an unexpected compliment. There was the thrilling security of knowing that everyday they would get a little closer to the point of no return. And now, in the fading light of the hallway, it was all gone. Ray was gone with heart stopping suddenness, his apartment burned to the ground, his cherished neighbors scattered to the winds, and Inspector Thatcher. . . even if she were able to forgive him for his inexcusable assumption, it would never be the same between them. His sacred, secret dream of a future with her was shattered like so many snow globes. He hadn’t felt so cold and alone since the day his mother died. Ben felt the hot stickiness of tears running down his face and did nothing to stop them.
        Meg stood in the doorway, watching her steadfast second-in-command cry silently in the hallway. She had two choices, she could creep back into her office and wait for him to leave or she could go to him. She was about to turn back out of the room when she noticed the careful comb marks in his hair. She could picture him with heartbreaking clarity, wetting the comb and running it though his curls, rehearsing the magic lines that would make them a family. She could see him at the supermarket, blushing as he selected the prettiest bouquet of daisies. Daisies, as if they were eight-year olds on the school playground. The shock hadn’t quite worn off yet, the shock that he loved her enough to make that offer. This was Benton Fraser after all, she had no doubts that he was sincere. Nor did she believe he was willing to serve as some sort of sentient sperm bank. He was offering more than his ‘services,’ he was offering to stand by her and those imaginary children, everyday, for the rest of his life. He *wanted* that. And she had turned him down flat, dismissed him and taken the daisies he had ‘found’ in one shaking hand. But to Meg Thatcher, the biggest shock was that she wanted it that much, too. She moved to kneel in front of him, taking his shaking body in her arms. He resisted momentarily, she could feel the stiffness of his muscles and the embarrassed heat of his cheek against hers.
        “It’s all right, Ben.” She said firmly, pulling him closer. “It’s going to be all right.” He gave a shivery sigh, and wrapped his arms around her, crying for everything he had lost. Even those things he never really had in the first place. When he couldn’t cry any longer, she released him and gently brushed his tears away. Taking his hand in hers, Meg lead Ben back into her office, shutting the door behind her. His expression was hesitant and unreadable as she leaned up on toes and kissed him softly on the mouth. Ben let her kiss him for a moment before holding her at arms length.
        “Sir. . . Meg,. . . I can’t if. . . “ His voice broke a little and Meg knew he was thinking of Ray Vecchio.
        “Ben, when you came into my office this evening, you made an offer. One that you meant.” Ben nodded faintly. Meg drew herself up properly, drawing all her confidence and composure into her voice.
        “Well, I’m making one now, too. We can do this, Ben. You and I. We deserve it. And I won’t leave you. I won’t cheat you or abandon you. I’ll be here, everyday.” Ben searched her eyes for a long time, measuring the seriousness of her voice. He wanted to be a good officer and refuse, but more than that, he just wanted to be a human being. He wanted to touch her bare flesh in the moonlight and know what the skin on her flat stomach tasted like. He wanted to wake up every morning with her arms around his neck and watch her rock infants to sleep in the middle of the night. And so when she kissed him again he kissed her back, warmly and fully. They managed to stumbled over to the couch before his serge was discarded. Ben caught her hands tightly and whispered “I love you.’ into her hair. He wasn’t going to make his father’s mistakes. He wasn’t going to hide those words in his private journal, he wanted her to know them, to believe them before this went any farther. “I know.” She whispered back. And then they were lost.
        Ben woke up to the unusual sensation of someone kissing his neck. He turned his head to brush his lips across her forehead. *Meg* he thought, delighting in the promise of her name. She looked up at him with a merry twinkle in her eyes. Ben was almost floored by the uncharacteristic playfulness in them. This was a side of his icily beautiful commander he could get more than used to. Would get more than used to.
        “Constable,” She began in her most casually professional voice. “I was thinking about having a baby and was wondering if you would mind helping with the process.” Ben lifted his eyebrow, a preposterous, given their current positions, blush staining his cheekbones.
        “The process, sir?” He asked, clearing his throat.
        “Yes, Constable. The Process.”
        “Ah. What do you call, uh, what we, um, before. . .” Meg smiled at what she hoped was his version of self-mockery.
        “Correct you are, Constable.” She let a comfortable silence spread over them in the morning sunlight.
        “What are we going to name them?” Meg asked at last as she stretched out against him. Ben considered it thoughtfully, a small crease forming between his eyes.
        “Well, we’ll have to name one after Deifenbaker. You know how he gets.” Ben responded, chucking a thumb at the wolf sleeping just outside the door. Meg groaned, but nodded. Ben ran his hand down the small of her back as he continued to think.
        “And we’ll have to name one after Ray. . .” He added. Meg smiled, rubbing her chin against his shoulder.
        “Which Ray?”
        “Ummm. That’s a good point. We’ll have to have two Rays.” Meg frowned suddenly.
        “Aren’t we going to have any girls?”
        “Of course. We can name her Deifenbaker. He wouldn’t mind.” Meg laughed lightly, imaging herself introducing her children at Consulate events. ‘These are our sons, Ray and Ray and our daughter, Deifenbaker.’ She let an unfamiliar silly happiness settled deep in her soul. But despite her somewhat questionable behavior last night, behavior she was planning on repeating with abandon for the next forty odd years, Meg Thatcher had responsibilities.
        “I should get home before Turnbull gets here. I can’t imagine how I would explain wearing the same suit two days in a row.” Ben sighed a little in disappointment, a helpless doubt washing over him.
        “Hey.” She said, catching the look in his clear blue eyes. She took the sides of his face in her hands. “I meant what I said yesterday. Okay, Ben?” A glimmer of moisture sparkled in his eyes as he nodded. Meg kissed him quickly and began to dress. She slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder before turning back to him.
        “Oh, and Constable?”
        “Yes, sir?”
        “I love you, too.” Ben smiled, that secret, dimpling smile, the kind that swept away the sadness in those icy eyes.
        “Thank you kindly.” He responded simply. As he listened to the fading clack of her heels, Ben felt the ache in his chest flicker and disappear. Ray would come back, Ben knew it. And in the meantime, there was a brand new future to daydream about.