Author's disclaimer: Although the story is mine, it is a work of
fiction based on the character of Due South. All Characters portrayed
here, other than Robin and Victoria 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. 

  

 Author's notes: This is part three of a three part story. Please read An
Unexpected Visit 

 part one and two before you read this one. I hope you enjoy it. 

  

 Please contact me at perrymor@home.net  

 I welcome any comments about my story. 

  

  

UNEXPECTED VISIT III 

 BY: T.M. Perrymore 

  

  

	He was home. Surrounded by snow and the brisk winter winds of the
north, he stood in his red uniform serge with his Father's cabin just a
few feet away and the serene sounds of silence that seemed to bid him
welcome, he was finally home. Diefenbaker jumped and played in the snow,
eager for Fraser to join him. Slowly he began to walk toward the cabin; a
smile growing on his face, as the glow of a lantern lit his way from the
one small window. His walk became a trot, then a full run, as he heard his
Mother's voice calling to him.	

	Suddenly he plummeted though a cavity in the snow and he screamed
as his hands tried to grasp the slippery ice of the tunnel that now
surrounded him. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to top his fall
and he still couldn't see the bottom of the shaft, though he had already
fallen a good fifty feet or more. The ice tore at his hands and face as he
slid further down into the freezing prison. He called out for Ray. Ray
would help him. Ray was his friend, but after a few more minutes of
falling, Ray never came. 

	He hit the frigid water with an alarming splash; the pain of a
thousand knives seemed to slice through him as the cold temperature of the
water invaded his body. He fought his way to the surface and gasped for
air. It was dark and he couldn't see, but he felt something in the water
beside him. He waited a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust, trying to
ignore the pounding of his heart and the pain he was suffering. Finally he
could make out the cavern of ice that surrounded him, stalactites hung
from overhead and snow drifted down periodically to the water below. He
turned his attention to the form beside him. He turned the body over and
gasped in shock. The face of Ray Vecchio, the real Ray Vecchio, stared up
at him from dead unseen eyes. Fraser shook his head in despair and pushed
away from the body, only to bump into another. With a shuddered breath he
realized it was Ray Kowalski. A cry escaped his throat as everywhere he
looked were the dead floating bodies of his friends and colleagues.
Another bumped him and he turned. 

	"Franchesca?" He whispered brokenly as a tear rolled down his
cheek. "No, not you too." 

	"It's too late son." Came a voice that echoed through the cavern.
Fraser swung around; his frigid limbs barely able to keep him afloat, as
he faced Bob Fraser Sr. suspended on a small ledge by the water. 

	"Dad!" he cried reaching out to him. "Help me! What's happened?"
Fraser Sr. held a limp form in his arms and he sadly shook his head. 

	"Not this time, Ben." He sighed allowing the body to slip slowly
into the water and float over to Fraser. "You're too late. You should have
lived while you had the chance, now they're all gone." 

	"I don't understand!" stated Fraser through chattering teeth.
"What do you mean? Dad tell me what's happened." Fraser Sr. simply pointed
to the body he had just set a drift and Fraser hesitantly turned the body
to face him as it reached his arms. 

	"You should have told them how you felt son." Explained his
father, as Fraser stared at Margaret Thatcher's pale, frozen face. 

	"NO!" 

	"Fraser?" asked Meg Thatcher, trying to shake the Mountie awake.
His agonized cry had awakened her from her own deep sleep and now she sat
beside him trying to wake him from his terrible nightmare. She had never
seen Fraser this vulnerable, this out of control and it frightened her.
What could he possibly be dreaming to cause him so much pain? She shook
him again, harder this time. "Fraser wake up." Finally his lids lifted and
she gazed into deep blue troubled depths. 

	"Where.." he began, his eyes trying to focus on the woman beside
him. 

	"Are you alright?' she asked softly. "You were having a
nightmare." Fraser put a shaky hand up to caress her cheek; it was warm
and slightly flushed. He stared at her for a long moment, as though
convincing himself that she was real. Suddenly he dropped his hand and
lowered his eyes as he struggled into a sitting position n the couch. 

	"I.." he began. "Forgive me. I'm not awake yet." That was a lie,
he was awake from the moment he'd opened his eyes, but when he saw her
sitting so close to him he thought it was still dreaming. She placed a
cool hand to his fevered brow. 

	"You've got a temperature." She remarked. "I should get the
thermometer, you may have caught the bug Robin had." She had moved away
before he could stop her. He never got sick, what could be wrong with him?
It was probably just the after effects of the dream; it had seemed so
real. He tried to sit up a little more, to swing his legs to the floor but
his whole body felt like rubber and didn't seem to want to obey his
commands. Margaret returned and popped the thermometer in his mouth, as
she pushed him back against couch. 

	"I'm fine." He assured when she removed the instrument. "I just
had a nightmare it's nothing..." 

	"You're got a temperature of a hundred and three Fraser." She
stated waving the thermometer at him accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me
you were feeling sick earlier?" 

	"I wasn't ill earlier." He stated, again trying to stand. "I'm not
ill now I just..." He had pushed himself to his feet, only to have his
legs slide out under him. Margaret helped him back onto the couch. 

	"Damnit Fraser!" she exclaimed covering him with the blanket.
"Just lie still. I can't lift you well enough for you to be pulling that
crap so just stay put." Fraser would have blushed if he'd had the energy.
Instead he just nodded and took the glass of water she offered him. 

	"What about work?" he began. 

	"It's Sunday, Fraser." She reminded. "You'll just have to stay
here until you're feeling better. I'm going to call my doctor and see what
he says." 

	"I don't want to trouble you..." he attempted. 

	"Shut up and stay put." She demanded. "That is an order
constable." 

	"Yes sir." He acknowledged. He slid back down on the stiff
furniture beneath him. A wave of dizziness spread over him, causing him to
have to close his eyes until it subsided. When the room had stopped
spinning, he noticed that Margaret was beside him again, pulling off the
blanket. 

	"We've got to get you on a more comfortable surface." She
instructed, helping him to his feet and putting a supportive arm around
his waist. "Think you can make it to the bedroom?" 

	"I'm fine here.." he started. 

	"Walk Fraser." She encouraged firmly. 

	"Yes, Sir." He sighed and attempted to focus his energy into the
task of walking to the master bedroom, without leaning to heavily on his
helper. They were both sweating by the time she helped him onto the bed.
She placed her fingers in under his shirttail and began to pull of the
cotton jersey. Fraser had no energy to assist or stop her. 

	"Don't take this the wrong way, Constable." She ordered managing
to get his uniform trousers off, his socks and boots were in the other
room. She sponged him off with a cool moist cloth, then pulled the crisp
clean sheets over him. It was still dark outside, so she placed a large
bowl beside the bed, in case Fraser needed it, took off her robe and
climbed into bed next to him. She didn't intend to sleep, but this way she
could keep an eye on him. He had already drifted off, and she couldn't
help thinking what he would have done if he'd been coherent when she
undressed him. She couldn't help admire his physique, even ill the man had
a fantastic body, she'd have to be dead not to notice it. She picked up
her book and flipped it open. She'd read awhile, until she was sure he
wasn't going to have another nightmare. 

	Fraser awoke a short time later, to find Inspector Thatcher curled
into him, her head on his chest, one hand across his stomach and one of
her legs half draped across his. He struggled to remember how he had
gotten in this delicate predicament, and barely realized something about
her saying he was ill with a temperature. One of his arms was trapped
under her smooth, creamy shoulders, so he used the other t carefully lift
the covers to assure himself that he wasn't as naked as he felt. Relief
washed over him that he still wore his jockeys and she wore a long flowing
nightgown.  

	He was sure that she would be appalled to wake and find herself in
such a compromising position, and that the proper thing to do would move
from the bed, but he couldn't do that without waking her. She looked so
beautifully peaceful, lying against him, so unlike the cold stern exterior
she showed him on a regular basis, but he had come to accept that a
relationship with her was out of the question; it wouldn't be appropriate
considering their respective positions. Still, ever since that kiss on the
train many months ago, he couldn't help longing to be close to her. 

	He tried to move his left arm, ever so slightly, from under her
for it had started to fall asleep. She moaned in protest and curled closer
to him, her hand drifting down over his abdomen. Fraser held his breath
and chanced a glance down to see if she had awakened. Her breathing was
still slow and even and her long lashes fluttered against her cheeks in
suggestion that she was dreaming. He waited a moment, then tried again,
stiffing in shock as her leg came up against him and her hand moved down,
while she snuggled, if at all possible, closer to him. He could feel the
heat rush over him, but was uncertain if it was from embarrassment or the
fever Thatcher had mentioned earlier.  

	She was obviously still dreaming and remnants of that dream caused
her hand to make caressing movements while her body pressed suggestively
against his. Oh dear. He thought, trying to ignore the surge of sensations
that were running though him from her movements. He was afraid to wake
her, but he was also afraid not to, because of what she was doing to him.
If her dreams became any more prominent there would be an even bigger
problem to deal with and his sense of duty and moral code had him locked
in heated conflict with his rising desire and fear of the consequences. 

	While he was mulling this over, Margaret began planting gentle,
erotic kisses across his chest. She can't possibly still be asleep! When
he glanced at her, however, her eyes were still closed, though her
breathing had become slightly more erratic. Fraser noticed his own
breathing sounded rather harsh, his head was swimming, whether from the
fever or something else, making it difficult to think, and his heart was
threatening to beat out of his chest. I have to wake her, he insisted to
himself. It isn't my fault she's attacking me in her sleep, though she'll
probably blame me anyway. He felt her hand start to slip under the thin
band of his shorts. OH MY! It's now or never, Fraser, he thought. I have
to wake her. 

	Margaret listened to the pounding of Fraser's heart as her head
lay close to his chest. He had pulled her from a delicious dream when he
tried to move his arm from under her and she had protested his movements.
She was comfortable. She was warm. She felt safe in the arms of the strong
Mountie, though had no idea how she had ended up there. When Fraser had
stopped moving, she kept her eyes closed and she assumed he believed she
was still asleep. She sighed and inhaled the wonderful, masculine scent
that was especially his and snuggled closer to him, running her hand
lightly over the tight muscles of his abdomen, contented. She knew it was
wrong, that they shouldn't be lying together like they were, but she was
tired and worried about him and Robin, and was still jealous of the
relationship she thought Fraser had had with Vivian. Why else would her
friend have suggested Fraser look after Robin, and not her? It made no
sense. Although Fraser readily agreed to a compromise with the girl,
Thatcher was grateful for his caring presence when the girl had become
ill. She had no idea what to do with the child, she was used to commanding
men, not children, but Fraser came to her rescue as he always did. 

	She felt Fraser move again and she brought her leg up and her hand
down to touch something warm and solid. She could feel his arousal, even
through the thin underwear he wore and that gave her a sense of power that
she had caused such a reaction. Fraser had stiffened at the intimate
contact, but had made no move to remove her hand. He just lay there and
she suspected he was trying to figure a way out of this in the most polite
and appropriate manner, yet she also believed he was cursing himself for
enjoying the contact. He obviously still thought she was asleep and seemed
almost afraid to wake her, or perhaps to break the spell she was casting
over him. Poor Fraser, she almost smiled, she'd seen him risk his life a
hundred times in the name of duty, and he was a brave man in the face of
danger. Yet, in something as common as love or romance he was scared to
death; he'd get that deer-in-the-headlights-look and blush beet red and
you couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Still, she was feeling naughty
and she secretly wanted him to pay for making her jealous over Vivian,
even though he probably had no idea he had done so. He could be so dense
at times. 

	She wondered how far he would allow her to go, how polite he could
stay if the stakes were higher, so she started a trail of tender,
seductive kisses across his chest. She heard his intake of breath but
noticed that he didn't stop her. She could imagine the debate going on
inside his head and decided to be more encouraging. With mounting
excitement, and her eyes still closed, she daringly started to slip her
fingers into the waistband of his shorts.   A strong, trembling hand
covered hers, neither pulling it away or urging it to go further, so she
waited a moment. Had he finally come to a decision? Was he going to wake
her and embarrass them both, or allow the fun to continue? Margaret tried
not to show her shock as he pulled her hand away and brought it to his
lips, kissing the back of her fingers tenderly. Part of her was
disappointed, but another part was touched by the sweet gesture. She
should have known he wouldn't let it get out of hand, so to speak, though
she suspected he did it more for her than for himself; his protectiveness
of her never ceased to cause her amazement. His breathing was still very
erratic and his skin hot to the touch and she suddenly felt ashamed as he
tried to keep down a coughing fit, his chest shook with the effort. She
had forgotten that he was sick. She had tried to seduce him under the
pretence of sleep, so she would be absolved technically of any wrong
doing, but in her effort to admit his attraction for her, she had
forgotten that he was running a fever and probably not thinking clearly. 

	She pretended to awake, as his coughing got worse, and without a
word, switched on a lamp, moved from the bed and went to retrieve the
cough suppressant from Robin's room. She checked briefly on the sleeping
girl, pulling the covers up around her where they had been kicked off in
sleep and kissed her forehead in a sudden moment of tenderness. She
hurried back to her bedroom, along with the thermometer she had retrieved
from the bedroom, and a clean spoon from the kitchen. Fraser was sitting
up, half in half out of the bed, his face red from the coughing that
overtook him. She hurried over to him, dropped to her knees and poured the
syrup on the spoon with a shaky hand. She waited for a break in the
coughing, then quickly fed the syrup to Fraser. A few seconds later she
managed to get a second serving into him. She placed the bottle on the
nightstand and put her hand to Fraser's burning face. 

	"You're so hot!" she declared, helping him to lay back in the bed
and covering him with the sheets. 

	"Thank you kindly." He managed with a small smile and she stared
at him surprised. He was acting like nothing had happened between them
moments ago. Of course he was too much of a gentleman to admit it before
she did, though he had believed her to be asleep. Again she felt a blush
rise to her pale cheeks for her indiscretion ,so she quickly covered it up
with one of her stern expressions. She waited until he accepted the
thermometer, then rose to get a cool cloth from her bathroom. 

	"I don't appreciate you becoming ill on my day off Constable." She
called over the running water, half-teasing half-serious. "One sick child
is enough to take care of." She returned and placed the cool cloth against
his forehead, then checked his temperature was still quite high. 

	"I can leave.." he began hoarsely, obviously taking her remarks
seriously. She fixed him with one of her looks. 

	"Who would take care of you, then?" she inquired harsher than she
intended. "You can barely move Fraser, I find it illogical for you to go
back to the consulate alone in your condition." 

	"Ray..." he offered. 

	"He has the day of as well, Fraser." She stated. "It's also only
three in the morning, I hardly think waking him up at this hour would be
proper, do you?" 

	"No, Sir." Agreed Fraser reluctantly, as another bought of
coughing hit him and Margaret instantly felt terrible for being mean to
him.  

	"Good." She responded, glad he had agreed. "Do you need something
to drink, or anything?" Fraser weakly shook his head.  

	"No thank you, Sir."  

	"Well, then try and go back to sleep." She suggested, climbing
back in bed. 

	"Yes, Ma'am." He replied quietly as she switched off the lamp and
turned he back to him, pulling the sheets over her. 

	 

	Margaret awoke to alone, with no trace that Fraser had even been
lying in the bed next to her; even the pillow he had used had been fluffed
to cover any indents his head may have caused. She heard the sound of
someone rattling around in the kitchen and threw back the covers. She
quickly secured her robe with a tight pull of her waist sash and went in
search of the stubborn Mountie. He was standing in the kitchen, pouring
himself a cup of tea, already dressed perfectly in his red serge uniform. 

	"Constable!" she declared angrily. 'What are you doing?
	"Making tea." He replied offering her a cup, only to have her
dismiss the action impatiently. 

	"You shouldn't be up." She stated moving toward him with her hand
raised to check his temperature. He surprised her by sidestepping her
advancement and placing his cup on the table. She stared at him, Fraser
never avoided her like that, if anything he was always perfectly still.
Her eyes narrowed as a quiet knock sounded at the door. She glanced at her
watch, it was only a little after seven in the morning, who could be at
her door this early on a Sunday? 

	"That will be Ray." He supplied moving toward the door, with
Thatcher at his heels. Ray stood leaning against the doorjamb, obviously
not quite awake. 

	"Y'know Fraser, " he was saying as Fraser allowed him inside.
"That internal alarm clock of yer's is gonna be the death of me." Thatcher
glowered at Fraser as he retrieved his hat. 

	"Where do you think you're going, Constable?" she demanded. 

	"Ray and I were going to work on a case." He offered politely.
"After he takes me back to the consulate to change. Robin is sleeping
peacefully and I left her medicine on the table beside her. Give her
another aspirin if her fever starts to rise again." 

	"Fraser, you're sick." Declared Thatcher pulling his arm to
prevent him from leaving. "You need to stay here and get some rest." 

	"I feel fine." He assured, again avoiding direct contact when she
tried to feel his forehead, by donning his Stetson. "I will be with Ray if
you or Robin need me." 

	"Constable I am ordering you to stay." Informed Thatcher,
surprising herself as well as the men with her. It was her only other
option, the Mountie wouldn't listen to reason and she knew he was still
not feeling well. Fraser surprised Ray and shocked her when he turned to
leave. 

	"It is Sunday, Sir." he reminded. "I am on my own time. If you'll
excuse us, shall we go Ray?" Thatcher watched them leave, her mouth
hanging open. 

	Fraser heard the click of Thatcher's apartment door as he and Ray
awaited the elevator and his body seemed to sag with relief. He grasped
the wall and had to force himself to walk into the elevator, his body
unable to maintain the facade of control a moment longer. Ray caught him
just before he fell. 

	"Jeez Fraser." He scolded holding his partner up as the elevator
descended to the ground floor. "You really are sick. Why didn't you just
stay at Thatcher's?" Fraser could only shake his head, controlling his
breathing and trying to remain upright took all his energy. He couldn't
very well tell his friend that he had started to hallucinate and could no
longer control what he was saying or doing. It was too dangerous to be
around Thatcher at a time like that, he might reveal something that would
they would both regret later. Besides, he didn't think he could handle a
repeat performance of their heavier intimacy earlier, not respectfully
anyway. He had been very near the edge when Margaret had started to put
her hand inside his shorts, he had managed to stop her, not because he
wanted to but because it was his duty to protect her, even from himself.
So instead, he had kissed her fingers lovingly, as a tribute to how much
he cared for her, and to confirm what wasn't meant to happen. After his
coughing fit had finally awakened her and they shared a few words as she
tended to him, he couldn't help thinking how close they had come to making
love. Fraser wanted her, there was no denying that, but he wouldn't take
advantage of her while she was obviously still asleep, he was too much a
gentleman for that.  

	However, between the fever that caused his body to burn and the
coughing that made his head swim, he had to fight not to just reach up and
pull her into his arms. He had never gotten back to sleep, instead he
waited until she was sure she was sleeping soundly, then he carefully
slipped from the bed. He managed to make it to the kitchen before his legs
gave out. He lay on the cool tile floor for a long time, before he got his
breath back enough to retrieve his clothes. Than, at 6:30, he had called
Ray and asked him to pick him up. He knew there was no way he could walk
back to the consulate in his condition. So when Thatcher rose and found
him dressed and ready to go, it took all his strength to appear fine and
healthy. 

	 Ray grew concerned, Fraser was burning up with a fever and the
Mountie was never sick. They stepped out of the elevator and Ray helped
him into his car. 

	"You need ta go to the hospital Fraser." He stated pulling out of
the parking area. Fraser shook his head, the winced at the pain it caused
him. 

	"I'll be fine." He whispered trying not to smile at the sight of a
giant pancake running down the street on his left. "Just take me back to
the consulate." He had stumbled through the last sentence and Ray shook
his head. 

	"Yer goin' to the hospital Fraser." He stated, surprised when the
Mountie didn't argue with him further. He glanced across to the seat
opposite him and realized his partner was unconscious. He pressed the
accelerator to the floor and headed for the closest hospital.  

	At the hospital, the doctors told Fraser it was a forty-eight hour
virus that was going around and that the best thing that he could do was
to go home, stay in bed and drink lots of liquids. They gave him a small
prescription of antibiotics and sent him on their way. Ray cursed the
entire way back to the consulate about the doctors charging and arm and a
leg to tell Fraser to rest, but the Mountie beside him wasn't up to
scolding him for his language. He tried to convince Fraser to let him stay
and keep and eye on him, but Fraser assured him he would be fine, he was
already feeling better. 

	"Fraser, I'm stayin' and that's that." Declared Ray, closing the
consulate door behind them and securing the lock. "By the way, where's
Diefenbaker?" 

	"He wanted to stay with Robin." Sighed Fraser slowly easing down
onto the cot in his office. 

	"Well, there y'see?' remarked Ray as he started to help Fraser off
with his boots. "There ain't no one else ta look after ya so yer stuck
with me." Fraser started to unfasten his tunic as Ray placed his boots in
the corner. 

	"I'm sure you have much better things to do than to play nursemaid
to me, Ray." He protested as Ray pushed his suddenly clumsy fingers away
and finished undoing the difficult buttons. Ray smirked, he honestly
didn't have anything to do today, he rarely did. His life pretty much
consisted of work and Fraser. 

	"Yah, well all that's not important." He stated helping Fraser get
his arms out of the tunic. He hung it up and returned to the cot, feeling
Fraser's forehead. He wasn't much for knowing what to do with a sick
person, but he could at least help Fraser get more comfortable. "Yer still
pretty hot, Fraser, ya think a cool shower would help?" 

	"I doubt I have the energy to stand up that long Ray." He admitted
struggling to pull of his shirt. Ray grabbed the sleeves and hauled it
over the Mounties's head, knocking the forgotten Stetson to the floor. Ray
quickly picked it up, dusted it off and lay it on Fraser's desk, as Fraser
thanked him for his assistance. 

	"How about a bath then?" suggested Ray as he helped Fraser with
his trousers. He had never seen the Mountie so weak and helpless and it
worried him. Fraser shook his head and lay back on the cot, his arm thrown
over his eyes. 

	"I think sleep will help." he assumed. "And of course if the room
would stop spinning that would also aid my recovery." Ray grinned and
pulled the blanket up around his friend. 

	"I'll be here if ya need me Fraser.' He promised settling into the
chair behind Fraser's desk, but the Mountie was already sound asleep, his
breathing slightly uneven but sound nonetheless. 

	When the phone rang a few hours later, Ray awoke with a start and
almost fell out of the chair he had been reclining in. His feet dropped
from where they had been propped up on the desk and he pulled the phone
from his coat. 

	"Yah." he greeted automatically. 

	"Detective," greeted Thatcher coolly. "May I speak with Constable
Fraser please?" Ray glanced at Fraser who was still asleep. 

	"He's ah, he can't come to the phone right now." He stalled,
trying to think of what to tell her. He knew Fraser didn't want her to
find out he was still sick, though the reason for his deceit was beyond
Ray. 

	"Why not?" 

	"He's ah...he's in the shower." He lied off the top of his head. 

	"Well tell him I wish to speak to him." She demanded irritably. 

	"Ah...he can't talk right now." Informed Ray nervously. 

	"Why not?" 

	"Er, he ahh, he has his mouth full." Ray winced at the lame
excuse. Com'on man think! 

	"In the shower?" she asked confused.  

	"Er..Ah..Did I say he was in the shower? I meant in the kitchen."
He slapped himself in the head and trudged ever deeper. "He's eating,
that's why his mouth is full." 

	"Well, tell him to swallow and give him the phone detective."
Ordered Thatcher. 

	"I can't do that." He refused, wincing at her barked reply. 

	"Detective! I demand that you put Constable Fraser on the phone
immediately!" Ray frowned. She didn't scare him, but she could make
Fraser's life very difficult. 

	"Now just a minute there Lady.." he began annoyed. "Fraser ain't
your little dog to roll over and obey yer every command he's a human
being. Maybe you should consider joinin' the human race yerself." 

	"How dare you!" Thatcher sputtered into the phone. "Constable
Fraser is my subordinate and I am his superior officer. I don't expect
someone like you to understand just the kind of mutual respect and duty
that calls for because like every other American you have no sense of
moral conduct or discipline!' 

	"Lady I got plenty of both." Declared Ray, his temper riled. "You
don't know the meaning of the word respect. You treat Fraser like a damn
lap dog to lick your boot heels on command, that ain't respect Lady
that's...." 

	"Ray!' exclaimed Fraser forcing himself into a sitting position
and putting his hand out for the phone. Ray swore and handed it to him. 

	"She ain't worth it anyway." He muttered slumping back in his
chair angrily. Fraser took a deep breath to steady his voice then put the
phone to his ear.  

	"This is Constable Fraser." He addressed quietly. 

	"What is that man's problem, Constable?" she demanded. "Why
wouldn't he let me talk to you?" 

	"It doesn't matter now, Sir." He insisted, wincing as he tried to
shake the cobwebs from his head. "What can I do for you?" Thatcher's tone
changed to one of concern. 

	"Are you alright Fraser?" she inquired, with just a trace of edge
to her voice. 

	"I am feeling better." He assured, meaning it this time. The sleep
and the antibiotics seemed to have helped. Thatcher remained silent for a
moment, as though trying to decide if she believed him or not. 

	"I'm...glad you are feeling better, Constable." She said finally,
her cool exterior back in place. "Robin is doing much better as well." 

	"That is good to hear, Sir." He replied genuinely. 

	"Yes, well..." again there was hesitation in her voice. "Robin
said she wants to go shopping and, though I told her I would purchase
whatever she desired, she insisted that you have her money and that you
need to come with us." 

	"There is a white envelope on the kitchen counter by the coffee
maker." Stated Fraser, assuming that was a logical place since that was
generally the first thing the Inspector required in the mornings. "It has
the money Vivian sent with her." There was a moment's silence, and Fraser
assumed she went to check for the envelope. 

	"Ah." She said, having found it. "I didn't notice it this morning,
thank you Fraser." 

	"Was there anything else, Sir?" he inquired, watching Ray flick
rubber bands at the ceiling, leaning further back in the chair with his
legs propped back on the desk. 

	"Well..." continued Thatcher stalling. If Fraser didn't know
better he would think she didn't want to end the conversation, but that
was silly because she only called when there was a specific duty he needed
too perform. "What about you're wolf?" 

	"You can take him with you if you like," he suggested calmly "Or I
can ask Ray to pick him up." 

	"I guess we can take him with us." she agreed almost grudgingly
Fraser's sensitive ears picking up Robin's view of the subject. "We'll
drop him at the consulate after we're finished. Will you be there?" Fraser
declined to tell her he already was. 

	"Yes." He replied. "I'll be at the consulate." He glanced back at
Ray who was tipping the chair back at a precarious angle to aim his rubber
band. "Ray. Ray. Ray."	

	"What?" demanded his partner shooting him a look of exasperation. 

	"I don't think you should..." began Fraser, only to have the chair
fly out from under the detective before he could finish his sentence.
Thatcher heard the loud crash as Ray hit the floor and the chair skid into
the filing cabinet. 

	"What was that?" she demanded. 

	"Excuse me a moment, Sir." He requested, standing to help a
chagrined Ray to his feet, only to have the embarrassed detective scramble
upright and attempt to look calm and collected. 

	"You should get that thing fixed, Fraser." He remarked off
handedly, inconspicuously rubbing the bruised area on which he landed.
Fraser hid a smile. 

	"Are you all right, Ray?" he asked politely. Ray shrugged. 

	"Yah, I'm fine. No problems." Fraser nodded and returned his
attention back to his superior officer. 

	"What were you saying, Inspector?" he requested. 

	"What was that noise?" 

	"Oh, nothing important." He assured. 

	"Ahh..well I guess we'll see you after awhile Constable." She
surmised. 

	"Yes, Sir." he agreed. He pushed the button that ended the call
only after she had hung up on her end. 

	"So what did she want?" asked Ray suspiciously. 

	"Nothing important." Replied Fraser handing him back the phone.
"Ray, I understand you were trying to keep my illness from her as I
requested, but I really don't think you should have spoken to her like
that." Ray had the decency to look repentant. 

	"Yah, I know Frase," he sighed. "But I panicked and then she got
up on that high horse of hers an started demanding things an' well, she
ticked me off. I don't see how you put up with her." 

	"She is my superior officer, Ray." Reminded the Mountie. 

	"Yah. Yah, I know." Ray rolled his head around on his shoulders,
working out the kinks he had received from falling asleep in the chair.
"So, how're ya feelin'?" 

	"Much better actually." Admitted Fraser and Ray had to agree the
Canadian looked much better than when he had first seen him this morning. 

	"So, are ya up fer some food, 'cause I'm starved." 

	"Certainly Ray." He agreed quickly pulling on jeans and a sweater.
"That sounds great." He retrieved his hat and leather jacket, slipped into
his only other pair of boots, and opened the door for Ray to precede him.
He didn't know if he'd actually be able to eat, for his stomach was
actually still a little upset, but the fresh air would do him good. 

  

	Fraser and Ray were playing cards in the kitchen of the consulate,
when they heard the clicking of heels across the floor in the foyer and a
moment later Diefenbaker and Robin ran in, with Inspector Thatcher close
behind. Both men stood politely as they entered and Fraser felt his breath
catch in his throat, as Thatcher removed her jacket. Her cheeks were
flushed from the cold, she looked delightfully casual in her red
turtleneck sweater designer blue jeans and boots, and she was smiling at
him while holding a large pizza in one hand and a six pack of soda in the
other. She held his gaze for a moment and Fraser thought he saw sincere
warmth in her eyes, then she looked away. She put the food and drinks on
the table and settled opposite Fraser. 

	"We brought Pizza!" Robin declared, taking off her jacket and
prized Stetson, as the men settled back into their seats. She climbed
shyly into Ray's lap and he stared at Fraser almost in shock, only to have
Fraser smile back at him knowingly. Despite the detective's outward shock,
he knew Ray was delighted, for he had always wanted kids of his own when
he had been married to Stella, and he seemed to have a surprising natural
repoir with Robin. 

	"You haven't eaten yet, have you?' inquired Thatcher as
Diefenbaker jumped up and pawed Fraser in greeting. Fraser rubbed his ears
affectionately then gently pushed him down. The wolf nuzzled Fraser's hand
then settled by his feet awaiting a chance for some pizza.  

	"No." he replied to the Inspector's question. "It was thoughtful
of you to bring it." Thatcher glanced over at Kowalski, who suddenly
seemed nervous, either of the child perched on his lap, or the Inspector
he was uncertain. 

	"Good evening Detective." She greeted politely but with coldness
in her voice that Fraser had to force himself not to shiver. 

	"Inspector." Returned Ray, just as warmly, his arm finding it's
way around the child's waist to keep her from falling off his lap as he
turned to address Thatcher. Fraser released a breath at the growing
tension between the two      

	"Perhaps I should go and get some plates." He suggested rising to
his feet and glancing at his friend. "Why don't you help me Ray." Ray tore
his eyes away from the menacing stare of Thatcher's and gently dropped
Robin to her feet. 

	"Yah, sure Fraser." He agreed following the Mountie over to the
cupboards where the plates were stored, as Thatcher and Robin began
pulling the plastic off the sodas. Fraser kept his voice low, so as not to
be overheard. 

	"Perhaps now would be the time to apologize to Inspector
Thatcher." He encouraged. 

	"What!" exclaimed Ray, causing the females to look at him. He
lowered his voice as Fraser handed him the plates and reached for some
glasses. "Why should I apologize to her? I'm not sorry an' she started
it..." 

	"Ray." scolded Fraser gently. 

	"I ain't doin' it!"  

	"Ray." 

	"Knock it off, Fraser." he hissed. "I hate it when you do that." 

	"Do what, Ray?" asked Fraser innocently. 

	"Talk to me like I was a kid or somethin' " 

	"Well, you are being childish Ray." 

	"I am not." 

	"Yes you are, Ray." Kowalski glared at him. He hated it when
Fraser got that scolding inflection in his voice, not only because it was
annoying as hell, but also because he was usually right. "Ray?" 

	"Alright! Okay. Fine." The detective finally agreed, trying not to
stomp over to the table with the plates as Fraser followed with glasses
and napkins. He noticed that Thatcher had opened the pie box and was
surprised at the combination she had picked. Half pepperoni and sausage,
half-Canadian bacon and pineapple. Ray's eyes lit up at the half that was
his favorite kind of pizza. Fraser politely divided the plates, glasses
and napkins then waited for everyone else to select a piece before he took
his. Thatcher had selected a Hawaiian piece for herself, so he selected
the pepperoni and sausage. 

	Ray lifted Robin back on to his lap, since she was still standing
by his chair and helped her retrieve a slice of the meat combination for
her, then he took a pineapple slice for himself. She smiled up at him as
Fraser opened her soda poured it into her glass, then handed it across the
table to her. 

	"Did you enjoy your shopping trip, Robin?" he asked her, breaking
the silence until Ray drew the courage to apologize to the Inspector. 

"I had Fun!" she declared eagerly taking a bite of her pizza. "I feel so
much better now, Fraser. Thank you for helping Auntie Meg while I was
sick." She put her pizza down, and took a sip of her soda as Ray used one
hand to guard her from falling and the other to eat his pizza. She smiled
almost shyly at him. "Auntie Meg even let me have some of the ice cream
you gave me, Ray. I like it a lot." 

	"That's good." he acknowledged, apparently over his sudden
awkwardness with her and Fraser couldn't help his skill of adapting to a
situation. 

	"I'm glad yer feelin' better, Robin." he allowed as she swung her
legs back and forth. She motioned for him to lean forward and in a loud
whisper said. 

	"I don't like pineapple pizza," she divulged making a face. "But
Auntie Meg says it's her favorite so we got half like she wanted and half
my way." Fraser raised an eyebrow and shot a glance at Ray, obviously
hearing the confession. 

	"That was very generous of her." Fraser remarked throwing another
meaningful glance at Ray. "Wasn't it Ray?" Ray glared at him, then glanced
at Thatcher. 

	"Yah." He mumbled. "Real generous." Fraser continued to stare at
him until he sighed and looked over at Thatcher. "Look, Inspector..I'm
er...that is I'm ahh..." he flushed, hating himself for acting like and
ass and hating Fraser for making him own up to it. "What I mean is..." 

	"Apology accepted Detective." Approved Thatcher quietly, not quite
meeting his gaze. I also apologize for...snapping at you like I did. There
was no call for my being rude, I'm sorry." Ray felt worse that she had the
courage to say the words and he didn't. 

	"Yah." Agreed Ray approved. "Well, that's good. I mean no problem.
I mean..well, I'm sorry too." He awarded her one of his rebel grins.
"After all, anyone who likes pineapple and ham on a pizza can't be all
bad." She offered him only a small smile, but Fraser felt it was a step in
the right direction. The two people he cared most about were sitting here
eating dinner with him and at least trying to get along. That made him
happy, and although it also caused him to think about how much he missed
the real Ray Vecchio, who could be anywhere right now, it was a was still
a good feeling. 

	"Did you enjoy your shopping trip, Robin?' he asked, as Ray
reached for another slice of pizza. She bobbed her head in
acknowledgement. 

	"Auntie Meg took me to a hundred cool places." She exaggerated,
but Fraser didn't bother to point out that the probability that they had
actually been to that many places in the few hours since he spoke with
Inspector Thatcher was very slim, he allowed her to continue without
correction. "We went to mus'ems and toy stores and hat stores and kids
stores and grown up stores and shoe stores...." She lifted one of her feet
to show Fraser her new black boots. "See my new ones?" 

	"They're lovely." He remarked dutifully. Finishing off his pizza
as the phone rang in the hall. He rose to answer it. "Excuse me." He left
them to finish their meal and headed into the entry hall. He grabbed up
the receiver on the third ring. "Canadian Consulate this is Constable
Fraser how may I help you?" 

	"HI Benton." Greeted a warm female voice on the other end and a
smile of joy spread across Fraser's face. 

	"Mackenzie!" he greeted pleased to hear from his newly discovered
sister. "It's wonderful to hear your voice. How are you?" 

	"I'm great." She stated. "In fact I'm thinking of coming to
Chicago the week after next, would that be okay?" Fraser felt his heart
turn over at the thought of seeing her again.  

	"Of course! How long could you stay?" 

	"Oh, about ten days or so." She determined and Fraser smiled
again, that would mean she would be here for Christmas! It had been so
long since he had family to spend Christmas with. He of course had spent a
few Christmas' with the Vecchio's who treated him like family, but it
wasn't quite the same. 

	"Oh Mac, that would be fantastic." He implored. "It will be so
wonderful to see you." 

	"I can't wait to see you either." She sighed wistfully. "Before I
knew I had a brother I always felt sort of left out of the holidays. I
mean I had Mom until she died and then of course..." Fraser heard her
hesitation over mentioning her husband. She took a deep breath and
continued in a more cheerful tone. "Anyway it's going to be great. I miss
you Ben." Fraser was surprised to feel tears spring to his eyes. It was
still hard to believe he had a sister and that they were both so lonely
for each other. 

	"I miss you too," he acknowledged softly 

	"Is there anything you would like Santa to bring you for
Christmas?" she requested teasingly. 

	"Just you." He replied smiling. "That's the greatest gift I could
receive. Call me when you have your reservations so I can pick you up." 

	"I will." She promised. "I have to go. I'll talk to you soon." 

	"Mac?" he called before she hung up. 

	"Yeah?" 

	"I love you." He admitted softly and he heard tears in her voice
when she replied. 

	"I love you too. I'll see you soon." 

	"Take care." 

	"You too." Fraser waited until she broke the connection then
returned the receiver to its cradle. He allowed himself a deep satisfied
sigh then turned and was surprised to see Thatcher standing there a few
feet behind him. The smile was automatically erased from his face and he
stood more erect before her. 

	"I'm sorry." She offered quietly. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop." 

	"Understood." He acknowledged as she watched him from under hooded
lids. 

	"Robin wanted to know if you would like to go and see a movie with
us." she explained wishing he'd smile again like he had earlier, it was
rare that she ever caught him smiling so genuinely, he usually hid it from
her. "Ray said he would go if you did, she already talked him into it."
Fraser allowed her half a smile. 

	"That would be fine." He assured as they walked back into the
kitchen, where ray was trying to help Robin build a house of cards.
Thatcher's curiosity nagged her to ask him about the phone call, but she
couldn't force the question to her lips. Did she really want to know whom
the caller was that he had proclaimed his love for? He had already said
there was nothing between he and Vivian and she believed him, he always
told her the truth, except when he declined to answer her outright. If she
asked him who had called she was sure he would tell her without
hesitation, but part of her was afraid that he would hesitate and that
would be worse than not knowing. When he refused to answer her questions
it both annoyed and hurt her, because she felt he should be able to tell
her anything, their relationship should be that solid at least. 

	"Are you gonna come too, Fraser?" demanded Robin the minute she
spotted him. 

	"If you wish." he agreed as Ray placed another card on the four
story house. 

	"We're building a house." she stated handing Ray another card,
careful not to shake the table and destroy the fragile structure. "And
when it's done we can all move into it. You and Mama and Ray and me and
Auntie Meg." 

	"There may not be enough room in that tiny house for all those
people, Robin." Surmised Thatcher smiling.	  

	"It will be when we're done." She promised handing Ray yet another
card. "Right Ray?" 

	"Sure thing." He replied carefully positioning the card. Fraser
was impressed at the little structure that probably held half of the deck
now. 

	"That's very good Ray." He complimented watching the little house
grow taller and wider with each card his partner added. 

	"Thanks." replied Ray, never taking his concentration from his
project. Fraser was actually surprised Ray could sit still enough to
complete the task he was usually 'bouncing off the walls' as Franchesca
often said. "I used to build models all the time with my dad." He
explained just as the structure dissolved under the next card. 

	"Oh no!" declared Robin. "Now we'll never move in." Ray grinned at
her and began scooping up the cards. 

	"I'll build ya another one." He promised as she slid off his lap.
"Out of wood next time." Fraser glanced at Thatcher who was staring at the
spot where the house of cards had once stood and he thought he detected
great sadness in her eyes. 

	"Sir?" he asked gently causing her to look up guiltily at having
been caught day dreaming. 

	"What is it Constable?" she demanded harsher than she had
intended. A shadowed emotion passed over those beautiful blue eyes that
often seemed to entrance her, then it was gone. 

	"Are you alright?" he asked just as gently as before, her cool
reply having not affected him. She gave a curt nod and settled at the
table again as they resumed eating. 

	"Fine." Was all she allowed him. She couldn't very well tell him
that she'd had the silly notion of actually moving into the house of
cards, Robin's words transporting her to another possible future for
herself and Fraser. What would it be like to have a child with him? To
come home to him after a hard day's work, to be held in his arms and be
round with his child growing inside of her. Then the house crumbled, like
she had allowed so many of her dreams concerning herself and Fraser to,
and it was like a physical blow to her heart to realize how much this man
really meant to her. 

	It was the evening before Christmas Eve and Fraser lay stretched
out with Mackenzie on the floor of the large ballroom, enjoying homemade
popcorn that he had popped over a fire he'd built in the large stone
fireplace. He smiled, remembering the day before when they had put up the
consulates tree that stood twinkling in the corner of the large room.
Turnbull and Fraser worked on the assembly of the giant artificial spruce
and the lights. Robin, Mackenzie and Thatcher were in charge of the
decorating and Kowalski filled in where needed, though mostly he amused
Robin or flirted with Mackenzie when he suspected Fraser wasn't looking.
Thatcher usually didn't get involved in the preparations around the
consulate, so Fraser was delighted while Turnbull was shocked when she
offered to help. Other than one or two mishaps, Turnbull severely shocking
himself while trying to plug in a set of lights and then knocking the tree
over atop Kowalski and Fraser, it went well. Fraser was getting more and
more into the Christmas spirit, especially knowing he would have real
family to spend it with. Thatcher had given him permission to use the
Consulate's facilities for their enjoyment over the holidays and he had
brought his and Mackenzie's sleeping bags in there so they could just
sleep when they got tired.  

	He and Thatcher had fallen into a type of routine, that they
seemed to eat at least one meal together with Robin and they had taken
turns individually and together to show Robin a good time in Chicago. They
had put her on a plane for home that afternoon and Fraser felt a stab of
regret that she wouldn't be here for Christmas, he would miss her. When
his sister arrived, Thatcher had been generous at allowing him time to
spend with her and even Ray had admitted she seemed a lot more relaxed
since Robin had come. Fraser tried not to allow his feelings for her to
show, especially since they were spending so much time together, almost
like a family. But it was becoming increasingly difficult, especially with
Margaret being more open and fun to be with. She had insisted he call her
Margaret or Meg while outside the Consulate, her excuse being it confused
Robin to hear him call her sir, so he agreed, though she never once called
him Ben. It was always Fraser and he accepted that because she was
addressing him much more sweetly then she had in the past. 

Kowalski's parents went to Florida for the holidays, so Fraser invited him
to spend Christmas Day with him and Mackenzie at the Consulate; Turnbull
surprisingly had plans for the evening. His partner agreed, only if they
came to his place Christmas Eve for dinner. The Vecchio's wanted to meet
Fraser's sister and he promised them he would stop by sometime in the
afternoon on Christmas Eve. Robin had confided that she was worried about
her Auntie Meg spending Christmas alone and Fraser had wanted to invite
her to spend it with them, but her whole demeanor when he brought up the
subject grew hostile so he never voiced the invitation. 

	"What are you thinking Ben?" asked Mackenzie quietly, observing
her brother's thoughtful stare at the fire that danced and sparked in the
fireplace. He glanced at her as though just realizing she was beside him. 

	"Nothing." He lied, then felt ashamed for the deception. "Robin."
He half admitted. At least that wasn't a lie. Mackenzie put a gentle hand
on his arm. 

	"You miss her, hmm?"  

	"I suppose I got used to having her around." He pondered aloud
watching the honey colored tendrils of his sister's hair glow in the
firelight. 

	"Why haven't you settled down yet and started your own family?"
she reached for a handful of popcorn. "You'd make a wonderful Father,
Ben." 

	"I'm..." he began, then shook his head. How could he explain that
his ability to show someone he cared was so difficult to access that he
rarely considered getting involved. "My track record hasn't been a very
good one." He finally explained. 

	"You mean because of Victoria." Considered Mackenzie frowning.
"Not all women are like that." Fraser shrugged and rolled over onto his
back, smoothing his palms over his denim clad thighs. "That lady you work
with..Franchesca is it? She seems to really care about you." 

	"I like Franchesca." He admitted quietly, surprised to hear
himself say the words. "But she's Ray's sister and..." Mackenzie stared
down confused. 

	"You mean your old partner, Vecchio?" she asked and Fraser nodded.
"Why should that matter? I'm you're sister and you don't seem to mind
Kowalski flirting with me." Fraser allowed her a skeptic glance. Ray had
made no secret of how he felt toward Mackenzie but Fraser knew that his
partner wouldn't overstep his bounds without Fraser's approval. 

	"What makes you think I don't mind?" he suggested quietly watching
her frown deepen as she swallowed. 

	"Do you?" she challenged. He sighed. 

	"Not really." He admitted. "Ray's a great guy and you could do
worse." Like me, he finished silently. She could end up with a male
equivalent of Victoria. The very idea made him shiver and his observant
sister caught the discrete action. 

	"So could you." Stated Mackenzie, once again pulling him back to
reality. "Margaret Thatcher seems a fine woman." Fraser stared at her
slack jawed. 

	"I...I..she's my superior officer!" he almost exclaimed. He was
used to Ray teasing him about Thatcher, but it was totally unsuspected
from Mackenzie. "There isn't..." 

	"Sure there is." She interceded smiling. "I've seen how you look
at her. Besides I remember when she found us in that closet while we were
talking to Dad..." 

	"That's true son." Prompted Robert Fraser from just beside his
son, causing the Mountie to jump in fright. He smiled at Mackenzie. "Hello
sweetheart." She smiled at him as Fraser glared at the apparition. 

	"Hi Dad." She greeted, amused by the reaction Fraser had to their
dead Father's arrival. She had been startled herself, but he wasn't as
close to her as he was Fraser and she suspected their Dad frightened her
brother on purpose. 

	"Don't encourage him." Muttered Fraser turning away from his
Father and rolled into a sitting position to grab a handful of popcorn
from the bowl. 

	"All she did was say hello, for heaven's sake." Remarked Fraser
Sr. wounded as Mackenzie laughed aloud. "You're entirely too jumpy, son.
Why, when I was alive I had the reflexes of a cat, nothing could get past
me or sneak up on me. You're getting soft Ben." Again Fraser glared at
him. 

	"When the ghost of your dead Father starts popping in and out of
your life, then we'll talk." He suggested moodily, although the merriment
on his sister's face took the sting from his words. 

	"Well, if you're going to be that way about it I'll just talk to
your sister." Robert Fraser informed, receiving no comment from his son.
"I believe you were reminiscing, sweetheart, go right ahead with what you
were saying." Mackenzie grinned and watched Fraser trace his right eyebrow
with the edge of his finger, a sure sign of frustration for the usually
calm Mountie. 

	"I was just saying, " she continued "That when Margaret caught us
in that closet the first thing you did was apologize, and you even
admitted to her you didn't know what you were sorry for." Fraser shrugged
and stared at the fire. 

	"It wasn't conduct becoming my station to find me hidden in a
closet, Mac." He insisted. "Of course I apologized, she was rightly
embarrassed at the situation." 

	"Don't you mean rightly jealous?" she taunted. Frase met her gaze.


	"No. that isn't what I meant." He sighed, squeezing the bridge of
his nose. "Inspector Thatcher had no reason to be jealous and would not
even feel jealous of anything concerning myself. We are officers, she is
my superior..." 

	"Baloney!" accused Mackenzie with a grin. "You can't tell me you
don't have feelings for her Fraser I've seen the way you look at her.
You're in love with her aren't you?" Fraser remained silent for a long
moment until finally his Father spoke up. 

	"You could do worse son." Fraser glared at him again. 

	"This isn't any of your business." He stated, surprised at the
anger his own voice held. He swallowed and allowed it to resume its usual
pleasant pitch. "I'm sorry dad. I just don't want to talk about it." 

	"You never want to talk about it." Huffed Robert Fraser. "You just
keep everything balled up inside of you and one day son, one day you're
going to just go crazy." Fraser threw him a wry grin. 

	"Like talking to my dead Father hasn't already sent me over the
edge?" he implied simply. "Look, there isn't anything to talk about. I'm
just not meant to have a lasting relationship." 

	"Now son," urged Robert Fraser. "How're you going to make me any
grandchildren if you don't meet a nice woman and settle down?" 

	"You really want me to find someone and settle down?' he asked
innocently. 

	"Of course. Of course." his father implored. "You need someone in
your life son." 

	"Okay." Replied Fraser quietly. "I'll marry Ray." He was sure his
Father's ghost paled visibly, though it was not possible. 

	"N..n..n..now son..." he stammered shocked. "I didn't mean,....:
He shot Fraser an angry look. "I meant with a woman damnit! Not that
manic, punked up flatfoot!" 

	"Hey!" declared Mackenzie in Ray's defense. "I like that manic,
punked up flat foot!" 

	"Well, he's okay for you, honey but...." Stammered her Father,
then realized that both his children were laughing at him. "Well, if
you're going to be disrespectful I'm leaving." Fraser and Mackenzie
exchanged a giggled glance as their Father disappeared. 

	"Think we hurt his feelings?" she inquired smiling. 

	"He'll live." Returned Fraser still grinning. 

	"Is there something you aren't telling me?" she teased. "Would you
really marry Ray?" 

	"Only if he asked me." Smiled Fraser, knowing full well his
partner was one hundred percent heterosexual. She sat facing him and
smiled up into his handsome face. 

	"Tell me." She implored quietly, her expression growing serious.
His own expression mirrored hers, for he knew she was no longer speaking
of his partner, but of their earlier conversation, and the depth of
emotion she caught in his gaze almost brought tears to her eyes. 

	"Yes." He admitted, so quietly she had to strain to hear him
despite their close proximity. 

	"Oh Ben." She sighed reaching forward to put her arms around him
and pull him into her warm embrace. He held her awkwardly at first, then
returned the hug. Mackenzie sat there, holding the man that had become so
dear to her in such a short time and vowed she would do everything she
could to make him happy. Slowly a plan formed in her mind and she smiled. 

  

	Christmas Eve was eventful and pleasant. Fraser and Mackenzie did
some sightseeing, stopped over to visit the Vecchio's, and went
ice-skating. They were walking back to the consulate to change before
going over to Ray's, enjoying the gentle snow that filtered down from the
darkening sky. They decided to wander through the park while there was
still enough light, and admire the beautiful winter white scenery around
them.  

	"Isn't it beautiful?' she sighed trying to catch snowflakes with
her tongue as they approached the Consulate. 

	"Feels like home." Fraser remarked watching her. "I'm glad you
came Mackenzie." She smiled up at him. 

	"Not yet but there's still time." She teased delighted at the
shocked flush that crept up Fraser's cheeks. "with Ray's assistance I'm
sure I..." her sentence was cut off as she landed, face first, in a large
snowdrift. She sputtered, amazed that Fraser would have the audacity to
take such action. She grinned and palmed a handful of snow in her mitt.
"You asked for it!" Fraser dodged her fist attack then took cover behind
the large tree beside the Consulate. Her next attempt hit the tree dead
center as he gathered his weapons, the war was on. 

Ray pulled up to the Canadian Consulate and exited his GTO. He stared in
surprise and amusement at the two snow covered figures that were throwing
snowballs at each other, as he approached them. He had never seen Fraser
act so unruly, it made the Mountie more Human in his eyes. 

	"All that snow ain't get in my car." He stated grinning as the
pair paused in mid strike. They glanced at each other, then suddenly Ray
was spitting out the snow that landed square in his face. "Hey!" He
grabbed up a handful of snow and the fight continued. They were all
covered in snow and breathing hard from the cold and laughter in a matter
of moments. Fraser noticed Inspector Thatcher getting out of her car and
ran over to her, stepping close to her side to intercept the snowball that
Kowalski had thrown by catching it easily in his palm and tossing it back,
as he turned to her. 

	"Good evening Inspector." He greeted smiling as Thatcher looked
him up and down. She'd never seen anything cling to the Mountie, much less
snow, yet here he was almost covered in it. He seemed to have a magnetic
force that prevented anything from getting close to him, especially women
she thought wryly, yet here he stood, his usually perfect dark hair
glistened almost magically from the snow it had captured. Thatcher had
never seen him more appealing then the way he was now. 

	"Constable." She returned coolly, trying to put just a touch of
disapproval in her voice. He instantly picked up on it and his smile faded
as he quickly began brushing the snow off of him. The pair behind them had
caught his reaction and Kowalski's eyes narrowed on her. 

	"Is there anything I can help you with, Sir?" inquired Fraser,
having amazingly disbursed the majority of the snow in a matter of
seconds, revealing damp blue jeans and his leather jacket underneath. His
guard is back up, thought Thatcher bemused, the snow is being repelled. 

	"I just came by to pick up some files, Fraser." She informed
evenly. "Please continue as you were." She started up the steps of the
consulate, expecting Fraser to return to his friends, but instead he was
suddenly in front of her, as they went up the stairs, to holding the front
door open. She nodded and went inside, Fraser followed. "I don't require
your assistance, Fraser. You may go." Fraser stood there for a moment,
dispersing his weight from one foot to the other, as though deciding
whether or not to speak. "What is it Constable?" 

	"I...if it isn't too much trouble, Sir." He began quietly.
"I...would you mind waiting here for a moment I need to...I have something
for you." Her eyebrows shot up into her forehead and she stared at hi
surprised. What could he possibly...then she hid a smile. He always bought
her a Christmas gift, why hadn't she thought of it earlier? Of course he
gave one to everyone he knew, she didn't take it personally, it was just
the sort of man he was. 

	"Ver well, Fraser." She agreed heading into her office. "If you're
quick I'll wait in my office." He nodded and headed for his own office.
She retrieved the files she wanted and put them in her briefcase. She had
wanted something to do over the next two days so she decided going over
some old case files would be enough to keep her occupied. She found
herself missing the company of Robin and Fraser when she sat alone in her
apartment and needed something to keep her from thinking too much. A knock
at her door prepared her for Fraser's arrival and she bade him enter. He
walked over to her and handed her the brightly colored package. 

	"Merry Christmas, Sir." He offered with a small smile. She
returned the smile briefly and accepted the package, wondering what it
was. It was too large to be a date book or desk calendar like he had given
her in the past and she shook it. 

	"What is it?" she asked curiously. 

	"Open it." He instructed and watched her peel back the paper and
lift the top to push back the tissue paper. 

	"Oh My!" she gasped lifting out the red formal silk shawl with
beautiful edge fringed embroidery. "Fraser its...its..." she couldn't find
the words to tell him. She removed her coat and fitted the shawl about her
shoulders, turning to view the effect in her wall mirror. 

	"I remembered you mentioning how much you liked the one a wife of
a German diplomat wore to the ball last January." He explained watching
her. "Hers was teal but I thought you would prefer the crimson because..."
he paused and smiled at her gently. 'Red suits you." She turned back to
him and he thought he saw the hint of tears in her eyes. Immediately he
thought he had made a mistake. "If you don't care for it I can..." he
started. 

	"Fraser that ball was almost a year ago." She stated. "How could
you remember a passing remark like that?" His total recall had always
astounded her on many things but this was just..amazing. 

	"Because you said it." He replied simply.  

	"Do you remember everything I say Constable?" she demanded
teasing. 

	"Yes." He answered truthfully. Thatcher wasn't prepared for his
answer and the shock registered in her face. She turned away from him and
back to the mirror. 

	"I had been looking everywhere for one like this, where ever did
you did it?" she requested. 

	"Close by." He replied as he heard Kowalski and his sister enter
the consulate. "Permission to speak freely?" she nodded. "Would you care
to have dinner with us tomorrow? Mackenzie is cooking a turkey and it will
just be here at the consulate, nothing extravagant. Ray will be here as
well." When she didn't reply right away he assumed he'd made a mistake
again. "Of course if you have plans I..." 

	"I don't have any plans, Fraser." She admitted finally looking at
him. "I just don't want to intrude on your Christmas..." 

	"You won't." he assured quickly. "It's...." he paused and tried to
force the words that would explain his actions, but fear of further
rejection formed a lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow. 

	"What Fraser means ta say." Continued Kowalski as he and Mackenzie
entering the office. "Is the more the merrier, right Frase?" Fraser shot
him a grateful look then turned his attention back to Thatcher. 

	"Yes." He allowed quietly. Please, please come he urged silently.
Please say yes. 

	"It would certainly make me feel better to have another woman
around Margaret." Remarked Mackenzie grinning. Thatcher nodded. 

	"All right." She agreed finally and Fraser released the breath he
had been holding, as the hall phone began ringing. 

	Excuse me please." He offered politely as he left to answer it.
Mackenzie ran her hand over the soft material of Thatcher's shawl. 

	"It's beautiful." She remarked causing the inspector to smile. 

	"Yes it is." She agreed glancing at the mirror again to view her
gift better. 

	"Ben did a wonderful job on it." Continued Mackenzie. "I was
wondering if he'd be able to follow the pattern I'd sent him but he did
better than I could have." Thatcher turned to her. 

	"Pattern?' she repeated confused. "I don't understand." Mackenzie
smiled. 

	"He called me about two months ago," she informed. "Asked if I had
a pattern for a specific type shawl. I didn't have one but one of the
ladies I live close to did so I sent it up. I didn't realize what he
wanted it for or that it would turn out so beautifully." Thatcher felt an
odd sensation at the back of her throat that she suspected were tears. 

	"Fraser made this?" she declared more as a statement than a
question. Mackenzie nodded. "Why? Why would he go to so much trouble?" 

	"That's just the kinda guy he is." Remarked Ray from the corner
where he sat. "It's how he shows he cares." Thatcher glanced at the cocky
detective as Fraser returned. Ray stood up and held out his hand to
Mackenzie. "Are we goin' or stayin?" she smiled at him. 

	"I need to change." She stated heading out to find her clothes
that were in Fraser's office. Kowalski grinned. 

	"Well, pitter patter." He encouraged, then at Fraser. "You
comin'?" 

	"I'm coming Ray." He returned turning to follow his friend out. 

	"Fraser." Thatcher called softly, causing him to turn back. He
waited patiently for her to speak as she walked over to him. She put her
hand against his cheek, then reached up and kissed him. Fraser stared down
at her, stunned. "Thank you. Merry Christmas, Ben." 

	"M...Merry Christmas." He stammered as she retrieved her coat and
files. 

	"I'll see you tomorrow." She promised as he walked her to the
front door. "What time?" 

	"Whenever." He found himself saying, then blushed. "We eat around
noon I believe." She nodded and stepped outside as he held the door. She
waved and headed down to her car. He waited until she was safe inside,
then closed the door and went to change. 

  

	Christmas dinner at the consulate went very well, even Kowalski
dressed accordingly and behaved himself. After dinner, they settled around
the large Christmas tree to open presents. Fraser took the responsibility
of retrieving the packages from under the tree and delivering them to
their owners. A fire was roaring in the fireplace and everyone had a cup
of cider to sip from. 

	"Who wants to go first?" asked Kowalski sitting close to
Mackenzie. The object of his desire opted for the roll. Her first gift was
from Ma Vecchio, who's insisted she take it even though she'd only met the
woman the day before, because she was kin to her beloved Bentino and that
made her family. It was a small tin of divinity and fudge treats. 

	"You'll like that." Fraser assured, having tried Ma Vecchio's
sweets before. "Though it is addicting so do be careful." Mackenzie
selected a piece of the soft white candy and popped it into her mouth. Her
eyes rolled in delight and Fraser smiled. She offered a piece to each of
them, then closed the tin. Her second gift was from Ray and it was a snow
globe of Chicago and a beautiful wool scarf and matching cap. She smiled
at Kowalski gratefully. 

	"Fraser." They both said simultaneously and Thatcher watched the
Mountie turn over on his other side so his sister could kiss his partner.
They informed him he could turn back and Mackenzie continued with her
gifts. From Thatcher she received a book of poetry and Fraser's gift to
her was the last one to open. It was a medium sized box with a multitude
of smaller gifts inside. He suggested she open his later, but she brushed
his protests aside and selected the first of the parcels. She peeled back
the colorful paper and turned the palm sized, leather book over in her
hands curiously. The leather was worn and some of the pages yellowed with
age. Kowalski and Thatcher both shot Fraser a startled glance as Mackenzie
opened the first page of the tiny diary. She read silently for a moment
and tears filled her eyes when she finally met Fraser's intent gaze. 

	"Dad's journal?" she questioned as a lone tear escaped and traced
a delicate path down her pale cheek. "B..But this is yours..." 

	"That one deals with the time he..." Fraser lowered his eyes for a
moment. "When he met your mother. I thought you would like to have it." He
indicated the next parcel, as though sensing she was close to an emotional
display toward him. "Open that one." Mackenzie wiped her cheek and gently
placed the journal back in its paper next to her, then retrieved the
square box Fraser pointed to. With a trembling hand she pulled off the
ribbon and pushed back the paper. It was a framed picture of Robert Fraser
in his dress uniform and her mother, attached to the frame was one of his
medals. 

	"Oh Ben." She almost sobbed hugging the picture to her chest.
"Where did you find it?" Fraser smiled slightly and glanced over her
shoulder where Robert Fraser stood solemnly behind them. His father also
looked on the verge of tears. Then Robert Fraser nodded and disappeared,
not wanting to intrude on such a special moment between his two children. 

	"I had help." He replied. Mackenzie set the picture down and moved
over to her brother, pulling him into a grateful and loving embrace.
Thatcher brushed a tear away and she noticed Kowalski was sniffing and
clearing his throat suspiciously. When Mackenzie pulled back Fraser was
smiling and his blue eyes were shining with the love he couldn't outwardly
show her. 

	"Pitter Patter." interrupted Kowalski, breaking the emotional
tension and indicating Mackenzie's remaining unopened gifts. "Let's get
at'er." She smiled and settled back down next to him. The last two
presents were a dream catcher that Fraser had made for her and a book on
cross stitching that she had shown interest in when she first arrived. 

	"Who's next." She sighed, thanking Fraser again for her gifts and
laying her head on Ray's shoulder contentedly. 

	"Ray?" suggested Fraser. His partner shrugged and began to tear
into his packages. He received a tin of homemade cookies from Ma Vecchio
and a bottle of her gazpacho sauce, which she knew he liked. A certificate
for free detailing on the GTO from Franchesca, and three new CD's from
Fraser for his collection. 

	"Thanks Fraser." He offered grinning, inspecting them. "I don't
have these ones." 

	"You're welcome Ray." Replied Fraser, secretly pleased he'd made
the right selections. His partner's choice in music was quite eclectic and
he'd had to ask for help from the sales clerk to figure what ones Ray
would appreciate. Mackenzie poked him indicating his last package. 

	"That one mine." She informed. "Open it." Kowalski put his CD's
down and picked up the gift. 

	"I was savin' the best fer last." He teased pulling apart the
paper an opening the box. He pulled out a handmade leather vest with his
name stitched on the front pocket. He immediately put it on over his dress
shirt and smiled at her. "I love it." He stated glancing at Fraser. 

	"Just kiss her for god's sake!" he sighed good naturally. "I'm
tired of turning around." Mackenzie laughed as Kowalski dropped a quick
kiss on her lips. She knew he wouldn't do more than that with Fraser
watching, regardless of what her brother said, he was too much of a
gentleman. 

	"You're turn, Margaret." She informed. Thatcher shook her head and
indicated the shawl that covered her shoulders over her pale green blouse.


	"I already have mine." She stated with a smile as Fraser placed
two more packages beside her. 

	"Apparently not." He observed quietly. She exchanged a glance with
each of them then picked up one of the packages. It was a beautiful rose
pin with her name engraved on the stem. She smiled at Mackenzie surprised
at the gift. 

	"Thank you." Was all she could offer. The fact that this woman,
whom she treated so horribly the last time she was here would be so
thoughtful caused Thatcher to feel overwhelmed and slightly ashamed.
Mackenzie King was most definitely a Fraser, she determined silent. 

	"I'm glad you like it." Replied Mackenzie. "Ben told me you liked
roses and jewelry." 

	 Thatcher allowed her gaze to drift toward Fraser, who had risen
to his feet to attend the fire. The soft lighting of the room and the
twinkling lights of the tree traced a musical pattern across the soft
white fabric of his dress shirt and she watched the smooth lines of his
fitted slacks move with him as he bent to add another log to the fire,
hinting at the hard muscle beneath.  

	Damn he looked almost editable tonight, she had thought so the
moment she'd arrived in her simple green tailored slacks and blouse. She
wore the shawl to enforce how much she loved it, hoping he would
understand how much the gift meant to her. Her thoughts drifted back to
the evening he'd spent at her apartment and shame flooded her for
attempting to seducing him under the guise of sleep. He deserved better
than that, deserved better than her.  

	"Yer turn Fraser." Announced Kowalski as the Mountie settled back
on the floor. Fraser began to open his gifts. A package of sweets from Ma
Vecchio and some of her special jam, a handsome blue dress shirt from
Franchesca, a first edition of Robert Frost poems from Thatcher and a
handmade leather vest from Mackenzie, with matching gloves; his first name
stitched on front. 

	"Thank you Mac." He smiled as Ray showed off his vest. 

	"Hey Fraser, now we're twins." He grinned wickedly and Fraser
laughed, really laughed not like the polite chuckle he sometimes allowed
himself, but the kind of genuine laughter Thatcher had heard when she
happened upon their snowball fight.  

	"Are you sure you want to be twins with a freak?" teased Fraser. 

	"Sure." Agreed Kowalski, "We'll just have to spike yer hair a bit
and get ya some real clothes and we'll be set." Mackenzie and Thatcher
shuddered, trying to picture Fraser dressed like Ray, and they all burst
out laughing. Although it was a good look for Ray, on Fraser it just
wouldn't work. Diefenbaker wined from next to Fraser and Mackenzie pushed
two packaged toward the wolf.  

	"Alright, " Fraser sighed opening the packages as the wolf watched
expectantly. "You really aren't a human though, despite your protests to
the contrary." One was a new woven blanket from Mackenzie, the second, a
new food bowl from Ray. Fraser had already given Diefenbaker his gift,
which was a handsome new collar that the wolf now wore. Diefenbaker barked
his approval and pulled his blanket over by the fire to curl up on. Fraser
shook his head in disgust. 

	"I'm going to go put away the leftovers." Decided Mackenzie rising
to her feet as the others rose as well. 

	"I'll help." Offered Fraser, only to have his sister wave him off.


	"Ray can help." She stated indicating the detective follow her. 

	"How'd I get roped fer kitchen duty?' he protested as she caught
him by the collar. 

	"You helped eat it you help clean it." She informed pulling him
along behind her. Fraser grinned, knowing his partner hated doing dishes,
but doubted he'd mind very much since he'd be helping Mackenzie. Fraser
began to pick up the discarded wrappings from the floor and carried them
over to the fire, as Thatcher neatly placed the opened gifts back under
the tree. 

	"Thank you for the book." He offered so quietly that it took her a
moment to realize he was addressing her. She shrugged, feeling it was
inadequate compared to the gift he'd given her. 

	"It isn't nearly as nice as my shawl." She returned politely.
Fraser turned back to face her. 

	"I think it was." He assured. "I'll get many hours of enjoyment
from it." Thatcher stared past him to the fire, watching the flames dance
hypnotically before her. 

	"As many hours as you put in making my gift?" she asked quietly
and knew without looking at him that Fraser was blushing. "Your sister
told me that you asked her for the pattern." Fraser remained silent and
she continued to stare at the fire, knowing that if she allowed herself a
glance his way she'd loose her courage. "Why did you go to such trouble,
Ben?" When he still didn't respond she forced herself to meet his gaze. 

	"Because I thought you would like it." He replied simply, his
normally bright eyes shadowed beneath a veil the deepest blue Thatcher had
ever seen. 

	"Why should it matter so much?' she insisted, unable to look away
now or to stop the questions that had haunted her for the last twenty-four
hours. Fraser lowered his eyes, his long thick lashed hiding the truth she
searched for in his eyes. When he finally met her gaze, his eyes were the
normal calming blue of textured ice. 

	"I'm afraid I can't answer that." He apologized gently. Thatcher
tried to keep her temper in check. He was keeping things from her again
and she hated him for it. 

	"Why?" she demanded. 

	"It wouldn't be appropriate." He assured calmly. Thatcher quelled
the sensation to reach up and strangle him. 

	"I order you to tell me constable." She persisted, falling back
into her roll as his superior officer, which seemed the only way to get
him to respond sometimes. 

	"I'm sorry." He refused subdued. She drew closer to him and
removed the shawl to hold it out to him. 

	"Then take it back." She commanded. She saw a flicker of pain in
his eyes for the briefest moment. "If you won't tell me why you can have
it." Fraser made no move to take it from her. 

	"It's your Christmas gift." He protested. "Please don't.." 

	"Then tell me." She ordered. "What are you afraid of?" Fraser
caressed his right eyebrow nervously. He was afraid of the rejection he
knew would come after he proclaimed his feelings for her, just as it
always did. He was afraid of making her uncomfortable, or worse have her
end up hating him. 

	"Why did you give me a book of poetry?' he returned, trying to
make her realize that questioning the reason for a gift was not only
impolite but just plain silly. 

"I knew you liked to read," she explained somewhat startled by his
question, "So I went to a book store and asked the clerk what would make a
good gift for someone who was as methodological in their reading as you
were. He said I couldn't go wrong with Robert Frost." 

	"But it's a first edition." Reminded Fraser. 

	"I knew you would appreciate it more." She claimed, frustrated.
"You do don't you?" 

	"Yes, of course." he reassured quickly. "But I...I 'm just trying
to point out that...why should it matter why I gave you the shawl? I
thought you would enjoy such a gift so when I couldn't find one anywhere I
made one." He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "That is just the
way I am. I'm sorry if it offends or upsets you." Thatcher tried to
swallow her anger. 

	"I..of course I'm not offended Fraser." She managed pulling the
shawl to her chest. "I just want to understand...No one's ever made
something for me before and I..." she shook her head and looked away. 

	"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." He offered quietly,
catching her chin and turning her gaze back to his. "I wanted you to have
a nice Christmas." She stared up at him and saw the depth of emotion once
again shining in his eyes. She knew, without him saying it, she knew he
cared for her deeply and unconditionally. She slowly wrapped her arms
around his neck and pulled his lips closer. Fraser stared at her
questionably, then after seeing the approval in her eyes, he allowed his
arms to slide around her move her close to him. At first he thought she
would just allow a simple embrace, but when she reached up and kissed him
his body started in shock. Her mouth was warm and sweet and she tasted of
candied apples. She leaned closer and opened her mouth to him, inviting
him inside, and Fraser allowed a soft sigh to escape before he deepened
the kiss. Thatcher wound her fingers through his hair, reveling in the
taste and feel of him. For so long she'd wanted this, and she suspected
from his reaction that Fraser had wanted it as much. Pressed against him
she felt the hard muscles of his torso flex as he moved, discovered the
strength of his arousal and the rocketing sensations that her discovery
uncovered within her. She felt his large, strong hands in her hair and
making slow circles across her back. She reached one hand down and ran it
over his ribcage, down along his thigh and behind to his bottom. She felt
his surprised intake of breath as she squeezed him suggestively. Suddenly
he raised his head and almost stumbled backwards. They stared at each
other silently, as though each trying to come to terms with what just
happened. His hair was in a tousled from the path of her fingers and both
their lips were pink and slightly swollen. Unchecked desire gleamed in his
eyes and he was curling and uncurling his fists by his side. She smiled
and grasped his hands, entwining her fingers with his. 

	"Merry Christmas, Fraser." She whispered seductively. "How'd you
like your Christmas Goose?" Fraser swallowed and smiled. 

	"Very much." He managed softly. "I may request seconds." She
laughed and pulled him with her across the ballroom. 

	"Let's go help in the kitchen." He followed, her hand still
wrapped in his, and wondered what this New Year would bring. Already he'd
received two things he had wished for, a family of his own and a kiss from
the woman he loved, it could only get better. 

  

  

THE END?