Benton and the wonderful Lamp    
 
 
 The characters herein belong to Alliance. The story is mine loosely based
on
 Aladdin
 Rated pg 13 If you do not like fairy stories then steer clear. You also
need
 to be able to suspend your disbelief for this one !
 Drama humour and romance, yes this story has it all.
 Any comments e mail the author
 
 Benton and the Wonderful Lamp, A Due South Fairy Tale. by L.C.
 
 Long ago and far away in an arctic country there dwelt a simple living
 youth who was blessed with the gifts of generosity, kindness, loyalty,
 politeness and wisdom. He was also extremely handsome. Living with his
 grandparents on the edge of the tundra, he was often alone but not
lonely. He
 read books from his grandparents' Travelling Library, spent time with the
 hens and huskies and roamed the tundra observing the lemmings, siksiks,
 whales, foxes, seals and wolves. He knew the difference between a caribou
and
 a fox track and could identify all the types of berries that ripened in
the
 fall: paurngait, kablait, kingmiignait. He knew their names and could
 pronounce them well. He enjoyed the sounds as he rolled the odd
combination
 of vowels and consonants around in his mouth. He loved to fish for arctic
 Char with his kakivaak in the icy water. His childhood passed mostly
without
 incident apart from when, at age six, his mother mysteriously died.
 
 
 Our young hero loved reading, and he loved to dream. Each Spring, as he
 watched the caribou migrate to the calving grounds, he would dream of the
warm
 south and the wonders there. During the long arctic nights his favourite
book
 to read by the fire was about the mounted police force. His father was a
 mountie but he rarely saw him. He longed for the time when he too could
join
 the force and follow in the footsteps of the father he admired. To that
end
 he studied hard and diligently; learnt CPR, gained a St John Ambulance
 certificate and took a typing course by correspondence until he was
accepted
 as a cadet in Regina. This noble youth could not contain his excitement
and
 as the time for his departure neared he frantically searched the cabin in
 which he lived for articles of his father's uniform. He was rewarded when
his
 grandma located an old worn Sam Browne belt which the cadet to be
polished
 lovingly with wax, buffing up the buckles till they gleamed. The young
man
 squinted at his reflection and grinned. Life could only get better. He
 might even receive a posting near his father when his training was over. 
 
 
 The evening before he was due to leave he had a sleepless night, which
for
 this active youth, was rare. He was beginning to have misgivings.
Although
 he was excited, he was also anxious about the changes he would face going
to
 live in a city after spending so long in small places like Inuvik, Alert
and
 Tuktoyuktuk. Would his experiences in the wilds of the northern
territories
 be adequate preparation for life in law enforcement in Regina ? He had
 studied the map, Sasketchewan seemed so far away from all that was
familiar
 to him.
 
 
 It was late evening when the youth stepped down from the train carriage
in
 Regina, his backpack hanging with all his personal belongings. He was
 overwhelmed by the number of people, many of them were young men and
women
 about to embark on an exciting career. He paused on the platform to
breathe
 in the warm air. This was going to be his home for the next 26 weeks. As
he
 jostled his way out of the station an older man bumped into him, then
grabbed
 him by the shoulders and exclaimed,
 
 " It's you.....what are you doing in Regina ? Oh, I expect you do not
 recognise your great uncle Jacob. I have been travelling throughout the
east
 for many years. Have you time for a chat ? Tell me how are your
 grandparents ?." 
 
 Taken aback the young man was dumbstruck. He did not recognise the man at
all
 and it was minutes before he found his voice. He tried to shrug off the
man's
 grip as he answered,
 " I'm sorry I don't remember you. My grandfather passed away 3 years ago
but
 my grandmother is very well. I am about to commence cadet training for
the
 RCMP."
 
 At this the old man's grey eyes lit up.
 " A mountie eh, very useful. Indeed. You probably want to get settled in
 now so meet me on Saturday at the Welcome Bar 2pm. The address is on the
 card. we can talk more of family then."
 
 With that he shoved a small card into the youth's pocket and disappeared
 into the crowd before he could thank him. He shook his head, city people
 were very strange, and he had never heard his grandparents mention a
relative
 named Jacob.
 
 
 The young cadet settled in well to the disciplined academy life and,
 although he found it different to life in the far north, he enjoyed the
 rigorous physical training, the lectures, the role playing and the
debates.
 It all served to stretch him, emotionally, physically and intellectually.
He
 was a personable character and made friends quickly with a couple of
other
 cadets from the Territories. His first Saturday found him at 2pm
fulfilling
 his promise to meet his great uncle. He was cautious about this meeting,
he
 was unsure what to expect. He had mentioned the man in a letter to his
 grandmother but had yet to receive a reply.
 
 Jacob was already seated in the cafe sipping at a strong espresso coffee.
 His great nephew ordered tea and sat opposite waiting for the older man
to
 speak first. 
 
 "I expect you are finding the city strange and crowded." The young man
 nodded his reply. "Then I will take you on a tour and show you the
wonders of
 modern living as soon as you finish your drink. "
 
 And so they sat in silence until Jacob paid the bill and they left. He
 guided him through the city, pointing out stores and food outlets, bars,
night
 clubs, used car lots, car parks; all places the northerner had rarely
seen .
 The cadet was awed by all he saw. They visited galleries, museums, even
the
 library. All the while Jacob chatted as if to a favourite nephew so much
the
 youth barely had chance to make any contribution. Gradually Jacob led his
 nephew into the suburbs pointing out the oddities of modern day living;
cars,
 carefully tended yards, recycling cans. Before long they were out in the
 countryside and on the edge of the forest. The cadet hesitated a little,
 puzzled, but Jacob encouraged him,
 
 "I want to show you something wondrous. Gather some sticks for a fire,
boy."
 
 he did as he was bid, albeit reluctantly, then crouched by the blazing
fire to
 hear what the old man had to say. Jacob threw some powder onto the
flames, 
 
 "Watch." 
 He muttered in a language the youth, who was conversant in Inuit dialects
as
 well as Cantonese, English and French, did not recognise. Suddenly the
earth
 shook and a gaping chasm opened close by. The nephew gasped in alarm, was
he
 dreaming, or was it an earthquake ? Surely Sasketchewan was not on a
fault
 line. The opening revealed a large stone and inset in it was a large
brass
 ring.
 
 "Pull up the stone until you see some steps then descend as far as the
door.
 On the other side of the door you will find a beautiful Palace. Pass
through
 the first three halls until in the fourth you see a lamp hanging in the
 corner. Bring the lamp to me." He paused to give him a small ring. 
 "Wear this it will keep you from harm; it is a family heirloom." 
 
 He slipped the ring onto the cadet's finger.
 The young man was curious, none of the books he had ever read had
prepared him
 for this sort of occurrence. Urban life was certainly promising to be
very
 different from his isolated childhood. His grandmother in her pep talks
had
 never mentioned hidden palaces and stones under the ground. He shrugged
and
 grasped the ring in the stone tightly.
 
 
 The long stone staircase appeared as expected and he cautiously
descended. He
 then followed the long dimly lit corridor into a hallway full of
treasures;
 rubies, sapphires, emeralds. Never having been interested in material
wealth
 he carried on through to a second hall filled with gold and silver. This
too
 he passed through without a moment's hesitation until in the third hall
he
 gasped at the sight of a hundred shelves filled with books of a thousand
 cultures. His eyes widened in pleasure at the sight. Here was knowledge
 beyond his wildest dreams. More books than he could read in his lifetime.
 He picked one leather bound volume off the first shelf and lowering
himself to
 the dusty floor began to read, "I began my travels, where I purpose to
end
 them, viz. at the city of London........."
 
 
 Time passed unnoticed so absorbed was he in Daniel Defoe's travels, he
forgot
 the command of his uncle to find the lamp. Outside Jacob was waiting
 impatiently, what was the boy doing in there ? He called loudly for some
 minutes until on seeing the top of the youth's head he called,
 "Give me the lamp now."
 
 The younger man was more astute than one might at first suspect having
 noticed the avaricious glint in Jacob's eyes. 
 
 "It is fastened to my belt. Wait till I'm out of here." 
 
 He was so weighted down with books that he was having difficulty climbing
the
 stairs. Jacob flew into a rage and shouted even louder, 
 
 "Boy, give me the lamp, now !" 
 
 But the cadet was so busy struggling with his load of books he could not
 obey. The old man was furious, he threw a handful of powder onto the
still
 burning fire and intoned some mysterious words. The cadet looked up from
his
 position on the staircase to see the exit from the cave slowly closing.
He
 dropped the books and ran the remaining few steps to the top and
attempted to
 push himself through the crack. 
 
 He was not strong enough, it was useless. He sank to the ground and
 suppressed a feeling of panic. This was no worse than when he and
Innussiq
 were trapped in a bear cave for two days. Of course then they had with
them
 water and pemmican and the company of each other. It had been quite an
 exciting adventure. This time he was alone and, he searched his pockets,
no
 supplies worth noting, just his compass, a present from his grandma, and
the
 tuning fork his mother had left him. Maybe there was another way out.
With
 this thought to cheer him, the cadet leapt up from where he had been
slumped
 against the wall and took the stairs three at a time until he was at the
door
 of the palace. His heart sank at the discovery that the door was shut. He
 was a prisoner. He sat down again and rested his head in his hands as he
 replayed all the survival techniques he had ever read about through his
mind.
 None seemed applicable to this situation. Perhaps the old man would
relent
 and send someone to release him. He shook his head at the unlikelihood of
 this possibility. Why had the old man done this to him, especially as he
had
 shown such kindness in giving him a ring? As these thoughts passed
through
 his head he unconsciously rubbed the gold ring on his finger. There was a
 flash of light which temporarily blinded him. 
 
 When his vision finally cleared he saw before him the strangest creature.
It
 was perhaps, five metres tall, (the boy could not be precise as the
 apparition was hovering in the air) had the build of a sumo wresler, was
 completely hairless and magnificently bejewelled. The monster seemed as
 bemused as he was. It looked around the cave then turned its gaze
downwards
 to where our hero looked up with confidence. 
 
 " I am the slave of the ring," it intoned melodiously. "Whatever you bid,
I
 will obey." 
 
 The cadet could hardly believe his luck. He pinched himself sharply to
make
 sure he was still awake. Yes all this was real enough. Running a tongue
 along his dry lips he slowly and questioningly replied,
 
 "Take me out of here, back to the woods, please...sir."
 
 The huge man lifted him up very gently and flew up through the stonework
to
 where he deposited him on the grassy floor close to where the stone had
been
 and where the fire had died to a warm glowing mound of embers.
Straightening
 his uniform the youth turned to kindly thank his benefactor only to
discover
 he had silently vanished. He would have dismissed it all as a remarkable
 dream were it not for the small old lamp hanging from his belt and the
gold
 ring still on his finger.
 
 
 He made his way back to the city through the dark and quiet streets until
he
 reached his barracks just before dawn. Sliding exhausted into his small
 mountie bed he fell asleep without even having the strength to remove his
 clothes.
 
 
 The following Monday he was unsurprised to learn in a letter from his
 grandmother that there had never been anyone in the family called Jacob.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
 It was many years later that Benton Fraser RCMP had cause to
 recall the strange occurrences of his first week as a Cadet. He still had
the
 lamp, it went with him on every posting. The ring he had buried outside
his
 father's cabin, judging it far too dangerous an item to have around. He
kept
 the lamp as a memory of a strange event, lest it should fade into a
dream..
 As he had grown older he had become accustomed to the unusual, he often
saw
 things others couldn't, hear things not audible to the ears of his fellow
 mounties. And, he was also aware that he could jump further, climb
higher,
 fall greater distances, survive lower temperatures, hold his breath
longer
 than any one else he knew. Activities that could seriously maim or kill
other
 men left him unharmed. He seemed to lead a charmed existence. Charmed
that
 is in all areas except personal relationships with women. His one serious
 love affair had ended in a complete disaster. He frequently wished for
better
 judgement in his choice of women. Somewhere, he felt, there was a woman
he
 could love cherish and trust without being hurt, but he was afraid to get
 involved. Victoria had done that to him, damaged him, possibly beyond
 repair. 
 
 So here he was in his mid thirties standing guard outside the Canadian
 Consulate in Chicago, no family, exiled from his homeland and only one
true
 friend in the world apart from his wolf, contemplating the loneliness of
his
 existence, and at last, questioning it too. His mind wandered (as it
often
 seemed to these days when he was standing stiffly at attention trying to
 ignore the stares of tourists, or the unwanted attention of Chicago's
youngest
 generation) to his superior officer, Margaret Thatcher. She puzzled him.
She
 set him the most demeaning tasks imaginable yet he was unable to resent
her.
 He had noticed that if he stared very hard into her beautiful eyes she
would
 look away, and he was frequently catching her in the act of whipping her
 glasses off her nose. Very strange behaviour indeed. He was aware that
 there was an attraction but was unsure if she would return his
affections. He
 was finding it very difficult to fathom the motivations of women. Of this
one
 woman.
 
 His one attempt to ask his father's advice had been fruitless, Fraser
 senior had even less experience than his son. Even his relationship with
 Caroline had been odd. As Benton had recently discovered, his father had
often
 slept with the dogs. Maybe he should try and get to know her better. Ask
 her out for a meal. No he couldn't do that. Since his apartment had burnt
 down he had been living at the consulate and the cooking facilities
therein
 were less than adequate. Maybe he could take her to a picture ? No, he
 shrugged then rubbed his finger along his eyebrow, an idiosyncrasy of his
 adopted whenever anything puzzled him. How could he get closer to this
woman
 ? In the absence of fatherly advice who could he turn to ? Certainly not
 Ray who just pined after his ex wife and whose chat up lines left a lot
to be
 desired too. He let his mind wander, to a tree opposite which was in
blossom,
 an acer negundo, if he was not mistaken. There was a bird visible in the
 branches, possibly a sparrow hopping from twig to twig. How Benton envied
 that bird its uncomplicated life. What decisions did birds have to make ?
 They never felt loneliness; the need for companionship did not figure in
 sparrow psychology. He sighed, you're getting maudlin, Benton. Count your
 blessings. 
 
 One: good health.
 
 Two; a fulfilling career.
 
 Three; ..............three, an old lamp on the window ledge. 
 Now why did he think of that lamp after all this time ? One of the few
 things he had managed to rescue from the embers of his immolated former
home
 had been that lamp. It was battered and tarnished and dulled by smoke and
 flames but he had resisted polishing it for fear of conjuring the genie.
He
 had done that accidentally soon after he had acquired it and had felt
 compelled to wish for something, anything to soothe the doleful look on
the
 genie's face when it had witnessed its new master. If he remembered
 correctly, the creature had wept when Benton told it he had no desires.
To
 appease it he had wished to be the best of the Mounted: strong, honest
and
 valiant. He recalled now that the genie had told him that whenever he
wore
 the mountie's Stetson he would be invulnerable and would be able to
fulfil his
 mountie duties in an unparalleled manner. Now why had he forgotten that
until
 now ? The price he had paid for that protection had been to live a life
of
 loneliness. Worse still, he had only just realised that he was lonely. If
 he wasn't careful he was going to be the last of a breed in several ways.

 
 
 Resolution gripped Benton with an implacable hand and would not let go.
He
 had made up his mind. He would march up to her office, walk confidently
in
 and invite her out to a restaurant of her choosing. He could do this. He
 was a mountie. The chiming of the church bell interrupted his thoughts,
his
 shift was at an end. Was his resolution beginning to falter ? He entered
 the building and climbed the stairs. They seemed high to Benton who had
also
 become aware of a coldness in his stomach. He was unable to locate the
source
 of his fear as he stood trembling outside her door. Why was this so
difficult
 ? She was only a woman after all, he had faced worse especially since
teaming
 up with Ray. Yes, that was it, she was a woman and she was his superior
 officer too. He let his hand fall from the doorknob and turned back to
his
 own room. He was disappointed in himself, he felt he had let himself
down.
 This was a time to seek out his father. Benton hoped the elder mountie
would
 be there in the tardis like extension to his room, and thankfully he was.
 
 "Try the lamp son "
 
 "Dad, what on earth do you mean ?"
 
 "I mean get that genie to give you a more.................. " Fraser
Senior
 waved a hand as he searched for a tactful word,"winning way with women.
Rub
 the lamp!" 
 
 With that he returned to the books he referred to as his "accounts"
though
 Benton had yet to figure out what need a dead mountie had of money. If
his
 father was to be believed the afterlife was certainly nothing like any of
the
 major religions would have us think.
 
 Fraser picked up the lamp from its resting place against the window. He
 studied it for a moment as he tried to put off the inevitable. He was not
 used to stalling, he would have to just do it, rub the thing and get it
over
 with, like pulling off a plaster from a sensitive area. He shuddered as
he
 gave the dull metal a tentative rub.
 
 It was just as horrendous an experience as he'd anticipated. A huge puff
of
 acrid smoke erupted from the spout sending Benton into a coughing spasm
as his
 pristine lungs tried to cope with the polluted air. His eyes watered and
the
 momentary blindness he suffered as a result of the blinding flash of
white
 light that followed was a mercy. It meant that the Mountie was spared the
 repulsive sight of a huge genie squeezing itself clumsily out of the
narrow
 confines of its prison. He was also coughing too much to notice the
sickening
 moans and groans issuing from the creature's distorted mouth. By the time
 Fraser's vision and lungs had cleared the genie had regained a
respectable
 appearance and was straightening its crumpled clothes as best it could
under
 the circumstances.
 
 It raised a massive ringed jewelled hand to its mouth, cleared its
throat, and
 began in a sonorous voice its well rehearsed recitation. 
 
 "IamthegenieofthelampIamyourslaveandwilldoanythingyoubidmaster." 
 With that he whisked off a feathered turban and bowed very low. Benton
was
 too stunned to answer straight away so the genie raised its head from its
 respectful bow and waited expectantly for its master's command. Its
master was
 suffering from a blank mind at that moment. When his power of speech
returned
 several minutes later, Benton replied.
 
 "I would like to have a ......." how had his father put it ? "A winning
way
 with women. Well with Margaret really. Yes just with her, with Margaret."
 
 "Is that all ?" boomed the genie, disappointed.
 
 "Yes, thankyou kindly......er........sir." 
 
 "You are really not experienced at this master thing are you?" 
 Impossible as it may seem the genie's voice had got even louder. Benton
put
 his hands over his ears, fearing a migraine.
 
 "Understood." he replied not knowing what else to say. The genie was
 obviously disappointed in him. Again.
 
 "No wealth beyond your wildest dreams ? No harem of gorgeous princesses ?
No
 emerald clad palaces ? No magic carpet ? No huge tables groaning under
the
 weight of a banquet so vast it could feed a small African nation for six
years
 ?"
 
 Fraser shook his head and wished the genie would give him the winning
ways and
 get back in its lamp.
 
 "Your wish is my command.........master." 
 
 Benton was sure that last word had been said in a disdainful tone.
 Nevertheless he thanked the genie kindly once more as it diminished in
size
 and returned through the spout into the lamp.
 
 Fraser took a deep breath and tugged his uniform into place. He looked in
a
 mirror to check there were no hairs out of place and straightened his Sam
 Browne Belt. 
 
 "Do I feel different ?" He asked himself as he searched his drawers for
some
 cologne. When would these "winning ways" manifest themselves ? And how
would
 he recognise them when they did ?
 
 He shrugged carelessly.
 Who cares ? I have to talk to Margaret. I have to make her an offer she
 cannot refuse.
 
 
 
 "Come in," 
 Margaret responded in her usual gruff manner to the strong knock at her
door.
 She did not look up from her paper work as the visitor entered.
 
 "Yes?" she welcomed in a sharp tone.
 
 "Sir,"
 a confident deep voice replied compelling her to drop the pen, whip off
her
 glasses and look up into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen
on any
 human being. She cleared her throat aware that she was reddening. Before
 she could get in a barbed retort he continued, 
 "I am aware that there is an attraction between us which I am sure has
not
 gone unnoticed by you. So I am asking you to accompany me to dinner this
 evening at a restaurant of your choice. We can share the cost if you
wish. I
 am quite happy to phone round a few restaurants to get samples of their
menus
 if you would prefer."
 
 Margaret was unable to repress a snicker. What had come over the tongue
tied
 mountie ? The man who could not hold a coherent conversation with any
woman
 who made a pass at him ? She sobered up as she remembered that she had
waited
 for this moment for months. As his superior officer she had felt unable
to
 make the first move. It had become a stand off. He was too shy to make
the
 first move himself and so their relationship had stagnated. Who was she
 kidding, there was no relationship. And now this.
 
 "Sir?" his voice begged a response. "Should I book a table for eight PM
?." 
 
 There was only one answer and she gave it. "Yes, constable. Eight will be
 fine and I leave the choice to you." 
 
 Still totally bemused she watched as he gave her a jaunty salute, turned
on
 his heel and marched to the door where he paused to give her a parting
shot: 
 
 "By the way, although Dorothy Parker maintained that men don't make
passes at
 girls who wear glasses, believe me, yours only add to your allure." 
 
 With that he closed the door with a flourish. Margaret stared down at the
 articles in question and realised that she had twisted them into a
mangled
 piece of metal. He really liked her glasses ? She hoped she could find
her
 spare pair at home. Too stunned to continue her work she merely sat for
 twenty minutes lost in thought. Had the mountie really asked her out on a
 date ? What had come over him ? What on earth was she going to wear ?
 
 
 Despite her fears that Benton would become tongue tied at the meal or
that
 the evening would in some way turn into an utter disaster, Margaret found
 herself having a wonderful time. Fraser was witty, charming, attentive
and
 even flirtatious. The man truly had hidden depths. As the meal progressed
 they relaxed in each others company till by dessert they were content to
 remain silent and just gaze into each others eyes and wonder. She even
 managed to forget that he was her inferior for long enough to share a
tender
 goodnight kiss when he walked her to her door. Watching him go was
 difficult, she only just managed to resist calling to his retreating
 back,"Don't go, stay with me." But years of training were too hard to
 overcome and so she went to bed alone.
 
 
 As we are told, the path of true love does not run smooth, but for Benton
and
 Margaret the first hurdle had been overcome and they came to care even
more
 about each other. Margaret was continually amazed at Fraser's new found
 confidence. She even managed to persuade him to move in with her though
she
 could not stop him from sleeping in his bedroll on the floor. He found
her
 luxurious water bed far too soft and warm. Loathe though she was to admit
 it, the red long johns really suited him. She could almost consider
getting
 some for herself. She also had to accommodate Diefenbaker in her house
but
 considered that a small sacrifice. After all she had gained the most
 desirable man in Chicago. That was worth the dog hairs, the wolverine
smell
 and the early morning runs. In fact she was amazed at how easily she
managed
 to fit her schedule around them both. If one thing marred her happiness
it
 was the regret that they had not followed their instincts sooner. Through
 pride and foolishness they had lost valuable time in each other's company
and
 her biological clock was ticking faster very day.
 
 
 The days passed blissfully into weeks for the two lovers, they were
 inseparable. On guard duty Benton thought only of Meg, impatiently
counting
 the seconds until his shift ended. Margaret spent too much time at her
 window, trying to get a glimpse of red serge. When the pressure got too
bad
 she would invent an errand for herself so that she could leave the
building
 and just stand and admire her beloved tall, black haired, well
proportioned
 mountie. 
 The weeks turned into months and Margaret found herself pregnant, Benton
was
 delighted. 
 Their happiness complete, life just could not get better.
 However it could get worse.
 
 
 
 Constable Turnbull was standing guard duty outside the new consulate. It
had
 not yet occurred to him that over the past 6 months his guard duties had
 increased quite significantly. In fact all of his duties had increased as
The
 Inspector had passed a lot of Fraser's menial tasks on to Turnbull
allowing
 her favourite mountie more time to spend helping her with hers. He hummed
to
 himself tunelessly as the blankness in his mind extended itself into a
greater
 area of nothingness. Life for Turnbull was incredibly simple, operating,
as
 he did at the level of a dyslexic seven year old. However, on this day it
was
 going to take a dramatic turn. 
 
 Jacob had finally tracked Benton Fraser to Chicago. After the episode at
 Regina he had fled back to the east and toured Asia for a while, taking
the
 Kathmandu trail, climbing the Himalayas, walking the Great Wall of China,
 visiting the Dali Lama then onto India to see the Taj Mahal. For most
people
 these experiences would help them develop spiritually. Jacob, however,
had
 sunk far too deep into the pit of avarice to ever be redeemed by
pilgrimages
 and areas of outstanding natural beauty. 
 
 As he travelled his grudge against his ersatz great nephew festered like
a
 picked scab. Had he really perished in the underground cave ? The old man
 had to find out for sure, because if Benton had escaped he would be in
 possession of one of the greatest treasures in the world. And by rights,
that
 lamp and all it promised, should belong to him, not to some simple
Mountie
 from the arctic wilderness, a nobody from nowhere. A boy like that had no
 imagination, no idea how to use such a gift. Jacob extrapolated further:
if
 the boy had escaped then he couldn't possibly have discovered the secret
of
 the lamp. Wherever he travelled, Jacob always searched out the financial
 papers and as yet Fraser's name had not appeared in the list of the
world's
 hundred richest men.
 
 
 So Jacob returned to Canada after seventeen years, looked up the records
at
 the Library in Regina, traced Benton's first posting, then from there by
way
 of newspaper articles about Gerard discovered that his nephew was exiled
in
 Chicago. Alone and vulnerable. A perfect opportunity for the perfect
plan.
 
 
 After checking in at a hotel close to the Consulate he visited all the
flea
 markets and antique shops in the city and bought up all the old lamps. He
 polished them up till they gleamed like new then placed them all in a
large
 sports holdall. He was a patient man and knew that it could take several
 days for his plan to unfold.
 Each morning and each afternoon he walked past the Consulate chanting,
"New
 lamps for old, new lamps for old." 
 Small children would halt their game of aiming spitballs at the Mountie's
 buttons to cluster round him and jeer. Tourists would stop photographing
the
 Mountie and ask to photograph him instead. On one occasion he was even
asked
 to stand with the Mountie for the perfect photo opportunity. And for
Jacob,
 opportune indeed, in that it gave him the chance to determine if this
fellow
 was the Mountie he sought. He was disappointed to discover that it was
not
 Fraser who stood guard every day, this meant that he must be inside the
 consulate and possibly unable to hear him. 
 
 
 Turnbull, however, after four days of hearing the phrase, "new lamps for
old,"
 recalled in a moment of uncharacteristic lucidity, that there rested on
the
 Consulate window sill a very old dirty tarnished lamp. He believed it
 belonged to Fraser who was in the Yukon on a brief exchange visit. It
struck
 him that he would be doing the constable a great favour if he swapped the
old
 lamp for a nice shiny new one. Turnbull smiled at the thought. Any
thought
 was a rare delight for him. As soon as his shift ended he called to the
old
 peddlar who had for some ten minutes been trying to disengage himself
from a
 group of youths who wanted his Sport's Holdall because it had a designer
 insignia on the side of it.
 
 "Excuse me, sir." Turnbull said as the youths fled clutching the bag and
 leaving a trail of dented lamps in their wake. 
 
 "There is a rusty old lamp in the consulate. You can have that if you
give me
 a new one. "
 
 Jacob almost did a celebratory dance so pleased was he to hear this.
"Well
 hurry up boy, get it."
 
 Jacob busied himself picking up the lamps and sorting through them for
one in
 decent condition. He was so excited his hands shook and his fingers could
 hardly grip. He sat on the edge of the curb and contemplated his first
wish.
 After considering several options he decided, maliciously, that his first
wish
 would be to ruin Fraser by undoing the Mountie's wishes. That would teach
the
 boy to disobey him. Ah revenge was going to be so sweet. He shook his
head
 and smiled at the thought. Turnbull returned with the lamp in record
time.
 
 "Here it is," he panted, breathless through his exertions, "Fraser will
be
 so pleased with me when he gets back."
 
 The old man was not listening, he grabbed the lamp, threw a newer one at
 Turnbull and hastened back to his hotel room. Turnbull stood on the
deserted
 sidewalk clutching the shiny lamp, a vacant look on his face. Then he
turned
 on his heel and returned to the interior of the consulate unaware of the
 consequences of his foolish actions.
 
 
 A week after Jacob had left Chicago for a life of wealth and fame beyond
his
 wildest dreams, Benton returned to Chicago from his successful exchange
in the
 north where he had helped bust a fraudulent used skidoo sales team He
went
 straight by foot to the apartment he now shared with Margaret, a spring
in his
 step. He was looking forward to seeing how well developed her bump would
be
 now, he wanted to feel the wriggling baby as he pressed his hand over her
 womb. He would play it a Stan Rogers tape he had picked up in Canada.
Music
 was instrumental in forming strong brain cell patterns in the unborn and
what
 better than a good stirring sea shanty or two. His favorite was Barrett's
 Privateers. It reminded him of a romantic moment on the Bounty replica
when
 time had stood still and he had shared a most tender kiss with his
 Margaret. His Margaret. How he had missed her, every night away he had
 fallen asleep feeling her absence acutely. The Yukon had never before
felt so
 cold to him. He was accustomed to being alone, he had never sought to
live
 with others. But he did enjoy company, he was not really a loner by
nature.
 He used to really enjoy his meals at Ray Vecchio's house, the loving,
noisy
 Italian family. He always felt alive with them, they had shown him the
 rewards of being part of a close family. They had such a vibrancy
generated
 by family ties. He still missed Ray very much.
 
 
 Now he had felt for himself the true rewards of companionship with Ray,
with
 Stan and with Meg he was loathe to give them up and return to that
solitary
 existence he had led for so long. After the "affair" with the bounty
hunter
 he had realised that he needed to share his life with a special person,
 someone who could give him children, someone who would love him and whom
he
 could love. Someone who would keep the loneliness at bay. This
 relationship with the Inspector was wonderful, he could hardly believe
his
 luck, he loved her with all of his big mountie heart. He loved her with a
 capacity he never realised he had. And the best thing about his life at
the
 moment was that she loved him.
 
 
 Whistling the shanty loudly he ran up the steps two at a time and opened
the
 apartment door, 
 "Meg, I'm back." He was greeted by Dief bounding up to him, almost
knocking
 him over in lupine enthusiasm.
 Benton rubbed the wolf behind its ears, "Hey, boy, did you miss me?" 
 
 But his mindwas not on Diefenbaker, he looked down the hallway searching
 for his love,
 "Margaret? Meg?" he called again. 
 
 There was silence in the apartment apart from the panting of the wolf.
Why
 was she not here to greet him ? Had something happened? He felt cold, a
 shiver ran through him. Had something happened to the baby ? He shrugged
 out of his rucksack and ran to the bedroom. He peered cautiously round
the
 door, the room was empty. Benton frowned, he was aware now of a growing
sense
 of unease. She promised him she would be home when he last talked to her
on
 the phone. That was four days ago. A lot could happen in four days. He
 picked up the phone and dialled her mobile, and let out the breath he had
been
 holding when she answered it with a terse 
 "Yes?"
 "Margaret, where are you, I have been so worried, are you all right ?"
 
 Her tone when she answered was hard.
 "Constable, yes, I am fine, thankyou. I am at the consulate, working. I
 expect to see you here this afternoon ready to work your shift."
 
 Taken aback at her remote attitude, Fraser could only reply,"Yes Sir,"
and
 stare at the receiver as the line went dead. Again he felt a cold shiver
 cross his spine. Something was wrong. He crouched down next to the ever
 loyal Diefenbaker,
 "Hey, Dief, do you know what is going on ?"
 
 Benton stood up, stretched and stifled a yawn, it had been a long journey
and
 he had slept badly, now she expected him to go to work. Hadn't they
agreed to
 spend this afternoon together, relaxing at home? She ought to be taking
it
 easy at this stage of her pregnancy. He put his Stan Rogers tape on the
 player and sang along with it as he unpacked. He always found singing
 therapeutic and by the time he had changed into his brown uniform he felt
a
 little less worried.
 
 
 When Fraser arrived at the Consulate at 12.58pm his uneasiness returned.
In
 fact the thought of facing the Inspector was causing him a great deal of
 concern. He had to wipe his hands on his trousers becuse they were so
damp
 with sweat. Why did he feel so nervous ? It had been months since he had
 felt like this. In order to steel himself he sang a few bars of Barrett's
 Privateers. It helped, but only a little. He went straight to his own
office
 and sat down at his desk. There was a post it note, with her bold
handwriting
 on it. "My office 1.15pm." he fondled the note, she wanted him in her
 office. What could that mean ? Perhaps his father could help. Sure, he
 hadn't been
 much help last time, but it was worth a try. If nothing else it would
make
 the next fifteen minutes pass less miserably.
 
 "Hello, son," Fraser Senior greeted him. He was wearing a parka, complete
 with furry hood, thick trousers, boots and snow shoes.
 
 "Dad, it's 30 degrees outside, can't you feel the heat ?"
 
 "Is it son ? You feel the cold more when you get older."
 
 "But you aren't getting older, you are dead. " 
 Why was his father so exasperating?
 
 "Besides I want to talk about my problems, not yours. Do things seem
 different ?"
 
 "Oh most definitely. But I would put it all down to global warming."
 
 Benton folded his arms and scowled at his father's apparition. These
 conversations were becoming more and more bizarre. Was it some feature of
the
 afterlife that any sense you might once have had slowly dissipates ? He
waved
 a hand at Fraser Senior.
 
 "As usual you are making no sense whatsoever. I don't know why I ever
bother
 trying to hold a coherent conversation with you. I have serious concerns
here
 and all you can talk about is the weather. "
 
 Benton left the closet and tried to calm himself. He sat down in his
chair,
 consulted his father's watch, five minutes to go, and began his mantra, 
 "I am a mountie, I can do this. " He repeated it fifty times then took a
deep
 breath and went to Margaret's, the Inspector's door. 
 
 
 Five minutes later he was sitting in his chair again, head in hands
conscious
 that things had gone very badly indeed. He had been totally unable to
talk to
 her, he had stammered and stuttered and had heard hardly anything she had
said
 apart from, "dismissed," to which he had automatically replied,
"Understood."
 Then he had fled to his room. He felt like his world had come to an end;
he
 had lost her. At the end of his shift he would collect his belongings and
 Dief from her home and move back into the Consulate. His father was here,
he
 wouldn't be that much alone. But it wasn't home, Meg's apartment was
home.
 Yet, he couldn't stay there any more, he couldn't even talk to her, how
could
 he be expected to share a bed with her ? 
 Life had been going so well, why had things changed ? Why had he changed
?
 Why had hope died ? He wasn't very much aware of time passing, he just
 stared unfocussed at his door until his body clock told him his shift had
 ended. He removed his Stetson from its hook, stared at it a moment before
 placing it on his head with a sigh. He would just devote himself to his
 mountie duties since he obviously was not meant to find happiness with
women.
 
 
 
 Meg sat in her office totally bemused. She had had quite an exhausting
week,
 been called into the consulate on an emergency despite a resolution to
take it
 easy. She could feel her hormones raging, her legs ached and the baby was
 practising trampolining off her diaphragm with upsetting regularity. She
had
 not been able to get comfortable in bed since Benton had gone away. She'd
got
 used to him rubbing her back to relax her into sleep. He had a wonderful
 touch and knew exactly which muscles to work. Without him life was
miserable.
 He had stopped her feeling unglamorous as the baby took away her trim
figure,
 with his constant reassurances and professions of love. 
 
 So what had gone wrong ? This morning she had been excited at his return.
 Yet for some reason she had felt compelled to come into work today even
 though they had intended to relax at home together. Then she had lost her
 temper with him over the phone, well that could be a pregnancy mood
swing.
 Now he had spent five minutes in her office and not said one word that
made
 sense. Oh except for "understood" and she didn't even think that he had.
 Understood a word she'd said that is. In fact now she had chance to
reflect
 she couldn't remember herself what she had said to him. She just knew now
 that their relationship had changed. They were no longer one. He couldn't
 even talk to her, how was he going to share a bed with her ?
 
 Life had been going so well. What had changed ? She wasn't very much
aware
 of time passing, she just stared at the door, unfocussed until she heard
him
 shut his door and leave the building. She then became aware that she had
 been crying, a steady stream of tears. She sighed. She would just have to
 devote herself to her mountie duties till the baby came. At least one
good
 thing had come out of this doomed relationship, their son.
 *********************************************************************
 
 
 Margaret came home that evening to an empty apartment and a short note
from
 Fraser telling her how sorry he was that things weren't working out, that
he
 would support the baby when it came and if possible would attend the
birth.
 He thanked her kindly for letting him stay with her and hoped that they
could
 carry on as normal with their professional relationship. It was typically
 Benton and it made her weep. She tried to recall the moment that things
had
 taken the wrong turn. She could not locate the word or action that had
made
 him feel rejected by her. Before he went away they were lovers, when he
 returned they weren't. Her life was a disaster. She could not even be
sure
 if she loved him any longer, she did feel a great sense of loss. She
thought
 she did love him, she knew she had, but she was unwilling to contact him
and
 ask him to come back to her. Worst of all she did not know why she was
 feeling this way. Maybe it was her hormones. That was one convenient
aspect
 of being pregnant; you could use hormones to explain many things. 
 
 
 She wandered absently through her rooms touching the table where they had
 eaten together, stroking the sofa where they had sat, then into the
bathroom
 where she picked up her now solitary toothbrush and cleaned her teeth.
All
 his toilet articles were gone; that cut throat blade he shaved with, the
 harsh mountie issue soap she had never managed to wean him off, his face
 cloth, his towel, his robe: all gone. Leaving the bathroom, she lay down
 on the floor next to the bed where he had unrolled his bedroll every
night.
 Her rooms smelt of him, they smelt of wolf too. Closing her eyes conjured
up
 the image of a smiling Fraser in red long johns holding her hand, kissing
her
 lips, whispering secret promises of love. And so she fell into a restless
 sleep on the uncomfortable floor of her lonely bedroom.
 
 
 Benton Fraser unrolled his bedroll and flung himself wearily upon it. He
 folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ornate ceiling of his
room
 in the consulate. Why had he left her ? He seemed to be doing things
 automatically that in retrospect seemed ludicrous, well childish even.
 Heought to have stayed. After all that was his baby she was carrying and
that
 should mean a lot to him. A family, a future for him. he recalled Janet
and
 her three children who had slept right here a few months ago. Seeing them
 had brought a pang of regret to his heart. The missed opportunities had
 pained him. He liked children; he'd wished those children were his. Soon
 he would be a father and he had bungled any chance to be part of a
family.
 It did not occur to him as he lay there alone in the large official
building,
 that he could go to her and apologise and be accepted. These decisions
were
 out of his control. Furthermore, he was not yet aware that his charmed
 existence was also at risk, for Jacob (at that moment surfing in a far
away
 Pacific sea) had not only undone his wish to have a "winning way with
 Margaret," but also his wish to be the "best of the Mounted: strong and
 valiant."
 
 
 Stanley Raymond Kowalski sat at his desk at the 27th Chicago Division and
 twiddled his thumbs. He then put his booted feet up on the desk and
crossed
 them at the ankles, clasped his hands around his head and leaned back
yawning.
 How he hated paperwork. His pile of pending reports was now six inches
high
 and he just did not know which one to tackle first. So he decided not to
even
 make the attempt. Life in the bullpen had been a little dull since Fraser
 had gone to the Yukon. Even before then his visits had diminished in
 frequency as he had been attending Parenting classes and spending a lot
of his
 free time with the Ice Queen. Ray couldn't find it in himself to be
jealous,
 a little envious perhaps, but he admitted that it was about time Fraser
had
 some luck with women. Yeah, Ray was pleased for the guy. A deep voice
 interrupted his thoughts,
 
 "You know, Ray, you really shouldn't rock back on your chair like that.
You
 could fall off. Remember 'Four legs good, two legs bad,"
 
 Ray was so startled that he very nearly did fall off his chair. 
 
 "Fraser!" he exclaimed as he clumsily regained his balance. "You're back,
 then ?"
 
 "Evidently," Fraser smiled wryly.
 
 "So how was it in the frozen north Yukon Territories?" Ray stood as he
spoke
 and began to walk towards the door. Fraser followed.
 
 "Territory, Ray, and it was fine, just fine."
 
 The sadness in his friend's voice did not escape Ray,
 "Well you sure don't sound fine. Let's eat and you can tell me what's
 bugging you."
 
 Benton consulted his watch, "But it's not lunchtime......."
 
 "Oh who cares, I'm outta here." Ray pushed his friend out of the building
and
 they walked in silence to a diner.
 
 
 Ray ordered for both of them and let Benton know how dull things had been
in
 his absence, 
 "You just seem to attract adventures, I don't know how you do it. And I
was
 starting to miss all the excitement. "
 
 "I'm sorry about that Ray," was all the mountie could think of to reply. 
 
 His mind was distracted. He could not stop thinking about Margaret. Ray
soon
 realised that Fraser was not going to tell him what was wrong with him so
he
 gave up and started to eat his fries. He was halfway bthrough them when
he
 noticed that his companion had neither eaten nor drunk anything and was
 staring past him to the street beyond the big window. 
 
 "Hey, Frase, what's the problem ? You look like you haven't slept in
days,
 you haven't touched your food and even your hat looks crumpled-" 
 
 Ray got no further for the Mountie jumped up suddenly and ran from the
diner. 
 
 Ray threw some cash onto the table and followed, "Hey, what's going on?"
as
 the adrenalin started to flow. 
 This was what being with Fraser was all about, the surprises, the
spontaneity
 of it all. It was thrilling, better by far than any white knuckle ride.
 People paid big bucks to get that feeling he got for free just by hanging
out
 with the Mountie.
 
 The street outside was chaotic with noise and people and the detective
could
 not see his friend. He looked around suspiciously, a feeling of
trepidation
 gnawed at him, something was wrong. He drew his gun, instinctively,
reached
 into his pocket for his identification, The sounds of the people around
were
 loud yet he could not make sense of their words. They were gathering to
look
 at something. Ray felt his chest tighten, his throat constrict. 
 
 "No," he whispered, raising the hand with the badge and pushing himself
 through the tight wedge of bodies. 
 
 Then louder, "Police, coming through." 
 His instincts were right, at the front of the crowd now he could see what
the
 focus of attention was. On the floor a body, blue jean, plaid shirt;
Fraser. 
 
 "Has anyone called for help ?" 
 He was relieved to hear an affirmative from a woman with a cellphone. Too
 concerned with the condition of his friend to ask what had happened, Ray
 crouched down and put a tentative finger to the Mounties throat. A pulse
 throbbed strongly. Ray let out his breath in relief. Benton opened his
eyes,
 roused by the gentle touch.
 "Ray ?"
 
 Kowalski smiled, "You're gonna be just fine Frase. So long as you don't
 move."
 
 "I don't understand it," Fraser replied as his eyes slid shut. "That
never
 happened before." 
 
 As the paramedics came Ray stood up and addressed the thinning crowd,
"Okay,
 can someone tell me what happened here ?"
 
 
 When Benton recovered consciousness in the hospital it was to the
presence of
 Margaret Thatcher, sitting in a chair next to the bed dozing. He wondered
 how long he had been there and what sort of injuries he had sustained. He
 quickly checked through his body; there was not a joint that did not ache
and
 there was a fuzziness about his head that no amount of shaking would
clear.
 Further examination revealed a casted arm which was too painful to move
and
 some bandages round his middle indicating bruised or broken ribs. There
 seemed to be no bullet holes so that was a mercy. He pulled himself
painfully
 into sitting position and cast about for something to drink. From his
 frequent hospital stays of the past he knew he could not be very
seriously ill
 because there were no drips attached to his arms and no tubes issuing
from any
 embarassing places either. 
 
 
 At that moment he was unable to recall the events that had led him to
being
 hospitalised and besides he was far too weary to think about it. One
thing he
 did recall was that he and the Inspector had fallen out so he was
surprised at
 her presence in this hospital room, with him. How long had she been there
?
 He figured it must have been quite a long time for her to have fallen
asleep
 and he wondered if it would be politic to try to awaken her.
 
 His father's voice prevented him from reaching a decision, "Hello son,
bad
 judgement."
 
 Benton shook his head, "I'm sorry ?"
 
 "Trying to push that child away from the path of that car, it was bad
 judgement. I've told you before, your reflexes aren't as good when you
get
 older and neither is your eyesight."
 
 The younger Mountie scowled and rubbed a thumb along his eyebrow, "My
eyesight
 is just fine, after all I can see you."
 
 "I tried to warn you," Fraser Senior continued as if his son had not
spoken,
 "But you never listen to my good advice, oh no. You have to be a hero."
 
 "Dad, I can't remember what I did that got me in this pickle. I am more
 concerned about her, " He nodded in the direction of the Inspector. 
 
 "She's your superior officer, son. These things aren't meant to be."
 
 "She's having a baby. Well, our baby, that is."
 
 "Oh, you've made me a grandfather at last," the apparition smiled
 inscrutably, "and what are you going to do about it ?"
 
 Benton looked down at the bedsheets, ran his tongue along his lips and
thought
 for a few moments before answering, 
 "I'd really like to get married." 
 
 There was no fatherly retort so he looked up into the astonished face of
 Margaret Thatcher who, it seemed, had chosen entirely the wrong moment to
wake
 from her slumber. She froze in the action of ringing for a nurse. It was,
in
 fact, the voice of Fraser talking to his father that had roused her.
 
 "What, what did you say ?" she demanded, gruffly as was her way, plumping
up
 a pillow as a distraction.
 
 Benton started guiltily. But looking at her tousled and ruffled as she
was,
 he did find her very appealing and that thought brought a smile to her
face.
 How could she frighten him any more ? After what they had been to each
other.
 That accident had brought him to his senses and made him realise that
nothing
 in the world meant more to him than her.
 
 The concerned look on her face belied the harshness in her voice. He
looked
 down to the hand that unconsciously covered his own and moved his
uninjured
 hand over to clasp it and raise it to his lips. He kissed her fingers
 without saying a word.
 
 "I was.....worried about you, Constable." She smiled at him. remembering
a
 time not so very long ago when she had spoken similar words, 
 "And I'm sorry about that silly argument. When I heard you had been hurt
I
 thought I had lost you forever and I couldn't bear it. I hadn't realised
how
 much you meant to me until Ray called me to tell me you were in the ER. I
had
 not realised how much I ...........loved you."
 The last two words were a whisper as if she were afraid to admit it. "
But
 you did not answer my question. What were you saying, before ?"
 
 Benton considered a moment, dare he say it ? She had admitted her love
for
 him possibly at great cost to her pride. He should not let pride rule his
own
 heart. She had come to the hospital to be with him, for that he was
grateful.
 Their relationship was not going to be a smooth one, he being the sort of
 person he was, self sufficient, self contained, idiosyncratic, bookish,
 chivalrous, all the qualities that had been instilled in him by his
 grandparent's. She was more gregarious but also self sufficient in her
own
 way. And very determined, he admired that. There was an understanding
 between them, and a magic. he couldn't deny it. There was definitely some
 sort of magic. So he came to his decision and with three magic words he
 dispensed with the need for wonderful lamps and grotesque genies and
chose to
 forge his own path and his own destiny with the woman he loved.
 
 
 The End 1998
 
 Do not reproduce without the author's permission.
 
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