It had been a year   POS ONE Program Office Normal Preferred
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     This story has a rather long disclaimer. The FIC takes place in my
'Layers' universe, but is not a sequel to anything, and will not be a part
of the series. It will stand alone. The only reason I am writing it at all
is because it will not leave me alone.	  I originally created the
character of Kerri Ann Hurst to serve as a point of contention between
Turnbull and Fraser. I wanted to create an intelligent, physically
beautiful woman who was not the least bit interested in Fraser, the babe
magnet, but inexplicably drawn to the bumbling, socially deficient
Turnbull instead. She was to be a 'throw away' character, one who I would
use once and never again.    Fortunately or not, depending on one's point
of view, my best intentions never quite made it to paper, and my desire to
have Turnbull win out over Fraser in a battle over Kerri never quite
materialized. I just could never seem to get Fraser interested in her.
What did happen, quite unintentionally, at least at first, was the
development of a bond between Kerri and RayK. Through all the 'Layers'
series the way RayK, now Stan, has felt about her has remained constant:
unrequited love.    For quite some time I have wanted to explore what a
relationship between RayK and Kerri might be like, and what sort of
catastrophe would have had to transpire to bring them together. And since
Kerri has refused to let me 'throw her away' I have written that story. I
am calling it 'The Judge Steps Out'. Not because that title has anything
at all to do with the story, but because it is the title of an old film
noir movie (circa 1949) that presents the same type of moral dilemma.  
This is not a happy story. It is dark, and I am positive that no one,
whether fans of RayK, Turnbull, or both, will like the way it ends. I had
originally decided not to post it to the list, but I have changed my mind.
   So, I am trying something different, at least I have never read
anything quite like it. I will post it the way I originally wrote it, the
way I wanted it to end, but then I will post, one at a time, 3 alternate
endings. I will leave it to you to decide. That statement will make sense
after you have read it.    All original due South characters are the
property of the geniuses who created them. No infringement of copyright is
intended. No profit is made or expected from this story. 'Someone to Watch
Over Me' was first posted to RSY and racinestreet. Please do not reprint
or post to any other site without my express written permission. 'The
Judge Steps Out' is December 2000.   TEASER: This is NOT a death story!
Additionally this story includes a challenge of sorts to include all the
characters that DMcD played on DS (that would be 3, in case you weren't
sure <g>). In addition, his Powerplay character is also mentioned. Hey, I
was on a roll. Rated NC-17 for one part.   Shirley   The Judge Steps Out
Shirley Russell Writerlady1@home.com  	  It had been exactly one year:
one year, twelve months, three hundred and sixty-five days of agony. One
year since the accident that had, for all intents and purposes ended her
life.    She hoped that they would have remembered, that one of their
friends would be here to observe this day with her, but she was wrong. She
supposed she should not be surprised, no one loved him as much as she did,
and a year was a long time, after all.   The weather befit the occasion,
storm clouds hung on the horizon, and as the Chicago wind so often did, it
blew right through her coat and into her soul. The frozen ground crunched
beneath her feet, and echoed through this empty place.	  God, how she
hated it here! Placing flowers in a vase in the freezing wind seemed so
ludicrous. Hot house blossoms that would be shriveled and dead moments
after she placed them near the cold stone marker. But she had never been
able to resist his magnetism in life, from the first moment she had laid
eyes on him, and in death it was no different. Oh, she had tried to resist
coming here! Dear God, how she had tried. But she could not stay away from
this place, not even if her own life depended on it.   So here she was
again, on a day that seemed to need it's own observance. Not because it
deserved special notice, but because this day was different, it was an
anniversary, the anniversary of his death. The injustice of it made her
want to scream. She was never given the opportunity to celebrate an
anniversary with him in life, but here she was, commemorating the day he
died. To say she was bitter would be a gross understatement, they had had
so very little time together, and that time was fraught with tribulations.
There had been so little time to glory in the love they felt for each
other. She vacillated between anger and self-pity. How dare he leave her
when they had so much to live for!    She had long since stopped blaming
God. Oh, she had decided several months ago that God certainly had a
perverted sense of humor, to allow her to find the truly perfect love and
then snatch it all away in one agonizing second. But his death wasn't
God's fault. If she cared to think about it, she probably no longer
believed in a higher power anyway.   She had no idea how long she stood
there, staring at his name carved in marble. She really didn't care how
long it had been, time mattered very little to her any more. But finally
her body succumbed to numbness from the cold, and she knew she must leave.
  Before she turned away from him, she realized that this was the first
time she had visited him here without tears. That frightened her somewhat,
if her grief was lessening that must mean she was forgetting him. She
would never, could never allow herself to forget the only person she had
ever loved! She often wished she had died with him, but as long as she
still had breath in her body she would not forget.   Finally, she turned
away and walked back toward the path. When she glanced up she was greeted
with a sight that slightly warmed her icy heart, and caused her to regret
her petty thoughts about her friends. Leaning against her car, arms
crossed and smiling, waiting patiently, while allowing her private
moments, was the man who had become more than her best friend. Of course
he would be here, how could she have possibly thought otherwise? The man
who had been there for her from the first moment she had heard the news.  
She had to smile at him, how could she not? He had always known exactly
what she needed, exactly when to hold her close, and exactly when to give
her space. Always offering his support and never asking for anything in
return. It had been a hard year for him too, offering her comfort through
his own grief. But until just recently she had not allowed herself to
acknowledge anyone else's pain. Just within the last month had she given
in to the pangs of regret. She now knew she had taken far too much and had
given nothing back.   She and her friend had cried together at the news of
the accident and they had railed at God together at the injustice of it
all. He kept watch over her in all the months afterwards, giving her what
he believed he had failed to give both of them prior to the accident, his
protection. For some unfathomable reason he had appointed himself their
champion, their guardian from all the evils that life seemed to be
throwing in their path. She was sorry now, because she knew that to his
mind he had failed.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   One year earlier:  
Inspector Thatcher was genuinely perplexed. In all her years as a
commanding officer, not that there were that many, she had never received
such an order. She was to inform Constable Turnbull that he had been
summoned to Toronto. That in itself was of no major concern to her, her
people often went there for training or meetings. Her source of confusion
was that she was given no reason, no explanation for the need for Turnbull
go. The officer that had called hadn't known the particulars, and really
didn't sound that interested.   So Meg did as instructed and passed along
the information to her junior officer. What she didn't know was that
Renfield had already received travel orders, orders that countermanded
Inspector Thatcher's. Those orders had come directly from Deputy
Commissioner Whittle. Renfield was to go to Canada, not to Toronto, but to
Ottawa instead. The orders that Inspector Thatcher had received were a
ruse to cover the real purpose of his trip, which, he was told, would be
explained to him upon his arrival in Ottawa.   So now he stood in the
lobby of what he had once heard Stan refer to as the 'Mother Ship', RCMP
Headquarters in Ottawa. The personal summons he had received from Deputy
Commissioner Whittle had at once thrilled and terrified him. With
trepidation he had come as summoned, with instructions that under no
circumstance was he to tell anyone where he was really going, or why.   
Since he had no clue why he was here, the second part of the instructions
was a cinch. The first part was not quite as easy. He was afraid that
Kerri, thinking he was going to Toronto, would want to go with him, to
visit her old friend Inspector Scott. In the end she had reluctantly
decided that the shop was far too busy to leave right before the holidays,
and Renfield breathed a nervous sigh of relief.   ~~*~~*~~*~~   One hour
later an ashen-faced Constable Turnbull emerged from Deputy Commissioner
Whittle's office. He was unable to make it half way down the hall before
he found it necessary to lean against the wall for support.   What they
were asking of him was unthinkable! It was impossible that they would even
consider such a thing. It did, in a small way, make him rather proud that
they would select him for such an assignment. But there was no way, no
earthly way he could even consider it. To ask him to...No! He would not do
it!   They did not order him, of course. But they made the assignment
sound so appealing, so noble, so patriotic! He was not interested in being
a hero, but oh, what an opportunity to serve his country! All his life he
had wanted to make a difference, to do something that would help others,
that was the original reason he became a teacher. They knew that and had
insinuated that he would be helping children. That, more than anything
else, gave him pause. But no! He could not possibly do what they were
asking, and he had told them as much...hadn't he?   As he remembered now,
he had not actually said 'no', he had said something about 'thinking about
it'. Dear God, there was no way! He had suggested Constable Fraser. Wasn't
he more qualified for such work? But no, they had said Fraser was not
their choice, he was! He could not believe that anyone, especially
superior officers, would select him over Fraser, believing him to be more
qualified for this specific assignment! Yes, it was unthinkable.   They
explained that his physical appearance, combined with the circumstances of
his birth, could be used to create the perfect cover. They noticed his
hesitation to participate in an operation that was based solely on the way
he looked and hurried to assure him that these qualifications were only a
cover, a convenient coincidence that would be utilized to the maximum
extent possible. They tried appealing to his vanity, and immediately
discovered he didn't have a vain bone in his body. So they quickly changed
tactics, back to 'service to his country', and were gratified to see by
the indecision on his face that it worked like a charm.   It might have
been unthinkable, but that is exactly what he did. Returning to his hotel
room that night, Renfield did think about the assignment, he could think
of little else. By morning, he had made his decision, as his superior
officers knew he would. He would go undercover, infiltrate the underground
world of drug traffickers. He would go undercover, and no one, including
his wife and his best friends could know what he was doing for fear of
putting himself and them in danger.   Deputy Commissioner Whittle arranged
a cover story for Renfield's absence from home for the next few weeks.
Constable Turnbull had been assigned to train as an observer to assist CPD
helicopter pilots, in the off chance that he might ever be needed. Three
weeks later, ten days before Christmas, Whittle arranged for Constable
Turnbull to 'die' in a helicopter crash in Elora Gorge, Ontario.   And so,
one week before Christmas, Kerri, Richard Turnbull, Stan, Fraser, Meg and
Ray, along with a large group of mourners, Canadian and Americans,
children and adults, interred the ashes of their friend and loved one.
Constable Renfield Turnbull, the 'goofy Mountie' turned fine RCMP officer,
was laid to rest just outside the city that he had come to think of as his
home.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Present day:   Kerri left the mausoleum
and walked toward Stan. She felt a small lightness in her step as she
headed toward the man who leaned casually against her car. She wondered
how long he had been standing there. She knew he must be really cold, that
leather jacket afforded little protection from the Chicago wind. She knew
because he had loaned it to her often over the last year.   Stan watched
as Kerri trudged toward him. If he lived to be one hundred years old, he
would never get over the pain that watching her at this place caused him.
  They had known they'd find her here. They'd stopped by the bookshop
earlier, to keep her company, to cheer her up, as if that were possible.
But no one was there, they had apparently just missed her. But they'd
known where they would find her.    He was really the one who had known
where she'd be, just as he had been able to anticipate her movements ever
since the accident. He watched as she made her way toward him, and his
heart leapt in his chest as it always did when she was near. It used to
make him feel like a jerk, feeling that way about the wife of his best
friend. But his best friend was dead, and had been dead for a year. He'd
come to terms with that, and now believed the way he felt about her was as
natural as breathing. Completely unrequited, but natural nonetheless.  
She smiled at him just slightly and he was thrilled to the core. The fact
that she could smile at all amazed him, but maybe, just maybe she was
beginning to heal. He would never have thought of what he was considering
now just a month ago. She was so vulnerable, and as much as he believed he
sucked as an individual, he did have a few rules he adhered to: he would
never take advantage of her emotional state.   But she had changed over
the last few weeks, emerging from that dark place she had retreated to
when Turnbull died. He still hadn't heard her actually admit he was dead,
she still referred to it as 'the accident' or when Renfield 'left her'.
But he had heard her laugh at the antics of Dickens and Cameo's puppies
just a week ago, and caught just a wisp of a smile at something Meg had
said only two days ago.    And so, he was considering risking everything
and telling her how he felt. Just considering it, mind you. He had yet to
really decide.   "Have you been waiting long?" She asked as she walked up.
"Where's your car?"   "Frase and Meg dropped me off. They thought you'd
like some company, but not a crowd, so they went on. I've been here a few
minutes."   "You must be frozen! You should have let me know you were
here, and then you wouldn't have had to stand in the cold." They both knew
that he would never interrupt her private time. He had proven that to her
over and over again the last year.   "Nah, I like standin' in the cold."
He lied.   "Sure you do. You want to drive?" She knew she didn't need to
ask, Stan loved her car. She used to think that the '66 Mustang was main
reason Stan hung out with her and Renny. He grinned like a teenager when
she pulled the keys out of her pocket and tossed them to him.   They rode
for a while in silence, comfortable just to be in each other's company.
Kerri had only recently begun to admit it to herself; the only place she
felt almost completely untroubled was with Stan. She could relax, and the
fog of pain that constantly hung over her lifted just slightly whenever he
was near.    Finally Kerri became aware that Stan was beginning to fidget,
which usually meant he had something on his mind. "Is something bothering
you?" She asked.   "Who, me?" He stalled.   Kerri smiled slightly as she
looked around the car. "I don't see anyone else, so yes, you."   Stan
hesitated. Now was definitely not the time to tell her what he was
thinking, but he couldn't come up with a plausible lie.   "Stan, what's
wrong?"   "Ya hungry? Want an early dinner, late lunch, whatever, my
treat?"   Kerri knew something was bothering him, and recognized
immediately his habit of changing the subject to food whenever he didn't
want to discuss something. She'd find out what it was eventually, just not
right now.   "Your treat? Can I name the place?"   "Yep."   "Sizzler."  
"Sizzler!? Why?"   "Because it's fast and cheap, just like you."   Stan
was so shocked he almost ran the car off the road. He hadn't heard her
make a joke, even if it was a weak Canadian attempt at humor, in over a
year. Damn, but it warmed his heart.   When he recovered from the shock,
he cast a glance her way and saw her grinning at him. It was at that
moment he decided, and if he didn't tell her soon, he was going to
self-combust.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   In the end they didn't go to
Sizzler. They found a great steak place on Michigan Ave and had Stan's
favorite, New York steak, medium rare, with loaded baked potatoes, sauted
mushrooms, and side salads. Stan wasn't sure when it happened, but just a
few weeks ago he'd noticed that they both seemed to always eat the same
things. He hoped that meant something, he just wasn't sure what it was.  
Over a bottle of passable California Cabernet they tried to forget the
significance of this day. "Wanna split some cherry cheesecake? They got
really good cheesecake here."   "Sure, but if I try to keep up with you in
the amount of food you eat, I'm going to weigh two hundred pounds. How do
you do that?"   "What?"   Kerri stared at him over the candle flickering
on the table. The candlelight served to make him looked worried and -
mysterious. "What's bothering you? You haven't heard two words I've said
since we got here."   Stan slowly laid his napkin next to his plate.  He
had to do this, he could do this - it was time. "Can we go now? I need ta
talk, but not here."   He was so serious it scared her. "Sure," she
whispered, "but please, are you okay?"   He took her hand and smiled, the
lopsided grin that she had come to rely on so much over the last several
months. "I'm great, I just have some stuff I need ta say, an here's not
the best place ta say it." Kerri wasn't completely reassured, but as with
so many things with Stan, she knew she'd find out eventually.    As they
had done so many times in the last year, they ended up back at the
bookshop. Kerri insisted on continuing to live there, and Stan insisted on
not leaving her alone until the last possible moment. And so he had spent
a lot of time at the bookshop over the last year.   They were settled
companionably in her apartment before she could no longer stand his
fidgeting. "You are really beginning to worry me. Ever since, since the
acc...accident, you've always been there for me. If there's something
wrong, please let me help? Is there something wrong at work? Some case
you're concerned about?"   He saw the change immediately. Kerri really
hadn't cared about anything since Turnbull died, but now she was concerned
about him. Stan was warmed all the way down to his toes. He also knew that
it was now or never. He'd rehearsed what he would say, if he ever decided
to say it, to her for weeks, but he couldn't remember a thing he'd
practiced. Damn. "Ya know how much I care about ya? An how much I cared
bout Turnbull?"   'Oh dear.' Kerri thought, 'he's finally going to tell me
he's put up with me as long as he can.' "Of course I know," she whispered.
"You've been our best friend from the very first."   "Ya see, that's just
it." He hesitated just long enough to really worry her. "I was yer friend,
both of ya, but I felt more than that for you." 'God, this isn't even
close ta what I wanted ta say'.   Kerri offered him a very weak smile. "I
know you used to feel differently about me. But..."   "'N I still do," he
whispered. He moved to where she was sitting and tried his best to look
her in the eye. "I love ya honey, 'n I don't mean like a friend..." He
knelt in front of her and gently brought her chin up until their eyes met.
   As their eyes locked, Stan could no longer resist the urge to kiss her.
His lips brushed hers softly as he prayed she would respond. His heart
almost jumped out of his chest when he felt her lightly press against his
mouth with hers. Stan felt the uncontrollable need to deepen their kiss,
and was thrilled as Kerri reacted in kind.   He pulled her closer and
encircled her in his embrace. But, just as quickly as she had succumbed to
the touch of his lips on hers, Kerri flew out of his arms and ran to the
other side of the room. Terrified, she clasped her hands over her mouth.  
"Jesus, Kerri, I'm sorry." Stan was right behind her. He stood only inches
away, but was afraid to touch her. "I didn't mean to scare ya."   "I can't
believe I did that. Renfield..."   "Is dead. Turnbull's dead!"   "Stan!
Please don't..."   "Say it, damn it!" He was shocked at his own words.
"Honey, I'm sorry," he whispered, "but Renfield died a year ago, you
didn't. He's dead, Kerri."   Kerri started to cry. "Stan, please, don't.
I...I can't..."   Stan finally lost it. All the grief, anger, frustration,
and desire he had kept inside over the last year came boiling to the
surface. He grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. "Renfield's
dead! He DIED, but you didn't! But you've been hidin' yerself away as if
ya did! It's time ya started livin' again." Her tears just made him
angrier. "God damn it! I love you! I'm here, 'n I'm alive! HE left ya, not
ME! Say it, dammit, say..." Before he could say another word Kerri slapped
him hard across the cheek.    Stan recoiled, more from shock than from the
force of her slap. The blow did serve one purpose, however. It knocked the
wind right out of his sails, and his anger dissipated immediately. Along
with it went his resolve.   He stared at her for several moments before he
knew. Kerri would never love him, and the knowledge sucked all the air
right out of his lungs. When he could finally find his voice he said the
words he'd prayed he would never have to say. "Well...I guess that settles
that. Goodbye, Kerri. I...I guess I'll see ya...around."   He turned on
his heel and left her apartment.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   The heavy
rain was just beginning to turn to snow as Stan walked back to his
apartment, but somehow he didn't notice. Not having a car with him was
really a blessing. He needed the time to think, and the fresh, for Chicago
at least, air served to clear his head.   'Kowalski, if ya didn't suck
before, ya sure do now!' He thought. 'Tell her ya love her, that's
s'pposed ta be simple, right? But no, ya gotta go fuck things up 'n yell
at her! God what a jerk.'   By the time he reached his apartment, it was
very dark, and very cold, just like his soul. He'd made a decision during
the long wall home, though. He'd give her a couple of days, and then go to
Kerri and beg her forgiveness. He couldn't lose her as a friend, she was
too important to him. A tiny glimmer of hope still remained that one day
she would be able to forgive him, and maybe, if there really were a God,
she'd learn to love again. And maybe it would be him she'd learn to love.
  'Yeah, right. When pigs fly.' But he could still hope.   He sat in the
darkness, his apartment illuminated only by the flashing neon sign from
the theater across the street. It cast an eerie glow across the floor of
his living room and into the kitchen. Stan watched the lights as the
colors changed from yellow to red to green. It was somehow soothing to
him, the rhythm causing him to sway in his chair.    After a very long
time, he was relaxed enough to fall asleep in the chair.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*
Kerri stood in the center of her living room for a very long time after
Stan left. She was horrified when she felt herself respond to the warmth
of Stan's kiss, and even more horrified when she hit him. Her best friend,
the one person that she had always been able to count on, the man who had
always been there for her. She knew he loved her, she tried not to think
about it, but she knew. And she had taken advantage of that fact since the
accident.   Whenever she needed a shoulder to cry on, it was Stan's.
Whenever she was lonely and needed company, it was Stan's. Whenever she
needed to rage against life for treating her so unfairly, it was Stan who
listened.   And now she had pushed him away, and he might never come back.
  She finally made her way into the bedroom and found Wolffy. No one knew
that she had slept with Renfield's childhood stuffed toy every night since
he'd left. She wasn't ashamed of it, not really, but she did find the
comfort she took from the stuffed wolf a little strange.   She curled up
on the window seat and cuddled Wolffy to her breast as she watched the
snow melt and trickle down the glass. She truly believed she had ruined
the best friendship she had ever known. But, damn him, he'd taken her so
by surprise. And made her feel feelings she didn't want to acknowledge.  
She sat for several minutes, not really thinking of anything, and thinking
of everything. Finally, when she could no longer deny her feelings, she
began to whisper to Wolffy. "Renfield is gone, Wolffy, and he's not coming
back...ever." She took a deep breath before she could form the thought, or
turn the thought into words. "He's d...dead. He died. In a helicopter
crash." Tears streamed down her cheeks, but they were not tears of
despair, they were more tears of farewell. After so long, she was finally
beginning to let go. "Stan says I need to get on with my life, because I'm
not dead. Is it wrong for me to move on? I feel so disloyal to Renny. I
loved him, and I don't know that I will ever stop loving him." She held
the stuffed wolf even more tightly. "I don't know if I want to face life
without him," she whispered. "I'm scared to find out."   She laid her head
back against the wall and dozed off.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Stan awoke
from a terrible dream late in the evening. His nap had left him feeling
disoriented and shaken. It had also left him feeling hungry. Since he knew
there was nothing in his place to eat, he ordered a pizza.   While he
waited for the pizza to be delivered, he tried unsuccessfully to forget
all that had taken place earlier in the day. He just couldn't get the look
in her eyes out of his mind. He'd promised himself a very long time ago
that he would never do anything to make her cry, and yet he'd done it.	 
When the doorbell rang he was surprised that they'd gotten here so
quickly. Maybe this time it wouldn't be cold. He got another surprise when
he opened the door.   "Ya know it better not be co..."   He was stopped
dead, mid-sentence, by the sight of a very cold, very wet Kerri, dripping
on his doorstep, standing right in front of the pizza delivery guy. He
stared at her for several moments, not really sure he was seeing what he
thought he was seeing.   Kerri did not speak either. She was so cold her
teeth were chattering, and completely unsure if he even wanted her near
him. She was about to turn and leave when Stan finally came to his senses.
  He shoved some bills at the pizza guy, grabbed Kerri by the arm and
slammed the door behind her. "Good God, get in here before ya freeze ta
death." Their earlier encounter temporarily forgotten, he threw the pizza
on the table. "Did ya walk ya don't need ta answer that. I know ya did.
Dammit, how many times do I gotta tell ya its dangerous out there? Not ta
mention cold 'n wet. Yer gonna catch pneumonia or sumthin'."   He left her
standing in the center of the room and ran to get a blanket. "Take off yer
coat 'n I'll help ya dry off."	  She did as she was told in silence,
still too cold to speak. Once she had removed her coat though, Stan could
see that just drying off was not going to help. She was soaked to the
skin, and shivering uncontrollably.    He grabbed her hand and pulled her
to the bathroom. He ran the water in the tub until it was nice and warm
and then turned on the shower. "Strip 'n get in here. Don't look at me
like that, I'm leavin'."    Stan paced outside his bathroom door for what
seemed to him to be forever. He was so anxious to know why she was here he
could hardly stand it. He almost went in after her when he heard the water
shut off, he had his hand on the doorknob before he stopped himself. He
ran his hands through his hair when he heard her turn on Stella's old hair
dryer, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when she cracked open the door
to ask him for something dry to wear.   The best he could do was a ratty
T-shirt and a blanket. She came out of the bathroom looking sheepish, and
to Stan's eyes, adorable. She was also still very cold.   "Shower help?"  
She nodded slightly and then shrugged her shoulders. "A little bit."  
Stan hugged her tightly and walked her over to the sofa. He pulled her
down with him and continued to hold her on his lap. "Better?"   She nodded
against his chest, but he could still feel her shivering. God, she must
have been frozen to the bone! "Sit still a minute."    He gently pushed
her off his lap before he jumped up and ran to the kitchen. About five
seconds after she heard a cupboard door slam closed he was back by her
side. "Drink this."   "What...?"   "Bourbon. Shut up 'n drink it. Don't
sip, drink the whole thing."   Kerri downed the small amount in the glass
and shuddered as the amber liquid burned all the way down to her empty
stomach. Stan adjusted the blanket tightly around her and cuddled her back
in his arms.   They sat that way for awhile, before he couldn't stand it
any more. Just as he was about to ask her why she was here, Kerri began to
speak. "I'm sorry, Stan." She didn't look at him, but whispered into his
embrace.   "Sorry?" He couldn't believe his ears. He yelled at her, for
God's sake! He was the one who should be sorry.   "Yeah. You are the best
friend I have, and I...I hit you. I didn't mean to hurt you..."   Stan had
to smile. He'd been slapped before, and hit more times than he cared to
remember, so her slap didn't hurt him, at least not physically. "Honey,
ya'd have ta hit me a whole lot harder than that ta hurt this kisser."  
She lifted her head and finally looked him in the eye. "That's not what I
meant..."   Stan sighed. "I know."   "Please forgive me? I couldn't bare
to lose your friendship."   Stan was glad he was pretty good at hiding his
deepest emotions, because if he hadn't been, Kerri would have known how
much she had just hurt him, again. Friendship. He wanted so much more, but
that was all she had to give.   But he had decided earlier in the evening
that she was too important to him to lose, so if friendship was all she
wanted, friendship it would have to be.    ~~*~~*~~*~~*   Kerri was
finally warming up. She had never been so cold in her entire life. By the
time she reached Stan's apartment she didn't think she'd ever be warm
again. But the shower, the blanket, the bourbon and especially Stan's
embrace had worked their magic, and now she felt warm and tingly all over.
She was also vastly relieved.   He had forgiven her, which made getting
drenched and frozen worth the effort. She had to smile, she felt so
comfortable, more comfortable and loved, than she had in a very long time.
At this moment she wanted nothing more in the world than to feel the
warmth of Stan's lips on hers once again.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Stan
held her for a very long time. Long enough for him to convince himself
that Kerri's friendship was enough. 'Yer a lucky guy, Kowalski, 'member
that. She's yer friend 'n...'   His thoughts were interrupted by the
strangest realization. Over the last year he had held Kerri countless
times, but it had never been like this. She had yielded to his embrace in
a way that was positively - arousing.   "Kerri?" He whispered as she ran
her hand from under the blanket around his waist and raised her eyes to
meet his. He searched her eyes briefly before he lowered his head until
their lips met. He deepened their kiss momentarily, until he realized
exactly where it was leading, but more importantly, why.   He pushed her
away gently.    "I don't understand. I thought you wanted me?"   Stan
reluctantly kissed the tip of her nose. "Not if it's just cause ya think
ya owe me sumthin'. I'm not lookin' for just a roll in the hay not with
you. It's gotta be all or nothin' at all."   "But..."   Stan stood up and
laid a pillow at the end of the sofa. "Yer spendin' the night here. You
could use my room, 'cept its pretty much a mess. Lay down 'n get some
sleep."   ~~*~~*~~*~~* Kerri fell asleep almost as soon as Stan left the
room. She'd wanted to follow him, to tell him - well she wasn't sure what
she wanted to tell him. But her body had a mind of its own, and she
succumbed to the fatigue brought on by the stress of this day.   Unlike
Kerri, Stan could not sleep. He tossed and turned until he had more
bedclothes on the floor than on the bed. He finally fell into a fitful,
dream-laden sleep somewhere in the wee hours of the morning. He slept, but
he did not rest.   Kerri was awakened by the sound of Stan thrashing about
and moaning in his sleep. She wrapped the blanket around her against the
cold, and moved softly toward his room. The door was ajar, and she could
see him, in the dim light cast from a streetlight below, desperately
trying to outrun the demons in his dreams. The fleeting thought that Stan
was as hyperactive in his sleep as he was while awake caused her to smile
briefly.   She hurried through the obstacles of clothing strewn all over
the floor to sit on the side of his bed. She watched him for just a
moment. Watching him writhe about caused the tightness in her chest, which
she had felt since first hearing of Renfield's death, to loosen and then
lift. She smiled slightly as she realized that Stan needed her, and it
felt so very, very good to be needed again.   She ran the back of her hand
tenderly across his brow and down either side of his face. "Shh. It's
okay." She whispered. "Nothing's going to get you." She continued to
caress his face and shoulders with her fingertips as she spoke softly to
him. "It's okay. I'm here now."   She was startled when she looked up and
found him staring at her intently. He looked totally confused, and just a
little frightened.    "You were having a bad dream, and I just...just..."
  "What?" He whispered.   "You said you wanted it all...or...or
nothing...at all. I'd like to try, Stan. I'd like to learn how to love
again...I'd like to have you teach me how."   He brushed her hair out of
her eyes and smiled. "Ya sure?"   Kerri opened the blanket and enveloped
him as he pulled her down next to him.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Okay,
this is the naughty part, if you want to skip it, it won't make much
difference for the rest of the story.   However, I want do some honest
opinions here. Is this part really necessary, or does it seem gratuitous
or forced? I don't want this story to have an NC-17 rating just to have an
NC-17 rating, if you know what I mean.   Stan had been dreaming about snow
lots of snow. He flailed his arms and ran around in circles, desperately
seeking shelter from a blizzard blowing fiercely around him. The wind
whipped the snowflakes so viciously they bit at his skin and forced him to
keep his eyes almost closed. He was lost. He couldn't tell up from down,
or even forward from back. He was terrified that he would die here, not
even knowing where here was.   Suddenly he could see lights just in front
of him, only a few feet away. He stumbled, as best he could, through the
deepening snow, toward what he could now tell was a tiny cabin. Tiny being
the operative word. The closer he got, the smaller the cabin became, until
it was barely larger than a doll's house. When he finally reached the tiny
door, he had to throw himself to the ground and still the best he could do
was to get his face inside.   A warm fire was the source of the light
shining through the windows. The rest of his body was still bitterly cold,
but the fire burning from within warmed his face and shoulders.   And then
he opened his eyes and saw Kerri leaning over him. He was sure he was
still dreaming. He'd certainly had this dream before, and it had always
been just as real. But as he watched her caress his body, Stan slowly
became aware that this time it was real. Dear God, this really was
happening!   She was really here, sitting on his bed next to him, wrapped
in his tattered blanket.   ~~*~~*~~*~~   Kerri calmed his fears with her
caress, but after Stan awoke she wasn't sure she could go any farther. She
was so unsure that she could feel anything, ever again, and terrified to
find out.   He sensed her hesitation and knew she needed him to help her.
Just like well, not just like she had so many times over the last year.  
"Mmm," he muttered as he pulled her on top of him, "yer nice n' warm. Warm
me up." He gently caressed her back. Long, tender caresses that he hoped
would help her relax.   "You are cold. You were sleeping without any
covers..."   He whispered into kisses on her cheek and neck, "you'll warm
me up." When he realized she wasn't responding in the way he'd hoped he
coaxed her onto her back and came down upon her until their lips met.   At
first his lips were soft and undemanding. But though he fought to control
himself he couldn't help but deepen their kiss. She was so warm, and so
soft, and her mouth so terribly inviting. He ran his tongue along her
lips, teasing her to open to him.   When she parted her lips and he
slipped inside her mouth, Stan was sure he was lost. Control seemed to be
some illusive idea that he could not begin to get a grip on, like trying
to catch smoke.   He was almost completely on top of her now, and his hand
had somehow found it's way under the thin T-shirt she wore. The fact that
she had only just barely begun to respond to him prickled at the back of
his mind somewhat, but he couldn't help himself from keeping up the pace
he had set.   He cupped her breast under the flimsy cloth, and found the
center with his thumb, barely beginning to peak. He moved to her side and
slid the shirt up her body until her breasts were revealed to him. He
watched as, under the ministrations of his thumb and forefinger, her
nipple hardened.   When he replaced his fingers with his tongue, Kerri
moaned from low in her throat. When he began to suckle she ached her back
to meet him and the prickling in the back of his mind evaporated. She
wrapped her arms around his neck, and Stan found it impossible to think
clearly. He was surprised when he realized that his hand had found it's
way to her other breast.   While he nipped and fondled her breasts, his
free hand went in search of her center. He found her, not as wet as he'd
expected, but he knew how to fix that. She flinched slightly as he stroked
her inner thighs, but he didn't notice. When he palmed her and entered her
with one finger, she moaned again, and he had all the encouragement he
needed. He replaced one finger with two, and in an agonizingly slow,
rocking motion, worked his fingers in and out, in and out.   When Kerri
joined his rhythm, he knew the time was right. He tore his mouth away from
her breast, worked his way up to her mouth with wet kisses along her
collar bone, up her throat and finally to her mouth.   He entered her in
one swift motion, causing her to cry out into his mouth. Whether from
pleasure or surprise, Stan would never know. His orgasm overtook him with
such speed and force that he completely forgot Kerri for just a brief
moment.   ~~*~~*~~*~~   He lay on top of her for several moments, trying
to come back to himself enough to move his weight off of her. But Kerri
didn't mind. Having him so close filled a need in her that she had tried
for a year to ignore. If she could stay just like this for hours to come,
she would gladly have done it.   The fact that her orgasm was somewhat
less than earth shattering, and that she'd had to embellish a little,
bothered her, but only just a bit. She was awakening from a long, dreadful
nightmare, and that was the important thing. She just wished she didn't
feel so damn guilty.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Stan slept peacefully,
cuddled against Kerri's back. He was completely relaxed and that gave her
immense satisfaction. But, as satisfied as Kerri was that Stan was able to
sleep peacefully, she could still not be completely content.   She lay
with her back to him, his arm flung over her waist and his thigh up over
hers, listening to his even breathing. Just a few hours ago she was
standing in a cold, gray Chicago cemetery, thinking that life wasn't worth
very much. And now she was here, in the bed of a man who loved her.   
Kerri was certain that Stan loved her, she'd known it for a very long
time. She hadn't always wanted to admit it to herself, but she'd known.
Over the last year it had been the one thing that she could count on. And
now she might have ruined it.   Stan awoke with a start. He knew
immediately there was something wrong, and the moment he felt Kerri's
shuddering sigh he was sure of it. "Kerri?" He whispered. "What's wrong?"
  When she didn't immediately answer, he rose up on his elbow and kissed
her ear lobe. "Don't clam up on me now," he whispered into his kisses.
"You upset because ya think yer bein' unfaithful?"   Kerri shook her head.
  He finally sat up next to her. "Honey, if ya think bein' with me means
you'll forget him, yer wrong. Hell, he's wasn't the kinda guy any a us
would ever forget. Member that time in the cemetery in Vancouver, when
Turnbull told ya he could finally put the past behind him? It took him a
long time ta get over it, but he never forgot them. Just because yer
startin' ta live again doesn't mean ya have ta forget the past."   Kerri
didn't turn over but answered softly, "its just not that. I'm just...just
afraid..."   "Afraid? Afraid a what?"   "I...I'm afraid that I'll
disappoint you."   If Stan hadn't known how deadly serious she was, he
would have laughed out loud. "Come mere." He pulled on her shoulder to
turn her over and gently draw her to him. "Lookit me. Do I look like I'm
disappointed? Did I act like I was disappointed when I held ya in my arms
just then?" He grinned at her. "I've known ya for a long time now. I've
seen ya really happy, awfully sad, angry, a couple a times at me, and I've
seen ya just bein' Kerri. I know ya pretty damn well, 'n now I know ya
even better." He grinned more broadly as he pushed her hair off her
shoulder and cupped her breast, running his thumb over the soft nipple.
"There's nothin' ya could do ta disappoint me."   Kerri sat up next to him
and kissed him deeply.	  This time when they made love Kerri did not need
to 'embellish' her climax. ~~*~~*~~*~~ Afterwards Kerri slept, but Stan
did not. He was so excited, so grateful to whatever God there might be,
but he was still having trouble believing this whole thing was real. And
he couldn't get Turnbull out of his mind. He didn't feel like he was
betraying his lost friend, but he did still feel like he'd failed him.	 
Ever since Turnbull died, Stan had blamed himself. Logically, of course,
there was nothing he could have done to prevent the accident, but he had
promised both of them he'd protect them. And he'd failed. Now he held
Kerri in his arms, and it scared him to think that he might in some way
fail her too.   He pulled her even closer and held on for all he was
worth. 'God,' he thought, 'I don't know if Ya listen ta a schmuck like me,
but please don't let me screw this up. She means a helluva,' he sighed
deeply, 'sorry, a lot ta me. She's had enough. I can't let her get hurt
again. Please help me ta protect her. I love her, God.'   Stan fell asleep
with the prayer in his heart.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   The next morning
when Stan awoke Kerri was gone, but there was no doubt in his mind or his
heart that she had been there, with him, all night. He could feel warm
places in his soul that had never known anything but cold, and the
realization made him smile deeply.   The smell of coffee told him exactly
where she was. Taking only enough time to yank on his jeans, he hurried to
the kitchen, just to reinforce to himself that she really was here.   He
stopped short at the kitchen door and grinned. 'Yep,' he thought, 'she's
really here. Boy is she here!'   Kerri was searching through cupboards and
hadn't heard Stan approach. She stood with her back to him, wearing only
his worn old T-shirt. The bottom hem of the shirt barely covered her
bottom, and when she reached up to the top of the cupboard to search
there, the shirt revealed the loveliest view.   Stan whistled. "Nice ass."
  Kerri whirled around, her face red with embarrassment, and he could see
tears in her eyes. "God, Stan, you startled me."   His heart dropped
through the floor. He knew immediately that he was the cause of the tears.
God damn it! How could he keep doing this to her?   "I'm sorry. I didn't
mean ta make ya cry."   His crestfallen look almost made her angry. She
sighed as she slowly laid the coffee cups that she had found in the top
cupboard, on the counter. "Why do you always do that? Assume that you've
made me unhappy? I'm crying because I'm happy! Don't you know what a
wonderful gift you gave me last night?"   Stan grinned, the most endearing
grin she had ever seen. "Ah, shucks, ma'am. I always thought Big Stan was
pretty great, but 'wonderful'?"   Kerri grinned back as she went to hug
him. "Big Stan?" She giggled. "You know that's not what I meant. But now
that you mention it, I think wonderful would describe Big Stan." She ran
her fingers along his abdomen, just above the waist of his jeans, and then
down the rivet buttons. "But Big Stan's still pretty much asleep. Shall I
wake him, or is he too worn out from his performances last night?"   Stan
moaned low in his throat. "Oh, I think he's had enough sleep."   So much
for coffee. ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Over the remaining two weeks before
Christmas, Stan and Kerri fell into a fairly regular routine. After work
they would shop for the Christmas presents that neither one of them had
ever expected to feel like buying, eat at some little, out of the way
restaurant, and eventually find their way into Stan's bed. But every
night, except the very first one, after a few hours Kerri would get up and
go home.   He begged her to just spend the night, and when that didn't
work, he insisted on it. He told her it was too dangerous, slick roads and
all, for her to go home so late, but Kerri was adamant. No matter how warm
and inviting his arms were, or how late the hour was, Kerri insisted on
leaving to spend the rest of the night in her own apartment.   Stan never
said anything, he could barely admit it to himself, but he was pretty sure
she felt like she was betraying Turnbull's memory. And he was right up to
a point.   Kerri had vowed to Renfield right after he'd died that she
would never stop loving him, and she hadn't. But she realized now that she
was learning to love Stan, and she couldn't reconcile the two emotions. In
her mind starting to love Stan was tantamount to starting to stop loving
Renny.   Every night after making love with Stan, she would climb into her
cold Mustang and hurry home through the icy, deserted Chicago streets to
cuddle with Wolffy, and try desperately to remember what loving Renfield
had been like. And every night it got harder and harder. Finally, two days
before Christmas, Kerri reluctantly came to terms with the fact that she
was happy with Stan, and she needed to get on with her life.   That night,
Kerri left Stan sleeping peacefully and went home to her apartment to say
goodbye to Wolffy - and to Renfield. She pulled a small cardboard box out
of her closet, and even though she knew it was a silly thing to do, she
took an old bath towel and made a comfortable little nest for Wolffy to
rest in when she packed him away.   She cried as she picked him up off her
pillow. "I know you're just a stuffed toy, but you helped Renny through
some really tough times when he was a little boy, and you've dried my
tears for a year now. I've got to leave you...both of you, behind me now."
Tears streamed, unheeded, down her cheeks. "It's not easy, you know? But
I've fallen in love again, and I've got to let myself be happy. Please
understand?" She placed him gently in the box and closed the lid.   She
packed a bag and sat it at the foot of her bed. Stan didn't know it yet,
but Kerri's gift to him this Christmas was herself. He'd been asking her
everyday since their first time together, and now Kerri had decided she
was going to move in with him.   ~~*~~*~~*~~   It was the first time Stan
had had a Christmas tree in a very long time. It was really the first time
he'd wanted to celebrate Christmas in any way since he and Stella were
still together. But after his first night with Kerri Stan could think of
nothing he wanted more than to have a tree. So this year he'd really
outdone himself, an eight foot Fraser fir. He'd gotten a kick out of that,
and teased Fraser about decorating him for Christmas. Kerri just giggled
when she saw Stan and Fraser fighting with the tree to get it up the
stairs and through the door of his apartment.   "Stan, don't you think
this tree is rather large for your apartment?" Fraser asked from somewhere
near the other end of the tree, the end that was still sticking out into
the hall.   "If yer gonna do sumthin' ya might as well do it right."  
Fraser shrugged his shoulders and said to no one in particular, "if you
say so." With a mouth full of needles he barked at Stan, "lift your end up
higher, trees don't bend in the middle as much as you're trying to bend it
around the corner."   Kerri continued to giggle, and smile. To both men,
the sound of her laughter was worth whatever struggle they had to get the
thing in to the apartment. Once they got it upright, it touched the
ceiling but they all had to admit it was a beautiful tree.   Stan and
Kerri spent several evenings at Walmart and a few other stores trying to
find just the right ornaments and garland to decorate the enormous tree.
Stan wanted to string popcorn as a decoration but ended up eating his
handiwork. They wrapped gifts for Fraser and Meg, for Ray and Lieutenant
Welsh and for Lance and Art. They danced slowly by the lighted tree to Nat
King Cole's 'Christmas Song', clinging to each other in the warm glow. All
in all it was a happy, hectic, loving, comfortable time for both of them.
  On Christmas Eve, Kerri fixed a traditional English Christmas dinner for
them, complete with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, and Stan did his
part by eating everything in sight. He couldn't remember ever being
happier than he was at that moment. Helping her clean up after their meal
made him feel decidedly - domestic.   Something was bothering him though.
He'd given her a gold bracelet earlier in the evening, and though he
didn't expect anything in return, he was rather disappointed. As Kerri
finished up in the kitchen, Stan turned off the living room lights and
settled in his recliner to watch the snow falling softly outside his
window, and the Christmas lights that twinkled on their tree. Kerri had
turned on the radio to a classical station that played Christmas Carols
quietly in the background. Even bothered by the lack of a gift, Stan felt
a level of contentment that he had never known existed.   "Isn't it funny
how Christmas snow is always more beautiful than any other?" She whispered
as she settled on the arm of his chair.   "Fresh snow can make even the
ugliest stuff look good." He pulled her into his lap and held her tightly.
"This's been bout the most perfect Christmas I ever had." He squeezed her.
"Thanks."   Kerri cuddled against his chest, genuinely happy, thoughts of
Renfield only a vaguely disquieting memory.   "I love you, ya know?" Stan
expected her usual response, the 'I know' that he'd learned to accept as
the best she could do. So when her response came he almost dropped her off
his lap.   "I know you do," she whispered into his chest. But then she
raised up and looked deeply into his eyes. "And I love you, too."   He was
positive he hadn't heard her correctly. "What?" 'Oh, great Kowalski! Nice
comeback!' He thought.   "I said I love you." She grinned at the shocked
expression on his face. "Thank you for showing me how to do it again."  
Stan recovered quickly. "I'd show ya anything, anytime." He kissed her
with all the passion and love that he'd kept to himself, even over the
last few weeks. "Why don't we celebrate Christmas in the other room?" He
nodded toward the bedroom.   "I haven't given you your present yet."  
Stan was shocked. "Ya mean there's more?" Even though he figured he'd
never need anything else, ever again, the idea of getting another present
appealed to the little boy in him.   "I hope you like it. I mean it's
something you asked for, so I think it's something you want. At least I
hope so, if not I've made a really embarrassing mistake."   Stan was
completely confused. Kerri was stalling. He seen her do many things, but
never, in all the time he'd known her, had he known her to stall. She was
obviously nervous about something, and it had to do with his gift.   "Come
on, do I hafta beg for it?" He tickled her until she jumped off his lap.  
"Okay, okay!" She walked around to the back of the monster tree and
disappeared.   "Oh, no! A people eatin' tree! She's been eaten by a tree!"
He teased.   Kerri came out from behind the tree carrying a suitcase. "I
hope it's something you want, I know it's something you will, uh, take
pleasure from." She started to giggle and Stan was even more confused.  
"I don't get it. Is that some kinda new wrappin' paper? Is my present
inside yer suitcase?"   "I guess you could say that I'm your present, if
you'll have me." She took a deep breath before she continued. "I've heard
it said that home is where the heart is, so I guess I'm home. Some of my
clothes are in here, I thought I could get the rest in a couple of days,
when we reopen the bookshop." She could not interpret the look on his
face, and suddenly wondered if this was such a good idea. "I mean, that
is, if you want me to stay..."   Stan was dumbfounded, but recovered his
composure very quickly. "That's it? That's all ya got me? I was hopin' fer
a coupla new CDs..."   Kerri was so shocked she didn't have a response.
"I...I'm...I'm sorry...I...thought..."   Stan launched himself out of his
chair and grabbed her into a huge bear hug, almost knocking her off her
feet. "I was kiddin'! Ya couldn't a given me anythin' better. Jeez, of
course I want ya ta stay. I may never even let ya outta this apartment."  
He kissed her so long and so hard that he left her gasping for breath.
"Merry Christmas," she said breathlessly.   Stan grinned as he pulled her
toward his, correction, their bedroom. "Yeah! Let's celebrate."
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Renfield Turnbull spent that Christmas fighting
for his life in a Colombian hospital, under heavy guard. He clung to life
by only the barest thread as his undercover contact, Concepcion Juarez,
tried frantically to contact his superiors in Ottawa.   Renfield had
agreed to his undercover assignment with the express understanding that it
would only be last a couple of months. Come hell or high water, he
insisted he had to get back to Kerri and his friends in just a few weeks.
Deputy Commissioner Whittle had assured him that his assignment was a
fairly simple matter of infiltrating a local minor league baseball team,
the Koakanees, and befriending a Colombian national named Manuel Gallegos.
Whittle had really believed that too, at the time. There was some
indication that Gallegos was in Canada to do more than just play ball. And
if the huge influx of cocaine on the streets of Ottawa was any indication,
Gallegos was a whole lot better at his night job than he was at playing
baseball.   Renfield had always considered himself a major sports nut, but
primarily curling and hockey. If asked he would have had to admit to being
a rather over the top fan of the Hamilton Steelheads hockey team. Of
course it was Kerri who was an over the top fan of their center, #9, Mark
Simpson, who she always described as 'devastatingly handsome'. Somewhat
jealous, Renfield always told her he didn't see it. Oh, sure, he moved
with the grace of a cat on the ice, but off the ice Renfield thought
Simpson to be too tall and awkward, with overly large feet.    Ever the
hockey/curling fan Renfield had never played much baseball. But as a dead
ringer for an American minor leaguer named Bubba Dean, Renfield's
superiors put a bug in the ear of the Koakanees owner that this guy was as
good as his American look alike any day. And being just as superstitious
as any other baseball player, the team manager agreed to give Bubba's look
alike a chance.   As luck, or fate, would have it, Gallegos had once met
Ren Laurier and felt a great affinity for the man. Renfield was able to
play upon his brother's notoriety, and it didn't take him long at all to
have Gallegos eating out of his hand.   Fortunately for the RCMP, but
unfortunately for Renfield, his newfound friend was highly connected in
the Colombian Villanueva drug cartel. Once Gallegos introduced Renfield to
his 'family', and they learned of his brother's reputation, Renfield's
undercover assignment took on a whole new direction. Just as Ray Vecchio
had been trapped undercover in Las Vegas for the better part of two years,
his life constantly in danger, Renfield now found himself trapped in
Colombia.   Hell and high water came and went, mostly came, but the
information Renfield was able to smuggle out was just too valuable to
allow him to come in from the cold. His promised couple of months turned
in to almost a year, in which time Renfield came very close to losing his
sanity.   And then, quite accidentally, right after his American friends
celebrated Thanksgiving, his cover was blown. His mother, of all people,
made an off-handed remark in a Toronto bar that had been overheard by the
wrong people. So drunk she could barely stay perched on her stool, Marie
Laurier had whined that she'd had two sons, twins, one a con and one a
cop. At least the con had made enough money to help his poor mother out,
but then the cop had killed him. She had laughed at she announced his name
to anyone who cared to listen, her joke of a son, the cop, was named
Renfield.   A couple of phone calls later and Renfield's fate was sealed.
Before Concepcion could warn him, he was grabbed off a busy Cartagena
street. Repeatedly beaten and tortured over the next several days, his
captors finally gave up trying to get any information out of him, shot him
in the stomach, and left him to bleed to death in a garbage dump just
south of town.   ~~*~~*~~*~~   Concepcion's contacts alerted her to
Renfield's location almost as soon as his captors dumped him, and she was
there just minutes afterward. If Renfield survived, he had only one person
to thank Concepcion Juarez.    Once she had gotten him to the hospital,
she knew her life was in danger too, but that was of no consequence to
Concepcion. An older woman, who had lost her husband and eldest son to the
Colombian drug wars, she took her involvement in the cause as a divine
calling, and nothing, or no one would prevent her from doing her part in
fighting the Villanueva Cartel. Plus, she was very fond of Renfield
Turnbull, who reminded her of her dead son. He was kind and sensitive and
driven to do the right thing, just like her Jaime.   Shortly after
Christmas the RCMP breathed a collective public relations sigh of relief
when his doctors announced that Constable Turnbull would survive. He would
suffer horrendous physical and emotional scars, but he would live. They
expected that he would be fit to travel, and could complete his
rehabilitation at home sometime around the end of January.  
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Her phone was ringing off the hook as Meg
returned from lunch. Constable Hunt was apparently running late, which
seemed odd to Meg. Hunt was a punctual, scrupulously organized, meticulous
officer, and Meg found her to be extremely boring. She missed Turnbull.
She missed his big feet, his clumsiness, his misplaced good deeds, his
slightly skewed view of the world around him, and his general sunny
disposition. Sure, sometimes he'd driven her to distraction, but he was
certainly never boring. God, how she missed 'her Constable'.   She shook
off the depressing thoughts of the past as she grabbed the phone sitting
on the foyer desk. "Good afternoon, Canadian Cons..."   "No need for the
spiel, Margaret, its Walter Scott."   "Good morning Inspector, ah
Superintendent! Congratulations on your promotion. I've been meaning to
email you, but just haven't been able to find the time. What..."   "Meg, I
haven't got time for pleasantries this afternoon. I, that is we, need you
to come to Ottawa right away. We have something of a situation on our
hands here, and we need your unique insight into the circumstances."   "My
insight?"   "Please, Inspector, we'll explain when you get here."   Meg
hadn't risen as far and as fast in the RCMP as she had by being dense. She
recognized an order when she heard one. "Yes, Sir. I'll be there as soon
as possible. Is tomorrow soon enough?"   "There is a private jet waiting
at O'Hare right now. Today is better. We'll be waiting."   Meg boarded the
jet two hours after receiving the call.   ~~*~~*~~*~~ She'd been to RCMP
Headquarters before, of course, but the site of the building she had just
spotted through the taxi window always caused her heart to beat a little
faster. The power that the structure represented thrilled her to the core.
Her exile to Chicago still rankled.   She strode across the huge, glassed
in lobby as if she belonged no other place in the world. Although she
would never allow any outward sign of it, she was rather nervous, and
extremely apprehensive. She'd never received such a summons.   When she
reported to the front desk, her apprehension increased. She'd thought
she'd be directed to Superintendent Scott's office, but instead the
constable seated at the desk immediately rang through to Deputy
Commissioner Whittle's secretary.   "Please go right up Inspector
Thatcher, sixth floor, they're expecting you. The constable there will
direct you to Deputy Commissioner Whittle's office."   Meg chuckled to
herself. She'd never been on the sixth floor, she'd hoped sooner or later
to work there, but after the 'incident', she'd found herself in Chicago.  
'What in the world could they want with me now?' She thought for the
hundredth time over the last three hours.   The constable that met her at
the elevator didn't even wait for her to introduce herself, he just led
the way to the Deputy Commissioner's office.    Whatever she was
expecting, she was not prepared for the opulence of Whittle's office. The
first thing she noticed about the room was the sea of deep blue carpet,
with the RCMP crest sculpted in the center. Whittle's huge mahogany desk
was at the far end of the enormous room, in front of a glass wall looking
out at the city skyline. The windows were flanked, floor to ceiling, on
both sides with mahogany bookcases, filled with what she recognized to be
countless volumes of law and history, the rich history of the RCMP. Just
being in the same room with such archives made her proud.    The room gave
her the impression of a grand library, which overwhelmed the person that
it was supposed to 'belong' to. She knew immediately that no one person
could own this space, someone might have sat at its desk, but no one
person was powerful enough to have sole possession of what it represented.
It made its occupants seem small and insignificant.   As she walked into
the room, Whittle rose to greet her. The man she recognized as Walter
Scott also rose from a tufted Moroccan leather wing chair.   "Inspector
Thatcher. Thank you for coming so quickly. Please sit down."   Meg was
extremely uneasy. Scott barely smiled at her, and didn't speak. They had
never been close friends, but they had always been at least friendly.
She'd never met Whittle, but thought he looked decidedly nonplused.    Meg
sat in a chair that was the exact match to Scott's. As she perched on the
edge of her chair, Whittle shifted uncomfortably in his.   "Well, I guess
there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it." He cleared his
throat and cracked his neck, a nervous gesture that reminded her of
another RCMP officer she knew very well. She couldn't help but smile just
slightly. "A little over a year ago I summoned Constable Turnbull to this
office. I presented him with an offer of an assignment, an undercover
assignment..."   Meg felt herself slipping off the leather chair.  
"Turnbull reluctantly agreed, with the proviso that the assignment only
last a few weeks." Whittle had risen from his chair and stood looking out
at the view of the city. "No one, least of all me, expected the eventual
outcome." Whittle turned to face Meg. "Constable Turnbull did not die in
that helicopter crash, Inspector. He's alive, not well, but alive, and
here in Ottawa."   "Oh my God!" Meg could think of nothing else to say.  
"Meg," Scott interjected, "he's hurt. Physically, but especially
emotionally. He almost didn't make it out. He wanted nothing more than to
get home to all of you, but he knew what he was doing was important. We
couldn't get him out in time...he was discovered. He needs his friends,
and especially Kerri. He doesn't want to see anyone, but he needs..."  
"You can see why we feel it is necessary to handle this with the utmost
discretion. We wouldn't want the press to get wind of the situation. The
force has had enough bad press lately."   Whittle's attitude sickened Meg.
For the first time in her career she was ashamed, ashamed that such a man
could represent the RCMP.. "His wife is living with another man, who just
happens to have been his best friend," she whispered.   "Good God." Both
men said in unison.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   They were just putting
supper on the table when the phone rang. Stan didn't want to answer it,
certain that it was a telemarketer, they were the only ones who had the
nerve to call at dinnertime. But Kerri couldn't stand to listen to a
ringing phone.	  "Hello? Hi, Meg."   "Kerri, I'm in Ottawa. I need you to
come up here as soon as you can."   The tone of Meg's voice alarmed Kerri.
"Meg, what is it, are you okay?"   Stan was by her side in a second.
"Somethin' wrong with Thatcher? Where's Fraser?"   "Meg?"   "I'm okay, I
just need you to come up here. Can you meet me at RCMP Headquarters
tomorrow morning at 10:00? There's a 7:00 flight. We'll explain then.
Please?"   Kerri knew very well what flights there were from Chicago to
Ottawa, and Meg knew that. But what concerned Kerri was she didn't think
she had ever heard Meg plead. And what had she meant by 'we'? "Of course.
If you need me, I'll be there. Is there anything I can do in the
meantime?"   "No. I'll see you in the morning." Meg hung up the phone and
sank onto the bed in her hotel room. She thought of her earlier meeting
with Renfield and buried her head in her hands and cried.   Kerri hung up
on her end totally confused. She turned to Stan to answer his unspoken
question. "She wants me to come to Ottawa, first thing in the morning."
Kerri wandered over to the sink, and then hurried back to the phone. "I've
got to make a plane reservation."   "She didn't say what was wrong?"  
"No." Kerri frowned. "But she wants to meet me at RCMP Headquarters. They
probably just want me to come back to work for them..."   "Ya wouldn't do
that..."   She pursed her lips at how easily Stan's lack of confidence
could resurface. But she knew he would be fine, with constant reassurance,
so she hugged him tightly. "You know better than that. Give me a minute to
make a reservation, and then I'll convince you."   "Make two 'n I'll pack
a bag. We'll go tanight."   "Stan, you don't have to..."   "Hey, she's my
friend to, and sides, we've never spent the night in a hotel tagether." He
grinned at her.   ~~*~~*~~*~~ Unlike Meg, the building Stan took pleasure
in calling 'the Mother ship', no longer held any interest for Kerri. Once
upon a time, about two lifetimes ago, this had been her place of
employment, and the center of her universe. But that had been about two
lifetimes ago. As she walked through the lobby, she was surprised to
discover she felt rather ambivalent about being here again.    Just as Meg
had done, she also stopped at the reception desk, and just like Meg, she
was surprised to learn that she was to proceed directly to Deputy
Commissioner Whittle's office.   She was doubly surprised when the young
constable on the sixth floor showed her in to Whittle's office where Meg,
Deputy Commissioner Whittle, and Walter Scott were waiting for her. She
hadn't seen her former boss since shortly after she and Renfield met, and
she was genuinely glad to see him. "Walter, it's good to see..."   "Hello,
Kerri."   Kerri was instantly alarmed. The tone of Walter's greeting,
combined with the looks from Meg and Whittle immediately put her on her
guard. "What's wrong? Meg? You all look as if someone died. Oh dear, Meg,
something hasn't happened to Benton!" She remembered that Stan had tried
to get in touch with Fraser last night, but there was never an answer at
their apartment.   "Mrs. Turnbull, would you please have a seat?" Whittle
tugged nervously at the Windsor knot in his tie. "We have some, ah, news
for you. It's just that, that is, what I mean to say is..."   "Kerri, its
about Renfield," Meg began. "He didn't die in that helicopter crash. It
was staged to allow him to go undercover. He's alive, Kerri."   Kerri
turned deathly pale and cast her eyes wildly from one occupant of the room
to another, desperately seeking assurance that this was some sort of
colossal joke. She began to slowly shake her head. "No," she whispered.  
Scott spoke up to assure Kerri it was true. "What Meg's saying is true
Kerri, Renfield is alive. He's here in the building. He's had a rather
rough..."   The other three occupants of the room watched as Kerri became
more and more agitated. "No...no. It's not...he wouldn't... it can't
be...NO!"   "I assure you, Mrs. Turnbull, your husband is alive. He's been
through quite an ordeal, but he's recovering. He needs you right now."  
Kerri jumped up and shouted, "NO!" She shook her head violently from side
to side, causing her hair to fall into her face.   Meg jumped up too, and
started toward her friend. "Kerri please, I know it's a lot to absorb
right now, but..."   Kerri slapped away the hand that Meg gently placed on
her shoulder. "NO!" The other three, stunned into immobility, watched
helplessly as Kerri bolted across the office, threw open the heavy wooden
door, and ran headlong into an almost solid wall that was Renfield's
chest.   She glanced only briefly at his face as she screamed "NO!" and
turned and ran down the hall. She didn't see the contorted look of pain on
his face, or Renfield fall back against Fraser, who was standing right
behind him.   Renfield steadied himself against Fraser and then turned to
follow her, but Fraser held his arm. "Give her some time, Renfield. Give
her a few minutes alone. This is a lot for her to handle right now. Give
her a minute." It didn't take much for Fraser to restrain Turnbull. He
doubted that Turnbull could have made it down the hall under his own power
anyway. The man was so weak he was barely able to stand.    Meg was just a
few seconds behind Kerri, but when she looked down the hall, Kerri was
gone. She placed her hand gently on Turnbull's arm. "Are you alright?"  
Renfield didn't respond, he just stared down the hall, in the direction
that Kerri had fled.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Kerri stumbled blindly
down the six flights of stairs to the main lobby. She found the ladies
washroom and promptly threw up the bagel she had eaten for breakfast.
Without paying any heed to the other women there, she splashed water on
her face and hurried out into the cold morning air.   She had no idea
where she was going, she just knew she had to get away from that building.
She turned down a side street, hoping to elude any one who might be
following her. She turned again, and then again, until she was completely
lost.   She'd worked in Ottawa off and on for several years, but this
neighborhood was completely foreign to her. Still she forged ahead,
blindly, not knowing or caring where she was.    Finally she ran up the
steps and through the front doors of a dilapidated old church. She ran
down the center aisle and collapsed to her knees in the front pew. She
prayed as she had never prayed before, begging God to help her. Begging
Him to take away the horrible pain in her chest that threatened to
overwhelm and consume her. She begged Him to make her someone else, any
one else, who did not love two men. Someone who could not feel pain or
sorrow or...love. Someone who had never known a man named Renfield
Turnbull.   She'd never been a churchgoer, but Renfield had changed that.
He'd always had a deep, abiding belief in God, and though he hadn't
attended regularly after Melanie had been killed, once Kerri had drawn him
out of his emotional hiding place, he'd relished the idea of regular
church attendance.    She hadn't been in a church since before the
'accident'. She almost laughed out loud as she thought of it. The sham
accident would be a more appropriate term. But now she felt God was the
only One who could help her, if help were even possible.   Kerri was
unaware of the man who slipped quietly into the darkness of last row after
having followed her for the last several blocks. He watched her, but did
not intrude. Fraser only followed her to ensure that she was safe, no
more.    She prayed for a very long time before she became aware that her
head was clearing and the pain in her chest had eased somewhat. She had
none of the answers she sought, but she felt vaguely comforted. She rose
from her knees to sit on the worn pew. The air in the building was stale
and musty, but the sight of the tall wooden cross at the side of the altar
offered her soul a small amount of peace.   Kerri slowly came back to
herself. But she still had no answers as she sat on the pew in the
deserted church trying desperately to come to terms with all that had
happened.   She hadn't wanted to look at Renfield, but she had. His face
had been so very thin, his eyes, once what she considered his best
feature, were sunken and lifeless, circled in heavy black. She tried
unsuccessfully to push his image out of her mind.   She thought of Stan,
and panicked. 'Dear God,' she thought, she had to get to Stan! She
couldn't bear the thought of him finding out all of this from someone
other than her. Thinking of someone other than herself forced her into
action. She hurried out of the church, past her protector hidden in the
shadows, and onto the quiet street. Not knowing which way to turn, she
took her best guess and headed off.   She found a busy street and then a
taxi. In a few short minutes she was back at the Marriott hotel, about two
hours after she had run away from RCMP Headquarters.  
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Stan was shaving when he heard her come into
their room. With only a towel wrapped around his waist and shaving cream
on his throat he stepped out of the bathroom to greet her. "Why didn't ya
wake me up before ya went ta see..."   He almost passed out when he saw
the man that the maid had let into their room.   "Holy shit!" He breathed.
"Turnbull, yer alive!"   Renfield only glanced at him, before his gaze
came to rest on a point somewhere over Stan's left shoulder. His brows
knitted into a deep frown as he stared at the unmade bed.   "God, man,
where ya been?" The taller man still did not respond, but continued to
stare at the bed.   "Answer me. We thought ya was dead."   Renfield
continued to stare at the bed, Stan's words unheeded. Finally he turned
his frown toward Stan. "I was told this was Kerri's room. I'm looking for
her." He whispered.   Stan answered before he stopped to think about the
implication of his response. "Sure, it's her room too..."   Renfield's
frown deepened. "You're sleeping with my wife?" he asked,
matter-of-factly.   "We thought ya were dead. Where the hell ya been?"
Instead of being thrilled that his friend was alive, Stan was rapidly
becoming angry, and protective - of his future.   "Undercover."   Stan
returned the frown for the briefest of moments before the realization
dawned on him. "Wait a minute. Ya left her - on purpose? Ya left her, all
of us, ta think ya were dead?"   "You're sleeping with me wife."   Stan's
voice became even louder. "Ya left her? Do ya realize how much she
suffered? How much she missed ya? How much we all miss..."   "You're
sleeping with my wife."   "What are ya, some kinda broken record? Tell me
why ya left her!" He shouted.   Stan, who would never be considered very
perceptive, even in the best of circumstances, did not notice that far
from being angry, Turnbull was simply resigned. Stan on the other hand,
was extremely angry, and the more Turnbull ignored his questions the
angrier Stan became.   Renfield walked across the room to stand and stare
at the bed, Stan close on his heels. "Ya've done some pretty shitty things
ta her since we've known her, but this's gotta be the shittiest!"   When
Renfield did not answer his insult, Stan did the only thing he could think
of, he grabbed his arm and forced Renfield to face him. He was only
vaguely aware that Turnbull made no effort to resist him.   "Answer me,
dammit! Tell me why ya left her ta suffer!" When he still did not answer,
Stan lost it. He hauled off and punched him, his blow landing somewhere in
the vicinity of Turnbull's jaw.    Miraculously able to maintain his
footing, Renfield just stared at Stan. Just as Stan raised his fist to
strike another blow, somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Kerri
scream.   Kerri came through the open door just in time to see the man she
loved strike the man she loved. She was frozen in her tracks briefly,
unable to comprehend exactly what was happening. When she came to her
senses she screamed. "Stan, NO! He's hurt! Don't..."   But Stan did not
hesitate, his fist impacted Turnbull's midsection, with only slightly less
than the entire force he possessed.   Renfield fell to the floor at the
same moment Kerri collapsed to the floor, in a dead faint.  
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Kerri tried desperately to remain hidden in the
world of unconsciousness, but loud, angry whispers invaded her refuge.  
"Help Ben get him to a doctor..."   "But Kerri needs..."   "You've done
enough Detective! Ben, get them both out of here before she comes around.
The last thing she needs right now is to see the two of them together. GET
OUT OF HERE!"   When she could no longer resist, Kerri moaned slightly and
allowed her eyelids to flutter open. "Renny?" She asked as she struggled
to sit up. She moaned again and grabbed for the side of her head.   "Just
lie still. You fainted, and I think you may have bumped your head."  
Kerri struggled against Meg's hold on her. "But Renfield is hurt. Stan
hit..."   "Ben is taking him to see a doctor, which might not be such a
bad idea for you, too."   "I'm okay, I'm just worried about Renfield." She
looked at Meg squarely and stared until her eyes focused. "Is he badly
hurt?"   Meg sighed very deeply. "I think they're both hurt, Kerri. Just
as you are."   Kerri won her battle against Meg's hold, and sat up on the
bed. She spent several moments adjusting her clothing and shifting her
position, before she made eye contact with Meg again.   "I said I was
fine." The emotion behind her words did not quite reach her eyes.    Meg
was unconvinced. "Well if you're fine, then you are a hell of a lot
stronger than I am. Kerri, why don't you just admit what a god awful mess
this is, cry it out and then try to figure out what you're going to do."  
Kerri looked Meg in the eye once again. "There's nothing to cry about."  
Meg stood up and walked to the other side of the room. When she had gotten
herself under some semblance of control she came back to sit beside her.
"You are my friend. Probably one of the best friends I've ever had. But I
really hate this about you. The way you won't admit to yourself or anyone
else that there's a problem. Dammit Kerri, if I were you I'd be raising
the roof, shouting at anyone who would listen about the injustice of it
all."   "Who would you like me to yell at, Meg? You? What earthly good
would that do?"   "Maybe at least it would help you feel better." She
sighed deeply. "You're going to have to make a decision you know?" 'Damn,
way to state the obvious, Meg.' She thought.   "Decide? What you're saying
is I have to make a choice!" Her voice was becoming high and shrill. "A
choice. Ha! That's a laugh. What do you think I was doing before I came
back here?" She gasped. "I was praying, that's what! I went to a church to
ask God to help me. But you know what His answer was? He didn't answer!
Even He can't tell me what to do. Who would you choose? Renfield because
he's Canadian and 'your Constable', and you've never really liked Stan?"
Her words were loud and hateful, and Meg was becoming alarmed.   "Kerri,
that's not..."   "Okay, let's take inventory and see which one is lacking,
shall we?" She paced the room like a caged animal. "Let's see first
there's Renfield. My husband. He left me. Of his own free will, he walked
out on me to do what he considered his duty. And that wasn't the first
time. But now he's hurt, and he needs me more than he ever has before. Oh,
I know he doesn't want my pity, but he needs me. And, dear God, I love
him." She paced faster and faster and her words kept up with her pacing.
She was rapidly becoming hysterical.   "Then there's Stan. Dear Stan, who
never wanted anything more than for me to be happy. My happiness has
always been the most important thing to him. He has always put me first,
always, always. And we've been happy together. But he needs me too. And I
need him. And dear God I love him too!"   Kerri stopped dead in the center
of the room and buried her head in her hands. "My God Meg, what am I going
to do?"   She collapsed on the floor in a flood of tears. Meg ran to her
friend and rocked her gently as she cried.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~  
Fraser sat ramrod straight, in the waiting room of the ER. His body was
perfectly motionless, his features frozen, but his mind was a frenzy of
thoughts. Second only to his concern for Renfield was how he was going to
get Stan to calm down.   Since Turnbull was rushed into an examining room
all Stan had done was pace. If there had been hand and foot holds he would
most certainly have climbed the walls too. Although Fraser showed not
outward signs of it, Stan was about to drive him to distraction.   "Stan,
please sit down. As soon as the doctor is finished with his examination he
will come out and tell us. Pacing is only going to serve to wear a hole in
the floor."   "How can ya just sit there? Turnbull's alive, 'n I may a
just killed him. What the hell's the matter with him? He folded like a
house a cards. He left her Frase, left her ta think he was dead. What the
hell was he thinkin'?"   Fraser allowed just the briefest glimpse into the
state of his emotions as he snapped at Stan. "Would you prefer me to
answer those questions in the order that they were asked, or in the order
of importance?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted
them. Harsh words would do nothing to mollify the situation. "Sorry," he
sighed. "First of all I am not just sitting here, I am pacing too, in my
mind. Second of all he just spent several weeks recuperating from being
beaten and tortured. Don't look like that, you had no way of knowing he'd
been undercover all this time, you were just trying to protect Kerri. Just
as you've done for the entire time you've known her. As for what he was
thinking, I don't know that I can answer that, but I suspect that he felt
he was doing his duty. His duty to his country. You know as well as I do
that Constable Turnbull sometimes has a, well, misguided sense of duty.
Our superiors capitalized on both, and it appears that they may have made
a mistake. At least for Constable Turnbull."   "Ya mean he did choose ta
leave her?"   "In a manner of speaking. As Meg explained it to me, the
assignment was only supposed to last a few weeks. Renfield was not
informed that his death was being staged. He thought that we would all be
told that he was on special assignment, and would be returning shortly."  
Stan stopped pacing long enough to let what Fraser had said sink in. "Ya
mean..."   "I mean that none of this is anyone's fault. It's just an
extremely unfortunate set of circumstances." 'Circumstances in which
everyone will suffer and no one will emerge unscathed', he thought.  
"Shit," Stan muttered under his breath.   "Not precisely the word I would
have used, but I believe it conveys the correct sentiment."   Stan thought
about all that Fraser had said for a few minutes before he saw the doctor
walk out of an exam room just down the hall.   "Hey! Doc! How's Turnbull?"
  "Are you the one who hit him? Well, despite your best attempts, he'll be
okay. I'm not sure he wants to see anyone, but he's getting ready to
leave. Oh, and you might want to lay off punching an injured man, who
isn't able to defend himself. Just a thought." Disgusted, the doctor
turned and walked away.   "Can I have a minute with him, Frase?"   "I'm
not sure that's such a good idea, Stan."   "I'm not gonna hit him, I'm not
even gonna yell at him. I just need a minute."   Stan approached the
examination room slowly, knowing full well that he would not be welcome,
but also knowing he had to go. The nurse was helping Turnbull on with his
shirt when Stan walked around the privacy curtain.   She stepped to one
side just in time for Stan to see the man who had once been his friend. He
stood, supporting himself by one hand gripping the back of a chair, with
his back to the door.   "Holy shit!" Stan muttered. Turnbull's back was
crisscrossed with scars, healing, but still angry, red slashes that were
the unmistakable stripes from a whip. As soon as he heard Stan's curse, he
grabbed at his shirt, in a painful, vain attempt to cover himself.   He
turned to face Stan, and as he wrapped his shirt around him, Stan could
see scars from restraints on his wrists and more healing wounds on his
chest. And above the waist of his loose fitting sweatpants, a large
bandage, covering the area where Stan's punch had landed just a short time
before.   "Looks like it was pretty rough." Stan breathed. But Turnbull
looked away, unable to meet Stan's eyes.    "I...I'm sorry, ya know?" Stan
pointed to the bandage.   "You didn't do this. I was shot."   The lack of
emotion in his voice reminded Stan of another time, when they were all in
Las Vegas. That time seemed simple compared to this. A time when they were
friends.   Renfield turned away and braced himself against the exam table.
He needed the physical and emotional support for what he was about to ask.
"Does she love you?" He tightened his grip on the table, bracing himself
for yet another blow. At least this one would be emotional, not physical.
As he thought about it, he wasn't sure which was worse.   An hour before
Stan had wanted nothing more than to protect his life with Kerri, and if
that included hurting Turnbull then so be it. Now, however, he wasn't so
sure. But he sure wasn't going to lie. "Yes," he whispered.   "Maybe it
would be best to get Renfield home, and we can continue this discussion
when everyone has a clearer head."   Both men realized the Fraser had been
lurking near the door, there to offer comfort or protection to his
friends.   They never did discuss it however. Stan flew back to Chicago
that night without talking to anyone, including Kerri. Meg and Kerri
returned to Chicago the next morning and Fraser waited in Ottawa for a few
more days until Renfield was strong enough to travel the rest of the way
home. ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   They had only been home a few days when
Fraser finally felt he had to intervene. He found intruding into the
private lives of his friends extremely distasteful, but he found their
suffering even more disagreeable. So, when he found himself in the wee
hours of the morning on a stake out with Stan, he felt compelled to broach
the subject of what had happened in Ottawa.   "He's never gonna show. All
this waitin's for nothin'. Monty the Mouth's usually got good info, but
this time he's wrong. We oughta just get outta here."   "Before we decide
all of this waiting has been for naught, there's something I feel I need
to ask."   "What?" Stan snapped.   "Well there's no need to be terse, I
haven't asked you yet."   "Well then, go ahead 'n ask."    "Have you
spoken to Kerri since we've been back?"   "None a yer business!"   "Stan,
of course it's my business. You're my friend, and I'm concerned."   "I
don't wanna talk about it."   Fraser didn't say another word, knowing Stan
well enough to know that he really did want to talk about it, but in his
own time. They sat in silence for several more minutes. Finally Stan
slammed his hands against the steeling wheel, and then rested his forehead
in the same spot.   "I can't call her," he whispered, "I know she doesn't
wanna talk ta me."   "You can't know that." Fraser tried to reassure his
friend.   Stan raised his head and glared at Fraser through the darkness.
"Oh yeah? Ya weren't there, ya didn't see the way she looked at him, and
the way she looked at me when I punched him. But I saw it!" Fraser could
see the tears in his eyes before Stan turned quickly away. "I saw it,
Fraser. The love she felt for him, 'n the disgust she felt for me when I
hit him."   "You can't know that until you talk to her. You need to clear
the air, and let her tell you how she feels."   "So you're takin' my side?
I'm a better friend then Turnbull?" Fraser thought that Stan sounded like
a needy small boy, desperately seeking reassurance from a friend.   "Stan,
you and Renfield are both my friends, and it saddens me to see you both
suffer."   "Well," Stan sighed, "at least you're still my friend."  
~~*~~*~~*~~   The next morning, when Fraser reported for work at his
regular time, he was surprised to find Constable Turnbull at the desk in
the foyer.   "Turnbull, are you sure you should be here? You certainly
must need more recuperation time."   "I'm feeling fine, Sir, and I need
something to do. My doctors have released me to work for a few hours a
day, pending my progress. I really need to be here, Constable Fraser."
Renfield pleaded with him.   "Of course, Constable, I understand.
Inactivity can be awfully inactive." Fraser figured that now was as good a
time as any, so he cleared his throat and cracked his neck nervously.
"Renfield, could I speak with you, ah, privately?"   Turnbull followed
Fraser, painfully slowly. Once in Fraser's office, the young Constable
tried his best to stand at attention. Fraser felt the pain etched on his
face, but allowed him to retain his dignity. Only when decorum dictated
did Fraser allow Turnbull to relax.   "At ease, Constable. Please, have a
seat. Ordinarily I would not presume to comment on a fellow officer's
personal life, but after all that's happened I, ah, feel a need to ask.
Where are you staying, and are you comfortable?"   Renfield was vastly
relieved. He'd actually been afraid that they wouldn't want him here. He'd
always felt somewhat ineffectual, but never more so than now, he didn't
even have the strength to do a full day's work. "I'm staying at the YMCA,
and yes, I'm very comfortable. I'm moving back into my old apartment
tomorrow. It's small, but since there's just...just me...it will suit me
just fine."   Fraser had to say it, "and Kerri?"   And Turnbull had to
evade it, "I have no idea about Kerri, Sir."   "You haven't seen her?
Renfield, you are more than just a fellow officer, you are my friend. And
as a friend, I have something that I would like to show you. I think you
really need to see it."   Confused, Turnbull followed Fraser to the
Consulate car. They rode in silence for almost a half-hour before they
arrived at their destination, Riverside Cemetery. Fraser parked the car on
a narrow lane, several yards from a large granite masoleum.    The day was
very cold, and the clear skies made the air feel frigid as both men walked
through the gravesites. "I know you think she was unfaithful, but you
never saw her here," Fraser said as they drew closer to the familiar name
on a plaque mounted on the wall. "She came here everyday, everyday,
Renfield, everyday for a year. Meg or I used to follow her, just to be
sure she was safe, but we finally stopped when we realized that no matter
how often we came, Stan was already here. Sometimes he brought her, and
sometimes he just watched over her. I have seen both of them, standing
here, in the pouring rain, and I have seen them here when it was so hot
even the mailmen weren't outside."   Renfield spoke softly, more to
himself than to his companion. "The entire time I was held captive, while
I was being beaten, I held the picture of Kerri in my mind's eye. They
striped me of everything, but they couldn't take away my memories of her.
Knowing that she was waiting for me was the only thing that kept me
alive."   "Renfield, you have to understand that she grieved for you, and
only very recently did she try to get on with her life."   "I guess I've
spoiled that, haven't I?"   "The three of you need to get this settled." 
  "Kerri has already settled it, Fraser. She left me, or as you say, let
me go, for Kowalski. She loves him and I have accepted that." Renfield
turned and walked slowly away. ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   Unbeknownst to
Fraser, at about the same time he was talking to Turnbull in the cemetery,
Meg was at the bookshop sharing a cup of tea with Kerri.   "Do you
remember the first time we were together here?" Meg asked as she sipped
her tea.   Kerri sighed. "It seems like so long ago. I bought Renfield
that copy of 'A Christmas Carol' that day. Everything's really gone to
hell since then, hasn't it?"   "Unfortunately, I think I'd have to agree."
Meg hesitated.   "But?"   "What are you going to do?"   "I'm thinking of
going back to Edmonton."   Meg gasped in spite of herself. "No! You can't
do that! Your friends are here and your work is here. There's nothing..."
  "Nothing for me in Edmonton? I still own the house there. I'd have to
evict the renters, but I do have a few friends left there, and I could
certainly find a job in some accounting firm."   "That's not what I was
going to say."   Kerri sighed. "I know. I know. But I can't stay here,
where I might run in to one of them, I just can't stand the thought..."  
"You could choose." Of all the things she had intended to say to Kerri,
that was the one thing she had intended NOT to say. Damn.   Kerri stared
at her half-empty teacup, trying to see the violets that lay painted on
the porcelain at the bottom. But try as she might, they were just out of
sight, just out of reach of her eyes. That struck her as odd, it was so
much like she felt her future to be, just slightly out of focus, there,
but not really there, waiting to be revealed, but yet remaining elusive.  
"You make it sound like I could just pick one of them and everything would
be fine again. Just pick a name Renfield or Stan. I can't choose, Meg.
First of all I don't believe either one of them wants me anymore, and
second of all, if they did how could I possibly choose to destroy one of
them?" The sadness in her voice brought tears to Meg's eyes.   "How can
you think that they wouldn't want you?" She whispered.   "Renfield has
always prided himself on his loyalty. He regards it as a great virtue, and
I'm sure he believes I betrayed him." Kerri saw Meg's look of surprise.
"You weren't there, Meg, you didn't hear him. He just kept repeating
'you're sleeping with my wife', over and over and over again. Not a
question, just a sad statement of fact. I broke his heart."   She stared
into the cold tea again. "And Stan. Damn it, Meg. We had just learned how
to be truly happy. Have you noticed the changes in him?" Meg nodded as
Kerri continued. "All he wanted was for me to be safe and happy, but he
was becoming so much more self-assured, so much more at ease with himself.
But I saw the look on his face when he saw me react to his hitting
Renfield. It was like he had convinced himself that if Renfield was still
alive then he was automatically out of the picture. The old lack of
self-confidence just fell over him like a black shroud." She carefully
placed the dainty teacup back on to its saucer. "Even if I thought either
of them still cared about me I could never choose between them."   "I wish
there was something I could do to help."   Kerri smiled as she looked
around the tearoom she loved so much. Meg saw so much sadness, but also
resignation in her eyes. "If God can't help me, there sure isn't anything
you can do. Except continue to be my friend. I don't know what I would
have done if I hadn't had you to talk to." Kerri started to get up, but
then thought better of it. "Please take care of them? Especially Renfield?
He takes things so much to heart, his time undercover must have been
extremely hard on him. And now he believes I was unfaithful."   Meg looked
at her watch. It was far past time for her to report to work, but she
hated to leave her friend alone, even if she was surrounded by customers
in the shop. "I really have to go. Will you be okay?"   Kerri sighed. No,
she would not be okay, but there was little she could do about it. "I'm
fine. Lance is here, and Dickens. Between the two of them I couldn't help
but be fine, they smother me with attention." Kerri couldn't help but
smile at the thought of Lance. He must spend an awful lot of time trying
to figure out what he had gotten himself into when he came to work for
her. "Lance is crazy to stay on here, but he does. And Dickens, well,
fatherhood has made him a changed dog. He's my protector now."   Meg
pulled on her gloves as she headed for the front door of the shop. She
stopped just short of turning the knob. She turned around slowly to face
her friend. "You'll probably tell me to butt out, but I'm going to say one
more thing. I don't think you need to make a choice, because I think you
already know who you belong with. You may not want to admit it to
yourself, but I think you know." Meg hurried out the door before Kerri had
a chance open her mouth.   ~~*~~*~~*~~ Kerri may not have gotten the
chance to voice a reply, but over the next several hours she certainly had
time to think about it. By early that evening she knew Meg was right.
She'd hidden from the truth. She'd been successful in her attempts to
block it out of her mind, but Meg's suggestion that she knew who she loved
had brought the realization crashing down upon her.   There was really no
choice to make, God had apparently answered her prayers, and she was too
afraid to admit it. Now she knew, she just didn't know what, or if she was
going to do about it.   ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~   The Judge Steps Out 
Ending Version 1   This is the original ending that I thought no one would
like. The other three alternate endings will be posted below.   He walked
into the dark room slowly, deliberately. His pace was much slower and much
more deliberate these days, he knew, but he just accepted that as a fact
of life. He was alone now, and he let the weight he bore determine his
gait. He didn't bother to turn on the lights or turn up the heat, the cold
and darkness didn't bother him, in fact, he rather liked them, they
somehow seemed to suit him.   He realized he wasn't alone almost
immediately. The room may have been totally dark, but he could sense her
presence. He couldn't see her, but he knew she was there.   "Kerri?"   Her
response was painfully slow in coming. "I'm here," she whispered, but her
words rang loud and clear to his ears. "I had to come...I tried to stay
away...I...I wanted to stay away."   He stood completely motionless in the
center of the room, afraid to move, to speak or to believe that she was
really there. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see her vague
silhouette outlined against the far wall.   "I'm so tired of hurting, of
all the hurt. Of seeing the hurt on other faces. Of being the cause of
that hurt. I just wanted to stop feeling. But I found out I couldn't stop
it, stop loving you. I tried, God knows I tried, loving you just hurt too
many...I just couldn't stop the pain or the love. What is it with me that
I can't seem to have one without the other?"   Still afraid to move, he
remained silent.   "It doesn't matter to me any more what happened or what
may happen, all I know is I will never stop loving you. I had to think of
myself for once. So I've come to try to convince you that I still...to
ask...to ask you if, after all that's happened, after all that's been
done, if...if there's any chance for us?"    Kerri ran out of breath and
out of nerve. He still hadn't said anything, and she was beginning to
believe that he never would. She had laid everything on the line here, and
if he rejected her, her life might just as well be over.   "Does he know?"
   "Yes." Although she fought desperately not to, Kerri started to cry.
And although he could not see her clearly, he could hear the tears in her
voice. "I went to see him just before coming here. I had to tell him
first." She sobbed, "He said it didn't matter to him, but I know hurt him
very badly."   He walked slowly over to her and drew her into his arms.   
The End of Version 1   This is the way I originally intended the story to
end. I wrote this story with the intention of allowing everyone to decide
the outcome for themselves, hence the title. I think that it could have
generated quite a heated debate. Obviously, for reasons I will not go into
here, I have decided not to leave it this way. I'm rather disappointed in
myself for giving in to my own pressure, but it was also rather a
challenge to write the other endings.   It will still be up to you to
decide which one you want to 'believe', and since there will be no
sequels, whichever one you choose is the one you will have to live with.
Don't ask me I don't know how it ends.   SE   The Judge Steps Out  The
Ending - Version 2   Renfield was inclined to ignore the knock at his
door. He wasn't expecting visitors, and really didn't care to see anyone,
anyway. But the knocking became increasingly insistent, so he reluctantly
responded.  As soon as he opened the door he understood why the knocking
had seemed so impatient the person doing the knocking was the most
impatient person he had ever met Stan Kowalski.  "I was beginnin' ta think
no one was here. Can I talk ta ya a sec?"  Of all the people in the world
Renfield did not want to talk to, Kowalski was right at the top of his
list. His face must have expressed his thoughts, because Stan sighed and
brushed carefully past his former friend.  "I got sumthin' ta say, 'n yer
gonna listen. Then I'll get outta here and never darken yer door again."
Stan marched farther into the small room and turned to face Renfield. 
"Sit! Ya still look like yer about ready ta fall down." There was no anger
in his words but they were not particularly friendly either. "Did ya know
Kerri's leavin' town? Ah, I didn't think so. She came ta tell me goodbye
yesterday." Stan looked away momentarily, searching the far corner of the
room for something. What he was searching for was probably his nerve,
which he apparently found. "She told me that she couldn't stay in Chicago
any more, feelin' bout you the way she does, 'n knowin' how you feel bout
her me me 'n her. She still loves," Stan sighed, "dammit, she loves you." 
Renfield looked at Stan with something akin to contempt.  "Ya think this's
easy fer me? Ya think I like comin' ta the guy that hurt her so bad 'n
tellin' him ta go after her? As far as I'm concerned yer a sonofabitch who
put everybudy through hell, specially her. But fer some reason I don't
know she loves you, not me, you."  Stan could see a change come over
Renfield. "She told you that?"  Saying the words once was one of the
hardest things he had ever done, so Stan really didn't relish the idea of
saying them again. Somehow the second time made his words all the more
final. "She came ta say she was sorry, but she would always love you. I
tried ta talk her outta it, but she said she had ta go." He walked to the
window and stared at the garbage in the alley, unshed tears forming in his
eyes. "I know ya think she was unfaithful, but if ya gotta blame sumbudy,
blame me." He turned to face Turnbull, sorrow giving way to anger. "But I
gotta say one thing. I was yer friend and I never did a thing to encourage
her, not until ya'd been gone fer a year. Sure I loved her. But both of us
wanted ta honor yer memory. She was lonely 'n sad. Did ya know she slept
with that damn stuffed wolf, every night? She didn't want anybudy ta know,
but she did. God! I think she pretended it was you!"  "I'm sorry." Stan
was shocked by Renfield's whispered response.   "What?"  "I'm sorry." He
spoke more loudly this time, and with more determination. "Fraser took me
to the cemetery. He said Kerri went there everyday, and that more often
than not you took her." He hung his head. "I never meant for you, for
either of you, to be hurt."  "You gonna stop her? Keep her from leavin'?" 
"Do you think she'll listen to me?"  "Man, ya gotta try."  Renfield stared
at Stan for several moments, obviously coming to a momentous decision.
"You love her very much, don't you?"  Stan turned his full attention to a
piece of paper blowing down the alley. "Yeah," he whispered.  "And you're
willing to give her up for me?"  Stan did not respond right away, knowing
he needed to measure his words carefully. "I'm tryin' ta do the right
thing, fer her."  "I know I've said it before, but it's been a very, very
long time." Renfield stood and offered Stan his hand. "Thank you for being
our friend."  Stan turned and left the apartment without acknowledging
Turnbull's gesture.  ~~*~~*~~ Renfield walked into the bookshop for the
first time in over a year, and the memories threatened to overwhelm him.
Very little had changed and he was immensely grateful to Kerri for keeping
most everything the same way he had kept it locked in his memory.  Lance
saw him from the back of the shop and came running. He threw his arms
around him without realizing the pain that Renfield still suffered from
his beatings. Renfield flinched slightly, but Lance didn't notice.  "God,
it's so good to see you! When they told me you were still alive I couldn't
believe it! Thank God! We've needed you around here. Are you here to see
Kerri? She's leaving, but just between you and me, I don't think she wants
to go. Please try to talk her into staying?"  Lance's exuberance was
contagious, and Renfield couldn't help but smile. "Is she here?"  Lance
looked up the stairs. "She's packing."  Without another word, Renfield
headed for the second floor apartment.  He found her in the bedroom,
curled up asleep in the window seat. He glanced briefly at the four poster
bed that had once belonged to his parents. Brushing aside the fleeting
question of whether Kerri and Stan had ever been together there, he
stopped in the doorway to stare at the vision of his little family.
Kerri's head rested against the window, her even breathing causing the
cold glass to fog, then clear, then fog again. The sunlight warmed the
place when she slept, but she had still covered herself with her mother's
old afghan. He smiled slightly, she looked like a sunflower, wearing a
yellow sweater and covered by the green blanket, her face turned toward
the sun.  She had drawn up her knees, and Dickens slept on her feet. He
opened his eyes slightly as he heard Renfield approach, and wagged his
tail hesitantly, as if not wanting any one to interrupt his private time
with his mistress. Renfield signaled him to be quiet, and the once silly
pup, now adult dog, went back to sleep.  Renfield walked silently toward
the window, trying desperately not to break the spell that lingered over
the room. However, the sight of several sealed boxes, and even more that
were half full, brought reality crashing down around him. He had willingly
walked away from all of this, missed a full year of the love and happiness
that had existed in this place.  His sadness increased ten-fold when he
saw what Kerri cuddled against her chest as she slept. Wolffy. What had
Stan said? That she pretended that Wolffy was him? He prayed that she
would want to hold him again, just as she was holding Wolffy now.  He
pulled Dickens off the seat and sat next to her. He just sat and stared at
her for several moments, afraid to awaken her, afraid of what she might
say. Dickens had apparently realized who he was, because he was beginning
to cause quite a ruckus, especially with his tail.  "Shh," Renfield
whispered softly. "Don't wake her up. I want just a little more time with
her while she's sleeping." To his immense amazement, Dickens stared at him
for a moment, then glanced at Kerri, and turned and left the room.
Renfield smiled, Kerri had always said he was perceptive, but Renfield had
never believed it. Now he knew she was right, Dickens was one smart
pooch.  Finally, when he could no longer resist, he gently touched her
knee. "Kerri?" He whispered. He watched as she turned toward the sound of
his voice, but did not open her eyes. It was then that he noticed the
lines around her mouth and eyes. She had aged dramatically in the last
year. If he hadn't believed it before, he now knew with certainty that the
last year had been as hard for her as it had been for him.  "Kerri?" He
whispered again as he gently shook her knee.   Kerri opened her eyes but
didn't respond for a moment, apparently unsure of where she was. It only
took her a split second to realize though. "Renfield? What are you..."  He
pulled his hand away from her knee and sat up as straight as he was able
to, given his injuries. "I came to talk to you. I heard you were
leaving..."  Kerri sat up too, carefully avoiding his eyes. "I was writing
you a note about all this. I didn't know if you would be moving back in
here, but if not I think that Lance and Art would very much like to live
here. That is if you want to keep Lance on in the shop. He's done a really
wonderful job, he's had to cope with quite a lot the last..."  Renfield
interrupted her nervous stream of words. "I'd rather you stayed."  "What?"
The question was barely a whisper.  "I'd rather you, that is we, stayed
here." Renfield found himself near tears. He hadn't thought that he'd ever
shed a tear for her again, but he was about to prove himself wrong. "I
love you, Kerri. I was so hurt when I first came back. While I was gone, I
had to make myself believe that nothing here would change. It was the only
way I could survive all the...it was the only thing that kept me going.
When I found out that you and Stan were, were together, I just couldn't
stand it. But I was so wrong to think to think that nothing would have
changed. But Fraser and, and Stan convinced me that I was a fool." 
Kerri's face contorted in a vain attempt to keep from crying, as she
reached out to touch his cheek. She was shocked when he recoiled from her
touch. "Renny, I..."  He grabbed her hand and held her palm to his cheek.
Closing his eyes, he let the warmth of her touch course through his body,
warming even the darkest, coldest parts of his soul. After a few moments,
he opened his eyes. "Please don't be sorry, it's not you. It's me. I just
have trouble with people touching me." He looked away and sighed. "I'm not
sorry that I took the assignment. I'm proud of what I did. It may not have
made as much of a difference as what Lieutenant Vecchio did in Las Vegas,
but I really feel like I did my part." He hung his head and avoided her
eyes. "I'm just sorry you were hurt so badly, I never meant..."  Kerri
sighed deeply. "But you did. Whatever you meant to do, or not do, you hurt
a lot of people, me especially. Oh, I know it wasn't your fault, and you
suffered to, but damn it Renny, that doesn't make it hurt any less! I
wanted to die when you did!" She found herself becoming very angry with
him. She knew it wasn't logical, or even right. He was terribly hurt and
maimed, and she could see the pain written all over his face. But she
couldn't help herself. "I came very close to joining you, you know? The
doctor prescribed something to help me relax, but I didn't take them. I
saved them up and planned to take them all at once." The horror she saw in
Renfield's eyes had little affect on her anger. "I had it all planned,"
she whispered. "But Stan would never leave me alone. He'd stay until I
fell asleep, and very often be there when I woke up. He never..."  Before
she could finish the sentence Renfield broke down. He covered his face
with his hands and sobbed uncontrollably. At first Kerri was horrified.
But as she watched him she felt her anger slip away. It was quickly
replaced by regret.  Very slowly and very gently Kerri pulled him into her
arms. It was then that she felt the scars. Through the fabric of his shirt
she could feel the crisscross of the disfiguring marks left by the whip.
With Renfield sobbing in her arms she began to realize just what he had
been through the last year.  She also knew beyond any doubt why he had
done what he had done. Because he was Renfield. It was as simple, or as
complicated as that. He was the man she loved and the man she had waited
for all of her life. The man she married. It was at that moment that she
forgave him.  She pushed back from him and very tenderly touched his chin.
She tugged lightly to urge him to face her. "I guess we've both been
through a lot," she sighed. "But we've always known we can get through
anything if we're together." She wiped the tears from his cheeks, as tears
tumbled down hers. "You're home now, and that's the important part.
Whatever happened, however we were hurt, we can start working on healing."
She kissed him lightly on the cheek and apologized to God. He had heard
her prayer, and had given her an answer better than any she could have
hoped for. The End of version 2   The Judge Steps Out Ending - Version 3
Sometime, many lifetimes ago, Kerri thought she would live out her life
ensconced in this wonderful shop. She remembered the day Renfield had
given it to her, the broad red ribbon that Benton and Stan had hung on the
outside, and the gigantic red bow that Renfield had made. She remembered
the exact moment when she had first seen Dickens, tumbling down the
stairs, with that ludicrous red ribbon tied around his neck. She had never
been as touched as she was the moment Renfield pulled the scarf away from
her eyes and the realization hit her. The bookshop was hers - theirs. She
had loved every moment she had spent here, until the day the Benton and
Meg came to tell her that Renfield was dead. Somehow, standing here now,
it seemed that she would have been better off if Renfield really had died.
Even though she suffered terribly after his death, she had at last found
peace - with Stan.  But now Renfield had come back, and she had lost both
of them. Renfield believed that she had betrayed him, and Stan believed
that she couldn't love him with Renfield around.  Kerri looked around the
narrow room full of books. The tall shelves that went all the way to the
high ceiling, that were next to impossible to dust, the glass cases that
held the rarest, most valuable of the books, that she could never keep the
children's fingerprints cleaned off the glass. If she had been able to
take a cold, clinical look at it, the place really was too much for her to
manage. If she had been able to take a cold, clinical look.  But Kerri had
never been able to think objectively about this place. It was more than
her place of business, or her home. It was a part of her soul. And she had
just signed the papers that sold that piece.  The sale wasn't final, of
course. Renfield still had to sign the papers, since the shop had always
been in his name. Getting him to sign the papers wasn't a problem though;
it was his idea to sell it. At least that's what Michael, his lawyer, had
told her. Kerri had not seen Renfield since he returned to Chicago. She'd
tried to see him, and even sent him a message through Benton. But just
like the old Elvis song, he had returned it to sender, unopened.  Kerri
had seen Stan - once. That meeting had been something close to a disaster.
She had gone to the 27th Precinct, thinking that he wouldn't be able to
send her away with so many people around, but she had been totally wrong.
He yelled so loud, and made such a scene that she fled the Station and
never tried to see him again.  Meg tried to give her updates on Renfield's
progress, and even tried to tease her with a few snide remarks about Stan,
but after several days, Kerri just turned a deaf ear to Meg's comments. It
just hurt too much to hear about either one of them. She had long since
come to terms with the fact that she was still in love, and just as Meg
had once told her, she knew who she was in love with. But it really didn't
matter since that love would never again be returned.  Shortly before he
left, Kerri held Lance in a tight embrace as they both cried. "I'm so
sorry it turned out this way, but with the new Barnes and Noble Store
coming in around the corner, they're just going to tear it down.
Apparently the land is more valuable to Norris Properties as a parking
lot." Kerri reluctantly let him go and walked over to the front counter.
"I got something for you. It's not much, and could never repay you for all
that you've done." Kerri didn't even bother to wipe her tears. "First,
I've written the most glowing recommendation that I can think of to the
new manager at Barnes and Noble. And second, I want you to have this." 
When he saw what Kerri held in her hand he gasped. "But that's Renfield's
copy of 'A Christmas Carol'. He loves that book! I can't accept it, it's
too..."  "He doesn't want it any more. Apparently he doesn't want anything
that reminds him," she had to take a deep breath before she could
continue, "that reminds him of me. You are the only other person I can
think of who would appreciate it. Knowing that you have it for safekeeping
will make this a whole lot easier for me. Please?"  Lance took the small
volume from her, kissed her on the cheek and ran out of the shop. 
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ Kerri stood, surrounded by her suitcases, in the center of
the almost empty shop. It was no longer a bookshop, as all but just a
handful of books had been sold. Even the movable shelves and cases were
gone. She was surprised to learn that most of the furniture in the shop
was antique, and fetched a rather good price. Renfield had made a tidy
return on his investment.  Michael told her that Renfield had offered to
split the profits with her, but somehow it felt to her as if they were
dividing the body of a friend. Kerri didn't want the money. She wanted her
shop, her home and her soul back in one piece. She sighed, resigned to the
fact that that was never going to happen.  She held her tickets in her
hand, waiting impatiently for Meg, who was apparently running late. As she
waited she began to wander around the room that had once housed Renfield's
children's reading room. She had just gotten out of sight of the front
door when she heard someone knocking. Thinking it was Meg, she gathered up
her things and answered the door.  "Hey lady, you work here?"  "Not any
more," she whispered. "I own, ah, owned the building. What can I do for
you?" She asked the two workmen who stood there.  "Got a work order here
ta take down the sign. That the one up there? Says 'Great Expectations?" 
"I'm sorry, but I didn't ask to have the sign removed."  The shorter,
older man held up a pink piece of paper, which held a signature Kerri
recognized immediately. "I guess my husb... Mr. Turnbull ordered it."
Kerri wasn't sure she could take one more thing. "Could you please just
wait until after I leave to remove it?"  "Lady, we get paid by the job.
Sooner we get done, sooner we get ta the next one."  "I'll be leaving in
just a minute." Kerri sighed and reached into her bag. "Twenty dollars to
wait?"  The younger man snatched the bill out of her hand. "Ya got it
lady."  The two men returned to their truck just as Meg and Fraser drove
up. Kerri silently blessed Benton for his thoughtfulness, he'd worn jeans
and a Henley shirt, knowing how the sight of red serge saddened her. 
Fraser left Meg and Kerri alone in the shop and took the luggage to the
car. Meg looked around the nearly empty room. "It certainly looks huge,
doesn't it?"  "And empty." Kerri tried valiantly to put a brave face on
all that was happening. "I never realized how big this place really is."
She knew she was stalling, it was time to go and she was having trouble
moving toward the door.  "We had better be leaving soon, if you want to
make that plane," Fraser said as he came back through the door.  "If you
don't mind, I'd like to say good-bye here? I'd like for you to just drop
me at the curb." She embraced Meg tightly. "You've been my friend from
almost the first moment we met. I'll miss you. Please come and visit?" 
"You know you really don't have to..." Meg reluctantly let her go and
looked at her friend. "I can't do this," she sobbed and rushed out of the
shop.  Kerri turned to Benton. "I know things like this make you uneasy,
but I may never have another chance to say this. I have never known anyone
like you, Benton. You are the strongest, bravest, most caring man I have
ever known. Everything good that Renfield has become is directly or
indirectly because of you." Fraser began to blush, and Kerri knew she was
embarrassing him, but she had to continue. "Please watch out for him? You
know how he can be, sometimes he needs redirecting."  She put her arms
around his neck and hugged him. He found himself holding on for just a
little longer than entirely necessary. "Meg and I will miss you. We...that
is I...have always considered you one of the most lovely women I have ever
known. I'm sorry that things had to end this way."  "Watch over Stan, too?
He needs the closeness of a good friend. Wild horses could never drag the
admission out of him, but he needs your help to bolster his
self-confidence."  Fraser was so used to being used by love that her
sentiments confused him. "After all that's happened you still care for
them, both of them?"  "I guess I do." She walked slowly through the door,
but couldn't find the strength to close it. Fraser waited until she was in
the car before he quietly pulled the door to.  The two workmen waited
until the car rounded the corner. "Kinda shame, them tearin' this place
down. But that's progress or sumthin'. But she's gone, let's rip that
thing down 'n get outta here too." The 'G' was down in about two minutes,
next came the 'R' and so on, and so on, and so on.  The End of Version 3  
The Judge Steps Out Ending - Version 4   It took him several days, but
Stan finally came to a decision. His head ached and his mind was numb, but
he'd finally done it, decided he still loved Kerri and he wanted her to
know it. He believed she still loved Turnbull, but damn it, to Stan's
mind, Turnbull had treated her like shit one too many times.  He would
have never admitted it to himself, but he was scared shitless to walk
through the door. He stood on the street outside the bookshop for several
minutes, studying the traffic, studying the passersby on the sidewalk,
studying his boots, studying anything to avoid confronting his fear.
Finally, when he could no longer stand it, he grabbed the doorknob and
burst into the shop.  Once inside, the first thing he saw was Lance, who
was so startled by the noise of someone flying through the door that he
dropped the package he was about to hand to the mailman.  "Jeez, buddy, ya
look like sumone was chasin' ya!" The letter carrier picked up the parcel
and left the shop.   Lance eyed Stan warily. He knew how happy Kerri had
been once she and Stan had gotten together, and he liked the Chicago cop.
But Renfield was his friend, and he wanted with all his heart for Renfield
and Kerri to work it out.  "Kerri here?" Stan asked.  "No."   "Know where
she is?"   Lance hesitated, he really didn't want to upset Kowalski, but
telling him where Kerri was might just put an end to all of this. "Yes.
She...uh...she went out."  "Where?" Stan was rapidly becoming impatient
with Lance. He obviously had something on his mind and Stan wished he'd
just spit it out.  "She went to see Renfield." Lance said the words before
he could change his mind, and immediately wished he hadn't. He'd never
intentionally hurt another human being as much as he could see he'd hurt
Kowalski. "I'm sorry, Detective, she left just a few minutes ago. She said
she couldn't stand it any more, not talking to him. Do you want me to tell
her you came by?" He asked gently.  Stan tried his best to be nonchalant.
"Nah. I'll see 'em around - I guess." He turned and hurried out the door. 
'Damn,' Lance thought, 'I wish I hadn't done that. That was really
unkind.'  ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ He stopped at the Quik Stop around the corner
before he headed back to his apartment. A six-pack seemed to be just the
ticket to cure what ailed him. But as Stan reached his door, he knew even
the beer couldn't heal a broken heart.  Walking into his place, he tripped
over a stray boot. His anger and frustration just boiled right on up to
the surface, and he picked up the unsuspecting shoe and heaved it at the
far wall.  'Now,' he thought, 'don't that make ya feel a hell of a lot
better? Yeah, right.'  He put the bag in the refrigerator after grabbing
out one can. But rather than drink the beer, he just rolled the can around
on his forehead, as he sat in his recliner. He'd wished desperately that
he had never heard the names Kerri and Turnbull.  He'd been there only a
few minutes when someone knocked on his door. He wasn't about to answer it
though, there was absolutely no one he cared to see. The knocking
continued for several moments until he couldn't stand it any more. "Go
away!" He shouted, but the knocking continued.  "This better be good!" He
yelled as he threw open the door. Rather than be angry with the intruder,
she immediately put him on the defensive.  "Hey," he whispered as he
turned away and walked back into his apartment.  "May I come in?" Kerri
asked softly.  "Door's open. I ain't stoppin' ya."  Kerri followed him,
but did not say a word.  The silence finally made Stan crack. He was angry
and hurt, and he tried desperately to hide behind sarcasm. "I 'spose ya've
come runnin' here ta tell me ya've thrown over Turnbull, 'n ya can't live
without me, 'n ya want me back." 'Yeah, right,' he thought.  "Yes."  Stan
was on a roll with his sarcasm and didn't immediately hear what she said.
"Well, all I can say is I hope the two of ya are happy, 'cause far as I'm
concerned ya deserve... What?"  "I said 'yes'." She whispered.  Not
believing his ears, Stan cocked his head to one side, as if to hear her
more clearly. "I don't get it. 'Yes' what?"  "Yes, I've come here to tell
you I can't live without you," she whispered.  Stan was so dumbfounded he
couldn't speak.  "I realized that not only had I lost my lover, but I'd
lost my best friend. I had to see if...if there is any..."  "Lance said
ya'd gone ta see Turnbull. I thought ya were makin' up with him."  Kerri
stood half a room away but Stan could hear her sigh. "I'm sorry he told
you that, but I did go to see Renfield. I had to tell him that I loved
you."  Stan stayed on the other side of the room, still afraid. "What'd he
say?"  Kerri closed her eyes and sighed again. "He's changed, retreated
into himself so far that I don't know how anyone will ever reach him. He
didn't even want to see me, Benton had to intercede."   Stan hated to see
her so terribly sad. "What'd he say ta ya?"  "He said he understood that I
had not been unfaithful, that I believed he was dead. He was completely
clinical and detached. He spoke to me as if I was a complete stranger. I
didn't..." She couldn't say another word, tears threatened to overwhelm
her.  Stan had her in his arms in two steps. He held her tightly as she
buried her head in his shoulder. He rested his cheek on the top of her
head and thanked God.  "The RCMP'll help him, honey. They'll get him
counselin' or sumthin'. He's been through a lot, but he'll be okay. We
gotta work on gettin' you okay again."  Kerri smiled against his chest and
returned his hug. "Same old Stan, always thinking of me first. I think
that's one of the things I love most about you."  "I couldn't hear ya,
what'd ya say?"  Kerri's smile deepened. "You mean the part about loving
you?"  "Yeah! That part."  Kerri ran her hand up and down his back. "How
do you do that?"  "What?"  "Be so slender and so sexy, at the same time?" 
"Hey, I'm a lean, mean, sex machine."  Kerri pulled away from him and
looked deeply into his eyes. "I love you," she whispered, "please tell me
that you believe that?"  "I just have trouble believin' you'd pick me over
over him."  "I didn't pick you!" She pushed away and stood facing him. "I
fell in love with you when I thought Renfield was dead. I couldn't have
stopped loving you just because he's still alive. Stan, you've got to
believe me."  "So ya never stopped lovin' me?"  "The first time I really
knew I loved you was that night right before Christmas. I have loved you
every moment since that time. I have to know that you don't doubt that." 
"I did doubt it. I thought ya loved Turnbull more then ya loved me, 'n
when he came back I just thought that ya'd go back ta him." Stan smiled at
her and took her in his arms again. "But I believe it now!" He kissed her
with his entire body, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. 
"Sorry, I'm just so glad yer here, I guess I squeezed ya a little too
tight."  "And I can tell you're very glad to see me." She giggled.
"There's only one thing that would make this night even better..."  Stan,
always anxious to grant her every wish, wanted to know what he could do,
immediately. "What? What do ya need?"  "This night would be so much better
if Big Stan could come out and play."  He grabbed her hand and pulled her
toward the bedroom. "Let's see if we can convince him."    The End of
Version 4, and the end of the end(s). I am definitely out of versions. Now
I want to know which one you all liked best!!!!!