The characters herein belong to Alliance. The story is mine loosely based on
Aladdin
Rated pg 13 If you do not like fairy stories then steer clear. You also need
to be able to suspend your disbelief for this one !
Drama humour and romance, yes this story has it all.
Any comments e mail the author

Benton and the Wonderful Lamp, A Due South Fairy Tale.

by L.C.

Long ago and far away in an arctic country there dwelt a simple living
youth who was blessed with the gifts of generosity, kindness, loyalty,
politeness and wisdom. He was also extremely handsome. Living with his
grandparents on the edge of the tundra, he was often alone but not lonely. He
read books from his grandparents' Travelling Library, spent time with the
hens and huskies and roamed the tundra observing the lemmings, siksiks,
whales, foxes, seals and wolves. He knew the difference between a caribou and
a fox track and could identify all the types of berries that ripened in the
fall: paurngait, kablait, kingmiignait. He knew their names and could
pronounce them well. He enjoyed the sounds as he rolled the odd combination
of vowels and consonants around in his mouth. He loved to fish for arctic
Char with his kakivaak in the icy water. His childhood passed mostly without
incident apart from when, at age six, his mother mysteriously died.


Our young hero loved reading, and he loved to dream. Each Spring, as he
watched the caribou migrate to the calving grounds, he would dream of the warm
south and the wonders there. During the long arctic nights his favourite book
to read by the fire was about the mounted police force. His father was a
mountie but he rarely saw him. He longed for the time when he too could join
the force and follow in the footsteps of the father he admired. To that end
he studied hard and diligently; learnt CPR, gained a St John Ambulance
certificate and took a typing course by correspondence until he was accepted
as a cadet in Regina. This noble youth could not contain his excitement and
as the time for his departure neared he frantically searched the cabin in
which he lived for articles of his father's uniform. He was rewarded when his
grandma located an old worn Sam Browne belt which the cadet to be polished
lovingly with wax, buffing up the buckles till they gleamed. The young man
squinted at his reflection and grinned. Life could only get better. He
might even receive a posting near his father when his training was over.


The evening before he was due to leave he had a sleepless night, which for
this active youth, was rare. He was beginning to have misgivings. Although
he was excited, he was also anxious about the changes he would face going to
live in a city after spending so long in small places like Inuvik, Alert and
Tuktoyuktuk. Would his experiences in the wilds of the northern territories
be adequate preparation for life in law enforcement in Regina ? He had
studied the map, Sasketchewan seemed so far away from all that was familiar
to him.


It was late evening when the youth stepped down from the train carriage in
Regina, his backpack hanging with all his personal belongings. He was
overwhelmed by the number of people, many of them were young men and women
about to embark on an exciting career. He paused on the platform to breathe
in the warm air. This was going to be his home for the next 26 weeks. As he
jostled his way out of the station an older man bumped into him, then grabbed
him by the shoulders and exclaimed,

" It's you.....what are you doing in Regina ? Oh, I expect you do not
recognise your great uncle Jacob. I have been travelling throughout the east
for many years. Have you time for a chat ? Tell me how are your
grandparents ?."

Taken aback the young man was dumbstruck. He did not recognise the man at all
and it was minutes before he found his voice. He tried to shrug off the man's
grip as he answered,
" I'm sorry I don't remember you. My grandfather passed away 3 years ago but
my grandmother is very well. I am about to commence cadet training for the
RCMP."

At this the old man's grey eyes lit up.
" A mountie eh, very useful. Indeed. You probably want to get settled in
now so meet me on Saturday at the Welcome Bar 2pm. The address is on the
card. we can talk more of family then."

With that he shoved a small card into the youth's pocket and disappeared
into the crowd before he could thank him. He shook his head, city people
were very strange, and he had never heard his grandparents mention a relative
named Jacob.


The young cadet settled in well to the disciplined academy life and,
although he found it different to life in the far north, he enjoyed the
rigorous physical training, the lectures, the role playing and the debates.
It all served to stretch him, emotionally, physically and intellectually. He
was a personable character and made friends quickly with a couple of other
cadets from the Territories. His first Saturday found him at 2pm fulfilling
his promise to meet his great uncle. He was cautious about this meeting, he
was unsure what to expect. He had mentioned the man in a letter to his
grandmother but had yet to receive a reply.

Jacob was already seated in the cafe sipping at a strong espresso coffee.
His great nephew ordered tea and sat opposite waiting for the older man to
speak first.

"I expect you are finding the city strange and crowded." The young man
nodded his reply. "Then I will take you on a tour and show you the wonders of
modern living as soon as you finish your drink. "

And so they sat in silence until Jacob paid the bill and they left. He
guided him through the city, pointing out stores and food outlets, bars, night
clubs, used car lots, car parks; all places the northerner had rarely seen .
The cadet was awed by all he saw. They visited galleries, museums, even the
library. All the while Jacob chatted as if to a favourite nephew so much the
youth barely had chance to make any contribution. Gradually Jacob led his
nephew into the suburbs pointing out the oddities of modern day living; cars,
carefully tended yards, recycling cans. Before long they were out in the
countryside and on the edge of the forest. The cadet hesitated a little,
puzzled, but Jacob encouraged him,

"I want to show you something wondrous. Gather some sticks for a fire, boy."

he did as he was bid, albeit reluctantly, then crouched by the blazing fire to
hear what the old man had to say. Jacob threw some powder onto the flames,

"Watch."
He muttered in a language the youth, who was conversant in Inuit dialects as
well as Cantonese, English and French, did not recognise. Suddenly the earth
shook and a gaping chasm opened close by. The nephew gasped in alarm, was he
dreaming, or was it an earthquake ? Surely Sasketchewan was not on a fault
line. The opening revealed a large stone and inset in it was a large brass
ring.

"Pull up the stone until you see some steps then descend as far as the door.
On the other side of the door you will find a beautiful Palace. Pass through
the first three halls until in the fourth you see a lamp hanging in the
corner. Bring the lamp to me." He paused to give him a small ring.
"Wear this it will keep you from harm; it is a family heirloom."

He slipped the ring onto the cadet's finger.
The young man was curious, none of the books he had ever read had prepared him
for this sort of occurrence. Urban life was certainly promising to be very
different from his isolated childhood. His grandmother in her pep talks had
never mentioned hidden palaces and stones under the ground. He shrugged and
grasped the ring in the stone tightly.


The long stone staircase appeared as expected and he cautiously descended. He
then followed the long dimly lit corridor into a hallway full of treasures;
rubies, sapphires, emeralds. Never having been interested in material wealth
he carried on through to a second hall filled with gold and silver. This too
he passed through without a moment's hesitation until in the third hall he
gasped at the sight of a hundred shelves filled with books of a thousand
cultures. His eyes widened in pleasure at the sight. Here was knowledge
beyond his wildest dreams. More books than he could read in his lifetime.
He picked one leather bound volume off the first shelf and lowering himself to
the dusty floor began to read, "I began my travels, where I purpose to end
them, viz. at the city of London........."


Time passed unnoticed so absorbed was he in Daniel Defoe's travels, he forgot
the command of his uncle to find the lamp. Outside Jacob was waiting
impatiently, what was the boy doing in there ? He called loudly for some
minutes until on seeing the top of the youth's head he called,
"Give me the lamp now."

The younger man was more astute than one might at first suspect having
noticed the avaricious glint in Jacob's eyes.

"It is fastened to my belt. Wait till I'm out of here."

He was so weighted down with books that he was having difficulty climbing the
stairs. Jacob flew into a rage and shouted even louder,

"Boy, give me the lamp, now !"

But the cadet was so busy struggling with his load of books he could not
obey. The old man was furious, he threw a handful of powder onto the still
burning fire and intoned some mysterious words. The cadet looked up from his
position on the staircase to see the exit from the cave slowly closing. He
dropped the books and ran the remaining few steps to the top and attempted to
push himself through the crack.

He was not strong enough, it was useless. He sank to the ground and
suppressed a feeling of panic. This was no worse than when he and Innussiq
were trapped in a bear cave for two days. Of course then they had with them
water and pemmican and the company of each other. It had been quite an
exciting adventure. This time he was alone and, he searched his pockets, no
supplies worth noting, just his compass, a present from his grandma, and the
tuning fork his mother had left him. Maybe there was another way out. With
this thought to cheer him, the cadet leapt up from where he had been slumped
against the wall and took the stairs three at a time until he was at the door
of the palace. His heart sank at the discovery that the door was shut. He
was a prisoner. He sat down again and rested his head in his hands as he
replayed all the survival techniques he had ever read about through his mind.
None seemed applicable to this situation. Perhaps the old man would relent
and send someone to release him. He shook his head at the unlikelihood of
this possibility. Why had the old man done this to him, especially as he had
shown such kindness in giving him a ring? As these thoughts passed through
his head he unconsciously rubbed the gold ring on his finger. There was a
flash of light which temporarily blinded him.

When his vision finally cleared he saw before him the strangest creature. It
was perhaps, five metres tall, (the boy could not be precise as the
apparition was hovering in the air) had the build of a sumo wresler, was
completely hairless and magnificently bejewelled. The monster seemed as
bemused as he was. It looked around the cave then turned its gaze downwards
to where our hero looked up with confidence.

" I am the slave of the ring," it intoned melodiously. "Whatever you bid, I
will obey."

The cadet could hardly believe his luck. He pinched himself sharply to make
sure he was still awake. Yes all this was real enough. Running a tongue
along his dry lips he slowly and questioningly replied,

"Take me out of here, back to the woods, please...sir."

The huge man lifted him up very gently and flew up through the stonework to
where he deposited him on the grassy floor close to where the stone had been
and where the fire had died to a warm glowing mound of embers. Straightening
his uniform the youth turned to kindly thank his benefactor only to discover
he had silently vanished. He would have dismissed it all as a remarkable
dream were it not for the small old lamp hanging from his belt and the gold
ring still on his finger.


He made his way back to the city through the dark and quiet streets until he
reached his barracks just before dawn. Sliding exhausted into his small
mountie bed he fell asleep without even having the strength to remove his
clothes.


The following Monday he was unsurprised to learn in a letter from his
grandmother that there had never been anyone in the family called Jacob.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It was many years later that Benton Fraser RCMP had cause to
recall the strange occurrences of his first week as a Cadet. He still had the
lamp, it went with him on every posting. The ring he had buried outside his
father's cabin, judging it far too dangerous an item to have around. He kept
the lamp as a memory of a strange event, lest it should fade into a dream..
As he had grown older he had become accustomed to the unusual, he often saw
things others couldn't, hear things not audible to the ears of his fellow
mounties. And, he was also aware that he could jump further, climb higher,
fall greater distances, survive lower temperatures, hold his breath longer
than any one else he knew. Activities that could seriously maim or kill other
men left him unharmed. He seemed to lead a charmed existence. Charmed that
is in all areas except personal relationships with women. His one serious
love affair had ended in a complete disaster. He frequently wished for better
judgement in his choice of women. Somewhere, he felt, there was a woman he
could love cherish and trust without being hurt, but he was afraid to get
involved. Victoria had done that to him, damaged him, possibly beyond
repair.

So here he was in his mid thirties standing guard outside the Canadian
Consulate in Chicago, no family, exiled from his homeland and only one true
friend in the world apart from his wolf, contemplating the loneliness of his
existence, and at last, questioning it too. His mind wandered (as it often
seemed to these days when he was standing stiffly at attention trying to
ignore the stares of tourists, or the unwanted attention of Chicago's youngest
generation) to his superior officer, Margaret Thatcher. She puzzled him. She
set him the most demeaning tasks imaginable yet he was unable to resent her.
He had noticed that if he stared very hard into her beautiful eyes she would
look away, and he was frequently catching her in the act of whipping her
glasses off her nose. Very strange behaviour indeed. He was aware that
there was an attraction but was unsure if she would return his affections. He
was finding it very difficult to fathom the motivations of women. Of this one
woman.

His one attempt to ask his father's advice had been fruitless, Fraser
senior had even less experience than his son. Even his relationship with
Caroline had been odd. As Benton had recently discovered, his father had often
slept with the dogs. Maybe he should try and get to know her better. Ask
her out for a meal. No he couldn't do that. Since his apartment had burnt
down he had been living at the consulate and the cooking facilities therein
were less than adequate. Maybe he could take her to a picture ? No, he
shrugged then rubbed his finger along his eyebrow, an idiosyncrasy of his
adopted whenever anything puzzled him. How could he get closer to this woman
? In the absence of fatherly advice who could he turn to ? Certainly not
Ray who just pined after his ex wife and whose chat up lines left a lot to be
desired too. He let his mind wander, to a tree opposite which was in blossom,
an acer negundo, if he was not mistaken. There was a bird visible in the
branches, possibly a sparrow hopping from twig to twig. How Benton envied
that bird its uncomplicated life. What decisions did birds have to make ?
They never felt loneliness; the need for companionship did not figure in
sparrow psychology. He sighed, you're getting maudlin, Benton. Count your
blessings.

One: good health.

Two; a fulfilling career.

Three; ..............three, an old lamp on the window ledge.
Now why did he think of that lamp after all this time ? One of the few
things he had managed to rescue from the embers of his immolated former home
had been that lamp. It was battered and tarnished and dulled by smoke and
flames but he had resisted polishing it for fear of conjuring the genie. He
had done that accidentally soon after he had acquired it and had felt
compelled to wish for something, anything to soothe the doleful look on the
genie's face when it had witnessed its new master. If he remembered
correctly, the creature had wept when Benton told it he had no desires. To
appease it he had wished to be the best of the Mounted: strong, honest and
valiant. He recalled now that the genie had told him that whenever he wore
the mountie's Stetson he would be invulnerable and would be able to fulfil his
mountie duties in an unparalleled manner. Now why had he forgotten that until
now ? The price he had paid for that protection had been to live a life of
loneliness. Worse still, he had only just realised that he was lonely. If
he wasn't careful he was going to be the last of a breed in several ways.


Resolution gripped Benton with an implacable hand and would not let go. He
had made up his mind. He would march up to her office, walk confidently in
and invite her out to a restaurant of her choosing. He could do this. He
was a mountie. The chiming of the church bell interrupted his thoughts, his
shift was at an end. Was his resolution beginning to falter ? He entered
the building and climbed the stairs. They seemed high to Benton who had also
become aware of a coldness in his stomach. He was unable to locate the source
of his fear as he stood trembling outside her door. Why was this so difficult
? She was only a woman after all, he had faced worse especially since teaming
up with Ray. Yes, that was it, she was a woman and she was his superior
officer too. He let his hand fall from the doorknob and turned back to his
own room. He was disappointed in himself, he felt he had let himself down.
This was a time to seek out his father. Benton hoped the elder mountie would
be there in the tardis like extension to his room, and thankfully he was.

"Try the lamp son "

"Dad, what on earth do you mean ?"

"I mean get that genie to give you a more.................. " Fraser Senior
waved a hand as he searched for a tactful word,"winning way with women. Rub
the lamp!"

With that he returned to the books he referred to as his "accounts" though
Benton had yet to figure out what need a dead mountie had of money. If his
father was to be believed the afterlife was certainly nothing like any of the
major religions would have us think.

Fraser picked up the lamp from its resting place against the window. He
studied it for a moment as he tried to put off the inevitable. He was not
used to stalling, he would have to just do it, rub the thing and get it over
with, like pulling off a plaster from a sensitive area. He shuddered as he
gave the dull metal a tentative rub.

It was just as horrendous an experience as he'd anticipated. A huge puff of
acrid smoke erupted from the spout sending Benton into a coughing spasm as his
pristine lungs tried to cope with the polluted air. His eyes watered and the
momentary blindness he suffered as a result of the blinding flash of white
light that followed was a mercy. It meant that the Mountie was spared the
repulsive sight of a huge genie squeezing itself clumsily out of the narrow
confines of its prison. He was also coughing too much to notice the sickening
moans and groans issuing from the creature's distorted mouth. By the time
Fraser's vision and lungs had cleared the genie had regained a respectable
appearance and was straightening its crumpled clothes as best it could under
the circumstances.

It raised a massive ringed jewelled hand to its mouth, cleared its throat, and
began in a sonorous voice its well rehearsed recitation.

"IamthegenieofthelampIamyourslaveandwilldoanythingyoubidmaster."
With that he whisked off a feathered turban and bowed very low. Benton was
too stunned to answer straight away so the genie raised its head from its
respectful bow and waited expectantly for its master's command. Its master was
suffering from a blank mind at that moment. When his power of speech returned
several minutes later, Benton replied.

"I would like to have a ......." how had his father put it ? "A winning way
with women. Well with Margaret really. Yes just with her, with Margaret."

"Is that all ?" boomed the genie, disappointed.

"Yes, thankyou kindly......er........sir."

"You are really not experienced at this master thing are you?"
Impossible as it may seem the genie's voice had got even louder. Benton put
his hands over his ears, fearing a migraine.

"Understood." he replied not knowing what else to say. The genie was
obviously disappointed in him. Again.

"No wealth beyond your wildest dreams ? No harem of gorgeous princesses ? No
emerald clad palaces ? No magic carpet ? No huge tables groaning under the
weight of a banquet so vast it could feed a small African nation for six years
?"

Fraser shook his head and wished the genie would give him the winning ways and
get back in its lamp.

"Your wish is my command.........master."

Benton was sure that last word had been said in a disdainful tone.
Nevertheless he thanked the genie kindly once more as it diminished in size
and returned through the spout into the lamp.

Fraser took a deep breath and tugged his uniform into place. He looked in a
mirror to check there were no hairs out of place and straightened his Sam
Browne Belt.

"Do I feel different ?" He asked himself as he searched his drawers for some
cologne. When would these "winning ways" manifest themselves ? And how would
he recognise them when they did ?

He shrugged carelessly.
Who cares ? I have to talk to Margaret. I have to make her an offer she
cannot refuse.



"Come in,"
Margaret responded in her usual gruff manner to the strong knock at her door.
She did not look up from her paper work as the visitor entered.

"Yes?" she welcomed in a sharp tone.

"Sir,"
a confident deep voice replied compelling her to drop the pen, whip off her
glasses and look up into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen on any
human being. She cleared her throat aware that she was reddening. Before
she could get in a barbed retort he continued,
"I am aware that there is an attraction between us which I am sure has not
gone unnoticed by you. So I am asking you to accompany me to dinner this
evening at a restaurant of your choice. We can share the cost if you wish. I
am quite happy to phone round a few restaurants to get samples of their menus
if you would prefer."

Margaret was unable to repress a snicker. What had come over the tongue tied
mountie ? The man who could not hold a coherent conversation with any woman
who made a pass at him ? She sobered up as she remembered that she had waited
for this moment for months. As his superior officer she had felt unable to
make the first move. It had become a stand off. He was too shy to make the
first move himself and so their relationship had stagnated. Who was she
kidding, there was no relationship. And now this.

"Sir?" his voice begged a response. "Should I book a table for eight PM ?."

There was only one answer and she gave it. "Yes, constable. Eight will be
fine and I leave the choice to you."

Still totally bemused she watched as he gave her a jaunty salute, turned on
his heel and marched to the door where he paused to give her a parting shot:

"By the way, although Dorothy Parker maintained that men don't make passes at
girls who wear glasses, believe me, yours only add to your allure."

With that he closed the door with a flourish. Margaret stared down at the
articles in question and realised that she had twisted them into a mangled
piece of metal. He really liked her glasses ? She hoped she could find her
spare pair at home. Too stunned to continue her work she merely sat for
twenty minutes lost in thought. Had the mountie really asked her out on a
date ? What had come over him ? What on earth was she going to wear ?


Despite her fears that Benton would become tongue tied at the meal or that
the evening would in some way turn into an utter disaster, Margaret found
herself having a wonderful time. Fraser was witty, charming, attentive and
even flirtatious. The man truly had hidden depths. As the meal progressed
they relaxed in each others company till by dessert they were content to
remain silent and just gaze into each others eyes and wonder. She even
managed to forget that he was her inferior for long enough to share a tender
goodnight kiss when he walked her to her door. Watching him go was
difficult, she only just managed to resist calling to his retreating
back,"Don't go, stay with me." But years of training were too hard to
overcome and so she went to bed alone.


As we are told, the path of true love does not run smooth, but for Benton and
Margaret the first hurdle had been overcome and they came to care even more
about each other. Margaret was continually amazed at Fraser's new found
confidence. She even managed to persuade him to move in with her though she
could not stop him from sleeping in his bedroll on the floor. He found her
luxurious water bed far too soft and warm. Loathe though she was to admit
it, the red long johns really suited him. She could almost consider getting
some for herself. She also had to accommodate Diefenbaker in her house but
considered that a small sacrifice. After all she had gained the most
desirable man in Chicago. That was worth the dog hairs, the wolverine smell
and the early morning runs. In fact she was amazed at how easily she managed
to fit her schedule around them both. If one thing marred her happiness it
was the regret that they had not followed their instincts sooner. Through
pride and foolishness they had lost valuable time in each other's company and
her biological clock was ticking faster very day.


The days passed blissfully into weeks for the two lovers, they were
inseparable. On guard duty Benton thought only of Meg, impatiently counting
the seconds until his shift ended. Margaret spent too much time at her
window, trying to get a glimpse of red serge. When the pressure got too bad
she would invent an errand for herself so that she could leave the building
and just stand and admire her beloved tall, black haired, well proportioned
mountie.
The weeks turned into months and Margaret found herself pregnant, Benton was
delighted.
Their happiness complete, life just could not get better.
However it could get worse.



Constable Turnbull was standing guard duty outside the new consulate. It had
not yet occurred to him that over the past 6 months his guard duties had
increased quite significantly. In fact all of his duties had increased as The
Inspector had passed a lot of Fraser's menial tasks on to Turnbull allowing
her favourite mountie more time to spend helping her with hers. He hummed to
himself tunelessly as the blankness in his mind extended itself into a greater
area of nothingness. Life for Turnbull was incredibly simple, operating, as
he did at the level of a dyslexic seven year old. However, on this day it was
going to take a dramatic turn.

Jacob had finally tracked Benton Fraser to Chicago. After the episode at
Regina he had fled back to the east and toured Asia for a while, taking the
Kathmandu trail, climbing the Himalayas, walking the Great Wall of China,
visiting the Dali Lama then onto India to see the Taj Mahal. For most people
these experiences would help them develop spiritually. Jacob, however, had
sunk far too deep into the pit of avarice to ever be redeemed by pilgrimages
and areas of outstanding natural beauty.

As he travelled his grudge against his ersatz great nephew festered like a
picked scab. Had he really perished in the underground cave ? The old man
had to find out for sure, because if Benton had escaped he would be in
possession of one of the greatest treasures in the world. And by rights, that
lamp and all it promised, should belong to him, not to some simple Mountie
from the arctic wilderness, a nobody from nowhere. A boy like that had no
imagination, no idea how to use such a gift. Jacob extrapolated further: if
the boy had escaped then he couldn't possibly have discovered the secret of
the lamp. Wherever he travelled, Jacob always searched out the financial
papers and as yet Fraser's name had not appeared in the list of the world's
hundred richest men.


So Jacob returned to Canada after seventeen years, looked up the records at
the Library in Regina, traced Benton's first posting, then from there by way
of newspaper articles about Gerard discovered that his nephew was exiled in
Chicago. Alone and vulnerable. A perfect opportunity for the perfect plan.


After checking in at a hotel close to the Consulate he visited all the flea
markets and antique shops in the city and bought up all the old lamps. He
polished them up till they gleamed like new then placed them all in a large
sports holdall. He was a patient man and knew that it could take several
days for his plan to unfold.
Each morning and each afternoon he walked past the Consulate chanting, "New
lamps for old, new lamps for old."
Small children would halt their game of aiming spitballs at the Mountie's
buttons to cluster round him and jeer. Tourists would stop photographing the
Mountie and ask to photograph him instead. On one occasion he was even asked
to stand with the Mountie for the perfect photo opportunity. And for Jacob,
opportune indeed, in that it gave him the chance to determine if this fellow
was the Mountie he sought. He was disappointed to discover that it was not
Fraser who stood guard every day, this meant that he must be inside the
consulate and possibly unable to hear him.


Turnbull, however, after four days of hearing the phrase, "new lamps for old,"
recalled in a moment of uncharacteristic lucidity, that there rested on the
Consulate window sill a very old dirty tarnished lamp. He believed it
belonged to Fraser who was in the Yukon on a brief exchange visit. It struck
him that he would be doing the constable a great favour if he swapped the old
lamp for a nice shiny new one. Turnbull smiled at the thought. Any thought
was a rare delight for him. As soon as his shift ended he called to the old
peddlar who had for some ten minutes been trying to disengage himself from a
group of youths who wanted his Sport's Holdall because it had a designer
insignia on the side of it.

"Excuse me, sir." Turnbull said as the youths fled clutching the bag and
leaving a trail of dented lamps in their wake.

"There is a rusty old lamp in the consulate. You can have that if you give me
a new one. "

Jacob almost did a celebratory dance so pleased was he to hear this. "Well
hurry up boy, get it."

Jacob busied himself picking up the lamps and sorting through them for one in
decent condition. He was so excited his hands shook and his fingers could
hardly grip. He sat on the edge of the curb and contemplated his first wish.
After considering several options he decided, maliciously, that his first wish
would be to ruin Fraser by undoing the Mountie's wishes. That would teach the
boy to disobey him. Ah revenge was going to be so sweet. He shook his head
and smiled at the thought. Turnbull returned with the lamp in record time.

"Here it is," he panted, breathless through his exertions, "Fraser will be
so pleased with me when he gets back."

The old man was not listening, he grabbed the lamp, threw a newer one at
Turnbull and hastened back to his hotel room. Turnbull stood on the deserted
sidewalk clutching the shiny lamp, a vacant look on his face. Then he turned
on his heel and returned to the interior of the consulate unaware of the
consequences of his foolish actions.


A week after Jacob had left Chicago for a life of wealth and fame beyond his
wildest dreams, Benton returned to Chicago from his successful exchange in the
north where he had helped bust a fraudulent used skidoo sales team He went
straight by foot to the apartment he now shared with Margaret, a spring in his
step. He was looking forward to seeing how well developed her bump would be
now, he wanted to feel the wriggling baby as he pressed his hand over her
womb. He would play it a Stan Rogers tape he had picked up in Canada. Music
was instrumental in forming strong brain cell patterns in the unborn and what
better than a good stirring sea shanty or two. His favorite was Barrett's
Privateers. It reminded him of a romantic moment on the Bounty replica when
time had stood still and he had shared a most tender kiss with his
Margaret. His Margaret. How he had missed her, every night away he had
fallen asleep feeling her absence acutely. The Yukon had never before felt so
cold to him. He was accustomed to being alone, he had never sought to live
with others. But he did enjoy company, he was not really a loner by nature.
He used to really enjoy his meals at Ray Vecchio's house, the loving, noisy
Italian family. He always felt alive with them, they had shown him the
rewards of being part of a close family. They had such a vibrancy generated
by family ties. He still missed Ray very much.


Now he had felt for himself the true rewards of companionship with Ray, with
Stan and with Meg he was loathe to give them up and return to that solitary
existence he had led for so long. After the "affair" with the bounty hunter
he had realised that he needed to share his life with a special person,
someone who could give him children, someone who would love him and whom he
could love. Someone who would keep the loneliness at bay. This
relationship with the Inspector was wonderful, he could hardly believe his
luck, he loved her with all of his big mountie heart. He loved her with a
capacity he never realised he had. And the best thing about his life at the
moment was that she loved him.


Whistling the shanty loudly he ran up the steps two at a time and opened the
apartment door,
"Meg, I'm back." He was greeted by Dief bounding up to him, almost knocking
him over in lupine enthusiasm.
Benton rubbed the wolf behind its ears, "Hey, boy, did you miss me?"

But his mindwas not on Diefenbaker, he looked down the hallway searching
for his love,
"Margaret? Meg?" he called again.

There was silence in the apartment apart from the panting of the wolf. Why
was she not here to greet him ? Had something happened? He felt cold, a
shiver ran through him. Had something happened to the baby ? He shrugged
out of his rucksack and ran to the bedroom. He peered cautiously round the
door, the room was empty. Benton frowned, he was aware now of a growing sense
of unease. She promised him she would be home when he last talked to her on
the phone. That was four days ago. A lot could happen in four days. He
picked up the phone and dialled her mobile, and let out the breath he had been
holding when she answered it with a terse
"Yes?"
"Margaret, where are you, I have been so worried, are you all right ?"

Her tone when she answered was hard.
"Constable, yes, I am fine, thankyou. I am at the consulate, working. I
expect to see you here this afternoon ready to work your shift."

Taken aback at her remote attitude, Fraser could only reply,"Yes Sir," and
stare at the receiver as the line went dead. Again he felt a cold shiver
cross his spine. Something was wrong. He crouched down next to the ever
loyal Diefenbaker,
"Hey, Dief, do you know what is going on ?"

Benton stood up, stretched and stifled a yawn, it had been a long journey and
he had slept badly, now she expected him to go to work. Hadn't they agreed to
spend this afternoon together, relaxing at home? She ought to be taking it
easy at this stage of her pregnancy. He put his Stan Rogers tape on the
player and sang along with it as he unpacked. He always found singing
therapeutic and by the time he had changed into his brown uniform he felt a
little less worried.


When Fraser arrived at the Consulate at 12.58pm his uneasiness returned. In
fact the thought of facing the Inspector was causing him a great deal of
concern. He had to wipe his hands on his trousers becuse they were so damp
with sweat. Why did he feel so nervous ? It had been months since he had
felt like this. In order to steel himself he sang a few bars of Barrett's
Privateers. It helped, but only a little. He went straight to his own office
and sat down at his desk. There was a post it note, with her bold handwriting
on it. "My office 1.15pm." he fondled the note, she wanted him in her
office. What could that mean ? Perhaps his father could help. Sure, he
hadn't been
much help last time, but it was worth a try. If nothing else it would make
the next fifteen minutes pass less miserably.

"Hello, son," Fraser Senior greeted him. He was wearing a parka, complete
with furry hood, thick trousers, boots and snow shoes.

"Dad, it's 30 degrees outside, can't you feel the heat ?"

"Is it son ? You feel the cold more when you get older."

"But you aren't getting older, you are dead. "
Why was his father so exasperating?

"Besides I want to talk about my problems, not yours. Do things seem
different ?"

"Oh most definitely. But I would put it all down to global warming."

Benton folded his arms and scowled at his father's apparition. These
conversations were becoming more and more bizarre. Was it some feature of the
afterlife that any sense you might once have had slowly dissipates ? He waved
a hand at Fraser Senior.

"As usual you are making no sense whatsoever. I don't know why I ever bother
trying to hold a coherent conversation with you. I have serious concerns here
and all you can talk about is the weather. "

Benton left the closet and tried to calm himself. He sat down in his chair,
consulted his father's watch, five minutes to go, and began his mantra,
"I am a mountie, I can do this. " He repeated it fifty times then took a deep
breath and went to Margaret's, the Inspector's door.


Five minutes later he was sitting in his chair again, head in hands conscious
that things had gone very badly indeed. He had been totally unable to talk to
her, he had stammered and stuttered and had heard hardly anything she had said
apart from, "dismissed," to which he had automatically replied, "Understood."
Then he had fled to his room. He felt like his world had come to an end; he
had lost her. At the end of his shift he would collect his belongings and
Dief from her home and move back into the Consulate. His father was here, he
wouldn't be that much alone. But it wasn't home, Meg's apartment was home.
Yet, he couldn't stay there any more, he couldn't even talk to her, how could
he be expected to share a bed with her ?
Life had been going so well, why had things changed ? Why had he changed ?
Why had hope died ? He wasn't very much aware of time passing, he just
stared unfocussed at his door until his body clock told him his shift had
ended. He removed his Stetson from its hook, stared at it a moment before
placing it on his head with a sigh. He would just devote himself to his
mountie duties since he obviously was not meant to find happiness with women.



Meg sat in her office totally bemused. She had had quite an exhausting week,
been called into the consulate on an emergency despite a resolution to take it
easy. She could feel her hormones raging, her legs ached and the baby was
practising trampolining off her diaphragm with upsetting regularity. She had
not been able to get comfortable in bed since Benton had gone away. She'd got
used to him rubbing her back to relax her into sleep. He had a wonderful
touch and knew exactly which muscles to work. Without him life was miserable.
He had stopped her feeling unglamorous as the baby took away her trim figure,
with his constant reassurances and professions of love.

So what had gone wrong ? This morning she had been excited at his return.
Yet for some reason she had felt compelled to come into work today even
though they had intended to relax at home together. Then she had lost her
temper with him over the phone, well that could be a pregnancy mood swing.
Now he had spent five minutes in her office and not said one word that made
sense. Oh except for "understood" and she didn't even think that he had.
Understood a word she'd said that is. In fact now she had chance to reflect
she couldn't remember herself what she had said to him. She just knew now
that their relationship had changed. They were no longer one. He couldn't
even talk to her, how was he going to share a bed with her ?

Life had been going so well. What had changed ? She wasn't very much aware
of time passing, she just stared at the door, unfocussed until she heard him
shut his door and leave the building. She then became aware that she had
been crying, a steady stream of tears. She sighed. She would just have to
devote herself to her mountie duties till the baby came. At least one good
thing had come out of this doomed relationship, their son.
*********************************************************************


Margaret came home that evening to an empty apartment and a short note from
Fraser telling her how sorry he was that things weren't working out, that he
would support the baby when it came and if possible would attend the birth.
He thanked her kindly for letting him stay with her and hoped that they could
carry on as normal with their professional relationship. It was typically
Benton and it made her weep. She tried to recall the moment that things had
taken the wrong turn. She could not locate the word or action that had made
him feel rejected by her. Before he went away they were lovers, when he
returned they weren't. Her life was a disaster. She could not even be sure
if she loved him any longer, she did feel a great sense of loss. She thought
she did love him, she knew she had, but she was unwilling to contact him and
ask him to come back to her. Worst of all she did not know why she was
feeling this way. Maybe it was her hormones. That was one convenient aspect
of being pregnant; you could use hormones to explain many things.


She wandered absently through her rooms touching the table where they had
eaten together, stroking the sofa where they had sat, then into the bathroom
where she picked up her now solitary toothbrush and cleaned her teeth. All
his toilet articles were gone; that cut throat blade he shaved with, the
harsh mountie issue soap she had never managed to wean him off, his face
cloth, his towel, his robe: all gone. Leaving the bathroom, she lay down
on the floor next to the bed where he had unrolled his bedroll every night.
Her rooms smelt of him, they smelt of wolf too. Closing her eyes conjured up
the image of a smiling Fraser in red long johns holding her hand, kissing her
lips, whispering secret promises of love. And so she fell into a restless
sleep on the uncomfortable floor of her lonely bedroom.


Benton Fraser unrolled his bedroll and flung himself wearily upon it. He
folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ornate ceiling of his room
in the consulate. Why had he left her ? He seemed to be doing things
automatically that in retrospect seemed ludicrous, well childish even.
Heought to have stayed. After all that was his baby she was carrying and that
should mean a lot to him. A family, a future for him. he recalled Janet and
her three children who had slept right here a few months ago. Seeing them
had brought a pang of regret to his heart. The missed opportunities had
pained him. He liked children; he'd wished those children were his. Soon
he would be a father and he had bungled any chance to be part of a family.
It did not occur to him as he lay there alone in the large official building,
that he could go to her and apologise and be accepted. These decisions were
out of his control. Furthermore, he was not yet aware that his charmed
existence was also at risk, for Jacob (at that moment surfing in a far away
Pacific sea) had not only undone his wish to have a "winning way with
Margaret," but also his wish to be the "best of the Mounted: strong and
valiant."


Stanley Raymond Kowalski sat at his desk at the 27th Chicago Division and
twiddled his thumbs. He then put his booted feet up on the desk and crossed
them at the ankles, clasped his hands around his head and leaned back yawning.
How he hated paperwork. His pile of pending reports was now six inches high
and he just did not know which one to tackle first. So he decided not to even
make the attempt. Life in the bullpen had been a little dull since Fraser
had gone to the Yukon. Even before then his visits had diminished in
frequency as he had been attending Parenting classes and spending a lot of his
free time with the Ice Queen. Ray couldn't find it in himself to be jealous,
a little envious perhaps, but he admitted that it was about time Fraser had
some luck with women. Yeah, Ray was pleased for the guy. A deep voice
interrupted his thoughts,

"You know, Ray, you really shouldn't rock back on your chair like that. You
could fall off. Remember 'Four legs good, two legs bad,"

Ray was so startled that he very nearly did fall off his chair.

"Fraser!" he exclaimed as he clumsily regained his balance. "You're back,
then ?"

"Evidently," Fraser smiled wryly.

"So how was it in the frozen north Yukon Territories?" Ray stood as he spoke
and began to walk towards the door. Fraser followed.

"Territory, Ray, and it was fine, just fine."

The sadness in his friend's voice did not escape Ray,
"Well you sure don't sound fine. Let's eat and you can tell me what's
bugging you."

Benton consulted his watch, "But it's not lunchtime......."

"Oh who cares, I'm outta here." Ray pushed his friend out of the building and
they walked in silence to a diner.


Ray ordered for both of them and let Benton know how dull things had been in
his absence,
"You just seem to attract adventures, I don't know how you do it. And I was
starting to miss all the excitement. "

"I'm sorry about that Ray," was all the mountie could think of to reply.

His mind was distracted. He could not stop thinking about Margaret. Ray soon
realised that Fraser was not going to tell him what was wrong with him so he
gave up and started to eat his fries. He was halfway bthrough them when he
noticed that his companion had neither eaten nor drunk anything and was
staring past him to the street beyond the big window.

"Hey, Frase, what's the problem ? You look like you haven't slept in days,
you haven't touched your food and even your hat looks crumpled-"

Ray got no further for the Mountie jumped up suddenly and ran from the diner.

Ray threw some cash onto the table and followed, "Hey, what's going on?" as
the adrenalin started to flow.
This was what being with Fraser was all about, the surprises, the spontaneity
of it all. It was thrilling, better by far than any white knuckle ride.
People paid big bucks to get that feeling he got for free just by hanging out
with the Mountie.

The street outside was chaotic with noise and people and the detective could
not see his friend. He looked around suspiciously, a feeling of trepidation
gnawed at him, something was wrong. He drew his gun, instinctively, reached
into his pocket for his identification, The sounds of the people around were
loud yet he could not make sense of their words. They were gathering to look
at something. Ray felt his chest tighten, his throat constrict.

"No," he whispered, raising the hand with the badge and pushing himself
through the tight wedge of bodies.

Then louder, "Police, coming through."
His instincts were right, at the front of the crowd now he could see what the
focus of attention was. On the floor a body, blue jean, plaid shirt; Fraser.

"Has anyone called for help ?"
He was relieved to hear an affirmative from a woman with a cellphone. Too
concerned with the condition of his friend to ask what had happened, Ray
crouched down and put a tentative finger to the Mounties throat. A pulse
throbbed strongly. Ray let out his breath in relief. Benton opened his eyes,
roused by the gentle touch.
"Ray ?"

Kowalski smiled, "You're gonna be just fine Frase. So long as you don't
move."

"I don't understand it," Fraser replied as his eyes slid shut. "That never
happened before."

As the paramedics came Ray stood up and addressed the thinning crowd, "Okay,
can someone tell me what happened here ?"


When Benton recovered consciousness in the hospital it was to the presence of
Margaret Thatcher, sitting in a chair next to the bed dozing. He wondered
how long he had been there and what sort of injuries he had sustained. He
quickly checked through his body; there was not a joint that did not ache and
there was a fuzziness about his head that no amount of shaking would clear.
Further examination revealed a casted arm which was too painful to move and
some bandages round his middle indicating bruised or broken ribs. There
seemed to be no bullet holes so that was a mercy. He pulled himself painfully
into sitting position and cast about for something to drink. From his
frequent hospital stays of the past he knew he could not be very seriously ill
because there were no drips attached to his arms and no tubes issuing from any
embarassing places either.


At that moment he was unable to recall the events that had led him to being
hospitalised and besides he was far too weary to think about it. One thing he
did recall was that he and the Inspector had fallen out so he was surprised at
her presence in this hospital room, with him. How long had she been there ?
He figured it must have been quite a long time for her to have fallen asleep
and he wondered if it would be politic to try to awaken her.

His father's voice prevented him from reaching a decision, "Hello son, bad
judgement."

Benton shook his head, "I'm sorry ?"

"Trying to push that child away from the path of that car, it was bad
judgement. I've told you before, your reflexes aren't as good when you get
older and neither is your eyesight."

The younger Mountie scowled and rubbed a thumb along his eyebrow, "My eyesight
is just fine, after all I can see you."

"I tried to warn you," Fraser Senior continued as if his son had not spoken,
"But you never listen to my good advice, oh no. You have to be a hero."

"Dad, I can't remember what I did that got me in this pickle. I am more
concerned about her, " He nodded in the direction of the Inspector.

"She's your superior officer, son. These things aren't meant to be."

"She's having a baby. Well, our baby, that is."

"Oh, you've made me a grandfather at last," the apparition smiled
inscrutably, "and what are you going to do about it ?"

Benton looked down at the bedsheets, ran his tongue along his lips and thought
for a few moments before answering,
"I'd really like to get married."

There was no fatherly retort so he looked up into the astonished face of
Margaret Thatcher who, it seemed, had chosen entirely the wrong moment to wake
from her slumber. She froze in the action of ringing for a nurse. It was, in
fact, the voice of Fraser talking to his father that had roused her.

"What, what did you say ?" she demanded, gruffly as was her way, plumping up
a pillow as a distraction.

Benton started guiltily. But looking at her tousled and ruffled as she was,
he did find her very appealing and that thought brought a smile to her face.
How could she frighten him any more ? After what they had been to each other.
That accident had brought him to his senses and made him realise that nothing
in the world meant more to him than her.

The concerned look on her face belied the harshness in her voice. He looked
down to the hand that unconsciously covered his own and moved his uninjured
hand over to clasp it and raise it to his lips. He kissed her fingers
without saying a word.

"I was.....worried about you, Constable." She smiled at him. remembering a
time not so very long ago when she had spoken similar words,
"And I'm sorry about that silly argument. When I heard you had been hurt I
thought I had lost you forever and I couldn't bear it. I hadn't realised how
much you meant to me until Ray called me to tell me you were in the ER. I had
not realised how much I ...........loved you."
The last two words were a whisper as if she were afraid to admit it. " But
you did not answer my question. What were you saying, before ?"

Benton considered a moment, dare he say it ? She had admitted her love for
him possibly at great cost to her pride. He should not let pride rule his own
heart. She had come to the hospital to be with him, for that he was grateful.
Their relationship was not going to be a smooth one, he being the sort of
person he was, self sufficient, self contained, idiosyncratic, bookish,
chivalrous, all the qualities that had been instilled in him by his
grandparent's. She was more gregarious but also self sufficient in her own
way. And very determined, he admired that. There was an understanding
between them, and a magic. he couldn't deny it. There was definitely some
sort of magic. So he came to his decision and with three magic words he
dispensed with the need for wonderful lamps and grotesque genies and chose to
forge his own path and his own destiny with the woman he loved.


The End 1998

Do not reproduce without the author's permission.

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