The Best Intentions    

This story is a continuation of what has come to be called 'The Goofy
Mountie' Series. I'm not positive where the Series title originated, but
I'm sure it was somewhere on RSY. All of them are to blame for these
stories; they keep egging me on! My special thanks to Lucky, Magsy and
Alice for their excellent CampBeta advice. 

Teaser: Constable Turnbull attempts to bring two of his friends together,
with the typical Turnbull trials and tribulations. This is a story of love
and friendship as only Renfield Turnbull could interpret them. There is a
minor spoiler for AtQH. This story is rated PG for adult themes. I should
have posted it before Christmas, as there are a few Christmas references. 

As always all original due South characters are the property of the
geniuses who created them. No infringement of copyright is intended. No
profit is made or expected from this story. This story was first posted on
the Red Suits You list. 'The Best Intentions' is © December1999. Please do
not reprint or post to any other site without my express permission. The
Best Intentions By Shirley Russell robsure@earthlink.net 

He stood in the darkened hallway of the Canadian Consulate, mentally
ticking off all the preparations. His plan was unfolding nicely. It had
required precision timing, but they had made a fatal mistake, they had
underestimated him. They would not have believed it, but he was up to the
challenge. He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Wouldn't they be surprised?
Surprise, the whole plan hinged on the element of surprise. If they
somehow found out before they got here, they would put a stop to it, and
all would be for naught. But he knew when they landed, the call had been
made, and he was certain they were on their way. They would find the
building dark and empty, with the timer counting down. All the plans were
in place, there was no way they could know until they were actually in the
building. And then...he smiled a cunning smile.
>>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

A few minutes earlier, at Chicago O'Hare Airport: 

Inspector Thatcher and Constable Fraser's flight had just arrived. They
were returning from a policy conference, and their plane was late...very
late, having sat on the runway, in the snow, in Toronto for what seemed to
be hours. Both officers were tired and grouchy, and very hungry. The
usually pleasant, relatively short flight thankfully offered no meal
service. But being trapped in the cramped, cold, noisy plane for hours
with only mustard flavored pretzels to eat, and very little to drink, did
a great deal to increase one's thirst, but very little to relieve one's
hunger...or foul mood for that matter. 

To make matters worse, fleeing down the jetway, Thatcher remembered she
had given Turnbull the evening off. There hadn't seemed to be a need for
him to hang around waiting for them, at least not at the time. But that
meant he would not be there to pick them up in the Consular car. Damn, she
hated taxis!  

The minute they were clear of the jetway, her pager began vibrating.
"Damn, what now!" This was the perfect ending to a perfect day! 

The tiny screen text message was impossible for her to see without her
glasses, and rather than admit that she needed them more and more of late,
Thatcher shoved the pager at Fraser. "What the hell does this damn thing
say?" 

Fraser frowned as he retrieved the pager from his chest, where it and her
hand had imbedded themselves. "Sorry, Constable, I'm just tired, and
hungry, and cold, and...grumpy." 

"And I am Sneezy and Doc." Fraser turned away from her before she could
see his sarcastic smile. It took her a full 30 seconds to realize Fraser
had made a joke. 

"Funny, Fraser. Very funny." If she hadn't been in such a foul mood, she
would have really meant that. "Just tell me what the...tell me what it
says." 

Fraser frowned as he read the message on the tiny screen. "It says we need
to get to the Consulate as soon as possible." Fraser increased his pace. 

"What? Why? Fraser slow down and answer me!" She glanced longingly at
Starbuck's and The Cheesecake Factory as they hurried by. She was so
hungry, even McDonald's looked inviting. 

"All the message says is '...trouble at the Consulate'". Fraser also
wished they could stop just for a moment to grab an apple or an orange. He
didn't even consider McDonald's a food source. 

They hurried as best they could through the crowded concourse, and out
through the main terminal to the taxi stand. Much to Fraser's chagrin,
Thatcher grabbed his arm and pulled him directly to the head of the line.
She elbowed several angry travelers out of the way, claiming that there
was a 'police emergency' downtown, and as police officers, they had to get
there immediately. Their taxi sped off, leaving numerous irate Chicagoans
in it's wake. 

"This is great, just great. I thought Turnbull could be trusted. I thought
he had finally emerged from the fog. I thought...GOD...Fraser, I hope he's
okay!" 

Fraser didn't know what to think. Turnbull had finally really gotten a
grip, but with Turnbull...one just never knew. Both occupants of the
backseat of the taxi were frantic with worry.
>>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

The taxi came to a sliding halt on the icy street in front of the
Consulate. Neither Fraser nor Thatcher gave the driver the opportunity to
complain about the pink bills that were thrown at him as payment, as the
two RCMP officers were already struggling up the slippery walk.  

There was definitely something amiss in the building, as Fraser slowly
opened the front door. The entry lights, which were normally left on
during all hours of darkness, were off, as well as the hallway lights.
Thatcher pulled a small flashlight from her bag, but Fraser signaled her
to leave it off. He felt the cover of darkness to be to their advantage.
They slid quietly along the east wall of the hallway, allowing time for
their eyes to adjust to the darkness.  

They neither saw nor heard the man who had been timing their arrival slip
silently out the back door of the kitchen. 

As they made their way deeper into the darkened building, Thatcher noticed
something that alarmed her. She grabbed Fraser's sleeve and pointed toward
the floor. A very dim light barely illuminated the space between the
hardwood floor and the bottom of her office door. She was sure that there
was someone in there! 

Both officers had just arrived at an international airport, and were
therefore not carrying any kind of weapon, not the best of circumstances
under which to confront an intruder. But Fraser wasn't so sure; something
wasn't adding up here. Without hesitation he flung the door open wide...to
a completely empty room. 

Empty that is, except for the addition of a small, dimly lighted table in
the far corner of the office. Fraser and Thatcher had only a split second
to stare in confusion at the table, before a buzzer sounded from deeper
inside the building. 

"God! What was that?" 

"It sounded like..." Fraser turned and made for the back of the Consulate,
flipping on the hall lights as he went. 

"Fraser! Wait! What on earth are you doing? There may be an intruder back
there, and he may be armed!" Thatcher tried in vain to shout in a whisper
at his back, and then muttered to herself, "That man listens to everything
I say, and then does exactly what he wants. It would serve him right if he
got shot!" The horror of what she had just said sank in, and she was after
him in a flash. 

She almost ran headlong into Fraser, who was smiling as he stood in the
doorway leading to the kitchen. "Fraser? What is going..." 

"I thought I smelled something when we came in."  

As he walked to the oven, Thatcher realized she smelled it too. "I think
if we inspect that small table in your office more closely..." He opened
the oven. "Ah, yes...our Constable Turnbull seems to have been up to a
little trickery." >>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

Renfield smiled to himself as he drove home from the Consulate. If his
calculations were correct they should be sitting down to dinner,
just...about ...now. He had known for a long time that Inspector Thatcher
and Constable Fraser belonged together, and had grown tired of waiting for
them to realize it too! He had decided, right after returning from
Vancouver, that they needed him to give them a little push...all right, a
big shove, toward romance. 

He'd been pretty lucky on the romantic front, so why not share his luck
with the two people who had done so much for him? He'd get to Ray later,
if he ever figured out who it was Ray needed! 

He mentally reviewed his plan again. He was very proud of his subterfuge.
It wasn't easy to put anything over on either of them, especially now that
they held him in a little higher regard, and treated him as,
well...almost...an equal. Having people think you were totally clueless
did have it's advantages sometimes! 

Okay: he had left the entrée in the oven and the salad in the
refrigerator. The table looked beautiful, if he did say so himself. He
smiled again, the last time he had set a table like that he had made Kerri
cry! He couldn't see Inspector Thatcher crying over...well, crying over
much of any thing. The candles were ready, and the matches...oh,
dear...did he remember to leave the matches on the table? Oh well,
Constable Fraser would figure that one out. 

The Champagne was chilling, the salad dressing was on the table...no, he
thought, everything should be covered. He smiled slyly, he'd even put
fresh flowers and candles in the Queen's bedroom, in case...well...Fraser
would have to figure that one out too! He blushed at his own brazenness.  

Constable Turnbull was very pleased with himself as he carefully parked
his car in the icy parking lot outside his building. The only thing he
could not anticipate, or plan for, was the reaction of the two people for
whom he had gone to so much trouble. If any thing went wrong...oh,
dear...his next posting would probably be near the Arctic Circle! But
nothing would go wrong, his two best friends belonged together, and after
tonight they would know it too! >>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

For a starving man, Fraser opened the oven to a marvelous sight. A small,
deliciously golden browned prime rib of beef, complete with Yorkshire
pudding, and surrounded by roasted new potatoes, parsnips, carrots,
turnips and pearl onions, sat on a platter, already sliced and ready to
serve. His mouth was already watering.	

"Fraser?" When he turned to face Thatcher she had the most curious look on
her face, a look that made him slightly uneasy. "He left us a note."  

She read it to Fraser...'For my friends, in only partial repayment for all
the kindness you have shown me...Cst. R. Turnbull' and then 'there is a
salad in the refrigerator'. 

Fraser looked at Thatcher and smiled rather shyly. "It looks like we...we
won't have to eat fast food after all." Fraser could still not interpret
her look, but proceeded to carry the delicious looking main course to her
office, as Thatcher followed him with the salad. 

Closer inspection of the tiny table in her office revealed more about the
talents of Constable Turnbull. Not only could the man cook a meal that
smelled delightful, but he could also set quite a beautiful table.
Thatcher had no idea where the table came from, but she recognized the
damask linen immediately. It, along with the antique Doulton china and
Waterford crystal, actually all the tableware, belonged to the Consulate.
She had just never seen them displayed quite so attractively. 

Turnbull had included in his table decoration a small crystal vase which
held two delicate red roses, and two carefully lettered place cards, one
offering a place to 'Margaret' and one to 'Benton'. 

Turnbull had succeeded in casting a spell over this room, the room where
his superior officer had so often dressed him down for numerous violations
of her interpretation of the rigid Mountie Code.  

As he lit the candles, Benton smiled at Margaret. "Since Turnbull
has...has gone to...to so much trouble, I think it only appropriate...that
we take...advantage of it, ...don't you?" All of the reprimands, the Code
violations, and the superior officer/junior officer regimens were
temporarily forgotten as Fraser took her hand and kissed it lightly. He
blushed as he pulled out her chair and smiled, his eyes dancing in the
candlelight. "Care to have a seat...Margaret?" 

Meg was so overwhelmed by what was happening around her that she sat down
without a word. She did watch Fraser's eyes, however. The candlelight made
them look just like the Caribbean waters she had seen on her last cruise.
She could not have looked away if she had wanted to, she loved his eyes so
much! 

He smiled as he watched her. He could not remember Insp...Meg ever being
this quiet. Just as she could not look away from him, he was transfixed by
the candlelit changes in her eyes. They reminded him of kaleidoscopes of
browns, golds and hazels, soft and warm and inviting. He was in awe of her
exquisite eyes. 

The pangs of hunger brought Fraser temporarily out from under the spell
woven by Turnbull, and he reluctantly turned away from her. But only long
enough to take her plate to serve her some of the extraordinary food. As
he sat her plate back down, he could no longer restrain himself. He took
her hand and stared deeply into her eyes once more. He had to say these
things before he lost what nerve the spell had conjured up, before the
mood was broken. 

"Meg...I know you've said to forget that anything has ever happened
between us..." He cleared his throat as his voice threatened to leave him,
"...but I have not been able to do that. The
train...our...'contact'...meant something very special to me...I've tried
to respect your wishes, but I just can't forget how...how we...how
I...what I felt. I've never been any good at expressing my feelings... but
being near you...every day...I...I...don't want to go on...as if it never
happened. I hope that...you might...might return at least some...some...of
the feelings, some of the...depth of..." Fraser detested being
inarticulate, but here he was again, his fear of rejection not allowing
the thousand words in his heart to find a voice. He could not go on, all
he could do was pray that she understood. Pray that she understood how
deeply he was just now realizing he felt for her. His azure eyes softened
to the palest of hopeful blue. 

Meg stared into his hopeful eyes, seeing the heart of the man laid bare
before her. She was only vaguely aware that he was ever so gently holding
her hand. She found herself drowning in the sea of his eyes.  

But just as suddenly as she had slipped under the 'Turnbull Spell', she
felt she actually was drowning, and she had to save herself! Save herself
at all cost! She wrenched her hand away from him, and stood straight up,
overturning her chair in the process. "No!"  

Although her voice was not unnecessarily loud, it echoed through the halls
of the quite Consulate as if it were canon fire. The startled Fraser also
jumped from his chair. 

"I cannot allow you to do this!" A terrified look of resolve replaced the
candlelit kaleidoscope in her eyes. If she had snatched a knife from the
table and thrust it into his heart, Meg could not have elicited a more
genuine look of anguish from Fraser. 

Inspector Thatcher grabbed her coat and in an instant she was gone.
Margaret...well ... Margaret had never really been there. 
>>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

Fraser stared after his Superior Office with a face completely devoid of
expression. The depth of emotion he had revealed to her, the caring...and
the pain, had been replaced with...nothing. The carefully constructed mask
of protection he had worn for years had once again settled over his eyes,
giving no indication as to what went on behind it. Unlike Margaret, Benton
had been seduced by the enchantment of this room, for a brief time, at
least. He pulled himself up to his full height. It would not happen again.
Now Constable Fraser, RCMP, had replaced Benton once more...for better or
worse. 

He smiled bitterly as he looked down at the unappetizing food spread out
on the table. Where there had once been a mouth watering prime rib, with
all the trimmings, now there was just charred meat, greasy bread and soggy
vegetables. All that remained of the dancing candlelight were formless
lumps of melted wax, and the dim light from her reading lamp made all the
table dressings look drab and dingy. 

Fraser allowed the Mountie mask to slip one last time as he quietly picked
up the crystal vase with the two fragile red roses, and hurtled it at the
fireplace. The once sparkling, fragile crystal shattered into thousands of
tiny shards, lying flat and dead on the carpet. Rather like what Inspector
Thatcher had done to his heart.  

Now the vase too was like all the rest of the 'spell'... garbage.
>>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

As he arrived for work Monday morning, Renfield was so excited he looked
as though he might pop. He was thrilled to see Inspector Thatcher's car in
the parking lot. He allowed himself to wonder if maybe she arrived early
to spend a few extra moments with Fraser...or maybe...she never left...oh,
dear. He blushed as he chuckled to himself. He was so very proud of
himself as he opened the front door. 

The Inspector's office door was closed, so he hurried on down the hall to
Fraser's office, hoping for at least a small smile of acknowledgement for
his efforts. But Fraser's door was also closed. Hmm, well that was not so
unusual, he was sure they would thank him soon. 

By noon neither Inspector Thatcher nor Constable Fraser had emerged from
their offices. He knew they were there, they had both answered calls that
he had transferred to them. He was very perplexed. Were they avoiding each
other during the workday? Ah...that was probably it; they had made an
agreement not to flaunt their newfound relationship during business hours.
Well, he could certainly understand that. He and Kerri had determined to
do exactly the same. They'd failed of course, but they at least they had
made the determination! 

His mind wandered slightly, as he wondered about their reaction to his
lovingly prepared food. He sincerely hoped they had enjoyed it! He was
curious as to who had cleaned up the kitchen so spotlessly. He had trouble
imagining either one of them wearing an apron! 

By mid-afternoon they still had not emerged from their offices, and
Turnbull was becoming slightly apprehensive. He just couldn't understand
why one or the other of them hadn't thought to say anything to him. He was
also curious to see if the Queen's bedroom had been...uh...occupied. When
he could no longer control the urge, he sneaked up the stairs. 

His apprehension turned to open distress at what he saw. Wilted roses lay
on the pillows, exactly where he had placed them when they were still
fresh. An unimaginable thought was beginning to take shape in his mind.
Had his plan failed? Oh, dear! And now his friends were upset. Oh, dear! 

Before he could stop himself he hurried down the stairs, up to Constable
Fraser's door, and knocked rapidly. 

"Yes?" Fraser's reply was short...and uncharacteristically curt. 

"Sir? It's me...Turnbull..." 

"What is it Turnbull?" 

"May I...may I have a moment of your time, Sir?" 

For Turnbull, Fraser's reply was painfully slow in coming. "Come in." 

He was momentarily relieved. Constable Fraser looked just the same as
always, like the Mountie every recruit wished to emulate. Taking a closer
look, however, he realized Fraser's eyes seemed cold...cold
and...and...empty. 

He continued to stare at him, as Fraser's patience wore out. "What is it
Constable? I have work to do." 

"I was...ah...just...ah...wondering...ah...about...ah...the...the
arrangements I...ah... 

"The dinner was a nice gesture, Constable, unfortunately Inspector
Thatcher was not... hungry. Is that all?" There was no trace of gratitude
in his voice. 

"Yes, Sir. I'm...sorry...that is, I'm sorry...to have interrupted." He
backed out of Fraser's office, and quietly closed the door behind him. 

Fraser stared at the door as it closed. He had meant well, he'd tried his
best to do something nice for them. It wasn't Turnbull's fault that Fraser
was now lonelier than he had ever been in his life. The man left alone in
his office hung his head and sighed. >>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

Inspector Thatcher could not remember a time when she had had as much
paperwork as this week. Even arriving early, working through lunch, and
leaving the office in the dead of night did not begin to give her the time
necessary to completely plough through the mountains of paper on her desk.
It was endless! 

It seemed the more she worked, the more work there was to do. Once the
reports where written, or read, they needed to be transmitted, or filed.
Once she had digested all the earthshaking information in the myriad of
inter-agency memos, they also needed to be categorized and filed. Since it
was nearing Christmas she was receiving volumes of e-mail greetings that
needed careful attention. The appropriate response to electronic Christmas
messages had become an art form unto itself. 

And, of course, there were the phone calls. It seemed that everyone on the
planet felt the compelling need to call the Canadian Consulate this week.
And not only were they compelled to call, they would also speak to no one
other than the Chief Liaison Officer. How could it possibly matter to whom
they spoke, if all they wanted to ask was 'What the hell is curling?' They
could go to the library, or get on the Internet, or if all else failed,
they could ask Constable Turnbull, for God's sake. That was a question
even he could answer. 

Ah, but there in lay the problem. All though she would have never admitted
it to any one, not the least of all herself, most all of the extra work
she had created this week were tasks normally completed by
Turnbull...or...Fraser. The filing, the phone calls, the categorizing and
responding, most all of those were tasks she delegated to them. 

But since she had forced herself to ignore the existence of both men, all
the menial labor fell to her. She would never have admitted it, though.
She convinced herself that this was just a busy workweek, and ignored all
thought of...anyone else. 

To maintain her sanity, she had to pretend that nothing out of the
ordinary had happened in this room, and force herself to believe that for
the last few days she had occupied the building known as the Canadian
Consulate...alone. She kept her mind busy with her work, and with the
effort it took to shield herself from the thought of Benton Fraser, just
down the hall. >>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

The anxiety in the office was almost unbearable. And even though Turnbull
never actually saw the Inspector, and rarely saw Fraser, the tension was
so thick he could almost see a cloud of it hanging in the air. Even
Diefenbaker had taken up residence under Turnbull's desk, refusing to come
out, except to eat of course. Turnbull had become so lonely that he had
taken up talking to his furry companion on a regular basis. He was
saddened that he didn't understand Dief as well as Fraser, because he felt
sure the wolf could offer him some much-needed insight into the problem at
hand. 

By the end of the week, Turnbull had still not even caught a glimpse of
Inspector Thatcher. No matter how early he arrived, or how late he left,
she was always there. By the time he arrived home on Friday, he had
worried himself to a frazzle. He had not even considered being concerned
for himself; he was just worried that his friends were hurting, and it was
his fault. 

He had thought about talking to Ray, but was sure Ray would just kick him
in the head for being so stupid. So now he was immensely relieved that
Kerri would be arriving this evening. By this time he was so embarrassed
by what he had done he hesitated to tell her, but he really needed her
advice. As fate and the weather would have it, however, Kerri's plane was
delayed in Salt Lake City. 

Renfield fretted himself to sleep somewhere around 2 a.m. He was troubled
that Kerri's flight had still not arrived, and still very worried about
Inspector Thatcher and Constable Fraser. He was responsible for what was
happening at the Consulate, and his guilt was getting the better of him. 

He fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming that all of his friends hated each
other, and him. >>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

Kerri finally got in at about 3:30, and just like her friends, who had had
a delayed flight the previous week, she was tired, thirsty, cold, and very
hungry. She was almost always upgraded to first class, so the food was
usually very good, but when the meal was finally served around 1:00 a.m.,
she just couldn't face it. Bloody-Marys with extra olives would have to
hold her until Renny could take over...holding her that is. 

She unlocked the door of the apartment at 4:45 a.m., unable to decide what
to do. Should she collapse in a heap of luggage and coat, right in the
middle of the floor and sleep for a year; actually get undressed and go to
bed with her favorite snuggly Renny; or fix something to eat? She stood in
the center of the living room, holding her coat and suitcase handle for
several moments before she finally decided that if she didn't get
something...anything... to eat, she wouldn't be able to sleep. She dropped
everything where she stood, and went in search of sustenance.  

She opened the refrigerator door and silently thanked God for a man who
loved to cook. It was stocked with wonderful things to choose from. In the
end she settled for something that even she was good at: bacon and eggs. 

The aroma of frying bacon dragged a reluctant Renfield, still dazed with
sleep, into the kitchen. Kerri caught sight of her sleepy Renny out of the
corner of her eye. She didn't want to leave the eggs to burn, so she
whispered over her shoulder. "I'm sorry I woke you. Why don't you go back
to sleep? You look beat!"  

Renny rubbed his eyes like a sleepy child on Christmas morning, reluctant
to awaken, but delighted with what he saw. He padded up behind her and
wrapped his arms around her waist. Kerri nestled back against his bare
chest, still warm and soft with sleep, as he rested his cheek against the
top of her head. One of the many advantages of loving a man as large as
Renny was that when he put his arms around her, he could almost envelop
her entire body with his warmth. 

Renny whispered softly into her hair, "What time is it? When did you get
here?" 

"It's about 5:00 a.m., and I just got here a few minutes ago. I sat at
the..." Kerri tried in vain to stifle a deep, fully body yawn..."at that
stupid airport for...ouch!" 

Kerri jumped in Renny's arms, startling the almost dozing man fully awake.
"Let me see that...bacon grease?" He pulled her hand from her mouth and
kissed it tenderly. "Why don't you sit down, and let me finish this." 

"I thought you'd never ask." Kerri collapsed in a chair at the small
kitchen table. 

"I'm so glad you're finally here. There's something I really need to talk
to you about. I've done..." Renfield turned around to find Kerri, with her
head resting against the wall, sound asleep. He smiled at the comfortable
sight of the woman he loved, sleeping in his kitchen. Then he frowned. 

He hadn't noticed before, but she had deep, dark circles under her eyes.
He knew, just as sure as he stood there, that she was wearing herself out,
trying to fit trips to Chicago into her hectic schedule. One more thing to
be angry at himself for... >>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

When Kerri awoke she found herself in bed. She couldn't
remember...how...she...And she was wearing one of Renny's flannel
shirts...She felt fairly refreshed... but was confused that it was still
dark outside. She must not have slept very long. 

She stumbled out to the living room to find Renny frowning as he stared
out the window. When he saw her he chuckled at the sight of the tousled
Kerri wearing his oldest red flannel shirt. "Hello, sleepy head! You could
fit about three of you in that shirt!" Kerri padded across the room and
snuggled into his lap. "Feeling a little better?" He was relieved to see
the dark circles had faded dramatically. 

"Mmmm, yeah. What time is it? It's still dark outside..." 

"It's about 7:30...p.m..." 

Her eyes flew open wide. "I slept 14 hours? Renny, why didn't you wake me?
We missed the whole day!" She had never slept that many hours in a row,
ever! 

"You were exhausted." He drew her close. "Besides, I didn't miss anything,
I came in and sat with you for quite awhile while you slept." He grinned
his goofy Renny grin as he kissed her on the tip of her nose. 

"That's not fair! I wanted to spend time with you...awake!" Kerri had
never known, until this very moment, that it was physically impossible to
pout and yawn at the same time. 

Renfield turned very serious. "Kerri, you were obviously very tired, and I
just couldn't stand to see you like that. I worry about you getting sick,
you're pushing yourself awfully hard." 

Kerri was touched by his concern. It actually gave her a warm, fuzzy
feeling to have someone care that much about her wellbeing. She snuggled
in more closely. "I'm sorry you were worried, Renny. I'm feeling much
better, now." 

"You must be starving. When's the last time you ate anything?" 

Kerri smiled rather sheepishly. "I had...several green olives...about 1:00
this morning..." She thought it best not to mention the bloody Marys that
had accompanied the olives... 

Without another word Renny stood up, with her in his arms...she loved it
when he did that...and carried her to the kitchen. "I'm going to make you
some tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. You need something light,
since you haven't eaten in so long." Her father used to make that for her
when she was a young girl...and used to shake his finger at her just like
Renny was doing now. The memory caused Kerri to giggle. 

She sat at the table as Renny busied himself around the kitchen. As she
watched him she began to realize that there was something bothering him,
something more than just worry over her. 

She frowned at his back. "Okay, Mister Mountie, spill the beans." 

"Excuse me?" 

"There's something bothering you. What is it?" 

Renfield might have had his back to her, but his body language told her
immediately that what ever was wrong was serious. She had learned very
early in their relationship that things that bothered Renny fell into two
categories, the rather silly, and the deadly serious. There was no halfway
with Constable Turnbull. She went behind him and embraced him just as he
had her very early this morning. She whispered into his back, "What ever
it is we can work it out. What's wrong?" 

He sighed heavily and turned to his beloved Kerri. He was so afraid she
would be angry, very angry, for what he had done to their friends. But he
also very much needed her advice, and her comfort. He slowly took her food
to the table and motioned her to sit down. 

"Renny, you are really scaring me here. What's happened?" 

"I've...I've done a very foolish thing, and though unintentional, I have
succeeded in deeply hurting Constable Fraser and probably Inspector
Thatcher. All though I haven't seen her all week, so I'm not..." 

Kerri frowned at him. That what he had done was unintentional went without
saying, the man would never hurt a friend. "What did you do...?" 

"I just wanted them to be happy, just as you and I are...so I...I lured
them to the Consulate last Friday night under the pretext of there being
an emergency. I had prepared a...romantic, candlelight dinner..." 

"Oh, Renny, no...you didn't?" Kerri succeeded admirably at suppressing a
broad smile. She could just see Meg and Benton dining in one of Renny's
fairytale settings...but he had said he had hurt them... 

Renfield nodded. "It apparently was a disaster. Constable Fraser looks as
if he hasn't a friend left in the world, and Inspector Thatcher has stayed
locked in her office all week. I'm afraid Diefenbaker and I have been
ostracized." 

"Oh, dear." Kerri could tell he was terribly upset by what he had done,
but that was her Renny, he could try harder and fail more miserably than
anyone she knew.  

"I didn't mean for anyone to be hurt. I just wanted them to be as happy as
we are. They belong together...I just wanted to show them that. I didn't
think..." 

Kerri knew she needed to handle this very carefully. Renny had come a
very, very long way, over an unimaginably rough road, and she didn't want
to do anything to jeopardize his self-esteem. It looked to her as if he
were doing an extremely good job of that on his own. "I think what you did
was very sweet. Maybe a little misguided, but incredibly thoughtful. It's
just too bad it didn't work out, because I agree with you, Benton and Meg
belong together." 

Renfield was immensely relieved that Kerri wasn't upset with at him.
"Thank you for not being angry with me." 

"Renny, why in heaven's name would I be angry with you? You didn't do..." 

"You put up with so much from me. I know it's been hard on you, all the
dumb things I've done..." 

Now she was angry. She jumped up and began to pace the tiny kitchen.
"Renfield Turnbull, you had better not mean what you just said! Of all
the...I cannot believe...how could you possibly think..." She couldn't
even get the words out, she was so annoyed!  

She took two deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. Then she took
another one. When she had regained her composure she looked at his
puppy-dog face. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, but you have to understand
something here: I love you. Just like the minister says, 'for better or
worse'. I'll admit we've had some 'worse', but that has been far
outweighed by the 'better'. If you don't believe that, well...well...I
just don't know..." 

Renfield took her in his arms very tenderly. "Oh, Kerri, I do know you
love me. It's just sometimes I can't understand why." 

Kerri smiled as she relaxed against his chest. "Moments like this don't
hurt!" 

"What should I do about Constable Fraser and Inspector Thatcher? I feel so
badly that they are hurting, but I just don't know what to do." 

Kerri sat back down and thought for several moments while she munched on
her sandwich. The road to love for Renny and her had been pretty bumpy,
but it was nothing compared to the minefield Benton and Meg would have to
navigate if they were to ever risk it. "I think the best thing to do
is...nothing. Well, let them know that you're sorry for interfering, but
then just back off. They're adults and they're just going to have to work
it out."  

Kerri finished eating, and felt 100% better...in fact...she felt so much
better that she began to think that now might be a terrific time to begin
making up for last night, and the time she had missed with Renny. She
smiled as she climbed into his lap again and kissed him deeply. She
whispered into his lips, "They'll be okay. They just need some time."  

She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, and ran her hand teasingly over his bare
chest. "You did an incredibly sweet thing for them, now how about focusing
some of that attention on me? Instead of three of me, why don't we see if
we can get one of me and one Mountie into this old flannel shirt of
yours?" 

Renfield immediately forgot all about any Mountie other than himself.
>>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

One thing that Kerri never seemed to have enough of was paperback books.
She'd tried working on her laptop, watching the movie, talking with other
passengers, or sleeping, but it seemed about the only activity that she
could do consistently while flying, was read. And just now her supply of
paperback novels was running dangerously low. 

The local bookshop was within walking distance of the apartment and housed
a small tearoom. A perfect place to go on a cold winter morning, after
Renny had left for work. Kerri hated to walk in the Chicago heat and
humidity, and was grateful that Renny disliked the heat as much as she
did, but they both loved to walk in the cold weather. And this particular
winter day it was very cold, so Kerri bundled up and struck out in search
of several trashy novels. 

As she gingerly approached the bookshop, on a sidewalk wet with slushy
snow and ice, a familiar car pulled up in front, and a very familiar
woman, also bundled against the cold, hurried inside. Oh, dear. What were
the chances that in the entire city of Chicago, she and Meg Thatcher would
choose the exact same time, and the exact same shop, to look for books?
Kerri smiled. At least she was sure Meg wasn't after the exact same type
of book! Kerri couldn't imagine Meg Thatcher reading a romance novel! But
then, just how well did she know Meg? 

As she stood, slightly sheltered from the wind, in the doorway of the dry
cleaners, Kerri thought about what she knew of Meg Thatcher. She was very
aware that Meg genuinely cared for Renny. She remembered how pleased Meg
was when Kerri had told her she was in love with Renfield. She smiled at
the memory of Meg calling Renny 'her Constable', and of telling her she
felt he needed to be protected from further pain. Maybe Meg was more of a
romantic than any one gave her credit for? Maybe she would read romance
novels, after all. 

Standing there, scrunched way down inside her coat, Kerri made a decision.
She had suggested that Renny not interfere any more, and she'd meant it.
She hesitated to interfere too...but they were so right for each
other...so well suited...darn. She'd been around Renny too much! His plan
had backfired, and now she was considering... interfering too! 

She reluctantly decided to implement her 'plan', but only if fate was on
her side. She'd go into the bookshop and wander around, but let Meg
approach her. If Meg didn't see her, or more importantly, didn't want to
talk to her, then so be it, it just wasn't in the grand scheme of things.
If, however, Meg did approach her, well... 

Kerri carefully picked her way across the icy street. It certainly
wouldn't do to break her neck now, when she had so much to live for! Her
very own 'goofy' Mountie waiting for her whenever she came to Chicago!
God, she loved this place! 

The bookshop was warm and cozy, and smelled of cinnamon and vanilla as she
walked past the tearoom. The old hardwood floor creaked it's objection as
she slowly made her way through the slightly dusty shelves of travel
books, with their colorful covers of exotic places. She passed the
self-help books with the sometimes stern, sometimes invitingly pleasant
cover pictures of their authors. She skirted the gardening aisle, glancing
wistfully at the rows of spring flowers that were, for now at least, just
vague memories of a spring many months past. She moved quickly through the
cooking section, smiling to herself...this section was for Renny, not her.
Then again...maybe she was the one who needed help from a book! She smiled
to herself. 

She moved much more slowly through the wonderful assortment of musty used
books, some tattered and worn from frequent reading, some with their
spines broken with age. One particular volume, somehow separated from it's
comrades, caught her eye, Volume IV, Charles Dickens 'A Christmas Carol'.
She'd never been quite sure why, but Renny had a special affinity for this
Dickens story. She ran her fingers over the old leather and brought the
book to her nose. It smelled of pipe tobacco and dust. There was no
copyright date in this English edition, indicating to Kerri that it must
be very old. Not caring about the price, she knew she must have it for
Renny, for Christmas. She tucked her wonderful prize under her arm and
moved on. 

She cast a wistful glance at the stairs that lead to the private living
quarters on the second floor. If she had chosen a different life path, one
that had not involved the RCMP, Kerri would have owned a shop exactly like
this one. She had loved books all her life; in fact all things literary
intrigued her. And this place was so...comfortable. She had always
envisioned herself working in such a place, with a small apartment
upstairs, and a Labrador Retriever or Husky curled up on a hooked rug in
front of the fireplace, or maybe even a wolf dog like Diefenbaker. And now
she could even add Renny to the picture, curled up with...well curled up. 


She could run the shop and Renny could run the tearoom. He could offer
different types of exotic coffees and teas, simple sandwiches and steaming
hot soup for cold Christmas shoppers. Kerri sighed at the image. Then she
would never have to see the inside of another airport, taxi or hotel room
again... 

She finally spotted Meg, in the mystery section. Now that made sense! She
could see Meg as a mystery buff, with puzzles to piece together and plot
threads to untangle. Meg seemed to Kerri to be a problem solver type of
person. She probably knew 'who dun it' by the second chapter! 

Kerri lingered in the drama section alternately praying that Meg would
become aware of her presence, and that she would remain unnoticed. She
just had become engrossed in the liner notes of John Grisham's The
Testament when she heard her name. 

"Hello, Kerri. How are you?" Meg smiled slightly, causing Kerri to breathe
a sigh of relief. It would never do for Meg to think that their chance
meeting was contrived. Even if it was, kind of. 

Kerri noticed that Meg looked a little...stressed, and she was pretty sure
she knew why. "It's so good to see you, Meg. I'm just great." She looked
at the books Meg had selected and smiled. "Mountie reading for Mounties?"
Meg was carrying two novels; The Judas Kiss and Abort...Retry...Murder.
"The bad Mountie and the good Mounties?" 

Meg smiled as she looked down at the books. "I like to remind myself that
the good do outnumber the bad! I'm very anxious to read this one by J
March. I hear it's very good." As Meg looked at the other woman, she
thought Kerri looked awfully tired. But since she and Turnbull only saw
each other on occasional weekends, maybe this last weekend they had
spent...NO...she was not going to go there! 

"Do you read John Grisham?' Meg nodded at the novel Kerri was holding. "I
read The Runaway Jury but haven't read any others." 

"I read anything I can get my hands on. It's the absolute best way to pass
the time on a plane. But I only read paperbacks, hardcover books weigh too
much. Especially when you've got a laptop, briefcase and assorted other
junk. I've trimmed it down to the bare essentials, but it's still a lot of
stuff to carry on a plane." Kerri smiled as she realized she was babbling.
"So, to answer your question, I haven't read this one yet. And I'd better
put it down right now, before I get hooked and have to buy it!"  

The silence between them started to become uncomfortable as Kerri searched
for a way to suggest they have a cup of tea. She was very surprised, and
greatly relieved, when Meg suggested exactly that. 

"Have you got time for a cup of tea? I haven't had the chance to talk to
you since you all returned from Vancouver." If she had admitted it to
herself, Meg would have realized that she was very curious about all that
had happened when Fraser, Vecchio and Kerri ran to Vancouver after
Turnbull. Fraser, in his usual Fraser manner, had told her only the barest
of details. 

Meg and Kerri seated themselves at a small table, in the very quiet
tearoom. Like the rest of the bookshop, this room was invitingly warm and
cozy. Definitely a woman's domain, though, what with the lace curtains,
wallpaper, and potted plants. They must have been baking apples, because
the aroma of apples and cinnamon was almost overpowering. This place
reminded Meg so much of her grandmother's kitchen 

"Would you ladies like a menu, or..." 

"Are you baking apples? It smells wonderful in here! It reminds me of my
grandmother's house." 

"Yep, that's exactly what you smell. Won't be ready for an hour or so
though, sorry." The waitress smiled at her small idea. "Can offer ya some
hot apple cider instead." 

Meg and Kerri smiled at each other. What a wonderful idea! Apple cider was
exactly what this cold weather, and this cozy place called for. 

As the waitress went to fetch the cider Kerri looked around her and
sighed. "I've always wanted to own a place just like this. Books and food,
what more could any woman ask for?" Kerri chuckled slightly. 

"Maybe someone to share it with?" Kerri wasn't sure who was more shocked,
Meg for saying the words, or herself at hearing them. "I'm sorry, I have
no idea where that came from." Meg tried to smile, but it was a vain
attempt. 

"I think I could see a tall, handsome, sandy haired man in a apron behind
that counter, don't you? 

"I'll go for the apron part." Meg and Kerri smiled at the thought of
Renfield in an apron, but each for their own special reasons. "He often
wears one around the Consulate when he's cleaning. Does that man clean
that much at home?" 

"Yes!" As the waitress brought their cider they both laughed. "And he
cooks too. All in all a pretty good catch, if I do say so myself." 

It was obvious that Kerri was very proud of Turnbull, all though Meg often
had to ask herself why. "I haven't seen much of him...that is, I've been
busy this week, and I..."  

"Meg, he told me about what happened. He was out of line and he knows it.
He just gets...exuberant sometimes, and doesn't stop to think. He's so
grateful to you and Benton for all the support you've given him in the
last year..." 

"It's been a rough year for him...he..." 

"He just wanted to thank you both. He was well intentioned...just
misguided." Kerri stopped short. "God, I sound like his mother, making
excuses for him! I'm sorry!" 

Meg smiled broadly at her. "Have you noticed that everyone seems to want
to protect him? After we found out about the...about his...past, everyone
just sort of jumped on the Turnbull bandwagon!" She thought about the
exasperating, endearing man. "I get so conflicted around him, sometimes I
want to hug him, and other times I want to shake him!" 

"You too?" Kerri smiled as she sipped the piping hot cider. "I must admit
I usually opt for the former." Both women laughed again. 

"I'm so glad for both of you. It's hard to find someone you can really
care about..." Once again Meg had brought up the subject of
Kerri's...interference. This time she wasn't about to let it go. 

"Renfield isn't the only one to notice, Meg. It's obvious to a lot of
people that there is something special between you and Benton, or are we
just victims of wishful thinking?" 

When Meg didn't respond, Kerri began to think her plan had failed too.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy. Forget I asked." 

Meg sighed deeply and closed her eyes. She hadn't really wanted to admit
this, not even to herself. But she felt a kind of kinship with Kerri, and
found her very easy to talk to. "No, I guess it's only fair. I certainly
have asked you enough about Renfield. It's just, well...hard for me to
admit." She hesitated just briefly and then jumped right in. "From the
first time I laid eyes on Fraser, I was...was... god, I hate the word, but
I was scared. It wasn't that he is so damned attractive, although that
didn't hurt." She smiled at Kerri as if she were revealing some deep
secret about Fraser that no one else had ever noticed. "It just...well...I
guess I've always played it safe in the romance department. I just limited
my...relationships ...to casual acquaintances and a few platonic dates.
Well...maybe, not all...platonic," She smiled knowingly at Kerri..."but no
entanglements. You know? And certainly no... entanglements ...with anyone
I worked with. Relationships I could control. Fraser was the first
man...the first one I felt I could...that he could...I don't know." She
couldn't seem to come up with the words. 

"The first man that might have caused you to lose that control? A man you
could genuinely care for?" Meg was startled that Kerri had come so close
to the heart of the matter. "But why would that scare you?" 

"I've devoted my entire adult life to my career, Kerri. I've got so much
invested in my work. I just can't do anything to jeopardize that..." Her
words trailed off into unspoken thoughts.  

"I don't understand. You think an 'entanglement' with Benton would
jeopardize your career?" 

"I...don't know. All I know is, I'm afraid to find out." She looked at
Kerri and smiled. "I can certainly think of worse things than becoming
romantically involved with Benton Fraser," she sighed before continuing,
"and that's the problem. He's the first man I ever felt I could lose
myself to." 

"Losing yourself is not the same as losing control. And losing control,
occasionally, is not necessarily a bad thing, Meg." Kerri loved to lose
control with Renny. Of course there was an appropriate time and
place...well... "Why do you think that caring for a man would cause you to
lose...yourself? Do you think Benton would ask you to give up your career
for him?" 

"I...I don't know. What I do know is that I watched my mother give up her
dreams for my father, and I know she lived to regretted it. All she ever
wanted was be an actress." She sat up straight in her chair and prepared
to end their impromptu meeting. 

"Didn't she love her husband, and her family...?" 

"Of course, she loved us all very much..." 

"Maybe she didn't sacrifice as much as you think." Kerri thought of her
own mother, and sighed. "Meg there's no way you can compare what happened
between your mother and father with what could possibly happen between you
and Benton. Your mother had dreams, but you already have an actual
career." 

"Can I say just one more thing?" Kerri smiled at her friend, and took
Meg's hand. "I don't think anyone ever plans to fall in love. In a million
years I never expected to find the man of my dreams at the Canadian
Consulate in Chicago." Kerri laughed at the look on Meg's face. "I know
most everyone thought he was pretty ...goofy...and I guess he was." Her
smile broadened. "That's what first attracted me to him!" 

"I've spent most of my adult life building my career too, and I love what
I do. Renfield would never ask me to give it up. But, I love Renfield too,
and I would give up my career in a minute, rather than lose him...and that
is my choice...not his. The point of all this is..." Kerri sat back in her
chair. "The point is that there doesn't have to be a choice. I doubt that
Benton would ever ask you to choose." 

"Don't try to control caring for someone, Meg. Few people can actually
control falling in love anyway, it just kind of...happens."  

"Did you have any control over falling in love with Renfield?" Meg had
wanted to ask Kerri that, or a version of it, ever since she had met her. 

"You know, I don't know. It kind of sneaked up on me...unlike Renny...ah,
Renfield, who couldn't sneak up on anyone if his life depended on it!"
Both women laughed, forgetting that Constable Turnbull might just be more
adept at subterfuge than almost everyone gave him credit for.  

Meg still wasn't going to be put off. "If you could have chosen, would you
have chosen him?" 

"Once again, I have to say I don't know. ...I've had a lot of men show
interest in me...but I found out at a very young age that the interest was
mostly...well... superficial. I'm sure it's been the same for you. A whole
lot of men with a whole lot of hidden agendas." Meg sighed in unspoken
agreement. "I got to the point where I didn't trust the attentions of any
man. Then I met Renfield. I knew almost immediately that he was
different." Once again the look on Meg's face made Kerri laugh. "Okay,
okay, he's definitely different." Kerri sighed as her mood turned serious,
"The one thing I do know is that I thank God every day to have found
someone as sweet and sincere as he is. He has the biggest heart of any
person I've ever known." 

Kerri took a deep breath, "I think he and Benton have a lot in common."
The incredulous look from Meg caused Kerri to hurry on. "Okay, maybe not
career wise, but as men they have both suffered devastating losses that
have caused them to need to shield themselves from additional pain. It
took a long time, but Renfield has overcome that. But I'm not so sure
about..." 

Meg didn't hear any more of what Kerri said. All she could think of, all
she could see in her mind was the terrible look of hurt on Fraser's face
the other Friday night. He had invited her into his heart, and instead,
she had kicked him in the stomach. God, he had allowed himself to be
vulnerable to her, and she had hurt him. 

"Meg, did I say something wrong?" Kerri wasn't sure exactly what she had
said to cause Meg's strained look, but she could tell Meg was thinking
about Benton. 

"He...wanted me to share...share that wonderful meal...I have never seen a
man with such a look of...pain. I have seen Fraser with all manner of
physical injuries, but I have never...ever seen him look like that. And I
did that to him. He opened up to me, and I slammed the door right in his
face...and that's twice." Meg looked as if she were close to tears. 

"Twice?" 

"There was a time...on a train...but I told him it could never happen
again." Meg sighed at the memory. "I was so caught up in my fear of
involvement, I never gave his feelings a second thought...After he kissed
me, I..." Meg looked at Kerri in shock. She had never shared the train
incident with anyone. No one else knew, just Sgt. Frobisher, and he would
never, he'd better not ever, tell a soul. 

Kerri half-smiled at her. "Your secret's safe with me, Meg. But it sounds
like you need to decide which is more important, your fear of losing
control, or Benton Fraser. He's not a man to take feelings for a woman
lightly, and as long as he looks the way he does, eventually he will
attract someone to whom he is equally attracted. You have to decided if
there could be a future for the two of you, and then do something about
it." Kerri pursed her lips. "I'm sorry Meg, I didn't mean to turn so heavy
on you here. I guess I'm a little like Renfield, too, I want everyone to
be as happy as we are." She paused to redirect her thoughts. "I just
forget sometimes that it is possible for a woman to be happy, very happy,
without a man in her life." 

Meg glanced at her watch and was shocked to see that they had lingered
over their cider for more than an hour. "Oh, no! I've got a telecon with
Ottawa in 20 minutes. I've got to run." She hurriedly gathered up her
things and turned to leave. "I'm really glad we ran into each other,
Kerri. Most of my friends are in Toronto, and I've missed the 'girl talk'.
You've given me a lot to think about." Meg smiled broadly and whispered to
Kerri. "Don't you dare tell him, but Turnbull is not on my death list
anymore! Bye..." Meg tossed some pink money on the front counter and was
out the door in a rush. 

Kerri picked at a worn spot on the wooden table for a few moments,
absentmindedly hoping she had said and done the right thing. Benton and
Meg seemed so perfect for each other, but she had to wonder if Meg would
ever think so... >>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

Meg was so lost thought she hardly noticed the drive back to the
Consulate. Her chance meeting with Kerri Hurst had left her with many
things to ponder in her heart. She had decided, even prior to getting into
her car, that for the first time in a very long time, she was going to go
with her heart, rather than her head. 

With very few exceptions she had made all major decisions in her life
using her head. On the surface that was a very good thing, as she had
risen rapidly through the ranks of the RCMP using her head. She had
maintained a successful posting in Chicago using her head. Her life was
what she had made it...using her head. 

She rarely let the fact that she was alone, and at times lonely, enter her
mind. When the occasional pang of loneliness twisted at her heart, she
dismissed it as totally unimportant. That is, until her unfortunate
'almost' dinner with Fraser. Now she had to admit to herself that Fraser
could actually mean something to her. She reluctantly allowed herself to
remember...the train... 

By the time she walked up the front walk of the Consulate Meg had decided
two things: First, she would talk to Turnbull. Then if her resolve didn't
fail her... She smiled to herself. Yeah right... that was just another way
of saying 'if she didn't chicken out'...she'd talk to Fraser. She
hesitated briefly with her hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and
proceeded full steam ahead. 

"Good morning, Constable Turnbull. The Ottawa call should be coming
through any minute. Transfer it to me immediately. When I am finished I
would like to see you in my office." Her matter of fact tone gave the
quaking Turnbull no indication as to her intentions toward him. As she
turned to enter her office she smiled slightly. Let the man suffer for a
little while, he deserved it! 

The call was prompt, and all the participants were on the line in a matter
of minutes. Meg placed the call on the speaker, and listened intently,
with very few comments, for the next forty- five minutes. It wasn't
fifteen seconds after she hung up that she heard a soft, tentative knock
on her door. She smiled at the thought of Turnbull the Terrified, standing
in the hall, awaiting his fate...and all because he made a misguided
attempt to bring a little happiness to two friends.  

"Come in." Turnbull looked like a man about to be led before a firing
squad. All that he lacked was the cigarette and blindfold! She had to busy
herself with papers on her desk, to hide the smile she did not yet want
him to see.  

After a few moments of standing at attention in front of her desk, he
could not stand it anymore. "You...ah...wanted
to...ah...kil..see...me...Sir?" 

"Yes, Constable. These are my notes from the telecon. Please see that they
are typed up as soon as possible. Dismissed." Meg was having a little fun
at Turnbull's expense, but she was also very curious at to what he would
do now. 

"Sir?" Turnbull was dumbfounded. 

Still studying the papers on her desk, Meg did not look up. "I said
'dismissed' Constable ...unless you have something to add?" 

When he still did not answer, or make any attempt to move, she glanced up
at him, trying valiantly to hide the mirth in her expression. When she saw
the pitiful look on his face, however, her mood changed considerably. She
felt slightly guilty, and very sorry for leading him on this way...even if
he did deserve it! 

"Turnbull? Is there something else?" 

"Ah, yes Sir...I...there is. I...that is...I would like to apologize...to
apologize...for my... for presuming...for placing you and Constable
Fraser...I never meant to...I'm sorry if I...it was a very..." 

For a brief instant Meg saw the old, befuddled, fumbling Turnbull...the
one she wanted to shake...and then hug...or was that the other way around?
By her count he had started five sentences and finished none of them. But
she knew what he meant, and was touched by his tongue-tied apology. 

"Constable, why don't you stop before you actually trip over your tongue?
I accept your apology. What you did was totally out of line, and I'll
admit I was very angry with you for several days. I have recently come to
realize, however, that you may be a lot more intuitive than I ever gave
you credit for." She sighed as she smiled at him. "And...I...I'd like
to...thank you for...for caring about...me...enough...to try..." Meg
cleared her throat. 

"Sir?" 

"I'm letting you off the hook, Constable!" She was right when she had
thought that even though he was becoming a new man, or as Fraser had said,
returning to the man he once was, Turnbull was still, past, present and
future...totally dense! 

"I forgive you Turnbull. Do I need to spell it for you? D-I-S-M-I-S-S-E-D,
dismissed." 

He was so relieved, and so excited he almost jumped up and down. "Does
this mean the you and Constable Fraser might..." 

"Constable! Do NOT press your luck." Turnbull was out of the room in a
blur of red. 

Meg just smiled behind the blur: one down. Now the hard part, but she had
not lost her resolve, she would talk to Fraser.
>>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

Shortly after their conversation, Constable Turnbull found stacks of
paperwork on his desk. He smiled broadly, maybe things were going to work
out after all...he was not dead... and even better yet, Inspector Thatcher
had forgiven him! He turned to stare down the hall and sighed. He hoped
that Constable Fraser would be as forgiving. Maybe soon all would be right
with the world. 

Turnbull had seen him infrequently during the last week, and when he had
seen him, Fraser had seemed his usual self. But looking a little more
deeply Turnbull had noticed a slight aloofness in the man, a lack of...
geniality. The few times that they had spoken Fraser had been all
business, refusing to engage in idle conversation. Turnbull initially
chalked that up to Fraser's irritation with him. But that did not explain
Dief. 

Dief continued to be a permanent fixture under the younger Constable's
desk. On the rare occasions when Fraser came his way, Dief would whine,
attempting to gain his friend's attention, but Fraser continued to
disregard him. As Turnbull sat at his desk, after one such encounter, the
wolf put his head in the man's lap and snorted sadly.  

"I'm grateful that you forgive me Diefenbaker, but you know as well as I
do that Constable Fraser is in pain, and it's my fault." Dief and his
human companion sighed in unison. "And no, I don't know what to do about
it either." His human companion stroked the wolf's head absentmindedly. 

By now of course, Turnbull knew there was nothing he should...or could, do
about it. His friends would have to work it out themselves, and he was
hopeful because Inspector Thatcher seemed inclined to try. He turned
toward Fraser's office again, and sighed.
>>>~~~~~~~~~~~~<<<>>>~~~~~~~~~~~<<< 

Meg tried to keep as busy as possible for the rest of the day. It was
amazing to her how her work just seemed to melt away after she started
handing some of it off to Turnbull. That did create a problem however, now
she had more time to think. 

She could not get the memory of Fraser's eyes out of her mind. In
protecting herself she had hurt him deeply. She hadn't meant to, it was
just her instinctive need for what she defined as self-protection. Now she
had to come up with a way to ask his forgiveness. 

She sat at her desk, deep in thought, fiddling with the blue topaz
bracelet she had worn today. She frowned at the blue stones as she twirled
them around her wrist. Once she had loved this particular piece of
jewelry, but now she rarely, if ever, wore it. Staring at the stones she
suddenly realized why. The color of the stones exactly matched the color
of Fraser's eyes. 

She sighed as she went to stare out at the falling snow. The windows and
rooflines of nearby residences were shining with Christmas lights, and the
soft white flakes drifting down around the reds, greens and blues created
a beautifully peaceful picture. She thought that the hour must have become
late, as few cars passed on the street outside the Consulate, and the
neighborhood had become very quiet. Meg felt a peace come over her that
she had not felt in a very long time, and she slowly became aware of what
she needed to do. Without allowing herself the time to reconsider, she
left her office and went in search of Fraser. 

Fraser was prepared for a night's sleep, but had been unable to attain his
goal. He lay on his cot in his dark office, staring at the ceiling. He had
long ago schooled himself in the art of thinking of nothing, but at the
moment was unable to remember exactly how to attain that goal either. His
mind was full of the memories of his life, and therein lay the cause of
his sleeplessness. 

He sat bolt upright when the soft knock came at his door.
"Cons...ah...Fraser?" He jumped to attention as Margaret entered the room.


"Please...Fraser, it's not necessary for you to stand at attention.
There's... there's something I...I wanted...you to see. Would you...mind
coming to my office? Please?" 

Fraser alternated between being completely confused and very relieved.
Relieved because he wore sweats to bed in the winter. He hesitated briefly
and then followed her without a word. 

His hesitation allowed Meg the time to arrive at her window before him,
and she smiled as he entered her office. The darkened room was illuminated
only by the glow from the Christmas lights on the street. "I wanted you to
see this. Isn't it beautiful?" She turned back to the window as Fraser
came up behind her.  

Meg hesitated for just a moment as she continued to stare out the window.
She could feel the tension that emanated from the man standing rigidly
behind her. 'Dear God, please let me say the right thing.' She knew that
if she blew this she would never get another chance. When her mind failed
to produce the words she needed, she spoke from her heart, in the soft
voice that her heart, and the scene they were witnessing, demanded. "I'm
so...sorry that I...hurt you...Ben. It was never my intention to cause you
pain... especially not you. I know I asked you to forget...to forget the
train, but I haven't been able...have not forgotten our kiss either. How
could I? It meant more to me...than...the whole world." Meg did not turn
to face him, but silently prayed he would say something. Ben remained
silent. 

"It's kind of funny, you know? To have someone as dense as Turnbull know
more about how you feel than you do? I...I care for you, Ben, I'm just
not...I just couldn't..." Her words trailed off to no more than a whisper.
"I didn't want to admit it to myself. Please forgive me." 

When he continued to remain silent, Meg felt she must say something, or
die! "I think the city is most beautiful at Christmas time. It must have
been very different for you, growing up in the wilderness. I remember all
the families in our neighborhood hanging lights in the trees and on their
houses. We used to try to out do..." 

"Meg?" 

" ...Shut up." Ben spun her around and held her in an embrace that took
her breath away. He stared into eyes illuminated by the colorful lights on
the street, as he ran his fingers through her silken hair. Hair so soft he
felt it might dissolve between his fingers. He searched her eyes for
several moments, looking for any sign of...of hesitation.  

When she smiled tenderly at him he knew. Meg wanted this as much as he
did, but more than that, she was willing to set aside her fear and open
her heart to him. When he knew that he too could set aside his fear, and
the pain she had caused him, he kissed her. A kiss that held all the fire
and passion of a man who had at last found his way in from the
wilderness...of loneliness. He had found his home, and been invited in, a
home with brown and gold and hazel kaleidoscope eyes. 

Meg sighed against his lips as she felt his passion sweep over her. She
felt safe and warm, and her fears vanished as he drew her ever closer. She
knew in her soul that this is what she had always wanted. She wrapped her
arms tightly around him, forgetting the control she had valued so highly,
and met his passion with hers. Colored lights still illuminated their
world, but for now Meg and Ben knew nothing but each other. 

Though he might well never know it, Constable Turnbull would have been
very pleased that he had, in no small way, brought his friends together.
And though he might never know it, he would also have been tickled pink to
know that the Queen's bedroom would be occupied tonight. 

Only tomorrow would tell... 

The End