Head Over Feet
By Postcard
Rating: - PG. Holiday: - Christmas. Romance. Slight Humour. Slight Episode Related.
Pairings: - Fraser/Thatcher.
Teaser: - Thatcher falls for Fraser.
Disclaimer: - The Due South characters in this story are not mine and anything else Due South isn't mine either. I do not mean to infringe on copyrights held by any copyright holders for Due South. The story however is mine (copyright December 2000 by Postcard on all original story content.) The song in this story is not mine and I do not mean to infringe on any copyrights. Please do not reproduce for anything other than personal reading without the written consent of author. This story is not written for profit and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit.
Author's note: - This story is set at the end of season 4, however, nobody has changed careers. This story is for all of my DS fandom friends, "Happy Christmas." The song in this story is 'Head Over Feet', by Alanis Morissette and from her album 'Jagged Little Pill.' Hope you all enjoy reading this and any constructive comments are welcome at postcard@manutd.com
The morning at the consulate had been hectic and Thatcher was at the end of her tether. Fraser and Turnbull, with the amusing sight of Dief helping, had spent the entire morning putting the Christmas tree up in the foyer and fixing decorations around the consulate. The ceiling high red and white Christmas tree still loomed precariously at an odd angle, but Thatcher had had enough of supervising and insisted that they leave it as it was and 'get on with some proper work.'
When lunch came around, Thatcher grabbed her coat and handbag and all but ran out of the consulate. The Chicago cold air hit her immediately and she sighed in relief as the wind blew the cobwebs away, clearing her mind, and helped to cool her heated mood down. Just to get out of the Christmas chaos at the consulate made the lunch break heaven to Thatcher. She wasn't a scrooge, but she wasn't looking forward to Christmas. In fact, she was thoroughly depressed about it. The holidays always made her feel lonelier than she already did. Unable to spend Christmas with anyone, she would once again be on her own, sat in front of the TV, with a one legged turkey. Ooh, how exciting!
She quietly reprimanded herself for her self-pity. After all, she had had an offer--- Henri Cloutier had asked her to spend Christmas day and insinuated 'night', with him. Thatcher grimaced at the thought. She had swiftly declined his offer of 'companionship.' The sad thing was---she wasn't getting any better offers these days.
Thatcher selected a place to eat and sat at a corner table by the window. While she ate her salad sandwich she stared out of the window and watched the world go by. Her eyes scanned the street and sadly she saw couples everywhere---hugging, holding hands, or even worse; kissing. In retrospect there were just as many people on their own walking down the street, but her eyes chose to play a cruel trick on her and just pick out the couples. Fed up, Thatcher paid for her food and left before the continuous Christmas music drove her to choose a new career as a homicidal maniac.
It started to snow as Thatcher walked towards the consulate. Walking past the park she smiled as she watched little children chasing the snowflakes. Her smile turned into a wistful look as she continued to watch the children. She yearned for a child---for a husband---for a family.
Entering the consulate, Thatcher averted her eyes from the Christmas tree while she stood on the mat and kicked the snow off her shoes. Without warning, she was tackled from behind. Falling, head over feet, she tumbled onto the floor. A large warm body landed on top of her.
Looking into the clear blue eyes of her attacker, Thatcher yelled, "FRASER!?!? What in the name of sanity do you think you're doing?"
Just as she finished asking, there was a loud creaking noise. Thatcher looked over to the tree in time to witness it come crashing down, hitting the floor, where only seconds ago she had been stood. Thatcher's eyes went wide. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing would come out.
Jumping up from his station behind the desk in the foyer, Turnbull's hands flew to his cheeks and he shrieked, "My beautiful tree!"
Thatcher rolled her eyes. "Never mind the flaming tree, I could have been killed!"
Turnbull went red and looked down at his boots. "Oh, yes, s-sorry ma'am. Are you all right?"
Reluctantly unembracing Fraser, where her arms had automatically clung to him when he had tackled her, Thatcher muttered, "Yes. Yes, I'm fine." Looking into Fraser's eyes she said, "Fraser, I believe I'm quite safe now, would you kindly remove your personage from off of me!"
Not moving a muscle, Fraser looked at her blankly. Thatcher sighed and flashed him a look that said 'please comprehend', followed by "Now."
Finally remembering where his body was positioned, Fraser blushed to the colour of Father Christmas' outfit. "Oh! I---um, yes, of course Sir. I'm terribly sorry ma'am. Please forgive my forgetfulness!" He scrambled off her.
Thatcher shook her head in wonder. * Forgetfulness! How could he forget being on top of me! * While he helped her to her feet, she muttered, "Yes---well, you're forgiven."
"Thank you kindly, Sir." He cocked his head to one side and looked at her, concerned. "Are you all right, Sir? I hope I didn't hurt you in any way?"
"'Yes,' I'm all right. And 'no,' you didn't hurt me. You were---for an American Football style tackle, you were---gentle." She gave him a weak smile before turning around and walking off to her office.
One Hour Later
A light knock on Thatcher's office door indicated his arrival. "Come in," Thatcher called.
Fraser entered and after closing the door he stood to attention in front of her desk. "You wanted to see me, Sir!"
Standing up from her chair, Thatcher looked at him. "Yes, constable. At ease." She smiled inwardly as he only slightly relaxed his muscles. "I erm---I don't believe I properly thanked you for what you did earlier. You---" Thatcher hesitated and with great difficulty said the 'S' word, "Saved me from a nasty accident." Slightly tipping her head to the side, she paused again. The last two words came out strained, "Thank you."
"No need to thank me, Sir. You're most welcome. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." He smiled at her and she couldn't help but smile back at that handsome face. They stood there looking at each other in silence until Fraser broke it with, "Is that all Sir?"
"Yes. You're dismissed."
Fraser nodded, turned and then walked to the door. At the door he spun around when Thatcher shouted, "Oh, Fraser!"
"Yes, Sir?"
Manoeuvring around her desk, she walked over to him and stood at his side. Smiling, she said, "I do believe that you're standing under something, Fraser!"
He looked up and seeing the mistletoe above the door, he blushed. Rubbing his left eyebrow he said, "Yes, I do appear to be. If I'm not mistaken and my eyes aren't deceiving me, you're also stood under something!" He smiled, showing his cute dimple and Thatcher's heart leaped.
Not breaking eye contact with him, she said softly, "You're not mistaken, Fraser. I now know how you made it into the RCMP." She smiled at him.
Staring into each other's eyes, they each took a step forward. Slowly, their lips touched and they kissed. Holding onto each other, they both knew that they'd received one of the Christmas presents they had wished for---another kiss.
After the kiss, Fraser and Thatcher stood looking at each other and a song ran through Thatcher's head: -
Head Over Feet
I had no choice but to hear you
You stated your case time and again
I thought about it
You treat me like I'm a princess
I'm not used to liking that
You ask how my day was
You've already won my over in spite of me
Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault
Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole
You're so much braver than I give you credit for
That's not lip service
You've already won my over in spite of me
Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault
You are the bearer of unconditional things
You held your breath and the door for me
Thanks for your patience
You're the best listener that I've ever met
You're my best friend
Best friend with benefits
What took me so long
I am aware now
I am aware now
Breaking off the Christmas magic, Thatcher smiled shyly at Fraser. "Merry Christmas, Fraser!"
"Merry Christmas, Sir!"