These characters belong to Alliance, yada, yada, yada. This piece is intended only for the private enjoyment of fans, no money is made from this and no permission is given to use this to make money, no way, no matter what.

by Irene Pinsent

Kowalski: "Nice place."

Fraser: "It was Constable Turnbull's, but he decided he didn't need anything quite so fancy."

Kowalski: "So where's he living now, a cardboard box?"

Fraser: "Mmm-hmm. Rather nice one, though."

(I Coulda been a Defendant)

Hmmmm. How did Fraser get the room from Turnbull? And given that he did not want ANYBODY to know where he and Kowalski were, what kind of conversation ensued? Wait a moment, didn't this happen in "Bird in the Hand"?

Scene 1: Turnbull's apartment

Constable Reinfield Turnbull, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Associate Assistant Deputy Liaison Officer at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, carefully parked the consulate car in the nearest empty parking space he could find from his new apartment building. Gingerly, he reached into the backseat to remove the unwieldy cardboard box stuffed full of his belongings, taking painstaking care not to let the contents scrape against the frame of the car. As he twisted his hip to swivel away from the car, the unbalanced box tilted awkwardly in his grip, spewing half of its content onto the sidewalk. Turnbull tried to pull back the box into a straight position, but the sudden lightness of his burden caused him to overcompensate, sending him stumbling against the side of the car.

"Oh, dear." Said a voice from somewhere off to his side. "Perhaps I could offer some assistance with this?"

Leaning against the car, hands gripping the sides of the box in an awkward position, one knee raised in a desperate attempt to support the box in a more or less horizontal position, Turnbull craned his neck around, and saw Benton Fraser, also of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Deputy Liaison Officer at the Canadian Consulate and his immediate superior, standing by the car in a relaxed Parade Rest position, hands clasped loosely behind his back, his red dress uniform immaculate as always, his classically handsome features schooled, as always, into the most calmest, neutral gaze.

Shocked, Turnbull instinctively tried to stand at attention, which of course caused him to lose any grip he had left on the box. In a flash, Fraser had moved to support the box from the other side. Panicked, Turnbull tried irrationally to clutch at the box, threatening to topple it over.

"Don't move, Constable, that's an order." Fraser said, his tone crisp and even. He caught the younger man's gaze and held it steady, waiting until he felt him calm down before continuing, "Now, Constable, you are going to let go of the box, one hand at a time, and I am going to set it down on the ground. Understood?" Turnbull nodded slowly. "Ready? Now."

The box safely deposited on the ground, Fraser bent and started to collect the scattered items from the sidewalk. Turnbull hurriedly joined him. Somehow, things that had stuck out at impossibly awkward angles before seemed to magically grow tame under the older Constable's efficient hands, and before Turnbull knew it, he was carrying a much tidier and manageable box in his hands, and walking the block and half toward his new apartment, with Fraser beside him, carrying his bedroll and RCMP issue backpack, and a smaller box containing Turnbull's modest personal library in his hands.

"I'm sorry about the distance, sir." Turnbull blubbered, feeling hot, sticky, disheveled, and completely mortified, "I suppose I could have parked closer, since there was a spot in front of a fire hydrant right outside the building, but I didn't feel I could take the liberty, even though technically the car I am driving is a consular vehicle, therefore not subject to the laws of the State of Illinois, although considering that it is a Canadian vehicle, it ought to be subject to Canadian Traffic Regulations, which also prohibits parking in spaces where one might obstruct the efforts of emergency operations, and in any case I am using the car to carry out a personal errand, which..."

"Understood, Constable." Fraser cut in. "No need to worry. I will have done the same." The note of approval in his voice caused a warm, ticklish feeling to spread in Turnbull's stomach. He realized he was beaming like an idiot, and quickly clamped his features down into the calm, professional expression all Mounties should maintain at all times.

The two reached the building and arrived in front of his new quarters without further incident. Turnbull set the box down, fished the keys out of his pockets, managed to find the right ones on only the second try, and opened the door. "After you, sir," he said to Fraser, who acquiesced without protest. Shrugging off his bundles at the side of the door, he glanced approvingly around the bare single room.

"Extremely suitable quarters you have here, Constable," commented Fraser. "Windows on the East and South, provides plenty of light. Outer walls," and he rapped his knuckles against it, "thick enough to provide excellent insulation. Ratio of surface area to cubic area, very small. Requires minimal fuel to heat. An excellent choice."

Turnbull found himself grinning silly again and had to abruptly force his face into seriousness.

"Wh-wh-why, thank you kindly, sir." He stammered. "I-I am most grateful for your help."

"My pleasure, Turnbull," Fraser smiled kindly at the younger man, "Is this all your belongings?"

"I-I have another box in the trunk of the car, sir." Turnbull answered, still feeling flustered. "I believe I can handle it by myself, sir. Thank you kindly for all your assistance."

Fraser gazed thoughtfully at Turnbull, stepping forward until he stood directly in front of him. Casually he raised a hand to rub an eyebrow, looking up at Turnbull from a slightly tilted angle. "Are you sure, Constable?" he asked in a low voice, "You haven't left any of your belongings in your old place?"

"No, I have not." replied Turnbull.

"Ah," said Fraser. "And the key to that place?"

"I was going to return it to the landlord after I had deposited my belongings here, sir."

"Ah. Right you were." Fraser reached out a hand to lightly touch Turnbull's shoulder, shifting them together into a conspiratorial huddle. "But you see, you did forget something at your old apartment."

"I did?" said Turnbull.

Fraser nodded. "You most definitely did. And if you will give me the keys, I am going to go and retrieve it for you."

"Sir, I could not impose..." Turnbull began, but Fraser held up a hand.

"The keys, Constable," he said, holding out a hand.

Turnbull looked into the other man's eyes, and slowly fished the keys out of his pocket and relinquished it.

Fraser smiled at him. "Thank you, Constable." he said, putting the keys into his pocket. "Now, Constable, this is important. You did not see me here today."

"I did not?"

"No. I did not help you carry your belongings from your car to this apartment. I have not seen this apartment, and you did not ask me to go to your old apartment and retrieve your personal belongings, which you did NOT forget, and you never gave me the keys. Which, I assure you, will be delivered to the landlord at the earliest possible convenience. Is that understood?"

Turnbull studied his superior's face very carefully, trying to absorb this information. "Let me make this clear. You are not here."

"That's right."

"I am not asking you to retrieve my belongings from my apartment, which I did not forget, and I am not giving you the keys. But, they are on their way to being delivered to the landlord at the earliest possible convenience."

"Yes, that's perfect."

"May I ask who is delivering the keys?"

"Nobody."

"Nobody?"

"See, you did not give the keys to anyone, therefore nobody can deliver them."

"Ah. And if somebody were to ask me if I saw you, then I should say you were not at my apartment."

"No, you should say you do not know where I am. Which you won't. I will not be here, and since I'm not here, then you would not know where I am, is that clear?"

"So there was no apartment, no keys, no belongings?"

"None whatsoever."

"Ah. Understood."

"Fine, carry on, Constable." Fraser gave him one last pat on the shoulder and turned to leave.

"Ah, sir?" said Turnbull, "Since there is no apartment, no keys, and no belongings, where am I?"

Fraser's face fell open. "You... You are here, obviously." he said.

"So I am here. And you are not here?"

"That's right."

"But where does that put the apartment, keys, and the belongings?"

Fraser flailed his arms. "Put them wherever you like, Constable." He tried to leave again.

"Sir?" Turnbull called out, "What if Inspector Thatcher inquires...?"

Fraser turned at the door. "I am not here, so she will not have cause to inquire you."

"But what if..."

"Turnbull," Fraser said somewhat curtly, "With due respect to the Inspector, she does not need to know where I am when I'm off-duty. And I am off-duty, until I come back on-duty."

"And you will come back on-duty when?"

"When I do."

"Ah, Understood."

"Thank you kindly, Turnbull."

"Sir?" Fraser turned. "If you are not here, how can you thank me?"

Fraser shook his head and walked away.

Scene 2: Welsh and Spender call the Consulate

Welsh: Has Constable Fraser reported in today?

Turnbull: Constable Fraser is off-duty now.

Welsh: I know that. I want to know if he has contacted the consulate.

Turnbull: Which consulate will that be?

Welsh: The Canadian Consulate, of course. That's you, isn't it?

Turnbull: No. I am the Associate Assistant Deputy Liaison Officer of the Canadian Consulate, which makes me definitely NOT the Canadian Consulate.

Welsh: Well, has he contacted you?

Turnbull: What kind of contact would that be?

Welsh: What kind?

Turnbull: Yes, I am unable to answer unless you specify the kind of contact.

Welsh: Oh, God. All right, has he called you?

Turnbull: What kind of call? Loud? Soft? Long? Short? Roll?

Welsh: (Groans)

Spender: Hello, this is Deputy Director Spender of the U.S. Justice Department. I demand to know Constable Fraser's whereabouts immediately.

Turnbull: He is not here.

Spender: We know that. Where is he?

Turnbull: I do not have that information.

Spender: Don't you have any clue?

Turnbull: Yes. He is not here.

Spender: That's a clue?

Turnbull: Yes, if he is not here, then obviously he must be somewhere else.

Spender: Of course, that's obvious. What we want to know is, where is "somewhere else?"

Turnbull: Not here.

Spender: Listen, did you see him at all today?

Turnbull: Yes, I believe I did.

Spender: Where?

Turnbull: Not here.

Spender: Tell me where!

Turnbull: I already told you where.

Spender: No you didn't. You said, not here.

Turnbull: Yes, that's where I saw him, not here.

Spender: Did he say anything

Turnbull: Yes, I believe he did.

Spender: What did he say?

Turnbull: He said he is not here.

Spender: We all know that!! Where did he say he is?

Turnbull: Not here.

Spender: He did not say where he is?!

Turnbull. Yes, he did. He said he is not here.

Spender: AAAAHHHH!!!!