AN UNEXPECTED VISIT	 AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
         Constable Benton Fraser walked into the squadroom of the Chicago
precinct and went in search of Ray, or at least the man posing as Ray
while the real Ray Vecchico was undercover in Chicago's crime syndicate.
He found his new partner at his desk hunched over paperwork, probably from
their last case involving what was supposedly the ghost ship of the USS
Mackenzie. Fraser himself had only finished his own paperwork this morning
regarding his involvement in the case. He had received a thorough dressing
down from Inspector Thatcher for blatantly leaving the area with no word
of his whereabouts, or justified jurisdiction ruling form the Canadian
Consulate, and had walked to the station for a cooling off period.
         Although he understood his superior was perfectly in her rights
to give him the once over for the dereliction of his duty he couldn't help
the frustration that had been rising in him since she had started the
tirade. He took it in his normal way, agreeing with her and showing no
outward sighs if emotion, but when he finally got the chance to leave he
was seething. It wasn't just the lecture on his duties and how he should
know better, it was the fact that Fraser had detected real anger in her
voice and her words stung him like they never had before. He could take
her yelling at him, bashing him, getting frustrated at him, but he
couldn't understand why she was so furious with him. The fact that he had
also decided to not accept the transfer to Ottawa, something he had
thought she would be pleased to hear seemed to only increase her anger at
him.
         "Hey Fraser." Greeted Ray, finally looking up from his paperwork.
He frowned. "What happened, you look like you just lost your best friend?"

         Fraser's face immediately seemed to form into his general blank
but friendly features. "Actually my only friends are you and Ray." He
 theorized. "Since you are here and we don't really know where the real
Ray is how could I conclude that I have lost either of you?" 
         Ray glared at him and felt that familiar headache coming on
again. "It's an expression Fraser." He divulged. "I just meant you don't
look like your normal, Mountie self."
         "Oh." Gathered Fraser "In that case I'm fine, thank you kindly
for asking." Fraser, twirling his Stetson between his fingers, indicated
the paperwork on the desk. "Getting caught up?" 
         Ray groaned and shoved the files away. "Yah, but I'm taking a
break." He stood and grabbed his leather coat. "I'm about to go blind
lookin' at all this crap. How about we grab a bite to eat at Sanford's?"
         "That sounds fine Ray." agreed Fraser as Elaine walked up
carrying a small pastry box." She handed them to Fraser. 
         "This was dropped off for you, Ben." She offered
 smiling. "Another heart pining for you, no doubt."
         "Thank you kindly, Elaine." replied Fraser, ignoring
 the other comment. He opened the lid and glanced inside. "Raisin
Cookies." He remarked surprised. "Now who would give me raisin cookies?"
Ray glanced over his shoulder, then snagged one of the cookies.
         "Who cares?" declared Ray delighted. "They're homemade. Like
Elaine said probably one of your many female fans." Fraser frowned.
         "Ray, I hardly think.." he had started to say, then noticed
Franchesca walk into the room, then discreetly out again. He handed the
cookies to his partner. "Hold these a moment please, I'll be right back."
         He Followed Franchesca out of the squadroom and watched
 her turn into one of the interviewing cells. He had noticed she had been
avoiding him the past few days since he and Ray returned and Franchesca's
discreet action proved his suspicion. If there was one thing she wasn't it
was discreet. He knocked politely then stepped inside the small room. She
turned surprised, then upon seeing whom it was, turned back and pretended
she was seeing something interesting through the two-way glass.
         "Franchesca." began Fraser quietly. "May I speak with you a
moment?"
         "Don't you have things to do?" she asked, her back to him. "Some
bad guys to catch or some women to..." she didn't finish her sentence and
Fraser watched her duck her head in shame at her thoughts. "I'm sorry I
didn't mean that." He moved toward her, placing his hat on the table in
the center of the room.
         "Are you angry with me?" he asked her simply. She shook her head.
"Then why are you avoiding me?"
         "I figured you'd relish me not hanging all over you is all." she
retorted smartly. Fraser placed his hand on her shoulder, only to have her
shrug him away. "Don't touch me, Fraser." Fraser stepped back, wounded.
         "I don't know what I've done to hurt you, Franchesca." he stated
sadly. "But I'm sorry. I..care about you a great deal and I wouldn't want
to do anything that would jepordize our friendship." She spun around and
glared at him, though Fraser could see her eyes were moist with unshed
tears.
         "You care about me?" she emphasized sarcastically. "Sure you do,
that's why you act like I don't even exist." 
         "Of course I know you exist, Franchesca." he insisted.
         "You've been a wonderful friend..."
         "I don't want to be you friend Fraser!" she declared
 angrily. "Are you really that thick or is it a game to you?" Fraser
stared at her for a moment, as if trying to ascertain just what he could
say to diffuse the situation.
         "I'm..aware that you have certain feelings for me." he admitted
finally. "I would have to be blind not to notice.." 
         "How I throw myself at you?" she finished with a tone
 of self-disgust.
         "How much you seem to care about me." he reiterated quietly. "I
can't honestly see why you feel that way, since I have done nothing to
encourage such feelings."
         "You encourage it by breathing, Fraser." she sighed. "You're drop
dead gorgeous, mysterious, a true gentleman, and you're sincere. What
woman wouldn't want you?" Fraser obviously wasn't prepared for her answer,
for a moment of shock swept over his face.
         "I can't help being who I am." he conceded. "But I don't think
it's all of what attracts me to you. Perhaps it's the fact that I don't
seem attainable, as Ray said, I don't know." He met her gaze and brought
his hand up to caress her cheek. "I do know that I think you are a bright,
intelligent and beautiful woman, that any man would be proud to have on
his arm, but you are my best friend's sister and a person I consider a
close friend. I don't want to ruin our friendship by bringing sex into
it." He smiled sweetly at her. "I care about you to much for that and if
it didn't work out I would miss having you in my life if you ended up
hating me." A tear rolled down Franchesca's face.
         "Do you mean that?" she whispered.
         "I never lie Franchesca." he reminded, making her smile through
her tears.
         "Couldn't we just make love once, to see what we'd be missing?"
she asked half-hoping half-teasing. Fraser bent and softly touched his
lips to hers.
         "It would never be a one time thing with you Franchesca," he
explained. "Neither of us could keep that promise." Franchesca smiled.
         "Well, I am pretty irresistible." She flipped and Fraser smiled.
         "Yes, you are." he agreed sincerely. Franchesca hugged him, and
sighed.
         "I miss Ray." she whispered sadly and Fraser nodded. "So do I."
         "Thanks Fraser." she said breaking away and wiping at her tears,
then cocked her head saucily as they made to leave the room. "But don't
think I'm gonna stop trying, Mountie." Fraser smiled and pt his hat on.
         "I'd be disappointed if you didn't." he assured as Ray Kowalski
came up to them. Franchesca smiled at him and practically waltzed past him
into the squad room. He looked back at her then at Fraser.
         "What happened in there?" he asked suspiciously.
         "Why nothing at all Ray." he assured as they walked
 down the stairs into the sunlight. "Why do you ask?" Ray grunted and
threw a cookie toward him.
         "Just get in the car." he demanded. Fraser took a bite of the
cookie and climbed into the passenger's side of the GTO.
         "Understood." he acknowledged as Ray pulled out of the police
parking lot and onto the busy street.
         Fraser stood from his chair, after having reviewed some of his
past paperwork, and rubbed his aching neck. Usually he didn't stiffen up
so quickly behind the desk. It had only been a couple of hours since Ray
had dropped him of for the evening. And it was still to early to sleep, so
he had decided to work on some reports that he had been asked to review,
but now, his neck and shoulders ached decisively. He had removed his
uniform and changed into a pair of denim cutoffs and a sleeveless tank
that Ray had bought him for his birthday a few months ago; although not
prone to wearing shorts, he had found them very comfortable. His feet were
bare and his hair slightly rumpled from constantly running his hands
through it over the particular report he was working on. Everyone else in
the consulate had already left for the evening, so he didn't really expect
any visitors. He was surprised when a knock came at his door, but rose to
answer it. He was even more surprised to find his superior officer staring
back at him. Margaret Thatcher tried to quell the rising flood of desire
that seemed to rocket through her at the sight of Fraser, so much of
Fraser exposed. His legs were tanned and muscled and matched his arms and
outlining torso. His hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed, a
decidedly pointed distraction to Thatcher. She shivered in the cool
climate Fraser kept his office and wondered how he could be warm enough in
here to wear such an outfit. Diefenbaker was curled up on Fraser's meager
cot, glanced briefly at her then fell asleep again. 
         "Constable," she finally said, forcing her eyes to meet
 his.
         "Yes sir?" he inquired, hoping the blush he knew he was sporting
didn't clash too much with his state of undress. 
         "You're out of uniform." managed Thatcher, berating herself for
the foolishness of her words. Of course he wasn't in his uniform, he was
off duty. She just didn't expect him to be so much out of uniform.
         "I had believed everyone had gone home, Sir." explained Fraser
nervously, retrieving a pair of jeans and pulling them on over his shorts,
which seemed to Thatcher like a second skin anyway. Fraser quickly
fastened his jeans and grabbed his red flannel shirt of his cot. "Is there
something I can do for you, Inspector?"
         "Yes," she confirmed finally, her tone receding to her usual cool
frost. "My car won't start I need you to drive me home." Fraser nodded as
he pulled on socks and a pair of black boots.
         "Certainly, sir." he agreed as Thatcher noticed the reports on
his desk.
         "Working late, Constable?" she inquired politely.
         "Yes ma'am." Was all he offered, which surprised her,
 as he usually tended to babble on. He switched of his lamp and followed
her out of the room. He retrieved the keys to one of the consulate cars
and headed outside behind his superior officer. Her personal Volvo was
parked in front of the Consulate's Cadillac.
         "Would you like me to check you car, Sir?" he offered. "No," she
dismissed slipping into the passenger side of the Black Cadillac as Fraser
held the door open for her. "Just take me home, I'll have it checked
tomorrow." Fraser nodded and slipped behind the wheel.
         "Would you like me to stop for something to take home for your
dinner, Sir?" he asked when they were a few blocks from the consulate.
Thatcher shook her head, but the delicious smells of a little Italian caf‚
invaded her thoughts.
         "On second though, Fraser." she proposed indicating the
restaurant to their right. "That smells wonderful." Fraser almost smiled
as he pulled into the parking lot. He got out and walked to the passenger
side to open her door for her. 
         "Shall I wait here, Inspector?" he suggested politely. "No," she
decided after a moment. "You may join me if you like, Fraser." Fraser
nodded and followed her inside. After speaking with a pretty young
hostess, they were led toward the back of the small dining room. Thatcher
requested to sit out in the caf‚, since it was a nice evening. Once
seated, the woman gave them menus and their silverware.
         "Can I get you something to drink?" she inquired, her eyes
resting on Fraser's face. "Or anything else?" Thatcher frowned at the
woman's flirting and wondered if there were any women that weren't
attracted to Fraser in the greater Chicago area.
         "A glass of red wine please." She instructed the woman curtly.
The woman made a notation on her notepad, though did not acknowledge
Thatcher.
         "And you, Sir?" she encouraged smiling brightly.
         "Do you by any chance have bark tea?" he requested, then from the
baffled expression on the girl, continued. "No, perhaps not. Water is
fine, thank you kindly."
         The woman nodded and reluctantly left the table. Thatcher watched
Fraser glance over his menu. It still fascinated her that he was oblivious
to the presence he presented to the female persuasion. Thatcher had felt
like an insect under a threat of a fly swatter as they walked to their
table and all the women in the room turned to stare at them. When Fraser
had pulled out her chair for her the temperature in the room seemed to
drop forty degrees. Shivering slightly she returned her attention to the
menu. 
         "Would you prefer to go back inside, Sir?" inquired
 Fraser, noticing her shudder. "It may be a bit warmer." Thatcher shook
her head.
         "No, I'm fine." she assured, then added. "Since we're
 both off duty you can dispense with the formalities as well, Benton."
         "Understood." He affirmed as their waitress returned
 with their drinks. She smiled at Fraser.
         "Have you decided what to order?" she asked bending
 over his shoulder to peer at his menu and expose a little
 more of her already generous cleavage. Fraser glanced at Thatcher,
awaiting her decision.
         "I'll have the spaghetti." she insisted, trying to keep the anger
out of her voice at the woman's obvious display. 
         "And you, Sir." inquired the waitress, leaning even closer.
Fraser turned to address her and blushed at where his eyes were focused.
         "Ah..umm, yes." He cleared his throat. "I'd like the Lasagna
please." He requested, his eyes returning to the menu. The waitress
collected their menus and wandered off. Fraser glanced up and met
Thatcher's cold stare. Oh dear, he thought.
         "Beautiful evening." he offered, desperately wanting to get them
on a safer heading. "It's always pleasant when there's a full moons, er
..moon." Again his face turned red and he avoided her eyes to stare out at
the passing traffic. Well done Fraser, you've only got one other foot to
insert into your mouth why not go for it. He thought.
         "Yes, it is nice." agreed Thatcher, trying not to smile at his
discomfort. Fraser chanced a glance at her and found her eyes had grown
softer. He smiled and nodded. Thatcher picked up a breadstick and nibbled
on it, then frowned. Couldn't he find anything else to discus besides the
lunar cycles? Here was his big chance to talk to her and he was sitting
there watching the cars roll by. Was he really that intimidated by her, or
did he just have nothing else to say to her?
         "Here you are." announcee their waitress, serving them their
food. She smiled again at Fraser. "I get off work at nine." she indicated
suggestively.
         "Oh," replied Fraser, somewhat confused. "Then please be careful
going home." She stared at him like he was daft and Thatcher had to grab
up a forkful of spaghetti to keep from laughing aloud. Fraser accepted his
plate. "Thank you kindly." The waitress wandered off shaking her head.
Thatcher did smile then, sometimes she wondered if the Mountie really was
that dense or if he did it on purpose. When she looked up from her plate,
she found Fraser staring at her.
         "What?" she asked him, wiping her face with a napkin, perhaps
there was sauce on her cheek.
         "Nothing." replied Fraser, taking a sudden interest in is meal.
         "It is something or you wouldn't have been staring at me." she
insisted. "Now what is it?" Fraser glanced up at her again, his deep blue
eyes locking with hers.
         "I was just making an observation." he dismissed hesitantly.
         "Which was what, Constable?" demanded Thatcher
 exasperatedly.
         "That you have an enchanting smile." He acknowledged
 finally. Thatcher stared at him surprised and felt the warmth rush to her
cheeks. Damn that man for saying just the right thing to get her defenses
down. Last time he did that he was standing on top of a roof telling her
that red suited her.
         "Thank you, Ben." she returned quietly.
 Obviously Fraser hadn't expected her to respond
 favorably to his words, for a moment of shock entered his expression, but
then it was gone. They ate mostly in silence for the remainder of the
meal, every now and then making small talk about Consulate business or the
business of the Chicago streets.
         Finally, Thatcher paid the check, despite Fraser's protests, and
they returned to the car. He pulled in front of her building and walked
her to hr door.
         "Thank you kindly for dinner, Margaret." he offered smiling.
Thatcher stared at him a moment, in the threshold of her door, debating
whether or not to ask him in for a nightcap. Finally she nodded.
         "Pick me up at seven thirty tomorrow morning." she instructed
curtly wishing she could force a little softness into her words. For a
brief moment she suspected Fraser might click his heals together and raise
his hand salute, but he simply stepped back from her and bowed slightly. 
         "Understood." He replied, waiting until she was inside with the
door closed to turn and leave.
         Thatcher arrived the following morning to find that Fraser had
already in-listed someone to fix her car and a brief note on her desk
informed her that it was now fine to drive. She was slightly disappointed
when Turnbull had showed up at her door this morning and not Fraser, but
now she understood why. Turnbull mentioned that Fraser and the another
person had been working on her car when he had arrived a little after six
and offered to take Turnbull's turn at sentry duty so that he could go
pick up the Inspector.
         She suspected that Fraser had gotten little sleep if he had been
up so early finding someone to fix her car, but she was also somewhat
angry with him for not picking her up himself. Because of that she kept
Turnbull busy on menial things and allowed Fraser to remain at his post
until almost noon, when she finally allowed Fraser to be relieved and
requested he come see her.
         "You asked to see me Sir?" he inquired standing at attention in
her office.
         "At ease, Constable." she amended, waiting for Fraser
 to resume a slightly more relaxed posture, though still somewhat stiff
kneed. "I appreciate you having my car fixed so quickly, however I believe
I instructed that you pick me up this morning." Fraser got that
deer-in-the-headlights look again and Thatcher bit her lip to keep from
smiling. 
         "Yes, Sir." he agreed truthfully.
         "Then why was it Turnbull that arrived at my door, Constable?"
Fraser glanced away for a moment, as though putting together all the
pertinent fact together in his head in an order that wouldn't get him
yelled at.
         "I needed to shower and put on my uniform, Sir." he explained,
slowly, as though testing the waters. "I would not have had time to
be...presentable, drive over to pick you up, return to the consulate and
be ready for duty at my appointed time. Since I go on duty promptly at
0630 hours, I sent Turnbull because he was already here and in uniform. I
could be showered and changed for duty and be outside to take his place
seven."
         "What time did you go to sleep last night, Fraser?" she asked.
Fraser gave a startled glance.
         "I believe around one o'clock or so, Sir." He admitted,
neglecting to inform her that thoughts of her were what prevented him from
getting to sleep any earlier.
         "And what time did you get up?"
         "It was right at four, Sir." he supplied. "I had noticed a garage
on the way back last night that opened at four-thirty and decided to see
if someone could come by and look at your car." Thatcher walked around the
desk with a frown and her arms crossed in front of her.
         "So you slept not quite three hours, just so you could get my car
fixed first thing this morning." she related. 
         "Yes, Sir." he admitted.
         "Fraser, " she sighed, trying to keep the anger out of her voice.
"I would have gotten it taken care of this morning myself. You didn't have
to loose sleep over getting it fixed."
         "I'm sorry." replied Fraser contritely, although he looked
confused as to why what he did was a bad thing. 
         "Sometimes you just don't think, Fraser." she admonished. "What
if I needed you for something later this evening, or you ended up in one
of those godforsaken all night things for Detective Vecchio.."
         "Stakeout, Sir." corrected Fraser.
         "Whatever." she dismissed. "You would be overtired and could get
hurt or get someone else hurt. There was no valid reason for what you
did."
         "Yes Sir." returned Fraser, dutifully and Thatcher wanted to
reach over and throttle him. Must he agree with everything she said?
Couldn't he just once fight back or tell his side of the story? She was
about to dismiss him when her door opened and a dark haired woman of about
thirty and a lovely red haired, freckle faced child burst into the room.
         "So this is where you've been hiding!" declared the woman boldly.
Fraser watched as a million different emotions flashed over the
Inspector's face, the final one being delighted surprise.
         "Vivian!" she exclaimed throwing her arms around the woman in an
opposing reaction to her usual stiff and cool demeanor. "What are you
doing here?" The woman named Vivian returned the embrace enthusiastically,
then indicated her daughter.
         "Robin and I were in the neighborhood and we'd heard you'd be
transferred here to Chicago." she explained calmly. "Your watch dog out
there wasn't going to let me in." Thatcher and Fraser turned to observe a
red-faced Turnbull, just outside the door.
         "She didn't have an appointment, Ma'am." he insisted weakly.
Thatcher waved him away.
         "That's fine, return to your post." she ordered, leaning down
toward the eight-year-old beside her. "You can't be Robin! The last time I
saw you, you barely fit in your mother's arms." The girl smiled and threw
her arms affectionately around Thatcher's neck.
         "Hi Auntie Meg." She greeted kissing the surprised
 Inspector's cheek. "Mama said you're not my real Auntie because you're
not her sister but she said I should call you that." Thatcher hugged the
girl awkwardly, then stood up, composing herself as she noticed Fraser was
still in the room. She quickly introduced him.
         "It's a pleasure to meet you, Constable Fraser." offered Vivian
shaking his hand.
         "The pleasure is mine, Ma'am." he returned kindly, then glanced
down at girl tugging at the hem of his red Serge. "Delighted to meet you,
Miss." he greeted, shaking her tiny hand as well.
         "Are you a real Mountie?" she inquired boldly.
         "Yes, I am." he assured.
         "Can I wear your hat?" she asked. Fraser glanced at his superior
officer, who was watching them bemused.
         "It's your hat, Constable." she reminded. He nodded and removed
his hat so he could place it on her head. It almost swallowed her entire
face, but she grinned from ear to ear and ran to her mother.
         "Look, Mama!" she demanded excitedly. "Now when I ride my horse
I'll be a real life Mountie, just like Constabulb Fraser." Vivian smiled
down adoringly at her daughter. 
         "We'll have to get you a red jacket and boots to, then,
 sweetheart." she promised. "And it's Constable Fraser." She
 turned her attention to Thatcher. "We've come to take you out to lunch,
darling. Say you'll come." Thatcher smiled, but indicated the stack of
papers on her desk.
         "I'm afraid I really have to much to do here." she refused with a
sigh. "I have too finish three reports and turn them in my one and I just
don't have time for lunch." 
         "I'll be happy to finish the reports for you, Sir." proposed
Fraser helpfully, receiving a grateful look from Vivian.
         "It's settled then." she smiled. "I know of a lovely
 bistro just south of here.."
         "I can't let you do my work for me, Fraser." dismissed Thatcher
pointedly.
         "Then perhaps you might consider it as a disciplinary
 action for my earlier behavior." he suggested. Thatcher shook her head.
         "What you did doesn't require you to be disciplined,
 Constable, I just.."
         "Please Auntie Meg!" pleaded Robin. "Please come eat with us."
Thatcher sighed.
         "Alright." she conceded grabbing her purse off he desk. "Let's
go." She turned to Fraser. "I'll expect those reports done correctly and
in triplicate by the time I return, Constable." Fraser nodded.
         "Understood." he confirmed, seeing the gratitude in her eyes,
despite the coolness of her words.
         "Give the Constable back his hat, dear." Instructed
 Vivian and watched Robin reluctantly walk back to Fraser. She took it off
and shuffled it back and forth in her hands and Fraser had to force
himself not to smile. Finally she held it out to him.
         "Thank you kindly." he accepted, returning the Stetson to its
rightful position. She waved and followed her mother and Inspector
Thatcher out. Fraser sighed and retrieved the reports, this was going to
be a long day.
         Ray showed up to see if he could break for lunch, but Fraser
informed him he had to work through. Ray muttered something about Thatcher
being a slave driver and promised to stop by later. They didn't have any
cases pending at the moment, other than a purse-snatcher and a homeless
woman who witnessed it.
         At a few minutes after two, a knock sounded at his door and he
rose to answer it. Thatcher and her company walked in.
         "Did you finish those reports, Constable?" she demanded, knowing
he had for she'd already received a call from her supervisor telling her
they would process them through.
         "Yes, Sir." he answered calmly. "And I have already had them
delivered to the rightful personnel."
         "Good." said Thatcher as Robin walked up to Fraser with a brown
paper bag. She held it out to him.
         "I asked if we could bring you something 'cause you couldn't come
to lunch with us, so here." she offered. Fraser again glanced at his
superior, who nodded, and then accepted the bag. His superior sense of
smell automatically told him it was a Philly cheese-steak sandwich and
coffee. 
         "Thank you kindly, Robin." he returned, smiling at her.
 She grinned, the glanced around, spying Diefenbaker by the window.
         "I..is that a wolf?" asked Vivian concerned.
         "Part wolf actually," informed Fraser. "But don't worry, he's
very well behaved."
         "Can I pet him?" inquired the girl curiously.
         "Well," began Fraser. "He doesn't actually think of himself as a
pet, so the term petting him doesn't..." He caught Thatcher's frown.
"Er..yes, you may pet him, Robin." Diefenbaker let the girl walk up to him
and scratch his ears than laid down and exposed his belly to her touch.
"Oh for heaven's sake." Muttered Fraser at the animal's behavior." Finally
Robin decided she'd petting the wolf enough and she turned back to Fraser.
         "Where's your hat?" she demanded?" Fraser indicated the shelf on
the wall where his Stetson neatly fit, then while she was looking he
reached down under his desk and retrieved a large box.
         "This is for you." He instructed. Robin, after receiving an
approval glance at her Mother, ore into the box and retrieved a miniature
tan Stetson.
         "It's just like yours!" she observed trying it on excitedly.
        "Oh thank you Concubine Fraser!" Vivian gasped and Fraser smiled
again.
         "Perhaps you should just call him Mr. Fraser, honey." She
suggested mortified.
         "I took the liberty of sending for one for her." Fraser informed,
glancing again at Thatcher for her approval. This time he received only a
blank stare in return. "We give them out at schools in Canada to
upstanding children who have a good grade average."
         "Thank you, Benton." Offered Vivian, then with a smile. "Is it
alright if I call you that?"
         "Certainly, Ma'am." Again Thatcher was giving him an odd look.
         "Yes, well," she finally said. "Let's allow the Constable to eat
his lunch then and we'll talk in my office." Vivian nodded and smiled
again at Frase, who noticed she had uniquely gray eyes.
         "Thank you again for the hat, Benton. Would you care to join us
for dinner tonight? Nothing fancy just at our apartment, I'm cooking."
         "Oh, well that would be..." Began Fraser
         "He's probably very busy." added Thatcher simultaneously. They
exchanged a glance and Fraser nodded. 
         "Perhaps another time." He suggested.
         "Nonsense!" laughed Vivian. "I insist. It's the least I can do
for allowing us to take Meggie to lunch." She handed him a piece of paper.
"Here's our address, room 323 we'll eat at seven and please dress casual."
Fraser nodded and watched them leave. Why did he feel like he had just
made the biggest possible mistake?
         He didn't get a chance to see Thatcher until a few hours later,
when she was getting ready to leave for the day. He approached her in the
hall.
         "May I speak with you a moment, Sir?" he requested. She turned to
him impatiently.
         "Hurry up, Fraser, I have to go home and change." Fraser nodded,
trying to hide his discomfort.
         "Yes, Sir." He agreed. "I was just wondering...that is..I don't
have to go this evening. If you prefer I can..." He swallowed the
remainder of his sentence as she fixed him with that cold stare.
         "Vivian was nice enough to invite you Constable I suggest you be
nice enough to attend."
         "Yes, Sir," he amended. "but I just thought..."
         "Oh, now you decide to start thinking." she tossed sarcastically,
then immediately regretted it when she saw a flicker of hurt cross
Fraser's face. Instantly it was replaced by his calm, resigned expression.
         "I'll see you at dinner then Inspector." he pledged quietly. She
could only nod and watch him retreat to his office. She started to go
after him, to apologize for the uncalled for remark, but she shook her
head and proceeded
 outside.
         Fraser arrived at Vivian's apartment door at 6:30, having walked
from the Consulate, which was only about ten miles away, and knocked on
the door. He wore his best pair of blue jeans and a red and gray collared
shirt. He could here the sound or a chair moving against the door, then
thought perhaps someone was looking through the peep hole, then the chair
was moved back and Robin, wearing a pretty green party dress pulled open
the door. ;her Mountie Stetson firmly atop her head.
         "Hi Mr. Fraser!" she greeted grabbing his hand and pulling him
inside. "Mama, Mr. Fraser is here!" Vivian walked out of their kitchen in
jeans and a red print shirt, with an apron around her waist. She smiled
and extended her hand toward him.
         "Welcome Ben." She offered as Robin closed the door and clicked
the lock closed. Fraser smiled, the scent of her subtle perfume and
making's of dinner made for a pleasant atmosphere. "I'm glad you came
early, you can help with the steaks, if you don't mind."
         "Not at all." Assured Fraser following her inside, noticing she
still held one hand while her daughter had elected to keep his other one,
to the kitchen where the makings of a salad and marinating T-bone steaks
sat on the pearly white counter top.
         "I'm not very good at barbecue," she laughed. "It's was always my
husband's forte, but I think it's really just a guy thing." Fraser smiled
and retrieved his hands so he could pick up the pan of steaks as Vivian
spoke to her daughter. ""Sweetheart, show Mr. Fraser where the barbecue
is." Robin nodded and tugged Fraser toward the back patio, the stood next
to him as he placed the steaks on the grill. 
         "Daddy used to barbecue for us all the time." She indicated, as
Fraser pulled the cover over the meat and adjusted the fire. "But he's in
heaven with grandma now, so I guess he makes barbecue for her." Fraser
looked at her tenderly.
         "I'm sure your right." He replied.
         "Where's your Daddy, Mr. Fraser." She asked with the innocent
curiosity that befitted her age. Fraser knelt beside her. He couldn't very
well tell her he didn't know, for the man kept popping up at any given
moment, despite the fact he was dead.
         "He is gone as well." He said finally.
         "Do you talk to your Daddy?" she asked. "I talk to mine
sometimes, though I don't tell Mommy, it might upset her." Fraser nodded,
a little surprised.
         "I imagine we all like to talk to those people who are far away
from us." He contrived. "That's a very pretty dress you're wearing Robin."
The girl grinned from ear to ear then ran inside, and Fraser thought that
perhaps he had said something to upset her. He followed her in and found
no one in the living area or kitchen, however his keep hearing picked up
the sounds of running water and laughter from one of the back rooms. He
picked up a knife and began chopping up the tomatoes and bell peppers for
the salad, his hands flying across them at a speed that would have rivaled
the finest chefs in Europe.
         "My goodness!" exclaimed Vivian from behind as the door buzzer
sounded and Fraser barely caught the knife from slicing into his finger at
the start she gave him. "I may have to keep you around, Ben." She moved up
closer and he could feel her own body warmth reaching out to him from
their proximity, as she placed her hands on his shoulders and reached
around to kiss his cheek. He half turned,
 surprised.
         "Why.." he began.
         "You made my little girl very happy, Ben." She informed, moving
further against him for a quick hug. "She wore that dress especially for
you." Fraser nodded as he realized what she was referring to.
         "Ah." He said smiling and turning back to finish the vegetables.
Something made him glance toward the living room and he met Margaret
Thatcher's cold gaze. "Good evening, Inspector."
 "Constable." Returned Thatcher curtly, as Vivian went to greet her.
         "Let's dispense with the titles for tonight, shall we?" she
suggested, smiling at them both. "I was just telling Ben that he was so
sweet to remark on Robin's dress, as she wore it especially for him."
         "Yes, well, Fraser is nothing if not polite." Returned Thatcher
frigidly. Vivian stared at her a moment, then back at Fraser who was not
chopping up the vegetables with a slower deliberation then before.
         "Ben, why don't you check on the steaks?" suggested Vivian still
smiling. "Robin honey, go help him." As if the girl had to be told, she
practically flew to take the Mounties's hand.
         "Certainly." Replied Fraser opening the patio door and escorting
Robin outside. Vivian waited until he pulled the sliding glass closed,
then turned to glare at her friend. 
         "What the hell is going on?" she demanded, as Thatcher
 smoothed her hands over her blue silk blouse that was tucked neatly into
her designer jeans and secured with a silver plated belt.
         "What do you mean?" she avoided calmly. She wasn't about to tell
Vivian that coming in and seeing Fraser and her in such a domesticated
setting, with her friend kissing him, had made her blood boil.
         "Is there something going on between you and Ben?" Asked Vivian.
         "Of course not!" denied Thatcher. ""He's my subordinate, nothing
more."
         "He doesn't look at you like a subordinate." Stated Vivian.
         "I have no idea what you're talking about." Huffed Thatcher,
trying not to notice the way Fraser was acting with Robin. He had the girl
up on his shoulders and was pointing out different things from their view
of the city. Both were laughing and a surge of jealously shot through her.
She was startled by hr sudden feelings, how could she be jealous of a
child? She realized Vivian was still speaking to her.
         "Well?" she was asking.
         "Well, what?" asked Thatcher confused from not hearing the
question.
         "I said, his eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas when you walked
in," repeated Vivian. "but you just gave him one of your ice stares and he
suddenly looked like he'd rather be dead. Why are you so vicious toward
him? I noticed you were that way at the consulate as well."
         "Fraser and I have a difficult relationship." Explained Thatcher.
"I'm his superior officer and he is my subordinate. We must keep things
professional at all times." Vivian was staring at her as though for the
first time. 
         "You've changed Meggie." She sighed. "And I don't think for the
better." Thatcher glanced up at he friend, surprised at her words, then
averted her gaze. She was aware she was a different person then the one
Vivian had grown up with in Canada, but Vivian didn't understand the
circumstances of being a woman in he position. She couldn't appear
vulnerable. Deep in her own thoughts she realized Vivian was speaking
again.
         "I won't ask Ben to leave just so you're more comfortable, Meg."
She insisted. "Robin adores him and he's the first man she's taken to
since her father died and I won't ruin it for her by asking him to leave."
She bit her lip disturbed. "Although I'm sure if I did ask him he would
leave without hesitation, and not even warrant hard feelings."
         "He would." Replied Thatcher quietly. "Fraser holds a grudge
against no one." Not even me, she finished silently. "Can't you just try
and relax and pretend he's just a guy and you're a girl and we're all
friends looking for a fun evening?" encouraged Vivian. Thatcher bit her
lip. She didn't have a problem remembering Fraser was a man and not just a
Mountie, however that was when she found herself in the most turmoil.
Finally she nodded as Fraser and Robin came back inside, carrying the
steaks. Vivian smiled and moved to retrieve them.
         "They smell wonderful, Fra...Ben" Offered Thatcher, somewhat
timidly. Fraser stared at her a moment and nodded. 
         "Vivian had them marinating for quite some time I believe," he
explained modestly. "I simply put them on the grill." Vivian smiled and
began to bring the food out on the table. Robin grabbed the salad, Fraser
retrieved the baked potatoes from the oven, and Thatcher the wine that she
had brought. When they were all seated at the small dining table, Thatcher
requested that Fraser open the wine. He nodded and retrieved the bottle,
opening it with a loud pop, and proceeded to fill Vivian and Thatcher's
glass. Robin had milk and he left his own empty.
         "Don't you like wine, Ben?" asked Vivian, noticing his empty
goblet.
         "I don't drink," he insisted, sitting back down, "Except of
course the obligatory toast to the queen."
         "Make and exception, Fraser." Instructed Thatcher, pouring wine
into his glass. "It won't kill you just this once."
         "Yes, Sir...ma'am. Thank you kindly." He replied, lowering his
eyes at the cold look she gave him. Vivian noticed their interaction, as
she instructed Robin to remove her hat at the table, but said nothing. A
tense silence poured over the group, interrupted only by Robin, who
chattered on about her horse back home.
         "Are there any horses here Fraser?" she asked, for Fraser had
offered to let her drop the Mister part.
         I don't believe there are any ones to ride here in the city." He
stated kindly. "But I do know of someone who owns a horse and carriage
that might be available to take you for a ride around the city." He
glanced at Vivian. "With your mother's approval of course." The way her
daughter's face flushed with excitement she could have hardly said no. 
         "Perhaps tomorrow, then." She suggested, again smiling
 at Fraser. "If you could arrange it that soon."
         "Certainly." He assured calmly. "It shouldn't be a problem,
perhaps around ten or so tomorrow morning."
         "That would be fine, Ben," agreed Vivian. "Thank you." Fraser
nodded and smiled, happy he could be of some help. After dinner, Fraser
offered to help clear away the dishes, but Vivian shooed him and Thatcher
into the living area. 
         "That's what dishwasher's are for." She replied. "Would you like
tea or coffee?"
         "Tea, please." He replied, while Thatcher opted for coffee. He
was glad of her choice, considering she'd down three glasses of wine at
dinner, while his was still half full. It wasn't that he didn't like wine,
he just preferred
 not to drink it. He and Thatcher sat opposite each other, her on the
couch and he in the matching loveseat. Her cheeks were flushed and her
eyes slightly glazed.
         "You like her, don't you?" she asked suddenly, and Fraser was
surprised that she was addressing him.
         "Pardon me?" he inquired confused.
         "Vivian, you like her." She repeated under lowered lids. "It
would be perfect for you and she to get involved, you have a ready made
family. She's got a kid, you got a wolf, it would be picture perfect."
         "I believe you may have had to much wine.." he suggested gently,
only having her cut him off, her eyes blazing.
         "Don't you tell me how to drink Constable!" she declared. "I know
exactly what my alcohol tolerance is. I will admit, she's much better than
your past loves." Her eyes lowered coldly. "At least she won't try and
have you arrested or killed." Fraser heard his own intake of breath at her
taunt. Why did she have to bring up Victoria?
         "Meg, please." He whispered.
         "OH!" she exclaimed sarcastically. "So now it's Meg, is it?" She
shook her finger at him. "What happened to Sir? Thank you Sir. Yes, sir.
May I think for myself for a change, Sir." She sighed in disgust. "You're
a wimp Fraser, did anyone ever tell you that? A yes man to who ever will
take you." She knew she had gone to far, could see the hurt in his eyes,
but she was so angry she didn't realize what she was saying. She wanted to
hurt him, God she wanted it. At least that was some kind of feeling from
him.
         "Margaret!" admonished Vivian, standing a few feet away with her
tray of tea and coffee. "What is wrong with you?" Fraser stood up as he
noticed her, his manners never failing even when he felt the desperate
stabbing to his heart Margaret's words had made.
         "Thank you kindly for dinner, Ma'am." He offered backing up
toward the door. "But I have early duty tomorrow and must be going." He
glanced at Thatcher, but she couldn't meet his sorrow filled eyes. "Good
evening Inspector." Robin ran up to him as Vivian placed her tray slowly
on the coffee table and shot Thatcher an angry look.
         "I wanted you to tuck me in, Fraser." She announced tugging at
his hand. He surprised both women as he lifted her in his arms and kissed
her cheek.
         "Another time, alright?" he offered.
         "Promise?"
         "Mounties never lie, Robin." He said and she smiled throwing her
arms around him.
         "Okay." He set her back on her feet. "Will you really take me
riding in a carriage tomorrow?"
         "Yes." He confirmed. "I'll be here around nine, alright?" She
nodded, appeased and stepped over to her mother, who had approached them.
         "Must you go, Ben?" she asked softly as her daughter wrapped her
arms around her mother's waist. Fraser nodded and leaned toward her.
         "Try and convince her t take a cab home." He whispered concerned
and Vivian nodded.
         "Thank you for coming." Offered Vivian as she closed the door
behind him, then turned to where Margaret Thatcher sat shaking her head at
her own foolishness.
         A little over an hour later, Thatcher climbed into a yellow cab
and started home. From the shadows of the building, Fraser stepped out and
watched her go.
         Over the course of the next few days, Fraser, other than that one
morning of the carriage ride, he escorted Vivian and Robin to various
places in the city. Only when he was off duty or after he had gotten
permission specifically from Thatcher, through Turnbull that he could go
with them. He and Thatcher hadn't spoken since the night they had dinner
at Vivian's and she was suing Turnbull to relay messages to Fraser of
important matters.
         Fraser worried that Vivian might be caught in the middle, since
she went to lunch with Thatcher and spent some evenings with her, and then
dinners or sightseeing with Fraser in between. Ray had taken them for a
ride in his GTO, showed her around the police station where he worked, and
where the best hot dogs al a cart could be found. Diefenbaker had
practically attached himself to Robin. Now it was Sunday and Ray was
trying to show Robin how to fly a kite while Diefenbaker barked his
encouragement.
         Fraser, in jeans and a T-shirt, sat next to Vivian on a picnic
blanket a few feet away. Fraser had attempted to explain to Ray the
different velocities of wind desired to project the kite astrometricly
into the air, but Ray shot him a warning look and told him there was a
certain skill to flying a kite and he was one of the few who possessed it.
Fraser had to admit, he was doing well, and the kite was flying high into
the blue sky, as Robin held tightly to the string while Ray gave her
instructions. She squealed in delight and Fraser smiled.
         "You and Ray are so wonderful with Robin." Remarked Vivian,
sipping her soda. "Why don't you have a family of your own, Ben? You'd
make a wonderful Father." Fraser blushed and looked away toward the
horizon.
         "I've been busy with...other things." He replied quietly, not
ready to admit how much he did want a family of his own, but he was
beginning to think it would forever be just a dream. Suddenly a woman's
scream caught his attention. 
         "Stop! Thief!" she cried. Ray and Fraser looked toward the sound
and saw a man running toward them.
         "Stay here." Ordered Fraser hopping up as he and Ray took off in
pursuit. The thief adjusted his position, crossed the road to the other
side and headed into a maze of concrete pillars, that was part of the
park's attraction. Vivian watched as Ray entered the maze after the man,
while Fraser scaled the eight-foot pillar closest to him and proceeded to
hop between them. Vivian suddenly noticed Robin had dropped her kite and
were running after them, with Diefenbaker hot on her heels.
         "Robin!" she screamed breaking into a run after her daughter and
the wolf. Fraser turned at her scream, still atop one of the pillars, and
noticed Robin just a few steps from the road where a truck was headed
toward her. She wasn't watching where she was going and the Mountie jumped
from the pillar nearest the road, rolled back onto his feet and took off
toward them. Diefenbaker had caught hold of her dress, near the edge of
the road and Robin was trying to pull away from him, Vivian was still a
good few feet behind. Fraser heard the truck's horn blast as Robin got
free and stumbled out into the road in the path of the oncoming vehicle.
Vivian screamed as her little girl stood paralyzed with fear, just as
Fraser threw himself forward and rolled her out of the way. He felt a
sharp pain in his right leg as he fell, with Robin on top to prevent her
from being injured.
         Vivian reached them and rapped her arms around her shaking
child's body, as Ray exited the maze with the pursesnatcher in cuffs. He
took in the scene and handcuffed the thief to a nearby tree, then ran to
check in his partner. 
         "Fraser!" he exclaimed leaning beside the fallen Mountie. "What
happened?" The driver of the truck had stopped and was now rushing over to
them.
         "I hit him!" he exclaimed fearfully. "I think I hit him!" Ray
glanced at Fraser for conformation and from the pained look in his
friend's eyes he knew the truth.
         "My right leg.' He explained rather calmly. "I believe it's
broken. Although I can't really feel either at the moment so it might have
done damage to my back as well." Vivian gasped and Robin began to cry as
Ray swore and pulled out his cell phone to call for an ambulance.
         "I didn't mean it, Fraser!" cried Robin. "I just wanted to see
where you were going and Diefenbaker grabbed my dress and I thought he was
gonna bite me!" Fraser nodded slightly, as Ray lifted his head up slightly
and placed it on his lap. 
         "The ambulance is on the way, Fraser." He promised.
         "Just hang tight for a few minutes."
         "What should I hang on too, Ray?" inquired Fraser curiously.
         "Just don't fall asleep or nothin' you may have hit your head."
Explained Ray.
         "Ah, understood." Then he turned his attention back to Robin.
"Diefenbaker would never have hurt you, Robin." He assured. "He was trying
to keep you from danger."
         "You should never have run off like that in the first place,
Robin." Scolded Vivian gently, her fear dissipating somewhat. "You could
have been killed, so could have Fraser." This prompted the girl to cry
even harder as the sounds of sirens whistled in the distance. Fraser
reached up and wiped her tears away with a gentle hand.
         "It's over now, Robin." He instructed softly. "You'll know better
then to run off from your mother form now on, won't you?" Robin sniffed
and nodded. "Then everything will be alright." Robin slid off her mother's
lap and wrapped her tiny arms around Fraser's neck.
         "I love you, Fraser." She pledged hugging him. Fraser, Vivian and
Ray all looked at each other in shock. 
         "Understood." Replied Fraser softly, as the paramedics
 arrived to transport him too the hospital. A few hours later, Fraser was
diagnosed with a broken leg, a mild concussion and a pinched nerve in his
back, which had been the reason he couldn't feel his legs at the scene.
The nerve was relieves, his leg was put in a cast and he was instructed to
stay the night for observation because of his concussion. Although Fraser
had declined medication for the pain, the Doctor had insisted and now
Fraser lay in a hospital bed groggy, and not quite himself.
         "This is another fine mess you've gotten into son." Remarked
Robert Fraser Sr. from the hospital chair beside the bed, scaring Fraser
half to death. Fraser gave him a perturbed look.
         "Not now Dad." He sighed. "And I asked you not to do that." His
father stood.
         "Do what son?" inquired his father, innocently.
         "Pop in and out like that." Replied Fraser knowing full well his
father knew what he was referring to. "You're going to give me a heart
attack one of these days, and then where will you be?"
         "Well, I'll still be dead son." Remarked his father plainly. "And
so will you I imagine. It'll be like one of our old Father-& Son outings."
Fraser muttered something totally against his nature under his breath.
         "We never had any Father-Son outings, Dad."
         "Well, There's still time, son." Insisted Robert Fraser
contrarily. "There's still time."
         "You're dead, Dad!" he exclaimed, finding it very annoying that
he kept having to remind his Father of that fact. "We can't exactly go
down to the YMCA and play basketball for Christ's sake!"
         "Good God, you're cranky today." Remarked Robert Fraser. "Surely
that little bump on your knee isn't that big of a deal."
         "It's broken in two places, Dad." Insisted Fraser with
frustration.
         "Ah, what odds." Remarked his father. "Why I remember when I was
tracking..."
         "I don't want to hear it." Stated Fraser with a sigh. "Just go,
Dad. Please." Robert Fraser tsked at his son.
         "You know, one of these days you're going to say that and I won't
come back." He informed.
         "I can only dream Dad." Fraser muttered in return, as his Father
blinked out.
         "What are ya dreamin' there Fraser?" inquired Ray coming into his
room. He turned and half-smiled at his partner.
         "Nothing." He replied. "I'm just a little out of it with the
drugs they gave me. How is Robin?"
         "Oh, she's okay." Assured Ray, settling into the chair Robert
Fraser Sr. had just vacated. "Her ma's had a talk with her and I think she
understands. She wanted to come in and see you but they don't let kids in
here." Fraser nodded. 
         "How's Dief?" asked Fraser. Ray smiled.
         "He's okay," he replied. "Seems a little worried, but he'll be
okay. Franchesca offered to take him home with her and said she'll stop by
later on. And ah I called yer Inspector and told her what was goin' on, so
ya don't gotta report for work or nothin tomorrow."
         "Thank you kindly Ray." Expressed Fraser, trying to keep his
thoughts together, the medication was making him drowsy and muddling his
thinking.
         "The purse snatcher confessed to the theft and he's already been
booked." Continued Ray, as though expecting that to be Fraser's next
question. They sat silently for a moment, and then Ray leaned forward and
asked. "So Fraser, you gettin' involved with Vivian and her kid or what?"
         "I don't understand your question Ray." Denied Fraser. "You and
she," explained Ray grinning. "Ya know doin' the horizontal mambo, pickin'
out china patterns."
         "Vivian and Robin are friends of Inspector Thatcher's." informed
Fraser specifically. "I was simply showing them around Chicago during
their stay."
         "Well, I think Robin's makin' you out to be her next Daddy."
Stated Ray boldly. "You up for the part, there Fraser?" Fraser glanced
over as Vivian and Margaret walked in.
         "I don't know what you mean, Ray." He avoided, studying the two
women under eyes that didn't want to focus.
         "How are you feeling, Ben?" asked Vivian leaning over too kiss
his cheek.
         "Quite well, thank you kindly." He assured. "Aside from a little
dryness in my throat, possibly a side effect of the medication, and of
course my broken leg, I'm doing fine." Vivian smiled as Ray stood politely
to offer her the chair, but she waved him off.
         "Thank you Ray, but I can't stay." She insisted. "Robin and I are
leaving tomorrow and I have to get everything ready."
         "I thought you weren't leaving until Tuesday." Asked Fraser.
         "Well, I got a line on a job in New York, so we're headed back
early." She explained. "Robin wanted so much to see you, but they wouldn't
let me bring her inside."
         "It is against policy." Acknowledged Fraser. "Please tell her
good bye for me." Vivian nodded.
         "I will." She promised then bent to carefully hug him and kiss
his cheek. "I can't thank you enough for saving her life." She chuckled.
"You and Diefenbaker that is. I just feel terrible that you ended up in
the hospital over it." Fraser's expression told her he wasn't giving it a
second thought.
         "My leg will mend." He assured. "I've been in much worse
situations and you mustn't let Robin blame herself." Vivian nodded. "Nor
you." She smiled again and nodded in agreement.
         "Robin wanted too be able to write to you," she informed. "Can
you tell me your mailing address?" Finally Thatcher stepped in.
         "Fraser stays at the consulate." She stated coolly. "I'll give
you the physical address before you leave." Vivian seemed to loose some of
smile, but indicated that she'd heard her friend. Fraser noticed the
tension between them. He indicated that Vivian lean closer, which she did.

         "Is everything alright between you and Margaret?" he asked
quietly. Vivian lowered her eyes for a moment and when she looked at him
there was sadness.
         "We'll be okay." She promised. "We just have to work some things
out. We have both changed a lot over the last ten years." Fraser nodded.
         "Understood." He confirmed drowsily.
         "Well, I think yer about to nod of there Fraser," observed Ray,
indicating it was time to leave. "I'll talk to ya tomorrow." Fraser nodded
sleepily.
         "Thanks Ray." He seemed too whisper. He smiled at Vivian. "It was
a pleasure to have met you and Robin." Vivian bent to kiss him again, this
time on the mouth, but Fraser was too drowsy to do much other than smile
in surprise.
         "Keep in touch." She whispered, knowing he was fading fast toward
sleep. "Thanks for everything." Fraser was briefly aware of a sudden chill
as the warmth of her body moved away and his eyes drifted closed. He
sensed something else and with great effort managed to open his eyes
again. Margaret Thatcher was standing by the bed gazing down at him. He
tried to ask what she needed, but his tongue felt like cotton and he could
only wet his lips. His lids drifted closed again and for a moment he
thought he felt soft lips against his. He must already be dreaming and he
smiled. 
         Margaret Thatcher stood alone in the room watching Fraser sleep,
a secret smile playing across the lips she had just impulsively kissed.
She had been terrible to him this past week and the things she had said to
him that night at Vivian's seemed to haunt her every waking moment. Vivian
had chew her out but good, and in a way she could imagine how Fraser felt
when she had just finished giving him a good dressing down. The rest of
the week that had barely spoken and although Fraser never would show it,
she knew he was still hurt and angry with her. She didn't know if he would
ever forgive her, or if she could ever forgive herself for hurting him so.
Sighing, she pulled the sheet further up on him, then turned and left the
room.
         To be continued...