doubleedge.html Love Has a Double Edge
Icecat62
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Gen
Category: AU Romance
Pairings: FraserThatcher FrannieTurnbull
Spoilers: A bunch for GFTS.
Teaser: Frannie makes a decision.
Originally posted on RedSuitsYou@egroups.com, December 2000.
Standard Disclaimer: due South and it's characters belong to Alliance. I
just use them for fun. Hopefully they will return to their world unharmed
and ready for other people to play with them.
Looking across the bullpen, Francesca bit her lip as her hands
nervously twisted the small wooden figure that Fraser had carved for her.
She watched Fraser as he stood by himself in a corner of the room. His
expression was sad, his eyes downcast as he stared at the silver framed
photo in his hands.
She watched as he set the picture down and picked up the sword that
Thatcher had given him as his Christmas gift. She knew what it meant and
she was sure that Fraser knew what it represented. Dewey was the only one
ignorant enough to verbally point it out.
Searching the room she found Thatcher. Just like Fraser, she was
standing by herself, only she stared into a cup of punch and not at a
sword. Just like Fraser, she wore the same sad expression. One of defeat.
One of abject loneliness.
Her palms began to sweat and tears came to her eyes. She knew what she
had to do, even if it meant giving up her own dreams. She knew it was
right, but it still didn't stop her heart from breaking.
Setting the wooden figure of David on her desk, Francesca walked over
to Thatcher and took the cup of punch from her hands. "Miss Vecchio, what
is the meaning of this?" Closing her eyes briefly, Francesca resisted the
urge to throw the cup of red liquid in Thatcher's face and leave the room.
The woman had no idea what she was giving up for her.
"Oh just shut up and come with me." Grabbing Thatcher by the arm, she
pulled her over to where Fraser stood. He looked up in surprise as
Francesca basically pushed Thatcher toward him. "I'm tired of watchin you
two dance around each other like this." Grabbing the sword from Fraser's
hands she pointed it at them.
"You gave this to him for one reason and 'you' know why she gave it to
you." "Francesca, I don't..." "Shut up Frase!" She took a deep breath,
trying not to cry. "You both need to quit actin so stupid and say it. You
want him and you want her." "Miss Vecchio, you don't know..." Jabbing the
sword at Thatcher, she yelled. "Shut up! I don't want to hear it!"
Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at them.
It was unusual to say the least, seeing Francesca pointing a sword at the
two Mounties, but knowing her obsession for the man, they weren't
surprised. Ray couldn't believe what he was seeing and hurried over to the
threesome.
"Frannie, ya don't wasn't ta do this. Fraser ain't worth killin
someone." Rolling her eyes, Francesca ignored him. Lowering her voice, she
practically spat the words at them. "You're both idiots if you don't admit
it. You've been standin here mopin by yourselves when you don't have to be
alone. If you can't say I love you, then you're both fools."
Dropping the sword on the desk next to them, she turned and stalked
out of the bullpen, feeling the stares of everyone following her. What she
didn't see was a certain Mountie dressed in a Santa suit following her
down the hall. Coming to a deserted section of the building, she leaned
against the wall, the tears that she held back now ran down her cheeks. *I
am so stupid!*
She jumped as she felt a hand touch her shoulder. "What!" "Oh...I'm
sorry...I didn't mean to frighten you, Miss Vecchio." Wiping a hand over
her tear streaked face, she looked down at the floor, trying to ignore
Turnbull's gaze. "That was the most heroic thing I have ever seen."
Looking back up, she frowned.
"No, that was the dumbest thing you ever saw." Shaking his head no, he
took a step closer to her. "No...what you did is what Christmas is all
about Miss Vecchio." "Frannie." "Pardon me?" "Call me, Frannie."
Turnbull's face lit up in a bright smile. "Okay...Frannie." He tucked his
head down shyly before looking back up, his expression serious once more.
"What you did was amazing. You gave instead of taking. Maybe you feel
as though you've lost something special, but in the process you have
probably saved two people from being alone forever." Twisting the toy ray
gun in his hands, Turnbull smiled. "You and I both know they would never
brooch the subject face to face. You've made them confront it. I think it
will be the start of something wonderful between the two of them."
Lowering her face, she sniffed. "Yeah...it's wonderful." Looking back
up, the tears began to flow again. "When does wonderful start for me, huh?
I've been waitin my whole life for someone like him to notice me, but they
never do. I'm never good enough, I'm never pretty enough." "Oh no! You're
beautiful Frannie!" She stared back at him, clearly shocked by his words.
He looked like he was about to die of embarrassment, his face flamed red,
just like Fraser's when he was mortified.
"You think I'm beautiful?" Pulling the Santa hat off his head,
Turnbull tried to calm down. He was making an ass of himself again, but
what the hell. If Francesca could take the chance to do something that she
was afraid of, then so could he. "Yes...I thought so the first time I saw
you." To his surprise, she reached up and placed a light kiss on his
cheek, her voice a whisper. "Thank you." Feeling rather bold, he leaned
down and kissed her back.
They stood in the hall not knowing what to do next. Turnbull broke the
silence. "Would you care for a cup of punch and some cookies?" Holding his
arm out to her, he smiled shyly. The sadness that she felt was still
there, but it wasn't as heavy. What she had done was for the best. Fraser
and Thatcher clearly were enamored with one another and as long as they
felt that way, she would have never had a chance with the Mountie. Now the
tall blonde haired Mountie that she looped arms with...that was another
story.
Ray couldn't believe what he had witnessed. He knew how in love
Francesca was with Fraser. He knew how much this selfless act had hurt
her. The frown that he wore curled into a small smile as he watched a
certain Santa follow Francesca down the hall. He also knew that Turnbull
had a huge crush on her. Things would be okay. She wouldn't have to suffer
through a long period of depression, even if she didn't know it. Turnbull
would make sure she didn't. It would be up to him to make sure Francesca's
act of love wasn't for nothing.
Replacing his smile with a serious expression, Ray turned back to the
two shocked Mounties. Fraser stood there like a moose caught in the
headlights of a four by four, his face beet red. Thatcher looked like she
was about to pass out, her skin had paled to a sickly white. *Put 'em
together and ya get a candy cane.*
Motioning over his shoulder, Ray gave them a curious look. "So...what
was that all about?" He knew what it was about and he knew that they knew
that he knew. Getting them to admit it was another thing. Fraser cracked
his neck and glanced quickly at Thatcher, who nervously licked her lower
lip. They both looked around the room, finding everyone staring back at
them. Ray knew he'd never get them to pick up on what Frannie gave them
with an audience.
Raising his voice, he glared at everyone. "Okay everybody, the
ambulance came and took the body to the morgue. Accident's over!" Most of
the people turned away, only Dewey stood firm, staring intently at them
like he was witnessing a hold up.
"Hey Dewey, about face!" "Up yours Ray!" Narrowing his eyes, he nodded
at Fraser and Thatcher. "Excuse me." Quickly turning, he strode over to
Dewey and shoved him. "Eyes down fruitcake." "Kiss off...Stanley. You're
not the boss, I can look at em all I want." A hand clamped down on his
shoulder and Dewey looked behind him to find Welsh attached to said hand.
"I 'am' the boss. Give them some privacy." Ray nodded his gratitude to
Welsh, happy to see Dewey turn and walk out of the bullpen. Welsh gave him
a brief smile and then he too walked away. Going back to Fraser and
Thatcher, Ray grinned.
"Let's cut to the chase guys. Frannie's right. You two more than like
each other and it's about time you did somethin about it." Thatcher
frowned at him. "Really detective, you have no idea..." Cutting her off,
he smiled as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "Yeah, really Ice
Queen..." "Ray!" Fraser stepped toward Ray and lowered his voice. "You
shouldn't..." "Shut up Fraze." Both Fraser and Thatcher stared at him. He
could tell that they both wanted to smack him, but they would never do it.
"You and Thatcher here need ta go and stand under the mistletoe for a
few hours, then maybe you'd be able to admit how you feel about each
other." Thatcher's eyes darkened. "You need to keep your ideas to
yourself." "Hey, it wasn't my idea, it was Frannie's and she knows what
she's talkin about." Staring intently at Fraser he lowered his voice. "You
have ta know how much Frannie cares about you. She wouldn't have done that
if she didn't think it was true."
"Ray..." "Don't Ray me. She gave up everything she wants for you two
to move on with each other. You think she did that just for the hell of
it?" Both Fraser and Thatcher remained silent. Waving a hand at them, he
frowned. "Go ahead then, see if I care if you two waste your time. If ya
wanna be alone, that's fine with me." Turning, he walked over to the punch
bowl, hoping that Fraser and Thatcher would take a chance and listen to
Frannie. Walking to his desk, he sat down and tried to pretend he wasn't
watching them.
Fraser watched Ray walk away and then he peeked at Thatcher. She
quickly tucked her head down. When she finally looked up, she wore an
embarrassed expression. "You don't have to keep the sword...I can take it
back and get you something more appropriate." Nervously clenching his
hands into fists, Fraser tried his best to not stutter. "I really do
like...I don't want you to take it back." She looked a bit surprised and
quickly covered it.
"You don't?" "No...I'm pleased that you thought of me...that you
would...oh dear." Giving Fraser a weak smile, she nodded her head. "Good.
I'm glad you liked it." They both stood again, feeling an awkwardness
between them that occurred on only a few select occasion. Thatcher
recognized what she was feeling and knew that Francesca and Ray were
right, she just didn't like being pushed at Fraser. It was as if he had no
choice in the matter. What if he didn't feel that way about her?
"Well...I have to go...I'll see you tomorrow...no, tomorrow is
Christmas...I mean I'll see you...later." Giving him a sad smile, Thatcher
turned from Fraser and walked away as quickly as her feet would take her.
One part of her wished that Fraser would follow her, another part thanked
God that he didn't. When she exited the building, she wrapped her arms
around herself, trying to block out the cold. Jogging down the street, she
hailed a taxi. As she road back to the consulate, she shivered. The
coldness would always be with her no matter what she did.
Fraser stood rooted to the floor like his feet were nailed down. He
wanted to run after Thatcher. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, turn
her around and kiss her under the mistletoe like Ray said he should. He
couldn't do it though. She hadn't admitted how she felt and it wouldn't be
appropriate for him to approach her first. He felt leaden and heavy. This
wasn't how he had envisioned Christmas this year.
Ray wasn't with him, Stan was. Thatcher had never professed her love
for him. Taking a deep breath, he winced as his ribs flared in pain. As he
grimaced another pain shot through his jaw. He also never pictured being
almost beaten to death before the holidays. What had gone wrong? Why was
his life this way?
Picking the sword and picture up, he walked over to Ray. "I'll see you
tomorrow." Ray looked up at him, he could see the disappoint in his eyes.
"You goin to Ma's?" A quick jolt of fear ran through him. How could he eat
Christmas dinner with the Vecchio's if Francesca felt the way she did? He
had hurt her without even meaning to do so. "I don't think that would be a
wise decision." Turning, he walked away from Ray, who called out to him.
"You better show up or Ma'll kill ya!"
Stepping into the slushy snow by the curb, Fraser began to walk. He
didn't want to call a cab, he needed to feel the cold. He needed to feel
the snow against his skin as it floated to the ground. Before it turned
from pristine white into the gray slushy mess that was beneath his feet.
His soul was once pure and white like the snow.
After all he had been through, he could feel it. He was empty and gray
like the slush. He had thought that he could recover quickly from the deep
depression that he had been in, but even knowing that everyone felt that
he was right in standing up to Warfield, he knew that they still didn't
accept him. He would always be an outsider. If it weren't for
Diefenbaker...dear lord.
Stopping, Fraser turned and looked down the street at the precinct
building. In his haste to leave, he had completely forgotten about
Diefenbaker. He stood rooted to the spot, wanting to go back and get the
only being that had ever stood by him through everything in his life. The
problem was he didn't feel like walking back into a room full of happy
people celebrating the holiday season. What did he really have to be
joyful for?
He was alive, granted that was something he could be thankful for, but
joyful? No. He would go back to the consulate to a small room to lay on a
cot. There wouldn't be anyone to share the Christmas spirit with and in
the morning what would he have? Again nothing. He couldn't face Francesca
tomorrow. The idea of going the Vecchio home was completely out of the
question. Besides...they weren't really his family.
Turning away, he began to walk again, reasoning that Ray would take
care of Diefenbaker. For some reason everyone loved the bundle of fur,
even if they did complain about his constant donut stealing. Looking at
the twinkling lights on the trees and in the shop windows, he wished that
someone would love him. His heart constricted. Thatcher could love him,
but she didn't. Francesca did love him, but he didn't see her in that way.
She wasn't suited to his way of life. She wanted more than he could give
her. One day he would return to Canada and he knew Francesca would never
leave her family.
He walked for what seemed like forever even if it was just his usual
trip from the precinct to the consulate. As he neared the building, he
heard a noise in an ally he had passed. Taking a step back, he peered into
the darkness. Normally he would have walked into the darkened space
without a second thought, but his recent experience with the Warfield
goons in an alley made him think twice. He would never be that foolish
again.
Fraser spotted him. Or was it a her? Huddle on the ground was a dark
pile of cloth, pulling a large piece of cardboard over their back. Worn
out boots peeked their way out of stained, ragged jeans. The hands that
held onto the cardboard wore mismatched gloves that had more holes than
material. He had nothing to fear. This was a street person. When the
bundle of rags began to softly hum a Christmas tune, he felt shame. This
was someone who had less than he did and yet they still felt the joy of
Christmas in their soul.
Turning away from the alley, he made his way toward the consulate, his
pace hurried. Once in the building he practically jogged to his small
office. Dropping the sword on the cot, he rummaged about, pulling a warm
sweater, one of his better winter coats, socks, gloves and a heavy wool
blanket out of the closet. Rushing out of the room and down the hall, he
placed the articles down. He made some sandwiches, hot soup and he cut a
large piece of pumpkin pie. Placing the soup in a thermos and the food in
a paper bag, he grabbed everything and hurried down the hall and out the
building.
Slowly approaching the alley, he peered inside. The figure was still
there and they were humming the same Christmas tune. Clearing his throat,
he walked into the dark, narrow space and approached him...or her. "Pardon
me." The huddle mass of rags started, throwing the cardboard covering off,
it rose to it's feet and backed up against the wall. "What? I'm not doing
anything! I'm not hurting anyone by being here!"
The voice was strong, but tinged with fear. Fraser knew how many of
the homeless people were treated in the city. Stray dogs got better
treatment sometimes. "I'm sorry to have startled you. Have you tried to
check into one of the shelters?" He could now see the persons face. It
was that of an old man, his skin wrinkled, but his face was clean. His
clothes may have been ragged, but they weren't coated in dirt as he had
first thought. Taking a deep breath, Fraser noticed for the first time
that the man didn't reek of body odor or liquor.
The man spoke, his voice filled with anger this time. "I don't need
charity and I don't want to go to a shelter. The last time I went to one
of those places, someone stole my boots!" "I'm sorry." Clearing his
throat, Fraser tried to think of a way to give the things he brought with
him to the man without making it seem as though he were being charitable.
It only took a second to think of what he could say because it was the
truth.
Cautiously holding the bag, the boots and clothing out to the man,
Fraser spoke softly. "What I'm offering you isn't charity, it's survival.
Where I'm from if someone is in need of food, shelter or clothing, your
neighbor or even a complete stranger would supply it with the
understanding that some day in the future, you would return the favor to
them...or to someone else in need." "I'm not your neighbor and I don't
want your pity. I do well enough on my own."
Fraser sighed. He had expected this reaction. Very few of the street
people he had dealt with in the past were willing to accept anything. They
were either too stubborn or too filled with pride to accept his help. They
didn't see themselves as pathetic beings in need of help or charity. They
were self-sufficient and wanted to remain that way, even if others didn't
think of them in that fashion.
Fraser tried another approach, hoping that this would work. Judging by
the man's clothing and the way the weather had been lately, there would be
a chance that he may not last the harsh Chicago winter without these
simple necessities. Looking the man straight in the eyes, he decided to go
with the idea of Christmas and what it stood for. If this man could still
be humming Christmas carols, then at one point in his life this was a very
special time to him.
"Yes, we are neighbors." He nodded in the direction of the consulate.
"I work at the Canadian consulate and at this present time, it is also my
home. This alley is your home for the evening. If you can't accept these
things from me for personal reasons, I can understand that, but I would
like for you to take them in the spirit of Christmas. It's a time to give,
not receive. I would like to give you these things, in the hope that maybe
some day you could return the favor of giving to someone else." He held
the items out, waiting to see what the man would do.
"Why are you doing this? You don't know me from Adam." Fraser briefly
looked down at the ground before speaking. "Because I have been feeling
sorry for myself. My life hasn't been...it isn't what I want and when I
came by here and saw you...you were humming a Christmas carol. You still
keep the spirit of Christmas alive in you while I have let it die. If you
accept these things from me, then in some way...maybe I could still
feel...I wish..." Letting out a puff of breath, he shrugged his shoulders.
What could he say. 'If I gave these things to you I would feel better?'
"You know, you're a strange one. Most people would have kept walking.
Most people don't want to look at people like me." Taking a step forward,
the man held out his hand. "My name is John Foster." Feeling a flush of
embarrassment on his face, Fraser shifted the items in his hands so that
he could grasp the other man's outstretched hand. "I'm sorry...I didn't
mean to be rude. My name is Ben...Ben Fraser."
The hand shake between them was quick and then John took the things
from Fraser. "Are you sure about this?" "Yes. Would you care to come into
the consulate and change?" "No thank you. I can do it here." Setting
everything on top of the piece of cardboard, John began to change.
Removing his coat, he pulled the warm sweater over a worn out flannel
shirt, running a hand down the front. "Nice. I always liked wool. It's
better than the synthetic stuff."
Taking another deep breath, Fraser decided to try one more thing. "I
know you said you didn't care for the shelters, but Father Maloney at St.
Catherine's takes people in for the evening. You could try there." "No, I
can find my own place to sleep." Before turning away from Fraser, he
smiled. "Merry Christmas, Ben." Smiling back, Fraser returned the
greeting. "Merry Christmas, John."
As he walked back to the consulate, Fraser felt better than he had
when he left the precinct, but his heart was still heavy. What he had done
was small. He knew that giving was the point of Christmas, but for once in
his life he would have liked to have received something more than a
wrapped gift. He wanted love and that was something money couldn't buy. He
smirked at the response that he knew Ray would have given him. 'Money
can't buy ya love Fraze, but it sure does make things easier to do while
you're lookin for it.
As he entered the consulate, he walked down the empty hall. It wasn't
cold, but it was dark and dreary. The idea of going into his office and
spending the night staring at the ceiling didn't appeal to him. Going into
his office, he grabbed his pillow and blanket from the cot. Before he left
the room, he picked up the sword. Walking back down the hall and up the
stairs, he entered a large room.
Setting everything on the floor, he walked to a switch on the wall and
turned it on. The room was flooded with color and light. A huge pine tree
stood in the corner, decorated with tinsel, lights and colored glass
ornaments. He hadn't been there to help decorate the tree. Turnbull and
some of the other staff had done it. He had been disappointed when he had
come back and found it already done.
Walking to the fireplace, he set about checking the flue, stacking the
wood and kindling. Pulling a match out, he struck it, lighting the
kindling. As the flames grew, he sat back on his heels, staring into the
fire, remembering the times his mother had done the same thing for him
every Christmas. A large fire where popcorn would be popped and eaten. A
place to sit and hear her read the 'Twas the Night Before Christmas'. She
always held him in her lap, her arms wrapped around him. He never knew
what it was like to not sit with her, she never got the chance to watch
him grow big enough to not sit with her like that.
Pulling the blanket over, he sat down. He felt empty. He was alone and
feeling sorry for himself, something he was doing too much of lately. No
matter what he thought of, the same face came back to him. Thatcher
looking at him with that blank look. Or the irritated expression that he
seemed to cause. Once time he thought he had seen love in her eyes, but
when he didn't see it again...he must have been mistaken.
Why would she love someone like him? What could he ever offer her that
would make her want to be with him? He lived in the consulate, he had been
banished from his own land...he was a failure, not someone you would build
a life with. Taking the photo out of his coat pocket, he ran a finger over
the image of his mother.
What would his life had been like if she had lived? Would things be
better than they were today? Would he even be here in Chicago? A noise at
the door startled him. Dropping the photo, he grabbed the sword and in one
smooth motion, he stood. He had distinctly remembered locking the large
wooden doors as he came in the building. Even on Christmas Eve, no place
was safe from intruders. As the door slowly opened, he tensed, preparing
to attack whoever it was.
The door opened and a figure walked into the room. The arm that was
poised to strike out with the sword now dropped. "Inspector?" Fraser was
confused. It was Christmas Eve. Why would Thatcher be at the consulate at
this late hour instead of celebrating the holiday with friends? As she
walked toward him, he held his breath. Did he offend or embarrass her so
badly at the precinct that she had waited all this time to finally let him
know or did she come here...because she did care for him?
Thatcher resisted the urge to jump back ad scream as she entered the
room. She had expected to find Fraser, but not the hostile looking figure
holding the sword. His entire body language was tight. She recognized his
stance as an attack mode.
As her heart slowed down from it's racing beat, she glanced around the
room. The fireplace crackled and popped, sending a warm glow throughout
the room, the Christmas tree sparkled and shimmered and Fraser stood there
amidst it all, holding the sword. He had relaxed a bit, but now his
expression changed. The emotions briefly flickered across his features,
confusion, pain and...longing? They quickly disappeared to be replaced by
his patented Mountie mask.
She hadn't imagined it. He did care for her. She hadn't been wrong in
giving the sword to him. Moving slowly toward Fraser, she reached out and
gently took the sword from his hand and set it on the floor by their feet.
Moving closer, she stood only inches from him, looking up into his eyes.
The confusion was back again. As she brought a hand up and smoothed it
down his cheek, a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. The eyes
that were guarded now held a tinge of hope in them.
Running her hand behind his head, she drew him down, placing a light
kiss on his lips. Pulling back slightly, she whispered. "Frannie's right."
Moving back, she kissed him again, this time wrapping her arms around him.
She panicked until Fraser's arms went around her waist and pulled her to
him, the kiss being returned with more passion than she had expected. With
a thrill, she recognized it. This kiss was going to be like the one that
she told him to forget about.
She felt herself being lowered to the floor in front of the fire, a
soft blanket lay over the carpet, cushioning her as they continued the
kiss. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. When they
finally broke apart, Thatcher was gasping for air, her chest heaved with
emotion. Fraser held her so tightly, that she could feel his heart beat
against her hand.
Staring into his eyes, she smiled as she recognized something hard
pressed against her thigh. For some reason she had expected having to
coach him or lead him into any type of sexual activity. He was always the
perfect gentleman, so she didn't expect him to be so easily aroused. To
find that he wanted her this badly was a pleasant surprise.
Rocking her hips back and forth, she leaned down and kissed him again,
letting her hand trail down to his hip. Reaching between them, she pressed
her hand against the hardened bulge. He broke the kiss to stare back at
her. His breathing was heavy, his expression wary. "Are you sure?" Gently
squeezing him, she smiled.
"if I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here." They continued to kiss and
fondle one another, neither were in a hurry. To finally admit to each
other that there was more than a working relationship between them was a
relief. Taking their time they savored each touch. They experienced a
number of firsts with each other, memorizing each thing they did.
Running hands under clothing, fingers undid buttons and buckles. Cloth
slid to the floor in careless piles, shoes and boots were tossed
haphazardly about. By the time they had gotten down to their underwear,
Thatcher was in a sexual haze. This wasn't about fucking, this was love.
Each kiss and touch was filled with tenderness and unspoken feelings.
Rolling her over, Fraser pressed his weight down, smiling as he rested
between her legs, gently moving against her. Gazing down at her face, he
could feel a lightness in his soul. The firelight cast a golden glow on
her skin and a new sparkle in her eyes. The hands that ran down his back
and pulled him tighter against her were soft and gentle. Loving. No nails
scratched down his back, leaving red angry trails.
Leaning down, he captured her mouth in a kiss, suckling her tongue.
Moving to her neck, he inhaled her sweet fragrance. Nuzzling his lips
against her skin, he smiled as Thatcher let out a soft moan. Her hips rose
up against him, causing him to catch his breath. The definition of
foreplay came to him and he quickly pushed it aside. This wasn't play.
This was the thing that he had been wanting his entire life. This was love
and she was in his embrace at last.
Sliding his hands down, Fraser sat back and removed Thatcher's
underwear, letting his eyes rest on the soft brown thatch of curls.
Raising his eyes, he watched as she slowly sat up and removed her bra. He
found that he had been holding his breath. Never had he pictured them
being together like this. She was fully naked, stunningly beautiful and
she would be his.
She leaned forward and hooked a finger in his boxers, tugging a them.
Slowly standing, never letting his gaze leave hers, he pulled them down,
letting them drop to the floor, he stepped out of them. He stood for a
moment, taking in the sight of her.
The firelight played over her body, her breasts rising and falling in
anticipation. He wanted nothing more than to make this night last forever.
A small shiver ran down his spine. What if this were a dream? What if he
awoke on Christmas morning, only to find the embers in the fire dying and
Thatcher not by his side?
"Ben...come here." She reached a hand up to him and he took it without
thinking. As he lay above her, he decided that if this were a dream, he
would take what comfort it gave him. To get the chance to love her...even
if it wasn't real...it would be worth the pain in his heart the morning
that he awoke.
They kissed again as he rested between her legs once more. The throb
of his own need pushing against her moist warmth. Pulling back, he stared
into her eyes as she opened her legs further, inviting him to join with
her. Positioning himself, he gently pushed into her, moving so slowly so
that he could savor the feel of her. Hot and tight, moist yet soft as
silk. Sliding deeply in, he rested briefly, rocking his hips against her
as he claimed her mouth in another kiss.
As he slid back, he moved quickly in, keeping his thrusts shallow, not
wanting to take the chance of leaving her warmth. As she gasped and
whispered his name, he became bolder, riding her, abandoning all control.
Smooth deep thrusts caused him to tighten. Pushing back, he lay above her,
watching the play of emotions on her face. He loved her so much. He needed
her more than he thought possible.
He came before her, not able to control his own need. She was
unbelievably perfect to him, soft and loving where Victor...no. He would
never compare Thatcher to that woman. There was no comparison between an
angel and Satan's spawn.
As Thatcher finally joined him, he sighed in pleasure. The feel of her
tightening and contracting around his length was another joy. Another
piece to be placed in his heart and remembered. The sound of her voice as
she softly called his name. The movement of her head against the blanket.
Everything about this night he would remember forever. Even if it were a
dream.
They spooned their bodies together, staring into the dancing flames,
hands caressing and joining, murmurs of love and hope came from their
lips. As the fire faded, so did they and sleep soon claimed them.
As he awoke, Fraser tried to stay as still as possible. He watched the
dying embers in the fire, their soft glow giving off virtually no heat,
but he was still warm. More importantly, it wasn't a dream. Snuggled
against him was the nude figure of Thatcher. Her hair tousled, lips parted
slightly, she slept against him, her hands still wrapped with his.
He could feel the tears stinging his eyes as he looked at the woman
laying in the crook of his arm. He finally got what he had wished for
every Christmas. Love. Something as simple as love was so elusive and it
had eluded him worse than any criminal he had ever tracked. To finally
find it was a joyous occasion. He wanted to jump to his feet, fling open
the windows and yell out to the world that he finally found love. Instead
he fidgeted. The need to urinate won over the need to proclaim what he
felt.
Kissing her softly, he extracted himself. Standing, he looked down at
her form as she curled into a ball, goose bumps appearing on her skin.
Taking the blanket, he flipped the corner that he had lain on, over her
body. Padding his way quietly across the room, he used the bathroom and
came back. A smile spread over his face as the first rays of the morning
sun filtered into the room. It was Christmas morning. The Vecchio children
would be up and about, talking in soft whispers amongst themselves,
wondering when the adults would wake up so they could go down and see what
Santa had brought them.
Walking to the window, he stood and looked out, not caring that he
was nude. No one would be near the consulate at this hour. Placing a hand
on the cool glass, his smile grew bigger. There was more snow on the
ground covering all traces of human existence. Pristine and white, like it
was back home. Like his soul was once again. He heard the stirrings of
Thatcher as she woke. Turning to look at her, his smile faded. She wasn't
looking at him with the love that he had thought he had gained. Instead,
she looked mortified.
Thatcher slowly woke, feeling herself covered with a blanket. Opening
her eyes, she stared at the last glowing embers of the fire that she had
made love in front of with Fraser. Hugging herself, she smiled. If she
hadn't come to the consulate after she had left the precinct, she would
have never known just how much Fraser cared for her. He loved her. When he
had whispered those words to her as they made love, she had felt the
missing piece of her soul fall into place. She felt whole for the first
time in her life.
Turning away from the fireplace, her smile widened as she saw Fraser
standing at the window, framed in the soft light of the morning sun. He
was so beautiful. Then she saw them. The bruises, the raw marks of hate
that were scattered across his pale skin. Deep colors of purple, green and
black. Angry red marks were there too.
The horror within in her grew as she thought of the pain he had gone
through, both physical and mental. No one had stood by him. No one had
believed in him. He had to almost die before anyone opened their eyes and
saw what he saw. She was mortified to think that she may have caused him
even more pain last night. The injuries were fresh. He had to have been in
massive pain when they had joined last night.
As he turned toward her, she saw the same marks on his chest and
stomach. A few stray ones cut across his thighs. She saw him hesitate, his
expression a mixture of fear and confusion. Rising to her feet, she let
the blanket drop to the floor as she walked over to where he stood.
Reaching out, she touched a bruise on his chest. Her voice warbled as she
fought to control the anger and tears. "I'm so sorry Ben. I'm so sorry..."
Her fingertips fluttered over each mark before she leaned forward and
kissed a bruise on his collarbone.
Fraser stood still, as motionless as a statue in the park, as Thatcher
walked across the room and stood before him. The dread that had made it
hard to breath vanished as she placed her hand on him. Her words of
apology and the pain that he could see on her face made him want to cry as
well. She wasn't going to say that last night was a mistake, instead she
was trying to apologize for not believing in him. Without saying a word,
he wrapped his arms around her, overjoyed to know that she was still his.
Ray ran out of his apartment, carrying a large bag of gifts. Opening
the trunk, he set them down, grabbing a scraper. Opening the GTO's driver
side door, he dropped in the seat and started the car before standing and
closing the door. As the car warmed up, he cleaned the fresh snow off the
windows. He found himself whistling a Christmas tune. For some reason he
woke up feeling happy. He was going to be spending the day with the
Vecchio's. Even if he didn't have Stella, he had somehow managed to still
have a family. Looking up at the sky, he grinned. "Thanks."
After cleaning the GTO off, he jumped back in and began the short
drive to the place that he knew would be full of laughter and happiness.
As he stopped at a red light, he twisted his hands on the steering wheel.
All wasn't right with the world. Fraser had sounded so dejected last
night. He had even said he wouldn't be going to the Vecchio's to spend
Christmas with them.
"Bullshit." He whispered it, feeling the anger begin to course through
him. They were Fraser's family as well. There was no way in hell he'd let
Fraser waste his Christmas day pouting at the consulate. Today was a day
for family and he was going to make sure the man he thought of as a
brother was there to enjoy the day with them. As the light turned green,
he gunned the engine sending the GTO sliding across the intersection.
By the time he reached the consulate, Ray had a speech all prepared.
No matter what Fraser said or did, he was going to be coming with him.
Parking, he jumped out of the car and ran up to the large wooden doors of
the consulate entrance. He slowed his pace and came to a stop. Standing in
a snow drift, he stared up, his mouth dropping open as he saw Fraser
standing naked in a window on the second floor. His eyes bugged out as he
watched Thatcher, just as naked as Fraser, being embraced in his arms.
With a wicked smile on his face, he raced up the few remaining steps.
Adjusting his coat and running a hand through his spiky hair, Ray
chuckled. *So the Ice Queen and Frazer listened to Frannie after all.*
Bringing a hand up, he pounded on the door. "Hey Fraze, open up!" He
smiled again as he pictured Fraser and Thatcher running around in a panic,
trying to get dressed. "Merry Christmas Fraze! Now let me in!"
Just as Fraser opened his mouth to tell Thatcher, she had nothing to
apologize for, a loud pounding began on the front door of the consulate.
He and Thatcher broke apart, leaning down, they looked out the window,
seeing Ray standing below them. In their haste to jump away from the
window, they bumped into one another. Fraser gasped and clutched his ribs,
while Thatcher danced in place.
"Ben, I'm sorry..." As their eyes locked, they both started laughing.
She talked in a low voice, even though they were the only ones in the
building. "This isn't funny, he'll know I'm here! He'll know that we..."
She gestured at their nude forms. At first Fraser had smiled at her, then
it faded as he figured out that she was right. "Oh dear...yes."
They rushed about the room, grabbing and clutching pieces of clothing.
Kicking the blanket aside, Fraser panicked. He knew he had taken his boxes
off here, but now they were no where to be found. Giving up his search, he
yanked on his jodhpurs, throwing the suspenders over his shoulders. Moving
to Thatcher he touched her arm startling her as she shimmied into her
underwear.
"I'll go down and talk to Ray." "Get rid of him." "Yes...I'll do that.
You finished getting dressed." Leaning forward, he gave her a quick kiss.
Smiling she grabbed her bra and pulled it on. While she fastened it, she
kissed him back. "Hurry up!" Smiling back at Thatcher, Fraser ran down the
hall and stairs. Jogging up to the door, he ran his fingers nervously
through his hair, hoping he would be able to get Ray to leave without a
complicated argument. All he wanted to do was have a nice quiet breakfast
with Thatcher so that they could discuss their future together.
Ray raised his hand to rap on the door again and just as his knuckles
were about to make contact with the heavy oak door, it flew open,
revealing a very disheveled and flustered looking Fraser. Ray smiled
brightly. He knew that Fraser would try and get rid of him. It was going
to be fun watching him squirm.
"Mornin Fraze, Merry Christmas." "And a Merry Christmas to you, Ray."
They stood there for a moment looking at one another. Suppressing a smile,
Ray opened his hands up in a questioning gesture. "You gonna ask me in or
what? It's cold out here." As he took a step forward, Fraser blocked his
entrance. Fraser cleared his throat and Ray raised an eyebrow at him.
"I'm...not quite ready for company at this moment."
"Company? I ain't company Fraze." Peering over Fraser's shoulder, he
leered. "What's the matter? You got Thatcher runnin around in there
naked?" He chuckled at his own joke and almost lost it as Fraser's face
paled slightly. "I...she...I don't..." "Benton buddy...I know." Winking,
Ray pushed by Fraser. Walking into the hall, he stopped at the bottom of
the stairwell and yelled in the direction of the upper floor. "Merry
Christmas Inspector!"
The silence was deafening. He hadn't expected anything else.
Chuckling, he turned to look back at Fraser, who was red from his chest to
the roots of his hair. "Ya know you two really need to stay away from open
windows. Either that or at least put some clothes on. Maybe in Canada you
might run around like that, but here in America you keep your butt
covered."
He grinned as Fraser turned a deeper shade of red, his voice a
whisper. "You saw us?" "Yup, you and the Ice Queen, naked as the day you
were born." Bursting into laughter, Ray walked back to where Fraser stood
rooted in place and slapped him on the arm. "It's about time you two got
together." Fraser dropped his head down in total humiliation. "Aw come on
Fraze, it's a good thing ya know...you and Thatcher. You belong with her."
Fraser kept his head down, refusing to move or answer him. "Aw come on,
I'm glad for ya both."
A voice called down the stairs causing both men to look up. "I'm glad
we have your approval." Thatcher stalked down the stairs, her head held
high. This was her consulate and they were in Canada. There was no way in
hell she'd let that loudmouthed American ruin what has happened between
her and Fraser. Marching up to the spiky haired blonde, she glared up at
him. "Do you have anything further to say?"
"Yeah...Merry Christmas Meg." He smiled and quickly began to speak,
using the speechless pause that Thatcher had given him. "Look, I'm gettin
ready to go over to the Vecchio's, you two are gonna come with me." Fraser
and Thatcher both stared back at him, the look in their eyes was one of
sheer terror. "Before you both go gettin your underwear twisted in a knot,
listen to me, okay? Ma would be more than a little upset if you didn't
come and Frannie would feel like it was all her fault. If you think she
felt bad yesterday, just wait until I walk in the door without you."
Thatcher found her tongue first. "I'm not going. I'm not a part of
that family and I feel the situation would be more than a little awkward."
Fraser stood straighter. "I'm not going either Ray. Francesca will
understand why I'm not there." "Yeah, right. She'll understand that you
hate her enough to not show up and Ma will think that you don't consider
them family. You have to go." "Fraser, you go. I'll go back to my
apartment and..." "No, I won't go. I'm not going to spend Christmas
without you."
Thatcher looked at Fraser and could see that he was dead serious. He
was more than willing to spend his holiday away from his adoptive family
and she knew how much he loved them. Ray could see they were both
wavering. It was time to bring out the big guns. "Fraze, if you don't show
up, what will the kids think? What do you want me to tell them? Hey kids,
Uncle Benny isn't here because Aunt Frannie made him tell a lady he loved
her?"
Thatcher and Fraser looked at one another, feeling the guilt run
through them. It all came down to that one simple thing. Christmas was for
the children. If they couldn't put aside their own feelings for the
children, then what type of people did that make them? Fraser gave
Thatcher a cautious look. "I would be willing to go only if you accompany
me." "I...I guess I can go." Ray clapped his hands together. "Good, pitter
patter let's get at 'er!"
By the time Fraser and Thatcher were ready to go, Ray was getting
fidgety. He hadn't planned on it taking so long. He originally planned on
only picking up Fraser at the consulate. Finding Thatcher there with him
was a bonus, but it also meant an extra trip to her apartment so that she
could get changed. As they stood on the porch waiting for the door to
open, Ray grinned at the picture that Thatcher and Fraser made.
Both were dressed in faded jeans and well worn leather jackets. Each
had on comfortable winter boots and sweaters. He hadn't thought of
Thatcher being practical when it came to clothing having only seen her
dressed up every time he saw her at the consulate. They were a matched
pair. Francesca was more than right when she had forced them to face their
feelings for one another, she was dead on the mark.
The door flew open and Maria's youngest boy Angelo screamed over his
shoulder back into the house. "Mom! It's Uncle Ray an' Uncle Benny an'
some lady!" Running back into the house, he left Ray and Fraser standing
on the porch with smiles on their faces. They were use to the Vecchio
children. Thatcher found herself smiling as well. As they stepped into the
foyer, she felt the excitement in the air. The sounds of voices talking
loudly, laughter and the smell of cookies permeated the house. She
corrected herself. This wasn't a house, it was most definitely a home. She
frowned at that thought. This wasn't her home. She was an intruder.
Looking up, she saw an older woman come striding down the hall. With
a wide smile on her face, she hugged first Ray and then Fraser, greeting
them boisterously in a mixture of Italian and English. Talking a step
back, she gave Thatcher a smile. "And who is this Benton?" "Ma...this is
Inspec...Meg Thatcher. She's my command...she's..." "Ah, this is your
girlfriend that Frannie has told me about." Both Fraser and Thatcher wore
surprised expressions. Thatcher was nonplused as Mrs. Vecchio pulled her
into a warm hug and kissed her on the cheek.
"Welcome to the family Meg. Frannie has told me all about you. You
will make my Benton very happy." Turning away from the stunned pair, she
urged them to follow her into the den. The noise that had been so loud a
second ago faded as Fraser and Thatcher walked into the room. Ray looked
across the room and found Francesca sitting on the sofa, talking to
Turnbull. His smile widened and he gave her the thumbs up and motioned for
her to come over to them.
Francesca was on the verge of tears the moment she had seen them enter
the room. Doing what she had done had hurt her to the core, but she knew
it was the right thing to do. Seeing Fraser and Thatcher together in her
own home on Christmas day was proof enough. Walking directly up to Fraser,
she reached out and hugged him. "Merry Christmas Frase." Letting him go
before she burst into tears, she moved to stand before Thatcher.
"I see you guys listened to me." Letting out a small chuckled, she
nervously wiped her hands on her sweater. "It's kinda a first ya know.
Hardly anyone ever listens to what I say." Reaching out she hugged
Thatcher and whispered in her ear. "You take care of him. He needs it."
Letting her go, she quickly hugged Ray, who held her tightly to him while
he patted her on the back. His voice was low and soothing. "You did good
Frannie."
Angelo came up and began to pull Fraser away. He quickly grabbed
Thatcher's hand so that she went with them. As Ray and Francesca watched
the children show them their toys from Santa, Turnbull walked over to
where they stood. Holding his hand out he smiled.
"Merry Christmas Ray." "Back at ya Turnbull." Ray grinned at
Francesca, with a questioning look in his eyes. She smiled nervously. "We
kinda had a little talk after they left." She pointed over at Thatcher and
Fraser. "I asked him if he was busy for Christmas, he said no, so I
invited Ren to come over." Her smile widened as she looked at Turnbull.
"We decided it was better to share Christmas together than to be alone."
The day went by quickly as all happy Christmas' do. Ray wasn't
surprised to see that the initial awkwardness from the morning faded as
the day progressed. He grinned as Turnbull gave Francesca a shy smile and
a quick kiss on the cheek while they stood under the mistletoe. The blush
that stained her cheeks was a direct indication that she was finally
seeing another Mountie in a different light. With Fraser out of the
picture, her eyes had been opened.
Turnbull would be the type of man that would give up going home to
Canada to stay in Chicago with her and Ray knew that without a doubt that
before the coming new year was over, there would be an announcement for an
impending Vecchio wedding. As far as he was concerned, this had to have
been the best Christmas in a long time.
Francesca walked down the hall and into the foyer with Turnbull close
by her side, their fingers touching as they moved toward the door. She
wanted to take him by the hand and thank him for making a potentially
depressing Christmas into a happy one. She still felt saddened by the loss
of a love that she would never get to know, but Turnbull's constant
attention to her seemed to ease the pain. She felt a nervous flutter in
her stomach as they paused by the door. For some reason, she found she
didn't want him to leave.
Turnbull looked down at Francesca, tucking his head down and smiling
in the shy quiet way that he seemed to do around her. Raising his head, he
spied the mistletoe hanging above them. Earlier in the day they had stood
under the mistletoe and he had given her a chaste kiss on the cheek. He
just couldn't bring himself to kiss her in front of so many people. Now
that they were alone in the foyer, he grew bolder. If he were to let
Francesca truly know how he felt about her, now would be the perfect time
to do it. It wasn't every day that he and she would be standing under the
mistletoe.
Pointing above them, he smiled again. "Mistletoe Frannie." As she
looked up, half expecting another kiss on the cheek, she was surprised as
Turnbull wrapped his arms around her, his lips meeting hers. As he
deepened the kiss, she unconsciously returned his kiss in kind, encircling
her arms around his waist. As she parted her lips slightly, she felt his
tongue gently seek hers. The small kiss under the mistletoe became one of
passion and want. By the time they broke apart, they were breathless.
Without releasing his hold on her, Turnbull looked into her eyes, his
expression serious. "You don't know how I've longed to do that." Reaching
a hand up, she brush her fingers across his lips, smiling as he kissed
them. There was more to Turnbull than she had ever expected. Yes, he was
clumsy. Yes he was kind of goofy at times, but the way he looked at her.
The way he held her, told her everything she wanted to know. This was
someone who cared about her. Someone that...loved her.
Her eyes widened as she stared into his blue eyes. Not the same arctic
blue-grey that Fraser had, but more of a warm blue like a summer sky.
There was nothing cold or distant about Turnbull. He wore his emotions on
his sleeve. He wasn't afraid to let people know who he really was.
Smiling, she reached up and wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him
down to her. Kissing him again, she thanked God for letting her find love
at Christmas, even if it wasn't who she had initially wanted. Maybe this
was her reward for making sure that the two people that belonged together,
finally were together.