In the Heat of the Midday Sun....

By TimBeastie

email graduc@aol.com

REPOST

Dedicated to the ladies organising the Montreal Due South Fever Con 'g' TYK
and of course the sweet-toothed, but sinister 'veg' canardellamallarda


Benton Fraser was a stoic, he suspected from a long line of stoics. But the small part of Ben, the part that had agreed 100% wholeheartedly with Ray Vecchio when told to stand up for himself, desperately wished he had kicked the stoical side of him into touch. A small sigh escaped his dry lips.

'I am a Mountie..' he began reciting his by now daily, or indeed hourly ritual chant.

He was interrupted.

'In *this* uniform?'

He resisted the temptation to look down. Why bother? The whole "ensemble" was seared into his visual cortex as it was.

The sun shone brightly overhead. About 100 yards away the clear blue sea lapped gently against the harbour wall, each wavelet bouncing more bright light his way. Sunglasses, how he longed for sunglasses, babe magnets or no - well Ray *had* eventually found a pair that worked hadn't he?

He straightened up slightly. The action triggered another slow damnably ticklish trickle of sweat down his back, meandering down to join the small pool at his waistband.

"Waal how cute." drawled an American tourist and her small tribe of terrors.

Where had they come from? Really his concentration was shot. Every muscle in his body tensed up. He was surely due for some incredible cramps later.

"A Mountie - look kids. Did youse ever see such a thing? C'mon we gotta get a pictoor." Kids one and kid two were directed to his right side, while kids three, four and five went to the left.

"But mom. He cain't be a Mountie. He's not dressed right. Mountie's don't wear shorts."
The child informed the adult with the air of *one who knows*. She then turned her attention to the sweat soaked Constable.

"Just look at him!"

Fraser was subjected to intense scrutiny by the whole family whose combined body heat drove his inner core into imminent meltdown.

"Well, I guess. It's kind of an odd get up at that." finally agreed her parent who nevertheless added Benton Fraser to her snap album. Just one more picture for this Mountie's hall of shame.

"Say mister do you *know* what you look like?" The bright kid's parting shot was to rummage in her capacious rucksack till she found a small vanity mirror. She held it up to the Mountie's face. It took every last resource of Fraser's willpower for him to maintain his steadfast facade.

'Oh dear! That's bright!'

The sunblock certainly came in truly psychedelic colours.

'How *dare* she!'

Fraser's face bore more resemblance to a Maori warrior than an Canadian officer of the law - and the prominent heart symbol in the middle of his forehead, though partially obscured by the shade of his stetson, was just about the last straw.

His new boss had undoubtedly appeared way more laid back than Inspector Thatcher and sun protection had seemed a good idea, at the time.

The family left the Mountie to his thoughts. Inner turmoil was not something Fraser was used to, but he was surely getting good at it these days.

Oh the uniform, that had been the first thing....

"That? You want me to wear that!?" Fraser's voice raised an octave or two as he surveyed the outfit spread neatly across his new desk.

He took in the navy blue Bermuda shorts with a large yellow stripe down either side, then the red shirt with cut off sleeves. According to Inspector Shones, the politician's "niece" currently dabbling in fashion design had decided to ditch the lanyard in favour of a "cool" white slash motif.

The only "cool" part of the constable at the moment however was centred due south of his umbilical region. It was a wonder the stain had not been noted by the American girl but perhaps the navy had obscured it. Only what on earth would people think when it dried - and in this heat that was likely to be sooner rather than later.

Four year old children opined the Constable to himself should not be left unattended with icecream cornets. Of course there had to be cameras around to capture the scene. Only that precious moment had been caught by, oh at least six cameras. With his luck one of the photos was bound to end up on a postcard sold around the world, even Canada. His fellow Mounties would... He shut his mind down quickly. He did *not* want to speculate on that topic.

Fraser heaved a small sad sigh and thought back to the postcard he'd received only that morning, currently propped on top of his television set, his second purchase on arrival. He needed something to dull the pain, to stop him thinking.

Life was...well. Life was unfair. Here was Ray Vecchio undercover for a year as an Italian mobster, comes back to the precinct to universal acclaim and a new partner. As opposed to Benton Fraser, the unluckiest Mountie this side of the universe, goes undercover as a Canadian mobster uncovers government corruption to considerable Canadian embarrassment and gets posted - again - only this time...

"To Bermuda...like the shorts." Inspector Thatcher had debriefed him thoroughly then the bombshell. She even looked happy to see him go but then he should be calling her Inspector Turnbull now.

His mind's eye saw the postcard - a picture of the two Rays smiling happily out at him, arms round each others' shoulders. Beside Ray Kowalski Diefenbaker, his former wolf, had half a donut sticking from his jaws. The back of the card read:

"Wish you were here!"

"Oh I do, I really do." muttered Constable Benton Fraser gazing wistfully out to sea.


THE END

1. It's kind of a companion piece to Burns in Da House.
2. Poetic justice 'veg'
3. Apologies for the American stereotype but I figured it would be Alliancely accurate.


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