gameoflove   Author's disclaimer: Although the story is mine, it is
a work of fiction based on the characters 
of Due South. All Characters portrayed here belong to Alliance. Please do
not print/copy/download or send any part of this story to anyone else
other than for your personal enjoyment. Thank you. 

Thatcher's up for playing the game of love but will Fraser even pass Go
and collect his 200 dollars? Rated PG-13 for mature content. 

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By: Amethyst 
  
  
  

THE GAME OF LOVE 

 

         "Fraser!" 
        The Mountie turned from where he had been about to leave a message
for Turnbull at the front desk, startled as his superior officer threw
open the consulate door and stepped inside. 
 She looked breathtaking in an off the shoulder red evening gown, her
purse in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other and her coat draped over
her shoulders. She smiled and kicked the door shut and practically skipped
toward him in a way that he had seen only once before, the night Denny
Scarpa had stayed there and Thatcher had been going for a taste of
Italian. 
        "Fraser, Fraser, Fraser." She reached him, her arm grasping his
shoulder, perhaps in a friendly gesture, perhaps to keep her upright,
Fraser wasn't sure. Her eyes were slightly glazed and she was entirely too
cheerful. Oh Dear. 
         "Sir?" he questioned and her lips puckered in a distasteful
frown, then she glanced around. 
         "Where?" she asked suddenly, searching for what Fraser had no
clue. Then she turned back to him, her palm never leaving his shoulder, if
anything it seemed to grip him tighter, as she smiled secretly. "Oh! You
mean me? I'm Sir." 
         "Yes, Sir." He agreed, wishing more than anything that her date
would come for her, as the Italian had did. 
         "Fraser, Fraser, Fraser." She shook her head and wrapped an arm
around his shoulders to bring him closer as though about to tell him a
secret. She smiled, as his body remained rigidly upright, his hands placed
stoically in front of him. "Com'ere I have something to tell you." He
leaned forward slightly, despite his restraining posture. "Closer." She
urged and he lowered his head so his ear was almost touching her mouth.
Her tongue darted out and licked his earlobe and he shot straight up
again, his hand moving to his ear in surprise as she giggled. 
         "Sir..." he questioned. 
         "Lighten' up, Fraser!" she laughed, letting her arm drop back to
her side. She smiled secretly, then tried to look more serious. "Honestly
Fraser, I do have something to tell you." She promised and watched Fraser
gaze at her warily. 
        Part of him wished he were still in his uniform, perhaps it would
help him feel more protected, but he had changed to go to a hockey game
with Ray earlier in the evening. Thatcher coerced him forward. 
        "Come down here and I will tell you." He wanted to tell her his
ears were more then keen enough to hear what she had to say form his
present position, but manners and a sense of duty won out and he bowed his
head to her once again. She leaned in so her lips were brushing the
sensitive skin of his ear. "Mushymushymushy." She purred in his ear then
giggled as he lifted his head and shook it at her, forcing himself not to
allow the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth to form. 
         "Fraser." She sighed shaking her head, then stumbling slightly
against him and he was compelled to grasp her forearms to keep her
stationary. "Fraser, look at me." Fraser complied, staring into her eyes,
those beautiful warm eyes that had always contradicted her cold attitude
at times. "Lower." He moved his eyes to her nose, curious, perhaps she
wanted him to find something specific on her face. He glanced over her
cheeks as well, finding nothing but the classic beauty that she was.
"Lower Constable." His eyes moved to her lips, so perfect for
kissing...no! Don't think about that. This is not the time for fantasies,
obviously his superior officer had something in mind and it was his duty
to solve the puzzle. 
         "Sir what..." 
         "Lower Fraser." She almost growled as she swayed slightly and he
grasped her arms more securely. "Look lower." Fraser's eyes moved downward
then shot up again as he blushed. She stared at him. "Now what did you
see?" 
        "S...see, Sir?" he stammered nervously, unable to perform any of
his usually calming techniques for his hands were occupied with Thatcher. 
         "Look again." She demanded and Fraser hesitantly complied with
her wishes, dropping his eyes to the two soft, pale mounds of flesh that
seemed to be straining to be released from the tight confining bodice of
her dress. "What do you see, Fraser?" 
        He swallowed and continued to stare since she had not given him
leave to look up again. What did he see? What kind of question was that?
Oh where was her Italian, or Frenchman or whoever she had been dining with
tonight? 
         "I...I...I don't understand w...what you are asking, Sir." He
managed. 
         "Breasts, Fraser." She stated exasperated, as the subject in
question rose and fell erotically with her sharp, quick intake of breath,
and he found his eyes rising back to her face of their own accord. "I have
breasts Fraser." She continued meeting his gaze, despite the flush that
now spread across his face. "Granted they are perhaps not the best
breasts, you have no doubt seen much better..." 
         "Oh no, Sir!" Fraser quickly assured. "They're quite lovely!" He
groaned, appalled at what he had just said to his superior, and he lowered
his eyes. Well, there you are, a perfect case for sexual harassment,
although she had been the one to bring it up, but still it was rude to
comment...Oh Dear...what had he done? When he looked up again, hesitantly,
Thatcher was smiling at him, her head tilted ever so slightly. 
         "Why thank you, Fraser." She murmured softly and he blushed
redder, thought relieved she had not taken offence. "Anyway, as I was
saying. I have breasts and therefore what does that make me, Fraser." He
cracked his neck. How in the world had they gotten on this subject anyway?

         "Ah...a...a...female?" he questioned hesitantly and she nodded. 
         "That's right, a female of the species." She confirmed, running
her hand along his biceps gently. "A woman, a feminine persona, a chick, a
babe, a broad...whatever you wish to call it I am a woman Fraser and women
are not called Sir!" Ah, Fraser thought. That's what this was leading up
to, though he was still somewhat confused, he was simply giving her the
proper respect due her position. 
         "Yes, Sir." He returned automatically the winced at her glare. 
         "You did it again!" she exclaimed angrily, throwing her hands
out, her purse sliding through the air to land a few feet away on the
floor while Fraser released her momentarily to keep the wine from
suffering the same fate. He carefully placed the bottle on the desk and
turned back to Thatcher, his eyes moving again toward the door. Thatcher
smacked at his arm, drawing his attention back to her. "I'm alone,
Fraser...well not completely you're here, but there is no one outside
waiting for me so you are not going to get out of this." 
         "Sir, I don't..." Fraser was so confused his head was starting to
spin. Thatcher seemed to be trying to calm herself. 
        "I don't mind you calling me that in public or even when I'm
giving you orders for the day, but for heaven's sake must you do it even
when we are both off duty and alone...or well alone together..." She waved
her hands at him and again he caught her from falling. "Turnbull...even
that idiot calls me Ma'am from time to time, let's me know that he is
aware of my gender, not that I care if he knows, but you never do,
Fraser." 
         "Si..." he started to stay and her eyes narrowed threateningly.
"Ah...Margret. I...I think perhaps I should take you home you seem to
be..." She shook him off of her. 
         "I am not drunk, Fraser." She stated. "I have had a little to
drink, I may even be slightly tipsy but I am not drunk and I am fully
aware of what I am saying." 
         "Yes si...ma'am." Fraser amended quickly, wondering how long she
was going to be tipsy and not drunk in his presence. She smiled suddenly
and grabbed up the bottle of wine in one hand and Fraser's hand in the
other, meaning to lead him back to the kitchen but Fraser didn't budge,
even as she continued to tug at his hand. 
         "Walk Fraser." She demanded and he closed his eyes briefly then
complied, following her back into her the compact kitchen with
trepidation. How did he get himself into these situations? She released
his hand and the urge to turn and run must have been written on his face
for she pointed a finger at him. "Stay." He sighed inaudibly and
straightened his stance; his hands behind his back as Thatcher pulled two
wineglasses from the cupboard, then walked over and handed them to Fraser.
She turned again. "Follow." She ordered and he walked with her to her
office, where she switched on her desk lamp and kicked off her shoes. 
        She took the glasses from him and set them on her desk, trading
them for the wine, while she worked the cellophane off a gift basket that
had been delivered to her that day. Fraser opened the wine, as was
expected of him, and jumped back startled when the cork flew off and the
wine began to spill over; he was usually much better at such things but
his nervousness was starting to show. Thatcher exclaimed and tried to
catch some of the gushing liquid with the glasses and her mouth, her lips
and tongue skimming Fraser's fingers as he tried to control the amount of
wine spilled. He almost dropped the bottle, when she had touched him, but
he managed to keep it upright, as he had her earlier, he thought wryly. 
        "I'm afraid we have made a mess." Fraser stated obviously as he
set the now calm bottle on the desk and wiped at the moist spots on his
blue flannel shirt. Thatcher shrugged as she began pulling out packets of
crackers, cheese, caviar and the like from the basket and setting them on
her desk next to the wine glasses. 
        "The carpets are to be cleaned tomorrow anyway." She commented,
glancing at him, as he continued to wipe at the mess on his shirt with a
tissue from her desk. She shrugged out of her coat and tossed it to a
chair. "Take off your shirt, Fraser, before it soaks through." He stared
at her surprised. 
        "It is fine, Si...ma.." He paused not knowing what to call her,
what would get him in the least amount of trouble. She grinned and reached
up to start unfastening the buttons of his shirt. 
        "Meg is fine, Fraser." She returned, guessing his dilemma as his
hands moved finally to still hers. 
        "I...I'll go change." He offered, that way he could at least have
an excuse to escape the current situation, although part of him feared
what was and might happen, another part of him was intensely curious. Of
course he would never take advantage of Thatcher in her present condition,
but still, he was a man and he couldn't deny that he had not sometimes
wished... 
        "Don't be silly, Fraser." She protested, finishing the buttons,
despite his hands and moving to pull the wet shirt from his shoulders. He
was glad he always wore hid regulation white T-shirt, so he was not as
exposed had he not been wearing one. She tossed his shirt atop her coat
and allowed her hands to explore his bared biceps, feeling the muscles
jump beneath her feather light touch. 
        "Si...Meg?" he questioned, his voice cracking slightly. Her hands
stayed upon him as she walked around to face him. 
        "Yes?" she inquired softly and watched Fraser swallow, crack his
neck and pull on his ear nervously. 
        "Um...Are you...ah...w...what...?" He brought a hand up to caress
his brow, causing the muscles under her palm to stretch and contract,
offering her another glimpse of his hidden strength. 
        "What is it, Fraser?" she asked leaning toward him, but Fraser
couldn't speak, he had no idea how to voice his thoughts "I am your
superior officer, correct Fraser?" 
        "Y...yes." he agreed quietly. 
        "So if I gave you an order would you comply?" 
        "Yes." He said more confidently and without reservation. 
        "And if I ordered you to kiss me, would you do it?' she asked and
Fraser stared at her shocked. Oh yes, there was that look, that charming
deer-in- the-headlights look that she loved about him, as she watched the
flush rise to his cheeks. 
        "I...if...if...if you ordered me...Sir...?" It slipped out because
he was nervous so she forgave him. "I...I don't understand..." 
        They had kissed once before, on the train, and he would remember
it always, but she told him it was to be forgotten, never repeated unless
the exact circumstances were repeated. They were not on a train, but on
solid ground, though Fraser was starting to get the light headed giddy
feeling similar to what he had experienced atop the locomotive with the
air rushing past them. 
        "Wouldn't you like to kiss me Constable?" she demanded, a hint of
uncertainty in her eyes now. 
        "I...I..." 
        "Yes or no, Fraser it is a simple question." 
        "I...I...ah...I don't...I would..." 
        "Just answer the damn question Fraser!" she exclaimed angrily. 
        "S...Sir, you...you said..." He stared at her helplessly, oh how
did he get into these things? Perhaps Ray was right and trouble really was
attracted to him like a magnet, for there was no greater danger that a
furious Margaret Thatcher, that much he knew. "The..the..incident
...we...we are not permited to speak of...you...you said..." 
        "Forget what I said, " she scoffed. "Answer the question. Yes or
no?" 
        Fraser cracked his neck again and shuffled on his feet.  Before he
could stammer a reply she took his head between her hands and pressed her
lips to his. He stood rigidly against her,  making no movement to put his
arms around her or respond to her kiss, he merely became passive. He
wasn't preventing the kiss, but neither was he encouraging it, and finally
she pulled away and stared up at him, her eyes heavy with guilt and
something...something Fraser couldn't define. She stepped back and reached
for her wine. 
        "I guess I have my answer. You are dismissed Constable." 
        "Meg I..." Fraser started to say, but she turned her back to him
and moved to stare out the window. 
        How could he explain to her that it wasn't that he didn't want
her, he just refused to take advantage of the situation. Whether she
admitted it or not she was intoxicated and he could not use her to his own
purposes. 
        "I thought you might like to share a midnight snack with me,
Fraser." She murmured, still staring out the window. "I guess you don't.
You may go, I will call a cab to take me home." Fraser stepped toward her,
he didn't want her to misunderstand, but how could he explain without
getting her angry, or hurting her more. 
        "Meg..." he began quietly, praying the right words would come to
him. "If...if only..." He shook his head, knowing that bringing up the
fact that she had been drinking would only make things worse. "P...perhaps
you will remember all this in the morning, as you say." Dear God I know I
will, I shall remember it for many mornings to come. "I do not mean to
insinuate anything about your current physical state, I just..." Again the
words stopped and he groaned inwardly. He tried again, speaking from his
heart, which was the most difficult thing for him to do, he'd much rather
be shot at, stabbed or blown up.  "I...I would hope that you would...would
ask me your question at another time...in the morning perhaps. Then I
would know it is really you asking and not the alcohol." Thatcher turned
to face him. 
        "Fraser, I have had, two...maybe three drinks all evening," she
held up her glass. "Not counting this one, and I have been here for awhile
now, don't you think had I been drunk I would be sober now?" 
        "It takes twenty four to forty eight hours for alcohol to be
purged from your system.." he began and she waved him silent. 
        "But no one feels the effects for that long Fraser." She
protested. "A few hours at the most is what is normal, if you drank you
would know that." She put her glass on the desk and stepped up to him, her
face inches from his. "I am not intoxicated. I may have been a little
tipsy when I first arrived but no longer. Ask me anything, I'll recite the
RCMP order codes I'll... Sing Oh Canada...relate the..." Her words were
cut off as Fraser's lips met hers in a slow, hesitant kiss. He did not
touch her, merely kissed her and she leaned toward him, just as he broke
their connection and stepped back. 
        "You have your answer then." He murmured as she stared at him
shocked. 
        A slow smile spread across her lips as she shyly moved closer and
wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to hers again.
Once more he gave her complete control over the kiss, allowing her to do
what she wished, responding to the motions, but not attempting to deepen
it in anyway, and again his hands remained at his sides. She tilted her
head back and looked at him. 
        "Are you afraid of me, Benton?' she asked coyly and was surprised
when he nodded. 
        "Very mush so, yes." He admitted and she smiled seductively. 
        "Do you want me?" She watched Fraser lower his eyes for a moment,
then return to her face. 
        "Very much so." He repeated quietly and she giggled then surprised
him by stepping back. 
        "Let's eat, then." She decided, as a look of confusion passed over
Fraser's face. "First we eat then we'll...talk." She smiled. "Just so you
are sure I am not drunk." 
        Fraser nodded and watched her retrieve a small throw from the sofa
and place it on the floor, then put their goodies and the wine in the
center. She settled next to it and held her hand up for Fraser to join
her. He curled his legs into a sitting position and sat opposite her. 
        "I would prefer..." he began when she handed him a glass of wine. 
        "Just one glass," she assured. "It makes the food taste better."
She smiled impishly. "Besides, if we're both drunk we won't care about who
takes advantage." She giggled again as 
        Fraser blushed to his roots and shook his head at her teasing. He
liked her this way, oddly enough, so playful. He nodded and took a sip of
the drink then placed it on the floor beside him as Thatcher lathered a
cracker with Caviar. She took a small bite, then held it up to him,
watching him mimic her actions hesitantly. 
        She continued to feed him the different delicacies, smiling at his
shyness but approving that his mouth automatically opened upon her
prompting. That would be useful later, she thought mischievously.  Fraser
wasn't certain if it was the wine, the food, the late hour or the company
that seemed to be making his head tingle and his usually rigid posture
slowly seep away to a more relaxed state, though he suspected it was all
of it together. 
        Thatcher was being decidedly silly, cracking jokes and relating
funny stories about some of the delegates and dignitaries she had met
while here in Chicago, and she had Fraser laughing out loud at some of the
antics. He had stretched out on his side, propped up on his elbow, his
head supported by his hand and Thatcher had mimicked the position, her
long skirt modestly covering her bare shapely legs. 
        "This is nice." She suddenly sighed and Fraser nodded. 
        "Yes, it is." He agreed softly, watching the light in her eyes
that drew him to her like a moth to a flame; but he had to ignore that
flame or he would get burned; he knew that. 
        "You're different, Fraser." She remarked. 
        "Am I?" he asked puzzled and she nodded, moving onto her stomach
and resting her chin on her hands like an mischievous little girl. 
        "You haven't called me Sir in over an hour now." She teased and
laughed delighted when he blushed again. Her face grew serious. "Do you
think we're friends Ben?" Her question obviously caught him by surprise
and he regarded her thoughtfully. 
        "I...I would like to think so, yes." He finally replied subdued. 
        "Like you and Ray?" she pressed, trying not to allow the jealousy
she felt over the relationship he had with the Chicago cop show in her
voice. 
        "Ray and I are....we are a different ...it is different with him."
He managed finally. "He is my partner, we have shared many things both in
our work and during our off hours. I would do almost anything for him as I
know he would for me." He lowered his eyes again, uncomfortable with
discussing such things. "You...you are my superior officer and I...I would
do anything for you also." 
        "Because you are my subordinate or because you consider me a
friend?" she questioned quietly. 
        "Yes." He replied and she had to smile at his innocent diversion
of answering the question more directly. 
        "Would you beat up Turnbull?' she tested and he started, then
slowly smiled. 
        "If you told me to I would...possibly, yes." He knew she wasn't
being serious so he was free to make an off-handed answer. 
        "Would you do my laundry?" 
        "Yes." That response was quick and easy and she smiled again, of
course he already fetched her dry cleaning so why not her laundry. 
        "Would you rescue me from a burning building?" 
        "Of course." 
        "Would you defend me when that partner of yours pokes fun at my
expense?" She asked, of course she already knew the answer, for she had
seen him scold Ray on many occasions for his remarks, which only proved to
encourage the detective it seemed. Still Fraser answered her. 
        "Yes." He replied, finding he was enjoying the game she chose to
play. 
        "Would you go shopping with me?" She was surprised when he said
yes to that one, as most men shied away from shopping, but then Fraser was
not most men. "Would you cook for me?" she continued, working up slowly to
the question she really wanted to ask. 
        "Yes." Fraser replied with a small smile. "Although my cooking
skills are probably not up to your standards." She shrugged, unconcerned.
She slowly slid up to her knees and crawled across their small picnic
toward him, stopping just inches away and sliding back on her stomach
before him. 
        "Would you make love to me?" There was that look! That wonderful
what-in-the-hell-do-I-do-now expression and she struggled to keep a
straight face as she gazed into those startled, ocean blue eyes. 
        "I...I...Would I....if you...." He pulled at his shirt collar,
tugged on his ear, caressed his brow, cleared his throat and cracked his
neck all within a few seconds and Thatcher struggled with barely contained
laughter...Oh Boy! Was he nervous now! 
        "Yes, or no, Fraser?" she demanded amused, as his eyes fluttered
backward for a moment, and she wondered if he might pass out. 
        Had she gone too far? Was he truly this embarrassed and naive?
Women threw themselves at him constantly, she couldn't believe...But wait,
and his face was so red it was almost purple and she could almost feel the
heat he was generating from her placed next to him own placed next to him.
She didn't mean to do that to him, to embarrass him so badly. She reached
sat up and reached a hand out to gentle touch his shoulder, watching him
jump and scramble into a sitting position of his own, then roll to his
feet. 
        "I..I think..." he still couldn't get a full sentence out and
Thatcher felt terrible for affecting him so, as she rose to her feet
beside him. 
        "I'm sorry, Ben." She offered soothingly. "I never meant...please
forget what I said, it was just a game. I..." Whatever she said seemed to
have the wrong affect on him and she watched him stiffen and turn slightly
from her, as that familiar cool, passive stone expression slipped into
place. No, Don't do that, Ben. She wanted to cry, don't use that mask with
her. She stepped toward him. "I'm sorry, I didn't..." 
        "It is late." He remarked quietly, calmly, without emotion. "Would
you like me to drive you home or shall I call a cab?" She stepped back as
though he had slapped her. 
        "Fraser don't..." she began but their moment was over, she had
hurt him and she was sorry. 
        "I...do not feel like playing anymore, Inspector." He commented
and she gasped at his deliberate words, he thought she was a tease, that
she deliberately meant to embarrass him, and the awful truth was that she
had done just that, enjoying his ineptness, but she never meant to go so
far. 
        "I...I have my car, Fraser." She replied firmly, best to just
revert to the role she knew best. "I can make it home just fine." 
        "Perhaps a cab, then?" He suggested, still in that awful dead
tone. "You have been drinking, even if it is mostly out of your system it
would be safer." Thatcher cringed, even as angry as he no doubt was, as
much as she had hurt and humiliated him, he was still concerned for her
safety. Ever the boy scout. She grabbed up her coat and angrily threw her
arms into it. 
        "I'll be fine, Constable. She declared marching out of the office.
"Leave everything and I will clean it up in the morning." She picked up
her purse, from the floor in the foyer and moved to the door, allowing
Fraser to open it for her. She walked down the steps toward her car
without a backward glance, but she knew the Mountie watched her until she
reached her car safely, before closing the door. She tossed her purse
inside and climbed behind the engine, savagely twisting the key and
revving the engine, then slammed her hands on the wheel furiously. 
        What was she thinking, going there to see him tonight? She had
left the dinner and simply felt to good to go home, so she went to the
Consulate, hoping Fraser would be there, wanting to share her good spirits
with him. He had thought she was drunk, but she wasn't, she barely had a
buzz, but perhaps she pretended to be more than a little tipsy, because it
would get her closer to him.  She remembered how he fought a smile when
she whispered that silly thing in his ear, noticed how he allowed her to
trail her hands over him anyway she liked, without interference, saw the
amusement in his eyes when he constantly tied to keep her upright. She
hadn't been about to fall at any time, she just liked him holding her, was
that wrong? She groaned and leaned her head back against the seat. How
could she have teased him like that? How could a night that was turning
out to be letter perfect end up being so awful? Damn! Damn! Damn! She
sighed and threw the car in drive, the peeled out into the street. 
        Fraser allowed the curtain to drop the moment the black Cadillac
roared off down the street. He didn't know why Margaret had been sitting
there for so long, but he had been about too go out to check that she was
alright, when she finally moved the car into the street. He sighed and
leaned against the window, wondering where had things gone wrong. At first
he was both frightened and  somewhat amused by Thatcher's late night
visit, but then the things she said and did...well they simply were not
appropriate to discuss. 
        He grinned slightly, she had literally told him to look at her
breasts, as though he actually needed to be assured that she was a woman.
He groaned, oh, he knew she was a woman alright, for that same woman with
those flashing eyes, kissable lips, round hips, subtle breasts and stylish
hair haunted his dreams time and time again, rarely leaving his thoughts
for long even when he was awake. 
        Would he make love to her if she ordered him too, that was what
she had asked. He shook his head. No. They had been talking of the things
he would do for her as a friend and making love...well sometimes friends
did indeed partake in that particular activity, but how could he have
answered Thatcher's question. Yes, he wanted to make love to her, though
he thought he hid his feelings well enough from her. Had she discovered
his secret longing? Was that why her question knocked the breath out of
him? 
        Then, when he searched for the words, the right words to tell her
how he felt, after the shock wore off of course, she started apologizing,
calling it a game, and laughing it off. That was a bigger blow then her
question had been, to realize that she was simply teasing him, gagging his
reactions, playing with his feelings. That had hurt, hurt terribly, that
she would play him for a fool that way. Fraser's first reaction had been
to strike her and that had appalled and frightened him, but she had
managed to relax him so completely, he had let his guard down. He had left
himself wide open for her assault that he wasn't prepared for the rage
that came with the shock of her words. 
        Quickly, he managed to regain control of himself, of course, using
every calming and composure seeking technique he knew, forcing himself to
repair the damage that had been done by her game. He never should have
stayed, he should have left immediately or offered to call a cab for her
the moment she arrived, but he couldn't help wishing...wanting to spend
the time with her. Hoping...he didn't know what he had been hoping for and
manners pretty much ruled out any other reason for simply walking away.  
Sighing, he pushed off from the wall and headed for his office, though he
doubted he would get any sleep tonight, tomorrow came early. 
  

        Fraser glanced up from his conversation with Turnbull, as
Inspector Thatcher walked into the Consulate, dressed in a simple, but
tasteful pastel green slack suit. Turnbull immediately excused himself
from Fraser's company and took his superior's jacket, wishing her a good
morning and inquiring if she would like some tea, as Fraser also greeted
her. She glanced at him briefly, there were dark shadows under her eyes
and he frowned, as she declined the tea and headed for her office, her
heels clicking defiantly along the hardwood of the floor. Turnbull
returned to Fraser and they continued their conversation, as their newest
addition arrived. Fraser instructed the Mountie to sentry duty, though
suspected he would be replacing him once he reported to Thatcher, since
that was her usual punishment when he was, as Ray would say 'in the dog
house' with her. 
        He made a few more comments to Turnbull, then left the taller
Mountie to answer the calls that had started to come in and moved down
toward Thatcher's office. He was wearing his brown uniform today, for he
was going to meet Ray later for lunch and then trail some suspects through
the wooded more rural areas, and his browns were a little more flexible
and blended in more than his red serge. He rapped quietly on Thatcher's
door and waited to be called inside. 
        "Come in." her voice responded and he opened the door and stepped
inside. 
        Despite her insistence that he not pick up the things from their
impromptu picnic, Fraser had already cleared everything away and most of
the things returned to the kitchen or the basket on her desk. He stopped a
few feet from her desk, lacing his hands behind him as he waited for her
to acknowledge him. 
        "So, speak." She demanded coolly, her attention remaining on her
computer screen, he noticed she did not attempt to remove or hide the fact
that she wore glasses, as she usually did in his presence, they were
propped defiantly on the bridge of her nose as she peered at he screen.
Fraser cleared his throat. 
        "The cleaners for the carpet will be here at 9:00 this morning."
He informed reviewin g his report quickly in his head as he said it so he
would leave nothing out. "Turnbull and I have arranged the extra office
next to the waiting area for your convience, so you may work while the
carpets in here are being cleaned." He cracked his neck slightly. "Your
two thirty appointment with, the minister of finance, canceled for today
and reschedualled for tomorrow morning at eleven. All your other
appointments are running on schedual, Turnbul has your phone messages when
you are ready to view them and I have arranged to have the limoseen
cleaned inside and out and waxed for your appearance at the Children of
AIDS fundraiser this evening." She nodded and he waited a moment, until
she finally glanced at him. 
        "Was there anything else, Constabul?" she asked impatiently and
Fraser shifted his weight. 
        "Would you have any dry cleaning you would like me to pick up,
Sir?" he inquired, hoping he wasn't blushing as he said it. "I will be
leaving early today but I can pick it up for you if need be." She stared
at him for a long moment. 
        "Do you and your detective friend have plans for the evening,
Fraser?" She saw that her question caught him by surprise and she secretly
smiled. 
        "No, sir." He returned. "Nothing specific." She nodded again and
turned back to her screen. 
        "Good, I have four tickets to that fundraiser tonight, have your
friend find a date and come along." Fraser gaped at her openly. 
        "Sir?" he questioned in disbelief. She was actually asking Ray to
come along, and him? She was mad at him, why would she....he would never
understand women, never. 
        "Is that a problem, Fraser?" she asked deliberately. 
        "No sir." He assured quickly. "I..I will ask Ray..ah...detective
Vecchio if he would care to attend." She nodded and returned to her screen
again. 
        "Excellent." She replied. Turnbul can drive us, pick me up at
seven at my appartment." Her eyes moved to his again. "It is black tie,
Fraser, make sure your friend is aware of that." 
        "Yes sir." Fraser retured, wondering if Ray even owned a tux. 
        "That will be all, Fraser." She seemed to sigh, intent on her
work. "Please ask Turnbull to bring me some coffee. You're dismissed."
Fraser bowed slightly as was his custom. 
        "Yes sir. Thank you S..Sir." He left the office, quickly informed
Turnbull of their comander's request and went to his office to call Ray. 
  

        "How long I gotta wear dis monkey suit, anyway, Fraser?" Ray
Kowalski complained as both men stepped out of the GTO and headed for the
Consulate. Fraser still wore his uniform, they had returned so he could
change. 
        "I believe the program is about two hours, Ray." The Mountie
informed as they stepped over into canada and closed the door. Turnbull
greeted them cheerfully. 
        "Good evening, Sir." He said to Fraser with a warm smile. "Good
evening, Detective Vecchio, welcome to Canada, my aren't you looking smart
this evening. I must say black is very fetching on you, yes it does you
justice." Ray glanced at Fraser who was looking decidely amused as he
returned the other Canadian's greeting. 
        "Ah...thanks, Turnbull." He finally muttered, pulling at the
collar of his shirt, both pleased and embaressed by the Mountie's eager
compliments. 
        Fraser smiled and went to change as Ray glanced at his reflection
in the darkened windows. It wasn't too bad, he supposed, the tux he rented
had been fitted at the shop, so it hung perfectly in just the right
places, but the stifness in his shirt and the tie around his throat was
making him clostrophobic. His hair was tamer than usual, though still
stood a few inches up from the rest of his head and he wore his shades,
simply for affect, a little piece of  rebelion mixed in with all this
culture he was supposed to be showing. He turned back to Turnbull, who was
smiling at him again, and was still dressed in his red serge. 
         "I like your hair, Ray." He remarked kindly. "I wish I could get
mine to do that." Ray was taken back by the comment, but he grinned
anyway, Turnbull's hair was like Fraser's short military typre cut, but
stylishly full on top,  probably to much hair for spikes, Ray decided, but
he offered anyway. 
        "I can teach ya how ta do it sometime." He promised hald heartedly
and watched the other man brighten expectantly. 
        "Oh would you?" he declared clapping his hands together joyfully.
"That would be wonderful, I am afraid I don't have very much of a sense of
style, not like you do." 
        If had been anyone else, Ray would swear the Mountie was flirting
with him, but Turnbull was always this cheerful and accomadating,  he
smirked, except when it came to curling anyway. He had no idea if the man
was straight, gay, bi or just from another planet, he was in a class all
his own, just like Fraser. 
        "So yer on drivin' duty tonight, hey?" Ray commented, for lack of
anything else to say, wishing Fraser would hurry up. The sooner they got
there the sooner he could get home and out of this stupid looking penquin
outfit. 
        "Oh, I am happy to do so." Turnbull assured as Fraser reapeared
looking damned well fantastic in his tux, at least Ray though so. Turnbul
must have seconded his oppinion for a moment later he turned to his
superior and said. "How absolutely debonair and smashing you look, Sir.
You do carry that off well." Fraser nodded and offered him a small smile. 
        "Thank you Turnbull." Then to Ray. "Are you ready to go, then?" 
        "Hell yah, let's get outta here." The detective insisted moving
toward the door, only to have turnbul almost fall over himself trying to
reach it first. He smiled and pulled it open, allowing Ray and Fraser to
proceed him out, then did the same routine getting to the Limo parked down
from Ray's GTO. The detective shot him an odd look as the Mountie funmbled
for the latch and pulled the back door open. 
        "Here you go, Sir." He offered still smiling Ray wondered if it
was plastered there, on his face. 
        "We're big boys, here, Turnbul." He insisted. "We can get our own
doors." Turnbul looked agast . 
        "Oh no, Sir!" he exclaimed tragically. "That wouldn't be proper at
all, not when I am the driver. Please hop in." Ray shook his head and
climbed in, Fraser following. 
        "Thank you, Turnbull." Fraser added automatically, making the
Mountie smile again. 
        "You are very welcome ,Sir." The Mountie replied closing the door
and going around to the driver's side. He got in and started the engine,
smiling at them through the partion. "I am sure you will both have a
wonderful and exciting evening. Please buckle up for safetly." Fraser
complied, Ray ignored him and he frowned. "Please detective, I simply
cannot leave until you a safely secured." 
        "Ray, put your belt on, he means it." Fraser suggested amused and
Ray pulled the belt across his lap, grumbling. 
        "Dere ma, ya happy?" he shot sarcastically and shook his head as
Turnbul flashed him that smile again and turned his attention to the road,
knowing he had to pick up Inspector Thatcher and Elaine at their
apartments. 
  

        At the fund raiser,  Ray spent most of his time dancing with
Elaine, who had been sweet enough to accomany him when he asked her
earlier, and the rest of the time chatting with Fraser. Thatcher and
Fraser danced a few dances, but for the most part the Inspector seemed to
work the crowd and left Fraser to his own devices. The dinner had been
delicious, though Thatcher had been decidedly quiet during it, and now she
was playing her part to the hilt. Elaine asked Fraser for a dance as Ray
smuggled out a plate to Turnbull, who was sitting in the car outside. The
Mountie was delighted at Ray's thoughfullness and Ray grinned as he leaned
against the Limo and watched Turnbull set the plate carefully on the seat,
waiting until he was alone to eat perhaps. 
        "Are you enjoying yourself, Sir?" he asked politely and  Ray
shrugged, taking a few deep breaths in the cooling night air. 
        "Ain't bad." He admitted. "Rather go fer a couple of bears and a
pizza tell da truth." Turnbull smiled appropriately. "You ever get to go
to deese shin digs Turnbull?" The Mountie looked shocked. 
        "Oh no, Sir!" he assured quickly. "I...I'm rather clumsey at
social functions, why Inspector Thatcher would be horriably embaressed if
I..." He shook his head decidedly. "Constabul Fraser is so much better at
these things, he knows just the right way to behave and the proper things
to say and..." 
        "Fraser ain't God, Turnbull." Ray commented dryly, though
understood the Mountie's hero worship of his partner, he had a small case
of it himself. "Ya'd probobably be fine at dis thing." 
        "Thank you kindly, Detective." Turnbull returned gratefully. "But
I'm rather akward with people, I actually prefer not to attend." Ray
chuckled. 
        "I hear ya." He patted the man's arm and turned to head back
inside. "Eat yer dinner before it gets cold." 
        "Thank you for bringing it to, me Sir." Turnbull returned politely
and Ray glanced back. 
        "Call me, Ray, Turnbull-we're buddies, right?" It must have been
the correct thing to say because the tall Mountie beamed at him pleased. 
        "I would be honored to call you, Ray. Thank you." He replied and
Ray nodded and returned inside. 
  

        Ray and Elaine left shortly after, because both had the early
shift, and got a cab back to the Consulate where they picked up Ray's car.
Later when Turnbull parked outside Thatcher's appartment, the Inspector
requested Fraser accompany heer up and told Turnbull to head back, that
she'd send Fraser home in a cab. The Mountie agreed easily, not willing to
question his superior and drove off as Fraser held the door open to
Thatcher's building. They rode the elevator in silence as it climbed to
Meg's floor and Fraser tried not to wonder why the Inspector had asked him
to come with her. 
        "Care for a cup of coffee, Fraser?" she asked as they entered her
appartment and she tossed her purse and wrap into a near bye chair as she
kicked her heels off her aching feet. 
        "No thank you." He refused politely, halting just inside the door
in his usually rigid stance. Meg glanced back at him and shrugged as she
made her way into the kitchen. 
        "You may as well make yourslef comfortable, Fraser." She stated as
she plugged in her perculator. "I need to talk to you and you may be here
for awhile." Fraser tried not to show his anxiety as he closed the front
door but didn't move any further into the room. 
        "Perhaps we can discuss whatever you have to say tomorrow?" he
suggested. "It is very late and..." 
        "We'll discuss it now, Fraser." She insisted as she returned to
the livingroom and settled onto her sofa as she waited for the coffee to
brew. She indicated the spot next to her. "Have a seat Fraser." Fraser
hesitated then settled in the matching chair opposite and Thatcher bit her
lip to keep from smiling at his blatant attempt to keep a distance between
them. 
        "What is it you wish to discuss then, Ma'am?" he questioned
resolutely, she noticed his careful substitution of address 
        "Last night." Thatcher replied and watched Fraser's eye brows
rise. 
        "I don't..." he began but she held up a hand to silence him. 
        "Hush, Fraser." She ordered and watched the Mountie close his
mouth immediately. "I want to appologize for the way I behaved." 
        "There is no need I..." he began politely but she glared at him
warmingly and he shut up again. 
        "Fraser, I would like to blame my behavior on the alcohol I
consumed, but I simply don't think that would be the fair thing to do. I
did have a few drinks, but I was not as...intoxicated as you think I was.
I was feeling quite good after the party I had attended and didn't want to
go back t my lonely old appartment, so I decided to pay you a visit." She
bit her lip and looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I... I perhaps got
carried away, but I just wanted you to be in good spirits, to...share my
good mood. I..I never meant to embaress you as I did or make you
uncomfortable, I simply..." she hesitated and took a deep breath, then met
his gaze again. "Well I didn't mean to ruin the mood by...by asking you
that...that question." She watched Fraser's cheeks darken as he lowered
his eyes from hers this time. "I never meant to...I don't want you to
think I was being a tease, Fraser, I really wasn't. I only...well, I guess
I was trying to find away to get you out of your shell and I pushed you
too far. I appologize deeply for my actions." Fraser said nothing for a
long time, just sat with his fingers intertwined in his lap. Finally he
raised his eyes to hers again. 
        "I didn't think you were...being a tease, Meg." He assured
quietly. "I..I just...you shocked me with your question, I hadn't expected
it." He caressed his brow nervously. "Then when you laughed it off I..I
thought....I thought it was part of the game and I..I wasn't prepared." 
        "I never meant to hurt you, Ben." She whispered softly, as she
patted the cushion beside her. "Come sit beside me, please?" Fraser rose
and settled next to her, his eyes trained on the hands once again in his
lap. She reached over and folded her own hands around them. "I want you to
know that I think you are the greatest person I know, Fraser." He glanced
at her in surprise. "You are loyal to your duty and the people you care
about and you care about a great many people. I..I wanted to be one of
those people that deserved your....I wanted you to care about me that way
and I ruined it by playing games. I am sorry." 
        "I...Meg, I..." Fraser sighed, wishing he was more eloquent in
speaking from his heart. "I do care about you, very much. I...I just...." 
        "I'm confusing you." She supplied quietly and he nodded. 
        "Well, quite frankly, yes." He admitted shyly and she chuckled.
"You...you say you want me to...but you said we could never...and I had to
forget...but I can't forget and I..." His words were smothered by the feel
of her mouth on his and he once again stiffened, unprepared for her
affection. She pulled back quickly and placed a hand to his warm cheek. 
        "Forget what I said, Fraser." She allowed and his brow creased in
puzzlement. 
        "Ah...forget what I am supposed to forget or forget forgetting
what you told me to forget?" he questioned bewildered and she shook her
head. Now she was confused. She thought for a moment then smiled at him. 
        "Forget everything except this." She said leaning into him once
more and claiming his mouth. Fraser again allowed her control over him,
until she whispered in his ear. "Make love to me Ben, if you want to, not
because I ask, and I'll never tell you to forget again." 
        Fraser groaned, her words were his undooing and he wrapped his
arms around her and pressed their lips together once more. Finally he had
what he most desired and he swollowed the doubts that automatically rose,
his accompanied fear that it wouldn't last.  This would be different, with
Meg it would be special and he would do everything in his power to keep
her. 
  

The end?